Ponygirl Tales by Don Winslow Page B

light, dry caresses. Of course the man couldn’t resist those nicely-presented breasts; pretty breasts that drew the hand, simply begging to be caressed. He allowed himself to pause to sample a floppy tit fingering the silky smoothness of that softly yielding tittie-flesh. His playful dalliance drew a quiver from the healthy young filly, who shifted uneasily from booted foot to booted foot. The watching girl felt an answering twinge of lust rise up in her own loins; her thighs spasmed in a throb of involuntary reaction to seeing the young woman squirming in rising heat as she was felt up, her vulnerable breasts fondled so shamelessly. But the purposeful groom allowed himself only a few minutes of this pleasing diversion. After all, he had a job to do. And so now he went about tugging on the harness, slipping a finger under the straps of buttery leather so as to assure a fit free from slack. With admirable self-discipline, the well-trained ponygirl never moved a muscle even as the big man’s slow hands roamed freely, enjoying her naked body. She remained rigidly still, straight booted legs together, chin raised, eyes locked on some distant horizon. The burly man passed a hand over those pulled-back shoulders and ran it down her gently tapering flanks to clasp a solid hip. A single finger slid under the cincher belt, circled around the girlish waist, pressing against the belt to test the tightness of the fit. Now the man stepped behind her, and spent some time lingering there, feeling his way along haunches and hindquarters with both hands, and murmuring to her all the while he enjoyed the feel of her naked body under his hands. Claudine watched as he lifted the heavy tail, and reached down to fiddle with the strap that ran between the thighs. Immediately the girl’s head snapped back, eyes flying wide open, as a ripple of excitement shot through her shoulders. Simultaneously, a muted buzzing sound broke the still morning air of the gravel courtyard. Claudine could dimly hear the whirling noise through slightly opened bedroom window. The muffled sound was coming from the girl, from something pulsing deep inside her! Claudine could only wonder what sort of the devilish device might be have been inserted between those tightly-pressed thighs, secured in place by the crotch strap, and left lodged there, deep inside the slender girl’s vagina. Or perhaps the muted humming came from the vibrating butt plug that had been so rudely shoved up her tight little buttocks so it might hold the tail between those sleek clamping cheeks. Her bizarre situation seemed a matter of complete indifference to the dutiful manservant who now turned his back on his charge, leaving the booted ponygirl humming merrily away as she waited in the traces in the cool morning air, while he went back inside to inform his master that the preparations were complete, and all was now ready for the morning ride.
    Ponygirl Tales Two
    Justine’s Pride
    Justine, not her real name of course, but the name she had been given, was her Lordship’s favorite…and she knew it. Lord Basil Edgewater instinctively knew when he first laid eyes on the girl, instantly appraising that lean, hard-muscled body, those streamlined haunches and those long leggy strides, here was a born thoroughbred! Whenever the stable was taken to compete at the races, she was the one who could be counted on to bring home the Blue Ribbon. She quickly became his prized filly – the ponygirl to beat. When exhibitions were held at the estate, Justine was the one Lord Edgewater inevitably singled out for a dazzling solo performance.
    She knew how much he enjoyed showing her off; displaying her proud mien, her aristocratic carriage and that high-stepping prance that never failed to garner applause from her Lordship’s guests, those enthusiastic connoisseurs who held engraved and highly-prized invitations to those very exclusive weekend events. The very thought of such solo performances before an