Sometimes You Gotta Run Away

Earl had proved as good as his word; his delivery was in Napa itself, and she'd enjoyed talking with him on the road. It hadn't taken them long to unload, either, and when they'd finished, he'd stood her to another coffee at the cafe across the street. "So long, Penny-girl," he'd said as he finished his coffee and tossed a ten-spot on the counter. "You keep your head together 'n' you'll do alright."

The matronly vixen behind the counter, whose name tag read "Ethel", had shaken her head as he clopped out the door and swung himself up into the cab of his rig. "That Earl," she'd murmured, a half-smile on her face. "Y'want that warmed up, hon?" she'd asked Penny, who'd nodded assent, then seized the opportunity offered to ask about an uma who ran or operated some kind of farm in the area. "Sure," she'd replied. "There's Rhiannon; she's got a stud farm up Highway 29, near Oakville, I think." She'd examined Penny's face searchingly. "Your cousin, you said?"

Ethel had walked her to the door. "Now, you head up the road thataway," she'd pointed, "then take the next left. That'll take you to the highway, and you go north. Not a lot of traffic this time of day, but you might be able to catch a lift 'round noon. Your cousin's place is right off the highway; you can't miss it."

Penny had thanked her and set off, tired from lack of sleep, but feeling pretty good on the whole. Ethel was right; there was very little traffic on the highway once she got out of town. Still, it was a warm, sunny day, and she found the walk enjoyable. She wasn't sure how exactly to introduce herself to her cousin and passed the time playing out various scenarios in her head while her long legs devoured the dusty miles. Then there was the pleasant pastime of composing some choice comments to deliver to Robert. She was going to get the money he owed her, she was determined on that. She should call the college, though, and let them know she wasn't going to make her classes for a few days, see if that was going to be a problem. And she'd have to try Arc again; she really hoped the lioness would let her crash at her for a bit, because it was a safe bet she'd have to end her lease and find another place. And another job...

A sharphonk!snapped her out of her reverie, followed by a drawling "Hey, y'all need a ride?", and she turned to see who had accosted her. A beat-up green Ford pickup was rolling along at a walking pace, driven by an Appaloosa umamusume. Her green eyes narrowed a bit as she looked back at Penny, registering her dappled markings and the fact that she too was an umamusume. "You're not from 'round here, are y'all?" she asked, and Penny shook her head.

"Los Angeles," she replied as she trotted across the road and swung into the pickup's cab. "I kind of, well, I needed a change of pace."

The Appaloosa nodded. "Time t' figure stuff out, hm? That's a good idea. Everyone needs t' stop 'n look at themselves a bit ev'ry now an' then." Her accent was soft, reminiscent of the South. "Ah won't ask where you're goin', sugar," she added with a chuckle, shifting to a higher gear. "Just y'all seem a bit short on the basics for hittin' th' road, though." She cocked her head, her ears swivelling in the holes through her jauntily-perched blue Stetson.

Penny nodded, leaning back against the well-worn seat, closing her eyes for a moment. "Yeah, I know... spent most of the night getting soaked through," she said reflectively. "But if you're going as far as Oakville, I should be okay. I'm hoping to find my cousin's place there."

"Um... not quite all the way, but Ah c'n drop y'all off about a mile short." She leaned forward, making her shirt ride up under full breasts, rummaging in a box on the floor, then fished out a Harvest Crunch bar. "If'n you need a bite, help yourself," she said, passing it to the Arabian horse-girl. "Cain't have mah passenger passin' out for hunger, now."

"Thanks," Penny replied, tucking it in her skirt's small pocket. "I, um, got a meal and a lift from a guy at the truck stop earlier," she added. She wasn't exactly sure why, but something about her current benefactor made her feel comfortable.

"Well, then, keep it for later, hon," she replied. "We're nearly there," she added as they passed a sign reading 'Oakville – 1 mile'. "I'm turning off just up here, 'bout half a mile from town; you c'n hoof it into town from there, Ah think." She slowed for a curve, then glanced at Penny. "What's your cousin's name, anyway? Ah might be able t' give you an address?"

"Uh, Rhiannon, or something like that – I'm not really sure. I've never met her before, you see," Penny answered.

The pickup slowed abruptly. "Rhiannon?!" the Appaloosa asked, green eyes going wide. She pulled over, then turned to look at Penny. "What... what's your name, hon?"

"Penny," she replied, and things came together suddenly. "You're her, I mean, you!" she exclaimed, ears flicking back and disarranging her green-streaked hair. "You're my cousin?!"

