Perhaps it was this which made Maggie such an exhibitionist. First she found a black wig in a cupboard and fitted it over her own blond hair. It was not an improvement, though she paraded in it, her jaw slack and her tongue running on her lips. Taking it off at length, she ducked her head and shook it to and fro vigorously, her blond hair flying then settling at last into place.

The stable lads began to play with her. "Want a good gallop, Mag?" they called, as they seized her. "Take your pants right down, then!" She replied to them banteringly in a voice which was surprisingly soft and lilting. She tried to escape by climbing over the harness rail. Her legs were too short arid the boys caught her as she was astride it. One gripped her wrists and pulled her down so that she was lying forward along it as she straddled.

All this was done in play, Lizzie. Yet you may imagine the faces of the men who were passing by and who now pressed close to the windows to observe these proceedings. Because Maggie lay forward, astride the rail, the men outside the window could stare at the weight of the soft young breasts hanging like delectable fruit in her tight, blue singlet. The wooden rail showed her pouched love-lips through the straining tightness of her denim trousers. Taut but maturely filled out, the firm cheeks of Maggie's backside faced these spectators. There was such wrestling between her and the stable-lads! One of them stole a kiss from her lips, another smacked her arse playfully several times through the tight, thin denim.

In the end it was Maggie who freed herself. Then, chewing insolently upon some sweetmeat in her mouth, she went to the stable-boy who was her favourite and took him by the hand. Now, it seemed, she was ready to pay any price for true love. She led the youth behind a screen which stood conveniently at one end of the stable. I heard the undoing of her waist and the whisper of Maggie's knickers being pushed down to her knees and then to her ankles.