Stud horse

CHAPTER TWO

Melanie bent lower over Lightning's beautiful mane while whispering sweet songs of inducement into its ear.

She told it that it was the fastest thing alive, that its power was tribute to the strength nature blessed it with.

The feeling of speeding like a bullet, complete with the thrill of that initial blast from the barrel, pulsed through her.

Lightning was in a feverish mood today. It was rare when the horse was doing anything she wanted to please her.

She loved when he started up like that. The first thing she always said to the horse upon mounting it was, "Go, Lightning, go as fast as you can like a crack of thunder."

And they bolted from a standing position like a shot out of a cannon. It thrilled her to the marrow when she experienced it.

She always said that to the horse as soon as she was comfortable in the saddle but it was not all the time that Lightning granted her wish.

The horse could be cantankerous when it wanted to be. Some days it would obey her initial command, but only halfheartedly.

Other times he wouldn't listen at all. It was often after a period of time when they were separated.

Her father forced her into going into town with him and introducing her around. There was no doubt that he was very proud of her.

Sometimes he took her away for a weekend. Lightning was very surly and hard to handle when she came back.

Sometimes it felt like the horse had a will that kept drawing her to it. Sometimes it did the smartest things.

Like today Lightning knew that everyone was watching them. And as long as they were he was going to impress them.

If they were wondering why the both of them spent so much time together, bolting away from them like that at top speed gave them an inkling as to why.

Lightning could thrill her like no other being on earth. He was showing off his strength in front of the husky men.

Top that, the horse was trying to say as they sped from the ranch at top speed, I dare you to do better than this.

Her imagination often dwelled on her love for the animal. She also knew that perhaps she was imagining a bit too much.

Perhaps the horse was just feeling particularly vigorous today, for whatever reason. She remembered the dream. When she had wakened from the dream, she had heard Lightning call to her in a high-pitched whinny. Had she imagined that too?

As if the horse was reading her thoughts this very moment, Lightning whinnied and slowed his pace with short, jolting bucks.

She had not expected the horse to pull up like that. She was so used to her legs around its form that she adjusted with hardly any trouble at all.

The horse stopped short and then pranced at a slow gait gently rocking her from side to side from the swaying motion of its flanks.

She could feel her body mold to the power of the horse's powerful form. She felt as one with it, not a separate entity at all.

They were together. It was at these moments that Lightning ceased to be a thing – HE BECAME A PERSON.

They communicated. They understood one another. They were both beings, like spirits, you might say, housed in two different kinds of bodies.

The fact that that made all the difference in the world did not occur to the naive and lovely Melanie Barker.

Her rebellious spirit blinded her to the obvious fact that they were destined for different realities that could never hope to merge as one.

Little women are allowed these impossible fantasies. Rarely do they have the opportunity to make it real. A wicked moment awaited her.

Of course, her awareness was also dulled by the maze of conflicting images that pulsed through her young brain.

Her buried fantasies were finding an outlet because some sin was plaguing her. All these things she knew only in pictures, not words.

Just like her father she felt somehow responsible for the death of her mother. But it wasn't guilt exactly.

It was more like Melanie, as her daughter, was the only one who could erase this unnamed sin. She too instinctively felt, like her father, that Lightning held the answer.

There was something about this horse that was inextricably bound up with her mother, perhaps much more than she knew.

Melanie could see these images inside her mind's eye as they bubbled up to consciousness. But she couldn't control them.

Because she could not express what was happening to her in words, she could not center the images on a focal point.

Something was bothering her, she knew that. What it was exactly she couldn't tell. Her body made her do crazy things that preyed on her mind.

She loved the feeling between her legs as her young cunny bounced on the smooth leather saddle in time to Lightning's steady, rhythmic pace.

She could feel that she was wet down there. It often happened while riding the beautiful stallion through the sun-drenched valley.

It was their favorite spot. Some of their best moments together had happened between the walls of the mountain they lay in between now. A beautiful red-winged butterfly the span of which was outlined in a felt-like black trim flew in front of her blue eyes.

She was fascinated by its graceful flight that seemed to leave misty and blurry whips of color in its wake.

Melanie knew that this was impossible, colors did not leave comet-like trails in their wake showing where they had been.

