The rolling hills, fields and forests are beautiful at the riding stables and large farm that I own outside of Frederick, Maryland. I’m thirty-two years old now but began working there when I turned sixteen years old during the summer before my junior year in high school. It feels very good to know that I started there shoveling horse shit in the stalls and now I own the whole thing. That is especially significant since I am a Latina, in a world with mostly old, white men as stable owners.
My name is Lucita but my friends and family call me Luci. My parents were poor, and I grew up with them and two older brothers in a modest, rural home, about three miles from the stables. My brothers were already out of high school and living and working in Baltimore, which is forty-six miles east of Frederick, when I turned sixteen. Frederick is also only forty-nine miles from Washington, D.C.
I decided when I was in middle school that I wanted to go to college and be able to have a rewarding career. I am intelligent, but also knew that I would never be able to compete with some of the other smart kids for a scholarship. So I started looking for a job, which was hard to find where we lived. I wanted to start saving for college and was planning on working after school and on the weekends. Since I didn’t have a car, the job would have to be close enough to home, so I could ride there on my brother’s old bicycle that he left at home for me.
One day after school I rode my bike to the stables to ask for a job. That job would be perfect for me. I always wanted to learn to ride horses anyway, but my family couldn’t afford it. It would be nice to work there and get free lessons. I wasn’t planning on bringing that up at the interview, though. I didn’t think they would hire me if he thought I was just interested in getting free lessons. It was best to wait until I had a chance to prove myself.
I met with the owner, Buck, who was sixty years old at the time. He is six feet and two inches tall and must have weighed about one hundred and ninety pounds. Buck is ruggedly-handsome and had a full head of gray hair and piercing blue eyes. I found out he boarded twenty horses for their owners and owned ten horses that he used for giving riding lessons.
Buck also rented the horses to groups to ride on the farm and into the Catoctin Mountain foothills adjacent to Gambrill State park. Buck is an expert at repairing horse tack equipment too and had a big shop for that. He raised some cash crops, but the stable is his primary business. One other side business is renting out to horse owners six, small, one-bedroom cottages that he has on site. They sometimes drive out to the stables from Baltimore or Washington, D.C. and like to stay overnight to spend more time with their horses.
I wore a pair of tight jeans and a nice, logo t-shirt when I met with Buck. He didn’t even try to hide his attraction to me and I couldn’t very well blame him. I am five feet and six inches tall and weighed about one hundred and fifteen pounds at that time. I’m pretty with fine facial features and my hair is raven-black, silky-smooth, and long enough to reach the middle of my back. The dark hair contrastes well with my light olive skin with a golden undertone and light-green eyes. I’m also fortunate to have firm, cantaloupe-sized, D-cup breasts and a prominent ass with firm, full and well-differentiated cheeks.
My Latina appearance is a result of a fortunate mixture of genes from my Mexican mother and my father who is part German and part Venezuelan. My body had only recently filled out, and although I had a sense of my beauty, my parents were very strict, and we lived in an area relatively far from town. I had never dated any boys and was naive about sexual matters, which meant that I was also still a virgin. But I had a keen sense that boys and men were attracted to me and I enjoyed their attention.
Buck is nice, but he was all business in the interview. He didn’t seem to be worried about EEOC requirements when he said, “I understand why you don’t have a resume since you’ve never worked before, Luci. But what makes you think that a pretty little thing like you could make it here at the stables? My other employees are work-hardened men in their fifties. This work can be hard and dirty, and you might even be a distraction to them. Why should I take a chance on you?”
I thought for a few seconds and replied, “I’m a lot stronger than I look, Buck. I have two older brothers and I kept up with them when we worked together doing heavy chores at our house. I need this job really bad, so I can save money for school and I’ll do anything you ask. Give me this chance, Buck, and I’ll make us both proud.”
He looked at me, tilted his head and said, “Okay, little darlin’. I’ll give you this chance, but you have to be here every day after school for three hours, Saturday for six hours, and several hours on Sunday too. The stalls need to be cleaned every day and the horses are groomed as often as we have time for. You can help with the feeding too. Any extra time will be spent to help turnout the horses for exercise. You’ll be working for my foreman, Red, and you need to follow his orders. I can only pay you minimum wage until I see how much of a contribution you’re making to our operation. You can start right now if you want too.”
