Friday, 17 April 2015

Meteor: Part One (Paladin)

~Edit (Susan)... Paladin said I could edit this. I had some ideas, but after wrestling with it for ages, nothing stuck. So all that's been changed has been some line-spaces added.~

My cousin James and I spent most of our holidays together as we grew up, trying to prove who was the bravest and the toughest or as our mothers’ would say who was the most reckless and who had the least brain cells. Our mothers never appreciated the amount of planning that went into each adventure and challenge. They never understood that amount of fine-tuning it took to convert a pram into something that could nearly jump a creek or the military precision required for sneaking into the neighbours back-yard to strip their apple tree of every piece of fruit without waking their rottweiler.

Turning down a challenge was never an option. The penalties were severe. Failure at seven, meant letting a girl kiss you thereby catching girl germs. By age nine we’d progressed to peeing on an electric fence as the ultimate deterrent and who knows where we would have gone from there given enough time but James and his family moved to the U.K and to a city with more people than my whole country. They did come back a couple of times during our early teens but the visits were always short.

I was 22 when I finally got the opportunity to visit James in the U.K. I was still very much a country boy and this was only second time I’d been in a plane and the first on an international flight. While I’d stayed on learning to manage the folks farm James had followed his father into finance and banking and he was adamant that he was going to show me just what life was like in a real city.

James wasn’t at Heathrow to meet me but there was a guy holding a sign with my name on it and he seemed to know what was happening. We got into a genuine limo, David the driver told me it was the company car James’ father worked for. When I got settled he handed me a brand new iphone and told me James had left voice memos on it. As I settled back into the seat and watched the lights, cars and people stream by I activated the first message.

“G’day stranger,” his accent was more English now than kiwi but still recognisable. “Dad and I are meeting with clients from Germany so we’ll be catching up with you tomorrow. In the meantime David here will take excellent care of you.” David glanced up at the rear vision mirror and grinned. “Firstly though in time honoured tradition he will be taking you on a scavenger hunt. You may have to take pictures or collect objects and you will most certainly be humiliated. Of course you can always chicken out but I must warn you the penalty will involve tourists, a fountain, nudity and youtube.”
I groaned, not sure if this was the best idea after a long flight. “Alright I’m game if you are David?”
He laughed, “I’m paid by the hour mate so I’ve got no complaints.”

I activated the next voice memo. “David will now take you to a bar famous for it’s Av gas shots. The record is five in one minute without passing out. The tab is under my name. You have to smuggle one of the shot glasses out when you leave.”
I made it through three and somehow made it passed a door-sized bouncer with a glass. The second challenge involved eating a kebab from a dingy hole-in the wall which David informed me was a long standing English rite-of-passage. He also assured me the spirits in the Av gas should kill off anything in the kebab. I complained to David and to my phone that I doubted there was anything even closely resembling real meat in it. 
Two young women started scrapping on the footpath. Slaps turned to hair being pulled and then they were on the ground rolling over each other their skimpy outfits in disarray. The smaller of the two girls grabbed a decent handful of hair and forced the other down. She quickly straddled the other girl and gave her two decent slaps with her free hand. “Say you quit bitch,” she yelled. The girl on the bottom mumbled something that didn’t satisfy the girl on top because she again slapped her opponent. The girl on the bottom quickly yelled out that she quit. Then to the delight of the other kebab patrons the girl on top began making out with her beaten opponent. David clapped me on the shoulder and continued recording the girls on his phone. “Welcome to London son.”

Somewhat dazed I crawled back onto the car and turned on the next memo. “I’m sending you to a very exclusive club,” James said and I could tell from his tone that this wouldn’t be somewhere you’d tell your mother about. “You will show this phone at the door and once inside you’ll get your next challenge.”
“Any clues?” I asked David. He just grinned and shook his head.

The car eventually stopped outside the cobbled entrance to a gothic styled church. The spires and curves were lit with lurid red and purple lights. From the sounds of house music I doubted mass was in session. “Good luck son.”
I nodded to him and got out of the car. As I walked across unfamiliar cobblestones I could see a substantial crowd coming and going. As the lights grew brighter I could see this wasn’t your typical New Zealand crowd of party-goers. As I joined a line waiting to get in I realised I was definitely the odd one out. Around me were styles ranging from cyberpunk vampire to gothic cowboy and steampunk catwomen. Jeans and a leather jacket suddenly seemed very out of place.
I got to the front of the queue and a slim black girl with eyes like a tiger wearing a skin tight catsuit confronted me behind a barrier of what looked like chromed razor wire. “Are you lost?” Her tone was challenging and when she smiled I could see she had fangs to go with the amazing contact lenses she was wearing.
“Yeah you could say that,” I replied. I held out the phone and opened it to the page David had told me to use. The girl examined the image briefly then examined me for much longer. I have to admit the way she ran her tongue lightly over her teeth made me think of a cat contemplating a mouse.
“The Mistress will need to be consulted,” she announced and then held up a silver studded collar. I studied it uncertainly. “No-one sees the Mistress unfettered. Of course if you’re scared just run along like a good boy.”

