Sometimes You Gotta Run Away

The two equine herms snuggled together on their soft, green bed, letting the light breeze cool their sweat-damped forms. Eventually Rhiannon took a gentle grip of Penny's she-cock, pulling her out with a rude, suckingschlooorp!followed by a 'pop' as her dappled cousin's glans emerged. A thick, gelatinous glob of horse-girl semen oozed from between her trim, dark nether lips, sliding wetly onto and down her thigh. A froth of cream and juices along her labia indicated just how much more of Penny's generous ejaculation remained within. Rhia stroked Penny's shoulder, smiling at her cousin. "Feel good?" she asked, rolling onto her back.

Penny nodded, feeling wonderfully satisfied. "Yeah," she replied, matching Rhia's move, sprawling with the careless grace of a teenager. Both herms' cocks rose in proud arches from their groins, Penny's still glistening with the rich mix of her semen and Rhia's juices. A thought struck her - "Rhia... wasn't this... you know... incest?" She turned to look at her cousin, a cloud in her eyes.

Rhiannon said nothing for a few moments, simply caressing Penny's dappled thigh. Every so often her fingers brushed Penny's pouting lips, sending tingles through the Arabian girl-stallion's loins. At length she replied, "Ah s'pose so, hon." Her fingers moved a bit more urgently, beginning to work between short-furred grey softness. Then she gently lifted Penny's shoulder, turning her on her side a bit and lifted her leg. "But," she murmured, her lips brushing against the youthful herm's shoulder as she grasped her semi-erect charcoal shaft to begin rubbing it against Penny's nether lips, "do you care?"

*** *** ***

Quite a bit later, the two horse-herms strolled back toward the farmhouse. Penny was utterly bare, her clothes in her hand. Rhiannon was equally naked except for her Stetson, her remaining clothes draped casually over one arm, her boots in hand. Both of them gleamed with water droplets netted in their coats, and each wore an extremely satisfied smile on her face.

Rusty stuck his head out the back door as they drew near. "Hey, boss – I figured you'd forgotten the time. Soup good for lunch?" Their nudity didn't seem to faze him in the least, and his complacent acceptance seemed no more than Rhiannon expected. Penny felt an urge to cover herself but then took a firm mental grip.No more hiding; no more being afraid that people might know,she told herself. If anyone had a problem with her being a herm, too bad and fuck them.

"Thanks, Rusty hon," Rhiannon replied, smiling warmly at the tod. "Y'all hit it right on the head; Penny 'n' I got a bit distracted." A giggle escaped Penny, try as she might to stifle it, and she nodded agreement. "We'll just change before we set down, Rusty," Rhiannon went on, and Penny felt an odd new self-confidence start to well up in her.

"Yeah, I got grass stains on my jeans," she added, and with every ounce of aplomb she could muster, she stepped past the tod to the stairs, bare feet padding on the treads as Rhiannon followed.

After lunch, Rhiannon announced she had a couple of errands to run in town with Amando. Rusty and were going to mow a couple of fields, but when Penny asked if she could help, Rhiannon caught her eye and gave a tiny head-shake. Fencing was one thing, but the big hay mower wasn't something for a novice to get involved with. Penny was disappointed, but got the message. "Ah'm sure y'all'll find something t'occupy yourself, hon," Rhiannon chuckled. "Tell you what – Ah seem to remember a couple hinges are loose on the wing doors, if y'all want to try your hand at fixin' 'em?" Penny wasn't sure exactly what 'wing doors' were, but agreed happily. She suspected her cousin wanted her to find out for herself, anyway.

Shortly she was alone; Rhiannon and Amando rolling down the long driveway in Rhiannon's beat-up green Ford, while Rusty and Jake rode the tractor and mower off toward the fields. Idly she strolled down to the barn to look for tools and to find these 'wing doors'.

