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Dr. Hooters #24: The Horse Academy
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Dr. Hooters Pt XXIV
The Horse Academy
The VanderLeer Equestrian Academy was as isolated as a lepers'
colony, but far more comfortable. Nestled away in the Blue Ridge
Mountains in the extreme north-west corner of North Carolina, the
Academy had played hostess to three generations of young, upper-
crust, Southern womanhood.
Sherrie was quickly given an idea of what the summer had in store
for her. As soon as she got off the bus from Raleigh, and
stepped into the van, she saw there were two other girls inside.
One was a pale blonde with a blue vein running across her fore-
head, the other an anorexic brunette with her nose buried in a
magazine.
"Hi!", said the blonde, "I'm Marilyn." She extended her arm
minimally, making Sherry cover most of the distance between them
to shake it, then she withdrew it almost immediately. Marilyn's
voice was reedy and nasal, very disagreeable. Listening to it
all the time would be worse than hearing her baby brother Rodrigo
massage a balloon, Sherry thought.
"I'm Sherry Rodriguez", she replied without enthusiasm, "from Mi-
ami". The two girls in the van exchanged a knowing look.
"Charmed", intoned the other girl, a lanky brunette with no chin,
who returned directly to her magazine.
Feeling it necessary to fill Sherry in on at least the rudiments
of what the Academy was all about, Marilyn began speaking, as
much to the other girl as to Sherry. "It's wonderful that we get
a few of you people here each summer on scholarship. It adds so
much diversity to the Academy..."
Sherry felt the blood rising to her cheeks. "My father paid full
tuition and board for my stay, thank you. All fourteen weeks in
advance."
This made the brunette look up form her magazine in surprise.
Good, thought Sherry, a ten-week girl pretending to be planter-
class. Probably a Baptist to boot. Well, this is gonna be an
interesting summer. She turned to the snarky blonde. "What kind
of horses do they have here at the Academy?"
"Tennessee saddle horses, certainly", replied Marilyn. "What
kind of horses do you-all ride in Miami?" She pronounced it My-
am-uh.
"My father has a stable of prize paso finos. My sisters and I
ride 'em a lot. They're descendants of the horses the conquista-
dores brought over from Spain", Sherry replied proudly.
"Lovely", replied the brunette noncomittally. It was obvious
that neither Marilyn nor the Baptist wanted to discuss equine
blood-lines with a girl from a city they didn't even consider to
be part of their country. Sherry turned around and stared out
the window at the mountains until Mrs. Vanderleer, a grey-haired,
all-business woman of fifty-plus, returned, introduced herself
quietly, and started up the road out of Mercer to the Academy.
Sherry felt her chest burning again, like it did on the airplane
from Miami to Atlanta, except worse. She folded her sweater, so
useless in torrid south Florida, but so necessary here, over the
affected part, and rocked slowly to make the pain go away.
"Do they have a lot of drug dealers in Miami?", asked the blonde.
Sick of the shit, Sherry responded sarcastically. "Yeah. My dad
made his stake in flake Peruvian cocaine, and mom was a gun-
runner for the Contras."
The Baptist lifted her head up from the magazine. "You've got a
sense of humor", she droned. "That's good. You'll need it at
the Academy."
**************************************************************
Opening the door to the cabin, Sherrie threw her bags inside and
stepped in. Her cabin-mate was hunched over her bed, ass in the
air, rummaging through something on the other side. Sherrie drew
her breath in at the sight of the jeans-clad ass, one of the
finest she'd ever seen, and continued to stare in astonishment as
the owner of that splendid ass drew herself up to her full
height, and turned around to greet the newcomer.
Sherrie's cabin-mate was a tall black girl, towering over Sherry
by at least a foot. "Hi there!", she yelled, thrusting out a
great hand and grasping Sherrie's own. "I'm Veronica. Veronica
Talbot, from Virginia Beach." Sherrie stood pumping her arm in
disbelief. Not only was Veronica the tallest girl she'd ever
met, but also one of the most beautiful. Her rich cocoa-colored
complexion was even and flawless. Her jet-black hair fell in
natural waves over her sculpted shoulders and down her back,
without a trace of processing. Dark, almond-shaped eyes glis-
tened above a rich, generous mouth, and her cheekbones flaired
slightly, giving her face an oval shape and an Asiatic flavor.
