R. Keith Peck
(c) 2008 R. Keith Peck
The purpose of this story is to cause hard, intense orgasms. Morals are ignored. It features sex between creatures not always of the same species and between members of same and different genders. Sex practices in this story have, like life itself, been fatal.
If you live under the authority of a government which denies you the right to read this story for any reason whatsoever, I would like to pose a question: why do you accept moral guidance from an entity the chief tools of which are murder, war, imprisonment, and torture? Think for yourself. You can do no worse than your leaders.
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By the midafternoon, William Jackson Caballo managed to get time free from obligations. He had many obligations to his ranch this time of the year. Breeding season was coming up. There was much to do.
Nonetheless, he'd managed not merely to get caught up, but to get ahead of everything. He had a few hours. Time to relieve the pressure in his balls, to take care of himself, to refresh himself with the elixir of life.
He made his way to the mares' stables, on the eastern side of his ranch, and then down to his favorite stall, his body sliced by slanting rays of afternoon sunlight streaming through the clapboards.
In seconds, it seemed, he was on it.
"That's it, girl," crooned William Jackson Caballo. His forefinger diddled his mare's clit. She appreciated it mightily. "I want you wet for me."
Alexandra, his chestnut mare, was a glorious, beautiful creature, with muscles so sleek they seemed as if they had been coaxed out of supple wood. In many ways her form reminded Caballo of a teenage boy.
Hearing her lover's voice, she lay her ears back flat against her head. She swished her tail, twice, flashing a vagina bedewed with the droplets of her lust.
Caballo stood on a wooden platform, specially crafted for him by Duncan, one of Caballo's ranch hands and chief factotums who shared his preference for equine flesh. Caballo was a tall man, but he wasn't tall enough to easily mate with the nickering beauty his fingers so expertly teased. His plaid shirt lay open, its shoulders stretched broadly due to the heavily musculature of his upper body. Sweaty whorls of fatherly chest-hair rose around Caballo's pointed nipples, danced into a thick cluster in the steep-sided valley between his bulging, rounded pectorals, descended in a cascade towards his jeans. But his jeans remained shut, though the fly strained mightily to contain the immense meat inside. Mare urine soaked his thighs and his calves. He flexed his toes in the hot pools of mare piss squishing in his boots. He had no need of spurs.
Alexandra always got really excited when Caballo came around. He thought she dreamed of him, sometimes. Sometimes in the night you could hear her moaning, in the paddock nearest the ranch house, as if she pleaded with Caballo
The rancher slipped her a finger. Not a significant intrusion for her -- Alexandra liked her stallions well-hung -- but she liked to be teased.
And Caballo, very much indeed, liked to tease his mare.
Around the ranch, around town, anywhere indeed, Caballo wore his jeans tight, just like his son, Billy Joe. He liked strutting around the streets showing off his enormous ball-bulge and the foot-long ridge of flaccid cock that hung down his thigh. Caballo had hated clothing since puberty, admiring the semi-naked Indians you saw in old movies.
And naked stallions.
Hell, he envied stallions, free to snort and paw the earth and spout a hardon and drip precum, just because they'd laid eyes on flesh they wanted to fuck.
Caballo slipped a second finger, a third, a forth, into Alexandra's velvet canal. Then his hand. It entered easy. Alexandra was no shy virgin. No, she had spent time in the breeding paddock, being mounted again and again by stallions. Her slit winked, constricting on Caballo's wrist, feeling like a big old blacksnack just snatched out of the chicken coop squeezing on its captor.
He twisted his hand. His bicep bulged as his hand began to slip deeper into the mare. The soft moist slurp of her flesh yielding to his advanced triggered a hot eruption of precum against his denim. Strumming her clit with his thumb, Caballo watched Alexandra's ass quiver. Her tail draped over his arm like a chaste silk kiss.
"Yeah, you're hot, aren't you?" His voice was throaty. Needful.
Hearing him, she whickered, thrashed her head in agreement, and slowly began to move her vagina on Caballo's invading hand. She didn't need to know the words; she felt his bestial thoughts through the deep gurgling lust boiling through their flesh, and they made her hot.
"You liked Leathermaker's new Arabian, didn't you?" Caballo laughed softly. "He got you all horny, didn't he, yeah? He's got nice balls, doesn't he, don't you think so, girl?" He moved her tail out of the way, so he could see her cuntlips, stretched over his wrist, winking. "You want his wang?" He whispered the words, to make them dirty. "You want me to breed him to you, don't you, girl?"
Her pussy sucked madly on Caballo's hand. Her breathing had shortened into brisk, anticipatory puffs.
