beast

horse sex lovers

Bea’s Pony Chapter 1 I had an opportunity to visit my sister last fall when an oddball assignment took me toTexas. I don’t usually like to leave New York in the fall. To my way of thinking it’s thenicest time of the year to be in the city, but I accepted anyway, as I had not seen Helen forsome time. My work as a senior editor on the staff of Pet World normally confined me to theoffice, but occasionally, just to get out and around, I would take a story, especially if itwas of an unusual nature. My sister lived in Irving, a suburb of Dallas on the Forth Worthside, and I had never visited her there before. Helen had lived in New Jersey before herhusband was transferred, when we used to visit each other quite regularly. I would spendweekends in Pompton Lakes, and during the week Helen would come into the city and stay at myplace overnight. We had always been close, Helen and I, as close as any two sisters couldbe, even though Helen was several years older than I, and for a time after she moved to Texas Ifelt her absence keenly. At twenty-eight I was still unmarried. Helen had married a year ortwo out of high school but had never had any children. Her husband, Jack, had been working foryears with the same company, one of the big tire concerns, as a salesman. When I knew I wasgoing to be visiting them, I tried to visualize Jack. He was rather a nondescript type and hardto remember in your mind’s eye after you hadn’t seen him for a while. He was a pleasant enoughperson, however, and I was certain that Helen had made a happy marriage in many respects. Helen was at the airport to meet me when I arrived in Dallas. I first saw her waving madly frombehind the little fence separating the visitors from the departure area. She was wearing darkglasses, and had on a light blue cotton dress. She seemed overjoyed that I had come to see her. “Oh, Bea, I’m so happy you’ve come. You look grand,” she said, kissing me on the cheek. “Never thought I’d make it to Texas, did you?” I said jokingly. We stood there just lookingat each other for a full thirty seconds, people milling past us. She had gotten a littlechubby, I thought, and I wondered how I appeared to her. Finally, my arm around her waist,I walked her over to the luggage area. “How’s Jack?” I asked. “Same old Jack,” shereplied. “He’s out of town for a few days. Houston and Galveston. I hope he comes back beforeyou have to leave. How long do you have? You didn’t say.” “A couple of days or so,” I said.”I have to visit Denton, as you know.” “It isn’t far, Bea,” she said quickly, “and you canuse my car. Maybe I could go with you,” she added hopefully, and then rather guardedly, “unlessit’s some big deal.” “I promise to tell you all,” I said, reassuring her with a smile.Close as we were, Helen and I understood I had always been the more reticent one when it cameto my private life. Helen, on the other hand, had always confided in me her innermost thoughtsand secrets. My suitcase arrived finally and we walked out through the terminal. Helendrove very fast on the way home. The freeway system looked quite efficiently designed. The cityof Dallas, too, had a shiny compactness to it as I observed its skyline. “Didn’t know youhad so many tall buildings,” I remarked. “Why, Ma’am,” she drawled in imitation of a Texascowpoke, “didn’t you all know everything’s big in Texas.” We laughed at that, and she toldme a slightly dirty joke having to do with big Texans. It put me in mind of what I knew hadbeen a personal problem of hers. “You still have that thing about Jack?” I asked her afterwe had been quiet for a few moments. I could see her blush and turn to look out the window toher left. She did not answer, and I dropped it. It was a sore point, but occasionally shehad wanted to talk about it, had even for a while visited a psychiatrist in an effort toovercome her feelings. It seems that at the time she married she had built up in her mind amental image of what a man’s erect penis should look like. She had visions on her weddingnight, I guess of some enormous thing stuffing itself into her, and was fully, in fact, eagerlyawaiting to receive such an organ. As luck would have it, Jack turned out to be a man witha very small one. “No bigger than your index finger,” she had told me the first time, scarcelyconcealing the disappointment in her voice. She had told me more than once of the timesthey had had intercourse when she had felt so empty, so “unfilled” as she would describe it.She had loved Jack, and had realized it was silly to let it bother her, and had tried tooverlook it. The doctors had told her it was all in her mind, that the size of the penishad nothing to do with it. Her psychiatrist had once tried hypnosis. For a time Jack had evenused a rubber extender while they were having intercourse to fatten and lengthen out his tool,but the extender was a flop, too. “It doesn’t have any blood in it,” Helen had told meafter it had been tried out a few times. “I know it just isn’t alive.” After a few drinks shehad been able to stand the thing, however, and on those occasions had consented to letting himuse it in her. During our discussions I had always been at a loss as to how to console her.It would have been easy just to agree with the doctors, but in my own heart I knew I would havebeen lying to my sister. I had been and still am single and had been reluctant to pour out toher what I had known from my own experience. Also, I had not wanted in any way to haveappeared to be criticizing her husband. Sometimes those chickens come home to roost, and I hadnot wanted to risk alienating my sister then or now, It was true, though, that the size ofa man’s penis makes a difference. The medical books and sex manuals were all written by men.Men would naturally pooh-pooh the idea as it had too great a potential for pointing the fingerof inadequacy at many of them. My own experience told me that there can be nothing like thefeeling of depth and contentment, of total repletion, on being filled with a healthy-sizedorgan. And what more marvelous things happen when it moves inside you The city of Irvingturned out to be a residential community, rather flat like much of Texas, with neat houses andtrim yards, and none of the homes looking too terribly old. We pulled up into the driveway ofone, and I could hear a dog barking. “You still have Clyde” I exclaimed, remembering thetricolored collie they had owned in New Jersey. For some reason my sister blushed a floridred as she got out her side of the car. “Yes,” she said. “Why not?” “Why, I’ll be glad tosee him,” I said, hopping out. “Good old Clyde” I ran to the front door and could hear himjumping up against it alternately barking and whining and scratching at the wood. Helenopened the door, and he bounded out rushing between us. He got to the sidewalk, wheeled around,and came back. He was panting madly, and jumped up, first at Helen, and then at me, sniffingcuriously. “Get down, Clyde” Helen was shouting. Sniffing at me, he suddenly frozewhen it appeared he was in the area of my crotch. He brought his nose closer to my dress, and Ibacked away instinctively. “Clyde” Helen screamed, grabbing him by the fur. “That’senough.” It took all her strength to pull him back toward the