Just a late summer garden party

So far, it had been a very nice evening among friends and their friends. They have a lovely garden, plenty to drink and lots of cheerful chatting. All along I’d been slightly intrigued by these two girls I didn’t know. They could be sisters or at least they seem to know each other pretty well and were wearing beautiful brown, mohair sweaters. They were moving along together, having a lot of fun with everybody. One was wearing her sweater as a simple mini-dress, pretty cool and the other just as a comfortable, warm sweater over her jeans.
Somehow I shied away a bit from introducing myself to them and they likewise seemed to be too busy to take much notice of me. I tried not to look at them too much, but quite a few times I managed to move about in such a way that I could briefly feel their wool against my bare skin. I don’t think anybody noticed, but each time this happened I felt an exciting bit of electricity going through my body. Later in the evening it got a bit cooler and somebody put up some really nice dance music and indeed, all the guests joined without hesitation. Each time the music stopped we were asked to change partner and of course I was very happy having a short dance with each of them. That’s when I learned they are indeed sisters, called Pat and Shan. With Shan (the one with the jeans) I happened to have a slow, romantic dance and she naturally put her arms loosely around my neck while I held her by her waist. It felt really delicious, breathing through her warm, soft sleeves. It really put me on and I was pretty excited when the music stopped. Had she noticed anything? With Pat I had a much wilder dance, holding her by her stretched arm, swirling and bumping into each other. This made me pretty hot but didn’t seem to affect her very much. She must be very efficient in using her energy. When they announced the final dance I happened to be close to Pat and quickly asked her again. This dance was even wilder, the music chosen to be a real finale, and we had a lot of fun. At the end she jumped up against me, holding her arms tightly around my neck and leaving me not much choice but to put mine around her bottom for her support and burying my face into her sweater. Then I heard everybody clapping. I thought it was for the nice music and I agreed, but couldn’t really join in the applause as I imagined that would be uncomfortable for little Pat. I couldn’t see a thing but I felt that Pat started to jump gently and rhythmically on my arms while the clapping around us started to pick up her rhythm.
This is when I realised the two of us had got into the centre of attraction, which made me bow to the people around. Pat clung onto me very tightly with her legs also firmly around my waist. Still holding her arms around my neck she then petted my head and said jokingly: “Go horsy, go!” I tried to shake her off, as I felt it pretty insulting among these friends-of-friends. But at the same time three things happened: all through my shaking she managed to hold on pretty well, I could feel her strength. Secondly, the other guests seemed to enjoy our ‘show’ and cheered: “Yes Pat, don’t let go!” And thirdly, I started to feel intoxicated by the soft smell of Pat’s sweater and the warm pressure around my neck so that soon I didn’t try as hard any more to shake her off. She kept on saying: “Go horsy, go”, even started pushing my head so as to direct me and indeed, amidst the cheers of the guests I started walking as she indicated with her legs around my hips and hands around my head. I think we all moved towards the bar, because very soon I heard them toasting to Pat, while she raised one arm away from my head for a minute. Then she took control again and made me walk around in a small circle. Somebody put up the music again, a slow waltz this time, and we soon got involved into something like a circus act with Pat as the Amazon and me as horse, almost automatically lifting my legs as high as I could. It seemed as if I automatically responded to the combination of musical rhythm and bits of pressure Pat applied with her arms and legs, as I think I made a lot of variation in my steps.
Then they put up a polka, but after a few minutes Pat must have realised I was getting tired and whispered: “There’s a table behind you. Just go and sit on it”. So I did gratefully and she made herself comfortable on my lap while loosening her grip around my neck. She’d put her hands inside the sleeves and started removing the sweat from my face. Bending slightly backward she also loosened my tie and opened the top buttons of my shirt. Was it to help me cooling down? Or was she teasing and softening me further, with her wool-covered fingers on my breast? Soon she had undone all the buttons and she cuddled me so nicely that I hardly noticed the shirt was gone. The feeling of her utterly soft and warm sleeves on my bare skin made me melt and I happily put my arms around her waist….

II:
When I was about to dig my head into the seductive cloud of brown mohair right in front of me I just saw in the corners of my eyes that the guests had formed a circle around us. Pat’s sister was standing next to her. With an air of triumph she got a little cap out of her pocket and put it on, cheering her sister. There were a few words on it: “Mohair Girl Power!” A second cap she gave to Pat. That one carried the words “Let’s Break the Horse!”
I must admit that when I saw these texts I woke up from my warm dream and panicked. I tried to get loose and looked for support from the friends around us. But they laughed and were all cheering Pat. While I tried to push her off her eyes had suddenly become penetrating and a bit angry and she held her arms firmly around my neck pulling my head towards her sweater. Soon the contact with the breathtaking softness of her mohair drained the strength out of my arms. At the same time I could feel her sharp nails in my shoulders through the soft wool of her sleeves and my wild shaking gradually became a mere shivering. Somehow her woolly power seemed to get hold of me. Then she hissed angrily at me: “Down you, stupid little stallion!”
This provocation made me forget my earlier panic and I jumped up in anger. I had a glance around me and saw and felt the tension. The music was still on and they all started to clap while my angry leaps turned into a wild dance to the polka tune. At the same time I was trying to shake off that clinging girl without falling down myself. But she held her arms tightly around my neck, pressing her sweater onto my face in the process, while her legs were firmly around my waist. As with the earlier dance she soon became the one steering me with her legs as I couldn’t see a thing any more and felt myself automatically reacting to the various pressures she applied, galloping or marching left, right, backward and forward. Of course I didn’t want to, but these were natural reactions beyond my cerebral control. Besides, whenever I didn’t obey we bumped into people or bits of furniture. After a while I became too tired for galloping and I felt my legs trembling. Pat probably sensed my fatigue as she made me walk more slowly in a circle, gently hopping with her legs still firmly around my waist. Each time her soft, warm sweater thus brushed my face I could also feel her weight getting heavier on my hips and knees. But I carried on bravely, hoping for the end of the music to save me. But the trembling of my legs became worse and before I realized I’d became so exhausted that I found myself with one knee on the grass and Pat sitting on the other one. Now she quickly grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me backward on the ground while the music came to a wild ending. As the onlookers cheered and clapped she was triumphantly sitting on top of me. I felt too exhausted to even try and get up from the cold grass while I stared at her cap: “Let’s Break the Horse”. Deep inside I then felt she was about to succeed, but I wasn’t ready yet to admit it. While I was contemplating this Shan came to join us. She had a big lump of brown mohair in her hand and when she unfolded it above me I was overwhelmed by a mixture of fear and desire. [to be continued]

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 3.7/10 (3 votes cast)
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 0 (from 2 votes)
Just a late summer garden party, 3.7 out of 10 based on 3 ratings

Leave a Reply