Caballo was good at undoing his fly single-handedly. The buttonholes yawned hugely, worn and frayed from frequent use. He shimmied his jeans down his thighs. Caballo's enormous balls, low-hangers like a sweaty bull's, swayed between his thighs. Long, wiry black hair thickly crusted them. His true shelf, the mighty shaft of his erection, thrust spear-like at his mare. It was as long as Caballo's own forearm, thick as his clenched bicep. A challenger, but not a serious threat, to the great weapon Leathermaker's new Arabian stallion sported between his black-furred thighs. His fist-sized cockhead lay nested in the velveteen folds of his foreskin. Steam reeking of cheese rose from it.
Gigantic cocks were the Caballo heritage. Caballo recalled seeing his father's gigantic cock, plowing the young ranch hands, the scouts who came to learn the ways of horseflesh, the Indians off the resevations, the South Americans from south of the border, the Canadians from north of the border, the Germans who liked the organize orgies but forgot that plan as soon as Dad's big cock plundered their Teutonic ass-wealth.
Billy Joe's bulge had grown many sizes it seemed these last few weeks. Caballo kept an eye on such things. Part of his patrimony.
Yes, Billy Joe. Caballo couldn't help but think of his son. He knew his son often got hard around him. He knew he often got hard around Billy Joe. He knew what it meant, but did Billy Joe? Did Billy Joe have any inkling of what lay in his -- their -- future?
The time was coming. He must speak with Leathermaker soon.
Alexandra's head turned, her nostrils flared. She drank the odors steaming from his funky crotch with obvious relish. Caballo himself found the stench from his armpits incredible, a mere whiff causing his cock to throb and twitch, spitting precum onto Alexandra's shivering flesh. Intermingled was the wet-earth scent of horsecunt. Panting, heart racing, Caballo watched his mare lower her head slowly, her long maple-brown mane cascading forward over her ears.
Her foot clopped onto the floor as she spread her hind legs.
"You're ready girl," he laughed, "ready and hot!"
He tugged the silky strands of Alexandra's tail out out of his way. He pressed his hot cockhead against the warm syrup leaking from the mare's cunt.
She winked again, convulsively. Wantonly. Her eyes were slitted, her breathing labored and powerful.
The muscled rancher barrelled into his mare in one swift stroke. His balls stung as they slapped against her furred rump. He grunted; Alexandra rumbled. Caballo savored Alexandra's delicious heat. He exhaled in deep satisfaction; the pleasure of being sheathed to the hilt in divine horseflesh was transcendent.
Alexandra shoved her butt backwards, skewered her hips. Yes, she liked to be teased, and Caballo had done it well. But when teasing was over, she wanted to be fucked.
This was an arena Caballo specialized in.
"Oh yeah, we both need it," he growled. Twisting his hips gently, rotating his throbbing shaft in her cunt, his foreskin opened, and his naked cockhead coated her cooze with cheese. He leaned over her, pressing his chest against her back. Her bristly equine and his glossy, fine monkey fur crushed together between their grinding bodies.
Caballo smack her smartly on the ass, bit her, just to the left of her spine, holding the furry mound of flesh clenched in his teeth, until the urge to rut burned like a crimson nova in his brain.
She purred her approval. When fucked, she liked it rough. Even from stallions. Especially from Caballo.
The rancher ripped his cock back till his cockhead emerged between the folds of her vagina, awash in her juices and bejeweled by his smegma. He stared at the forbidden juncture, that transgression, the union in lust between man and livestock. She winked. Her clit looked like a huge fleshy pearl being devoured by a carnivorous oyster. His cock, the alien intruder in her forbidden flesh, was rigid as a steel bar, and quivered in harmony with some forbidden frequency.
He roared, and plunged back inside.
He reached around, gripped her by the ridge of her hip -- she'd tolerate him there -- and rammed her. Again and again. Harder. Faster. The rancher's heavy, sweaty balls slammed hard into her asscrack.
"You like me being your stallion?" he growled.
There was no noise, unless the wet sound of flesh fucking flesh counted as a response. Alexandra held her head still, absorbing Caballo's strokes, lost in her pleasure.
His flat belly pummeled her rump. From his clenched fist streamed her tail. "Yeah. Let me be your stallion. Yeah, Alexandra. Let Daddy be your stallion. Yeah. Daddy's wanting to be your breeder, girl, yeah. Yeah, you want it, yeah."
Daddy. There it was again. That other thing that bugged him so. Caballo's unscratched itch.
