The Scent of Soil
#1 of The Scent of Soil (Novella)
Good morning all, and let me start with a brief foreword.
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I'm Bjorn, and this is the first chapter of my Erotica, The Scent of Soil. I was encouraged in it's creation by a variety of lovely people on the chat board, it's 5000 words in length approximately, and it was edited by the lovely Scarlet_Dreams
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The tale explores emotion during a storm, based on my own personal love of powerful weather, and it is set in a fictional location in the UK, based on a mish-mash of real locales.
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Enjoy, and comment.
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DISCLAIMER: Thanks to Ghostie for his jaw-dropping "Cabin Break" stories, which gave me many ideas, and one character of which (Liz the corgi here) i have effectively used. Apologies for this.
Chapter 1 - An Oncoming Storm
Soft winds sigh across the water of the lake, stirring the lightest waves to rise upon its surface. The water's unbroken lines are like plates of shimmering glass, sparkling in the slate-grey light. Without warning that single piece of crystal cracks, a shape breaks out from its surface then dives back, spreading ripples across the lake's skin as it glides beneath the play of the hidden sun's glow. Our attention comes closer, can you hear the whisper of the water, and the - oh, so soft - rush as this eye on the world drops into the embrace of the dark liquids hold? We see the diving body, water playing across short, silken hair. Beneath the surface, this watcher falls into the eyes of that living form.
She gasped at the bitter air that gave sweet life, with almost painful cold. The water ran beneath her as her arms grabbed the firm rocks of the quarried landing. The mare waited reluctantly in the refuge of the water, pondering the likelihood of the sun coming out at all. But she knew that that was not going to happen, and with a gentle sigh hauled her body out onto the shore, bracing her palms against the cold grey rock which mirrored the heavy skies above. Rolling onto the stone, Scarlet brayed momentarily at the fierce chill, then quickly pulled her hooves from the water and stood up, proud against the growing wind that swept down from the lush green hills around her.
The horse's form dripped water sensuously from her cropped hair. Her strong legs shivered gently; hooves ever so quietly clattering, and liquid pooled from her tail onto the slate below. Her nude torso was tensed against the icy cutting breeze, and from her belly to her nest her hair slowly rose as it shed water and dried. Invigorated by the hard swim, her chest rose and fell with her hard breaths, her sallow cheeks were flushed and her long, golden mane shuddered at her exhaustion. She cut a beautiful sight; strong and tall, a creature in the prime of life.
She put her hands to the back of her neck and stretched, hips tall and level belly clenched then stared, tail swaying gently, at the powerful sky overhead. The wind was slowly rising and the clouds, swollen and dark, threatened imminent rain. Scarlet frowned and chewed her lip slowly, she had preferred the dry summers of her youth, and the frequent, almost pathetic rain of these hills disagreed with her nature. But still, she enjoyed the slick feeling of droplets upon the curves of her frame, and the rage of a heavy storm always made her happy. This brooding sky certainly looked like it might go that way, and the mare hoped that it wouldn't simply turn into another bout of the still, light, quiet rain that was so common here. She needed truly fierce weather to let her emotions free themselves, and without it she soon felt incredibly pent up. But now she could smell it in the air. A soft scent carried by the wind as the air filled with moisture, and the earth turned rich with life.
She took a few more moments to glance about her at the familiar blanket of oak and beech, and the open fields of sheep; arrayed on the high hills, where great rupturous spires and ridges of slate broke out from the soil's cover. Then she let her hands fall back, and picked up her towel from a low table of wrought iron. She wrapped it about her breasts and tucked it closed, then turned and walked the neat stone path to the half-timbered house that rested on the island in the centre of the lake. Her hooves clicked neatly on each stone as she approached, looking up at the wide windows and mighty beams; the house had been in her family for a very long time, and her presence there now was dictated by necessity.