"Penny... Starr, right?!" Rhiannon asked, a huge smile breaking over her chestnut face. Impulsively she leaned over and threw her arms around the Arabian teen in a hug. "God, hon, Ah'm right glad t' meet'cha!" The truck lurched as her foot slipped off the brake pedal, and she snatched at the steering wheel. "Let me get us home first, and then y'all have to tell meeverything!"

Home wasn't far; a few hundred more yards to the drive. A sign read "Wildwood Farm – Boarding and Stud Services – Rhiannon, Prop.", and past that, a dusty gravel road wound about a quarter-mile past that to an old, comfortable-looking farmhouse. Two more pickups were parked in front, as well as a horse trailer. The drive continued around the house and Penny just made out a barn or stable which seemed to be down a gentle slope before Rhiannon swung the truck around to park. "C'mon in, make yourself to home, Penny hon," she welcomed her as they entered.

The interior was cool though daylight poured in through several large windows. Her cousin looked around, blue eyes drinking in everything. The house was... relaxed, she felt. It felt like the house welcomed guests, making them family, and she could feel the tension easing from her muscles.

"Coffee?" Rhiannon asked, ushering her into the kitchen. This was another comfortable room, but warmer-feeling. A long padded bench ran across the end and down one wall, liberally provided with squashy cushions and providing seating for the large kitchen table. Several chairs, no two alike, were clustered around the other two sides. The table was worn but well-scrubbed. The Appaloosa guided her cousin to the bench, then turned toward the stove, where a camp coffeepot stood.

Penny leaned back against the cushions, watching her hostess's preparations. For some reason she'd always imagined her cousin as... well, not this earthy, down-home girl, complete to gingham shirt knotted up under a generous bosom, well-worn jeans riding low on her hips, and dusty cowboy boots. With the navy-blue Stetson, complete to a silver horseshoe charm, she ought to be a caricature, but she wasn't.She's... she's herself,Penny thought.She doesn't care what anyone else thinks, she's happy with herself...it was curiously hard to follow that train of thought; her mind was drifting...

"Just about ready," Rhiannon said as she grabbed the now-steaming coffeepot, the rich brown liquid bubbling in the clear knob as it made little popping, perking noises. The aroma of good coffee drifted from the spout as she poured. She set the pot back down and took the cups, turning back toward the table. "Do y'all take -" then chuckled softly. Lulled by the padding and cushions, her cousin had fallen fast asleep.

*** *** ***

Penny was disoriented when she woke up. She remembered her cousin's kitchen... but this wasn't a kitchen. She sat up and looked around. She was in a neat little bedroom – from the angled ceiling, it was upstairs, tucked cozily under the roof – decorated in warm earth tones. She also realized she was naked and for a moment she panicked. Penny was very private about her body; despite Robert's crude, lustful groping, she was not at all convinced she was attractive. Nor did she want anyone to discover her secret; the thing that made her a freak. She knew she was a freak; her father had madethatclear often enough.

Keeping the covers pulled over her lap, she cast about. Her clothes were definitely gone, but on the dark-stained chest, she saw her ATM card, a ten-dollar bill, keys and cell phone. A warm-looking pink housecoat lay next to them atop a fluffy towel, and on top of that was a note which read "Took your things to the laundry. Supper's at five, but if you sleep late, help yourself. Your things'll be outside the door when they're done."

From the dimness at the windows, it was well into the evening, but she was still surprised when she checked her cell phone; according to that, it was just before midnight. No call from Arc, either, she noted. Well, she could try again later. At the moment, Penny was more concerned about the question of her clothes... and something to eat. She sniffed – shower first, she decided.

Wrapping the housecoat about her and grabbing the towel, the dappled Arabian horse-girl opened the bedroom door. No clothes awaited her. Well, this late in the night, she wasn't likely to meet anyone else up. The door gave onto a landing, where the stairs descended to the main floor. She looked at the doors along the wall, wondering which one was the bathroom. One of them had a double light switch beside it which seemed a good indicator, though. She padded toward it on bare feet, conscious that this was a house full of people who did hard, sweaty work every day and who would probably not appreciate being woken up. A floorboard creaked under her foot and she paused, catching her breath, then passed on. She paused again at the door, head cocked, ears swivelling as soft, muffled thumps came from the direction of the farthest door. A voice, too soft and too indistinct to make out the words.Not everyone's asleep, I guess.

