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Subject: {RedvaneFox}JDR"Garden of England"( best M~horse )[1/1]
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Garden of England
("Arabian Nights" Part II)
By Redvane Fox
Redvane@atheling.demon.co.uk
"Blackwater,
Take me with you,
To the place that I have spoken.
Come and lead me,
Through the darkness.
To the light that,
I long to see,
Again."
Rain Tree Crow "Blackwater"
WARNING. This work of fiction contains descriptions of sexual activity
~~~~~~~~ between humans and horses. If you think that such
descriptions will upset or offend you please stop reading now and delete
this message or file. This piece of fiction should not be given to or
read by minors. Void where prohibited by law. If in doubt, consult a
qualified veterinarian or sexuality counsellor. And so what if I
haven't written much recently, neither has Shakespeare :)
=====================
Garden of England
("Arabian Nights" Part II)
By Redvane Fox
Redvane@atheling.demon.co.uk
Wonderful old beasts these 707's, antique I'll grant you but good
workhorses all the same. I'd done a bit of flying in them in my past as a
jobbing pilot and I'd managed to pull a couple of strings and got the right-
hand seat for the journey home to England. Of course it was more than the
opportunity to log a few hours P2 in this old bird that had prompted me to
call in a favour or two; they were flying Sara out on this flight.
Johnson, the captain, seemed a nice enough bloke. He'd handled the
takeoff and I'd flown the first couple of legs, Dhahran to Cairo, Cairo to
Sicily and he'd taken it from there, it was all pretty routine stuff,
autopilot could have done it but it felt good to get my grubby paws on a
real 'plane rather than the glass cockpit stuff I'd become used to.
"I have control."
"You have control captain." I replied, taking my hands off the stick.
"Mind if I leave you for a few minutes, I'd like to take a check on
the cargo."
"No problem, bring us back a cup of tea would you. Mind that horse
doesn't bite you."
"I doubt that she'll do that, horses seem to like me."
"If you say so, can't stand them myself, bit scared of them to tell
you the truth. I have enough trouble with cats, my wife has three of the
buggers." Johnson grimaced, evidently he was no animal lover. I chose not
to pursue the matter and turned to the flight engineer.
"Alan, what's yours?"
"Tea, no sugar please."
I couldn't see Sara as I made my way to her transport crate so I
figured she was lying down. I'd never known a horse lie down as much as
she did. Hassan told me that she was so trusting of people she seemed to
prefer it to standing. I wasn't complaining though, in the weekend we'd
spent together in the desert we'd lain together often, cuddling under the
stars, nuzzling each other, my nakedness pressed close against her warm
flanks against the chill of the desert night, her soft lips against my
skin, my fingers entwined in her mane, roaming across her silken quarters,
the musky scent of her sex, the taste of her as she opened herself to me
under themoon, hanging low and golden in a perfect sky. I closed my eyes
and breathed deep, letting go in a long sigh.
A nicker came from the crate before me, a rustle of bedding, a short
snort. I smiled and walked forwards and peered over the edge. Crate was
perhaps a misnomer for Sara's travelling-box, it was more like a flying
loose box, roomy with ample space to lie down, shavings on the floor,
water, feed; equine business class without the in-flight movie. "Hello
love," I whispered.
