" although she doubted her own words. Something had spooked them and no mistake, she could hear them stamping and shuffling in their individual stalls. At the sound of her voice a couple more horses poked their heads out and neighed disturbingly.Helena crossed the yard, towards the open barn opposite. To her left the single storey building which housed the tack room and workshop was in darkness, its doors shut and seemingly undisturbed.She stepped into the barn, holding the lamp as high as she could to attempt to throw as much light as possible around the stacked bundles of straw and the collection of pitchforks, rakes, brooms and buckets it contained.Suddenly, the sound of hooves walking slowly in the yard behind her caused Helena to spin round. She gave a gasp of terror as she saw a large black horse, at least eighteen hands high, with a man dressed solely in black upon it.The horse lifted its head towards her, and Helena's blood felt as if it would freeze in her veins as she saw. It was an ominous click. A dangerous click. It made him look up at me, his panic-stricken little femboi eyes searching mine for my intention, and I gave it to him in the form of a wicked little smirk. His eyes got even wider, which I wouldn't have thought possible, and shot down to the carpet again desperately hiding from me. God I could have pounced on him right then.At that point I realized I actually didn't know what I was doing. Like I wasn't going to try to rub my clit in his face (yet), and I didn't have a plan beyond that fantasy. I had to try something though, or I'd never forgive myself for punking out. But for a nerve-wracking second or two, nothing was coming to mind (note to self, plan better next time). I knew I wanted tears, so I asked myself what kind of touching DONT boys like? And that jogged the memory of this one time I was riding Ethan, and one of my fingers accidentally slipped in his mouth, and he got ALL fucking pissed off about it; ranted incoherently for.
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