The Ranch 2

[ "Strike".]

Subtitle: "The Ranch".

Chapter 1. (The birth of "Strike"--the stallion)

I had been out at the ranch for three days helping foal the mares, and riding-the-perimeter fence: Sleeping-out on the prairie for two of them. With the barest of supplies: A wool blanket, a canteen of water, jerky; and oats for Strike, my spirited piebald stallion--a container of cool lemon wipes, a large jar of Vaseline, and the necessary ropes, of course!

I love Strike. I helped birth him, staying up for over 30 hours straight; seeing his mare through her hard delivery: Washing her down periodically with warm water through the length of her ordeal. She neither ate not took drink the whole time, and I laid with her in the hay, when it was uncertain she would make it through the night, into the next day.

In the early hours of the morn, she let me know, that it was time. I pulled with all my might on his hooves and finally, exhaustingly, he entered the world.

Within the hour, mare and foal, were up on their feet. Strike wobbling precariously on four too-long spindly legs, set at tripod angles to one-another. I collapsed there in the hay and slept like there was no tomorrow, stirred by mare and colt licking and nudging me into consciousness.

That's when It all began, the bond between Strike and I, I mean, for whereas the mare, snorted at my ears to awaken me, her newly born, was nuzzling at my fanny!

Chapter 2. (Virginia takes a shit in the prairie.)

I don't wear panties on the farm, and love the freedom, and coolness, of a loose denim skirt, just in case I have to go potty out in the chaparral with the cowboys around. It is relatively easy to pretend to be squatting down, picking a desert flower, or inspecting a budding cactus bloom, letting my stiff denim skirt bell out around me, touching the scorched earth with its hem, and just go pee-pee, or drop a load, right there under me, if the urge insists.

No one knows, or suspects, I think, and I always choose a spot on the ground to squat over, that has a sizable stone, or dead clump of wood, there, so that my log doesn't stand out on the flat bare surface of the land, and if I linger there for just half a minute, even, the parched earth sucks-up the torrent of my pee-pee, leaving the barest stain of dampness. When I rise my droppings are virtually undetectable, even from a distance of a few feet only, or from the saddle of a horse--assuming the wind is blowing in the right direction, that is.

Chapter 3. (Virginia is interrupted while dropping a log, and pisses in her cowgirl boots.)

I almost got caught, on one occasion, when the charge-hand came up quietly behind me. I had been caught short, out on the prairie, after a large breakfast, and more coffee than I apparently needed.

I was squatting there, playing with a cactus bloom, when I heard something behind me. My log was hanging out of my pooh-hole about 6 inches, and I felt, that wasn't the half of it! I had woken-up famished that morning and wolfed-down, double helpings of grits, and bacon and eggs, and beans and biscuits, washed down with three large mugs of hot, black coffee!

I flushed scarlet, on the thought that he had heard me grunting, for my log had to be over four inches in diameter, and my ass-hole was being stretched to the max, through the slow delivery.

I was stuck, there, and didn't know what to do.

The Charge-hand said, cordially, "What you up to down there missy?"

I answered back meekly, "Oh, just admiring the lovely desert blooms. I just love it when the cactus flowers, don't you?"

"Oy' can't rightly say, missy, I don't ken to such--observations--niv'r have, an' I guess, niv'r will."

I feigned interest, by saying, "Oh--?"

I was trying desperately To suck the monster back up into the dark, mysterious hole, from whence it had just insistently emerged, by a sort of reverse sphincter muscle action, but it was too big, and rough, to even consider returning to its hot, fuming cave. No, it wanted out! And that was that.

"Well, missy, are you gonna' stay down there all day long, we gots cattle to move, an' they aint' gonna' git' herded playing with no desert flowers, that's fir sure. Do ya' need a hand down there getting back into yo' saddle missy?"

I screeched, "No!"

Then regained my composure, and added in a calm guilty voice,

"No-no thank you. I can manage very well, but thank you for the offer."

Piss had been driveling out of my vulva all the time that I had been talking to the charge-hand, and it was all I could do to restrict its flow to a minimum, from the usual gushing torrent, that would have undoubtedly have been heard.

I arose slowly, and the piss ran down the insides of my thighs, down my legs and began to fill my boots.

I walked gingerly over to my horse, with about 8 inches of log hanging out of my bung hole now.

I said, "You go ahead, I'll catch you up in a minute."

The charge-hand grinned and moved off slowly in the direction of the bellowing steers.

