Equine Husbandry


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. 

Think for yourself. 

This story may be reproduced on any non-pay website so long as the author's name and copyright notice remain unchanged and there is no alteration to the text itself.  (Age verification systems are considered non-pay).  If you make money by serving this story, the author wants compensation, the nature of which is negotiable.  In either case, the author would like notification that you're using this story.

Chapter III

Yet she increased her prostitution, remembering the days of her youth when she engaged in prostitution in the land of Egypt. She lusted after their genitals -- as large as those of donkeys, and their seminal emission was as strong as that of stallions.

-- Ezekiel 23:19-20 (NET)

The noon sun blazed on Billy Joe's shoulders. Pines arched over Snake Creek's stony bed, nodding somnolently in the breeze. The creek chuckled as they rode alongside. Birds twittered. Insects buzzed. Sunlight dappled the canyon's sandstone walls. Far in the distance purple mountains brooded.

Leathermaker, in the lead, eschewed the shadows under the pines and kept to the firm path beyond the whispering trees, in the sun.

The heat didn't bother Billy Joe. He rather liked it. Though he was sure his torso would be demon-red by the time they got back home -- he'd stripped off his shirt when he, Leathermaker, and Singing Rain had plunged into a swimming hole about a mile back -- he wasn't about to put his shirt back on.

Leathermaker, riding his black Arabian bareback, obviously appreciated Billy Joe's look. Though he was in the lead, his eyes often turned back, roving over Billy Joe's flesh. Possessively. The interlude at the old swimming hole had inflamed him.

"Why can't I ride?" Billy Joe puffed. The pace was brisk for a walk, though for the Arabian and for Thunderhoof -- who bore Singing Rain -- it was a leisurely stroll.

"Suleiman doesn't know you," Leathermaker said. Suleiman was his Arabian stallion. Due to the inestimable quality of the American educational system, his name had caused little trouble amongst the more nationalistic ranch hands.

"And Thunderhoof can't carry the both of us!" Singing Rain chimed in. He brought up the rear. Like his father he rode without bridle or saddle, resting his small, shapely butt on a brightly colored blanket, gently guiding the palomino with pressure from his knees, or caresses to the shoulders, sometimes soft words crooned into the pony's ear. Almost as if they slept in the same bed together.

"Suleiman does know me!" Billy Joe said. Billy Joe certainly knew Suleiman. The stallion was beautiful. Sexy. Powerful. Masculine. The Arabian's nutsack, swaying like an obsidian metronome before his eyes, had kept the boy hard almost every step they'd walked since the ranch. And the memory of the stallion's big cock --

Leathermaker intoned: "Suleiman doesn't know you ... biblically, if you know what I mean."

Leathermaker's magnificent body, astride Suleiman's obsidian form, glistened with sweat. The Mahican wore a chamois loincloth that, frankly, did not cover the territory. When dismounted and standing, nearly two thirds of Leathermaker's flaccid cock dangled beneath the ragged edge, along with the underside of his purplish nuts. A silver necklace set with turquoise and jade hung from his neck. A knife slumbered in the scabbard depending from the leather thong securing his loincloth.


"Only if he knows you ... biblically ... will he let you ride him."

Suleiman glanced back at the blond boy. Laying his ears flat along side his head, he immodestly swished his tail aside. For a stark moment they gleamed before Billy Joe: the stallion's huge nuts, gleaming with sweat. Like two shiny bowling balls hanging in a black leather sack. Something else was just barely visible, blunt and fat as a two by four, as if part of his cock now protruded from its sheath, swinging with his slow, steady gait.

"That's true!" said Singing Rain. "Even for me!"

"You've not blown him?" Billy Joe asked incredulously.

Suleiman curled his lips, showing his big teeth, and snorted. Then he flicked his tail, and the display of his powerful genitalia reverted to its intermittent pattern.

Singing Rain took a sudden, ostensibly serious interest in the rapids off to their left. "Well, uh, no. 'Course not! Uh, not like I haven't thought about it. Hell, I jack off all the time thinking about it! But I haven't done it! I swear! Dad says he's too big. I've got to practice with Thunderhoof before I, uh, know Suleiman." He brightened. "Or Lancelot!"

Leathermaker turned, observed his son intently. "That's right, Billy Joe. Singing Rain. You've got to work up to the stallions. You got to start small."

Singing Rain clicked his tongue. "Tell 'im that's right, Thunderhoof!"

The pony blew derisively.

Singing Rain threw his arms around his pony's powerful neck. "I love you, Thunderhoof!"

"Singing Rain," Leathermaker said carefully, aware now of a troubling issue. "I think we're going to have a talk tonight."

"In bed?" Sheer delight spread across Singing Rain's face.

"Sure," said Leathermaker, his smile slow yet knowing. "Sure, son."

Suleiman whinnied, irritated. Clearly he did not look with approval on cute family dramas.

"How much longer?" Billy Joe asked. He was well aware of the undercurrents around him. He was jealous of what Singing Rain and Leathermaker had, of course, but Billy Joe was not one to succumb to bitterness and spite. He was still young, and well-tuned to life's essential joy.

"Not much further. Be patient." Leathermaker grinned at him. "It'll happen, Billy Joe. I promise you."

Something hot and wet slurped at the sweat trickling between Billy Joe's shoulder blades. Textured like sand, it made Billy Joe jump. Thunderhoof's breath smelled of hay and grass, and felt almost like steam on Billy Joe's skin. The pony squealed softly.

Sensuously, Billy Joe rolled his head from side to side as the pony's tongue licked down his dripping spine towards his belt. His walk turned into a strut. He liked showing his ass off to the horses.

"He's telling you to hurry your butt up," Singing Rain giggled. He wore a full breech cloth, like they used to in the old days when the movies were in black and white. Rather loose on his skinny hips they rode low, revealing loose strand from his sparse pubic bush. From behind he showed the Y-cleft where his buttocks began at the base of his dimpled spine.

"If I had my own pony, I could ride faster," said Billy Joe.

The pony's tongue worked lower, brushed roughly over Billy Joe's sweat-soaked jeans. Strands of the pony's blond mane caressed Billy Joe's back. Thunderhoof licked his denim-clad butt.

Billy Joe giggled. "Tickles!" His cock throbbed in his jeans. He wasn't ashamed of it. It was simply there. Hard. Natural. Throbbing. No one here would be offended. No one here easily terrified of a horny male.

"You like it, you know it!," laughed Singing Rain.

""Ask your Dad," said Leathermaker.

"About what?" Billy Joe glanced back at Thunderhoof. The pony stared at him with deep, enigmatic eyes. Three inches of his cock protruded from the leathery folds of his sheath.

