Of course she loves a horse

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Cindy Carson's plump tits bobbed saucily in her tee shirt as she jumped out of the station wagon in front of Valerie Tyson's weekend cabin. Cindy was eighteen, nubile and enthusiastic. Valerie was twenty-six – and even more enthusiastic, in her fashion. She had invited the younger girl to spend the weekend at the mountain retreat and Cindy, eager to get away from the city for a few days, had jumped at the chance. The girl thought it was going to be a relaxing weekend.

"Carry the grocery bags in, honey, will you?" Valerie asked. "The door is unlocked. I'll let the dogs out of the back and join you in a second."

Cindy bent down to pick up the grocery bags. Her heavy tits swayed and her big nipples peaked the cotton material of her tight tee shirt. Holding the grocery bags cradled to her tits, Cindy turned away – and Valerie's jade green eyes fixed upon the young girl's heart-shaped ass.

Cindy was wearing cut-off jeans, so tightly molded to her lithe loins that they might have been painted on. The crack of her ass was evident and the brief shorts were drawn in to the vee of her crotch. Valerie smiled and her tongue ran across her lower lip. Her gaze moved down to the girl's smooth, shapely thighs. She could just see the faintest rim of asscheek in the leg-hole of the girl's brief shorts.

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