When I was a child, I was a proper little pony girl. All my spare time and cash went on horses. I spent all day at the weekend working in a stables in return for riding lessons and just to spend time with horses and ponies.
Then I turned fourteen and my hormones kicked in. I abandoned horses for lusting after boys and strangely took nothing of the stable yard with me. Until this week I’ve never gone near a riding crop or leather in a sexual sense.
Horses were clearly my first love though because even now I remember the names of the animals I rode and cared for better than the first few men I fucked. My switch between the two was dramatic and I went head over heels for sex instead of maintaining a link between both worlds.
This probably accounts for why I’ve never read a single Jilly Cooper novel since the horsey world was about actual hay bales and horsemanship for me and I could never see the sexiness in it other people did.
But what is a bit weird is that I never read any of the books other people learned about sex from. I predate the internet and its wealth of erotica and I always hated the sense that the quivering maidens in Mills and Boon said no when the handsome brute wanted to ravage them.
I didn’t want to say no or play hard to get and even though I didn’t have the words for it back then I wanted to willingly submit. But all the erotic stuff aimed at women seemed too timid for me and too likely to give the idea that nice girls don’t and if they forget themselves in the heat of the moment, they didn’t really mean to.
I always thought I just wasn’t interested in mass market erotic fiction but turns out out even as a teenager, vanilla didn’t hit the spot for me. Maybe I should have brought that six foot dressage whip with me to my new world after all.
So while my peers were reading about Lucky Santangelo and Rupert Campbell Black and probably masturbating every five seconds to learn about sex, I skipped the lessons and went straight to the practical and learned to fuck with a succession of probably ill chosen but attractive men.
I’m still shaken and definitely not stirred by my Master’s order last year to read all three volumes of Fifty Shades of Grey. It mainly confirmed my need for the non vanilla but since it’s a Saturday night and I’ve nothing else planned, I might download Riders and see if my teenage self missed much out…