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Subject: {ASSM} Redbud - Two Absurdities
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Date: Mon, 09 Jun 2008 02:10:02 -0400
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Redbud - Two Absurdities or Breaking  'em in.

[I thought of calling these - "Two Analogies" - but these stories
are so absurd I couldn't risk the disapprobation. To all the
readers who have recently written with ideas and comments, thanks
to you all. It gives writing these stories a little extra kick.
I'll get around to some other requests shortly. As always, be
forgiving of poor grammar, cliches, typos, etc... I know their
they're.]

Absurdity, the First

	"Aren't they beautiful?"
	The teenager watched the herd safely behind a dusty fence.
"Wow."
	"You sure you want one of your own, son?"
	"Yeah..."
	"I know..." the wrangler sighed. "It always happens. You get a
certain age and it's all you can think about."
	"When did you get yours?"
	"'Bout your age, Son," the gravel-voiced wrangler answered. "She
was a beaut', but you think about what your givin' up, boy. You
got your freedom. You can roam. Thank about that, boy. You can
roam - go wherever you want, anytime you want, however you want.
Once you break one of 'em, they don't ever want to leave your
side."
	"Not me..."
	"Yeah." The man chuckled. "I used to think the same thing."
	The teenager was absent-mindedly rubbing his rigid cock through
the crotch of pants.
	"That'll go down with age, boy."
	The teenager blushed furiously. "Sorry..."
	"Nothing to be 'shamed of." The wrangler smiled briefly. "We all
been there. That's just the way God made us. It's why you're
here."
	"So... what do I do?" asked the boy.
	"I 'spect you been practicin'?" the old wrangler asked.
	"All the time," said the boy.
	"Yeah, I remember those days." The wrangler lifted a coil of
rope from his leather chaps. "You take this rope. You go out
there, spot the one you want, and don't you take your eyes off
her. She's gonna' act like she's not interested in you. You just
keep on her. You gotta' drive from the herd. They like to do
everything together. They can't piss without doin' it together.
But you just find one you like. You keep on her and you'll get
her out o' the herd."
	"They're all pretty."	
	"There are some fine ones," the wrangler answered. "Neater,
cleaner creatures you'll never find -a fine herd. You sure you
want one?"
	"Yeah..." the boy absent-mindedly rubbed his crotch.
	"Here ya go," the wrangler handed him the rope. "You better
stick with the young ones. The older ones'll throw you off. The
young ones buck harder but ain't so sly. Once you mount 'em, you
gotta' stay on 'em. Don't let 'em throw you off or you'll lose
'em. And, whatever you do, boy,  don't let 'em break you first.
They don't respect that. If she don't respect you, she ain't
gonna' stay with you. And lastly, there are different ways of
breakin' 'em. Some think the best way is to break their spirit,
tear 'em down with fear, pain and intimidation. I don't approve
of that. I ain't never seen it work. You gotta' show 'em whose
boss once you mount 'em, true,  but a good rider builds a
trustin' relationship. You gotta' learn to think like'em. They
wanna' know that you understand 'em, you see? If they think you
understand 'em, then you don't have to use force or fear to train
and communicate with 'em."
	The boy nodded. "I won't hurt her," he said.
	"Good," said the old wrangler. "'Cause if I sees ya' doin' it,
I'm gonna' step in. And you don't want that."
	The boy took the rope and mounted the horse.
	He rode out into the range. The old wrangler watched the dust
rise up after him, shaking his head, then turned back to his
work. He knew the boy would come back with one. He was a good kid
- tall, strong, and determined.
	The kid sidled up to the herd slowly. They were skittish when
they saw him approach. They were wild and beautiful. Some were
blonde. Some were brunette. Some had hair as black as an Oklahoma
midnight. These were the ones he liked. They were sleek, muscular
and lean with youth. They hadn't been softened by domestication.
Just like the old man said, wherever they went, they went
together. They spoke a language he couldn't understand and they
were always talking. But he liked the sound of their voices. He
walked his horse slowly round the parimeter.
	'Don't let 'em know your interested,' was the old man's advice.
'I don't know why, but that get's 'em.. They don't want you
interferin', but they don't like being ignored. I personally
think it's 'cause their vain. If you act uninterested, that
piques 'em.'
