Helen had Art to herself that evening. Danny climaxed a restless afternoon by requesting permission to eat at a pizza place downtown and see one of the new movies, and she was quite willing to agree. Before he left, Danny brought up the subject of the donkey again.
"Don't get mad, Mom, but I was wondering."
"What?"
"Well, most people don't get around donkeys very much. Do you think dogs would be as likely to do that as Smokey was?"
She hesitated. "Probably," she replied at last.
"Mom, was he good?"
She felt a flush rise to her face. "Yes. Very good."
"Hmmm."
He had been gone only a few minutes when Art got home, and Art had seen Danny.
"I saw Dan crossing a vacant lot about six blocks from here. Where's he going?"
She told him.
"Oh." Art's voice sounded lighter. "How come you're all dressed then?"
She sniffed. "Seems to me there was something about people being modest." She grinned at his pained expression. "Look, hon," she said. "I had a chance to take a good look at myself while you were with Van this afternoon. I decided I'd swung like a pendulum. I was a first-class Victorian – a Grandma Farrell – until I realized I was going to lose you that way. So I went to the other extreme – a no-holds-barred nympho. Well, I think I know what I am, now."
"Yeah? Well enough to tell me?"
"I think so. I love sex, honey. I'll do anything or let anything happen to me… at the right time, with the right person and when I'm in the right mood. I'm going to be my own boss about that, and I'm not going to let Grandma Farrell's ghost scare me out of having fun or let every casual stimulus stampede me into tearing my clothes off."
Art was studying her with an expression of obvious respect. She leaned against him and let her love for him show in her smile.
"Of course, darling…" she spoke softly. "The strongest stimulus I know is seeing you want me. And that's never casual."
"If I get a 'let's screw' look in my eye, off come the clothes?" he asked with a grin.
"If that's what you want. Or on they stay, if you want it that way."
He began to look agitated. "What about guys like Barry?"
"I'm not sure. Barry's good with sex. I don't mind having him make love to me. But he's not so important to me that I'd let him if you didn't want me to. And I'm certainly not terribly interested in trying out anyone else, unless you think I ought to." She hesitated, then continued. "If I see a guy who really turns me on, I'll tell you about him and we'll decide if I ought to try him out."
Art whistled. "Goddamn! That doesn't sound like a woman talking! Sounds like the way a man would think!"
"There's been some pressure," she said. "It wasn't the kind of pressure I could have survived with tears or wishful thinking. Maybe it took survival-type logic." She smiled in an effort to appear disarming. "I guess that's what men call 'man-type thinking'."
He growled. "Come on, you sexy broad. Let's eat so we'll have some time for screwing!"
She got supper ready, pausing from time to time to enjoy one of Art's lewd caresses, and they ate quickly. Art helped her with the dishes, and while she was polishing the sink and cabinet, he began to unbutton her dress. She gave herself up to a delicious, all-over tingle and completed her work with a hasty swipe of the cloth. Hanging it over the faucet, she turned to face her husband.
Art pushed her dress off her shoulders and she let it slide to the floor, remembering how her dressing gown had fallen beside the bathtub. She watched Art's jaw twitch as he unfastened her bra and pulled it away from her tits. And she rested the heels of her hands on the cabinet and leaned back, the cold edge pressing the small of her back while Art closed his lips over one puckered nipple. When he straightened, his hands already rolling down the top of her panties, he sighed gustily.
"I'm going to like the new Helen best of all," he said.
"Me, too!" Helen shivered.
The telephone rang at precisely the moment that Helen drew her foot out of her panties. She wrinkled her nose.
Art swore. "Oh, shit! Now what!"
"I'll get it, honey."
"Well… Okay, but I'll go with you."
When she picked up the receiver, he stood behind her. She leaned against him and he cupped his hands over her boobs, kneading gently.
"Hello?"
"Hi. This is Van."
"Oh! Hi, Van."
"Helen, Barry and I were wondering if you and Art would like to come over for some games tonight."
Helen repeated the message to Art. He hesitated.
"I'm not too eager about it right now," he said. "It's up to you, though."
She spoke into the mouthpiece. "Van, would you be awfully upset if we took a raincheck?"
"No, I guess not. Say, did Art tell you what happened this afternoon?"
"No."
"One of the pipes in the upstairs bathroom ruptured. The place was flooded! I had to call a plumber, and there were three of them here all afternoon running copper tubing. Art and I spent five hours trying to save everything that was wet. Tell him, 'Thanks again!' "
"I will."
"Oh, another thing. You might want to keep an eye on Danny, too."
"What?"
Van chuckled. "That kid's got enterprise! He was over here about an hour ago. Talked me into showing him how I trim that special hybrid Winter Wonder in our lath house. I was so surprised when he started to feel me up I didn't stop him. He was damn good at it, and I wanted to see how far he'd go. Well, let me tell you, I'll spin on that cock anytime! Honey, he was magnificent! But is he ever athletic! Had me all over the lath house… in the leaf-mold, on the benches, against the planters… Jesus!"
"Good God!" whispered Helen. "Oh, Van! I'm sorry!"
