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"Tonight," she said, "I feel like one of the little mares, and you remind me of the big purple horse. Show me how you'd do it."Grant was more than willing to play the game. He too got up on hands and knees and pranced around her on the bed. He sniffed at her pink opening the way a great horse would and let his tongue play in the groove until it opened farther. Then he put his hands upon her back the way a great stud would put his feet, and brought his weapon up to the hot crevasse. As he worked his hips to rub the knob on her clitoris, she backed toward him, inserting it to the hilt, inch by inch. She even farted as a passionate mare might from taking such a large load.And Grant realized that, like the great purple horse in the story, he wouldn't make his mare pregnant.*************************Warning: This ebook contains explicit and forbidden descriptions of taboo sexual activity. It may include themes or elements of taboo, forbidden, and adult topics. It is intended for open minded mature readers who will not be offended by graphic depictions of sex acts between consenting adults.XXX Adults Only 18+ Graphic Content
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A Purple Horse
Copyright © 2016 Dog Murphy
Darque Taboo Press
Search For “Darque Taboo Press” to find more forbidden and taboo erotica.
All Rights Reserved: No part of this publication may be reproduced or retransmitted, electronic or mechanical, without the written permission of the publisher; with the exception of brief quotes used in connection with reviews written for inclusion in a magazine or newspaper.
Disclaimer: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic, adult language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable which might include: multiple sexual practices, heavy and strong BDSM themes and elements, erotic elements and fetish play. This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/Fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither the publisher nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles. All characters depicted at least eighteen years of age or older.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.
Grant Morgan was one of those fortunate people that always look mature and yet a little younger than they really are.
Like a sedan that is brought in the garage each night and cleaned up, the body never betrayed the miles of rough road the eyes had seen.
He was a manufacturer's representative. Or traveling salesman, if you prefer. He was not the typical picture of the hard working salesman, slaving for his employer in the daytime and nursing ulcers in a cheap hotel at night.
Rather, Grant Morgan preferred to make a satisfactory income and still leave enough time for his real interests: women and traveling, in that order.
Traveling as a representative for a lock manufacturer gave him a perfect opportunity to indulge himself. He traveled the eastern states, mostly, from New York to Florida and as far west as Louisville, Indianapolis, Chicago.
His employer constantly reminded him that he could make twice as much money if he "properly applied his full energies" and sold more contracts to the wholesalers and manufacturers.
"What you mean is kiss asses an extra six hours each night trying to con some bigshit peanut machine maker into using Blessitt locks in his machines. And cut my commission in the deal. No thanks! If I'm going to take somebody out for wine and steak on my expense account there's going to be something in it for me!"
"Isn't your expense account adequate, Grant?"
"Adequate is the word you used. I prefer plentiful."
"You're pussy happy, Morgan! I'm giving you an expense account to help you sell locks! To make Blessitt a famous name in locks! Padlocks! Cylinder locks! Safe locks! You seem to prefer to get. us a reputation for running a stud service! Is that what you want? Is that what you... "
"Are you really giving me my choice, Chet?" Grant turned on his well-known smile.
"Get the hell out of here and go sell some locks, you oversexed cockhound! We both know you're just holding me up for more money so give me a couple of weeks to see what I can do. Meanwhile, there's a coin machine manufacturers group meeting in the Armory in Louisville. Get your ass down there and make some points for us. I don't care who you sleep with down there but please get us some contracts in the daytime!"
When Grant returned to the home office in New York there was something different about him. He was more serious and preoccupied than usual.
Even Chet Blessitt noticed it, but he didn't mention it. He hoped it was a change for the better and told Grant to spend a few days around the office and touring the plant, along with some other salesmen, getting familiar with a new model they were working on.
A few of the people that knew Grant quietly discussed him behind his back and tried to figure out what the change was and what had happened.
Gloria Sullivan, one of the secretaries, drew the welcome task of finding out what it was all about. When Grant came through the office in the middle of the afternoon, she was ready for him.
"Busy, Grant?" she asked.
