She was fascinated by its graceful flight that seemed to leave misty and blurry whips of color in its wake.

Melanie knew that this was impossible, colors did not leave comet-like trails in their wake showing where they had been.

The flight of the butterfly left a trace of its stimulating sight on the fronts of her glistening eyes. It was the after-effects of this image that she projected onto the real world.

So that when she saw the butterfly's dazzling colors seem to burn a hazy exhaust into the clear air of the sun-drenched valley, she believed she was witness to a miracle.

She was convinced that the butterfly was trying to tell her something. It was there for a reason, acting like a guide.

It wasn't telling her to do anything. The gesture of its presence and the way its colors painted the transparent air delivered its message.

Her clit was ringing and pulsing. She hadn't completely noticed it until now. Her cunny was really on fire.

As they rode together in the sun-bathed glade her hips loosened their grip around the saddle and the tender vise of her inner thighs rubbed from one side to the other along the smooth saddle in time to the rhythm of Lightning's steady pace.

A strange feeling overtook her. Out of the blue an image pulsed in her brain. It was a picture of her riding Lightning completely in the nude.

The thought of it made her issue an excited gasp. It was too terrible to keep thinking of but gave her a frightful arousal.

She was ashamed to have thought of it. Lightning was hardly making a sound. His strong feet took each step very gingerly.

She got the distinct impression that the horse was thinking the same thing as her. The sweat broke out on her forehead.