The sun had shifted around and the side facing the house was in shadow. There didn't seem to be any 'wing doors' here; just a regular door, and none of its hinges seemed to be loose, anyway. Undeterred, Penny pushed on, letting the door close behind her as she strolled through the almost-cathedral-like space, warm with shafts of sunlight through windows and redolent of the sweet scent of hay and horses. Some of the mares nickered as she strolled past, and she paused to pet one or two of them as they nuzzled, hoping for treats. The large doors at the far end didn't seem to be loose on their hinges, either, though, so Penny re-traced her steps to the tee that led off to the side.

That's where I saw her,she reflected, recalling the moment she'd realized her cousin was like her. Her heart beat a bit faster as she turned the image over in her mind... Rhiannon standing on a block or something, pants around her ankles, shirt open... cock buried in a feral mare. There was the block, and the post the mare – Star, she remembered Rhia had told her the mare's name later – the post Star had been tethered to while Rhiannon serviced...fuckedher. She felt her jeans beginning to become tight; the memory was arousing her. What would it be like? she wondered. Would it feel as good as Rhiannon had? Would it be better? Her cousin's comment after their lustful coupling – the first one – this morning struck her, too.Did she hint that she wants me to fuck one of these mares?

Her ears swivelled as she surveyed the... breeding room? As good a name as any, she thought. There was a folded pile of clean cloths, and a bucket with a couple of crumpled cloths in it; that was where she'd seen Rhiannon cleaning herself off afterwards. There was also a black ledger-type book, tucked in the rough frame timbers of the space. Her nose twitched as she examined the well-worn volume. There were several columns – dates, names, notations of various types This, Penny realized, must be a breeding record, a stud book... toward the end, she found an entry with a date about a week old, then "Star, heat next week", followed by yesterday's date and "stud R." Most of the entries were in one hand; there were a few exceptions, though as Penny leafed back through the book, she realized that the exceptions never recorded "stud, R". Apparently Rhiannon's self-indulgent sexuality had a few limits when it came to recording her conquests.

What was more interesting was that there were three or four names entered without any dates but other comments. She shook her head as she tried to figure this out; she was getting quite aroused now, going by the pressure in her pants. Here, for example; one entry read "Blackie, heat next 2 weeks, J. Heppenstall." These must be mares that she's going to breed next, Penny realized. A sudden, wild idea seized her.

Quietly – though she realized no-one was around at all – she strode back into the main part of the barn. Her ears flicked again, and unconsciously she swished her tail briskly. She half-knew what she was searching for; a scent, a particular scent... and yes, there it was – subtle, elusive... but unmistakable; the scent of an on-heat mare. Driven by the rising urges in her, Penny scanned the stalls. Sure enough, there was a stall with a sign in Rhia's neat hand, reading "Blackie (J.H.)" and yes, the trim, coal-black mare in it was the source of that tantalizing, alluring scent. She found her steps quickening the closer she got; that smell was maddening, inflaming her desires. A lone bale of hay was sitting on the floor across from the stall, and on a sudden impulse, Penny grabbed it.

Opening the stall door, she tossed the bale in. Her head was swimming with the nearness of the mare now; it had been an effort to think of grabbing something to stand on. The question of whether or not she should do this was long past; she was going to mount a mare; it was just a question of working out how. Penny stood close to her head, stroking her muzzle, making soft, wordless sounds. She felt an unmistakable urge to rub her cheek against Blackie's. The mare's coat was fine and soft, and she felt a desire to feel Blackie's warm, fine coat against her all over. It was the work of seconds to shrug out of her shirt as she continued nuzzling, working her way along the barrel of the mare's body toward her flanks. Breathing hard, she reached back between Blackie's legs, feeling the velvet smoothness there, and Blackie whickered and stamped a little, flirting her tail up.

The Arabian herm moved behind, running purely on half-understood instinct now. The sight of the mare's winking vulva was like a spur to her; without further ado she wrenched her jeans open to free her rearing cock, the flies flapping either side like lewd wings. Blackie looked over her shoulder, her liquid, dark eyes seeming to smile an invitation. Penny caught her breath, bracing her hands on the mare's haunches, steadying herself, then grasped her she-cock just behind the broad knob, guiding herself to the mare's tempting nether lips.

