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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Buffy
by Robin (robin2003@clara.co.uk)
***
One woman's fantasy enacted on camera. (MMF, horse,
exh, voy, oral, mast, beast)
***
My dotage was not so far advanced that I couldn’t get
the old boy to polish up quite nicely into some
semblance of erectile muscle and throbbing gristle.
Occasionally, he would even put out for me and eject a
thin stream of jizz, but it needed the stimulant of my
past life to get him going these days. As had become a
habit of mine, I had been reviewing some of the old
footage of films we had made. Robbie was long gone now;
the abuse of narcotics and booze had caught up with
him. But, we made some films all right!
The one that had just run out on the videotape was by
far the best that we had done. Seeing Buffy locked with
her dog, seeing her, with its cum running from her, had
reawakened the memories. The scene with the horse
though, had me gagging to shoot a wad into my palm. I
managed to climax when I rounded up the film as Robbie
and I fucked the good lady.
The replayed scenes came back to me as if it had been
yesterday and as I gently rubbed my shaft, hoping to be
able to complete the act, the memories did indeed play
in the background, complete with the smells and noises.
Afterwards, I slept and relived the day again in sharp
focus. My memory is as good as it ever was. The
following is what happened on that magical weekend.
**
The day didn’t look promising. Grey cloud cover hung in
the air; blanketing what weak sunlight was left of the
morning. Rain had passed through during the night,
leaving the pavements slick with moisture and shiny in
their smoothness.
We trudged on with our collars turned up and hats
jammed down hard over our foreheads, leaving little of
our faces exposed to the chill wind that the Atlantic
cooled, before throwing to shore in a frenzy of
vortices and eddies that cut like whetted knives. It
was days like this that we seriously wondered if the
money was worth the trouble. The perfectly sunny days
where it felt good to be alive, let alone filming had
been temporarily forgotten in our miserable condition.
My Cameraman grunted something to me, but it was
inaudible, I didn’t stop to find out what he said and
would have left it at that, but he either repeated it
or said something else, only louder this time.
My answer, "how the fuck should I know", didn’t help
the general mood of the day. I mean, how am I suppose
to know how much further it was, did he think I was
having de-ja-vue, or something? Was the line of
questions currently going through my soggy mind?
We are good friends on the whole. We had to be I guess.
In our late teens, we had partnered up to film Viet Nam
for CNN. Two completely raw ingrates thrust into a
conflict that had little to do with our idealised
notions of push button warfare. After too many body
parts, we became inured of the daily scene, just took
the shots and fucked off out of there.
We had been a partnership since then. Robbie took the
shots, I gave them words, and together we sold the
stories and together got pissed and or stoned from the
proceeds. Thirty years on, we were still a partnership,
but only part time now. Our respective women had other
ideas and limited our freedom. It wasn’t so bad though
and probably saved our lives, which we would have
pissed away or had leaking from our drunken bodies, in
an alley, after a binge.
So, together, we made a formidable pair. Chasing down
the hot stories, getting into the tight spots. Even
sometimes, being so close to the action that we got
stuck in the middle of it. Famine, war and natural
disasters had been our speciality, but not anymore.
Christ, we were too old for that kind of mission.
Besides, the younger photojournalists had learned the
lessons we gave them well, and then improved on them.
Crawling through the remains of a family in Sarajevo or
Bulawayo was best left to those guys who felt nothing
and slept at night.
Our quarry these days, actually proved to be more
lucrative. The porn industry had really taken off with
the advent of video. What used to be a seedy, backdoor
arrangement was now a multi-multi million dollar, in
your face, industry. Home PC’s and the Internet had
turned the already massive giant in to a super-nova of
a business that employed a large percentage of the
media. We were just another pair of hacks who, like
hundreds before us, found a more comfortable way of
making money.
We specialised. Actually, if you asked the majority of
media journalists in the field, they all specialised in
the extraordinary. These days though, nothing was
extraordinary anymore, unless you had honest to God
aliens, but that nut hadn’t been cracked yet, only in
fantasy.
