The Night Before the Horse Show

[This is the first story I've shared here, so I'd really appreciate some feedback. It's quite setting/emotion/foreplay heavy (4400 words before they get around to any penetration) but I like it anyway.

The characters in this story are both 18 years old, Yasmin having just dropped out of her final school year to move north and Callum preparing for his final exams before university. ]

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"We always camp here the night before a show," one of the stable girls explained to Yasmin. "It's a kind of Glenthorne Farm tradition." As the newest stable hand at the yard, Yasmin was feeling a little uncomfortable about the idea of staying overnight with people she didn't know very well, but all of the other yard girls and liveries were very welcoming. She had been involved with Glenthorne for a few months now and watched the end of the winter die, but most of her work centred around a specific one of the yard's Thoroughbreds and although she knew most of the other girls by name and face, she could not yet consider any of them "friends".

"We have to get up so early to get the horses ready anyway that it makes sense to sleep here." They were staying in the cross country field behind the stables. It was close enough to the bathrooms and they wouldn't be disturbed by any of the horses in the night. The Scottish summer was warm so most of the girls donned their night clothes before darkness fell in the late hours. Yasmin had brought pyjamas, her pillow, and toothbrush, and had been promised there would be plenty of room in the tents. So far no one had offered her a space to sleep and she was still a little too shy to ask, so she put the issue to the back of her mind and tried to enjoy the new company. She loosened up as they spoke, happy to get to know the girls outside of the equestrian context she was used to, and even ventured to tell them stories of her growing up in Wales. Still, she couldn't quite relax enough to change into her night clothes.

They had a small fire pit burning for light and warmth and passed around marshmallows on sticks. The conversation flowed from horses, to school work, to tomorrow's show, to clothes, to music, back to horses again and at last, inevitably, to boys. Yasmin didn't know any of the school kids they spoke of, but what a nice change it was to be included in girl talk that she was so unused to. She had never been the type to earn invitations to sleepovers growing up, and had never felt "one of the girls" in the sense of sharing secrets or giving makeovers. She certainly wasn't well versed in the rules of speaking of crushes.

"So who do you like, Yas?"

"Well..." she smiled, playing along with their game and grateful for them to include her.

"There isn't really anyone I like back home. Some of the Welsh boys are OK but in my little town they're all boring or full-on pitiful!"

"You prefer Scottish lads then?" One of the girls teased. They must have noticed her blush because she didn't have the chance to finish her sentence.

"I don't really know enough Scottish guys yet to give a fair compari-"

"We knew it!" the girls chorused, laughing.

"She likes Callum, it's so obvious!"

"You spend so much time together!"

"I've seen how they look at each other."

At the worst possible moment, a new figure approached the group from the darkness.

"Are you talking about me, girls?" it was Callum.

Their companions fell into a fit of giggles. He took a seat on a saddle pad on the ground beside Yasmin and started pouring a steaming liquid from a flask into plastic cups.

"I thought you might appreciate some hot chocolate to warm your bones," he said. The light from the bonfire splashed across his face, picking out all his soft features and a hint of chin-stubble. His almost-curly black hair seemed alive as it fell in waves over his ears and down the top of his neck. He was wearing a loose black band t-shirt that dipped as he hunched forward just enough for the fire to highlight the edge of his collar bones. Callum was the youngest son of the family who owned Glenthorne Farm and while his older brothers were more involved with the sheep and cattle, Callum's interests lay with the horses.

It was his eventing Thoroughbred mare that Yasmin had been working with; he was giving her tuition in handling difficult horses while she kept his horse competition fit so that he could focus on the final year of his schoolwork before leaving for university in the autumn. The arrangement worked well, and as luck would have it, the pair seemed to get on well on a personal level too. He certainly didn't have as much to do with any of the other liveries or stable hands, so it was not surprising that the others suspected something may be going on between them. She let them have their fun at the idea but would never admit to anyone that she really was growing to like the boy more and more. Not yet.

He snapped her out of her trance.

