Short Stories by Hope/The Rocking Horse: Difference between revisions

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The Rocking Horse

I don’t remember when I first saw it, but I think I must have been around three years old when I first started riding him. Black Beauty lived in Grampy’s spare bedroom, which, because his house didn’t have an upstairs, was at the back on the ground floor.

When he came home from the war, Grampy didn’t have any legs and had to use a wheelchair. He actually had two: a small one that he used inside the house and had to wheel about with his hands, and a bigger one with an electric motor that he used outside. That one lived in the garage next to his car which had all kinds of clever gadgets so that he could get his wheelchair in up a ramp at the back and drive, even though he didn’t have any legs to work the pedals.

At first, he didn’t have a car. Mummy did all his shopping and generally looked after him. Every day, she picked me up from the nursery and took me to his house, where she’d do a bit of cleaning and prepare a meal for him to eat later. While she worked, Grampy played with me. He bought this wooden train set and we’d lay tracks on the floor. Well, I’d lay the tracks and he told me the best way to do it. Sometimes he’d read to me. I couldn’t sit on his lap back then, because what was left of his legs hurt too much, but he could get onto the sofa so I could sit beside him.

“I bought you a present,” he said, one day. I was puzzled, because it wasn’t my birthday or Christmas or anything, but he said that didn’t matter and I followed him through to the spare room where the rocking horse was standing. It was mostly black, with a white stripe down the middle of its face and white socks and it stood on curved runners so that it rocked backwards and forwards. I’ve never been a horse, so I didn’t know what to do, but Mummy lifted me up and sat me on top of it and showed me how to catch hold of its ears that stuck out especially to be handholds. Once I got the hang of it I like rocking so much that I didn’t want to go home.

The horse was made of wood, but it had a saddle which was quite soft to sit on and there were what he called stirrups for me to put my feet in. Now, instead of sitting next to Grampy on the sofa, we would go straight into what he called the playroom. I’d climb onto Black Beauty and rock back and forth while he read to me, or told me stories that he made up himself. One of the things I soon discovered about Black Beauty was that there was a lump in the saddle that pressed right between my legs. It wasn’t very big, barely noticeable, but when I leaned forward and built up a bit of speed the way it pressed against me felt really good. I asked Grampy about it, and he told me that it was specially made for little girls. He also told me that I probably shouldn’t tell Mummy or Daddy about it, because, he said, “some grown-ups have funny ideas about things like that and they might not let you ride it anymore.”

One day, I was riding and Grampy said that if I wanted, he could make the bump a bit bigger. I said, yes please, and he lifted me off, took the saddle off (I didn’t know you could do that) and twiddled something underneath, before putting it back on. “Try that,” he said. “If it’s too much, I can always change it back again.” When I climbed on, the bump in the saddle was pressing quite hard and I jumped back a little at first. Then I slid forward again and wriggled a bit until it felt more comfortable and then started rocking. The sensation from where it pressed against my winkle was really strong and when I told Grampy, he said to take it slow at first and gradually build up speed.

Grampy was in his indoor wheelchair and, as usual, he had a blanket over his lap. I was rocking backwards and forwards and really enjoying the sensations, when something made me look across and I saw that Grampy seems to be scratching himself underneath the blanket. I asked him if he was okay and he smiled and said he was fine, and he asked me if I was enjoying rocking with the bigger bump on the saddle. I said I was and he said how much he liked watching me.

It was about this time that Grampy got his car, so Mummy didn’t have to do his shopping. He got a lady to come in and do his cleaning as well. She was fat and didn’t speak very good English, but she did a pretty good job, so Mummy said we wouldn’t need to go there anymore. A couple of days later, she asked me if I liked staying with Grampy. Of course, I said I did, and I really missed him and Black Beauty. She told me that she was going to get a job, so while she would drop me off in the morning, Grampy would come in his wheelchair and collect me in the afternoon. Then I’d stay at his house for a while until she came to collect me.

