It was the third day after leaving Cantleheath. MacKenna was surprised to see the Queen decided to wear a kilt, and more so that she had two sashes pinned to bring in an actual dress. MacKenna could not remember her wearing anything more than a shawl or cloak. The Queen had been mounted and waiting before the rest of them were, too. She normally walked until midmorning. The sergeant knew the Queen had not lain with anyone but her maid, so it was not that she could be with fry. 'She does look awesome flushed in de human face, and she be sweatin'like she 'd been in a sweat auberge. Maybe she be under tha weather ?'Around midafternoon, MacKenna held back, waving Max and Sherwood Anderson to ride on.

'' Ya'feelin'a'ight, loftiness ? Ye doona be looking justly, '' she said, keeping her vocalisation low.

The Queen smiled tightly, nodded too quickly. She squeaked, `` Mmmhmm. I… I am… mmph… I am ticket. ``

The sergeant gave the fagot the look she deserved.

The Queen looked up at the men riding ahead, and sighed. The sigh turned into a low moan that she cut off quickly. `` mulct. I… It is no use hiding it. I am gooooinngg… to call for Mmmm Max to help mmme when we stop… '' The Queen shivered, her eyes shutdown. She raised her kilt up on one side, exposing all the way up to her hip. There were a few spear carrier strap buckled on top of the Queen 's bicycle seat running underneath her, and another around her amphetamine thigh.

MacKenna looked at the configuration in muddiness, letting it show at she met the Queen 's trouble regard. MacKenna was even more than throw. The expression looked less like pain and more like the look of an orgasm. A good one at that. Something clicked in the sergeant 's principal, and her heart went wide.

The Queen nodded, letting her kilt drop back down. `` When Ingaaahh… and I were going through the papers, weeee… found intent for a sss…mmmm… special saddle … harness. That fits a 'woody'… Since… since I had not… nnn… needed to use the woody I bought… for Inga… I… thought it would… keep me… glad. '' She moaned flashy enough for the men to look back. MacKenna waved them back around, hoping she was not blushing as badly as she felt. `` So, ye'have bin ridin'all day, '' she said quietly, `` getting rutted by ye'saddle ? '' The Queen nodded. `` An'when we galloped ? '' The fag shivered, nodding again. `` How by the Divines are ye'staying in the saddle ? ``

The female monarch had let her reins go slack, trusting her knight to follow. `` Ssss.. Staying on the bicycle seat is easygoing. I… ammmmm strapped on. '' MacKenna remembered the shoulder strap around the fairy 's second joint. `` Getting down will be… problem… '' She lifted her kilt again. This prison term MacKenna noticed the leather of the saddle was stained from wetness, and the Queen 's legs shook almost constantly.

'' How many times have ye'… ye'… ``

'' I stopped remembering to count at fifteen… around midmorning. ``

MacKenna called as stoppage, waving the men to get together them again. She could not separate if the pansy was blushing or in the eye of another crest. `` Boyo 's, 'er loftiness needs ya'aid. stateliness, it would probably help if ye'took off ye'kilt. ``

The Queen nodded, unpinning her articulatio humeri and unbuckling her belt. She tried to pull the kilt out from around her and moaned, not trying to cover her summit this time.

The men watched, confused. MacKenna helped pull the kilt away, taking the belt and cloak pins. She got her first existent look at the same time the men did.

The straps she had seen were, in fact, a harness that kept the now visible woody tight against the saddleback, kept the poof mounted to the bicycle seat on the woody, but allowed enough slack for the pouf to bounce, consequently rutting herself with every gradation of her buck. MacKenna let out a low tin whistle. Anderson looked at in interest.

Max laughed, dismounting. He walked over, carefully unbuckling the Queen 's thighs, then lifting her free.

The queer screamed, her body shuttering and quiver, the evidence of her pleasure squirting from her now that the plug had been removed from her sex. Max laughed again, cradling the still twitching and moaning Queen as he climbed back into his bicycle seat.

MacKenna took the reins of the now riderless gymnastic horse, looking between the men and the vacant saddle, biting her lip. She looked at Anderson, who was suppressing a smile.

He shrugged. `` I will help, if you want. ``

'' Max ! hold up a bit, '' she called out, sliding out of her saddle and handing Anderson her reins.

Max turned so the fairy could see what was happening. She laughed, which turned into a moan and another round of golf of shakes.

'' Do ye'mind, ye'loftiness ? '' the sergeant called out.

The king raised her bridge player, waving before curling against Max.

MacKenna looked up at the faggot 's saddle. The woody was not shaped like a normal member. At about a helping hand and half long, it grew from the rounded tip to about four digit all-embracing around the middle, tapering down to about two finger's breadth all-inclusive at the base. The Queen 's scream when Max lifted her was making more sense.

With another tone at a still grinning Maxwell Anderson, she put her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself up, settling behind the woody while she got her other foot set in. She reached under her kilt as she stood, positioning she soaked and sleek down rod at her possible action. MacKenna was surprised to find her own inflammation. She lowered herself down onto the shaft, her center close. She had to work herself down a small at a time, moaning as she felt it debase her open even as it went deeper. She almost gave up trying to get over the widest part, but once it was in, her organic structure seemed to almost give suck in the rest, sealing itself around the narrow base. By the meter she was fully seated, her legs were shaking, every movement pulled another moan from her, and she knew she was close to her first crest. She had never felt anything like it, so full, so trapped.

She looked up at Sherwood Anderson. His grin had turned darker, more like the expression he gave her at nighttime before they crawled into the blanket. He met her eyes and nodded. She waved him over, lifting her kilt. He stepped over, buckling the straps around her thighs, adding an extra loop with the excess strap. She gave him a dirty look. It would only add an extra few seconds to withdraw, but that was few s more that she would be ineffective to lift herself off of this damnable medulla. He chuckled and stepped around to the former face, repeating the process and binding her to the saddle.

Anderson leaned over, kissing her on the cheek and whispered, `` love life you, Mac. '' He slapped the horse lightly, getting it moving with a jerky.

The sudden movement caused an immediate response, and MacKenna screamed her kickoff crest of the afternoon. She felt the bulb try to stretch her again, pulling every metre she rose off the can, only to be rammed in again when she landed.

'Twenty daylight ,'she managed to think through the haze of lust and mania .'I do no'have it off how she kept quiet for the forenoon. Divines pray that the fagot and I survive… ''