The flight of the butterfly left a trace of its stimulating sight on the fronts of her glistening eyes. It was the after-effects of this image that she projected onto the real world.

So that when she saw the butterfly's dazzling colors seem to burn a hazy exhaust into the clear air of the sun-drenched valley, she believed she was witness to a miracle.

She was convinced that the butterfly was trying to tell her something. It was there for a reason, acting like a guide.

It wasn't telling her to do anything. The gesture of its presence and the way its colors painted the transparent air delivered its message.

Her clit was ringing and pulsing. She hadn't completely noticed it until now. Her cunny was really on fire.

As they rode together in the sun-bathed glade her hips loosened their grip around the saddle and the tender vise of her inner thighs rubbed from one side to the other along the smooth saddle in time to the rhythm of Lightning's steady pace.

A strange feeling overtook her. Out of the blue an image pulsed in her brain. It was a picture of her riding Lightning completely in the nude.

The thought of it made her issue an excited gasp. It was too terrible to keep thinking of but gave her a frightful arousal.

She was ashamed to have thought of it. Lightning was hardly making a sound. His strong feet took each step very gingerly.

She got the distinct impression that the horse was thinking the same thing as her. The sweat broke out on her forehead.

She couldn't tell what was real and what was her imagination. The entire scene looked like it could dissolve at any minute right before her eyes.

Perhaps she had never wakened from that dream of her and Lightning entering the curved archway of the house made of glass.

Pinching herself made no difference. She felt the pain but it still did not assure her that everything that was happening was real.

The image of Lightning's blood gorged, two-foot-long constrictor flashed in her head as clear as if she was remembering it from real life.

The black and red butterfly once again came into view. It seemed larger and bursting with color.

Either it was getting bigger or she was getting smaller. Her cunt kept burning and the crotch of her jeans was wet and showing through.

She very slowly unbuttoned the loose blouse that hung around her large, firm breasts and let the wind flap it open.

The cool breeze flew inside the folds and whisked her breasts bare of the light fabric that framed her cleavage.

Her breaths became definite pants expressing her obvious heat. She noticed that her hands were gripping the horn of the saddle.

Without even thinking to do it, she had been rubbing her hot cunt up and down the length of the saddle pumping her back and forth.

Her hands gripped the horn and her arms were held straight out to give her the needed leverage to perform the feat.

She removed her blouse and threw it on the ground. She smiled from the rush of pleasure the lewd act gave her.

She arched her back and took a deep breath, which made her aroused breasts thrust themselves out and harden the nipples from the feel of the caressing breeze.

She was proud of herself. She had satisfied a heretofore-unstated urge. She was riding topless atop her favorite stallion.

Her expression of lust filled her head with confidence. She felt free and uninhibited and capable of much more.

It suddenly seemed very hot out. Her hot tits were cooled by the gentle breeze that blew through the valley but her legs were sweaty. Lightning was moving at an extremely slow pace. The horse seemed to be waiting for her to set a direction or give a command.

Without her steed running like mad through the sun-drenched glade, the burning weight of the summer day began to weigh upon her.

Something moved behind the bush to her immediate right. She had seen it out of the corner of her eye. She turned toward it and laid her full gaze upon it.

The bush seemed to be on fire. Wait a minute, it was the butterfly again! Its crazy blaze of color glowed behind the gaps in the bush.

She was so hot from the sun's rays that she became dizzy on the saddle. She looked down at herself and gushed with excitement at the sight of her breasts.

The nipples were bloated full. They were incredibly swollen and erect. The mere sight of them made her cunt tingle like mad.

She was burning on two fronts, from inside and without. Her cunt was on fire and the sun poured into her flesh.

She gasped as much from excitement as she did to gulp down a reviving rush of the cool wind that provided her with a short respite. After her lungs filled themselves, the heat once again overtook her and she had to fight to stop herself from passing out.

Her pants were soaked in sweat. She raised one leg over the saddle and sat there with her two legs draped over one side.

She unbuckled her belt and raised her ass so she could wiggle the waist past her buttocks and remove the pants entirely.

She kicked them off and they flew in a heap onto the grassy ground. Her black cunny hairs were glistening from her juices.