Caballo thought of Billy Joe. He wondered if the urge had come upon the boy. Caballo knew his son eyed his boss body. But was Billy Joe checking out the horseflesh on the ranch? Any other flesh on the ranch, except that of Singing Rain's? Caballo's own flesh?
Caballo remembered how, at eleven -- not much younger than Billy Joe -- he used to eye the stallions playing and fighting in the corral, hypnotized by their long, thick hoses swaying rubbery between their hind legs, the way they would snake down and then unleash a flood of piss. The way the colts would mount one another, or a donkey, or a sheep, and try to --
Or how, at twelve, Caballo had stood by a fence post, his father's arm wrapped around his shoulder, watching those very same stallions mount, one after the other, mares brought for breeding, thrusting gargantuan phalluses into the exquisite horseflesh. The semen leaking from bruised, pleased cuntflesh. The young colts slithering through those cunts, encysted in placentas looking like mother-of-pearl. His father's hand, descending along his spine --
Or how, at thirteen, his own equipment ripening towards his fearsome adult size, blowing his first wad into a mare who'd just come into season, and going mad seeing his still-hard cock swimming in the jism squishing from her vulva, dreading the centaur he knew she must soon whelp, helpless before his need, which soon had him hard again and fucking the mare again, studding her proudly, sliding back and forth in his own copious load --
Billy Joe had seen such things on this ranch. They could not be hidden; Caballo had never intended for them to be hidden. Were these visions taking fire in his soul, the way the had done in Caballo's?
Caballo fucked Alexandra at an incredible pace. His shapely buttocks, perfectly scalloped, and his bull-like thighs, drove his plunging cock through the mare's slurping cunt. Hard and fast. Harder, faster. Seeking, questing for that life-giving explosion that shattered one's soul.
Caballo was popular with the mares. He had lots more than just Alexandra, although she was one of his favorites. Many would mate with him even if they weren't in season, eager for the pleasure he brought them. It was his stamina. He outlasted stallions. When the mood was right he could bring a mare to an endless string of orgasms, an ability rare in stallions.
Harder and harder the rancher rammed the mare. She grunted softly in time with his strokes. Her forehoof raked a sharp line in the hay and the muck on the stall's floor. Alexandra's head arched upward, her lids heavy, slavering, the flesh of her body quivering as the human rancher fucked her with supernatural skill.
Reading her as if she were a sleazy novel, Caballo pinched her clit hard.
It seemed as if he were suddenly fucking an exploding volcano. Alexandra whinnied -- shrieked, more like it -- and bucked up against him. A hot gush of liquid surged around Caballo's cock. Draining out like thin oil through her engorged cunt lips, the liquid soaked Caballo's pubic bush. The mare staggered to the left, scrambled to keep her footing. She snorted like a steam locomotive.
"Oh, yeah," he bellowed, knowing his mare was coming. "Who's your Daddy? Yeah? Who, girl? You like Daddy's big cock? Yeah, girl? Cum, girl, cum for Daddy."
He hammered away at her spasming cunt, drawing her orgasm out from seconds into minutes.
Finally, the mare's ecstasy died away in a little flurry of fleshquakes and soft nickers.
"You like that?" he whispered. He slowed his strokes, fucking her slowly and deliberately, as if she were a wine to be savored, not raped. He slid easily in the syrup of her lust. She still yearned for him, and moved her hips slowly for him, coaxing him. He resisted the burning urge in his nutsack, kept the slow motion stroking from dissolving back into rapid hammering.
Caballo felt her heart throbbing, the blood gushing in the walls of her cunt. His own heart he heard hammering, like running steps --
Wait. Those were running steps. Coming down the passageway. Towards his stall.
Who is it? Caballo wondered. Leathermaker? But he's with Singing Rain --
The stall door flew open. Light blazed in like truth revealed in a dark liar's den.
"Dad!" A slender figure stood in doorway, silhouetted by slitted sunlight. "I --"
Caballo froze, his cock embedded halfway into Alexandra's cunt. His balls rocked between his thighs, conserving the fuck-momentum that he'd built up. He felt sweat and marejuice drip, drip, drip from them. In the silence he heard each drop hit the platform he stood upon.
He wondered what this image was doing to his son's psyche right now.
He couldn't help it. His cock twitched. The movement was obvious. Part of the shaft slipped from the cunt. Alexandra's nickers pleaded for a restoration of the status quo, at the very least.
He forced a calm response. "Yeah, son?"
