Background: During the late sixties and early seventies
I was Barbara’s lover. She was a beautiful and free
spirited woman some twenty five years older than I. A
small, red haired and voluptuous woman with large
breasts, a narrow waist with a slightly plump belly, a
well rounded backside and shapely legs, she turned
heads where ever she went and I loved her dearly.
There were women of her generation whose totally
uninhibited lust for life led to extreme unhappiness
because of the strict moral codes and strait laced
hypocrisy imposed on society by the British
establishment. She shared many secrets with me during
our time together and we remained friends and sometime
lovers until she died in 1986 following a brief
illness. She was just sixty two years old, but had
lived a full and varied life. One of the reasons we
drifted apart was because I joined the Navy.
During my time in the Navy we kept in touch through
letters…it is only now, some twenty odd years since
her death that I feel comfortable sharing some of the
letters she wrote to me. I will leave the reader to
judge whether it is fantasy or truth. For younger
readers, please bear in mind that we English of a
certain generation were taught to write letters both
formal, informal and personal. However, if a story is
to be included then detail is all important although
perhaps boring! This is how Barbara chose to write.
My Darling Rab,
For once I was not disappointed when the post arrived
this morning. It was wonderful to hear from you again
etc, etc. Darling in answer to your question, your
shipmates are right, there is a place in Tijuana Mexico
and I think the Place Pigalle in Paris (many years ago)
which used to put on shows involving animals.
Disgusting they may seem, but sex acts between humans
and animals have been recorded over centuries and, for
some people this is hugely erotic! Believe me darling,
the world is a somewhat bizarre place, but it is good
to know you’re still the same naiive young man I fell
in love with. To confirm these things do happen I will
let you into a secret.
Now what I am about to tell you is a recollection of an
experience I witnessed when I was a young woman in my
early thirties. The incident took place during a solo
walk in the Yorkshire Dales in 1956 not far from where
we spent our first night together so you will be able
to imagine the scene darling:-
It was a beautiful sunny morning when I left the Inn
and headed up the narrow lane towards the upper fells.
The landlord’s wife had packed into my small shoulder-
bag, some home made bread and cheese together with a
bottle of Dandelion & Burdock to enjoy as a picnic
lunch. I had been walking for about an hour, stopping
once or twice to look through my binoculars at anything
of interest, when the clouds started to gather.
The increasing humidity and distant rumble of thunder
signalled a summer shower within the next few minutes.
Dressed as I was in only a thin cotton dress and
walking shoes, I didn’t want to get soaking wet. There
was no shelter along the lane, but looking into a field
about 500 yards away there was one of those old stone
barns cut into the hillside.
Quickly I climbed the gate and ran down the steep
hillside and reached the door to the barn. It was
locked! The wind had increased and the first drops of
rain had started to fall outlining the brassiere and
knickers beneath my dress as I desperately looked
around. Then I noticed the stone steps leading up the
outside of the barn to another door. This door was
thankfully open and I managed to close it behind me as
the storm broke and the rains poured from the heavens.
I could hear one, perhaps more animals moving around in
the stalls below the loft, but never gave them a second
thought.
Feeling peckish, I set about making myself an
improvised table from one of the hay bales and ate my
lunch. The rain continued to hammer down so I moved a
couple of more bales together, scattered some loose hay
on top and made myself comfortable. The warmth of the
barn and the pattering of the rain became almost
hypnotic and soon I had drifted off to sleep.
The sound of voices and the main door being unlocked
woke me up and I rolled over towards the edge of the
loft and looked down on to the lower part of the barn.
Standing in the doorway was a wizened man of around
seventy years old and a younger woman perhaps in her
late forties. I could hear them talking in low voices
and I was about to call out to them, when I heard him
say “Are you sure you still want to do this, I ain’t
forcing you lass!”
“Course I’m sure you old fart,” she replied with a
smile. “You’ve been on at me for years to try it and as
you ain’t getting any younger I reckon now is as good a
time as any… an’ I’ve been thinking about it quite a
lot lately.”
Well my darling, I am as curious as the next woman and
decided to see what they were about to try, but I would
never have guessed at anything so wickedly repulsive
yet so sexually stimulating and exciting!!
Quietly I watched as the woman took her dress off. Her
husband (for I’m certain he was) had locked the door
again. Thankfully the sun had come out again and the
light was streaming in through the window slots
creating an almost theatre like lighting effect.
The man then dragged a vaulting horse (the type which
are common in gymnasiums) into the centre of the barn.
