I was in the bathtub soaking, telling Helen of my narrow escape that morning. I had filled the tub full and was able to submerge all of me, except for my head. The water was good and hot.
Helen was sitting on the toilet seat in her robe listening intently, her feet propped up on the edge of the tub. I could see everything she owned in that position, and what I saw was deliciously pleasing.
Remembering the comments made about my hairiness that day, I wondered what, if any, remarks would have been said had it been Helen there instead of me. Certainly no man in his right mind could fault that pussy.
Her hair was much lighter than mine and formed a perfect triangle. Whereas mine tended to grow wild, hers almost seemed sculpted, the margins clear, the hairline well defined. The hair itself glowed in contrast to my own, which could look dull, lacking the magical highlights I observed now in Helen's.
Her well-developed lips formed a perfect cleft. No open gash here, no flabby distended labia. Just Helen's fat little pussy for all the world to see. I wondered how much Jack appreciated that darling cunny.
Helen observed my rapture and, noticing the source of it, closed her legs and tucked in her robe.
"You can make a girl horny sometimes, Bea," she noted. "There are times when I think you appreciate me that way more than Jack. He's never one to drink me in with his eyes like that."
I lifted a leg up out of the water. "I wish I had it all together like you," I told her.
"Bea Starr, you're still fourteen years old wishing you were seventeen, aren't you?" she maintained. She got up off the seat. "Here, let me scrub your back."
I sat up, swirling the water around me. My back was piping hot.
"I better take my robe off," Helen said, "or it'll get wet for sure." The robe dropped and she stood there, naked, as close to me as ever I could remember. Uncontrollably, my hand reached up and lightly touched the top of her thigh. The wet fingers trailed off down and back into the tub.
She bent over and started scrubbing my back with a soapy washcloth. Her large breasts swung in unison with her movements. I turned my head to get closer to them, and one slapped against my face, the hard nipple tracing a line across my upper lip. Indescribable urges were tormenting me.
"Hey!" I cried. "That's heavy cargo."
She laughed. She was rinsing the back now, lifting the water up with both hands and letting it stream down from my neck. Running her flat hand back and forth across, she seemed satisfied no more soap remained. "There!" she said, straightening.
I rose from the water and stood there as she handed me a towel. She had put her robe back on, and as I stepped out of the tub, she went out the door. I dried myself off quickly and got into my own robe.
Helen was seated at the vanity when I entered the bedroom.
"Let's hear your story, sweets," I urged, flopping on the bed. "I'll bet it has something to do with a cheetah, am I right?"
"Did Telford tell you?" she asked, slightly surprised.
"The guy at the kennel is Telford?" At her nod, I went on. "Only that he owned one and to ask you about it. He looks like a guy that would own a big cat. What happened after I left?"
"After you left I got out of the car and stood, leaning up against it. It makes me nervous to just sit in a parked car alone. I watched the cars go by, and saw the black panel truck, too. Some kid was driving. He slowed down and mentally undressed me as he went by.
"I remember thinking, these guys will be back to give me a hard time. To my surprise when they did, there were you in the middle looking out at me. I couldn't understand why you hadn't stopped to explain what was going on.
"My next thought was that you hadn't stopped because they had kidnapped you, horrible as that sounded. I started hiking then back to the kennel as fast as I could. It must have taken me ten or fifteen minutes. When I burst into the office I really startled Telford. I was so out of breath I couldn't make much sense, my words were mostly gasps, I guess.
"Telford finally got the gist of my story and told me to wait and see, that you had probably picked up a ride to the AAA station. Just in case, I thought I had better call them anyway. If you did show up, they would simply tell you I had already called and told you to wait there.
"I did that. I called them and no, you hadn't arrived yet. They wanted the Triple A number, but I didn't have it. You had taken the card, remember? They finally agreed to send the tow truck out, anyway. One down, one to go, I thought.
"Telford kept telling me to relax, and then offered me a drink. It sounded like a good idea, and I told him to make it real stiff. He said, 'It'll be that, all right,' and asked me to join him inside.
"We went through a door in the back of the office down a hallway to a door he had to unlock to open. Turned out to be a kind of lounge, you know, soft chairs, lots of pillows, a bar on one side.
"He mixed me a drink he called a tomcat. It tasted good, like punch almost, but what a wallop. He waited until he thought I was reeling, and then told me he had a friend who would like to get acquainted with me.
"At first, I thought, he's got some kid there who's going to come in and really take advantage of me. But, no. What he's talking about is a big female cat, and I mean cat. He opened a door in the room and in bounded this thing. It had legs as long as mine, and black spots all over it.
