Authors: Selena Kitt
Rimming my puckered hole, he eased one
finger inside and asked, “Can I get a ride?”
Could
he? I almost fell over myself
lowering my elbows to the floor to raise my ass as an invitation. The fake
horse tail I wore spilled down my back. Lathering lotion onto his cock, Phillip
spread my ass wide again and held my cheeks open as he slid his thick length
inside.
Finally. This
was what I wanted—these hard thrusts, these hands
working me to release.
He eased fully into me and every inch
of me trembled beneath him. I moaned through the bit, biting down hard on it as
he pulled out, his movements so mind-numbingly
slow
that I wanted to
weep. He slid out until just the tip of his dick remained inside me and I
almost panicked…he couldn’t be done, could he?
Please no,
I begged. I
tried to rock back, get him into me again, but he moved away, keeping that
distance between us. My body quivered from the end of his shaft like a drop of
water, dangling from a faucet, just about to fall…
Then he pushed back into me, filling
me completely, and began to ride me in earnest. I choked back a sob as the
pinch and burn of entry became the glorious feel of his slick cock pumping into
me. With one hand, he scooped up my reins and tugged at them, pulling my
head back with each thrust. I needed this, I needed
him
. I was
truly a pony, ridden hard by the gorgeous man behind me. My control was gone,
my body no longer mine. Between my legs, my dick throbbed in time with my
racing heart.
Forgetting the hoofed gloves I wore, I
moved a hand down to stroke myself—I was near release, I needed it—but Phillip
slapped it away. I hung my head, the desire in me so sharp that it almost hurt.
Phillip gave a gentle pull on the reins, just enough to remind me that he was
in charge, and then he wrapped his own hand around my erection. As he rode me,
he thumbed over the slit at my cock head. In gratitude, I whimpered and fucked
into his hand.
I felt him lean down over me, his
breath tickling behind my ear as he whispered, “Don’t come until I tell you.” I
shook my head as I ground back into him, trying to find release, and I heard
him laugh behind me, a deep, throaty laugh that could give me wet dreams. Like
an expert horseman, Phillip shifted against me and his angle changed. Each new
thrust drove into me, hard and sweet. My body was on fire. I felt him pounding
through me into my very soul—I could taste him in the back of my mouth and I
wanted more. With each movement, my leather bonds tightened against
sweat-slicked skin. When he slapped my ass, urging me onward, faster,
on
,
I moaned to keep up with him. Hadn’t I once thought I would I hate this? Why
hadn’t I ever tried it out before?
Another slap, this one stinging my
already overworked ass, and I could tell he was close. I bucked into his hand
and came in ropy spurts that drained me of energy. Phillip stayed inside
me and I clenched around him, holding him in—I never wanted him to leave. As my
muscles bunched around him, I felt him come, hard and fast inside me, with a
grunt of pleasure that made me proud that I brought him to that, me. I felt my
mouth try to pull into a stupid grin and was glad for the bit that held it
back. I wanted to hear that grunt again. I wanted to please him again.
When he pulled out of me, I felt the
loss of him as a physical rip in my soul. My entire body seemed to fold into
itself, hollow without him in me. My knees and arms buckled, dumping me to the
ground. I felt cold, alone, empty.
Suddenly Phillip was there, covering
my body with his. His lips were soft against the back of my neck. “Good pony,”
he purred. One hand stroked my head, his fingers mussing my hair, as the other
rubbed my stomach, smeared with my own juices. I wanted to lie like this
forever, be this close to him, never let him go.
After a while, he unsnapped my gloves,
removing the hooves. I kept still as he unsnapped the boots, as well. Then he
removed the bit and turned my face towards his. Our lips met in a sweet crush and
tentatively, I touched his smooth chin. As our kiss deepened, my hands trailed
down his throat and over the leather vest he wore, rubbing at the hard nipples
hidden beneath. I ventured lower as I licked into him, my fingers at his waist
now, brushing through kinked hair to find him already hardening again. Before I
could take him in hand, though, he caught my wrist and smiled into our kiss.
