Hands-on, hands-in, handfuls, hands-down super sex!
I gave Mr Murphy his usual rub down.
He was appreciative.
I have my massage certificate and know where to rub to create the most satisfaction.
Mr Murphy was getting aroused.
And God, he was huge even without getting worked up. I definitely didn't want his arse in my face, so I was very gentle around his tender parts. I needed to stop luxuriating in my favourite boy.
I had Mr Roberts to rub down next, but he wasn't as interesting with his cut appendage.
Mr Murphy was frisky despite his heavy workload. I was admiring his roached mane and braided tail. My earlier handiwork had all stayed in place for the polo game.
The colt's shaved mane was a bit like my pussy — trimmed and eye-drawing. But while the three-year-old was the centre of attention both on and off the field, I was overlooked by the A-list guys chasing the haut monde fashionista, bitchy but gorgeously presented girls drinking champagne — on the edge of the field.
Christ's clothes are a problem when it comes to getting sex!
Why are guys drawn to the chicks in boutique designer wear?
The essential stuff is similar underneath if you ignore the mucked boots, grimy jeans, and a sweaty T-shirt.
I wasn't at my best dressed, but I had the goodies, the sweet central attraction between my legs.
I'm not up myself about my looks down there, except when my fingers are squelching deep in my happy pussy, but I really do look stunning with my legs open.
I possess these eyes drawing really long, slender lips. I look tight. I am tight, and I work my girly muscles to stay tight. I'm scared to get it up my arse because my sweet slit is so-soo tight.
God knows why these two tall guys came over to the stables.
They usually only rode the horses on these social match days and left the grooming to senior college girls like myself from the burbs who needed to pay their way in the world.
There was no silver spoon or daddy to give me a boardroom job.
"Oh, sorry," said the fair-headed one with cute brown eyes.
"I didn't realise you were still working here. I came to check on the colt, Mr Murphy."
Well, I thought, that was a first: a rider who cared about his day mount and the extra — remembered his name.
I mumbled it was okay and kept brushing down Mr Murphy, except for some reason, the colt got a hard-on and went skittish, frisky, and temperamental.
I eased out of the colt's stall.
I'd put his blanket on later.
The darker-haired guy with blue eyes had to say it: "So you have a way with males, eh? Get them excited, then back off — just a teaser."
I thought — What the fuck does this arsehole think is going to happen here; that I will suck him and his mate off in the stables.
I had work to do, and besides seriously, even if I needed sex, I frickin' wanted a modicum of respect on the side.
I took my brushes and gear down to the chestnut, Mr Robert's stall; yeah, a gelding; it crossed my mind; just what these guys needed: neutering, the cocky pricks.
"Nice arse," from the dark-haired one.
Well, I was silly enough to bend over to pick up a brush, and the truth was I had a great butt.
A waif figure, but I had all the curves in all the right places and soft indenting flesh in the right spots, too.
I ignored the quip and started on Mr Roberts. He was appreciative and never sexist.
The blonde guy was next to the stall before I knew he was there, apologising for his mate.
"Chris has had one too many winning glasses of champagne. Are you alright?"
After a pause, I hadn't responded.
He added: "You don't have to put up with it. I'll get him out of here."
But I saw the dark-haired guy leaving by the far exit already.
I stopped brushing the gelding and looked at the blonde guy.
Kind eyes. He was sincere.
"I'm used to working here alone; you guys don't usually check your day mounts after a social game."
"It's John," he said, presenting his hand, "I'm from interstate and always check my mount."
His large hand was left hanging.
Seriously, this wasn't me.
I was a working-class girl on a basic scholarship and had a job to finish.
I went back to brushing the chestnut, and I noticed John was brushing the gelding, too. Our combined efforts created a glossy, relaxed coat in next to no time.
I had my gear to clean and put away. John picked some up quietly and followed me to the trough.
We cleaned the gear and freshened up together.
I thought, what does he expect — my thanks…a blow job…the chance to finger me…or…
He turned and was leaving.
The dude didn't expect anything.
I realised he was genuine, and I wanted to give him everything.
"It's Kendra," I said loudly.
He turned, and his smile left me a smitten filly on heat.
My smile was fulsome and real in return, and my slender, elegant hand stretched out, waiting for his masculine, large shake.
I had no idea a handshake could be a weapon of seduction, but hey, I was a goner in my panties already.
