We were out together, that late spring morning - she and I - lazily riding across the long grassland. Here the age-old, green road skirted the lower reaches of the escarpment. In a little while, it would wend its way gently upwards.

Those ancients, the ones from several thousand years ago, knew a thing or two when they trekked this way and drove their animals before them. The old Drovers Way, the path we trod so lightly, was well-worn, making its way towards the next small river ford where they would have watered their stock and maybe stopped for the night.  Now we used its gentle, peaceful way for the pleasure of our day's riding.

My reveries and musings, half daydreaming of long ago were shattered by the cry of my companion, “Race ya!” And she was gone - hooves thundering, raising the dust from the dryish soil below the blades of grass. I laughed as I spurred my eager horse on, lying along its neck, half standing in my stirrups as we took off in pursuit. The few seconds she had gained by springing the surprise on me gave her twenty, maybe thirty yards head start, but my pony, a hand or so taller, was not going to be beaten and we slowly began to overhaul them.

The river and the trees at its edge drew quickly closer as we levelled with them. Neck and neck we raced and then slowly I edged ahead, my thighs feeling the powerful muscles flexing as I gripped tightly with my knees just, only just, in control of my excited animal’s exertions.  We careered up to the river bank, just in the lead. By now I was worried about our ability to stop. In the end, it really didn’t matter, my lovely horse simply swerved at the very last moment, leaving me to describe a gentle parabola into ten feet of water!

Let’s just say it was cold and leave it at that. It took my breath away though and as I surfaced I was coughing and spluttering trying to get it back. The loser had managed to reign her mount in and stop in time, no need to catch my dear ‘animal,’ she was tasting the lush grass a few yards further down the bank. Once my companion had decided that I was not in imminent danger her concern gave way to laughter.

“Only just managed to avoid joining you myself,” was the comment as I swam to the edge. “At least the picnic didn’t join you - shall we have it here?”  The last as I was now wading out at the lowest part of the bank, part of the ford where the water was quite shallow.

“Suppose so,” I grunted, still winded a bit, “I’ll need to try and dry out a bit anyway - I don’t have a change of clothing, hadn’t really thought of swimming like that.”

I sat down and tried to remove a riding boot without much success. She dismounted and ambled across, still giggling, “Hang on - I’ll give you a hand.”

I extended my booted leg and she swung over it so that she faced away as she held it high between her legs and pulled. It came off with a dull ‘plop’ followed by quite a lot of water.

“Ugh!” was her comment, “that’s going to be a delight to wear later.”

The other one was removed in the same way.

“Come on,” she said, quite matter-of-factly, “clothes off, they’ll dry in the sun if we spread them over the bushes.” Then, seeing the look on my face, “Oh God, come on - I’ve seen a naked man before - you’ve not got anything that the others haven’t got, have you?” She giggled again at the thought.

So I mentally shrugged and undressed and was only mildly surprised that my shrivelled wedding tackle, the water was cold, right, hadn’t decided to climb high enough inside to form bumps on the back of my neck. While still trying to maintain a veneer of decorum she glanced at what I might term my predicament - and couldn’t contain her mirth. She collapsed in a heap of giggles totally oblivious to my feelings.

“Thanks a bundle!” I said resisting the temptation to pick her up and go wading.

I walked over to my pony, undid the saddlebags and carried them back across to where she was sitting, perhaps a little more contritely than before. The sun was warmer now, in the late morning, so I took the bottle of wine to the edge and put into the clear water to chill a bit.

I went back to my horse, still grazing quite unconcerned, and took her saddle off to give her a bit of a break from it. As an aside, it also gave me the saddle blanket to use, smelly though it was, as something to sit on.  After a short while, grass begins to leave an impression on naked flesh.

As I walked back she commented, “At least you’re returning to a more normal size as you warm up.”

I chuckled and replied something to the effect that she shouldn’t be peeking.

“Well, I can’t bloody miss your dangly bits the way you’re wandering around starkers,” was the reply.

I ignored the comment, sat down and started to lay out the picnic.

“Overdressed persons will only get half rations,” I said, half seriously.

She looked serious for a moment, unsure as to my tone of voice, then said, “But I’m a good girl…” then giggled again as I interrupted to tell her she’d be better and actually get some wine and probably be more comfortable into the bargain, if she at least took her hacking jacket off.

So she hummed the stripper and took it off, sensuously, or at least as sensuously as you can take a riding jacket off whilst wearing tight jodhpurs and tighter boots.  I clapped gently as I wandered over to retrieve the bottle of wine.  She sat down on her jacket as I drew the cork. Having poured myself a glass I looked up and said: “That’s good, but not far enough for a glass of wine yet.”  I got a pout for my comment. I put my glass down, “or perhaps you’d like to work up an appetite with a pre-lunch swim?”

“You wouldn’t...”

I grinned what I hoped was an evil grin.

“You bloody would!”

She stood up again, then fell over trying to get a boot off.

