Naomi

Naomi has been on the edge of my consciousness since Sunday when she spotted me fingering myself on the back of my horse.

Her reaction, so matter of fact, had sown a seed of interest in my mind.

I’m not bi, or at least have never considered myself bi, but with my new found urge to immerse myself in different sexual experiences making out with another woman was certainly on the list. I had no idea if she would be interested. Her remark didn’t give any indication in that direction so why I wondered had it triggered such thoughts?

As far as I knew she was happily married. I’d met her husband on a few occasions and had liked him. She was a few years older than me, about fifty, quite tall, and with a figure that was describable as willowy. Given the amount of physical work she undertook running the stables that was hardly surprising. She was not what I would have fantasised about as a female lover if I’d ever fantasised about it. Which I hadn’t.

So no clue there. What was it that had triggered the thought she might be bi? I had no idea. I’m not experienced enough in these matters to know.

I just had this nagging feeling. And I needed to scratch the itch.

Wow. Listen to me! Me, who last weekend opened her legs in a most unladylike manner so people could see my knickers, but who then didn’t have the gumption to chat up an old man who was so obviously getting hard at the view. Would I really be able to chat up Naomi? Probably not, but like talking myself into doing other outrageous things, I resolved I’d have a go.

I try to pop into the stables a couple of times a week to check on my horse. I know he’s well looked after but he is mine and I do love him. Sometimes I see others there sometimes not but as luck would have it as I arrived on Thursday evening I caught sight of Naomi going into the tack room. I’d thought long and hard about how I was going to approach this and decided I’d simply apologise and see where the conversation went.

“No need,” she said after I’d told her how sorry and mortified, I was. “Can’t deny I haven’t done it myself.”

That caught me unawares. I was surprised by how open she was, not a trait I’d spotted before. She went on, “and I don’t have the excuse of not having a husband available, how’s your sex life since your divorce? Getting any?” Horsey people (for want of a term) can be direct, but this was something else.

“Ha! No. But to be honest I’m still off men after my ex’s attitude.”

“Not surprising. Tried women?”

She asked it more like trying one brand of soap over another and it left me momentarily stunned. She stopped mixing the feed and turned round to look at me. “So. You’re thinking about it.” Not a question, a statement.

“Well, yes.” I manage to stammer. Before I could ask if she was offering she continued. “Can be fun, haven’t done it for years, but there’s a couple of owners here might be interested. Let me know if you are, and I’ll introduce you. Must get on.”

With that she picked up a collection of feed buckets and strode out.

Well, that was interesting. Hardly an everyday conversation. But where did it leave me? Should I take up her offer? Would I? Something else for me to sleep on

This going on to Twitter for a bit of virtual fun was getting more and more real every day.

I needed to give it some thought.

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