This is an A.I.R./LITEROTICA Summer Lovin Contest Entry. I'd truly appreciate it if you took the time to vote once you've read it.

This story, while not completely true, is based on a story a onetime girlfriend of mine once told me about summers she'd spent on her grandfather's farm during her teenage years.

WARNING: This story is an Incest Category story that involves both consensual and nonconsensual sex between relatives who are all over 18 years of age. While descriptions of farm animals mating acts are described in the story there are no scenes involving human/animal sex. Those looking for bestiality must go elsewhere.

It's approximately 4 and a half LITEROTICA pages long. I hope you enjoy the story.

PROLOGUE: Long Island, New York, Late March 2011

"Young lady, you are spending the summer with your grandfather and I don't want to hear another word about it."

"He lives on a farm!" I squeal back.

"Not one more word," my mom threatens. Her eyes are flashing.

"He doesn't even have internet service!"

"Your grandfather needs you," mom answers.

"Dad?" I whine as I look over at my father at the other end of the table.

"Maybe we should discuss this later, let cooler heads prevail," dad says tentatively. I can see he has no stomach for getting involved.

"Daaaaaaaad!"

"Maybe you could go for just July and not both months," he finally offers. But he doesn't meet mom's eyes when he says it.

"Jules, your daughter Amanda will be spending the summer at Pregnant Pond Farm and that's all there is to it."

"What kind of stupid name is that for a farm anyway?" I shout. "He should be in an old folk's home, not pretending he's some kind of stupid cowboy."

"Leave the table this instant," mom orders.

My little brother Jack snickers. I quickly give him a dirty look before I turn back to mom. "It's true."

"You're a spoiled brat."

"Honey, can't we--" dad starts.

"Shut up Jules." My mother is not happy. The hell with her!

"I'll run away from home first," I yell as I slap down my knife and fork on the table and jump to my feet. A second later I'm out of the room.

****

My mother didn't say another word to me for the following two days -- not one word until my Spring Break visit home was over. Dad tried to broker a deal but mom had been adamant. Apologize or else he finally advised me. Noooo effing waaaay!

Two days after our spat I was on my way back to my school. Nestled in the New Hampshire foothills, and one of the few remaining female-only ones, it is regarded as one of America's finest private schools.

My cell phone was turned off Monday morning on my first day back at school. Thinking it was a simple mistake I borrowed a friend's and called the cell provider. "Your service has been cancelled by the account holder," I was finally told after a half hour of being transferred from department to department. My mother was the account holder!

Tuesday I was advised by the school commissary that my account had been used up and would have to be topped up again before I'd be able to make any more purchases. Investigation quickly revealed that the money transfer that usually came on the first of the month hadn't arrived.

On Wednesday I received a whacking big envelope. It contained a packet of papers.

Mom's accompanying impersonal note read: Amanda, perhaps you didn't realize it but the person who was planning on financing your $55,000+ per year first choice of University was your grandfather. Hearing that you'll be unable to visit him this summer he's advised me to tell you that you'll have to find alternative financing. Find enclosed application forms for a variety of scholarships you might potentially have a chance of winning as well as application forms for less expensive colleges. Love Mom.

"I'm going to Dartmouth," I almost screamed down the line when my mother finally picked up.

"Oh that's just wonderful dear. Daddy and I will be so proud of you ... especially given your decision to do it on your own."

"You're rich!" Even as I tried to be firm and no nonsense I could hear the panic that I couldn't seem to keep out of my voice. What if she wasn't bluffing?

"Your grandfather has agreed to pay the balance of your fees for this school year. Which I believe was very nice of him given the way you're treating him."

"I hate you!"

"Have a wonderful day dear," mom answered.

"Where's daddy?" In answer my mother hung up.

In the end I capitulated. What other choice did I have? Daddy had been kind and loving and reassuring when I'd talked to him but it slowly became clear that he wasn't going to cross mom on this one. He even confirmed that grandpa had been paying for my private schooling. 'For both you and your cousins,' he'd assured me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

Summer Holidays: June 26th 2011

"It's just not fair," I complained as I watched the miles roll by. Mom, her eyes on the road, simply ignored me. She'd been doing that ever since we'd left home four hours earlier.

"It's the middle of nowhere." Silence greeted my words.

"What if I have an accident or get sick. There's no medical care for miles." Mom continued to ignore me. She'd been ignoring those same complaints for the last three months. There was even a happy little grin on her lips.

"Bitch," I muttered angrily almost under my breath.

"You're going to thank me some day," Mom announced when we finally got to the Interstate exit that would lead us deep into the back woods of Pennsylvania and eventually to grandpa's farm.

"I'll never forgive you," I promised back.

"Fresh air, healthy food, learning about nature, walks in the woods, a skinny dip in the pond late at night, a fire roaring in the fireplace when the weather cools ...." Mom was clearly living in some long ago world as she waxed nostalgic.

"No TV, no internet, no kids my age, no concerts, no mall, no twenty-first century," I shot back.

'It's one of the most beautiful places in the world."

"Fifth Avenue is beautiful mother. As is the Guggenheim and Central Park. A farm out in the back woods of Pennsylvania is not beautiful."

"Your grandfather can teach you so much honey."

"Like what? How to milk a cow? Or how to cut off some poor little chickens head?"

"There's not one girl your age who wouldn't love spending their summer around horses."

"I won't be riding them mother! I'll probably end up shoveling horse shit."

"Amanda!"

"It's true."

"You're going to learn all about thoroughbred horse breeding. Your grandfather told me that some of the best mares in the country have booked every opening in his stallion's schedule this year."

"So I'm going to spend my whole summer watching some big stallion jumping on some poor little mares? And how will that help me become a lawyer some day?"

Truth be told, even though I'd never have admitted it to mom, the whole breeding part of the farm did intrigue me. I'd never seen horses doing it although my curiosity had led me to doing a little investigating on the internet. Horses, I'd found out, had very, very large penises.

My grandfather had lived on Pregnant Pond Farm all his life. As had his father and grandfather and great grandfather before him. Mind you that's not what they called it when he was born. That's not to say that granddad was a total hick. He had gone to university, albeit an agricultural college. Then, once he'd returned to the farm with his new bride (he'd snagged a debutante from Philadelphia somehow) he'd set about transforming the family farm.

Oh he didn't do it right away. His father was still alive in those days and so for many years it remained the same old, general purpose farm it had been for the preceding hundred and fifty years. A bit of everything -- pigs, a small herd of milking cows, an apple orchard, some corn, chickens, and whatever else they grow on farms in Pennsylvania.

But in the years that my mom and aunt were growing up grandpa was working on his dream -- thoroughbred horse breeding. Learning about it. Studying the science of it. Two events that fell like a hammer on my granddad's head -- first, the death of his father, and the second, which occurred just weeks later, the death of his wife in a horrific farm accident -- were the catalysts of his final move into full time breeding.

And that's what he'd been doing ever since. For some twenty-five years. Successfully. He'd lucked out with the first stallion he'd bought and had never looked back. He'd been raking in the big bucks for over ten years by the time I pulled up to his doorstep with mom that summer day. Mind you I didn't know then just how big.

****

Before arriving that day I hadn't seen him for almost eighteen months, not since two Christmases ago. But there was no mistaking him when we finally got there. There was just something unmistakable about him. A ruggedness, a maleness that you didn't often encounter in New York City.

"Who's that," I muttered as mom turned the car and we started up the last fifty yards of muddy track that led to grandpa's front door.

"Don't you even recognize your granddad?"

"Of course I do. I meant the girl he's got his arm around."

"That's Jennifer. The neighbor girl I told you about. The girl you're replacing for the summer."

"Why does he have his arm around her?" And he did! And he not only had his arm around her. She was nestled against him. Nestled in a way only a girlfriend would be.

"I think maybe they were in a bit of a relationship," mom answered.

"WHAAAAAAAT!" I screeched as mom slowly brought the car to a halt twenty-five feet from where grandpa and his young, blond bimbo were standing arm in arm.

"He's sleeping with her?" Mom didn't say a word. "Mom, she's like my age." Still nothing from mom. "But he's in his sixties." Mom opened the door without answering and seconds later she was engulfed in her father's arms.

Grandpa's sleeping with a teenager? What a cow I mumbled to myself as I stumbled from the car.

"Well lookee here, our little Mandy's all growed up," my grandfather finally said after he'd broken away from mom.

"Ha, ha," I grumbled, trying not to let him see how much just the sound of his voice affected me.

"C'mon over here, give your old grandpa a big hug," he invited. I was soon engulfed in his arms. They weren't boy's arms. Instead he had the strong arms and hands of a man who'd done physical work every single day of his life. Suddenly, as he held me, memories of how these same strong arms had protected and comforted me when I'd been a young girl coursed through my brain. Sitting protected in his lap while he read me an after dinner story. I suddenly remembered that in those days I'd loved the farm.

"She's even grown some breasts," grandpa said to mom as he released me. Blushing, I gave mom the evil eye.

Jennifer

I was introduced to Jennifer. The blond bimbo. A bimbo with farmer's girl breasts. And then, after a few more minutes of conversation, we two teenagers were dismissed. "Your mom and I got some stuff to talk about. Jenn hon, you take Mandy into the house and get her settled."

