Fantasies on Donkeys
Is it my fantasies that won't let me live in peace, or is it my modesty that won't let me live life to the fullest? Often, these two things are very different. I felt this once again quite recently...
While on vacation in a warm country, I decided to go on an excursion. This wasn't the kind of tour where you look left, look right, look around and... admire someone's culture, architecture, and blah-blah-blah. No, for some reason, I didn't want that. I wanted entertainment, sensations, emotions. The tour was called something about the culture and life of a mountain village with a visit to ancient ruins (how could it be without that), wine tasting (and where would you go in a country where the sun shines 340 days a year without that!), and participation in national dances (after wine, you can dance a bit). And the highlight of the event — riding donkeys! Unusual, interesting.
I'll skip the description of the journey to the village. Mountains on one side, the sea on the other. Just beautiful! The fresh air tousles my hair and stirs my blood, groves of fruit trees with citrus and nuts that you can pick just by reaching out your hand, and much more that our "northern" eyes have never seen.
And so we disembarked in a mountain village, where a table with light snacks awaited us. There, we were offered to try their wine and stronger alcohol, like our Russian moonshine. And the one offering all this — a smiling, bearded man of indeterminate age, well, probably like many southern people. He smiled kindly at everyone, poured drinks, and clinked glasses with everyone, saying some national word of theirs, like our "budem, vzdrognem, bakhnyom, etc."
Whether it was the sampled wine playing in my blood, or we waited a long time for our donkeys to be harnessed, but I kept glancing at this man more and more often. His sparkling eyes and playful smile in my direction suggested that he fancied me too. I stood modestly to the side, sipping dry white wine, and kept glancing at him. But then my imagination kicked in...
Fantasy: he refills my glass, pours himself a stronger shot, and gestures for us to drink a toast. I cautiously approach and link our arms with the filled vessels. We look into each other's eyes. His eyes are smiling, so playfully and promisingly. I peer into his face. He seems like a regular guy, but there's something so attractive about him... We drink. Before I can put my glass down, he takes my face in his palms and kisses me on the lips. He pulls back, smiles at me with a broad smile, not letting go of my face. And I reach for him again, for a deeper kiss. His breath smells of alcohol and tangerines, it's dizzying. He pulls me completely into his strong embrace (and he's a rather solid, powerful man, and of course, taller than me by more than a head) and kisses me, plunging his tongue into me and teasing...
Well, now I'm already wet, and it's time to come back to earth. Our group is being called to the donkeys. They are harnessed and braying with impatience to go for a walk. I mentally say goodbye with my eyes to the object of my fantasies, he smiles at me understandingly.
But what do I see. That very same bearded man of mine approaches the group gathered around the donkey pen and goes inside. Our guide finally introduces him. His name is so sonorous, strange to my ear. So much so that I didn't even remember it. Something like Karakes, Kerasis... Well, something like Ks-kss. Yes, indeed, he resembles a cat. He is the head of the donkeys, knows them all not only by name but also by character. Yes, a donkey, it turns out, has quite a character! Our Ks-kss gives us instructions, the guide translates. Well, the main thing is how to turn the donkey, how to make it go, how to stop, and how not to fall off if it suddenly decides to nibble some grass. To make it go, you have to slap its rump with your hand and say "ela-ela!" sharply. To stop, you have to pull the reins-release with the word "shuu." That's basically it, we mount the donkeys.
The bearded man looks at me with his cheerful eyes and calls me first. I am modest, but my slutty eyes speak for me. I allow the man to help me onto the donkey, feeling his large warm palm on my back, then on my thigh, then on my arm, and I smile gratefully. He introduces me to the donkey (his name is Freddie) and gives me the reins. Ela!
In my fantasy, I'm wearing a light sundress (though in reality, I have jeans on). The man stands next to my donkey and, as if adjusting me on the donkey so I sit in the middle, he strokes my thighs from the inside, saying in broken Russian:
— Hug his flanks tightly with your thighs, like a lover...
— I'd rather hug your flanks with my thighs, to be honest, — I say to him in response with burning cheeks.
He looks at me intently, rubs his prickly beard slightly against my neck, and reaches for my lips. But this time more demandingly, boldly. Well, just like my answer to him. His hand under my hem. It penetrates my panties and, carefully parting the already moist petals, caresses me there. I lean back in his embrace, completely immersed in the emotions. The donkey senses something is wrong and nervously shifts from foot to foot, giving me even sharper sensations when the man's fingers, from the jolts of the donkey's back, penetrate me even deeper. But my Ks-kss, understanding my state, doesn't let me climax. His fingers leave me, soothingly stroking my stomach and legs.
— But I want... — I whisper. He smiles into his beard and takes a small box from his pocket.
— This is for you, beauty, — he takes out of the box three balls of different sizes, connected by a string. It's clearly a sex toy. But again, I don't have time to respond. He carefully pushes the small ball into me, followed by another. — Don't take them out until I say... — and presses on the third ball, leaving the loop outside.
We reached the old monastery ruins, listened to a short tour, drank some water, climbed around everywhere. I returned to the donkeys last, still finishing a sweet tangerine. My Ks-kss, smiling, was walking towards my donkey... with a chair! And where did he get this plastic chair here, among the stones and mountains, to make it easier to get on the donkey. Everything is thought out, well done! And again, sensitive hands wander over my figure, helping me onto the donkey. And his promising gaze and playful smile reawaken the fantasies that had just begun to fade.