She had quarries to organise, and since her father's retirement those demands had grown, so much that her presence in the valley was required to ensure that the quarries stayed efficient through traditional means. Her family was built out of rock, or so people said. Rock, and metal, and the hills. Mining was still big business, and slate was a very profitable rock when it was prepared well. For years the mines across the country, and the quarries, had remained tightly in the ownership of her family. They were firm oligarchs, some of the most prolific of industry-owners in the nation, and the tradition always had to be upheld. Every child of the clan had worked with metal or with rock, and nearly all went on to run a mine, or a quarry, or a number of each. The few that were disinterested were often those who lacked the mindset needed to hold up the business, but few turned out to be unintelligent.
The walk had dried her off, and she pulled open the heavy oak door, stepping across the threshold, smoothed by years of hooves and paws. She dropped the towel from her bosom, tossing it into a basket by the door; and walked straight through the airy hall, ascending the solid stairs, swishing her tail across her firm buttocks for the pure pleasure of doing so. Her hooves sounded out in the quiet house, as she strolled into her commodious room on the upper floor. She stepped around the pile of mess she had left on her floor, and walked to the wardrobe. Pulling the door back and considering what to wear, she pulled the rack out into the room and frowned, pondering.
Scarlet grabbed a purple dress, calf length and split to just above the knee, pulled some white underwear from the shelf and laid them on the bed. She dressed in a leisurely way, watching the crops play in the wind outside of her window. She finished, adjusting her dress, and turned back from the window. The heap of mess on the floor caught her eye again and she sighed. It was a series of sheets of paper and reports from the night before, as well as discarded plates and accounts books. Suddenly she realised that, hidden under the books, a toy she had used last night, driven to boredom was poking out from the pile, just visible. She bit her lip and smiled, realising that, had her housemate come back from the southern quarry early, he could easily have seen it, which would have been somewhat awkward. She wasn't quite ready to take that relationship forward just yet, though there were temptations. She hurriedly picked it up, giving it a sly sniff, nostrils flared, and dropped it in the drawer under her bed.
She wandered back downstairs, bored with nothing to do, and for a few minutes just listened to the silence, and the soft hum of the wind. She turned a discarded spoon in her hands, considering the light playing on it, then looked around at the gathering gloom, stood up and flicked on the lights in the open plan hall-cum-kitchen. As the lights flickered into life, she decided that her restless boredom was intolerable, and headed for the workshop to carve the developing statuette which was her current show of creative flair. Suddenly she rued her choice of impractical clothing for carpentry. Stepping into the stillness of the workshop, she smelled the gorgeous scent of green wood, and picked a chisel from a bench, then walked over to the half-formed figure, grimacing at her lack of progress so far. She shaved a flake from a line, and thought on her direction, happily losing herself in the joy of creation.
The shrill ring of the phone interrupted her creative thoughts. She hissed in irritation, finished the line she was carving in a mad flurry of flakes, brushed sawdust from her dress, and stomped out to answer the phone, grinding her teeth in anger. 'This better damn well be something good...' The mare snatched the phone up and steadied her mood, answering smoothly; "Hello, this is Valleys Slate, can I help?" An elderly male voice answered with the typical accent of the area.
"Oh, 'ullo there, that's Valley Slate is it? Alright, I'm callin' 'bout some stone for our granary, it's got a fair share o' breakages and the roof's shot see." The area's accent always took Scarlet aback. "Can you git us about 5 dozen, say four by foive slates tommorer or there aboots?" Scarlet bit her lips and considered quickly. "Yeah, OK, I think we can. We're low on twenty-sizers at the moment though, so I'm afraid we may need to go for the Class-B slates. That's ok?" The man was silent a second. "Yeah, 'course, it's not used a huge amount 'round now, tha'll be foine. Say 3 or there aboots?" Scarlet nodded subconsciously. "Sure, I'll tell the office, bye." She hung up and went to redial the office in town, but reconsidered quickly. She wanted to get in some food, and possibly a new toy: She had always loved them and her vibrator had broken. Hence a trip into town made sense and it would be nice to get out anyway, to see how the weather was brewing as she went. Anyway, she'd dressed up, so it made sense.