"Getting you a pony, doofus!" Singing Rain smacked his lips. "He breeds horses, you know."

"He's a champion breeder, Billy Joe," said Leathermaker. "You wouldn't be here if he wasn't such a good breeder."

Billy Joe brooded on this thought for a moment. "Yeah. I suppose."

A picture: Caballo. Alexandra. Cunt, oozing. Cock, plunging. Balls, swaying. Tail, swishing. Thunderhoof, eyes aflame, aroused, snorting, snuffling, rearing, his shaft hard, flaring, precum streaming like water from a hose --

Oh it was good to be free to think such things.

What, exactly, did it mean to be free? Were there limits? If so, were they prescriptive -- if you pass beyond this circle, the wrath of a god will fall upon you like an angry father's hand -- or descriptive -- if you pass beyond this circle, you will encounter forces too powerful, and you will perish, so it is wise to stay within.

Billy Joe wanted to explore. Like that Einstein fellow, charting new territory.

"Ow!" Thunderhoof had nipped Billy Joe right on a kidney. "Bastard!"

"My pony's not a bastard!" Singing Rain said, indignant.

Leathermaker agreed. "That's true. Got him from the best stock. Got papers and everything. Though, technically," Leathermaker reconsidered, "he was born out of wedlock." He smiled knowingly. "And his mother was a slut." His hand slipped under his loincloth.

"He bit me!"

"He's horny," said Singing Rain. "They do that."


"He's really horny, Billy Joe." Singing Rain had his hand jammed down inside his breech cloth.

"Can we hurry up before Thunderhoof eats me?" Billy Joe pleaded.

"If you can run," said Leathermaker. His heels prodded Suleiman's muscled flanks. The stallion instantly exploded forward as if released from prison.

"See ya!" Singing Rain called from Thunderhoof's back as the beautiful palomino flew off after Suleiman like a golden bolt of lightning.

"Goddamn it!" Billy Joe said. But he laughed.

He ran. Leathermaker had promised fun. Billy Joe had thought it would happen back at the swimming hole, but it hadn't. Maybe it was up ahead. Wherever it was, he wanted to be there.

Sweat streamed down his body as his legs pumped. The pines leered and tittered at him as he flew past.

Up ahead, Suleiman's black form carefully negotiated a rocky rise to the upper part of the canyon. Thunderhoof wasn't far behind. To their right, Snake Creek fell over a stony waterfall in a hissing veil of mist and spray. Singing Rain cheerfully waved before vanishing behind the rise.

Behind them, far in the distance, the tall peaks of the mountains raked the endless belly of the sky.

The cool mist rising from the waterfall to his left refreshed Billy Joe as the winding path led him upwards into an undiscovered country. When he got to the top, he saw Suleiman and Thunderhoof grazing near a stand of trees close by the cliffs. Leathermaker and his randy son frolicked in the water of a shallow pond, carefree and naked.

"Come on, slowpoke!" Leathermaker called. His naked arm beckoned. The fur in his armpits loomed like a bullseye.

Singing Rain clambered up on a rock outcropping jutting over the pool. Naked, his body glistened with water. His cock was erect. No doubt the doing of Leathermaker's hyperactive fingers. His pubic bush was nearly invisible against his dark skin. Shading his eyes against the sun, he peered at Billy Joe as his friend clambered into the upland. "Come on! The water's great!"

"Strip!" Leathermaker ordered as Billy Joe approached the pond. His eyes danced with mirth.

"You just want to see me naked," Billy Joe laughed, kicking off his boots and undoing his belt.

"Well, yeah!" said Singing Rain. He leaped, vanished in a tower of spray.

Suleiman rumbled. Chomping his fodder, he regarded the humans coolly. He stood motionless, his back legs parted, black tail twitching. Shadow engulfed his sheath and his balls. As Billy Joe stripped, the stallion's jaws halted. A livid pink tongue protruded and licked his lips.

Naked, Billy Joe picked his way over the stony shore. His erection swayed like a baton before him. He felt Leathermaker's hot gaze devouring it. He grinned wryly as the Mahican stared.

"You like?" he said softly.

Leathermaker nodded. "A lot."

Footfalls alerted him to Thunderhoof's advance. Remembering the love nips, Billy Joe tensed. But Thunderhoof's intent was different. The pony's nose snuffled at his neck, and his tongue slithered like a greasy python into the crevice behind his ears. A thrill of excitement coursed through Billy Joe. Again the pony licked Billy Joe's back, moving downwards lightly, slowly. It was as if he wrote his name in spit on the boy's back.

When Thunderhoof's nose reached his naked butt Billy Joe stiffened. A brief quiet moment between boy and pony. The palomino's breath puffed against his muscular ass.

Leathermaker said softly. "He likes you."

Shaking water from his eyes, Singing Rain chirped, "He likes good boys! Don't you, Thunderhoof?" He swam towards his father.

"I think he wants to know you, Billy Joe." Leathermaker wore a knowing expression.

The pony huffed and sent a steamy blast of air past Billy Joe's asshole. He stamped his foot. He turned and trotted away, but his eyes lingered on the golden haired boy. The pony's tawny mane cascading into his eyes. Sweat foamed on fat balls. Five inches of blunt penis protruded, looking like a short elephant trunk.

"He just likes me for my smell," Billy Joe said. He whiffed his ripe armpits.

"I'm sure," said Leathermaker. He grinned. "Now get your hot ass over here."

Laughing, Billy Joe ran into the pond, then dove. The cold water closed over him. He surfaced like a racing porpoise, gasping, and thrashed his way towards Leathermaker.

The Mahican cradled Singing Rain in his arms. Briefly his lips nuzzled his son's. A mischievous smile broke on his face. He began to rotate from his hips, back and forth, back and forth, movements growing larger, gathering energy --

"No, Dad, don't -- " laughed Singing Rain.

Exploding with power, Leathermaker threw Singing Rain. The slender boy flew in an arc, arms and legs flailing, landing in a towering plume of water.

"You next, Billy Joe," laughed Leathermaker. He lunged at the blond boy, seized him, took him in his arms just as he had Singing Rain. His palm cupped one of Billy Joe's asscheeks, kneading it, caressing it. "You like?" Leathermaker crooned.

"Yeah," said Billy Joe softly. Smiling seductively, he lifted a leg, so that Leathermaker could have easy access to his butthole.

"Good." Leathermaker plunged a finger up Billy Joe's cunt. "One! Two! Three!" He threw Billy Joe even further than Singing Rain. The boy arced high and plunged like a golden Icarus into the waters of the pond.

Laughing, shaking the water from his hair, Billy Joe said to Singing Rain, "Let's get him!"

