An Early Morning Ride

Patrick quietly closed the door of his one-room cottage behind him. Inside, his seven children were still sleeping. Since his wife died in childbirth last year, his eldest daughter had taken on the role of head of household. She will see to her brothers and sisters until Patrick returns later this evening. There won't be much food for them today -- there never is -- but they just about find a way to survive day-to-day.

In the half-light of a West-Cork June dawn, Patrick made his way down the boreen towards the big house. Every second cottage is deserted and falling down, indicating the toll the Irish potato famine took here 30 years ago. Patrick was just over 10 years old at the time and was lucky to survive. Some of his siblings didn't.

He hurried along with the long strides of a tall man in a hurry. In just a shirt on this warm morning, his lean muscularity, resulting from many years of physical work combined with a diet that just about staves off starvation, was evident. His jet-black hair, hazel eyes, and dark looks indicated his ancestor's deep roots, reaching back to a time before the Vikings brought the fair-skinned red-haired look now associated with the island.

He passed through the rear service gate that gives entry into the estate of Lord and Lady Gregory, English gentry who had estates and interests in both Ireland and England, the so-called Anglo-Irish; protestants who, in the main, were loyal to the Crown. The loyalty of the Gregory family never waivered, and when the potato blight struck, they followed the instructions of Victoria, dubbed "The Famine Queen" in Ireland, and they continued to ship the produce of their estate to markets in Dublin and England. The carts full of produce left the estate and trundled down the boreen past the emaciated starving families whose cottages, once full of life, now serve as cenotaphs to those lost.

Lady Gregory is to ride out this morning so, as the head stablehand, Patrick needs to get her mare ready. Lady Gregory is in her mid-forties and has fulfilled her duties by giving Lord Gregory five healthy children. However, she is now surplus to requirements. Lord Gregory has been spending more and more time "looking after affairs" back in London. It is rumored that he has a young mistress on the go who he has ensconced in her own lodgings. He has been in London for the last month and there is no word on when he is expected to return.

As Patrick approaches the stable, he is surprised to see the main door off the latch and slightly ajar; there should be nobody here for several hours yet. He quietly eases the door open and enters. He sees Lady Gregory a few stalls down with her back to him. She is dressed in her riding breeches, a short riding jacket, and tall riding boots -- she has a riding crop in her hands. The sharp features of her pretty face have rounded out with age and flecks of grey hide amongst her brown hair. Her rounded, fleshy figure fills out her breeches like the rump of her own mare.

Viewing Lady Gregory from behind, Patrick feels an ache in his groin. He hasn't been with any woman since the last time he slept with his late wife. And he won't get to experience that pleasure again until he remarries, thanks to the hold the Catholic Church has over Ireland.

Lady Gregory did not notice Patrick approaching from behind. He was surprised to see that she was not at the stall of her grey mare, Ciara, but at the far end of the stable at the stall that housed the chestnut stallion, Kane. Kane was nervous and pawing the ground. His huge member was engorged, with veins throbbing, and a moist silken sheen setting it glinting in the half-light of the stable. It seemed to move around of its own accord, twitching and jerking, like a ship seeking a port in a storm.

Lady Gregory was looking intently at this potent sight and Patrick could swear that a small drop of drool could be seen collecting in the corner of her mouth. Ciara was whining and restless in her stall at the far end of the stable.

"He is indeed a fantastic specimen, isn't he" remarked Patrick. Lady Gregory startled and turned around with a blush flooding her face.

"Patrick, don't just sneak up on me like that! I just heard that he was unsettled and came over to see what was wrong with him. Don't you think it is cruel to keep these two virile beauties apart?"

"M'lady, you know very well that Ciara nearly died last year during foaling. If she was to go through that again, she may not survive," Patrick politely replied.

"Patrick, these horses, just like us humans, have innate desires that can drive them mad if not sated. Surely it is worth taking a risk to quench the fire, even if only for a short time."

It was my turn to blush. "We humans can exert control to repress these animal-like instincts. At least that is what the priest preaches every Sunday."

"Do you really believe that poppycock?" questioned Lady Gregory. "Look at my husband. He is off in London with a young hussy, who I am sure caters to his desires. And what am I to do. Patrick, it is over a year since your wife died, surely you also have these basic urges?"

"Yes, I have such urges, but I have been brought up not to give into them" he replied, his voice quavering.