"You want some?" He was offering her a cup of the sweet, hot drink and looked her right in the eye as he did so. As they sat, he was looking slightly down to her. His eyes usually so deep by day, now alight with the flickering reflection of the fire and that little half-smile he did.

"Thank you," she accepted.

The yard owner's son stayed with them another hour or two until some of the younger girls began to retire to their tents. Even those who stayed up were beginning to yawn and Yasmin had still not found herself a place to sleep.

"Which tent are you in?" Callum asked, casually.

"Oh," she stuttered. "I hadn't really... I don't..." It looked as though one of the other girls may have been about to offer her a place but she was glad when the boy spoke up in front of her.

"You should stay in the clubhouse above the tack room," he said. "There's even couches in there and you won't get covered in bugs in the night like the rest of these losers," he jibed.

They spoke of creepy crawlies and scary things for a short time before the last of the girls retired to bed and Yasmin accepted her host's offer. He gave her his hand to help her up and threw a bucket of sand over what remained of the fire. With the embers gone, they had only the feint light of the night sky to guide them to their destination. Callum knew the place so well that he didn't need to be able to see, and Yasmin so longed to hold his hand and have him lead her there. How rare it was to see him in thick, baggy jeans instead of breeches. They suited him.

Callum unlocked the tack room and they tread carefully up the creaking steps to the clubhouse. It was an area initially intended for the stable hands to have their lunches and spend their free time but was now more of a storage loft. Mismatched sofas and soft furnishings sat around a central table scattered with aging equestrian books and magazines. Behind the couches were tack boxes and piles of rugs and other oddities too dark to make out. It was dusty, but the pleasant smell of leather and molasses and saddle soap swept up from the ground floor. One of the sofas already had some blankets and pillows on it, visible in a shaft of light filtering down from a skylight in the old barn roof.

"I hope you don't mind me hijacking you like this," Callum said, taking off his boots. "The girls have a habit of playing pranks on the newest rider. Up here you won't have to worry about them." His voice was a little husky and he coughed to clear his throat.

"They've all been so nice to me so far," said Yasmin. "But thank you. It looks much cosier up here." She sat on one of the sofas and it creaked under her weight.

"It's a nice little escape," he replied.

"There's a lamp behind you if it's too dark up here. Unless you'd rather go to sleep straight away?"

"No," she said, a little too hurriedly. "I mean... I'm not so tired. It'd be nice to stay up for a bit." She felt behind her sofa. "Where is it?"

"It should be on that desk, towards the back."

"Show me."

Callum picked himself up from his couch and knelt on Yasmin's, reaching far back across the desk for the lamp. She could smell a moment of his aftershave as he stretched. Something clanged.

"Here it is." He flicked the switch and there was a flash of light accompanied by a cracking noise, then blackness.

"Well done!" she laughed, hoping he hadn't seen her jump at the flash. "It's really homely up here, with all the dust and spiders. I was just thinking if there was one thing that would make this cold, creaky loft better, it's total, inescapable darkness."

Callum thumped his head on the back of the sofa in feigned despair. As he leant forward, Yasmin could just make out a pale ribbon of bare skin between the belt of his jeans and the raised lower edge of his shirt.

"Shush, I made an effort for you!" He pushed his fist playfully against her shoulder. "You can't blame me for a blown bulb."

"What effort?" she toyed with him.

"Giving you comfy couches and a roof to save you from the tents in the field! I could have left you on the dirt ground and slept in my own bed tonight, but I sacrificed that for you. That's real effort." She could hear the smile in his voice. The room echoed and felt empty of life. The dark corners could have spread out forever for all Yasmin could tell, but all she could see was him. A moment of bravery took hold and the words were already out of her mouth before she had the chance to stop them.

"Do you like me, Callum?" The moment of silence that followed seemed to last forever as she wished she could reel in those words like a net. It was too dark to see his expression, only that he was avoiding her gaze to stare down at the space on the sofa between them. Was she so far off the mark? But she had to know. Suddenly, his hand was on hers.

"I do," he told her. "You have a good heart. And a fascinating mind. And a really perfect arse."