"It's war, Dad!" Singing Rain whooped like -- well, an Indian.

"To the death!" Billy Joe pumped his fist in the air.

They dove, swam, barreling in on Leathermaker like torpedoes. They toppled him backwards in the water. Billy Joe swiftly ran his hands over the hard bronze body, feeling the pectorals, the nipples, the armpits, the six pack, the groin. Singing Rain's hands did the same. The boys closed their hands on Leathermaker's throbbing pride. It felt as big as Thunderhoof's tool, or Dad's, or Suleiman's, or Arthur's, the great stud who ruled Caballo's stable.

Two fingers probed at Billy Joe's ass, easily slipped inside. Ever since Leathermaker had fingered him while teaching Singing Rain to suck pony cock, Billy Joe had been practicing. With carrots, for a few sessions, all greased up with hand lotion. Then cucumbers. Then big cucumbers since Dad didn't care for eggplants. They made him cum so hard he saw stars whirling around his head.

Singing Rain, feeling Billy Joe's hands on his Dad's cock, feigned outrage. "You're feeling up my Dad!" He thrust his lower lip out. "Not fair!"

Leathermaker shrugged. "Don't fret, Singing Rain. I've got a two hander. Right?"

"Hell yeah!" Billy Joe said, seizing the rest of Leathermaker's dong with his free hand.

"Billy Joe!" Singing Rain said, frustrated that he couldn't fondle his father. "Quit molesting my Dad!"

"Quiet, Singing Rain," Leathermaker said with a grin. "Your Dad likes being molested." He thrust his groin forward. "Thunderhoof got Billy Joe all horny. He's gotta roll with it."

"Billy Joe's always horny, Dad! You remember that time I told you about? When I sucked him off in the hayloft? He got off eight times!"

"You promised me you'd keep it a secret!" Billy Joe's turn to feign outrage. It was wonderful to be free of ... shame.

"No I didn't! And you know I don't lie!"

Suleiman's fart trumpeted long and loud, rattling even the needles in the pines.

"Boys," Leathermaker said, enjoying the new, open Billy Joe. He was of a mind to take this a certain direction. But the sun had risen over the east pasture. He glanced at the equine flesh. "Let's make like Marines and hit the beach."

"But it was getting fun!" Billy Joe said. He tightened his grasp on Leathermaker's cock, feeling the shaft throb in response.

"Yeah, Dad. You said we'd -- "

"I said a lot of things, Singing Rain. That's why I want to get out of the water." He winked. "We don't want to cool off too much. There's some nice horses wanting to us to play with them."

"Oh. Yeah." Singing Rain blinked his dreamy eyes.

"Fine," said Billy Joe, releasing the cock. He cut through the water, leaving Leathermaker and Singing Rain to trail him, making for the shore, where the horseflesh awaited them.

"Dad! Can I play with Suleiman? Please?"

"You leave that horse to me, boy. Understand?"

"Fine." Singing Rain snorted.

The trio strode onto shore sporting powerful erections.

Billy Joe's dong, massive, long, and hard in the way only an overly excited undersexed teenager's can be, dominated. He recalled a stallion who's just scented a herd of mares newly come into season. His nuts, pink as cherries, big as eggs, jiggled in a tight bag of flesh. His cock was a cylinder of alabaster flesh, delicately adorned with pink highlights. His skin glistened in the sun.

Leathermaker's gigantic dong swayed. Fully adult, veins webbed it, throbbing with hot blood. Due to his maturity, it was not the adamantine shaft Billy Joe sported. But it clearly was a breeder's tool, huge and powerful. His foreskin bunched in nested folds just behind his cockhead. The faint odor of cockcheese permeated the air. His huge nuts hung low in his sack, pulsing with life.

Singing Rain's cock, though the smallest, was not to be scorned. Clearly, given his paternity, it would swell with the passing of years into a mighty fuckrod. It jutted like a polished bronze obelisk from his groin. A pearl of precum lay cupped in his pisslips. His delicate foreskin covered the cockhead. His nuts, smooth and tight like grapes fresh from the refrigerator, were drawn up tight against his cock like a young dog's.

They stood there for a moment, admiring the horses.

The horses stood there for a moment, admiring the humans.

To get the ball rolling, Billy Joe said: "So ... are you going to teach me?"

"Do you still want to learn?" asked Leathermaker. His expression was solemn, though amusement glittered in his eyes like a shoal of minnows. He too liked to tease.

"Hell yeah!"

"Didn't your father tell you not to cuss?"

"No," said Billy Joe, "that was my mother."

Leathermaker nodded. He wondered when Caballo would tell Billy Joe the truth about his mother. That would be an interesting day. He remembered the day Caballo had conceived his hot blond son. It had been an erotic show the likes of which this world had never seen. The Shaman assured him, and the Shaman would know.

"Hurry up, Dad!" Singing Rain prompted. Imitating his father, his hand closed around his shaft. His eyes were on Suleiman's obsidian bulk. On the Arabian's sweat-slick balls. The thoughts crossing his mind remained secret ... to Billy Joe, at least.

The black stallion, however, read him. His cock slithered out of his sheath, inch after inch, until it almost brushed the ground. It did not get hard. It hung there. It simply was. A stallion's cock. Displayed for all to see. His pride. It glistened faintly, as if coated with a light oil. It easily as thick as Billy Joe's arm and almost as long. It seemed moist. The cockflesh was textured, like thin leather. Black as obsidian, there was a pale pink patch staining the upper part of the shaft, just behind the head. Leathermaker's fist probably wasn't as big as the Arabian's cockhead.

Leathermaker shot a look at Singing Rain, and shook his head. Damn slut boy. He whistled a peculiar sequence of notes.

Thunderhoof's head shot up. His ears swiveled. The palomino neighed, pawed the ground eagerly, then trotted over to the trio, tail and neck erect, blond mane streaming like the pennons born by a cavalcade of knights.

Suleiman, dark eyes glittering, cock hanging, bent down and took another mouthful of grass. He would bide his time.

"He's excited," said Billy Joe, conscious of the exuberance of Thunderhoof''s gait.

"They both are," said Leathermaker. He glanced at Suleiman. His butthole relaxed, clenched, relaxed -- the way the big beast liked it. It would be an interesting tussle.

The pony approached them, head held high, eyes shifting from Leathermaker to Singing Rain ... finally fixing on Billy Joe.

The blond teen caught his breath. He knows. Thunderhoof knows. He can smell a cherry. The palomino's gaze dropped, tracing a slow path over his pectorals and down his six pack. Came to rest on his crotch. On his boner. On his fat teen meat.