Chapter 4. (Virginia pisses like a racehorse and farts.)

I sidled around the flank of my horse, and when the intruder was some way off, I opened my legs wide, and pissed like a race-horse, from the standing position. I lifted the back-end of my skirt, bent over resting my shoulder against my steed. I grabbed hold of the massive log protruding out of my quaking bung-hole with my other hand, and I yanked on it firmly, ripping another 10 inches from my bulging hole. It came thundering out of my ass like a rattle snake slithering out of a drain pipe, and made a noise like the guts falling out of the belly of a bovine, hanging stunned, by it's ankles, as it underwent its personal slaughter. I always felt sorry for the cattle, but I love my steak and onions.

My ass-hole slammed shut, instantly, but was immediately followed by a gigantic blast of pooh-hole gas that sounded like a ship's fog-horn sounding off in the dead of night; the aroma made my eyes water. It must have been the onions. The charge-hand, who was now some 20 yards away, turned and hollered,

"Be sure to bury that thing missy, I don't want any of my men slipping and a'sliding and breaking no darn leg-bone out here today! Ya' hear me...?"

"What a cheek! OoOoOW!", muttered the cowgirl, Virginia.

Chapter 5. (The cowhands shoot semen over her shit.)

The down-side is that out on the prairie I can't wipe, of course, or the cow-hands will spot the white of the paper towel from afar, and want to come see my logs, and sniff them. I made that mistake some time back, and it was all the foreman could do to keep the hands from gathering around my deposit, four or five at a time, kneeling down in a circle poking it with sticks to get the scent of it up into the air, and masturbating furiously, shooting their loads, along its length, from tip to tip--drenching all 18 inches of it with their thick, creamy jizz. The foreman had to get a shovel from the chuck wagon, and bury it, because some of the drovers were going back two and three times, and by the time they had shot their third load, they were good for nothing, and worse than useless on the trail.

I felt a little bit guilty for having disrupted the crew, until I caught the foreman himself, spurting his load into the shallow grave of my shit too. Men! OoOoOW! They're all the same.

At the end of the day at least eight of the hands had to be carried back to the ranch laid out in the back of the chuck wagon, their horses trailing at the rear, tied to the hitch by their halters: The exhausted cowhands out-for-the-count, snoring, as they slept, from a long hot day's cattle drive, and numerous intense orgasms, from wanking their cocks, and shooting their loads over my shit. The foreman would have been really mad at me, if he were awake, that is. Why, he was one of the first in the back of the wagon, since I saw him go back to the grave of my log, time after time throughout the day, exhuming my shit, and beating himself dry over it all day long, then burying it again. He had done a lot of digging that day, and a lot of wanking too; I felt honored.

Chapter 6. (Virginia's baby is born out of her turd.)

A seed must have got stuck to my log when it was buried, because out of the grave of my turd grew the most enormous single shaft cactus you could imagine. It was thick, and straight, with a little curve to its length, and at the very top it has a large round knob to it that blooms from time to time sporting a purple-red flower. When the flower dies, seed pouches burst open from its center, and shoot into the air, being carried every-which-way the wind blows. It must be a male cactus, it seems.

It dwarfs all the other cacti around, and every time I see it, my heart flutters with a pang of pride, as I see my baby, standing tall and proud. I was going to have it dug up and potted, and donate it to the nearest campus. I want all of my babies to go to college, one way or another.

Chapter 7. (Virginia waters her baby.)

I had marked the spot where my pooh-pooh had been buried, and tended my little baby every time I passed that way, caressing its thorny rubbery little shaft, from the very instant it broke through the earth into the light of day. I would sing to it, and piss on it, giving it the benefit of a watering.

Chapter 8. (Virginia gets cactus spines in her cunt, and is fucked.)

When it got about 8 inches tall, I squatted over it, and opened my vulva to give it a good irrigating. I forgot that he had grown so tall, and he stung me in my open pussy! I must have jumped at least 6 foot into the air. I was in so much pain that the cook and the charge hand had to hold me down on my back, with my legs pulled wide apart, and held fast up over my shoulders, while the foreman rummaged through my pungent labia, with his course hands, pulling cactus spines, out of my sloppy cunt.

It took over an hour to get them all, and the last half dozen, were dug in so deep that he had to pull them out with his teeth, sucking hard until enough of the thorn protruded, then teasing it out, bit by bit. He was very good at that, and it surprised me, considering the coarseness of his outer exterior. I was somewhat embarrassed, because it was the last day out on the trail, and I hadn't washed my pussy once, or wiped my ass in three days.