Scarlet walked out across the gravel, brushed down after her woodwork. She glanced about at the screen of willows that shielded the house from eyes on the other banks, which allowed her so much freedom to be nude, then hit the remote for the Shogun and walked around to the right hand side, eyes watching the sky, before hopping into the front seat. She started the engine and hit the gate button. As the gates swung ponderously open, she flicked on the radio and, mind still on the bloated clouds, drove out.
The 4x4 rolled ponderously into the parking space, mud-spattered from the trip. A light rain was falling, and as Scarlet killed the engine the wipers stilled. She stepped from the car and headed slowly for the store, enjoying the rain on her back, but wishing for the weather to get serious. The high-street was fairly empty with the lateness of the hour and the threatening skies, only the odd passerby could be seen despite the glut of shops still open. Scarlet walked on, mentally checklisting what she would need to buy. Hopefully it would only come to a bagful or so. She didn't want to be struggling along with a tedious weight of baggage, after all. The small puddles and rivulets of water reflected the steely gloom and Scarlet smiled at the beauty of such a simple thing, water on stone, as her ivory-white hooves neatly checked the modest boulevard with each step.
Scarlet pulled back the door of the newsagents and stepped in, nodding with a smile to the boy Peter at the counter, who was scanning the shopping of an elderly female across from him. The shop was fairly small and she appreciated its old-fashioned styling, courtesy of the shop's previous owner according to Peter. She picked up a basket and headed for the shelves, glancing around quickly for the bread. She turned the single corner of the shop, round into the other half of its L-shaped space, and stopped momentarily. A tall male wolf stood at the shelves in front of her, peering intently at a packet of rice in his hand. Hearing her hoofsteps stop, he looked up, and saw her. His face broke into a smile and he walked over to her quickly, paws padding. Scarlet smiled warmly.
"Oh, Tom, hi!" She embraced him happily and they stepped back from each other. Tom was one of the few people in the town she genuinely liked, and it was a welcome coincidence to bump into him. Tom scratched the back of his furred neck absentmindedly and grinned. "Hello Scarlet. Picking up some supplies?" Tom's voice was rounded and soft, the more pleasant side of the area's accents. To her ever present dismay, Scarlet repressed a shudder at the sound of him. She shifted uneasily. "Yeah, I thought it made sense to take a trip into town. I needed to check in with the office, someone wants some stone, and I needed some food." Tom nodded gently, his grin exposing the white incisors which were the reason for Scarlet's crush on the wolf. In the valleys and hills of the area, wolves were rare. Most of the creatures were dogs, the odd horse or sheep and some rabbits. To see a creature like a wolf indulged Scarlet's utterly secret kink for real predators. "Oh, fair enough. I'd stay and chat, but I'm sorry I'm in a real rush," replied Tom. "Oh, don't worry bout it hun," said Scarlet with a tender grip of his shoulder. "You keep on moving, don't mind me. See you some time!" Tom nodded, and with a wave headed for the counter.
As Tom moved out of sight, Scarlet leaned against a shelf and released a shuddering breath. There was no way simply seeing someone should have affected her so much, but she was slightly flushed, and felt the lightest of twinges from her sex. She shook herself, and kept shopping, deciding that it must the lack of proper weather making her so pent-up, and secretly glad that Tom had moved on so quickly. She gathered up what she needed quickly, headed for the counter and handed her shopping to Peter. He offered to pack it for her, sweetly. She smiled and took the offer, secretly pleased that the young Labrador was such a gentleman already, unlike many of the youths in the town. Stepping back into the rain with her bag, she glanced around, seeing that the high-street had already emptied even further, and that a few of the independent stores were closing early, shop-keepers looking tetchily at the gloomy clouds. She was glad of that. She knew where to head next. Looking about slyly, she trotted on.
