Stacy's Riding Lesson Ch. 02

Stacy stood in her shower and let the scalding water spray over her subtle body.

She had to make sure there was no trace of that man, Rufus, on her in case her husband unexpectedly returned home from the capital in Richmond.

The memories of her time with Rufus in the hay loft came flooding over her, causing her a mixture of pleasure and horror. She could scarcely believe that she had committed an infidelity, and with a black man, no less. She had seemed like a different person, as if her body had been possessed by some evil demon bent on destroying her marriage and her reputation. How careless she had become!

The joy she had experienced giving Rufus Johnson oral pleasure did not justify the risk. Luckily, no one had seen them in the loft or her state of dishevelment as she walked guiltily back to her SUV to leave the stables where he was employees as a mere workman. But what did she know of the man? Was he the type to kiss and tell? Or, in this case, the type to get a blow job and tell?

The revelation of her disgraceful behavior would be her ruin, and that of her husband's nascent political career.

As the shower pummeled her hair she shook her head in puzzled disbelief. The sight of Rufus' oversized organ jamming in and out of her greedy mouth played over and over in her mind's eye.

She wiped the mirror clean of steam and looked deeply into her face. Was there any sign of her debauchery? She had feared that she would have stretch marks at the corners of her mouth, but all looked right and proper. Although she had brushed her teeth three times since coming home, she could not escape the faint salty taste of his jizz in her mouth. She knew it must simply be in her mind, but she again blew into her palm and sniffed, straining to detect any trace of his pungent aroma.

She wrapped her head in a towel and put on a plush bathrobe and went to the railing of the second-story walkway outside the master bedroom.

"Jezelle! Jezelle! Where are you, you lazy wench?' she called.

A pretty black maid appeared in the foyer downstairs.

"Yes, ma'am?" Jezelle said meekly, fearfully.

"Do try to have my riding togs dry cleaned today! I may require them tomorrow!"

"Yes, ma'am. I will see to it immediately," the black girl said.

If Jezelle's mother had not been a trusted employee of the Garner family for so many years Stacy would fire the wench. Not that the poor girl did not try, but she was as brainless as a mop, and had to be watched constantly, lest she make some terrible error and ruin something of value in the Garner mansion. Of all the household servants she required the most vigilance.

Stacy lay on her bed staring at the canopy overhead. Try as she might she could not remove the images from her memory of that morning. Deep inside, she did not want to forget. It has all been so taboo, so wicked, so terribly erotic to the young woman. But unacceptably dangerous. Stacy knew that some of her society friends carried on occasional trysts with lovers behind their husbands' backs, and the husbands surely did the same. But Stacy had always thought she was above such base behavior. She had always held her passions and emotions firmly in check, but a crack had appeared today in her stony virtue. She could attribute it to the repeated and long absences of her beloved husband, Stanley. She was a twenty-three-year-old woman, with all the desires and bodily cravings of any normal woman. But she had to hold herself above her animal instincts, for the benefit of her county and her state and, with a little luck, her country.

Stacy vowed not to return to the stables, tomorrow or any day. She would board her horse at another establishment or keep him here on the estate. She would never see that Rufus Johnson again!

Stacy's SUV made a crunching sound as it slowed to a stop in the gravel parking lot of the stables the next morning. She cautiously glanced about the ground of the stables, looking for a particular black man. She did not see him.

She wore her freshly cleaned English riding kit again, her helmet high on her head. She quickly saddled her horse, Spark, and rode briskly from the stable area onto a seldom used and infrequently rode path leading into the surrounding hills.

With the stables and outbuilding safely out of sight behind her she could relax a little. The morning was already warming up, and the birds and cricket's music filled the air. A gentle breeze rocked her blond ponytail and cooled her temples. It was a flawless morning and Spark was riding uncommonly well, so the young woman let her mind drift and merge with her surroundings. Riding was the supreme joy for Stacy, the commune with nature, the joining of horse and rider into a single unit all elated her spirits and helped her forget any troubles.

But as she rode, her thoughts defiantly returned to Rufus Johnson. She wondered what he was doing at that moment. Was he having his breakfast, or mending some fence on the property. Had he thought of her that previous evening, lying in his bunk somewhere? Had his organ become engorged with the remembrances of their short time together? Had he taken it in his large fist and brought himself to climax as he imagined her lying wantonly beneath him? She found the idea that Rufus had engaged in self-abuse while invoking her memory particularly erotic, and she felt a gentle stirring in her womanly parts as a result. It would be flattering indeed!

What Stacy could not bring herself to admit, even to herself, was that she badly wanted Rufus in her mouth again. Or in her body.

Stacy cut her ride short and returned to the stables. Her head swiveled from side to side, looking for Rufus. She returned Spark to the stable and did a miserable job of brushing the horse down. By now riders were rambling around the stables and talking, some riding out.