"You're beautiful", stammered Sherrie.
"Thanks", Veronica responded, sitting down on the bed. Sherrie
noticed that Veronica's hair just brushed the mattress when she
sat down. "But I can see why they put us together. Let the
brown girls stay together. Hmm. Did they think you were a
scholarship case, too?"
Laughing, Sherry repeated what Marilyn had told her on the van.
Veronica winced. "Half these white girls up here with the fine
names are here on scholarship!", she laughed, "Either that, or
they're six-weekers or ten-weekers. I'm here for fourteen weeks,
myself, courtesy of my father James E. Talbot IV of Talbot Mo-
tors, Virginia Beach"
Unpacking her suitcases on her bed, Sherrie continued her story.
"My folks paid for fourteen weeks up here. Papi said it would
give me a little polish."
"Oh, it will, it will, honey", exclaimed Veronica. "Mrs Vander-
leer's big on polish. You'll learn how to dress at dinner, how
to hold your fork, how to curtsey, all that important stuff.
But, if you're darker than buttermilk, as they say in Virginia
Beach, you'll learn a lot of other stuff here as well."
"Whuddaya mean?"
Veronica stretched her impossibly long legs out, covering her en-
tire cot. "These white girls, their families have been sending
them up here for three generations. They're Old South, very old
school. Mostly they come here to put that little varnish of
hypocrisy over the multiple layers of snobbery that passes for
character in their circles."
"Trouble is, the bloodlines have been getting a bit thin, and
Daddy's bank account's getting a bit low, so they let a few rich
young savages like you and me in each summer. Then they use the
money to bring a few of their impoverished relatives up on schol-
arship, and they make a big deal about the fact that the Academy
allows scholarship girls up at all 'to foster respect for differ-
ences and diversity', and hey presto! Everyone assumes that us
darkies are here on scholarship and the secret is safe for anoth-
er generation."
"The bitches!", exclaimed Sherry.
Veronica laughed, revealing a smile so white it almost glowed.
"Don't let it bother you. By the way, what's your name?"
Sherry. Sherry Rodriguez."
"Don't let it bother you, Sherry-berry", Veronica continued.
"This is my third summer at the Academy. Most of the girls mean
well, even if they say some incredibly stupid things from time to
time. It comes from having a limited view of the world. The re-
al snoots are usually pushers from families on their way up, or
bare-elbow gentility on their way down."
"And they do have some beautiful horses here", she added.
*********************************************************** That
evening, Sherrie sat with the other forty-odd girls in the Acade-
my's elegant dining room, as Mrs. VanderLeer gave the invocation.
White linen blouses, white gloves, blue skirts and blazers with
grey woolen stockings were required, and Sherry felt as out of
character as if she had been wrapped in a tarp and kidnapped to
the circus. She glanced over to Veronica, sitting with the third-
year girls. Veronica winked back at her.
Sherrie's chest began to tingle again, this time pleasantly, and
Sherry almost giggled as wave after wave of sensation crested in-
side her, as though she were being massaged by a thousand tiny
hands. She stared up at Mrs. VanderLeer, all staid and serious,
and thought how funny she would look if that proper blue skirt
were suddenly lifted up over her head...
When suddenly, from nowhere, a random breeze blew in from who
knows where and did just that very thing. The solemn atmosphere,
of course, was entirely destroyed, and Mrs. VanderLeer sent the
girls away early, after a brief prayer.
My God, Sherry wondered to herself, did I do that?
*********************************************************
The next few days, with the vivacious Veronica as her guide,
Sherrie fell into the round of activity at the Academy. Morning
chapel was, naturally, a burden to be borne, but most of the
girls felt this way, and it was soon over, followed by morning
saddle exercises and riding. There was keen competition for the
finest horses, and Sherrie, as a first-year girl, had to make do
with what was left after the others got their pick. Most all of
the horses at the Academy, though, were of a uniformly high qual-
ity, and Sherrie didn't have to suffer a nag more than once or
twice. Also, she distinguished herself early for her horsewoman-
ship, and the other girls made certain that she had a mount wor-
thy of her.
There were Western-style and English-style riding classes. Sher-
rie enjoyed them both; Western for the playful rough-and-tumble,
English for the elegance of the habit. But best of all were the
barrel races. The feeling of such raw animal power between her
legs and under her control amply compensated Sherrie for the lack
of boys at the Academy.