Scarlet stepped into the sex-shop, closing the door behind her, and looked up at the attendant, Liz, who winked at her and smiled. Liz was discreet about Scarlet's habits, which was deeply gratifying for her, as she knew just how rumour-loving the people of the area were, and would hate for anyone to know that she had bought anything from the little store. Liz leaned forward on the counter, always the seductive one. Scarlet chuckled at the corgi's obvious presentation of her breasts, and gave a little wave.
"Hiya Liz, I'm looking for a new toy. Thought this weather gave me some good cover to come on in. Sorry girl, I'd stay and chat, but I need to get off." Liz nodded and stood up, a little put down by Scarlet's obvious lack of any wish for flirting, but smiled again and waved her through. "Sure, you know where to look. Have fun." Scarlet walked further into the shop. She wasn't looking for anything especially exotic, and took only a few minutes to pick up a run-of-the-mill vibrator of a normal size. She carried it back to the front of the store, handing it over to Liz, who, being Liz, gave it a sly lick and tipped a grinning wink before scanning it and handing it back. Scarlet shook her head with a smile and dropped it into the centre of her bag, then turned for the door. Liz spoke up as she opened the door. "You watch yourself out there Scarlet, weather's turning sour. Keep safe love." Scarlet thanked her and closed the door, strolling back toward the car-park on the other end of the shopping district. She stopped for a moment, taken aback, as she saw, on the far horizon, a deep bank of black, roiling clouds building. She was immensely gratified by the sudden appearance of a real storm front, and as she started to walk again, with a bounce in her step, she heard a peal of thunder in the distance. She hurried on; she'd need to reach the quarry office before she returned.
The door banged shut behind her as Scarlet stepped into the house. She jumped a little, surprised at how quickly the wind was reaching such a force. The lights were on, and she'd already seen from the car in the drive that John, her housemate by family invitation, and the foreman of the local quarries must have returned from assessing a collapse in a slate face of the southern quarry. No one had been hurt, but an entire crawler and its maintenance shed had been buried, and he'd been called out to see if it was salvageable, and judge the cost of the damage. "Hello? John?" She called out, looking about. She heard hooves on the stairs, and saw the bull's legs descending from the upper story.
"Afternoon, miss." John cut a formidable figure as he reached the floor, a stocky bull with a defined face and a jovial attitude. "Sorry, but that rockslide's a write-off. Nothing left but scrap-metal and oil. We're down 80, maybe more. And a few dozen tons of good rock in there too, which is gonna make nothing more than chippings. He shrugged and opened his palms, with an apologetic grimace. Scarlet sighed and kicked off her shoes. "Ah, damnit, that's a blow, but we're up a good 200 this year, so we can cover it, and I can probably weasel a new crawler out of the factory for a fair price if I act all concerned. Was the trip OK?" John nodded his fine head, putting his wide, tough hands into his pockets. "It was fine, weather was frightening though. All of the sites are battening down for tonight." He picked up a remote from the central table and flicked on the TV, turning to the weather channel. Scarlet watched with interest as the announcer's voice filled the room. "..o keep the windows closed tonight, and avoid driving if at all possible, trees falling are going to be likely. Winds could hit 40 to 50 miles per hour, and the rain is going to be heavy."
As the announcer pointed to a chart, showing fronts moving directly over the area, Scarlet clopped quickly to the French windows and pulled them open, stepping out onto the patio. The trees all around were swaying and gusting, the surface of the lake was whipping into a frenzy and the black storm front was almost directly overhead. Scarlet watched a curtain of rain, a few miles away down the valley, sweeping in towards the house. The world was submerged in a dim light, grey and cold, and Scarlet's body tingled in anticipation of the thrill of the storm. She stepped back inside, closing the windows behind her and shook a little water from her hair. John had turned off the TV and was at the Rayburn, cooking for the night. She exchanged small talk a while longer about their mutual journeys, then grabbed her vibe while John was turned away, concealing it against her wrist, and headed for her room; to watch the oncoming storm.