She had me there. If I quit now James would have his penalty. I bent down so that she could put the collar on. “That’s tight,” I gasped. She laughed and patted my cheek.
“Do you know how to be led?” she asked. My face must have been answer enough because she leant forward and whispered, “walk two paces behind me at all times, keep your eyes down. If it helps you can stare at my ass. She winked and clicked something into place and I realised that a delicate silver chain now trailed from the collar to her hand. She turned and began walking. I followed before the chain could yank on my neck. I had to admit to myself that keeping my eyes on her well, rounded rear end did ease the discomfort somewhat.  

We walked up the steps to the church, me at my two paces behind and her walking with a sway to her hips that emphasised every step. We passed that way through the double doors before turning left into a room so elaborate I could not take in all the details. My guide, escort, walker or whatever she might have called herself stopped in the centre of the room and knelt before a raised dais. I stood behind her because I didn’t have a clue about what else to do and also because the view in front of me was like something out of a Roman epic.
Men and women in various states of dress stood around the edges. Passing through gauzy curtains at the back of the dais a tall blond woman dressed in Victorian, steampunk finery rode a massively muscled man. Really rode him, like a horse, right down to the bridle, reins and dark leather saddle. She rode the man around the arc of the dais and reined him in before a marble bench. A vampire girl helped her dismount and a voluptuous red-head lay down on the marble bench without a single word being spoken. I felt like I’d walked into a play where everyone but me knew the lines and the plot. The Mistress, I assumed that’s who she was, sat on the red-haired girls’ stomach and leant slightly against her thighs as if against the arm of a chaise-lounge.

My guide stood and approached the dais. While they spoke I noticed the Mistresses’ lace covered hand was lazily tracing the contours of her seats chest. No-one else seemed surprised by any of this. The black girl gave the chain a tug and I guessed this was some kind of instruction to approach. She held out her hand and I gave her the phone, which was passed up. The Mistress adjusted her position turning so her back now rested against the red-head’s thighs and swinging her legs up so they lay along the other girls body. The girl on the bottom began to softly caress the blond’s feet with her lips and tongue.
The Mistress looked at the phone then at me. “A big country boy far from home,” her voice was cultured and husky. “Look how big your eyes are,” the others laughed and she smiled. “Do you like what you’ve seen so far?”
I glanced at the black girl and at the red haired girl who was currently doing things to another woman’s toes that I had never imagined possible. “Uhh, there’s been a lot to take in but it’s certainly impressive.”
“Impressive?” Now she laughed. “You look like you’d have stamina country boy. How would you do under a saddle and crop I wonder?” She looked at me and again I had that mouse invited to a cat’s dinner feeling. I glanced at her current mount who looked like he could bench-press ten of me but who hadn’t moved from the spot where she’d left him.  I shrugged, “okay I suppose but it’s not something I’ve ever done before.”
She sat upright, drawing a little gasp of breath from the girl beneath her. “Mmmm, that may well be worth exploring another time. For now you have our freedom to explore our little world. Emma here,” she indicated my guide, “will show you around.”
“Do I have to keep wearing this?” I pointed to the collar.
The Mistress reclined once more and proffered her other foot for her seat’s attention. “Emma if you would please attend to our guest.”
Emma gave me a little growl as she undid the collar.
“Just be careful,” the Mistress advised as I turned to follow Emma out. “You country boys have a tendency to fall very deeply under the spell of our darkness.”

I wondered if she were talking about James or kiwi boys in general. As I followed Emma’s swaying behind out of the room I hoped I’d make it through tonight just so that I could kick my cousin's arse.    

Sunday, 22 February 2015

Mr P's Revenge by Paladin

Mr P’s Revenge:

Parts of this story are true, other parts are fictional and some are pure exaggeration designed to make the writer sound really awesome. I will let you decide which are which :) Mr P.


Susan squealed with laughter as she tumbled onto the bed, landing on her back. She immediately tried to curl up into a ball but it was too late. 
Her laughter turned to a growl as I dropped heavily onto her stomach. Keeping my knees wide apart I could feel the softness as my backside sank into her lower stomach. I felt her muscles tighten under me and her thighs press against my back. Susan fought back briefly as I caught her wrists and pinned them. Before she could react I leapt forward, landing with my shins across her arms and my butt resting on her upper stomach, just below her pink crop-top. The motion made us both bounce on the bed and Susan instinctively used the momentum to start bucking.

