I
was drawn to Sebastian from the very first.
As a student lawyer, that is, one who studies at the university part
time and works in a law practice for the rest of the time, I was assigned to
him to guide me through the intricacies of the law as it pertained to the
practice.
He
was everything a girl dreamed about: tall, athletic and with the grace that
seems to come naturally to the English aristocracy. Not that he was titled or anything, although
I think his grandfather or great-uncle or something was an earl or
viscount. Nevertheless, he was certainly
upper-crust, that much showed through in his carriage and bearing.
He
wasn’t a snob. He was as pleasant to me,
whose parents were very definitely middle class, as he was to all the other
members of the staff and to clients of all classes, and he took me under his
wing from the very beginning.
Actually,
I think we rather more than just hit it off from the moment we met. I certainly felt those funny little vibes
that tell us humans that this individual or that is going to be more than just
a friend. He didn’t fall to his knees
the moment we met, or even ask me out for dinner for quite a while,
however. He was always very
correct. Pleasant and helpful and
considerate, but always correct.
Sebastian
was a very good looking man. As I say,
he was tall and lean and I knew his body must have been very athletic or
perhaps even muscular from the way he carried himself. He was darkish in complexion, almost as if he
had a permanent tan (which added to his attractiveness to me), his hair was a
wavy dark brown and his eyes a deep blue, almost violet.
I
think we set each other off very well for I am fair (although my skin tans very
well) with long straight blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes. I too am athletic for I loved to play squash
and I still competed in amateur athletics and these sports kept my body nicely
trim, perhaps even athletic as well.
I
enjoyed my work and my studies and I was doing quite well at them, but to add
to my pleasure, Sebastian now began to ask me out. He was a very rich young man and didn’t
really need to work in his father’s law practice but like many modern
aristocrats, he felt the need to be doing something useful and had studied law
at Cambridge and then joined the firm.
He was now thirty-two and was a junior partner in the firm. As a result, he took me to the best
places. Not to show off for he wasn’t
like that, but to see me enjoy myself.
I
certainly did that! He was a wonderful
host, considerate of my wishes but well-versed in all that went with dining in
a top-class restaurant. He therefore
made these events wonderful evenings for me.
We
also began to play squash together — and there I saw him stripped down to
t-short and shorts — and now knew what I had suspected: that his body was
superbly fit and very athletic. I began
to have erotic thoughts about him although he was still very correct in the way
he treated me, only permitting himself a quick peck on
my cheek when we met and afterwards parted.
Later
still, he took to coming to my athletics meetings and then my practice runs,
now becoming just a little more intimate with me, kissing me more
affectionately and touching me in more endearing ways. I knew I was falling for him and I was sure
he was for me, as well.
I
suppose we just sort of drifted into bed together. I didn’t go to live with him but on
occasions, after a dinner or dance and when we both wanted it, I ended up in
his bed in his very up-market apartment (or he ended up in my much lesser
bed-sitter) and we made wonderful love together. I had no idea where our growing love would
end up but at that time I was quite content to let it drift on as it was for
the drift was upwards and I knew both of us loved the other very much.
I
had worked in the firm for almost a year when he at last invited me to an
athletic event that he was interested in.
That’s how he described it to me: “Mercedes, I have enjoyed coming to your
athletics meetings and I love our games of squash together but I wonder if you
would like to come to another sort of athletics event, one I am rather
interested in?”
An odd way to put it? Wasn’t it!
But I smiled and told him I would love to come and see it — whatever it
was.
I
was surprised … no, shocked though when I discovered what it was that so
interested him. I had never heard of it,
which was why he wouldn’t elaborate what it was we were going to see until I
actually saw it for my own eyes.
We
drove onto a large estate and even at the main entrance,
every car was being thoroughly checked before it was admitted. The lane up to the house was long and windy
and ran through copses of trees that hid the house and its surrounds from every
road in the locality. The house was huge
by my standards but it certainly wasn’t Blenheim Palace, or anything like
it. We didn’t stop there though, continuing
on past it along the private road to another copse of
trees and there my eyes just about popped.
