When she finally managed to calm herself and explained away the meaning of the dream as a mere lifeless fantasy, she tucked herself back in bed.

It was then and only then that she realized that her beautiful, blond-haired cunt was sopping wet.

She felt her juices flow. She made no connection between her sopping gash and the lustful desires exposed in her dream.

She closed her eyes and began to doze off back into sleep. Her muscles relaxed and she could feel the warm glow of unconsciousness begin to overtake.

Then she heard the high-pitched whinny of her favorite stallion pierce the hot air of the moonlit night and bolt her back awake.

Was that a dream too? Had she just heard a communicative moan come issuing out of the snorting mouth of her fantasy lover?

The memory of the dream came back now full force. The image of when she first laid eyes on his massive, erect member burned in her brain.

It was useless to sleep now. No matter what position she assumed to get comfortable two things kept haunting her: the high-pitched whine of her lovely stallion and the image of his rock-hard pole.

When she sat down to breakfast the next morning her father could not help but notice the heavy bags underneath her pretty blue eyes.

"Honey, are you all right."

"I'm fine. I just had a restless night, that's all."

"You don't look well. Perhaps I should call the doctor."

"No, please, it's not necessary. I'm fine really."

"Maybe this is a good time to discuss what you would like for your birthday."

"There is that lovely saddle I saw in town. It would look perfect on Lightning."

Franklin Barker frowned at the mention of the horse's name. He couldn't understand why a pretty young girl like Melanie was so obsessed with that animal.