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Horse Play

Category: Fetish
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Hindu Kush 04:06.

I whispered into the mike:

“Sierra Five Zulu, this is Four Delta Quebec. Do you have visual on targets? Over.”

A little further down the valley, George, my opposite number in 2nd platoon, pressed his transmit button twice in rapid succession. The clicks in my ear confirmed that he had indeed seen the Taliban commanders we were waiting to intercept.

They were obviously close enough for him to avoid talking. It was a few hours before day break in the mountains of south Afghanistan. It looked like 2nd platoon was set up in the right pass that night. I didn’t need my radio to hear the flash-bang stun grenades. Within a minute George was back on the air in his calm voice:

“Four Delta Quebec, this is Sierra Five Zulu. We’ve tagged and bagged them. Out.”

I let out a relieved breath knowing that our opponents were being dusted off by the Chinook that was picking us off the mountain as well. It was a good start of just another day in the life of a Marine Corporal Signalman.

Soon both our platoons were back at base camp and we washed the sweat and stress off. I was the only one not needing to clean my face of night camouflage paint. My parents had migrated to Liverpool from Tanzania in the sixties, so I am as black as they come. My military ID lists me as 193cm tall and I like to keep my fitness well above the Marine requirements, mostly through running and, more than anything, cycling. My pride and joy is my carbon fibre bicycle. Being single, I didn’t have anybody to object to the price tag.

Later that morning after debrief and breakfast, George and I were taken aside by Daniel, an embedded civilian consultant for our new radios.

“Josh, George, how was the kit last night?” He asked in his chipper voice.

Not bothering to wait for an answer, he continued:

“Spectrum from the interceptor was excellent. Traces during your conversation were couple dB below background noise.”

We both knew what he meant. The radio equipment was virtually undetectable to those without the right key. I reassured him.

“Quality was great, and latency minimal. I’d say within operational parameters.” George nodded.

It was a few weeks before I bumped into him again. This time he looked a lot gloomier than usual.

“Hey Dan, s’up?”

“Bit of a pickle, I am due to teach a course on our little toys but my coordinator double booked.”

He looked at his boots and gave me a sideways glance.

“You almost at the end of tour, aren’t you?”

“Yep, rotating next week.”

His face brightened and he gave me a crooked smile.

“You know as much as I do about these babies. Perhaps we can help each other?”

A morning in class

Dublin 06:30. I don’t know how Dan talked me into it, but the Friday after, I found myself getting off the night train at Grand Canal station in Ireland’s capital city, carrying my precious bike on my shoulder. In my rucksack was a laptop with a well-rehearsed presentation on the civilian version of the new radio system. I was going to give Dan’s course to one of his customers and we would split his fee 50/50. I’ve always been a soft touch.

Having never set foot in Ireland before, I studied the map outside the station. I quickly found and memorised my route. Marines never get lost. The sun was coming out and life was good. I cycled briskly through the awakening city, exchanging pleasant banter with shopkeepers, a postman and other early birds.

As I headed south, to the outskirts of town, I spotted a tall cyclist climb the hill ahead of me. I was intrigued by the long flowing red hair that seemed to struggle against the containment of the cycling helmet. I hoped sincerely that the front view would not show an equally red beard. Similar disappointments have happened to me before.

I pedalled a bit harder to catch up and check. It turned out that I didn’t need to worry. As I got closer I got the outline of a shapely set of distinctly feminine hips on top of long and equally shapely legs, rounded out by a smooth round ass. By the jiggle of the cycling jersey as she went over some traffic-calming ridges, I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra but should be.

For the next few minutes, I stayed on her wheel until she turned around and said in an unmistakable local tongue:

“Maybe it’s about time you catch the wind for me?”

“As long as you can keep up. Where you heading?”

She gave the name of the office park where I was scheduled for the course.

“That’s where I’m heading. We’ll take turns.”

Our casual chat made the journey fly by. Her smile was warm, but I couldn’t see her eyes since they were behind wrap-around reflective sunglasses. In the office park, I counted the buildings until I stopped at the one where I was to teach. To my surprise, she stopped as well.

“You don’t have to show me the way. I’m here.”

She laughed.

“So am I, this is my office. Boy, am I glad I made it. Doing some training today.”

