I’ve never really been the impetuous type, but the feel of absolute power between my legs was exhilarating and liberating. I would love to ‘red line’ it through the streets of the French Quarter and even take my baby up onto the highway and ‘let it out’ to Baton Rouge and back again. It wasn’t until I felt her power between my legs that I started to crave a more powerful ‘machine’ between my legs. I couldn’t put a name to it, but I knew it was not an artificial power in any sense of the word, it was of a purely natural feel. My mother’s employers had a race horse ranch and I had started to visit there and took riding lessons to eventually start to breeze their race horses. Now this was more like it, I loved my girl, but the horses power between my legs was more wilder and harder to control. Yet, there was something still missing. The last of the 3 powerful things that I love to feel between my legs. I guess that’s why I did not even realize that I was into women until I was nearly 15-1/2 years old. I had always being the responsible and diligent type, excelling at my school work, and managing to take care of my brother-cooking, cleaning, and making sure he got his school work done. I had just finished breezing the lady of the house’s most treasured filly, cooling her down, and returning her to her stable before leaving for the day. She had pulled me aside at dusk into an empty loft and proceeded to kiss me. My loins were sat ablaze right there and then. I was putty in her hands. And we continued on like that every evening for the next 2 years, that is until her husband discovered us and killed her in a fit of rage. I was only 17-1/2 years old and I had less than a semester left in high school and he would’ve killed me, too. If, her ladies’ most cherished race horse, who was now put to breeding, had not gotten spooked, broke loose from her confines, and reared up and kicked him in the back of the head-killing him instantly.