Richard Long: Beasts are better

Eileen continued to thrust and jab at her loins until she had utterly depleted her physical senses. Gasping and sobbing weakly, she crumpled into a heap and slowly pulled her hands from her body. After a moment, when her head stopped spinning and she could focus her vision, she twisted about and looked over at her friend. Doreen lay quietly, her eyes filled with tears of sexual gratitude. The vibrator had slipped from her grasp; she had had barely enough strength left to switch it off before allowing it to fall down onto the bed. The dildo still rested deep in her cunt; she had thrust virtually all the massive tool into her slit. A covering of bright, shining oil coated every surface of her pussy and stained the tops of her thighs. She smiled wanly when her eyes met Eileen's.

"I wouldn't have thought I could come like that," she muttered wearily. "Not without having a man feeding the cock to me, at any rate. Mmm, honey, we've just got to find ourselves some fucking material around here! I sure hope that you've got a good supply of men around here. The way I'm going I could take on an army and still want more!"

Eileen had to admit that the country's supply of prick was severely limited. She explained that she had been fucking Hank, her foreman. When Doreen asked what was wrong with him and listened to Eileen's analysis of the man's habits in bed she merely sniffed derisively. That would never do, she flatly stated; they were going to have to find a better solution than Hank. Eileen attempted to explain that there were no neighbors within twenty miles and that those few were all married men who would have allowed themselves to be castrated rather than look at another woman. Doreen again gave a skeptical snort and vowed that they could do better. She appeared to have a scheme in mind but when Eileen pressed her to explain, the woman merely shook her head.

Eileen did not have to wait long before finding out what Doreen had in mind when she said that they could find a more satisfactory lover than Hank Barstow. They spent a short time in recuperating from their violent exertions and then dressed. Doreen slipped on an ultra-brief dress made of some kind of clinging nylon or silk knit, a paisley print that barely covered her luscious hips. Eileen noticed that she wore neither panties nor bra under the garment. Doreen laughed when she saw the woman's questioning look. She explained that the height of fashion in Los Angeles required that a woman dispense entirely with underwear if her figure could get by without the help of such garments. Eileen slipped into the jeans and print shirt she ordinarily wore about the ranch and then tugged on her stout hiking boots.

The first thing they had to do, Doreen said, was to make sure where all the other guests at the ranch were located. That was easy. Eileen informed her that the two couples who were staying there at the moment had left early that morning for an overnight ride down to the Shadow Rock area, some forty miles distant. Hank Barstow had brought Jackson back to the barn and had then gone into Salt Lake City to buy some fencing material, which he planned to install on the way back to the ranch. For all practical purposes, they were at least twenty miles from another human being.

Doreen's eyes brightened considerably upon hearing that, though Eileen could find no reason for being elated. After all, if they were going to find a substitute for Hank then there would have to be people around, she pointed out, and at the moment that essential requirement was missing. Doreen laughed merrily and assured her friend that nothing could suit her better than to be told just that. She asked Eileen to give her a short tour of the ranch buildings and to explain the purpose of every structure there, promising that her plan would soon become clear. Eileen agreed and led the woman around the ranch, explaining everything, but also wondering what she could possibly be thinking.

"Oh, is that the same donkey that we saw this morning?" Doreen suddenly asked, pointing toward a bedraggled, gray shape that stood disconsolately in a stall. "What did you call him? Jackson?"

Eileen agreed that this was Jackson. He seemed to be contemplating the evil fate which had allowed him to get so close to mounting a mare. The study did little to improve his sour outlook on the world around him. Doreen looked at the fuzzy little creature for a moment and then tentatively opened the gate to the stall, looking over at Eileen for permission to enter. Eileen said that Jackson was completely tame and that she had nothing to fear from him. The woman went into the stall and ran a gentle hand over the beast's muzzle. Jackson patiently endured her touch. Doreen continued to rub his nose and ears for another moment, then squatted beside him. His prick hung down from the leather, furry sheath as normal. It resembled a length of thick, dark plastic hose with a flattened tip. Doreen reached out carefully and touched the donkey's cock. Jackson's ears pricked up and he shook his head from side to side but otherwise he did not move as Doreen ran her fingers down his cock with a light, feathery touch. Eileen watched with wide eyes. She felt her pussy growing warmer and livelier inside her jeans and then felt the beginnings of that familiar flow of warm, cunty oil. She gazed down at Doreen for a moment, uncomprehending, and then paled when a sudden flash of realization dawned.

"My God! You're not thinking about…" she gasped weakly, holding onto the gate for support.

Doreen turned her head around to look at her with a satisfied smile, keeping her fingers running up and down the thick tool that hung from Jackson's belly. A light of devilish glee danced in her eyes and she nodded slowly, confirming Eileen's worst suspicions.

"Why not? I saw an animal act in Tijuana once; this girl got it on with a donkey just like this!" she said. "Now about some Vaseline? Got any?"

Eileen muttered that they always kept a big jar in the tack room for greasing leather and treating saddle sores on the animals. She was told to bring it and she did so, finding that Doreen had removed her dress during her absence. The woman was naked except for her loafers, and she again squatted beside Jackson and continued to slide her fingertips up and down the length of the donkey's prick. Eileen handed her the big jar of Vaseline and was told to strip, a command which she found herself powerless to resist. She stripped slowly, finding it difficult to make her fingers work well enough to unfasten the buttons on her shirt, and finally stood naked in the barn's runway. Doreen opened the jar of Vaseline and dipped out a small quantity, which she began rubbing lightly over Jackson's big cock. The donkey patiently endured her ministrations, though his ears now stood upright and he had a more attentive attitude. Doreen mentioned that they needed a low bench, something they could shove under the beast and lie on as they offered their pussies to his prick. Eileen knew of just the thing, a bench sitting against the sunny side of the barn. It had been polished smooth by a generation of jeans being applied to it and was no more than two feet tall. She hesitated before going to get it, though, and pointed out that Jackson did not seem to be responding to the woman's touch. Doreen admitted this but said that she hoped a more vigorous application of her hand, once she had lubricated his cock with the Vaseline, would have the desired effect.

The woman added a final dollop of the clear grease to the animal's obstinately limp prick. Screwing the top onto the jar and handing it back, she grasped the cock firmly and began squeezing it, treating it exactly as though it were a man's prick. She worked her fist up and down the tool with slow, deliberate strokes. Eileen's pussy began throbbing harder than ever; the sight of a woman jacking off a donkey affected her strongly and she felt her sexual desire growing hotter inside her loins. Doreen continued to masturbate the beast but with little effect.