I whooped as she pushed me up. I made no effort to avoid allowing my full weight to drop back down, pushing her deeper into the mattress. Her feet slipped out from under her. “Goblin breath,” she gasped.
I laughed, “one.”
Susan adjusted her stance and tried three, short quick bucks in a row.
“Two.” I was so loving this position. Sitting just below her breasts meant the rising curve where her stomach met her chest gave me a fantastic view of the cleavage presented by her little crop-top and her bucking motion pressed up against me in a very enjoyable way.
Susan bridged me high and held me up above the bed. I could sense the tension in her body and knew she was going to try and tip me forward or sideways. I rose up a little, letting her biceps take my full weight, then bounced my butt up and down. Once, then twice before she collapsed. “Three.”   
“No, no, no,” she cried. I could feel her twisting, her legs swinging from side to side in the vain hope of rolling over and pushing me off but I was seated too firmly on her.
She gave that up and lay still and quiet for a moment, glaring up at me as she caught her breath.
Susan exhaled and tried to push my legs up with just the strength of her arms. I grinned at her doomed effort and bounced up and down on her stomach, small bounces that made her puff each time.
“Six, Pixie Pony. Looks like you’re losing this bet.”
Susan growled and kicked her feet in frustration. We both laughed at her pretend tantrum.
“Seven,” I patted her on the cheek. Susan responded with a wild combination of short and long bucks. “Eight. Giddy-up pony,” I managed to tap my heels against her sides. Susan bridged me high again but then as she dropped gave a short, quick buck that caught me by surprise. I shot forward but unfortunately for her I landed squarely on her chest, her cute little top vanishing under me. I wriggled to get comfortable and wrote the number 9 slowly, teasingly, across her cleavage.
“So unfair,” she moaned.
“Ten. Now how many is that Pixie Pony slave?” I asked.
“Ten to you, goblin breath,” she poked her tongue out at me.
“So we bet I couldn’t out-wrestle you like in my Casey story didn’t we?” I didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Yes that’s right we did and look here I am sitting on top of you for the tenth time. Hmm, I guess that means I won the bet didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she muttered.
“What was that Pixie slave?” I taunted her.
“Yes you won the bet,” she said louder.

I bounced a little on her chest and pumped a fist in the air in victory. “Ahh revenge is sweet,” I gloated.
“So is riding an obedient, submissive ponyboy in public,” she grinned up at me.
“Oh you’re so paying for that.” I took hold of her wrists and pinned her arms up above her head. I slid forward until her chin was pressed up against me and my thighs framed her face. “Now do you remember what I get for winning the bet?”
Susan nodded in response, her chin moving very distractingly up and down. Her eyes glittered with mischief.
“Say it!”
Wordlessly she turned her head from side to side to say no. I reached back and tickled her ribs until she started begging for mercy. “What did I win?”
“A pony ride.” I tickled her some more partly to get her to answer properly but mostly because all her jiggling around under me felt amazing.
“A topless pony ride to music!” Susan finally yelled out. I stopped tickling her and moved back to sit on her stomach to let her catch her breath. 
It might have also been to give me a chance to calm down a bit as well.

When Susan’s breathing returned to normal she challenged me, “well if you want a topless ride you’ll have to remove my crop-top yourself.”
I slid my hands up her sides to the edge of her top. “Dare you to,” she smirked.
I was a little intimidated, especially as this was no story but a genuine person under me. Susan raised a questioning eyebrow at my hesitation, then giggled as my fingers slipped under the edge of her lycra top. I leant forward as first my fingertips and then my hands encountered the soft curves of her chest. Susan arched her back allowing me to more easily peel back her little top. The motion also pressed her chest up against my hands so I deliberately took my time before lifting her top over her head.
I got to my feet and Susan looked up at me, “should I return the favour?” She asked. She sat up and gently slid my underwear down. Did her soft lips and tongue do anything naughty as she did so, I’m not saying they did but I’m not saying they didn’t.
I pushed her back to the mattress and straddled her chest again, loving the feel of skin against skin. I’d never felt he movement of her chest as she breathed while under me so intensely. Her breathing had quickened a little as well. 

Susan gave a gentle, slow buck then arched her back, pushing her chest up. “Nice?” She asked.
I swallowed a couple of times and nodded.
“I can’t give you a pony ride from this position though, can I?” She asked all innocently.
“No.” I reluctantly moved off her chest and watched as she slowly got off the bed and onto all fours. I sat full weight on her hips and massaged some almond oil into her back, right up to the nape of her neck. Susan sighed as I put a little extra effort into her shoulder muscles. 
Without warning she dropped forward and gave her hips a twitch. I slid a bit unbalanced down off her hips, into the middle curve of her back and up towards her shoulder blades. Straight away she straightened her arms and her shoulders rose up. I slipped back down her oil slicked and into the natural saddle her curved back again formed. I adjusted my seat, getting my balance and gathering her reins and bit up from the floor.
Susan moved restlessly under me, shifting her hips, stretching shifting the positions of her hands. The almond oil allowed me to feel the muscles in her back and sides moving under her soft skin. I moved forward and wrapped my legs around her ribs, feeling her soft breasts pressed against my calves. I lowered the bit over her head and reminded her that this was a pleasure ride to music not a rodeo ride. Susan grabbed at the bit and snorted in amusement.

