Gullible's Travels
Gullible's Travels
How any man comes upon an unusual and new society, with customs which are alien, but tacitly interesting is an unfathomable possibility. I myself am an explorer, a sociologist given an unusual opportunity, for you see, below the crust of the earth, several thousand leagues, there lives a large-almost incomprehensible-tribe of horse-like creatures.
My name is Gullible, and this is the account of my travels to this unusual land below our very feet. So far, I have observed them unnoticed upon a cliff overlooking their woven mud huts.
An amazing feat of their culture is that they have tapped into the properties of fire, as any significant tribe of civilized peoples must learn the use of fire in order to survive. They have an enormous bonfire in the middle of a town square the height of two men, the small houses circling the fire at an appreciable safe distance.
The-I will call them Lilliponies-are small creatures that seem not to reach higher than five or so feet, so I was quite the giant, having at least a foot advantage. The...stallions? Yes, stallions wear odd grass-like woven skirts, polished pebbles and rare gems worn on necklaces about their throats. The males were also muscular, but a little plump in the belly, proving my observation of comparing them to ponies. The mares prove an odder assortment yet, for they have bare breasts, and wear some type of hemp skirt about their loins. The females wore flowers in their manes, and proved quite comely, unlike the women of other tribes I had studied. Both varieties of the species chose to wear tails long, almost scraping the dirt of the ground. The species also came in many interesting colorations, proving that, for now, there was no inbreeding within the tribe-I pause in this assessment, for I spoke too soon!
A bay mare made some sort of noise toward one bay stallion in particular, inviting him with a coy lift of her skirt and a wink of her black-skinned vulva. I stare intrigued, held attentive at this unusual ritual. This was very similar to how the uncivilized horses of the above world behaved, except pasture horses did not have hands, and they did not walk upright!
The bay mare either came into heat, as our horses do, or she was horny and wanted to attract the attention of a suitable male of appropriate size-and girth-I expect! At any rate, she had him follow her toward what I assumed to be her hut, for some obvious copulation activity. Pity I would not be able to make notations upon this aspect of Lillipony culture, as well.
I instead ignored this prurient activity, focusing on what other things this tribe was ought to do in daily life. A old looking gray Lillipony stallion, with some type of colorful mask over his elongated head proceeded toward the great fire, making passes with his hands, waving wildly, and tossing flammable dust into the flame with visible bright and unnatural colors, such as ruby reds, bright green, sky blue, and royal purple, a fiery serpent made up of a rainbow of bright, very hot colors rose from the very bonfires' top, spiraling out like the famous worm-like dragons of the Chinese culture, spinning passively, peacefully about the village in all sorts of spinning patterns like a neon acrobat.
Stunning. Beautiful. I delighted in the spectacle just as much as the tribe had. This was apparently some type of celebration I had stumbled upon. It shimmered with flamelets of multi-hued scales, a hood on the head like a cobra, whiskers leading from the blackfire nostrils. What sort of construct was this?
Suddenly, the thing stopped, sniffing the air, the head coming close to where I hid.
Oh, shit!
The red-slitted orbish eyes of fire glared coldly at me, a forked tongue spearing out toward me, barely reaching, then the snake zipped away back toward the shaman, coming close to the old stallions' ear, whispering something.
The stallion nods, sending the snake back to the fire, clapping his hands, shouting something, and pointing to where I was hid. I rise from where I lay, more than prepared to leave this behind me. Fascinating thought the culture was, anyone who could make a living snake from fire did not sound particularly friendly.
I think I got no farther than five feet, when I was accosted by the pigmy stallions, with flint spears thrust against the skin of my throat, ready to cut me down if I showed any resistance. What choice did I have, but to submit to a black Lillipony stallion tying my hands behind me, and thus urged to follow with strange sounding words and reassuring clicks of their tongues as if I were a spooked horse ready to bolt-and indeed I was, for this proved to be quite a hostile situation.
I was led ceremoniously toward the shaman; a curiosity-a strange creature in the menagerie. So far, they did prove to be civilized, for the three captors bore me no harm, and the shaman was more interested in the big man before him rather than afraid. These were certainly not typical horses! A real pony would run away from anything frightening, yet here I was, enslaved by this tribe.
The shaman says something to me;
"Cor du nem?" I think he said.
I shake my head, hoping he will understand that I do not know his language.
"Cor du nem la shak!" One of the stallions nearby decrees.
"Nish go la torem." Remarked another.
I felt a fish out of water, for this was clearly no dialogue I recognized, and it was in no way remotely related to anything I could have seen anywhere else.
"Ren go sisk sho ra ghee." Declared a palomino mare.
They all laugh in response. Everyone except me, of course.
I cannot conjecture what these horse creatures have planned for me, the human trespasser in their realm. It was certainly scary for me, do not doubt that.
