Pausing to collect himself, he leaned back thankfully against a square wooden column, breathing heavily, his heart racing. So far, so good. He took a deep breath, letting his flaring nostrils fill with the sweet smell of warm dampness mingled with new-mown hay. As his eyes adjusted to the darkened interior, he looked towards the row of stalls.

The rig was gone, and so three of the girls had to be out as a team. He had watched as Cupcake and Stormy were led to the exercise yard for their morning workout. That meant only one pony girl was left in the stable -- Snicker. But to his surprise the one he found there was not the comely and bouncy ponygirl he expected, but the cool and remote Flare who had been left behind, and was now the sole occupant of the stalls. The top half of her stall door had been swung back, and the view provided was from the waist up, a lightly-tanned naked girl framed by the square opening, silently regarding him with those wide dark eyes of hers. He was clearly surprised to see the auburn-haired ponygirl, but if she was surprised to see him there was no sign of it on her expressionless face. She simply regarded him coolly and evenly, and in perfect silence.

He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t say anything. Ponygirls were not permitted to speak unless spoken to, although he knew they whispered to each other when they thought they were safely out of earshot of the grooms. Geoffrey knew a lot about the daily lives of the ponygirls. He spent whatever time he could spying on them. To say he was fascinated by his Uncle’s prized collection would be an understatement -- the young lad was positively obsessed!

Visions of naked ponygirls, high-stepping, prancing in tandem, kept the tormented nineteen year old in a more-or-less permanent state of sexual arousal. His days were filled with embarrassing incidents as the healthy young lad seemed to be constantly walking around with an all-too-obvious erection obscenely tenting the front of his jeans. He would never forget the humiliating accident he had that day when playful Stormy had abruptly backed up into the surprised teenager, pinning him to the side of the stall while giving a devilish wiggle to grind her naked rump right into his blue-jeaned crotch. Before he realized what was happening young Geoffrey had creamed his jeans! He stood there aghast, mortified to feel the warm stickiness as the telltale stain spread across the front of his pants in front of his indulgent uncle and the wide-grinning groom.

Days and nights in the sexual hothouse his eccentric relatives had created at that remote Estate, kept the randy lad in constant heat. Several times a day when the hard fury of unrelenting sex gripped him, he had rush to his room to seek a few moments of blessed relief provided by his pleasuring hand. Nights were sheer hell. He went to his bedroom early. Hot and sweaty, he tossed restlessly with a fistful of tangled sheets wrapped around his painfully stiff cock, pumping his hand, masturbating furiously, through climax after climax, till blessed sleep finally released him from his burning torture.

Now, as the barely-breathing lad and the proud ponygirl stood sizing each other up, he felt his penis stirring in his pants, awakening to the call of duty. He was struck by the way twin beams of sunlight streamed down to set ablaze the soft folds of auburn hair that gave the girl her pony name. As in a dream, he moved closer to her stall. Those hard, curious eyes followed him, looking up at the tall lanky lad from under a smooth fold of burnished hair that angled down to sweep rakishly across her brow.

Geoffrey had been planning this rendezvous with Snicker in mind because, although he was taking a chance being alone with the bubbly and sprightly girl, he was pretty sure he would get a welcoming reception. But the older Flare was an altogether different matter! While he lusted after the perky Snicker, he positively adored the unapproachable Flare. The lad was awestruck the first time he laid eyes on her: she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. No, not really a girl, he reminded himself, but a woman, a mature, exciting woman, devastatingly attractive, and deeply sensual. (If the truth be told, the ponygirl, now known as “Flare,” was a good-looking young woman in her early 30s, but in the smitten eyes of the sex-crazed teenager, she was the epitome of mature femininity, an elegant, experienced woman, so terribly, achingly desirable.) His penis surged into full prominence, and he tried to swallow down the knot of lust that constricted his throat.