Blackie snorted a bit when Penny thrust, but the young herm barely heard her; her mind was flooded with the heady sensations of smooth, warm flesh around hers. The mare felt similar to Rhiannon – but different, also. Penny pulled back momentarily, watching herself sliding out, her cock slick with Blackie's juices, until she felt her glans against the mare's labia, on the verge of pulling out, and paused. Blackie was standing quietly, compliant, ready and willing for the stallion inside her.I'm in a feral mareflashed through her thoughts, but it was unimportant; what was important was her overwhelmingneedto thrust again and again, to drive herself into the mare's tight warmth, to feel the liquid-silk sensation of her girl-cock inside the mare's vagina, moving together until the inevitable, necessary moment... She couldn't get her legs straddled far enough to push herself into the mare properly, not standing on the hay bale; so she braced her feet on the bottom rail of the stall walls, leaning over the mare's back, feeling Blackie's coat warm and soft against her breasts. That soft, tickling sensation very quickly stiffened her sensitive nipples, turning them into hard, erect pegs, while her dappled ass and thighs flexed with her rutting.

Pleasure spilled through her, coursing like fire through her veins with every thrust. She couldn't stop now, she wouldn't stop now... she was in the mare until Nature had fully run her course, and as in the morning, when she'd realized she could, indeed, sire foals, the need to knock the mare up spurred her on, lent her added drive. Each moment seemed a blissful eternity as she fucked her straining, erect girl-stallion-hood into the mare's tight, warm cunt, each stroke demanding the next. There was no need for words; she replied to Blackie's nickering and snorting with her own.

She was close, very close; she knew she hadn't taken very long, but the mare's intoxicating heat had roused her quickly, speaking to her stallion nature, and her body's response was swift as well as pleasurable. Something hot welled up inside her; a sudden, sweeping surge of urgency and need; she'd felt it before when she masturbated, but never with the primal ferocity that gripped her now. A loud, neighing cry escaped her as that pleasure and lust exploded outward, and she shuddered while her cock flared and thick, gooey jets of semen spat from her jerking shaft.

"Yeah, fuck yeah!" she chanted finding words again while the tide of ecstasy poured through her. She flung her head back, her raven-dark hair spilling down her back, and her she-cock continued erupting in her mare, pumping hir seed in one shuddering, volcanic eruption after another. At length, though, the heady rush slowed, the muscles pumping the ropes of equine cream slowing as her orgasm subsided and she drained herself inside Blackie. Thoroughly satiated, the dappled stallion-girl rested her head against the mare's back, feeling sweat popping out on her silvered coat. Her drained cock began to soften and after a moment, the young herm withdrew, her glistening organ sliding slickly out, a fine string stretching between her shaft and Blackie's vulva.

Walking with her pants open, Penny found, was a bit of a problem, but she didn't want to tuck herself away still messy from the mare. Her shirt forgotten, she clutched the waist as she left the stall and crossed over to the breeding bay to clean herself off. Her eye fell on the black ledger and she smiled at a sudden idea.

Penny did find the 'wing doors'; they were the big doors off the wing of the barn, and sure enough the hinges all needed work. An hour's scrounging around located tools and new hinge pieces, and it was with a deep sense of satisfaction that she was just putting them away when she heard the crunch of tires on gravel, and looked up to see Rhiannon and Amando had returned. She tossed them a happy wave as she tucked the drill back in its case and strolled out to meet them. Rhiannon grinned at her as she jumped out, and Penny felt herself grinning back.

"Ah like the look, hon," her cousin greeted her. Penny didn't get it for a moment, but a playful zephyr of breeze ruffled the fine dappled hair on her breasts, reminding her she hadn't put her shirt back on after her union with Blackie.

