Had A Wild Dream Last Night About A Fictional Character In My Sleep!

So, I Had A Wild Dream Last Night About A Fictional Character In My Sleep, The Pillows Were Soft, So It Reminded Me Of That Dream...

"You ever just... look at them?" Becker muttered, leaning against the splintered fence of the old pasture. Her fingers drummed absently against the wood as her gaze trailed over the muscular curve of a stallion's flank. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the grass, painting stripes of gold over the animal's dark coat.

Her breath hitched when the horse turned, its powerful neck flexing as it sniffed the air. Its nostrils flared—once, twice—before swinging its head toward her with slow, deliberate interest. The leather of her purple sneakers creaked as she shifted her weight, the damp earth yielding slightly beneath her.

The stallion's tail flicked, sending a ripple through its hindquarters. Becker's tongue darted out to wet her lips, her pulse thudding in her ears louder than the distant cicadas. Without breaking eye contact, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a sugar cube, the gesture practiced, almost ceremonial.

"Easy, big guy," she murmured, stepping closer. The horse's breath was warm against her palm, its lips velvet-rough as it took the treat. Its nostrils flared again—closer this time—inhaling the scent of her skin beneath the sugar. She didn't flinch when its muzzle brushed her collarbone, her teal shirt slipping slightly where the fabric had stretched thin.

The stallion's weight shifted, and Becker's breath caught as something firm and heavy bumped against her thigh. She glanced down, watching the thick shaft pulse under its sheath before sliding free, already slick. A shudder ran through her—part fascination, part hunger—as she traced the veins with trembling fingers. The taste of iron and musk filled her mouth before she realized she'd leaned in, her lips parting against the swollen head.

Heat radiated through her jeans where the horse pressed closer, its hips rocking in slow, insistent circles. She moaned around the first salty drop of pre against her tongue, fingers tightening in its mane as the stallion grunted above her. The world narrowed to the slap of its sheath against her chin, the way her teal fabric stretched taut every time it thrust forward.

Her sneakers skidded in the mud as the horse pivoted, pinning her against the fence. Wood groaned behind her—she barely registered the splinters catching in her twintails as she dropped to her knees. The shaft glistened in the fading light, twitching

She didn't hesitate this time. Her tongue swirled along the medial ridge, catching another thick string,  her gag reflex sparking before she forced herself to relax. Becker hollowed her cheeks, saliva dripping down her wrists as she worked the shaft in tandem with the horse's primal thrusts.

One particularly deep push made her eyes water, her throat fluttering around the intrusion. The stallion's breath came in ragged snorts above her, its hooves digging furrows in the churned-up earth. She could feel its pulse thundering beneath her lips, the sheer heat of it making her own jeans dampen between her thighs...