Never Mind The Face Pt 06

Part 6. Riding a Wave of Auto-Eroticism

We approach the crux of this tale. Fact and fantasy collide here, as the story takes on a new life of its own. Actions occur which are not recommended to others to follow. No horses are harmed or abused in what takes place. If this story is not to your liking, please move on and not mark me down unkindly.

Chapter 13. Autosexual?

Breakfast was a curious affair. Sylvia had dressed in tight jeans and a buttoned blouse. She refused to elaborate on her cryptic comments about her plans. She appeared to have retreated back into her shell, and said little. I thought then that it was depression. I was later proven wrong. It was pre-occupation. Radio music filled the void whilst we ate. For some minutes, she held her toast in hand, tapping its crusty edge against the plate, but not eating it. I pondered on what might be going through her mind that she couldn't share?

Only later did I discover that it had been trepidation. What to me had seemed an infrequent and escalating series of sexual encounters was to her a planned progression of intensities of stimulation that she hoped would eventuality bring her to a natural climax. But whilst her imagination knew no limits, her courage was not open-ended.

What, the previous evening, had been a prolonged and debilitating masturbation of her genitals, was to prove just the latest milestone on her way to sexual gratification.

The weather forecast on the radio was for a day of warmth and sunshine. When she heard that, her mood brightened. Had she perhaps been worried about the weather? Why was it so important to her? She decided to confide in me, to an extent.

"I've had plans for a long time that I hesitated to bring to fruition. I already knew that Ruby and Sebastian would be away overnight. They're leaving this morning, returning tomorrow evening. I thought we could take advantage of their absence, if you don't have any other plans? We would have to drive to the farmhouse in separate cars, though."

"Provided your plans are not too energetic; my wrists are still sore."

"I can rub some Deep Heat on them, to ease the ache. I don't plan to over-exercise your limbs today - other than by holding the camera."

I sat up at hearing that. It promised more games. Even my tender cock came erect. Sylvia changed the subject.

"We only have three horses at the farm now and Sebastian is lame. I need to treat him before we go riding, but I want to take you on a longer trek this time. Dress comfortably for the ride."

Her preoccupation had melted away, like a cloud moving clear of the sun's rays. Enthusiasm for the day ahead set in.

~*~~

Sebastian's mount, Master's Mate, had been stabled separately from the two mares for several days, in the other wing, to ensure his complete rest. He had been tethered that morning to a ring attached to the outside wall next to the open top of the stable door where Marshi and Honey were kept.

Sylvia explained. "He's being kept apart for medical reasons, but he misses the contact with the mares. This way, he can see them for a while and be content."

I helped Sylvia tend to his treatment, which involved hosing his lower leg with cold water. Despite his docile nature, he was agitated and I had to hold him steady whilst Sylvia tended to him.

"The vet saw him on Friday before my parents left. The problem is mild but he won't be able to take exercise for a couple of weeks at least. I will have to put him back in his stall whilst we're away. But it means we're free to spend the day with Marshi and Honey. Are you game for another ride?"

Her love for the horses was touching. It seemed to be just about the only thing that inspired her. The rift between her and her parents was doing her sanity no favours, but the horses had a restorative effect.

She must have misread my thoughtfulness for boredom because her face clouded. She looked at me pleadingly.

"Please tell me you're teasing. Don't let me down now!"

Panic showed in her eyes, along with a strong dose of vulnerability. Whatever she had planned must mean a great deal to her. My heart went out to her at that rare reveal of real and deep emotion. Whatever she had planned was obviously very important to her.

"Don't worry; I can't wait."

She turned away, relieved, and fed the gelding a banana as a post-treatment treat. The horse gave a whinny and nuzzled her face by way of a thank you. She smiled and her tension was released. I felt humbled by this fascinating dimension to her personality that had just been revealed.

I apologised. "Sorry if you thought I was teasing you. I was thinking how important this is to you - whatever it is. I promise, I can't wait for another outing in the saddle."

She turned her head from Master's Mate and smiled shyly. "I know. I trust you more than anyone else to support me."