I smiled but said nothing. Unless there was more than one course today, I would be sure to see this fit Celtic beauty again. She took a last long look at me.

“Might see you around.”

While she headed for the bike shed, I went to reception to sign in. The jiggling breasts and the vivacious personality of my bike companion had somewhat enlarged the normally already distinct bulge in my shorts.

Now, I should mention that the size of my penis was true to every story you have ever heard about black guys. If MythBusters came to check it out, they would be able to write Myth Confirmed on it with ease. If Kari Byron did the writing, she could even autograph it.

While I got my visitor pass, I could swear that my peripheral vision picked up a twitch in the curtain across the atrium. Having secured the bike in a cupboard, the receptionist pointed me to the shower room where I washed and changed.

Refreshed, I followed directions to the S&M office. That is Sales and Marketing. This turned out to be the same room where someone had sneaked a peek at me. The sales manager was a pin-striped petite curly-haired brunette whose desk name tag said Siobhan. Careful to look at her pretty face only and not wander down to her ample breasts, I proceeded to mangle her name. This got me a second Irish laugh that morning.

“Say it like Shh, Yvonne.”

She brought me some coffee and helped me set up my laptop with the projector in the training room. The sun had made a proper appearance by this time and was streaming through the large window next to the screen. Siobhan pulled a cord and a set of vertical blinds darkened the room. She left to get her marketing assistant and fellow class mate.

“S h e l a g h, as in Sheila. Australian for female.”

As I suspected, she came back with my cycling companion who had changed into a blue pleated skirt with her breasts still visibly unrestrained under a long sleeved, peach angora top barely thicker than her cycling jersey. Without the sunglasses I was treated to a sparkling set of green eyes framed by strawberry blonde eyelashes and eyebrows. Shelagh’s freckled face dimpled into a warm smile as she recognised me from earlier. After formal introductions, both sat down at tables in the front row, and I started my presentation.

The material was less than riveting and my skills as a teacher were consistent with the little experience I had. Even though I made up with enthusiasm and knowledge, I could feel I was losing the girls. Shelagh had been forced to get up earlier than usual, and she was gradually dozing off. She started to slouch in her seat while more and more of her red locks were falling in front of her face. A few beads of sweat formed on my brow, but not from the heat. The main cause was the skirt riding up before me which was showing much more of Shelagh’s classically shaped legs than her cycling shorts had before.

A sudden breeze from the open window disturbed the curtain, allowing a pillar of bright sunlight to fall on the girls. Still half dozing, Shelagh let her left leg flop sideways. In the otherwise dimly lit room, it looked like a ball of fire was lit under the skirt. There was a bright red-orange glow. I stopped in mid-sentence and froze as it was plain to see that Shelagh was a true redhead because she wasn’t wearing any underwear. It was just as well that the light was behind me because I couldn’t take my eyes off the red bushy triangle. She must have really left in a hurry that morning. That was the kind of commando I liked much better than my Marine colleagues.

The sudden interruption in my discourse had the effect of startling both girls back to attention. Siobhan took pity on my supposed teacher’s block and suggested that we should break for an early lunch. As there was no canteen in the building she decided that we go to a nearby pub to eat.

Siobhan had also cycled into work so we all changed back into Lycra and set off. The thin, body hugging cycle gear made it easy to compare my students’ figures. As I had seen that morning, Shelagh was tall and athletic. Her body hair was so fair that she didn’t bother shaving her legs, giving them a halo glow in the bright sunshine. Siobhan was small and compact by comparison. Both had well toned bodies from cycling, with great figures and almost equally sizeable breasts.

“It must be something in the water,” I thought, “or perhaps the Guinness.”

All these observations brought on the return of the bulge. Being restricted by my cycling posture, it proceeded to inch its way sideways to my hip. Pretty soon, it looked like I was bringing family-sized salami to lunch. I couldn’t say for sure, but I thought both girls were sneaking appreciative glances over their shoulder and raising eyebrows at each other. It’s hard to tell with sunglasses.

At the pub we enjoyed some freshly made sandwiches, washed down with pints of sparkling water. The bright day and fresh air had lifted our spirits considerably and the conversation got rather flirty and as far removed from radio systems as you can get. At one point Siobhan asked me the age-old question:

“What animal would you be if you were re-incarnated?”

I half closed my eyes and let a few pass my mind.