I slid down her back, tightened the reins pulling her head up and gave her behind a light smack. Susan started forward but I used the reins to curb her and laughed when she grrrrd in response. “We can’t forget the music Pixie Pony.” I dismounted and hit play on my ipad. I walked back to where she was waiting, her short cycle shorts clinging to the curve of her behind. I mounted and slid into the curve of her back. Susan’s skin, the oil and the deep curve of her back were all very arousing.
Green Days ‘Viva la Gloria’ started off slow and gentle. Susan responded to the music by deepening the curve of her back so slowly and then just as gently rising up to an arch. As she lowered me she rolled her shoulders her hip moving in contrast as she danced under me to the music. 
There was a pause and the beat kicked into gear and this was why I’d chosen to have the reins for extra balance.

Susan moved across the lounge dancing on all fours. Underneath me her back rolled, dipped, arched and shimmied in pace with the music. As I became more familiar with her movements I was able to relax and put more of my weight onto her back and move with her. As the song progressed I could hear her breathing increase, my weight bore down on her and I did nothing to make it any easier. The thrill of riding her so hard was such a rush. I could feel when her arms started shaking and in response I drummed my heels against her thighs and pushed myself deeper into her back.

I was losing any sort of control and Susan knew it. She dipped and rolled and I slid forward up her rising spine then back again. Somehow she deepened the curve of her back and I fiercely pulled back on the reins, drawing her head back and giving me more of an angle to press against. Susan’s gasps drove me wild and they were all I could hear as my vision clouded and my head spun.

As my breathing finally slowed Susan let the bit drop from her mouth. “Was that worth winning?” She asked.
I leaned forward resting my arms on her shoulders and whispered, “absolutely,” in her ear.
Her head drooped a little and she chuckled, “okay time to get off me, the song’s well and truly finished.”
I sat up and caught a handful of her dark hair and turned her face towards me. “This ride’s finished when I say it is isn’t that right pony slave?”
I could see her smile, despite how tired she must have felt. “Yes Master,” she whispered.

With my left hand in her hair and my right lightly patting her behind as she walked Susan carried me in a victory lap around the lounge. No doubt plotting her revenge the whole way.


To a Magazine. by Unferth


The following appeared in the Agony Aunt column of the July edition of the magazine Gurlz’N’Boyz:
Dear Auntie Audrey,
I’ve got this thing going with one of the instructors at my local sports club. He’s a dead ripped hunk, and I’d always fancied him a bit, so I was dead excited when he invited me round to his place for some “personal” training. Even though we went downstairs to his personal gym (and not up to the bedroom), I wasted no time in showing him I wasn’t wearing my sports bra, and by the time I’d got his kit off he was VERY pleased to see me!
But that’s when it got kinda weird. He smeared me in baby oil, and rode me as if I were his horse, until I was absolutely shattered, then he climaxed all over my back. I didn’t mind much at first. I mean, its a good workout and all that (I can carry him longer now than that first time), and I like feeling his weight on me and his excitement. But I go round just about every week now, and that’s all he wants. I mean, what’s really in it for me?
Yours puzzled
Dear Izzi,
It is important that you both enjoy sex, and it does sound as if your new hunk is not paying much attention to your pleasure. You need to tell him that you’ll not let him have his way with you until you’re satisfied. But good sex does not come naturally – boyz don’t always know how to please their girlz. So I’ve sent you a copy of my leaflet “How Boyz can please Gurlz”. Ideally, you’d sit down together, and talk about the things you’d like him to do. But if you don’t feel up to that, just leave it on his bedside table.
Do keep in touch, dearie, and tell me how you get on
Auntie Audrey.


The following appeared in the Agony Aunt Column of the September edition of the Magazine “Gurlz’N’Boyz:
Dear Auntie Audrey,
Your advice sorta worked. He still wanted to ride me, but before I got too tired I bucked and twisted, and landed him flat on his back! He looked so stupid lying there, gasping for breath that I straddled him and rode his cock. I still didn’t get my orgasm, but I did get a good laugh at the look of confusion and shock on his face.
I’ve been to his basement gym loads of times since then, but I’ve never let him get off by riding me. I’ve always bucked him off (sometimes three or four times), and made sure I’m riding his boner one way or another for his orgasm and before I get too tired. Once I let him take me “doggie style”, thinking he might use his finger. But he wasn’t interested, so did a bit of bucking and soon put a stop to that!
So thanks for your advice!
Dear Izzi
I’m glad that your fella is paying a bit more attention to you. It sounds as if you’ve been experimenting together with different positions, so to help you on your way, I’ve sent you my leaflet “Girlz’N’Boyz top five positions.” See which ones you fancy, and try them out!
Auntie Audrey


The following appeared in the Agony Aunt column of the November edition of “Gurlz’N’Boyz”
Dear Auntie Audrey
My new fella is really crap at riding me! He’s given up with the baby oil, and he’s even tried making stirrups and bridles from his neckties, or clinging onto my hair. He tries so hard!
The training’s doing me good, too. I make him try and ride me loads of times – he gets really angry, and that turns me on. And I sometimes let him stay on for ages. A bit of smooching or even pretending to obey and he soon loses concentration! And even after all of that, once I’ve got him on his back I’ve still got loads of energy.
Best Wishes
Dear Izzi
It sounds to me as if you’re both experimenting with a bit of light bondage! It can be great fun, if you’re both up for it. The really important thing is to agree a safe word – a way for either of you to say “Stop”, and know that you mean it. I’ve sent you my leaflet “Sex Games for Gurlz’n’Boyz, and hope it gives you lots of ideas. But remember to talk about them first!