The pony chortled, basso profundo. Dark thoughts -- alien desires -- warred on his bland face.

It was a sublime moment. Like when Billy Joe had seen Singing Rain kneeling under the golden, muscled bulk of this pony. That big cock in his mouth. Alien cock. Inhuman cock. Cock. Huge cock. Ponycock.

Yeah, the horse wanted him. And fuck, he wanted the horse. Any horse.

Grinning, shoving his hips forward, he thrust his cock at the pony. The movement slightly elevated his shaft, exposing ballflesh to the pony's hungry gaze. He wanted to turn and show the pony his ass. But he was afraid he'd spontaneously cum if he did such a brazen, wanton act.

And Billy Joe wanted to be brazen. He could be brazen. Wanton. Here, under the naked sky, and under the lusting eyes of a man, a boy, and a horny black stallion, he could unleash the beast inside him.

Thunderhoof's jaws worked steadily, his powerful breath steaming through his nostrils. He stood stock-still. A gust of wind shivered the grass. The palomino nickered softly to himself.

Then his cock slid out of his sheath like a fat, drowsy rattlesnake leaving its lair. Down, down, down it oozed, reaching almost all the way to the ground. It swayed between his hind legs. The pony's fat, cream-colored balls were swollen almost to the size of cantaloupes.

"Well, Billy Joe," Leathermaker said. "It looks like you got Thunderhoof nice and horny -- "

The pony's shaft flexed, lengthened --

Suddenly, Singing Rain, recognizing something in the pony's stance, burst into laughter.

A torrent of golden fluid burst from Thunderhoof's mighty penis.

Singing Rain rushed to his pony's flank, seized the spurting flesh-tube, and aimed it at his chest. His eyes closed. The pungent stream spattered onto his face. Pony pee drenched his golden skin. The golden juice gushed down his slender, well-defined body, drenching his public hair and pouring off his balls. Between his thighs the dry earth turned into pony-scented mud.

"Good, Singing Rain!" Leathermaker applauded.

The pungent odor of testosterone, like the funk of musky jockstraps and chlorine, filled their nostrils, overwhelming the scent of Leathermaker's cockcheese.

Singing Rain redirected the flow onto his face. His tongue slipped between his lips, lapping at the flow like a puppy. It didn't satisfy the boy. He needed more. His mouth opened. The pee poured between the boy's lips directly into his mouth. The flood was too much. Gushing piss ran past his chin.

"Holy fucking shit!" It was all Billy Joe could say.

"You ain't kiddin'," said Leathermaker, slowly masturbating, please with his progress with Singing Rain's education. Yeah, he'd taut his boy the pleasures of piss years ago, but only yesterday evening, in the barn, had he finally convinced Singing Rain to drink Thunderhoof's pee.

Dad, that's disgusting! The words had been cute, coming as they did from a boy with pony jism streaking his face and blustering from his butthole.

Son, you know you love him. So show him. You love me, and you do it for me. Do it for him, son. Do it for your pony. Those words had made him burn.

"You love it, don't you, boy?" Leathermaker asked.

Singing Rain pressed his lips against the blunt cockhead. Drinking like a boy who's just crawled from a desert, his throat pulsed like a fire hose. His eyes met his father's. They shared a moment of sublime depravity. But the pony's gusher was too much for his efforts. Ponypiss exploded in a golden spray from his lips, flying like an explosion of molten gold. Thunderhoof's groin was drenched.

The pony whickered delightedly as he drained his bladder.

Mouth gaping, Billy Joe said, "When did you start doing that?"

Singing Rain, obsessed with the pony's piss, didn't respond. Not until the flood dwindled to a trickle. Grinning, he said, "Are you stupid? I drank your piss last week! And hell, Billy Joe, I can't even remember not drinking Dad's pee!"

"Yeah, well." Bashfully, Billy Joe kicked at a pebble. "But I'm not a pony!"

"You're more of a horse, definitely," said Leathermaker, his tone enigmatic. It was very difficult to pose as a teacher he, when he wanted nothing more than to abandon himself to his lusts and fuck with the stallions. And his friend's tawny-maned boy. "Did you like that?"

"Hell yeah!"

Leathermaker glanced off at the mountains, purple with distance. "OK. So you're obtuse on the matter of cussing."

"Oh, come on! Singing Rain just drank Thunderhoof's piss! That's not exactly Sunday School material!"

"Fine. Fine." He knelt, pointed at the mud. "Why don't you get down there and smell it."

"Smell what?"

Exasperated, Singing Rain cried: "Are you stupid? Thunderhoof's piss! It's the best!" He bent, inhaled theatrically. "Mmmm! Like Thanksgiving dinner!"

"It's just mud!" Billy Joe objected.

"Get down there and smell it," Leathermaker ordered.

Billy Joe knelt beside the pony. Thunderhoof's shadow fell on his body. The palomino shifted his hooves.

The urine was so potent and the day so hot that it seemed that curlicues of steam rose. It smelled like -- oh yeah, like the stables, yeah, and like ammonia, and yeah like the funk that rose off the biggest pair of nuts in the universe.

Bright lights went off behind Billy Joe's eyes. His cock slapped against his belly, leaving a teardrop of precum clinging to the smooth space above his navel. The fumes concentrated his awareness on Thunderhoof's long shaft, swaying just inches from Billy Joe's face.

Yeah, it was like a Thanksgiving dinner. His stomach rumbled, hungry for the palomino's raunchy effluvia.

The wild called. Billy Joe hearkened.

There were still pools of the piss, not yet mingled with the mud. Yellow diamonds, pools of gold. Incense. He lowered his head, tongue extended, and lapped at the urine like a dog.

The heat almost scalded his mouth, kind of like when you dive into freshly baked pizza that hasn't been given time to cool. But the taste, the taste.

Picture: His father's sweaty balls. Flecked with stallion jism. Yeah, stallion jism. Thunderhoof's jism. Buttcheeks, working, clenching, sweaty, greasy. Greasy, yeah, with stallion jism.

It was gritty, Thunderhoof's piss. Dust particles floated in it. But he slurped it down. He cells yearned for it. Groaning, he lapped up more of the piss.

That swollen place inside his butt that Leathermaker's fingers had touched now cracked open, spilling an incandescence through his soul. He felt his pucker pulse, open, so hungry for penetration that it would accept the Earth's feeble atmosphere as a surrogate for cock.

Pony cock. Horse cock. Yeah, that's what he wanted in there. The cucumbers were just a tease. A phase. A transition, into something greater, something better. The real world of perverse desires, horny boys, and stud horses.

