We walked the horses into the barn and had the benefit of gazing at Laurel's glorious jean-clad ass.
"Like the view?" she said, grinning over her shoulder while flexing her buns.
Somehow Laurel could always guess when my thoughts were in the gutter.
"How do you
do
that?"
"Simple. I can hear your cock getting hard. Come to think of it, if I took my top off, the noise would probably be deafening -- except I don't want to scare the horses."
It was Sunday in early April and the first really warm day of the year. The day before had been spent in Laurel's gardens, raking away the last remnants of the previous fall and getting everything ready for the growing season just on our doorstep.
That morning at breakfast, Laurel had seemed somewhat preoccupied but knew that if it concerned me, I'd find out when she was ready.
I didn't have much on, being well ahead on any schoolwork and studying since she'd been out a lot the previous week. Other than the previous night, we'd only had two rather quick rolls in the hay in the past ten days and I was hoping maybe there was time on her agenda for something more involved before we hit the garden.
As I cleared up the table, she spoke. "Derek, I feel like going out to the stable today and get in a nice long trail ride. Screw the garden! You up for it?"
Two double entendres in a row. Perhaps she was thinking about an al fresco bonk somewhere out in the woods. That would be nice. We hadn't done it outside yet.
Surprisingly, only a handful of people were out at the stable where Laurel boarded her horse, Candy, a rather high-strung filly of 5 years. I was on a horse belonging to a friend. He was a gelding of ten and a rather lazy thing. I suggested we consider switching, but Laurel would have none of it. Having grown up riding, I was itching for a bit of a challenge, even if I hadn't quite gotten used to the dinner plates that the English think are saddles.
We'd been out on the trail which had been predictably muddy for early sprint which is why Laurel was wearing jeans rather than her usual jodhpurs, not that I was complaining. I could gaze at her ass for hours. As a matter of fact, I'd recently bought a camera and was hoping to talk her into a session of posing for me.
The barn was empty of people when we got the horses to their stalls and unsaddled them. That was nice because when people were around we had to keep things stiffly formal.
As the winter had moved on, Laurel and I had become increasingly comfortable with each other, personally as well as sexually. By that point, I felt as if I could make love to her properly and could often guess what she desired, what sort of treatment she needed and do things to her before she needed to ask. And like I said earlier, she had the uncanny ability of knowing what I was thinking most of the time -- teasing aside.
As we groomed the horses, the easy banter kept up.
"Really, Derek," Laurel said, "anyone would think you never got any. How many times did you come last night? Three?"
"Four, counting the blow job you gave me at the dinner table. It's a wonder I'm much good for anything today. Besides, I thought that blow job was payment for my working all day in the garden with you."
That last crack earned me a wet sponge in the side of my head. Laurel had good aim.
"Do you have much homework to finish up tonight?" she asked after a few silent minutes.
"Why? You need servicing again already, you horny witch?"
"I've invited someone over."
That usually meant that I should make myself scarce.
I shrugged. "No problem. I'll just stay upstairs."
"No. That's not why I'm asking. I want to introduce you to her."
This was new. Laurel normally kept her social life completely separate from her, ah, personal life.
"Who is it?"
"My friend Janet."
"You mean that woman who owns this horse?"
"Yes.
I'd only seen Janet Blumquist once or twice around the stables, and one time the previous week when she appeared at Laurel's door suddenly one evening, after which they repaired to the study and spent nearly three hours talking.
Janet was maybe a few years older than Laurel, pretty in a well-padded way, maybe five-five with short blonde hair. She could be a bit talkative, but seemed nice enough.
"Why do you want me to meet her?"
"I'll tell you on the drive home," Laurel answered mysteriously.
I guess I was curious because I finished my horse quickly, and Laurel must have wanted to tell me about her friend because she did the same. Ten minutes later, we were in the jeep she always used to drive to the stable and bombing down the highway.
"So you were going to tell me about your friend Janet."
Laurel blinked and glanced at me. "Right. Janet."
"And?" I led.
"It's sort of complicated to explain."
"In what way?"
"Let's see... Derek, there are couples who have been married for a while, and they, ah, get into a rut, sexually speaking. They might try things to spice things up---"
"What sorts of things?"
"Oh, I don't know, toys, role-playing, things like that."
"What does this have to do with me?"
"Oh dear. This is proving more difficult than I imagined."
"Just come out and say it."
"Well...okay. Janet came over last week to talk to me about something that her husband wants her to do. Actually, he's been after her for quite some time about it and she wanted to ask me what I thought." Laurel looked over at me nervously. "You see, Derek, to be blunt, there are men who desire to see their wives make love to other men."
"That's sick! Janet's husband needs some serious help."
"You should try to be more open-minded. A lot of people would consider what we've been doing to be rather strange. Would it surprise you to know that many happily married couples have lovers on the side? And that it was even more common in the past. Then there are men who can no longer perform sexually, or worse, their equipment won't satisfy their wives."
"Are you saying that Mr. Janet has a small willy?"
"His name is Michael, and yes, I guess I am saying that. What he's proposing that Janet do is actually a very loving thing."
"Letting her screw around outside of their marriage is a loving thing? Where I come from, that's called cheating."
"That's the whole point, Derek. If they did something like this in full knowledge of what's going on, how can it be cheating? No one is running around behind someone's back.
"So why don't we cut to the chase, here? I can guess where this is going. You want me to fuck this friend of yours."
"Not exactly."
"What do you want me to do then? Why am I meeting her?"
"I don't want you to 'fuck her'; I want you to make love to her."
"Why would I want to do something like that? She doesn't even appeal to me all that much!"
"You'd be doing it for me. I want to help my friend."