As it turned it was darn hard for me to stay mad at Jennifer. She was nice and tried hard. I wanted to ask her about her and granddad but I just couldn't. I mean what do you say -- hey Jenn, how come a twenty year old like you is fucking my granddad?

It was just a simple farmhouse. Solidly built but there was nothing special about it. There was no TV. No Internet. Grandpa was rich but he'd always had simple tastes. "You can go into town, there's Internet everywhere with the college being there and all," Jenn told me with a smile when I queried her about it. Except town was ten miles away and I had no car.

Mom only stayed a couple of hours -- a long, private conversation with granddad followed by a late lunch -- before she left in mid afternoon. She told me she loved me as she got into her car. In return I promised I'd never forgive her.

I was given a one day reprieve that first day. All I was asked to do was help Jennifer prepare dinner. But she ended up doing all the work as I spectated. What did I know about cooking? Well, as it turned out, I had five days to learn. That was when girlfriend Jenn was leaving. She was going to a cooking school in Miami of all places. A school I found out later that granddad was footing the bill for.

Can you believe it? He'd threatened to cut my schooling off, his own granddaughters, even as he'd offered to pay school fees and living expenses on Miami Beach for Miss Horse Farm!

I met the three other Pregnant Pond regulars at dinner that night. Grandpa ran a tight ship -- there was no idle labor on his farm! First, Felipe and Angel, the teenage stable boys. Young Latinos who I learned later weren't actually legally residing in the good old U.S. of A. The third member of the team was Gretchen, a tough looking, wiry, taciturn, twenty-something year old, ex-jockey from Texas.

Everyone, including gramps, just dug in the second the heaping platters of potatoes and ribs and bread and corn were placed on the table. And no one said a word until every last crumb of food was gone. It was food first and talk later with this crew.

"So, can ya cook?" Gretchen asked me in a hard southern drawl as she waited for Jenn to reappear with the apple pies she'd baked that afternoon while I'd taken notes. I shook my head no.

"That's great," she grumbled as she gave me a dirty look. Those were the last words she said that night. To any of us. I guessed immediately that I wouldn't be conducting any conversations about the state of modern art with her that summer.

The Mexicans didn't seem too concerned about my lack of cooking skills. Mind you I wasn't sure if they understood English. The only words they'd spoken during the entire meal had been to each other and in Spanish. And although I'd studied Spanish for four years in high school I hadn't understood one word they'd said. Clearly they weren't speaking the Castilian Spanish I'd studied!

I helped Jenn clean up in the kitchen. How could so many pots and pans and plates and cutlery be used for one meal I wondered as I sweated over the steaming water in the sink.

****

"I'll wake you at five thirty," Jennifer said as she helped me make up my bed. It was nine forty-five and grandpa had just suggested it was time for all of us to turn in. Nine forty-five?

I went to bed feeling sorry for myself, then I tossed and turned from ten til eleven. Heck I hadn't gone to bed that early in years. So, when the noise started I was still awake. Jennifer was very, very noisy when she was having sex. Even if the man poking her was over sixty years old.

It was sorta disgusting. But exciting too... But what the heck was he doing to her I wondered. She actually screamed at what I guessed was the ultimate moment. A scream of unmistakable pleasure. I hadn't realized that men as old as gramps were even able to get erections. And here he had this twenty-year old rocking the farmhouse with her screams.

****

"Mandy! Mandy!" I awoke the next morning to somebody shaking me.

What the fuck? "What?" I groaned.

"It's time to get up," Jennifer said.

"What time is it?"

"C'mon Mandy there's no time to lose," Jenn insisted as she pulled my sheet and blanket down. Then she started to giggle. I watched her eyes. Was this farmer's daughter laughing at my clothes?

"What?" I grumbled.

"Nothing," she answered but couldn't keep the grin off her face.

"It's a satin baby doll. With French lace trim," I said about the deep scarlet, black laced, clinging garment I was wearing. "They're available in the more fashionable stores -- perhaps they haven't reached rural Pennsylvania yet," I added sarcastically.

"Wait til I tell describe them to your granddaddy," she said, then, with a wide smile on her face, turned and left the room. Bitch! She's laughing at my clothes? While she's letting some old coot stick his penis in her...

****

"Breakfast has to be ready in twenty-five minutes," I was told when I finally staggered into the kitchen five minutes later. I hadn't even had time to comb my hair. Jenn was standing at the opened back door with a towel over her arm and looking like she was ready to flee.

"Then where are you going?" I asked.

"Your granddad and I have a quick swim together every morning," she said back over her shoulder as she slipped out the kitchen door. "Get the coffee and porridge started". I simply watched dumbfounded as she walked towards the pond. Porridge?

"No time for lollygagging young lady," suddenly boomed out behind me. I almost jumped out of my shoes! Granddad. With only a towel around his waist. Before I could say a word he too had disappeared out the back door.

When I peered out after him I saw Jenn. She was down by the pond. She was naked! She really did have big breasts! A second later granddad, now about thirty feet from the kitchen door, allowed his towel to fall. He too was naked!

Five minutes later they climbed out of the water. They'd just finished swimming across the pond and back. I of course had been watching them almost continuously since they'd jumped in. Grandpa did nothing to hide his penis as he walked up the bank to where he'd left his towel. I'd never really seen one that way. Just bouncing up and down as he walked. Even with my inexperience, and even though his penis wasn't erect, I knew it was a big one. What kind of pervert was my grandfather I wondered as I stirred the porridge. It smelled awful.

"Who burned the porridge?" Gretchen asked twenty minutes later after she'd taken just one mouthful. Fuck her I thought.

I cut off my first chickens head that day. Of course that was after I'd helped with the breakfast, cleaned up afterwards and been given a tour of the property.

And after Jenn had shown me, and explained exactly which plant was which, the vegetable garden. She'd also shown me the apple trees and the raspberry patch. How to collect eggs. We'd cooked lunch. Then I'd chopped off the poor chickens head. I got blood on my three hundred dollar designer jeans. When I complained about it Jenn told me she'd lend me a pair of her overalls.

"From Walmart?" I asked sarcastically as I looked dismissively at the overalls she was wearing.

She just laughed. And, due to her big breasts, she didn't look that bad in her Walmart special. She certainly pushed the bib out. Grandpa must really like big tits I figured as I trudged back towards the house with the headless chicken in my hand.

I knew that some men liked women with big tits. Mainly unsophisticated hicks I mused to myself.

My First Stallion

I didn't get near the breeding barn during my first five days at Pregnant Pond Farm. I didn't have time. The first night I'd spent at the farm I couldn't believe how early everyone had gone to sleep. I'd tossed and turned for hours. By the third day I was tumbling into my bed exhausted almost as soon as I'd finished up cleaning up after dinner. You work hard on a farm!

Jenn turned out to be a good teacher. She loved cooking and it showed. And somehow, with her enthusiasm and general good nature, she awakened in me some hitherto unknown interest and maybe even some talent for cooking. It turned out to be sorta fun learning how to bake a pie.

Jenn was just one of those nice people whom it's impossible to dislike. And she had a simple view of life that I'd never encountered before. When she finally left five days after I'd arrived I knew I'd miss her. Who else was I going to be able to talk to? Grandpa had pretty much ignored me while Jenn had still been there. The morning after she'd left, once he'd finished eating his breakfast, grandpa invited me down for a tour of the barns and animals.

"Time you found out what the hell we do out here in the country that allows you to live like a queen in the big city," he said as he led me out the kitchen door.
Queen! Country humor. Ha! Ha!

****

Grandpa had two stallions on the farm that summer. As well as six or seven young colts.

The big stallion was called Sir_Scouries. Sired by War Horse, his dam Miss Gabby was by famed stakes winner Whirlaway. That's how these horse breeder people describe their horses. They give you the whole family history of the horse.

He was 17+ hands tall. Which is tall for a horse. 'Hands' is another horse breeder term. So many inches or feet tall is too complicated for them!

While Sir_Scouries had only had a so-so racing career (he'd had a win in the Florida Derby and two top threes in the Triple Crown) he'd proven himself in the breeding farm and was now regarded throughout the industry as one of the most important sires in the country. His children could flat out run. Every breeder in the country now wanted to have their best mares covered by him. 'Covered' is another horse breeder term -- farmers apparently don't like the word fuck. And horses don't 'make love'. They cover each other. But as I found out that afternoon a more accurate word for what they did would be 'rape'.

I met the stallion for the first time as gramps escorted me around the breeding barn. Even to me, a complete novice, Sir_Scouries looked impressive. He seemed huge. He definitely wasn't a the sort of horse a girl would mount and go for a trot in Central Park on. He was to cover a quite famous stakes winning filly from California that day and the farm had been buzzing with excitement from the second I'd served the regulars their breakfast. I learned a lot that day.

It sounds easy. You take a stallion and get him to mount a mare and bingo it's done. Except we're dealing with a twelve hundred pound wild animal here. Who's pretty darn excited. I thought he was going to kill Felipe or Angel before they got him into position.