The favorite horse at the Academy was, far and away, Silversheen,
a powerful grey stallion who was kept as a stud at the Academy.
He had racehorse blood in him, and he was uncommonly intelligent.
Since Silversheen was far more valuable as a stud-horse than as a
saddle horse, Mrs. Vanderleer limited the amount of time he was
available to the girls for riding.
One day, Sherrie surprised all of the girls one day by coming out
in her corte sevillana, a traditional Spanish riding fashion from
Seville. After seeing Sherrie in her Spanish riding habit, Mrs.
Vanderleer decided to mount her on Silversheen for some promo-
tional photos, so that Sherrie was able to spend the better part
of the day with the beautiful animal.
A bond formed quickly between the grey stallion and the girl from
Miami, and Sherrie found it possible to guide Silversheen without
using the reins or bridle, using a mere tap on the his flank to
turn him or stop him. By the time the a couple of weeks had
passed, Silversheen started to become restive each time he and
Sherrie were separated,and wouldn't let anyone else ride him.
Finally, Mrs. Vanderleer saw no alternative but to allow Sherrie
to ride Silversheen regularly.
Naturally, this enraged the other girls at the Academy, who saw
no good reason why 'that little spic' from Florida had exclusive
riding rights to the most beautiful horse at the Academy. If she
had been making some headway against their ingrained prejudice
with her vitality and outgoing nature, Silversheen's attachment
to Sherrie united all of them against her. Fortunately, Veronica
proved to be a good friend, and a loyal defender, although she
was as disappointed at Silversheen's 'defection' as everyone
else.
"You sure made a hit with that horse, Sherrie-berry", she con-
fessed one night. "I wouldn't mind knowin' how you did it".
"It wasn't anything I did", Sherrie responded, "I just seemed to
make a link with him. Silversheen's a very smart horse".
Veronica turned out the light, but the cabin didn't darken for
Sherrie. Her eyes adjusted, and she could see as clearly as if
it were day. It made it difficult to sleep, until one day, Sher-
rie realized she no longer needed to sleep. She remained awake
the entire night, reading in the dark, and felt no weariness all
the next day. Experimenting, she continued the next night and
the next day, and found she no longer had any need whatsoever of
sleep. Since night was the same as day for her, she took to
slipping out of the cabin and spending the night in the surround-
ing forest.
One night, a brilliant full moon-lit night, Sherry was sitting in
a clearing in the woods, and she created a glowing wheel of ener-
gy. It formed in the air at her mental command, strengthening
and growing as she continued to will it into being. Astounded by
her new abilities, she didn't notice that Veronica had stolen
away from the Academy and followed her into the woods.
The tall black girl, clad in jeans and a white midriff blouse,
stepped into the clearing. "My God, Sherrie", she exclaimed,
"Did you do that?"
"Yeah. Don't ask me how, though." Sherrie stepped up to her
friend's side and watched as her wheel of energy turned slowly in
the middle of the grove. It looked like a miniature galaxy, mil-
lions of tiny lights all rotating in a tight spiral, shifting and
changing colors as it turned. "Its beautiful", Veronica admit-
ted.
Then Sherrie looked at her friend. At her mental command, the
tiny lights dissolved away from the spiral and drifted through
the air in a swarm, to surround Veronica in a mantle of fairy-
light. A diadem of brilliant diamantine lights twinkled in the
black girl's hair like a princess's crown.
"I can control it, Ronnie", Sherrie told her. "I made it and I
can control it. And that's not all. I've been two days and two
nights without sleep, and I don't feel in the least bit tired.
Not only that, but I can see in the dark like a cat. Its like
noon out here to me!"
Veronica pulled a bill out of her front pocket. "How much is
this, Sherrie?"
"Its a ten, Ronnie"
Pulling the bill close to her face to inspect it, Veronica
gasped. "You're right!", she exclaimed. She pulled another bill
from her pocket and held it up in the night air.
"That's a one", Sherry said.
Veronica fished around in her jeans, pulled out a forbidden pack
of Newports, and stuck one in her mouth. Sherrie stepped close
to her and lifted her index finger. A tiny point of light ap-
peared at the tip.
