The Equestrian Commentator

It's the first time I have been to this stadium. I'm shown through a door marked 'Storage Room - Door 1.' Once inside, I meet the lovely Emma. She and I are the only two in here. We are both getting ready for two completely different events today.

The storage room is large and divided into two distinct areas. At one end, there are rows and rows of stacked boxes. That end of the room is not lit at all and fades into complete darkness at the far end. Whereas, at this end of the room, there is a large table in the center. It is flanked on one side by a row of green metal lockers set against the wall, and by a row of wooden benches on the other. The benches effectively divide the room between the locker and the storage section. There is a solitary light cluster above the table. It casts a yellowed circle around the locker area, which fades towards the edges.

As we exchange brief introductions, she explains that as she is only being heard and not seen today, there is no requirement for her to be formally dressed. Instead, she is wearing a little white skirt and a baggy, fluffy white v neck jumper. I would categorize her as a very pretty, mid '30s, shapely young woman, around 5'5", with an hourglass figure. 'Tits n Ass,' as they say in the movies. She has placed her bag on the center table and is busy sorting through it. Removing papers and a notebook, she places them in a pile on the table. She looks a little nervous, and fiddles with her long dark hair, which I appear to find quite seductive.

As she does this, I am sitting on one of the benches, my back to the darkened storage section, and I am also going through my bag. The difference is mine is not full of paperwork; mine holds my referee's black uniform. I have taken off my jacket and sweatshirt and folded them up next to me.

She is pacing back and forward, practicing the pronunciation of some very tricky names (a lot of which sound foreign and as difficult as tongue twisters), in a quiet measured voice. After one such run, she stops pacing and turning to me, asks, "How do I sound?"

"Fine," I say. "Sounds great.... like a pro." Perhaps she is here today to do some announcing, I think, as I untie my trainers, remove them, then stand up to loosen my jeans.

She offers a weak smile of thanks, but tells me, "Some of these names, especially for the foreign riders are 'fishhooks,' to pronounce!" She exclaims.

So... the lady doesn't speak French!

"You'll be fine," I try to reassure her, but I can tell she has concerns.

As she paces, I have now replaced my jeans with my black shorts. As I pull them up, there is a knock at the door, and it opens. An elderly man, with a bushy grey beard, cheerily looks in. "Hello, mind if I join you?"

"Hi, come on in," I reply, as I pull my shirt over my head. He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. He is a tall guy, dressed in a tweedy green sports jacket, collared shirt, open at the neck, beige trousers, and a pair of well-worn tan brogue shoes. If I had to guess his age, I would put him in his mid-70's.

Walking towards us, he extends his hand firstly, to Emma, for a more formal greeting. In his other hand, he is carrying what looks like a doctor's briefcase. "I'm Jasper Cotton," he offers. She shakes his hand, and introducing herself, explains that she has been booked to provide commentary for the International Equestrian event that is being held here today, in this very nice multi-sports stadium complex. It is scheduled to be broadcast live by the BBC and Sky.

Then turning to me, he asks "And who are you, young man?"

"I'm George, but please call me Geordie, everyone does. We shake hands warmly. I like him and he has a surprisingly firm grip, for his age. I explain that I am here today, as a stand-in referee, for a football match between two national teams. I just have to be available, should they need to call me in. Jasper tells us he is a 'wellbeing practitioner' for one of the Equestrian teams, their therapist and masseur.

He sits down near me on a bench and puts his case on the floor. He is recalling his journey to the stadium today and tells us how, at one point, he thought he was going to miss the event completely, as the traffic was so bad.

Reaching into my hold-all, I retrieve my football boots and lay them between my feet in readiness. Jasper has a kind demeanor with a mop of very unruly hair (much like his beard).

Emma, now pouting into a small mirror, she has pulled from her bag, is applying a light make-up of smoky eye shadow and a pale lipstick. I'm not entirely sure why, she looks fine to me, and she is not even on camera today. She then picks up her hairbrush and begins working her hair. Within a minute, she has brushed through the whole length, and it looked fabulous.

Watching her, Jasper comments on how he wishes his own hair would style that easily, and that it has always seemed to have a life of its own.