The stallions begin to dump out my camping pack, curiously looking at my various supplies in wonder. They nibble cautiously on my rations, soon devouring the food in earnest, enjoying the crackers, cheese spread, and various other types of fare, save the meat items, which they toss carelessly to the side, now biting into plastic bottles of soda and juice, sucking the contents out happily, as some get sprayed in the face and squeal indignantly at being hit by the sticky carbonated foam.
Then the little pigmy horses scramble for my spare clothes which lay scattered and crumpled in the dirt, trying on the pants and shirts-and um...underwear with obvious delight. They tried to eat the toilet paper and the pages of my diaries, but gave up when it proved that the taste disgusted them. There was soon a little stampede for my belongings, and while the Lilliponies did not outright fight each other, there was some tug of war clearly involved.
"Coo nee su gor en!" Replies a chestnut mare joyfully, unsuccessfully trying to pull a pair of tan cargo pants up to her hips, but they were too long for her by a foot, and the waist wore like a hula hoop.
It was strange to see these pony creatures behave somewhat like curious children, as they ransacked my belongings and even came to treasure the brightly colored trash from the food packets. When a few ponies made a move as if to tear off the clothes I wore, the shaman trumpeted at them with a scolding tone, so they left me alone, tied before him as I watched them take amusement with my belongings, perplexed myself, and a slight bit annoyed.
"Din siv no da mhee!" The gray shaman yells, nodding forcefully with the red headdress, the red feathers flapping a slight bit.
The Lilliponies immediately stop, staring at the old stallion.
"Ka siv torem?" One offered.
"Niv ga kav." The shaman responded.
Immediately behind, one cuts my bonds with a flint knife, pushing me toward the shaman. The shaman pony takes off his headdress mask, grinning as he reaches out to hug me to him. He was also a little shorter, but he did not show any signs of awkwardness if the situation DID bother him.
What the hell was going on here? Did they realize I was not a threat?
The shaman laughs, pushing me down to sit my ass in the dirt, where he soon joins me, and the others too, sit down, making a circle about the great fire.
He claps his hands, decrees something;
"Go sun alka torem sigva!"
Muscular little stallions bring out great hide-bound drums, and begin to play a rhythmic tribal sounding beat. Small wooden bowls with smashed pastes of fruits and vegetables are passed around, along with deep acorn-shaped cups of fruit juice mixes. Perplexing, I muse, taking one of each, as mares-naked mares-quite comely and elegant-all different coat colors-begin to dance about the fire in a small gathered circle before us to the sound of the drums, which are played hectic, like a person's heart after a hard race.
The mares stamp hooves in the dirt, polished gem anklets jingle like crude bells, flowers sway in spectacular wavy breezes from spins and crouches and alluring bows, with breasts hanging down, spinning with tails swishing outward in alluring style.
I am so enthralled, that I barely feel a stallion nearby me on my right tap my shoulder and offer me a bowl of some type of crushed mushy green plant. He takes some with his hoof-like finger-nailed hand, and rubs it against the inside of his top lip, displaying a cute little Flehmen response with his adorable animated eyes, as he shares some discourse with me for which I do not understand, and points to the slight bulge growing under the crotch portion of his skirt, giving a great whinny-like laugh.
I think I get it; he wants me to try some Lillipony Viagra! I wonder if I should, considering that it might be poisonous to me or it won't work, or-what if it does? What if I personally get to learn what happens in Lillipony courtship rituals?! I decline the offer for now, passing it on to the shaman, who takes an enormous amount of the herb with horny delight, slathering the inside of his lip with a great dollop.
Wow! These little ponies certainly don't waste any time!
One of the mares, a lovely sunny golden little palomino motions to me ecstatically. The shaman laughs, shoving me to my feet and points at her.
What-what's going on?
She has me by the hands, joining us in a very feverish paced dance. Oh, what joy to dance as it were, like raving fools to cause havoc among the others. Jubilant scampering like newborn foals in spring. What music this is! So very primal, yet it proves correct. It-I believe-loosens my tight-ass ways! Yes, who cares if she's hot? Who cares if I want to take that pony to stud? I am the only human down here, and they treat me courteously like some long-lost cousin of the species!
So we dance around the fire, as some stallions grow bored and leave with mares who had chosen them for erotic activity. It very clearly appears the shaman wishes to leave with a little blue roan mare, but he stays sitting at the fire, watching me and the palomino dance to the beat of the drums, inhibitions released, pride forgotten, lust awakened within me like the serpent of the fire, raging with unquenchable fiery passion, and unstoppable until sexually sated.
Yes, at this moment, I was a ferocious horny beast! I wanted to claim the pony as badly as she wanted to share my body.
"Ren go sisk sho ra ghee." She coyly asked, bending her bare ass before me, winking those slick wet golden vulva lips with vaginal contractions, making her clitoris jump forward.
