Crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch! Tasha's ponyboy's feet thumped through the virgin Massachusetts snow, his breaths heaving out into the freezing air like the steam of a locomotive.

What a marvelous day! Thanksgiving had fallen precisely on Tasha's birthday this year. Mrs. Granger, the cook, laid on a legendary feast, and not only was there that to look forward to, there was this gorgeous fresh snowfall to take her birthday present out in for a first friendly race! Tasha loved her mother's ponygirls but had always wanted a ponyboy, and her birthday gift had not disappointed. She could well believe her mother's assertion that he had been gifted college athlete just a few months ago as he pounded fiercely though the snow. Naked but for simple leather shoes and his tack, his exposed, chastity-caged manhood slammed against this thighs, every bit as wild as his arms were immobile beneath the saddle on his back.

Tasha's scarf flew behind her as she burst through the gate into the old south field.

Using careful pulls on his reins, Tasha lined up her mount with the lightning-scorched tree-stump they had agreed upon as a finishing post, and laughing with delight, reached behind her and gave his backside one last vicious thrashing with her crop to spur him home. He was several years Tasha's senior and far larger and stronger than her, yet he obeyed his slender rider as if his life depended on it - which in a sense it did.

With a grin Tasha glanced over her shoulder to see how far ahead of her mother Ellen's ponygirl she had pulled.

Just in time to see Ellen coast gracefully past, as her favorite ponygirl Siren, bare boobs flailing, effortlessly pipped Tasha's new steed to the makeshift finishing post.

"But how?" Tasha gasped as they reined in their mounts before the treeline, her mighty birthday present defeated even before the turkey was carved. Tasha had been in the lead for all but the last few strides, but it seemed her mother had planned for this all along.

"Better luck next time, honey," Ellen teased her daughter as ponyboy and ponygirl panted, evaporating sweat peeling away from their naked bodies in wispy clouds and mingling with their blasting breaths. The contrast could not be clearer, with the newly-trained stallion staring groundward and breathing raggedly as he shivered in the cold, and the elder mare the picture of dignified composure, even as the wind gusted and sent an icy blast across her goose-bumped flesh. The tall, curvy ponygirl's streaks of freckles and shock of red pubes were aflame against skin as white as the snow itself as she calmly awaited her next command.

"Remember this: you might have the strongest mount in the world, but that's only half the race. Siren beat your stallion because she's better trained." Then she winked mischievously. "And because I'm the better rider."

Ellen gave a quick little jerk on her pony's reins, and Siren reared, lifting a leather-shod foot out of the snow and pawing the air for balance. Another quick, wordless series of jerks and heel-taps sent Siren crab-walking sideways a few paces, then turning around in place, the lonely birdsong of the snow-glazed woods the perfect accompaniment to the merry display. Ellen undeniably rode a girl masterfully, and the unthinking, robotic precision of Siren's responses showed that she was just as fine a trainer.

"That's my good pony," Ellen fussed at last, ruffling Siren's hair, and shooting a sly grin at Tasha as her daughter rolled her eyes at her showing-off. "Hard to believe it's nearly seven years since you were that do-gooding young deputy!" She gave the ponygirl's head an affectionate stroke. "Still, I suppose in a way, your investigation was even more successful than you'd hoped, wasn't it? Lucky your old sheriff is a friend of mine."

If the cheekily-named Siren had even been aware she was being talked about, she did not show it, merely lolling her bridled head as she enjoyed Ellen's stroking. "That's right, you know your place now," Ellen cooed softly in her ear. "That's my good little Siren."

"Oh, that's enough, mother, I know you're better than me," Tasha conceded. "I'll keep training him. And I'll work on my riding."

"You'd better work on it," Ellen agreed, suddenly mock-stern as she jabbed a finger at Tasha, "if you're going to drive any of my girls in the races next season."

Tasha's face lit up. "You mean it? Really?!"

Ellen laughed. "Well, we'll see if you can calm down with the whip on that stallion of yours, first. I don't want you tiring your girls by the first corner." Tasha gave an embarrassed laugh and a nod. "Now," Ellen continued, "let's get these two chained up with the rest in the stable, and head back to the cabin for a little warmer-upper. I'm freezing."

The pair wheeled their mounts, and set off at a brisk trot, retracing the footprints in the snow back to the lodge.

"Oh, and watch the lasses with your stallion," Ellen warned as they went. "Most of them have only handled my girls before, and I fear they might over-excite him in their enthusiasm and come to grief. He was only delivered yesterday, and I've already had to scold young Emily for wandering hands."

"Emily?" Tasha exclaimed indignantly. "Why, that little..! I'll teach her to touch my things without permission." She flourished her crop briskly.

"Oh, honey, couldn't you let her off? It is Thanksgiving after all," Ellen chuckled. "Well. At least try to make sure she can still sit down at dinner."