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Jaffa
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
jaffa
All in all, I had many delightful experiences when I went to
Israel with my parents for the summer. My parents always go, to visit
their relatives, but it has been my only trip overseas. I didn't (and
still don't) speak enough Hebrew to go out on my own, and so the trip
promised a lot of meeting relatives with whom I could not speak, a lot
of seeing the sights (which were, at least, worthwhile) and a lot of
boredom.
Definitely the most interesting relative that I met was my
cousin-in-law Shosharra. I was informed that she owned a farm and
bred horses, and so I should be able to talk with her about something;
since I had gone to a 'horse camp' the previous summer, where one
learns to ride and care for horses, generally on the more docile,
stupid types of horse. She spoke more English than I spoke Hebrew,
and since that was sufficient for communication, my parents shooed me
off to be with her for the evening, so they wouldn't have to translate
incessantly for me.
She was dark-haired, dark-eyed, and enchanting even through the
partially demolished language barrier. I learned that she had
finished her stint in the Army two years ago, inherited a small cotton
farm, and had managed to find and buy some reasonably high quality
horses that had lived out their track days and gone on to be used as
stunt horses in a few films. I couldn't stop taking in her graceful,
muscular arms or her firm, rounded legs; I was practically mesmerized
as soon as we had had wine and she began asking me if I liked being
tied up, if I knew how to ride bareback, if I'd ever made love in the
barn at the camp I'd gone to, and if I'd like to spend some time at
her farm.
The next day, she easily persuaded my parents to let me spend the
next two weeks at her farm; they were going on a lengthy bus trip with
the relatives which would have been, for me, a miserable living hell.
Ten minutes out of Jaffa on the highway, and then an hour of wambly
dirt roads later, we arrived. The drive had enlightened me even
further to her intentions, as she mentioned that she never wore
clothes in the day on the farm (it being hot but not humid), and she
didn't expect me to either. She was all out of hashish as well, so
she wasn't going to be doing any smoking and animal training, as she
had done in the past.
We arrived in the afternoon, and she started me out with a test.
After we'd stowed our things in the house and gotten rid of our
clothes, she took me bareback riding. She gave me her large stallion
who used to be in endurance races, and took a mare herself, as well as
picnic furnishings, general equipment, and a pair of rifles. He was
more responsive than any other horse I'd ever ridden, he also was
aware that part of my attention was fixated on Shosharra's riding to
my right, and who did I think I was anyway? So, at the given opportunity,
as Shosharra had planned, knowing this horse far better than I; he broke
left and charged happily into a lake we passed, stopping only when
the water was up to his stomach. Clearly enjoying himself, he started
pawing at the water and snorting, and looking back at me, expecting me
to do something. While I was deciding whether or not to go for his ear, he
started rearing up and pawing the air, doing his best to look like a
Busch commercial, and looking over to Shosharra for orders.
She had me get off and give him a thorough bath, with him enjoying
every minute of the attention he got, pawing and splashing in the
water and looking indignant at me whenever I stopped for a second.
Shosharra did the same for her mare, who wasn't quite such a fan of the
water, but obeyed her orders explicitly. When she ordered me to pay
special attention to the stallion's crotch, I knew in a heartbeat that
she was exactly the type of woman I obey, the kind who make me feel
that if they really wanted to, they could MAKE me follow their orders,
and thus don't have to go about the messy business of wrestling about it.
I didn't really want to yank him out of the water by his ear, so
when Shosharra decided I was quite finished soaping and rinsing his
cock and balls, she got him out of the water and we continued on our
way, the warm sun drying the four of us. We rode calmly through an
orange grove to the picnic spot/rifle range, where we both shot about
equally well, save that I'd never shot burst fire before. We ate, and
she began taking this time to show me some of the tricks she'd taught
the horses.