Auntie Audrey


The following appeared in the “Gurlz seeking Boyz” column of the December edition of “Gurlz’N’Boyz”
“Wild rodeo gurl seeks cowboy to tame her”


Saturday, 20 December 2014

Story: "Yasmin's Point Of View" by Paladin

Hello, all. Paladin has written another story, this one is like a sequel to Saraya's Bet, but it is from Yasmin's view. Enjoy,.. and again, sorry it took so long to get back to post it here.

Yasmin could hear the sounds of the festival beginning. Soon the music, the crowds and the dancing horses would fill the streets, moving through the township until everyone reached the market plaza in the centre.
She could hardly believe a year had passed since the last festival. There had been times when Yasmin had wondered if that night had really happened. Her rival had dared to challenge one of the local champions and Miguel had made her pay firstly by riding her on all fours in a corral and then when she’d failed to throw him Saraya had to carry him during the festival in the place of his horse.
Yasmin remembered her mixture of surprise and delight at the sight of Saraya on all fours with the weight of a man bending her proud back. She’d cheered when Miguel had plied his quirt to the arrogant girl’s backside. Yasmin had been surprised as anyone though when Saraya had continued to struggle and she’d seen Miguel waver when considering riding Saraya further which is why she’d not only suggested he saddle her up but had gone along with the men to make sure it happened.
It had been so difficult not to laugh continuously at the sight of the oh so proud Saraya with a horses’ bit between her teeth and stirrups hanging across her back. Yasmin had to give Saraya some credit for how well and long she’d carried Miguel for though. Yasmin flushed remembering the man’s weight on her own back. The pressure forcing her forward while the reins in his strong hands pulled her head back. The way he’d controlled her with the strength of his legs and the sting of the quirt on her own behind.
That had all been Saraya’s fault! The little witch had slipped Miguel’s grasp and attacked her in front of everyone. Yasmin was certain she could have beaten Saraya in a fair fight but the other girl had been astride her back before she’d had a chance. Miguel had sided with Saraya then but Yasmin wasn’t surprised. Why would he have given up the chance to another attractive girl underneath him. She’d felt how excited he was from the moment his weight had settled firmly on her back. At first she’d resented it all. Hated the thought that Saraya was laughing at her, hated that all her friends saw her in such a humiliating position, hated that the man sitting on her back like some king was loving every moment.
Yasmin had quickly found that Miguel could control her as easily as he had Saraya. She’d realised then that fighting him was playing into her opponent’s hands. Yasmin had decided that it was no different from taking a guy she wanted off another girl... It all came down to who was willing to use everything she had to get what she wanted. Yasmin smiled at the memory. She’d thrown all she had into performing for the crowd and driving Miguel wild. Saraya on the other hand had tried to maintain control of the situation and her dignity. Yasmin chuckled, Saraya’s dignity hadn’t saved her from being voted the looser by the crowd.
Yasmin had been desperate to defeat her rival and had thought the moment the crowd had cheered her name would have been the best feeling imaginable. She’d been wrong. In fact that moment was easily eclipsed by the rush of primal power she’d felt when Saraya’s resistance had crumbled and the girl had submitted under her.
Yasmin had felt Saraya’s submission in every fibre of her body. The flood of adrenaline that had raced through her while the other girl had bucked and fought peaked when the fight ended and Saraya had obeyed her twitch of the reins and leg pressure. Yasmin had always dominated the other girls in the town with the force of her personality but this power over another girl, especially over a snob like Saraya, was unequalled. No wonder Miguel had felt so excited when he’d ridden on her back.
Some had probably thought Yasmin would let her defeated opponent go once she’d won and Yasmin had considered it before mounting the girl but as she’d ridden Saraya in the festival; the cheers of the crowd, the delicious feeling of Saraya’s back under her and the soft moans from her mount had driven that thought well and truly from her mind.
Yasmin had made her pony dance, trot and perform intricate dressage movements. All the while enjoying the physical sensation of being mounted on Saraya’s back and having the leather reins in her hands controlling the other girls every movement. By the time they’d reached the plaza and completed a lap of honour Saraya was trembling under her but more importantly to Yasmin, Saraya was totally obedient.
To show the crowd who was the better girl and who was the obedient pony-girl, Yasmin had ridden the lap of honour without holding the reins. At the last she’d stood up in the stirrups with her fists up in the air.
The whole ride had been captured by her friends on their phones and all she needed to do to recapture the moment was to hit play on the smartphone in her bag. Tonight though wasn’t the time to revisit that victory.
Yasmin took the time to make sure she was ready for tonight’s celebration. She wore polished black, boots that came up to her knees and dark, skin-tight leggings that showed all the right curves. A lightweight, white cotton shirt tied up just below her breasts allowed the curve of her back and the lean muscles in her stomach to be seen. The single button allowed a generous view of her curves and neckline. She had kept her long hair back in a ponytail so that nothing would obscure the lines of her athletic body. Pins secured a glittering tiara that rested just above her brow. Princess of the Festival, Yasmin loved the title and the privileges that had gone with it. It amused her that the riding dancing game on the streets that night had started a 'princess' title. Hers.

