A Cowboy in Mumbai
Friday night is Tinder night for us single babes, and, I was out trolling, as usual. After work, I go home alone but sometimes I let a man pick me up. This Friday, I was working my way through the profiles, stopping to talk to everyone there. The men all looked the same in their tight pants and gelled hair, the yuppie crowd on the prowl.
Then, I saw this man smiling and instantly decided to meet him up. We met at a bar in Colaba – Planet Bollywood.
He was unique in this urban setting of twenties and thirties. I guess he was about fifty. His face was heavily tanned like leather from the sun which emphasized his sky blue eyes. He wore a long sleeved western-style work shirt and a straw cowboy hat pitched back on his head. He was drinking a beer with his whole hand wrapped around the bottle’s long-neck. His eyes watched lazily, seeing the crowd as if he were watching a herd of cattle from horse back.
Suddenly, his blue eyes were piercing me and he smiled slowly, showing white teeth that sparkled against the dark face. He tipped his hat. I looked away but, subconsciously, worked my way to him. He stood when I approached and took off the hat, showing longish black hair streaked with gray. Of course, he was wearing boots and jeans. The jeans were skin tight and his legs were thick, heavily muscled, like the rest of him.
“Hi, Cowboy,” I said gaily.
“Good evening, ma’am,” he replied in a drawl. He offered me the stool and I sat, allowing him to buy me another drink.
“Well, cowboy, what brings you to this watering hole?” I asked, trying to be cute but sounding a little brittle.
“I’m not really a cowboy,” he said slowly. “I’m a horseman, I specialise in raising and training horses for the Royal Mumbai Polo Club. I came to town to find a new mare.” My heart was pounding as I studied his face. He has just a light twinkle in his eyes as if teasing me and trying not to show it.
“I love horses,” I told him.
“Doesn’t surprise me. Horses are beautiful and sensual creatures,” he replied. The horseman and I talked. He was very close to me so we would not shout to overcome the din. He smelled of leather and, well, dirt, an earthy, masculine smell. He did not paw me as men try to do in bars. When he finally touched me, he rested his hand on my thigh. It felt warm and natural there.
Finally, he said, “Let’s go out to my stable.”
Ah, the come on line. I have heard a million but it is always interesting to hear another. And, the answer often determines if I spend the night with a guy or let him drop.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked.
“You are beautiful little girl,” he answered, “I want to exercise you a little and then put you in the stall with my stallion so he can mount you.”
Holy smokes! The vision of me being a mare mounted by a stallion made me reel and I got wet. I was almost dizzy. The horseman was watching me with a hint of a smile, enjoying my response.
“Okay,” I croaked and downed my drink for courage.
He drove a working SUV several years old, not a truck as I expected. The windows were down and the wind blew my hair. His “ranch” was really a few acres outside of Mumbai with a small barn, corral and open area. I put on some sneakers he offered. Although they were too large, they were better than high heels. He quickly showed me around.
There were two horses in the barn, a mare and, yes, a stallion. The stallion was a big red horse with a star on his nose. He whinnied when he saw us. The horseman pulled some sugar from his jeans which the stallion nuzzled from his hand.
“Is that the stallion that is going to mount me?” I giggled in a high, squeaky voice.
“Only stallion I’ve got,” he replied evenly. As he dragged me away, I could not take my eyes off the giant beast.
He stopped at the tack room and got a bridle and bit. It seemed much too small for the horses and the bit was leather, not steel. We walked to the middle of the corral. It was relatively dark but the stars were shining so I could see him as he began unbuttoning my blouse.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Horses don’t wear clothes,” he replied. If this man did not have a devilish glint in his eyes, I would swear he was being honest because his voice was unemotional. I waited impatiently while he removed all my clothes but the sneakers and panties. His hands never left me. When he put his thumbs in the panties, I pulled away.
“Whoa, girl,” he said. “Easy now.”
He stroked my face and I felt his palm over my mouth. It was a sugar cube! I… well, I nuzzled his palm and took the cube in my lips. His hands were actively stroking my back and flank, gently pulling on my mane, calming me as he would a horse. How can a man’s hands both calm and excite at the same time?
“Whoa, little filly,” he crooned and again offered his palm. When I took the cube this time I felt leather slip into my mouth. In one movement, the bridle was over my head and the bit secure between my teeth. I saw him grin broadly when I stomped my foot as a horse would. As I was mouthing the soft leather bit, he pulled down my panties. I was naked before I realized it. And, his hands were again actively stroking me but in a way I am sure he did not stroke a horse. This little filly was getting very hot from his hands.
I cannot explain it but when I bit down on the bit, I became a horse, his horse. I made no attempt to get the bit out of my mouth or the bridle off my head like a human. I tried to spit it out like a horse would. My hands hung limp as if they were not there.
He started guiding me around the ring by the bridle, the way he would exercise a horse. I started walking and then trotting. I could see the stallion in the barn, his huge red head sticking out of the open stall door. It was as if he was watching me, knowing the horseman was getting me ready for him.
It was wild! My breasts bounced and the cool night air enveloped me. But soon I was I sweating from exertion, trotting in a circle around him as he held my reins and talked to me calmly. He had me slow and then walked me through a few more circles. He pulled me to him by the bridle and rubbed my neck while giving me another sugar cube.
He led me in the barn, to a stall. Gently, he guided me by the bridle until I was on all fours and the bridle tied to a ring. “Now, little filly, keep facing the stall wall and I will bring the stallion to you.” I was shaking all over from the sexual tension and the exercise. I heard the huge beast snort and I could feel the ground move from his weight. I tossed my head. I could not be still. This filly was looking forward to the stallion mounting her.
I heard a sound right behind me. He bumped me with his legs and neighed. He lay against me, letting me feel his weight, not touching me with his hands but resting his arms on my back. I could feel his hardness punching around as we worked together to let him mount me as a stallion and mare would. When we finally succeeded, I felt the first spasms in my legs and knew my orgasm would be one to remember. He was a good stallion and I came forever.
I was floating in after glow when my horseman removed my bit and bridle and gently rolled me over. He was grinning as he slipped in me like missionaries, not horses. The giant stallion was behind him, watching us use his stall. It was as though the horse was with me.
I was too weak to stand. My horseman, who had ridden his filly very well indeed, carried me into the house. We bathed together in his tub. He carried me to bed, wrapping me in his strong arms. He mounted me again, riding slowly and smoothly.
I awoke to find him next to me, warm and strong. I nuzzled him awake.
“How does the mare tell the stallion she is ready for him?” I whispered.
“She backs up to him and bumps against him,” he replied. It worked.
He really lives in the city where he owns a business. I moved in with him shortly thereafter. We play many games with each other but my favourite is still when he slips the bit in my mouth before riding like the wind.
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