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Belly rider chapter 1

  Belly Rider chapter 1 
Author: P J Prince 

Belly Rider  please read this before the story.  Thanks

This is a story of fiction and has no relationship to anyone living or
dead.  The places are fictitious though the town names are real.  All
copy rights are held by the authors and permission must be sought
before alterations may be made to any part of this tail.
        As many people may or may not be interested I feel that I
should explain some of the difficulties involved in carrying out a
ride such as this story portrays.  There are many hazards and the
activity can and has at times proved fatal.  A horses penis is
generally in the region of sixty centimetres long,  that is two feet
for those of you who do not understand metres.  Some are longer and
some are shorter to within about eight centimetres. (Three inches)  if
one was to measure the distance between the human vagina and the
diaphragm, it would be found to vary between about twenty five and
thirty five centimetres.  (ten and fourteen inches)  obviously these
two readings do not coincide.  If a horse penis enters the body with
too much force or goes in too deep it can and probably will rupture
something vital.  If it is your heart chamber or your liver it will
kill you instantly.  Your intestine or stomach will result in long
slow and painful death.
        If you wish to try to belly ride, or make love to a horse any
other way, be extremely careful, and if you can, have a friend close
by to help you, and look after you, and your horse.  there are many
sights on the net which will give good advice about loving horses and
they give some of the conditions and pitfalls that surround this
activity.  Jillian can give some advice on this matter and has had
experience with horses though she has never ridden in the manner as
stated in this story.  She is however doing research into the
techniques and hopes to provide the net with her findings soon.  She
has also written a ten chapter semi-fiction about how she began horse
love, during the second world war.  She is now nearly seventy five
years old and will not be riding in the future, much as she would like
If you wish for more information on this subject, or copies of her
stories, Jillian will be more than happy to guide you for as long as
she lasts on this planet, age not withstand.
Belly riding was sometimes a part of a Samba School’s parade in Rio,
during the fifties.  We do not know when it started or how.  It was
stopped by the Brazilian government when it was found that some of the
riders were dying of excessive penetration.  I have heard much
speculation about what went on and the possible side activities that
could stem from this.  As authors it is our duty to try to keep a
story within a set of reasonable limits.  Therefore the story is set
to what we as authors can take as truly plausible and not what could
have been in the wild fantasy mind of a psychopath.  Both authors will
continue to study this matter to the best of their ability and if
amendments are due they will be posted on this news group…you as a
reader may e-mail the authors direct if you so wish.
All I wish to say now on behalf of Pomponio and myself is happy
reading and safe sex to you all.

Chapter 1

Belly Rider  by Jillian, and Pomponio Magnus


        After all the waiting, months and months of preparations and
years of training, it was all about to bare fruit.  Aged twenty six,
Lorena was about to fulfil her ambition.  Looking though the crowd
that seemed to have materialised from nowhere she watched for the
gates of the compound to open, allowing the contingent to make its way
to the assembly point for the procession that would start of the first
day of Mardi Gras.  It was not easy to see from her position, looking
through horse’s legs, people with flamboyant costumes of flowing
material, people with almost nothing on except a head dress, and at
the lead position, the float, representing the subject that had been
chosen by this school for this year’s procession.   
Lorena looked around her at the other participants as she waited.
They were of both sexes and of a variety of ages.  She was not the
oldest by a long shot but neither was she the youngest,  there were at
least a dozen girls, aged about ten or twelve, out for their first
parade.  Everybody was chatting as they watched for the first sign
that they were on their way.  Nobody seemed nervous, except Lorena,
everybody seemed to take it in their stride, it was to be a lot of fun
and if they should win the coveted first prize for the best float or
costume, well that was a bonus.  Primarily this was a celebration, of
life, love and living.  They were all out here to enjoy just that,
life love and living.
The streets would be lined on both sides with spectators from all over
the world, all come to see the wonderful display that made the three
day spectacle that was the Rio de Janeiro, annual Mardi Gras.  Lorena
was so nervous that she was sure she needed to pee, but it was too
late now.  A small boy marched importantly to the front of the crowd
and slowly with difficulty pulled the wide three meter high wooden
gates open one by one.  As he started to push on the second gate a man
went over to help him, taking pity on the lad who had such a monstrous
"I can manage on my own." The lad’s voice rang out over the hoard of
competing exhibitionists.  This prompted some laughter, as the boy
felt very proud of being chosen to start the revellers on their way.
But the man persisted and soon others were there to help start the
procession.  The float, with its many exhibitors slowly started to
move and swing out into the road.  Coloured in red, white and violet
with intermediate shades of pink, Lorena thought it made a beautiful
sight, and was proud to be able to take her place in such a
distinguished show of skill and bravado.  
The young girls dressed as angels and nymphs followed the float,
followed themselves by a band of men dressed as devils and demons.
These led a group of supposedly tortured slaves, who in turn led the
eight horses and their riders, of whom Lorena was one.  The eight were
in two columns of four and Lorena had been placed third in line on the
right.  There would be no obstruction between her and the observing
crowds in the street.  She would be right there next to the people.
She, her horse and the young boy who, dressed as a tormented soul, led
her horse were her own little group, and the boy was placed in front
and to the left of the horse between the two columns.  Everything felt
so right.  As the boy took her horse forward to fit her in to her
place in the line, she was comforted to know that at last it was
starting.  The horse rocked her gently as it walked slowly forward,
she was led out through the gates into the wake of the float, and she
thought about the sequence of events that had lead her to this moment.