Also in the room, taking time to ensure nothing was out of place were two girls a year younger than her who hoped to take her title. Yasmin sneered, none of them deserved to be Festival Princess.
Are you ready Princess?”
Yasmin turned and critically ran her eye over Miguel’s outfit. She had been very specific about what he was to wear so that nothing would detract from her. She nodded her approval of his clothing and to show she was ready. Yasmin stretched enjoying the admiring glances she received from the men in the room and the envy in the eyes of the girls.
Yasmin bent at the waist and took hold of the dancer’s rail set before the mirror. She watched intently as Miguel produced an elaborately tooled belt and cinched it tightly around her hips. The belt flared in the middle covering the small of her back but not detracting in anyway from her toned waist. The other girls were quickly copying her.
Miguel then attached matching stirrups to the belt and placed a delicate bit and bridle over her head, careful not to touch a hair on her head. He drew the reins over her head and with a smile he could not hide he mounted Yasmin. He felt the girl adjusting her stance, moving until she felt he was perfectly seated on her back. He drew the reins up and guided her out of the room. The other girls similarly mounted followed. The young men seated on them showing a mixture of nerves and excitement.
Yasmin looked across at her opponents and measured each one. Soon they would enter the festival. Soon each girl would experience fully the weight and control of a rider on their backs. The blond would not look her way and Yasmin doubted she would last. The second girl glared back at her. Yasmin smiled, ‘that one’ she thought. When the crowd had once again declared her the winner and Princess of the Festival she would ride the dark haired challenger like she’d ridden the arrogant Saraya. The excitement was already building in her.
Miguel’s quirt lightly grazed her behind urging her forward but it was unnecessary. Yasmin gave a playful toss of her head and began to dance.

Story: "First Ride" by M Anonymous.

The author said I could edit this. But I didn't, except for two words. If edited, it would not keep the original enthusiasm and energy in his story. The "**" that appears in several words was not mine, either.

Hope you enjoy M's story, and sorry it took so long to get back here to post it,



What just happened????

I was laying on the floor, naked, staring up at the ceiling, trying to recall what just happened. I was breathing heavily, from both exertion and arousal, my inner thigh muscles ached, a sensation strangely coupled with a feeling of arousal as I felt my h*rd c**k twitch against my stomach…………..

I heard a noise and Felt a hot sweaty body sliding over my own, bare breasts rubbing up my thighs, across my c**k and up my chest, before a familiar smile appeared obscuring my view of the ceiling.

Is that all you got said Anne…….as she leant forward and softly kissed my lips?!?!? And then i remembered. i had taken Anne out for a drink down the local pub/restaurant and afterwards we had sat outside watching a crowd gathered around a mechanical bucking bronco……..watching as attempt after attempt was made by the spectators to ride the bull. Anne stared intently at the crowd

An hour later the crowd had dispersed and the bull packed away, leaving us and a few others sat outside enjoying the last remnants of daylight. She looked over at me with mischief in her eyes, I think you should have had a go on that, see how you got on. I laughed and full of bravado retorted " ah yeah easy, they were doing it all wrong! Nearly all of them were falling off before the bull had even moved! I would do much better!"

She smiled seductively and looked me in the eye, Really??? I bet you couldn't! In fact I bet you couldn't even stay on my back, let alone the bull!!! I stared back at her, not quite knowing what to say……her eyes were alive with mischief, her ample breasts heaving against her halter neck top….my heart was racing. I opened my mouth to say something but she leant forward and kissed me softly, running her hand between my thighs and over my rapidly hardening c*** before getting up, collecting the glasses and walking over to the bar. Anne was not a slim girl, if anything she was a couple of pounds overweight yet she was perfectly proportioned, with very feminine curves. I watched her walk away, noting the sway of her hips, her strong upper back and narrow waist……..her every move lithe and seductive…..and I couldn't help thinking how good it would feel to slide my thighs over her hips, sit into the small of her back……..and ride her.

Is that really what she had meant? Was my imagination running into overtime? Had I misunderstood?!??! My hard c**k pressed against my jeans…………..I wanted to ride her…..hard…..and then make love to her!!

We burst through the front door, kissing hard, ripping each others clothes off , our hands all over each other………….Anne raced up to the bedroom and I followed….she had stopped by the bed facing me, that mischievious twinkle in her eye once again…………..i walked over sliding my hands onto her hips at which point she took hold of my wrists and lifted my arms before turning her back to, placing my hands on her breasts and gently pushing back against me ……then she leant over with her hands flat on the bed……pushing her bottom against my thighs and c**k moving up and down, each time nudging my legs further apart using her bottom to push herself in between my legs……..this felt so good…..i closed my eyes enjoying the sensation, my hands now caressing her back and shoulders

I heard a voice say You better hold on!!!!

