BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN
Some Rambling Thoughts on Saddles and Horses
And a Sexy Excerpt – HA!
Every cowboy needs a saddle. I have a friend who makes saddles and the process has always fascinated me. How he can take sheets of leather and form it into a saddle, adding stitching and tooling is just amazing. And the smell! I adore it. He makes collars for Mojo and he has made a purse for me with my name on it.
The saddle of a cowboy was his most important possession – aside from his horse or his gun. The western saddle did not come about because of fad or fancy, it was born of necessity. You have to think of it as the cowboy’s workbench. It had to be heavy and sturdy because roping a large cow or bull would put a tremendous weight on the horn. Once a cowboy became enamored of his saddle, he would not part with it. He might sell his gun or his coat or his boots, but he would never part with his saddle. To sell one’s saddle was a sign of poverty and was the very last resort.
A cowboy used his saddle for several things. Not only was it his comfort on the horse, and his helper with the cattle, it was also his pillow at night. I tried that once, and found it to be a bit hard for my taste. There were other uses for a saddle, I’m sure. I asked my Uncle Michael what he thought and he said cowboys would hide behind their saddles to avoid arrows when they were attacked by Indians, but I could find no substantiation for that assertion – ha! All I could think about was the horse getting shot and I don’t like to think about that. It always bothered me to think about the horses that died in war or in battle.
When I was small my mother took me to the doctor for a shot. I hated shots. So she tried to get my mind off of my troubles by reading to me out of a book. The only book she could find was a children’s bible with pictures. She chose to read me the story about Moses leading the children of Israel across the Red Sea and how Pharaoh tried to follow and God let the waters of the Red Sea flow back on to Pharaoh and his men and his chariots. As she read, she would show me the pictures and there was a picture of this event – a painting of course. I looked at it and started crying. Not just crying – sobbing – bellowing in grief. People were watching. Was she beating me? She shushed me and asked me what was wrong. I couldn’t speak. I cried. She asked me again and I pointed at the picture and she told me that the good people made it through, it was the bad people who drowned. But it wasn’t the people I was worried about. In the painting it showed the waves flowing back over the heads of the horses and that broke my heart. “It’s the horses!” I screamed. “The horses drowned!”
Later, I cried some more. Cause they gave me a shot in the rump, I was not happy that day.
Let’s lighten this up, I’m feeling sad. How about this? A blonde decides to try horseback riding, even though she has had no lessons or prior experience. She mounts the horse unassisted and the horse immediately springs into motion. It gallops along at a steady and rhythmic pace, but the blonde begins to slip from the saddle. In terror, she grabs for the horse’s mane, but cannot seem to get a firm grip. She tries to throw her arms around the horse’s neck, but she slides down the side of the horse anyway. The horse gallops along, seemingly impervious to its slipping rider. Finally, giving up her frail grip, she leaps away from the horse to try and throw herself to safety. Unfortunately, her foot has become entangled in the stirrup, she is now at the mercy of the horse’s pounding hooves as her head is struck against the ground over and over. As her head is battered against the ground, she is mere moments away from unconsciousness when to her great fortune. . . . the Walmart manager sees her distress and shuts the horse off.
One more and we’ll get sexy – I can’t resist. This is one of my favorite tales – from childhood. A city dweller came to a farm and saw a beautiful horse. He decided he had to have the animal. He bargained with the farmer and the farmer finally sold him the horse. The city man jumped on the horse and said, “Giddyup!” The horse didn’t budge. The farmer explained, “This is a special horse. He’ll only move if you say, “Praise the Lord.” To stop him, you have to say, “Amen.” Keeping this in mind, the new owner yelled, “Praise the Lord!” whereupon the horse took off with great speed. Soon the horse and rider were headed for a cliff. The rider panicked. He couldn’t remember what to say. He said “Whoa!” and “Halt!” and “Stop!” and “Please!” and even a few four letter comments. Finally, he remembered. “Amen!” The horse came to a screeching halt right at the edge of the cliff. Relieved the rider raised his eyes to heaven and exclaimed, “Praise the Lord!”
Now, I’ve told you all that so I could tell you this. I should have just been risqué to start with, but I thought I’d lead up into it gradually. My uncle used to read these Longarm western novels. They were dirty. They were my first introduction to erotic writing. Think of a Louis Lamour novel with sex. That was it. Longarm was the cowboy hero and long-arm was indicative, of course, of his long manhood. I lurked around his house and just waited until he would put one down and I would grab it and run. Sexual arousal was new to me then, but I knew I liked to read them and they influenced me. One scene in one book stuck with me forever – it was a scene where Longarm laid a dancehall girl across a saddle in his hotel room and took her from behind, holding her breasts as he thrust into her. That scene stayed with me so clearly that I wrote it into TROUBLE – and here it is.
See I told you I took the long way around – I meandered. HA!
T-R-O-U-B-L-E by Sable Hunter
The smell of leather and oils was rich and aromatic. It was dark and warm in the room, perfect for a romantic interlude. “My love,” she began, capturing his undivided attention, “nothing would make me happier or make me feel better than to have you buried deep inside of me.”
Never breaking her gaze, he steered her toward a saddle sitting on a stand, just the right height to aid them in their lovemaking. “God, you excite the hell out of me. Will you help me fulfill one of my fantasies?”
“Gladly, as long as it means I get to touch your body, I’m game.”
