Riding Lessons: Innocence Mounted

The air in the stable is thick with the scent of horseflesh and the musk of aroused young women. The instructor, a stern, handsome man, watches intently as the girls bounce on their partners, their breasts heaving, their moans echoing off the stone walls. He commands them to 'trot', 'canter', and 'gallop', each word sending the girls into a frenzy of motion, their hips grinding, their asses slapping against the sweat-slicked skin. The girls are lost in a haze of pleasure, their bodies betraying them, their virtue slipping away with each thrust.

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