Message-ID: <42541asstr$1053429004@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <001c01c31ea4$9d2f52e0$c701a8c0@orovly01.az.comcast.net> From: "DB_Story" MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1165 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 20 May 2003 00:51:24 -0700 Subject: {ASSM} Encounters: CowGirl {DB_Story} (M/F, rom, furry, fantasy, size) Date: Tue, 20 May 2003 07:10:04 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, IceAltar ENCOUNTERS: Cowgirl By DB ( DB_Story@att.net / http://home.att.net/files/Authors/db_story/www/ ) Copyrightc 2003 by DB. ASSM (M/F, rom, furry, fantasy, size) (This story contains Constitutionally protected material intended for adults over 18 years of age in the United States of America, and whatever passes for adult status in other countries. If you are under legal age, acting under legal age, not allowed to view such material in your area, or easily offended, please do not continue. This is not for you. (The only rights granted are to view this story. You are not allowed to reproduce, post, or otherwise redistribute this story without permission, except for non-profit Usenet archiving sites. (To purchase for publication, place on your web-site devoted to this style of fiction, or for permission to link to my posted material, please contact me first at the above email.) - - - Author's Note: Encounters stories involve relations between humans and animals in various guises and transformations - all different. Proceed at your own risk. This story is inspired by the Doug Winger illustration http://home.att.net/files/Authors/db_story/www/xprsuslf.jpg - used here with his permission. A special thanks to Gorgo his excellent and much appreciated proofreading. All remaining mistakes are mine. - - - Croatia is an exceptionally beautiful place of green hills, rich valleys, enchanted forests, majestic castles, and old legends. I'm sorry to say that I appreciated very little of this. As a young man due to enter college in the fall, my parents had shipped me off to spend the summer with my never-seen maternal grandparents in the old country. "It's for your own good," they told me. "You need to connect with your heritage," I heard. "There's a whole world outside of the United States to experience and explore." "You should be happy about the collapse of the old political system which opened all this up to the world again." "Everyone goes to Europe to find themselves." So with these words, and too many others like them, I was unceremoniously shipped off to some broken-down, post-Communist country I'd never be able to find on a map to spend the summer on the farm of a couple of relatives I'd never met, couldn't care less about, and were too unmotivated to get out of there while they could. It was either this, or pay for college myself when I returned. Unlike most of my friends, my parents knew who still held the power. It was a long flight to the east with two plane changes in foreign airports, every passing minute taking me further away from my friends, all the hot summer movies, any music worth listening to, and every other modern convenience essential to civilized life. And to put the icing on the cake, the last part of the trip was by train. Can you imagine that? I mean, who in their life travels by train? I was lucky that an older couple who spoke almost intelligible English helped me out. That was great, since I couldn't read any of the signs. When I finally arrived at the station, my grandfather was waiting. He recognized me immediately. "You have your mother's eyes," he commented. "And your father's chin." Then he drove me back to the farm in an actual horse-drawn buggy. I knew life had been rough under Communism, but this was a real eye-opener. These people had nothing! When we got to the farm - if you can call it that, I'll explain later - grandma had a surprisingly good dinner waiting. We ate by candle and lamplight while I answered their few, polite questions with monosyllables. Travel is hard and I was exhausted. As soon as dinner was over I sagged in the chair until they roused me enough to lead me to the softest bed I can ever remember. A mattress of feathers I figured out just before I fell asleep. - - - For the next couple of days I was so jetlagged that I didn't notice much of anything. Grandma always seemed to have food available when I would get up and wander in, and not too many questions to bother me with. Maybe she already knew what I was realizing, that flying east across multiple time zones is a much bigger deal than the time I'd flown to Hawaii a couple years ago. That's if Grandma had ever seen an airplane, that is. And this isn't to mention the culture shock I was experiencing. That is remarkably exhausting as well. It took those couple of days before I finally felt like paying attention to my surroundings. Once I took a look around I really started to realize just how beyond belief this place really is. I'd best describe my Grandparent's home as the dwarfs' cottage from Snow White, right down to its stone walls, wooden window frames, floors, and furniture, and thickly thatched roof. It had an absolutely medieval look and feel to it. My grandparents did have electricity. They just preferred not to use it most of the time. "Not necessary," my grandmother commented. "And unreliable," she added, though perhaps she was referring to the earlier days when the Commies were running things. Old prejudices die hard. To call their place a farm seemed strange because there was only one small, plowed field adjacent to the house and seemingly capable of little more then raising more vegetables than I would ever want to eat in a lifetime. A small barn on the other side housed the horse that seemed as old as my grandparents - not that they weren't proving themselves to be sprightly and energetic. Keeping with the Snow White motif, off in the distance was a castle on a hill. Right behind the house was about a square mile of dark, dense forest. Otherwise