Painted Pony
A little more to the left, I thought as Maggie swept her way around the stall. As if my thoughts could move her, she stepped between the support poles and just underneath the beam from which hung a bunch of old rope. We had been playing grab-ass all morning while we cleaned the barn so when I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her she only giggled and ground her tight little butt back against me. I let my hands roam up the front of her body: the flat, well-exercised stomach, her perfect breasts resting in an old bikini top. I kissed the back of her neck, reveling in the smell of clean woman sweat and the hint of perfume. ...