She whipped her leg over the saddle and could feel her dripping dew mash against the smooth leather and glue her to the seat.

Lightning was off in a flash. As soon as the rider was fastened tightly in position, the horse bolted at top speed.

Melanie's beautiful blue eyes gleamed with delight and her grin stretched from ear to ear as the wind whisked the hair across her pretty face.

The burning flame within her and without her was being quenched by the speeding ride of her powerful steed.

Her flowery cunt swished about the smooth surface as her thighs bounced up down and around on the bobbing horse's back.

Her nipples were hard as a rock. Her big tits flapped from the motion and the sweaty under parts were dried in the cooling wind.

Her body comfortably glowed from the inside. Her passion was flowing through her and exciting her to a grand height now that the wind cooled her boiling skin.

Lightning was whinnying as he sped through the valley. She was blinded from the fierce intensity of the sun's brilliant rays.

She felt alive like never before. Only her precious Lightning could do that to her. It was insane but true.

There was no guilt, no recriminations at this point. Everything was pure bliss, an uninhibited delight.

It was a feeling of lust, yes, but also one of total freedom. Her reckless abandon was reaping a fine reward.

And she knew that the horse was aware of her passion. In some strange way beyond her ability to fully imagine, the horse was trying to court her.

Great bellowing whinnies were rushing out of his snorting mouth without the faintest trace of a muffle from the bit inside it.

The horse was happy and charged up. It sensed the fact that the rider was pleased and enjoying herself on her frantic ride.

The horse did not slow down, but it changed the pace of its gallop from a frenzied headlong run to one of long, lopping strides.

Melanie gasped in pleasure from the change of rhythm. Her cunt suffused with a fiery glow making her clit palpitate.

Her tender underparts slapped against the wet leather between long delays due to the horse's arching prance that raised her flanks off the saddle.

At that interval she felt the wind pierce into the gaping, flower of her cunt and wonderfully irritate her burning parts.

Then her cunt pounced upon the smooth saddle and her loins shuddered in the spastic throes of a rippling orgasm.

The electric current that pulsed through her began in her fevered clit and then burst into flames in her cunt.

Then the wave began an incredible rise up the length of her tingling spine and raced through her shoulders and burst forth into the wells of her bulbous tits.

Her breasts glowed from the orgasm's dramatic chain of flow that inevitably settled in the flesh of her hot mounds.

Her face pulsed a beet-red. Her cunt lips glistened from her spasmic dew that drenched them and made their redness shine forth.

Her nipples were so hard she thought that the orgasm would end only after they had burst from their seams and gushed blood.

Lightning called a halt to the graceful and sweeping gallop with one last mind-boggling arching swoop of his pouncing flanks.

The horse stopped dead in his tracks and Melanie's loins fell onto to the saddle with a splashing thud.

It wrung the last of her fantastic vibration out of her pulsating frame and called a halt to the most fabulous orgasm she had ever experienced in her short life.

After that thundering stop the horse proceeded at a normal pace and allowed the beautiful rider to catch her fevered breath.

Through half-closed lids that hid a part of her sex-glazed eyes, Melanie began to focus on the scenery before her.

Lightning was taking them over to a shady spot. An enormous tree whose plumage rose to a grand height stood adjacent a running stream. They slowly ambled over to the cool-looking spot. Melanie's body was glued to the saddle that had afforded her so much pleasure.

Lightning pulled up to the shady nook without being told. Melanie lifted her leg and dismounted from her lovely steed.

She was wonderfully spent. Her exhaustion filled her with a peaceful contentment. Gone were the haunting pictures of all those conflicting images.

She was at peace. She sat down naked against the tree and closed her eyes. She could feel and hear the horse's rustling movements next to her.

When she closed her lids her eyes were dazzled by a radiating glow of enormous intensity that had the effect of making her ears ring.

It was if she was getting a picture of what her feelings were at that very moment. With her eyes closed, she was looking at what she felt like.

The longer she kept them closed, the more the radiance died out and then vanished completely until there was nothing but darkness.

Lightning's nose was brushing up against her leg. She bent them under her neck and his nose rubbed against her cheek.

Her chin rested on her hands that cupped her bony knees and Lightning's cold nose rubbed up and down her bare thigh.

