Just as she was sure it wouldn’t come back into her again, Max pushed harder than he had before, the knot passing her lips and straining them with i...ts girth. As Max tried to pull out again his knot caught, only causing Daisy to cry out in pleasure and for him to continue pumping in shorter more desperate strokes. Daisy could feel it continue to swell. Continue to bump about inside her and hit all the buttons it needed to. She moaned constantly, unable to form words as the pleasure continued to. ‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘For once don’t push it Abby. I’m good.’ She nodded, smiled and said, ‘So you don’t like horses?’ Abby giggled at the look on my face. ‘Come on, as slow as you ride, it will take us all afternoon to get back to the barn.’ Getting on my horse, I said, ‘Not my fault I’m slow. I think my horse is broke. He won’t go faster than a bone shaking trot.’ I put my heels to the beast and said, ‘C’mon Dog Food, let’s get back so we can get away from each other.’ I saw the look on Abby’s. Yes I counted them all, stopping occasionally to turn and look around me and gaze across the never ending vista of fir trees surrounding me. I could hear the wind whisper softly through the pines and the call of the birds kissed my ears as they floated on the currents around the tree peaks. Turning the key in the lock, I opened the door, turned and waved good-bye to the driver and walked into the cool interior of the rustic log cabin. A late afternoon sunbeam from the west window, cast itself. This was all done to the lively music of someone playing a squeeze-box. Every so often, sticks would engage, resulting in a loud clack. And every so often someone would fall down, either injured, or drunk. Apparently it originated as a Pagan ritual. Jack sipped his scrumpy, a locally brewed cider, at least establishing the probable cause of the endemic inebriation. 4/9 Back in Fondleham, ignoring his waistline, Jack went into Mrs Plummett’s tea shop for a world-famous Devonshire Cream Tea, or.