"Honey, don't apologize! But you'd better tell me if you don't want him making out over here. I like what he's got, and he can play games with me any day of the week!" Vanessa laughed nervously. "I think he finally hit on the way to break the ice with that snotty sister of mine, too. Don't ask me how, but he must have found out Olga's one human trait is she's an absolute pushover for animals! Show her a stray cat or a bird with a broken wing or a perfectly healthy goat and she adopts the damn thing. So Danny just happened to ask her – just happened to, mind you – if she'd ever spent much time around donkeys. Seems this donkey – Smokey, of course – has had some problem Danny can't figure out how to solve. He didn't seem willing to describe what was wrong, said a person would have to see for himself to appreciate how seriously it distressed the poor creature. And Olga thawed and had Danny out of here so fast it made our heads swim!"
Helen groaned faintly. "Any other sparkling news?" she asked.
"No. I guess that covers it. I'll phone you to see if we can work out a good time for another get-together. Okay?"
"Okay."
When Helen hung up, Art swept her into his arms and carried her to the couch. She was aflame with desire for him as the result of his unceasing attention to her boobs during the long telephone conversation, but he sent her excitement rocketing with the unrestricted handling he gave her now. She was ecstatic over her own response; she soared into three orgasms before he reached his first, and she began to think there was nothing he could do that wouldn't drive her to a climax.
Vanessa called back an hour later. "Helen, I guess Danny scored with Olga, too. He just brought her back, and she's dragging as if she'd treated the Army of the South! I'm afraid they didn't give poor old Smokey much help." She paused. "What's wrong with the old fellow, anyway?"
"I'm like Danny, Van. You've got to see it to understand what a problem it is for him."
"I wish I could help. I'd do just about anything for that sweet old thing."
Helen gasped and grinned with delight. She could think of nothing that would give her more satisfaction than to see Van's full-curved body under Smokey, impaled on that majestic cock of his. And if she worked it right, she could use Danny's movie camera to provide something she and Art could enjoy over and over.
"Van?"
"Huh?"
"You mean that? About helping him, I mean?"
"I certainly do!"
"Maybe if you have time tomorrow morning you could take a look at him."
"Good heavens, yes! I'll be over as soon as Barry and Olga are out of the house."
This time, when Helen turned away from the telephone, she was in an incredulous daze. She could hardly believe it had been so easy. But Art looked concerned.
"What's all this about Smokey?" he asked. "Something wrong with him I didn't know about?"
She stared at her husband for a moment, recalling the way he'd described what would happen if she gave Smokey a chance to mount her. The fact that he'd been accurate was of no importance; the loving attention to detail, though, suggested he might have the same voyeuristic thing about watching such an act as Danny had shown.
"Well…" She felt confused and a little embarrassed. It would be worth the embarrassment if she could bring him as much pleasure as she thought she could. "Well, he spends about 80 percent of his time shuffling around with a hard-on honey. He's frustrated as hell, and you know how unlikely we are to find anyone who'll let us breed him to their mare. He's just too damn little!"
Art nodded. "You can hardly call that a disease, though. What the hell could anyone do for him?"
She stared into space, pretending to be daydreaming. "I'm not sure. You remember telling me how wrong I was when I said you made love like an animal? You talked about Smokey then."
Art frowned, then looked up sharply. "About how Smokey would put it to a woman?"
"Yes."
"Hell, that was pure fiction. I wanted to shock you."
She smiled shyly. "I know. But I was just wondering. You suppose if he were coaxed right he might…?"
"Helen!" There was a note of wild, incredulous hope in her husband's voice. "Helen! You'd be willing to…? You'd try that?!"
"For you, honey. If you thought you'd find it exciting."
"Jesus Christ! Honey, when?"
"When would you like me to try?"
"Baby… Don't get mad, but how about now?"
She pretended to hesitate. "All right."
"You going to dress?"
"What for? So I can get undressed down there?"
"Oh, shit! Let's go!"
They ran, hand in hand, to the corral. Smokey was restless, and the moonlight shone on his great hard-on. Helen was totally confident the little ass had mounted Olga at least once during the evening. He was becoming accustomed to human mates; he ought to board her for Art without urging. She climbed over the fence, Art close behind.
"The table?" he asked.
"I don't think so." She pretended to be uncertain and doubtful. "Being his first time, shouldn't we make it as natural as possible for him?"
"Well, that would be better, of course."
"Maybe if I get in the right position and back under him he'll get the idea."
"Holy Jesus!" Art breathed hard. "You're right. You've got a hell of a lot more guts than I knew!"
Helen dropped to all fours, walking awkwardly on hands and feet, her legs widely spread. She sidled over the donkey, bending her knees just enough to maneuver her pussy against the point of Smokey's cock. The hard head danced over her pussy-lips and settled at the rim of her cunt, and she pushed back upon it. She saw Smokey heave his forefeet into the air and waited breathlessly until the ass planted them on her back. To her relief, he was perfectly gentle, the touch of his hooves incredibly light. But his hindquarters made up for that restraint. He hammered his huge cock home in her cunt with brutal blows, and she sagged with sick desire for his jism.
"Honey? Art!"
"What?"
"Reach under me, honey. Get hold of my breasts. Do you know how to milk?"
"Hell, yes! But…"
"Just get right in front of me. On your knees. Milk me, baby. Please! Milk my tits while Smokey fucks me."
"Oh, shit! What a fantastic broad! Okay!"
Art knelt before her. She gulped his cockhead into her mouth and sucked desperately while he milked her throbbing nipples and Smokey pumped his donkey-cock in her cunt. A wave of sheer bliss welled in her. There s times, she thought. There's times when everything's in the right place!