But, we did specialise, we advertised for and got
thousands of replies from amateur Housewives. We could
afford to be picky and selected just five or six a year
to have us come and photo shoot at their homes. I
always found it amazing that the majority of the
replies came from forty-ish middle class women who
lived in well to do areas such as Esher in Surrey,
where money was nothing but a hindrance or a ladder to
the next level.
So many of the replies carried snap shots of an
overweight lump of pampered flesh with a lascivious
look in her eye. Even my Father wouldn’t have raised an
eyebrow at them, invariably; the picture and
accompanying letter got filed under B.
Occasionally though, a window of opportunity would come
from one of the hundreds of envelopes. Some very good-
looking women would be showing more than their mothers
would approve of on an Instamatic Polaroid print or
computer generated print. Strangely, the accompanying
letters seemed to be the wildest. For some
unaccountable reason, these attractive women would
describe fantasies, far in excess of most imaginations
and certainly the middle-aged tubs of lard who normally
wrote.
It was to one of the former that we were headed. Buffy,
as she signed her initial letter, had sent a photo that
looked quite professional. The lighting had been
expertly placed through what looked as if it might have
been Venetian blinds, casting shadow lines over her
beautiful body.
In all, a very tasteful study of the female form, but
the letter that went with it was far from tasteful and
it was this that had attracted us, more than anything
else. If her claims were even half way true, she could
do with a stallion, what most women would find
difficult with a small man.
Twenty minutes later, soaked through and seriously
considering the possibility that the address did not
exist, we arrived at her door. A liveried Butler showed
us to the drawing room of an Edwardian house. Her
directions had purposely made us leave the perfectly
dry interior of my car some two miles away. The fucking
road passed less than sixty feet from the main gate.
Wouldn’t you know it, I thought, Frightened of the
sodding neighbours.
Paintings that looked old, stared at us from their
vantage points on the oak panelled walls of the drawing
room. A large fire blazed in a John Adams fireplace and
candles lit the room from candelabras set on sconces
around the room. The Butler advised that the Lady of
the house would be with us in a few minutes and would
we please make ourselves at home. He bowed to us in
turn and backed out of the room.
Neither of us dared to sit in the Queen Anne chairs,
but the heat of the fire drew us to stand on the
parquet floor in front of the blaze, hoping to dry out
a little and get warmer.
Several minutes passed, then the door opened to admit a
huge Irish wolfhound. Typically for the breed, he was
full of exuberance and placed both paws on my shoulders
with consummate ease in greeting. I stand five ten
high; looking a dog eye to eye while vertical is a
little disconcerting. I just hoped he was friendly.
"Byron, Get down." She hadn’t entered the room, but
obviously knew the dog well and knew it would have made
its presence known in this manner. Bryon, we guessed
was the dogs name, slunk away to an opposite corner and
laid down on a tartan blanket.
She swept passed the edge of the door and into the
room. "I really am most dreadfully sorry, Byron has a
tendency to like people immediately and has no qualms
about showing his affection. Please, do accept my
apology".
"Fuck me." Robbie whispered, "She is fucking knock
out."
He was not wrong in his appraisal. The Lady of the
house was a vision to behold. A low cut, full-length
dress accentuated her loveliness and the banded pearl
choker around her long neck was real. Her slender,
almost delicate hand was extended. We shook hands while
introducing ourselves.
"I am Mrs. Taylor Smyth she informed us, although I
much prefer to be called Buffy, it goes back to school
days don’tyouknow and seems to have been handed down
through the matriarchal line." This information was
delivered with a slight shrug of her bare shoulders, a
move that looked practiced and studied to illicit the
exact response it caused my sensory array. "I do hope
you liked my photograph, I had my Butler, Juan do them
for me. He is rather good with a camera don’tyouthink?
