Chapter 3

It was in the middle of the day. I was seated at a vanity in Helen's bedroom brushing my hair. I hadn't had a good chance to brush it out since arriving, and the brisk strokes tugging at my scalp felt good.

My hair was longer than it had been in years, the thick brown tresses reaching down to just below my shoulder blades. It seemed like an awful lot of hair as I watched it move with my head in the mirror. I picked the mass up with both hands and held it atop my head for an instant.

The tap-tap-tap of the hooves on the kitchen floor downstairs interrupted my thoughts. The pony had made himself quite at home. So far there had been no "accidents," but the novelty of having a horse-like creature roaming at will throughout the house was something I had not yet gotten used to.

Helen was still upset about Clyde. We still hadn't figured out how he had gotten out of the house. He was adept at pushing doors open that were not quite tightly shut, but all of the doors leading to the outside were found locked when Helen checked them.

Because of the air conditioning, all the windows were closed, but one basement window we had found unlocked and very easy to push outward. The window-was a good six feet from the floor, however, and it seemed doubtful that Clyde could have both scaled the wall and pushed open the window. Still, he was gone.

Helen had reported him missing to the police shortly after we had arrived home, and all morning had been on the telephone checking with the pounds in the metropolitan area. She had also alerted local kennels and pet shops to be on the lookout in case the person taking Clyde tried to sell him.

She was being very thorough. I had heard her calling in ads to the Lost and Found sections of newspapers, and talking to medical school people on the hunch they were buying animals for student dissection.

"It's not going to be easy to hide a tricolored collie. They're the rare ones," she had pointed out to me. "Well, maybe not as rare as the Morrells," the thought occurred to her, "but certainly not an everyday breed." She had been moved to tears periodically. "Where can he be?" she had kept asking me.

Her grief over Clyde had kept her from paying much attention to the pony. The tan and white creature had taken to her almost immediately and frequently walked up to where she might be sitting, softly nuzzling her.

On top of everything else, Jack arrived home later in the evening. I thought he was going to croak when he laid eyes on the pony. He went quickly from a kind of shocked expression to a livid fury which he managed to keep under control but just barely.

Helen, of course, didn't waste any time telling him about Clyde's disappearance. Jack did his best to reassure her that everything was going to turn out all right, but seemed too stunned by the pony's presence to gather his wits about him enough to be of any material help.

"Whose idea is this anyway?" he had almost demanded, casting an eye in my direction. Because I had not yet married, he was prone to suspect me of the darkest sexual adventures, and once had told Helen that I was probably a lesbian. He was a very insecure man.

He had insisted Helen keep the pony in the garage while he was home. He calmed down considerably finally when Helen told him the pony would only be there a few days, but kept at her occasionally about the exact time of departure.

After he had left for work earlier in the morning, Helen told me he had wanted intercourse with her the night before, but that she had begged off because she was so worried about Clyde. He had gotten angry and said things about Clyde he had never said before, strange things.

"Do you suppose he knows that Clyde and I have been lovers?" she had asked me.

I had blushed at the thought. It had seemed like such a blunt way of putting it. "Only you can know that, Helen," I had answered.

"I've been very, very careful," she had said. "Why, I think I'd be mortified if Jack found out. He'd be so upset."

I had thought he would be more upset if he knew of some of her other escapades, such as the hay episode with Cunningham's foreman.

"Jack would not be one to keep something like that to himself, I think," I had said. "You would hear about it pretty fast."

"He's been suspecting something," she had told me again. "I just haven't been as frustrated when he fails to satisfy me completely, not like I used to be."

I decided to put my hair into a loose ponytail, and looked around the vanity for a barrette, Helen had several including a wide tortoiseshell type which I chose. A light itch behind my ear reminded me that it would be a good idea to wash my hair. Perhaps tonight, I thought.

Standing up, I removed my robe and caught my reflection in the mirror. I was a body without a head as the vanity was just low enough to cut the reflection off. The hair on my bottom was a thick mat, and I ran a comb through it, ratting it up as much as it would go.

All fluffed out, my pussy suddenly seemed larger than life. I turned sideways and looked at my reflection. The hair made quite a bulge. Patting the crest of the bush lightly with my hand, the thought occurred to me I really had too much hair there, and I wondered how many men might be bothered by it.

I had just put the robe back on when a squeal from Helen downstairs attracted my attention.

"Bea!" she called out, "come down and see this!"

I went down the stairs and turned, thinking she was in the kitchen.

"In here!" The voice came from the living room.

I changed my direction and walked into the room. Helen was kneeling on the floor alongside the pony. I could see immediately that the animal was in an erect state. In fact, it was still growing.

"Oohh," she piped. "It just keeps on coming out!"

It was true. The organ kept extending outward and slightly down. Less embarrassed than I had been about looking at it in the barn, I knelt down on the other side of the pony and watched, fascinated, as the skin on the protuberance grew tauter.

I could not resist touching it and reached for the shaft. Helen had the same impulse for our fingers clasped it about the same time. We both gave a little squeeze.

"It's so soft," Helen marveled, "yet solid!"

It felt warm to my fingers, and I let them run down to the fat head at the end. It resembled a big brown apple except that inside the depression where the stem would normally be was an open hole about the size of a pea. Inside the hole the lining was a fresh pink.

The pony was blowing softly and turned to nuzzle me on the ear. He didn't seem to mind that we were so curious about his huge part. His thing was easily thirteen or fourteen inches long.