"Never too busy for my favorite natural redhead! What's up?" and when he said "natural redhead" he gave an obvious look at her midsection that made her blush. It brought memories to both of them.
"I have a nasty headache and I'd like a chance to get out of here for the rest of the afternoon. And you don't look as if you're highly entertained by this place either. So... "
"What would King Blessitt say? Would it get you in trouble?"
"Piss on King Blessitt! If he doesn't like it... "
"Down, girl! I get the word. Take a swing through the girls' room and powder your... uh... nose and I'll meet you downstairs. You know where my car is parked. Okay?"
It was a beautiful afternoon and Gloria decided that a nice long drive was just the tonic she needed for her "headache" which completely disappeared after they stopped for a drink. They also had a light dinner which Grant put on his expense account. Gloria smiled at him knowingly as he did it.
After they got back in the car he filled the gas tank with the most expensive brand he could find and put it on his expense account charge plate.
This time Gloria completely ignored the act, even though she knew what a fit Blessitt always threw about Grant's use of his company expense account to entertain girl friends and take pleasure drives.
She still hadn't brought up the subject that she started out to explore, namely the new Grant Morgan. She hoped he would say something to give her a clue or at least start on the subject so it wouldn't sound like prying.
Gloria had no idea where they were. Nor did she care, really. It was getting dark and she was enjoying herself tremendously. Just riding through some strange, remote countryside in an open convertible.
They appeared to be going toward a summit of some kind and she could see lights coming on far below as they went through clearings.
When they finally stopped they were almost completely hidden on three sides by trees and banks and the front of the car pointed out over a cliff of some kind. The thought occurred to Gloria that it was like sliding in bed with a lover, the flickering lights below a sheet and the starlit sky a cover. She turned and held her arms out to Grant.
"Kiss me, you fool!"
"Then spread your legs. That's the way you like to be kissed, isn't it?"
Their arms went around each other and their lips met. 'Soon she felt his left hand slide gently down her thigh and under her loose skirt. She did not move for an instant until she felt his fingers probing gently under her pants, tickling the short, curly hairs in the little rise below her navel.
She was beginning to tremble lightly and could no longer hold still. Slowly she pushed herself forward on the seat where her legs could spread. Then his gently probing fingers went under the crotch of her pants and stroked the lips that were opening to his touch.
Still holding the kiss and breathing deeply, she reached over and unbuckled his belt and pants. As the zipper went down she could feel the hard mass of flesh fairly bursting to get out.
She put her hand down into the top of his shorts to take hold of his stud-like rod.
He raised himself up in such a way, without ceasing his gentle play on her organ, that she could push his pants and shorts down toward his knees and give the great, knobbed horn his full freedom.
Each time she did this with Grant she thrilled even more at the size and hardness of his weapon. Her small hand would not reach completely around it, but she held it gently and stroked up and down and then let her fingers trickle farther down to feel the hairs and large round globes hanging below. It made wild dreams run through her feverish mind and caused a dryness in her throat.
Their lips parted just momentarily, and a light groan escaped each of them.
"Kiss it, darling... kiss it... please... " It was only a whisper on her lips.
In a movement of more instinct than grace, she removed her pants and lay in the seat. Her legs were spread with her calves dangling over the door of the car, her head in his lap.
"I want to kiss you too... just for a moment... I want to taste it... and tickle it with my tongue, and feel it grow... "
Grant parted the lips with his tongue and then let it probe around her clitoris in a wiggling, ever-moving play. As the juices flowed out to wet the tender nerves, he moved his tongue down each side, just inside the lip... wiggling, twitching, licking out. When he reached the bottom, his tongue shot out in lashes, going deeply into the hole.
Shaking almost violently now, she ceased her oral majesty on him and started to sit up.
"Don't let me come yet. I want it in me. I want the big, beautiful thing in me when I explode... "
She kissed it gently again before she got up and started nervously taking her clothes off.
"Take your clothes off too. I need it properly and completely!"
"Let's get in the back seat. Okay?" Grant's voice was a whisper too.
