Riding Lessons

Original Story by: Alexxis

The front door slammed behind me as I trudged into the house, face dirty, tugging at my riding gloves along the way. I was pissed and had a right to be. It seemed no matter how many times I tried to pull it off, I just could not get that stallion to vault the last fence. Of course it was easy to blame the horse as most riders did but deep down I knew it was me who had the problem.

Again the front door slammed but by now I had long raced up the stairs, eager to get to my bedroom and out of sight. After all, I knew what was coming; the inevitable lecture from my father who also held the position of being my coach from a very young age. Daddy and me both loved horses. It was the one thing we shared most in common and therefore my mother encouraged our participation in the sport of jumping wholeheartedly.

She just loved telling the story of how my father dreamed of having a son to one day carry on his name. It was all he talked about so you can imagine his disappointment when I showed up. Of course as the weeks went by and he stared into my deep green eyes something in him began to melt. The years rolled on and I began to take on so many qualities like my mother but the moment I started showing my equine affinity I was officially daddy’s little girl.

I never wanted for anything from that point on. Though we were what you would consider well-to-do, my parents had always played it conservative with the cash. This changed the second I took home my first blue ribbon for hunter-jumper equitation. Daddy couldn’t spoil me enough with fancy phones and diamond jewelry. He was constantly doting on me and lavishing me with attention. Before we knew it, we were always spending time together.

To say that I had been dedicating the last couple of months preparing for the BIG tournament would be an understatement. This is what daddy and me have been pushing for since my first win so it was natural for tensions between us to be running high at this time. I was sitting at my bedroom desk, face planted in my hands. Long silky strands of dark brown hair cascaded over my fingers, shielding me from any outside distractions.

When my bedroom door closed I didn’t need to look up to know it was my father. I continued staring at the desk for as long as possible. I didn’t want him to see me weak and ashamed for screwing up.

“What was that out there?!” He yelled, his hands dropping limp at his sides. I honestly wasn’t sure if he expected a response.

“I don’t know.” I replied. “The horse just froze up.”

“The horse froze up? No, no, no I think YOU froze up.” He said mockingly. “If I’ve told you this once, I’ve told you a hundred times, you have got to learn to trust your body. If you don’t, then how do you expect the horse to believe in you and what you are asking it to do?”

I looked up at my father, doing what I could to hold back tears. “Daddy do you hate me now?”

He tried his best to remain in the moment but seeing me about to break was too much for him. His lips softened into a makeshift smile before he made his way around to the back of my chair. He placed his hands on my shoulders and began to massage them gently through my jacket. I was still wearing my crisp white blouse and riding breeches. I couldn’t help but close my eyes as he kneaded my achy muscles.

Sexy-Alexxis

“Daddy, I suck!” My voice came out in a pitiful whimper.

“Now now you don’t suck. You just need to remember what I taught you. What have we been practicing for?” As he said these words, my jacket started making its way down my arms and onto the floor. I watched our reflection in the mirror as his nimble fingers made quick work of my little bow tie. He gazed down at me intently in a way I had seen a hundred times before and come to know what it meant. It was time for another riding lesson.

Regionally, I was the best in my class and for damn good reason. While many young girls had coaches, mine differed in that we were not only close emotionally but physically as well. My father believed a hands-on approach was the only way to drive me to my greatest potential and I followed him every step of the way.

By now my boots had been stripped from my feet as well as my shirt and breeches. I stood there in only my bra and panties before being lead to the bed where I was instructed to take on ‘the position’.  Having done this countless times before, my father made quick work of my undergarments and tossed them aside. I was now on all fours. His hands traced the contours of my young body, shifting and adjusting me in places like he would one of our many horses. ‘My posture had to be perfect’ he would always say. Head up. Shoulders back. Even the length of my ponytail slid down the center of my back as though it could read his thoughts.

This was always the first phase of the training. Grabbing my hips, he would lift them and glide into me effortlessly resulting in a moan that sounded a mix of pleasure and relief. I was not allowed to let my head drop or it would be the crop for me. My father rode me well, critiquing my motions as we went and always adjusting; gripping my breasts and arching my back further. I would plead with him to be lenient but he was quick to remind me that losers were not welcome under his roof.

My moans grew raspy and heated, moving in time with our bodies as he slammed into me again and again. Our skin was now glowing in the afternoon sun as it pierced through my window. The room was awash with the sounds of my creaking bed. He picked up my riding crop and placed it under my chin, yet another tool he often used to teach me balance. Now rocking at a fevered pace, the crop rose and I did with it. Each time I fell forward, the corrective sting on my ass would bring me back to the present only to have to start anew.

This little exercise would continue until I came hard on my father’s cock. This was what he called ‘breaking me’. It was then and only then that the real training could begin. He didn’t care that I lay on the mattress exhausted. It was time to ride and only when I proved myself could I be free. He laid on his back and I sat primly on his erect cock as I normally do with an english saddle. His hands gripped my waist allowing him to buck and thrust into me erratically like a wild bronco free from the gate. My job was to keep seat for as long as possible. Each time he did this, my g-spot was deliciously assaulted by the head of his cock, making me rather faint. My breasts would bounce with every pass as our eyes locked, both determined not to lose this battle.

Then the final part of the training came, which wasn’t really training at all. Though he would never admit it, my father could never truly win against me in a staring contest. He would grip me hard and push with all his might but in the end it always ended the same way with me on the bottom, my arms wrapped around him tight and my legs hiked up over his arms and bent at the knee. Our lips would lock in an endless pretzel. He would have drilled me any deeper if he could and I would have still begged for more. Once he finally unleashed his load on my belly, he would collapse in a loving heap on top of my body.

That was not the first time I would receive his special instruction and it would not be the last. In case you are curious I took home the regional trophy and daddy and me are on the road to the national finals. I can only imagine the rigors I am in for now.

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Alexxis

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 29th, 2010 at 11:28 pm and is filed under Daddy Daughter Incest Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.

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