"My God, Sherrie", Veronica almost shouted, "you're E.T. You're
one of them! I'm outta here!" She turned to run, but Sherrie
put her hand on the black girl's shoulder. "Please, Ronnie!!",
she pleaded, "Don't go. I need you here".
"You're a space alien, just like in the magazines in the grocery
store say!"
"Please! I'm a girl, same as you. Please stay with me!", Sher-
rie begged.
Veronica calmed down when it appeared Sherrie was not going to
eat her, vaporize her, or carry her away in her flying saucer.
"Amy and Brittany, there back in the camp, are still awake", she
explained. Sherry heard them giggling and making plans for a
clandestine visit to town as she ratched up her auditory senses.
"You can hear them from here?", asked Veronica, moving closer.
"Yeah", replied Sherrie. "I can hear as well as I can see now.
At first, I couldn't hear anything but the crickets and the owls,
but I've learned to filter it."
As Veronica moved across the grove, Sherry felt a familiar hunger
move over her. She had known for some time that she was as power-
fully attracted to girls as she was to boys, but Sherrie labored
diligently to suppress these urges. Her Catholic upbringing,
the disapproval of her family and friends, the general clumsiness
of early adolescence all militated against the easy expression of
her feelings. Only once or twice with Marsha Sanchez had her
passionate nature overwhelmed these barriers and impelled her to-
wards the gentle fury of girl-girl sex. Only with Marsha, she
thought, and that damned Amanda Quinteros, who had burst into her
life and changed it forever.
Watching Veronica, Sherrie felt the desire rise to move her hands
up those smooth black legs, up under the nightgown to those slen-
der, yet well-muscled thighs, up to the hidden center of Veroni-
ca's emerging womanhood, to reach around to those incredible,
free- standing, self-propelled hemispheres of Veronica's remark-
able....
"Hey, homegirl!", Veronica accused, "You lookin' at my black ass
again, Aint ya?" The two girls sat down on a fallen tree trunk.
Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, Sherrie felt hot tears
rise as she beat back the urge to fall on Veronica's perfect,
sculptured neck and shoulders, and cover them with burning kiss-
es.
"I'm sorry, Ronnie", she confessed, "is it that obvious?"
Playing idly, Sherrie began to conjure up small, brilliant points
of energy, like miniature stars fallen to earth in the Academy
courtyard. as soon as she got one glowing properly, sherry sent
it drifting over to settle on Veronica's nightgown, adorning her
hair, her shoulders, her bosom, her waist. before long, the
porch was bathed in the opalescent radiance of Sherrie's artifi-
cial stars, and Veronica was clothed in diamantine light, like a
princess in a fairy tale. "Veronica", Sherry whispered huskily,
"you're the most beautiful girl I've ever met, inside and out.
You're also as good a friend as I've ever had, or am ever likely
to have.
Veronica turned her doe-like eyes on Sherry, blinking in amaze-
ment at the witch-light that illuminated her nightgown, casting a
hundred tiny shadows on the porch and beyond. The homegirl swag-
ger disappeared, and the beautiful black girl began to tremble
with mixed fear and astonishment.
The conjured starlight vanished instantly, and the darkness of
the night closed around them again, locking them into an intimacy
that transcended the physical.
Sherry sat at the edge of the grove, drinking in the fresh scents
of the pine woods on every side, pulling down on her white tennis
shorts so the rough wood wouldn't scratch her cheeks. Suddenly,
Sherrie doubled over, and began pulling her shirt off.
"Sherrie!", yelled Veronica, "What's wrong??"
"My chest!", Sherrie replied. "It feels like its on fire". She
stripped her shirt off and stood naked to the waist in the moon-
light. Her small, pert, baseball-sized breasts stood out in full
relief, with her nipples erect in the night air. "They're burn-
ing up!", she moaned.
Veronica put her hand on her friend's small, hard left breast.
It was hot to the touch, but there was no sweat. Sherrie put her
hand over Veronica's hand. "Ronnie", she said to her friend,
"have you ever done any girl-girl stuff?"
Veronica swallowed hard. "No", she admitted.
"I'm going to ask you to do something you probably won't want to
do, but if you love me, and if you don't want me to hurt, you'll
do it."
Thoroughly spooked but intrigued, Veronica nodded her head.
"What's going on, Sherrie?"
"There's a lot going on, Ronnie my dear, Ronnie my precious.