"Don't tell me you trust those priests of yours! Don't you know that they are the worst of all, off fucking men, women and children left, right, and center."

Patrick was shocked, not at the accusation leveled at the priests, as he had heard such accusations many times, but that she would use such a crude word.

"Come with me" ordered Lady Gregory as she set-off towards the hay loft.

Patrick followed obediently. His heart rate jumped as he followed Lady Gregory up the ladder, her ample buttocks swaying as she climbed each rung.

Lady Gregory sat on two bales of hay and beckoned Patrick to come forward.

"Now, Patrick, we both have our needs. Let us help each other out". She took off her boots, unbuttoned her breeches, and with a bit of a struggle, wriggled out of them. She sat back down and spread her legs exposing her parts.

Patrick could feel his heart beating in his throat. In all the years with his wife, she retained her modesty in front of him, with all seven children conceived via short fumbles in the dark of the marital bed.

She took her riding crop in her hand and stroked Patrick's groin with it. "Now, let's see you."

"No, I can't," said Patrick with a begging tone in his voice.

"You have to Patrick. Otherwise, you will lose your job here, and what will happen to your family then?" said Lady Gregory in a tone of false compassion.

Patrick's mind told him that he had to comply, for the sake of his family; his body told him that he wanted to comply.

He undid the buttons of his trousers and pulled them and his tatty undergarments down to his ankles. His member sprung up with vigor.

"Now THAT is a fantastic specimen!" exclaimed Lady Gregory as she traced its length with the tip of her riding crop. She sat back on the bales of hay, parted her legs further, and said "come and rub him against me."

Patrick maneuvered towards her and as his member came within reach, Lady Gregory took it in her hands and guided it to where she wanted it. She started to gently rub it against her. Patrick could feel the warmth and moistness emanating from her. A basic instinct began to take hold of him, and he pushed forward with his hips. But Lady Gregory held firm and with an admonishing wave of her finger, said "Wait."

She was in control and continued rubbing their parts together. Her eyes closed and she began to moan with pleasure. Then, quite abruptly, she stood up and moved Patrick away. "I want you to take me as that stallion would take my mare" she said as she got on her knees and bent over the hay bales.

Patrick was now no longer in control. Something primal had taken control. He got down on his knees, and with some guidance from her hand plunged his erection into her. She moaned deeply. Patrick began thrusting with his hips. Each contact resulted in a loud slap as his body made contact with her rump. She pushed back against him. "Harder" she demanded.

In addition to raw lust, something else was gradually taking hold of Patrick. He realized that he was fucking an English Lady, from a family that left his people to rot while they lived the high life. Anger began to rise within him. He now began to pound into Lady Gregory with all his length and all his strength. Instinctively, he reached forward, grabbed a handful of her hair, and pulled her back towards him. He was now even deeper inside her and she was crying out "Yes", "Yes". She had reached one of her hands back between her legs and was rubbing vigorously.

Patrick picked up the riding crop that lay beside him and began to give her the whip, as he would to a horse about to approach a jump. The veins in his neck were bulging and he was starting to grunt like a wild animal. He could feel he was about to release a torrent of seed into her. Lady Gregory emitted a shriek of satisfaction and stopped pushing back against him. But Patrick kept going "Fuck you, you fucking English cunt!" he exclaimed as he pumped several more times before he came within her.

As his seed pulsed out, it seemed to draw the poison from him and he began to come to his senses. He let go of her hair, dropped the riding crop, and carefully withdrew his cock. He noticed red welts erupting on Lady Gregory's right buttock. A wave of fear crashed over him.

Lady Gregory slowly got to her feet. As she turned around, Patrick expected her to erupt in anger, but to his surprise, she said, somewhat out of breath, "Well, that hit the spot."

Patrick quickly clothed himself again as Lady Gregory squirmed back into her boots and riding breeches.

"Now," she said in an authoritative manner, "this stays between us." She dusted herself down and made towards the ladder.

"Should I get your mare ready?" asked Patrick to her back. "No," she replied that is enough of a ride for one day."

Patrick followed her down the ladder. She had disappeared back towards the house by the time his feet hit the ground.

He looked around the stable and saw that Kane and Ciara were still unsettled. He went to Ciara's stall and led her out to the paddock. He then returned to the stable, and with great effort to keep him under control, led Kane to the paddock. On releasing Kane and seeing him make a beeline towards Ciara, Patrick, turned his back and walked away, closing the gate of the paddock behind him.