	There she was.
	She was young. Here hair was black and rich, falling down to the
small of her back in a long braid. That's the one he wanted. Her
gait was strong, upright and graceful. Her skin was lustrous,
healthy, smooth, and sleek. Her flanks were muscular but curved
and well-proportioned. Her breasts were firm and her small
nipples rose upward, promising health and breeding. Her lips were
full, her neck was slender and her eyes sharp and intelligent. He
wanted this one. His cock ached. He rubbed it again, the way
teenaged boys do.
	Over the course of the day, as the sun softened, the herd
relaxed. The sleek, dark haired one that he followed grew less
skittish. He slowly began to separate her from the herd. She
would wander off with a favorite companion, and sometimes that
taxed his patience, but over time he began to guide his horse
between them. By late afternoon, he had her by herself. He was
enthralled by her sleek beauty. The tuft of black fur at the Y of
her legs made his breath short and shallow. Her breasts made his
mouth water. He dismounted slowly and slowly approached her.
	"That's it," he said quietly. "Don't be scared."
	She watched him warily. Gotta' use their language, he said to
himself. He reached out and gently touched her hair. She was
nervous but didn't bolt. He gently touched her shoulders and
smoothly palmed her waist and flank. His cock ached but he
waited. He had dreamed about this moment. Her nose was small but
strong and her lips were crisp.
	She began to relax as he continued to palm her flank and stroke
her shoulders. She was slender but he could sense the strength in
her limbs. Slowly then, he slipped on the tackle - a gold
necklace, wrist bracelets, and ankle bracelets as he gently ran
his hands down her legs and massaged her calves. As he stood, her
back had arched pleasurably and her small nipples had hardened,
lifting upward from their proud areola.
	He wanted desperately to take them in his mouth. He had to break
her first. He massaged her back and kissed the small of her neck.
Gently, he persuaded her to her hands and knees. This was the
most dangerous part. With one hand kneading the small of her
back, he reached through the opening of his chaps, unzipped his
jeans and freed his cock, finally. She mustn't turn. He reached
for the bridal, a beautiful chain of pearls, with the largest in
the middle. Then, slowly, cautiously, one hand still massaging
her back, he looped the pearls over her head and pulled the
largest into her mouth. At once, she began to struggle. She was
strong!
	She pulled against the reins, fought him, angry at being
muzzled. 'They don't like to be muzzled,' he remembered the old
wrangler saying. Even as she fought the reins, he spread his
knees, lowering his cock, and mounted her. His first thrust
opened the lips of her sex, lodging his head just inside them.
She was moist and slippery, just as he had hoped, and she arched
and mewled when he penetrated her, suddenly still, breathing
hard, panting.
	The boy could have swooned. The feeling almost overwhelmed. The
enclosure of her wetness, the soft friction of her insides
licking and massaging the head of his sex, nearly made him forget
the danger. She was beautiful. Her narrow hips, her finely
defined spine, the flare of her waist and the site of his cock
penetrating her at the divide of her legs. He couldn't believe,
finally, that it was 'him' that was breaking one of these sleek
beautiful creatures. He had always heard about it and now it was
'his' turn. This beautiful creature, the one that he had pursued
for so long, might actually be his.
	She began to struggle again. He almost slipped out. He pulled
back on the reins and drove himself forward. She squealed, froze,
and then groaned as the barrier inside her broke and he sunk
deeply into her belly. He felt his own breaking welling up in his
thighs. She sensed it, bucked and twisted her hips and sex around
his cock. He pulled back on the reins, pulling her head back,
arching her spine and pushed his cock as far inside her belly as
it would reach. She groaned, the pitch rising with the depth of
his penetration.
	How long he rode her as she bucked and strained would be
bragging rights some other day. By the end of it, she was in a
lather, her skin covered with a sheen of sweat. He thrust hard,
in and out. She bucked and moaned. And then, finally, he saw her
spine arch, her legs abruptly widen, felt her thrust her sex back
against him, and suddenly hold stock still. He continued to ride
her hard, thrusting in and out of her belly. She let out one,
then another, then a third short, guttural groan and he broke
her. He knew it. He broke her. Her, sleek, beautiful body
convulsed around his cock. She grunted with each grip on his
cock. Hot urine, or something else spurted between her legs, ran
down her thighs and his, and dampened the dust between her knees.
