by Sacchi Green
“Think I can’t? Think I’m not going to get off, too? You’re wet and sucking at my cock. When I slam into you, I’m gonna feel it right against my clit.”
“Jesus, just do it. God, Ari.” I rose on toes again, trying to back onto the cock, but she followed the movement, and the crown slipped from my channel.
“Hold still. Don’t help. Just feel.” A hand gripped the back of my hair, lifting my head, arching my back, and then her hips slammed forward, and the thick cock rammed deep, pressing deep into my channel, gliding straight until the firm balls slapped my clitoris.
I bucked hard, not caring that she pulled my hair.
Ari wound her hand, tugging my head higher. Only that one hand held me suspended. My arms were still cinched at my sides and my abdomen was stretched, shuddering as she rocked forward and back, plowing deep, rutting like a man into my cunt until it felt hot, the soft tissues abraded by the heavy, veined ridges.
“I need more,” I sobbed.
“What’s that?” she said, halting her movements when her belly was pressed against my ass and her cock so deep I felt it at the mouth of my womb. “A cock isn’t enough for you?”
“I need more.”
“Gotta be a little more specific, chica. Want my tongue, my fingers? Will that be enough?”
“Yes. Your fingers on my clit. Your cock ramming deep.”
Ari came out of me, and her hand let go of my hair. My body sagged over the sawhorse. She drew me up gently, shoved the structure to the side, then helped me to lie down on the blanket she’d spread on the fragrant straw.
“I’m gonna fuck you like a man. Face-to-face. But you know why this is gonna be better than anything you’ve ever had?”
As her fingers entered me, I gasped and lifted my knees, letting them splay wide. I shook my head. “Why’s it gonna be better?”
“Because I’m a girl. I know what your clit needs, know just how to touch it to make you spark like a wildfire.”
She bent, lifted the hood cloaking my engorged clit, and suckled it, nursing it with her lips. When I began to moan, she drew back, a wicked light in her eyes again. “Not yet, baby.” She came over me, her breasts pressing into mine, her tight little points rubbing my areolas.
My thighs widened and lifted to bracket her narrow hips. The dildo nudged my entrance and slid inside.
With my belly curved toward hers, the base of the cock slammed against my bared clit. It was enough. I was coming apart. But she lifted her belly and slid a hand between us. Her wet fingers circled on the rigid knot of nerves, and she resumed stroking inside me as she braced herself on one arm.
I met her gaze, read the warmth and approval in her expression. Saw the excitement rising in her darkening cheeks. Her eyes slid closed, her head fell back, and she jolted her hips against mine, losing rhythm as her own orgasm began to spiral.
I curled beneath her, latched onto a nipple, and bit the tip.
With her finger stroking my clit, her cock driving deep inside, and my mouth filled with soft heat, I exploded.
Our cries echoed against the wooden walls. Horses snorted; hooves shuffled uneasily. Then silence fell around us as we both eased to the ground.
She nuzzled my cheek, and her lips slid along my jaw and then lifted. We kissed, lips softly smoothing like butter in shallow circles. The kiss was divine. Rapturous.
When my legs unwound from her waist, and she arched her back to come out of me, I gave a shaky laugh, hoping she hadn’t heard the jagged edge of it. “Guess I’ll have to give you a raise.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Don’t forget who’s still tied up.”
“The rope’s beginning to itch.”
“Poor baby,” she said, her lips gliding along the rope, kissing the skin rubbed a fiery red. “Was I a little rough?”
“Ari…”
Her head came up, her gaze locking with mine.
“That’s the best I’ve ever had. But there’s a problem.”
Her expression grew shuttered. “Say it. It’s not like you’ve spared my feelings up to this point. I’ve been the one trying to prove up my claim.”
“I need the rope gone, first,” I said quietly.
She dragged me up and loosened the loop, slipping it over my head.
“The cock, too,” I said, pointing my chin toward the gel cock still bobbing between her legs.
Her chest fell, and she kept her gaze down as she removed it.
I came to my knees and placed my hand in the center of her chest and shoved.