there didn't seem to be any close neighbors, with open land surrounding us. When I looked carefully I could see the church spire in the small town at the base of Castle Mountain. At night I heard wolves howling in the distance. - - - The third morning I finally awoke at daybreak, full of energy. After another great breakfast my grandfather put me to work. This actually turned out to be fun. My grandfather led the horse drawing the plow and I broke up any big clods and tossed out the rocks that turned up. I like the smell fresh earth and didn't mind getting a bit dirty. When we broke for lunch grandma had a crockery jar of the best tasting lemonade I've ever had. Afterwards I expected to go back to the field again to finish the job, but instead was asked to help my grandmother clean the house. I never would have done this at home, but like all my friends I'll do things for other people that I'd never do for my parents. To my surprise, my grandfather slung an old gun over his shoulder and set off into the forest just as my grandmother handed me a wooden broom like a witch might ride to start sweeping. The afternoon went faster than I though it would because my grandmother seemed to knew every fairytale in existence. What was interesting is that my grandmother always seemed to know some detail to the story that I'd never heard before. That Snow White had a daughter who went back to live with the dwarves. How Cinderella had forgiven her stepmother and stepsisters and moved them into the castle where they eventually became some of the leading citizens of the kingdom. Or about how Aladdin had to keep making trips back to the Cave of Wonders to pay for all the benefits he insisted on bestowing on his people, until he got careless one day and it killed him. And she told several stories that I've never heard before. Before I realized it, the sun was going down, the house was spotless, and grandfather was coming out of the forest with a hunched-over figure. That hunched figure was a woman so old that it made my grandparents seem positively middle aged. My grandmother came out and greeted her as a lifelong friend, before inviting her in for dinner. The old woman didn't say a word to me the entire evening, but she had dark eyes like an eagle and seldom took them off of me. She ate her meal carefully and formally thanked my grandmother afterwards. When my grandmother looked at her questioningly, all the old woman said was, "Of course he is. How could you ever doubt it?" My grandfather took down a lantern and escorted her back to the edge of the forest. To my surprise she went on alone, even though there were wolves were howling nearby, not even taking the lantern. - - - The next morning I was sore everywhere. So much for hard work being good for a body. Because I'd done so much yesterday I thought I'd get a day off. I was wrong. "Work to finish. Solstice Festival in three days," my grandfather said gruffly without further explanation. As we worked on the field some of the stiffness did abate. When I looked back late in the morning I felt good about all we had accomplished. Several times that morning men or women walked by the field as we worked. Some waved towards us and I started waving back, often getting smiles in return. They were all dressed much like my grandparents and most were carrying large loads. All disappeared into the forest behind the house. We finished preparing the field by lunch. Afterwards my grandfather pickup a large package grandma had made for him and set off into the forest himself. I wanted to go with him, but no one had invited me. Instead grandma had a second package for me to deliver to town. "You've got plenty of time before dark if you don't dawdle," she admonished as she gave me exact directions. I was clearly expected to walk, so I did. This was also new. In the past I wouldn't walk two blocks to the grocery store when I wanted something. It was either drive me, or I'd go without. But the way this was put to me there wasn't any way to refuse. I set out and got some great views of the castle along the way. It only took a couple hours to get there and I had time to think. I delivered the package as instructed and was given another one to take home. Except for the people passing by the field, these were the first people I'd encountered other than my grandparents. There were even some younger kids playing, although they looked at me suspiciously and kept their distance. I might have stayed and explored further except that the sun was well into the afternoon and I didn't want to get lost on the way back. I hurried home and arrived just as my grandfather came out of the woods himself. He waved, and I found myself waving back, before we both went into the house for dinner. - - - The next morning my grandfather surprised me by taking the package I had brought from town and immediately heading into the forest. A lot of things seemed to be going on in this stand of trees. I looked so longingly after him that my grandmother kindly said, "Just wait until tomorrow. That's the festival." Then she set out baking pies and cookies until the house became a child's fantasy. I used to help my own mother bake and grandma let me do things for her like sift the flour. As a reward I got to eat the remaining bits left in the bowls. Finally she announced an end to it because they couldn't carry anything more. Then she sent me outside with a book for the rest of the afternoon. Although it was in another language, it was mostly illustrations of the fairytales I'd heard. It was easy to see the details of each story in intricate illustrations. Soon I was leaning against the tree dreaming of far-off lands and exotic creatures, the book forgotten on my lap. My grandmother finally had to come out and get me for dinner. My grandfather didn't return until late that night. - - - "Festival morning," my grandmother greeted me with at the break of dawn. I didn't know what that meant, but it sounded interesting. My grandmother must