Aunt Ann's Pony Life Ch. 07

As my eyes fluttered open she was right there.

The kiss was warm and moist but not the drool of yesterday. It was a woman kissing me and Aunt Ann was all of the way back.

And demanding.

Her fingers fondled my cock, just coming erect, and her breath was warm in my ear as she said, "Good morning, sweet baby."

"Mmmmmmmm, and good morning to you," I said, my hands finding her back and caressing, tracing the little bumps of her spine down to her tailbone and probing there, making her squirm and giggle.

She swung her leg over me, straddled me, and took me into her body with a sigh.

"I love you, Davey," she said, supporting herself on her arms and looking down at me, our eyes meeting.

My control almost failed. That was the first time she had said those words and they surprised me.

"I love you, Aunt Ann," I replied and was just as surprised to realize that I meant it. Not that I loved her, I had known that since that first time years ago. What surprised me was that what I meant was "I'm in love with you."

Her eyes got big.

"My insanity and all?" she asked, and there was no hint of a smile or a joke in her voice.

"Your beautiful, sexy, wonderful needs and all," I said.

She breathed in through her nose, a long drawn out hiss of intaken air.

"You liked Dakota then?" she asked, surprising me again. I had kind of wondered if she even knew about her, well, her "other life" when she wasn't in it.

I stroked her hair very softly, petting her really, and I liked the way her eyes closed in pure pleasure.

"Dakota is your beautiful other self," I said, "and I love her too."

The surreal aspect of this hit me suddenly. Here I was, professing my love, explaining how I liked her fetish, and, it seemed to me, on some level working out our future, while my erection was fully inside of her, surrounded by her warmth and her wetness.

But I didn't have time to contemplate much. She was covering my face with kisses, talking but in short little phrases, some of them lost in the kisses. I caught snatches, and I understood that I was the first man she had shared so much with. Things like, "... understand me...," and "... know I'm not crazy...," and "... my Handler."

This was an odd combination. On one level it was making love, and it was love, no doubt about that. On another level, it was pure animal sex, with me so hard I hurt and her so wet I could feel her running down the crack of my ass and soaking the sheet under us. On yet another level it was a merging beyond sex. When she said, "I am yours," and I said, "I accept your gift," we were more married than any fancy church wedding and license could join us.

The cliche is, "Time stopped." But it wasn't that it stopped that morning, it was that it didn't matter. We lay like that, our bodies joined, her kind of babbling her surrender, me kind of babbling my acceptance, and neither of us feeling any urgency to finish our coupling.

But we were, after all, healthy mammals and her body took over. When she came it was a flood, a torrent of release making her entire body rigid, leaving her unable to breathe. I heard a quick intake of breath and felt her legs lock on mine, her fingers dig into my back, and then she was completely still.

"Again," I said softly, my hands easing down to cup her ass and then squeezing, gently at first and then harder until I heard her soft moan.

Her second orgasm was as powerful as the first, but when her body relaxed I could tell she was done. So I stroked her back lightly, calling her my good girl, being careful not to use her name, either Aunt Ann or Dakota, just calling her my good girl over and over.

"Now relax," I said, holding her, still inside of her, "and say it some more."

"I love you," she said, kissing me.

"I love you," I said, kissing her back.

"Please, David," she said, smiling down at me, "please baby, fill me up."

And something about the way she said that, the pure, perfect need in her voice, the utter femaleness of her plea, took me over the top. My ejaculation was powerful, immediate, and surprising.

Her grin was feral, not a Pony, a wolf who had what she wanted finally.

"I am yours," she said very softly as my body answered the demands of evolution, "but you are mine too."

"I am yours," I said, matching her tone, "and you are mine."

The Wolf had overtaken the Pony and she licked my face.

I liked it.

I discovered that morning, well, I think we discovered together, that she didn't need the Pony Milk to set the animal free. We licked each other's faces, tasting each other's sweat, and then she caught my right wrist in her hand and pushed my hand up until it was on the pillow beside my head. I wasn't surprised, hell, by then I think I was beyond surprise, when she started licking my armpit.

It seemed natural to lick the breast that was right there. I wasn't seeking her nipple or that wonderful intimacy of suckling, of nursing, but rather, I licked the boobsweat from the bottom of her tit where it normally lay against her body. It was salty with just a hint of bitterness and I could smell the first suggestion of unwashed body odor.