door, but she seemed determinedto get him back inside. “It’s all right, Helen,” I said, feeling a little guilty for havingbacked off. “He’s just happy.” I followed them inside the house. She had taken him to thebasement door and had shut him inside. She was huffing, out of breath. “He can be so exuberant,Bea. You’ll have to pay no attention to him,” she said. Flushing, she dropped her shoulder bagon the sofa and flopped down herself. I sat down in a chair. It was a warm day, but cool inthe house. Evidently the central air conditioning was still connected. I stood up again toremove the coat I was wearing. “He may do some strange things,” Helen was saying, stillflushing. Her eyes were curiously avoiding mine. “Just make him mind. He’ll stop.” She lookedabout the living room. “Well,” she said, changing the subject, “let’s get you settled. I’ll getyour bag.” She got up from the sofa, and walked over to a doorway off the living room. “First,I’ll show you your room. ” I rose and followed her into a short halfway that led first to asmall sewing room on the right. The second door on the right was a bedroom. Across the hallfrom it was a half bath. “You’ll have to bathe upstairs, Sis, but there’s a john here and asink,” she said, turning on the light in the bathroom. “Okay by me,” I said. The smallbedroom looked quite cozy. It held a double bed, a night table beside it, and a small chest ofdrawers. There was a full length mirror on the inside of the closet door. I flopped on the bedwhile Helen got my bag. I lay there thinking how nice it was to be waited on for a change,and it was true. I had always allowed my older sister to wait on me ever since I couldremember. I had missed the attention since she had moved to Texas, and it came to me lyingthere just how much. “Here we are,” she said, coming in with my grip. She set it down andcame over to the bed, seating herself on the edge. “I’m so glad to see you, Bea.” She leanedover and kissed me lightly on the cheek. Her breath smelled so clean. Her eyes were misty, andI wanted to reach up and embrace her. “I keep hoping you’ll move back to New York,” I saidwistfully. The thought struck her as a remote one. “Perhaps,” she said after a moment. Shepatted me on the thigh. “I’ll let you relax now. Take a nap, sweetie. I’ll get some dinnergoing, and we’ll have a long chat when you wake up.” She rose, adjusting the belt on her dress. Feeling the belt at both sides of her waist, she took in a deep breath, and I was givenvisual reminder of the amplitude of her breasts. Helen’s development there had always been asource of envy while we were growing up. I remembered back when I was only just beginningto show there myself, watching her take baths, and later begging my mother to tell me if minewere going to be that big when I was in high school. My own breasts had never quite madeit, not to the extent of Helen’s anyway, and I felt a twinge as some of the original feeling ofdisappointment came over me. She left, closing the door behind her, and I sat up to takeoff my shoes. My feet and legs were tired. I reached up under my skirt and pulled the pantyhose down over my legs. The cooled air in the room felt good on my bare legs, and I walkedaround the room letting it play over them. I took off the dress and hung it in the closet,looking at myself in the mirror. A full length mirror was something of a treat as I did nothave one at home, and I gazed at the full figure before me as if for the first time. Reaching behind me with both hands I unclasped the bra and allowed my breasts their fullfreedom. They were big enough, I supposed. Some slight amount of curve on both sides didprotrude beyond the line of my rib cage when they were viewed from the front, which was morethan some girls could say. I still had a waistline, too. At twenty-eight I didn’t need towear a girdle yet. I turned sideways at the mirror and ran my flattened palm down my tummy.Perfect, I thought. Running my hand down inside my panties, I scratched at the matted hair.Farther down it felt a little sweaty, so I removed the panties and went back to the bed. I laydown on my back with legs spread and my knees up in the air, letting it all air out. Ititched down there, and absently I ran a finger down along the lips slightly parting them. Imust have dozed off because the next thing I knew I was dreaming. Something was happeningto me down there. It felt warm and wet. I was conscious of the strangest movements as if adozen fragile fingertips were playing upon it with just the right amount of pressure. At thesame time it was throbbing wildly, and I knew I was going to have an orgasm. I guess Ibegan to gasp in my sleep for I was conscious of making sounds. The feeling was building inintensity to the point where I had to wake up, which I did suddenly with a start, and before Ihad reached a climax. It took me a few seconds to realize what had been happening. Inoticed Clyde right away, his feet up on the foot of the bed, his tongue hanging out, but Icould not associate the dog immediately with what had brought me almost to the point of coming.My vulva was aflame and tingling madly. Clyde cocked his head to one side, closed his mouthbriefly, and stretched his head forward into my crotch. Instantly I knew what he had been doingand got up quickly onto my knees. “Clyde, you old rascal,” I said, grabbing him by thescruff around his ears with both hands. “You devil, you. What do you think you’re doing?” He licked forward at my face greedily. I noticed his pink thing had begun to come out of itssheath, and he was humping slightly at the end of the bed. Good heavens, I thought. Hemeans to do me as if I were some bitch in heat. Is it possible? The thought of the big furryCollie doing it to me raced through my brain. I was already hot. Dare I get down on the flooron all fours and see if he would? The thought just about drove me wild. I had to fight thefeeling off. What if Helen should walk in? What on earth would I say to her? I tried hardto think of the utter preposterousness of the whole idea in order to bring me back to mysenses. It occurred to me that if I got my clothes back on, it might help me recover my sanity. I jumped off the bed. My panties were lying on the floor. Clyde was already up on his hindfeet pawing at my thighs as I kept turning to keep him in front of me, but I had to kneel downslightly in order to reach for the panties. He was on top of me in an instant, humping awayinstinctively. I was up in a second. “Down, Clyde” I commanded. “Down” Somehow Imanaged to put my panties on and was struggling with the bra when Helen walked into the room. “Clyde” she screamed. “Out of this room, out of this room, right now.” She pointed to thedoor while literally glaring at him. Clyde left the room obediently. She must have noticed thenthe pink streaks his claws had made. “Oh, Bea,” she said. “It’s all my fault. I should havekept him in the basement.” She came up to me and carefully stroked the thin markings withher gentle fingers, and we both sat down on the edge of the bed. “I had better tell youabout Clyde,” she began. “What’s happened to him?” I asked, still bewildered. “Do you know,I think he wanted to have intercourse with me.” She held my left hand in her lap. “Bea,dear,” she