[FONT='Arial','sans-serif']Jack and I had lusted after each other at various work functions; I was an artsy theater type, he a natty, well-heeled philanthropist. Both of us were sexual hunters ill-suited to the confines of our unhappy marriages, and we were both open to . . . something.[/FONT]
[FONT='Arial','sans-serif']Jack made me feel good. While my husband constantly chided me to lose weight, Jack loved me for my voluptuous self. We flirted, gossiped, and in truth had already tipped into bed on various unplanned occasions. Okay, bed is a misrepresentation. We'd indulged our private passions most often in public places: abandoned nooks in hotel ballrooms, on his desk, under the stage after a performance.[/FONT]
[FONT='Arial','sans-serif']One night, early in our affair, we agreed to dinner at a friend's horse farm. In the candlelit dining room, our host regaled us with tales of horse breeding. How "teaser stallions" are deployed to arouse the mares and test their readiness for breeding, only to be substituted with fine breeding stallions at the last minute. A breeder can't risk injuring the mare during foreplay, and stallions, like most males, are always game for a little rough play with a new and willing mate.[/FONT]
[FONT='Arial','sans-serif']Amidst the whirl of wine and chatter, I felt my body tingling and heat rising on my cheeks. I excused myself and walked outside, feigning the effects of too much wine; within minutes, Jack stood next to me. He took my hand, and we walked toward the curving white fence that outlined the corrals. We climbed over it, dropping into the pasture. Jack immediately backed me up against the rails and kissed me feverishly.[/FONT]
[FONT='Arial','sans-serif']That's when the beasts began to gallop.[/FONT]
[FONT='Arial','sans-serif']Their insistent whinnying reverberated across the moist grass. As they drew closer, we felt the ground tremble. Jack pushed aside my gauzy skirt and pulled down my panties; I tugged furiously at his shirt. He slammed me against the fence. I was lost to his insistent embrace. The night had gone inky black, and I was pinioned on the fence as Jack entered me with a nearly primordial hunger. His kisses were like anesthesia; I felt numb, lost. My hair snagged on the fence, and I imagined it mingling with lost strands from the manes of fillies rubbing here in their own raptures. All the while, the stallions galloped around us, snorting wildly.[/FONT]
[FONT='Arial','sans-serif']When we were finished, we returned to the house. They all knew. We were sweat covered and sex flushed, visibly rocked. The ruckus in the pasture was abating, and I poured myself a glass of champagne before, at last, I reclined on the couch, listening to the small talk.[/FONT]
[FONT='Arial','sans-serif']Jack made me feel good. While my husband constantly chided me to lose weight, Jack loved me for my voluptuous self. We flirted, gossiped, and in truth had already tipped into bed on various unplanned occasions. Okay, bed is a misrepresentation. We'd indulged our private passions most often in public places: abandoned nooks in hotel ballrooms, on his desk, under the stage after a performance.[/FONT]
[FONT='Arial','sans-serif']One night, early in our affair, we agreed to dinner at a friend's horse farm. In the candlelit dining room, our host regaled us with tales of horse breeding. How "teaser stallions" are deployed to arouse the mares and test their readiness for breeding, only to be substituted with fine breeding stallions at the last minute. A breeder can't risk injuring the mare during foreplay, and stallions, like most males, are always game for a little rough play with a new and willing mate.[/FONT]
[FONT='Arial','sans-serif']Amidst the whirl of wine and chatter, I felt my body tingling and heat rising on my cheeks. I excused myself and walked outside, feigning the effects of too much wine; within minutes, Jack stood next to me. He took my hand, and we walked toward the curving white fence that outlined the corrals. We climbed over it, dropping into the pasture. Jack immediately backed me up against the rails and kissed me feverishly.[/FONT]
[FONT='Arial','sans-serif']That's when the beasts began to gallop.[/FONT]
[FONT='Arial','sans-serif']Their insistent whinnying reverberated across the moist grass. As they drew closer, we felt the ground tremble. Jack pushed aside my gauzy skirt and pulled down my panties; I tugged furiously at his shirt. He slammed me against the fence. I was lost to his insistent embrace. The night had gone inky black, and I was pinioned on the fence as Jack entered me with a nearly primordial hunger. His kisses were like anesthesia; I felt numb, lost. My hair snagged on the fence, and I imagined it mingling with lost strands from the manes of fillies rubbing here in their own raptures. All the while, the stallions galloped around us, snorting wildly.[/FONT]
[FONT='Arial','sans-serif']When we were finished, we returned to the house. They all knew. We were sweat covered and sex flushed, visibly rocked. The ruckus in the pasture was abating, and I poured myself a glass of champagne before, at last, I reclined on the couch, listening to the small talk.[/FONT]