The group returns to the parking area. Mountain air, alcohol slosh in my blood, my hands smell of tangerine. You don't even smell the donkeys, although they walk and shit right under their own feet. The mountains and dried-up rivers beg for rain. Heat rises from the stones and the earth. And a fire burns within me. Karakes doesn't leave my side at all, watching me from behind, then glancing back. I catch his gaze. My back is straight, as if I'm on a spirited steed. My crotch in tight jeans rubs against the donkey's back. Back and forth, a steady rhythm, sweet languor... And I already want something harder and more serious.
Fantasies carry me away again. The man doesn't walk sedately beside me but jumps onto the donkey behind me, kisses my neck, and bends me forward roughly. I lift my butt, catching his impudent fingers with my flowing slit. He pulls the balls out of me one by one, slowly and agonizingly. I tremble with the thirst to be taken.
He bursts into me like a whirlwind, immediately fully, so deep that I cry out, causing the donkey to snort angrily. And he rides me, holding me firmly by the waist and shoulder. More. More! Mooore!!!
... I think I let out a quiet moan, looking straight into the eyes of the object of my fantasies. And I looked around. Everyone is taking photos and laughing, noticing nothing around them. I feel that I'm very wet, just flowing. I'm even worried that my jeans might give me away. Ks-kss still looks at me understandingly. I modestly lower my slutty eyes and ride quietly, trying to breathe more evenly.
We arrived back. Despite our small group having three handlers, Ks-kss is near me again. His eyes are smiling, he holds out his hands forward,
for me to jump straight into his arms. But I swing my leg over the other side of the donkey and only offer the man my hand for support. And I step back a little, losing my balance. His hands are already holding me.
— Thank you, — I whisper quietly, lowering my eyes, and walk away.
A buffet awaits us, tasty and hearty, lots of wine. It intoxicates imperceptibly, and now I'm already looking with wild eyes as two men come out to dance folk dances. One of them is our Karakes (or whatever his name is). He even dances! And quite well. Dressed in national clothes: shirt, vest, bloomers, boots. He is simply magnificent!
I don't even notice how I join in the folk dances. Another man starts with innocent play, flowing into a lively dance. And I dance, dance, moving my feet not always in time. Ks-kss wedges into our circle next to me, placing his heavy hand on my shoulder. And he looks at me, smiles, quickening his steps to the accelerating music. My head is spinning, the music is intoxicating. And this is no longer just music. This is sex, beginning with a slow prelude and ending with a wild gallop with a spectacular finale.
The folk dances end, but my blood is still boiling. I drink more wine and go to dance again. Now to the rhythms of foreign classics. I love to dance. My ass loves to move in a sexual rhythm of sways and twitches. At some point, completely immersed in the music, I notice admiring eyes behind me. Ks-kss is looking at me, wide-eyed, smiling sincerely, openly devouring me with his gaze. And I smile broadly back at him. I want him wildly! I need to cool down. I go to the donkey pens, skirting the dance floor and the farm. But thoughts of the bearded man don't leave me. In solitude, I'm again overwhelmed by a sexual fantasy...
— Ela!
He turns his face and looks at me uncomprehendingly for a moment, then smiles broadly. His gaze wanders over my face and stops on my lips.
— Ela-ela?..
And again, without waiting for my reaction, he grabs me in his arms and carries me to a nearby covered pen with high hay feeders. My butt rests against this feeder and I sit on it, letting the impatient handler between my thighs. He devours my lips, pulling down my panties and, saying something, presses them to his nose and hides them in his pocket. Then suddenly drops to his knees and presses his lips to my crotch. Gasping, I throw my head back, leaning against the feeder. From the swift, impudent tongue playing shamelessly inside me, my legs quickly stop holding me, and the man throws one leg over his shoulder, continuing to devour me, growling and purring like a cat. And I lose myself in orgasm again.
And when I come to my senses, this bearded handler is already fucking me hard, placing my butt on the edge of the feeder and holding me firmly by the waist. I grab onto the vertical posts and move to meet these hard thrusts. He kisses my face, pulls down one strap, baring my breast, and greedily sucks on it. This animal desire of his wildly arouses me, and I'm already growling and screaming myself, throwing my hips onto the member drilling into me.
He lifts me off the feeder and, before he turns me however he pleases, I drop to my knees and take his hot rod captive with my lips. He groans with pleasure and allows me to play with him a little, smiling as he looks into my eyes. Then he turns me around with my back to him, putting me on my elbows and arching my back. The ground is dry, though it smells of wool and manure, but we don't pay any attention to that anymore. The man's member, wet from my mouth, pushes into my ass. I don't resist, right now I want to feel like a guided female. He is cautious but persistent. And now he's fucking me, leaning his hands into my buns, harder and more sweeping. This animal dance drives me crazy. I give in first, announcing with a cry, it seems, the nearest mountains. He follows, growling and plunging in to the very balls, pouring into me. Hearing our cries, the donkeys nearby began to bray...
I leave this wonderful place with a smile but hiding my eyes. It seems to me that everyone will understand what's going on in my fantasies just by one look. Only one thing torments me — dissatisfaction. Probably, thanks to my modesty. It is the counterbalance to my slutty eyes and bold fantasies. I hurry back to the hotel to relieve the tension with my own fingers and the wonderful balls. I'll imagine the bearded handler with the sonorous name I can't remember...