Anne slid herself in between my thighs and stood up rounding her back and dropping onto her elbows at the same time my eyes shot open as I felt my balls crushed against her back and my feet leave the floor, fell forward and quickly rested my hands flat on her back to stabilise myself, my legs dangling………….What was going on?!?!?!? I remembered the conversation at the pub, but all too late as Anne squatted down until my feet touched the floor and keeping her back rounded and her elbows flat on the bed, bucked hard, once, twice, the third time I flew off her back with such force i rolled off the bed and landed on the floor the other side of the bed………….

What happened?!?!?!?

I didn't think you could handle me loser……………….she smiled down at me, a mixture of arousal and mischief in her eyes…………………….. so, you gonna try again or do you admit defeat?!?!?

Damn right I retorted! I pushed her off and got up, both aroused and frustrated, pulling her to her feet I pushed her back over the bed and before she had a chance to do anything, leapt onto her back and smacked her on the butt………………this was going to be fun………………..


Friday, 6 June 2014

Short story

"Bend your back, down, relax it."

She bent her bare back, not like an 'n' but like a 'u'. She looked at him. Her delicate underwear was all she wore, highlighting slender little curves. She looked so delicate and feminine and petite. Oil shone on her lovely curved back.

"Stay there," he said.

He stepped up on a part of the gym bench. And swung astride her back. Naked.
She braced to hold him. Her little muscles trembled at the start. She wasn't nearly his size.
Blood rushed away from his head. It concentrated elsewhere. This is what he'd wanted! For so long. And now, he had her. Both willing and forced.
"I'm going to ride you, pony girl," he said softly as he sat there, high astride her. "I will ride you until you can't take any more. I will ride you until your arms shake. I will ride you until your little body collapses under me. Maybe even that won't be the end. I'll put you back on your hands and knees and make you bear my full weight some more."
He was rewarded with a little shiver.

"Lift your arms up and put your hands on the bar there."
She shuffled forward on the gym bench. His legs hung down on either side of her. His body seemed to be concentrated in the parts of him that pressed against her skin... thighs against sides, backside and groin full weight pressed into her slender bare back. He felt like parts of him were leaping; adrenaline flooded through him.
She put her hands on the bar, which was maybe a foot higher than the rest of the gym bench. It made the curve of her back dip even more and he pressed fully against her back now.

"Arch up."
She strained, and arched her back up with his full weight astride it,
"Arch down."
She arched it down again.
And he rode her for a little while like that. Softly arching him up and down. He could feel the effort it took her slender little arms and body to do it.

"Giddy up!"
His crop smacked her backside. She moaned, soft and high. She wasn't sure what he wanted. She began to pulse her body in a gentle rhythm under him.
She could feel him, so heavy astride her back. His thick, strong thighs pressed around her naked sides. His throbbing arousal against her skin. One of his hands in her thick hair, pulling back as if to make the arch in her back even deeper.
She felt her little muscles strain to hold him, to obey him. She felt almost crushed by his size, his weight. It was hard for her to move. His crop had left spreading warmth across her bottom. And yet... And yet it wasn't all bad. The fact that it was she who had caused this big man to feel so crazy with want and desire, that she pleased him, that felt good. The skin on skin felt good also, especially as his was so... heated. It was erotic in its own way. And she felt utterly dominated, overwhelmed. Feelings she could consider later. But oh, she couldn't take it for long!

He rode the slender little body, feeling her strain and quiver to keep obeying, feeling her back so wonderfully curved under him. He whipped her on, and felt her delicate body move in a rocking rhythm, back and forth, back and forth, weak and delicate yet enough to rock and grind him on her back so very, very lewdly.
Ohh, yeah... He moaned out loud and couldn't help urging her on again. He was rewarded with a soft little gasp from the soft voiced girl underneath him. She had no choice. She would carry him until he exploded all over her back. He would force her on, make her get up if she collapsed... The heat-driven thought-feelings cascaded through his brain.
Back and forth, with a little bit of up and down, went her rhythm. He was slid and thrust against her back in time with the movements. He pressed himself into her back, leaned into her, hands in her hair, and growled encouragement into his petite pony girl's ear. It was going to be far shorter than he'd hoped. But he didn't care.

She stopped moving, panting, arms aching, her delicate body trembling with the effort of just holding her up. She couldn't keep the movement up. He sat there astride her, perfectly still, with his cock pressed deep into her upper back in that rather lovely position, and felt her tremble. Savouring the moment. Heat was rushing through him. It wouldn't be long.
"That's okay..." he whispered. "stay like that.. but don't collapse..." And he began to move on her, in his own rhythm, riding her bent and oiled back.