	He slowly released the pressure on the reins until her head
bowed, shoulder blades raised. She was exhausted, broken,
breathing hard. His achingly rigid cock was still buried deeply
inside her. She was his now. He admired her beauty, her flawless
muscular hips. He took the rein in one hand and reached under,
finally, to weigh her breast, 'his' breast, and run the hard
nipple between his fingers. She groaned and pushed her breast
unto his hand.
	He stroked her shoulder , leaned over and kissed the nape of her
neck. She could trust him. He would be kind, but the moment he
had dreamed of for so long could not wait any longer. She was his
now, he could enjoy her. And he did. He took her hips in both
hands and thrust deeply, holding himself, anticipating his
release inside her, the pleasure of it. He groaned loudly, as if
he wanted the world to hear him, then could wait no longer. He
thrust quick, quicker, then cried out, holding himself against
her, as he released himself in her belly with spurt after spurt.
She as his now.
	When he stood, he was amazed at her beauty and amazed by his
fortune. He helped her to stand, keeping himself behind her. His
cock was already hardening again. He would ride her many times
today. Later, he could brand her with a clit ring.	She belonged
to 'him'.	
								
Absurdity, the Second
	
	"Aren't they beautiful?"
	The teenager watched the herd safely behind a dusty fence.
"Wow."
	"You sure you want one of your own, sweety?"
	"Yeah..."
	"I know..." the old cowgirl sighed. "It always happens. You get
a certain age and it's all you can think about."
	"When did you get yours?"
	"'Bout your age, sweety," the husky-voiced cowgirl answered. "He
was a beaut', but you think about what your givin' up, girl. You
got your freedom. You can roam. Thank about that, girl. You can
roam - go wherever you want, anytime you want, however you want.
Once you break 'em, they get mighty jealous, need attention, get
whiney when they don't get it."
	"Not me..."
	"Yeah." The woman chuckled. "I used to think the same thing."
	The teen-aged girl was absent-mindedly biting her lips as she
imagined them.
	"You'll get over that with age, girl."
	The teenager blushed furiously. "Sorry..."
	"Nothing to be 'shamed of." The wrangler smiled briefly. "We all
been there. That's just the way God made us. It's why you're
here."
	"So... what do I do?" asked the girl.
	"I 'spect you been practicin'?" the old cowgirl asked.
	"All the time," said the girl.
	"Yeah, I remember those days." The cowgirl lifted a coil of rope
from her leather chaps. "You take this rope. You go out there,
spot the one you want, and don't you take your eyes off him.
They're all gonna' act like they're interested in you, especially
your age. But you just gotta' keep on the one you want. You
gotta' drive him from the herd 'cause they ain't too bright
sometimes. They like to do everything together. They can't piss
without havin' a contest. But you just find the one you like. You
keep on him and you'll get him out o' the herd."
	"They're all handsome."	
	"Yup, there are some fine lookin' ones," the cowgirl answered.
"Could wish they were a cleaner and neater creature. You sure you
want one?"
	"Yeah..." the girl absent-mindedly bit her lip.
	"Here ya go," the cowgirl handed her the rope. "You stick with
the young ones. The older ones are harder to train. The young
ones buck harder, makes for a good ride, and ain't so
thick-headed. Once you mount 'em, though, you gotta' stay on top.
Don't let 'em take you for a ride. You gotta' show 'em whose the
rider. And, whatever you do, girl, you don't let 'em go until you
know they're broke. And one more thing, there are different ways
of breakin' 'em. Some think the best way is to break their
spirit, tear 'em down with fear, pain and intimidation. Some of
'em deserve it, but I ain't never seen it work. True, you gotta'
show 'em whose boss once you mount 'em, but a good rider builds a
trustin' relationship. You gotta' learn to think like'em. They
wanna' know you understand 'em, you see? If they think you
understand 'em, then you don't have to use force or fear to train
and communicate with 'em."
