On the morning of her one hundred and forty-third birthday, Moon Shangxiang, the celestial horse-girl, went to the secret caisson where all the mysteries of the celestial horses were kept, taking from it a queer necklace that her mother, Qiao Hong, had hammered from a fallen star. She had woken troubled from a longing that at times she had felt, an ache of an emptiness that called to be filled. She said nothing to anyone, but trotted from her family’s forest. She took with her as well that symbol of all celestial horses; the famous moon-bow and quiver, that, in its time, had caused the destruction of seventeen cities of men; the bow that, for a hundred years, had caused Chenghuang Mia, the City God of Shanghai during the Blue Millinery Rebellion, to tremble in fear each time the celestial horse armies waged their fabulous war, for the gods all know that no mortal force can stand in their way.

“I am a mare seeking love,” she told herself, galloping by valley and scar of avalanche, leaving behind forever the mountains of her mothers; letting the wind of the autumn beat cold on her naked breasts and flanks. She raised her head and snorted. Her goal was Yuzhou, the city of the child-priest Sun Jian. What legends of Sun Jian’s inhuman beauty had ever floated over the muddy clay world to the fabulous cradle of the celestial horses’ race, none knew, but if one mortal could fill the strange emptiness in her, Moon Shangxiang thought, then would be the boy.

When the celestial horse-girl touched the grass of that soft, ancient world she pranced and gamboled over the miles, singing to the wind as it passed her. She put her head down low to the scents of the earth, then she lifted it up to be nearer to the skylarks. She reveled through misty kingdoms and crossed rivers at each stride. How can anyone who has only read words and lived their lives in cities, who has never thought to be the sworn companion of the tide, who has never tried to decipher the gossamer riddles that the sky-spiders build, who is neither curious about the towers of Jingzhou nor can find them on any map, how can any such person know what Moon Shangxiang felt as she galloped and sang? The missionaries from the West say there is only one god, which is a different kind of foolishness, as if to say there has always been only one war, or only one hero, or only one language. Moon Shangxiang’s legendary sires, the sea mares, have always been present, just as the night mares’ hooves still thunder across the valleys, just as men still tremble before mysteries, for they recall the ancient mythical wars, and will forever dread that which brings new fears, for fear will always be the inheritance of the race of man as long as there are those who insist that there is only one way of doing something.

By night Moon Shangxiang lay down in the pussy-willows by a river or on a woody, fragrant moss in some long lost forest; before dawn she would rise, huge and dark, starting off while Venus was still visible in the sky. The sunrise would come to watch her, watch the leagues spinning by under her hooves, endlessly, wordlessly, crossing from the other side of the world, nearing Yuzhou now, the city of Sun Jian, as the wind laughed and the young horse-girl, the celestial horse-girl, laughed back, for mirth is a great gift to share among friends, and in each village and town and city that she passed by bells would ring in temples, distraught sages would consult their books, soldiers would gnash their teeth and shake their spears, soothsayers would seek portents from bones, rulers would hide themselves in shame. “Isn’t she beautiful?” the young boys and girls alike would say, marveling at their first ever touch of lasciviousness.

It was late in the day when Moon Shangxiang finally saw the city gates, and she stopped and pondered all the rumors she had ever heard concerning Sun Jian, because this was a city that worshiped fabulous things. The boy lived (she was told) in a little hut by city’s wall. A grove of weeping willows screened his hut from the world, from Yuzhou of the golden temples and lazy monks and scholars who considered Confucius wise, and his door was always open. The people of Yuzhou lived in fear that his amazing beauty, if hidden behind a closed door, might, one day, give rise to the blasphemy that lovely Sun Jian, the boy with the small feet and round plump ass, was immortal; for nothing divine can live among the race of men without them trying to destroy it.

His beauty was as a curse; his mother had been half celestial fire-bird; his father came from the Gobi desert where the Mongols lived. Men did not love him because they feared his connection to the spirit world, the gods did not love him because they knew he must one day die. But Moon Shangxiang feared no curse to be found among men, and she laughed as she cantered to the walls of the city.

Swiftly and craftily, entering Yuzhou by the outer gate, she galloped down the narrow streets. Many a royal courtesan that rushed out on their balconies as she went clattering by cried in surprise, many a swaggering lord who put his head from a glittering window stared in amazement, for none knew who she was nor where she was heading. Moon Shangxiang did not pause for questions or to answer warnings; she sped like the typhoon of her ancestors, galloping with half-shut eyes up the temple steps, only dimly seeing the startled boy through her almond lashes, seizing Sun Jian, his delicate fingers and heavy balls, hauling him away mad-dash upon her back. All that night they rode. The little priest had stripped off his robes, let down his long hair, wrapping his legs and arms around the celestial horse-girl, clinging and laughing under the moon.

The first time he entered her neither were sure if it would work, for neither had taken a lover before. Moon Shangxiang leaned down as Sun Jian came toward her, his cock already erect, twitching. He reached for her first, exploring her hard body, her muscles flexing under his soft hands. With her full breasts pressed against his chest, her hands went lower, kneading his fey thighs and smooth bottom, spreading his cheeks.

When he moved behind her Moon Shangxiang’s breath doubled in anticipation. He kissed her shoulder as she waited, but drove her to complain when he didn’t touch her deep purple cunt. Instead, his fingers traveled dangerously close to her own anus. The feeling was erotic and new. She snorted, feeling his fingers press down. Her moan held promise.

“Perhaps later, lover.”

Three of his fingers slid easily into her cunt, her hot flesh walls closing in around him — melting — MeLtiNg — MELTING — Her wetness sprinkled his hand as he pushed steadily in. She came on his fingertips, letting out a low whinny. Panting, tongue lolling, the celestial horse-girl tossed her head, her eyes glazed from her orgasm.

“I need you. Sun Jian, I need you.”

Arching her ass, she felt his cock pressed hard against her cleft, spreading her legs as far apart as possible. The Kama Sutra warns about the mating of a Mare Woman with a Rabbit Man, but she whimpered loudly when the swollen head of his cock rubbed against the length of her wet open lips, mixing his excitement with her essence. She shuddered, she waited.

“Take me like a filly,” she said, hoarsely. “No gentleness.”

His hot breath on her neck made her shiver. The boy didn’t stop to savor her wetness, plunging into her fast and hard. He grasped her haunches, her tail pushed to one side, his hips moving relentlessly. Sun Jian’s moans were divine. Her grunts were primitive. Moon Shangxiang buried her head into the tall grass, tearing whole handfuls out at each stroke.

— I want to be
inhaled , exhaled
and yet —

Moon Shangxiang flexed her inner muscles while he grunted at the tautness around his cock. She cried out; Sun Jian arched his back, angling his thrusts differently as he exploded inside her. When she turned her head again, she saw a wild look in his glowing eyes. Nostrils flared, there was nothing left of the city in his face.

— and then? — and then. — and then! —

He remained inside of her for a long while, as if the boy had somehow melted into her, fused. The world smelled of their lovemaking. He finally slipped out of her and watched with amazement when his cum, his first orgasm, dribble down her wet thighs.

I want to feel
your sultry skin

in delight
mythic …