The sight of her on the mare, slowly cantering in lazy circles, breasts bouncing, arms
outstretched as she guided the mare only with her legs and seat, head thrown back in joy,
and that ass and those hips, moving with the mare in deep, slow pelvic thrusts, ass firmly
planted on the mare’s back – now that was a rider! The sight of her moving that way, as if
fucking, fired his imagination, and made him hard. He imagined her riding him that way,
and soon he could stand it no longer. He unbuttoned his breeches, freeing his throbbing
cock. He stroked it slowly. He could almost feel her pussy, hot and wet, sliding down on
his dick, taking him all in, deep inside, then thrusting, up and down, as his hand
followed the picture his mind was painting. He could see those firm breasts, surely as
soft and white as that silky blouse that blew against them in the breeze, with hard pink
nipples, bouncing with each thrust of her hips. He groaned, his hand moving faster. “No,”
he thought, “slower, slower, match the canter, match the canter.” In his mind, she now
moved back and forth, back and forth, her pussy tightening and loosening, tightening and
loosening, to match the rhythm of that canter, her back arched, head back in ecstasy.
***
I imagined riding naked, in warm rain… my ass moving with the rhythm of the walk. The
heat reflecting up into my cunt, making me hot and wet, and my clit and inner lips grow
full and firm. I could scarcely wait to get home, where, once in the barn, I quickly
slipped off my pants, continuing my fantasy. My hands are on my swelling tits, my fingers
brush the nipples, across the tips, back and forth, back and forth, then I grasp them
between my thumb and forefinger, and roll each nipple between them, pressing down firmly.
I arch my back, pushing my breasts upward and forward to meet my handsI slide my hands
down, and shudder with delight as I rub against my pussy, now dripping with my juices. I
play the rider, my hands the back of the horse, rubbing against the swollen lips and
button, my hips moving in rhythm with the imagined canter, slow and powerful. And then,
once again, I see myself on that strange unicorn, and my fingers become that horn that
would satisfy my desire, as first one and then two slide in. I fuck myself slowly, hips
and ass thrusting in time with the canter, horn-fingers moving in and out and around, as I
ride closer and closer to release. I press and rub my clit harder and faster, grinding as
if on the back of a racing stud. As the intensity builds, the canter becomes faster, as my
thrusts grow more frenzied. My sex quivers, contracting again and again as waves of
orgasms envelope me. I sink to my knees, gulping for air, then slowly pull myself up again
by my mare and hang on, leaning and spent, against her as she quietly eats her hay.
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