The Stallion by Georgina Brown Page A

him probe into her body. Auberon had definite tastes. If she was to get what she wanted, she had first to satisfy his own particular proclivities.
    She let his prick drop from her hands and, although she had expected her release of him to result in temporary disappointment, she certainly hadn’t expected tears.
    ‘Please . . .’ he pleaded, his voice little more than a whimper. ‘Please . . . anything you want you can do to me . . . anything at all.’
    Now what do I do? she asked herself, her mouth slightly open, and her eyes vaguely aware of figures moving in the gloom.
    Spontaneity was part of her character so it wasn’t too difficult to come up with something suitable.
    ‘Kiss me, and I will carry on. I will give you all that you desire better than you’ve ever been given it before.’
    Ecstasy as well as moonlight lit his face.
    Then he kissed her, his lips warm and soft against hers.
    But Penny was very aware that such tenderness would not be enough for him.
    ‘Dog!’ she exclaimed as she slapped his face. ‘I didn’t tell you to kiss me like that! You can’t kiss my lips. Not those anyway!’
    As he rubbed his face and stared at her wide eyed, she opened her legs and lifted her skirt. Then she peed, her golden rain hot and rising like an autumn mist from the soft straw.
    A whimper escaped Auberon’s throat. Even in nothing more than moonlight, she could see his eyes glittered and his cock had stiffened.
    ‘Take your clothes off first,’ she told him.
    He did. With fastidious precision he folded each item and laid it neatly to one side. She watched in silent fascination. How predictable he was; how moulded by his school-days.
    Flesh quivering with delight rather than repugnance, he knelt before her and steadied himself by putting his hands on her thighs.
    ‘Hands behind back!’ she growled.
    Like an exceptionally obedient dog, he obeyed.
    She opened her legs a little wider and edged closer to his face. To accommodate her, he tilted his head backwards. Before long, his ears were against her thighs. His head was trapped. The lips of her sex kissed his mouth.
    His tongue licked amongst the thick cluster of pubic hair before she opened herself for him with her own fingers. With undulating movements, she moved herself over him so she could take full advantage of his heat-seeking tongue, his chin and his nose.
    He sucked at her like a hungry baby, taking the last clinging drops of golden liquid into his mouth. Then his tongue worked its way over her, prising more juice from her, but this time less salty, more sticky and resulting from desire rather than relief.
    His tongue was now in her, hot, probing, like a small prick, yet more pliable.
    She moaned and, as she clamped his head tightly between her thighs so he could not possibly move, she let her skirt fall over him whilst she unbuttoned her bodice and let her breasts break free.
    Once they were unrestricted she rolled them in her hands, closed her eyes and felt as though she were the goddess Diana herself, bathed in moonlight and riding some creature of the night as she rocked back and forth over Auberon’s open mouth and willing tongue.
    Her eyes opened briefly to survey the darkness. She smiled at it. Then she took off her dress.
    The moonlight streamed through the window and added an iridescent richness to the colour of her hair and an incandescent brightness to the creamy gleam of her skin.
    She was a performer and she loved the part she was playing. The figures in the darkness were of no account; they were just spectators in the auditorium enjoying the show. But, like all plays, there is a first act, then there are the second, third and fourth . . .
    A pool of erotic energy was building up around her pussy and eddying with waves of rising desire to lap against her swollen clit. Despite Auberon’s best efforts, he could not make her come.
    Now, she decided, is the time for the next act.
    ‘Enough!’ she shouted, and pushed his head away.
    She