Chapter 2

Fast forward to the end of my University degree course. In the meantime I had continued to stretch my pussy and at least for part of each summer I had been able to reassemble my pseudo stallion and fuck myself into oblivion for as long as I could remain conscious and or undetected.

I had to wait until I had my degree before I applied for the first set of patents, because otherwise the University could claim rights or at least a substantial share of future profits. I also had to come up with alternative reasons and uses for my inventions, nobody patents an anatomically accurate robotic horse cock that exactly simulates an equine orgasm and stays anonymous... !!

It was the patents, and the lawyers protecting them that set me on the next step towards achieving my dream. Well, that and my awful grasp of foreign languages.

My time at University allowed me to achieve the qualifications I wanted, and yes, I did end up being in the top three of every course I took, what it did not achieve was the social aspect. I am no genius and my high grades required putting in hours of study and lab time. Since I have never really had close friends even when at school, I did not mind missing out on my social development, in fact I don’t think I realised it at the time. That is not to say that I made no friends, just that none became what I would call close friends, most of those I saw regularly were members of study groups or just students who I shared several classes with.

During my last term and in between advanced preparation of taking final exams, I had been researching and contacting a few companies that I thought might be interested in my inventions. Whilst deciding which three to approach first, something else caught my attention, and that led to my placing a French company at the top of my list because they were based in Marseille. What caught my attention was how close Marseille was to the Camargue.

Ok, so I know you think I was making decisions based on nothing but flights of fancy, but that is not quite true. The far more embarrassing issue was my utter lack of experience with horses. Yes I know the stories would have me working for free at the closest stables etc etc, but the simple truth is that this all started because I read a certain story and not because of childhood dreams of horses. At the time my attention was on the process, the mechanics of how it could be done and on building my pseudo stallion. BUT. Before I could even begin to think about belly riding a real live stallion, I had best learn how to handle horses, not to mention riding them in the conventional way. And there lay the problem, there was no way I could approach a trainer or stable asking for tips on belly riding and there was no way that anyone who did know or practise it was going to make it public.

What had caught my attention about the Camargue, apart from it’s natural beauty was the number of riding schools or stables that offered the chance to ride a horse bareback on the beaches. I cannot to this day explain exactly why that idea stuck so deeply in my mind, but the image of riding a horse without all the tack and paraphernalia seemed somehow more natural and closer to the horse. If I was going to belly ride then what could be closer? So anything that helped must be a good idea, right?

I will skip details of my time in Marseille, most of it was spent at the offices and factories of the company eager to gain a licence for my inventions, ALL of it was spent apologising for the horrible mangling I wrought upon the French language. I’m just utterly useless at languages. I can read and write French, due to learning it in school, but the oral part ... Ugly.

So moving on swiftly, I moved down the coast to the Camargue and thanks to a combination of research and suggestions by those in Marseille who ignored or forgave my linguistic butchery, I settled in a wonderful stables that was both close to the beach and home to several experienced ‘freestyle’ instructors. Freestyle is the common way to describe riding a horse without a bridle and often without a saddle.

After a couple of wonderful days staying as a guest and riding out with a group along the beaches etc, I approached the owners about staying much longer and having lessons as well as working to help them out whilst gaining knowledge in how to care for horses. We thrashed out the details over dinner ‘en famille’ with the other guests joining in the debate, or at least offering encouragement.

The end result was my spending a part of the ‘upfront’ money I had received on staying at the stables as a long term guest, but working, not just lazing about. My eagerness to learn might have helped as much as the money, either way I was all set to spend the summer learning to be a horsewoman, or at least to learn as much as I could in the time allowed.

The next morning, early, I walked into the stable allocated to me and came face to face with Nuage, it was love at first sight, at least from me, it took a little longer to be sure he felt something for me, but he did, I promise, honest.

For those interested, Nuage is French for cloud.

At that time I had no knowledge of horsemanship so I will use the terms I used at the time, if you are a competent rider you’ll know the ‘proper’ terms, so just fill in the blanks. If as I was at the time you know basically nothing, then just read on.

Nuage was a sort of dirty white and seemed huge but kind of sweet, if that makes sense? Most of the horses in the area are true Camargue horses, a breed indigenous to the area, Nuage was to my eye the result of a horse ‘one night stand’ as he was noticeably bigger than the typical horses that are relatively small, standing at something less than five feet, which is around 14 hands in horse speak. Unlike the usual dappled grey colouring, Nuage was pure, if somewhat dirty, white. That morning I started out with the basics, learning how to muck out, feed, water and groom ‘my’ horse. Of course Nuage was not mine, but he had been allocated to me for the duration, so that made him my responsibility, therefore, mine... !!