I Love the Smell of Gunpowder in the Morning

I remember this was just a few days before there were screaming headlines that their biggest competitor had crashed insolvent due to the usual Senior Management malfeasance in collusion with incompetent Bankers and corrupt Brokers. Into a multi-billion dollar bankruptcy and to be forcibly broken-up. Followed with rumors hinting that those two conversationalist's conglomerates are picking up the pieces they each wanted at fire-sale prices without bidding against one another.

You believe in coincidences? Heck and shucks, neither do I! But then I'd just be speculating. And I don't get paid to guess.

Financially, I hardly qualify for membership in such an elite demarcate but fortuitously one of my businesses publicly produces customized computer systems and a few semi-popular online games. As a cover for discreetly manufacturing unique security systems and writing specialized security programs. These functions gained me admittance to our old Ranch and I was grandfathered in when we applied here to the new Ranch.

It didn't hurt that Christie's grandfather had been a founding member of the National Equerry Association when the previous organization had collapsed amidst a series of notorious gambling rigging scandals during the 1960's.

Christie always kept a reservation in for the stallion Spade, whom she loved to ride. While I always reserved my favorite, the filly Chocolate Darling, I'm a sulky driver.

After our morning exercises, the grooms took Spade and Chocolate Darling back to the stables to be cooled down and rested. Christie and I strolled across the Manège and along the inner fence enclosing the paddock. Approaching where the Head Trainer was telling a couple of his assistants what he wants them to work on with the teams for the pair of sulkies now circling the track in a pickup race. They left and he turned to us and cracked a rare smile.

The grizzled Ol'Trainer spat some tobaccy juice over his shoulder, then turned his craggy head to face us again and said in an admiring tone. "McTavish, you two are about the best amateurs, I've had the pleasure to observe in at least twenty years! If you ever want to go professional? Put together a stable and you could do the National or Hell! Even the International Circuit."

Christie blushed and shyly shook her head. With a glance at her expected response, I looked backed at the Ol'Trainer, responding with an amused tone "Thank you, coming from you that is quite a complement. But no, we just do this for the pleasure of it as a couple. Such as when we go shooting or to car shows, we are a team. Not for trophies or plaques anymore, together just for the fun of it. We don't need our egos stroked or have to display the most snobbish status symbols. Been there, done that, have a nice collection of the t-shirts. Now we just want to relax and enjoy our golden years."

The Ol'Trainer spat another splat of chaw as he thought, then answered "I'd say I envy you two! Your equanimity towards living your own lives as you choose and your strong love for one another. Mighty rare! Especially among all the egotists this sporting life usually draws. You two stand out brightly in your modesty!"

After that splendorous compliment, we continued our leisurely stroll across the track after the trotting pair of racers passed. We went onto the Patio and had a light luncheon before returning to our room and taking a refreshing nap.

I would guess maybe an hour later I woke up to find Christie gently stroking my erection. She smiled at me, I grinned back with a murmur of gratitude.

I then gently pulled on her arm for her to crawl over me and present her neatly trimmed vulva to my onomatopotential. Vigorously I applied my tongue and horizontal to gastronomic carousing with her clitoris and vertical. While stroking and squeezing her legs and buttocks with enthusiastic prestidigitation as she babbles incoherent peals of lust.

I could feel her body convulsing with orgasmic splendor as squealing, she let out little squirts of paraurethral aqua vitae with each pulsation of pleasure. Finally, sobbing that she couldn't take any more, she pulled away and laid down on top of me to cuddle. I could feel her shake as aftershocks reverberated across her body.

I could hear her whispering "Jason, Jason."

I dunno why, Christie at this point always cries and sobs a little. She claims it is her overwhelming sense of gratitude for sharing my love with her. Considering the selfish asshole she was previously married to before, that sounds reasonable to me.

We laid cuddled, and as the aftereffects of my efforts on her behalf began to fade, my beautiful wife once again began to gently stroke my flagging erection. Slowly, lovingly, running her hand up and down my penis. I laid back, feeling the gathering pleasure throughout my groin. As she meticulously, with metronomic regularity, digitally pleasures my manhood.

