Suicide

Denisa had really reached the end of her rope. She and her soon-to-be ex had promised one another they’d remain friends, but that just wasn’t going to work. She knew he’d been screwing anything remotely famale, and it had only gotten worse since their separation. She had tried to retaliate by banging every male acquaintance he had, including his brother. Nothing seemed to faze him; he was too wrapped up in his brainless little twenty-two-year old girlfriend and her two little bastards. To top it all off, he and a group of his friends were going to have another of their weekend parties in their–her–barn. That, she decided, was when he’d get his surprise.
If he wanted her out of his life, she could certainly arrange that. She had nothing to live for anyway. She first thought of hanging herself in the barn, then letting the partygoers find her body swinnging over their dance floor. Or she could appear in the middle of the festivites and put the old double-barrel shotgun in her mouth and pull the trigger. That would be dramatic, but not personal enough. Neither would dousing herself with gasoline and lighting it. She pondered the problem for a couple of days. Then, Tuesday, the answer came ot her as she was feeding their horse, a stallion named Caesar. Sometimes they’d been lucky enough to find Caesar a mare to fertilize, for a decent stud fee. She’d often accused her soon-to-be ex of loving the horse more than her; he’d just smile and lok away. She knew just how to fix him. She’d never do anything to Caesar; she probably loved him more than he did. She was just going to drive such a wedge between Tony and Caesar that he’d have to get rid of the animal.
Ever since they got Caesar, she’d go and watch him earn his keep any time another breeder would show up with a mare. Her pussy would get wet. Her sizable nipples would harden. She’d discreetly as possible rub them against the top rail of the fence while she watched the show. Watching Caesar’s two-and-ahalf foot pony-maker in action did things for her that no porn ever could. She also realized, however, that no woman, even here in Kentucky, could survive getting railed like that. She had, of course, heard about the faggot in Washington State who died from just such an ancounter. What she had in mind would be the perfect, ultimate revenge on Tony.
She gave it a lot of thought. She had watched Caesar enough to be able to calculate the angle and height she need for her plan to work. She first thought about leaning over a sawhorse, bracing her hands against a wall, but the sawhorse was too flimsy, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to support herself once Caesar really got going. She then looked at the water trough, but that would be too low for Caesar to get the job done. Then she saw the hay bales: perfect building blocks. If she stacked them in a puramid about three high, she could assume the proper position bent over far enough and with her legs spread far enough for Caesar to ram his baseball-bat- sized dick up her as far as he wanted.