Her manner of speech also had a desultory affect to my
nervous system and almost left me bereft of the power
of coherent thought.
Robbie was not quite so bashful, he never had been.
"They was luverly, and we wondered if there was any
more you would let us ‘ave?" I wondered at the sudden
cockney style of talking, Robbie usually spoke fairly
well. "See, we ‘re putting togever a portfolio of wimen
and you would look good innit."
"We shall see." She dismissed him as easily as that and
turned to me, raising an eyebrow as she did. "I really
am quite keen on acting out the fantasy described in my
letter." She paused and raised her hand as if in
defence. "Although, one does not actually indulge in
these things you understand, on a regular basis, but I
firmly believe that nothing should be allowed to pass
untried unless it is absolutely abhorrent. I do not
consider the proposal to be abhorrent, so, I do hope
you can help me in this little venture and find myself
quite at the mercy of your expertise."
We had been recommended by Lady something or another to
her, she had retained the card and that, as they say,
was that.
"Mrs. Taylor Smyth…." I began.
"Buffy, please."
"Buffy it is, Your fantasies as written in your letter,
may prove to be physically impossible in, shall we say,
the limits of our physiology, but we are, as you quite
rightly say, experienced and are more than willing to
assist and record your desires." We had locked eyes and
I felt as if I had sunk into oblivion without end in a
limpid pool that she projected. I was lost to her.
"I will have Juan prepare the games room. Have you
gentlemen eaten?"
Robbie and I were given some tea and sandwiches with
the crust carefully cut off while Buffy made ready. The
tea was an earl grey and not one of my favourites. Juan
returned to let us know that she was ready and would we
follow him to the games room.
The attraction of a woman in my opinion is in the
unknown, that which is covered and left to the
imagination. Somehow, I always get a feeling of anti-
climax when all of her hidden charms are revealed. Not
that this was the case with Buffy. Perfection of form
and line is a subjective thing and differs from
observer to observer, but her body was the subliminal
epitome of womanhood. Muscle tone and graceful curve
amalgamated into a flawless creation. This is what God
intended when he made woman and I fully subscribed to
the notion. Naked, as she was and lying along the back
of a leather Chesterton, my heart skipped in a merry
semblance of Morris dancers at a May fair and I fell
completely in love with her.
The pose she had struck was purely for effect. She knew
what it might do to my male instincts and played her
hand to perfection. I reacted as any other man would
and became instantly aroused to the point of painfully
hard in my trousers.
I discovered that it wasn’t that I wanted her, I needed
to possess that body, I needed to plunge into her and
leave a part of myself within her, I needed to be lost
and die in her arms. Guilt for the feelings she aroused
also coursed through my brain. I loved my wife didn’t
I? But, to have this creature would be a crowning
moment in my life.
"How should we do this gentlemen?" The incongruity of
being called a gentleman in the current situation was
not lost on me. I was amazed at the poise she showed,
given what our intentions were and the delicate nature
of our actions. She appeared completely nonplussed.
"Should I be on the floor or something?"
"Why not start with you on the settee. I can set a
static camera in front of the billiard table and have
Robbie use a smaller hand-held for close-ups and angled
shots." I knelt in front of her on the floor and gave
her a run through of what might look good on camera and
hold a natural sequence of events. "The idea is that we
wish to convey an air of spontaneity, not have it look
as if it were stage managed. If you are ready, we’ll
start rolling." She nodded compliance and the cameras
began to whirl.
Buffy feigned reading a book. The camera angle I wanted
hid the fact that she was naked, her hair hiding those
breasts that defied my powers of description.
Gradually, her right hand slid from holding the
paperback and began to caress the space between her
perfect mounds, pushing her hair away and exposing the
two orbs of desire, tipped with pink buds. Her fingers
explored further and seemed to, absent mindedly,
manipulate her quickly aroused nipple. Pulling and
tweaking the hardening tip until it darkened in colour
and stood firm and ready.