His eyes took in the strong-boned yet handsome features of that fine womanly face, the strong nose with wide-flaring nostrils, the wide painted lips with just the hint of pout to the lower one that protruded slightly. Her brows were angled upward from the center, and with the skin pulled tight over her high cheekbones, they lent her the fierce pride of a raptor. The slender column of her neck had been banded by the high 4-inch collar of soft leather which she wore with a certain air of arrogance. Was this beauty actually proud to be collared? His eyes fell down her front to her naked breasts, not large, but wide-set flattened mounds, tautly-drawn, with tight nipples that jutted straight out from their very centers. He stared at her bare breasts; she let the lad look, answering his questioning eyes with total indifference.

Summoning up his courage, he raised a trembling hand to reach for her.

“Well, what have we here!” the ringing words shocked him from his revelry; he spun around and whipped his hand down as if he had been burned! Struck speechless, he found himself facing his imperious aunt, her trim figure clad in a smart riding outfit.

“Aunt…Ursula…I,” he managed to get out, as she strode up to him with her usual savoire-faire. His aunt, he had discovered, was unflappable. A jaded woman of the world, who seemed absolutely shock-poof. She took everything life had to offer in her stride, a useful attribute when living with such a happily perverse husband. The sight of her curious nephew slinking around the stables to cop a quick feel of a ponygirl was hardly a discovery of note to her. She was actually surprised that he had not attempted such a sally sooner, as any red-blooded young male was bound to do.

“Oh, Geoffrey…Geoffrey…Geoffrey,” she tsked, shaking her head knowingly. “You really need not skulk about so. If you want to visit our girls, simply ask, darling.” She stood close to him, searching his embarrassed eyes. Unable to meet her gaze, Geoffrey lowered his head, like a rueful schoolboy caught looking up a dress; but she would have none of it. She placed a single finger under his chin and raised it up, to look in his confused eyes, and give him a big, understanding smile.

“Come now. Nothing to be ashamed of. It’s quite natural, you know, a big healthy boy like you is bound to be curious about girls. You’re growing up. It’s obvious.”

She looked down pointedly at his crotch, gave him a wicked smile and a knowing wink, which sent Geoffrey blushing furiously. Ignoring his obvious embarrassment, she rattled on conversationally.

“I was telling Basil just the other day: it’s time young Geoffrey became better acquainted with the opposite sex. And since the court in its wisdom has made you our ward, it’s up to us to see to your education. Now come along lad. It’s time Auntie Ursula took a hand in your education. Your Uncle and I know a few things about girls that will stand you in good stead in the years ahead. Shall we start our first lesson with Flare here?”

The lanky boy, still recovering from the shock of being discovered, could only manage a weak smile and a nod of his head. She smiled back and opened the bottom of the stall door, beckoning its sole occupant out to the center of the stable.

Walking barefoot on the straw, the beautiful ponygirl emerged into the light, her head held high. She was of course, naked, wearing nothing but the leather collar, and the cuffs that banded her wrists and ankles. The russet-haired woman, like all the ponygirls, was un-self-consciously nude. She obeyed with aplomb, answering her mistress’ summons with self-assured poise, stepping up to stand before her visitors at loose attention: shoulders squared, chest out, passive eyes straight forward.

Both observers stood for a moment contemplating the beauty of the nude who offered herself for their appreciation. “Oh yes, our Flare’s a pretty one, isn’t she. So very pretty,” the Lady crooned, reaching up to thoughtfully finger a single tress of the motionless nude’s silky hair. “And well-trained too, you’ll find. Yes, I can see you’re developing quite an eye for feminine beauty, my boy. You enjoy her breasts of course,” she teased, seeing where the lad’s gaze had immediately fixated. “Yes, they’re lovely.”

“And look at that pussy,” she added, as her nephew’s eyes obediently followed the instructing finger that now pointed to the triangle of soft reddish pubic hair. “Quite adorable, I’ll grant you.”

