horseback riding

trace · 25-04-07 18:31:39

Is it true you can have an orgasm horseback riding? I also was told you could have an orgasm by crossing your legs and moving your foot back and forth?

blissed · 25-04-07 18:38:49

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rp_UpSbf2ys

gala · 25-04-07 23:25:49

I've been thinking about this as I reckon it's time we get some ponies on the site. The logistics are tough, but I'm working on it in my head.

tryggvi · 16-05-07 01:08:44

Seemed to work in Clerks II.

I once worked with a woman who rode horses. She said, "I like the feeling of 1200lbs of meat between my legs."

charlotte_v · 01-06-07 02:56:33

Haha, horse riding is fun and all but I have never been so lucky as to cum while riding a horse.

ferrett · 01-06-07 12:43:40

charlotte_v wrote:

Haha, horse riding is fun and all but I have never been so lucky as to cum while riding a horse.

So you think you are the only one who has cum riding a horse? Or are you confused as well.

blissed · 01-06-07 21:56:45

What about the horse!! all this is so selfish and one sided.

.

charlotte_v · 01-06-07 22:57:36

ferrett wrote:

charlotte_v wrote:
Haha, horse riding is fun and all but I have never been so lucky as to cum while riding a horse.
So you think you are the only one who has cum riding a horse? Or are you confused as well.

I said I have not been so 'lucky' as to get off while riding a horse.

richard · 02-06-07 01:02:42

I think ferrett is the one who's confused.

kirejos · 02-06-07 06:57:51

I had a girlfriend once who wrote a song about masturbating while riding her bike. I have very fond memories of warm summer nights on the back porch, drinking coffee, smoking cloves, and listening to her sing with the cicadas while playing the ukelele.

ohioriverqueen · 09-06-07 14:23:15

I have and haven't. Also riding my bike.

gala · 09-06-07 15:25:44

kirejos wrote:

I had a girlfriend once who wrote a song about masturbating while riding her bike. I have very fond memories of warm summer nights on the back porch, drinking coffee, smoking cloves, and listening to her sing with the cicadas while playing the ukelele.

Oh wow, that's the cutest thing ever. Was this in New York? I just want to place it somewhere because it's a nice picture in my head. Girls with ukes and bikes...mmm.

kirejos · 10-06-07 05:30:56

gala wrote:

kirejos wrote:
I had a girlfriend once who wrote a song about masturbating while riding her bike. I have very fond memories of warm summer nights on the back porch, drinking coffee, smoking cloves, and listening to her sing with the cicadas while playing the ukelele.
Oh wow, that's the cutest thing ever. Was this in New York? I just want to place it somewhere because it's a nice picture in my head. Girls with ukes and bikes...mmm.

Rochester, NY my home town. We get pleasant summers believe it or not. I mean, when the perma-frost finally melts Imagine old neighborhoods with big trees, hot & humid breezy summer nights, kinda' like Pittsburgh.

I'm so ultra-psyched right now 'cuz we've been getting hot days with warm and balmy nights, perfect for riding and skinny-dipping

She was from Seattle, only in town for a couple of months that summer. Cute as a button, athletic. I had to go back to Boston that September, she had to go back to Seattle. Mmm, good times

gala · 10-06-07 16:57:54

Yeah, I remember that east-coast balminess well. My dad's house has a great back porch (when I first typed the word 'porch' it came out as 'porn' - my brain now wants 'porn' to be every fifth word that comes out of my mouth) that he built just as I was leaving that house, and when I used to go back in the summertime I would sleep out there in the balminess and wake up when the sky was getting pink and be glad I was raised there with a huge backyard and lots of solitary space. I was living in OC, CA at that time and no one there sleeps outside in the balminess or has more than about 10 square feet of backyard.

I'll bet it's just getting balmy over there right now. I know that feeling. And then it gets oppressive in about the second week of July. At least in Pittsburgh.