She cried out and used every little bit of her delicate strength to try and hold him up as he rode, grinding into her. Her arms shook. Still he rode her, forcing her to either move with his movements or fall, almost bouncing on her back as the electricity rose through his body.
He drove his hips against her little back as climax overtook him. Groaning.

And as he sat there, trying to recover from the violent moment, her strength gave out completely. Her limbs buckled and she collapsed on the gym bench.

He laughed. "Poor pony," he said, and kissed her on her sweaty head. "I rode you too hard."


Saraya's Bet Final

NOTE: Part 5 has been edited and should be read again before reading this part!

Tired, angry and humiliated, Saraya had no choice but to do her best. She couldn't bear the thought of losing.

With Miguel astride her back, and the crowd around her... grr... she began the 'pony dance', the shuffling little jog that was like the horses' piaffe, the 'up' foot not really leaving the ground.
She refused even the thought of copying Yasmin's raunchy, but much easier moves. She would not stoop that low. She forced her body into doing the little shuffle trot, trying to do it at least a little gracefully. Miguel felt the little moves through her body and into his.

Step, step, step... The world around her got tuned out into a blur as she did her very best. All that existed was the weight of her rider, and the effort of continuing the pony dance step even though her muscles were protesting like mad. Pride kept her going. She would not lose. She would not!

She barely even noticed that Yasmin was now higher up, getting a piggy back ride from a laughing young man who was pretending to do the same as Saraya, in a comical fashion, getting lots of laughter from around them.

Miguel helped, or rather he used the quirt when he felt her start to slow and falter; but Saraya almost didn't care, the extra clarity and energy let her keep it up, at least for a little longer...

...And then, to her horror, her legs refused. Totally, utterly refused. Saraya swayed and Miguel slid off her back as her legs folded despite her best efforts.

As she knelt sprawled, collapsed on the ground, panting for breath, she heard laughter and cat calls about how he'd finally 'broken' his pony, ridden to exhaustion, and similar things. A voice asked if she was okay, she nodded, but couldn't speak.
Had she done enough?? Had she outlasted Yasmin? She had a sinking feeling...

She heard Yasmin's voice over the others, light, challenging and mocking. "So which pony was the best? Me, or her?"
"You were!" "Yasmin!" The calls were almost unanimous.
"Woo hooo!" Yasmin punched her hand in the air in a show of victory.
Saraya's heart sank! She raised her head, pulling the bit partly out of her mouth so she could talk. "No way!" she spat. "She just did a ho dance! I did it properly!"
"A bet's a bet," said Miguel, and there was laughter in his voice. "The crowd has spoken!"
"Now she gets to ride you," taunted someone.
"No way...!"

The girl was helped up and moved by the press of the little crowd, mostly of young men, plus one of Yasmin's friends, over to the fence by the side of the road, with much laughter and taunting.
Someone gave her a drink of water through the bridle, "you'll need it!" they taunted, and then she was pressed to the fence and made to bend at the waist to be mounted.
Yasmin came up in front of her face. Mockingly she patted Saraya's sweaty 'mane', making the other girl glare mutely at her.
"You'd better be a good pony for me," she said."None of that nonsense you gave poor Miugel!"
There was more laughter from around them. Tired though she was Saraya swore through the bit at Yasmin.

Now Yasmin mounted her, boosted up by one of the other men. She felt the weight of the other girl come down astride her back, an unwanted, hated rider. She felt slim legs grip her sides, weight adjusting itself against the cantle of her mock half saddle. This wasn't FAIR! she thought. And it was damned odd. Red embarrassment flushed her cheeks.

Yasmin collected the reins and pulled them backward, not at all gently... similar to how Saraya had pulled HER head back during their brief wrestle! Saraya's head was forced up and back with a little gasp. Yasmin's legs locked around Saraya's waist, not needing to be held.
"Giddy up, Horsey!" She kicked her 'pony' on, heels against upper thighs, almost mockingly.

Despite Saraya's tiredness, the pure humiliation of it stung her enough that anger won. She braced her hands on the rail and tried to buck Yasmin off, violently bucking and lurching under the other girl, trying to toss her off.
The hated girl buried her hands in mane and reins and hung on, laughing, her legs locked around Saraya's waist, moving with the other girl's movements. She rode Saraya's wild movements till the girl's tiredness began to win once more, then pulled hair and reins back hard. Saraya's body arched beneath her.

"Take the quirt" suggested Miguel. And of course, Yasmin did. No way was she going to let Saraya off lightly after being wrestled down in public.
"Giddy up!" she repeated, and this time brought the quirt down stingingly on the other girl's backside. Saraya gasped at the burning line across her rump... and finally, removed her hands from the fence rail and began to step away from it. Yasmin smacked her with the quirt again as Saraya carried her slowly away from the fence. Back toward the parade. Where the much lighter weight of Yasmin meant that she was able to make her pony dance till she dropped.

*        *      *      

Saraya did not stay in the town after that. She left, and found a job in the big city, and made a good life for herself. And it is said that she did not speak so rashly when angry as she once had. She had finally learned to think before she acted.
Her family's debt, however, vanished after that night....