"The thing was purring like crazy and kept getting down on its knees and elbows and crawling across the floor, its tail way up in the air. It reminded me of the way they get Lassie to crawl on TV when she's acting a part where she's wounded.
"After crawling like that for a while, the big leopard would throw herself on her side and roll over on her back, feet up in the air. She would do this once or twice and then get back up and start meowing. And what meowing! In that small room it was frightening.
"Telford is enjoying every minute of it, of course. He sat there and just roared, that big belly just heaving up and down.
"Finally he said, 'Let's have some fun,' and went over to the wall and pushed a switch. The whole wall opened like locks on a canal and out came a low king-sized bed along the floor. It finally stopped before it knocked me down.
"He wanted us to take our clothes off, but I said nothing doing. 'Wait until you feel all that fur against your body,' he said.
"At that point, Bea, I was confused. I still didn't hanker to strip down for that big galooka for any reason, but wasn't sure at the same time what he was intending.
"'Do as you please then,' he said. 'Watch, if you want,' he told me. 'They pay good money to see this in Saigon,' and so on. My first impulse was to turn around and get the crap out of there, but you know, Bea, how funny I can think something is when everyone else is somber-faced. I stayed.
"Telford started taking his clothes off. When he was fully stripped, he looked a sight. That man is the hairiest thing I've ever seen. There wasn't a spot on that body that I could see that wasn't covered with hair, except for what was dangling out of you know where. He paddled over to the bed with the cat and both of them started rolling around in it. He grabbed the cat in a tight embrace and wrestled with it as they rolled.
"'Sure you don't want to try it?' he asked me, stopping to stroke the animal down the back. The big cat loved it all and purred and purred. It sounded as though they were building a subway underneath the building, the purring was so deep-throated. 'I was sure,' I said.
"I saw then that Telford was getting a hard-on. It just came bobbing up out of the mixture of hair and fur on the bed. He sat up and clutched it in one hand as if he didn't know what to do with it. His eyes had a glassy look, and I thought for a second he was going to sit there and masturbate. He came out of the trance and reached with his hand for a spot far down on the cat's underbelly. With his thumb and forefinger, he tweaked the spot several times. The effect of the cheetah was instantaneous. It immediately locked itself into that crawling position I told you it was doing before. It threw its tail up and started creeping forward on the bed.
"Now I noticed, where I didn't before, a large pink hole with a cream-colored rim pouting open several inches down from the tail. It caught the light's reflection and glistened. Telford got down on his knees behind the cat and placed the end of his tool square at the lustrous center of that hole. The purr changed to a lower-pitched vibrating noise, and I saw the flesh around the hole push up and outward as if seeking to grab hold of the intruder that bad disturbed it.
"The man eagerly allowed the grasping hole to have its victim. The rim leeched around the end of his rigid penis and began pulling it in as a snake might convulsively swallow a young pig.
"The cat's vibrating noise increased in intensity. It turned its head around as if to check on the source of the thing penetrating it and opened its mouth in a deep wail. This wait kept threatening to reach shriek proportions. Telford's organ had gone all the way in, but instead of pumping in and out as you would have expected him to have done at that moment, he made a series of uninterrupted vibrating movements forward. They were of a very heavy nature affecting every muscle in his legs. He was a big man, and it was something to see the cat tearing him up like that. He came suddenly, violently, as if all the juices in his body had been sucked out through that one part of him.
"The cat had taken it all but would not let the man go. I saw the mixture of pain and pleasure on his face. The beast greedily maintained its hold. It wanted more, but the man had no more to give, except the flesh itself.
"The cheetah was screaming loudly. Telford himself was bellowing and digging his fingers into the animal's sides, pushing himself backward. If anyone had been outside the door and heard all that commotion, they would have thought someone was being fed to the lions. It was a terrible din. It was so wild, I stood up and edged toward the door. I was afraid the cat would come for me after finishing up with Telford.
"He finally got himself out of the cat's ass and sat on the end of the bed. He pushed both palms down around covering his genitals and howled. The howling was interrupted by an occasional outburst like 'hah' and 'oho' and 'fat fuck'. He paid absolutely no attention to me. The cat was flopping all over the bed doing those rolling motions I told you about. It looked quite pleased. It stopped the rolling only once to reach down and lick at itself a few times and then went right back to the rolling and tossing.
"'Mizz Smallwood,' Telford finally said to me, 'come on over and give the little baby a hug. She won't hurt you,' he went on. 'She's just the softest most lovable thing in the world.'
"The whole business had frightened me as I said, but it had also made me a little hot. After all, Telford didn't have any clothes on, and they had been doing it there right in front of me. I half wished the big cat had been a tom and I might have been tempted.