She didn't answer. She just climbed into the back seat and lay back on the soft cushion. Her hands were under her head, causing her breasts to rise up to their fullness. Her white skin seemed to almost glow in the half darkness, dotted only by the two slightly dark nipples, a slight dark area at her navel, and the reddish-brown hair between her lifted and spread legs.
When Grant moved in between her legs she took the great horn in her hand and guided it toward the entrance. When the knob touched, she stroked it up and down a few times on her clitoris and then let it enter. He felt her fingers like soft petals on the small of his back, urging him in.
Gently, in and out at first, he played his symphony. Then when it was all the way in, he started the thunderous overture, and now her petal-like fingers became the claws of a tigress. Her throaty groans had become almost nasal cries. Her hips pushed and slashed at him.
"I'm coming... I'm coming... " she cried over and over.
He had been controlling his own coming for this moment, and now he triggered it, arching his back and driving even deeper.
He came in repeated spurts, sensing that she could feel each release of the hot fluid.
They lay embraced, spent, for a few swirling moments.
Grant produced a bottle of southern bourbon from the glove compartment and some hotel type glasses, wrapped in sterile envelopes, and they each indicated a need for the refresher.
Without even putting their clothes on, they took Grant's pants out to a clear spot by the cliff and sat.
Grant poured each of them a generous drink. His voice finally broke the stillness: "Well, did we cure your headache?"
"Thank you, Doctor. When can I come for my next appointment?"
They laughed and kissed each other, embracing clumsily in their spent nakedness.
"Grant?" she said, in a more sober mood now.
"You knew I was faking the headache, didn't you?"
"Did you think this is why I did it in the first place?"
"I had a feeling there was something else you were getting at, at first. But then as we kept riding, I changed my mind."
"Do you know what I started out looking for?"
"Maybe. You tell me."
"Okay, if you won't come out with it, I'll have to ask."
They were sitting apart now, though close enough together that their voices were soft and intimate.
"Grant, something happened during your trip to Louisville. You've changed. There's something on your mind. I'm not complaining, you understand. In some ways you're the same old Grant we love," and she motioned toward the car and lowered her face slightly. "But the way you used to be, you'd have taken me immediately to my place or yours and had me undressed before we got up the elevator. The girls in the office were getting so used to being felt up by you they were disappointed when you didn't. Now tell Mamma Gloria what's on your mind. Please?"
"I didn't know it showed that much."
"It does, believe me."
"Really, I was glad to get you out this afternoon. I needed to talk to someone. But I didn't know how to bring it up. I wasn't even positive that I wanted to."
"Pardon my saying so, but how in the hell could you get your mind troubled by a woman, after as many episodes as you've had in a lifetime career of women?"
"That's the funny part about it. I can't explain it. I was beginning to think I'd met and seduced every possible kind, shape, size, or description of female. I loved them all and went back for more. Then I met her. Imagine me flipping my cork over a nineteen-year-old virgin! I can't get her out of my mind, day or night."
"No, far from it. That brings up something else I have to get off my chest. First of all, I dated her the two weeks I was down there and didn't lay her. Although I'm sure I could have. But the reason I didn't is, I suppose, part of what's bothering me. I'll come to that later.
"Second, I can't get anyone pregnant. You may find that hard to believe, but I'll explain it to you. During my hitch in the army I was wounded. Of all places, I took shrapnel in the balls. True, even with the close examination you've given them, you never noticed the scars. But believe me, they're there, under the hair.
"At first the field doctor just laughed about it, and I was the star attraction among the purses at the station. But then infection set in. The doctor gave it to me one day. He explained that there is a little tube from each nut that carries the live sperm out. It's called a vas. It has nothing to do with just coming. When you come, the juice comes from the prostate gland. Only the little sperm cells that get you pregnant come from the balls. At any rate, mine had become infected. He said that if I'd let him perform a vasectomy, it would probably cure it. If we didn't, I might lose the whole works. The only catch to it was that once done, there was no way to undo it. I would never be able to be a father. I would go on having whatever I considered a normal sex life, but the little sperms would just go back into the lymph system and be carried off as waste. I'm not ashamed of it, but I just never felt like spreading it around."