A good trainer can teach most animals actions without requiring
food as a stimulus. The more intelligent and gregarious the animal,
the easier it is to make attention itself the reward, and these
horses were a lot smarter than the ones I had ridden at camp. She
staked me out spreadeagled, naked, on a blanket, made sure my head was
secured, and with a single motion, had the stallion giving me sloppy,
wet, forceful kisses. Opening my mouth to breathe generally ended in
a huge tongue getting in a lick to the inside of my mouth.
Another order backed the stallion up, and had him licking at my
crotch. My cock had hardened crazily during my earlier treatment and
though I tensed against my bonds, under the methodical strength of his
incessantly lapping tongue and hairy mouth, I couldn't resist and
orgasmed wildly, pulsing beneath his tongue. The ecstatic agony didn't
stop, however, because he didn't stop even when I was spent, continuing
to rasp my now softer, yet oversensitive cock. Shosharra had him stop
just before my begging entered the range of screaming.
I gasped for breath while she untied me, and she gave me a few
moments to regain my composure. She then shattered it by informing me
that the reason the horse was looking at me in the same expectant way
he had when he was waiting to get his customary bath, was because he
knew I had to lick him similarily for his reward. She held him while
I got under him from the correct side, he already excited and
engorged, more than a foot and a half long. I started with his balls,
and then ran strokes up his length; him pounding me in the face with
his cock-head, moistening me with a bit of fluid, let me know that
more was called for, so I opened up for him to begin cramming as much
of his length into my mouth as he could. My head was buffeted by his
weight, and it was all I could do to rub his head with my tongue
whenever possible, tasting him, his thrusts gradually stretching out
my mouth and pushing deeper at the back of my throat.
She pulled me out after some unknown amount of time, let him
prance happily about, and finally tethered him. She had 'cleaned him
out' recently with a breeding dummy for exactly this purpose, no use
wasting valuable, saleable sperm on my throat. Next, she led me a ways
through the grove pulling me by a possesive hand on my crotch, out of
sight of the first picnic location, where she had left the mare
tethered and waiting. I hardened up under her ministrations on the way
over, whereupon she lubed me up, stood me on on a large, flat stepstool
she had out here for exactly this reason (she was the type who planned
well), and tied my legs spread about a foot more than shoulder width,
backed the mare up to me and bent me over her rump, tying my wrists
to the leather straps she'd used earlier for the saddlebags.
She slid my cock up and inserted me, the mare's vagina settling
about comfortably. Seeing as I couldn't move very much, I couldn't
take much advantage of the situation, but I wasn't to have that
trouble very long. Shosharra lubed up my spread asshole, and began
sliding an anal probe in and out, pulling me back out of the mare, and
then pushing me back in, each time deeper until she was fucking me up
to the handle and each thrust brought me all the way into the mare.
Face-down, inhaling the mare's scent, pulling back on my wrists
helplessly; she fucked me into the mare until the oiled sliding in my
filled rectum merged with the silken sliding against my cock and
everything went away save those two things while I exploded.
We rode back in the sunset, and I got a badly needed bath at the
same lake. At the farmstead, we put up the horses, she made sure
nothing was wrong, and we held one another in her bed against the
chill night, to arise at the crack of dawn.
That was the first day of my two weeks with Shosharra.
Day 2
Like most farm days, this one began early. Shosharra woke me up
at dawn by a warm, empty spot on the bed and a tantalizingly served
breakfast. Shosharra, leaning over me, adorned only by her natural
talents, struck home a distinction many have made before but few
really get to experience: that nakedness means defenselessness, but
nudity is art. It was all in the attitude, and she had it.
Once breakfast was done, the work began. My jobs consisted of
cleaning out stables (I was no stranger to this); resetting and
checking the automatic feeders; exercising and cleaning and combing as
many horses as I could reasonably get to; and a couple of random jobs
involving heavy lifting that required two people. Shosharra was a
skilled taskmaster; always returning from the fields with another job
ready just as I finished and was ready, ordering me with her rich,
mellow voice and simple English. She had started the day with work on
her irrigation trenches; now that she had me on the horses she could
do some of the thorough work that needs getting done every once in a
while. That took her through lunch; whereupon she ran a quick weed
spray on part of the cotton and came back to care for the pigs, of
which she had four, and happened to be caring for another two pregnant
sows of a neighbors.