He would drive his chair up to the nursery gate and press the buzzer. Then he’d wait outside until I came out and I would trot alongside the chair back to his house. He had a clicker thingy that he could press to make the garage door open. Then he’d wheel in and swap chairs, before going up the ramp into the kitchen, where there was always a piece of cake or some biscuits ready for me. Of course, as soon as I’d eaten that and drunk my milk, I would go straight to the playroom and jump onto Black Beauty. One day, he asked me if I’d like to try something different. “That bump is pressing against your special girl place and that’s why it makes you feel good. If you like, you could try taking your knickers off so that it's pressing right against you. I’ll bet that would feel even better,” he said.

I wasn't sure at first, but I needed a wee anyway, so when I finished, I left my knickers off. It felt a bit strange, walking about without them, but I was covered up by my dress, so I thought it would be okay. Mummy had told me about the difference between girls and boys and explained that we had to be careful to keep ourselves clean and always wipe from front to back after we did a poo. “There’s another opening called a vagina down there," she said, "and it’s a special place that only girls have.” Of course, that made me curious so I borrowed Mummy’s mirror off her dressing table and lay on the bed with my legs spread wide apart so that I could see for myself. I could see a kind of slit at the front, and when I lifted my bottom-up, I could see my poo-hole, all tightly closed up. I tried to see where the wee came out and I had to open up the slit. Then I could see the opening that Mummy had called a vagina and the pee-hole sort of hiding just above it.

After I put the mirror back, I felt down between my legs to see if I could find where those nice sensations came from when I was riding the rocking horse. I pushed a finger into my vagina a little way and that felt okay, but when I moved my finger up towards my tummy, I found a little bump and when I rubbed it, it was almost as nice as being on the rocking horse. So, after Grampy suggested that I took my knickers off, and I tried riding without them, the feeling of that bump on Black Beauty’s saddle pressing against me as I rocked was even better than before.

Quite often, Mummy dressed me in shorts to go to nursery, but that spoiled things at Grampy’s, so I told her that I wanted to wear dresses all the time. Grampy supported me and said something about dresses being better for air circulation, so after that I always wore a dress. I noticed that as I rocked back and forth, I got a bit squishy down there and I asked Grampy about it. He told me to turn sideways so he could have a look and wheeled his chair closer. I wondered what it was he had under his blanket because it was sticking up, but I didn’t say anything. I sat sideways with my legs apart so he could see better and he had a real close look and told me that it was quite normal. I asked him where it came from, and he said that it came out of my vagina.

The next day, he said that with everything being so slippery down there, he had made the bump even bigger so that it would go into my vagina a little bit. When I climbed on, I sat right on top of the bump and it hurt. “You need to sit back and rock for a bit to make yourself squishy,” he said, then it won’t hurt. I sat on the saddle and slid forward until the bump was pressing against my vagina and rocked for a bit and it wasn’t long before I got the squishy feeling. I looked across at Grampy who was scratching himself again. "Try again," he said, so I lifted my bottom up and then lowered down until I felt the bump actually poke into entrance of my vagina.

“It’s in,” I shouted, and I noticed Grampy’s face had gone red and he’d stopped scratching. He asked if it felt okay and I said that it did, and as I rocked, I felt it kind of slipping in and out, just a little bit, and that felt really good. I asked him about the scratching, and he mumbled something about an itch that seemed to get really bad when he watched me riding Black Beauty.

Usually, when I was riding, I kept my skirt spread out because Mummy always said that I should keep my girly parts covered up, so I was a bit surprised when Grampy asked me to lift my skirt right up so he could see. I asked him why, and he said something about wanting to make sure that the bump wasn’t hurting me. Of course, I told him it wasn’t, and in fact it actually felt really good, but he said he’d be much happier if he could see it. He said he’d make it a bit longer as well. The next day, I could really see how it was sticking up.