"I wonder if we could get it to come," Helen mused.

"You mean, jerk it off?" I asked.

"Do you think he would stand for it?" she asked me, in turn.

"How would you do it?" I wanted to know. "I mean, without him kicking you?"

She had begun jacking at the penis with her closed fingers, but her tiny hand seemed inadequate, scarcely reaching around. "I don't know if he likes that or not," she said. She stopped and shifted her position. The pony neighed deep in his throat.

"See," I said, smiling. "He doesn't-want you to stop."

"It's hard to do because of the angle," she revealed, and rolled onto her back, reaching up to continue stimulating the animal.

I watched as she worked. The pony was showing no signs of losing the erection, but didn't seem particularly excited, either, as I would have imagined him to be when sexually aroused. He seemed to be tolerating it more than enjoying it.

"Oh!" Helen exhaled, "all the blood ran out of my arm and it aches. This is hard work!"

She stood up, rubbing her arm and looking at the thing. I could tell what she was thinking. Here is this magnificent thing. How can we keep it from going to waste?

"I wonder, she mused. "I wonder if that would go in. What do you think, Bea?"

Oddly, my curiosity had taken me over completely. Whereas the thought of Helen with Clyde had embarrassed me, the thought of her with the pony quickly aroused me. Clyde seemed so human. The pony was more impersonal.

I knew, though, that it was the immense thing he was carrying that outweighed all other considerations. There is nothing like the sight of meat to thoroughly distract a woman.

"Go on!" I urged, blushing in spite of myself. "Live dangerously!"

"How do you go about it?" she wanted to know. My blushing was making her blush, and we talked without looking at each others' eyes.

"Try it like with Clyde," I suggested.

"You mean, get down on all fours?" She stood thinking for a moment. "Okay," she said quickly, unbuttoning her skirt on the side. "That damn thing's got me so hot, I'll stand on my head if I have to."

Unzipping her skirt, she stepped out of it and quickly pulled down her panties. Getting down on her hands and knees, she backed up slowly at the pony. She was telling the truth about being hot. The lips on her bottom were glistening wet.

There was a burning lump in my throat that started to throb. The strangest notion came over me that I would like to be that pony right then, about to be doing whatever it was that was going to be done to Helen. The feeling must have been based on a sheer desire to want to participate, nothing else.

Helen had moved close to the pony. He nodded his head at her exposed rear, and I noticed his nostrils flare slightly as he nosed at her open pussy. He muffled at it, and I saw the tongue flick for an instant.

"Yi!" she exploded. "What a feeling!" I stroked my juicy twat harder. "Anything doing?" she asked.

"He's not exactly hell bent for leather," I said. "Do you suppose you have to be in heat?" I asked her.

"Sis, I'm in heat thirty days a month," she informed me.

"You know what Cunningham said," I reminded her.

She got up and rubbed at herself. "Damnation! There must be a way." She walked around the animal, banging her fist into the palm of her hand.

Something someone had told me once about Catherine the Great of Russia came to mind. "How about like a hammock, underneath?" I suggested.

"You mean like a sling?"

I nodded. In a fit, I disrobed and got underneath the animal, placing my arms around his neck. The space between his front legs wasn't too wide, and I had to force them apart. His big thing poked at my belly. I looked up at Helen. "Like this."

"Well," she said, "go ahead. I'll be glad to wait my turn."

I felt a thrill run through my body. Why not, I thought. Moving up further on the animal, I felt the heavy weight of the end of his penis move slowly down my belly as I inched forward. When it reached the crest of the mound, I stopped.

"Can you lift my legs over his back?" I asked Helen.

She grabbed hold of first one and then the other, holding them until I had a chance to lock the feet together. In making the adjustment, however, I lost contact with the head of his organ. The big apple bounced on the top of my pussy, came to rest momentarily on a good spot, where it tamped briefly, then fell off down below my ass.

"Point it, point it!" I nearly shrieked at Helen.

"Jeepers!" she gushed. In a second she was down on the floor, grabbing hold of the fat thing. She had to bring it up almost parallel with his belly to get it into position. "Is that good?"

"Down a little more. No! Too much. That's it. Hold it there, right there." I was beginning to breathe faster. "Work it in a little. Oh, gosh!"

I could feel the enormous head beginning to slip inward. The pony was evidently not going to do anything but stand there, so I had complete control. Almost by definition, though, the thing seemed to be entering me. The opening began to stretch.

"Oh, oh! Sis! Oh, oh! Oh wow!!"

With a rush, the head cleared the opening and plunged softly into me. I was conscious of an enormous filling. The feeling continued for some time.

"Oh sis," I drooled, "it's wonderful. How much is in? Can you see?" My breathing was short. I was wishing the animal would start pumping or something. The pleasure seemed long and drawn-out with no movement.

Helen was rubbing her fingers into herself vigorously. "About half of it, I guess," she said.

I moved forward more actively than before and was aware of it packing in slowly, deeper and deeper. After about a minute I was stuffed almost beyond endurance.

"Is it all in now?" I asked, breathlessly.

"There's still a lot out, Sis," she said apologetically.

My face must have shown my disappointment.

"Bea, you can't expect... I mean, there's an awful lot there."

Try as hard as I might have wanted to, I could not force any more inside, and gave up trying. I began to contract the muscles in my thighs in an effort to initiate some movement back and forth. I was packed full, and it was lovely, but I wanted things to go all the way.

My biceps just were not that strong and I soon tired. Helen saw my predicament.