[M] Second (1/1)

What makes Jennie happy?Horses.But what makes Jennie really happy?Horseback riding. It was the sensation. The pleasurable feeling between my legs. Each time I rose and fell into the saddle, it was like as though someone was rubbing and patting the most sensitive part of my body. I set off at a gallop and I almost moaned out loud. My face was flushed when I dismounted the horse who unknowingly just became my expensive sex toy. Sometimes I wondered whether I was the only one who felt this way whenever riding horses.  But plain horseback riding wasn’t enough. I would get down of the dumb beast and I would immediately feel emptiness. The rush and the adrenaline gone. What completes Jennie? Gosh, no thing will ever complete me. What a silly question! You could bring me to Hawaii in a magic carpet ride and I would tell you to fuck yourself. It was a question of who and how. Who completes Jennie? That’s fucking easy. You should already know that about me. No? I already pointed out the correct questions for you.…really?Yes, I just rolled my eyes at you. Who completes me? Um, Irene? Duh? How? Imagine this: Irene and I would take off our clothes. Nothing gets left behind, alright? Then we would mount this large dark stallion. The saddle would be warm and both of us would be fitted closely to each other – there would be little to no space. Skin to motherfucking skin. You’re getting the picture? Good job. Irene would be behind me, putting her arms around my breasts and would greedily kiss my shoulder. God, we would ride more in that position while the saddle would rub in our genitals each time the horse moves. Irene would bite my shoulder and I would lean in closer to her, feeling every part of her body.And who knows? Maybe after the erotic riding, Irene would be too aroused and I would whip her on her opening until she comes. Who knows? Or she could treat me like a horse. I would be the bottom just for Irene. I would wake up and she would be sitting astride me, pushing me down, urging me to swing the bed in motion of my body. Fuck, I wouldn’t mind it all. Our slender legs tangling and skirts flying upwards. She could kiss me, pull at my hair and give me herpes. I don’t give a damn. We could do a little play, where she shouldn’t fall off me. I would try to push her off me just so Irene would hold on to the covers. Yet in reality I would just be pushing her up, close to me, to her legs, to her panties, everything, rubbing against me in her effort not to slide off. Then she would come stronger than ever before to even the game, then I could move even wilder with the weight of her. I could rise over and over again between her legs, then I would come. And I would surrender. Irene wouldn’t even know the manner of how she’d won. Thank fucking god we cannot make a baby.We can fuck senselessly and endlessly and come into each other, no condoms or pills or fear or slumping against bathroom counters holding that stupid white stick for inspection.That god we cannot make a baby. But Jennie, you are well aware that those fantasies of yours will never happen, right? That they are, just that: fantasies? Well, you’re well aware that I wasn’t joking when I told you about the horses, aren’t ya? If I can get off in a horse, I don’t see any reasons why not in Irene.I know it won’t be long until these desires of mine will happen. I would do it. Again and again, until I hear that voice, the desperate sound like mantra, even as she smiles. Even as she moans and mind flits into nothingness. I could last a whole night of it.