She dropped the book and began to arouse her other
breast. In seconds, she had both of her nipples dark
and hard. She continued to punish them while her back
arched and a small moan escaped her lips. Her right
hand travelled in one long smooth stroke to her
hairless mound.
Fingertips pulled at the skin and stretched her lips in
an upward motion that exposed her clit from its sheath.
Keeping her skin taught, a fingertip of her left hand
lightly touched the swelling bud of her hidden desire.
She drew breath quickly as if the touch burned her.
Again, her back arched, forcing her breasts forward.
Slowly, she rubbed in circular motion, arousing and
teasing her pleasure centre to the maximum, hardening
her clit until it stood proud and erect. Her rhythm
increased in exponential increments and her breathing
regulated to match the tempo. In a very short space of
time, Buffy had brought herself to a shattering climax
and was by now, pushing her whole hand into herself
with a display of litheness and accommodation that had
me wishing I was doing the finger fucking.
We stopped filming and set aside the tapes for editing
later. The material already shot was enough really on
its own, but we were here for Buffy’s fantasy, not mine
or Robbie’s.
"How was it?" She showed no inhibition with her
nakedness in front of us. Fact was, it was me that felt
discomfited, even though had watched hundreds of women
through the lens. There was something about her that
just tipped it for me.
"It was just great. Perhaps you would like to see the
rushes? Or shall we get onto the next scene while the
light is good?"
"Let us press on. The next scene will involve Juan if
my memory serves, I’ll just call him." Juan joined us a
few minutes later. She gave him his instructions and
returned to the leather settee.
"Action."
She had arranged herself and continued rubbing her cunt
as if nothing had interrupted her. Then Juan appeared
as if by accident only to find his mistress in the
throes of sexual passion all by herself. The plot
continued with him getting almost all of a nine inch
cock down her throat, then fucking her in several
positions after which, he fucked her beautiful arse
before jacking off over her face and tits. All standard
stuff really, but there was very little that was
standard about her performance. Buffy knew how to get
pleasure and knew how to give it in return. She also
knew how to play to the camera as if it were a third
person in the room.
I must admit that the closing scenes of her getting a
mouthful of Juan’s shit didn’t work for me and neither
did the water sports afterwards, but as they say,
what’s good for one is not necessarily good for the
other.
Suddenly, when the filming had stopped, Buffy announced
that that would be all for today. Juan would show us to
our rooms and dinner would be at eight on the dot.
Neither Robbie nor I had planned on being out for the
night, but a few urgent phone calls soon had it
smoothed over with our partners.
Dinner was a feast and it was two very stuffed
Cameramen that discussed the next days filming
sequence. Basically, Buffy wanted to move to the barn,
starting off with one of the stable hands and finishing
with her prized Arabian Stallion.
We helped polish off a decanter of brandy before
retiring to our rooms. All fantasies of getting into
Buffy were soon dispelled with her parting shot. "Sleep
well, tomorrow is going to be a long day. Good night
gentlemen."
The morning was the complete opposite of yesterday.
Sunlight streamed though the curtains and illuminated
the room that I had been too tired to really appreciate
last night. I realised that I had slept without break
for eight hours straight. This was a first for some
time. I felt great and ready for the coming day.
We breakfasted together in the drawing room. Going over
last minute alterations to the running order. Buffy
looked fabulous in some diaphanous nightie that seemed
to be supported on her. She would be ready in an hour
and would we like to see the stables so we could get
set up?
The stable turned out to be the oldest part of the
estate. Apparently, it had been there since Tudor
times, only the roof had been changed from the original
thatch to a slate covering. Light was going to be a
problem, although sunlight flooded the place generally,
it tended to pool into bright areas that would play
havoc with levels. Extra lighting was needed; it was
while we were planning this that the stable hand came
over.
His West Country accent was thick and gave him a stupid
countenance, but it soon became apparent that Craig was
far from being a stupid, slack-jawed yokel. His
knowledge of animal husbandry soon became clear; he
also proved to be of great assistance in obtaining and
placing lighting so that the cameras wouldn’t struggle.
