Lancelot’s Journey
Created | Updated Nov 4, 2005
***Warning***
This is the only story on this site to contain adult material.
The sun shone brightly that day. Now in mid summer the heat from its rays had started to burn the skin earlier and earlier in the morning.
A young man walked along Ripplingham Road, one of the many bridle ways that crossed the open countryside. Dressed in T-shirt and shorts he could feel the ultra violet rays cooking his exposed flesh. On his back he bore a small ruck-sack, it stuck to his back with the endless pints of sweat he generated.
As he rounded a corner the shade of an orchard engulfed him, welcome rest bite from the blazing sun. making the most of the shade he took a drink from his water bottle. As he tipped his head back to allow the cool liquid to run down his throat he felt a hot blast on the back of his neck. The warm blast of air was followed by a heavy grunt.
Quickly he turned to see a horse looking down at him squarely in the eye, then he heard a voice, “Oh don’t mind Lancelot, he’s quite friendly.” Said the well spoken female voice.
He looked up at the source of the voice.
Sitting on top of the horse was a young woman in her late twenties.
‘Hello’ he thought to himself as he laid eyes on her sitting on the large chestnut mare.
Reddish brown hair protruded from beneath the felt covered riding hat which sat on her head. A bright pink cut off T-shirt hung off of her shoulders, though it covered the modifications to it exposed most of her mid rift. The shirt clung to her with perspiration, he tried to overt his eyes from the figure hugging garments, but found it difficult to know where else to look. Her legs were covered in skin tight jodhpurs which disappeared into her high black boots.
“Morning,” he said nonchalantly walking around to the side of the animal were he not only felt a little safer but could obtain a better view of the rider.
She looked down on the man from her position of height, he looked athletic, under his figure hugging T-shirts he could see his well developed stomach and chest muscles. His shoulders were square while the well toned muscles of his arms bulged out of the tight sleeves of his T-shirt.
“Going far?” she asked, slightly bending forward, resting her right elbow on her thigh. She was well aware of the fact that in doing so the already low cut neck line of her shirt would reveal a little more cleavage.
The effect she desired was achieved, the movement of his eyes gave that away.
“Oh not far, just fifteen miles or so.” He replied.
“Wow,” she said, now it was her eyes betraying her as they travelled south to look at his strong legs, “I like a man with stamina?”
was he imagining this or was she flirting with him, maybe to heat had got to her. “That’s strange, because I like a woman in jodhpurs.” He thought he’d return the complement.
“Really.” A smile crossed her face at hearing the reply.
“Are you going far?” he asked.
“Just a quick trot, it’s too warm for anything else.”
“I know what you mean.” As he spoke his right forearm dragged itself over his sweat covered brow. She watched as his T-shirt stretched across his well defined chest. “Listen, do you want a lift, I’m going your way?”
why not, he thought, it was too hot a day to be walking and the prospect of sitting closely behind her on the animal would be most pleasurable.
“I’ll need a leg up.”
She quickly cast a glance up and down the lane. A pile of earth had built up were in wetter weather conditions a tractors rear tyre had constantly past by pushing the rutted pathway aside. Pulling the stead up along side he was able to mount the horse. It was not the most graceful of mountings, but he managed it, much to her amusement.
He was not at home on a horse, that much was obvious, his legs found their own resting place, but what to do with his arms, “Put them around me.” She instructed him.
As instructed he clasped his arms around her stomach, his right hand gripping hold of his left wrist. He could feel her soft, but firm skin under his arm. Shifting his body somewhat giving the impression of making himself more comfortable he tried to catch a sneaky look over her shoulder and down her top.
She of course was alive to the situation and could now feel his body being pushed towards hers each time Lancelot took a step.
Taking a hand off the rains she placed it on his, slowly but firmly manoeuvring it down, placing his open palm on the top of her inner thigh. As she took her hand away she through her head back and took a sharp intake of breath.
Taking this action as an invitation he began he began to slowly rub his fingers vertically up and down the tops of her jodhpur clad thighs. Then with a sudden change of direction the fingertips of his right hand were gently caressing her crotch.
She let out a slow moan as he did so.
He couldn’t believe that this was happening to him, but nevertheless continued with the actions.
His left hand now was feeling some what redundant, so he employed it by raising it upward and under her loose cut off T-shirt. As his forefinger reached her breast he followed the concave arch of flesh around. He could feel her heart racing under the rib cage, the virtuosity was easily matched by his own beating chest.
As his right hand ventured into the waist band of her riding trousers she held her breath, she could feel it running down her lower stomach, searching for its target. As it hit home she let out a deeper moan.
In the small of her back she could feel something pressing into her, she knew he was as aroused as herself.
Lancelot was steered into the dark innards of the orchard while she still had enough over her action.
Some time later a young woman rode a chestnut coloured horse out of the orchard. Her posture was perfect, not a hair on her head was out of place or a mark or crease was to show on her clothing as the horse cantered off along the bridle way.
A minute or two later a man appeared looking somewhat dishevelled, red face and out of breath. He turned the opposite direction to the horse and set off on foot over the Wolds.