In the bathroom, she let the housecoat fall from her shoulders and faced the counter. A familiar face looked back at her – dappled silvery-grey, shading to a darker grey around her mouth and down her chin. She brushed her mussed, green-streaked hair back and stared at the white star-shaped blaze in the centre of her forehead. Bracing herself on the counter, she assessed herself. The silvery-grey coat of fine horsehair covered her all over, again shading to white over her breasts and down her taut belly, then once again growing darker at her groin.

A frown creased her forehead as she considered.My groin. My freakishness.The most obvious manifestation of her freakishness hung there, the same dark grey as the smooth mound from which it grew; a penis sprouting from her crotch where it had no business being. Sighing, she lifted it, feeling how the shaft merged smoothly with her mons, then the cleft of her vulva behind it.Couldn't be a boy or a girl, no... stuck somewhere in between,she thought, and shivered. Unbidden memories rose to the surface; her father hitting her, kicking her, calling her names...

She turned her back on her reflection and started the shower running. The hot water and steam helped her to clear her mind, chase away the memories... and she could indulge herself, too, enjoy a guilty pleasure. Her fingers curled around the dangling grey shaft, caressing it softly, urging herself on... For several minutes she just stood under the hot needle spray, legs parted, straddling the drain, her fist moving faster and faster as she swelled and grew, the dark flesh rising up until her shaft jutted out, rampantly erect, a good foot and a half long, and she was jacking herself furiously while it pulsed and throbbed in her grip... and then the moment, the guilty, wonderful moment, when her glans flared, and with short, sharp breaths, she plunged her fingers into her vulva. The water turned suddenly cool and the abrupt temperature change kicked her over the edge. Pleasure spasmed through her and she flung her head back, turning her face up to the cool spray, her nipples hard, stiff pegs under the coolness while her hips jerked and bucked and she shuddered in a gasping nova of release. Heart pounding in her chest, she leaned against the shower stall wall while the tide within her ebbed, then heaved a sigh of relief. Little aftershocks coursed through her as she aimed the shower head at the wall to wash the sticky mess she'd made down the drain.

Still feeling the pleasant post-orgasmic buzz, she washed off, acutely aware of the water pattering on her skin, the scent of the soap, the sensual texture of her coat under her fingers, then turned it off and stepped out to dry off. The towel was just as much a tactile pleasure, the terrycloth soft and seductive against her skin and in the luxurious mop of her hair... feeling much better, she donned the housecoat again and wound the towel in a turban around her damp hair. She caught sight of herself, misty and indistinct in the fogged mirror, and smiled, suddenly feeling very warm and feminine.

Penny stole carefully downstairs; after the tension-relieving jilling session in the shower, she felt distinctly ravenous. A quick survey of the pantry and fridge resulted in her finding all the necessary ingredients for a dagwood of magnificent proportions, as well as a tall, cold glass of milk. She padded to the kitchen table, setting down her plunder, and settled on the bench where she'd fallen asleep on arrival. A chair, hooked with one long, graceful leg, provided a suitable footrest while she settled down to enjoy her midnight meal.

A creaking step caught her attention, and her ears swivelled forward as she looked up. Rhiannon paused at the entrance to the kitchen, a warm, slow smile spreading over her face. The Appaloosa was similarly attired, though without a towel-turban; her housecoat was just as fluffy, but in a powder-blue which went well with the rich chestnut of her coat. The slender but well-muscled arms emerging from the housecoat's sleeves were a pale, pale beige, as were her legs, at least up as far as the knee-length house-coat let Penny see. She seemed to fill the housecoat rather better – or else it was a bit small; either way, a not-inconsiderable amount of chestnut cleavage was on display.

"Feelin' a bit better now, hon?" she asked as she crossed to the fridge, and Penny nodded. "Good," Rhiannon went on, pouring herself a glass of milk. "Don't worry 'bout gettin' up with the rest of the gang. Ah'll leave some fixin's warmin' on the stove; y'all come down when you like in th' morning." She strolled back toward the front hall, her silky auburn tail swishing gently behind her under the hem of her housecoat, and gave Penny a roguish smile over her shoulder. "Ah jus' needed a little something," she said, licking a milk moustache from her chocolate-dark lips. "G'night, hon," and Penny heard her footsteps on the well-worn stairs. She surveyed the scant remnants on her plate, then drained the last drops in her glass. Despite having slept nearly twelve hours, bed seemed like a very good idea again, so she cleared her dishes into the sink, then followed her cousin's example.