Stacy went to the main club building and ordered some breakfast. But she could not eat, and sipped her coffee slowly, nervously glancing around with a look of expectation.

Maybe Rufus had been dismissed, or had suffered some injury and was even now in the hospital. The idea made her ill. Several times she rose, intending on seeking out a foreman to make an inquiry about Rufus, only to sit down again and marvel at her impetuosity. A woman of her class, a white woman, making inquiries about a hired black man—no, that would not do.

She returned to the stable building where she and Rufus had their encounter. She stared longingly at the hay loft, her mind racing back to those frenzied moments with Rufus in the hay.

At last she saw a young black boy, obviously the son of one of the employed hands, and she approached him.

"Boy? Oh, boy?" she called to the child.

"Yes'm," he answered.

"There was a workman here yesterday—I forgot to thank him properly for... helping me. I believe his name was Rufus. Might you know where he is today?"

"Yes'm. He was sent to the old windmill up north to fix it. 'spect he'll be there all day 'cause it was powerful broken."

Stacy led the boy to a map of the stable and outlying ground mounted on the stable wall.

"Please show me where that windmill is."

She gave the boy a five dollar tip and remounted Spark.

She could see him from some distance. He was far up the windmill working with a wrench on the ancient piece of equipment. He did not hear her approach. She searched the surrounding ground and could see no other person in sight.

"Oh, young man! Young man! I believe my poor horse is lame. Could I ask you for some assistance?" Stacy called to Rufus from the ground below the windmill. Rufus looked down and smiled broadly, his teeth shining white on his black face.

"Yes, miss. I will be right down."

Stacy marveled at his skill, strength and speed with which he descended the tall skeletal structure. Finally he was standing beside her and Spark, panting slightly. Again she was shirtless, and his muscular chest and belly took the young woman's breath away.

He tilted his cowboy hat back on his head and asked, "What seems to be the problem, miss?"

Stacy swung down from the saddle and stood before him. Rufus was a full head taller than the petite blond woman. "Actually, I am feeling a mite lame. I seem to have this ache down here," she said, pointing to her lower belly.

"I think I have a spare part for that. It'll fix you right up, ma'am."

Rufus took her roughly in his arms and kissed her hungrily. Stacy felt limp in his strong arms, and feared that she would faint.

"No one ever uses this trail, Missus Garner. We are all alone out here."

Rufus removed a rolled blanket from the rear of his western saddle and spread it on a bed of clover. Stacy stood before him an unashamedly began removing her clothing. Rufus sat on the blanket and watched her with increasing interest.

Teasingly, Stacy was slowly undressing, turning at different points and glancing over her shoulder and giving him sly smiles. She let her shirt drop to the clover and then undid the zipper at the hip of her breeches. She extended her booted foot to Rufus and he held it while she extracted her foot. She repeated the move for her other boot. She peeled out of her tight breeches and kicked them aside. She was now naked in front of him, except for her sheer thong panties.

"I have to wear these so I don't have those nasty pantie lines in my breeches," she explained with a giggle.

At last Stacy slid her panties down, revealing her faint blond bush and her bikini tan lines. Her firm aptly sized breasts jiggled on her chest as she twisted from side to side for his amusement. Her breasts and ass were as white as a cotton tail's butt.

She extended her palms and motioned for Rufus to stand. She skillfully undid his belt buckle and zipper and pulled his pants down to his boots. She cooed, gazing longingly at his semi-limp member dangling over his large balls. Falling to her knees she took the flared head into her mouth and delighted in the feeling of his rapidly hardening member filling her mouth and spreading her jaws. Rufus kept his fists balled on his hips, thrusting his pelvis out towards Stacy and allowed her to set her own pace.

Stacy kissed up and down the length of his erection and gently sucked on the loose skin of his scrotum. She kept her eyes on his, devouring his satisfied gaze.

He was fully hard now, throbbing boldly. His cock stood proudly from his groin, pointing level to the ground. Stacy took as much of his cock into her mouth as she could and noisily slurped and sucked on his, tasting his precum as it oozed out the slit on the head.

"Lay down," he commanded in a throaty growl.

Stacy lay on her back and held her legs up, her hands behind her knees, her inviting twat pointed at her lover. Her pussy was a perfect slit, and Rufus could not see any trace of her labia showing. He knelt reverently between her legs and rubbed her already-damp pussy, then spat into his palm and rubbed it along his cock head and shaft. Supporting himself over her with one mighty arm, he guided his cockhead against the lower end of her cunt grove.

"Take me, Rufus. I long to feel you inside my body," she crooned.

Her eyes grew wide and her jaw fell open as he applied pressure to his cock. It felt too wide to enter her vagina. She reached around her hips and spread her cunt as best she could with her fingertips. Rufus grunted and pushed harder. He thought his cock would buckle before it could enter her tight vault. With his fist he moved the tip of his cock up and down her vulvar groove, spreading her lubricating juices all over her twat.