"I was willing to settle for Telford even. All that hair, and that big belly, not to mention that rod of his, I thought maybe he had in mind to use me for dessert, but when he got up, he walked back of the bar and washed himself off in a little sink that was there.
"'Shall we have a drink then, before we leave?' he said, putting his shirt back on. I knew then he was in love with that cat and no other pussy. I was still half-clobbered from the last one and told him no thanks.
"He got all the way dressed then and put the cheetah back where she had come from, and we came back down to the office. It was not long after that the tow truck came."
I looked at my sister when she had finished the story. "You mean," I said, "he never once hinted at wanting to have intercourse with you?" I turned over, propping my head on my elbows.
She shook her head.
"Amazing," I declared. I decided to tell her the whole story about Cameron then. She listened, laughing at some of the ways I was describing the scene in the Scotsman's living room.
"Well, it's true," she remarked when I had finished. "A person becomes very devoted to a pet. I have to think of myself with Clyde. Bea, you've never owned any pets and don't know," she chided. "I'm surprised, too," she continued, "considering your occupation."
"Maybe that's why," I suggested. "It may be that I did not want to become too attached to an animal."
"Or a man either," she came back. "You're going to end up an old lady having to pet your own pussy if you're not careful. I don't know where you got to be so independent."
"But you don't just have intercourse with Clyde," I said, changing the subject. "I mean, you're not so wrapped up with him that you can't think about doing it with anyone else." I got up off the bed and walked to the window.
"I suppose if it weren't for Jack, it might end up that way," she posed. "Jack keeps me in touch with the world of people somehow. Telford and this bagpipe player don't have another human being in the house to remind them."
"That's it, isn't it?" I surmised, turning from the window. "They get so they like it that way and no other, and when the opportunity comes along to go to bed with a real woman, they either don't recognize it or can't work up any interest."
Helen was blushing. I knew she must have been thinking about Clyde. She did like it when the pooch did it to her, and maybe liked it better than with Jack, well, certainly with Jack, and for all I knew, better than with anyone that she had done it with since Clyde first screwed her that night.
"Bea?" she queried. "Do you honestly think we'll find Clyde?" The tone of her question implied she was falling into depression again.
"You've done everything anyone could do in the situation," I assured her. "I'm optimistic myself, and you should be, too." I walked over to her and patted her shoulder.
"I miss getting it," she said, "getting it good like that, and this morning, watching Telford do it to his cat reminded me." She bent her head down and kissed the back of my hand.
"Well, there's always the pony," I remarked.
Her eyes lighted up. "That's true," she declared. "I had forgotten about him." She stood up and went over to the window. "He's down there grazing." She turned to face me. "Let's get him inside. It's my turn, isn't it?"
She took off for the stairs with me following. We kept colliding with each other in the run and started laughing. Helen reached the back door first and opening it said, "You get him, Bea. Your robe is heavier than mine." It was true. You could see right through the thin nylon of her robe. The firm breasts were heaving outward as she tried to catch her wind after running so hard.
I stepped out into the yard. The pony, expecting a handful of grain, came trotting up to me and worked its lips at my right hand. It had such a soft mouth. A light breeze was playing with the snow white mane, and the afternoon sun gave its tawny hide an almost golden sheen.
"You can have some grain," I said softly to him. "But first a little fun inside." I gave him a pat on his cheek, and guided him back into the kitchen.
Helen was holding the door open. "Do you think we can get him to do it again?" she asked as we came inside. "Oh, I'm so hot," she squealed, clutching her crotch through the robe. She did a little jumping movement and followed us into the living room.
The pony walked to the center of the room, lowered his head and shook it four or five times. He put one foreleg out stiff in front of him and licked at one of the joints.
Helen had taken off her robe and was walking around him looking longingly at every part of him. She came up to him and ran her thighs along his flank.
"Just the feel of him is enough to set you off," she declared. "What marvelous hair!"
She knelt down on one knee and started caressing the folded skin out of which his enormous shaft would surely emerge if she were successful.
I knelt down on the other side and watched her ministrations. She was feeling his testicles with her other hand, cupping her hand under first one and then the other, and then trying to feel the weightiness of both of them at once.
"What big balls!" she oodled.
The pony turned his head and stretched it backward under his belly as if to nibble at her kneading fingers, but otherwise was showing no reaction to her efforts.
"How did he get hard yesterday?" I asked her.
"I don't know," she answered. "I just walked into the living room, and there it was, coming out."
"Do you suppose he knows?" I wondered out loud. "Or is it an involuntary action?"
