The great pleasure of writing is the feeling of your creative energy flowing through your body. However, when you don't write, it's like being constipated.
So last night while having a friend over for drinks, I began to talk about writing, the kind of writing that stirs your soul, yeah literature. And for a kinkling that identifies plenty with hot porn, barebacking sex, cock and ball torture and various other visually pain and pleasure inducing visuals I can't explain, I know that words can be formed to create a sentence that speaks much more than a picture. This is not that writing. I write my stories, my fantasy, rants etc. Literature takes work and time, this is "I need to take a crap or I'll burst writing." Bare with me:
I will be riding in my first Pride Parade this weekend in Palm Springs. I'm driving a human pony as a guest of the Pony and Critter Club here is LA. My thoughts about the event have not been about waving to the crowds, but about a fantasy of the beasts of burden that will pull my cart. There are some stellar female fillies in our community, but my eyes long for the sight of two matching blonde stallions. I can imagine their brushed and oiled manes, while they bristle and shake at the bit in their mouths. Drooling in anticipation of the mile ahead. I coo to them, to be still, be patient, this is not a race today my beauties, we will save that for later.
Sitting in the cart, I can watch their matching sets of concave haunches flexing and swishing the blonde tail extended from the dock of the animal with tan leather straps. The oiled and chiseled shoulders in the morning sun cause me to put on my sun glasses so I can enjoy the posturing of tension cased inside thin translucent skin. Their These horses have not been long in the desert sun and the heat I will be have to be careful to not let the animals chaff in the heat.
Their forelocks are long and bob and constantly twisting their heads to move the hair out of their eyes while waiting for the parade to begin. My pets are anxious and I'm eager to finish so I can take the animals to our corral area around the pool where they can stretch and really use their thighs.
We begin the walk only after a young colt saunters over to my animals to give them a smell of her sex which to all of our noses is ready to be mounted. The stallions pull at the reigns jerking their heads in the colts directions, lifting their noses to the wind to catch her whiff.
"No pets, this is not for you. Stay focused on the steps ahead." I flick the reign sharply to get their attention once more.
Ten minutes after the official start time, the coordinators have cleared the pedestrian morning traffic for the parade to begin. The locals have come out to see what's so different about this parade, with a holiday they don't recognize or recall. Behind my shades I see the necks snap back to see two blonde manes moving in cadence. Their eyes lock onto the muscled belly that lifts the cart with ease. Then their eyes follow the dark figure on the black cart. A woman, corseted and in shrouded behind reflective frames, a smile and a occasional nod. They are not my interest either. I'm here for my amusement and that won't come until I'm off the cart.
"Giddy-up" I loosen the reigns to give the horses the room the need to move into a prance. Their shoes click loudly on the concrete and one of the animals snorts and chortles. I pop my quirt just above their ears and hear the animals grunt with a desire that their flesh understands.
"Good boys, cmon take me home." Their legs start clopping into a pace that takes the two separate legs and unifies the sound into one animal prancing gingerly. I close my eyes and listen to the rhythm, reminding myself of the rhythm of using their bodies will sound and feel like later, under a desert Palm.
The parade finishes twenty minutes after it began and the horses are thirsty from the 2 km walk. I've pumped their legs and now they sweats from the chastity harnesses and I see upon my dismount from the cart, that their cocks are straining against the gates of hell they are locked into.
"My pets have been very good this morning. Are you ready for a little release?" Their heads bobbed in unison and my quirt pops each one of their bellies, careful to let the tip of my leather find their cock heads. I pull the reigns forward and move my animals to the shade. A stable girl has water and carrots for the animals.
"Don't over feed them, they still have mating duties this afternoon."
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Okay that's it. You know the rest is some great gay animal fucking scene, that you can create in your head!
Friday evening was a continuance in the indulgence of pleasure with a themed party at Lair De Sade. Princess of Petite Princess of Pain is the host for the Venus Night at the Lair. A night for Female Dominants to order about subs and slaves of both sexes for play. Friday's party theme was foot fetish and it brought out the largest attendance to date for a Venus night. Princess has a motto "Everyone gets played with unless you are an asshole." The event was a female Shangrila, every chair in the main dungeon sat a woman with her foot being caressed, kissed, suckled and massaged. The vibe was astounding and the first time I have recalled a party that a woman's pleasure was tantamount. 