Sara looked up, her ears flicked forward, her beautiful dark eyes
fixing me, trapping me within their soft gaze. She lay slightly to one
side, her legs tucked neatly under herself, silken tail draped like a
wedding dress' train behind her
"Oh gods, you're beautiful," I heard myself whisper; somewhere inside
a cynical demon cringed at the sugary sentiment but the angels told him to
shut up. I couldn't help it, I felt like a teenager in love all over
again. Of course then it was a little pony on a tatty allotment in a
northern mill town but the feeling was the same, the soaring feeling that
grips the pit of your stomach and won't let go. I reached down towards her
and she bent her neck up to snuffle at my fingers. Satisfied that I was
who I appeared to be she settled back once more, her tail flicked casually
and she snorted gently again. It was all I could do to restrain myself
from ripping off my clothes and leaping into her box; there she was,
waiting, inviting me in. "I'd love
to Sara," I whispered to her, "but I've got a plane to fly." She tilted
her head as though she could understand my words, maybe the emotion of
regret in my voice spoke to her but in a moment she was on her feet and
over by my side, her fine head nuzzling at my shoulder, brushing her cheek
against mine. I reached up and ran my hand down her soft, warm neck,
leaning into her heat, drinking her scent, a tear formed in my eyes, "I
love you Sara." She nuzzled at my back and I scritched her mane, still
holding her close; together we stood, grooming each other, deepening our
bond of friendship and trust. Again I became lost in her world, the
feeling of strength in her neck as I ran my hand under the silvery-grey
waterfall of her mane, the warm scent of horse, that indescribable, heady
mixture of smokiness, hay and earth that is both calming and exhilarating
all at once. I felt myself slipping away into her, becoming one with her,
running across the expanse of deserts, over dunes that towered like frozen
waves shimmering in the heat, dipping my head to palm fringed pools of
water cool against my tongue, pressing through the bustle of the souk, my
nostrils flaring at the scents of spices, coffee and sweat, bodies brushing
against my sides, calves against my flanks gently guiding me through the
crush of people...
A sudden jarring shook me back to what passes for reality, the pilot
in me reacting to the drop and surge of engine notes. Sara flicked up her
hear out of my grasp and snorted. "It's OK love, probably just
turbulence." I said. She relaxed once more and nuzzled me. "I'd better
go though," I stroked her nose, "Best to lie down love, might get a bit
bumpy."
I returned back to the flight deck, coffee in hand, "Didn't have any
tea," I apologised. "Everything OK?"
"Few bumps over the Alps, clear air stuff, nothing serious."
"Alps already?" I looked at the map and then at the VOR, tuned to
Geneva. "Must have been back there longer than I thought."
"I was beginning to think that horse had eaten you."
With superhuman effort I managed to restrain myself from saying
"Chance would be a fine thing," and smiled instead, turning my attention to
the inflight checklist and doing some fuel sums. Those duties out of the
way I pulled out the Jeppesen for Manston and Stanstead and pretended to
study them intently although my mind was far away from thoughts of VOR
holds and ILS approaches, I was with Sara once more, this time above the
clouds but free from the noise and metal of the Boeing. In my dreams my
head rested on her quarters, the world spread out below us as we drifted,
far from the cares and rush of the people underneath us; the warmth of her
presence seeping into mine, making me whole, making us one...
"Peter..."
Crunch. Back to reality. "Captain?"
"You alright?"
"Yeah sure, just thinking about something that's all. Been a long
time since I put into Manston."
"Well we're nearly there, be out of the Paris FIR in ten minutes.
Don't worry, there's lots of runway."
Doesn't time fly when you're having fun.
-*-*-
Despite computers promising a paperless society it's surprising how
much more paper we still use. Sara's travelling documents filled a good
sized loose-leaf folder and weighed about half a ton; papers for
vaccinations, export licences, translations into English for the Arabic
documents, breed certification, bloodline, vaccination certificates, copy
of the studbook registry, passport (yes, horses have them too). It seemed
to take forever but eventually, the Min of Ag satisfied that Sara wasn't
going to introduce the galloping horse plague into England's green and
pleasant and customs happy that I didn't have five tons of hashish hidden
up her bottom, papers were stamped, signed and shuffled and I could take
her home.
Sara, curious but unfrightened, sniffed everything as I lead her to
the trailer for the short journey home, bemused perhaps by the strange
smelling damp air. Lynda, my partner who looked after my little menagerie
whilst I was away (and with whom we played "husband and wife" when protocol
demanded it of us) stood by the trailer's tailgate, sighing quietly.
"Hands off Lynda," I chided jokingly.
"Did I say a word?" she replied, "She's incredible Pete, and you say
he *gave* her to you."
"We've got a friend in the oil business it seems."
Lynda whistled, "We get everywhere don't we. I don't suppose there's
any chance that..." Sara was level with the tailgate now and bent her head
to nuzzle her.
"It would look as though there's every chance."
