----------------------------------------------------------------- This text file contains explicit material unsuitable for anyone below 18. If you are underage, please do not read beyond this line. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Content: stable.txt (f zoo solo ws) Author: Blerg3 Story title: Stable ----------------------------------------------------------------- Copyright to Blerg3 (c) 2014. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story except for your own personal use. I'm fine with sharing of this story via any person to person form of file transfer such as email, IM, flash drive, bluetooth etc, but please do not upload to any other sites without permission. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Stable (f zoo solo ws) by Blerg3 ----------------------------------------------------------------- A girl becomes obsessed with her horse. ----------------------------------------------------------------- The earthy smells of hay and manure are strong in her nose. Her hands can feel his heat, his lungs drawing long deep breaths, massive heart beating. She looks around, heart racing, and sees no one else in the building, or in the slice of courtyard she can see. Her nervous hands fumble at her clothes, catch in her panties and draw them down, squatting by him, hand on his side for balance. She breathes it all in deeply, the warm scent of horse and stable, and lets loose, a thin blade of hot piss hissing out of her, frothing in the sawdust beneath him. He huffs, and she reaches up to rub his flank. The last trickle hits the floor, and she kicks sawdust and straw into the puddle. Her panties she leaves around her knees, she's waiting for something more. The sharp musky scent of urine in sawdust is in the air, and he tosses his head, huffs again. She rubs his side and belly slowly, calmingly, whispering to him, and his penis smoothly slips from its sheath to hang in front of her face. It's longer than her forearm, heavy and black, and she can feel the heat from it on her face. They bred him just a few days before, and she remembers sharply standing close enough to touch them, the mare's squeals as he mounted her, that massive cock thrusting eagerly between the rubbery lips of the mare's vagina, pumping away until semen gushed back from inside, and he withdrew, dripping, and she realised her panties were soaking wet. She dreamt about it that night, feeling the hay prickle under her hands and knees, his weight hanging over her, his penis bulging impossibly inside her, spurting and overflowing... and woke hot and sweaty in the early morning, rubbing herself against her wrist. She took a shower, tried to wash the thoughts away, and gave up halfway through. Sitting dripping wet on the bathroom floor, she masturbated until she could barely stand. The day's work passed in a clumsy sleepless daze of sexual fantasies, until concerned, they sent her home again. She spent hours writhing in bed, orgasm after orgasm until she was raw and exhausted, and finally slept. She worked, and dreamt, and planned for this point, when she could do something to satisfy that itch. And now she's there, bare assed in the hay in front of him, and it almost hurts. She knows she can't take him like she dreamt, his cock, the subject of her dreams and fantasies, is just too big, she thinks. If she were older and more experienced, she thinks, or if she'd had children then just maybe- but she's seventeen, tight, and only done it twice before in her life, she doesn't know enough. She reaches out and takes hold, strokes it, feels him quiver. Someone calls her name in the courtyard and she freezes, but they don't come looking for her. Even if they did, she's not sure she could stop. She juts her hips upwards and tugs his cock towards her, rubs the tip against herself, gliding smoothly against her wetness. She presses it in, forcing her labia to part just slightly, imagining it working in further, filling her up. Muscles tiring, she drops her hips again and takes it in both hands, brings it to her mouth, lips sliding carefully over the bulbous tip. Her tongue works around it, slowly exploring, tasting herself, along with a hint of something salty. She pictures him mounting the mare again, slipping inside like an arm into a sleeve, and feels a hollowness, almost an ache inside herself. She withdraws, keeping him erect in one hand, and lowers the other to her pussy, soaking wet, dripping into the hay. Her fingers slide inside with ease, but it's not enough. With sudden delight, she remembers the treat she was saving for him, in the pocket of her jeans. She draws out the carrot, and his head turns, focusing on the food. He makes to move, but she squeezes his penis tighter, and he stops. Not yet, she thinks. It slides in easily a segment at a time, a cold rod enveloped in her heat. It's a little too cold and hard, the skin rough, and nowhere near as big as she wishes it was- but it's enough for the moment. And the thought of feeding it to him, dripping with her juices, makes it better and better. As she masturbates, she carries on working his cock steadily with one hand- almost expertly keeping him erect without ejaculating, though she would consider herself far from expert in any sexual matter. She hits orgasm suddenly and explosively, crying out as loud as she dares, withdrawing the carrot in an unexpected gush of fluid that soaks into her jeans, leaves quivering droplets on her boots and thighs. She touches herself in wonder, eliciting another jolt of pleasure and a small squirt that smacks against her palm and runs through her fingers. Knees shaking, she gets to her feet, picking up the slippery carrot and feeding it to him, enjoyment on both sides as he crunches and swallows the last morsel, lips against her palm. Her wrist is beginning to ache from the repetitive motion, so she switches hands and pulls the length of his cock gently around to face her. Moving closer the tip prods her belly, and she lifts her shirt, letting it rest against bare skin. The image hits her of herself naked, full length underneath him, his cock running up her body, snuggled neatly between her breasts, spurting over her chest and neck. The image alone is enough that she feels another tiny jolt of pleasure, and eagerly presses herself closer. Like this however, it won't quite reach. She can feel the tip rubbing the underside of her bra, and disappointed, withdraws. He's getting restless now, tiring of whatever she's doing, so she makes up her mind and lets go briefly, quickly unbuttoning and pulling off her shirt, throwing it aside. The outside world, barely metres away, is entirely forgotten in her rush of passion, bra now joining the shirt, jeans and panties pulled as far down as they'll go without taking off her work boots. With him back in hand, her mostly naked, she's drunk on imagination. The memory of young her surfaces, taking her first riding lesson, her bedroom walls covered in horse posters- what would she think of her now? The thought makes her smile, bringing her back to the moment. She begins working the long shaft of his cock with one hand, fast, the other rubbing the tip fast against herself, pausing every so often to roll her hips, press him into herself as far as she dares. She can sense when he's about to blow and pushes in eagerly to the point of pain, crying out as she feels him spurt, a hot gush inside her, herself overflowing with creamy liquid semen that rushes out over her hands, his cock slipping from her grasp up her belly as she presses forward, spurting again, the thick jet licking the underside of her breasts and dripping from them, dribbling down her skin. Her own orgasm hits like lightning, dropping her to her knees with one hand pressed to his side, the other racing between her legs. His cock lies draped over her shoulder, drooping, a trickle running down her back as she trembles, bolts of pleasure racing up and down her legs and spine, lungs full of ecstasy. Her eyes tightly closed, she can feel herself squirting, moaning wildly, gush after gush splashing her palm, pouring through her fingers, running down her thighs, straw wet under her knees. Looping in her mind, that perfect moment with his cock pressed hard into her, the feeling of being filled with brilliant heat, the flash of white as she overflows and his semen spouts back out of her, pattering in the straw. The rush fades slowly and her senses reassert themselves, her horse, her lovely horse stepping away and turning to huff at her hair, with her kneeling naked on the straw and concrete, wet and sticky, beginning to shiver with cold now. She can hear concerned voices in the courtyard, the stable door sliding open, and rushes to dress, pulling on clothes over semen and straw. She knows how they'll find her, dishevelled and dirty, how it will most definitely look, even as she makes excuses. Buttoning her shirt, she grins. She doesn't regret a moment of it.