I agreed to take the job and Buck took me out to meet Red. He was a fifty-five-year-old, lean and wiry black man with a big toothy grin and easy manner. He had two, older white men, named Lester and Jake, working for him full time. There was also a part-time farrier to take care of the horses’ hooves and shoes. Horse training and riding lesson instruction were mostly handled by independent contractors on an as-needed basis, but Red was a teacher as well. Of course, Buck ran the whole operation and created and maintained the tack.
Things were going very well for me at the stable and after three weeks I knew the routine very well. The work was physically exhausting and dirty and Red was always around to answer my questions. He and the two fifty-something white guys seemed to like me, and I always caught them staring at my ass and tits as I moved around in the stalls and corral. My tight jeans showed off my ass very well, and I know that my breasts looked good to them jiggling in my tight t-shirts.
In the fourth week, when I knew that I had a good reputation as a hard worker, I talked to Buck about taking riding lessons. I asked, “Buck, I’m really comfortable around the horses now and I was wondering if you would allow me to learn to ride? I think it will help me in my work if I know more about handling the horses.”
Buck smiled and said, “Red has been giving me good reports on your work, Luci. I suppose it will be okay for you to learn to ride, but on your own time. Red will be able to select the best horse for you and teach you everything. You can use one of our rental saddles at first, just to make sure you like to ride.
I started with my lessons on the following Saturday for a couple of hours. I usually worked six hours on Saturdays and three hours on Sundays. We had a four-hour training session on Sunday. Red taught me the basics, and by the end of Sunday afternoon I was confidently riding around in the corral. Then something happened that pleasantly surprised me.
After I was able to get the horse into a slow trot, or jog, I felt some amazing sensations in my pussy. The motion and rhythmic bouncing on the saddle was rubbing my vulva and clitoris. Due to my strict religious upbringing, I had never even masturbated. It felt so good that I tried to push the horse into a faster trot. Suddenly, my first-ever orgasm washed over me, and I said ‘Oh, oh, oh…’ out loud as I leaned forward to catch myself on the saddle horn.
Red was about forty feet away and he looked concerned. He asked, “Are you okay, Luci? Do you need my help?”
I was still trying to comprehend the amazing feelings from my orgasm, and at the same time realized that my pants and the saddle were wet with my vaginal fluids. I didn’t want Red coming over to me, so I recovered enough to say, “Thanks, Red, I just lost my balance a little when the horse broke into a trot.”
We were at the end of the lesson, so I led the horse back to the stable and his stall and tried to walk so Red wouldn’t see my soaked crotch. I was leaving the stall and Red came in to take the saddle off the horse. I talked to the horse for a minute and was then making my way out of the stable, passing the open door to the tack room. I stopped in my tracks when I saw Red place the saddle on the rack and lean in to smell the seat, which was soaked with my pussy juices. He told a deep breath and leaned down farther and licked the wet leather.
I had no previous experience with either boys or men and had no idea that the smell and taste of my pussy juice would be such an attraction to men. It seemed repulsive to me at first, but then excited me. There was an adult black man, who I liked and respected, obviously being aroused by the taste and smell of my pussy. He had been watching me in the stable for several weeks and must have relished the opportunity to taste me. I walked away for a few minutes to get something I forgot in the stall. When I came back Lester and Jake were in there with him smelling and licking the seat.
My newly discovered revelation of what an orgasm felt like helped me to disregard some of my parents’ teachings about abstinence from any self-gratification. I began masturbating at night in my bed and could hardly wait to be able to ride the following weekend.
Over the next couple of weeks, the riding lessons progressed from the corral to the pasture. I was enjoying being able to experience different types of gaits. Some gave my vulva and clitoris more stimulation that others. Red and his two assistants were always eager to help saddle and unsaddle the horse for me and they always sniffed and tasted my saddle after my rides.
I was getting so much stimulation that my hymen tore one day when I was riding at a fast trot. It hurt for a little while and I had some blood in my underwear, but it wasn’t as painful as I had heard from a couple of girls I knew from school. It seemed losing my hymen while riding was much less dramatic than from intercourse.
Buck noticed how well I was progressing as a rider and he came to me with a plan for a new service for his customers. He said, “I can’t help but notice that everyone at the stable likes you and appreciates the amount of work you do for us, Luci. Red is especially complimentary of you and what a good rider you have become in only a short period of time.”