This time, before I climbed on, Grampy gave me a bottle of baby oil and told me to use that to make myself slippery. He wheeled round beside Black Beauty’s head and watched as I pulled my skirt up round my middle and carefully lowered myself down. He had made it quite a lot longer and it felt weird having something inside my vagina, but it slipped in okay and Grampy clapped and said well done as I sat right down on it. The sensations were really strong when I started rocking, and suddenly I felt all my muscles begin to tense up. I felt really hot like when I blushed. I stopped rocking and looked at Grampy and saw that he’d gone red in the face as well. I asked him what had happened and he told me that it was something called a climax. It was what happened when the sensations got really strong.

I asked Grampy it happened to boys as well, and he said it did but it wasn’t quite the same. “Boys don’t have vaginas of course,” he said. “They have willies instead.” He was going to say more, but he took a deep breath and said that was enough for today, so I climbed off and put my knickers back on. When I looked, I could see that the bump on Black Beauty’s saddle was all shiny and wet. Grampy said not to worry because he always gave it a good clean after we’d finished. When Mummy came to collect me, she asked if I'd had a good time and I said I had and started giggling. But I never told her why.

It became a routine. Every day, as soon as I finished my tea, I'd take my knickers off. Grampy got the baby oil and I spread it between my legs so that I could climb straight on to the bump which now seemed to be even longer and a bit thicker. He would sit by Black Beauty’s head and watch as I lowered myself carefully down. All the time, rubbing himself underneath the blanket. He would start the horse rocking gently at first, and then faster. I would lean forward, lifting myself up and down so that the bump slid in and out, and it wouldn’t be very long before I had a climax. I learned that if I sat still after the climax to get my breath back, I could start again. It was even more sensitive the second time so I would go really gently and make it last as long as I could before I slumped forward onto Black Beauty’s neck as my climax pulsed through me.

Grampy said that it would be much better if I took my dress off as well. "I'm worried we might spoil it," he said. By now I realised that this was just an excuse because he wanted to look at my body. I didn't understand why, but he really liked looking between my legs, so it seemed silly not to let him see the rest of me. So, after that, when I rode Black Beauty, I was always naked except for my socks.

One day, when we went into the playroom, I saw that he’d made the bump tiny again and wondered why. He said that it was quite easy to make it bigger or smaller, and that he’d had a thought that I might like to try something different, but it needed to be the smaller bump. He told me that some girls liked to put things in their poo-hole. Of course, I thought that was pretty weird, but then riding myself to a climax on Black Beauty every day was pretty weird too, so I said I’d try. Grampy told me to bend over the arm of the chair and came round behind me with the bottle of oil. He used a finger to spread it around and then slipped his finger right into my bottom. Of course I yelled and tried to get away, but he had his other hand on my back holding me in place and he was very strong.

Once I got over the surprise, I found that having a finger in my bottom was actually quite nice, so when he told me to get on Black Beauty and sit on the bump so it went in there instead of my vagina, I did it. To be honest, I liked it better in front, but Grampy seemed to like what I was doing and I saw him stroking his willy under the blanket as usual. Afterwards, he used a wet-wipe to clean me up and told me that he had ordered another, even better, saddle.

The next time we went back to normal except that he had made the bump even bigger than before. It was longer and thicker and it hurt a little at first, but I guess I stretched, so it felt even better and I had a climax really fast. Then, after a rest, I started again and the second one was better still. When I looked at Grampy, his blanket had fallen off and he was stroking his big willy. It looked a lot like the bump that was in my vagina, only bigger. After that, he didn’t even bother to hide what he was doing and as I watched him while I rode, I did wonder...

The new saddle came during the weekend so on Monday I was eager to find out what was special about it. To my surprise, it had two bumps – a big one in front and a smaller, thinner one behind it. The really clever thing was that there was a remote control, like for the TV, that Grampy could use to make them longer or shorter, and even shrink right out of sight.


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[[Category:Short Stories|The Rocking Horse]