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“Socks was a majestic animal. He moved with fluidity and ease, as if she wasn’t even on his back. Mountain-bred and well-conditioned, he had no issue at all with the increasing altitude. He ate up ground at a brisk trot and didn’t even break a sweat or breathe hard.
Being a bigger horse, his back was much broader than Nessie’s. This spread her legs further apart as she rode, something she probably would’ve paid no attention to had she still been wearing Colin’s dungarees. But attired now in only a thin cotton dress and no underwear, it quickly became all too evident.
The constant rocking motion working her bare crotch up and down against his spine was starting to cause strange tingly sensations. Sensations she’d only experienced when exploring herself in bed at night after everyone else was asleep. It definitely felt just like those secret, pleasurable indulgences she allowed herself from time to time, mostly when thinking about Angus McIntosh in ways she knew she shouldn’t.
As she rode on, it became perfectly clear the feelings she was having now and the feelings she imposed upon herself in the dark of night were one in the same. She felt the familiar wetness and the swelling of that little nub that became so sensitive when she worked herself with her fingers. She had no idea that something besides her own intentional stimulation could affect her down there so vividly. It wasn’t quite the same, but it fascinated her how the repetitious motion of the horse was slowly but steadily increasing the tingly situation …
She discovered, by chance, that leaning forward increased the pressure and friction on her little button, which in turn amplified that bodacious sensation. She also discovered that touching other parts of her body, like she did in her bed, worked wonders as well. Her slender fingers reaching inside the neckline of the dress and finding a stiff and sensitive nipple sent shivers down her spine. Feeling silly, she looked around the woods, as if someone might see her. But she knew no one would be on this trail. No one with good sense, anyways. Satisfied there were no prying eyes, she dropped the reins in her lap and came out of her slicker. The sun had burnt away the morning mist, and was now high enough in the sky to warm her bones and buoy her spirits. Carefree and lighthearted, she hung the slicker on a low-hanging limb. She had a feeling she wouldn’t need it anymore today. She’d get it on the way back. Besides, it was going to be in the way for what she now had in mind.”
J Morgan Woodall
Tania Fitzgerald PA
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