Stamping his feet. Snorting and rearing up. Trying to get his teeth into one of the boys. Straining against the ropes that held him. There was absolutely no doubt about what he wanted. You just had to look what was sticking out of his stomach. Talk about a penis! And there was no question about whether he was going to get the mare or not. The poor filly didn't stand a chance.

I'd have thought that for these people who did this sort of thing all the time that it would just be routine for them. But let me tell you, every single person in the yard that day, and that included our five and the trainer of the mare to be covered and the mares groom, as well as a Jockey Club representative, were keyed up. More than keyed up.

You couldn't miss it. You could have cut the sexual anticipation in the air with a knife.

And when Sir_Scouries mounted the wildly neighing mare and drove his massive cock deep into her you could feel the sexual hunger of every male human in the yard. By the time the stallion was finished I was standing on shaky, trembling legs. My panties were soaking. And I'd been more than thirty feet away from the horses the whole time.

Felipe had an erection as he led the mare away -- it was unmistakable through his jeans. So did the guy from the Jockey Club. And they looked at me. All the men did. And I knew exactly what they were thinking. If gramps hadn't been there I'm not sure I wouldn't have ended up on my back in the dust of the barnyard, used in turns by all of them. It was the first time I'd ever thought of men as animals. It was the first time I felt the fear of rape.

Women's Liberation? None of these guys had ever heard the words. Political correctness? These guys hadn't progressed much past barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen!

****

"So?" grandpa asked. I'd just finished cleaning up from dinner and had joined him on the porch. He had a bottle of beer in his hand.

"So what?" I asked as I settled myself down next to him on the porch swing.

"C'mon, how'd you like it little girl?" he cajoled as he put his free arm around me.

Little girl? I knew what he was talking about but took my time answering. Then I finally said, "Its rape. He just raped her." I said it with disdain. With anger. And he had! Nothing short of shooting him would have stopped that stallion that day. Beforehand I'd somehow conceived of them doing it a much more gentle way. Sir_Scouries had not turned out to be my friend Flicka!

"What did you expect? They're animals. That's how they do it."

"Still," I answered. Hours later I still hadn't been able to get the vision of the terrified mare out of my brain. Or of the horse cock as it's pistoned inside the poor female.

"You felt the tension, the excitement though, didn't you?" he asked.

Of course I had! Who wouldn't have? "Felt what?" Granddad laughed. I changed tack. "But you've done it so often ... it should be old-hat to you and the-"

"It never gets old honey," he said interrupting me.

"It made me feel ... it was scary... it--"

Grandpa knew how it had made me feel. I wanted to ask him what it felt like for a man to watch something like that but I was too shy. I was also afraid of what he might say. But what he did say was still ominous, "Sometimes a girl better be scared honey. And it doesn't matter a whit whether she's here or at that fancy university you're going to."

"It's Dartmouth grandpa! It's in the Ivy League! They don't let men with ideas like that in." Grandpa just shook his head as though I was clueless. What did he know about higher education I asked myself? He was a hick.

Grandpa changed the subject and then spent the next half hour explaining to me the ins and outs of thoroughbred horse breeding. He did it quietly but with an assurance that came with having done it for over twenty years. He might not know screw all about the modern world but it was pretty clear to me as I listened to him that he knew a heck of a lot about horses.

Do you know that a human male's volume of sperm per ejaculate ranges from 2 to 5 milliliters? Or that a horse's is anything from 25 to 150 milliliters generally? So an average horse shoots out about thirty times as much sperm as a typical guy! And then grandpa added that Sir_Scouries was not your typical stallion -- he on average ejaculated about 195 mililiters! That's equivalent to fifty guys! In one shot. That's the type of stuff grandpa told me that evening. Yucky. But interesting all the same. It certainly wasn't something I'd have learned at Dartmouth. Heck, I'd been only ten days at the farm and I'd already cut off a poor chickens head, learned to cook porridge and was an expert on horse sperm!

"How come you don't artificially inseminate the mares?" I finally asked. "Send out his stuff all over the country. Couldn't you make more money that way? And the mares wouldn't be raped."

"Live cover," he answered. And then went on to explain that it had to be done the old fashioned way. And the 'live cover' had to be witnessed by some Jockey Club official if you wanted the resulting colt to be registered. And it couldn't race if it wasn't registered.

He also told me something I didn't believe at first. Do you know that just about every single thoroughbred horse in the world, and there are millions of them, is a descendant of one of only three stallions? Stallions that lived just 300 years ago! Three stallions and about fifty mares are the ancestors of every racing thoroughbred from England to Australia.

It made no sense to me. "But that would make them all cousins," I finally protested.

"Yup, and not simple cousins, these horses are all tied together six, seven or eight different ways," grandpa confirmed.

"Isn't that incest? And what about inbreeding?"

"Listen honey, horses cover whoever their owner wants them to. They aren't picky," gramps said. "The stallion doesn't care if it's his cousin ...or his sister ... or if it's his mother. And all the mare's owner cares about is whether the resulting colt can run or not."

"That's gross."

And then he explained to me how breeders have to balance the dangers of inbreeding against the benefits. Of how the genetic pool for thoroughbreds is a dangerously shrinking concern to everyone in the business.

"Benefits? What benefits?" I asked. Everything I'd ever heard about incest had been bad. "There must be all sorts of chances of genetic defects."

It was simple to the Horse Breeding Industry apparently. The ones that don't work just get thrown away. A genetic defect that leads to brittle bones also leads to the glue factory. "But when it works Amanda you get a Secretariat ... or a Seattle Slew. They can run like the wind," grandpa enthused with something like awe in his voice. "They fly..."

I wasn't totally convinced.

Later he explained the economics of the whole enterprise. My eyes and mouth flew open in surprise when he told me what Sir_Scouries had earned him that afternoon. One hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars was his stud fee! For raping a poor mare. Grandpa explained that he had booked thirty mares for his big stallion that year. I did the math as he continued to talk. Thirty times one twenty-five equals almost four million bucks! He'd also booked another twenty mares for his less well known, and less expensive (forty g's a pop), second stallion.

And he'd been threatening to cut me off? My whole first year at Dartmouth would cost him less than half of one of Sir_Scouries afternoon dalliances.

"But they only pay because they have that dream honey," grandpa continued. "Every horse owner in the country wants to stand in the winner's circle at Churchill Downs on the first Saturday in May. It's their holy grail. And that's what's going to pay for your four years at Dartmouth," he added.

The numbers also meant that I'd be watching a lot of replays of what I'd seen that afternoon. And deep inside I knew I didn't want to miss one of them. I don't think I'd ever been as excited, as alive, as I had been that afternoon. That is until grandpa gave me a parting shot as we got ready to turn in for the night.

"Next time we'll give you a little more exciting job," he promised as he stood up and stretched. There was a glint in his eyes. An evil glint? Every single thing I'd seen that afternoon had been exciting. And I'd been more than happy to have been watching it from some thirty feet away. There was no way I wanted to get any closer to that horse when he was in that mood!

"What job?" I asked to his back. He'd already stepped through the front door and was moving towards his room.

"Somebody's got to do it," he answered as he disappeared through his bedroom door.

He didn't tell me what it was that night. And I didn't sleep that well that night either. My dreams, night -- mares really, were full of two foot long horse penises spurting gallons of cum. Covering me from head to toe. How gross was that!

Mind you at breakfast the next day, in what I now know was a planned joke the others were all in on, he did announce that I'd volunteered for that most important of tasks. All of them were smiling and when I couldn't take it any longer I finally asked, "So what's the job?"

The penises of breeding stallions have to be regularly washed I learned that morning. And so, as I tried to eat my breakfast, Gretchen, Felipe, Angel and grandpa told me in excruciating detail the ins and outs of penis cleaning. They all thought they were funny. Make fun of the dumb city girl. I'd show them! They hadn't yet realized they were dealing with an Ivy Leaguer...

Cats Fuck Too!

Do you know anything about cats? I thought I did. I thought that I was quite well informed about 'Felis catus' and its behaviour. I mean we had two of them around our house when I'd been growing up. They were soft, purring friends that loved to curl up in my lap.

However the cats around the farm were different. They had claws. Which they liked to use. Which I'd found out my second day at the farm when I reached out my hand to pet one of them. I was scratched and bloodied.

"What were you thinking?" a stunned Jenn asked after the echoes of my scream had died down.

Grandpa had laughed when Jenn told him the story at dinner that night. "City girl," he said dismissively.

Like how was I supposed to know that farm cats were vicious killers? Oh I learned about them over the following weeks. I found out that they not only stalked and killed mice and birds but they actually ate them raw. No Puss'n'Boots out of the can for these killers. But it wasn't until two nights after grandpa had told me all about horse breeding that I found out about the sex lives of cats. It was worse than the horses! A male cat will fuck anything!

****

"Oh my gawd ... he'll kill her," I screeched as I watched the big tom jump on the female cat that had been cowering in terror just seconds earlier. Or I thought it was terror.