"Try to relax your pussy," he suggested.

"I'm trying, Rufus," she gasped.

He felt her pussy's resistance lessen just slightly, and he jabbed his cock even harder. Part of this dick head entered his vagina and Stacy let out a shrill squeal.

"Rufus—stop. This isn't going to work," she pleaded.

Rufus ignored her and doubled his effort, thrusting his hips hard down on the woman.

Stacy screamed in pain as his cock suddenly entered her cunt by several inches. She body wiggled uncontrollably, trying instinctively to work itself off the offending organ. But Rufus kept the pressure of his cock constant, driving more and more of it into her painful vagina. Tears came to the young woman's eyes and she panted like she was delivering a baby. She threw her head back and clamped her eyes shut, biting her lower lip.

"Relax, baby. Almost there," he murmured.

His cock felt larger in her than it had looked. Searing pain shot through her body. It was far worse than the first time she had made love to her husband, the only man she had been with. Her cunt walls were trying to expel the invader and she wiggled his ass from side to side in an effort to extricate herself. Rufus removed his fist from his cock and began to massage her belly over his deep cock.

Slowly, the pain began to subside, to be replaced by unbelievable pleasure. The hot glow of her vagina became a comfortable warmth. She smiled broadly at the joy her body began to experience. Rufus began moving his cock in and out of her, and she could feel her vagina expanding to accommodate his massive organ. Her lubrication increased until it was running down between the cheeks of her ass and tickling her puckered butt hole.

She locked her fingers around the back of his neck and began fucking him back, driving her hips up to meet his thrusts. She was gasping through her open mouth, fighting for breath. Rufus was bathed in his sweat and it made him look even blacker.

Rufus had hit bottom in Stacy, but still have several inches of dry cock. His thrusts became insistent, relentless. His hips worked like the piston of a steam engine. Stacy 's legs failed wildly at his sides, her toes curled.

Rufus threw back his head and emitted a loud primal growl and she felt his cock began to jerk in her body as he ejaculated a hot load of his seed deeper into her vagina than she thought possible.

Afterwards, Stacy lay loudly panting, feeling his copious discharge oozing from her battered pussy. She reached down to massage her sore labia, rubbing his semen around like a salve.

Rufus lay beside her fighting for each breath. His cock was still pointing heavenward, but slowly softening. It throbbed painfully for the large black man and he could not recall a tighter pussy in his life.

Stacy lay on her belly, her chin resting on her hands, studying her lover's body with profound devotion. She began asking him all sorts of questions about himself, where he was born, where he went to school, where he lived. She wanted to know everything about him.

"Damn, woman! You sure have a lot of questions!" he chuckled.

She smiled. "I just want to hear you, hear your voice. I could listen to you all day."

"Well, I ain't got all day. I gotta get that windmill fixed before dark or they might fire my black ass!"

Stacy rose shakily and began dressing. She was alarmed at the state of her pussy. Where before it was like the cleft in a peach it was now ugly, flared. Her labia now clearly hung down from her vulva, swollen and still painful.

When Stacy sat in Spark's saddle she squeaked in pain. She could not possibly ride back to the stables, so she walked her horse the several miles back.

Even sitting in her SUV was uncomfortable. She picked up her cell phone and frantically called her gynecologist.

Doctor Helen Greenly was able to see her on short notice. Stacy told her that she had injured herself when her horse jumped over a four-rail fence. Greenly smiled smugly. "I think you might have landed on one of those rails, dear."

"What do you mean, Doctor?"

"I've seen this before, Mrs. Garner. You've been with a fellow much larger than you are used to."

"Oh please! You must keep this a secret!"

"Don't worry. I'm not here to judge, just to get you right. How many times have you been with this man?"

"Just once, this afternoon."

Greenly whistled softly. "Well, he definitely did you up right."

"Will it.... Will I get back to normal?"

"Oh sure, the swelling will go pretty quickly, but there are some internal tears and you may not feel the same afterwards."

"Whatever do you mean," Stacy cried.

"To put it plainly, your vagina has lost some of its snap—permanently. Like after child birth."

Greenly gave Stacy a prescription for pain medication. On the drive home Stacy cursed her own slutty behavior. She had been rutting like a cat in heat and now had altered her body in ways she did not approve of. She would never have that 'Barbie Doll' look down there again. And what of her husband? Surely he will notice the difference his first night home.

That night Stacy inspected her pussy in her bathroom. Much of the swelling had indeed gone down, but it looked like a different woman down there, like some of the pussies she had seen in the shower at the gym. Now, her labia poked out slightly from her mons. Her lips looked purple and bruised. It still caused her discomfort. She had to think of a good excuse if Stanley noticed and said something about it.

She cried herself to sleep.