That smile in his voice again. She picked her hand from under his to hide her face in it as she laughed, glad it was too dark for him to see her blush.

"You're a very interesting person," he continued. "And yes, I do like you."

She found the stability to look him in the eyes again, and for a first time felt like they were hers to look upon. Like his hands were hers to hold. Like they somehow belonged to each other.

"I'm quite fond of you too, for some reason."

"Good," he said. "Because this could have been a really awkward evening if you didn't!"

"I've been trying to figure you out for so long! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now."

"Then say it." She leaned a little closer towards him on the sofa, playing with his big, rough hands in hers as she waited for his reply.

"I really like you, Yas."

"I really like you too, Callum."

How much she wanted to hold him. Only their breath was loud as drums, a shiver up her spine that wasn't due to the cold. At last, she lifted a hand to touch his clothed chest with her fingertips. That chest that had been wrapped in countless entry numbers at horse trails, that chest that held the air he breathed when thundering his horse out over the hills, that chest that held the honest heart of a man who had taught her so much already.

She leaned forward to embrace him but before she knew what was happening, his lips were against hers and he was kissing her deeply in the silence. One hand lay flat against his chest, the other on his thigh. He had one hand brush behind her ear, the other snake around her waist, pulling her towards him. She couldn't help but close her eyes and enjoy the feeling of that hint of chin-stubble brushing against her face, his warm breath on her cheek, his tongue on hers. She writhed beneath his touch and he lay her backward until her body rested along the sofa and he was above her, muscular and heavy. She felt suddenly powerless beneath him, but utterly safe. Her heart pounded, his feet playing with hers as they lay together on the couch.

Their deep, wet kiss fell into his soft lips on hers, kissing her lips, her cheek, her neck, her nose, her lips again. She realised she was smiling too much to kiss him back and opened her eyes to watch his floppy black hair brush forwards against her face as he kissed her. She wriggled her fingers into his hand on her waist, and helped him find her hips, her thigh, her ribcage almost to her breasts.

He lifted his face to look upon her, the moonlight from the skylight just strong enough for her to pick out the outlines of his face.

"We have to be up early," he said, "so if you want to stop and get some sleep, just say."

He was giving her a way out. He must have anticipated her nervousness at being alone at night in a strange place with a man she hadn't known for very long and he was giving her an opportunity to ask him to give her some space without ruining the mood of the evening. How very sweet. His warmness only made her want him more. That fit, muscular body that ruled over the horses and the livestock; that cocky, authoritarian attitude that could have any of the yard girls doing his bidding; and inside was a tenderness that Yasmin had never come across in a man before.

"Don't stop," she whispered to him.

The pair fell into a deep kiss once more and Yasmin ran a hand under his shirt to feel the firmness of his obliques and the little trail of hair running between his navel and the top of his jeans. She felt the patch of hair on his chest and each of his nipples, slightly hard from the cool night air or the excitement, she couldn't tell. Reading her keenness, his mouth left hers briefly for him to pull his shirt up over his head and cast it to the floor. As he lowered himself back down to her, he nestled his face to her neck and kissed her there, making her give a little gasp and tighten her body up against him. At that moment, she fancied she may have felt something pressing against the top of her thigh and the thought made her hold even tighter to his naked torso, feeling his cool skin just beginning to bristle with sweat. She caught the edge of his ear between her teeth and he looked up to her face again, breathing faster than before. He looked down over her body hungrily and moved one hand slowly from her hip, under her top and up to her bra.

He moved tentatively, but needn't have worried about rushing her. She longed for his skin against hers and arched her body to press her breasts against him as she popped a hand behind her back to undo her own bra. Her chest was instantly relieved and Callum kissed her again. He could now fit his fingers beneath her underwire and hold one of her breasts in his hand. The skin of his hands felt so strong and masculine against the softness of her body and she found her own breath shallow and staggering as though it were no longer under her control. They lay caressing this way in the darkness for some time, Yasmin hooking a thumb under his belt loop to pull his hips against hers and gripping his hair into a fist, until she could no longer lie still.