"They're just doing what comes naturally," my clearly insensitive grandfather answered with a chuckle. We were back on the porch. He had his nightly bottle of beer in his hand. I had one in mine hand too. I'd been surprised when he'd offered it to me and I didn't really like beer but there had been no way I'd have refused it when he offered me one. Then, as I took a sip while watching the cats, he really got my attention. "You thought the horses were bad didn't you? Well, she's his mother," granddad said pointing at the two cats in front of us. I watched with my mouth open as 'tom' mounted the other one and started to fuck her. Mom, who looked very unhappy, was screeching as her son started to pound his cat cock deep inside her.

I watched in horror until they finished. When her son pulled out of her she uttered a loud yowl. It echoed eerily around the farm. There was absolutely no doubt she was in pain. Had he bitten her? "What did he do?" I asked gramps.

"Cats have barbs on their penises. When they pull out the spines rake up the walls of the females vagina," he answered nonchalantly.

Huh! Barbs? Rake? Was grandpa bullshitting me?

"It's true," he added when he saw the disbelief in my face. "The raking triggers the female's ovulation." I carefully watched his eyes as he talked; I still wasn't sure if he was giving me the straight goods or if this was another 'farmer tricks the city girl' story. I wished I had internet service -- there was no way he could fool me if I had access to the web. It was only days later when I finally had gotten online that I discovered that it was true. Male cats did have barbs on their cat cocks!

But what about the 'she's his mother' story? That had to be a lie.

"She can't be his mother," I said as 'tom' pranced away. Granddad nodded yes.

"But that's really incest!"

"She's already had two of his litters." My jaw dropped even lower. "One of his daughters by his mother has also had one of his litters."

Cats, grandpa explained, were territorial. And the strongest male in the territory controlled every female in his territory. And fucked them. Whenever and wherever he could. And fought and killed any other male who tried to take one of his females. There was unrelenting warfare in the farm cat world.

"Of course eventually one of his sons will kill him and take over." Those were the words grandpa concluded his story of the cats with.

That night I had another nightmare. Or a cat-mare! In the dream my daddy came into my bedroom. He was naked. His penis was out. There were barbed hooks sticking out of it. He climbed up onto my bed.

He was going to ... but then another cat-man came into the room. He was bigger than daddy. His cat-cock was bigger than daddy's. He attacked daddy! And after he chased my daddy away, he turned towards me. He had part of one of daddy's ears in his mouth. Blood was dripping from it. But that's not what really scared me. What scared me was the look in the winning cat's eyes. And who the winning cat was. I screamed in my sleep as granddaddy jumped on top of me.

I woke up drenched in sweat. I was alone. It took minutes before my breathing returned to normal. And when it finally did a sudden realization hit me -- I suddenly knew that before the summer was over that my grandfather was going to fuck me!

And there was nothing I would be able to do to stop him. He was as bad as Sir_Scouries or the male cat.

Town

I washed Sir_Scouries penis for the first time that Friday. I did it in the morning, his quiet time supposedly, preparing him for his afternoon performance scheduled with a dam from Kentucky. A southern belle. It was explained to me by my smirking Mexican compadres that there was nothing to it. That Sir_Scouries was used to the procedure and would be as gentle as a lamb. Then Gretchen, watching from ten feet away, said, "Probably. But if he starts to buck or kick..."

"Maybe city girl not good to--" Felipe said with a smirk to his friend.

I was scared shitless. I mean it. I was trembling all over but I was not going to take any bull from those three. Besides, granddad was hovering in the distance. I knew they were all teasing me. I hoped they were anyway.

It is the most disgusting job in the world! You actually have to stick your hand, your latex glove covered hand, up inside the sheath of the horse. And pull out any gunk you find. And even a well cared for horse like granddad's prize stallion, had all sorts of smelly gunk inside its sheath and on its penis.

I was sorta proud when I'd finally finished. Disgusted but proud. At least the stupid horse hadn't gotten an erection while I was doing my work.

When we finished that afternoon, after Sir_Scouries had raped, spermed and hopefully impregnated another poor mare, grandpa took us all to town. D and D he called it. Dinner and Dancing. On him. Cause we`d all worked so hard. When I saw Felipe, Angel and Gretchen shuffle up to the house at about five I almost didn`t recognize them. They were spiffy. All dressed to the nines in their best cowboy and cowgirl gear. It looked like we were going to a rodeo.

I skyped mom from the first computer cafe I found. My first words, angry complaining words, were, "Grandpa made me wash a horse`s penis today."`

Mom smiled back. "`That`s wonderful dear ... daddy trusting you with such an important job so soon."

I knew mom was playing me, knew she was enjoying my complaints but I couldn't stop. So I gave her five minutes straight of unending abuse. She never stopped smiling brightly. I told her I'd never forgive her. Her last words to me when I'd finished my tirade were, "It sounds like you're having a wonderful time honey. And how's your grandfather?"

"I hate you," I mumbled as I clicked shut the call. Five minutes later I was sitting at a restaurant table with two Mexicans, a normally grumpy Texan and granddad. They were happy! And as I sat down I realized I was too!

Felipe and Angel did not return to the farm with us that night. After finishing our dinner all of us had headed over to the strip of bars that sat on the main street between the college campus and the town. We'd lost them sometime between the first bar we visited and the second. "They'll be back by Sunday night," granddad promised when I asked about them.

"They'll find some girls ... they work hard you know Mandy ... they need some time off."

"What girls? From the college? Why would college girls go with them?" I asked. But I sorta knew. Felipe and Angel had looked good that night -- all smiles as they'd danced in their best cowboy duds. They'd just looked like fun.

Gretchen left with two cowboy/farmer types she met in the second bar. She apparently would also be back by Sunday night. Gramps explained it was sorta a ritual with them -- every couple of weeks the stallions schedule allowed them two or three days off in a row. That was then they partied.

As grandpa drove me home that night I couldn't help wondering if he too wouldn't have found a partner if I hadn't been there. I needn't have worried...
****

I still woke up early the next morning. Even though we hadn't got home til after midnight and I'd been a little tipsy. My first chance to sleep-in in over two weeks and I still woke up just after six. I'd gotten so used to getting up at 5:30 that I even panicked when I saw the big, illuminated 6:04 on my digital clock. I'd jumped out of bed and pulled my shorts on before I remembered that I didn't have to make breakfast for anyone that day. I did try to get back to sleep as soon as I remembered but it was too late -- I tossed and turned for a half an hour before I gave up. By six forty-five I was sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee.

"So what's my big city girl doing up so early on her holiday," suddenly sounded in my ear. Grandpa! Somehow he was always able to surprise me with his comings and goings even though he was six-three and weighed over two hundred pounds.

Grandfather was wearing his morning attire -- a towel. And nothing else. I'd sorta got used to his arriving in the kitchen every morning dressed only in a towel. And, after two weeks at the farm, I'd studied just about every inch of his body as he'd entered and left the pond. Granddad was not shy! And his body, even if over sixty years old, still had a hell of a lot going for it!

"So, are you going to join me one of these days?" he asked as he stood over me.

"Swimming?' I asked back as he leaned over and picked up my coffee cup and took a long sip. "With you? Now?" I added as I wondered if I should.

"C'mon," he encouraged, gave my hair a friendly ruffle, and then headed towards the door.

I followed slowly, tentatively, trailing ten feet behind him as he walked down to the pond. He dropped his towel and walked a couple of feet into the water, then turned and asked, "Coming?"

"Naked?" I asked back timidly.

He guffawed. I mean it, it was a real farm guffaw. Then he said, "Any way you want," then turned and dove in.

I slipped my sandals off. Then quickly lifted my tank top over my head and slipped my shorts down my legs. Down to my bra and panties I looked up as I wondered if I should swim in my underwear. Gramps, standing in water that just failed to cover his penis, was grinning at me twenty feet away.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't think I've seen as pretty underwear as that on a filly in all my life," gramps said.

Well no wonder! I certainly hadn't noticed in my time in rural America that farm country was a hotbed of female fashion. Or even "filly" fashion for that matter. And the ensemble I had on that morning was one of my finest. And I'm a New York girl. Look, I like nice underwear. There's no crime in that. And as I contemplated the cheeky, faux tiger skin, satin panties with black lace trim and the matching bra I realized there was no way I was going to dive into the muddy, weedy pond with them on. The set had cost over a hundred and twenty dollars!

I looked at gramps as I unhooked the bra. I was growing a blush even as I felt my nipples harden. His eyes never left my body. As I slipped my panties down my legs I was glad I'd let my pubic hair grow back. Just a month earlier I'd been as bare as a bowling ball down there. Now at least I did have a short, neat triangle of hair to help protect my modesty. I ran down into the water.

I'd never swum naked before. And certainly I'd never wandered around nude in front of a man. So afterwards I couldn't have told you if I liked the experience of water flowing over my nude body or not, I'd been far too nervous. It was okay when I was still in the water, it was only when we finally were finished and it was time to get out that I got excited again.

Grandpa, out of the water a minute ahead of me, offered me his towel when I got out. Which left him naked. And apparently in no hurry to cover himself up. I checked out his penis. No barbs!

I knew, as we walked back up towards the kitchen, gramps buck naked and I with only a towel around me, that I'd be swimming with him every morning for the rest of the summer. It was an exciting thought! And one that made me smile. I knew my friends back in New York would never believe it if I told them I'd skinny dipped with my grandpa every morning.