went on, “I have always told you most everything about my private life.” Sheblushed. “I suppose this is really no-different than a lot of things, but it may seem,” Shehesitated. “It may seem, well, unnatural to you when I tell you.” “Go on, Sis,” I urgedher. “It all started after we moved here from New Jersey. Jack was home that whole monthwhile we were getting settled, and Clyde, well, I was a little worried about him at first. Hemoped around for weeks, didn’t seem to have an appetite. I just assumed he was going through aperiod of adjustment. “Well, Jack finally was sent out of town, and I was left here alonefor the first time, with Clyde of course. Clyde seemed to change immediately followed me aroundthe house, everywhere, even upstairs which he never did before. “It got to be he was makingme a nervous wreck. When I would turn suddenly in the middle of the room, I would almost tripover him, he was hugging that close behind me. “I had been having my period, was just overit as a matter of fact, and had gone to the bathroom to pee. Clyde followed me inside andstood, his head just about touching my knees. He was panting and had a glazed look in his eyes. “Naturally I pushed him away, told him to get out of there, but he came right back. I triedpatting him on the head and calling him nice names. This seemed to merely encourage him. Hestopped panting, licked his lips, and began snaking his head forward as if to get it between mylegs. “At first I thought maybe he was thirsty. You know how he likes to drink water fromthe toilet bowl. I love the pooch so much, I thought, well, go ahead. Let him have a drinkwhile I was sitting there. I hadn’t gone yet, so I spread my legs. “Well, Bea, he didn’twant a drink. He went straight for my pussy. Just dove right in, started licking and slurpinglike it was dripping with honey. I thought I was going to go out of my head. “I closed mylegs on his head almost automatically, but then, as the feeling swept over me, I graduallyopened them again. Bea, he was making me come, right there on the toilet seat. I could feel itcoming over me in waves. I could do nothing, I tell you, nothing. “I gave in to it. He keptlicking and licking, his tongue going in and around everything. Finally I felt that first bigjolt, you know, when you go up over and you know you’ve come. I guess I gave out a little cry.It scared him and he backed off. “I must have lain back on the seat for what seemed aneternity. It took me awhile to come down. Yes, Bea, it was a real long one, several minutesanyway. “Clyde was sitting in the doorway just looking at me and panting merrily. I couldsee his pink penis poking its way out. I remember wondering how long it would be when it cameall the way out, and I wondered next if he would - would, you know, do it to me. “Don’tlook shocked, Bea. I was so hot, I didn’t know if I was coming or going. I had just had thebiggest climax of my life and wanted more. You know what my life has been with Jack. “Itook my underpants the rest of the way off, and got down on the floor on my hands and knees. Icrawled like that to the doorway and when I got there gave Clyde the biggest hug I think I hadever given him, the big furry pooch. He licked at my ear as I embraced him. I was deliriouslyhappy. “My knees were really shaking though, Bea. I knew what Clyde was likely to do. Iwanted it badly but I was afraid at the same time, afraid he might hurt me unintentionally. “I crept past him down the hall and stopped. I crossed my arms on the floor and lay my head onthem, looking back to see what Clyde would do. My fanny was poked way out in back. He cametrotting right after me, of course. “At first he started licking me, which I don’t have totell you set me wild all over again. He stopped that and started to whine, then he placed a pawon my back. I knew by that he was going to try to mount me. “He got both front paws on myback, and I could see him start to hump at the air. At the same time I could see it begin tocome out. He moved in closer, and I shut my eyes waiting for whatever would happen. I rememberthinking it was going to poke and jab terribly. “Instead I felt the softest nudging allover my vulva. It was as if someone with very soft lips were kissing me repeatedly without anyparticular target in mind. But I knew what the thing was nudging at me like that and strainedupward at it, spreading my lips as much as I was able. “The instant it nudged into theright spot, it never once lost sight of it again, and I had this incredible sensation ofsomething very warm and firm plunging into me. It seemed to go in and in and in. I don’t thinkanything that long had ever gone in there before. “Finally I felt all his fur up against methere. He seemed to dig in then, pushing hard on me. His front paws clung tightly to me as hepressed his head against my ribs. “I found myself responding, too, rocking back against himas he pushed into me. I was about to come again and lost control as the feeling became moreintense. I think I must have fallen forward when I came. Clyde had stopped humping and hadplaced both feet on the floor beside me. “He was licking my arms and face. I could feel hisorgan still plugged up into me even though it must have been twisted for him to have beenstanding in that position. I remember wondering why he didn’t take it out. “Not that Iwanted him to, mind you. It didn’t seem to go all soft like Jack’s does after. It was stillswollen, and I felt myself closed around it in a kind of heavenly seal. We stayed like that forwhat seemed like forever. “Clyde started whining and pulling on it after awhile. It didn’tseem to budge, and it occurred to me it was my fault he couldn’t extract it. I started takinglong, deep breaths in an effort to relax, and all at once it slipped out. “He took a fewsteps and sat down, reaching around with his snout to carefully lick his exhausted thing. Icrawled over to him and gave him another hug. “Well, that was it,” Helen said. “Ever since,Clyde and I have been lovers. When Jack is home I keep Clyde in the basement as much aspossible.” Something struck her as amusing. “Jack suspects I have a human lover. He sees thechange in me.” She giggled at the thought. I looked at my sister in near disbelief. It wasan amazing story, and one that though it had to do with a pet could never appear in Pet World.I wondered at my own feelings about Clyde. “Like all males, he has a roving eye, yourClyde,” I said remembering my own predicament a few moments ago. “If you want to,” Helensaid, blushing again. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted him to-” “Do it to me?” Iasked. “No thanks,” I said. “I prefer the two-legged kind.” A tug at my throat at thesuggestion, however, indicated to me I was probably lying. I had been affected, by both theincident and Helen’s story. If I could just try it without anyone finding out about it, Ithought. “Well then,” she announced, kissing me on the shoulder. “Let’s have some dinner.”She left me then to finish dressing. Clyde soon reappeared at the door. He seemed almosthuman now that I had heard Helen’s story. I called to him and he came over to where I wasdressing. I patted him softly the head. “Nice Clyde. You is a nice doggie,” I said, speaking akind of baby talk to him. He wagged his tail in appreciation. After that he began followingme everywhere in the house. It was as if he had transferred his affections from my sister tome. I kept expecting her to make some resentful comment about it, but she seemed not tonotice. Later, in the kitchen, she was telling me about some French ticklers Jack hadbrought home from Mexico. It sounded like something Jack would do, trying his best always tomake up for the dirty trick nature had played on him. Clyde was lying on the floor betweenour chairs looking up at me. “Tell me about Denton,” she asked enthusiastically. “There’s a man there who has developed a breed of pony about the size of a large dog,” I toldher. “Pony as a horse?” she wondered. “Right. What’s more, he claims they can behousebroken.” She looked at me as if I had been weaving some fairy tale. “Keep a pony inthe house.” She said the words slowly and individually as if to make sure she was hearing meright. “No doubt about it,” I said, having to laugh myself. “He has been advertising in PetWorld, and we decided it was time to do a feature on it.” I knew she had wanted to come with meand reminded her. “Sounds screwy,” she commented. “I won’t get in your way, will I?” shewanted to know. “Not at all,” I said. “Wear something breezy tomorrow and you can pose withthe ponies. It’s always better to have people in the pictures.” I could see the excitementbuilding in her eyes. She began suggesting some things to wear. The weather was still warm,she noted. We finally agreed on hotpants and a very sheer jersey pullover. We sat andtalked about old times for several hours, did the dishes together and talked some more. Helenmixed highballs for us afterward. We had a second round and began to get a little giddy. “Why don’t you come upstairs and sleep with me, Bea?” she asked. “There’s no reason to staydownstairs with Jack gone.” It sounded like a good idea. Helen had slept with me often,even after we had grown and left home. It had been some time since I had enjoyed the comfort ofa warm body next to me in bed. I looked down at Clyde. “What about your pooch?” I asked. “Isn’the expecting any tonight?” We both began to giggle uncontrollably. Clyde raised his head asif somehow knowing our mirth was because of him. He appeared perplexed, looking first at one ofus and then at the other. His actions only made us laugh more. Helen suddenly lifted herdress and dug her finger down inside her panties. “Here, Clyde,” she cooed at him, extendingthe moist finger at his snout. Cocking his head at the finger, he raised himself up, allthe time sniffing carefully. Barking twice, he placed his front paws on her dress, wagging histail and licking at her nervously. He became extremely agitated as he had been earlier in mybedroom. “Aw, Sis,” I pleaded. “That’s cruel, teasing him.” “Who’s teasing,” shewinked, getting down on all fours with her behind aimed at him. “You’re not-?” I screamedand got up from the chair. “Helen, no Not in front of me.” I began blushing furiously and ranfrom the kitchen. “Come back, come back” she cried, laughing. “I’m only kidding. Come onback” I poked my head back into the kitchen. She had gotten on her feet and was smoothingher dress. Clyde, still agitated, kept trying to place one paw on her thigh. Helen I had toconclude was still full of the devil. “You’re always doing things like that,” I said,coming back in. “It’s because you’re such a prude.” She crinkled her nose. “Sometimes,” sheadded. She shut Clyde in the basement and we walked upstairs, our arms around each other. I got undressed first and got into bed, watching Helen take her clothes off. The extra weightshe was carrying since last we met seemed to be on her hips and thighs. The fat was notrumpled, though. The skin was still smooth in texture. When she removed her bra and thoselovely globes spilled outward, my heart skipped a beat. They had only developed the tiniestamount of sag over the years. “Sweets,” I said. “Why don’t you go braless tomorrow? It willlook good under a jersey.” You really think so?” she asked, pushing her breasts in towardeach other with the heels of her palms. They formed a massive cleavage at the center. Slowlyshe released the pressure against them and allowed her hands to move across them until thefingers meshed. She dropped her clasped hands. “They’re still just as lovely as ever,” Isaid, just as envious as ever. She cupped a hand under one as if estimating its weight.”Pound for pound, you can’t find a better buy,” she said, looking down at it, her lower lippursed. I laughed. “Give me one of those puppies with the brown nose, too.” I watched heras she removed her panties. Her round little tummy pouted just the right amount. She had lesshair on her than I did. Mine tended to grow wide to the sides and down on the insides of mythighs, necessitating shaving. Helen, on the other hand, was blessed with a perfectlyshaped thatch. It seemed better coordinated with the figure somehow. She came over to thebed and got under the covers. After all these years we were still sleeping in the nude. Isnuggled up to her, drinking in the warm smell of her. She reached over to turn out the lightand put her arm around me, her breasts pressed against mine. “Goodnight, Bea,” she said. “Night,” I answered, slowly fading. Chapter 2 The drive to Denton the next day took us about an hour. It was a warm October day, thetemperature well up in the seventies. My appointment with the breeder was at ten o’clock, andwe had allowed for plenty of time. Helen had taken my suggestion and not worn a bra. As Iwatched her at the wheel, I could see how the material of the jersey she was wearing hugged thefirm shape of her breasts. The least little rocking motion of the car caused them to bobdeliciously. I had worn a skirt and blouse, and had taken a cardigan sweater to look alittle bit more dressed up than for any other reason. I was bare-legged with only loafers on myfeet. Helen looked much more casual, and could have been mistaken for my younger sisterthan what was actually the case. She hummed a tune whenever there was a long pause in ourconversation. The farm was located a few miles outside of Denton and was known as theHo-Ho-Pony Estates. A big sign bearing the name was positioned near the long dirt drivewayleading to the main buildings, and we could see some horses and conventional sized poniesgrazing in the pasture on either side. A tall, lean Texan greeted us when we pulled intothe compound. He was wearing a battered hat which shaded a rather weather-worn face. I noticedthough he was clean shaven. He wore levis and didn’t tuck them inside his boots. “Mornin’ladies,” he hailed us. Noticing the camera hanging from my shoulder as I got out, he said, “Youmust be the lady from New York, be you?” he asked. I nodded. “I’m Beatrice Starr,” I said,”and this is my sister, Mrs. Smallwood.” He tipped his hat. “Pleased to meet you. I be HackRaver, the foreman here. The owner, Mr. Cunningham, is tied up at the moment butll be herepresently,” he said, looking us over with undisguised interest. “What you can do, if you want,is walk around the place for yourselves. Or I can take you.” He waited to see what we mightchoose to do. “I imagine,” I said, looking around, “we could do that, just