Buffy turned up an hour later. Craig’s demeanour
altered radically, it was plainly obvious that he was
in love with the woman. The expression of shock and
pleasure when she told him of her plans was a picture
all by its self. He was to be one of the star turns and
would be the one to fuck her before the main show.
It started as most of these little cameos did, with
Buffy giving her self a lone hand job in the hay. Her
delicate fingers belied their seeming fragility while
pumping in and out of her small shaven twat. She gave
her nipples a hard time simultaneously, pinching the
perfect pink knobs until they had hardened and stood
erect. It didn’t take too much film or time to see her
reach a crescendo and gush her climax into the straw.
By pre-arrangement, it was at this time Craig would
make his appearance, acting surprise and arousal at the
scene he had supposedly stumbled upon. His surprise
looked contrived a little, but the arousal was all too
plain to see. How he hadn’t split his jeans with the
rock between his legs, defied belief. We rolled through
another tape or two.
Craig was indeed a star, with a monster cock that
seemed to go on forever as it disappeared into her
shaven mound. It seemed far too long for her to be able
to swallow much of, but she managed most of his length.
The eventual ejaculation of cum looked as if it
wouldn’t stop as he jetted all over her perfect tits.
Buffy cleaned up with her tongue and I almost creamed
myself watching through the viewfinder.
We called for a break so that Buffy and Craig could
rest. I needed to relieve my self of a load as well.
Buffy’s fantasy was to have a dog and a horse at the
same time. Although she had described the sequence in
her letter, I still couldn’t see how it would work. In
any case, it was to be Byron’s turn to service this
insatiable creature.
At first, he showed no interest in Buffy at all. She
encouraged him with words of endearment and urging, but
he resolutely ignored her pleas. It was Craig who came
up with the idea that a little peanut butter might help
the process. Byron was a sucker for the stuff it
seemed.
A handful of butter was smeared onto her cunt as she
lay in the straw. Bryon’s nose found the scent and in
no time, was lapping away at her heavenly mound. Buffy
came loudly and wetly. Byron got the message and began
to lick her in earnest, taking care to clean all of her
cunt, anus and give her clit some special attention.
Buffy loved every second and gushed over the hapless
hounds snout. Perhaps it was that or her smell, but
very quickly, we had a horny dog ready for action with
a purple veined ten-inch cock, dripping and fully
loaded.
Buffy, swung around and grasped his glistening rod,
teasing it all the way from its sheath until the whole
length had emerged. Slowly, playing to the camera,
Buffy slipped his rock hard cock between her cherry red
lips while her delicate hand gripped the dog and
stopped him from pulling away. Inch by slowly swallowed
inch, she stuffed him into her mouth. Craig had grasped
the dog’s collar to hold him in place. Byron had no
choice by to allow the administrations of her perfect
mouth.
Quite quickly, he began to quiver and his hips started
to hump against her hand and mouth. Buffy let him fuck
her face and swallowed just about the whole length of
his cock into her throat. The poor dog was going to let
loose a full load of dog cum if this continued for much
longer. She must have sensed this and withdrew him from
between her lips. She lay on the straw and finger
fucked her cunt while slowly jacking off the dog just
enough to keep him interested, but not too much that he
would shoot his wad.
I had to call time; the film was getting near to
running out and needed to be changed.
Buffy got up and drank some water while we reloaded the
cameras. A low-pitched conversation was held between
her and Craig, but I couldn’t hear what was said.
At last, we were ready to continue and had taken the
trouble to load up backups so that the continuity
wouldn’t be disturbed again.
Buffy got to it again, arousing the dog just enough and
sucking him until the animal was on the verge of
cumming. She rolled over while Craig held the animal
and then she knelt on all fours on the straw. Craig
gently lifted Byron until he was mounted on her back
with his forepaws wrapped around her waist.