Between eight and nine hours of this got me pretty well
exhausted, and hungry in that way you are after a hard day's work.
You're desperately hungry, but you don't end up eating as much as you
would if you were just bored-hungry after a day reading a book and
watching television, and you don't 'stuff yourself,' you just eat and
stop. There was no television on the entire farm, either, she had a
shortwave radio for news, and that is just the thing to make you avoid
wasting your life.
Rest, of course, was not something I was to receive for some time
yet. Shosharra got that intriguing and beautiful smile meaning she
had something planned, and led me out to the barn. She was correct in
guessing that I wanted a shower after all my work, and she gave it to me;
beginning by giving me knee pads, strapping a thick, heavy, wide leather collar
around my neck and attaching nylon straps with rubber-leather-nylon webbing
around my wrists and lower thighs (just above the knees), the wrists to
the underside of the collar and the thighs to the wrists, so that I couldn't
pull my hands far from my head, my thighs far from my wrists, locking me
in a head lowered, hobbled crawl on my hands and knees.
She laughed then, only for a moment, and if it had been anyone
else, had the laugh not been absolutely free of any mocking tone, I
don't know what I would have done. Instead, it was a musical slide,
like droplets of water bouncing from a tuned tin roof, infectious
enough so that I laughed too; allowing her to insert the long, hollow,
tubular gag and fasten its straps about my head, it laying on my
tongue and yet still allowing me to breathe through it. She pulled me
into a stall only slightly bigger than myself, and clipped my bonds to
the sides. Where before I could have touched my hands together, and
perhaps gotten out of the webbing, I couldn't now; I could move inches
in any direction and so not get stiff, but I was otherwise helpless.
The cold water didn't sting; she sat astride me at first while
she shampooed my short, curly hair and soaped and washed my sweaty
face from behind, laying on my back and gripping my sides with legs
that I knew could guide a horse expertly. She continued thoroughly,
pausing to kiss my neck now and again, and giving special attention
and thoroughness to my cock and balls much as I had had to with the
horse on the previous day. Then she lifted off of me momentarily, and
I heard her intake of breath as she again settled on top of me,
farther back this time, holding on to me strongly as she began to
gently push the soapy strap-on into me, further each time, cleaning me
out. From there, she used the longer but thinner anal probe she had
used yesterday, to lubricate me well. Finally, she splashed buckets
of slightly soapy water over me, water that she had already used to
wash the pigs earlier that day, as a rinse.
It wasn't much of a crawl to their pen, and I made it with my
head down and my mouth full. I was ignored momentarily, then the
smallest female spotted me and alerted the others. I learned
firsthand over the next hour that Shosharra had washed them and their
pen with equal care as she had me, as the social order of the area and
my place within it was made clear through much snuffling, butting,
rubbing against and good-natured pushing. Things had settled down
from their previous excitement for some moments when Shosharra gave an
order to the male, who was only a bit smaller than me in my kneeling
position. He trundled over to me and began good-naturedly whuffling
at me, and rubbing me for a bit, seemingly making introductions, and
then the direction of his pushing grew more focussed, intending for me
to head towards the corner. Shoshara advised me, with her wonderful
voice, to crawl a bit towards the corner, and indeed, it caused a
marked change in his behavior. He became far more enthusiastic in his
jostling, and since I had begun moving moving, his weight quickly pushed
me to the corner with him following directly behind.
A sniffling, and he lurched, or crawled atop me, his weight
pressing down on my thankfully padded knees and almost shoving my head
forward into the wall of the pen. His weight on top of me arched my
back downward and spread my knees, lowering me for him as he began to
press up against me. It was not long before he found his way into my
pre-lubricated asshole, the tip of his cock having a very odd texture
to it, not at all like the cock-head on the strap-on. He continued to
push atop me in twisting jerks until he was in as far as he would go
and continued to push, shoving in and then relaxing long enough for me
to return to my hands-and-knees position, my head no longer in danger
of hitting the wall of the pen; his cock, long as the anal probe and
thicker than the strap-on, sliding halfway out only for another thrust.