	The girl nodded. "I won't hurt 'em," he said.
	"Good," said the old cowgirl. "You don't strike me as the kind
that would."
	The girl took the rope and mounted the horse.
	She rode out into the range. The old cowgirl watched the dust
rise up after her, shaking her head, then turned back to her
work. She knew the girl would come back with one. She was a good
kid - fit, strong, and determined.
	The girl sidled up to the herd slowly. They watched her, slyly,
secretly. She knew, but they were proud and beautiful and she
wanted one for herself. Some were blonde. Some were chestnut.
Some had hair as black as an Oklahoma midnight. These were the
ones she liked. They were sleek, muscular and lean with youth.
They hadn't been softened by domestication. Just like the old
cowgirl said, wherever they went, they went together. They spoke
a language she couldn't understand but they were always talking.
She liked the deep murmur of their voices. She walked her horse
slowly round the parimeter.
	'Don't let 'em know your interested,' was the cowgirl's  advice.
'If they think you're interested, they won't stop pesterin' you.
They don't know the difference between a howdy and a how would
ya' like me? I personally think it's 'cause their shallow as rain
in a desert . Use short commands they understand. Their kind
don't understand big words like disapprobation."
	There he was.
	He was young. Here hair was black and rich, falling down his
broad back in a loose and wild mein. That's the one she wanted.
His gait was strong, upright and purposeful. His skin was
healthy, weathered and sleek. His flanks were muscular and
well-proportioned. His belly was flat and chiseled. Her chest was
broad with rich brown nipples. His lips were full, his neck was
strong and his eyes sharp and intelligent. But most of all, his
sex hung swinging, beautiful, partly hiding the heavy sack behind
it, half tumescent with his youth, the bulb of him just breaking
out from the uncircumcised tip,  promising health and breeding.
She bit her lip.  Her sex felt warm and her stomach tingled. She
wanted this one.		
	Over the course of the day, as the sun softened, the herd
relaxed. The sleek, dark haired one that she followed grew less
self-absorbed. She slowly began to separate him from the herd. He
would wander off with a favorite companion, and sometimes that
taxed her patience, but over time she began to guide her horse
between them. By late afternoon, she had him to herself. She was
enthralled by his sleek beauty. The growing tumescence, like
nested fruit between his legs, made her breath short and shallow.
Was the tumidity for her? Did his sex fill with juices every day?
-slowly hardening? - until he was rigid, full, ready for release?
She wanted it. He made her mouth water. She dismounted slowly.
	"That's it," she said quietly. "Don't be scared.
	He watched her disdainfully. Gotta' control him, she said to
herself. She reached out and gripped his cock. He jumped but
didn't bolt. She gently touched cupped his balls with her other
hand and smoothly stroked the length of him. "That's it," she
said. "You need that, don't you?" She had dreamed about this
moment. His nose was proud and his lips had grown moist.
	He began to relax as she continued to stroke his cock. His
breathing changed. He was young but she could sense the power in
his limbs. She wanted that power. She wanted to feel it inside
her. Slowly, she slipped on the tackle - starched link cuffs, a
necktie, trouser cuffs around his ankles as she gently ran her
hands down his legs and took his cock into her mouth. The round
flanged of his cock burst out of its skin, fully engorged, ready.
He was long and wide.
	She desperately wanted to taste him, but she had to break him
first. She massaged his balls, kissed and sucked the end of him,
then gently persuaded him to lie down on his back. This was the
most dangerous part. With one hand around the base of his cock,
she reached under her skirt and pushed aside her panties,
finally. He was still dazed, subdued. She reached for the bridal,
a beautiful gold chain with a large pearl in its middle. Then,
slowly, cautiously, one hand still massaging his cock, she looped
the chain around the base of it and pulled. The pearl pressed
against his urethra. At once, he began to struggle. He was
strong!
	He pulled against the reins, fought her, angry at being
controlled . 'They don't like to be controlled,' she remembered
the old cowgirl saying. Even as he fought the reins, she spread
her knees, lowering her sex until she felt the tip of his at her
opening, and mounted her. Her first thrust just opened the lips
of her sex. She gasped.  Just the head of the male was inside
her. He was rigid and stretched her, just as she had hoped. He
bucked, wanting to penetrate, breathing hard, panting. She road
him upward, lifting her herself on her knees, keeping just the
tip of him insider her. She yanked on the bridal. He froze. She
wanted to let him go, to feel his strength and lust consume her,
take her, possess her, but first she had to teach him who
controlled who.