Spanked

I'm a liberal! My school's curriculum had always emphasized that girls such as we, girls who'd been lucky enough to be born wealthy in the richest country in the world, who'd been fortunate to have been blessed with the brainpower that had allowed us acceptance into one of America's best private schools, had a responsibility to society.

And my parents had echoed that teaching in the everyday examples they'd provided me growing up. You gave to charities. But even more important was that you also donated your time. You lived your beliefs.

So there was absolutely no reason I should have used the word. Or with the tone I used to say it. I was pissed off at grandpa, not them. I'd actually grown to like the boys. It was just a few words, words I immediately regretted the second they left my mouth -- "It's not my job. Your lazy wetbacks should be doing this. Not out screwing American girls."

It was the Saturday afternoon after my first nude swim. Of course neither Felipe nor Angel was back yet at the farm. Nor was Gretchen. So grandpa had enlisted me to help shovel horseshit out of the barn. I'm serious, he did! And it wasn't even the shoveling that had set me off. It was the fact that a good, big piece of still runny horse crap had fallen off my shovel and onto my boots.

The second the words had escaped my mouth I wished them back. And not so much because I thought granddad would be offended by them. Heck he was a farmer, a rube. He used all sorts of profanities all the time. I was mad at myself. That's not who I was.

As it turned out Grandpa was angry. In a way I'd never seen him in all the time I'd been at the farm. Or had even imagined he could be. There was smoke coming out of his ears. He scared me.

"I didn't mean," I started. Grandfather did not give me a chance to finish my apology. I was over his knee, my jeans and panties halfway down my thighs and the first blow delivered before I even knew what was happening.

I screamed! But the blows continued to rain down. Hard. And even as they rained down on my ass, and even as my shrieks pierced the room, I could hear his words:

"I spent fifty grand to send you to some school that taught you to be an effing racist?" SLAP! "Too fucking good for us are you?" SLAP! "You don't think your ancestors were native Americans do you?" SLAP, SLAP! "That your great grandfather wasn't called something as bad as when he arrived penniless from Ireland?" SLAP! "You think you're better than those boys?" SLAP!

And then he simply pushed me off his knees and down onto the straw covered floor of the barn.

I simply lay on the floor crying when he'd finished with me. Gasping and panting through my tears. My bum was on fire. I coulda killed him. I just wasn't going to take it!

"Are you fucking crazy? You shouldn't have done that!"

"You deserved it," he answered.

"We're in the fucking twenty-first century... we don't beat people anymore!"

We went back and forth for quite a while. He eventually apologized. Sorta. I apologized back. We talked about the boys. About racial stereotypes. Like here I am lying on a barn floor with my pants and panties halfway down my legs and my legs spread and my female parts wide open and exposed and I'm talking with my crazy grandfather who's just beaten me about effing Mexican immigration!

Then he told me stories about how his great, great, great grandfather almost starved during the Irish potato famine in the 1840's and then came to America with his wife and two children in the hold of a small ship with three hundred other starving peasants. One hundred of who died of cholera during the trip over.

I learned more about my family's ancestors during those five or ten minutes than I had from mom all my life. But my bum still hurt. Big time.

"It still hurts," I finally complained. I still hadn't pulled my pants up.

"Does it?" Gramps didn't sound that remorseful.

"You're bad. As bad as that stallion over there," I accused as I pointed over towards Sir_Scouries stall. The stupid horse snickered.

"Am I? You know sweetie I've got some balm that just might help you," grandpa said as he walked over to a cabinet hanging on the barn wall. There was an evil smile on his lips.

I'm now his sweetie? "Balm"

"McGregor's World Famous Horse Balm. Helps ease their muscle pain, lets them run pain free for hours," he said as he held up the tube he'd just picked up off the top shelf.

"Do you think I'm going to let you put some wacky horse medicine on my bum?" I asked as I backed away from him.

Grandpa didn't ask for permission. A second later I was back lying over his knees. He coated my rear end liberally. Didn't miss a spot. Including the crack between. And it actually relieved the burning feeling. The cost was that my ass started tingling. And it didn't stop. Even my pussy eventually started to tingle! It was like I had a tiny vibrator inside my pussy.

Dogs

She and her husband had arrived from New York City some five years ago. He`d been some kind of Wall Street Hedge Fund financial type who`d made thirty million and then had flown from the big city just months before the market meltdown had occurred. He had planned to be a gentleman farmer and his wife, a New York Kennel Club type, was going to breed purebred Airedale Terriers. She, a real rich, upper class type girl in background, loved her new life in the country. Her husband had only lasted six months before he retreated back to the city without her.

Which meant that she'd become available. And so apparently granddad had answered the call and was now poking this dog breeder. Even though she was only in her early thirties. At least that`s what Jennifer had told me before she`d left. "He goes over there every ten days or so," Jenn had confided one afternoon as we'd rolled pie crusts. So I'd been warned about her.

Mrs. Huntington-Scofield`s name came up on the night granddad and I had watched the big male Tomcat screwing his daughter. "Heck girl, that`s nothing. You should see how these rich people breed their dogs," he'd said at one point in the proceedings. I hadn't followed up his comment at the time.

And now I was to drive him over to her farm. We'd both been invited to dinner he said. My ass was still tingling hours after the application of the stupid horse balm.

"I might stay the night," he said, his hands on the steering wheel of the pickup, as we turned onto the gravel road that led into the dog breeders farm.

"Stay the night?" I decided to play stupid.

"Maybe," he said.

"Are you and Mrs. Huntington-Scofield--"

I drove home alone just after eleven. I'd actually had a pretty good time. Marjorie, Mrs. Huntington-Scofield, was the first person I'd talked to since I'd left New York who I could relate to. We talked art and music and city politics and discussed our growing up experiences at our various private schools. We discussed fashion. Granddad didn't say much as we talked.

Then we got onto the subject of dog breeding. And granddad was right, it wasn't much better than the cats! The American Kennel Club apparently has extremely tightly drawn standards for any dog who hopes to compete in any competition. The dog has to be a certain size and weight. Bigger or smaller and it doesn't get to breed or show. There are standards for acceptable color. They even specify what the bloody dog's tail looks like.

In the end you end up with a small group of breeding dogs with an ever decreasing gene pool. More incest! No wonder people always joke about farm boys sleeping with their sisters I thought as I listened to Marjorie -- heck it's all they're ever exposed to. Probably seems normal to them.

And then there's the actual dog sex. Have you ever heard the term 'bulbus glandis'? It's a dog breeding term. It's also called a 'knot'. And what does it do? And how does it do it? Oh I'm not going to get into all the scientific stuff Marjorie told me that night. But I will tell you this- once a dog has got his erect penis in a bitch (yes that's what the poor female dogs are called) something happens to it. This big bulb thing grows and locks the dog's penis inside the bitch. And once he's locked in you can't get him out. Not until he's good and ready! Bitches just have to lie down and take it!

Eventually I left. Alone. With instructions to pick up granddad at ten the next morning. So little old me, an eighteen year old innocent from the big city, was officially placed in charge of Pregnant Pond Farm for the night.

As you can imagine I had some very weird dreams that night. Everyone else on the farm was having sex that night except me. The two Mexicans, the grumpy Texan, and even my sixty-three year old grandpa were doing it and I was lying alone. Sir_Scouries was in my dream. So was the farms big 'tom'. So were some of Marjorie's dogs. And somehow, in my dream, I was in the middle of all of them.

Two foot long cocks! Barbed spears! Bulging bulbs! Females of the animal kingdom were fucked any way you looked at it!

But it was grandpa who was the main player in my dreams that night. He did some very bad things to me! It wasn't consensual! But it felt so good... I mean how sick was that? Getting raped by your grandfather while a big cocked stallion looked on... and then enjoying it!

Why had I ever consented to spending the summer at Pregnant Pond farm?

Grandfather On the Subject of Men

It was three nights later. We are all back to our regular schedule. I'd watched Sir_Scouries rape another poor mare that afternoon so perhaps that was why I was a little agitated that night. We were back on the porch. Beers were in our hands.

Out of the blue granddad said, "You know Mandy, I think it's time we talked about next year. About you being away from home for the first time."

WTF? "I've have been living away from home for the last four years grandpa. Don't you remember all those checks you had to write to the Forsyth School?" I said the words slowly, sarcastically, and in a tone I'd use for a simpleton. I'd had a bad day!

All my words raised from him were another of his famous guffaws. One that went on and on until it ended in a chuckle and a rueful shaking of his head. A slap on his knee.

"Memory failing you now?" I finally asked. He might be appearing regularly in my dreams but he also had the ability to piss me off.

"Your mom and I both agree that you'll need a little more schooling before we release you into the wilds of Dartmouth College."

"Mom?" Christ I wondered silently, had mom really discussed Dartmouth with granddad? I started to shake my head no; there was no way that had happened.

"You know Amanda, I did warn your mom about sending you to that all girls school."

Huh? Where did that come from I wondered. "What! What does my school have to do with anything? And why did you warn mom?"

"Well young lady what the heck do you think you learned up in the hills of New Hampshire surrounded by a bunch of lesbians? About men?" he asked.