I could feel him breathe raggedly through his stomach on my back as I
myself struggled to breathe under his weight and his thrusts and
through the long, hollow, tubular gag held in by the straps around my
neck and head. Finally he pulsed within me, continuing to thrust,
then slowing and laying on me until he finally pulled out of my
dripping, wet ass with a squelch. I slowly began to get my breathing
under control through the gag, my ass covered with his come but
gratefully empty, when Shosharra ordered me over to her.
With a lubricated hand, she rubbed my ass and then my unabashedly
engorged cock and balls with the mixtures, so I was not only
lubricated but smelled very much of sexual male pig. I managed to
look up at her by craning my next even though it was attached to my
hands to see her smile and say, "Well, now you've learned first hand
how it's done. It's time for you to do your teacher proud." She
pointed me at the median-sized sow, and I began the process from the
other side. I introduced myself as I had had done to me, and the sow
immediately caught olfactory wind of my intent, pushing back against
me eagerly throughout my introductions and getting visibly excited.
She didn't make it easy for me to push her over to the corner, but she
went willingly, moving a half pace with every strong nudge until we were
in similar, though reversed circumstances as before.
I pushed up with my wrists, launching myself onto her and sliding
my chest onto her smooth back. I spread my arms around her as the
hooved limbs had spread about me, and this spread my legs slightly, as
my wrists were still tied to my knees. Still breathing only through
the hollow tube gag as I rested my chest on her back, stroking and
rubbing her sides with my hands, my well-lubricated cock found her
entrance already wet, and I began sliding in and out, making longer
thrusts than I had received.
Whereas the mare yesterday whose back I had been tied across
seemed only to be tolerating my presence, the sow I now mounted was
enthusiastic, eager and squealing with pleasure, pushing back against
me and gripping me on each thrust with her tight, muscular vagina. I
was wet with the cum of the previous pig, sliding within her fully,
pressing my wet balls up against her with every stroke, increasing in
speed until I could not withstand the continuous stroking against the
mixed lubrications and the powerful gripping any longer, and exploded
pumping, into her.
I laid atop her exhausted, trying to breathe through the gag as
she gripped me pulsingly and pushed against me, filled to overflowing
with the mixed cum and her own wetness. I eventually managed to
retreat off of her, and crawl into my own corner to rest, as my own
mounter was now doing. Shosharra gave me only a moment before
attaching a leash to me and clipping me back in the bathing stall,
where she washed me again, this time with quick skill, cleaning me out
and still keeping me tied.
I have mentioned before that the type of woman I obey
unquestioningly is one who makes me feel that if she desired to force
me to do what she asks, she could manage it after a good struggle. To
this point, I had mainly assumed this from her strength that I had
felt so far, but now she proved it beyond a doubt, actually picking me
up out of the shower-tub and carrying me over her shoulder to the
house, to put me on the bed, on my back, still hobbled and gagged. It
clearly wasn't easy, but she didn't stagger even once.
She spread my hobbled arms and legs and attached them to the bed,
and then, only then did she take out the gag. Shosharra let me relax,
bound, and let me breathe freely for a time, massaging me with her
body, lying atop me. Then she smiled, and with a kiss, said, "Now,
it's time to see if your mouth learned anything yesterday." She
reversed herself, lowering herself onto my mouth and taking me into
her own. Far too soon, and yet not nearly soon enough after that, she
released the straps holding me spread out under her and uprighted me.
The time until night came was spent proving to her that I truly knew
the lesson I had been taught and practiced, until she acknowledged
breathlessly that I had learned my trade well; and tied me back upon
my back, she to lie atop me until the dawn.
THE END....
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