Sisters love horses

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The blonde teenager came galloping across the meadow, riding bareback on her sturdy pony. It was a sturdy Welsh mountain pony, shaggy-coated and broad across the haunches, with a flowing mane tumbling over its arched neck and a silken tail switching as it jogged along. The pony's name was Buck. It was a stallion.

The girl's name was Bonny Harper. She was very young, but nubile for her age, her prematurely developed curves nicely emphasized by what little clothing she wore. Her white cotton tee shirt was tight, molded to the contours of her plump tits, and showing the imprint of her taut nipples in twin peaks. Her firm tit-globes bounced saucily to the pony's stride. She wore a pair of faded, cut-off jeans that were so snug they might have been painted on her loins, and were cut off so very short that they had no legs at all – just a triangle of denim stretched across her hips and clinging to her ass. She was barefoot. Her legs were long and slim and shapely, wrapped around the pony's flanks. Her pert ass shifted easily with the animal's jolting gait, and her crotch, barely covered by the crotchband of her shorts, squirmed around on the pony's broad back.

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