“A horse, definitely. I would love to be strong, running free through the fields. Not a care in the world.”

For some reason, this produced the same reaction in both girls as I had had in the training room when Shelagh unwittingly flashed her charms. They were open mouthed for so long that I was afraid that I had said something wrong. I had seen a few horses roam Dublin’s outskirts that morning. Perhaps they were like the sacred cows of India and I had offended them.

Nothing could be further from the truth. The girls soon recomposed themselves but remained slightly flushed. Both gave me a strangely seductive look.

“Josh,” Siobhan said, “you like horses, right? How about a horse race? We can read up on your radio some other time.”

Since Siobhan was the boss, and I would get paid regardless, I quickly agreed to change the curriculum for my training day.

“Sure, I’m game for anything.”

This caused more barely subdued excitement in my students. Siobhan made a quick hushed call on her mobile phone and we set off on our bikes again.

A day at the races

Dublin suburbs 12:10. The race course was a short distance south of the city. As we went downhill, we made good time and were there in twenty minutes. Although not a regular at horse races, it looked like no course I’d ever seen. Instead of the usual open design, the course looked completely enclosed by high walls. There was a large sign giving the name as Aristotle, hardly an Irish name. I shrugged as I followed the girls inside. They showed me the men’s shower room where I could get another wash. Strange thing was, I didn’t see any other spectators.

“Maybe we’re early.” I thought.

Since there seemed to be no rush, I enjoyed a long shower. When I got out, I was surprised to find that my clothes and bag had disappeared. As I was standing dripping wet and naked, a side door opened and Siobhan briskly walked in. Shyness is not encouraged in the Marines and I made no attempt to hide my body. She had changed in jodhpurs, boots, white blouse, riding helmet and blue riding jacket. As I was taking in her changed persona, she took an equally long appreciative look over my body. She snapped out of her obviously lecherous thoughts and put on a serious face.

“Josh, you can play my horse, if you still want to.”

I smiled and thought “Going on all fours with a small girl on my back, could be fun.”

I wanted to see how the Irish do role-play games and said that I was still game. This caused the stern look to be briefly replaced with a warm smile. Siobhan produced a short riding crop and pointed to the door she just had come through.

“Your things are in here.”

I followed her into the next room, which turned out to be a stable. On the wall were a small bridle, blinkers and a black horse hair fly swatter with a strangely curved handle. On the floor were four black shiny mugs and in the corner was a racing sulky with large wheels. I was glad I wasn’t going to wear a saddle on such a hot day.

Siobhan slapped the crop on her boot and told me to stand still so we could prepare for the race. I had to stoop down for her to get the bridle over my head with a thick rubber bit in my mouth. It meant I could no longer speak and the blinkers restricted my peripheral vision. She clipped on a length of black hair to the bridle at the back of my head since my hair was too short to pass for a mane. As she brought them over, I could see that the mugs were imitation hooves made from glossy leather. Two slightly smaller ones which she laced on as boxing gloves and the two high heeled shoes enclosed in black leather. Walking on my toes didn’t bother me, as I often run barefoot.

She then dropped the bars of the sulky over my head, and before I knew what happened, my front hooves were clipped parallel to the bars in front of me. Due to my size and the angle of the sulky, I had to bend forward. Siobhan stood in front of me and fished a small bottle of clear hand soap out of her cleavage. The bottle had a pump at the top and she put a liberal amount of soap in one hand.

“I’ve been keeping this warm for you.” she said in a low, sexy voice and the smile lit up her face again.

She walked to the sulky behind me so I lost sight of her due to the blinkers. I heard her pick up the fly swatter and swish it through the air.

“Relax.” she said.

She put the hand with the soap up my ass and spread it liberally in and around the hole. It felt good. More oily than soapy and I relaxed as she tenderly massaged the whole area.

The largest surprise of that most unusual day came when I felt something being gently pushed into my well lubricated hole. The bulge soon got past my sphincter and settled in more comfortable than I expected. When Siobhan let go, I felt hairs lightly tickle the backs of my legs. The fly swatter was a butt plug with attached tail.

She walked back into my field of vision and took her mobile phone from her jacket. She slid it open and pressed a few buttons. I was pleasantly surprised when if felt the plug vibrating gently against my prostrate.

