Flickering flames of rapture consumed her loins and she began to toss about and moan aloud, bucking her hips and running her fingers faster and faster across her oozing quaking slit. Her boobs bounced becomingly, the nipples jutting and erect with desire.

Meanwhile, another member of the Wilkerson family was approaching the homestead. Jarvis Wilkerson impatiently spurred his steed onward, and Marmaduke, the big thoroughbred stallion with magnificent black and white markings neighed and galloped faster toward the stables. Jarvis was sweaty and tired from the long, grueling ride he had just finished. He had ridden a good twenty miles to the town of Tremberley and had a few drinks with some buddies at a local bar. Now, his senses were slightly dulled by beer, but his athletic body was in fine shape, aching deliciously from the work-out he had just had.

In his riding outfit, Jarvis was a fine looking figure of a man. The white breeches, flaring at the hips and tucking into leather boots, clung to his hips and crotch and ass snugly, outlining his bulging basket. His jacket was perfectly cut to fit his powerfully muscled contours, and his ruggedly handsome young face was tanned by the sun and flushed and damp with perspiration, his green eyes glowing with young life.

He leapt easily down from his steed and caught Marmaduke by the bridle, patting the froth-flecked horse on the neck and speaking to him in a soothing tone. Then, he led the horse to the barn and drew open the door.

As he led Marmaduke into the barn, Jarvis heard a frantic commotion and some whispering. He looked up in surprise and saw a rather comical sight. Brutus was frantically buckling his belt while Dahlia, dressed in a frock and blouse, looked terrified and in great disarray. The two black servants had just scrambled out of Marmaduke's stall where they had quite evidently been fooling around.