Letting Go of the Reins (L)

Comments in response to “Playing with Matches” (Feb.  26, 2024) motivated me to add at least one more story about Roger, his fiancé Barbara, and his friends Al and Al’s wife Jen.

Roger had had a two-year relationship with Jen and Al before any of them met Barb.  Both being introverts, Rog and Al became quiet friends, sharing a love of naval warfare history, James Bond movies, and off the wall humor.  Jen’s loud, boisterous personality initially put him on edge.  Their shared interest in horses and her home cooked meals dampened the noise, enabling Roger to discover a caring and loving woman.

He didn’t consider himself as Al’s rival, yet saw a caution sign or two popping up.  Paying heed to them, he erected some personal guardrails.  Along with his respect for Al and his marriage, they protected him from swerving into any ditches in his relationship with her.  He saw a love between them that he wished to emulate.  Surely, if Al and Jen could love each other in spite of the disparity of their personalities, he and Barb ought to be able to have a successful marriage.

Jen and Al graciously offered the use of their lake front cabin for our wedding night.  It was off the beaten trail and off the grid.  Lighting was the sun, the moon, a flashlight, or a candle.  When we arrived, Barb insisted that I was to remain in the living room while she prepared herself.  She called out, “Is my stallion ready?”

My heart thrilled when the preacher had announced we were husband and wife.  His words couldn’t hold a candle to Barb’s lust-filled whisper of  “Come and fuck your mare.”  I found my way to the bed in the darkness.  My hand bumped up against her torso and slid upwards, anxious to find her breasts.  Having gotten my bearings, I lowered my head to seek out her lips.

“Rog, I appreciate your preparation of our honeymoon bedroom.  The flowers, the candles, they’re lovely.  And we’ll enjoy the candle light as we make love, but not tonight.  I know you want to see me.  You want my naked body to please your eyes, to behold the wonder of my breasts.  I want to rouse your cock as your eyes grope at them, to strengthen your manhood when I spread my legs.  You want to lust at the naked beauty of my womanhood.  And we will do all that, in the soft light of morning’s dawn.  For now, bask in the dawn of sharing our bodies.”

Her hand found my erection and gently guided it.  “No need for foreplay.  I’ve already pleasured myself, in preparation of giving that same pleasure to you.  It’s the last time of waiting, of anticipating, of imagining.  Tonight, I will – know – the joy that you are about to pour into me.”

In the darkness, an aroma wafted upwards to my nostrils, an aroma that confirmed the graphic, unseen, invitation of legs spread wide and high.  The doors to the garden were smooth. Wet. Open. Soft, feminine fingers, not the harshness of my own, gently stroked and confidently guided my eagerness.

“Get this thing in me. My heart is bursting with the joy of being your wife. Now I have the privilege of bestowing my joy upon you.”

Moonlight, at times softened by the clouds, dodged the leaves of the trees outside the bedroom window and stole across the room, fearful of disturbing the sleeping woman who moments ago knew a man for the first time.  I followed the dancing light patterns as they swept across her legs, her abdomen, her rising and falling breasts, and my dried semen on their nipples.  I was torn between the desire to let her continue her slumber and the desire to mount her again.  Punching up my pillow, I reluctantly rolled away, and let my mind wander over the events that brought us together.

All because of a ‘wardrobe malfunction.’

I unintentionally exposed myself to Barbara and the two others while climbing out of a boat.  They turned away to extend privacy while I took care of things.  Several nights later, in a wet dream, Barbara didn’t turn away.  She had no wardrobe to malfunction.  One hand covered her mouth.  The other, well, I wasn’t the only horny person that afternoon.

After Barb told her about the incident, Jen worked on coming up with a plan.  She and Al insisted I join them on a cruise.  They invited Barbara as well.  Initially I balked.  I hadn’t thought of Barb in a long time, but Jen’s invitation revived the dream. I handed the reins to Jen.  Jen sent a note to me the night before our departure. She sent the same note to Barbara.

“We know each other well enough for me to say this.  I’ve been a friend to both of you.  You have both sought me out on separate occasions during your dark times of heartbreak.”

“Barbara, I’ve told Roger you’ve had a crush on him in the past.  Roger, I know you’re apprehensive about me taking your and Barbara’s reins and leading you to the wedding chapel.  This is all my doing, not Barbara’s.”

“You are both in your early thirties and mature enough to make decisions about marriage without a prolonged dating or courtship period.  I strongly encourage the two of you to spend time together this weekend, away from the everyday distractions of life.  Explore the possibility of marriage, to each other.

Don’t ask, ‘Should we do this?’ Instead, ask, ‘Is there any reason we shouldn’t do this?’ Don’t ask whether you’re falling in love with each other. Roger, purpose in your heart to love Barbara and take her as your mare.  Barbara, purpose to stand before him and take him as your stallion.”

The four of us rode together to the cruise’s departure port.  I drove.  In my rear-view mirror, I saw something flying through the air.  Jen’s panties landed in Barb’s lap.  She, in the front seat next to me, wore a pair of tight-fitting shorts.  At stop lights, I openly glanced at what was behind the thin fabric of her T-shirt.  I imagined what might be rubbing against her shorts.  At one stop, she placed a hand on my knee.  She leaned over to whisper, “I wouldn’t mind taking care of that.”  Fortunately, she was all talk and no action.

I proposed to Barb the first afternoon we were on board and she agreed to marry me.  After dinner that evening, we were dancing in the ship’s ballroom.  Barb opened the top of her dress.  That, and a few discrete nudges from her knee between my legs was all it took.  She smiled sweetly, knowing she had accomplished her goal.  Later, making out up on the ship’s deck, she petted me to another ejaculation and slid her hand down into my shorts to swim in the cum.  She told me to pull her panties off and fill them with cum when I got back to my room.  I couldn’t believe she was telling me to masturbate or that she had a dildo for her sessions.  We returned home and to preparations for our wedding.

One afternoon, while working with her mare, I mentioned to Jen, “I didn’t know a girl could get so horny.”  I explained what had happened on the cruise.

“First, let me assure you it’s normal to be horny.  And, if she’s like me and you haven’t played with her tits yet, she’s wondering what’s wrong.  Of course, you may think you should wait for this and other things until you’re married.  You need to discuss it with her, not me.”

“You’re right.  Why does all this have to be so hard?  We agree we are not going to have sex until our wedding night.  We both know the other masturbates.  I so much want for us to masturbate each other, instead of waiting until I get home to my own bed.”

Sunlight had replaced the moonlight.  She sat on her knees, between my legs.  Well-practiced fingers sought out their first experience with morning wood.  Noticing the pre-cum pooling at the end of my wood, she stopped.

“This time it will be my cunt, not my fingers, doing the job.”

She rose up and hung her breasts above my face.  Lingering long enough for me to say good morning to each nipple, she then leaned back, inviting me to separate her labia with my fingers.

“I promised I would let you look at me at dawn.”

Examining my mare carefully, I was anxious to not miss anything needing particular attention. I groomed her well before mounting.  I rode her hard.  Careful to not put her away wet, I walked her to the kitchen and leisurely prepared breakfast and groomed her some more.

After leading her back to the stable, I served her a drink. Shaken. And stirred. But not dry.