have worked into the night because there were three large packages waiting for us. "Let's go," she said, handling the smallest one to me. Instead I took the largest one and replied, "Yes, let's go." My grandfather took the lead into the woods. Though there was hardly any trail visible my grandfather confidently led the way. In moments there were trees everywhere and I was completely lost. Though in later times I would be able to walk this trail myself with complete assurance at midnight with my eyes closed, today it was all new. There were birds singing and the rustlings of creatures just out of sight, but everything all felt friendly and my grandfather had left the gun at home. We crossed a couple clear streams burbling merrily along over ancient moss-covered rocks before taking a sharp right and heading up a slope. More twists and turns before we suddenly stepped out of the forest - and into another age. My first impression was that I had stepped out into the biggest Renaissance Faire in existence. Although it seemed a small village with outlying farms in sight, it was chock full of happy people. Compared to my grandparent's peaceful farm, this place was alive with energy and merriment. And when I looked closer - more. A festival was clearly in progress with brightly colored pennants and entertainers. I felt drab compared to the colorful clothes I saw around me. And it wasn't just people. Over to one side I saw a couple of what I could only describe as ogres. At least that's what I'd say having never actually seen an ogre myself. And in the distance it looked like a centaur trotted through. As we walked forward I began to see the kinds of creatures only described in fairytales. People - normal people - still predominated, but I saw a variety of other forms that told me I wasn't in Kansas - make that Croatia - anymore. I later learned that these mixed beings were referred to as cross-overs and were seldom seen in the village except at faires. They kept to themselves mostly otherwise since they are not generally accepted by the common folk. As we walked forward my grandparents seemed to know everyone. We were constantly being stopped and greeted, and I was constantly being introduced. I didn't understand the warm welcomes I received at the time. Only later would I realize they were welcoming a new citizen to their town. Soon we were through the town and suddenly I saw a familiar house ahead. It was identical to my grandparent's farmhouse. I didn't understand until we actually went up and into it that it was my grandparent's house on this side. Once inside my grandmother opened one of the packages. Inside was an outfit for me to match any I had seen. By the time I had changed into it they had changed into festive clothes as well. The other packages contained food that we contributed to the celebration. For the rest of the day we walked around, ate, drank, danced, and sang along with the infectious atmosphere created by the various performers. My life became a whole lot more interesting as I finally met others my age who were as curious about me as I was about them. None of the games we played were fancy like those my I play on my PS2 back home, but that's okay. And as night fell the enchantment grew as paper lanterns lit every tree while giant fireflies drifted through the air. Finally it became very late. As things were winding down we returned back through the forest to the farm. Despite the thick trees, the forest seemed to glow and my grandfather easily found our way home. - - - The next day first thing, even before breakfast, I took off to go back again. This was better than anything I could have ever imagined. The forest path looked dark, gloomy, and confusing, so I just ran around the edges to the other side - and found nothing except more land like that around our farmhouse. I kept walking until I came back around to the farmhouse again, without finding any indication of the village. I'd started that trip with a hundred questions, and thought of another hundred along the way, but by the time I finished my walk I somehow already knew most of the answers. The old woman had known that I was a person who could walk to the other side. It was in my blood and heritage. I knew now why my grandparents lived where they did, and why my parents had sent me over to see them. My grandmother saw me arrive and called me in for breakfast. I could hardly keep still long enough to eat. But my grandfather wouldn't guide me over until both he and I were done eating. After that he took me into the forest and started teaching me the hidden paths within. With his help I started spending a lot of time on the other side, and soon was able to find my way alone. Most days over there weren't like the Solstice Faire, but I was finding even the day- to-day life there fascinating. I asked why we didn't move over there full-time. They told me it was important to keep a foot firmly in both worlds, hence the farm they maintained. Though I didn't agree with this view, I was willing to help them out in return for visiting this new world nearly every day. The forest could be a scary place to the uninitiated. Most intruders quickly got lost if they ventured in. For myself, none of that applied. It was like my own private Fantasyland, and was where I learned that most people everywhere are good if you give them a chance. Life is always lively on the other side and everyone accepted me because of my grandparents. I knew there were some lines that shouldn't be crossed, but I never worried about them. This "summer vacation" that I had wanted over before it started, I now wanted to never end. Then came the day of the annual livestock faire. - - - The faires were the best times. The solstice had been the big one for the summer, and a great way to get introduced to the village. But the rest of them were also all worth attending for the food and gaiety. This one reminded me of country fairs I'd attended back home. People brought their prize livestock