“Bluetooth is my carrot.” She explained grinning. “I do sell radios, you know.”

Since I’m not a great fan of raw carrots, I was glad for her high-tech reward system for horse training. She looked me over once more and said:

“You make a great black stallion. About time I take you to race.”

She opened a set of double doors and let the sunlight stream into the stable. She climbed onto the sulky, gave the reins a slight tug, clacked her tongue and we slowly trotted out. I loved the sun warming my skin and it was more than a bit of a thrill to be naked outdoors with only a few bits of leather and metal on me. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the race, but I was curious.

Walking on my toes in the high heeled shoes made my hips sway like a catwalk model. This caused my tail to swing from side to side which produced a nice sensation with the buzzing plug massaging erogenous areas I never knew I had. Soon my penis grew semi-tumescent but still pointing down.

I enjoyed the feeling of it lazily rolling from leg to leg. The warm shower and the hot sunny day had relaxed my scrotum and my balls were joining in a four way swinging motion with my penis and tail. I looked every inch the prancing steed and felt like one.

The slight breeze on my damp skin brought the sparkling water from lunch into sharper focus and I started to feel pressure in my bladder.

“What would horses do?” I thought.

It was kind of obvious, so I stopped, put my feet as wide apart as the bars allowed and groaned as I let go with a relieving stream onto the grass.

“Very good.” Siobhan exclaimed excitedly, pleased with my role play.

After I finished my impromptu irrigation she watched me wiggle my hips to try and shake the last drops, since I couldn’t use my hands.

“Let me get that.” she said.

I heard her slide her phone open once more. The plug pulsed at a much higher volume and its powerful vibrations shook my penis dry.

Once my eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, I could see two other racing sulkies inside the enclosed track. Both were drawn by near naked people playing as horses, just like me. I studied the competition with interest.

One sulky was pulled by a deeply tanned man with blonde hair and blue eyes. A matching blonde mane and butt plug with blonde tail completed his horse outfit. I noticed that the tail hairs on the plug were set at an upward angle, giving the impression of a horse eager to run. It also assisted the anatomically formed handle to add pressure to the plug’s massage action.

The effect was not lost on him as his thick penis had attained a good length and its angle was similar to mine. It was hanging prominently from his big sack and an expanse of coarse blonde curls covered his underbelly. A similar pelt matted his chest, legs and forearms. Aristotle certainly liked their stallions well hung.

He was a little less tall than me but equally muscular, especially his legs. When he saw my physique however, I could see him mouth Holy Shit behind the bit. He was rigged to a sulky with a small blonde, although not as petite as Siobhan. She was dressed in the same outfit as my driver. The blonde had an equally stunned expression as her bronzed horse, but with an added twinkle in her eyes.

“No lies Siobhan, outstanding equestrian specimen.”

The other sulky was pulled by the most wonderful vision of a play horse. My erstwhile sleepy student Shelagh was as naked as us two stallions and kitted out the same, but with different colours. She wore the same light tan hooves as the male and her hair fell halfway down her back as a red mane. Her butt plug had a long tail matching her hair colour. Her smooth skin was so light that it clearly showed off the freckles all over her rump. Her big breasts hung down like they had done on our three bike rides together, but this time there was no jersey to obstruct my view. The large light pink areolas were topped off with proud nipples. They gently swung from side to side as she stepped sideways and turned her sulky to take a good look at me.

Even though the blinkers kept her green eyes in the shade, I could see their whites clearly when she involuntarily opened them wide as she saw my naked stallion body. Her hardening nipples and puckering areolas gave more proof of her unconscious reaction. She absent-mindedly lifted her left hoof and rubbed the inside of her right leg, which squeezed her red triangle between her crossing thighs. A slight blush crept up from her neck when she realised what she was doing. I didn’t need a horse whisperer to guess what was on her mind.

Her sulky carried a small man dressed as a jockey with a bright red-white checked silk shirt. He broke the sexual tension in the air with a cheerful:

“Shall we not have a little race then?”

Our drivers made us leisurely move the sulkies out of the centre onto the track.

The three of us were lined up at the starting line and after the countdown of Shelagh’s Jockey we set off around the oval. The blonde man took the lead, closely followed by the red haired beauty. They obviously had done this before, but I soon got the hang of pushing against the handles on the sulky bars and my athleticism was starting to show. I was matching the gallop of my fellow horses and was quickly catching up to make it a three horse race.