Billy Joe looked up. For the first time in his life he saw an equine groin from the supplicant's position. The long cock hung above him in an arc, not quite hard but far from soft. Twitching, as if nervous. The sheath reminded him, somehow, a duffel bag -- wrinkled, soft, stuffed full of presents.

Thunderhoof shifted his hind legs. His fat nuts rocked against his thighs like bells ringing in a new year. The pony rumbled something deep and meaningful.

The two boys scattered out of the pony's way as Thunderhoof trotted off towards the pond. Billy Joe swore the pony smirked -- positively smirked -- at him.

"Hot, isn't it?" Leathermaker asked.

"Yeah," Billy Joe drawled. I wanna drink that. Like Singing Rain did. Yeah. Feel that hot stuff gushing down my throat. Fuck. Wonder what'd it be like to go around smelling like horsepiss?

The pony, standing in the pond, swished his tail aside, as if eager to show off his balls. He lapped at the water. His cock flexed.

"I thought you'd like that."

"Hey, Dad!" Singing Rain pointed. "Suleiman's getting -- "

"I see him," said Leathermaker. He whistled. A different tune from that which summoned Thunderhoof.

Suleiman lifted his head, chomping slowly. Proud and arrogant, he lifted his tail. His cock swayed like a pendulum, back and forth. The shaft stiffened, hardened. The meaty shaft slapped his belly. He grunted. Took a reluctant step in their direction. Then another. And another. Slowly chomping. Eyes burning. Hard. Masturbating.

"Is he gonna piss?" Billy Joe asked breathlessly.

"No," said Singing Rain. "He's horny. Real horny, I'd say. He acts kind of bitchy like that when he wants to fuck." His fist worked his precum into a smooth film over his tight young cock.

Leathermaker said, "We're gonna have a long talk tonight, son."

"Really! Cool!" Singing Rain slapped his left asscheek, grinned. "I'm horny too"

Thunderhoof strode back on shore. Billy Joe drew him. His nostrils flared as he drank the steamy odor rising off Billy Joe's balls. The boy's cock slapped once against his belly almost as if he were a stallion himself.

"He's got pretty eyes," said Billy Joe.

"He's got a big cock," said Singing Rain.

The pony bent his head, his lips just inches from Billy Joe's blazing cockhead, chewing thoughtfully for a second. His long tongue slithered out, brushed the cockhead, scooping off the oily pearl clinging to Billy Joe's pisslips.

"Oh my god." Billy Joe shivered.

The pony did it again. Whickered.

"That was like -- like -- " It was hard to say what it was like. But he remembered how, just a few short years ago, Singing Rain had knelt, and opened up Billy Joe's jeans. How Billy Joe's cock, even then an awesome monster, had thrust into Singing Rain's face. How his best friend had come at it, his tongue thrust out, glistening --

The pony thrust his tongue out. A long gray eel. Slimy. Nasty. His mouth gaped, revealing huge teeth. Slowly his head came forward. His eyes locked with Billy Joe's. The breeze stirred the blond tendrils of his mane.

The tongue touched Billy Joe, brushing the underside of his cockhead.

"Oh ... " the boy crooned.

Gently, it lapped the precum pouring out from Billy Joe's pisslit.

"Good," Leathermaker said softly. "Let him do it, Billy Joe."

The pony's tongue swirled around Billy Joe's cockhead, drawn by the boy's sweat and his leaking sexual fluids. The pony drank everything it could find.

And then Thunderhoof took Billy Joe's cock all the way down to the base in one swoop, diving down on it like a pro cock slut.

"Yeah!" Billy Joe cried.

Leathermaker laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Let him do you, Billy Joe. Be gentle. It's his first time with you. Let him get to know you."

Inside the pony's throat it was hot, hotter than than Singing Rain's mouth. A squishy cavern of feverish delight, gobbling at the boy's hardon. His lips suckled at the fat base. His tongue caressed the blond boy's urethra. His hot breath blazed against Billy Joe's crotch like napalm.

Billy Joe's arms rose as if by magic. He extended them to either side. His eyes rolled up into his head, leaving only mad, white slivers peering from beneath his eyelids. He looked as if he'd been nailed to wood at Golgotha -- and loved it.

Thunderhoof's tongue squirmed on Billy Joe's cock, dueling for space inside the pony's mouth, eager to drink the boy's copious flow.

A mere two seconds. That was all it lasted. No thrusting, no motion. Just that pure instant when a boy's cock was first embedded in an equine throat.

"Shit! Oh shit!"

Hot semen blasted out of Billy Joe's balls. A roaring torrent flooded Thunderhoof's mouth. Backflushing, it blustered between the pony's lips. Glistening pearls of teenage potency decorated Billy Joe's pubic hair. The pony, surprised, hastily began gulping pint after pint of steamy ejaculate.

"Good, Billy Joe!" Leathermaker squeezed the boy's shoulder. "Good!"

"Yeah! Do it, Billy Joe!" Singing Rain whooped, punching the air.

Even Suleiman bobbed his head, as if approving.

Billy Joe couldn't stop. Didn't want to. All he wanted to do was pump his juice into the pony. And he had an endless supply of it. The gooey fluid gushed out his cock, dripped from the pony's lips, swam down the pony's throat.

But of course he did stop. He descended from the cathedral heights. His vision returned, and the real world enfleshed itself around him.

Leathermaker hugged the muscular teen. "Good one, Billy Joe."

Billy Joe's long, fat boner slipped free of Thunderhoof's mouth. Pony spit slimed it. Pearls of teen jism adorned it. It wasn't soft -- slack was the word. Kind of the way Suleiman's cock was before he started masturbating against his belly.

"Fuck!" Billy Joe shook his head. "That was hot!"

"Let him know that," said Leathermaker softly. "Thunderhoof wants to know you enjoyed it."

The pony smacked his lips. Semen webbed Thunderhoof's tongue to his palate. His dong hung out of his sheath. His balls pulsed, rising and falling in their sack as if eager to spew. His soft eyes focused on Billy Joe's

Billy Joe threw his arms around the pony's neck. The raw power of the beast engulfed him. The furred body scoured his naked flesh. He stroked Thunderhoof's flesh, crooned in his ears, "Oh, thank you, Thunderhoof. Thank you for sucking me off!"

Singing Rain laughed. "He sounds like me!"

The palomino, shivering under Billy Joe's caresses, emitted a high pitched squeal of delight. A meaty sound signified that he drummed his prick against his belly.

"I think he wants to have fun too, Billy Joe," Leathermaker said.

"Oh, yeah, he does!" Singing Rain said. "He's dripping."

Billy Joe released the pony. A streamer of pony precum flailed like a whip from the raised nubbin of Thunderhoof's cock. He caught it in his hands. It lay there like a hot worm, sizzling in the sun.