Billy Joe's outline was similar to his father's -- the wide shoulders, flared deltoids, the strong thighs, though his proportions were far more boyish than the fully mature breeder balls-deep in horseflesh before his eyes. Soft gold hair fell about his face and rested on the nape of his neck. He wore a Stetson, raked back on his head. His eyes were a volcanic blue, wide, curious. His skin was honey brown, satiny, beginning to be caressed by fingertips.
Caballo's eyes lingered on his son's lips. He preferred ogling his son's ass, but he would take whatever Fortune offered. Billy Joe was all boy, yes, but there was something subtle about the curves of his lips. Something that reminded Caballo of a whore. He remembered how those lips flared the first time he heard Billy Joe say that forbidden word, fuck. Yeah, and how they had looked when he heard Billy Joe say cock.
It had been that time, some months back, when Lancelot, one of Caballo's stallions, bred Venus Defiler, the famous racing mare.
Is he gonna fuck her with his cock, Dad?
A memorable day. In time, so would today. But in what way?
"What is it, son?" Caballo asked, a little impatiently.
"Uh," said Billy Joe. His eyes were wide, blazing like sodium marbles in a rain of horsejuice.
"Come on in," Caballo said. "Shut the door."
"Umm ... sure," said Billy Joe. He closed the door to the stall behind him. His movements were jerky. Nervous.
The half of Caballo's cock on display drew Billy Joe's gaze. Billy Joe made no attempt to avert his eyes. In fact he gawked at it. His father's cock, plundering the livestock. A slimy mess like egg whites oozed down the shaft from the mare's cunt, drizzled off Caballo's soaked ballsack, pooled between his boots. Alexandra's cunt, impaled on the mighty shaft, winked furiously. A rich, deep slurping sound accompanied her contractions.
As if drawn by an invisible string, Billy Joe advanced slowly towards his Dad and his Dad's mare. His Dad's fucktoy.
"Dad, uh, I've done my chores, and, uh .... "
Billy Joe stopped not ten feet away from the platform his Dad stood upon. Clearly the sight fascinated him. He stared at the conjoined flesh, as if he recognized something from out of a dream, here, in the real world, right in front of him.
Billy Joe wore his newest pair of Wranglers, the ones Caballo bought a little large so his son could grow into them.
Without thinking, Billy Joe began fisting his cock through the denim, running his hands from his crotch down somewhere close to his knees. He caught himself. Flushed red. Averted his eyes. Turned them back on the spectacle, unable to resist.
Shyly, he looked up at his Dad. "Uh, sorry."
"No worries, son." Caballo had marked every move, seeking clues as to the makeup of his son. What he had seen pleased him. Pleased him mightily.
With a contented sigh Caballo buried his cock into Alexandra. In appreciation, she squeezed her cunt on him.
A vision intruded on his consciousness: Billy Joe's eyes suddenly squinting, as if huge phantom something had just penetrated him.
For a few seconds, Billy Joe watched his father in flagrante delicto with Alexandra.
Caballo almost forgot his son's presence. Alexandra's flesh deliquesced on his mighty dong. It felt as if a huge block of warm butter enfolded his cock. He wanted to thrust hard, pound her, explode into her. But there was still ... Billy Joe, his son, who still wore white briefs, like the ones Caballo's father used to slip off the hips of scouts who used to come to the ranch to learn the ways of horseflesh --
"You were, uh, done with your chores, and ... " Caballo prompted.
He didn't want to be wanton, but it felt too good. Alexandra's cunt squeezed at his cock, begging his shaft to plunder her more. Caballo's balls strained at the seams, needing to burst, to seed that dark, mysterious tunnel Alexandra carried.
Caballo couldn't resist. He pulled her tail wide, as if opening a curtain. He slid out, revealing all of his shaft except his cockhead. His sweat and her cuntjuice steamed in his pubic hair. His folded foreskin dueled with Alexandra's clasping cuntlips.
He thrust sharply in. Alexandra gasped.
"Done with chores," Caballo wheezed, "and .... ?"
"Uh, yeah." Billy Joe gulped. "I wanted to know if, uh, I could go see, uh Singing Rain, he said, uh Leathermaker's got this new pony -- "
"Umm," Caballo growled. "Yes, sure." Suddenly, it was all clear. Yes, he read his boy right. He knew what this moment was doing to him. He threw another stroke at Alexandra. A shower of thick cuntjuice sprayed from Caballo's nutsack between Alexandra's furry asscheeks. This was the moment. "Give him a message, would you?"
"Tell him this: 'The sun rose over the east pasture.'" Silently, he chortled. He knew all about Leathermaker's new stallion ... and his new stud pony.