to show and compete with, and I wasn't much into that. I was just there for the fun. I'd arrived late since I wanted to get my chores out of the way first, and the first events of the day were already complete. I wasn't paying attention, being focused on a big ice cream cone that I had just watched being made the old-fashioned hand-cranked way. Then I saw her standing on the stage -- and I was in love. At first I didn't realize she was a cross-over. Her glasses and clothing fooled me. Nobody had been willing to tell me how cross-overs happened and it hadn't really mattered until now. I did know they were usually raised as their animal side dictated, so seeing one dressed like this was unexpected. Despite her absolutely amazing bust, it was her eyes that first got my attention. Large and soft brown, her glasses gave her an intelligent look that I found immensely appealing. Her face had an exotic shape like I'd never seen before, with high cheekbones and a very kissable pair of lips. Her dark brown hair was nicely attired around a pair of small horns and large velvety ears that begged to be stroked. I tried to ignore her bust as I admired her shapely tanned legs below the ultra-short denim cutoffs while I wondered if she had feet - or hooves - inside those out-of-place athletic shoes. (The shoes shouldn't have surprised me. Most people here at least have contact with both worlds.) Her strong, tufted tail seemed exactly right for her. Although I was trying not to stare, even with the extra height of the stage her short stature put those barely contained udders at face level. They were wrapped in a shirt that must have once belonged to a giant. Obviously bras are not part of this medieval age. It was too easy to see her multiple bovine inspired teats pressing tightly against their confinement. She was here as the undisputed winner of today's milking contest. That might be a turn-off to most people, but I was finding her very erotic. I wished I'd been there for the contest itself, which must have provided an even better view of her assets. I made a note to self to pay more attention to these events in the future. Her pouty expression barely concealed her satisfaction at her victory here today. She'd done it, and she knew it. The overall impression I got was that she was about my age - just entering her sexual maturity -- though I did know that most cross-overs tended to mature at the faster rate of their animal side. As such she might only be a few years old. I was daydreaming a bit just thinking about what it would be like to hold her against me and stroke those soft ears while kissing her inviting lips when I was pulled out of my reverie by two older women in front of me. "Isn't that disgusting," the first one said. "Don't they know their place?" "I'm sure it's just for the show," the second one retorted. "Don't bet on it," the first one shot back. "Although they keep her in the barn where she belongs, I have it on good authority they treat her like a daughter." "Shocking," the other replied, before they both put their noses up and marched off in self-righteous indignation. Life in this side runs by its own rules and the attitude just expressed is not uncommon. But I didn't have it in me because I hadn't grown up here. Besides I was more intrigued by the comment that she had been raised as a daughter. Some cross-overs were reportedly as smart as any person. With the women gone I realized I was the center of attention of those lovely eyes. And in my rapidly pounding heart I just knew this girl was special. There was one way to be sure. But I looked around carefully before I tried this to be sure I was alone first. Then I walked boldly to the edge of the stage and said, "Hi," in my most manly voice. "And congratulations," I added. Then I held my breath to see what would happen. Though she looked right at me when I spoke, for a frozen moment it appeared that nothing would happen. It was the longest moment of my life. Then she smiled at me and replied clearly, "Thank you, kind sir." Yes! I thought to myself. After another nervous glance around to be sure no one had noticed I tried to act casual. "How's it going?" I asked "Okay, I guess," she replied sweetly. "But you're the first person to talk to me." "Really?" "Yes," she said, making a pretty moue. "Most people don't have much to say to me." "Those ladies ahead of me seemed to have a lot to say." I regretted those words the moment they were out of my mouth. But she just nodded at me and added, "Yes they did," so I figured she wasn't upset with me. "You're beautiful," I impulsively said to her. She half turned away at that, but I could see her blushing. And her teats seemed to tighten under her top. "Thank you," she said softly, still looking away. I wanted to say more, but just then I heard the noisy crowd of my friends approaching. In moments they'd see me here. "Take care," I said quickly, turning to slip away. "I've enjoyed talking to you," I added over my shoulder. "Me too," she replied to my rapidly retreating back. - - - I hooked-up with my crowd again after that and spent the next few hours roaming with them, but I couldn't get the cowgirl out of my mind. She wasn't anything like what I'd been told a cross-over is supposed to be. I couldn't understand why no one else had spoken to her. I did slip away a couple times to try and see her again, but the stage had been cleared and she was gone. That night I could barely sleep despite the soft bed. I kept waking up hoping I'd find her next to me - but she never was. I didn't realize it was so obvious, but the next morning my grandmother knew immediately that something had happened. After watching me eat breakfast for several minutes she asked me, "Do you want to talk about it?" My first thought was to try and pretend that nothing had happened. Fortunately I didn't go with that first reaction. It took me several halting attempts before I could get it out, but her reaction was completely positive. That's the way my