Folding Chairs
by Peter Loaf

My owner leading, draped in a quilt
From stable to parlor, my brain to tilt
Ponygirl training
The ropes restraining
Grey steel and plastic, so cheaply built

Folding chairs flimsy, set back to back
Forced up and balanced, the rest of my tack
My ankles cinching
Titty clips pinching
Spread red and open, tough keeping track

Shaky foundation, afraid Iíll fall
His fingers wiggle, his booty call
The pain/pleasure rush
Vibrating toothbrush
Hurt clitty hardens, giving my all

The thongs of leather, his pussy whip
Balanced in terror, the nipple clip
Pussy red swelling
Pussy drip smelling
Ponygirl breaking, getting His grip

Folding chair dancing, scooting about
The thongs keep coming, my helpless shout
Pussy proud glowing
Pussy juice flowing
My owner a bastard, merciless lout

Card table bringing, setting it there
Pushed down and lashing, ass in the air
Nipple clips hurting
Pussy juice squirting
Broodmare in harness, passion to share

Pony cock stretching, vulva griping
Chair rattle kicking, gear train stripping
Beauty filled floating
My cervix coating
Suckle dick licking, every dripping

Folding Chairs

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