"I'm sorry. But it's not really that important. I'll admit I've had some uneasy moments after some of our 'parties,' and I suppose this explains why it always turned out okay."
"As to why I didn't seduce her, that's not as easy to explain. The funny thing about it is, she offered to. Once when we were just riding alone, and I had put the pressure on her... as you know I can when I want to... she actually offered to. She said she never had before, but she knew what it was all about, and if I needed her that much, she would. She even offered to give me a blow job if that is what I needed, although she admitted she didn't even know what she was supposed to do. And the capper of all, she admitted she was so hot in the pants she was about to cry. But when I took her in my arms she began to sob. Something went wrong. I guess it was the first time a virgin ever cried and begged me to do something. I went soft; Me! I went soft!"
"You, my boy, have a case of love. For the first time in your life, the stud has fallen in love with a filly. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
"I'm not sure. You may have solved it for me tonight."
"In what way?" she asked.
She raised her face to him in a joking way.
"Simply this. I'd made up my mind that I was going to have one more real fling. I was glad it was you. I knew you could do it if anyone could."
"Thank you, kind sir. I'm flattered but... "
"I figure that you can get my mind off her, if anyone can. If I get up in the morning and she's still top-most in my mind, I'm going back to Louisville."
"And then what?"
"I may even ask her to marry me."
"Does she know about your wound and operation?"
"No. But I'll tell her. It won't make any difference."
"I'm not so sure. What about the difference in your ages? You're no doddering old man by a long way. But you're a few years and a lot of miles older than she. What will her parents think of that? And what about all this traveling for Blessitt?"
"We'll work something out."
"I hope so, Grant. If this is what you decide to do, I truly hope so, for your sake and hers. She's a very fortunate girl."
"Now, how about finishing your project?"
Grant leaned over and kissed Gloria and tried to lay her back on the grass.
Without unkindness, somehow, she removed herself from his embrace and stood up.
"Sorry, Grant. No more tonight. Ordinarily, I'd just be getting started by now, as you know. But I'm afraid the 'understanding other woman' role doesn't really fit me that well, after all. You see, I had some plans of my own for you. You're the most fabulous piece a girl could ever hope for. And I didn't mind your spreading it around as you were. I'm not a picture of primness myself. But I always hoped that someday you'd get tired of spreading it around, and I had a perfect plan to let you settle down to Mamma Gloria, without your ever knowing what hit you. If it'll make you feel better, I've been in love with you for a long time. And not just for that club of a peter, either, Grant Morgan."
Her voice was nearing the tearful pitch now. But she wouldn't cry. Gloria Sullivan would never let any man see her cry.
"I'm sorry. I don't feel like being laid by you while you're thinking all the while about some little nineteen-year-old virgin that didn't even put out to get what I wanted. Please take me home."
When Grant opened his eyes and looked at the furniture around him, he wasn't sure he was awake.
Many times he had awakened in unfamiliar surroundings, in bed with a lady of short acquaintance, and it often embarrassed him that he couldn't think of her name. Sometimes for minutes, sometimes hours.
But this morning an almost complete amnesia blocked his mind, not allowing him to admit the truth.
The truth was that the beautiful and nude lady in bed with him was Mrs. Grant Morgan. A few hours before she had been Miss Louise Tollman, nineteen-year-old daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Bernard Welch Tollman. She was rich, lovely, and a virgin.
Now, she was certainly very lovely. But she was no longer rich and positively not a virgin. She was the wife of an unemployed traveling salesman. She had perhaps given up her riches, unknowingly. She had absolutely insisted on giving up her virginity.
Quietly, Grant got out of bed. He stood up, stretched, shook his head, and ran his fingers through his hair, partly to straighten the tangled strands and perhaps more so to try to turn his brain on and get his senses back.
He saw his cigarettes and lighter on the table beside the bed and realized he desperately needed a smoke.
The naked, beautiful lady continued to sleep the slumber of a contented mind and satisfied body.