Even with my Marine endurance we were closely grouped throughout the three laps. In the final straight we were even running neck and neck as I came through the middle. Although I could not see because of the blinkers, I could hear the panting of the horses on either side of me, accompanied by their thundering hooves. With the three of us running naked like competitors in the ancient Olympics, the Aristotle moniker seemed more appropriate.

Just about ten metres before the finish line, Siobhan pulled her coupe de grace. With a sharp flick of the crop she stung my right ass cheek. More in surprise than pain, I lurched forward and finished a head in front of the other two horses. Siobhan stepped off her sulky to stroke my side.

“You liked that, Josh?” she beamed.

The bit in my mouth stopped me from answering her but my grin spoke volumes. It got even wider when she pulled her trusty mobile and gave me a nice, long buzzing reward. Siobhan briefly conferred with the other drivers before she proclaimed:

“My stallion is only visiting today. Let’s see if he can get to the stud farm with a three minute lap.”

I didn’t think that was possible, as the computer score board was showing just over ten minutes on the three lap race. Shelagh’s jockey had obviously worked this out as well.

“I don’t think even he can do that. Needs two horses. You like to borrow mine?” She agreed.

He added a set of bar extensions to her sulky and proceeded to clip his horse to them. This put me in a wonderful position with my face just a few hand widths away from Shelagh’s strong yet soft looking Irish ass. It was hard to make out which of the red hairs were tail and which were pubic hair, but I couldn’t care less. I was just enjoying the glorious view.

I snapped out of the spectacle in front of me as Siobhan took our two reins to manoeuvre us to the starting line again.

“Run as fast as you can, Josh. Be worth your while.”

With her words ringing in my ears we set off at full speed. Shelagh was really putting effort into the run and I joined in, even though I wasn’t quite sure what was at stake here. Running at full tilt made her breast go wild as they swayed into my view from side to side. The sweat was running off her freckled back and sides and her long legs were like a blur. The wind from our breakneck speed made her tail fly high overhead and I got a great view of the red haired pussy lips between her gorgeous legs. I felt as if I could stick my tongue in there, if I just ran a little bit faster. The incentive of the tall red horse pumping her legs was enough to tear us around the track in two minutes, fifty three seconds.

The small band awaiting us at the finish was ecstatic. The jockey pumped his fist in the air and whooped with joy.

“First try! The winner gets his reward.” he said with a wide grin on his face.

Siobhan guided the sulky to a slightly elevated, fenced off patch of grass in the middle of the course. A sign on the fence said Stud Farm. She stopped us when we stood right in the centre. The other sulky drivers sat on the fence and the blonde horse watched from behind it.

A prize worthy of a stud

Siobhan climbed off the sulky and released my front hooves from the bars.

“Go get your prize, stud.” she said as she playfully tapped my ass.

I was uncharacteristically hesitant; was she meaning what I though she meant? Were they expecting me to have sex out in the open in front of an audience of strangers? More importantly, was Shelagh okay to have horse sex play with someone she had only met that morning? The answer came from the red horse in front of me as Shelagh turned her head with as lusty a look on her face as the bit allowed. She whinnied, nodded her head and mane down deeply and I could see her green eyes almost begging me to fuck her.

She put her feet as far apart as the sulky bars would allow. Her lips parted enough to show a glistening hint of pink through the red hairs. She shifted her weight from hoof to hoof to swing her tail, giving me longer glimpses or her invitingly parted pussy lips. That settled it. I needed no further encouragement and tip-toed a half step to close the small gap between us, as I had been dying to do all through our double horse run.

Just as I had seen real horses do on TV farming programs, I pushed my nose under Shelagh’s tail and deeply inhaled her feminine aroma. My nose got rather wet from the nuzzling, and I was quite sure that it wasn’t all sweat, even though Shelagh and I were still steaming in the bright sunshine after our rigorous exercise. A low guttural groan escaped from her lips as I stuck my tongue past the bit to taste her folds, which were getting closer in colour to the damp red of their surrounding hairs as they engorged and flushed. This time I was positive I didn’t taste sweat and I knew my mare was ready for her stud.