I liked it and licked greedily.

She nipped at the tender skin of my armpit and I yelped before biting down on the tender skin I was licking making her yell in return.

I didn't release and she didn't dare yank away.

"Owww, Jesus, Davey, please, honey, no more," she said, laughing and groaning at the same time.

The image flashed into my mind's eye, clear, almost a high-definition movie right there, superimposed over the bedroom, of the only time I had actually seen two dogs mating.

I released her teat, and at that point, that's how I was thinking of it to the extent that I was having any thought at all. It wasn't a breast, it was an animal's teat.

I released her teat and squirmed away from her so I could get control. She watched, her eyes a little glassy, as I moved beside her and rolled her onto her belly. I got into position behind her, and grabbed her hips, my fingers digging in, deliberately hurting her a little, establishing my control.

"Up on all fours, my beautiful she-wolf," I said, digging my fingers in more.

She groaned, and got up onto hands and knees.

There was that image again, in my mind's eye, and I moved a little, on all fours too, and licked and nipped at her ass and pussy. It was running now, her arousal complete, thick white love nectar combined with my semen was hanging in a thick strand before a small movement stuck it to her thigh where it ran down, thick and inviting. So I licked it, rooting against her sex, the sound as I licked and slurped noisily getting to me, making my sudden and surprising erection throb.

She was as into the image as I was. She growled, deep in her throat, and when she whipped her head around, teeth showing, snapping, a string of snot flew from her nose.

I moved forward, not quite entering her but my belly against the round firmness of her ass, and nipped at the skin of her shoulder blades. I deliberately made her take my weight. She let out a high-pitched yip and this time when her head turned, her teeth snapping, she was drooling and that thick string of silvery drool that swung as her head moved almost broke my control the image was so perfect.

In fact, it was too perfect. The mood was broken and I was suddenly laughing.

"What the fuck, Davey," she yelled, rolling free, reminding me that she was still a damn good athlete, "am I a fucking joke?" The look on her face was beyond anger, the whipsaw of mood had her looking an odd combination of enraged and puzzled.

I held up my hand, still laughing softly.

"What we were doing just made me think of an old joke," I managed before dissolving into laughter again.

She could not possibly have made it more clear that she did not share my hilarity. Her scowl was the very image of pissed off.

"I'm sorry," I managed, "my mind is a very weird place and, well, this situation is getting to me in ways I can't explain."

Her face eased a little and she managed a little smile.

"So," she said, "share."

I laughed, well, sort of snorted a chuckle, and told her.

"The young Indian boy, or should I say 'Native American lad?'" I started and broke up again.

"Okay, I've got it now," I said and started over.

"The young Indian boy was sitting with his father, staring into the fire at night, belly full, when he turned to his father and asked, very seriously, 'Why did you name me what you did, Father?'"

"You know, my son," the father replied, "when my children were born I would go to the entrance to the tipi, and look out for my inspiration. When your older brother was born I went to the entrance, looked out, and saw a great eagle soaring above the trees and your brother became Great Eagle. When your sister was born I went to the entrance and saw a beautiful deer who was startled and ran away and your sister became Running Deer."

"The father paused for a moment, looking into the fire, lost in thought and the memories of those important moments in his life. He turned to his son and asked, 'Why do you ask Two Dogs Fucking?'"

I watched her face slowly start smiling and then she broke into a gale of laughter.

We laughed together then, both of us I think reacting to our uncompleted coupling, but both of us needing a break in the, well, the sheer animal sex.

Finally, the hilarity ended. Well, the uncontrolled, breath-robbing laughter ended. We were still snorting and chuckling as we kissed and touched.

"You're really okay with, well," and she giggled and blushed, "with my alter ego?"

"Aunt Ann," I said, brushing an imaginary hair away from her forehead, "I'm in love with my human Aunt Ann," and I kissed her, a gentle loving kiss, "but I also love Dakota," and I kissed her again, another gentle loving kiss, "and that she-wolf I saw all too briefly this morning," and I growled and bent quickly biting the big trapezius muscle at her neck, drawing a little startled yell.

She growled back, the sound deep in her throat. I would not have been surprised to hear her bark.

I released where I was biting, ran my tongue slowly up her neck to her ear, and then whispered, "I love ALL of you."