When they were sure my cunt was free of thorns, they took turns, one on each leg, holding them back and open, while the spare one fucked me every which way to Sunday. They were very careful not to come in my love-tunnel. They didn't want any complications with an unanticipated pregnancy, so two of them shot their loads in my ass, and the other came down my throat. I reckoned I owed them that, for their help. I came three times, and squirted over each of them in succession; I always squirt when I come.

Nothing was ever mentioned about the episode again, and before I left, I scolded my baby cactus, and shit around the base of it, for fertilizer. The come had liquefied in my ass by then, and flowed out readily, watering the parched earth, and I gave it the last few drops of my piss; all what was left from squirting as I came, whilst fucking earlier. All of this is to be expected by a girl, out on a cattle run--not the cactus spines in the cunt, mind you, that was an accident-- but the gang fucking, I mean... Just another day out on the trail, I guess.

Chapter 9. (Virginia defoliates her baby.)

When my baby cactus had grown close to 2 foot in height, I decided to ride out alone, one day, to see it--privately.

I took my manicure box with me.

I found it standing there, all alone in the sun.

For hours, I painstakingly sat there, clipping each and every thorn from the first 18 inches, of its phallus, body--pulling them out, one by one, by the root with my tweezers.

Down at the base of the cactus bulged two outgrowths. I left the spines intact over the bottom 6 inches of the cactus shaft and over the two knobble edema. They resembled a tight, pert, hairy scrotum sack, with a pair of large testicles quietly slumbering inside.

Chapter 10. (Virginia makes love to her baby.)

When, finally, I was done, I stripped off, and pissed over my defoliated baby, and polished it with my woolen horse blanket. It was shiny, squeaky clean, and--bald.

I caressed it, and loved it. It seemed to know what I wanted. I was sure I could feel it quivering in my hand, as I opened my mouth wide, and pushed it deep into my throat. Its cool shaft a good 4 inches in diameter at the rounded top-end.

I loved my baby, and took a full tube of Aloe Vera hand lotion: I gently applied a liberal coating of the thick white cream up and down the full length of its shaved shaft. I rubbed the excess on my gash, and bung hole. My baby had gotten very big, and I wondered if I would be able to do it even?

Chapter 11. (Virginia gasps as her cunt opens wide.)

I straddled over the top of my cactus baby, my legs open as wide as I could manage. I located its huge green rounded head dead-center of my love-tunnel, the Aloe Vera driveling down its hairless length, then I descended.

I gasped as my pussy-hole opened to take the full girth of my baby. I swallowed about 3 inches of the rigid shaft, on the first descending run. My nipples sprang out of me, and filled with blood, aching with shock and pleasure.

I rose, pulling my labia just off the top of the head. My love-hole slammed shut, and I gasped again, as a shudder ran throughout my entire body. My torso muscles tightened and my tits rose up and bounced up and down slightly. They were standing up proud, sticking out full, and firm from the silky smooth tanned skin of my upper body. My tummy sucked in of its own accord, pulling my waist tight, and my ribs could be visibly counted as they protruded through the skin. My thigh and calf muscles were bulging, and my mouth drooped open; the lower jaw jutting out and quivering, as I let out a deep, guttural, earthy sigh, followed by a low, slow moan. The color of the landscape washed out, as my pupils dilated, and my breathing became deep and hot. I started to pant.

On the second run down the massive rod, My dripping love-hole opened and engorged twice the length--close to six inches. My head snapped backward on my neck, and my brain reeled as a wave of intense pleasure rocketed into it. I was shouting out gibberish, and snapping at the air with my teeth, I rose again, my tits bouncing, my red stiff nipples standing out from them almost an inch and a half, my cunt made a dull gurgling noise as I left the head, and my pee-pee hole squirted twice with a loud hiss, as the jet of golden warm piss, blasted past the tip of my engorged rigid clitoris, and power cleaned under my prepuce.

Chapter 12. (Virginia takes it deep, and her nipples hit her chin.)

On my third run, I took a full 8 inches into my hole, and I screamed and cursed at God, the angels and at the Heavens above, in utter ecstasy, and pure hedonistic bliss. My bung-hole opening and closing unto itself, outside of my express control, my body convulsing , and quaking, my tits bouncing up and down some 5 inches, my nipples grazing my chin on the up stroke.