“My body is at your disposal twenty-four-seven, babe. You don’t even have to ask.”
Ky was looking at her with such heat, she swore she could see smoke dancing between them.
Boldly, she walked up to him and placed the palm of her hand over the thick ridge of his penis. “So, this is permitted? I can touch you, like this?” She did more than touch; she folded her hand around him and squeezed him through his Longhorn lounge pants.
He sucked air in through his nose. “Yeah, and I get to touch you, like this.” He mirrored her move, fitting his palm over her mons, slipping fingers in between her legs and lifting up. Her skirt was thin and proved no barrier to his sensual assault. He watched Cooper close her eyes as arrows of pleasure shot through her. “Undress for me, Cooper. And I’ll undress for you.”
He started, pulling his shirt from the lounge pants and removing shoes and socks. She answered in kind, slipping out of her shoes and unzipping her skirt. “Do you want me to take it all off, Ky?” She wasn’t being coy, years of uncertainty and insecurity had taken their toll
“Please, baby.” She smiled a tender little smile and complied. As she lowered the skirt and pulled the top over her head, he stilled his actions, transfixed at her beauty. When she was completely nude, she saw she had won the race and graciously helped him out.
“You are magnificent, Ky.” After pushing his shirt off his shoulders, she ran her fingers through the fine dusting of hair covering his pecs, causing him to quake with need. “I’m ready.”
“Ready?” he couldn’t think straight.
“You said if I was wet, that meant I was ready for you. I’m ready.”
Briefly, he closed his eyes and thanked heaven for this beautiful woman. “Oh, baby. I’m past ready. Now, about that fantasy – let me show you what I’ve been dreaming about for years. Every time I finished a saddle and would see it sitting over here, I would picture laying a beautiful woman across it, like this.” She let him arrange her over the saddle, her bare bottom high in the air, her full breasts dangling over the far side.
“God, almighty. I hope I can last long enough to get inside of you.” While he spoke, he quickly sheathed himself for her protection. “Cooper, I wish I had a camera. You have no idea how absolutely sinful you look.”
“I feel sinful and wanton. Please, Ky. Mount me.” Cooper knew exactly what she was doing. The explicit language enflamed him. And mount her he did. She pushed her rear into the air, just like a mare in heat. Ky covered her from behind, using his legs to part hers even further.
“Are you sure that you’re ready for me, baby?” he asked as he dipped one finger into her folds, just to make sure. She nodded, unable to speak. At her breathless acquiescence, he let himself go and plunged into her. She arched her back and squealed in delight. Settling in for the long haul, he leaned forward, took a breast in each hand, and began to ride.
“Oh, yes.” Cooper moaned, loving the sensation of being taken so thoroughly. She looked down at her breasts covered by his large, rough hands and nearly fainted from the sight. He was rubbing, massaging, and tweaking her nipples, all designed to feed the frenzy of her heat.
“Is this what you wanted, babe? Does this feel good?” Not waiting for an answer, he overshadowed her and nipped her on the shoulder, next to her neck.
“Yes!” she screamed, pushing backwards hard, trying to take as much of him as possible inside of her. She shook her head, sending her hair flying. Never had she felt so liberated or so free. Ky had given her back her self-esteem and her confidence in herself as a woman. So, she sought to give to him everything she could in return. “Oh, Ky. You fill me so good. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” She could feel the head of his immense cock pressing against her womb, every thrust rubbed against her spongy G-Spot, further enflaming her ecstasy. Moans of rapture escaped her; it was all she could do to keep from screaming at the top of her lungs.
-Maybe, it was because he had been blessed enough to have had three orgasms in the past two days, or maybe it was just the circumstances—but Ky was bigger and harder than he could ever remember being and felt like he could go all night. He began thrusting; slowly, deliberately, impaling Cooper over and over again. She arched her torso, pushing her breasts against his palms and groaning in pure, unadulterated pleasure. “You’re mine, Cooper. You belong to me,” he shouted in the air like a benediction.
At Ky’s declaration of ownership, Cooper’s orgasm seemed to make her fly apart. Wave after wave hitting her, causing her body to buck against him. Ky felt her body begin to spasm and he held her tight until she stopped shaking. Moving his hands from her breasts to her waist, he picked her up and pulled her back against his straining body. Bringing her to her feet, he gently turned her around, letting her sit sidesaddle and entered her from the front. “Put your legs around my waist, baby, I want more.”
Cooper did what he asked, pulling him close, her heels digging into his hips. “I don’t have to be afraid, anymore. You would never hurt me, would you?”
“I’ve told you everything – all of my dark secrets – and you’re still here.”
Ky was almost past speaking, but he knew that she needed to hear this. “Yes, baby. I’m still here.”
“I’m not fat or ugly.”
“You’re perfect.” What she was – was loved. He hadn’t said it yet, but it was true. He loved her with every fiber of his being. As Ky thrust into her, Cooper did amazing things with her body to give him pleasure. She used the inner walls of her vagina to caress and milk him.
Her efforts didn’t go unnoticed, or unappreciated. “Damn, sweetheart. You are a joy to love!” Bending over, he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. When he did this, he catapulted Cooper into another orgasm and this time her moans of pleasure, and tiny convulsions, triggered Ky’s climax and he ground deep into her, his seed pulsing out of his body with every beat of his heart.
They clung to each other, trading kisses, whispering endearments.
Neither one of them noticed the condom had broke.