Bryon did what came naturally and began to thrust his
hips. He needed Craig’s help to find home, but once he
was inside her beautiful snatch, he thrust all of
himself into her and began pumping. Little by little,
his knot grew and inch-by-inch, it got closer to
getting shoved into her cunt.
Suddenly, Bryon gave a huge forward thrust and buried
his knot into her waiting body. Buffy screamed in pain,
but shoved her ass back on him, getting the dog even
further inside of her. The dog howled and threw back
his shaggy head. His forepaws scrabbled and grazed her
clear skin, leaving red welts and even a little blood.
Buffy didn’t seem to notice, her own head was thrust
back in a primal pose of orgasm. Her breath was being
ripped from her throat in ragged huffs as she pushed
back on the dog and locked him inside her.
Bryon’s climax was announced with a piercing howl and
then a deep resonant growl, his teeth exposed in a
snarl that would have scared me shitless had I not
known what was going on. The moment seemed to last
forever until Buffy hung her head in exhaustion. Byron
tried to withdraw, but was firmly locked into her. He
succeeded to turn himself around until they were locked
tail to tail.
Buffy couldn’t help herself; she started to buck her
hips and fucked herself on the dogs cock. She climaxed
in a sudden shower of cum that was forceful enough to
eject the dog with a yelp. She flopped face down in the
straw while Byron cleaned himself and Craig quietly
left the room.
Eventually, she raised her head and asked, "How was
it?" I couldn’t trust myself to answer, but Robbie
blurted out, "Fucking fantastic! Just fucking
incredible, man!" I winced at his choice of words, but
was relieved to see her smile in gratitude.
"I think a break is called for now don’tyouthink?" I
loved her accent and the way she ran words together.
Actually, I just loved everything about her and would
have been quite happy to die for her body right there
and then.
"Perhaps some tea and a little lunch?"
My only concern at the time was for the stiffest cock I
had ever had. I realised that the scenes that had been
coming through the viewfinder had got me more than
stiff. I had shot a load without even being aware of it
until the action stopped and the sticky wetness
announced itself. I had to get cleaned up and do
something about this raging hard-on.
Ten minutes later and an explosive hand job, I sat down
to eat with Buffy and Robbie in the breakfast room,
viewing the rest of her grounds through the
conservatory glass. She must have had an army of
gardeners. The lawns and paths were immaculate. Small
examples of topiary shrubs punctuated the cross cut
grass. Buffy ignored the scenery and delicately nibbled
a sandwich while she discussed fucking the dog as if it
were an every day event.
"One gets so lonely at times." She said, "That the
occasional excursion into, shall we say, alternative
entertainment, is almost unavoidable. The tricky part
is though; that it is quite easy for things to go wrong
and so one has to have some very good staff to hand.
Juan is a little conservative in his tastes, preferring
the more traditional forms of carnal pursuit, but Craig
on the other hand, is a totally different kettle of
fish, so to speak."
"What about Mr. Buffy?" Robbie seemed quite at ease
with the incongruity of the conversation. "What’s he
into?"
"Ah the Colonel, he died I’m afraid, heart attack, very
sad really, only seventy, but there you are, these
things happen."
"I’m sorry to hear that." I piped up.
"Oh don’t be, the old buzzard left me fairly
comfortably off and if one really wants to chase, shall
we say, ladies of questionable repute, around, a heart
attack is possibly the least of his worries." She
seemed to be completely blasé about it. "Gave the
prostitute a really bad turn apparently, had to sort
the poor girl out, set her up in a little flat in
Chelsea or somewhere."
"Anyway, would like to do the horse scene next. I have
a few ideas, see what you think."