I was beaming with joy when he continued, “I’ve been thinking of offering a new, exclusive trail riding experience for our customers. I’d like you to become a trail guide for those excursions. Your wage will be doubled for your normal work at the stable, and it will be tripled for your time as a guide. In addition, I will let our customers know it is expected that you should be generously tipped, as a major part of your compensation. The amount of the tip will be based on how they feel about the services you provide on the ride.”
He paused for a moment and I interrupted. I said, “Thank you so much, Buck, but I don’t have any experience with that sort of thing. Where would we go and how long would we be on the trail?”
Buck continued, “Well, Luci, my farm butts right up against Gambrill State Park. So, the rides will be overnight from here to a camping area on my property at the edge of the park. There is an old, rustic miner’s shack up there that I plan to refurbish for our guests. I was thinking you’d leave here early on Saturday, ride all day into the foothills in the park, camp overnight, and then return at the end of the day on Sunday. It will be a fun ride and you will be making a lot more money for your school expenses. Do you think your parents will approve of you doing that?”
The whole thing sounded exciting, especially the part about making more money. I replied, “Wow, Buck, that all sounds so exciting. I think my parents will be okay with it if they know it’s for work. They know how much I need the money for college. How do you plan to train me?”
He responded, “I was thinking that you and I could make the trip next weekend. That will allow us to clean up the shack and assess what repairs need to be made. We can also test all the camping equipment and teach you a little about cooking for our guests on the trail. I’m giving you a new saddle that will be a much better fit than the standard saddle you’ve been using and setting aside one of our better horses for your exclusive use.”
“I made the saddle to the custom specifications for a woman who is about your size, but she reneged on the deal. It’ll help for you to be more comfortable on that type of long ride. I’ve also got a pair of her riding pants that she left here that you can have. They’ll be more comfortable for you. Be sure to bring some comfortable shorts or pants for sitting around camp after we wash up in the creek.”
I agreed to be the trail guide and my parents approved. On Friday after work we got all our gear together, so we could ride out first thing on Saturday morning. Buck gave me the new saddle to try out, and it fit me perfectly. By then I had learned enough about tack to know that the new saddle has a very special design. As comfortable as it is, it still made me suspicious, as I’ll briefly explain.
There are four basic parts to a saddle seat. The pommel is the part in the front that rises to the horn. Behind that is the narrowest part of the seat, called the twist, followed by the main seat area. Then rising behind the seat is the cantle. Think of the rider being sandwiched between the pommel and cantle, and sitting partly on the twist, but mostly on the seat.
What makes the new saddle different are subtle changes in the design. The seat area between the pommel and cantle is shortened somewhat, and the area of the back of the seat, rising to the cantle, is tilted up a little. The twist part also rises more sharply than normal, and there is a little raised, ridge area on the twist and lower portion of the pommel that other saddles didn’t have.
The result of those modifications is to make slight changes in the way I would be sitting in the saddle. In the normal saddle it was comfortable to sit back in the seat, with the motion of the horse trotting pushing me forward in a rhythm. That saddle was rubbing my pussy rhythmically and not continually. With the new saddle, I am being tilted a little bit forward all the time, with the ridge on the twist and pommel rubbing right between my labia and against my clitoris.
At that point I had no idea how I would be affected by the saddle on a long ride, but I suspected that my vulva and clit would have almost constant contact with the ridge. I also didn’t know whether Buck had really designed the saddle especially for the lady, or what his motive might have been. I was so anxious to get more orgasms on that ride or any ride, so I really didn’t care.
We left the next morning and I loved the stretchy riding pants Buck gave me. There are no pockets and the gusset fits snuggly into my groin. Those pants also accentuate my ass by separating my ass cheeks. Buck was in no hurry and we were in a walking gait where we covered about four miles an hour. He stayed just a little to the side and behind me, no doubt to check out my ass moving in the saddle.
The movement caused the ridge on the twist and pommel to part my labia, and just barely rub my clit from time to time. It didn’t cause the kind of dramatic reaction I got when trotting on the other saddle. It’s a more-subtle rubbing that I felt continuously, and I was always on the verge of an orgasm. I was aware…