I love things that are short and unavoidably divided by geography like the situation you're describing. They're sweet.

kirejos · 11-06-07 05:37:34

I used to love sleeping on the back porch! When I was a kid we had an enclosed back porch with lots of screens, and my friends and I would have sleepovers, and take the TV and VCR out onto the back porch and watch movies. Man, those were the days.

Yeah, I expect the humidity level here to peak in a month or so. When it gets oppressive like that I'll get together with some friends and ride up to the lake at night to sit on the beach, and go swimming.

I'm sure the beaches of Lake Ontario can't really compare to Australia though How are you settling in over there? Do they have decent coffee, etc.? Was it tough to get used to the change in hemisphere?

gala wrote:

I love things that are short and unavoidably divided by geography like the situation you're describing. They're sweet.

Yeah, I think that's the way they were meant to be. I wouldn't want to remember that wonderful experience with her any other way. Call it, Cosmic Kismet. I think that's one reason why I don't go to high school reunions (yet). I want to remember those years just the way they are.

Hangdog90 · 26-06-22 15:46:00

trace wrote:

Is it true you can have an orgasm horseback riding? I also was told you could have an orgasm by crossing your legs and moving your foot back and forth?

Looking at Alice_R's profile video yesterday prompted me to see if there had been any discussions about horseback orgasms in these forums, and I found this post.

Horseback orgams also reminds me of one of Anais Nin's short stories, A Model.

It is one of my favourite stories of hers, because she describes so well her coming to knowledge and power in pre-WWII New York, where life was even tougher for a young woman than now. However, one of the delicious parts of the story concerns horseback pleasures, both a real horse and an artist's pommel horse. Here is the excerpt:

Finally, I was called to model at the studio of a South American painter. He had the face of a woman, pale with big black eyes, long black hair, and his gestures were languid and effete. His studio was beautiful – luxuriant rugs, large paintings of nude women, silk hangings; and there was incense burning. He said he had a very intricate pose to do. He was painting a big horse running away with a naked woman. He asked if I had ever ridden on horseback. I said that I had, when I was younger.

“That is marvellous,” he said, “exactly what I want. Now, I have made a contraption here which gives me the effect I need.”

It was a dummy of a horse without a head, just the body and legs, with a saddle.

He said, “Take you clothes of first, then I will show you. I have difficulty with this part of the pose. The woman is throwing her body back because the horse is running wild, like this.” He sat on the dummy horse to show me.

By now I no longer felt timid about posing nude. I took my clothes off and sat on the horse, throwing my body backwards, with my arms flying, my legs clasping the horse’s flanks so as not to fall. The painter approved. He moved away and looked at me. “It’s a hard pose and I do not expect you to keep it long. Just let me know when you get tired.”

He studied me from every side. Then he came up close to me and said, “When I made the drawing, this part of the body showed clearly, here, between the legs.” He touched me lightly as if it were merely part of his work. I curved in my belly a little to throw the hips forward, and then he said, “Now it is fine. Hold it."

He began to sketch. As I sat there, I realised that there was one uncommon detail about the saddle. Most saddles, of course, are shaped to follow the contours of the ass and then rise at the pommel, where they are apt to rub against a woman’s sex. I had often experienced both the advantages and disadvantages of being supported there. Once my garter came loose from the stocking and began to dance around inside my riding trousers. My companions were galloping and I did not want to fall behind, so I continued. The garter, leaping in all directions, finally fell between my sex and the saddle and hurt me. I held on, gritting my teeth. The pain was strangely mixed with a sensation I could not define. I was a girl then and did not know anything about sex. I thought that a woman’s sex was inside of her, and I did not know about the clitoris.

When the ride was over, I was in pain. I mentioned what had happened to a girl I knew well, and we both went into the bathroom. She helped me out of my trousers, out of my little belt with the garters on it, and then said, “Are you hurt? That’s a very sensitive spot. Maybe you’ll never have any pleasure there if you got hurt.”

