Sweet Sunday

I’d had a super relaxing Saturday. Nothing like a stint of laundry and shopping to clear the mind. Another day like that and I’d be ready for the world. Although, perhaps, not all in my bed at the same time.

I was looking forward to my ride and had decided to do a particularly long one. The peace of a solitary ride through woodland is so restoring and it would give me time to reflect without outside interruptions; such as the washing machine deciding to emulate me and pee all over the kitchen floor which it did on Saturday.

There was no sign of Naomi or Jane when I arrived at the stables. I had hoped to see them; Naomi to thank her for the introduction and Jane to see if we could arrange another meet.

Jane and I had exchanged texts after our ‘date’. I’d had trouble wording my thanks. I didn’t think “Thanks for the fuck. Can we do it again soon?” Quite fitted the bill, but I eventually settled on a form of words I was happy with and sent it. Jane had responded immediately and as far as I could gather from her reply had genuinely enjoyed our encounter and promised to get back to me with a suggested date for another meet. So far she hadn’t but I knew her life was as busy as mine so it hadn’t concerned me. Hopefully, if I could see her we could fix something. I wanted to. Every time I thought back to our meet I dampened my knickers.

I also had to think about Carol. It’s strange how you can be friends with someone for so long but not really know them. Carol had always been a hoot. She’d got me through some of my darkest times with my Hex. (Ha. Typing slip there but on reflection, it’s quite accurate).

What I’d never suspected was how supportive she’d be regarding my kinky new hobby. Yes, she’d always enjoyed a smutty joke and would not be adverse to making risqué remarks about men if we were out for a drink but to egg her best friend on to pee on a railway platform or in her house was very different. I wondered how much she wanted to join in or whether it was simply her control freakery making itself apparent. When we went out next weekend I’d try to reverse the tables. I assume you’d have no problem watching Carol pee!

When I got back to the stables I was well relaxed and my resolve to have the whole weekend free of sexual stimulus was fast disappearing, if not invisible.

And as luck would have it as I rode back into the yard I saw both Naomi and Jane.

Naomi was, as usual rushing around, this time pushing a full wheelbarrow of horse dung. She saw me. Stopped and ushered me over. “Glad you and Jane made out okay. Good isn’t she?” Straight talking our Naomi! It took me back a bit. Jane had obviously told her what had gone on between us and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Silly I suppose, given what Naomi had seen me doing and that she knew why I wanted to meet Jane, but nevertheless. I stammered a “yes” and thanked her for the introduction. She airily waved a hand. “That’s what friends do.” With that, she grabbed the wheelbarrow and continued towards the muck heap.

Before I could get uptight about the conversation I suddenly found Jane beside my horse. “Hello,” was all she said and it was all that was needed. I could see from her eyes and hear in the tone of her voice we were definitely going to have further fun. And the fact that her hand started running up my thigh. Mounted on the horse as I was, legs apart, the feel of her fingers on my inner thigh, sent tremors through me. The side Jane stood was hidden from most of the yard and her hand traveled to my crotch. That’s all it took. Without knickers, I could feel the dampness soaking into my jods. And so could Jane. She smiled. “I think we’d better fix that next meet, don’t you? Can you come to mine next Friday? About eight?”

“That would be great,”

“Good, I’ll text my address. Look forward to it.” With that, she was off too. To hell with being miffed she’d told Naomi about us. Realisation dawned on me too. I told all you lot about it hadn’t I? Fairs fair I supposed. Why should I worry if I developed a reputation?

So, five days to wait for my next dose of lesbian sex. Contrary to everything I’d been telling myself I needed to do something sexy.

I led my horse back to his stable to untack and groom, before turning him out. Bumping into Jane and arranging our next assignation had heated me up no end and as I brushed the horse I made a decision about what I’d do, a suggestion from one of my Twitter followers. I’d told him it was a great idea, but I’d be too embarrassed to do it. I’d lied.

I mounted my horse bareback and started walking him towards his paddock. I immediately started the rhythm that I’d done for a few weeks now; the slow back and forth of my hips rubbing my crotch against his hairy back. It didn’t take much for my juices to start leaking. But there was something more I wanted to do this time. I waited until I was clear of the yard, glanced around to ensure there was no one too close, then let my bladder go. The sheer, delicious feel as my pee gushed out of me soaking into my jodhpurs was exquisite. Soon the jods were saturated and I watched as the piss ran out of them and down my legs and the horse’s back. Lewd. Kinky. Depraved. I’m not sure what you’d call it, I just knew that the feeling this sort of action gave me was sublime.

I got to the paddock dismounted and cleaned the horse with a towel I’d brought with me and water from the trough. He hadn’t seemed to notice a thing. I had.

I looked down at my jods. Two-tone. Back and front. The chances of getting back to the yard, collecting my gear, and returning to my car without meeting someone were minimal. This time on a Sunday everyone turned up to ride or school or groom. I didn’t care. I was high, anticipating my evening (or night?) with Jane, but also I realised I now had this almost uncontrollable urge, this compelling need, to do, and be seen to do, outrageous sexy things.

I strode back to the yard. When I’d thought of doing this I wondered if I’d try to slink back unnoticed, but I didn’t want that. I’d gone from “There’s Tracy, she’s had a terrible divorce, poor thing” to “There’s Tracy, she’s a depraved slut.” Would people call me depraved? Perverted? Immoral? You know what? I didn’t care. I hardly knew most of them. They rarely spoke other than to acknowledge me. So what if they thought that of me?

So I strode back, Gentleman Jack style!

I saw a dozen or so people. Unbelievably most seemed not to notice, but two or three did. The stare from each was intense, but then they all just hurriedly looked away. I’d wondered what I’d answer if asked what had happened. Would I be brave enough to say I’d peed myself? On purpose? Or would I make up a story? In the event no one said anything. Disappointing in the extreme.

Back in the car I was boiling so — for safety sake you understand, so I could concentrate on driving — I had to finger myself off. No one was close but there were various people wandering around. That so added to the intensity of the orgasm I had. I tried to stifle my moans, not sure why, but as my body rocked I couldn’t help but let the sound out.

No reaction from those I could see. No doubt in my mind now that I was disappointed by that.

I sat for a few minutes getting some control back. So much for my weekend free of sexual stimulus.

If you’ve read my Monday morning tweet you’ll know the mood hasn’t left me! XXXX

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