"Are you crazy? I'm eighteen grandpa! Have you heard of the internet? And Forsyth Academy was not full of a bunch of lesbians." I was getting royally peed off! Gramps chuckled in answer.

"For your information we were paired up with one of the finest male boarding schools in America. We had monthly dances with them ... we shared some classes... we ..."

"Your mother thought a summer with me might just broaden your--"

"Broaden my what? My chicken killing skills? My penis washing skills?" Grandpa laughed. "Okay, maybe I wasn't in contact with boys 24/7 but I—"

"Which was exactly your mom's point Amanda! Now you're going to go off to that fancy Ivy League school of yours and you'll be surrounded by them. You'll have no idea how to act. You won't understand their natures."

"What, do you think I'm a virgin? That I've never done anything with a man? That I've never been kissed? I have had sex you know." My words had just slipped out. I'd had no intention of telling granddad one word about my sex life.

Gramps raised one eye. Then took a sip of his beer. "Well then, we've got a good starting point for our talks don't we?" he replied. He didn't seem perturbed by my news. Huh? A starting point? "So how'd it go? Was it alright? Liked it did you?"

Jesus! I shoulda just shut up but I couldn't! "For your information grandfather, and if you wish to convey this info on to my mother go right ahead, it went just fine. Swimmingly in fact. In spite of the fact I apparently don't know anything about the male species." Gramps guffawed at my words. Words that hadn't been exactly true.

Yes I had lost my virginity. But neither my first nor my two subsequent bouts of sex, all with the same boy, had been particularly brilliant or satisfactory. It hadn't been what I'd been hoping for.

"Well Amanda we'll discuss your experiences in my lessons. We've got six weeks to get you up to date on the subject. Your mother almost begged me to take you under my wing."

"She did not," I answered even as I thought evil thoughts about my mother. Had she really sent me to bloody Green Acres because she'd believed I knew nothing about sex? Was that what this summer exile was really all about? To watch some animals fucking? Was mom capable of such machinations? I knew she was. Bitch! Just shut up I tried to order myself. But that wasn't in my nature.

"And I suppose you of all people are going to teach me? Hillbilly Joe."

"Well we can't have you wandering around an Ivy League College clueless can we? We'll start the lessons tomorrow night," my grandfather announced as he stood up and stretched. Then he was gone before I could say another word. Clueless? Moi?

I didn't dream that night. Instead I tossed and turned and talked to myself. What was grandpa going to teach me? And how? Where was our classroom going to be? He didn't mean he was actually going to give me hands-on lessons did he?

Stallions and lesser mortals

Granddad started his lessons the next evening. After dinner. After we'd assumed our now normal position on the porch swing.

Granddad's Lesson #1 was simple: "all MEN are potential ANIMLALS!" And don't ever you forget it!

He talked almost nonstop for an hour on the nature of male humans that night. And any time I tried to cut in or dispute one of his points he just cut me off. This was not a discussion, it was a lecture. And my job was to listen. Which wasn't exactly my nature.

His basic thesis was that a woman had to be on constant guard, vigilant even when with the seemingly most unthreatening man or in the most innocent of situations. That a rapist lurked deep in the ancient part of the brain of every man.

To me it appeared that he had no understanding of twenty-first century America. Of the liberation that had freed us. Of the laws that now protected us. He didn't understand that the days of mans sexual domination were long gone.

But even as I told myself these things that night in bed I also couldn't help remembering the looks that had come into the eyes of all the farm men every time Sir_Scouries had mounted one of his mares. The hunger. The need.

Okay some of these country guys were capable of rape I conceded to myself as I lay in my bed. But Dartmouth boys? From good homes. Who'd been brought up correctly. NO WAY!

Lesson #2 was titled "CREEPS, PERVERTS, and STALLIONS".

My grandfather did concede the next night that the vast majority of men for the most part of the time lived within the norms of acceptable sexual behavior.

"Especially at a school like Dartmouth," I tossed in. He shook his head sadly.

But even these 'normals' (as he called them ) could and did go off the track from time to time. But it was for the creeps and perverts that he saved his most dire warnings. He went on about them for quite a while.
"And what about the stallions?" I asked when he'd apparently finished his talk for the night.

"They're a completely different kettle of fish," he said as he stood up. "We'll talk about them tomorrow."

Grandfather was a stallion. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind about that. And I dreamt about him that night, dreamt about my being led naked to the horse breeding farm by Felipe and Angel. Dreamt about being mounted by granddad. The next morning I couldn't decide if it had been a nightmare or not.

Lesson #3 was "STALLIONS: Careful - they're not a young girl's best friend".

True stallions make up a very small percentage of the male population. Maybe five or six percent of all males. At least according to grandpa. He used horse breeding analogies as he discussed them.

Stallions are not lovers. Smart girls don't marry stallions.

I interrupted. "You married grandma." She was a woman I'd never known. I only knew her from faded pictures in old photo albums.

My grandfather looked at me for seconds before he finally answered, "I wasn't a good husband."

"You cheated on grandma didn't you?"

"Mandy, haven't you understood a word I've said? You've watched Sir_Scouries for weeks."

"But he's a horse," I protested.

"Stallions don't cheat. Ever!" I knew what was coming but didn't say a word. "We never promise fidelity. It's not in our nature."

"You'll sleep with anyone won't you? Fuck them?"

Grandpa nodded. "That's why a woman should never marry one. Just like the stallion uses her she uses him."

"Uses him? For what? He almost rapes her?"

"Just like there's a potential rapist in every man there's a corresponding need in every woman. A need to be taken. To be dominated. To be filled. To be impregnated."

"It's not in me," I denied.

"You're still a young girl. You're not ready, not fully ripened," my granddad answered. "But some day..."

Of course it was in me. And I'd felt it every time I'd watched Sir_Scouries mount a mare. I'd felt the fear but also the need. The violence of the coupling repulsed me even as the moisture had pulsed between my legs.

And as I lay in bed that night I knew I was ready in spite of granddads words. And as I pushed my fingers inside myself, as I tried to assuage my need, I realized that my grandfather was not going to come into my bedroom some night and rape me. I understood that I'd have to go to him. I'd have to lead myself to the slaughter.

Granddad's mare?

It was late. Late for the farm anyway. Ten fifteen. It was three nights later. I'd just spent thirty minutes soaking in the tub. Preparing myself. I was going to comb my hair, perfume and deodorize myself, put on my sexiest nightie, but then realized that was the last thing I needed to do.

He was a stallion. He'd want to smell me, not some artificial perfume. This wasn't going to be some teenage seduction. I was going to be taken. And he wasn't going to care less what I thought or felt. I was scared shitless as I walked out the door of my bedroom and turned towards his. I was trembling. I was naked. Every nerve end in my cunt was alive. And yes it was a cunt as I walked towards my stallion. A cunt hungry for a stallion's cock.

"I want a stallion." I whispered it out into the pitch black bedroom. I knew grandpa was awake. I knew he had an erection. I knew he'd been waiting for me.

"You're not ready for one yet. Haven't you listened to anything I've been teaching you?" Grandad turned on the bedside lamp. I walked over towards his bed. Then bent my left leg and put my knee up on his mattress.

"Stop!" An imperial order. I jumped back up.

"Please." Grandpa's cock was enormous. It was ready. His maleness was overpowering. I knew he could smell my need. The room reeked of it. My legs were trembling.

"Do you know what you're asking for?"

"I need you." A whine. A plea. And then in a second grandpa was out of the bed and standing behind me. His cock was poking me as he grasped my shoulders and pulled me hard back against him. He pushed and turned me so I was facing the wall mirror. I watched him in the glass.

"Stallions aren't New York schoolboys," he whispered in my ear. Then he poked his tongue into it. Licked it. Bit it.

"I don't want a schoolboy," I moaned as I tried to reach behind me and grasp his cock.

"Stallions aren't soft. They don't caress ... they don't whisper sweet things in their girlfriend's ear ... they don't send roses ..."

"What do they do?" I asked even as granddad allowed my hand to find and then circle his prick. It was hot ... it literally felt like it was on fire. It jumped in my hand. It'll never fit, he'll kill me I thought even as I tried to squeeze its steel like hardness.

"They do what they want. When they want. They maul. They fuck. They control, they only think of themselves, of the animal growing between their legs," he promised as his fingers angrily squeezed my breasts.

"Fuck me!" I was trembling from head to foot. Wavering on suddenly unsteady legs. I probably would have fallen over if I hadn't been holding onto his mast. His hand slid down and between my legs. Pushed inside.

"FUCK MEEEEE!"

"You know that if I start I won't stop don't you? That I'll fuck you every night for the rest of the summer. That I'll make you do things--"

"Stop talking!" He did! He lifted me and then threw me down onto my back on the bed. Climbed up between my legs.

"You're just a girl." His face was wild. His cock was inches from my sex.

"Hurry!"

And then the talking was over. It was inside me. I screamed. Tried to protest, tried to stop him as his cock overwhelmed my cunt. I tried to move my body, to thrash my legs but his weight and penetration made a joke of my feeble attempts at self defense.

