Allan's Story by styxx

Alanna’s StoryRealisation hit her like a well-aimed sledgehammer. She had been fucked by this horse, which even now was still calming down after losing what seemed like a gallon of horse cum into her stretched cunt. Alanna felt her inner walls start to contract and adopt the usual shape of her uterus, instead of the expanded accommodating tunnel that had so recently been violated by the animal. The mounting bench that she had been placed and tied on was slick with the Animal’s seed. A pool of the milky white fluid had collected on the floor where it had gushed from her body and still trickled down the inside of her trembling legs…

As a sledgehammer has an after pain, she began to relive the events of the day and of the manner of her violation. The waves of thought crashed into her brain, as would the throb of agony after the initial blow from the tool.

Her mistake of taking the right fork in the road had led her to this. Trying to read a map and drive at the same time is not recommended, especially in the tight lanes of rural England. A snap decision to bear right at the junction seemed for a short while, to have been the right one. The road was well maintained, with clipped hedges lining the steep banks that were only relieved where a gate into fields coincided. But, then the hardtop suddenly ran out and the banks that had prevented her from seeing any more than the road, also stopped. The view that greeted Alanna through the screen was of a dirt track that bent around a low hill and disappeared.

She had thought to turn around in the field immediately in front of her. It would probably been okay, but she had not seen the cattle grid over the bonnet of her clapped out Ford Escort. The first part of manoeuvring had gone fine. Going forward was never a problem to her, but reversing always caused her some anxiety. She managed to get a tyre stuck fast between two bars of the grid, bending one a little to allow the tyre to pass through. It was terrible luck really, but seemed to happen to her every time she selected the reverse gear. Something would always happen, get in the way of her. It was always unlucky, a million to one chance, but she had accidents in reverse as often as some people drink tea.

The smell of a burning clutch soon let her know she had no chance of driving out of this one. But, had a more than good chance she would completely fuck the decrepit machine beyond even the magical skills of Brian, her mechanic, who was starting to get rich from her various adventures with automobiles.
Alanna left the cooling heap still stuck in the grid. She decided that the track had to lead to somewhere, and that the somewhere, was possibly populated. If she really got lucky, they may even have a phone, though God knew how long it would take to get a tow truck out here.

Twenty minutes of solid walking took her around the edge of the low hill. Two buildings only spoiled the panorama of undulating green fields. A white painted silo stood next to a small pond. Probably for storing grain, she had thought. The other building might have been white once, but so much paint had fallen off, it was hard to tell. A six-year-old child, judging by the condition of it, had put a paddock together. The gate that hung on only its bottom hinge stood open. The old looking horse ignored the chance of freedom and possibly stayed out of habit more than anything else. The stables that almost inevitably lead on to the paddock were obscured from view by the house. It had also seen better days. Paint, shingles and weatherboards were all peeling away from the structure as if trying to escape.

Apart from the tired looking horse, no other signs of life could be seen. But Alanna thought that there maybe someone inside. A curlicue of smoke drifted haphazardly from a chimney toward the back of the house. She decided to try and raise some life from what really looked like a forgotten place in history. Her feeling that time had skimmed over the hill and missed the house and surroundings looked as if it might be accurate. The chance of a phone being installed in this backwater dump diminished with every step that took her nearer.

She Knocked on an almost paint devoid door. No letter flat she noticed, or bell push or anything that might be considered modern. Silence almost deafened her. The quite had a palpable solidness to it, making it almost touchable. She knocked again, but didn’t wait to see if anyone would answer the summons. Alanna walked around the side of the house, stepping over cut logs and various rusted parts of machinery. Close up, the paddock looked worse than from a distance. The wooden rail mostly stayed attached to posts through belligerence and little else. The horse she had seen from a distance hadn’t moved and stood like a palace guard over the water trough which seconded as a breading ground for mosquitoes. The horse eyed her suspiciously, but made no effort to recognise her appearance in any other way.