Scarlet lay on her bed, curled on her side, watching the rain batter the window. Visibility was non-existent, all she could see was swirling water, and all she heard was the roaring power of the gale. Thoughts skated across the surface of her mind. The stresses of running the quarries, the occasional hostility of the locals to outsiders and the till-now unceasingly boring weather had left her pent-up, frayed and somewhat unhappy. She had undressed from her sodden dress, and lay, wrapped in a towel, enjoying the furor of the storm all around her. 'Why is this place so damn backward... It's like there's a thousand small-minded children for every interesting person. I'm surprised I went a whole trip into town and only managed to meet friends. That's got to be worth some sort of award.' Scarlet rolled onto her back and watched the ceiling, feeling her emotions begin to surface with the raging weather stroking her mind. She smelled the scent of cooking and, with the image of John's muscular body, decided that a little release would be more than appropriate. She reached for the drawer beneath her.
Scarlet held the black dildo in one hand, massaging her ample breast with the other. It was the biggest in her stash, but for a mare it was a perfectly reasonable size, and she was capable of handling it without pain. Her sex bulged at the advance of the thick piece, she pleasured herself with imaginations of John's member burying itself inside her; she was slowly dewing with wetness, and she bit down on the dildo in her mouth to prevent too great a moan from escaping. As she moaned she gently pushed the black length into the folds of her labia, squirming as her walls were slowly filled. She unconsciously bucked against it and whinnied with the sensuous touch of the thick tool, fantasising about a blood-warm, living tool within her. As her body grew hot she stroked her breasts like a feather playing on the air, eager now she quickened, and pushed half of the length of her toy into her sex, caressing the hills of her chest and fingering her swollen nipples. She brayed, muffled by the thick dick in her mouth that she wished was John's, as she hilted the handled dildo inside her, then arched her spine and drooled as she pulled it near all the way back out. She lets her horny imaginings run wild, mentally screaming out John's name, and stuffing her mind with hoped-for seed. Leaving her breasts to buck with her motions, she put both hands on the handle of the dildo, and with long, powerful pulls she thrust it within her self, knuckles white and body twisting as she worked the toy hard within her. She clenched her eyes shut as her vision began to whiten at its edges, letting her mind carry the fantasy further, picturing the slapping of John's fist-sized balls against her. Suddenly, with a final thrust her walls clapped hard around the dildo and she came, hard, a small squirt of her nectar burst from her stretched folds. Her eyes flashed open, the room was bright, and her nostrils flared as she dropped the sex toy from her lips with a rope of saliva that clung to her tender left breast. Her sight slowly dimmed back to normal, and; with a whinny and a long wet 'Schlurp', she pulled the long dildo from her in a small flow of juices and lay back on the bed panting. The wet sound reverberated in her mind, and she wished it was John's seed flowing out of her
After a few moments of after-glow, she sat up and licked the long black toy clean, reveling in the taste and her new-found enjoyment in such a base act thanks to the force of the storm. She returned the toys to her drawer, wiped the saliva from her swollen orbs and walked to her bathroom to wash up. She returned refreshed, and saw, on the bed, where she had lay, the pool of her honey which had spilled from her. For no real reason other than curiosity and exploration, she knelt on the bed, wiped a fingerful from the sheet and put it to her lips. She smiled at the sweet taste, and bent, licking up the pool of fluid. Still, bull-seed would have been nicer. Finished, she pulled the sheet from her bed, chucked it in the washing chute and re-made her bed, still somewhat trembly for her explosive orgasm. She pondered on how she had become so aroused, and put it down to her months of tedium running the quarries, and the animal power of the wind. She shrugged, dressed in comfortable lounge-pants and a vest-top then headed for the smell of cooking.