"Too hot for a shirt," she replied with a laugh, "but I got the doors fixed. Hey, Amando," she called as the tall drafter emerged from the other side.

"Hey, Miss Penny," he replied, an equine smile curving his muzzle. His nostrils flared momentarily as his warm, golden eyes tracked from one herm to the other. "Man oh man, you two are a sight," he added. "I don't know how much luckier a guy could get."

Rhiannon and Penny smiled at each other, then Rhiannon's cream-painted fingers swiftly unknotted her shirt and she tossed it aside. "How much luck could a guy handle?" Penny asked as she and her cousin closed in on the handsome stallion.

*** *** ***

Penny stayed a week, all told; the comfortable, relaxed pace of life at Wildwood was a perfect anodyne for the harried, exhausting pace she'd had thrust on her in LA. She felt as if she could have stayed forever, in some ways; but even if she never went back to being a barista, she wanted to continue her studies and her efforts to break into modelling. Having talked about it with all of Rhiannon's farm family, she came to the conclusion that she liked being a barista while she was going through school; it was Robert that had been the problem. She felt confident that she could find a similar position at another cafe. She was more worried about her apartment; now short a week's wages, she didn't know whether she'd be able to make ends meet. Rhiannon had offered to give her some money, but something in her rebelled.

"I don't want charity, Rhia," she'd said, frowning. "I'll figure something out, you'll see."

Her Appaloosa cousin had held firm. "It's not charity, Penny darlin'," she had replied. "Ah know y'all needed to get your head sorted out, but you put in some work, here while you did. Ah guarantee you worked as hard as you did at the cafe. So, Ah figure y'all earned it." Put that way, Penny felt easier about accepting it, though she dug her heels in when she saw just how much Rhiannon was planning to pay her. In answer, Rhiannon had pulled up her records for Amando, Rusty and Jake. "That's what I pay them, hon," she pointed out. "You put in about four day's work here. Bein' temporary, you don't get vacation time, but you do get vacation pay in lieu – that's the law."

Penny wasn't entirely sure Rhiannon was right; shewassure Robert had never given her vacation pay which didn't mean Rhiannon was wrong. Rhiannon's explanation – along with a laughing admonition to make sure she reported it on her next tax return, because Rhiannon was certainly going to claim the deduction – soothed her pride, though and with a reasonable degree of equanimity she tucked the money away. It would certainly ensure she didn't lose her apartment and allow her to get in some groceries to see her through for a bit.

Somehow, her departure – a week to the day she'd fallen asleep at Rhia's kitchen table – was an occasion worthy of all of them driving her in to town to catch the Greyhound bus. It felt odd, but then again it didn't; Amando, Rusty, Jake, and especially Rhiannon all felt like family. Hugs were exchanged all around, Rhiannon punctuating hers with an all-out, no-holds-barred kiss. "Come back again", "Don't be a stranger", "Stay in touch" they chorused, and Penny heard the truth of their wishes behind the stock phrases. She would, too; having found her cousin and her farm family, she didn't want to lose them. Not that there was any danger of it; they had exchanged all their contact information.

The speakers broke into crackling life, announcing the imminent departure of her bus, and she turned to board. Rhiannon grabbed her, kissing her hard and fiercely, and Penny felt something – her cousin's hand – dart into her jeans pocket momentarily. "Y'all come back whenever you like, hon," she said as she broke the kiss, then whisked herself away as the press of the passengers more or less forced Penny aboard the bus. She dropped into the first available window seat she spotted with the unconscious, easy grace of a teen and felt in her pocket; there was a folded piece of paper that hadn't been there before. The hiss of the air brakes barely registered as she unfolded the paper, and she settled against the window as the bus pulled out of the terminal. What was so important that her cousin had had to stuff it in her pocket at almost the last moment?

Her thoughts slithered to a stop; on the paper was a picture of the last page of the ledger, where she'd written "stud, P" next to Blackie's name. Lying on it in the picture was an equine pregnancy test kit, with a + mark and below it, a happy face.