I let her look at it. It was red and a little swollen, but not so very painful. What bothered me was her saying I might be deprived of a pleasure by this, a pleasure I did not know. She insisted on bathing it with a wet cotton, fondled me and finally kissed me “to make it well”.

I became acutely aware of this part of my body. Particularly when we rode a long while in the heat, I felt such a warmth and stirring between my legs that all I desired was to get off the horse and let my friend nurse me again. She was always asking me, “Does it hurt?”

So once I answered, “Just a little.” We dismounted and went into the bathroom, and she bathed the chaffed spot with cotton and cool water.

And again she fondled me, saying, “But it does not look sore anymore. Maybe you will be able to enjoy yourself again.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “Do you think it has gone…dead…from the pain?”

My friend very tenderly leaned over and touched me. “Does it hurt?”

I lay back and said “No, I do not feel anything.”

“Don’t you feel this?” she asked with concern, pressing the lips between her fingers.

“No,” I said, watching her.

“Don’t you feel this?” She passed her fingers now around the tip of the clitoris, making tiny circles.

“I don’t feel anything.”

She became eager to see if I had lost my sensibility and increased her caresses, rubbing the clitoris with one hand while she vibrated the tip with the other. She stroked my pubic hair and tender skin around it. Finally, I felt her, wildly, and I began to move. She was panting over me, watching me and saying, “Wonderful, wonderful, you can feel there…”

I was remembering this as I sat on the dummy horse and noticed that the pommel was quite accentuated. So the painter could see what he wanted to paint, I slid forward, and as I did, so my sex rubbed against the leather prominence. The painter was observing me.

“Do you like my horse?” he said. “Do you know that I can make it move?”

“Can you?”

He came near me and set the dummy in motion, and indeed it was perfectly constructed to move like a horse.

“I like it,” I said, “It reminds me of the times I rode horseback when I was a girl.” I noticed that he stopped painting now to watch me. The motion of the horse pushed my sex against the saddle even harder and gave me great pleasure. I thought that he would notice it, and so I said, “Stop it now.” But he smiled and did not stop it. “Don’t you like it?” he said.

I did like it. Each movement brought the leather against my clitoris, and I thought I could not hold back an orgasm if it went on. I begged him to stop. My face was flushed.

The painter was carefully watching me, watching every expression of pleasure I could not control, and now it increased so that I abandoned myself to the motion of the horse, let myself rub against the leather, until I felt the orgasm and I came, riding this way in front of him.

Only then did I know that he expected it, that he had done all this to see me enjoy it. He knew when to stop the machinery. “You can rest now, he said.”

(from Anais Nin, A Model)

viva · 28-06-22 09:47:39

That is insanely hot.

Hangdog90 · 30-06-22 02:10:34

viva wrote:

That is insanely hot.

Glad you like it.

When I was a teenager, Delta of Venus, a collection of Anais Nin's erotic short stores, was published. It spoiled me to read it so young, I was under the impression that all erotic writing would be this good.

As a teen, those stories transported me to exotic worlds, places and sexual adventures that fed my imagination and fuelled my masturbation.

At that time I also read two other books with a Parisian connection, Emmanuelle by Emmanuelle Arsan, and The Story of O, by Pauline Reage. I still re read those books regularly.

Last edited by Hangdog90 (30-06-22 02:12:20)

#1 25-04-07 18:31:39

horseback riding

#2 25-04-07 18:38:49

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#3 25-04-07 23:25:49

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#4 16-05-07 01:08:44

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#5 01-06-07 02:56:33

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#6 01-06-07 12:43:40

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#7 01-06-07 21:56:45

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#8 01-06-07 22:57:36

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#9 02-06-07 01:02:42

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#10 02-06-07 06:57:51

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#11 09-06-07 14:23:15

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#12 09-06-07 15:25:44

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#13 10-06-07 05:30:56

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#14 10-06-07 16:57:54

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#15 11-06-07 05:37:34

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#16 26-06-22 15:46:00

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#17 28-06-22 09:47:39

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#18 30-06-22 02:10:34

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