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The first day at the New York track, Juan Medoza met Tina Gomez, a fellow Uruguayan and jockey. She was twenty-one-years-old. This was her first year riding horses the caliber of those here in the United States. Tina and Juan were often scheduled to ride in the same races: they were in competition.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends or more than friends. Juan offered to guide her to the culture of the American racing circuit. He also guided her to his bed. She wasn’t a virgin, but she’d never had her pussy eaten. After Annabella in Las Vegas, as you know, Juan Mendoza had become very skillful.

Two hours after arriving at his hotel Tina couldn’t say that, and she also couldn’t say she’d never fucked a big cock. “Juan, I like to be on top. I like to feel like I’m riding. I’m comfortable on top.”

Like Juan, Tina rode horses for two minutes, but she rode his cock all night. “Bounce on it, Tina. Bounce.” As you might imagine, she was petite; she brought along her own lube. “Juan, I’m going to need more of this.”

Whenever they weren’t at the track, they were in bed. As much as she liked riding his cock, she liked it just as much as when Juan rode her. “It’s so far up my pussy. Nothing’s ever been that far inside him. Ride me hard, Juan. Harder.”

Young, athletic, with strong sex drives, sometimes, they arrived at the track exhausted, but with the biggest smiles on their faces.

Their relationship ended when the New York racing season ended. Tina went to California for their racing season, while Juan accepted an offer to ride a local horse owner’s horses in the meet at Saratoga in upstate New York.

The year prior he’d ridden for Gussie Hartling in Saratoga. Juan smiled, thinking of not just riding for Gussie but also riding Gussie.

He recalled that the meet attracted very wealthy racing fans and owners; some of these were women like Gussie.

This time it wasn’t an owner, trainer or a jockey. As he was dining alone; just a salad to maintain his weight, he was approached by a woman. “Excuse me, but aren’t you the jockey who won the Wallingford Stakes Race yesterday?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m Juan Mendoza.” He stood up; she towered over him. His eyes came right to her breasts.

“My name is Daisy Hudson. How can I ever thank you? Did you know your horse Gold Train paid 16 to 1?

“No need ma’am. That’s not necessary. I always try my best.”

“Well, it is necessary for me. I have a bottle of very good Scotch in my room. Join me?”

By this time, young Juan was no longer a naïve teenager. He knew that Daisy wasn’t inviting him for a drink. As subtly as possible, he looked her up and down. Those breasts seemed huge. She was well over a foot taller than him and outweighed him by fifty pounds. She might be fun, he thought. “Miss Hudson, that’s very kind of you. A drink sounds like a good idea.”

“It’s Mrs. Hudson. Room 347. Follow me.”

In her hotel room, Mrs. Hudson poured them each a glass of Scotch. Handing one to him, “Here’s to more victories like yesterday.” They clinked glasses.

Although Juan wasn’t surprised, he was shocked by how swiftly it happened. Daisy took the glass she’d just handed to him and put it and her glass on a table. Then she came into his arms, “Juan, my husband is in Texas. I understand he has a girlfriend down there. I’d like a boyfriend up here.”

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