There was that word 'trust' again. It had an absolute significance for her. I wouldn't regard my personal enjoyment of her teasing, stripping and exhibitionism as 'support', but perhaps it had all been a test of my staying power, and of the draw of her body? My perseverance at masturbating her clitoris had certainly been a demonstration of that. My wrists still felt tender.

This time we both rode with saddles and saddle bags containing provisions. It was another lovely summer's day, of full sun under dappled canopies of leaves. The glorious stillness of the woods was disturbed only by birdsong and the occasional shouts of wild animals. Natural woodland odours permeated the air: the green vitality of deciduous leaves, the scents of the rich soils, and the pungency of leaf mould. I breathed in this mélange deeply and sighed with satisfaction.

I glimpsed small creatures from time to time, sharing the landscape but not prepared to commune with us humans. I understood then what communing with nature meant: getting along in parallel worlds. Nothing else felt important besides that relaxing outdoors atmosphere in those tranquil woods.

We rode for a while side by side on a long, wide stretch of path, which had been compacted by generations of hooves and tyred vehicle wheels. Sylvia moved ahead. She was wearing tight, stretch jeans this time. They didn't have quite the erotic effect of her riding pants, but her bottom still looked very desirable, which I suspect is what she intended.

She spoke loudly over her shoulder. "I bought Sebastian a birthday present, a bench; you could call it a peace offering. He built a concrete slab for a bench some time ago but never finished the task. It'll surprise him the next time he rides this way."

"Why Is it a peace offering?"

"It's too complicated to explain. Experiencing sexual attraction with you has helped me to understand him better. There's nothing wrong with sensuality and exhibitionism, provided it's kept within bounds. I'm not as fearful of it as I once was."

"Is nudism exhibitionist?"

"It can be if it has sexual connotations. I don't think Sebastian is a pure naturist. He gets turned on by women's bodies. You've brought out the same in me."

"I can see that. Your strip dance in that belly dancer outfit was stunning. I can't wait to watch it back when I get home."

"I'm not surprised. Your eyes were like saucers."

"Looking around me at this lovely countryside, what more is there to life?"

Her smile faded. "This isn't my life. But I'd like to heal the rift with momma and Sebastian if I can."

The trees thinned and the large lake loomed ahead. We were approaching from a different side. Near the edge of the lake was the family Land Rover, parked off the track at the edge of the trees.

"I fetched the bench ... and other oddments, yesterday afternoon. I left the jeep here and walked back to the house. All we need do now is haul the bench out of the back and put it on the concrete base. For that, I need your help. Sebastian can bolt it to the base during the week. Why are you smirking?"

"It's not a jeep; that's American."

"Pedant!"

"Well, whilst I'm being pedantic, why did you park the 'non-jeep' so far away from the concrete base? We'll have to carry the bench across the track and grass verge."

Sylvia chuckled. "You'll see." Clearly, she had planned this expedition to the 'nth' degree and left nothing to chance. Yet her ultimate purpose was obscure to me.

I walked over and opened the Defender's rear door. The bench sat comfortably within the length of the long wheelbase interior. It straddled a pile of oddments under an old blanket. Sylvia rushed with undue haste to help me unload it, and we carried it easily between us to the concrete platform.

"Sebastian and Momma will enjoy sitting here. It's their favourite viewing spot. But there's somewhere even more special for me further on. You'll see it soon enough. Why not sit for a few moments and admire the view, whilst I fetch some more things from the jeep?"

There was an edge to her voice that I took to be nervousness.

"Can I help?"

"No need, you can admire the view."

It was indeed a perfect spot, facing south eastwards, with summer shade from the hot early afternoon sun. Some ducks floated on the water's tranquil surface. Occasional, concentric rings spreading out across the surface of the water hinted at fish or amphibians lurking just below the surface. My mind was relaxed enough to mull over Sylvia's odd behaviour and change of moods. Why she should still be apprehensive in my company puzzled me. What more could there possibly be to reveal?

"Can you help me?"

I turned my head. Sylvia was nowhere to be seen. Was she the other side of the vehicle? I stood up and started to approach it. I had thought I could no longer be surprised, but even for Sylvia this was odd behaviour if she was hiding. In fact she was lying on her side in the back of the Land Rover, curled round a saddle, which had a bespoke addition.