The muscles in my body, bulging and aching for oxygen, my lungs pumping furiously, my heart pounding in my chest, sweat dripping from the strands of my hair, and off the end of my chin.

I kicked into gear, and started pumping, up and down faster and faster, the full 8 inches. I was bent over now, the palms of my hands flat on the floor in front of me, and the gigantic solid green phallus rammed deep into my throbbing, wet, creamy vulva.

Chapter 13. (Virginia's orgasm builds into first stage.)

I was pumping at breakneck speed, and felt the first stage of my orgasm locking in. My tits were now dangling under me and swinging so hard that they were alternately smashing into my face, on one stroke, then back the other way, hitting me in the abdomen on the reverse stroke.

Chapter 14. (Virginia lactates and drinks milk.)

For almost two years now, I had massaged my tits daily, for at least two to three hours a day, using hot towels, and special massage oils and balms. The discipline is an ancient technique used throughout Asia and China for centuries, and will add two to three cup sizes to your breasts if done religiously, and properly. One draw back, though, is that you will start to lactate. I use pads now, because my breasts would run like taps if I heard a baby cry, even if I was just walking through the mall, or out sitting in the park, and I would have to rush home and change my blouse, or top, and squeeze my tits empty, into a cup, or bowl, before I could go out again. I would save the milk in the refrigerator, and use it for my cereal at breakfast, or just as a cold drink at night before I went to bed. I never wasted my milk, that would be such a sin. Most times though, I would just pull my breasts up and push my stiff nipples into my mouth and suck and bite them hard, squeezing my bulging tits at the same time, like a bagpipe player in reverse; guzzling my warm milk as I watched T.V. at night on the couch, or in the bathroom stall at work, on my break.

Chapter 15. (Virginia steps up the pace, and squirts her milk.)

But, here, I couldn't catch them and they were swinging wild under me as I rammed the shaft of the huge cactus pole into my steaming wet cunt. The milk squirting out of both nipples non stop, like water out of a shower-head.

I felt the second and last stage of my orgasm latching, and I knew, that the next stage would be it!

Chapter 16. (The horse drinks her milk.)

I straightened up vertically, pumping hard up and down on my cactus cock, and screaming and yelping in delirious pleasure, my tits, had gotten so full of milk, And so heavy that I had to hold them underneath: I didn't want to get stretch marks! I squeezed them hard and the multi-jet sprays shot out of my turgid nipples a good three feet. My horse had moved near to me and was feeding greedily on the squirting milk, catching it in mid air, and licking the runoff from his muzzle. It was better than wasting it, I thought, and tried to direct as much of it his way as I could, given the circumstances.

Chapter 17. (Virginia gets her fix.)

Then, out of the blue, the third orgasmic lock-on kicked in, and I felt a shiver as a massive overdose of red hot endorphin was pumped directly into my rushing bloodstream--headed on an express train, bound singularly for my throbbing hypothalamus.

As the endorphin found its mark, the pleasure wave hit me like a ton of bricks. I was at the top of my phallus stroke, with only an inch of cactus shaft in my cunt-hole. My body froze! Then started to shudder and quake. My milk hit the horse in the eyes and frightened him. My ass-hole opened wide, and stayed open, until a huge long slippery log slithered slowly out of it earthbound. My head snapped back, and I could hear my vertebra cracking like popcorn in a kettle of sizzling butter.

Chapter 18. (Virginia ruins her nail varnish.)

I was on my toes, when the second orgasmic wave hit me. It was so crushing that it curled my toes, and dug them into the hard sun-scorched earth under me. My nail-varnish splintering and chipping off as they raked at the ground.

I was afraid, but before I could do anything to put a stop to it, the massive third wave of white-hot steaming endorphin, flooded my brain's sex-organ, like a hormonal tidal wave, devastating every sense in its path!

Chapter 19. (Virginia is supported by her cunt-hole.)

It was so hot, so powerful, so, so, potent, that it lifted both my feet clear off the ground and up over my head!

I dropped my tits, and threaded my arms and upper body through my legs, and locked my ankles securely behind my head.

I was balancing there on the end of the 2 foot long 4 inch diameter cactus cock, lathered to the hilt with thick, white, creamy Aloe Vera hand cream, my tits shooting warm milk out in all directions, my pee-pee hole squirting jets of piss some 10 foot into the air, shooting clear over the horse, landing close to 20 foot away, and a huge, 12 inch log slithering out of my ass-hole; and, I was shaking and quivering and convulsing in the throes of a level three blistering orgasm!