Subsidized bull-riding makes you take another shot.

"Hey, if you get back on with me I'll pay two bucks of your tab," one of them offers. Your eyes light up at the prospect. You're not entirely certain what you owe, but two bucks is two bucks.

"Okay," you say after a moment's thought. He looks more fit than the last guy so maybe he'll stay on longer.

"Terrific! Up you go," he says, rushing forward as you put a foot up. You squeal as he puts one hand over your ass and the other against your pussy, two fingers slipping easily into your lubricated slit.

"Don't..." you start, only to be placed down on the pommel. Your pussy doesn't know if it should complain or cheer at the thick protruberance pressing against your entrance like a hard cock.

The sound of a zipper behind you goes entirely noticed as your new partner hops up effortlessly, slipping his feet into the stirrups before reaching around and up, using your breasts as handholds.

Before you can complain the ride begins again, abrupt up and down motions bouncing you atop the pommel like it's a lover's cock trying to get in. A groan escapes you before the bull rocks backward, slipping you off the pommel and along a saddle that's slimy with the cum of you and the the previous rider.

A long hard tube slips between your cheeks, the bull tossing you around too quickly for you to get a good feel of it, but you still know what it is, and feel torn between humping it trying to avoid it.

The bull doesn't give you a choice in the matter, and you find your bare pussy alternating between scrubbing the saddle clean of cum and years of dirt and sliding over the dick like it's a speed-bump. His thick spongy head reaches through your legs, slipping between your folds but never into your pussy. Once or twice fortune places his dickhead against your aching clit, but never for long enough as you slide away.

It doens't take long for your hypersensitive pussy to start spasming again, a long loud moan of pleasure escaping you as you wet the saddle once more. You hardly feel the squirting of the man's cock adding to the swampiness of the saddle, and it's only through his efforts (and the bartender's) that you stay on the saddle, sliding back and forth across the filthy mess like you're trying to scrub it clean with your cunt.

You're so lost in the pleasure that you don't notice the bull stop, or the man slip off. You continue onward with the back and forth motions as he picks up the top he'd removed from you during the ride and wipes his dick clean before tossing the scrap aside and zipping up his jeans.

"Five minutes!" someone proclaims, and thrusts a drink at you. In the post-orgasmic haze you don't even think about refusing it and gulp it down in relief.