The hydraulic pressure built to concentrate my consciousness to one focal point of ecstatically blinding eruption as I ejaculated over the pair of us. Christie didn't stop, she continued her exertions on my part and a second orgasmic burst struck me, then a third!

Wow Wee!! Usually I only get a double-your-pleasure out of a handjob to my spear-mint. And here today, my loving wife gifted me with a triple orgasm!

Okay, I know, I know! There's some controversy over whether or not these are one spastically repetitive orgasm or actually counts as three separate orgasms. Get the fudge away from me! Just let me enjoy the dangblasted moment, Okay?

Jupiter! People argue about the stupidest things......

As she carefully lapped up my spillage with a thoroughly feline skill, her fine hair drifting across my skin with little electrical shocks, my body would tremor with the joy of sharing joy.

Then in post-coital bliss we laid, embracing as we dozed on and off for a while. Finally getting up and having a little fun in the shower. Christie giggles "Darling, I just 'loofa' how you do that!"

We dressed for our late afternoon exercise. Over at the stables the grooms were harnessing Chocolate Darling into the shafts of my custom built, carbon-fiber sulky. Nearby, I could see other handlers fitting the specialized saddle onto Christie's mount, Spade.

Not satisfied with the previous available saddles, Christie herself had designed the New Mount saddle. It has proven popular among professional and amateur riders and is credited with reviving the sport. My wife has licensed out production to a few select manufacturers of proven quality. Her grandfather would have been so proud of her.

Like I had said before, we are not interested in competing professionally or showing in amateur contests. We enjoy sporting around with one another and that satisfies us.

I methodically double-checked the harness and traces and wheels. If I was careless, it would devastate me that Chocolate Darling could be harmed by my inattention to the details. I could hear Christie behind me talking to Spade as she did her own pre-flight checklist. Then I could hear one of the grooms grunt as he gave my wife a boost up onto the saddle. She ordered him to check the right stirrup and draw it up a little tighter.

I was finally satisfied, as one of the grooms held the reins I mounted onto the seat of the little cart. Then he handed me the reins as I was checking my balance and firmly planted my boots, while observing to make sure Chocolate Darling was standing comfortably between the shafts. I looked over to Christie, she smiled back at me, tapped her crop to the brim of her Gaucho hat in a salute, then made a clicking noise with her tongue and a nudge with her heels to start Spade in a steady walk forward onto the track.

I just snapped my whip into the air and Chocolate Darling obediently followed behind, she is well use to our routine by now. There were three more riders on the track, youngsters still learning how to handle their steppers as their instructor rode alongside encouraging them.

Then in the left lanes, a couple of sulky's raced by, neck to neck with the drivers vigorously whipping their trotters on, with a couple of more close behind. One was a double harness with a matched pair of pacers.

Not trusting the racers, I kept Chocolate Darling reined in and a couple of steps to the outside to shield Christie if the jerks got carelessly close. As we pulled up into line behind the kids in the right lane along the rail. Their instructor dropped back a length, twisted in her saddle to look behind all of us to see if it was safe to pass. I knew she was an experienced hand and trusted her judgement, so when she waved for us to pass on the outside, I did not hesitate to follow Christie as she swung out and speeded up.

After we got a few lengths ahead, my wife swung back in to the lane along the railing and again I followed. Still a couple of paces outside to protect her. Of course, if one of those morons did get closer then I am comfortable with, my fists are going to have a few words of wisdom to impart to their faces. I don't care how entitled they are!

Social Registry and other snobbish celebrations of Charles Adams level inbreeding get nothing but contempt from me. I busted my posterior escaping from the stench of a turkey farm to achieving recognized, meritorious status in the business community with my smarts and my hard work.

And you should hear Christie go about ripping on such pretentious nonsense. She comes from provable Anglo-Norman and Burgundian aristocracy via the Mayflower and DAR. Heck, if truth be told, she probably has the pedigree to claim half the thrones of Europe, if she ever wanted to be stuck with that load of swillage.

Though come to think of it, if we had met when I was a younger man, it could of been fun. Conquering and pillaging our way across Europe to assert Her Divine Right of Majesty.