She took a step back, and continued in the dry, discursive tone of a classroom teacher. “But there are other things to consider, my young lad, if you are to become a man who truly appreciates women. To be true connoisseur of feminine beauty, you must consider the totality of the woman, all that makes her who she is. You must show her you appreciate each unique gift she has to offer. To truly enjoy a woman, she must be willing to offer herself totally, body and soul. And she’ll only do that if she most feels truly appreciated for those things that are unique to her, that set her apart from her sisters. The best of men understand that to bring out that emotional response they must learn to cherish the little things, the subtleties the female offers to the male in the eternal dance of the sexes. One day you’ll realize it’s more than tits and arse, my lad, so much more.” Throughout this monologue young Geoffrey gaze remained riveted on Flare’s pussy. He could barely make out the slit through the tangled haze of pussy hair.

Aunt Ursula glanced over and gave him a dubious look. “Here, let me show you. Come, Flare,” she ordered curtly, beckoning the young woman to her.

The girl stepped up to stand just in front of her mistress and this brought her even closer to the wide-eyed lad. It excited him to be so near to her, to have the tanned and healthy ponygirl standing before him, her wonderful womanly body totally naked, so available -- and just inches away. He could taste his rutting lust. He wanted to fuck this most desirable girl in the worst possible way.

But Lady Ursula had other ideas. She reached out and laid her hands on the girl’s bare shoulders, smiling into those steady eyes. For a moment the two women regarded each other, looking into each other’s eyes. It was the Lady Ursula who looked away first. Still smiling she began moving her hands to follow the roundness of those gently sloping shoulders. She followed down the smooth contours of the upper arms then backtracked to journey upward to the neck. Both hands slipped under the heavy mantle of red-gold hair to curve around the neck just above the collar. While one hand held the cupped the nape of Flare’s neck, the fingers of the other explored the thick band of leather. Geoffrey watched paralyzed while Lady Ursula fingered her ponygirl’s collar and then toyed with the dangling O-ring at the front. A finger hooked into the ring, and the Lady used it to draw the girl to her. Then to the surprise and astonishment of her on-looking nephew, she leaned forward and kissed the ponygirl, right on the lips! The pony girl stood stock still, hands dangling helplessly at her sides; she simply let herself be kissed by the other woman.

“Oh yes, very pretty,” Ursula breathed in a husky voice, as she released the girl. “And such lovely hair…” Her fingers played in the shock of hair that fell over the brow, sampled its silkiness between her fingers, fluffed it up a bit. “Some women become quite taken with their hair, you know; spend hours grooming and primping before their mirror. Did you know our Flare is just such a vain little girl, Geoffrey? Oh yes, she’s so proud of this hair of hers, aren’t you, my pretty?” She took up a single strand; pulled it out; slowly drew on it till she saw the girl wince with the flicker of pain that passed over her face. In the blink of an eye, the toying fingers turned vicious, digging into the thick mop, grabbing a fistful, yanking upwards. Taken by surprise, the girl sucked in an abrupt gasp of air through grinding teeth. Her eyes widened in alarm and her jaws clenched as she was hauled up onto her toes.

Geoffrey was amazed to see that the girl’s arms did not rise in her own defense to grasp and struggle with the offending hand, nor did she attempt to pull away to free herself from the painful grip. With hands still hanging uselessly at her sides, she simply endured being hauled up by her stretching hair. The lad saw a decidedly evil grin come over the smirking face of Lady Ursula as she slowly drew her fist backward forcing the girl to arch back on tiptoes and drawing forth an involuntary tight-lipped grunt.

For a moment his aunt held her victim suspended like a tightly drawn bow while tears welled up in the ponygirl’s eyes. Geoffrey, fascinated, could see the silent plea in those widened eyes, although the girl never uttered a word, never begged for mercy. “We shall have to give some serious thought to this hair,” his aunt continued in her dry business-like tone. “Yes, I think I shall suggest to Basil that we have it all shaved off -- clean as a billiard ball!” she crowed. “A lot less to take care of. You’d like that, wouldn’t you my pretty?” she hissed, twisting the fistful of air as the girl’s face scrunched up in pain, “Well!!!”

“Yes M’Lady,” the girl managed to get out through the tightness of her clenched teeth.

With a final yank that caused a shivering gasp, she released the girl’s head, which sank down between huddled shoulders while Flare panted for breath. The imperious Lady ignored her, and went on to continue her discourse.