“Not yet,” he sighed.
I pulled away, confused and a little
hurt, but he kissed me again, hard, demanding. His lips covered mine as if he
owned me. “Don’t worry,” he assured me. “I’ll tell you when.”
The promise in his words followed us
as, hand in hand, he led me back to the tack room for my clothes.
* * * *
Later I found Sean in the vendor hall.
He wore a pony outfit similar to the one I had recently changed out of. His
arms were hobbled behind his back and his reins were loose in the hands of a
Papa Bear. Literally—the man wore a dingy bear suit that might’ve been a school
mascot costume in a previous life. The face that peered out from the bear’s
mouth was just Sean’s type: older, bearded, a mountain of a man. I approached
them, remembered where I was, and turned to the bear for permission. “I need to
talk to my friend,” I told him, pointing at Sean. “Two minutes, that’s all.”
The bear sized me up. “Weren’t you the
one who got horse-whipped earlier today?” I shifted uncomfortably and the man
shook Sean’s reins. “Two minutes.”
I led Sean a little ways off. Before I
said a word, he laughed. “That was you?” he wanted to know.
“Shut up,” I told him. I looked around
the room before I spotted Phillip, waiting for me by the exit. Quickly I said,
“Listen, I’m gonna get out of here. I sort of met someone…”
Sean turned around, eyes searching.
“Who is it?” He must’ve seen Phillip wave, because he laughed again. “Phillip
Ross! I knew it! He’s the one I told you about.”
“You didn’t mention anyone specific,”
I reminded him.
“I
meant
him,” Sean said.
“Phillip’s just up your alley, isn’t he? I knew you two would hook up. But you
know he’s into this stuff all the time, right? No plain-Jane sex with him, I’ve
heard. Very kinky.”
“Whatever he wants,” I assured him. My
body still hummed from our earlier tryst.
With his shoulder, Sean nudged me.
“Who would’ve thought you’d turn out to be such a sub after all? Aren’t you
glad I brought you now?”
I didn’t answer. As Sean’s bear-clad
friend started towards us, I ducked into the thinning crowd and headed for
Phillip. I still wasn’t completely into the whole bondage scene but, for this guy,
I was willing to give it a go. One good thing about pony play…with that bit in
my mouth, I wouldn’t have to call him
Master
.
About J.M. Snyder
A multi-published author of gay
erotic/romantic fiction, J.M. Snyder began
writing boyband slash before self-publishing through iUniverse, Lulu
Press, and CreateSpace. Currently Snyder works with several different
e-publishers, most notably Amber Allure Press and eXcessica Publishing,
and has several short stories published in anthologies by Alyson Books,
Cleis Press, and others. For more information, including excerpts, free
stories, and monthly contests, please visit
http://www.jmsnyder.net
That
Eureka
Moment
By Alex Jordaine
Ask any masochist or sadist about the
first time they realized they got off big time on what they do—what they
are—and they’re likely to have an interesting tale to tell. Although what our
masochist and what our sadist each have to say will be very different, their
stories are liable to share in common a cathartic sense of everything suddenly
falling into place as if by magic: That Eureka Moment.
THE MASOCHIST’S TALE
When Julie looked back at the person
she’d been only five short years ago it felt strange—almost like a false memory
of someone else’s life. Had that really been her? Julie Ball was so damn
pleased with herself for coming out as a lesbian you’d have thought she was the
first person who’d ever done it. She was so sophisticated, wasn’t she? So
uninhibited, so daring ... So deluded, more like.
The truth was that in her own way she
was as repressed as some frustrated Victorian spinster. There was a whole dark
side to her sexuality she hadn’t even begun to come to terms with, let alone
explore, for the simple reason that she’d yet to acknowledge that it existed at
all. Let’s face it, she’d said to herself afterwards wryly, you can’t come out
of the closet unless you’ve ventured in there in the first place. Julie learnt
that lesson eventually, though, and in a very literal sense. It was a woman
called Bridget who made it happen.