"Noooooooooo!" I screamed. This wasn't what I wanted, what I'd expected. The animal above me couldn't have cared less.

That first violation seemed to last forever. It was horrid even though my body somehow adjusted to him. Opened and accepted the cock that was raping me. Moistened itself to facilitate an even deeper penetration. Spasmed in orgasm when grandfather's penis ejaculated out his thick male seed.

I lay spent on my back on his bed when he'd finally finished and pulled out, moaning and gasping through my tears.

"Turn over," he eventually ordered. His cock was still erect. His first ejaculation hadn't softened him.

"Again?" I asked. A fearful question escaping my tears. In answer he simply flipped me over onto my stomach. Then pulled me up onto my knees. Then pushed inside again as his huge hands latched onto my hanging breasts. The second time was both better and worse. It took longer but my orgasm was even more powerful than my first.

I loved the feel of his sperm as it oozed around inside of me.

****

I was sore the next morning. Tender everywhere. Used. Dried patches of sperm gave my legs and thighs and stomach a splotchy piebald look. My breasts ached. My lips were bruised.

Grandpa was snoring. I leaned over and kissed his cheek. Then his left nipple. I ran my tongue around his navel. I tasted his sperm and my juices when my tongue licked over the head of his resting cock. The cock that had hurt me. Filled me. The cock that had made me experience feelings I'd never guessed were possible.

I slipped my lips over the cockhead and took the flaccid shaft into my mouth. 'You're not so big this morning are you,' I mouthed silently to the penis I was sucking.

Apparently sir penis didn't like my admonition. He started to grow. Bigger ... then even bigger. Too big. I started to pull back. To expel him from my mouth. Then I felt the hand at the back of my head. I couldn't escape. I looked up. Grandpa was awake. He was grinning.

"Don't stop little girl," he ordered as he started to apply pressure to the back of my head.

"I'm full. It's too big," I tried to say. Granddad didn't hear. My words were muffled by the monster in my mouth. And as he started to fuck my mouth I felt his free hand slip between my legs. I cried out in protest.

I choked as his cream splashed down my throat.

****

They all knew. Not from anything either granddad or I had said. Nor had we done anything differently as we'd sat down to breakfast. Or I didn't think we had. But the second we were all sitting at the table Felipe leaned over and whispered in Angel's ear. They both laughed and then let their eyes roll over my body.

Gretchen gave me a dirty smirk. Grandpa smiled contentedly as the others examined me. Hardly a word was said as the five of us ate our meal. But before leaving the kitchen, and before any of the others had left either, he walked over to where I was standing at the sink. His hands circled me from behind. Closed on my breasts. Squeezed. Then slipped down to the hem of my dress. Gretchen, Felipe and Angel watched wordlessly as grandfather's hands disappeared underneath. A finger penetrated me. I groaned. A second later they were all gone. I slid down to the floor.

****

At bedtime that night I went directly to his bed. Then lay on my back naked waiting for him. I wanted to resist but couldn't. I needed to experience the feeling of being filled again. As I knew I would every night for the rest of the summer. Perhaps for the rest of my life.

****

It took three nights of being fucked before I thought of the possibility of pregnancy. He simply said, "I've been putting a birth control pill in your food every day since you got here. You're not ready to bear my child yet." But I knew someday he'd think I would be ready. Bear my grandfather's child?

****

The days and weeks passed. My cooking improved. I washed Sir_Scouries penis. I cut off more chickens heads. I swam naked with my grandfather every morning. I was fucked. Used time and again.

My body loved it even as my brain rebelled from it. My orgasms became all encompassing.

He even took me in the horse breeding barn one afternoon. In front of Gretchen and the boys. In front of the two female grooms who'd escorted Sir_Scouries latest mare to her appointment. In front of the official from the Jockey Club. Grandpa had ordered me to wear my favorite flowered summer dress to the proceedings that day. And had told me not to be wearing panties. And when Sir_Scouries had mounted his mare granddad had bent me over a rail, lifted up my dress and started to fuck me.

Granddad lasted longer than the stallion. So they were all watching us at the moment granddad's sperm erupted inside me. My cries had been echoing around the barn for minutes. I'd been almost as noisy as the mare!

What about mom?

The idea, the thought, was slow in coming. Looking back months later I can't understand why it hadn't occurred to me earlier. It seems so obvious to me now. Perhaps what I'd been experiencing with grandfather, the nightly domination of my body, hadn't left room for any other thoughts.

And when it had finally occurred to me I simply let it simmer for a while. I wasn't quite ready for its implications.

It was only in late August, just five days before my scheduled return to New York City and home, that I broached it. Again I hadn't planned my words or their timing. They just spilled out...

I was lying in my grandfather's bed. I was naked (big surprise!). I had his penis in my hand. It was now flaccid. It was sticky. It had already been inside various parts of my body that night. My mouth was just inches from its scarlet head. My lips started to move. They started to talk to this organ that had been the center of my world for the past six weeks. Granddad was listening.

"You fucked my mommy too, didn't you?" I asked it.

"Absolutely not," granddad answered. I ignored him as I kept looking at his penis.

"When she was a young girl like me?"

"I didn't."

"Or did you start even earlier," I demanded of the flesh that was starting to harden in my hand. Grandpa didn't say anything.

"Does daddy know?"

"Absolutely not," granddad repeated. I still didn't look up towards his face.

"And what about Aunt Kathy? Did you fuck her too?" Another 'absolutely not' echoed around the room. Granddad didn't let me ask his cock any more questions that night. In fact he just grabbed my hair and stuffed his cock deep into my mouth.

****

"You and she still do it, don't you?" It was the next evening. We were again back on our usual places on the swing. I was nestled in against his body.

"Yes."

"Aunt Kathy too?"

"Yes."

My mother had sent me to the farm knowing what was going to happen to me! She'd given me to my grandfather. How could she have?

Epilogue: Dartmouth College November 5th 2011

I'm at College now and it's proven to be even better than I'd ever hoped for. I've already made all sorts of friends -- nice people who I know will still be my friends twenty and thirty years from now. People I'll be able to rely on. I love residence life.

I love my college classes. The library. The opportunity to learn that I'll have for the next four years. To grow as a woman. To prepare myself for a useful, productive life.

Of course I have been careful about boys. The warnings that granddad pounded into my head during his 'boy' lectures are impossible to ignore. And in a way he's already been proven right. During frosh week two boys were asked to leave the college. A frat party. A girl was drunk. Or so the story that spread like wildfire around the campus reported. Two boys slept with her. They too were drunk. Or they weren't. It was Rape. Or it wasn't. The girl left school. The boys were forced to follow.

Oh don't worry. I socialize. We go out in groups. Guys and girls. But I'm watchful. I'm beginning to understand some of the things granddad told me to watch out for. How a boy looks at you. How he talks to girls. His comfort level with members of the opposite sex. I've learned to make quick judgments about the character of the men I meet. And to take my time before I make a decision to go out with someone. We girls try to buddy up if we're going to be drinking. To watch out for each other.

That doesn't mean I've retreated into a shell. I've actually dated three guys so far this term. Always in public places to start. I measured them even as we talked. All turned out to be pretty nice guys. Not a stallion among them. But also no creeps.

I slept with one of them. But not before our third date. It was fun. Ritchie was nice. He's still nice for that matter. He was good in bed. But not too good. I think it was only after I'd slept with him that I was able to totally forgive my mother.

I'm not in love with Ritchie but I now know that there is someone very much like him in my future. Someone I'll love. Someone I'll want to raise a family with. Someone I'll want to spend my life with. A relationship much like moms and dads.

I'll still need a stallion! I miss granddad but at the same time I don't miss him. I miss him most at night! But you can't live with a stallion. I know that now.

I'd been so mad at my mother for a long time after I'd left the farm. I'd been too confused and too angry with her when I'd gotten home from the farm to have any sort of conversation or discussion with her. In fact I'd insisted that daddy drive me up to Dartmouth and not mom.

I felt so sorry for daddy during those first few days. He'd been a great husband and a wonderful father and yet he'd been turned into a cuckold by his wife from the first days of their marriage. It didn't seem fair!

My thoughts on the matter have slowly changed over the last couple of months. I'm not angry at mom anymore. How can I blame her? She was taken by her father when she was still an innocent teenager. Just as I had and I hadn't done much to fight him off. What could mom have done? She was living with him for crying out loud! I knew the power of granddad now, crikey, what must he have been like when he was twenty-five years younger?

And how could I fault the life she'd lived. She'd been a great mother to Jack and me. Always there for us. And she'd made dad happy. There was absolutely no doubt of that. We'd had a happy, loving home. She'd somehow been able to shield all of us from her secret. My enjoying sex with Ritchie after my summer with granddad had finally allowed me to understand mom. You can love a man even while needing another.

I also don't feel sorry for daddy anymore. I love him. Jack loves him. Mom loves him. He's had a great life with my mother. She's nurtured him as much as she did her children. He's happy. In this day and age how many men could say the same? Heck, half of my high school classmate's parents were divorced!

I've also had to face the whole incest issue since I've left the farm. It's a dirty word in our society. I'd never dare tell anyone what happened to me. Or who did it. It's simply out of the question. It's the last great taboo!