"'The sun rose over the east pasture.'" Billy Joe's nose crinkled as he mused on the phrase. "What's it mean?"
"It's a secret. Like a password."
"On a computer?" Billy Joe's delicate, thin nose lifted quizzically.
"No, like a password a warrior who's just been spying on his enemies tells the night watch in order to get back into camp."
"Tell him. Word for word." Casually, Caballo peeled his shirt off. "Go have fun, boy."
Billy Joe didn't move. He stood there, emitting a strangling noise. His cock jumped in his jeans.
"Billy Joe. Daddy's fucking his horse. You run along and play," Caballo commanded.
His son nodded frantically and flew back towards the stable door, which slammed shut like a gunshot.
His footsteps faded as Billy Joe raced out of the stables.
Fuck, Caballo thought, he can be dense. Hot ass, though. I wonder --
Alexandra's cunt was liquid pleasure, a dream swimming in hemp smoke. He stirred his hips inside her, hearing her flesh slurp as his blazing cockhead swirled inside her cunt. Sweat soaked his chest, rivulets converged on his swampy groin. Muscles corded on either side of his spine as he began thrusting. His butt pumped.
He stank of man and horse.
Caballo pounded away. Alexandra moved her ass against him as eagerly as he thrust into her. In seconds he was hammering the mare furiously, driving for a release that must happen soon. Sensing orgasm in the imminent future, the cells in his body strive as one for this stroke of divine lightning. Pain bloomed in his wildly flailing balls.
The mare chuckled softly to herself, pleased at last, not teased.
They worked each other, harder and harder, man and horse, fucker and fuckee, cock and cunt, sensing a celestial imminence.
Caballo seized her clit, twisted it as if it were a key. And that did it. Alexandra arched her back again in her orgasm, like a great stormy swells rolling across a sea of flesh. Her tail flailed like cat-o'-nine-tails rending flesh.
To Caballo it felt as if he'd jabbed his cock in the breech of a cannon; her contractions were sharp, powerful, like gunpowder exploding.
She shrieked to rattle the rafters. Hay dust rained down like golden snow, danced fairy-like in the streaming light.
That was enough.
Out of the cerebral darkness that lurked inside everyman the orgasm came, a lightning stroke cleaving consciousness.
Caballo's eyes rolled up, and he howled. He came. He came. And he came.
Puffs of air, sharply inhaled, then exhaled into inarticulate, ecstatic syllables. And he came.
Not the thin drizzle which mortal men boast so hollowly of. No, when Caballo fucked a horse he gushed Noah's Flood, an eruption of boiling, steaming potent froth gushing into a hollow, needing void. He felt foot-long dollops of thick semen catapult through his pulsing urethra, reviled in the feel of his hot ejaculate coating and slicking the surface of his thrusting cock, plastering her vagina.
His ululation subsided into rasping puffs of air.
He felt a myriad tiny tails fluttering between his shaft and her cunt as his seed began to seek her womb, her ovaries.
Exhausted, he collapsed onto her back. His heart thudded.
Caballo looked up to see Alexandra peering back over her shoulder at him. For a few moments he dwelt in her eyes. Then he began to laugh.
"Give me a few minutes, girl," he panted. He glanced at her vulva. A thin trickle of his semen ran down his tumescent but not -- quite -- rigid cock. "I'm gonna have to breed you real soon, aren't I? Really breed you."
He grew hard thinking about the prospect.
"That Arabian, girl? Leathermaker's Arabian?" He grinned. "Or you just want any hot horseflesh I find?"
She whinnied softly, turned her head back and gazed at him with lovely brown eyes. Her mane fell over her forehead like a boy's soft bangs.
Soon he was fucking her again.
God he loved horseflesh.
To be continued ...
(c) 2008 R. Keith Peck All Rights Reserved
Author may be reached at email@example.com (email address as of August 2008)
Some other stories by R. Keith Peck (available on Nifty and/or elsewhere) :
"Headbanger's Ball" - also published in Stallions & Other Studs, ed. Scott O'Hara, 1995
"The Stallion Rides" - also published in Stallions & Other Studs, ed. Scott O'Hara, PDA Press, 1995, and in The Stallion Rides and Other Erotic Horse-Mansex Stories, Leyland Publications, 2004
"Equus and Elf" - also published in The Stallion Rides and Other Erotic Horse-Mansex Stories, Leyland Publications, 2004
"Confusion is Nothing New"
"Through Man a Mighty River Flows"
"Cockfighting" - published in Boys in Heat, ed. Richard Labonte, Cleis Press, 2008.