The bedroom was the largest he'd ever seen, he thought. It was like an elaborately furnished efficiency apartment. Along with the bed, which was about twice the size of a normal bed, there was a sitting area complete with couch and all the normal living room furniture. The couch was positioned in front of an enormous bow window which overlooked a spectacular view of the Ohio River down below.
In one corner of the room there was a small kitchenette, which appeared to be complete with all the necessities of preparing a quick snack or drinks or whatever a pampered palate wished.
Separate from the main room but joined by an archway, was a spacious and ornate dressing room and bath.
Grant easily found the necessary ingredients for fixing a cup of coffee even in the unfamiliar surroundings. Then he spotted the bottle of expensive bourbon and decided that would be fine to sweeten the coffee. He wanted to sit by the window and let the steaming coffee and whiskey clear his head.
Just as he was about to sit on the couch, it occurred to him that he was still completely naked himself, and somehow it just didn't seem nice to sit naked on such a beautiful piece of furniture. He picked up a nearby towel, spread it on the seat and back of the couch, and sat on that.
Now the events leading up to this morning were coming back to him in clear focus.
He had done just what he'd told Gloria he was thinking about doing. Only he didn't quit Blessitt, he just told them he was going to Louisville to see, a client.
After a few days of not even communicating with the home office, Chet Blessitt himself sent him his notice that he was fired. He also sent a check for the reserve money Grant had coming and, Grant decided, a generous bonus for past services.
Dr. and Mrs. Tollman were on an extended speaking tour in Europe, and Louise was living at home. Dr. Tollman, it appeared, was not an ordinary pill-and-needle doctor. He was a consultant. And since the end of the war he had been in great demand to travel and speak at universities trying to get organized all over again. Also, he had come from a long-established and wealthy Kentucky family and therefore had little interest in making a living.
They had decided to get married right away without waiting for her parents to return. She was sure they would approve, since they had never disapproved of anything she had ever done. She would send them a telegram when it was all over.
They had the wedding and invited a small group of her friends, some of whom Grant already knew. It was not an elaborate wedding in the southern tradition, just a party.
Grant quickly decided there was one thing about Kentucky he was going to like. And that was the liquor. He had never seen so much expensive bourbon in his life. He found that if you had the money and the connections, you could get your own private label made to unbelievable mellowness by some of the distilleries. The brands that he had always considered the utmost in quality and price were here called "cookin' whiskey," not really a class with "drinkin' whiskey." And these people knew how to drink.
During the party Grant and Louise gave the impression they were going away on a honeymoon to some secluded and exclusive place which they did not name. But when the last visitor was gone, Grant saw Louise give the maid an envelope, and she disappeared into the main kitchen.
"What was that all about?" he asked.
"Just a little present for Jennifer. I decided she needed a short vacation to visit her parents in Frankfort. And besides, I wanted you all to myself for a while. This will be our honeymoon cabin. I'll show you what an efficient little housewife you've just married. Okay?"
"And what are you efficient at, little housewife?"
"Come upstairs and I'll show you, Lord and Master!"
Just as Grant's mind was picking up the memories of this first night in bed with his new bride, he heard a stirring in the bed and turned his mind back to the present.
Louise was lying on top of the covers, stretching and yawning. She was on her back with her arms stretching over her head, her legs spread and extending as far as she could stretch them, causing every muscle and curve in her young body to flex like a ballerina. She covered her mouth with her left hand as she yawned, and her right hand went down to her abdomen, and she gently rubbed the love triangle between her legs.
"Oh, that's sore," she said softly, realizing that Grant was watching her.
Grant got up and went over to the bed and sat beside the lovely nude. He was still naked, and the sight of her striking body was beginning to have the obvious effect on him. When he sat, she reached over and took his cock in her hand and squeezed gently.
"A mighty weapon you have there, kind sir! May I borrow it for a few years? I promise to take excellent care of it!"
"I could probably work something out, Ma'am. But first I must find out what you intend to do with it, what kind of care you'll take with it!"
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