Dreams with a Black Horse

Riders fell from their saddles into the dust, arrows sticking from their bodies.

Scattered shots were returned as my warriors followed me down a hillock on the attack, hooting and hollering wildly.

The whites fled before us in wild confusion. Wagons toppled over as wagoneers panicked their teams. They broke ranks and fled across the plain in random directions.

I followed the woman whose bonnet flew off her head as she frantically whipped her horses into a gallop.

Tightening my legs around the flanks of my horse I drew back my bow and sent an arrow through her lead horse. The other horses stumbled. The wagon pitched headfirst over their writhing bodies. The woman was thrown clear.

She picked herself up and began running through a stand of pawn-shaped cacti. Soon her dress was ripped from her body by their needle-like spines. Naked except for button boots she scrambled over the hot desert sand. I toyed with her coaxing my horse to bump her from behind with its nose causing her to sprawl on the ground.

After awhile she grew too tired to rise back to her feet and began crawling on her hands and knees.

She stared at my huge hard cock as I climbed off the horse. Her body was wet with sweat. Her hair clung to it in wet strands. Her glistening flesh was streaked with dirty rivulets. Her breasts quivered as she gasped for breath.

She attempted to fight, but she was exhausted. Soon I wrestled her onto her back and spread her legs.

She groaned as I entered her. I held her wrists above her head pressed to the ground. She turned her head as I tried to kiss her. But I wouldn't stop. I licked the dirt and sweat from her breasts. I sucked on the pink nipples causing them to rise like leaven dough. She sucked in a deep breath. Faint unintelligible protests came from down in her throat.

Yet her body gave back inspite of her revulsion. Her hips returned my eager thrusts -- while tears of protest coursed down her burning cheeks.

But I had been fooled, for as soon as I released her wrists she grabbed a stone and struck me on the side of the head.

When I recovered she was running across the plain.

I chased after her. Sweat and blood dripped onto my chest. I panted loudly -- not from exertion, but from primal lust. My cock ached painfully; my need to have it in her was overwhelming. It slapped against my belly as I raced along threatening to spew fuck at any moment.

The woman's boots threw sand up into the air behind her as she scurried before me.

I was the swiftest runner in my tribe. I gained on her with every stride.

All around us came the whooping of my warriors and the screams of white men being butchered and their women raped.

Smoke, from wagons that had been looted and burned, clouded the sky.

I gained steadily on the woman whose pace was slackening by the second.

I reached out and grabbed her by the hair yanking her off her feet.

We rolled down a slight incline and I ended up on top of her. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly as she gasped in ragged breaths for air. Her naked body felt as hot to me as the sun-baked desert sand.

I flipped her onto her belly. I would treat myself to a rear entry this time. Her body stiffen as I pressed the sand-coated head of my cock against her asshole.

She gave a wounded cry as I shoved it in. Her fingers clawed at the ground. I kept pushing until her firm asscheeks were against my belly.

Then I lay still on top of her feeling her vibrations beneath me. Hersweat-soiled face was turned sideways against the ground; the breath from her mouth -- grimaced in pain -- made tiny puffs of dust rise up. Her eyes were shut tightly; her smooth white teeth bared in agony.

We lay still like that for a long while. Gradually our breathing became attuned. Her body was no longer stiff. The grimace was gone from her mouth.

I kissed the nape of her neck and began moving my cock in and out. She murmured softly. Her pink tongue licked the ground. I licked the corner of her mouth.

I turned her over and reentered her cunt. Our mouths touched; our tongues moved against each other. She wrapped her legs around my waist pulling me into her. The leather heels of her boots spurred my asscheeks. Her fingers twined through my long mane, twisting and tugging.

The desert sun burned our naked bodies. Its heat became our heat.

Our bodies rocked together.

But I was not fooled this time. She was responding in order to make me cum so that the rape would be over.

Her cunt tightened around my cock milking it, but I held my breath and rolled my tongue backwards against the roof of my mouth.

After a time her movements became more frantic. I smiled. Trying to arouse me to a climax she had also succeeded in arousing herself.

Soon she was begging me to fuck her in coarse barely coherent words interspersed with forlorn cries and moans from the licentious pit of her deepest need and desire.

As frantic as she, I thrust my cock deep into her wet, tight hole. Our bodies slammed together brutally. The savage hoots and shouts, the screams of murder and rape surrounding us only added to our feverish excitement. We fought each other like animals, biting and slapping. Her fingernails left a wake of bloody trails down my flanks. Her cheeks glowed red from my unrestrained slaps.

We tore at each other guided by a primal force that was beyond our will or desire to resist.

When we came it was like an explosion. A derangement of the senses, then an integration into oneness. Samarasa.

When I awoke we were lying face to face on the pallet. My cock was in her to the hilt.

"That was fantastic," I said, kissing the corner of her mouth. "You were right about samarasa. I've never experienced anything that intense."

Wanda raised her eyebrow. We didn't reach samarasa," she said. "We let our kundalini possess us -- our carnal lust."

Damn, I thought; you mean it gets even better? If it does I'm not gonna make it; I had almost had a heart attack as it was.

"Did you dream the same dream as I?" I asked.

"Indians attacking a wagon train?"

I nodded.

Uh-huh," she murmured putting her arms around my neck and pulling her sexy little body even tighter up against me. "I liked the way we did it; it was hot."

"Do you think that maybe we like crude sex too much to ever reach samarasa?"

"She grinned. "It's the journey that matters not the destination."

We sold Black Horse for a suitcase full of money to an Arab in the back room of a seedy pawn shop. But when we got back to the apartment we had misgivings. What if the dreams stopped now that it was gone?

As we lay down on the pallet that night. Leigh Nash was singing:

"Hey now, hey now,
Don't dream it's over."

I was on a black horse, and I was wearing a suit of armor. From the window of a castle a beautiful maiden with a long black mane was crying out for help.