Scarlet descended the steps and breathed in the wonderful smell of food, smiling. She walked over to John and observed him. He was stirring a stew, and Scarlet, in her current mood, noticed the line of the muscles of his shoulder with interest. He moved back from the pot, turning round to give her a wave and a smile, and walked to a chopping board, beginning to cut potatoes with a practiced hand. Scarlet's cookery skills were somewhat limited, and John was the perfect housemate for her in that respect. Scarlet could easily turn a recipe into a pan of carbon and a kitchen full of smoke, despite her best efforts. Administration and judging rock seams were her real skills. She took a seat at the table and gazed about absentmindedly. She looked down at her thighs, and out of her tedium she considered her appearance to John. She was an awe-inspiring sight, at 6 feet tall, slender and firm, with a curvy behind and perky breasts. Her short hair was a lustrous brown, and her mane a silken gold, mirrored in her tail. Her legs were long and slightly muscular, and her hooves milky-white. She knew full well that her figure was near flawless, and while she personally disliked the slight haughtiness and sharp angles of her face, to males she was perfection in equine form. She sat in silence, pondering the sharp muscles of John's shoulder, and wondering if she might re-consider her earlier assumption that she didn't yet want to progress their relationship. As the kitchen rang out with the sounds of cooking, the rain beat harder on Scarlet's soul; the growing gale stoking her heart even as it shook the foundations of her home.
John broke Scarlet's reverie, coming into her field of vision and waking her from her daydreams with a start. John raised an eyebrow and set down the plates he held, one in front of each of them. "Mind somewhere else?" Scarlet smiled and nodded, taking up her cutlery and lifting a forkful of steaming stew from her plate. John looked pensive as he took a mouthful and glanced about at the ceiling, listening to the mindless, lustful scream of the wind. "This is heavy stuff." He said. "Hope you can sleep OK miss." Scarlet blushed slightly at the irony of the statement, hiding it, feigning blowing around her mouthful of stew. She swallowed and spoke. "Don't mind me, I love weather like this. Doesn't it just make you feel alive?" As she spoke thunder pealed and her mind squirmed in pleasure at the wrath of the heavens. John took a bite of potato and smiled. "Sometimes I know what you mean. It certainly puts things into perspective." Scarlet nodded, feigning nonchalance, and continued her meal. A few minutes later she took the last mouthful, and wiped her lips delicately with a napkin. As she went to thank John, a loud crack split the sound of the storm, and abruptly they were plunged into complete darkness. John gave a start and stood up. "Damn... Ah well, nothing for it. Let's light some candles. I'll go get them." He walked to the door, heading for the shed. "Oh, are you sure? You'll be careful out there wont you?" Scarlet said. John picked up a torch from the side, flicked it on and peered out into the furious elements. "Sure. I'll be back soon." He stepped out into the storm.
Scarlet stood, carrying the plates by feel to the sink, and stood in front of the French windows, mind afire. Her temptations had been strung to the limit during the meal, and with the welcome darkness, she frantically wondered whether to take the advantage. She sat on a bench and watched the water run down the panes, steeling herself. She couldn't let herself go like this. She'd resist. The door opened, and a soaked John stepped in with a box of candles. He walked over and dropped them on the side, then turned and spoke. "Wow, that was something special!" His voice sounded half-drowned. "Unbelievable out there! I'll just crack these open, they're jammed so it might take a minute, sorry Miss." Scarlet walked over, cautiously behind him, as he struggled with the wet box. She drew up close, utterly silently, and with a deep breath inhaled his scent and wetness. She shuddered to her core with arousal, and stepped back, lest her desires break her judgment. The box came open with a crack, and John lifted the candles out, proceeding to set them around the room, lighting them with a box of matches. As the glow increased, Scarlet experienced both a welcome fall in her arousal as the light brought her back to sense, but a less-welcome growing of her sexual side as the soft light reflected from her shining, wild eyes.
Scarlet lay in the candlelight, hearing John finishing clearing up below her, and wondered if he had heard her pleasuring earlier. Thanks to the storm, she certainly hoped so. She turned her head to her bedroom window, passively fondling her soaked sex with exploratory fingers, and knew that she had to have John. When? was the only question. She fell asleep with the image of a long, thick, tauran cock in her head. Outside, the storm continued, and in the clouds above, something of carnal passion spread its tendrils, riding the climaxes of the winds and brushing wetly against minds in the hope of finding a vessel.
It found Scarlet.