walk around byourselves until Mr. Cunningham is free.” “Whatever you ladies want, I’m at your service,”he said, tipping his hat again. “Them new ponies is over in that barn, there.” He pointed to alow, one story building that was probably the newest structure in the compound. Helennudged me as we walked toward the new barn. “Why didn’t you want him to show us around?” she.asked. “Did you see that bulge in his pants?” I hadn’t noticed, but Helen was always alertto such things. “He’s too eager,” I said. “I’d rather wait for Cunningham.” We looked back. TheTexan was standing there watching us. He took the little-finger side of his hand and made amove at the “bulge” Helen had noticed as if to adjust it. We walked into the barn. Theponies were tied in small stalls on either side. They were quite small for ponies as I had, ofcourse, anticipated. I judged them to be roughly the size of a St. Bernard or Newfoundland dog.They were amazingly sleek and clean looking. I walked down along the stalls slowly,thinking there wasn’t much in the way of an interesting picture to be taken there with nothingbut rear ends facing the camera. One mare was in heat. She had thrown her tail straight up,and the hole was opening and closing rhythmically. Each time it opened rather violently, and Icould see into the pink vastness of what was beyond.I looked into some of the otherstalls, wondering if the stallions had been gelded. It appeared that many of them had been. One chestnut-colored male pony obviously had not been touched. He was straining at the ropessecuring his neck, tugging backward, and pawing at the floor with one front hoof. Glancingdown, I noticed his thing was out stiff and hard. I gulped. It almost touched the floor. Heunderwent some kind of reflexive action with it, bringing it up from the floor and whacking itresoundingly against his belly. It seemed then to slowly shrink except for the head, collapsingaccordion-like. In my experience looking at animals it occurred to me that of all animalsonly the members of the horse family seemed to have things that anywhere resembled a man’s. Ilooked around to see if Helen had been watching and was surprised to see that she was not evenin the barn. “Helen?” I called instinctively. Walking out into the compound, I saw thatHelen was nowhere to be seen. A few chickens lazily picked their way here and there a step at atime, but not much else was happening. Were there no stable boys around, I wondered? Whateveractivity was pursued on the place, I decided, must happen somewhere other than where I couldsee it. “Yo, Helen” I yelled. A likely place to begin looking for her seemed to be anold fashioned gambrel-roofed barn directly across from the pony stables. I had to walk up anincline to enter this barn. The massive sliding door had a much smaller conventional type doorin it which I opened easily. Inside it took me a few moments to adjust to the semidarknessbut I could hear voices and the sound of laughter immediately. The voices seemed to be comingfrom directly overhead. I strained to look above me but saw no apparent stairway or opening inthe ceiling. I walked back farther into the barn, past some heavy farm machinery thatappeared to have been parked there a long time. There wasn’t much space to squeeze past, and alot of the equipment had protruding parts that caught at my sweater. About two-thirds ofthe way back, I noticed a ladder propped up against an open trap door in the ceiling. Carefullystepping up each rung, I stopped when my eyes reached the level of the floor above. It appearedto be a hayloft. Hauling myself up onto the floor, I began to crawl towards the front ofthe barn in the direction of the voices. I was moving closer to the sounds when I recognizedthe laugh as belonging to Helen. The other voice was Mr. Raver’s. The hay was piled high infront of me and seemed insurmountable. I found a low spot all the way over on one side andcrawled up over it. Soon I was able to see just what the two of them were up to. A tiny windowilluminated the scene. Helen was lying down on the hay on her back with her head pointedtoward my vantage point. Raver was seated at her feet and were he to have lifted his gaze oneinch would have been looking right at me. Raver evidently had been telling a few Texasjokes. “Go on,” Helen was saying. “You Texans like to brag, I think. Everything’s not thatbig here.” “Well, now, ma’am, most everything that’s real Texas is. ‘Course we got a lot offoreigners in the state now, and what they bring in with them, I can’t vouch for, but if it’shome grown Texas, you can bet it’s mighty big.” He turned toward her. She was teasing him.I could see her rolling her body slightly. She raised one knee and rocked it from side to side,and I saw him look down at what she must have been revealing at that moment. I could seehis neck reddening. “Now, ma’am,” he swallowed. The bulge in his levi’s began extending way toone side and then ballooned outward. He loosened his belt with one hand and got up on hisknees. “I’m just gonna have to prove it to you, I guess.” He tore open the fly, and histhing bounded out. I saw Helen sit up suddenly, and was conscious of a sharp intake of my ownbreath. It was huge. Bigger than any man’s I had ever seen. I felt a slight burning sensationin my vulva. He moved forward on his knees closer to Helen, and I stared, transfixed by thething as it bobbed up and down. “Get a feel of it,” he urged, reaching for her hand. “It’sall Texas beef” Her hand seemed so tiny as she clasped it about midway along its length. “Gosh” she breathed. “I didn’t think.” She stammered for a second or two. “It’s just so big,”she finally said. Her hand moved down along it, squeezing it occasionally as a housewife mightsqueeze fruit at a market. She stopped at the base and began moving her hand up it again.”It’s so smooth. Jack’s is bumpy and veiny,” she told him. When she reached the apple-shapedhead at the end of it, she gave it a particular squeeze. Raver let out a shriek of pleasure. Spurred on by the effect of her squeeze, she leaned forward and began showering the end of itwith kisses. “Now, ma’am,” he gasped, having difficulty with his breathing. “Don’t you wantto try this out ‘fore it all goes to waste.” She was placing her tongue on the end of itnow. I noticed the sac containing his testicles pull up and almost disappear into the base ofhis penis. “Ma’am” he cried out, pitching forward. She had just placed her moutharound the swollen head when I saw his whole frame convulse abruptly. He closed his eyes andgrabbed at her hair, his body apparently racked with spasms. He was coming I hadn’trealized it because it had happened so soon. Helen was gulping spastically. Much of the endof his tool was well inside her mouth. Poor girl. It was probably pumping into her faster thanshe could swallow it. When the last of it had gone down her throat, she fell back gaspingfor breath. Still on his knees, Raver, too, sat back on his heels, his face turned upward, eyesclosed, his chest heaving. The massive instrument had softened and somehow it seemed lessformidable. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am,” he said after a minute, “but never play with aloaded gun. No tellin’ just when itll go off.” “Oh” Helen was still gasping. “Oh Therewas so much. Do you always come so much?” she managed to ask between breaths. “That’s realTexas cock, ma’am,” he said almost in a matter of fact tone. She sat up, her breathinggradually returning to normal. Picking up the fallen piece of meat, she lifted it in a way thatsuggested she was testing its weight. “Gosh” she exclaimed. “Even soft, it still must weigh aton.” I suspected that Helen was far from satisfied. It had never gotten anywhere near theplace that counted. If the throbbing in my own pussy was any indication, she must still bequite hot. Fishing around in my bag, I looked for something I could stick between my legsand squeeze. I found a plastic roller for setting hair that for some reason had been dumpedthere. It was a fat one with holes along it and seemed to have some give to it. I placed itbetween my thighs up against my throbbing crotch and squeezed on it, at the same time workingmy thighs forward and back, first one and then the other. It was better than nothing. In themeantime, I kept my eyes glued to the scene in front of me. Helen had moved forward andthough I could not clearly see, it appeared she was pushing the soft head of his penis into hervulva. Her shorts were lying on the hay to the side. “Wup” she snorted. “He’s still oozingfrom the last one. At least I’m getting a little bit of it.” She reached forward to where itjoined his body and grasping it, pulled forward compressing her fingers at the same time. Evidently a lot of come had remained inside because both suddenly blurted out laughing. “Good to the last drop,” Raver said. It had begun to swell again. The couple became moreagitated as it rose once more into the air. The thing seemed fatter this time, and redder.Helen lay back in a near swoon in anticipation. Raver moved forward over her placing his weighton his hands. Because of its length, he had to raise his butt high while she placed the endof it at the precise spot. I could see his buttocks tighten as he began to thrust it forward.As it packed in I heard Helen groan, and I felt as if I were suddenly sharing the thrill of itsentry into her. From what I could see, most of it had gone in, too. Raver had settled intoa quick in and out movement and had reached up under her shoulders with his hands where he heldher tightly. He seemed to be trying to stuff as much of it inside her as was possible. I hadnever seen a man drive so hard. Helen had wrapped her legs around his body and wasresponding to his thrusts by pushing upward. She was going to find out now, I thought, thatsize means something after all. With all the activity going on, they had managed to turnclockwise about a quarter of a circle so that now I commanded a view of that marvelous machineas it jammed away at her. It appeared that several inches had yet to go on in. I was stillsqueezing the roller between my legs and began to feel the first tug at my innards as thepleasureful sensation began to build inside me. It was taking a hell of a lot of energy to getmyself off this way. Helen had begun making the little clipped whines she was prone toutter as her orgasm approached. When the last one trailed off into a long sigh, I knew she hadcome. Raver’s testicles did that same melting action up into his groin that I had noticedbefore. He suddenly slowed his pumping and collapsed on her, convulsing spasmodically. Asmy own climax arrived, I had to place a palm tightly over my mouth to avoid giving myself away.Having worked so hard to get it, the jolt left me utterly debilitated, like an athlete out ofshape, and I wanted to sink miles into the hay. I must have slept for awhile, for when Ibecame conscious of my surroundings again, it was very quiet in the barn. I sat up and lookedover where Helen and Raver had been, and they were no longer there. Crawling along thefloor, I reached the trap and climbed down the ladder. In a moment I was outside. Hearingvoices inside the pony barn, I entered it to find Helen, Raver, and a man I presumed to beCunningham engaged in conversation. “This must be your sister,” the man said, breaking awayfrom them and coming toward me. He was rather a pudgy man, but well- dressed, and spoke with asoft drawl. “Good grief, Bea” Helen exclaimed. “We thought maybe you had run off with ahired hand.” “Only hand around here I know is Hack,” I said, winking at her, amused atmyself for making her blush. “Yes indeed, ma’am,” Hack said, “and I’m at your service.” Heseemed pleased as pie with himself. Cunningham began telling us then a little of thehistory of his operation. It seems he had crossed a small Icelandic stallion with an unusuallysmall Shetland mare he discovered at a carnival. He then bred the progeny with other Icelandicsbreeding back only those ponies that held their small size. “That Shetland is the trueprototype,” he said. “Bought her for only twenty-five bucks from the carny guys, too. Beenselling these for forty times that,” he said proudly. I was busily taking down everythingin a little notebook I carried as we strolled past the stalls. “The Icelandic gives themthat clean look. Don’t smell as much, either,” he informed us. “You take a Shetland into ahouse, itll smell like a barn right off. A Shetland’ll bite, too. Can be mean. These ponies,”he said, extending his arm in an arc, “are as gentle as a lamb.” I asked him aboutpictures, and he went into one of the stalls and untied the pony occupying it. With just a handon its neck he guided the pony out. He walked back towards the open barn door to the sunlight. “See that?” he asked. “Don’t need a halter. Kids can ride without a saddle, too. Justgrab hold of the mane.” He clutched a bunch of the beautiful white hairs then let them go. “They’re just adorable,” Helen said, stroking the pony’s flank. “Here,” Hack said, liftingHelen by the waist and placing her on the pony’s back. I noticed his hands run up over herbreasts as he released her. “Won’t she be too heavy for him?” I wondered. “Oh, I don’tguess she weighs that much,” Cunningham said. “I wouldn’t ride him regular,” he added. Wehad come outside, and I took a few pictures of the pony with Helen seated on him. I took somemore of her leaning over feeding him some sugar. Cunningham and Hack seemed to enjoy that poseas Helen was quite generous in revealing her charms. I took some head and shoulder shots ofCunningham alone. “Tell you what,” Cunningham said. “Why don’t you take a pony home withyou for a few days. Then you can get some good pictures of the animal around the house.” Itseemed a good idea. Readers would want to see pictures of ponies in a domestic setting since hewas advertising them as house pets. I looked to see Helen’s reaction. “Could we?” sheasked, evidently pleased at the idea. She leaned down, throwing her arms around the pony’sneck. “Would you like to come and stay with me for awhile?” she cooed. “I didn’t have thisparticular pony in mind for that,” he said rather sheepishly, “but I suppose it’ll be allright.” “What’s wrong with this pony?” I asked, curious. “He’s not gelded, is what.”Seeing the confusion in our faces, he went on. “He’s not cut.” “Well, Mr. Cunningham,”Helen said almost with indignation in her tone, “I know what gelded means. What difference doesthat make?” “Thing is,” Cunningham