Helen got back on her feet and walked over to the sofa. "I'm going to get down like with Clyde," she said, kneeling before the sofa and placing her hands up on the cushions. She spread her knees apart and jutted her butt back and upward. "Bring him over," she requested.
I walked the pony to where her gorgeous bottom was exposed. The lips were swollen and had a purply pink color that showed through the hair. Just the faintest hint of a wet, dark red interior was visible along the line separating them.
I couldn't resist patting the pert little puffiness that bulged up at me. Her reaction was to wiggle her rear end and groan, thrusting the fat cunny upward some more. The lips opened to reveal more of the engorged tissue inside. It was stunningly moist. How could the pony resist it?
The pony did notice it and mouthed it gently with his lips, breathing heavily on it at the same time.
"Oh, gosh! I wish somebody would do something," Helen moaned. It struck me as an odd statement.
The pony licked out at the gash, turning its head sideways so that the juicy tongue was aligned vertically with it. The big muscle slopped and pushed as it churned up the flesh. His saliva foamed slightly around his lips, and as he bared his teeth at one point, I was afraid he might try to bite.
Helen had pushed her face down into the sofa cushion. It was bright red and covered with sweat. Her eyes were glazed, and her mouth held loosely open. Her breath was coming out in heavy shuddering sighs.
The pony raised one front hoof and dug at Helen's back. I could tell by the way she raised her head suddenly that it had hurt, and I ran to the coat closet, bringing back a thick, fluffy car coat. I threw this across her back.
The animal was slowly getting an erection. It came out almost imperceptibly at first and then, like one of those long, thin balloons, filled out fast at the end. The skin stretched very tightly along the length of it when it was fully hard, and the big, blobby knob at the tip seemed enormous.
Again, he raised a hoof at her back. The third time, he succeeded in getting both hooves up and took aim with his organ. I couldn't believe that huge shaft would positively land on target when he landed, and got down on the floor beside them.
Grabbing the thick, massive stick of meat, I tried by bending and waving to aim it at the precise spot. It took both hands to hold it steady.
Whinnying and pawing at Helen's back, the animal lunged downward. With an awful glopping noise, the big head poked into the space between the lips, slamming in with tremendous force.
I sprang back quickly, releasing my grip. The entire organ went down like the Titanic, with a rush, filling into the space available to it at an alarming pace.
Helen's head was pushed into the back of the sofa. She grunted in one long horrible sound that a person being pressed to death might have made. Her face was pushed out of shape where it was against the upholstery.
The big penis finally struck bottom with about four or five inches still to go inside. The pert little bottom I had just been admiring was opened and stretched beyond credibility, the lips clutching at the shaft seeming about to split.
Helen recovered quickly from the initial thrust and pushing up with her hands, regained a tenable position. The huge organ was imbedded deeply inside her, and she seemed determined to brave its next assaults.
The pony began working the staff back and down in a series of short, broadly based thrusts that seemed designed to achieve complete penetration. Something in the animal's instinct apparatus was telling it everything was not right as long as the merest fraction of an inch remained outside.
He was driving against her, pressing and stretching, his rump weaving to and fro, as the organ dug deeper into her.
For her part, she pushed back against him apparently eager to take as much as he was willing to give. The natural juices began to ooze from around his shaft as it moved back and forth between the completely distended lips of her vulva. It was working out okay.
"Oh, boy!" she finally found the words. "This is the ride of my life." Her head was raised high, and I noticed she was biting at her lower lip. "This coat is so damned hot," she muttered.
The pony kept packing it in, deeper and still deeper. I could see that about two inches remained outside. The enormous testicles were already beginning to bump against her thighs. Gradually, those same testicles began to pull up, and the skin around them acquired an increasingly complex network of ridges.
Snorting and blowing, the animal increased the tempo of his thrusts. His forelegs began to slip off Helen's back on either side, and he allowed his head to hang down, its one side pressed against her ribcage.
His balls had by now been drawn up into his groin completely, and I took this to mean those great agates were about to be emptied of their contents.
Sure enough, the animal made one last thrust of a frenzier nature than the others and let out a deep, satisfying neigh that seemed to originate from deep within him.
The hot come must have been gushing into her then. After the third or fourth spasm, it came babbling out all around his organ and ran down into her pubic hair, some of it trailing off down her thighs, a few blobs dropping off onto the floor.
Most of the action was now due to Helen's movements as the pony gradually stopped all motion. Helen let out a shriek of pleasure suddenly and collapsed forward on the sofa again. The coat fell down around her head, blocking my view of her face.