Yeeks! I gotta stop daydreaming and start paying attention! Chocolate had pulled up alongside Spade and they were both trotting along in tandem at a good clip. I'll bet they had a smug look in their eyes! Speaking of said ocular jocularity, Christie looked down at me with a bemused quirk of her eye. Embarrassed, I just shrugged my shoulders and took a quick look around to make sure we were clear of traffic.

That's when my chronometer started dinging, it was time to pull in. I raised my hand and twisted my arm so Christie could see I was indicating my watch. She let us pull ahead and at the next turn I steered into the turnout to the stables.

The grooms hustled over to give us a hand dismounting and then leading our mounts into the stables to remove their gear.

Christie was talking to the head-groom, giving strict instructions about what she expected the handlers to do. Making it clear she expects Spade and Chocolate Darling to be carefully groomed and tended too and rested tonight, ready for our use in the morning.

See what I mean, She has this unconscious arrogance of true nobility and the guy is practically bowing and kowtowing at her feet in subservience. I try that and I'd probably get a pitchfork up my nose!

Christie turned and strode over to me and affectionately took my arm. As we walked through the stables, we could hear a drill in one of the other barns. Curious we peeked in. There were a some new Pony Recruits being put through their paces. A half-dozen women and two men. We cast a critical eye over their nude forms. Hmmmm, nice! A pair of twin Oriental women, from their height and well-developed breasts I'd say Mongol or Manchurian stock.

One of the men, a big bruiser, probably Scot or German, was restive and recalcitrant. Several trainers had to grab onto his reins to bring him under control. At least they were smart enough to have him hobbled, fore and aft. I could hear Christy draw in her breath in an appreciative hiss. She always enjoyed breaking in the wild stallions. I smiled down at her fondly and suggested "Shall we go find the Ol'Trainer and put in a requisition for time with Blondie?"

With a giggle, she blushed and looked away but gave a little nod to indicate she would like that very, very much. We set off circling the small training arena and at the other barn door we found him going over clipboards of forms with a subordinate. He looked up and seeing us approached slapped his board into the clerk's hands then waving her away as he turned to face us with a big, shit-eating grin on his face "Yep. So you just saw Jock, did you?"

Christie nodded her head vigorously and with a greedy voice replied "He's a gorgeous stallion!"

The Ol'Trainer agreed "Once he's broken in, he'll be real popular with the expert riders. I'm even considering training him to be a jumper."

My wife's eyes went round and pupils dilated in near ecstasy "I've never ridden a jumper before. Good ones are so rare."

A spit of chaw and the Ol'Trainer agreed "Yep, it takes a real athlete to make a good jumper. And the owners in the know expect a fortune for one. I already have you on tomorrows schedule to break him into the saddle. After your morning ride with Spade. And no one else knows that I'm considering him for jumper training.

You might check with the Bursar and see what his debt would cost you. If I remember correctly, he got in over his head to a bookie syndicate and they just want what he owes and what he cost them. When he accidentally won a rugby match he was suppose to throw."

He hesitated for a moment then warily eyed about that no one was close by as he leaned his head forward and in a confidential tone of voice "You two have enjoyed Spade and Chocolate Darling. Well their Debt Contracts are almost paid off, plenty of thanks to you two and your generous tips."

His eyes, evaded ours for a second in obvious embarrassment, he knew how we felt about such matters "Pity the Syndicate would never sell them but, well, they were a popular pair on the weekends. I know you'll miss them but I think you should consider purchasing Jock as a replacement. For your own private stable. If I'm going to turn him into a jumper, he won't last long, physically, if any of the weekenders can demand him."

Foe a moment he considered, he must know we refuse to have sexual relations with the stock but he was uncertain of how our personal dynamics would work out with new mounts. So he plunged in "McTavish, you noticed the Mongol Twins? Avyas and Sugar? Perhaps you might want to take up driving your own matched team?"

Confused I blurted out "Sugar?"

He laughed "Yeah we all react that way the first time. If I got it straight, Avyas means 'talented' in Mongolian, and Sugar means 'Venus'! As in the planet Venus."

While my mind was still trying to digest that, Christie piped in with a wicked grin "Sweet!"

We all had to laugh at that.