It was growing dark by the time we got back to the farm in Hensden, a
late autumn sunset lit the sky in soft reds and oranges, fading to purple
as it gave way to encroaching night, the last rays shining through the
chestnuts at the edge of the west field. As we drew up Silky and Catherine
trotted up and plonked their heads over the fence, sunlight turning them
golden, to see who we were and Smoke and Shadow, our border collies, came
rushing up, barking excitedly. "But it's so much nicer, Yes it's so much
nicer, To come home." Well sung Frank.
Lynda, ever thoughtful and organised just like I'm not, had
prepared a box and a light feed for Sara before she'd come to pick us up
and so I lead here there and sorted her out with water and food before
leaving her as suddenly haynets looked far more interesting than I did
to her. As I walked from her box I found myself experiencing a funny
sort of sadness, a sense of loss. It puzzled me for a moment and then I
realised it was that feeling I'd had before, back in the past with the
little pony whose name I never knew and then with Zephyr, the first mare
who I could really call my own.
Shit, I was in love and I couldn't bear to be out of her sight.
"I'll get over it," I thought. I was very unsure about falling in
love again the way I had before, most of the memories I'd had of those I'd
loved before were of pain at their loss, making it hard to remember the
good times together. I began to wonder, as I walked towards the field to
bring the other horses in, whether His Excellency had given me a blessing
or a curse in Sara.
Lynda commented on my silence as we brought our horses in for the
night. I put it off to tiredness after the journey and the work of the
previous weeks although I got the impression she didn't believe me. Still
I stayed up for a while, giving plenty of scritches to my other girls and
making sure that Pebbles the pony stallion remembered who I was. It was
with two minds though that I dropped in on Sara to make sure that she was
alright and ready for bed. She's finished her feed and a good proportion
of the hay and I noted that she'd drunk about a quarter of her bucket, my
mind noting the details and calculating how much I'd have to feed her
tomorrow. She turned as I entered her stall, snorting a gentle welcome,
her white tail flicked slowly sideways, ghostly like an owl's wing in the
faded light. I placed a hand on her rump and scratched her, working
forwards to her spine.
"So, what happens now?" I asked her, although the question was really
asked of myself. She moved round, swinging her haunches away and stepping
the short distance to me, she breathed out, long and slow as she brought
her head close to me. Almost instinctively I lowered my head to hers and
breathed in deeply, taking her breath within me before breathing out
through my nose as she had done; in return she scented me, a greeting, a
ritual as ancient as her race, graceful and serene. We repeated our
breaths, faces almost touching, the differences between us falling away
into irrelevance as we became as one. Almost imperceptibly I fell into her
spiritual embrace and she gathered me to her, speaking words that were not
words, the language of comfort and peace, I found myself infused with hope,
hope that this time it would be right, that there would be no pain and
separation to wash away the joy. Deep inside I guess that I knew that life
would not suddenly become a bed of roses but I knew more that I had to give
this love a chance, had to let myself go, much as my demons screamed not
to; not to risk the hurt would mean never truly feeling the joy of her love
for me and mine for her, not to love her with everything I had would be to
love something precious and that was a price I couldn't pay.
Slowly I became aware of a soft nose against my cheek, Sara
lipping at me, bringing me back to the world outside. I opened my eyes,
only realising now that they had been closed. She turned her head, in the
pale light spilling from the yard her eyes gleamed darkly at me. No
blanket of stars here, no moon low on the horizon and so clear and pure
that it seemed you only had to reach out to touch it, but her eyes were the
same as when she looked at me in her desert homeland, speaking in the
speech without tongues, asking me forward. I took the short step towards
her, bridging the gap between us. My hands reached out to her neck, making
contact with her warmth, slipping down the soft hairs, breathing her scent,
smoke and hay and comfort. As I moved towards her, laying my cheek against
her neck, the smell of warm, contented horse covering me, she placed her
head over my shoulder and gathered me to her. Like that we stood for what
seemed like eternity, my hands slid down to her shoulders and there they
stayed unmoving, holding her as she held me. With care I opened myself to
her, let her warmth and love suffuse me and on that gentle ocean of
strength she floated me, casting off into the dark, still waters.