“Of course the face is a paramount interest, even to a teenaged boy, I would assume. Features must be finely drawn and not at all coarse. The eyes are a natural point of interest, for once you’ve learned to read a woman’s eyes she will have no more secrets from you. You may be surprised at what you find there. Oh you’ll look for love of course, and maybe you’ll see it, but an even more rare find is the look of sweet submission, like we find in the eyes of a well-trained ponygirl. The nose, here, is straight and true, with the slightest flare. And then there are these lips, of course, seductive, succulent, one might even say… provocative.” With that the Lady Ursula took the ponygirl’s lower lip between her thumb and forefinger, pinched it, pulled on it, rubbed a finger over the pliable lip.

“One should always be sure to check the teeth of a ponygirl.” To demonstrate her ladyship took Flare’s jaw in her hand and squeezed pressing the mouth open to reveal a clenched set of even white teeth. She pressed back the bottom lip.

“Good! Healthy, fit, and well-groomed,” she pronounced, running a hand down the girl’s haunches and giving her a little pat. She looked over at her nephew.

“Ah, but you’re such an impetuous young fellow, aren’t you Geoffrey? Impatient, are we? Well, I quite understand. I saw you admiring our girl’s delightful little tits. You were about to cop a feel, I believe. Oh, I know how you’d love to get your hands on them, wouldn’t you? This one’s very proud of her breasts, you know -- as well she might be! Not very big of course, but wide and so firmly out-standing! Almost hard.” she mused, letting a hand trail down the girl’s front pressing with a single finger to indent the soft tittie-flesh before following the rounded curve of the left breast.

“Go on, touch her. I know how much you want to,” his aunt’s tone was that of a gracious monarch granting permission. She kept looking in Flare’s eyes even as she acknowledged the throb of longing in the watching lad’s soul. Geoffrey moved, reached out to the girl. His fingers made contact with a light tentative touch.

He used his fingertips to trace over them like a blind man feeling his way over those softly-yielding thickened disks. Flare’s breasts were warm and soft, resilient and wonderfully springy to the touch.

“They’re like fingerprints, uniquely expressive of each individual woman.” His aunt’s voice seemed far away.

Now Geoffey was using both hands, his touch more sure; his hands, confident. He placed those flattened hands directly on her chest, and began rubbing the slight mounds, moving them liquidly over her chest, savoring the silky smoothness of the skin, the underlying resiliency that gave the taut mounds their springy elasticity.

He became aware of the nipples hardening under his flattened palms, stiffening into hard rubbery pebbles. Flare swayed slightly. She was breathing hard through parted lips as her healthy body responded to the pleasure of masculine hands fondling her needy breasts. What Geoffrey didn’t realize was that the girl he was pleasuring had been craving just the sort of attention he was now providing: his touch, the feel of his young strong hands. What he didn’t know, but had begun to suspect, was that the ponygirls were kept in a constant state of sexual randiness their satisfaction limited to what their own hands could do, or what the hands of another girl could do for them -- for those who were so inclined. But Flare, who clearly preferred male companionship found herself often frustrated, her healthy desires thwarted, except when Lord Basil choose her for some individual attention, or when a thrill passed over her from some incidental contact with one of the grooms. And now this lad, this lovely, gangly lad had come to her, and his big strong hands felt so achingly good. Her nipples, always highly responsive, were even now stiffening under his touch.

Geoffrey was now moving those delightful tits in a slow circular massage, rubbing deeply, and when his hands quit her chest it was so he could better study her excited nipples. They stood out flushing dark and ripe -- seductive nipples begging for attention.

Fascinated, he plucked a nipple between thumb and forefinger, tugged on it, stretching the pliant flesh. Flare’s lashes fluttered, closed down; she arched slightly. He rolled that thickened nipple between his fingers, squeezed, and got a tiny whimper. He tightened his pinching fingers; used a nail to dig into the pliant flesh -- another whimper accompanied the stab of pain that creased her brow as her eyes clenched tight. Still holding onto the girl on her tiptoes by the stretching nipple, he pulled and twisted, as he glanced over to see his aunt was watching him intently.

