Chapter 9

Before this chapter starts, a few words of warning. My life changed because I read a story, ‘The Belly Riders’, written by Jillian and Pomponio Magnus. If you are not familiar with that story you are probably going to get confused by the upcoming references to it. If you read it later, don’t blame me for any spoilers these chapters might contain. And once again, whilst this is a true story, it is not intended as a ‘how to’ manual, if you want to try this at home, don’t. Unless you take the time to learn and have help, your first time will probably be your last.

On that Friday evening now so long ago the story gripped me both for its subject and the images it evoked, more than that it caught my imagination just as deeply as the heat that grew deep between my thighs. A girl suspended beneath a stallion and deeply impaled upon his cock, it’s just not possible, is it... ??

You probably think I’m weird, not so much for reading the story over and over, but because the mechanics of the act enthralled me, I just couldn’t get the images out of my head, I still can’t. However, the story, at least to my mind, includes actions and descriptions that are simply not credible. Not that I wish to denigrate either the authors or their story in any way, but any attempt to actually do as they describe must allow for what is real, or possible, and what is fake, or ‘poetic license’ upon the part of the authors. Besides which the story was written almost thirty years ago so the chance of finding out exactly how much of a true story it told is probably long gone.

Added to those issues is the almost total lack of verifiable information upon which one might depend when attempting to belly ride. By the time Spirit was four years old I had years of experience with my pseudo stallion, the building and use of which had taught me a great deal as it was in every respect as close to real as possible without involving an actual horse. Before that and ever since I have worked to stretch and more importantly, deepen myself so as to take a horse cock. As you have read, I have been able to ride almost daily for the last four years and before that was trained over a summer spent working in the Camargue, on top of that I had spent four years training Spirit, working with him, building a bond that allowed the two of us to communicate with ease, at least to a point. None of that mattered the day I first set out to live my dream.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

From the minute he was born I have handled Spirit, stroking, patting, rubbing, scratching, talking softly, scolding when he got to rough or ignored a command, little by little as we built our bond, we forged a language of sorts, a way to communicate with each other. For it to work it has to be a two way street, I had to pay attention to what he wanted just as much as I required he pay attention to me. Grooming is the perfect way to get to know a horse, Spirit loves the attention and is used to my handling him, touching him anywhere and everywhere, washing, brushing, and of course moving him around or having him stand perfectly still. In short I took great pains to achieve a level of trust between us far beyond a casual riders ability. Not because I’m better, or more skilled, but because I had the time and the dedication to commit to it. Pure and simple.

That summer was hot so we decided it was time to take Spirit to the lake, Laura rode Lady as usual whilst Deke had Thief, yes Deke still hobbled a bit, mostly when tired, but by then he was riding again. He even claimed Thief was a reformed character, though like the rest of us he never left anything loose within the Stallion’s reach, lest it be stolen, chewed and dropped. Laura lost her phone that way the day Thief and Lady arrived.

The lake was wonderfully cool and Spirit loved it, though hesitant to go out too deep he soon followed Lady and a naked Laura out far enough to swim. Deke slipped off Thief’s tack and let him join in, whilst Deke himself settled in the shade. Swimming with horses is one of my special pleasures, we had a wonderful time, all five of us. We were still playing when the farmer turned up. He waved to us then sat with Deke, though his eyes never left us, well Laura anyway. Both of us were wet and naked but his eyes remained locked on those ta-ta’s...

Once Spirit had matured sufficiently, washing began to include coaxing his cock to engorge, this allowed it to be handled, washed and of course led to working him up to arousal and completion. Whilst factual that really does not explain it properly.