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Authors: Mitzi Szereto
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stud horse
of fine quality to breed with one of our mares and asks if I'd
care to watch. I feign uninterest, but secretly I'm curious and
I go with him to the stable.
The atmosphere inside is strange. It smells of sweat and
steam and of a strange kind of excitement. The mare is
reluct ant and backs off as she's cornered by the stud horse.
Hilton looks on leering, telling me that, although they are
animals, it's exciting. I pretend to be disgusted and turn on my
heel to walk away, though I want to watch it all. But Hilton's
face and the atmosphere make me want to leave. In the days
that follow I hear Hilton has finally left and a new groom has
moved into the stable. Apparently he's very good with horses
and expected to do well, being Romany. I know a little about
the Romany and feel excited that a man of mystery is in the
stable. They tell me his name is Jack, and I imagine that he's
probably as old as everyone else.
One hot night I feel more than usually unsettled. It's spring;
the woods around the house are alive again, and everywhere
there's love and sex, but not for me. The night is so warm I get
no comfort indoors so I go outside to take a walk to the lake.
My gown is wet against my body, and I walk on the soft grass
down into the woods. As I pass the stable block, I hear horses
whinnying and see a light in the windows, although it's late.
Out of curiosity, I go over and look through the window. In the
candlelit stable I see horses and a man thrashing about.
Wanting a better view, I slip through the open door, a conveni ent
beam becoming a good place to hide and peer out from. The
scene unfolds like a dream: the groom Jack is the most beautiful
man I've ever seen. He's tall, well over six feet, and has shoulderlength
dark hair. His face is very masculine, with dark stubble,
his shoulders broad. Dark hair spills down his chest, ending in
a delightful trickle into loosely belted trousers. He's sweaty,
he's dirty, and he looks magnificent. He's getting two horses
to mate but is much more successful than Hilton as the mare
is willing. The stud mounts the mare and I gasp in amazement
at the size of his cock. As the stud services the mare, Jack keeps
up his encouragement. The air is so highly charged you can
taste it. The servicing goes on for some time, and I see a change
in Jack's face. His eyes blaze; he runs his hand through his hair
and looks agitated – or is it excited? – as the horse comes
down.
Jack turns to wash his arms and hands. As he rubs the soap
over his body, his movements become more deliberate. He runs
it over his stomach and to the edge of his belt, then he suddenly
drops the soap, walks over to a pile of hay bales and lazily lies
back against them. I sigh, and he looks over; maybe he heard
me, I'm not sure. Jack continues to rub over his chest and
stomach with one hand, then with the other he undoes the
buckle of his belt and opens the first two buttons, releasing a
big and very hard cock. He pulls down his trousers and in the
candlelight traces he grasps it in his hand and, after some very
slow strokes, begins to move his hand faster. The act becomes
frantic and I watch in awe as this magnificent man pleasures
himself. After what seems quite a long time, he groans in a
gentle, low way and comes over his stomach. By this time I
feel faint with desire, but I don't want to move and break the
spell.
Jack stands up after some time and washes his body, drying
himself with handfuls of sweet hay. He makes himself a bed
among the sacks and straw and half covers himself with a
rough blue blanket, dimming his lantern. Not knowing what
to do, I stand there hiding, wanting to go to him as he lies back
with his arms behind his head. There's a movement and I see
that his cock is aroused again, and Jack calls out, 'I know you
are there. I have watched you. I have stood outside your window
wanting you, I have followed you and had to stop myself from
taking you then and there in the woods and by the lake
of fine quality to breed with one of our mares and asks if I'd
care to watch. I feign uninterest, but secretly I'm curious and
I go with him to the stable.
The atmosphere inside is strange. It smells of sweat and
steam and of a strange kind of excitement. The mare is
reluct ant and backs off as she's cornered by the stud horse.
Hilton looks on leering, telling me that, although they are
animals, it's exciting. I pretend to be disgusted and turn on my
heel to walk away, though I want to watch it all. But Hilton's
face and the atmosphere make me want to leave. In the days
that follow I hear Hilton has finally left and a new groom has
moved into the stable. Apparently he's very good with horses
and expected to do well, being Romany. I know a little about
the Romany and feel excited that a man of mystery is in the
stable. They tell me his name is Jack, and I imagine that he's
probably as old as everyone else.
One hot night I feel more than usually unsettled. It's spring;
the woods around the house are alive again, and everywhere
there's love and sex, but not for me. The night is so warm I get
no comfort indoors so I go outside to take a walk to the lake.
My gown is wet against my body, and I walk on the soft grass
down into the woods. As I pass the stable block, I hear horses
whinnying and see a light in the windows, although it's late.
Out of curiosity, I go over and look through the window. In the
candlelit stable I see horses and a man thrashing about.
Wanting a better view, I slip through the open door, a conveni ent
beam becoming a good place to hide and peer out from. The
scene unfolds like a dream: the groom Jack is the most beautiful
man I've ever seen. He's tall, well over six feet, and has shoulderlength
dark hair. His face is very masculine, with dark stubble,
his shoulders broad. Dark hair spills down his chest, ending in
a delightful trickle into loosely belted trousers. He's sweaty,
he's dirty, and he looks magnificent. He's getting two horses
to mate but is much more successful than Hilton as the mare
is willing. The stud mounts the mare and I gasp in amazement
at the size of his cock. As the stud services the mare, Jack keeps
up his encouragement. The air is so highly charged you can
taste it. The servicing goes on for some time, and I see a change
in Jack's face. His eyes blaze; he runs his hand through his hair
and looks agitated – or is it excited? – as the horse comes
down.
Jack turns to wash his arms and hands. As he rubs the soap
over his body, his movements become more deliberate. He runs
it over his stomach and to the edge of his belt, then he suddenly
drops the soap, walks over to a pile of hay bales and lazily lies
back against them. I sigh, and he looks over; maybe he heard
me, I'm not sure. Jack continues to rub over his chest and
stomach with one hand, then with the other he undoes the
buckle of his belt and opens the first two buttons, releasing a
big and very hard cock. He pulls down his trousers and in the
candlelight traces he grasps it in his hand and, after some very
slow strokes, begins to move his hand faster. The act becomes
frantic and I watch in awe as this magnificent man pleasures
himself. After what seems quite a long time, he groans in a
gentle, low way and comes over his stomach. By this time I
feel faint with desire, but I don't want to move and break the
spell.
Jack stands up after some time and washes his body, drying
himself with handfuls of sweet hay. He makes himself a bed
among the sacks and straw and half covers himself with a
rough blue blanket, dimming his lantern. Not knowing what
to do, I stand there hiding, wanting to go to him as he lies back
with his arms behind his head. There's a movement and I see
that his cock is aroused again, and Jack calls out, 'I know you
are there. I have watched you. I have stood outside your window
wanting you, I have followed you and had to stop myself from
taking you then and there in the woods and by the lake
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