More than I know, even, and I'm still guessing a lot. But my
guess is that I'm going to grow an enormous set of tits here in
the next few days." Sherrie began moving Veronica's hand so
that it gently massaged her aching breast. "I'll tell you the
whole story, but only if you do what I ask", she promised.
But Veronica's other hand had already strayed to Sherrie's other
breast, and was stroking in gently. Sherry moaned with delight
as Veronica's cool fingers caressed the tight hotness of her
breasts. Veronica moved in closer, and Sherrie reached behind
her and began massaging her tight, high, jeans-clad ass. "Touch
my nipples, Ronnie my heart, my dark goddess", she implored.
In answer, Veronica bent down and extended a remarkably long,
pink tongue to the tip of Sherrie's left nipple. Sherrie inhaled
sharply, and thrust her chest upward into Veronica's hungry
mouth, which closed over the rest of her breast and began sucking
furiously.
"Ronnie! Ronnie!", Sherrie gasped, as Veronica's fevered suck-
ling began to cause the tightness and heat in her breasts to dis-
solve into an indescribable sweetness. She passed her hands un-
der Veronica's jeans and began to grab great handfuls of the
black girl's generous ass.
Sherrie moved her crotch into Veronica's upper thighs and began
grinding it against her. In response, Veronica dropped her hands
from Sherrie's breasts down to inside her shorts, where Sherrie
released one hand from Veronica's ass to guide Veronica to her
throbbing clit. "That's it, Ronnie love", she whispered hoarse-
ly, "Right there!"
Together they tumbled to the forest floor, where they grappled in
a bed of soft pine needles. Sherrie moved her free hand around
tot he front of Veronica's jeans, where to her surprise, she
found that Veronica was sopping wet. With a practiced hand, she
inserted two fingertips into the wetness, extracted Veronica's
love muscle, and began feathering it with her fingertips.
"Sherrie! Sherrie! Oh God!", Veronica began to moan, as she
whipped her long thick mane across Sherrie's face. Having pulled
away from Sherrie's breasts, she sought out her mouth, burying it
in famished kisses. She bucked roughly on Sherrie's inquisitive
fingers and redoubled her efforts on Sherrie's clit.
Sherrie felt the pressure in her chest give way in tidal wave of
sweetness and pleasure. Tingling as if from the prick of a thou-
sand tiny needles, she convulsed in Veronica's arms. She felt
Veronica contract roughly too, as she spasmed in orgasm. Sheep-
ishly the girls kissed, and fell apart in each other's arms.
*********************************************
"That was a sin, Sherrie-berry", said Veronica, still cradled by
Sherrie's left arm in the delirious moonlight.
"I know", whispered Sherrie softly. "I'm Catholic enough to know
that, but not Catholic enough not to enjoy it when it happens."
"How long has it been since you've been with a boy?"
"Since two weeks before coming to the Academy"
Veronica sighed deeply. "I broke up with Justin just before com-
ing up here. We made love one last time just before I left. "
She sighed again with the memory. "I should think they would ex-
pect this sort of thing to happen, keeping us up here in the
mountains, miles from the nearest swingin' dick."
"Nah", Sherrie replied, "I don't think these little gringas even
have cunts. Just cash registers down there. They seem to spend
all their time trying to scoop enough money together so's they
don't have to have anything to do with guys and can afford to
spend the rest of their lives shopping."
By the position of the stars, it was getting very close to dawn.
Sherrie shook Veronica awake, and they walked arm in arm back to
the Academy.
Tossing her long black tresses over her shoulder and down her
back, Veronica laughed infectiously, her brilliant white smile
flashing even in the pale moonlight. "Ain't you some shit, Sher-
ry-berry?", she laughed. "I mean, who would have thought that
Supergirl would turn out to be a lezzie?"
"I'm not Supergirl", Sherry responded darkly, "and I'm __NOT__ a
lesbian!"
"Oh yeah? Well, who else can light cigarettes with the tip of
her finger, hear people whispering in the next county, and see in
the dark like a cat?"
Sherrie tucked her friend in, then showered and dressed herself
in her Academy uniform as the first light of day filtered in
through the cabin window.
She'd have to manufacture some lie for Mrs. Vanderleer so that
Veronica could spend the day in bed, but Sherrie herself felt
wonderful, even after her third sleepless night.
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