She kept her eyes closed and groped out a hand to feel for the lovely soft mane that framed the horse's large head. She felt her strength coming back. With eyes closed and looking inside herself she searched into the awesome black abyss.

By trying to focus her eyes into the blackness that stretched forever under her lids they began to tear from the strain.

But for a fleeting moment she was able to gain a three dimensional perspective of her internal picture.

And at that moment she felt like she was flying through space. The only thing that was missing was the sun and stars.

Then the flight assumed a hoary proportion. Her sweeping glide became a fall into a bottomless pit.

It was like being sucked under by a whirlpool, one out in the middle of the ocean that was gigantic and awe-inspiring.

The feeling of vertigo made her bolt open her eyes. She was almost sick to her stomach from the queasy feeling from her internal swoon.

When she opened her eyes she saw that Lightning had ambled down to the stream and was sucking the refreshing waters.

That was funny because all the while she was sure she had been fondling his fluffy mane in her little hand.

She had felt the horse's nose nuzzle itself against the warm flesh of her curveous thigh. She couldn't have imagined that.

She closed her eyes again and this time fell off into a restful doze that gave her back her strength.

When she rose to consciousness her brain once again began its normal workings and the confusing maze of images were back.

Even with her eyes opened they never stopped bubbling up. Her mind's eye kept itself focused on the internal state.

She was looking right at the running stream. But she couldn't see it. She was lost in the reverie of her daydream.

She could feel the sculptured form of the light bouncing off the ripping spray of water, but the stream itself was not registering.

The sparkle of the bobbing jets of the running current merely provided a dazzling background to the row of images pulsing through her brain.

She groaned in fear. She had lost control of her mind! If she continued like this she would lose all sense of reality.

She was receding backward inside herself. A part of her told her that it was wrong but another part of her told her that it couldn't be helped. For better or worse she had to endure it. If one day she came back to the world of hard reality, it would be only after she endured this fearful head-trip.

The images in her brain were pictures of her mother and father and of the ranch foreman Mullady Mistler.

They kept hounding her whether her eyes were closed or open; that was the part that scared her the most.

It was as if she no longer had conscious control over her own thoughts. They even dulled her senses and re-arranged external reality.

She could no longer tell whether something was real or an illusion dredged up to the surface of the world from her fevered imagination.

One image wanted desperately to have itself acknowledged by her consciousness. She dare not think it, and fought it back down.

But it was useless. Every time she thought of something else her thoughts would return to it like they were riding a circle.

She was sweating again. She had been cool here in the shade and couldn't understand. Before it was the sun that had her boiling.

Now it felt like the inferno was inside of her. She was not passionate or lusty but her temperature was rising fast.

The more she sweat and could not control her internal barometer the more panic-stricken she became and the heat became worse.

It was on account of that image she would not let rise to her consciousness. It demanded to be inspected and she was denying it a hearing.

Her heart raced. Her nipples were not aroused but her fleshy breasts shook from the intense level of her steadily palpitating heart.

She took deep breaths to calm herself and desperately groped with her senses to find an outer stimulation that would be intense enough to shake her awake from this terrible head-trip.

The smell of the sweaty stallion filled her nostrils. Soon the light stopped dazzling her eyes and the bubbling stream came into view.

She could hear the sound of the chirping birds. She could feel her tongue in her mouth and knew she had made it back to the world of hard matter.

Just when she thought that she had succeeded in fighting her way out of that terrible vertigo swoon, the deadly image popped into her brain.

It was like it had been waiting for her all along to drop her guard so it could attack her unsuspecting brain.

The image of Lightning's foot-long bloated cock that had appeared to her in the dream burst into her head.

She could hear the blare of the sound of an army of trumpets that accompanied the picture every time it succeeded in making its way to the surface of consciousness.

Her body tingled in fear. Her strength sapped out of her like a tree that was cut in half from the relentless goring of the lumberjack's saw.

Her bones felt like they were made of rubber. She felt guilt at being so fucked up she couldn't tell her dreams from reality.

With her knees tucked under her chin and her hands cupping her sobbing face, Melanie Barker cried like a saint who was suffering for an unnamed sin. Melanie was dying. And what hurt worst of all was that she did not know what was killing her.