Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
*****
The Farm
As it turned out, there was a problem.
Actually, several problems - starting with the drive over to Ginnie's place. The cabbie had been entertaining ... unfortunately for Charlotte, a little too much so.
As it happened, the driver - Frank - considered this part to be a perk of the job. It was why he always volunteered for these late night frat house runs all the way out to the college. He began, as always, by asking if they'd had fun. Audrey and Mia, having been revived by the cool night air between house and cab, confirmed that they had indeed enjoyed themselves. Meanwhile the red faced clown-girl said nothing.
Perhaps
, he thought,
she's a mime as well.
When she came, did she just open her mouth and do the silent scream thing? That was a scary notion - those engineering guys must be more twisted than he would have credited. Slightly rattled, he moved on to his next standard question. "Was Tony the Pony there?'
Mia bit. "Who's Tony the Pony?"
The cabbie obligingly described the mythical Tony: "Well, that's what they call him - I don't know his real name. Skinny kid, but hung like a horse. Supposed to be a real lady pleaser." Occasionally, there was a boy who met the description, more often not. Either way, the young ladies entrusted to his care usually responded to his Cheerfully Wicked Uncle persona by providing an exciting debriefing of their evening. A few times, he had even received a blow job, but that was just an added bonus. He was all about listening to their stories.
So was Charlotte - she was getting more and more randy, as the girls gave a garbled account of events and argued over which of several likely candidates was Tony. She fervently wished she'd kept that ketchup bottle tucked inside herself.
She was just about to attack the driver - or at least his gearshift - when he abruptly pulled up to the address she'd provided. It was over a block from Ginny's apartment - even as she'd planned her getaway, Charlotte had suspected that she might be leaving a trail of confusion in her wake, which probably shouldn't lead right to her friend's door. Now, as she hustled down the street, she was beginning to see the flaw in that part of her scheme: her face was partly exposed to the chill night air, and the stolen coat only reached down to her shins. She was cooling rapidly ... she wasn't going to make it. And then, three doors from her destination, her third problem emerged. Just as she'd feared, a man stepped out of a dark alcove.
He turned to face her, and just as she was on the verge of seizing up, she saw that her luck had changed. He was just a local drunk - a guy she'd given spare change to from time to time, before her transformation. And he was still in the act of shaking the last drops off the tip his cock, having peed against the wall.
She dropped to her knees so that her salvation dangled in front of her face. In an instant she had vacuumed his warm tool into her mouth, and in another he was hard. Blessed hot cum was soon flooding her head, elevating her temperature away from the danger zone. It was probably enough, but she felt she should make sure, so she sucked him hard again, and then released him. Before he could react to this new development, she'd spun herself around, tossed up her coat tails and backed her hungry pussy onto his hot shaft. It took a little longer, but he was no match for her specialized snatch. Another load filled her pussy pouch, and warmed her even more.
Of course, she would soon cool again. Clamping her cunt onto his flagging pecker, she duck-walked the pair of them to her friend's door and pushed the buzzer.
"Hello?"
She rapped out a shave-and-a-haircut on the buzzer casing - can't talk, remember?
There was a slight pause while the penny dropped upstairs, and then the door was buzzed open. Charlotte abruptly released the cock she was gripping inside her, and as the fuddled drunk stumbled back onto the sidewalk, she darted inside and closed the door. If he saw her red face or bum, or if he glimpsed his own tool inside her ... well, by morning he'd put the whole thing down to too much drink. In which case, she'd maybe screwed him into a life of sobriety.
Could happen
, she thought, as she hurried upstairs.
** ** **
Remarkably enough, there were no further hitches ... other than a lecture from Ginny. It was sort of like that time she'd tried sneaking back into her house as a teen - "Do you realize anything could have happened? You'll just have to spend time in your box, anyway, until we can hook you up with another guy!"
Okay
, she thought.
Maybe not so much that last part.
Ginny continued in Mother mode - or, perhaps more accurately, 'Madame' mode: "Poor baby. You look like you've been rode hard and put away wet. Have a hot shower and then tell me all about it."
Charlotte was seriously hot and bothered, again, by the end of her shower. With i-pad in front of her, she proceeded to fill Ginny in on her adventures. Luckily, her friend had set her up with her Black Jacque toy. It wouldn't get her over, but once installed as directed its calming influence kept her typing hand relatively free from trembling. When, eventually, she got to the 'Tony the Pony' bit, she stopped mid-story and typed: does your uncle still have that big black horse on his farm?
"Midnight? Sure. Why?"
why do you think? how soon can we go there?
"This weekend, probably. Now finish that damn story. At least one of us can still cum..." Ginny reached over to take hold of Jacque's lumpy handle (which, being now coated with copious second-hand jism, easily popped free of the doll's pussy with a 'foop') and quickly brought herself off with the thing. After the tale was fully told, she finally addressed the fact that it was the middle of the night. "I've got to go to work tomorrow, sweetie. See you on Saturday." With that, she pulled out Charlotte's other bung - the one in her shoulder.
** ** **
When Charlotte had been re-inflated and had recovered from the resulting orgasm she found herself, as promised, in a stable. Which, she was pleased to see, contained "that big black horse" she'd recalled. Even in the pre-Al days, back when she'd been a shy (and real) girl, Midnight had given her a thrill ... although she would never have admitted it. She had no idea how much time had passed, although she recalled having been submerged in the bathtub for a wash. Then she'd been folded over backwards and hung on the shower rail so that her ass was touching her head - or would have, if she'd been inflated. The next day she'd been packed into her box, and after that time sort of lost meaning for her.