continued, “if any of you ladies come around,” Heblushed at the term. “If it’s that time of the month, I mean. This pony being inside the houseand all, he may get a little aggressive.” I could see the realization of what he was sayingsink into Helen, and the gleam start building in her eye. She shot a quick glance at theanimal’s genitals. There wasn’t much of a penis to be seen, but the testicles hung like twoeggplants side by side. “Well, we’ll just put him in the garage,” Helen said, the problemsolved as far as she was concerned. “Let me get you a halter and some grain, ma’am,” Hacksaid, going back into the barn. Helen followed him inside. “If you have a back yard he cangraze in, you don’t have to grain him but once a day,” Cunningham told me, practically readingmy thoughts. “They’ve been toilet trained to go only when they’re standing on grass, but youhave to take them out at least three times a day. Otherwise it’s not like a dog. They reallylet loose,” he cautioned me. I had visions of great floods in the living room and hugepiles on the kitchen floor. Suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good idea, but I knew thatchanging Helen’s mind now would have been very difficult. It was her house. I asked him forthe names of some local people who had purchased his ponies and had been keeping them as housepets for awhile. If I could contact them I might get a slant on a long-term situation. Hegave me the name of a man in Highland Park who had bought one of his first ponies, a mare. “Beautiful animal,” he said. “Had glass eyes, too, which is rare.” “Glass eyes?” I asked. “Blue eyes, Miss Starr. Beg your pardon. Just an expression,” he said. He was thumbingthrough an address book. I jotted that down under the heading of local color and thenlaughed at the unintentional double entendre I had created. Another man, he said, a garageowner who lived on a lonely farm the other side of Fort Worth, had purchased several stallionsover the past two years. “Might be something there,” he suggested. “Man likes them thatmuch to buy More than one.” “You used the word lonely. What did you mean by that?” I askedhim. “Creepy place,” he replied. “I delivered the first pony, myself. House was kind of rundown, shades all drawn, miles from any other farms. Lots of animals on the place, but just thisone fellow living alone. That’s what I meant.” “Many people prefer the company of animalsto humans,” I said. “It’s not so strange. How many did he actually buy?” I asked. He didsome mental recollection. “Four,” he said finally. “He bought the last one this past summer.” “And all stallions. No mare’s or geldings,” I repeated. “Does he keep them all in the house?” “Can’t say,” he shrugged. “Haven’t been out there since, and the fellow never says muchwhen he’s here.” Helen and Hack came out of the barn, my sister leading the pale tan animalby a lead rope hooked to the halter. Hack carried a small pail of grain. “Keep him for afew days,” Cunningham said to Helen. “Maybe you’ll want to buy him.” He watched Helen as sheand Hack walked over to the car. We followed them over. “They make nice presents, too,” hecommented. “We also have regular ponies and horses,” he added. He seemed to be moreinterested in Helen than in his sales pitch, for after the pony had climbed in upon the backseat Helen had bent over to hand-feed the animal and was presenting her rear end to us. I couldjust imagine the effect on a man of that plump little butt in the hotpants. “Well now,ladies,” Raver drawled. “No reason you’ve got to run off, is there?” I could see what he wasthinking. “Lots more to see around here.” He moved in close to the car, appearing to beassisting her with the pony. It looked to me like an excuse to touch her. Sure enough. Hemust have worked up a half erection and pressed it against her because she reacted as if shehad been tipped with an electric cattle prod. “Uh, Hack I mean, Mr. Raver. What else is thereto see?” she asked. “We’ve got some beautiful Arabs here,” he said, pronouncing the word asif it were Ay-rabs. “Them’s awful nice,” he drawled, making it sound as though we were reallygoing to be missing something if we turned him down. “Perhaps you ladies would enjoy somerefreshments, a sandwich,” Cunningham suggested, having no idea what the two of them might havebeen thinking at that moment. “Come and join me in the kitchen and we’ll see what there is.” Hemade a motion to accompany him. “Why don’t you go, Bea,” Helen suggested. “I’d really liketo see the horses.” Her pretended ingenuousness was almost convincing. “By all means dowhat you really like, Sis,” I said, laughing. “I’m a trifle thirsty, anyway. Have you got acold beer?” I asked Cunningham, throwing my camera and sweater on the front seat. Weseparated then, Helen and her longhorn Texan walking off in the direction of one of the otherbarns, and Cunningham and I strolling over to the house. “Your sister,” he said, “is a verypretty girl. But then, so are you.” “I’m glad you added that,” I said, not really beingvery interested. He was a short man, pudgy, with fat little fingers that had rings on a few ofthem. The sort of man I never, ever had a desire to make it with. Invariably, though, the typealways had ideas about me. The farmhouse had a large, old-fashioned kitchen which the ownerhad modernized very little. The plumbing fixtures looked new, although I noticed a hand pump atthe sink. Outside of the cabinetry, though, much of what I saw could have been there a hundredyears ago. I was surprised then when he told me the house had another kitchen, much smallerand completely modern, on the other side of the dining room. The kitchen we were sitting in wasjust for show, he said, and to satisfy his feel for antiquated Americana, as he called it. “Everything in here is just as it was styled in 1880,” he said, “which was the year the housewas built. Everything works, too.” He went over to the sink and started pumping water. “From awell. No chlorine.” The flowing water looked somehow clearer for him having said it. Hewalked over to the large wooden ice box and lifted the top. “Fresh ice, delivered every otherday.” He pulled out two bottles of beer and put them on the table where I sat. From inside thebottom section of the box, he brought out a partially picked carcass of a chicken and a strangelooking mold of butter. “Now, some bread,” he said, reaching into a tin bread box. He tookout a partial loaf of what was undoubtedly home made. “Made with unbleached flour,” he said. Hebrought two mugs and an opener and sat down. “Now we eat.” He opened the beers and pouredtheir contents into the mugs. Quaffing a healthy draught, he urged me to do the same. The beerwas foamy and cold but tasted good. I had been thirsty, and it was hitting the spot. I drankgreedily. I watched the pudgy fingers tearing at the chicken. He ate with much enjoyment inwhat he was doing. A real gourmand, I thought. He kept urging me to dig in along with him. Isliced off a piece of bread. Cutting it in two, I made a half sandwich with the chicken andbutter. He seemed pleased and got up to fish out two more beers from the ice box. “This isexcellent beer, don’t you agree?” he asked. “Yes. It is good,” I said, drinking some more. “A friend of mine brings