Mounted - Sex Stories

Mounted

... outside to find our seats. On each chair was a list of competitors. I glanced down to see that “Kirsten Macgregor, on Happy Chappy” was the tenth to ride.

Sitting there, we marvelled at the skills of the riders. Men and women were competing on equal terms, with horses champing at the bit being reined in to take sharp turns, then accelerating over the jumps. The target is to get a clear round, no fences knocked down, and no refusals. By the time Kirsten came to jump, only three riders had managed a fault-free round.

I turned to my wife.

“She’s next.”

I watched, spellbound, as my beautiful slut jumped a clear round and applauded with gusto as she trotted off into the pound where the riders waited. She looked magnificent, her body encased in a tight, black riding kit; everything looked perfect, from the top of her helmet to the soles of her leather boots. When she trotted past my position, her sexuality was, to me, embodied in the sight of her perfect buttocks bouncing with the movement of the horse.

Another four riders followed Kirsten, but only one managed a clear.

The second round was timed over a shortened course, with the places decided on the fastest time with the lowest fault points. The first two both faulted, so I knew Kirsten was likely to be one of the winners. The third rider went hell for leather—fast and accurate.

Kirsten came into the ring, her horse keyed, stamping the ground, and then she was away. A perfect round followed, but two seconds ...

... behind the leader. The last rider came through; he took the whole course cautiously, knowing a clear round meant he had third place.

The three winners came back into the ring to be presented with their prizes and a rosette for each horse. As they did a round of honour, some of the people near us got up and walked through a gate in the picket fence, heading for the riders’ enclosure.

We stood clapping, and when Kirsten rode over to hold her horse just outside the fence, I was punching the air in excitement.

“Great ride, Kirsten; thank you so much; it’s been great watching you.”

“My pleasure, auld yin. Come through the gate and follow me back.”

So we picked up our things, passed onto the ring turf, and walked along the boundary until we reached the adjoining enclosure.

Kirsten did not stop there but rode down the connecting track to the mounting area. We followed a safe distance behind, crossing the main avenue with the crowd crushed behind the barrier gates, watching every move.

The area was outside the showground, surrounded by horse boxes. Some were empty, many with an animal inside happily chewing on hay behind a restraining fence.

Kirsten dismounted, stoked her horse’s nose, gave him a few pats, and then handed the reins to a waiting stable hand before coming to us.

“I’ve got a case of champagne in my caravan, chilled to perfection. Care to join me?”

Two heads nodded in sync.

We followed her, walking between the boxes until we came to a more ...