We
got out to be greeted by Sebastian’s friends but I hardly took in the
introductions for my eyes were fixed on the competitors — or rather their
steeds, for what I saw were a dozen or so light gigs, rather like trotting
frames except there was a proper, if very small, seat for the rider. Some of these gigs were already harnessed to
their steeds.
But
these were not horses or even ponies — at least not of the equine kind,
anyway. They were people! Really!
Human ponies were harnessed to half a dozen of the ultra-light gigs and were
obviously getting ready to race while others were being prepared for the next
race.
Sebastian smiled at my astonishment and I gripped his
hand tightly, not sure whether I ought to protest at what I thought to be an
inhuman treatment of fellow human beings — or to give way to the incredible
excitement I was feeling down in my middle regions — and particularly at my
love bud.
I
felt his eyes on me and looked up at him.
His face was still as serene as it always was but I felt he knew of my
inner excitement for his hand gripped mine more tightly too. “Come over and see them at close hand,
Mercedes,” he said softly, excusing us from his friends and leading me over to
where the riders were now positioning their steeds for the first race.
I
stared at them in awe. All were wearing
leather harnesses that left their breasts (this race was for females) bare but
properly covered their middles and yet showed off their quite magnificent
bodies to a tee. All were highly
athletic, with bodies that were almost muscular in appearance and as a track
athlete myself, I knew they would be very fast even
without seeing them perform. They were a
mixture of races, three being obviously white, one, half and half and the other
two much darker in complexion. These
last two were really well-muscled girls and I suspected they would be the
fastest. I was embarrassed that their
breasts were all totally on show — as were their haunches and the whole of
their thighs — but I also felt a weird thrill at seeing them so indecently
attired (or is it unattired).
The
riders all wore silks just as real jockeys did and as with them, these were
diminutive boys (or looked to be, anyway).
The
gigs were a little like trotting frames, as I said. They had high, very narrow wheels as on a
racing bicycle with an axle between them and bolted to this was the tiny seat
on which the rider perched. Dangling
from either side of the single shaft that led forward from the axle, under the
saddle, were two footrests, like stirrups in which they placed their feet.
The
shaft, made of a strong but light aluminium alloy was
about six feet long but up at the front it split in two, forming a large ‘U’
and the two ends of this were buckled to the waist belt of the girls’ harness.
They
were under starters’ orders now and were lined on the very private track that
ran inside the copse of trees — everyone is well aware these days that
satellites can now see anything on Earth they want to. Down came the flag and off they went while
Sebastian and me hung over the rails, me as excited as he obviously was as the
six girls charged around the small track, pulling the feather-weight gigs and
their tiny riders behind them.
Once
the six of them were past the bend in the distance and were partially out of
sight, I had a look at the spectators and the men who were tending the next set
of competitors. These ones were male and
were just as provocatively attired with only a codpiece hiding their genitals,
as the tiny pouch had those of the girls now charging around the track.
The
men and women here, all obviously of Sebastian’s class, were all very excited —
and not only by the thrill of the race, either.
Faces, on the women as much as the men, were flushed as they had watched
the six girls racing off — and now as they turned to watch the male ponies
being prepared for the next race, it was clear the muscular bodies of the six
male ponies also excited them.
I realised straight away that this was very much a sexual
scene as well as a sporting event and once more I felt my loins boil as I came
to grips with what was actually happening here:
There were a few hundred spectators, a dozen or so handlers and some two
dozen human ponies! And every single one
of them appeared turned on by the events.
With
the male ponies, that turn-on was readily apparent in their codpieces as what
they contained was in an obvious state of arousal. These young men were obviously in a state of
high sexual tension and yet they were in an intensely shameful position, almost
naked, their buttocks as well as the rest of their bodies almost completely
exposed to the stares of the men and women who crowded round to admire their so
athletic physiques.