More bull rides until you pass out

With three drinks in you - no light stuff from this crowd! - you're feeling tipsy as you sit in the saddle, and just as it occurs to you to get off you feel someone get on behind you. A zipping sound follows, and something pushes against your backside.

Just as you start to wiggle the saddle starts to move again.

"Wait, 'm not ready!" you protest with a slight slur.

"Oh, I don't know," the man behind you says, "I think you're plenty ready."

Taking your small hand in his he guides your fingers between your legs, dragging them through the mess on the saddle and up against your slit.

"Feel that," he orders, and although you think about disobeying the saddle lurches forward, pushing your fingers past your lips.

A groan escapes you, and without thinking about it you start playing with yourself on the saddle, forgetting about the swaying and rocking of the bull, trusting the stranger to keep you upright. You don't even notice him slide his dick underneath you so that you slide around on top of it, making him groan almost as much as you.

"Ride her, cowboy!" a voice calls out, sounding even drunker than you, but at that point you don't care. Having a crowd watching you, doing things a good girl would never do, makes you feel so damned horny you find yourself crying out in another orgasm. The stranger doesn't seem to last much longer, and the bull stops moving.

"Not bad, Four minutes," a voice says, and you feel a glass put to your lips, liquid surging against your mouth, pouring down your front before you open your lips and swallow the burning liquid.

"Let's say a bucks off her tab for every minute," the bartender says.

"Whose tab?" you ask, finding it hard to think.

"I think we'd better skip the drink next time, she has enough to pay off." another voice says.

"No no, you stay on," a gruff voice says as you start to crawl - or slide - off the saddle.

Holding you in place the man spends the next several minutes groping you, his dick pressed between your legs while you ride it and the gently moving bull, Your body bumps up against the saddle horn again and again, your clit pressing against it, rubbing and throbbing until you manage yet another orgasm, shortly before the man.

After that you lose track of time - and men and beers - hazily remembering men climbing on and off behind you, endless orgasms, and occasional drinks. Finally the haul you off the saddle, dragging your front through a thick goopy mess before using your hair like a sponge to wipe it off.

"Have her lick it clean," a voice suggests, and you're just barely able to understand what to do, though you're not sure why you should or just what you're cleaning. You try to slurp a thick grey mixture into your mouth but your tongue and lips don't seem to be working quite right so mostly you end up rubbing your face through the mess, coating your entire face with it, your hair catching most of the rest, though you do remember periodically how to lick and suck at the vile mixture.

And then it just seems to stop.