	But she could have swooned. The feeling almost overwhelmed. She
swivelled her hips, the lips of her sex, just over the round
width penetrating them - eyes closed, head thrown back. The
feeling of him just inside her, the soft friction of his skin
licking and massaging the inside of her sex, nearly made her
forget the danger. He was beautiful. His narrow hips, his finely
defined abdomen, the power of his hips  and the site of his cock
penetrating her at the divide of her legs. She couldn't believe,
finally, that it was 'her' that was taking one of these sleek
beautiful creatures insider her. She had always heard about it
and now it was 'her' turn. This beautiful creature, the one that
she had pursued for so long, might actually be hers.
	He began to struggle again. She almost let him slip out. She
pulled on the reins and drove her self downward. She moaned,
tried to catch her breath, gasping at the feeling of his rigidity
so deeply in her belly.  She finally exhaled, grinding her sex
against him, almost overwhelmed by the sensuality of a fullness
she had never felt before. He froze, then groaned at the feeling
of his rider. She felt her own breaking welling up in her thighs.
He sensed it, tried to bucked and twist his hips and sex inside
her. She pulled on the rein, forcing his head back, causing him
to arch his spine and push his cock as far inside her belly as he
could reach. She groaned, the pitch rising with the depth of his
penetration. But he couldn't release.
	How long she rode him as he bucked and strained would be
bragging rights some other day. By the end of it, he was in a
lather, his skin covered with a sheen of sweat, listless. After
that, she rode him hard, making him toss his head from side to
side, writhing and moaning. Finally, she took her first orgasm
riding a cock.  She screamed, not caring who heard her. A
cowgirl. Her voice came in choked, convulsing sobs. She was
finally taking what she had wanted for so long. She held his
reins tight while the small of her back arched and snapped with
her spasms.
	And then, finally, she smiled and touched his lips. He had
frozen. He started to move again and she shook her head,
tightening the reins. When he stopped moving she carefully
loosened the rein and gently rose and fell on his cock. He began
to move again and she tightened the rein, shaking her head. There
was the look of desperation in his dark eyes . She smiled and
touched his lips again - calming him. She pulled down her shirt
and lifted his hands to her nipples. He squeezed them. Carefully,
she loosened the reins once more and began her slow, glistening,
rise and fall along the length of his cock. He held stock still
this time and she continued to loosen the rein, riding him
gradually faster and faster.
	She could feel the juice rising from between his thighs. She
thrust herself down, grinding hard against him, warning him not
to move with a look. He let out one, then another, then a third
short, guttural groan and he broke. She knew it. She broke him.
His, sleek, beautiful body arched and convulsed under and inside
her, fully surrendering its juices to her belly. She moaned with
the feel of each spasm and spurt inside her. Finally. Hers. And
she came again, just as she knew she would. His fluids spilled
from between her legs, squeezed out by her contractions- they
sweet syrup ran down her thighs and his, dampening the dust
beneath them.
	She slowly undid the reins. He was exhausted, broken, breathing
hard. His rigid cock was still buried deeply inside her. He was
hers now. She admired his beauty, his flawless muscular hips. She
took the rein in one hand and reached between his legs, finally,
to weigh his balls. 'Her' balls now. He groaned and meekly drove
his cock upward, wanting more.
	She stroked his chest , leaned over and licked the hollow of his
neck. He could trust her. She smiled, nodded her permission, and
ground herself against him. He  began to thrust quick, quicker,
hard powerful thrusts that she relished, that she wanted to feel.
The ride was quick. She cried out with him, holding herself
against him as he released himself into her belly with spurt
after spurt. He was hers.
	When she stood, she was amazed at his beauty and amazed by her
fortune. She helped him to stand, keeping herself behind him. His
cock was already hardening again. She would ride him many more
times today. Later, she could brand him with a penis piercing. He
belonged to 'her'.

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