"Nonsense," she says, "All you have to do is train it!"

"I've never had much luck doing that," he chuckles.

Reaching into her bag, she brings out a bottle of hairspray. Approaching him, brush and spray in hand, she asks... "May I try?"

"Be my guest" Jasper says, standing up.

Given his height, she says, "No need to stand, just stay seated." He sits back down again, as I begin putting on my boots.

The benches are placed tightly, side by side, so she must position herself in front of him to tackle his untamed hair. He leans forward, as she starts brushing through it.

I would describe Jasper as a lanky guy. His long legs were in her way. After several attempts, with her trying to maneuver around, between, and beside them, she says, "It might be easier if I just sit on your knee. That way I can get a better angle!"

Well, how could he say no... "Absolutely fine Emma, whatever you think."

Too fucking right guvnor, I think to myself, I would quite like one of those on my knee.

So, she comes in a bit closer to him and sits down astride his right leg. Her little skirt rides up a bit and glancing left, I catch a glimpse of white panties, with a dainty purple zigzag motif.

Jasper is clearly a little uncomfortable, having to just sit there and let someone change his appearance because he is starting to get a little fidgety. Bouncing his legs up and down, he nearly unseats her a few times. In the end, he reaches forward to hold her by the hips, clamping her firmly onto his leg.

She brushes his hair this way and that, then when she is happy, she applies a little hair spray, "Just to help things stay in place." she says.

"There.... take a look. I am confident that you will like what you see. I wish I was as confident in my ability to commentate on today's event."

As she rises to get off his leg, I notice there is a little dark patch on his trousers, where she was sitting.

Jasper doesn't seem to notice, as he stands and walks over to the center table Emma was working on, to look at his reflection in her mirror. As he is deciding what he thinks of his new look, she asks me if I know where the ladies' loos are.

"Absolutely....just out the door here, turn left and it's the first door on the right."

As she heads out of the room, I put on my boots, lace them up nice and tight and ensure my everyday clothes are packed away in my holdall. Standing up, I say goodbye to Mr. Cotton, who is smiling at his reflection in her mirror. I would say he views his new trendy hairstyle, very favorably! As I am now 'match ready,' I follow her out of the door.

Turning left, I start down the corridor. After just a few steps, I am walking past the door marked 'toilets' on the right side. As I pass it, I can hear a little moan coming from inside. I walk on past. As I turn left around the corner at the end of the corridor, I hear the toilet door open. I stop and wait a beat, then peep back around the corner.

Emma steps out into the corridor. She pauses for a second to look left and right. She doesn't see me, and I watch her put her hand up under her little skirt as if feeling around for something? Then, withdrawing it, she smooths her skirt down and heads back into the storage room.

Curious now, I head straight for the toilets. It doesn't take long for me to spot a little pair of white panties with purple zigzags in the bin. They are soaking wet, so naturally.......I stuff them in my pocket.

Heading back out into the corridor, I consider finding an excuse to go back into the storage room, to see if she's ok, but I'm sure Jasper will sort her out if need be. So instead, I head for the exit. Just before it, there is a door on the left, marked 'Storage Room - Door 2.' I know this leads to the rear of the storage/locker room. Curiosity suddenly bites me on the foreskin, and I find myself carefully turning the handle, pushing the door open, and stepping into the room, before quietly closing the door behind me.

At first, as the immediate area around me is in complete darkness, I can't see a thing. However, after a short while, my eyes begin to adjust to some level of night vision, and I see that I am indeed standing at the far end of the storage section of the room. I am amongst the rows and rows of crates and boxes, stacked up to the ceiling. Peering down the length of one of the rows, I can see the faint glow from the lights above the centre table.

Slowly, with the stealth of an SAS battalion with slippers on, I make my way down the aisle, toward the light. I can hear them both talking in the distance. As I get closer, I can begin to make out the conversation. He is asking her exactly what it is, about her assignment, that is making her feel so nervous. They are sitting with their backs to me, side by side on a bench.

Her head is bowed, and he has placed a consoling hand on her shoulder. She explains that she has never done an international event before and is just feeling the pressure a little. He asks if a massage would help. She says she has a couple of hours or so before she is needed in the control booth, so agrees to give it a go.

