Heat.
While most enjoy it in the cold of winter, the rest of the year it's a nuisance. The body sweating to cool itself, to alleviate some of the burning that one would feel from the hot sun beating down on ponies. That is, most, but not Applejack.
Applejack loved the dry, summer heat. Knowing she was putting in a hard day's work, her body covered in sweat, the tank top on her chest and the daisy dukes she would have to adjust frequently from their constant riding up. Annoyances to most, but pure bliss to Applejack. It was work, it was enjoyment, it was…
Turning her on.
Stepping into the barn, she latched the door so no prying eyes could eavesdrop. She turned around, noticing that a single crack in the roof allowed a sliver of sunlight into the barn, casting down onto the one thing sitting there on a single sawhorse.
A worn, tired, old saddle. The single iron horn on the front, still appearing to be polished, glistened in the single beam of sunlight. Applejack stepped up to it, running her fingers along as she bit her other hand’s nails. It was set at the right height, just below where her dukes ended along her thighs.
She traded hands, this time allowing her saliva to work itself all over the ball. The other hand, now free, was working on the single button and zipper on her dukes. She hadn’t even realized where her mind was until she heard the denim drop to the ground. Thankful for her haste that morning, she hadn’t even bothered with any underwear.
Applejack could feel the wetness already running down her right leg. She needed this, it had been weeks since the last time she had any form of release. As she stepped up to the saddle, she undid the three buttons holding her top closed, letting her bra-less breasts free from their plaid prison.
Swinging her right leg over the saddle, her naked marehood dampened the worn leather seat as she made purchase. The sudden contact made her shudder, biting her lip as she grabbed the horn with both hands and began rocking herself in place. Tease as it was, it felt amazing. She was content with that motion for awhile, but eventually that began to lose its luster.
She began scooting forward with her thrusts, the now soaked leather allowing her to simply glide unhindered, and with each thrust into dry leather she moaned. Finally, she let out a gasp as her nub bumped into the gullet of the saddle. Teasing was over, it was time for action. Her boots met with the ground as she stood, guiding her pussy just inches from the base of the horn.
The steel’s surface was warm from her hands, and still damp from her spit earlier. She wasted no time in gently lowering herself until she could feel the ball just at her folds. Should she take it fast or slow? Applejack let out a chuckle as she took a deep breath, then exhaled as she slowly dropped down, ignoring the shiver up her spine and the hairs on her tail standing on end.
While warm to the touch at first, the steel was far from actually holding any warmth. The core of the steel was cold, and with each passing second of the horn inside her she shuddered. Each breath was quick. With ease she began to lift herself off, the emptiness taking over her pleasure. Another drop, another round of electricity coursing through her body.
Once she got a steady rhythm going, she’d idly let her left hand couple her left breast. The ball end was finally beginning to retain her own body temperature, shifting her pleasure from sudden and chilled to one of warmth and a full feeling. She couldn’t be sure how long she rode the saddle, waves of ecstasy washed over her in random intervals. A couple times she’d bottom out, eliciting a gasp of breath, so much so the back legs of the saw horse would momentarily gain air.
Applejack couldn’t get too crazy, unless she wanted to knock the stand over, although the crack whip on the wall was giving her some fantastic ideas, but maybe next time. Right now the feeling of having that horn in her taint, filling her as she tried to squeeze around it was pleasure enough. The swell at the bottom of the horn was dripping wet with her cum, but she paid no mind.
What felt like hours was only ten minutes as one final wave of pleasure pushed her over the limits. With a muffled moan, by her hat none the less, she bottomed out, fluids thoroughly soaking the front of the saddle. Drips were even coming off the stirrup, leaving a nice puddle on the hay covered ground.
She sat there, panting, as her sweat mixed with her bodily fluids. Once she noticed her rump beginning to feel sore, she slowly stood off the saddle for the last time. Satisfied, she buttoned her top, dusted off her dukes before sliding those up, and made her way towards the door.
The instant she unlocked and opened the door, she bumped into a large mass of muscle covered in red.
“M-Mac, what’re you doin’?”
Macintosh blinked. “Came ta put these here tools away.”
Applejack looked at the rusted box, and sheepishly nodded.
“Right, well, I got work to do, see ya!”
Like a rocket Applejack was off, power walking away. Mac shook his head, stepping inside. After placing the toolbox down, he turned to leave before something caught his eye. A worn, tired old saddle sat alone on a single sawhorse. He also saw how damp it looked, how clean and polished the steel appeared.
Macintosh Apple let out a heavy sigh.
He just didn’t have the heart to tell his sister that was their father’s saddle.