Alanna stepped over a low rail and entered the paddock. Even the flies seemed lazy as they circled the head of the still horse. It didn’t seem to have the energy to blink or flick its tail at them. A twin set of doors stood open at the back of the house. It was obvious to her that the stables would be inside. Alanna gentle knocked on the doorjamb and entered the cool semi-darkness of the stable.

In complete contrast to the rest of the property, the stables were immaculate. A centre aisle of packed earth and clean straw, stretched away from her. Horses and ponies mostly occupied stalls on either side. Tack hung from hooks on many of the stall frames. White paint had been carefully applied to the woodwork.
“Hello”. Alanna called, but only the nearest horses acknowledged her with a wicker. She slowly walked down the aisle, looking at the animals on either side, admiring their stately heads as they watched her pass. A tuneless whistling was coming from the far end. She called again without any response.
There must have been some thirty stalls, not all occupied, but those that were looked extremely clean.

Equine smells had ingrained themselves to the timber, but a scrubbed and washed cleanliness also made a presence. At last, she reached the end room. The double door stood open and she could see the white tiled walls inside. The whistling was coming from here, but she couldn’t see the whistler at first. Then he emerged from behind a screen and stopped in a shocked stance, looking at her. My God! Thought Alanna, it’s the original slack jaw from the Deep South. The gangling youth bore a remarkable resemblance to the hillbilly. Her thought became even more positive when he answered her first question with a simple “Yarr.” She had asked him if there was a phone she could use.

“Look, I am stuck in a cattle grid up by the road and I need to call a tow truck to pull my car out.”
“Yarr.” A little drool slipped from the side of his mouth and joined the stains on his coveralls.

Alanna was saved from further frustrations by the clatter of hooves in the stable behind her and a man’s voice shouting Tommy.

She turned to see who the owner of the voice was and nearly fell to the floor. Her knees almost gave way at the sight of a devastatingly handsome man of about six four, all dressed in riding boots, jodhpurs and a red coat.

He spotted her and tilted his head, waiting for her to introduce herself or at least make some kind of effort at speech. Alanna felt like her tongue had been removed. His hair waved blackly off his forehead and framed a face of clear skin, tanned but unlined. His shoulder shrugged as he gave up waiting for her.
“Can I help you?” The question dripped into her brain like hot silver.

“Um, my car…” She began, but got no further.

“What about your car?”

“It’s stuck. Um, it’s stuck…” Coherence was not really with her at that moment. “…In the cattle grid.”

“Ah, I see. And you need help to pull it out do you?” A smile creased his eyes and melted her heart. “I’m afraid Tommy here is a little slow, but he keeps the place good and clean, don’t you Tommy?”

“Yarr.” A giggle escaped Tommy and he rushed out of the room to some errand.

“See to Caesar will you?” The man shouted to Tommy’s retreating back. A muffled yarr was the answer. “Sorry about Tommy, I keep him on to clean up. He does a good job and really loves the animals. I’m Ray by the way.” He stuck out a massive hand.

“Alanna”. Her hand disappeared between his fingers.

She told him about her problem with the car. He would get it dragged out by the tractor and get her on her way, but in the meantime, why not stay for lunch or something. An hour slipped by and Alanna became more and more interested in this huge, but gentle man. They very quickly drew up a friendship, talking about anything and everything. Soon, Alanna didn’t really want to carry on with her journey, besides, her sister wasn’t that important and she would be able to find her way tomorrow.

Ray showed her around the place, skipping over the ramshackle house. They had slack jaw saddle up a couple of horses and rode around the stud farm. Alanna admitted that she knew nothing about stud-work and expressed an interest in learning more.

“Well… we are going to inseminate a brood mare this afternoon.” Ray informed her and invited her to watch as they extracted the semen from his lead stallion. Alanna, not sure what would be involved agreed.
Later that day, a beautiful white Arabian stallion was lead in to the room where she had first met Tommy and the object of her desire. Ray matter-of-factly described the process of milking the stallion and then inseminating the mare that was to receive it. The method sounded quite ordinary, but the actuality of the deed caused her to almost faint with an overwhelming need to fuck this guy into next week.