She fell backward with a gasp, half on the blanket, half on the prickly straw.
I straddled her waist and bent over her, my mouth an inch from hers. “I’ve let you do me, but I’ve never given you a damn thing.”
“Not true,” she said, her voice thickening.
“Shut up. I thought I wasn’t committing to girl-sex if I never gave you pleasure. That’s gonna change right now.”
Her brown eyes blinked. Her lips curved upward at both corners. “Think you know how, little virgin?”
“I think you’re gonna demand a whole lot more from me from now on.”
“Mmm…” she moaned, her eyelids sliding downward. “I can think of a place or two I want those soft lips of yours to kiss. Sure you’re up for it, Lace?”
“No, baby. I’m going down.”
Then with my face diving between her legs, burrowing into her pussy, I couldn’t pretend any longer that I’d hungered for the stroke of a tongue, the thrust of skilled fingers, and a hard cock from a man.
Ari’s essence, richly and pungently feminine, spilled onto my greedy tongue, and I lapped it up like the starving woman I was.
Her fingers dug into my hair, holding me there as her hips rocked gently up and down. I applied all the lessons she’d taught me about how I liked to be touched to bring her pleasure.
I eased two fingers into her moist cunt and swirled my tongue over her clit. I latched my lips around the knot when it grew engorged and sucked hard, slipping another finger inside her and pumping relentlessly as her movements grew more desperate and her breaths jagged.
At last, I felt the tremors ripple inside her. She shoved her pussy into my face, her abdomen curling toward me, her fingers raking my scalp. Her cries were thin, warbling almost, and then she collapsed against the blanket, her legs splayed like a woman who’d been thoroughly loved.
I crawled upward, snuggled next to her spent body, and cupped her breast, massaging to soothe her now.
Her hand covered mine and squeezed. “I take it…” she gasped, “that you don’t have any more reservations about whether I can do the job.”
“You have any about me? Besides, one doesn’t have a thing to do with the other,” I said, pressing my lips to the nipple nearest my mouth.
“Ah, hell. Don’t make me think.”
“You’re fine, cowgirl. You’ve got the job.”
Her gaze met mine. “And this? Gonna let this hired hand have the pleasure of your company every night?”
I scraped my callused palm across her belly, and slid my fingers into her folds. “It’s not so different. Your hand. Mine.” I teased her sex with shallow grazes and then tucked them inside.
“Glad you figured that out,” she said, growing breathless again.
“Not a man’s hand,” I admitted gruffly. “Better.”
NIGHTMARE
Jean Roberta
Sparkling snow stretched out in all directions beyond the fences that marked the boundaries of Julia’s property. I used to feel sorry for my cousins because they were trapped on a boring farm like Julia’s, but now I liked the isolation and tranquility. A pale sun shed its light on the house, the barn, and a stand of frost-covered trees. All this had been built and planted by Julia’s grandparents.
I had known Julia ever since I first “came out” by ordering my first beer in the town’s one gay bar. She had even hosted Christmas parties on her farm for the town’s lesbian community, but something about her always seemed just beyond my reach. She
didn’t like gossip and only spoke when she had something to say. This was an art that some of us were still trying to learn.
“Want to earn your keep, girl?” Julia asked me on the night I arrived. I had driven for three hours, not really knowing where I was going, and showed up at her door with no warning.
I knew that was uncouth, but once I was there, I couldn’t just turn around and leave. I knew she wasn’t running a guest ranch, so offering her money for my stay would have looked tacky. She’d let me in readily enough, though, and her question was fair.
“Sure,” I told her. She gave me a steady look.
Holy fuck. Or unholy fuck. Did she know how I had survived when I couldn’t find a straight job? I knew she called herself a feminist, but I didn’t really know what she meant by that. Omigod, what did she think of me?
“You can help me with chores in the morning. There’s plenty to do around here.”
Her deep brown eyes looked unreadable until she smiled, crinkling up the laugh-lines at their corners. Her half-breed cheekbones caught the light from the fire in the stone fireplace. Her black hair, streaked with silver, hung in a long braid down her back, a rope of hair pulled off her face to stay out of her way. I noticed how Julia’s breasts rose and fell with each breath under her loose cotton sweater.
