"Little Filly"
- written by EzRiter
Friday night is bar night for us single yuppies, and, I was out
trolling, as usual. Mostly, I go home alone but sometimes I let a man
pick me up. This Friday, I was working my way through the crowd,
stopping to talk to everyone there. The men all looked the same in
their tight pants and lacquered hair, the yuppie crowd on the prowl.
Then, I saw him sitting alone at the end of the bar.
He was unique in this urban setting of twenties and thirties. I guess
he was about fifty. His face was heavily tanned like leather from
the sun which emphasized his sky blue eyes. He wore a long sleeved
western-style work shirt and a straw cowboy hat pitched back on his
head. He was drinking a beer with his whole hand wrapped around the
bottle's long-neck. His eyes watched lazily, seeing the crowd as if
he were watching a herd of cattle from horse back.
Suddenly, his blue eyes were piercing me and he smiled slowly, showing
white teeth that sparkled against the dark face. He tipped his hat.
I looked away but, subconsciously, worked my way to him. He stood
when I approached and took off the hat, showing longish black hair
streaked with gray. Of course, he was wearing boots and jeans. The
jeans were skin tight and his legs were thick, heavily muscled, like
the rest of him.
"Hi, Cowboy," I said gaily.
"Good evening, ma'am," he replied in a drawl. He offered me the stool
and I sat, allowing him to buy me another drink.
"Well, cowboy, what brings you to this watering hole?" I asked, trying
to be cute but sounding a little brittle.
"I'm not really a cowboy," he said slowly. "I'm a horseman, raising
and training horses. I came to town to find a new mare." My heart
was pounding as I studied his face. He has just a light twinkle in his
eyes as if teasing me and trying not to show it.
"I love horses," I told him.
"Doesn't surprise me. Horses are beautiful and sensual creatures,"
he replied. The horseman and I talked. He was very close to me so
we would not shout to overcome the din. He smelled of leather and,
well, dirt, an earthy, masculine smell. He did not paw me as men try
to do in bars. When he finally touched me, he rested his hand on my
thigh. It felt warm and natural there.
Finally, he said, "Let's go out to my ranch."
Ah, the come on line. I have heard a million but it is always
interesting to hear another. And, the answer often determines if I
spend the night with a guy or let him drop.
"What do you have in mind?" I asked.
"You are beautiful little filly," he answered, "I want to exercise you
a little and then put you in the stall with my stallion so he can
mount you."
Holy smokes! The vision of me being a mare mounted by a stallion made
me reel and I got wet. I was almost dizzy. The horseman was watching
me with a hint of a smile, enjoying my response.
"Okay," I croaked and downed my drink for courage.
He drove a working pickup several years old, not a dude truck as I
expected. The windows were down and the wind blew my hair. His
"ranch" was really a few acres outside of town with a small barn,
corral and open area. I put on some sneakers he offered. Although
they were too large, they were better than high heels. He quickly
showed me around.
There were two horses in the barn, a mare and, yes, a stallion. The
stallion was a big red horse with a star on his nose. He whinnied
when he saw us. The horseman pulled some sugar from his jeans which
the stallion nuzzled from his hand.
"Is that the stallion that is going to mount me?" I giggled in a high,
squeaky voice.
"Only stallion I've got," he replied evenly. As he dragged me away, I
could not take my eyes off the giant beast.
He stopped at the tack room and got a bridle and bit. It seemed much
too small for the horses and the bit was leather, not steel. We
walked to the middle of the corral. It was relatively dark but the
stars were shining so I could see him as he began unbuttoning my
blouse.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Horses don't wear clothes," he replied. If this man did not have a
devilish glint in his eyes, I would swear he was being honest because
his voice was unemotional. I waited impatiently while he removed all
my clothes but the sneakers and panties. His hands never left me.
When he put his thumbs in the panties, I pulled away.
"Whoa, girl," he said. "Easy now."
He stroked my face and I felt his palm over my mouth. It was a sugar
cube! I... well, I nuzzled his palm and took the cube in my lips.
His hands were actively stroking my back and flank, gently pulling on
my mane, calming me as he would a horse. How can a man's hands both
calm and excite at the same time?
"Whoa, little filly," he crooned and again offered his palm. When I
took the cube this time I felt leather slip into my mouth. In one
movement, the bridle was over my head and the bit secure between my
teeth. I saw him grin broadly when I stomped my foot as a horse
would. As I was mouthing the soft leather bit, he pulled down my
panties. I was naked before I realized it. And, his hands were
again actively stroking me but in a way I am sure he did not stroke a
horse. This little filly was getting very hot from his hands.
I can not explain it but when I bit down on the bit, I became a horse,
his horse. I made no attempt to get the bit out of my mouth or the
bridle off my head like a human. I tried to spit it out like a horse
would. My hands hung limp as if they were not there.
He started guiding me around the ring by the bridle, the way he would
exercise a horse. I started walking and then trotting. I could see
the stallion in the barn, his huge red head sticking out of the open
stall door. It was as if he was watching me, knowing the horseman was
getting me ready for him.
It was wild! My breasts bounced and the cool night air enveloped me.
But, soon I was I sweating from exertion, trotting in a circle around
him as he held my reins and talked to me calmly. He had me slow and
then walked me through a few more circles. He pulled me to him by the
bridle and rubbed my neck while giving me another sugar cube.
He led me in the barn, to a stall. Gently, he guided me by the bridle
until I was on all fours and the bridle tied to a ring. "Now, little
filly, keep facing the stall wall and I will bring the stallion to
you." I was shaking all over from the sexual tension and the
exercise. I heard the huge beast snort and I could feel the ground
move from his weight. I tossed my head. I could not be still. This
filly was looking forward to the stallion mounting her.
I heard a sound right behind me. He bumped me with his legs and
neighed. He lay against me, letting me feel his weight, not touching
me with his hands but resting his arms on my back. I could feel his
hardness punching around as we worked together to let him mount me as
a stallion and mare would. When we finally succeeded, I felt the
first spasms in my legs and knew my orgasm would be one to remember.
He was a good stallion and I came forever.
I was floating in after glow when my horseman removed my bit and
bridle and gently rolled me over. He was grinning as he slipped in me
like missionaries, not horses. The giant stallion was behind him,
watching us use his stall. It was as though the horse was with me.
I was too weak to stand. My horseman, who had ridden his filly very
well indeed, carried me into the house. We bathed together in his tub.
He carried me to bed, wrapping me in his strong arms. He mounted me
again, riding slowly and smoothly.
I awoke to find him next to me, warm and strong. I nuzzled him awake.
"How does the mare tell the stallion she is ready for him?" I
whispered.
"She backs up to him and bumps against him," he replied. It worked.
He really lives in the city where he owns a business. I moved in with
him shortly thereafter. We play many games with each other but my
favorite is still when he slips the bit in my mouth before riding like
the wind.
The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for
adults in locations in which it is legal. If it is illegal in your
location, DO NOT read. This is a copyrighted work. Reposting or any
other use strictly prohibited without the express, written permission
of the copyright holder, except may by posted as part of a review or
posted to free-access archive sights.
Copyright ©ªªªªªª© 1998 by EzRiter, a registered pseudonym.
Email address: ezriter@hotmail.com