I inhaled long and deeply, then exhaled, whilst my brain processed what my eyes were seeing.

Instead of a pommel, the saddle had an obscene dildo pointing up at a slight backwards angle through an aperture in the leather surface. As I arrived at the open rear door she grinned lasciviously and licked the side of the protuberance before taking it into her mouth and sucking on it a few times. Having established its credentials, she rested her head on an elbow. She looked remarkably calm and radiant. I guessed that this was the lynchpin of her ultimate plan.

She confirmed my thoughts.

"This is the culmination of my master plan. Not for world domination, but the final subjugation of my vagina to my will."

I laughed at her voice's attempt at mimicking Bond-like villainry. "It looks potentially more like Pussy Gore than Pussy Galore. Are you sure it's safe?"

She sat up energetically and lifted a leg over the saddle to sit with it between her legs. The pose looked obscene, even with her fully clothed.

She pouted theatrically at my sceptical expression.

"A lot of my research has gone into the making of this aid. I'm going to sit on it - not just to ride bareback, but totally bare on this saddle. You're going to help me. I'd prefer it if you remained clothed, though, in case of emergencies. Judging by your crotch, your manhood appears to want to escape; sorry about that."

"How far do we have to ride?"

"Not too far, just a little bit further round the lake to that rocky outcrop on the far side."

I held out a hand, and she clambered out of the back of the vehicle.

She faced me and smiled defiantly at my unspoken objections to her now fully revealed plan. I struggled for words, my mind a mix of images of her naked body once more teasing and arousing me, and the inherent dangers of that equestrian monstrosity.

"I want to do this - I must do it. It's my last hope, she pleaded."

"What makes you think you'll succeed?"

"I must. Sex is now becoming an obsession, specifically sex with you. I need to separate fact from fantasy. I need to solve my problem so that I can live a normal life."

"But we haven't talked about this. You've given no inkling of your plans and expectations."

"That's because I wasn't sure for a long time that it was feasible, and I feared you would try and talk me out of it. Can you imagine a life of rogering me endlessly with your fingers? I think you'd soon give up trying and find another woman. So instead, I kept you at bay but hungering for my body. Aren't I the most nefarious villainess in history?"

"Hardly, but probably the most inscrutable woman I've ever met. You've kept me hanging on, fantasising and, frankly, mostly bemused by your motives.

"Your willingness to strip naked for me is very arousing. Your displays of your gorgeous, naked body are enticing. They feed my voyeuristic instincts. How did you guess that I was like that?"

"I didn't, until I saw your reaction to my badminton hot pants. Then I knew, and all my plans and secret fantasies fell into place. You had all the qualities I hoped for in a co-conspirator. Most of all, you were prepared to overlook my disadvantages."

She gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "I have to have some way of attracting men. I know I'm plain looking. I can get lost in a crowd of women. But put my bottom in tight jeans, and my tits in a snug sweater, and every male eye zooms in."

Never mind the face...

I had to challenge her self-deprecation. But I didn't want to bullshit her.

"I'm sure some ladies would say they prefer to get lost in a crowd to protect them from unwanted male attention. Your face seems to be a blank canvas. You say it's plain. But when it lights up with pleasure, it's very attractive. You have the knack of closing it down as well when you want."

"Huh! That's a flowery way of delivering bad news."

"Don't do that, Sylvia. You keep putting yourself down, seeing the negative side of everything. I thoroughly enjoy your company when you open up to me. It's no hardship when you shed your clothes either. Your nakedness is always a pleasure for me."

"It's a pleasure for me, too. I stand in front of the mirror, naked, and admire it. I can confess that now that I've heard your story. I think I may be an auto-lesbian."

The phrase meant nothing to me. I caressed the mound of a breast under her top. She pushed me away then, breathlessly, grinning. "I can tell that we share that voyeuristic pleasure. It's reassuring. Don't forget that feeling.

"Now, come on, you need to help me."

The saddle was heavy. We pulled it to the edge of the vehicle floor, I stared at it in awe and amazement.

"Who on earth made that?"

"A lesbian saddle maker by the name of Rita, the one who frigged my clit to an orgasm before. She and I have been friends for years. She knows about my difficulties having orgasms. It was she that helped me with this idea - bringing together my biggest passion and my greatest problem: horses and anorgasmia."