I had heard the rumors about why Julia stayed out here alone instead of selling or renting out the farm. Looking at her, I could hardly believe she was as scary as rumor had it.
“I don’t expect you to milk the cows,” she said. “You might want to feed the goats. They like visitors, but they’ll try to chew off your buttons. Don’t let them.”
Chewing buttons. I wanted to see Julia’s generous breasts and taste her proud nipples. That wouldn’t shock her. She had been an out dyke since she was a teenager, but I didn’t know how stone she might be. I would be glad to offer her my nipples to suck, if that appealed to her. Maybe not a good idea. I had a dirty mind, and I was lucky she couldn’t read it.
I felt the heat in my face and hoped she would think I was just responding to the warmth of the fire.
“You can feed Misty, the new pony, and groom her if you want, but she doesn’t like to be ridden. I won’t really start training her until spring.”
I wanted to meet the little horse who didn’t like to be ridden, a kind of stone pony. I could sympathize with an animal that didn’t want to carry humans around on her back. Who would? I knew about ponyplay as part of a kinky human lifestyle, but were real horses ever kinky? I wondered how Julia could afford to keep an animal that was never likely to earn her feed.
On earlier visits I had seen Julia riding her full-sized gelding, Starblanket. She looked totally in control when she rode, as though nothing could be more natural. I couldn’t imagine feeling that comfortable on a horse.
“You ever shovel shit?” She was grinning. “In town they all shoot the shit, but here we shovel it. If you want that job, you’re welcome to it.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I’ll show you tomorrow. I bet you want some sleep now. You can stay in the guest room tonight.” Her offer sent a jolt up my spine. Just tonight? Until she invites me to warm her own bed, or form a threesome with her and Farmer John, or until she kicks my sorry ass out the door? I was disappointed but relieved, anxious but hopeful.
She led the way up to the second floor. When we got there, I followed her into a clean, cozy room where a black cat was already sleeping on a patchwork quilt. I saw an old wooden bureau with an adjustable mirror attached, a bookcase full of old books, and chintz curtains.
For a moment, I felt as if Julia was debating whether to kiss me goodnight or pull me into the room and throw me down on the bed. As she lingered, my ever-hopeful clit woke up and let me know it wanted attention.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. “I’m usually up with the roosters, but you can sleep in, since you’re a guest. You can make yourself breakfast in the kitchen. There’s eggs, bread, bacon, cereal, and fruit—help yourself. Sleep tight, Chris.”
Did I really see a wicked smirk on her face as she turned away from me? I reminded myself that she was generous to let me stay in her house. I had no right to expect more than that.
I opened my backpack and spread out the few things I had brought with me. Then I looked in the mirror. The face that looked back was sickly-pale, dominated by dark eyes with dark shadows under them. My brown hair, gelled into shape that morning, now looked sodden. I had been admired for maintaining the same slim body since my teens, but now I just looked malnourished, like a street person of no fixed address. Or maybe I was just seeing the way I felt.
I couldn’t stay here indefinitely. I would have to go back to town and resolve things. Sooner or later, I would have to face Bert—my ex-girlfriend now and for all time—and her friends. The lesbian community where I had spent my whole adult life was like a small, dusty town in a vintage Western: not big enough for the two of us.
I turned off the light, pulled off my clothes, and slid under the sheets, planning to comfort myself with my fingers, but my heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t sure I deserved any pleasure, now or in the future.
I sank into dreamland as though falling into a world more vivid than the one I lived in. I dreamed of a glowing white horse, small but full of energy, with no saddle or bridle. She broke a fence with her hooves, and then bucked wildly to throw something off her back. When she turned her head in my direction, I saw fiery red eyes. Sparks flew from stones on the ground each time her hooves struck them.
In the dream, I wondered whether she was a demon horse from a comic book or a horror movie of my youth—the kind of creature that appears to those who tempt fate by playing with ouija boards or magic spells. I liked watching her, in spite of my fear.