Even with this onslaught of femininity on my sense of smell and taste, the blood was still pumping around my muscles, and my penis, although thick and long enough to make a real horse proud, was mainly pointing down. With my hands in the hooves, there was little I could do to fix this.

“We can’t have a stud like that.” Was the laconic comment from Siobhan.

With that, she hunkered down, moved her small form under me and started tenderly licking the length of my shaft. She had seen my reaction to the tail, so she reached up between my legs and used the plug to massage me. This was enough for my penis to start on a steady upwards arc.

“Oh fuck!” she blurted out as the head grew past my foreskin.

She pulled it completely free and said “Look at the head. It’s as blue as my jacket.”

She didn’t give anybody a chance to compare the colours, as she took all of the head into her mouth, while swirling her tongue around it and along the sensitive edge. She put more lube from the little bottle on her hands and rubbed half its content into my shaft like it was suntan lotion. Since her small hands could not encompass my girth, she moved them around, as well as along the ridges, rotating her hands and forearms almost like she was giving the least painful Chinese burn ever. I felt her lips on my dangling scrotum as she took each of my dove egg sized testicles into her mouth and played with them, darting her magical tongue, making the most wonderful slurping sounds.

My blood now knew where it was needed most and my penis reared up to full length until the throbbing veins got as blue as the head. I was surprised that none of the small Irish group was blinded by the sun reflecting off my well lubricated, rock hard, high gloss black cock.

Satisfied, Siobhan had a last relishing suck at the tip of my purple head now twice as big and released her lips with a soft plop. The smeared lipstick and the dribble of saliva on her chin could not detract from the Cheshire cat smirk on her flushed face. She was showing some sweat in her armpits and between her breasts, but I wasn’t at all sure about the stain in her crotch.

“Now do your stud duty, beautiful stallion.” She ordered.

She pulled Shelagh’s tail up and out of the way. This caused Shelagh’s butt plug to push her swollen vulva into full view and a large drop of pre-cum was testament to my appreciation of the scene. It was clear that I was ready to mount my mare. My breath got shallow as I slid my arms along the sulky bars to Shelagh’s sides, I could just feel the weight of her breasts through the leather hooves. I felt Siobhan grab my shaft again to spread the now copious pre-cum all over the head before she deftly guided me into the red haired pussy. I didn’t need much assistance as I tightened my ass muscles to lodge the head between the warm and slopping wet enlarged lips, resting for a second to savour the heat and soft feeling.

Although nobody could tell that my skin was flushed, Shelagh had a red glow all over her body. Once she got used to the insistent pressure of my penis and relaxed, I pushed nearly effortlessly into her vagina. My mare let out another animalistic groan from the depth of her throat. Her toned body pushed back eagerly to engulf more of me with each slow and deliberate stroke.

While Siobhan, as a good stud farmer, kept hold of me to keep me from coming out of the slippery hole, I picked up a good rhythm and plunged more and more of my length into the warm wetness with all the strength of my legs. When my pubes met Shelagh’s tail, Siobhan moved one hand to hold my balls and the other on my tail for more butt plug play. Shelagh and I were now truly acting like horses on a stud farm and the role play enhanced what would otherwise have been a great fuck in its own right.

Once Shelagh had stretched to my size she proved that her internal muscles were as toned as her external ones, as she massaged my penis with the soft walls of her vagina. She pulled her head up and made her back hollow in an attempt to both impale herself deeper and strain to mash her large nipples into my forearms. Her involuntary grunting had reached an audible level and kept in perfect step with the loud wet rhythm of our sweat drenched bodies slapping together.

Even at my slow pace, this could not continue for very long and I soon felt seminal fluid welling up towards my shaft. I was sure the girls were aware of my imminent climax too as Siobhan must have felt my balls tightening in her hand. As my penis stretched Shelagh even further she let out a deep sigh and I felt her orgasm pulse contractions through her innermost cavity. Her vagina felt determined to milk out every last drop. A moment later I shot stream after stream inside her. Even though the timing of my explosion was well anticipated by all three of us, the volume of cum was not.

As I stayed inside her, a trickle of white ooze ran down the inside of Shelagh’s quivering leg. A spontaneous applause reminded me that we still had our small band of avid onlookers. After it had stopped spurting and twitching, my drained penis slipped out of the hot and moist, flame hair framed softness and wetly slapped against my thighs. I triumphantly raised my front hooves in a mock rear and did my best impression of a neighing stallion. Siobhan took the opportunity to quickly plant a tender kiss on my sweaty torso and whisper:

“You were all I sized you up in reception this morning.”