*** *** ***

She woke again to sunlight streaming through a small gap in the curtains. The sun's motion, rising in the sky, had carried it to the point that the sunbeam had come to rest on Penny's face, and the warmth beating on her eyelids brought her to wakefulness. She stretched luxuriously under the covers, feeling marvellously alive. Somehow this time, it wasn't as much a concern, her nakedness, and she stood up, turning to feel the sun's warmth against her coat. This time, when she checked, her clothes were there, folded neatly and sitting on the floor. There was also a red flannel 'lumberjack' shirt and a pair of jeans under them. She smiled happily; her cousin, it seemed, was absolutely determined to make her feel at home, and it was working. On impulse, she decided to don the jeans and work shirt, knotting it as she'd seen Rhia do, then tugged her clunky boots on. Thus attired, she wandered downstairs.

Once again, the place seemed deserted, though on looking at the kitchen clock it was evident why, as the hands stood at 9:30. Everyone would be out and about, working at the many chores needed to keep the farm running. As Rhiannon had promised, there was a covered frying pan from which enticing smells emerged; lifting the lid revealed the source of those smells to be thick slices of French toast and rashers of bacon. Quick foraging in the fridge provided her with a glass of orange juice – from the taste, fresh-squeezed, not commercially packaged – and she made the toast and bacon into a sandwich. She wasn't ravenously hungry as she had been last night, but she didn't waste any time putting her breakfast away, either. She gazed out the kitchen window as she washed her fingers off, feeling strangely peaceful. She was sure there was a lot of work involved in keeping something like Wildwood running, but her cousin didn't have that same air of being rushed, in a hurry, fighting the clock that so many of her customers at the cafe had radiated. Los Angeles had a...freneticfeeling to it. Wildwood, though, felt comfortable, relaxed. People might work fast here, but they weren't rushed.

While she mused, her gaze roved over the view. The barn she'd caught a glimpse on arriving yesterday was about fifty yards behind the house, it appeared. The drive was gravelled around to it, but the dusty road heading off toward the fields was dirt. Fences outlined pasturage and paddocks, and she could see several feral horses wandering about in one, and a couple of figures sitting on the fence, watching them. A small dust-cloud moved slowly against the blue-green hills in the distance, and Penny suddenly realized that was a truck, and the true size of the farm. The incredibly deep-blue sky beckoned and she suddenly wanted to explore it, very much.

She wandered outside, and as the mid-morning sun hit, she realized that cowboy hats weren't necessarily an affectation. She was used to the muting effect of Los Angeles' smog, and she squinted against the undiluted brilliance assaulting her eyes. One hand shading her brow, she strode toward the barn, breathing a sigh of relief as she stepped into shadow.

A rich medley of scents filled her nose – old well-worn wood, good clean earth, fresh timothy hay, horses. As her eyes adjusted again, she looked around, taking in the bits of tack hung up on beams and walls. There was a pile of burlap sacks, fat and bulging with feed; several galvanized buckets, pitchforks, shovels... Penny felt as though she'd stepped into a completely new world, one she'd never known. There were stalls, over the doors of which several horses looked around, their eyes warm and friendly. A low susurration of horsey noises accompanied the scents; soft nickering, snorting, the occasional clop of a hoof muffled by hay on the floorboards. She paused by one stall, reading the nameplate on the door – 'Erin' – and she started a bit as Erin's velvety muzzle brushed against her arm, hoping for a treat. "Sorry," Penny murmured, scratching the mare behind an ear – so like her own, though larger, she thought – by way of making up for her lamentable lack of treats for deserving horses. It was odd, yet oddly right, she reflected. These were also her cousins, in a way; their blood, in part, ran in her veins as well. Idly she strolled along the line of stalls, until there suddenly wasn't a stall on this side. The barn tee'd at this point, a second part extending off. In a mood to explore, Penny turned the corner and stopped abruptly.

The tee opened up into a second room, flooded with sunlight. A bay mare was tethered to a free-standing post in the centre of the room, and... Penny blinked, unable to credit what seemed to be happening... No, her eyes weren't lying to her; that was her cousin – the chestnut-and-cream Appaloosa markings were unmistakable, to say nothing of the dark blue Stetson pushed back on her head. But it looked as if she was... she was standing on a mounting step behind the mare, her jeans down around her ankles, her shirt open, half-covering her hypnotically-swaying breasts... and – Penny's eyes dropped as if to confirm yet again what she'd seen the first time – yes, what could only be Rhiannon's penis, thrusting into the mare in a steady, powerful rhythm.