We discussed the running order for the next episode of
Buffy’s fantasy over lunch and then made ready in the
stables. Craig introduced us to Paolo, an Arabian
stallion. Compared to the usual horses that you would
expect to see, he was delicate, standing at about ten
hands high with thin features. His Smokey grey dappled
colouring added to the impression of delicacy. Large
black eyes regarded us and our equipment. We set up,
checking the lighting levels and placing reflectors at
strategic points. Paolo watched the activity and stood
with Craig.
Buffy eventually arrived, dressed in riding pinks and
hat. Her jodhpurs clung to her figure and accentuated
the perfect form of her hips and arse. The atmosphere
turned electric with anticipation, even Paolo caught
the charged feeling and became a little restive. Craig
soothed the stallion with soft words in his twitching
ear.
The halter rope was cinched through a ring set in a
ceiling beam and Craig set a hobble on his hind hocks
to stop the horse from moving too much. Paolo seemed to
know the score and began to shuffle toward the mounting
bench as if this was a normal event.
"You may leave us now Craig." Buffy showed no outward
sign of the mounting tension. I couldn’t say the same
for me and I was aware that camera shake could be a
problem.
Craig closed the door quietly, leaving the horse and us
alone. Robbie chose to be the point camera and had
taken the trouble to set up the gimballed shoulder
mount. I was to run the static and keep an eye out for
Buffy in case she got into trouble.
"Shall we get started then?" Buffy was running the
show. The cameras rolled with the opening scene of her
coming into the room.
Her jacket and blouse came off almost immediately. Her
beautiful breasts needed no bra to hold them in place.
Buffy, approached the stallion that rolled his eyes at
her and watched with some trepidation and alarm. She
comforted him, stroking his sleek neck and shoulders.
Her hands running over his coat in long smooth passes.
He calmed and took pleasure from her attention.
Gradually, Buffy’s hands travelled down his back and
flanks, edging ever nearer to his genital area, all the
time, whispering at him to keep the animal calm. Buffy
knelt beside him and gently took his cock in her hands.
Slowly and deliberately, she massaged the flaccid
member until the first signs of an erection became
evident. Buffy took the semi-erect cock into her mouth,
licking and teasing the end with her tongue while
holding him at the right angle. She worked just on the
end, running her tongue around and then drawing his tip
between her lips and sucking on the growing mushroom
shaped head.
Paolo began to jerk and twitch his withers in an
involuntary reaction to her mouth. She caressed the
length of him and slowly began to jerk him off while
holding the tip between her lips. All eighteen inches
of horse cock now was ready for action. The veins along
its length stood out as blood was pumped into the
rapidly hardening member.
Buffy’s stroking of his penis became more urgent and
faster, making his hips shudder and his cock twitch in
her mouth. He started to grunt, first time I have ever
heard a horse grunt as her hands massaged the full
length.
Suddenly, he jerked and shot a stream of milky white
cum into her mouth. She spat it out on the floor and
stopped massaging him, not wanting it to be over just
yet. Paolo was making some quite funny noises and
seemed desperate to finish the act. She stroked his
mane for a short while until he had settled down a bit.
Then she played to the camera, unzipping her jodhpurs
and sliding them to the floor. Buffy was now completely
naked. She spread her legs in front of Paolo and slowly
began to finger herself. Pulling her lips apart to
expose her clit. Her rhythm increased and quite quickly
she came catching the gooey slick in the palm of her
hand. She rubbed this into Paolo’s nose, treating him
to her scent. The effect on the horse was electric. He
reared and began to thrust at thin air, his cock
searching for somewhere to go as if it had a mind of
its own.
Buffy turned her back to him and draped herself on the
mounting block. Paolo took the hint and reared again,
placing his front hooves either side of her. His cock
searched for her cunt, waving up and down in an effort
to locate and penetrate her body.
"He needs a hand." She whispered to me.
I did what any self-respecting filmmaker would do; I
grasped his cock head and guided it to her opening.
Like a homing missile, Paolo sunk as much as he could
into her, then thrust again, forcing his cock into her
heavenly cunt. It was Buffy’s turn to grunt, as the
whole eighteen inches seemed to slide straight into
her.
