Mrs. Jones had always loved the powerful feel of a horse beneath her. But it had been some years sin
Mrs. Jones had always loved the powerful feel of a horse beneath her. But it had been some years since she had been riding. The Doctor thought it might be therapeutic for her to take it up again. He had recommended a stable he knew. The stablehand that gave Mrs. Jones the tour was ruggedly handsome but had a cheeky arrogance. Mrs. Jones was a bit put off but perhaps a bit excited too. She could imagine him, with a powerful beast between his legs, being in control, dominant. “Now, bein’ it’s been awhile, Mrs. Jones, I thought we’d start you out easy”. The young man had stopped in front of one of the stalls. He opened the door and stepped in. Mrs. Jones stayed outside. “Come on in, Mrs. Jones, can’t show them you’re ‘fraid, this one’s gentle. Chose her to start you out. Come on in”. Mrs. Jones stepped tentatively in. “That’s right. Isn’t she lovely? 'Er name’s Marigold, right gentle she is”. Mrs. Jones suddenly felt hot, and light-headed. She leaned on the rough wood of the stall walls. “You alright there, Mrs. Jones…. steady…. here….grab hold of me…” Mrs. Jones did indeed grab hold, but not to the strong, offered arm. No, Mrs. Jones had an iron grip the bulge that stretched the denim of the young man’s jeans. “Well now, Doctor said you would…. didn’t believe 'im. Is it a different kinda ridin’ your after Mrs. Jones?” Her answer was to slide to her knees and work at his belt. “Let me help you with that darlin’”. The man freed his cock and Mrs. Jones hungrily took it in her mouth. The man pushed the stall door shut and grabbed hold of Mrs. Jones hair and pumped at her face. “My you are a hungry one. But you keep that up and I’ll blow too soon. And I want feel that cunt of yours”. “Mmmph…ghuh….yesss….mmm….fuck me….. I want …. gg-ghuh …you to FUCK meeee…..! Mrs. Jones felt her roots tearing from her scalp as he lifted and spun her, pushing her against the boards. A large hand on each hip pushed her dress up. She cried out as he plunged deep into her. He clamped his hand on her mouth. "There now, we don’t want to be scarin’ the horses”. She bit his hand. He made no noise but his thrusting became faster, rougher. “God, but you are a lovely fuck darlin’!” Mrs. Jones could hear him hiss through his teeth, feel the sweat from his brow drip onto her pounded ass. She arched her back, pushing against him wanting him deeper inside. She hoped he would take his time cumming, she knew she probably wouldn’t be allowed, she wanted his fucking to go on forever. The man tensed, growled and groaned. Again Mrs. Jones felt her hair yanked. Collapsing to her knees she stares up lustfully until she is blinded by his leaping, lashing cum. She is vaguely aware of him leaving, of the stall door slamming shut. The next thing she remembers is sitting in the car with the Doctor. “Did you enjoy your tour?”, he asked as he put away a damp handkerchief. Mrs. Jones dared not look in a mirror. “Yes, I did”. The Doctor started the car and drove down the track that led off of the farm. @slavekatie -- source link