"Hey, there," said Ginnie. "It's Saturday!" She failed to mention which Saturday, although she provided a hint: "It took me a while to line everything up. First I set up a swap with Uncle Doug and Auntie Jill to get them out of the way for a weekend - sometimes they stay in my apartment while I look after the farm. I always hide my toys, but not too well - I think they like to play with them. Then I arranged to borrow a teaser mare from the ranch across the road - I used to help Uncle Doug with that sort of thing. So the deal with that is we gotta freeze some of Midnight's semen for trade. I presume you won't mind collecting some. Anyhow, here we are."
She waved her arm around the place, and then went over and led Midnight out of his stall with a simple rope looped on his neck. The horse was snorting and Charlotte could see that he was ready to go - as evidenced by his bouncing yard. He was fitted with what looked like a tiny saddle, with ...
Aha!
she thought.
The pommel is wang-shaped
. This went some way to explaining why Ginnie was wearing a cowgirl's hat and boots, a red checkered scarf, a leather vest, plus fringed leather chaps ... but no shirt or trousers.
"So here's the plan ..."
But Charlotte had her own plan. Midnight's cock was daunting, but her newly acquired lust (plus a confidence in her elastic abilities born of recent experience) propelled her forward. She swung herself under the creature and nuzzled his apparatus. Lacking a tongue, she simply slid her stretchy lips along its surface. Although technically she relied on others for lubricating fluids, her shiny surface needed little more than a borrowed sheen of sweat to grease the way. While she was occupied, Ginnie thoughtfully tied her friend's long latex hair in a bun for her.
Midnight was beginning to get seriously agitated, and frankly, so was Charlotte. She needed elevation, and some way to brace herself. Looking around, she saw that Ginnie had been way ahead of her - a nearby hay bale had been provided with a blanket. No sooner had she scrambled onto her back on the bale, when Midnight was over her. Knees up, she lodged one hand behind her backside to grip the blanket, which left the other free to feed the enormous leathery shaft into her hungry pussy. The effect was immediate. As Midnight thrust, her orgasms began to roll through her. Grinning madly, it was all she could do to absorb the wonderful onslaught - at each full stroke his cock stretched and penetrated her neck (throat band included) and up into her head. She suspected that, flapping arms and legs notwithstanding, she then resembled a huge red condom.
"Use the handles! Use the handles!"
Ginnie was calling out something, something about ... handles? Dimly, she registered the loops on the lower part of the harness. She transferred her grip and found she could easily support herself under Midnight, with the creature's cock still deep inside her. Then it registered, barely, that Ginnie was leading the horse - and her - out the barn door into the sunlight. And when her friend swung herself aboard, she guessed that the three of them were in for a wild ride.
Ginnie, on the other hand, knew they were. She had used her Ponyback Pleasure Platform (patent pending) a few times before, but always under controlled circumstances. Or as controlled as possible, given that the thing was little more than a strap-on dildo mounted on a weensy padded base (and using appropriately longer straps). At least on those previous occasions, she had used a bridle, and not merely a rope looped over the beast's neck; also, the horse hadn't been in a state of lustful frenzy, nor had it had an extremely motivated, horse-sized pocket pussy mounted on its yard.
Sure enough, they were soon galloping over an expanse of meadowland behind the ranch. Ginnie was getting the full bareback experience - hot muscled, hair-covered flesh roiling between her wide stretched bare thighs - plus the added pleasure of deep, and unpredictable, penetration.
As for Charlotte, the rampant horse-cock was pistoning steadily inside her - what wasn't to like? The constant lashing from tall grass (and the occasional nettle) simply added to the fun. Once in a while she would tip her head back to see where they were going next - it was an extra rush to see oncoming obstacles from upside down, just before Midnight leapt clear of them: bushes, streams, fences and startled picnickers all looming up abruptly, and disappearing again just as suddenly. She tried to imagine the sight they were presenting to anyone who was lucky enough to get a glimpse of them.
Eventually Ginnie managed to get control of her tiring mount. She was sore - although the expensive little saddle (even at wholesale) had protected her nethers from serious damage - and she was lost. She climbed gingerly off of Midnight, and peeked underneath to make sure her friend hadn't been punctured or otherwise damaged. She was reassured by Charlotte's manic, upside-down grin. There were some stains on her shirt, but otherwise all was well on that front. It took a bow-legged walk up a nearby hillock, leading horse (and doll) along behind, to get a wide enough view to get her bearings. The barn now lay about four miles distant, as the crow might fly. Or for that matter, by way of the country road now visible beyond the hill; but she was aware that her bare and slightly glowing ass would probably be visible to folks driving past - if anyone should happen to glance away from the bright red sex-doll slung underneath her horse.
So it was back the way they'd come, at a much slower pace. After walking a mile or so, Ginnie tried riding again, and found the dildo's penetration so natural - and comfortable - that she wondered with alarm if Charlotte's curse was rubbing off on her. She probed carefully where her mound was mashed against the heaving saddle, and was relieved to find no trace of rubberization ... just a flattened clit sending happy messages bouncing around her body.
