Horsing Around – Yay or Neigh?

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Fiction – Part 3

Since my experience of playing good-cop for Alex’s client, I decided to launch my own platform upon which to I can meet clients of my own. Consequently, my work has launched me into a wealth of bizarre and brilliant experiences. Many of which I could only have imagined in my years prior to entering the world of rented companionship. My new clients often ask me, as they explore the limits of my services – “what has been the most curious request a client has made from you?” 

I avoid questions like this, quickly turning the focus of the session back to fulfilling the desires of the client at hand, but it does get me to thinking – what would I consider to be the most extravagant experience in my time in sex work? Immediately I am taken back to a moodily lit room with emerald green walls, dark wooden floorboards and an overwhelming collection of equestrian related taxidermy.  

I had liaised with the client (whom I will rename Gerry in the interest of protecting his identity) prior to our meeting that night. Gerry had explained that, since the breakdown of a recent relationship, he had been engaging in mental fantasies of ‘horsing around’ with another man. In hindsight, I don’t believe that this was an accurate or adequate description of the experience he wanted.  

The ground beneath my tires crunched and crackled like a steel toe-cap boot treading on broken glass as I drove from smooth, main road onto a graveled drive-way that lead to an old country manner. I drove toward the house, pulling up but a few meters from the door, following suit of the muddy Land Rover Discovery parked next to me. From the front door hung a rusted brass fox-shaped door knocker. There were but moments between me lifting my hand to knock the fox, and the door opening – I assume the sound of gravel rendered the knock moot.  

Pleasantries exchanged, formal introductions made, refreshments offered, refreshments declined, I followed Gerry to a staircase that led us deep into the foundations of the manner. I was partially expectant to enter a room made from stone, lined with medieval devices of torture. In comparison to my expectations, the barn-themed colour scheme, equestrian memorabilia and stuffed horse-heads was a relief – what it should have been, was a clue of what was to come.  

Gerry enthusiastically presented his collection of vintage horse shoes to me, each shoe was rustier than the next. Eventually I was able to catch his gaze. I slowly started to unbutton my shirt – I wanted to see the excitement light up in his eyes as he watched me get undressed before I tended to his requests. I was half way down my chest when he broke my gaze and walked away from me. Puzzled, I watched his movements – my shirt move usually works a treat. He made his way awkwardly to a dark corner of the room, he leaned over to pick something up. I wondered – Why is he stalling? What is he showing me now?  

Gerry lifted something from the floor and turned around to present me with a large, worn, leather riding saddle. My inner dialogue thought, “wow this guy really likes horses, interesting competition”.  

“I want you to put this on” he muttered softly.  

I looked at him for a moment, before realising that he wasn’t joking. “Like, on my back?” I asked, my voiced laced with confusion. 

“Get on all fours and I’ll put it on you, I want to ride you like a good little pony.” he responded. 

Now, I’ll try anything once. I must say I had always considered myself more of a stallion than a ‘good little pony’. But I obliged. I took off the rest of my clothes before lowering myself to the ground. I kneeled and leaned forward until I was on my hands and knees. I felt the cold of the leather saddle being lowered onto my back; it sent an unfamiliar shiver up my spine. The cold pushed deep into my spine, as he straddled me, I felt the weight of him move back and forth.

His breathing got heavier and heavier, as he moved faster and faster, I could hear the unmistakable repetitive squelch of him pleasuring himself as he rode my back. Finally, I felt the saddle jolt, and heard a deep, pleasure filled sigh.  

When he removed the saddle, I turned around to see him stood up, walking to the same corner of the room from which he retrieved the saddle. There was a long tail of horse-like hair was dangling from his rectum – he had inserted a tail-style butt-plug into himself, and now he wanted to fuck me whilst I neighed in pleasure. He came back with a riding crop, a lasso and a set of reins. He put the reins round my neck, to my delight, avoiding my mouth. He held them in one hand, and a crop in the other. He raised the crop into the air. 

“Woooah there, cowboy” I said, before he got a change to lower the whip to my back with force. We exchanged a glance, I nodded in submissiveness. It seems he knew exactly what he wanted. I had expected to come and guide him through his first sexual experience with a male, but he was taking the reins – literally.  

He entered me slowly from behind as he tapped my back playfully with his whip. He rode me as he exclaimed “Good pony!” between pleasure driven pants. His screams got louder and louder the more I neighed. When he finished, and his time was up, we shook hands and went on our merry way. I still think about him sometimes when I’m driving through the countryside and I see a horse grazing a field.  

The moral of the story to both escorts and clients – do not mince one’s words. If I’d have known what ‘Horsing Around’ really meant, I’d have brought my lasso.