Chapter 13

The mayor had wandered away to socialize with other guests and Hank and Carmella were alone, both still blushing furiously. Hank handed her a drink from the tray. The rim of the glass clicked against her perfect white teeth and he saw the tip of her tongue flick nervously out. The last time he had seen that tongue, it had been lapping away on the head of donkey's prick!

His own prick was swelling alarmingly.

Carmella said: "You recognized me, huh?"

Hank nodded.

"Gee--I hope you won't tell my daddy about it! He'd skin me alive if he knew I did that."

Hank said nothing.

Carmella said: "Mayors really hate it when they find out their daughters have been fucking burros."

"I guess," he mumbled.

She sipped her drink, glancing around to make sure no one else had wandered into ear-shot.

"I just sort of got into the habit. This used to be a working ranch, you know. And when a gal has all those bulls and stallions around, those things happen."

"Oh," Hank said.

He hadn't known that before.

"And it isn't as if I was a whore or anything nasty like that," said the dark-eyed girl. "I mean, I don't put on a performance for money or anything sordid--I just enjoy doing it and men like to see me do it, so I don't think it's really bad."

She gave him a big-eyed look.

Her tits, he noticed, were really lovely--big, firm globes straining against her shirt.

Hank was an honorable man.

He hated the thought of blackmailing anyone.

But under the circumstances, how could he resist? He had a gigantic hard-on that had to be unloaded and the girl was gorgeous and it was simply too good to pass up.

"Well, I guess I won't have to tell your daddy, Carmella, but it seems as if you ought to be grateful that I don't--and maybe be real nice to me?"

She lowered her long-lashed eyes, her face clouded, troubled.

"You mean fuck you or something?"

"Sure," he said.

"I--I can't do that."

"Why?"

"I'm a virgin.

"What?" he asked, astounded.

"I'm a virgin," she repeated. "I'm saving myself for marriage. I've never fucked a man--or sucked one, either."

"But--you fuck donkeys!"

"Well, sure. But that don't count. A gal is cherry until a man--a human--screws her. And around these here parts, a gal has to remain a virgin until she gets wed. It's the respectable thing to do."

Hank snatched up another drink, his mind boggling.

Carmella grinned wryly and said: "After I get married, I'll probably stop fucking burros, on account of then I'll be able to let my husband fuck me, instead. But until then--well, a gal needs fucking and if she's got to stay virginal, it's burros or nothing."

"I see," said Hank.

Now the girl looked thoughtful.

"But you're right--I will be grateful to you, for not telling my daddy. If you like--"

"Like what?" he asked, bemused.

Carmella gave him a big smile.

"Want to come out to the barn?" she asked.

Hank almost fainted. His jaw dropped open and he gaped at her.

"I'll bet you never saw a girl blow a horse," she said.

"Damned right," said Hank.

But he was soon going to...

The horse was stabled in a barn some distance away from the ranch house and Hank and Carmella both felt rather conspicuous as they crossed the open ground, but the barbecue was going as it was supposed to and everyone was to preoccupied with seduction and drinking to pay any attention to the couple as they sneaked off.

Carmella looked sideways at the tall Texan, giving him impish looks that seemed to imply that she was not at all adverse to giving him a show. She kept glancing down at the front of his pants with an interest that belied the fact that she was a virgin who could not make use of that spectacular hard-on that was standing out in bas relief at his crotch.

They went in the building, a raftered and lofted room with a series of stalls down one wall.

Mares, fillies and geldings looked up with little interest.

But in the far stall, a stout young quarter-horse stallion raised his head and whinnied with pleasure when he saw that Carmella had come to service him. She giggled, leading Hank down to the end stall.

The stallion was a beige-colored, sturdy brute with a golden mane. His hindquarters were wide and sturdy, his shoulders muscular--and his huge prick had already started to harden and swell. He tossed his head and whinnied softly.

Carmella stroked his neck. His cock continued to grow. Hank observed this in wonder and fascination. Although he rode well and knew horses, Hank had never before paid much attention to a horse's cock--but, then, he had never before had a reason to.

Amused at the expression on the man's face, Carmella grinned.

"It's bigger than a burro's cock," she said. "I can't manage to fuck a horse, even with a rubber shield on his prick. The head itself is just too wide to fit up my pussy."

That dark-fleshed slab of hot cockmeat looked as big as a cannonball from a twelve-pounder infantry gun.

"I can't even suck him off, really," Carmella said.

Hank was disappointed.

Had she lured him here under false pretenses?

But then she said: "What I have to do is, I just tongue the head of his cock and pump him with my hands and let him shoot in my face and in my open mouth. I wish I could fit his cockhead in and really suck it, but it's just too big."

Hank, weak at the knees leaned on the stable gate. Carmella fetched a milking stool and took it into the stall. She set it down beside the horse's flank and perched on it, just as if she were about to milk a cow. Hank saw that the principle was the same and that this sturdy stallion was eager to be milked.

Carmella gave Hank a wink and a smile.

Then she started working on the stallion's prick. She massaged his massive balls and fingered the swollen prick-knob. Then she took the fat stalk in both hands, holding the horse-cock like a battering ram, and began to stroke it up and down. Although that prick had been big before, now that she was caressing it, the cock grew to gigantic proportions. Her small hands could not span the great breadth of the cockshaft and her fingers did not meet, but she was doing the job very nicely, nevertheless. The prickhead began to flare and throb. The horse twisted his neck and gazed down at the girl who was manipulating his cockmeat. One hind leg pawed at the floor.

"He likes this," she giggled.

"Can't say as I blame him," Hank rasped.

The cleft in the tip of that great bludgeon of a prick-knob had gaped wide open and a sticky flow of spunk filled it.

Carmella gave a little murmur of delight and leaned in. Still pumping him with both hands, she positioned her head right in front of his dripping cockhead. Her tongue slid out. She began to lap at his cockmeat, slurping up the slimy horse-spunk that was oozing out. The stuff bubbled on her lips and lathered her tongue. She obviously relished horse-prick. She began taking long slurps all over that meaty nugget of dark flesh, her tongue gliding and curling, laving the brute's cockhead hungrily. More cum began to trickle out. His balls were as big as boulders and the long, fat cockshaft had started to tremble wildly. The vein that was pulsing up the prickshaft and into the base of the knob was as fat as a human's prick.

Hank felt ashamed of his own cock.

He also felt a bit sorry for her future husband who, wedding a supposed virgin, would nevertheless never be able to fill her fuck-hole or satisfy her greedy mouth with his merely human cockmeat.

Suddenly the horse began to whimper and snort.

His hindquarters bunched up as if he were about to break into a mad gallop and he tossed his head about, mane flowing. Carmella squealed with anticipation, knowing that the animal was about to feed her a load of cum. She could feel his prick expand and ripple in her hands and his cockhead was swollen so hugely now that it looked almost frightful.

"Oooooh, ummmm," she purred.

Her pink tongue flashed hungrily and her lips opened as widely as they could, turning almost inside out as she tried to swallow a mouthful of that tremendous prick-knob.

Suddenly a torrent of jism shot from the stallion's cockhead, a quicksilvery cascade of cum that engulfed her face. Spurts of horse-jism shot into her open mouth, jets laced her nimble tongue, milky ribbons ran across her lips. Her head tilted back, buffeted by the power of the stream, then she leaned back in, like a salmon fighting against the current. Her open mouth gaped and the horse poured his hot slime into her gullet by the bucketful.