grandparents are - nothing like those two disapproving ladies yesterday. Then she told me something that had me out of the house like a rocket, racing back through the forest. - - - I ran all through the village looking for my Grandfather. The faire was concluding today and it was quite crowded. Once I found him I spent the next few minutes talking as fast as I could to convince him of my need, and my plan. I probably oversold the whole thing since there was no time during it that I felt he was against me, however I wasn't taking any chances. "Enough," he finally said with a twinkle in his eye. "But don't go overboard on this or you'll never work you way out of the hole." I promised him I wouldn't, and then listened as he gave me several important pointers I hadn't even considered in my haste. I was literally hopping one foot to the other to get to it before he finally finished with, "Now go, if you are going to make this happen." I went. - - - Typical of many faires of this type, Grandma had told me that the livestock exhibited at the faire would be auctioned off on the last day. Grandpa had agreed to advance me the payment against my future work for them, and given me some suggestions on how I should proceed. The first thing he told me was where all the animals were being kept during the faire. I rushed in to the barn and down to her stall with my last bit of breath. "Hi," she said brightly upon seeing me again. She treated my arrival as if I'd only stepped away for a few minutes, rather than the cowardly way I had slunk away yesterday. "I'm going to buy you," I managed to gasp out, still trying to catch my breath. "I'd like that," she said, giving my heart a leap of joy at those words. Then my whole world suddenly sagged when she added, "Although the ice cream maker has also said he plans to buy me." I didn't know what to say to that. "Why?" I finally managed to get out. "He likes the quality of my milk," she said as if it was nothing special. "He has been buying it from my parents for awhile now. He says it makes his best ice cream ever." That left me thinking about the ice cream I'd eaten yesterday. It momentarily gave me a queasy feeling, although it made perfect sense in this world. It brought another question to mind as well. "Why are your...parents...selling you anyway?" Though that question seems incredibly weird to me, she answered it as though it was the most natural thing in the world to be discussing. "My parents are an elderly couple. They found and adopted me when I didn't have a proper home otherwise. But I know it's been hard for them to take care of me lately." "So they're selling you now?" "Of course. This way they know I'll go to a good home." I was just getting my mind around this concept when another thought intruded. I tried my best to ignore it, but I realized my conscience would never leave me alone if I didn't do the right thing right now. I looked at the lovely female longingly while I worked up the efforts to get the words out. "Who...would you rather have buy you?" I asked her, dreading the outcome. "The ice cream man - or me?" She did not have nearly as much trouble with her answer as I'd had with my question. "I want you to buy me," she said softly yet firmly, and my heart jumpstarted itself again. Then she made a suggestion that had me running out of the barn in frenetic search of the ice cream man. When I found him I talked even more rapidly than I had to my grandfather. I may have bent the truth a bit a bit when I said my grandfather had given me all the barter I needed to win any bidding contest. I may have even felt it was true that grandfather would give me more if I needed it. I deftly avoided his question on just how high I planned to go, thanks to my grandfather's wise counsel earlier, and instead assured him that any bidding war between us would only hurt us both in the end. Then I went in for the kill with my cowgirl's suggestion that if he didn't bid against me, I would give him exclusive rights to buy all her milk at a good price. A price, I didn't mention, would also quickly pay off my loan to my grandfather. In the end he agreed that it was really the milk he wanted and we shook on it. - - - At the auction itself a couple other people made half-hearted bids for my lovely cowgirl, but the ice cream man kept his silence. My determined quick upping of each bid quickly silenced the competition. My friends had found me there, and were tugging on my shirt and trying to ask me just what was I doing. I ignored them and concentrated on the auction stage. My cowgirl up there only had eyes for me. Well before I spent all my grandfather had agreed to advance me, the auctioneer's hammer fell and she was all mine. There was a rope loosely around her neck and they handed me the other end of it. My friends stood there with their mouths hanging open as I led her down off the stage and away from the auction. - - - Once we were out of sight I looked at her and shook my end of the rope. "Do I need this?" I asked. "Only if you want it," she replied, giving me the feeling it didn't matter to her either way. I quickly pulled it off over her head and took her hand instead, leading her across town to my grandparent's house. They told me I could use it for now. It seemed like the longest walk in the world to get there. She easily followed me, but we didn't talk. She didn't say anything, and I couldn't think of anything to say. As we arrived and I turned in towards the house she suddenly pulled away out of my hand and walked towards the barn. I ran after and quickly caught her. "Where are you going?" "I wanted to see where I'm going to live," she replied. I took her hand firmly again. "You're going to live in the house with me," I told her. Although she looked confused for a moment, she then replied, "Okay," and docilely followed me up the couple stairs to the porch and into the house. Once inside and in private everything rather ground to a halt. My plan had succeeded marvelously, but I hadn't