FINI
This is the only story on this site to contain adult material.
The sun shone brightly that day. Now in mid summer the heat from its rays had started to burn the skin earlier and earlier in the morning.
A young man walked along Ripplingham Road, one of the many bridle ways that crossed the open countryside. Dressed in T-shirt and shorts he could feel the ultra violet rays cooking his exposed flesh. On his back he bore a small ruck-sack, it stuck to his back with the endless pints of sweat he generated.
As he rounded a corner the shade of an orchard engulfed him, welcome rest bite from the blazing sun. making the most of the shade he took a drink from his water bottle. As he tipped his head back to allow the cool liquid to run down his throat he felt a hot blast on the back of his neck. The warm blast of air was followed by a heavy grunt.
Quickly he turned to see a horse looking down at him squarely in the eye, then he heard a voice, “Oh don’t mind Lancelot, he’s quite friendly.” Said the well spoken female voice.
He looked up at the source of the voice.
Sitting on top of the horse was a young woman in her late twenties.
‘Hello’ he thought to himself as he laid eyes on her sitting on the large chestnut mare.
Reddish brown hair protruded from beneath the felt covered riding hat which sat on her head. A bright pink cut off T-shirt hung off of her shoulders, though it covered the modifications to it exposed most of her mid rift. The shirt clung to her with perspiration, he tried to overt his eyes from the figure hugging garments, but found it difficult to know where else to look. Her legs were covered in skin tight jodhpurs which disappeared into her high black boots.
“Morning,” he said nonchalantly walking around to the side of the animal were he not only felt a little safer but could obtain a better view of the rider.
She looked down on the man from her position of height, he looked athletic, under his figure hugging T-shirts he could see his well developed stomach and chest muscles. His shoulders were square while the well toned muscles of his arms bulged out of the tight sleeves of his T-shirt.
“Going far?” she asked, slightly bending forward, resting her right elbow on her thigh. She was well aware of the fact that in doing so the already low cut neck line of her shirt would reveal a little more cleavage.
The effect she desired was achieved, the movement of his eyes gave that away.
“Oh not far, just fifteen miles or so.” He replied.
“Wow,” she said, now it was her eyes betraying her as they travelled south to look at his strong legs, “I like a man with stamina?”
was he imagining this or was she flirting with him, maybe to heat had got to her. “That’s strange, because I like a woman in jodhpurs.” He thought he’d return the complement.
“Really.” A smile crossed her face at hearing the reply.
“Are you going far?” he asked.
“Just a quick trot, it’s too warm for anything else.”
“I know what you mean.” As he spoke his right forearm dragged itself over his sweat covered brow. She watched as his T-shirt stretched across his well defined chest. “Listen, do you want a lift, I’m going your way?”
why not, he thought, it was too hot a day to be walking and the prospect of sitting closely behind her on the animal would be most pleasurable.
“I’ll need a leg up.”
She quickly cast a glance up and down the lane. A pile of earth had built up were in wetter weather conditions a tractors rear tyre had constantly past by pushing the rutted pathway aside. Pulling the stead up along side he was able to mount the horse. It was not the most graceful of mountings, but he managed it, much to her amusement.
He was not at home on a horse, that much was obvious, his legs found their own resting place, but what to do with his arms, “Put them around me.” She instructed him.
As instructed he clasped his arms around her stomach, his right hand gripping hold of his left wrist. He could feel her soft, but firm skin under his arm. Shifting his body somewhat giving the impression of making himself more comfortable he tried to catch a sneaky look over her shoulder and down her top.
She of course was alive to the situation and could now feel his body being pushed towards hers each time Lancelot took a step.
Taking a hand off the rains she placed it on his, slowly but firmly manoeuvring it down, placing his open palm on the top of her inner thigh. As she took her hand away she through her head back and took a sharp intake of breath.
Taking this action as an invitation he began he began to slowly rub his fingers vertically up and down the tops of her jodhpur clad thighs. Then with a sudden change of direction the fingertips of his right hand were gently caressing her crotch.
She let out a slow moan as he did so.
He couldn’t believe that this was happening to him, but nevertheless continued with the actions.
His left hand now was feeling some what redundant, so he employed it by raising it upward and under her loose cut off T-shirt. As his forefinger reached her breast he followed the concave arch of flesh around. He could feel her heart racing under the rib cage, the virtuosity was easily matched by his own beating chest.
As his right hand ventured into the waist band of her riding trousers she held her breath, she could feel it running down her lower stomach, searching for its target. As it hit home she let out a deeper moan.
In the small of her back she could feel something pressing into her, she knew he was as aroused as herself.
Lancelot was steered into the dark innards of the orchard while she still had enough over her action.
Some time later a young woman rode a chestnut coloured horse out of the orchard. Her posture was perfect, not a hair on her head was out of place or a mark or crease was to show on her clothing as the horse cantered off along the bridle way.
A minute or two later a man appeared looking somewhat dishevelled, red face and out of breath. He turned the opposite direction to the horse and set off on foot over the Wolds.
FINI