"Smell it," said Leathermaker.

Billy Joe sniffed. It reeked of power, of sweat, of hot balls flecked with foam, of jism, of orgasms that would shatter the universe.

A picture: Moonlit night, the high lonely plains. Coyotes howling in the distance. Fireflies whirling in the air like embers. Ten thousand cavorting stallions, raging, mounting each other, great cocks like arms, spewing precum like pee. Giant cocks buried under twitching tails. Hot buttocks clenching, leaking gallons of jism. Pumping furred haunches. Testicles like basketballs. Gouts of horse jism flying like locusts of lust.

His cock spit up a tiny dollop of whitish fluid.

A picture: Billy Joe, naked, streaking out into the field, the stallions, mad in their frenzy, calling to him through their scent, through their cries, through the dance of their powerful bodies as they bred one another. The slick feeling of his greasy asshole. The memory of his Dad's bed -- the cocks the giant cocks surrounding him, demanding satisfaction, demanding entrance --

"Do you want to play with him?" Leathermaker whispered. "Do you want to learn what Singing Rain knows?"

"Yeah!" Billy Joe lifted his palm to his face. Licked it. Ambrosia, sour and powerful. Zeus' smegma, Odin's ballsweat. "Fuck yeah!"

Singing Rain said, "Dad, would you finger my ass? This is making me hot!"

"Sure, boy. Come here." Leathermaker held out his arm. Singing Rain nestled against him. His hand found its way between his boy's golden buttocks. Singing Rain's cock bounced as his father's finger entered him.

"Another one, Dad?" Singing Rain looked plaintively up at Leathermaker. "You know one isn't enough." A pause. "Umph!" A slow, relaxed smile spread over his face. "Thanks, Dad." He shivered, shot a smoldering look at his Dad, pressed his butt back so it rested against Leathermaker's palm.

Leathermaker leaned down, brushed his lips against his boy's. Their long, glossy hair mingled. "OK. Now. Billy Joe?"

"Yeah?" Billy Joe stared, fascinated by Thunderhoof's bobbing cock. I know what I want up my butt. And it's bigger than a pair of fingers. Or even a trio. He wanted to turn around, wanted to bend over, wanted to spread his legs, wanted to plant his fists on the ground like a linebacker, wanted to feel that heavy weight land on his back, wanted feel that hot, blunt head thrusting, arrogant in its lust.

"How far do you want to go?"

"All the way!" It was easy to say. There was no doubt in Billy Joe's mind whatsoever.

"All the way?" Leathermaker raised one inquisitive eyebrow.

"Yeah! All the fucking way!"

"All right, then." Sweat ran down his flanks, anointing Singing Rain with the powerful scent of his own father. Leathermaker's prick drooled a filament of precum. Cooing, Singing Rain caught the precum,played with it like a strand of spider silk. "OK. Kneel, Billy Joe. Kneel down next to Thunderhoof."

Billy Joe knelt.

There is was, right in front of him, a spike of flesh: the pony's big breeder, thick as a beer can where it emerged from the moist, smelly folds of his sheath, elegantly tapering down to the thickness of maybe four or five fingers bunched together, then swelling to the cockhead. Droplets rained from the fossa. The pony's thighs, powerful and hard, were covered with thick fur. Thick veins snaked under his blond coat.

"Go ahead and touch it, Billy Joe."

He reached out. And there it was. Hot. Smooth. Supple. Faintly greasy. Textured like thick skin. Thunderhoof's heartbeats hammered the cock. The pony, equally excited as Billy Joe, whickered softly.

"Wow," Billy Joe breathed. "He's hard. Really hard."

"He wants you, Billy Joe."


"He wants you really bad. Thunderhoof likes boys. You know what I mean?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Good," Leathermaker crooned. "We all like boys, here."

A sound like a distant thunderstorm came from Suleiman's way.

"Yeah," said Billy Joe, shooting a look a Singing Rain, nestled in his father's arms, mumbling deliriously as he got fingered.

"Now, sometimes, when you want to play with a stallion, he isn't hard. So you gotta get him to drop."

"Thunderhoof doesn't need that," said Billy Joe.

"No," Leathermaker said. "He likes boys. Know what I mean? I took him off this guy over in Santa Rosa. He was a scoutmaster. Thunderhoof was, uh, embarrassing him."

Billy Joe chuckled. A pederast palomino pony. How lucky could he get? Well, really, it was Singing Rain who was lucky, but --

"But you'll want to play with other stallions .. won't you?"

"Hell yeah." Billy Joe shot a look at Suleiman, who watched them as if they were actors in his personal porn herd. "Lots of stallions. Not just ponies. Horses."

"Good," said Leathermaker. "You gotta get him to drop, if you're going to have fun with his cock. Do you know how to do that?"

Billy Joe stroked Thunderhoof's shaft reverently. "No."

"I'll tell you. Now let go of his shaft. Let go of his shaft. I know it's hard, Billy Joe, but you've got to. Yeah, that's good. You see that crevice, that place between his balls and his leg?"

"Yeah." It seemed to Billy Joe to be one of the more fragrant places on the pony's wonderfully odorous body.

"I want you to stroke him, pet him there. Real light. Like your fingers were a breeze. Or your breath."

It was hot in that crevice, hot like his armpits, or his buttcrack. And intimate. As Billy Joe's fingers brushed Thunderhoof there, the pony stamped a hind leg, and emitted a sound that was a perverse cross between a whinny and a moan.

"Dad! Look! Suleiman's getting horny!"

The sexy Arabian masturbated openly, slapping his cock against his belly, as he watched the boy tease the pony.

Leathermaker chuckled. "Suleiman's always horny. Mmmm." He trailed off momentarily, thinking of the private times he'd shared with the stallion. He glanced at Singing Rain, seeing the hot fascination in his son's gaze. He took one of his boy's hands and guided it to his cock. "If you're wanting to play with a stallion, play with that."

"Sure, Dad, sure!" But Singing Rain had eyes only for the black stallion.

"OK. Billy Joe?"

"Hmm?" The scent on his fingertips was of hay, sweat, and pony. Maddening. Staring up at Thunderhoof's balls, Billy Joe's mouth watered.

"OK. You learned the lesson."

"Yeah," said Billy Joe. "I wanna play with his cock."

"Good. Grip his shaft. Like you were going to jack him off. Just a few inches behind the head."

Billy Joe fastened his hand where Leathermaker directed.

"Play with it, Billy Joe. Play with my pony." Singing Rain cooed. "Dad, he's a better learner than me."

