"Breezy Little Corkscrew" a fantasy by K.Rooste
Disclaimer: This is but a wild Idea and should not be tried, no matter how horny you feel.
Breezy Little Corkscrew:
Picture this in you imagination:
A humid, sticky hot afternoon and you are taking your daily constitutional walk. It is a 7-mile long jaunt, rounding the rural block where you live. The scene is a stormy day, as the rumble of distant thunder reminds one of artillery fire.
The winds have calmed and with you just half the way around toward home, you can figure your going to get wet.
As the sky turns darker, the winds begin to blow. Thunder and lightning are all around. You quicken your pace walking at a fast clip, while giving consideration for making a shortcut, a beeline then for home.
One athletic jump over a barbed wire fence has you jogging across the Killingsworth farm’s pasture.
A quick double check, wondering if today he let the hogs graze in the field, or cows, but in the distance stands one lone draft horse.
Looks safe, you begin to jog the mile across the open pasture.
Halfway, the winds pick up, they are blowing hard and in the band of rain, you see a tornado.
Now you are in trouble, you search franticly for a place to lay flat and hide from the violent winds.
Its coming right at you, you are more than just scared, you wonder if you had paid your last life insurance premium. Then you see the windmill standing there in the open pasture. The thought of just grabbing it and holding on for dear life seems, your only hope to survive.
The tornado is bearing down on you as with a hard run you reach the windmill, grab hold, twist you legs about the one beam and closing the eyes, you begin to pray.
As best you can to beg for help from a higher power you had ignored for so many years, the thought of just retribution comes to mind.
Things picked up by the winds begin to strike nearby, others smacking you in the face.
You scream at the top of your lungs, the winds are screaming too and the tornado is just yards away when, SNAP!
A terrible realization comes to mind that the wild winds had just torn away the entire windmill and all its supports. The next seconds, one feels the sand pelting at your body, with its sharp and begins to tear at your clothing.
Suddenly the tornado is upon you and the violent winds scoop you off the ground and into the whirling coils of moving air.
It is in slow motion, as then naked as the day you were born one is flying, circling the outer rim of the tornado’s extreme coils of violent wind.
It is like floating along, you are moving around the base of the twister, gaining speed and praying it just drops you into the muddy field.
The sizzling sound of those extreme winds, are getting dangerously close.
ZiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiP…
Your’ thrown by the winds, shot like some bullet across and above the field. You keep your eyes closed, scared for obvious reasons until the horrid noise of the tornado seems to dissipate. Yet you still a missile flying, vaulted from the tornado and sent hurling through the air.
One eye pops open as you feel your velocity slowed, only to see directly in your path that large draft horse.
In that long split second, your mind remembers the officer vaulted from his motorcycle in the movie Police Story I. The sight of that silly mare holding her tail high seeing the officer coming her way is just like this massive Belgium breed of mare.
Crazy how fast one’s mind works, just when things happen, as you remember reading about how large a horse can get, Belgium horses standing 17 hands high.
Her braided tail held high and to one side, as you zip forward through the air. She is looking back over her withers, seeing no doubt the tornado, and of course, you.
A wiggled side step by the mare and she spreads her hind legs far apart, as if expecting a stallion to mount.
Then that split second, splits again as if in slow motion you see with eyes wide open, face first, followed by neck, narrowed and drawn close shoulders, then the torso, and feeling you forward velocity curbed greatly, one’s legs and feet slide in as well.
Shot like a slug by the tornado you have just become a Belgium mare’s vaginal suppository.
Mister Killingsworth had placed her in the pasture to graze alone, he not wanting her bred by some wild stallion, she being in her time of heat.
Yet she still found her pleasure, as if f***** by the largest male slug she could have ever found. Her draft horse vagina having swallowed you like if you were just a stallion’s might cock.
But, your’ in, and alive, you need to breathe. The rank air in her womb is not filtered air. You slash about in her vaginal juices, groping to find your way out before suffocating.
As if a foal ready to be born her stout vaginal muscles work you back up the birth canal. As if being alert and reborn, you watch with eager anticipation, seeing glimmers of light as she winks her vaginal lips.
Slowly you moving up and out, the vaginal lips part far enough for a gulp of cooler, fresh air.
Your’ panting startles the mare and she whirls on a dime, taking off across the huge pasture at a full gallop.
This forced your head out, but stopped all other movements. As she trots across the pasture, your head hung out her vulva, a tail swats you in the face and an occasion apple bounces off your slimy head.
The afternoon passes and being where you are one has an almost bird’s eye view of the destruction.
Your friendly mare trots about, remaining well into the center of that huge pasture. She seems content to graze, and feels your head and stretched neck gives her the continual sensation of being f***** by her prize stallion.
Night comes and she is more than happy to keep on with her grazing.
Unbelievable to you, the fear and your exercise all made you tired and stuck as a cork in some bottle, you actually fell asleep.
Your sensual sensation is beginning to wear on your nerves and those of the mare. It is not until the next day and almost sundown before she decides to trot back to the barns and wait for her owner to help.
Killingsworth’s son comes to his mare and while leading her to a stall inside the barn hears your’ croaking whimpers.
He introduces himself a John Killingsworth, but finds your predicament rather funny.
In as much you do not he walks back to his office in the barn, only to return minutes later. Smiling that dumb shit grin you see on people when they are about to make you life a virtual hell, he makes you an offer.
...
Show me the story at BeastForum.com or more information about K.Rooste
K.Rooste also wrote these fantasies:
Menage (rie) A Trois
Pipeline Survey
Fantasy Story "time Enough To Remember"
Breezy Little Corkscrew
Fated Story Of "a One Night Stand
Pipeline Survey (revised)
Where I Am King
"tempting" A Story Of Transformation
Going Off Half Cocked
Mattering How You Look At It!
Ways Of Appreciation
Pony Up To Your Fence
Playing A Part
Fond & Fool Wishing
A Permanent Vacation
Like A Fantasy Nightmare
Only In My Dreams
Brothers In The Flesh
Fantasy Video
Professional Understanding
Cure What Beguiles
Really!
In The Park
A word from our sponsors...
Please help us keep this site free by visiting our bestiality sponsors below