His grip was sure.
I wanted his hands all over my body instantly.
It was the sheer size of his mitt, the subtle pressure, his palm warm and neither overly rough nor excessively soft, trimmed nails.
He cared about himself, but he cared beyond himself, too. I needed no more. I was sexually excited.
Releasing me, he said, "Chris really isn't a prick; once he reflects, he'll be back to apologise."
Bugger Chris.
I wanted John.
Still, I hesitated.
Did I really think a classy guy would screw me on the trough bench?
I was panty-seeping, but I wasn't going to make a fool of myself — xx and xy — left separate.
All hesitation on my part.
There are, in the end, only mutual urges.
No predetermined factors.
I wanted John in my space. John wanted to be pressed into me.
Urges became urgent.
His hands were around my face, his tongue seeking my mouth, my lips and tongue questing immediately back. It was all frickin hot raunchy kissing.
He lifted me easily onto the trough bench, and I wrapped my legs around him.
The kissing was up a notch in intensification. We were literally rooting each other's mouths. I held his face so close.
His hands were under my T-shirt. My pretty shapely breasts released expeditiously over my bra cups and my pushed-up T to greet the cool air of the stables, but only momentarily.
My nipples frippled and pebbled instantly; then they were super hard pink nubs of happiness under John's sure fingers.
Oh, fuck, my tits felt great; his hands shaping both mounds confidentially.
"Oh God," I moaned as his head went down and he sucked my nipples.
He was unreal. My teats nearly gave me an orgasm like only I thought my clitty could.
He raised my nipples in turn for a gentle suck, applying sweet intense pressure and then a repeated circular motion. Finally, he pucker vacuum sucked my little cherries to a girly stiffness. He knew how to intensify the sensation as my need built.
I could have left him there all afternoon, except my pussy was begging for attention.
John knew when to move on down.
He assisted me to squirm out of my tight jeans; though he was careful to leave my panties in place; my light pink knickers; with a blotchy wet patch where my labia was sticking; my twin curved heavenly fleshy bits and my alluring slit; all hinted at.
He licked my cunny lips through my panties.
I was jiggling my thighs, experiencing an unexpected pleasure, when John suddenly tugged my panties upward, pulling the fabric into my slit but exposing slivers of pleated skin on each side.
His tongue now drew my girly lips out in turn before he pushed my sodden underwear to one side and squelched a finger in my tight hole.
I knew he could feel the petite space as I knew it, and I suspected it was extra cock stiffening instantly.
He had to work a second finger in.
I knew why; to confirm my tightness. God, I wanted his cock in me already.
"Wow, baby, you are tight! I mean super-tight!"
John knew my desire from my intense moans.
"Ugh! Ugh!" my reply.
He groaned, "I can't wait to explore more!" — I knew he was intrigued by my tightness.
He had me off the bench, but only to greet his cock.
Mmm; was I a happy girl.
I initiated crazy pecker-sucking.
Then I nearly fuckin gagged on his pole and scarcely caught my breath as I yelped a loud: —"Aw shit."
Another tongue was nuzzling hard between my butt cheeks, licking my arsehole.
I realised it was that —arsehole — Chris, but if this was his apology, it was top-class.
He caught a breath and said: "I came to apologise."
"Well, keep apologising with your tongue," I said, getting back to the cock in front of me.
Oh, I had the bad girl moment, but it only led me to the filthy woman deeper in me.
I knew my butt was getting it for the first time today.
I was sucking off cock, and a tongue was prodding into my arse crack at the same time. My balloon knot was being snogged, then poked and probed by a confident tongue.
John was ready for one of my holes; fuck knows where Chris was going to put his pecker.
I was clearly out of nice girl territory.
Then the three of us all had that — but surely a double penetration isn't happening here moment — as I said:
"Oh, don't go limp on me; the pair of you, find a slot; fill me up."
Was I thinking of my pussy and mouth, or was I hopeful they would expand in tandem, my two closer holes?
As confident as they had been, this was unexpected.
I could tell it was unplanned.
They were momentarily unsure.
There was no way I knew; they had ever done the dirty double as a duo. Still, I could tell their cocks were in for a unique experience.
Wow, talk about going for a ride.
Riding a filly, this was no demure side saddle spooning.
It was instantly raw.
