In the hayloft
The buffalo are still alive. (The burden of choice, Dec 30). They realized it was too much too fast, and they needed to let their hearts settle a bit. It was a wise choice.
I imagine it is still snowy over there across the mountains, though I am back in the city. Being in the city, for a country bumpkin like me, is easier knowing that the horses and the buffalo and the cabins and the woods and the coyotes are all still there. That out in the pine trees tonight it’s quiet. Cold and snowy and quiet.
A few summers ago, I had an adventure up in that hay loft. Damn, just mentioning an adventure in the hayloft sounds good already, don’t it?
It’s a wonderful place to sleep in the summer, fresh and green smelling, horses stomping and snorting all night. Not to get too carried away with the romance of the scene, you do have to put down a blanket to keep that sexy hay out of your sleeping bag!
My friend, with whom I’d been enjoying many a fantasy (Protected Innocence, Sept 2) was there visiting for a few days. Here’s what the hay loft brought to mind. I wanted to have the experience of being a young virgin, but with a twist. Well, that sounds intriguing right there, but I digress. This young (17ish) woman was completely on top of her choice. She was not going to give it up to some clumsy stumbler who just wanted to get off. No, she was going to do the choosing - someone to join her on this project – someone a little more experienced, but not too much, a little older, but not too much older. And of course, someone hot!!
And there he was (this is all in the fantasy, remember), the young hand who’d been breaking colts at the ranch for the summer. She reckoned him to be about 22 – just barely counts as a grown-up, she figured. She’d been watching him handle the horses and knew by that, that he was attentive and patient. And what I nice ass in those wranglers! Then when he took off his shirt to dip his head into the stock tank to cool off – she just about could not contain herself! She’d made up her mind. This was the one.
And, of course, he had noticed her. Not one to stay in the kitchen with the girls, she was out there training her filly and helping out when they needed an extra. As you might recall (I sure do), two young folks who notice each other, generally know that the other one is noticin’ too.
Now, this young fella is a ranch hand. Makin’ off with the boss’s daughter would not be the smartest thing a cowboy ever did. They both knew that. She was the one that had to make the move.
So move she did, when she was good and ready. Up to the hayloft they climbed, just to talk and, he hoped, maybe get himself a little kissin’. Well, kissin’ there was, to be sure, and more. This gal was not one to mince her words, or hide behind a coy, but confusing look. No, she knew what she was after, knew it was him, knew it had to be slow and sweet, knew she would go only as far as it felt wonderful, knew she was completely in charge of her choice. What she didn’t know, was just how wonderful it would feel, every step of the way. The kissin’, the touchin’, the holdin’, the breathin’, the sighin’, the moanin’. And all the while, the horses down there stomping and snorting.
Yessiree, that was one adventure in the hay loft. Now that I’m back here in the city, all grown up in the present day, I recall how absolutely wonderful his hands felt on my cunt. I can honestly say that it was the most exquisite cunt touch of my entire life, before or since. It was melting, rapturous, and opened me up to surrendering my heart and soul to pleasure. It was how cunt touch was made to be.
Hold on here, I’m sweatin’ all over my laptop.
Why is that? (The rapture, not the sweatin’) What was it that was so magical? Those were some damn good hands, it’s true, but were not, overall, the best hands of my life. The magic was not in his hands, it was in my heart. It was the power of my own attention. I created the setting I wanted to have so that I could give myself the attention I needed. That’s the power of fantasy. Try it. You change the meaning, you change the attention, the feelings change, everything changes.
mmm. . . I think I need to get myself another playmate. It’s been too long.
I can still smell the hay and hear the horses and buffalo and it still brings a smile to my face. That little woman sure caught my attention and caused my heart to skip a few beats. Her unbridled innocence seemed to be at the core of her power. It was untainted by conditioned mind and completely disconnected from anything that would serve to dilute it. It was as pure a desire as I’ve ever witnessed and to be on the receiving end of that desire was unspeakable.
What a powerful healing that was. As the ranch hand participating in that fantasy, I can attest that the power lies in attention. It’s the only thing that allows one to fully present, and when it comes to healing, being fully present is mandatory.
And . . . it has indeed been toooooo long :o)