Like a Ninja, disguised as a football referee, I got as close to them as I dared. They were sitting within a few feet of me, as I crouched down behind a large cardboard box.

I had the perfect view, as Jasper stands and moves the adjacent bench so that he can walk behind the one she is sitting on. He does so and standing directly behind her, lays both hands on her shoulders. He begins some kind of stroking movement. I can't see exactly what it is, as he is obscuring the view. All I can do is wait and try not to cough! Ninjas definitely don't cough on the job!

It appears that he doesn't think this position is being particularly effective because, after only a minute, he asks her to stand up, turn to her right and raise her arms straight out to her sides, in a crucifix pose and focus on slowing down her breathing. He walks back around to her side of the bench. He removes his jacket, folds it, and lays it down, then rolling up both sleeves, moves directly behind her. They were now standing sideways, right in front of me, not 15ft away.

Placing his hands on her shoulders he asks her to take several long, slow deep breaths. She does so, inhaling so deeply it pushes her chest out. It appears to be quite a chest too! There seems to be a lot of treasure, lurking under that fluffy white jumper.

Sliding his hands from her shoulders along the length of her arms, he holds her wrists and begins raising her arms up higher, until they are straight up above her head. She is carrying on with her deep breathing, and he asks her to hold that position. He is massaging her from the tips of her fingers, down the outsides of her arms, and down her sides to her hips.

He kneels behind her, his head not 6 inches from her arse (this is an arse, I must point out, that you could comfortably you stand a dinner plate on) and continues to massage the outside of her legs down to her ankles, then reversing the process, ends up at her fingertips once more. Jasper repeats these movements a few more times, all the while calmly talking to her, reassuring her, and getting her to keep focusing on her breathing.

After a minute or 5, he tells her she can put her arms down now and remove her shoes. He reaches down to retrieve his case from the floor, before placing it on the bench and opening it. He tells her he has just got hold of an amazing massage oil, blended from tropical fruits, that he thinks would really help her.

"Could you just remove that fluffy jumper for me please young lady? We don't want to get any of the product on it."

"Ok." She just grabs the hem of her jumper and pulls it up over her head. Pulling her arms from it, she throws it over the back of the bench, a few feet from me. I can smell her perfume on it. Underneath, she has on a simple white camisole top, amply filled out by a very impressive, bra-free set of sizeable tits. Kicking her shoes off, she sits them side by side under the bench.

Jasper has found the jar he is looking for and unscrews the lid. Sticking two fingers in, he removes a small blob of the fragrant product. Placing the open jar back on the bench beside him, he begins rubbing his palms together to coat his hands and warm the oil.

He asks her to pull her hair forward over her chest and to just stand relaxed now, arms by her sides, as he starts to rub the oil across her shoulders and down her arms. He works it into her skin. She comments on the beautiful smell and how warming it feels. From my vantage point, I can smell oranges and some kind of flower, maybe plastic poppies...

I am not a natural gardener.

He pauses to turn around and pick up the jar again. Tilting it slightly, he pours some more of the heavily scented oil, directly onto her left shoulder, allowing it to run gently down her arm. Using his hand, he catches the cascade and massages it into her skin.

Then he moves the jar over to her right shoulder and begins tipping it up. It does look quite gloopy, and clearly, not enough is coming out, at that angle, so he increases the tilt. Suddenly, a large dollop of it runs from the jar, cascading over her shoulder and freely running down her front, wetting the right side of her vest. As the oil stain spreads, her top is becoming invisible on that side.

I watch the material around her right nipple becoming damp. The nipple is now clearly visible and hardens as the, yet cool liquid bathes it. The female internal wiring system that connects their nipples together kicks in and now both of Emma's are hardening.

"Oh God," he says, "I'm so sorry, please forgive me."

"That's ok, it's just an old vest anyway. Don't worry. Should I just take it off completely Doc?" she asks.