This was my double moment, and it was entirely bareback.
There was a need for each of the boys' cocks to be the centre of the world. Their two cocks were the usual variations of the male organ, though I have to add; both were pretty impressive appendages, gorgeous cocks in the instance, both wanting me; as they fully stripped off.
Oh, hell, I wanted to suck them both.
It was a tight, interesting squeeze in my mouth, but I gave it a go, like sampling both entrées in a restaurant simultaneously. It was actually ridiculous but sensational, building the taste buds before indulging in a double main course.
It was my mouth's two cock moment. There is something about it. A brief, compelling flash of naughtiness, then my mouth full of cock.
The two guys focused on the strange scene.
A dick's need to fill luscious ready young expectant lips. A mouth needs the shaping male defining stiff flesh fully in your gob, but this was like sneaking an extra warm cookie and indulging in competitive eating.
Just how much could I cram and stuff in my gob at once.
Amazingly too much.
My lips encircled dual entertainment. Then, my tongue licked around two sets of close balls.
Wow — crossed internally through my mind — cock — gorgeous dick —not one — a pair.
I was so excited.
My cheeks nearly burst on both sides of my face.
My head was then bobbing and swaying in the girly pleasure zone; meeting, as it were, literally; cock head-on; face to genitals with what is, in reality, a cock's third home.
A lot of building satisfaction both ways.
God, I loved to suck cock, and I had two.
Man, these guys had their cocks being sucked at the forefront of their minds. Erect hard dicks at the forefront of their bodies, too, but it was time to divide them, even if it meant splitting myself apart.
I had a moment of quivering anal trepidation.
They both wanted to explore my body first, like saying thank you in advance or grace before a meal.
I was their feast.
John threw some horse blankets on the stable floor
We were kneeling, pressed together, then bodies rolling, bodies exploring.
My clit gets excited quickly by myself. However, two guys pawing over my body had me demanding an extra helping of satisfaction for my body very speedily.
The lad's fingers were rubbing around my slippery juicy cunt hole, fingers were pressing into my widening arse crack. Hands were groping my buttocks, fingers were sweeping over my nipples, and hands were circling my breast shape. Fingers were digging into my thighs and opening and squeezing my buttocks together. Fingers were everywhere doing their awesome touchy stuff.
Hands were pressing into my arse cheeks; hands were shaping all of me, fingers delving into all my orifices. My mouth stretched, my pussy squelchy finger stuffed, my petite arsehole was drawn open, wider, still tight, but wider and like my pussy so expectant.
There were my tenterhooks of anticipation; cock was nuzzling into me, but not one cock.
I was into cock replication; doubling up; raising the stakes for myself and two guys: the absolute I win, they win.
Sometimes, we are unsure where we fit in the world and our place in the scheme of things.
No such thoughts when you are getting double dicked; the place was fine, and the dual fit was perfect for me.
My arse spread by Chris below me, then prodding in.
John gaping my pussy from above me, then sinking in deep.
Yeah, I was the flesh in the male sandwich.
"Orrgh, yeah! Ooh, yeah! Oof, yeah! Raah! Raah! Aahh! Aahh!"
I was given the express route to a full coupled impaling. Boy, I got it fast. It was never going to be polite, gentlemanly or remotely ladylike; the word modest left my body too, but I took on an intense, concentrated pleasure at an accelerated phenomenal rate.
The corporeal quintessential experience magnified: my flesh dominated me. I loved my flesh and craved both guys together, and yet my flesh demanded more because it was beyond good.
It was equally way beyond the pale, yet it was so divine; all pleasure encased; all pleasure hemmed in my burgeoning cock filled holes.
My body felt like it had two massive keys turning it in, deep in my tight flesh.
I surrendered to the pleasure surge, my primal atavistic sex pulsations, my most profound cavernous voracious delights, expressed as:
"Oh fuck…Orrgh…Yeah…Yeah…Fuck…Fuck…Oh God…Oh my…Oh me…. Ahh…Ahh…Aah!"
Yeah — not debutante speak — but DP debutante body language.
It was all continual binary frictional mayhem, a sundering my senses through the hewing of my butt cheeks, two close cocks making me aware of my perineum.
Its delicate stretched membrane of skin pushed between two peckers, detaching two pleasure centres yet combining them.
Two peckers making my body whole.