The ponygirl staggered forward a step. Her head arched back, and she gave out with a full-throated, open-mouthed moan.

“Easy!” his aunt warned the increasingly excited lad. “A girl’s breasts are quite sensitive you know. While it’s true a bit of pain may be desirable on occasion, such discomforts must be judiciously applied. In time you’ll learn that the most exquisite pain has its uses in enhancing the total experience. But while our girls learn to tolerate discomfort, and even find pleasure in certain types of pain, the true connoiseur of such matters appreciates the value of timing and personal restraint. Remember that although your uncle may loan you a ponygirl as your toy from time to time, she is still a living, breathing woman who submits willingly. Cherish her!”

Geoffey wasn’t quite sure he understood all of that, but he took the cautionary words as a warning that he was to quit the ponygirl’s heaving, lightly-sweating bosom. He withdrew his hand, leaving the girl standing there with aroused nipples protruding, as he turned to his aunt, fearful that she was about to call an end to his most enjoyable “lesson.”

“Yes, best to move on, I think.” The words elated him. She looked at her nephew thoughtfully. “Go on, darling. Touch her…down there… she wants you to, you know. Do you know how you can tell when a girl wants your touch? Simply place your hand on her pussy, and if she’s wet between the legs, as this one is, well, that’s a sure sign.”

Young Geoffrey needed no further urging. His fingertips barely touched the puff of pubic hair on Flare’s mound. Her eyes flickered, but she didn’t move a muscle. Goeffrey sampled her pubic hair. His fingers passed over the softness of her vulva in a light caress and then drifted lower to slide along the slit. He gripped her, palmed her vulva, and through it all, Flare remained perfectly still; arms at her sides, body held rigid. Now the boy’s curious fingers began exploring those rubbery nether lips, and there he discovered the wetness that his aunt had predicted he would find between the ponygirl’s legs.

Aunt Ursula put a hand on his shoulder, leaned in closer. “Go on.” she urged in a low husky voice, her hot breath burning his ear, sending a shiver through him. “Fiddle around down there a bit till you find her hole, then use your finger…the middle one is best…stick it in her.”

Looking into Flare’s dark and brooding eyes, he cupped her furry sex, probed the moist folds with his middle finger, and was amazed at how quickly and easily it slipped right up into the tense ponygirl.

The pussy his finger explored was warm, incredibly hot, and wet. He moved the finger experimentally and felt the heat, the wet slickness, the silky smooth inner walls of the female vagina for the very first time. He couldn’t believe it: he had his finger up a girl’s cunt! He was wildly excited. It was heavenly!

“That right, dear. Now move your finger ….up and down.”

Flare’s eyes widened when the finger lodged inside her began to move. He poked even higher till he held the girl by the wet crotch with the finger completely buried up her cunt. Geoffrey knew what to do. He had read all about it. This was what they called “finger-fucking” -- when you stuck a finger up a girl’s pussy and jiggled it a bit.

Flare bit her lip; he worked her up with his fingers; jiggling his wrists, wriggling his probing finger. Her eyes widened and she moaned. And that little cry of passion fired his lust.

“Faster,” his aunt coached in a demanding hiss.

Driven by his own surging passion, his pumping hand speeded up. The girl wiggled excitedly, fell forward. Her hips began to rock; tiny whimpers were coming from between her tightly-pressed lips.

The lust-crazed lad finger-fucked the girl even more furiously; his wrist became a blur. Her eyes were closed and she threw back her head and collapsed against him, rubbing her naked body up along his length. Her hips were churning as she urgently ground her swollen clitoris against his plunging wrist, humping, riding the pistoning hand that was sending waves of creamy pleasure ripping through her writhing body. And in this way, the passions of Flare were unleashed by the lad, and the ponygirl rode to a thundering orgasm.

“I think we could declare your first lesson a success,” Geoffrey’s aunt dryly observed, watching Flare shudder massively, and with a long wavering moan, collapse to her knees.

The End