At length I felt a nudge against my shoulder as Sara pushed me. I
took a step back from her but in truth we did not separate, I felt that
nothing could come between us now and that physical distance was a mere
irrelevance. She breathed at me, long and slow, curling her top lip a
little. I reached up to her nose and stroked it's velvety softness. Her
tail swished in the half light of the stable and I felt rather than heard
her rear hoof stamp as she pushed her face forward into my hand. I had a
strong feeling, as her tail swished again, that it was not her nose that
she wanted stroking.
"I thought that you'd be tired?" I whispered to her. She answered
with a snort. "I guess not," I smiled and stood to one side of her and put
my hand to her neck, scratching the crest firmly between my fingers like a
nipping stallion, working back down to her withers. Sara bent her head
low, her nose pushing forward. Looking back I could see her tail rising, a
white fountain in the pale light. We were united in spirit and it seemed
so right, so proper, that we should once more join our bodies as we had
done so far away. She had passed into my care now and she had shown her
care for me, it seemed like a sacred duty for us to answer our needs of the
body, and for us it was no burden at all.
I moved down her side, one hand tracing the ridge of her back,
along the line of her spine, the other hand I held to her flanks as I moved
down her, feeling the softness of her hair, the curve and flow of her
beautiful body, the silent power in the muscles of her quarters. As I drew
close to her rump my hand on her back slowed and began a slow scratching by
the root of her silken tail. At my bidding it rose higher and she flicked
it first towards, granting me a taste of her mare's scent, and then away.
Keeping the pressure on her dock I slipped my hand around the curve of her
leg and firmly, so as not to startle or tickle her, up the inside of her
thigh towards her velvet lips, feeling the hairs grow shorter and give way
to the soft skin. I bent my head to rest on her rump so I could scent her
better, breathing deep of the sharp sweetness of warm and willing mare.
My exploring hand made contact with her lips and spread itself to cup the
curve of the base of her vagina, lifting it slightly, savouring its heat,
navigating by touch alone. With a sigh I pressed forward with my thumb,
running it against the meeting place of her lips. Sara shifted her weight,
leaning against me and pushing back. As she did my thumb slipped into her,
the honeyed lips parting to my questing hand. Slowly I pressed inwards and
upwards, feeling her little shudder through my body as I opened her, first
upwards to her depths and then down back to the shallows, the walls of her
sweet pussy becoming wet to my touch. I sighed and snuggled up close to
her, my beautiful mare, my gentle lover. She twitched in my hand, winking
as though ready for a stallion's rod, a trickle of her juices slipping from
her and coating my fingers.
"More?" I asked her, raising my head to look at her, at my words
she flicked back her ears and raised her tail high, almost curling it over
her back; definitely more. Holding the root of her tail I pressed the
palm of my hand against her vagina then slipped one, the two fingers into
her clasping depths, working them in and out of her burning heat. "Oh gods
Sara," I whispered, "you're just so beautiful." All I wanted to do was
pleasure her, her desires were my commands. I pressed another finger into
her, gently in and out of her heat, working my hand into her spreading sex,
slipping upwards into the heat of her passage and back down to caress her
swelling lips, brushing against the little bud of her clitoris. I pushed
back in again, my whole hand this time drawing the fingers together and
pushing deeper into her, my hand becoming slick and wet with her juices;
Sara grunted, a low sound of pleasure and squatted, bracing her hind legs
to receive a stallion's weight on her quarters, her sex convulsed, her lips
winking, bringing the sensitive spots up to rub on my wrist as itentered
her. Carefully I withdrew and pushed into her again a little deeper and
again she winked, grasping at my arm. I leant close and breathed deep of
her scent, her beautiful scent, warm and soothing, the scent of earthy
pleasures, soft hay and woodsmoke. My need grew within me as I pleasured
her and with my free hand I fumbled at the button of my jeans, need and
hunger making me clumsy.
I had a vision of myself, an awkward primate beside her equine
grace, and deep inside I felt my inner angels and demons laugh; Sara did
not care what my shape was, how I looked or what my athletic prowess
was. Those facile human concerns, the trappings of beauty that so many
of my species worried over, were of no import to her, she saw through
such things; we made each other happy, that was what mattered. With
ungainly awkwardness I stepped from my burden of clothing to stand half
naked beside her, my arm still slowly pleasuring her, being grasped
tight and then released on every upstroke as I plundered her molten
depths. With my other hand now free of it's labours in unclothing me I
reached up to her rump and began an slot, deliberate scratching which I
knew she loved. To my delight her whole body shuddered and tensed, only
to relax with a deep sigh from deep within her, her ears flattening back
and then perking forward with a fox's alertness; my arm felt sucked
inside her as she tightened her grasp, the spasm of pleasure holding her
frame, dancing through her being and them gently letting go.