had time to think about what would happen next. It wasn't that I didn't have a pretty good idea of what I wanted. I just hadn't had time yet to decide how to go about it. I ended up just looking at her standing there, all mine. Again I was struck by how self-assured she seemed. I felt she had a much better idea of her place in the grand scheme of things than I did. Her sexuality was overwhelming. I wondered if she was aware of it. Dressed as she was, and with her glasses and lipstick, I couldn't imagine how someone could improve on those looks. The alert way she watched me seemed at odds with her domesticated manner otherwise. With that body and those looks she should have been able to command any relationship she desired, yet she allowed herself to be led around on a rope and planned to sleep in the barn. This really is a different sort of world. She didn't seem the least uncomfortable with our situation, or the hungry way I was looking at her, which made me even more uncomfortable with what I had in mind for her. I finally had to say something, since she wasn't going to initiate anything herself. So I asked the obvious question. "Do you have a name?" "No," she replied, as though it was completely normal for her not to have one. "At least if I do," she added, "No one has ever told me what it is." "I'm going to call you Mesha then," I told her, naming her after a girl I once knew whom she actually reminded me of rather strongly. "Me...sha," she said, trying it out. Then she flashed me a bright smile. "I like it. You are so kind to me." This...woman...was just so easy to please. Maybe it was time for me to quit being my own worst enemy. "Mesha," I asked, "May I touch you?" "You're my owner. Why would you have to ask?" "It just seemed like the right thing to do," I stammered out. My heart was pounding again. I realized that my pants were uncomfortably tight. "I'll take that as a yes," I said, waiting then a long moment for the protest that never came. I stepped over to Mesha and carefully reached to touch one of her short horns. That seemed the safest place to start. It was as hard and smooth as it looked, though completely non-threatening. Mesha didn't protest or move away at all. That got my hand right next to those remarkable ears. As if by accident my hand moved down to stroke the top of the closest one ever so lightly. It was soft with very short fur on the back. I gave it my gentlest touch and she seemed to sigh slightly and lean a bit closer to me. This encouraged me to walk around behind her and give her other ear the same attention. I could tell she enjoyed it as much as I did. I spent a couple minutes just on her ears before moving my hands tenderly down to her smooth, warm neck. She quickly gave a soft, lowing sound and leaned even closer. A girlfriend had once told me how sensitive a woman's neck is, and had as my first lover, and made love to me time I had stroked her there. Mesha seemed to respond the same way. I might have continued there much longer except that suddenly her sturdy tail thrashed against me. I quickly stepped back, concerned that it might have hurt her to hit my legs that way and she turned to me in concern. "I'm sorry," she said with her eyes lowered. "Don't be," I quickly replied. "I was only concerned that I had cramped your space, or something." "It's okay," she replied, still not looking at me. I though for a moment, then asked, "Have you ever been kissed?" "No," came the short reply. "You're going to be now," I said, reaching over to lift her chin. Her eyes rose to look at me in a way I could only describe as wondering. Has nobody ever found this creature alluring before? As I looked into those beautiful eyes and stepped in to carry out my intentions I finally encountered her exceptionally more than ample chest. I had been trying so hard to avoid paying too much attention to the obvious (based on another girlfriend's advice) that I had ignored it just a little too much. I was stopped inches short of my goal. While I was trying to sort out the problem, Mesha took things into her own hands and pushed herself firmly up against me while leaning forward to get her promised kiss. Automatically my hands went around to hold her close and tight. For someone who said they've never been kissed before, Mesha seemed to know exactly what to do. Her eyes closed as her mouth opened slightly and her soft lips caressed mine as no woman ever has before. Our kiss went on and on. She made no effort to pull away or do anything except match her lips to mine. It was only after a very long time that I finally became aware of other things again, like those impressively tight breasts pressed so firmly into my chest. It was only when I finally admitted that I was having trouble holding this position any longer that I reluctantly broke it off and released her. Her tail was swishing again as she stepped back only a couple of inches. "That was...wonderful," I managed to get out in acknowledgement to her as I reached over to lightly brush her neck again. She much have enjoyed it too because she looked somewhat dazed and it took a few seconds for her eyes to focus on me again. And in what I really liked, again she made no effort to move away from me in the least, although we were still so close I could feel the heat from her body. Then she reached out and took my hand lightly and pulled me even closer towards her. "I can learn so much from you," she said softly. I didn't need any more invitation that that. I reached out and stroked her neck with one hand while running the other now boldly over the thin fabric of her top. Her large teats pushed hard against their confinement as I squeezed each one through the fabric. They were a huge turn-on. I looked at her face and saw she had a dazed look as her tail started to jerk again. I took a moment to remove her glasses, so they wouldn't get broken with what I had in mind next. She didn't stop me. With them off I felt whole focus was now on me. I put one hand on each