When I woke up, I realized that the horse in my dream was one of the few wild animals I had ever imagined in its natural habitat, with no barriers between me and it—or her, the nightmare of legend. She was as different from a domesticated horse as a pet dog is different from a wolf.
I got up when the sky outdoors was still gray, but in winter, that didn’t mean it was early. I took a long hot shower in Julia’s thoroughly modern bathroom, imagining her enjoying the massage of hot water on her skin after a full day of farm work. My image in the mirror looked healthier and classier than it had the night before.
I dressed in yesterday’s jeans and put on the red sweater I had brought with me. My wardrobe was limited, but cutting-edge style wouldn’t be appropriate on a farm anyway. The red sweater is warmer than the one I wore yesterday, I told myself. Whether I look good in it is not the point.
I found Julia in the barn, combing Misty’s mane.
“Good morning!” She sounded amused, as though she could guess what I had dreamed about. I could see her breath when she spoke, giving her words the illusion of a life of their own.
The pony had a bluish-gray coat and the long, shaggy mane and tail of her Shetland ancestors. The sounds she made told me that she liked Julia’s attention. Who wouldn’t?
“You want to try it?” Julia handed me the currycomb.
I didn’t feel free to refuse. I ran it carefully through the coarse hair, using my fingers too, and Misty rewarded me with a whicker that sounded friendly, although she seemed too restless to stand still.
“That’s it. I want her to get used to being handled. It’ll make things easier when I put the harness on her.”
I could get used to being handled, I thought. But would I really want a bit between my teeth and a saddle on my back?
“Chris, you can’t spend all day doing that. I haven’t collected the eggs yet, and the goats need to be fed. We can take a break at noon. Then we’ll talk.”
For the rest of the morning, I felt as if I had been subpoenaed to appear in court. We’ll talk. About what? Would this talk be a lecture or an interrogation?
While I was trying to avoid being knocked down by the goats without running away from them, I saw
Misty plunging about in the soft snow. The farm collie was barking and nipping at her legs, and I thought I should intervene. Did dogs usually attack horses? I really didn’t know. But then I saw that the two animals were playing a game of feint, sidestep, retreat, and counter-feint. It was a dance or a language that I had never learned. The interspecies friendship in front of me almost distracted me from thinking about Julia.
She lured a goat away from me and then stood beside me, hip-to-hip, and wrapped a shaking arm around my parka-covered shoulders. She wasn’t shaking from the cold, and a glance at her face showed me the big laugh that she was barely holding inside. “Come up to the house for some grub, wrangler.”
In the mudroom, we took off our boots, coats, mittens, scarves, and hats. In the warmth of the kitchen, I was tempted to keep going by peeling off my sweater and jeans. I decided not to risk being kicked out in my underwear or my skin.
Julia pulled a plastic container out of the freezer and emptied the contents into a pot on the stove. The smells of a savory beef soup wafted through the room. As though saving her breath, Julia wordlessly poured coffee from the morning into two cups and handed me one. “Chris, you obviously needed sleep last night, but now you need to tell me why you’re here.”
I moved away from her, looking around the kitchen.
“Cream is in the fridge, sugar is on the table. Fix your coffee and then sit down and talk to me. Are you running from the cops?”
I forced myself to sit and look at her. When she was serious, it was hard to believe she was able to smile. “No, they didn’t charge any of us.” I hoped Julia would feel reassured.
“For what?”
“Julia, it’s complicated.”
“Cut the crap. I took you in and you owe me an explanation. Is this about Bert’s drinking?”
I wanted to jump up and run out the door, but Julia stood behind me, holding my shoulders down. “Let’s try it like this, baby. Just tell me what happened.”
Tears stung my eyes, and I furiously tried to blink them away. Then the words came.
I don’t remember telling her about Bert’s rages over my real and imagined disloyalty, our on-again, off-again relationship, her unbelievable, swear-to-God promises, or my stupid hope. The last scene replayed in my mind. I could smell the beer in my hair and feel it dripping off my nose. I could see Bert’s teeth and tongue as she yelled in my face, and feel the punches in my back from her playmate and drinking buddy.