“My turn,” and I turned my back to her as she held the boot up. Like her I put it between my legs to get a grip on it, she wiggled it gently against, as she had put it earlier, ‘my dangly bits.’ I tried to ignore her and pulled the boot off. Then we did the other one. I placed it down by the first, “jodhpurs?”

“Suppose so.”

She eased the elasticised waistband over her hips and I pulled them off gently as she wiggled them off her rear.

Suddenly the atmosphere was a little tenser as I realised why there was no panty line, it wasn’t a thong. There were no panties. Now she affected nonchalance as she got up and took her sweater off.  There wasn’t a bra either.

“Satisfied?”  She did a twirl, slowly.

I took a sip of wine, put my glass down and poured one for her.

“You must admit you were just a smidgen overdressed.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t wet.”

“We can still rectify that.”

I offered my hand and she held it as we walked to the water’s edge - out of the corner of my eye I noted that both ponies had stopped eating and were watching us - she caught my glance and followed it then giggled again at the sight of them both looking. Knowing the water was deep on the inside of the slight bend, after all, I had fallen into it, I pulled her into a gentle run and we jumped in. Now it was cold again, but this time as the consequence of deliberate action, pleasant and refreshing.  

We laughed as we surfaced and swam towards the gravelly shallows.  I caught up and tickled her and she spluttered as the water went up her nose. I put my arm around her waist as I stood, even in the cold I was at half-staff. “Men!” was the only comment, but as she stood up she still turned and waited to be kissed.

The kiss grew on us both, taking us by surprise in its sneaky passion.  We recoiled, both a little startled by the ardour we seemed to have kindled, then, almost at the same time it appeared that an inner voice said, ‘Oh what the hell,’ and we moved closer and kissed again. A little while later, we broke for breath, she rested her head on my shoulder and almost absentmindedly remarked that the water was cold. We waded back to the bank, out of the shade into the warmth of the sun. She shook her head to loosen the moisture in her hair, then combed it back out of her eyes with her hand.

I held my hands out and she came closer to me again, holding me to her, feeling me grow as a measure of the pleasure I felt from her close presence. She hugged me too her and leaning back just a fraction kissed me again, her hands rubbing the fine hair in the small of my back as I rested my hands on the swell of her bottom and pulled her gently against me. She broke the kiss and then moved down and kissed my still wet chest, nibbling one nipple as she gently teased the other with her fingernails.  

She moaned gently in her kiss as she felt me twitch against her centre. As she slid down to her knees she reached the object of her desire and took the purple tip into her mouth. The feelings were exquisite and brought a sharp intake of breath from me in my delight at the work her lips and tongue were doing.  All too soon I made her stop, I was too close to my climax and wanted to take more time in what we were about.

Now it was my turn to kiss her again and she laid back on the grass as I did so, the swell of her breasts flattening as she lay there - I sucked on a nipple, already prominent, and then listened to her gasp as I pulled it gently with my teeth. I kissed on down to her wiry dark thatch, parting it with my tongue to taste her sweet moisture, gathering in beads at her opening. As I moved around between her legs she lifted her knees up and then put her bare feet on my shoulders to open herself totally to me.

I took a second or two to take in the beauty of the sight, her fur, now spread wide open to show me the coral pinkness and source of the gentle muskiness now quite apparent to my nose. I waited no longer but kissed from the inside of her knee drawn down to her openness - the heady taste was desire itself. Her moans and wriggles reward enough, but the taste and smell making me harder yet again until I could wait no longer.  

I rubbed the tip of my penis in the wetness of her centre and then slowly eased into her, feeling her heat drawing me relentlessly in. We stayed that way, savouring the moment until she flexed back a little under me and I, in turn, moved to almost slip right out of her. Then we moved together, thrusting and gazing into each other’s eyes as the pleasure and wonderful feelings took over. We stopped to let the plateau stabilise for a second then, by mutual understanding started with redoubled vigour each determined to ride out the second race of the day to a dead-heat.

I think I came first, but if I did, it was only by a short head as I half collapsed on top of her.

She hugged me to her as I shrivelled and slipped from her. Rolling back on to my side, facing her and kissed her again. Silently we lay back in the sunshine, half dozing, basking in the afterglow.

A little later she got up and wandered back into the shallows and washed our juices off.  I joined her and did the same. We used the old blanket to dry us after a fashion and then dressed - each still a little lost in the thoughts of the moment.

The picnic was almost subdued, but a further pleasure nevertheless, as we drank and ate our fill.

My pony waited patiently as I put the blanket back over her back and then rigged the saddle again, trying to breathe out as usual as I cinched it tight. I tied my saddle bags back into place and then legged her up onto her mount, before climbing, a little stiffly, onto mine.  We stopped and looked for a moment back over the scene, the ruffled grass the only mark of our moment of sweet passion. I moved over to her, and we leaned briefly together and shared a gentle kiss, out ponies waiting patiently for us.

Then we moved off into a gentle canter, heading home on that quiet summery afternoon, the pleasures of the day already such sweet memories.

Fin

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