A Pleasant Carriage Ride

I meet Fiona outside the cafe for once. "This is different," she says, taking a thermos mug full of black, Ecuadorian filter coffee from me and cracking it open. She breathes in the richly scented, earthy aroma with an expression about as close to orgasmic as she can get without actual sex. "You do realise," she adds in a seductive murmur, "the only reason I come for this annual challenge is the coffee."

Fiona barely tolerates these fictional exercises. Seven hundred and fifty words is, after all, barely enough to get one's knickers off, let alone have proper sex. "Especially when you waste words on stupidity," she mutters. "So what are we doing this year?"

"I thought we could go for a ride." A horse-drawn carriage pulls up next to us, two proud grey mares pulling a four-wheeled brougham painted red and black. A handsome, black-uniformed driver holds the reins, and as he brings the horses to a careful halt beside us, he drops down to open the door. "Ladies," he says.

"In the middle of winter?" Fiona asks, staring at the ancient vehicle with scepticism.

"I did ask you to dress warmly."

In fact, my instructions were more specific than that: a warm coat and high-heeled shoes, and nothing else. I myself have opted for a pink, wool-blend trench coat and knee-length leather boots, but Fiona is wearing a gorgeous white-and-ginger fur coat that looks very expensive and quite possibly real fur. ("It isn't," she insists.) Her brown, suede ankle boots complement it nicely.

She climbs up into the carriage with ease - and swears loudly at the sight of what awaits us. I climb up after and push in beside her. The interior is barely big enough for the two of us, the double seat facing forwards with glass windows to the front and sides. We will have a nice view of the village and the driver's back, and though it's cold inside, I don't doubt it will warm up nicely.

"I'm not sitting on that," Fiona growls, glowering down at the seat and the rather large dildo that juts up through the hole. The pink, silicone toy is anachronistic in this construction of leather and wood.

Ignoring her for the moment, I take my own seat, awkwardly adjusting my coat so that the leather of the seat is cold against my bum, and my own pink, silicone toy pressing between my thighs. "Don't be a spoil sport," I say. "This is a short story and we're already halfway through. You'll be fine."

It's midmorning and sunny outside. There are a few people going about their business, but none close enough to see Fiona's momentarily exposed legs as she lifts her thick coat up around her waist and eases into place beside me. We are quite a comical sight up close: properly dressed as far as the rest of the world can see, but a rippling sea of wool and fur below.

I fish a tube of lube and a packet of tissues from my pocket, and make sure the head of the dildo is thickly smeared. As Fiona does likewise, I press my hand between her thighs, and run my fingers between the soft lips that I have so often adored. Despite her protestations, she's aroused and deliciously wet.

"Ready?" I ask, once we are both correctly impaled. Fiona nods, and I rap on the glass.

The driver nods, and calls out to the horses while flicking the reins. The carriage lurches into motion. "Ooh," I say, the sound echoed by Fiona as the two dildos, in perfect synchrony, push up into us. Gentle, insistent, merciless. The mechanism is driven by the rotation of the carriage wheels and doesn't care whether we are ready yet to accept the full depth of its mechanical stroke.

But slow, thankfully, at first, giving us a chance to get used to that deep, determined thrusting. I'm so focussed on the startling sensation of it that for those first few seconds I completely forget that we're visible to the outside world. Two young women in a horse-drawn carriage, with very flustered expressions. And then Fiona bursts into laughter, and I join her, and we hold hands as we pretend to be innocent tourists enjoying a quaint carriage ride, when in truth we're a pair of sluts enjoying a good, rhythmic fuck in full public view.

Fiona sips her coffee.

I tap on the glass in front of us. "Faster," I call out. "Faster!"