Mewls of pleasure punctuated her gasps for breath, and her entire body rippled like a fish under water. Every inch of her tanned skin seemed alive and anxious to breath his maleness in and her young cunt had aged years in its experiments at drawing his cock in and pleasing and teasing it.
The inferno inside Carla was also now raging out of control and she bucked her hips up against John's grinding loins. Waves of passion were flowing over her entire body, and try as she might, she could not keep her eyes from watering — lust dimmed them and it was beyond her control to focus them. The feeling was emanating from her loins where every nerve-ending seemed to be roiling in a lewd pot of lust. Suddenly, her hips were jerking up out of control — spasm after spasm twisted her body and her head was spinning — flashes of purples and reds and pinks and blues exploded in her brain and she felt as if her head was a multi-colored gyroscope, rotating of its own accord. A strange wailing escaped her lips as she flailed her head from side to side.
"Iiiiiieeeeeeee…" she screamed, as she rocked and tossed in a mania of lust and passion, completely abandoned to her hedonistic search for gratification.
Finally, the volcano erupted in John, too, and he battered his hips against her hot, plunging young loins, as he spewed spurt after spurt of hot bubbling sperm far, far up into her yielding cunt, filling it almost to the bursting point. Gnawing, savage noises tore from his throat — sounds over which he had no control, as they clung to each other in a feverish love grip, her tight quivering young belly growing by the instant from the force and impact of his orgasm.
Then, he collapsed onto her exhausted body and they lay there, their bodies spent from their lust. John's head was a jumbled mass of thoughts, but throughout his whole being, a peace spread, infusing him with optimism and joy — feelings he hadn't felt for days.
Carla lay there, reliving as best she could the whirlwind crescendo of her passion, eternally grateful to John for the Eden to which he had transported her. In the back of her mind, satiated as it was, was the recurring thought — "Now I'm really grown-up!"
Chapter Five
John walked quickly towards the house. It was dark and he didn't even know how late it was. Carla had sneaked into the dormitory a few minutes ahead of him, and now he tried to make it appear as if he had just gone for an evening stroll. He began to whistle and think about the hours he had spent lately with the young girl. Under his tutelage for the past few weeks, she had really begun to blossom and now her body had ripened into a real instrument of pleasure.
Memories of the sensual heights of the last few hours sent shivers rippling through his body, spent as it was from their passion. His cheerfulness faded when he thought of Iris. If the last few nights are any example, he thought ruefully, I'll really be in trouble tonight. He dreaded the thought of facing her. His interest in her had dropped to zero since his affair with Carla had totally consumed him. Iris, indignant about his increasing coldness, had become more bitchy and complaining, and was forever harping on the day he had lost his temper and spanked her. Just as he headed up the pathway toward the house, he noticed that the lights were on in the stable. Thinking someone must have left them on by mistake, he went over and let himself in. To his surprise, he saw Iris there, standing by Conquest's box stall. Normally, during the summer, all the animals were out in the pasture, so John was puzzled to see the stallion stabled.
"What's he doing in?" he growled.
"If you were around here a little more often," Iris snapped, "you'd know that he has a sprain! Not that you care anyway!"
"Why should I care," John sneered, "when he has his wet-nurse to cater to him!"
"At least he shows me some affection!" Iris retorted, her eyes bright with anger. "Where the hell have you been till now?"
"None of your damn business!"
"It's my business as long as half of this place belongs to me, and don't you forget it!"
"You Goddamn bitch!" John grated, advancing towards his wife. The stallion in the stall backed away, flattening his ears. Grabbing Iris by the arm, he raised his hand and slapped her full force across her face. His hand left an angry red welt on her cheek and Iris stared at him uncomprehendingly, her mouth open. The horse whinnied, and John felt a surge of hatred as he turned to look at the animal, who was staring back at him, his eyes red and fiery, and for a long moment, the air between them was charged with the strength of their mutual loathing.
"Leave me alone, you bastard!" Iris hissed.
John was incensed. His wife's whining voice, her obvious disgust for him, coupled with her obvious love for her horse all united in him and set the stage for an uncontrollable fury.
Snarling, John tightened his grip on his wife's arm, and cruelly dragged her away from the stall and towards the open space in the stable where the straw was in bales. Roughly, he threw her down on an opened bale.
She began to whimper softly, and lay, half-sprawled, her arm shielding her eyes. The multi-colored shift she was wearing contrasted with the golden hue of the straw, and she looked like a bunch of wilted flowers tossed carelessly on the ground. John stood over the cowering figure of his wife, legs apart, arms folded, the result of his brutal action increasing his feeling of power and masculinity. He secretly felt glad to be away from the direct hot breath of the angry stallion behind him, and exulted in the knowledge that the beast was securely tied inside.
Iris raised her head and turned to look at her husband. Her eyes were full of tears, and her mouth quivered.
"Get away from me, you lousy bastard!" she spat, her entire frame shaking with her wrath.
Angrily, John began to tear at her dress, until he had torn the garment from her and it lay in rags beside them. She lay there, cringing into the straw, trying to hide her nakedness from his deranged eyes. Her bra shone eerily in the light of the stable and her panties were a mere nylon strip around her sun-bronzed hips.
With one swift tear, he pulled the bra from her, allowing her breasts to drop freely away. They trembled immediately in the air, goose bumps standing out over the full smooth orbs, and the nipples rose to turgidity, their red tips glowing. Again he wrenched the panties from her loins, tearing the flimsy garment, until she lay there, completely naked, her legs drawn up to protect her secret womanhood and her arms folded over her breasts to shield their tenderness from the bestiality of her husband.
He knelt over her, drinking in her nakedness, reveling in her fright. His brutal action seemed to arouse fresh animosity in Conquest, because the dumb beast, sensing his mistress's distress, reared up on his hind legs, and battered the stall gate with his front hooves, whinnying in a loud fierce voice. An involuntary chill swept through John at the sound of the stallion's fury, and he sneaked a glance over his shoulder. The animal was staring straight at him, and again, John was thankful for the horse's confinement.
Blinded by her tears, Iris could barely make out the rearing body of her stallion. Fear convulsed her again as she thought of what man and horse might do to each other in their hatred, but something told her that tonight, the man was going to vent his anger on her, and her alone. She was half-crazed with fright — she didn't know what he would do to her, but she knew she shouldn't resist — he was on the verge of a maniacal fury that would be nightmarish if fully released. So she just lay there, cowering before her husband.
John, looking at the prostrate figure of his wife, remembered all her nights of coldness and the relatively minor event which had started it all. With a growl, he flung himself down on top of her, and began to cover her body with hard biting kisses, sinking his teeth hard into her naked flesh with the regularity of a hungered vampire. Little moans of agony wrung themselves from Iris' throat, and she twitched under the sharp pain of his teeth. His arms held her in a wrestler's grip and she was unable to move her body. His fingers dug into her flesh, sending fresh pain rocketing through her, and suddenly, one hand shot out and grabbed her by her short hair.