The pony made a couple of short deep neighs and backed off. As his organ was withdrawn, the fat head inside momentarily resisted, stretching the lining out like so much taffy. As a rubber band will snap when released, the end popped out finally, letting loose a well spring of come from inside her vagina.
I ran into the bathroom for some Kleenex and hurried back, placing a pile of them under her so at least to protect the sofa from the oozing flow. She was so open I could have thrust in my hand and arm up to the elbow. This, I thought, must be how I looked to Helen the day before.
She was enjoying her reverie, and I chose not to disturb her. Placing the rest of tissues on the sofa, I guided the pony into the kitchen and outside. He was such a gentle, docile beast except when he was screwing.
I thought of so many men I had known who were just the opposite. Gruff, aggressive, loud, even bellicose some of the time, they were just barely adequate in bed.
I heard the shower running upstairs when I came back into the living room and concluded Helen had gone up. There was going to be another wet spot on the carpet today. I went into the kitchen for the necessary cleaning materials.
After brushing out the spot I had cleaned with some paper towels, I sat back on the sofa. Watching the pony have intercourse with Helen had left me high. There had been no release as there seldom is for the voyeur unless he chooses to masturbate.
The lighthearted feeling combined with the blood-engorged tissues in my pelvic region was completely unsatisfying. I looked forward to the evening when we would drive over to John's house. I would leave it to him to figure out a way for us to be alone.
It irritated me that I had allowed my last thought to enter my brain. I didn't usually give up on a problem by telling myself some man would solve it for me. That was falling into the trap of female subdominant, which had led to thousands of years of slavery for women.
I had best watch my step with him, I thought, since he was leading me into the valley of temptation that way. I produced a mental picture of him, his easy going way, his willingness to banter or argue as the whim moved me. I also liked the fact that he was something of a loner.
I could live with a guy like that, I concluded.
Business thoughts and returning to New York entered my head. There was one more pony owner to see. I got up and went into my bedroom, taking the little notebook I carried around with me out of my bag.
Thumbing through it, I found the phone number of the man who had bought four ponies from Cunningham. Walking back into the kitchen to the phone, something odd struck me about the number. It occurred to me that I had seen that telephone exchange and exact number somewhere else.
I dialed the number and a very soft-spoken male voice answered. I explained who I was and how I had come by the number and asked his permission to come and see him and take a few pictures of the ponies.
"I only have one pony," he said softly.
I explained that Cunningham had told me there were four.
"I only have one pony," he repeated in the same tone.
As he was obviously reticent to expand on the subject, at least over the phone, I dropped it and asked if I could visit him. He seemed willing, in a vague kind of way, and suggested a date about a week hence. I told him that was impossible and explained my schedule.
"All right," he said flatly. "Come by tomorrow morning. Ten o'clock."
He gave me his name as Albert Felt. The address was a rural route box number on a country road. I thought of Cunningham's description of the place, and it certainly fitted what one might imagine from the address just given me by Felt.
Helen came down in her robe. Her hair was swept up on top of her head, and she was humming gaily.
"Fully recovered?" I asked, winking at her.
"Except I feel pretty well reamed out," she allowed. "Not sore, though," she was quick to point out. "Just," she paused, "what is the word I want?" she asked.
"Enlarged?" I suggested.
She winced.
"How about 'reshaped'?" I proposed.
"That's it," she said. "I just feel reshaped. How about a cup of coffee, Sis?"
"Good idea."
"I should start dinner," she informed me, looking at the wall clock. "If we're all going out tonight, we should eat early." She fixed some percolated coffee, and we chatted while it perked. I told her about Felt. She would go, she said, but didn't like to be away from the house so much with Clyde gone.
I suddenly remembered where I had seen Felt's telephone number before and got up to go into the living room. I found the little slip of paper I had discovered the afternoon before. It was where I had seen it, in the pocket of one of Jack's coats. There was no mistake. It was Felt's number.
Coming back into the kitchen I asked Helen, "Have you ever heard Jack mention this fellow Felt?"
"Never," she said. "Why?"
I told her of what I had accidentally found in the pocket.
"Jack knows an awful lot of people," she told me. "What does this guy do?"
"I think Cunningham told me he owned a garage," I said.
"Well, there's your explanation," she said. "Jack knows every garage owner in the state of Texas. He sells tires. I don't think it's anything strange that he would know this guy Felt." She looked at me for a minute. "If you want, I can ask him," she offered.
Something told me I shouldn't have mentioned the matter to her. "I'd rather you didn't," I said. "It was silly of me to bring it up. It's just a dumb coincidence."
We sat there waiting for the coffee to be ready. I could tell by Helen's expression that she thought I was on to something about Jack. Just what that something was, I hesitated to ask even myself.