breast and rubbed in a circular pattern, bumping over those multiple teats. She was swishing her tail back and forth regularly now as I realized this should continue in the bedroom. I took her hand and led her there. Once there I ran my hands down and back up her smooth, warm legs. Then I closed my hands around the base of her fascinating tail. It jerked in my hands as I slid them down to the tuft on the end and I could tell that she had completely lost control of it. I should have given her more foreplay, but I'm only a young man of eighteen and patience isn't something I have much of yet. Besides Mesha certainly wasn't complaining. Taking off a girl's top is always a heart stopping moment. For many it is the final surrender to the moment. Twice I've made love to girls who let me undress them completely except for their bras. With Mesha's amazing chest and responsive nipples, I didn't know how she'd react to that. So instead of that I slipped a hand down and opened the single button on her shorts. That gave me just enough space to slide my hand down inside and between her legs. She jumped a little as I reached her sensitive area, then pushed herself up against me as I found her already very wet. I stroked her briefly there, then easily slid a finger just inside her. She seemed as ready as she could possible be. I took a moment to look at her face. Her eyes were almost closed and she was panting through those lips I'd been kissing only minutes ago. She saw me looking and put her arms around me for the first time to pull us together for another kiss. That was it! I pulled my hand out, unzipped her shorts, and pulled them down her legs. I got her shoes off at the same time. Next was the single button holding her top together. I had it off in moments. Mesha's breasts truly are amazing, but I didn't take time to admire them because I was too busy hopping around trying to get my own pants off. Then I led her to our bed. She first climbed on it doggie style. But I wasn't having any of that. This was as soft as the other one and I guided her down underneath me. She squirmed for a moment getting her tail arranged before I climbed between her legs. I took only moments putting my eager erection easily into her warm, wet sex. I had time to see a look of surprise on her face as I thrust into her the first time before I was too overwhelmed to notice anything more. Though I wasn't a virgin, this felt like the first time I'd really had sex. I don't know how long it lasted except that it seemed endless at the time. I could hear Mesha making sounds that sounded like pleasure while her whole body jerked. I felt her keep clenching my own shaft tightly and I hoped she was enjoying it too. In the end it seemed that she had. After I finally shot my load in a thunderous ejaculation that went on until it emptied me completely and I started to pull out, she quickly reached up and pulled me back into her. I couldn't manage any thing more right now despite her encouragement, so I just lay there atop those magnificent breasts breathing as hard as she was. Finally she released me enough so that I could roll off her onto my side. Eyes still closed she turned to face me and we put our arms around each other, holding each other tightly until we both dropped off to sleep. - - - I awoke a couple hours later to find her softly snoring beside me, still holding me loosely against her. Just feeling her warm skin against mine and looking at her nude body started to arouse me again. However it was pleasant and controllable this time. Her cow-inspired nipples continued to fascinate me as I reached over to feel her firm, exposed breast. Taking the closest nipple gently in my hand as to not awaken her it quickly stiffened under even this gentle attention. Wanting to be fair, I paid equal attention to the other three on this breast, bending over to lick and suck on the last one. Though she still didn't awaken, she did stir and pull me tightly against her again. That temporarily put her mammaries out of reach, so I contented myself with running my hands down her smooth back, over her ass, and teasingly around the base of her tail which quivered even now. When she shifted position one more time to put one leg over me, I reached down to gently rub her sex. I don't know what dreams she was having, but her tail told me they must be good. I dozed off again and we woke together to the sounds of a rooster announcing morning. - - - Now I'm not nearly as good a cook as my grandmother, but I did managed to put a credible breakfast together for the two of us. Afterwards we sat together on the couch with my arms around her chest idly stroking her breasts in a way which she seemed to really enjoy, while talking. She surprised me - and pleased me very much - by saying, "I always hoped I'd find someone who likes me the way I am." Though Mesha isn't much for talking, perhaps because very few people ever talked to her to start with - and this would never change in her - she could say a lot with a few words. She told me how cross-overs come about. There's this special plant that grows only in secret locations that both creatures have eaten - often accidentally - prior to intercourse. And there's also a certain magic that allows it to happen. She had been born to a bovine mother who wasn't really suited to take care of her. And she was very nearsighted from birth, which had made her appear stupid to the humans she had come in contact with. "I was lucky," she explained in her soft voice, "That the old couple understood my problem and adopted me. If I had stayed with my original mother I never would have become anything more than she was. But my adoptive parents brought me glasses from the other side so that I could see and did everything they could to raise me properly." "But they made you sleep in a barn," I protested in outrage. "That was okay. Their house is very small and the barn was quite comfortable. Also this way no one ever bothered them about how they raised me. Humans