She had my attention right there, as she led us toward a hut close by. Her house? Who bothered to care!
Inside, I was hit with a most profound shock. The Lilliponies dressed like cave people, but they certainly did not live that way! The inside of her abode was done in the way of any respectable Turkish merchant. She had expensive rugs on the floor from Azerbaijan, some Egyptian perfume bottles on shelves affixed to the walls, decorative pillows, and small vials of scented oil. It is clear I had misjudged the extent of this societies' progress.
She nickers at me, holding a pair of gauzy pink harem pants in front of her legs, as if to see how they might look on her. She finally fixes them to a rung nearby, giving up on that notion. Instead, she lays on her back on the carpet, the pillows holding her upper body at a slight angle towards me. She appeared happy; comfortable on the silk of the fine woven cushions, as she beckons me to sit by her.
Curious!
"Go na ghee la torek?" She asked, reaching nearby for a little round ceramic pot which had been painted a shiny dark green with thick glaze.
She shows it to me, and the strange bluish mushy contents within. It had all kinds of sweet smells, including a slight smell of raspberries and chocolate. She takes a large amount of the gunk with her fingers and rubs it all over and in her genitals, her vulva now sloppy with dark blue stained paste.
What the hell was she doing?
She grabs my head gently by the hair, leading my face to her bluish pussy.
Oh! So she wants some cunnilingus before she invites me to mate!
I was uncertain if I could delve into this most perverse of pleasures, as I had never considered doing that to a woman-or any female!
Of course, thinking about when she invited me, with a wink of her vulva, I was certainly of a passionate mind at the time to do such things with the raspiness of my tongue then!
Leaning forward, falling to the plump warmness of her thighs, I probed my tongue tentatively out, taking a quick lash of her blue-dyed flesh like a snake, enjoying the sweet taste of the blue concoction mixed with her sea-like vaginal flavor. It was quite alluring to have something that tasted similar to salt-water taffy before my questing mouth. What a taste for a horse!
The muskiness of her hide, the smell of an ungroomed horse, it made me horny like hell as opposed to repelling me. I loved the way this Lillipony tasted, the way her feminine essence just melted in my mouth, as my tongue quested through the folds of her cunt flesh.
Delicious! Like nirvana, like rapport with heaven! How good it was to savor this pony.
I was at this for some time, my face stained blue like a member of a certain musical group known for drumming and painting their faces.
She moans, squeezing my head lightly with her lifted thighs, now cringing with howls and blissful delight.
Some of the blue, I could see, had dripped down to soak into the fur about her anus. She now looked to be wearing a thong, with the flavored dye running into all her most personal orifices.
Her clitty is within the folds of her vulva, as opposed to being bare like the women above. I take pleasure in teasing this bean sized thing out with my tongue, as she grabs handfuls of my hair and the carpet, cringing for an inevitable maregasm.
Hmmm. This pony was delicious, and the way she was about to explode like a super-sexed volcano, that almost made me cum in the fabric of my underwear and pants.
And really, what was so wrong with taking a proactive role in another's culture? She certainly didn't mind!
"Ghee gan! Ghee gan!" She screams.
Go faster? Fuck me harder?
I doubled my efforts, making her coo ecstatically like a desperate filly in heat.
Suddenly, she orgasms, spraying large amounts of pussy juice and piss into my face like an exploded dye pack.
WHOA!
I never expected such a small creature to cum so hard!
She lifts my head out of her loins, laughing at the ridiculous disposition of my face with equine-like whinnying chortles, as her natural blue-stained fluids began to run down my body into the expensive woven rug.
She gets up, getting to her knees on all fours almost completely in true equine breeding posture, her legs splayed slightly out, squatting and ready in copulatory position.
I stand anxiously behind her, as she lifts her tail over her back without using her hands, and proceeded to discharge a small amount of heat-scented piss from the folds of her blueberry cunt, slapping her ass invitingly with a coy nicker.
She wanted me to take her like a stallion, furiously like an animal! I did not know if I was prepared for this next absurdity. Why could she not go for a proper and polite Missionary copulation?
It's not their way, I tell myself. My ways are just as alien to them as theirs are to me. Besides, do they not tell you to do as the French, when in Paris?
I convince myself with this statement, embolden myself with it for what I was about to do.
She nickers again, impatiently.
I lower myself on top of her back, guiding my human shaft to the one-hundred thirty degree heat of her equine vagina. I do believe this too, is to be savored, for she felt tight like a virgin, and toasty like a good fuck in December.
As I start, she shoves back into me. Heaven! Splendid! How wonderful she felt on the length and girth of my human mass!
But she is still not content, for she squeals angrily at me, still impatient.
"What-"
"Ghee gan! Ghee gan!"