The sofa they lay on was deep, and it wasn't difficult for her to wriggle from underneath him and prop herself upright. He straightened himself up to her and she took the opportunity to straddle his hips and push him backwards against the back of the sofa. Her undone clothing hung clumsily around her shoulders, so she lifted it from her body and let it fall to the ground next to the stable boy's shirt. His hands found their way to the small of her back and she rested her arms on his broad shoulders as he took each of her breasts into his warm mouth. She had never been kissed like this before and her body trembled. He seemed to be breathing life directly into her lungs. She couldn't help but roll her hips against his as she had him pinned down.

The other stable girls would be sleeping in their tents now, completely oblivious. The riding instructor's son... what would her friends from back home think? The very idea of him being so close to her drove her crazy. She pushed herself back a little to fit her hands against the top of his jeans.

He kept his eyes fixed on her face as she watched his body breathe and brushed her fingers over his lap, finding the tension where his erection pushed up against his jeans towards her. She put her fingers to the buckle of his belt and looked up to his face. He gave a subtle nod, his eyes serious and steamy, his mouth open slightly with anticipation. She fumbled a little in the dark to get his belt undone but soon his jeans were loose and open and his erection was almost free. He interrupted her exploration, pushing her backwards until she was forced to stand at the edge of the sofa in front of him. He came forward to stand as well and immediately took her face in his hands. She was only a few inches shorter than him but having to stand on her toes to kiss him gave her a feeling of such sensuous femininity in his powerful arms, a feeling quite new to her.

He moved to undo her jodhpurs as she had undone his jeans. Her clothing was much tighter though, and needed a little help to loosen away. Callum lowered himself slowly, kissing down her body as she stood and peeling her clothing downwards until he was on his knees and her jodhpurs were low enough for her to step out of. She was stood in the darkness now only in her underwear and how glad she was that she had worn a delicate laced garment and remembered to shave! He flashed up a smile from where he knelt and she threw her head backwards to breathe deeply, staring at the barn roof, her hair tickling her back.

She played with his hair in her hands as he kissed her hips and the tops of her thighs, his hands beneath the lacy sides of her underwear. His breath on her crotch was unbearable. He kissed her through her underwear and ran his fingers across her crevices. Was this really happening? Was she really ready for this? He slid a hand between her thighs, encouraging her to shift her weight a little to allow him access, and used his thumb to lift the elastic away from her skin. At last, his fingertips slipped between her labia and she thought she heard him let out an involuntary groan as he pushed one finger very slightly deeper, moving the wetness that had been building up inside her across her smooth lips. How long would she be able to stay standing in the face of such an onslaught?

As if he could no longer stay away, he pulled her underwear further aside and nuzzled his face against her crotch, kissing her and beginning to use his tongue against her clitoris. The feeling was like nothing she had ever felt before, like nothing she could ever do to herself.

She looked down at him, that epitome of authority and power on his knees before her, giving himself to her. It was enough to make her knees weak and she could take it no more. She bent to place two fingers beneath his chin, first lifting his face away from her, and then lifting the man to his feet. With him taller than her once again, his jeans did not need much encouragement to drop to his feet and now the thin cotton layer of his boxers was the only thing separating her flesh from his erection. She pulled his body against hers, revelling in the feeling of the beast between his legs pushing against her, and kissed him again. She could taste herself on his lips.

They turned to lie back on the sofa again and when she did not have to rely on her legs to keep her up, Yasmin was keen to repay the kindness that her friend had shown her. The pair were hot in the cold loft now and Yasmin felt at risk of letting out a giggle as she smoothed her hand down his firm, slightly hairy torso to his now accessible erection. She teased him by stroking down his leg, rough with hair, and then up the soft flesh of his inner thigh. She didn't venture beneath his boxers yet but felt the shape of his penis through the fabric. Had her partner not seemed so relaxed and accommodating she might have been intimidated, but he supported her so well that this was a mutually comfortable exploration and she was not scared, not ashamed. How easy he made the whole experience. How much better it was than she had always imagined this moment might be.