can be cruel to cross-overs," she added. "I'll never be cruel," I said. "I know," she replied, snuggling up to me. - - - We talked more that morning, and I slowly learned about her life growing up. I realized she had been very lucky indeed to be raised as she had been. Though already I was learning that she would usually only speak in response to a question, she suddenly turned to me and asked, "Are you going to milk me now?" I jumped so much in surprise to that that I nearly bumped her off my lap. "Milk you?" "Yes," she said as calmly as everything else she had told me. "I need to be milked at least every other day." "Can't you do it yourself?" I said without thinking. "Not very well," she said. I thought about this for a moment. Obviously owning Mesha entailed certain responsibilities. "Okay," I said resignedly. "What do I need to do?" Although she said she couldn't do it herself, she easily showed me what to do. How to get each nipple stiff. Then how to pull properly while squeezing to express the milk. She even had me suck on her nipples to help things along. I got pretty good at it by the end, and with her laughter, was shooting her milk around the room. I could feel the pressure lessen in her breasts by the time I figured we were through, but only at the end did I finally notice how dazed her eyes had become. She really enjoyed this. In fact as I looked over her now open legs and twitching tail, I realized she had enjoyed this a lot more than I had realized . I reached down with a finger to gently rub her crotch. It was every bit as wet as last night. She reached over one hand to paw at my own crotch and I didn't waste any more time in getting out of my shorts and taking her again right there. She loved it, and again pulled me against her for more when I first started to withdraw. This time I was spurred me on to renewed effort until we both were exhausted. When we were done and somewhat recovered she explained in her limited vocabulary how good milking has felt to her since she came into her maturity, but because last night had been her first sexual experience, she had never realized the connection between that feeling and what it could lead to. She said she hoped we could do it again, and I assured her we would - often. Afterwards she told me that I could get a milking machine built for cross-overs like her from her parents to make the job much easier and quicker. I started to ask why she hadn't mentioned this in the first place, but realized she had wanted me to do it this way first. She likes it so much - especially the sucking - that I'll always do it by hand for her when we have time. - - - The next couple of days were our honeymoon before the responsibilities of the world again asserted themselves. We quickly got on a schedule that included milking Mesha and delivering the milk to the ice cream man, who also makes cheese and other dairy products from it. He soon was proclaiming that the quality of her milk was better than ever. Maybe the certainty of sex after every milking session helped. Mesha is certainly a contented producer. I also went back to working for my grandfather harder than ever. I had incentive now, and soon he was praising my efforts. Mesha wanted to be more than just a milk provider for me, so she went to my grandmother to see if she could learn cooking and other things. I'm proud to say that grandmother accepted her as if Mesha were her own daughter, and Mesha worked as hard at her tasks as I worked at mine. At first my friends didn't come around. I wondered if I had become an outcast. But if I had, sleeping cuddled up tight against Mesha every night made it all worth it. Soon though one came by. Though he had trouble actually including Mesha in the conversation at first, soon enough he was chatting with her as much as with me. Mesha adored the extra attention. The rest gradually came back as well, and as Mesha's cooking skills improved my house soon became the popular place to hang out. Especially since I had an essentially unlimited supply of ice cream as part of the milk deal. Eventually I started taking Mesha out with me to the village. Though she always stayed close by, often holding my hand, I made sure that no one was allowed to mistreat her within my earshot. The two ladies from the faire got quite an earful one day when they saw us together and started to comment again. I don't remember everything I said, however I never heard a peep about it again from either of them. And while I came to realize that Mesha had inherited virtually full intelligence from her human father, whomever that was, she maintained a simple, contented outlook from her bovine mother. Mesha is a complex woman with a simple outlook who insists she doesn't have any need to be more than she already is. After hearing that enough times I finally gave up trying to change her, which was the smartest decision for both of us. - - - As a result of all this, I have become a full-time resident of the other side. This decision went over far better with my parents back in the good ol' USA than I had ever imagined it could. Turns out they wanted me to take over the family farm, which will now happen some day - though not for many years I hope, since my grandparents are also my best friends and no where near ready to retire - or die - yet. I will go to college now to learn the important skills I can't learn here, and bring them back to benefit our whole village. But I'll arrange it so that I'll never leave my cowgirl for long. Despite the disapproving ladies, virtually everyone here has accepted us because I did it right and married Mesha in front of the whole village. This has already changed many minds about cross-overs. I didn't do it for that reason, but I'm happy with the result. We're expecting our first child soon now, and I can't wait to see how she - our local witchdoctor told us it's a girl - turns out. With luck, she'll be everything her mother already is. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+