Soon after Bridget had broken up with
her previous lover, a young woman called Maria who happened to be Julie’s
oldest friend, she started making a move on Julie. Maria clearly didn’t
mind—her split with Bridget had been an amicable one, as Julie knew very well.
The amorous interest Bridget was showing in Julie had been just fine as far as
she was concerned as well. The truth was that she’d always fancied Bridget like
crazy, thought the tall, charismatic blonde with the short hair, glittering
blue eyes and hour-glass figure was absolutely gorgeous.
Things developed quickly from the time
Julie moved in with her. Bridget informed her early on that she was into kinky
sex—whips and chains and clamps and the like—but Julie told her she wasn’t
interested. She really meant it too, or thought she did. The vanilla sex with
Bridget was great, like nothing she’d ever experienced before and that was
surely more than enough, she rationalized.
Bridget’s bedroom wasn’t short of
clothes-space and could easily accommodate the clothing Julie had brought with
her. But here was the thing: the biggest closet in that room was always kept
locked. Julie asked Bridget about it once and she just said, with a sly grin,
‘Oh, that’s where I keep all the stuff you’re not interested in.’ That did
spike Julie’s curiosity a little, she had to admit, but she didn’t give it much
more thought. She just blanked it out. Until, that is, one fine day when
Bridget was out doing some chores…
Julie had just had a shower and had
wandered back into the bedroom in the nude, feeling decidedly horny. She lay
back on the bed, her head propped up by a couple of pillows, and began to
masturbate. She was just starting to really enjoy herself, her fingers working
away at the wetness that had begun to ooze from within her, when she noticed
that Bridget’s mysterious closet wasn’t actually locked for once. Julie could
tell because its door was slightly ajar. Her curiosity getting the better of
her this time, she reluctantly stopped masturbating, swung herself off the bed
and padded over to the closet.
Julie opened its door fully and her
eyes widened like saucers at what met her gaze. She was genuinely shocked—not
so much by what she saw inside, although that was pretty amazing, but by its
sheer volume. Hanging from the walls of that spacious closet were handcuffs,
harnesses, chains, whips, paddles, gags, hoods, bondage rope, you name it—all
the paraphernalia of BDSM. Julie was also shocked by her own reaction to what she’d
discovered in that closet because, despite herself, she was turned on by
it—very turned on. The heady aroma of leather in there played its part as well,
all but overwhelming her senses.
Julie shifted her gaze to the floor of
the closet where she saw a pile of glossy black and white bondage magazines.
There were some other items on the closet floor as well: a box full of
different colored pegs: black, red, purple, blue; a black leather slave’s
collar; and some wrist and ankle cuffs, also of black leather, which had metal
trigger clip attachments; a red ball gag; and what looked at first sight like a
blank video.
Julie got onto her knees, crawled into
the closet a short way, and started to leaf through the pages of the bondage
magazines, which showed numerous monochrome images of beautiful naked women
being tied up and disciplined. Again she surprised herself because she found
the striking photographs she was looking at powerfully erotic. As she gazed at
those bondage photos she could feel the heat in her sex growing and growing
until it seemed to permeate her whole body. Julie was soon playing with her
pussy once more, imagining herself in the place of one after the other of the
lovely women in those photos. She could feel her breath quicken and her nipples
stiffen and her clit pulse as she wanked and wanked.
On a whim, she decided to try on the
leather slave’s collar that was on the floor. She liked the feel of it
immediately. While she was about it, she thought she’d give the red ball gag a
try too. As she buckled it into place the feeling of constriction it gave her
sent a further rush of adrenaline to her brain and lust to her pulsating sex.
Julie began to play with herself even
more energetically now, there on her knees inside the open closet. Her sexual
imagination went into overdrive as in her mind’s eye she became an amalgam of
all the beautiful women she’d seen between the covers of those glossy black and
white magazines.