Free Ponygirl Tales by Don Winslow Page B

the girl he was pleasuring had been craving just the sort of attention he was now providing: his touch, the feel of his young strong hands. What he didn’t know, but had begun to suspect, was that the ponygirls were kept in a constant state of sexual randiness their satisfaction limited to what their own hands could do, or what the hands of another girl could do for them -- for those who were so inclined. But Flare, who clearly preferred male companionship found herself often frustrated, her healthy desires thwarted, except when Lord Basil choose her for some individual attention, or when a thrill passed over her from some incidental contact with one of the grooms. And now this boy, this lovely, gangly boy had come to her, and his big strong hands felt so achingly good. Her nipples, always highly responsive, were even now stiffening under his touch. Geoffrey was now moving those delightful tits in a slow circular massage, rubbing deeply, and when his hands quit her chest it was so he could better study her excited nipples. They stood out flushing dark and ripe -- seductive nipples begging for attention. Fascinated, he plucked a nipple between thumb and forefinger, tugged on it, stretching the pliant flesh. Flare’s lashes fluttered, closed down; she arched slightly. He rolled that thickened nipple between his fingers, squeezed, and got a tiny whimper. He tightened his pinching fingers; used a nail to dig into the pliant flesh -- another whimper accompanied the stab of pain that creased her brow as her eyes clenched tight. Still holding onto the girl on her tiptoes by the stretching nipple, he pulled and twisted, as he glanced over to see his aunt was watching him intently. The ponygirl staggered forward a step. Her head arched back, and she gave out with a full-throated, open-mouthed moan. “Easy!” his aunt warned the increasingly excited lad. “A girl’s breasts are quite sensitive you know. While it’s true a bit of pain may be desirable on occasion, such discomforts must be judiciously applied. In time you’ll learn that the most exquisite pain has its uses in enhancing the total experience. But while our girls learn to tolerate discomfort, and even find pleasure in certain types of pain, the true connoisseur of such matters appreciates the value of timing and personal restraint. Remember that although your uncle may loan you a ponygirl as your toy from time to time, she is still a living, breathing woman who submits willingly. Cherish her!” Geoffrey wasn’t quite sure he understood all of that, but he took the cautionary words as a warning that he was to quit the ponygirl’s heaving, lightly-sweating bosom. He withdrew his hand, leaving the girl standing there with hardened nipples protruding, as he turned to his aunt, fearful that she was about to call an end to his most enjoyable “lesson.” “Yes, best to move on, I think.” The words elated him. She looked at her nephew thoughtfully. “Go on, darling. Touch her…down there… she wants you to, you know. Do you know how you can tell when a girl wants your touch? Simply place your hand on her pussy, and if she’s wet between the legs, as this one is, well, that’s a sure sign.” Young Geoffrey needed no further urging. His fingertips barely touched the puff of curly hair on Flare’s mounded pubis. Her eyes flickered, but she didn’t move a muscle. Geoffrey sampled her pubic hair. His fingers passed over the softness of her vulva in a light caress and then drifted lower to slide along the slit. He gripped her, palmed her vulva, and through it all, Flare remained perfectly still; arms at her sides, body held rigid. Now the boy’s curious fingers began exploring those rubbery lips, and there he discovered the wetness that his aunt had predicted he would find between the ponygirl’s legs. Aunt Ursula put a hand on his shoulder, leaned in closer. “Go on.” she urged in a low husky voice, her hot breath burning his ear, sending a shiver through