Ivy Years

Reader discretion advised. Proceed at your own risk.

My Saturdays have a routine. Most of the time it’s Casey, sometimes it’s Cal, one time it was Malumbo (Turns out he was taken, what a shame). Anyway, I go up to him to say hi and ask him how his day is going. I grab a blanket, chat him up, begin to give him a gentle message. Up and down, down and up. You’d think with all the effort I’m putting in on those muscular shoulders or powerful thighs, that he’d be more grateful, right? But nooo, he’s almost never in the mood. What’s a girl to do but nudge and coax?

Moving on. The next thing I do is making sure that I’m wearing protection. You never want to get on top and realize you’re not wearing protection. Severe consequences, I’ve been told repeatedly.

Of course, only one thing matters more than protection – his size.  To me anyway. There is a great deal of coordination involved, surprisingly. I’m sort of on the light and skinny side so when he’s too big, I get uncomfortable and he gets restless. So it was great having Casey as a first. He’s the small and quiet sort who listens to you and waits for you when you need a break from the motions.

Sometimes it’s frustrating. Casey, for one, likes playing games. When we finally have a nice, fast rocking rhythm going, I’m shouting “Keep going Casey, don’t stop!” and he just… HALTS. I mean come on, what is that?! Way to ruin my moment.

Now I always thought that being on top gives you more control over speed and angle. But boy did Casey prove me wrong. At first it was easy as pie, for we were getting used to each other’s bodies and being in such close proximity. Before I knew it, Casey started really going at it. The first time, I was completely thrown off balance and ended up out of sync with his rhythm. And let me tell you, there is nothing worse than being out of sync because your butt ends up smacking him (or her) at all the wrong moments. And you’re not smacking soft skin, but solid, hard gear. Painful for both of you. I told him to take it slow since I really didn’t want to ride him hard the first time (I think he decided to ignore me).

We usually go about this for roughly 45 minutes. Him confident, me clumsy. By the end, he’s usually unsatisfied and I’m just plain exhausted. When I finally hop off of him, I am sore in places I didn’t know existed and swear that I won’t do this again in a while. But deep down I know, after a week filled with throbbing body parts, I’d be back, and he’d be waiting for me.

Meet Casey.

I’m not wearing a helmet as protection like I should, but hey, the thing was killing my brain and I was already in pain from riding for an hour. My love-hate (though mostly love) relationship with my horseback riding class continues.

P.S. – Get your mind out of the gutter!