I never quite understood the desire to have a horse or pony when I was younger. To me they were smelly lumbering animals that create a load of shit for very little return.
Many years later I discovered that I had no affinity with hoses (I meant to do that) at all. A boyfriend at the time knew someone who had stables and he asked if I could go up for a ride one weekend.
The guy was most obliging and said no problem. Well I got on this huge brown thing and walked around the yard. You would think that this wouldn’t be too challenging. Wrong. The bloody thing wouldn’t respond to the steering at all and insisted on going its own way.
It then decided to feed on various bits of vegetation between the cobbles and the guy told me to pull its head up. I tugged on the reigns expecting it to be compliant. How wrong I was. I’m sure that horse knew I was green and not at all familiar with things equine.
Eventually it got so pissed off it took me back in to the stable block with its low doorway and I nearly lost my head. I had to lay back across its arse to stop myself being decapitated. And this is how low it was… I ended up with grazes all the way up my neck from the wooden lintel. The bastard!
I was reminded of this when reading about Jordan splitting up with Pete last year. It read that she was too tired after a day riding to have sex with him. It made me think. All that rubbing up and down in the saddle. Would that be rubbing you off? Bouncing up and down in the saddle for hours rubbing your clit against the leather saddle.
Uhmmm. Think about it.
One of Alex’s work colleagues some years ago had a horse and admitted to having to clean its dick regularly to keep it free of smeg apparently.
Now I think I can see the attraction of horses … the saddle not the dick cleaning