The “horse” had been modified with the wooden legs
having been shortened at the end which curves
downwards. This would suggest an element of expectation
and planning on his part. He then began to undress and
I have to admit that despite his age, and although he
wasn’t hard, he was very well endowed. His wife
strolled over to him and started to caress his penis.
She was dressed only in an open bottomed girdle, nylon
stockings and brassiere. Although carrying a little
extra weight, she was blessed with a figure not unlike
my own and had been very pretty when she was younger.
The woman took the head of her husband’s penis into her
mouth, but despite her best efforts his penis remained
limp.
“Come on lass, it ain’t doing any good, but at least we
can get you sorted,” the man said as he gently helped
his wife up and led her to the “horse”. Laying her face
down, he tenderly kissed her neck and gently stroked
the insides of her thighs. Her legs parted and I was
able to see the thick bushy hair below the girdle. The
sun caught a drop of moisture on the pink slit now
clearly visible through her bush.
Reaching over to his jacket pocket, the man took out a
sealed jar which contained a stained cotton pad. He
then smeared the area of his wifes slit with the pad
before replacing it in the jar. From the stalls beneath
me I heard the stamping and whinnying of a horse which
had been quiet until the cotton pad had been used. I
gently reached over for my binoculars and was rewarded
with an even clearer view.
Her husband then walked out of sight to the stalls and
returned leading not a horse, but a small pony. The
pony was not as small as a miniature, nor as large as a
Shetland, but was clearly sexually aroused with a black
shiny penis of about twelve inches long jutting out at
an angle from his belly. The man asked his wife once
again if she wanted it to happen. She looked back at
the pony and replied “he is little bigger than you, I
can manage him” and with that the impatient pony was
led to the waiting wife.
The pony sniffed at the slit of the woman and lifted
his head, curling back his lips as if tasting the
scent. Then suddenly the long black penis stiffened
even further as the pony mounted the “horse” thrusting
forwards. At first his penis slipped between the girdle
and the woman’s belly, but the man managed to pull the
pony back and, taking hold of the black rigid penis
managed to guide it to his wife’s moist slit. I watched
in fascination and not a little frustration as I saw
the pony thrust again, this time his penis slipping
easily in to her welcoming slit. She gasped as the pony
continued to thrust deep into her, her husband was
kneeling by her side whispering to her, “Is he hurting
you lass? Is he in too deeply?”
“No he’s fine, oh my he feels so hot! oh my god I never
dreamt it could be like this,” she sobbed followed by a
long drawn out moan. “Oh my he is filling me, he’s
coming! It feels so hot oh! Oh! Ooooh!”
By now darling I was using one hand to look through the
binoculars and the other had strayed beneath my
knickers. I could see the moment of climax as the slick
black penis shuddered whilst tight up inside the woman.
The pony’s semen was forced back through her channel
and literally flowed down her thighs, congealing on her
nylons and gathering in sticky, yellowy white pools on
the floor. The pony spasmed one last time and then
withdrew.
The head of the penis was still flared and the woman
was rewarded with one last jet of semen which sprayed
her bush as he dismounted. It’s black penis glistened
shiny and wet with his semen and the juices of the
man’s wife. Through the woman’s hairy bush I could see
her pink open labia, shiny with semen as the sticky
fluid still trickled over her clitoris before dripping
to the ground.
The woman began to raise herself from the “horse”, but
her husband had stepped in between her legs and I was
amazed to see he had managed a huge erection which was
pushed through the slimy mess of his wife’s bush as he
too thrust into her. He was rewarded with moans of
passion as his wife pushed back to meet his thrusts.
Finally the two of them rolled over and held each other
close. I don’t know what they were saying to each
other, but they were both very happy and contented.
Well my darling, the pony was led back to his stall,
the couple dressed and left the barn and I took a brisk
walk back to the Inn. Yes my darling, I found it all
very arousing and, following a hot bath was able to
satisfy myself as I always have done whenever I am
between lovers.
I learned from the landlord at the Inn (without giving
away details of what I had seen) that the couple were a
local farmer and wife. Everyone in the village had been
surprised she had spurned younger suitors to marry a
man some twenty odd years her senior. Well we know the
answer to that one don’t we?
I will close now my darling, I must confess I am
aroused just through writing to you about this
experience. I long for us to be together again etc.
etc…
Your very own,
Barbara
Barbara had been very aroused, but also touched by what
she had seen. She saw it as an example of the extent to
which people will go to ensure their partner’s
happiness. From time to time she actively sought out
like minded people including the farmer and his wife to
experience for herself in some cases, to observe in
others. I will in time tell her stories. They will be
told as she told them to me.