Fuck you harder? Like some vicious brute? I'd dare not to, raised as a gentlemen. No, I think I'd rather not try to hurt you.
"Ghee gan! Ghee gan!" The Palomino squealed again.
You must be kidding! Sex is not supposed to be painful like a vicious contest! How can any sophisticated gent fuck this mare in the cruel fashion of a male of her own species?!
"Ghee gan!!! Ghee gan!!!" She now roars, swinging her head about to threaten me with her teeth, bucking out with her hind legs to kick like an unreceptive female of the species above.
"Whoa!"
This man did not come down to the land of the Lilliponies to play rough! The very idea of her desire for mean treatment has me perplexed, until I realized the dynamics of the breeding. Stallions are supposed to be vicious, dominant. Mares are supposed to be submissive when in heat. If the stallion is not aggressive-is not dominant-the mare rejects him, for she has been conditioned to enjoy the rough treatment by her chosen mate.
"GHEE GAN!!!!!!" She screams so loudly, as if her very life depended on it.
Good god! What a little nymphomaniac!
Fuck you harder? Fuck you!
I think I am goaded into doing as she wishes, for my anger has been unleashed.
"Fuck you, wench, Fuck you!"
When I thrust hard into her, she catches it with an obvious sigh of bliss as I work her over like the stallion she wanted me to be.
"Ghee gan, dammit! I will rip your horny ass apart, pony!"
She simply grins and bears it with a delightful squeal.
God! I never treated my manly rod to something like this before! I find myself cumming faster in her than any other woman I'd ever had the passing acquaintance to entreat.
Her pussy wet with a slick silk-lined impression, her juices hot and very musky with her heat aroma.
Oh, yes, I most certainly cum in THAT pussy as if I had the force of a water cannon to back it up, cum launched into her horny depths, dripping out down her tan gold colored thighs, some sticking to the white of her brushed white wavy tail.
She collapsed to the rug, my weight crashing on her.
"Ghee no sava." She whispered, spent.
The fuck was good? Was that what she said?
I roll off her tired body, to land next to her, holding the Lillipony mare close to me.
"Yeah, ghee no sava." I offer, resting beside her.
I awaken to the smell of roasted fruit for breakfast, the skillet on a tiny impromptu stove sizzling hotly as she cooked little fruit kabobs.
"You have completed the union. You are a welcome member of our tribe." She coyly giggles.
My eyes are wide.
"You know my language?!"
She laughs, taking a bite of some cooked kiwi.
"You know ours."
I shake my head uncertainly.
"By partaking of my essence, you have also taken in the words of our tongue."
"You mean..."
"When you drank of my honey, you had been inducted into our tribe."
"Ohhh." I look back at the blue still staining her crotch and flayed vulva lips.
"But that stuff you put on-"
"It was necessary. Not every male enjoys going into a mare's nether region with his mouth. This was to help-to make this appealing for you."
"Hmm...what was that snake I saw last night?"
"It was part of a celebration. Once a year, the stallions of every tribe leave to travel to another."
"So, all these stallions I saw were not of your people?"
"As of this morning, those not rejected have also been made members of this tribe."
"And the shaman?"
"You mean the gray pony chief. He's been in my tribe for decades, for he is too old to travel or mate."
"But I saw him take some of that Viagra stuff!"
She smiles.
"If you mean the Krom, it gives one an erection, but he does not have the vigor in his decrepit state to use it. And to be inducted, it takes a certain forceful flair to be accepted."
"So you wanted me to be mean like a wild stallion..."
"So I could properly have you as my mate, tailless one."
"What would you do with me were it not the day of this celebration?"
"You would have been ignored. Are you not content with being my stallion?"
"Of course I'm content! But...I started this whole thing merely as an observer of your peculiar ways."
"A strange half-pony being comes to us from no conceivable place. Are you not the peculiar one?" She offered.
She hands over one of the odd kabobs. I take one off with a yank of my mouth, staring spellbound at her marish grace.
"If I get your language by giving head, I wonder what anal will do!" I joke.
Outside comes a great commotion.
"Tailless one! Come before me. We are pleased to welcome all brethren to this tribe."
The palomino urges me on.
"What is your-"
"Denaka, now move!" She urgently squealed.
I exit, the elderly stallion embraces me to him again.
"Now that you know the language of our people, you are truly home." He jubilantly decrees.
"Um."
He looks up at me.
"Have you chosen Denaka as your mate?"
"Before I answer that, I wish to say something."
He prods gently.
"Go on, tailless brother."
"I come from far away. I came to cherish the activities of your lives for the past week. I even came close to envying this wonderful little village, with these sweet adorable Lilliponies. And now, is it any wonder that I choose to spend the rest of my life with all of you...With Denaka." I finish.
There comes a great cheerful uproar.
And here, I ended the sum of my travels.
Until next time.