"Don't sell yourself short, son. You're both pretty good." Leathermaker twitched his fingers in his boy's velvety innards. Hearing Singing Rain purr with pleasure, he smiled.

"He's getting big," Billy Joe breathed. Indeed, the cockhead slowly expanded before his eyes like a blooming flower. He felt the power flowing into it. The breeder of another species, alien and powerful. It was all about the erection. For ponies. For humans. Thunderhoof's felt as hot as if it had been baked in an oven.

"Good. You got him just right. Not too tight. Not too loose."

"How big does it get?"

"What? His cock? It's about as big as it'll get."

Singing Rain and Billy Joe giggled. Thunderhoof stamped impatiently.

"No," said Billy Joe. "His cockhead."

"It gets huge when he cums. It flares open. Doesn't it, Singing Rain?"

"You bet, Dad! He's almost as big as you!" He frigged his dad's prick, no doubt imaging Suleiman's big cock in his hands.

"Yeah. It feels really great when he does it in your butt, doesn't it, son?"

"Almost as good as you!"

Billy Joe whimpered. He was hungry. Goddammit, he thought, shut up with the cute shit and let me get down on this big dick!

"All right. Let's get this moving. Billy Joe. You got a good grip on his dick?"

"Oh yeah. I'm not letting go."

"Spit on his cock."

Billy Joe hawked, and spit.





"Jack him."

Gently Billy Joe did so. The shaft was greasy, as if it were coated with a thin sheen of oil. It smelled too, like the most pungent cockcheese you could imagine.

Thunderhoof whinnied with delight. He stabbed powerfully forward with his cock, thrusting his shaft through a phantom butthole.

"Good, Billy Joe."

"He likes it!" The act thrilled him. He was giving a pony a hand job.

The pony loved it. Thunderhoof thrust again, barreling his cock through the Billy Joe's grasp. He got into the motions, stroking himself off.

Billy Joe's cock throbbed against his chest as he watched the palomino work himself towards a sexual frenzy, fucking and thrusting. Pony precum sprayed, showering Billy Joe's body. Catching stray droplets he applied them to the pony's shaft. Thunderhoof curled his lips into an awful sneer. His big teeth glistened in the sunlight. Grunting and snorting, his balls swung between his thighs as he thrust at the phantom boybutt.

"Good, Billy Joe, good," Leathermaker crooned. "He's liking it." He glanced at Suleiman. The black Arabian remained fascinated by the scene of boy and pony. His flailing cock threw precum like confetti. "He's getting really horny."

"Can I suck him?"

"Yeah, Dad, I think Thunderhoof really needs a blowjob." Singing Rain dropped to his knees, pulling his father's fingers free from his ass. His eyes focused on Leathermaker's greasy cockhead, bobbing in front of him. He licked his lips.

From the distance came the high cry of an eagle. The mountains stared down in purple somnolence.

"Crawl under him, Billy Joe," Leathermaker said.

"Will he fall?"

"You gotta be careful about that," said Leathermaker. "Especially when he cums. But I think you'll be all right with Thunderhoof. He knows how to treat a boy."

"I'll say!" agreed Singing Rain.

Billy Joe crawled between the pony's legs. He bent forward, sniffing Thunderhoof's shaft. The pony's flesh -- all that hard musculature, the veins, the wiry fur -- enfolded him. Comforted him. He felt like he was an in house made of living, aroused flesh.

"You ever suck a cock, Billy Joe?" Leathermaker was very curious about this. From Singing Rain he knew that Billy Joe mostly played the top. With humans. Yet the boy was scurrying around like a bitch in heat for the pony.

"Y -- " Billy Joe stopped. It would be better to tell the truth. "No. Not really."

"All right then. We're going to have to be careful." Leathermaker paused. "You do want to suck him, don't you!"

"Dad!" Singing Rain couldn't believe his father had asked such a stupid question.

"Yes," Billy Joe said. It was important for him to say this. For someone else to hear these words. He in fact wanted to climb up on the roof of his father's stables and shout it out to the entire fucking world. "I want to suck horse cock."

"OK, Billy Joe. Now be careful. When you put him in your mouth he's going to want to ram it down your throat."

A picture: A dark room. Billy Joe's dirty underwear scattered around. Soft moonlight streaming in the windows. The sound of hooves, thousands of hooves, stirring in the yard below. His carpet burning against his knees. A dark shape in front of him. Muscular. Powerful. The sound of a zipper. A gruff voice, commanding: "Suck me off." The smell. Saddle leather. Denim. Two legs. Rancher's sweat. The salmon-like odor of Alexandra's cunt. The stables. Horse shit. Something pressing against his lips, something that could bust a mare's cunt wide open --

"My throat?" Billy Joe whispered. His breath caressed Thunderhoof's cock.

"Yeah, your throat. He's got a big dick, doesn't he?" It fascinated him, watching Billy Joe's expressions as he got closer and closer to performing this act.

"Yeah, he does."

"That's what you like, isn't it? Big cock?"


"Well, Billy Joe, that pony's a beast. And he just doesn't understand that he's got to be gentle with you. He doesn't see any reason too. I mean, you're a male, you should be able to handle it. That's the way he sees it. You understand?"

"Yeah." Billy Joe cupped one of Thunderhoof's balls, savoring the feeling of the potent pony.

"You want Thunderhoof's dick down your throat, don't you?"

"Yeah! Really bad!"

"All right." Leathermaker took a deep breath. "When you do it -- when you suck him for the first time -- " he heard Billy Joe groan when he said those words, saw his whopper of a cock twitch and spit up precum " -- he's going to push at it pretty hard. It's going to stab all the way through your mouth, down your throat. So what you got to make sure is your throat is lined up with your mouth as much as you can. So it doesn't make a right angle. You know what I mean? Good. Then I want you to relax your throat. Just relax. Can you do that?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Good. Let it happen. Thunderhoof'll do the rest. Now, if he gets too rough -- "

Oh enough of this. Billy Joe was horny. There was a horny ponycock vibrating just in front of his lips.

He gaped his mouth open, like a baleen whale after krill, and slurped the supple leathery ponyflesh into his mouth.

And there it was: pony precum streaming onto his tongue, pungent and rich, thick like egg whites but far more tasty.

Yeah, he was sucking pony dick.

He wrapped his lips round the shaft, suckled on it, a newborn baby feeding. Thunderhoof rumbled above him. He twitched, driving his cock forward a few inches, but refrained from executing the powerdrive Leathermaker had warned about. Billy Joe gagged a little, but was able to adjust.

For a few seconds he nursed contentedly.

Animal dick. Inside me.

He savored it. His butthole winked sluttishly.