I stopped for a moment, allowing her to breathe, my hand slipping
slowly from her winking sex but moving close to her, my cock, already
aroused by her pleasure, her scent, pressed against her warmth, the soft
hairs of her hind leg tickling and caressing with a promise of pleasure,
beckoning me to feel more, to be caressed by her silken hide, to feel the
press of her silvery coat against my skin. As she settled from the peak of
her pleasure she flicked her tail, the hairs stroking me, kissing with a
touch as light as a summer's breeze. Slowly I dropped my head to her tail,
breathing deep the heady scent of her heat, the warmth of her passion a
haze of perfume around me. Tentatively I reached up once more, fingers
brushing the lips of her sex; at their touch they coaxed a tiny trickle of
moisture from her depths poised to hang like a pearl from the darkness of
the cavern from which it sprung. With my heart pounding I leant closer,
closer, kissing the jewel that hung in the moonlight, lapping up the
softness of her crack, the taste exquisite, sweet and bitter, cream and
new-mown hay. It was my turn to shudder now, with wild abandonment I
pressed my face to her, licking deep of her honeyed lips, pressing my
tongue into her depths, lapping at her beauty, drinking deep of my glorious
lover. I felt her push back against me and I pressed forward in return, my
hands either side of her tail which cascaded over my head in a waterfall of
frozen white. My cock rubbed against her hindleg, hard and aching for
release, the brushing touch of her soft hide a delightful torment of
tension. Dimly I heard her harrumph, her nether lips winking, a fresh
sharpness of her juices on my tongue. Harder I licked at her, driving
forward even as she pushed back, becoming one with her, our pleasures
shared. Again a shudder gripped her, her muscles tensing under my hands,
gasping for breath I pulled back, her tail sliding across my shoulders in a
silken caress.
Panting in the moonlight, half naked in her stall, I looked down at my
lover, tail high and arched across her back, the dark lips of her sex
shining and wet, the flush of her tunnel dark pink as she winked her need.
She turned her head, ears perked forward and fixed me with her soft eyes,
speaking without talking in words as old as time. I nodded my assent and
though it pained me I took my eyes from her beauty for a moment. Though it
mattered not to me that we were horse and human the difference in our forms
imposed a few minor physical inconveniences to coupling and Sara, although
happy in my presence, did not seem inclined to lie down. Salvation lay at
hand though in that day's delivery of straw bales.
Our physical differences overcome I rose to her, covering her as her
stallion, my cock slipping between her lips, slipping along the line of her
crevice into her warmth to press into her depths. Sara sighed, content,
her head dropping, snorting the ground as I found her rhythm once more,
pushing slowly into her, my hands upon her soft flanks, a grasp from her
strong muscles, a slow withdrawal only to press close once more. No mortal
could withstand her heat for long, and with a groan of delight I spilled
into her. Leaning forward I hugged her, lying on top of her hindquarters,
holding her tightly as I covered her; she held me within herself. her
strong muscles milking me. I breathed her name, the air misting to grey as
I held her, lost in her warmth, her ocean of calm.
Slowly the chill of the night crept furtively into the stable and even
Sara's warmth could not dull it's touch. Reluctantly I slipped from her
back and into the bonds of denim and cotton. A soft nose poked me and I
looked up into her eyes, my hand stroked the line of her jaw. Wordlessly I
reached forwards and wrapped my arms around her neck, her warmth and her
scent surrounding me and there we stood as in turn the night gathered us
both to her.
=====================
(c) Redvane Fox, England, 1997. All rights reserved.
"Blackwater" (c)David Sylvian, Opium (Arts) Ltd. 1991.
Bouquets of endless orchids or barbed wire to:
redvane@atheling.demon.co.uk
=====================
Garden of England
("Arabian Nights" Part II)
By Redvane Fox
-30-
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