I sensed my complete dominating sexual being: this is me; this is three, surely not as nature intended, but it was human; the need to know; me discovering me.
"Oh God…Oh My…Yes…Yes…Orrgh…Oohh…Oohh," I exclaimed.
They double-rutted into me, probing beyond the probe of my twin pleasure centres, bearing their cocks into my two available closely spaced grooves of flesh.
It was a complete arse and coochie subjugation to cock.
Cock was calling the shots.
I accepted their pushing stiff gifts.
Nothing may ever bring me through this opportunity again.
Not even deliberately planning.
Ah, the nature of the spontaneous; in the raunchy instance, in a frickin polo stable, unmeasurable self-happiness.
I know the guys were having a great time with me, too: spontaneous groans of male satisfaction reverberated through the stalls.
"Orrgh! Hngh!" from one.
"Arrgh! Arragh!" from the other.
The pressure was sensational in both my sensitive, needy cavities. My covetous love hole, my dirty, needy crack.
Before, I lost all thinking in bodily taking, bodily frictional function and primal me. I embraced the unbearable sweetness of too much cock, compelling body dominance.
God knows where I was. I was my body; my body was me. I was held in definition by two cocks in expansive mind-blowing sex.
I was bareback raw, split, stuffed, shafted and shared.
The pleasure-welling feeling became specific, very core moi, very localised in a sense but way more, too. It was me in the present, the only moment we actually control and direct.
It was mine.
I chose it, and my body rewarded me, and what a reward.
"Ooh-OOh- Auughh!"
Bodily deep buried treasure exposed; in my coochie and arse; like a double pirate treasure find; XX marks the spots alright.
An orgasm centred in my clit; while my G spot joined the party and my arsehole spasmed, contributing to my — WOW — blur.
My mind was a haze, truly confounded, and over the moon in my euphoric high. I was caught in the dual heaviness and lightness of sex, the heady euphoric fly with the angel's moment combined with a sweaty body density.
A double whammy of cock intensity beyond any girl's actual sexual need, yet it was mine.
A natural psychedelic hit of bliss roller-coaster through my body.
I did what any girl can do after the max.
I enjoyed my body and let the guy's sperm splash my face and tits.
Luckily, I had the trough; my body was a wet pearl trail.
I had been so beasty-boy engaged in the act, but the guys were now so politely, quietly, considerate and checked that I was okay.
From Chris; "Are you okay?"
From John; "Kendra?"— like I was elsewhere or concussed or in shock?
I was probably in the body buffeted zone, but I said, "Geez, guys, I'm more than okay. I'm rapt, and you should be, too; I have no regrets."
I planted a cheek kiss on John and then Chris.
It was over.
This wasn't going anywhere.
It had nowhere to go.
These heights were unassailable again for the present combination.
Such is the transitory nature of sex and mine and the guy's actions.
Still, the following flitted through my mind: I questioned my integrity. Whose values were making me consider shame?
It may even be that many see me as a slut whore.
Well, I didn't.
Though usually held in private, I suspected there were quite a few DP girls out there like me and a fair few guys whose cocks got too close to each other in the DP excitement.
We can only judge ourselves in consensual sex.
I wanted it. I had to know. It's human nature to know.
Curious, I wondered how many humans have experienced DP as a straightforward factual question.
I stopped; it made life clinical.
My experience wasn't that.
But what the knowing meant made me more uncertain. Was I any more human for the experience or any less?
No, I suspect I remained me and only what I do next in sex, yet I held to some meaning.
This was me in sex; this is me as I go again into sex very soon. I will take this with me always into sex now.
The distilled memory as I dressed: three bodies intent on pleasure simultaneously, joined in the pursuit, then focussed on the gratification, culminating in the escalating release — sex like a pressure valve that has to give.
Oh, my body gave, and so did the guys.
I could tell; they could tell my growing pleasure, and they gave more for it.
A Trio of absolute bodily elucidation, triple sexual clarification of being; for all of us beyond frickin good — beyond body-defining.
I'd have more of this one day; that surprised me.
I've just had great sex, amazing double sex.
I'm winding down inside myself. My orgasm was in flux, wending its retreat.
I was left with a sense of total well-being.
Still, I'm already thinking of more…my mind…my body…my core being —insatiable.
The guys both gave me a final wave from the stable doors — I had Mr Murphy to blanket.