It seemed that we alone were the creatures of the forest. In the open glades we spurred our horses on and they seemed happy to go for a canter, kicking up their hooves at the abundant gorse bushes that smelled vaguely of coconuts. Sebastian was close on Braveheart’s tail and I admired the effortless way Jen rode. She leaned forward, showing perfect form, as her seat rose and fell in the saddle. I am not such a skilled rider and I was fighting it a little bit. After a while I felt a slight burning sensation between my legs that was not unpleasant. Even so, I was glad when we were in among the trees again and the horses slowed to a walk.
“You okay, Cat?” Jen turned to see if I was still with her.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I said. “I’m a bit out of practice, that’s all. I had trouble keeping up with you and I must admit I’m feeling it a little bit. I don’t want to have a sore bum for the rest of the day.”
“We’re close to the picnic spot now. Ten minutes, maybe a bit longer. Sit back and enjoy the ride.” She gave me a knowing look and turned to scratch Braveheart behind his ears.
I knew what she meant. The girls at school talk about it. The feeling of a powerful animal between your legs, the rhythmic rubbing of the saddle, is stimulating. Some girls say they go horse riding to get physical release. I must admit I tried it once and easily brought myself to orgasm. But everything has to be right; warm weather, how you sit in the saddle, a rhythmic gentle ride, maybe even the time of month, and it helps to be semi-aroused in the first place, which I was. I hadn’t forgotten my promise to Jen. We reached the turn-off from the trail and Braveheart led the way through the trees, about 200 yards to a small circular clearing carpeted with dry moss. No one ever ventured this deep in the forest. It was our secret place. There was a stream close by and we tethered the horses so they could drink from it. Jen laid out our blanket in the clearing and I got our sandwiches out of the saddlebag and a bottle of water for each of us and took them to her. Finally I tucked my riding crop casually under my arm and joined her sitting cross legged on the blanket. She watched me put it beside me. By mid-morning the sun was high in the sky and we could feel the heat even under the shade of the trees. We finished our lunch in silence, relaxed and comfortable in each other’s company with the muted buzz of woodland insects to serenade us. Jen glanced at the riding crop and then at me, but my expression gave nothing away.
“You shouldn’t have ridden off so fast,” I told her. “You knew I was struggling to keep up.” I let her think about that for a little while. She didn’t say anything. She saw me reach for the crop and test its flex between my hands. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.
It was time to play our little game
“Get into position, please.”
For a moment or two she didn’t move, then she rolled onto her tummy and thrust up her bottom. I didn’t keep her waiting. I gave her several swats across both cheeks, the leather tip making a snapping sound on her jodhpurs. She didn’t flinch. I gave her more, harder this time. The riding crop felt good in my hand and made a swishing noise through the air.
Then I paused and put it down where she could see it. I wanted her to see me pick it up again.
“Pull down your jodhpurs, please,”
Immediately her hands went to her belt buckle.
“Good, now your panties.”
“Cat, what if someone sees us?”
“Do it, now.”
She did as she was told, pulling her panties to her knees. Her bottom now presented to me, was plump and round, but not marked. When she saw me reach for the crop she gave a little moan.