From my angle, it looked as if she had taken the whole
thing, but I knew that wouldn’t be possible. Paolo’s
thrust became more urgent and he began to grunt in
turn, lifting Buffy completely off the mounting block
with the force until, with a final push, he climaxed
inside Buffy. Holding the position until he had shot
the whole amount as deeply as it would go. Then he
pulled out. Some thing like a pint of horse cum gushed
from Buffy’s cunt onto the floor where it puddled
between her feet.
"Are you okay?" I asked, as she lay prostrate over the
blanket-covered block. She nodded, but said nothing for
a moment. Then she whispered.
"I didn’t cum! Can you believe that? I didn’t cum
once." She continued to lay over the blankets. "Can
you fucking believe that? A fucking horse in my cunt
and I don’t get there, what more have I got to do?"
Not knowing what else to say and a bit taken aback by
her language, I answered a bit lamely, "Is there
anything I can do?"
"You can try fucking me in the arse while dick for
brains gets sucked off." She tersely replied. "Other
than that, you can fuck off and get Craig to put the
horse back.
"How about I do both, starting with the horse?"
"Fine, whatever."
I found Craig at the other end of the stables and asked
him to take the horse away. His evident concern for the
animal and his employer showed when he asked if it all
went okay. He was incredulous when I told him what she
had said, but came and took Paolo away. Robbie, or dick
for brains as she had named him, was already stuffing
his cock down her throat. Buffy had remained on the
mounting block which put her head at just the right
height for Robbie.
I guess he had become too excited by the scene that had
played out just a few minutes ago, because he cried out
and sprayed her throat with his own cum. Buffy neither
spat it or swallowed it. It just dribbled from her lips
as she turned to me and said. "Now you laughing boy,
fuck my arse."
I knew that if I just stuffed it into her, I would lose
it straight away so instead; I rubbed her exposed clit
with the tip, running it over her mound and teased her.
It must have been the right thing to do because pretty
soon, she was screaming at me to fuck her hard. I
waited a little longer and then, very carefully and
slowly, eased my cock into her arse and reached around
her to rub her clit.
The feeling of warmth from her body was divine as she
engulfed my rod. I fucked her steadily, relishing the
waves of passion that built up in my groin. Buffy was
crying, urging me to fuck her deeper and harder.
Feeling that the time was right, I picked up the pace
and began to ram into her upturned arse. She grabbed
Robbie again and sucked him deep into her mouth.
I couldn’t last any longer. My whole length had slipped
into her and I was fucking like I had never fucked an
arse before. The pressure was too much and I let go
with an explosive shudder that ripped through my body.
Robbie shot another load into her mouth and sighed in
repletion.
That was that, a wrap as they say in the business.
Buffy pulled her jacket on and unsteadily made her way
back to the house saying something about tea. Robbie
and I packed the cameras away and took the film over to
the house for a run through. As I suspected, trying for
a dog and a horse at the same time was beyond even this
fantastic woman. But, the footage we had with her and
the animals separately was just as good in my mind.
Fucking her in the arse seemed like a reward for
services rendered along with the cheque.
I was to do the full editing in my studio. Buffy looked
through the rushes and made a few suggestions before
letting us go. I admit that I copied every foot of film
for my private collection. The edited version took a
week to finalise with touch ups and colour smudges to
enhance the quality.
So, it was a week and a day that I returned to the
house to present Buffy with the finished article. We
watched it together; her delight of the product of her
exertions was quite obvious. I hoped that I would get
another shot at screwing her, but was politely told
that she would not be fucking any more men, preferring
the dog Byron instead.
We never heard from Buffy again, but true to her word,
she passed our name on to some of her friends. We made
a few films with them, but somehow, it never had the
spark that she had caused. Robbie and I decided that
enough was enough, we didn’t need the money any more,
and really, Buffy had spoiled our fantasies by being so
fucking good at it.
R.
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 29