"Well, it will probably be easier. We need to coat as much of your skin with the oil, as we possibly can. Some of my clients love the sensation so much, they prefer to be completely nude for the sessions," informs Jasper. "You wouldn't get the maximum effect if we only massaged it into your shoulders." With that, she lifts the vest over her head and throws it on the table nearby.

Shit the bed, those tits are amazing! Sitting proudly on her chest, with nipples you could hang a wet bath towel on.

Clad only in her little white skirt now, Jasper puts her back into 'crucifix pose' and asks her to open her legs a little wider. Having put more oil on his hands, he proceeds to rub it in. Given his height, he can stand behind her and easily reach both her outstretched hands at the same time. He begins again, at her fingertips, just lightly running his fingers across the tops of her hands and arms, inward towards her neck, then out again. Gently blending the oil into her skin. Then switches to rubbing oil into her palms and along the underside of her arms and into her armpits.

He asks her how she got into commentating, and she is happy to tell him. "It wasn't a big leap for me," she says. "I used to host a lot of meetings and local events, and one afternoon a male colleague of mine, who was attending this particular one, told me he thought I had a great voice, and would I consider speaking at an event he was arranging. At first, I was a little nervous about saying yes, but when he told me it was for an animal charity, I couldn't refuse. I have always loved animals, ever since I was a little girl."

She was so animated in recalling her story, she hadn't realized that Jasper had re-oiled his hands and had switched from doing her arms and shoulders and was now rubbing the wonder product down her naked front. With her arms still outstretched, he brought his hands up under her armpits and beginning at her collar bone, slowly worked his fingers down her upper chest, over her full breasts, and down her stomach, until he hit the waistband of her skirt.

Once there, he began the ascent back to the top. When his hands were cupping her breasts on the way up, he briefly caught her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and just rolled them back and forward, just for a second to coat them, before letting them go and continuing up those beautiful slopes to her neck.

He repeated this move for some minutes and each time he got to the return journey, he seemed to hold her nipples a little longer and a little firmer. She carried on telling her tale, until about the 6th or 7th time. When she suddenly stopped talking, mid-sentence and just stood there open-mouthed. Her eyes rolled back ever so slightly, and her breathing quickened.

On this pass, Jasper had simply stopped halfway up her chest and was just standing there behind her....... literally just holding onto her by her nipples. He was rolling them rapidly and lightly pulling them at the same time. I don't believe it was possible to get them any stiffer, but they were definitely getting longer!

She was moaning quietly now, with her eyes shut. He noticed she had abruptly stopped talking, and letting go of her nipples, said "Are you ok Emma? You've gone quiet!"

"Oh...I'm so sorry," she said, now with eyes open and looking down at the floor between her feet. "Whenever my nipples are played with, I get really wet! Look, I think I've dribbled on the floor! Oh my god, I'm so embarrassed."

"Really," says Jasper incredulously. "Where?"

Lowering her arms now, they are both peering intently at the flooring. "There," she points to a cluster of wet spots at her feet.

"I think that's just the oil honey. I was a little liberal with applying it earlier."

She is unconvinced. "I don't think so. Here," she says turning to face him for the first time and raising her skirt. She parts her legs and says, "Feel me."

All Jasper can say is "Holy fuck!" as he sees her tits for the first time, then quickly recovering his composure, he puts a hand between her legs, palm upturned, and cups her hairy vagina.

"Don't worry Doc, I usually get that kind of reaction when anyone sees my breasts."

Noticing also, that she appears to be naked under her skirt, he asks, "What happened to your underwear, or do you also go commando? I always do."

She confesses that she started getting wet earlier, so she went to the loo and took them off. Her confession suddenly reminded me that I had them in my pocket. I reached in and pulled them out quietly. Holding them to my nose, I inhaled deeply. I could smell her sweet cunt and it made my head swim.

Jasper explains to her that actually, he's a therapist, not a GP, as he slides his fingers in and around between her slippery lips. "You are correct though; you're absolutely soaking wet!"

"I'm very sorry, I can't help it. My nipples are directly linked to my lady parts! When they get any attention, it just goes 'whoosh' down there!"

Withdrawing his hand, Jasper says, 'That's absolutely normal, and it means the treatment is working because you are relaxing! So, don't worry about it......shall we continue?"