it to me from Czechoslovakia. Twelve per cent,” he asserted. Hestopped eating for a moment and looked at me. “As you can see, I like good food,” he remarked.”I love to eat.” He said it in a way that made me cross my legs instinctively. I wasbeginning to feel a little woozy from the beer. As he ate, he appeared to be drinking in moreand more of me. He gazed at my breasts for a long time, and I could feel the nipples tighteningunder my bra. “Shall we see what the others are doing?” I suggested, rising from my chair. “Oh, no” he stated abruptly. He got up fast and took my arm. “I mean let’s stay a momentmore.” He wiped some butter from his chin. “Surely there is time. Please. Sit down,” he urged. “I really think I should be checking on my sister,” I said. He was somehow too insistent. Iwasn’t quite sure what he had in mind, although I was certain he would make a pass. Standing up quickly as I had done had made me quite dizzy. “Then one favor before you go.My Victorian room. You must see my Victorian room. I have a room in my house, Miss Starr, whichis an authentic reproduction of the most opulent interior in all London during the eighties.”He took my arm again. Perhaps it wouldn’t do any harm to humor him, I thought, He wasobsessed with such. things as furnishings to the point where his sex drive might have beencompletely sublimated. I felt fairly confident I could handle his passes when and if they came.”Oh, very well,” I said rather reluctantly. “For just a minute.” I followed him through thehouse to the main hall. A carpeted staircase went straight up to the second floor. He went overto a set of double doors near the bottom of the stairs and motioned me over close to him. “Real double pocket doors,” he , said. “Notice the brass fittings.” He opened both doorssimultaneously, sliding them about a foot to each side. “After you, Miss Starr,” he said,motioning at me to go on in. I entered a very plushly furnished room. Red velvet drapeshung from polished brass rods across the windows. On the floor was a brilliant Persian rug. Alarge carved wooden bed occupied the center, and over it stretched a brocaded canopy. It waslovely. I heard the doors close behind me. “Why this is a bedroom,” I said, surprised butnonetheless affected by the surroundings. “Yes,” Cunningham said. He sighed and walked overto a closet. “Here,” he said, handing me what looked like a silk nightgown. “Put this on.” “What” I cried. “Put it on. Please,” he emphasized. I turned and walked over to thedoor; “Unlock these doors,” I demanded. “Mr. Cunningham, I want you to unlock these doorsimmediately.” “You might as well do as I ask,” he said calmly. “I’m not going to hurt you,you know.” “I know what you want to do,” I told him. “Do you?” he asked, suggestingthat perhaps I had been mistaken. I turned toward him, folding my arms across my chest.”Well, suppose you tell me just what it is that you want to do.” “I want to eat yourpussy.” My arms dropped suddenly and I gaped forward at him. I could feel an imaginary handclutching at my vulva. The fat little son of a bitch was actually making me hot. He waswetting his lips. “I haven’t eaten any in so long, I can taste it,” he said, holding out thenightgown again. If that was all he wanted, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, I concluded. Thethought of the pudgy little man’s body lying on top of me was another matter entirely. I don’tknow what made me do it, the beer or the room or watching Hack Raver that morning, but Ireached out and took the gown. My next thought was where to get undressed. Was he going tostand there and watch me, I wondered? He walked over to the same closet and beganundressing himself, facing the inside of the closet. Something about his matter of fact way oftaking his clothes off set me wild. I took my loafers off with my feet, unhooked my skirtand zipped it down. It fell and I stepped out of it. I noticed he hadn’t turned around. He hadtaken his pants off and was carefully hanging them up. Unbuttoning my blouse, I removed itand went to work on the bra, turning my back on him in the process. The bra off, I noticed thenipples and surrounding area had turned rock hard, I rubbed hard at them in an effort to relaxthem, but the rubbing only seemed to make them worse. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw hewas entirely naked. He must have been wearing something before to hold in his stomach for nowthe belly on him seemed enormous. He was reaching for a robe. I got out of my panties asfast as I could and I noticed they were wet down there. Some of it had dried already. Pullingthe gown down over me, I got up on the bed and hid my eyes with my forearm, waiting forwhatever was going to happen. I could hear him moving softly around the room, and thought Iheard the lid to a jar being screwed off. The suspense was getting to me, and I had to reachdown and touch myself. His weight on the bed made it creak. He moved my legs a littlefarther apart as he shifted himself into position. “This is going to feel cool at first,”he said. Instinctively I removed my arm and look down. He held a jar of cream or something inone hand, and with the other was evidently preparing to gunk me up with whatever it was. Heslapped the stuff on gently and began working it in. It was cold at first application, butslowly began to heat up until the whole area there glowed. It had a faint fruity odor. Suddenly, he grabbed me by both hips, and I felt his mouth close over me violently. His headwas nodding like a nanny goat as he ran his lips and tongue up and down the gash. He wassalivating like crazy, and I thought it was going to be more than I could stand. I began toshriek and grabbed at his hair, thinking I was actually going to pull some of it out. I triedto roll over on each side and close my legs, but he was too strong. He had managed to workmy clitoris out and was sucking on it, pushing his face back and forth into the rest of it. Iwas screaming now and dug my heels into his waist, kicking at him for all I was worth. Changing tactics again, he shoved his tongue into my vagina and began a vigorous in-and-outthrusting, his nose pushing at my clitoris. He had extremely well-developed tongue muscles. Feeling myself reaching an orgasm, I knew it was going to be a shattering one. I was clutchinghis head tightly now, my heels braced against his hips. My back began to arch involuntarily asmy body tensed. My mouth gaped wide, and I lost the power to focus my eyes. It came with arush. Great undulating waves of warmth flowed through me. One, two, three,four…five…six. The intervals lengthened. If the feeling would only persist indefinitely. Iran my fingers through his hair. He was sucking now, sucking deep draughts, long and slow.There wasn’t going to be anything left of me, I thought. When he was done, he lay his head onmy thigh and gasped for each breath, his face a raw-looking red. As the hot blood began toflow back into my vulva it tingled. I wondered what he was going to do. If he had wantedintercourse, I would have let him do it. It didn’t matter now. Not many men had ever brought meto such a climax. He sat up quietly. “I want you to know I loved your cunt,” he said, stillbre

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