Siobhan drove both horses that had so recently propelled her around the track, back to her stable. She unbridled Shelagh and me and removed our hooves and tails. The two girls hugged me tightly in an embrace that had an intimacy I could not have expected from people I had only known a few hours. As a result, Siobhan was also covered in the mixture of dust and sweat that had clung to our two naked bodies and she was showing copious stains from various bodily fluids.

“Guess I need to wash these.” she shrugged as she removed her riding outfit.

Boots, jacket, blouse and breeches were soon on the floor. She had the same lack of underwear as Shelagh had in class. As I had compared during our cycling, her breasts were as nice a size as Shelagh’s but her areoles and small nipples were much darker. She sported a neatly trimmed black bush and her inner lips stuck out with a distinctly darker edge. The sight of her small but perfectly formed naked body was enough for my penis to take notice and get ideas about seconds. As if rehearsed, both girls put a hand around it and between them they led me into Siobhan’s adjoining room. They pushed me back onto the king size bed.

“My turn for a taste.” Shelagh said before she valiantly took as much of me as she could into her mouth.

“Let’s see what your unbridled tongue can do.” said Siobhan, as she kneeled over my face.

I eagerly complied and soon had her writhing and grinding herself against my mouth as I cupped her soft cheeks in my hands. I felt Shelagh’s long hair on my stomach and thighs as she bobbed her head on my now full erection. I gave Siobhan’s ass a loud but playful smack and she jumped up.

“Pay back for your crop earlier.” I said.

Shelagh laughed and said “Siobhan, honestly. You want to feel this inside you.”

The girls changed places and I was soon reacquainted with Shelagh’s red haired musky smell, joined by my own salty taste. She now enjoyed the full flexibility of my mouth and tongue without the restrictions of the bit.

Behind her Siobhan held on to her friend’s shoulders and was babbling uncontrollably as she squatted up and down my towering erection.

“Never thought I could take all of this, I’m so full.”

I reached up to caress Shelagh’s breasts which were hovering above me. I softly rolled the nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand. Sex without the dressing up and dressage wasn’t so bad either.

Siobhan was the first to orgasm, which was understandable, since she had not yet climaxed that day. She shuddered and groaned as she rubbed her clitoris against the base of my penis. I held back as a true gentleman and doubled the intensity of my assault on Shelagh to get her off too. She sighed and bucked energetically on my face as the orgasm took possession of her. After both caught their breath, they turned their attention back to me. They sat at either side of me to give me a double blow job. Their two mouths, four hands and undiminished eagerness soon paid off and I felt another load welling up. I sprayed thick gobs on their heaving chests and faces. Afterwards, we all fell into a heap of sweat drenched bodies on the bed to finally relax.

We chatted a long time to compare each of our experiences of the day’s horse play. The girls explained that Aristotle was a cross between a swingers and role play club. Both girls grew up on or near a farm. They just never lost their fascination with horses. While most Pony Play clubs focused on the BDSM angle, Aristotle was about competition at the track, and the winner swinging in the stud farm. The name refers to the Aristotle perversion as pony play has been playfully referred to. The butt plugs were Siobhan’s idea.

“Ask Dan for more Bluetooth kits and phone vibrators.” She laughed.

I congratulated her on her invention and I thanked the girls for an unforgettable introduction to Irish sexual fringes. Afterwards we took a shower and soaped up our bodies until we were spotlessly clean. We tenderly towelled each other off and dressed back in our office attire. It felt strange to see the girls back in business clothes after hours of more unusual outfits.


I said fond farewells to my Irish students and their horse loving friends. Siobhan and Shelagh both gave me a deep soulful kiss and assured me that they would give me great training course feedback so I might one day return. The horse crowd gave me and my bike a lift to my hotel in their Range Rover. Thanking them for the lift and the hospitality of their club, I checked in, dropped on the bed and promptly fell asleep. When I reported back to barracks that Monday, everybody was curious about the small rosette pinned to my cycling jersey sporting a golden number one. In spite of much prompting, I never told a soul about the nature of my Irish racing victory. Until today, of course.

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