"Is this Rita's lesbianism relevant?"

"I think so. She has little interest in live cock, so she devises ways to satisfy herself mechanically. But she regards devices like this as too extreme and dangerous. I had to plead with her even to consider making it."

I stared at it, aghast. The mounted dildo looked intimidating. I was no riding expert, but I thought it looked potentially very damaging to a woman's sex passage.

"Are you sure it's safe?"

Sylvia's face became serious. "There's a good reason why rodeo bull machines don't have dildos for naked exhibitions. They could do untold damage to a woman's internal lady parts. But I've done extensive research, including in online chat rooms, where most of the talk consists of fantasised fabrications of bogus experiences. Eventually, Rita and I came up with this design. There aren't many horses that could be trusted to treat their riders carefully enough to use one of these, but Marshi is one. She makes this possible, provided we do it somewhere safe and away from distractions.

"Nobody has owned up to actually doing this before in real life, but I had plenty of encouragement from Rita for my experiment, once that is that we had worked through the challenges.

"I researched several materials before settling on an expensive silicone-based product, which I had made specially in the Netherlands. Its length is not rigid like most dildos. It flexes along its length and thickens when compressed. That is crucial because it must not damage the opening to the cervix. It protrudes through a hole from the underside of the saddle. It's flexible, which should be kinder on my lady bits.

"Rita has taken lots of measurements and I had several fittings on the saddle, which I think she enjoyed far more than I."

"So how long is it?"

"The exposed bit above the saddle is about six inches, roughly the length of my vagina, as measured by Rita. That's about as much cock as a pussy can take."

I frowned. "So why do women fantasise about men with longer penises?"

She smiled knowingly. "It's why women often say length isn't everything. A longer cock pushes against the cervix too much, and may never even be fully inserted in the vagina. A penis shouldn't physically enter the cervix, and can be uncomfortable if it is forced hard up against it. That's why long penises can be uncomfortable. But the cervix can be stimulated by appropriate pressure from the head of a penis.

"Given the purpose of this dildo, Rita and I didn't want it to offer undue or unyielding pressure against the cervix. The dildo has to be able to yield to opposing forces. So its shaft compresses when it meets an obstruction. Its side thickens instead. Its main stimulation will be to my vaginal walls. It might even get thicker than your cock inside me.

"I've been using low profile British saddles, best suited for short treks. They give less support - but show more of the body. You may have noticed that, compared to this one. Yours has more support front and back. But for this purpose, I needed a tailor-made, shallow saddle that would provide maximum contact with my pussy and bottom, and provide the maximum exposure. It isn't designed for gallops or speed. It's a show saddle for voyeurs.

"You're telling me that you intend to be fucked by a low-profile saddle as you ride Marshi, specifically for exhibitionist purposes? And why on earth would you risk your physical wellbeing on a whim?"

Her chest heaved with pent-up emotion as she reacted to my words. "I know the risks; I've thought of little else. But I'm driven by the desire to achieve an orgasm all by myself. I would have preferred to do it in private, but I need someone to watch over me.

"Rita refused, and suggested you. I'd spoken a lot about you to her. She thinks the dildo should be safe enough on Marshi, though not on other horses. She wanted to be here to watch and supervise of course, but I discouraged her. I wanted to share this with you alone. As I said before, I trust you. And I wanted you to be fully aroused by it. Those are my main ambitions. You can also go for help if anything untoward happens. Will you help me?"

"You keep saying you can trust me, yet I can't see how I'm particularly helping you."

"You didn't take advantage of me when I figuratively threw myself at you at work. You gave me an orgasm through sheer effort of will over muscle, when most other men would have given up and just got themselves off inside me. You're a voyeur, so I know there's something in all this for you as well, so that evens it out a bit."

"What can I say? I find this whole proposition utterly arousing. Of course, I love to gawp at your naked body, and those stretched lower limbs astride a powerful horse look ultra sexy. I'm sure this will arouse me all the more than anything else you've done, including your striptease; and especially if you get an orgasm. So that makes me the least reliable person to decide on your welfare."