Unknown - Bea_s pony

"Or a man either," she came back. "You're going to end up an old lady having to pet your own pussy if you're not careful. I don't know where you got to be so independent."

"But you don't just have intercourse with Clyde," I said, changing the subject. "I mean, you're not so wrapped up with him that you can't think about doing it with anyone else." I got up off the bed and walked to the window.

"I suppose if it weren't for Jack, it might end up that way," she posed. "Jack keeps me in touch with the world of people somehow. Telford and this bagpipe player don't have another human being in the house to remind them."

"That's it, isn't it?" I surmised, turning from the window. "They get so they like it that way and no other, and when the opportunity comes along to go to bed with a real woman, they either don't recognize it or can't work up any interest."

Helen was blushing. I knew she must have been thinking about Clyde. She did like it when the pooch did it to her, and maybe liked it better than with Jack, well, certainly with Jack, and for all I knew, better than with anyone that she had done it with since Clyde first screwed her that night.

"Bea?" she queried. "Do you honestly think we'll find Clyde?" The tone of her question implied she was falling into depression again.

"You've done everything anyone could do in the situation," I assured her. "I'm optimistic myself, and you should be, too." I walked over to her and patted her shoulder.

"I miss getting it," she said, "getting it good like that, and this morning, watching Telford do it to his cat reminded me." She bent her head down and kissed the back of my hand.

"Well, there's always the pony," I remarked.

Her eyes lighted up. "That's true," she declared. "I had forgotten about him." She stood up and went over to the window. "He's down there grazing." She turned to face me. "Let's get him inside. It's my turn, isn't it?"

She took off for the stairs with me following. We kept colliding with each other in the run and started laughing. Helen reached the back door first and opening it said, "You get him, Bea. Your robe is heavier than mine." It was true. You could see right through the thin nylon of her robe. The firm breasts were heaving outward as she tried to catch her wind after running so hard.

I stepped out into the yard. The pony, expecting a handful of grain, came trotting up to me and worked its lips at my right hand. It had such a soft mouth. A light breeze was playing with the snow white mane, and the afternoon sun gave its tawny hide an almost golden sheen.

"You can have some grain," I said softly to him. "But first a little fun inside." I gave him a pat on his cheek, and guided him back into the kitchen.

Helen was holding the door open. "Do you think we can get him to do it again?" she asked as we came inside. "Oh, I'm so hot," she squealed, clutching her crotch through the robe. She did a little jumping movement and followed us into the living room.

The pony walked to the center of the room, lowered his head and shook it four or five times. He put one foreleg out stiff in front of him and licked at one of the joints.

Helen had taken off her robe and was walking around him looking longingly at every part of him. She came up to him and ran her thighs along his flank.

"Just the feel of him is enough to set you off," she declared. "What marvelous hair!"

She knelt down on one knee and started caressing the folded skin out of which his enormous shaft would surely emerge if she were successful.

I knelt down on the other side and watched her ministrations. She was feeling his testicles with her other hand, cupping her hand under first one and then the other, and then trying to feel the weightiness of both of them at once.

"What big balls!" she oodled.

The pony turned his head and stretched it backward under his belly as if to nibble at her kneading fingers, but otherwise was showing no reaction to her efforts.

"How did he get hard yesterday?" I asked her.

"I don't know," she answered. "I just walked into the living room, and there it was, coming out."

"Do you suppose he knows?" I wondered out loud. "Or is it an involuntary action?"

Helen got back on her feet and walked over to the sofa. "I'm going to get down like with Clyde," she said, kneeling before the sofa and placing her hands up on the cushions. She spread her knees apart and jutted her butt back and upward. "Bring him over," she requested.

I walked the pony to where her gorgeous bottom was exposed. The lips were swollen and had a purply pink color that showed through the hair. Just the faintest hint of a wet, dark red interior was visible along the line separating them.

I couldn't resist patting the pert little puffiness that bulged up at me. Her reaction was to wiggle her rear end and groan, thrusting the fat cunny upward some more. The lips opened to reveal more of the engorged tissue inside. It was stunningly moist. How could the pony resist it?

The pony did notice it and mouthed it gently with his lips, breathing heavily on it at the same time.

"Oh, gosh! I wish somebody would do something," Helen moaned. It struck me as an odd statement.

The pony licked out at the gash, turning its head sideways so that the juicy tongue was aligned vertically with it. The big muscle slopped and pushed as it churned up the flesh. His saliva foamed slightly around his lips, and as he bared his teeth at one point, I was afraid he might try to bite.

Helen had pushed her face down into the sofa cushion. It was bright red and covered with sweat. Her eyes were glazed, and her mouth held loosely open. Her breath was coming out in heavy shuddering sighs.

The pony raised one front hoof and dug at Helen's back. I could tell by the way she raised her head suddenly that it had hurt, and I ran to the coat closet, bringing back a thick, fluffy car coat. I threw this across her back.

The animal was slowly getting an erection. It came out almost imperceptibly at first and then, like one of those long, thin balloons, filled out fast at the end. The skin stretched very tightly along the length of it when it was fully hard, and the big, blobby knob at the tip seemed enormous.

Again, he raised a hoof at her back. The third time, he succeeded in getting both hooves up and took aim with his organ. I couldn't believe that huge shaft would positively land on target when he landed, and got down on the floor beside them.

Grabbing the thick, massive stick of meat, I tried by bending and waving to aim it at the precise spot. It took both hands to hold it steady.

Whinnying and pawing at Helen's back, the animal lunged downward. With an awful glopping noise, the big head poked into the space between the lips, slamming in with tremendous force.

I sprang back quickly, releasing my grip. The entire organ went down like the Titanic, with a rush, filling into the space available to it at an alarming pace.

Helen's head was pushed into the back of the sofa. She grunted in one long horrible sound that a person being pressed to death might have made. Her face was pushed out of shape where it was against the upholstery.

The big penis finally struck bottom with about four or five inches still to go inside. The pert little bottom I had just been admiring was opened and stretched beyond credibility, the lips clutching at the shaft seeming about to split.

Helen recovered quickly from the initial thrust and pushing up with her hands, regained a tenable position. The huge organ was imbedded deeply inside her, and she seemed determined to brave its next assaults.

The pony began working the staff back and down in a series of short, broadly based thrusts that seemed designed to achieve complete penetration. Something in the animal's instinct apparatus was telling it everything was not right as long as the merest fraction of an inch remained outside.