But I've explored the issue since I've come to school. I've researched it on the Internet. Read scholarly tomes I took out of the College Library. Tried to grasp the genetic biology of it. I've learned that it's something people almost never talk about. But that it happens all the time. Everywhere. In every society and country on the globe. Mothers and sons. Fathers and daughters. Sisters and brothers. Uncles. Aunts. Grandfathers. It's hidden but we're not much different from the animals. Which I guess isn't that strange given we're supposedly descended from monkeys. And in my research I'd found monkeys were as bad as cats!

What my grandfather and I had done wasn't that unusual!

The other shoe finally dropped just before Halloween. Like my first epiphany (my realization that granddad must have slept with mom and auntie Kathy) this one also took me by surprise. How dumb was I, I asked myself, when what anyone else would have realized months before, suddenly occurred to me. Grandpa was my father! He was Jack's father! He had to have been!

My mother had left home to go to University once she'd graduated high school. She'd done what I was doing now. Eventually she'd met my father. They'd married. But the stallion had never left her life. He never would. And a stallion's only role is to breed. Sometime, in the second year of my parent's married life, my grandfather had 'covered' mom. Put me inside her. He'd taken a chance. Thrown the dice. He and mom had hoped for the best.

When the realization struck me I immediately remembered granddad's words when he'd explained how horse breeders were always willing to take that chance. I remembered his exact lines: "But when it works Amanda you get a Secretariat ... or a Seattle Slew. They can run like the wind," grandpa had enthused with something like awe in his voice that day. "They fly...".

Both mother and granddad had taken that chance. That I'd turn out to be a 'Secretariat' and not material for the glue factory. Granddad had decided. He was Mom's stallion. And now my stallion. And then they'd defied the odds a second time with my little brother. Granddad was the biggest risk taker in the whole horse breeding world!

But in the weeks since that realization had struck a second has occurred to me. Granddad has been covering mom for over twenty-five years. He's been her only stallion. And he'll continue covering her. For what, maybe another ten years? Surely at some point he won't be able to continue his duties. Which might be okay for mom, heck she'd be in her fifties before he'd be retired.

But what about me I wondered. Sure I'm okay for a few years but what about for the future? For the long term.

I knew that at some point I'm going to have to find another one! Find another man who'd dominate me.

****

I should have been watching our college football team play that afternoon. Just about every other person in my residence had gone. Our hated enemy Yale was playing our boys. Instead I'd stayed home. Watching television. Ritchie had asked me to go with him to the game but I'd told him I had to watch the horse races on TV.
"Horse races?" he'd asked in a tone that couldn't hide his disbelief.

A year ago the idea of my spending an afternoon watching thoroughbred horse races would have been ludicrous. It would have been the last thing I'd have ever done. And yet there I was glued to the screen on a Saturday afternoon while all my friends were partying.

The Breeders' Cup! Have you ever heard of it? The Breeders' Cup World Championships are the most important group of races held in the whole thoroughbred racing world. And on November 5th 2011 the races were being held at Churchill Downs in Kentucky. The number one racetrack in the land. It couldn't get any better! I'd known granddad would have to be there. I wondered if I'd see him.

Twenty-six million bucks in prize money is awarded over the two days of races. Every one of the hundred plus horses, the cream of the horse racing world, were related in one way or another. Or two. Or three! They were like me -- children of incest.

Ritchie knocked on my door during the first race. The allure of being alone in my room with me clearly had beat out going to the football game and getting drunk with his buddies.

"You really are watching horse racing," were his first words.

"Of coursre I am. Why, what did you think I was up to?" He blushed. Which made me smile. He is a nice guy.

So in explanation I gave him the rundown on my summer. At first he didn't believe me but I slowly convinced him. I told him about cooking pies. About cutting off the heads of chickens. About Sir_Scouries. But I didn't tell him about washing the stallion's two foot long penis. That was too much information for a freshman!

We sat on my bed as we talked. I gave him a beer. I explained what was going on at the racetrack. I told him about stallions and the process by which they 'covered' mares. We made out a bit. It got a bit more serious when I unzipped his pants at the end of the second race.

"Would you like to be my big stallion?" I encouraged as I fondled him. Ritchie definitely did! He rolled on top of me.

"No! Not like that. We'll have to do it the other way."

"The other way? What other way?" Ritchie was desperate. He just wanted to get his penis inside me.

"From behind. Like the stallions do," I answered as I wiggled out from under him. A second later I was on my hands and knees on the bed. I was facing the television.

"In your bum?" I could tell from his tone that he was not interested in my bum. In fact I could tell the idea grossed him out a bit. He was an innocent! Ritchie wanted pussy. And of course that's exactly where I wanted him.

"No silly," I answered as I reached down through my legs and captured him. "In here," I said as I directed him to my opening.

He pushed inside of me at the exact second the horses for the third race were led out onto the track. I was multitasking! Getting fucked even as I watched the TV. But when the announcer started running down the list of runners in the race poor Ritchie was screwed!

"In post position #7, Manu, wearing the scarlet and black silk of Headstrong Farms," he started, "and sired by Sir_Scouries out of Bridesmaid, winner of ..."

"Oh my gawd! Stop. Ritchie STOP!" I yelled.

"What, what is it?" My beau asked even as he stopped mid stroke. "What's wrong?"

I tried to explain while keeping my eyes glued to the screen. Ritchie's cock was still inside me but he'd stopped moving it. "Should I take it out?" he finally asked sorrowfully. No stallion in the world would have asked that question!

I watched as the horses were led into the gate. And then they were off. "No," I screamed, suddenly needing him. "Fuck me, fuck me Ritchie," I begged as the horses exploded down the track.

Ritchie Kramer, eighteen, a freshman at Dartmouth College, ejaculated inside me at the exact instant that 'Manu' crossed the finish line and won the Breeders Cup by three lengths. I'd been screaming encouragement to the horse (and to Ritchie) all the way around the track.

My guess is that Ritchie will never forget that day. That in fact it just might be one of the top ten highlights of his life.

"Jesus Mandy," he groaned as he fell off of me. "I've never..."

I wasn't really listening. I was watching the horse being led off the track towards the winners circle. I remembered the name Headstrong Farms as I watched the four year old colt prance into the ring. They were a famous English stable owned by some billionaire British Earl or something. I'd seen Sir_Scouries cover another of their mares just three months earlier. And remembered that Gretchen had said at the time that it wasn't the first Headstrong Farm mare that he'd covered.

The winners circle was crowded. The sixty something year old owner stood beaming center stage in a five thousand dollar suit. His thirty year old, blond, second wife, dressed to the nines, was next to him. Friends and relatives. The jockey. The trainer. Other family members. Officials galore.

And then there he was. Front and center. I couldn't have missed him in a thousand years.

"Its granddad," I said excitedly as I jumped off the bed and sat on the floor inches from the screen. Ritchie's cum was sliding down my legs.

"Your grandfather? Where?"

The owner gave my grandfather a hug. He was ecstatic. Then gramps hugged the wife. And I knew instantly, there was no way that I could have missed their body language, that gramps had at one time 'covered' the owner's wife even as Sir_Scouries had covered his mare.

I laughed out loud.

"What?" Ritchie asked. He'd never believe me. He'd never understand.

Then my grandfather stepped back from her. I watched as the camera caught him turning his head and signaling to someone nearby. A hand signal. An invitation to someone outside the camera's range to join him.

"Ohhhhh myyyy gawd!" I reached for my phone. My eyes and mouth were wide open in surprise.

"What?" came from Ritchie. I ignored him as I pushed speed dial. My eyes never left the screen.

"What's he doing there?" I demanded the second my mother had answered.

"Your grandfather thought it was time Jack learned a little bit about the horse racing world," mom answered. She'd clearly been watching too.

"That's your brother?" Ritchie asked when I'd hung up. I nodded. My mind was going a million miles an hour. "How old is he anyway?"

"Almost thirteen," I answered as tumblers in my brain clicked into place. I suddenly understood everything. I saw the future.

Of course Jack would have to learn something about horse racing. Who else could my grandfather leave the farm to? A farm that had been in the family for five generations. Certainly not to his sons-in-law. Nor to his daughters. Nor to his granddaughters. That was simply out of the question.

There was only one possibility. His grandson. His son.

And yes Jack too, like me, had to be his child.

"He's a pretty big kid for his age," I heard Ritchie say. And it was true. He'd always been my little brother. But sometime, it must have been this past summer I thought as I watched him, he'd changed. He was bigger. More mature. Not the pesky little brother he'd always been. Puberty had struck!

"Looks like his granddad too," Ritchie added. Yes he did! I'd never noticed it before but it was unmistakable as they both smiled into the camera.

And the question of who would replace my grandfather as my stallion when the time came was clear. I'll probably have graduated from Dartmouth by then. I'll probably be happily married to someone like Ritchie. I'll have one child. Granddad will be the father of it. I know he'll never let me go, never let Jack take over, until he's put at least one of his offspring inside me.

Then Jack will take me. I'll become one of his mares. I'll have his child. I won't have to look for another stallion ... there's already another one in my family...

My little brother?

THE END

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