Thunderhoof, his body twitching as if he were subduing powerful instincts, savored the feeling of his big pony meat in a boy's mouth. He pawed the ground with his fore hoof; snorted; grunted; thrashed his tail.

Transparent fluid dripped from Billy Joe's lips. He laved Thunderhoof's cockhead with his tongue, stroking that intimate area carefully, eliciting a heavy burst of precum. The pony shivered when his tongue swirled over the fossa.

Looking up the shaft as if sighting down a rifle's barrel, Billy Joe watched Thunderhoof's pale balls quiver, a pair of grenades nine seconds after the pin's been pulled.

"Good," Leathermaker said softly. "Very good." His hand clasped behind Singing Rain's head, guided the boy between his thighs. "Now open up. Open wide. Yeah, that's it. Let him spear it in -- " He jabbed his hips forward. With a gurgle, his son swallowed his prick. "Oh, yeah." Leathermaker needed it as much as Thunderhoof.

Hind hooves shifted nervously, like a dancer. Thunderhoof began thrusting. At first just a few inches. Then a little more. Then --

Billy Joe, sensing the build in tension, relaxed his throat.

Thunderhoof snorted and buried his cock in one thrust. Precum and spit blasted from Billy Joe's lips as the pony sank his shaft in boyflesh. Thunderhoof wasn't satisfied until his sheath pressed against Billy Joe's nose and lips. The pony impaled the boy on his steely shaft.

Billy Joe breathed the smell of raw pony sweat, leavened faintly with the smell of grass and hay. And laughed, in joy, to himself. Animal cock. Inside me.

"Oh, Singing Rain, that's so good." Leathermaker's balls rested on his boy's chin. Looking down into his son's warm, loving eyes, he caressed the boy's soft hair. "Blow me, kid."

Singing Rain, gurgling happily, worked his lips on his father's shaft.

"You've got him, Billy Joe. You've got him. A pony down your throat. Do you like it?"

Billy Joe wanted to nod but couldn't. The pony's shaft pinned him like a butterfly in a collection. He settled for a thumbs-up. He slithered his tongue against the pony's invading shaft.

Thunderhoof trumpeted, whipped his shaft back, thrust arrogantly back in. His motions were frantic and brutal. He was motivated not by love, not by consideration, but the simple elemental appeal of tight flesh suckling on the blazing power he sported between his legs. Primeval stuff for all beasts, even man the most psychotic of animals.

"Ah, yeah, Singing Rain, cup my balls." Inflamed with lust, Leathermaker watched his son juggle his swollen spheres. "Good. Good! I like that, boy! Now play with Thunderhoof's balls, Billy Joe." Suddenly he gasped and yanked his cock from Singing Rain's mouth, grabbing the shaft behind the head and squeezing. "Damn, son, you're about to make me blow."

Billy Joe cupped Thunderhoof's pendulous nuts in his hand, feeling as if he palmed a fusion reactor. Smoothly he absorbed the pony's thrusts, bobbing forwards and back, increasing the friction for the horny beast. The cockhead flared a bit -- not much, but Billy Joe felt it in his throat. Somehow it didn't become more difficult to throat Thunderhoof's cock. The pony's precum greased Billy Joe's esophagus, and the boy's lust fueled his burgeoning talents.

Coughing, hacking up spit, Singing Rain said, "You make me horny, Dad."

"You do to. Get on your back!" Consumed with lust for his offspring, Leathermaker left Billy Joe to his own devices. He spit a huge loogie in his palm and smeared it onto his cockmeat.

The black Arabian pricked up his ears and trotted over. Treading carefully so as not to wound the eager, horny Indian boy laying on the ground, he rubbed his flanks eagerly against Leathermaker's muscles. He precum-spurting cock streaked father's and son's muscle-bound bodies.

Singing Rain, flinching from all the raining precum, "Let's try this!" He scooped up the stallion's precum, smeared it on his dainty little butthole

"Lift your legs, boy!" Leathermaker barked.

Obediently Singing Rain did, hooking his arms behind his knees and spreading his legs wide. Grinning, he said, "Like this, Dad?" This was an old ritual between them.

"Like that, boy." Leathermaker knelt between Singing Rain's smooth thighs. He aimed his cock at his son's delicate bud. Yeah, well if his butthole looks that tight, Leathermaker thought, he hasn't gone all the way with Suleiman. He smiled to himself. Yet.

Singing Rain glanced at his bestest friend in all the world. "Dad! I think Thunderhoof's in love!"

"Sure, son, sure." More important things were on Leathermaker's mind right now. He his son in one massive thrust.

"Oof! Dad! Go easy!"

"If you're gonna make it with Suleiman," Leathermaker said in a husky, raw voice, "you're gonna have to learn to take it like this." He shafted the boy, cramming his huge cock in down to the root.

The coupling of father and son -- right here, in front of Billy Joe -- was a vision out of some fervid Internet fairy tale. And if he hadn't been so thrilled with the pleasure of ponycock he would've cum in buckets just from the rough penetration of boy by man.

But right now it was the ponycock which mastered him. Which dominated him. Which fulfilled wants and desires and needs he'd only barely realized he'd had. Sucking ponycock was natural, something he was born to do. Pleasuring the beast was his nature. He took Thunderhoof's greasy shaft from the bulbous cockhead all the way down to the stinking sheath effortlessly.

He had a natural talent for it. Thunderhoof, grunting, snorting, tail whipping madly, certainly appreciated it.

"Oh, Dad, I think you're in too deep -- " Singing Rain gasped. His little feet waved wildly on either side of his Dad's boss body.

"Quiet, boy," Leathermaker said. "It's gonna be a hot one, boy!" Eyes wild he began rutting in his boy's golden flesh.

Biting his lower lip, Singing Rain draped his hands on his father's broad shoulders. "Mmmm, yeah, Dad, that's the way I like it!"

Leathermaker threw a hard, rapid fuck into the golden flesh his loins had wrought less than a decade and a half ago.

Above them Suleiman loomed, a dark thunderhead, his fat tool a tornado that hadn't yet reached earth. His panting exploded like a thunderclap. His precum fell in a downpour. Great horsequakes disturbed his flesh like dark clouds whirling around a celestial maelstrom.

A vision: A palomino mare, sweet and supple, standing with her head lowered, blond mane cascading forward over her blue eyes, as Caballo clumped into the stall, bearing his fuck-stool, his jeans open, the titanic tower of his cock thrusting from the open fly of his pants. A palomino filly, with an extremely shapely hot ass, and tight blue jeans laying discarded in the hay at her feet --

A dangerous thought. Too much for Billy Joe Hot gravy spurted from his cock. His urethra throbbed like a firehouse. Teenaged jism, wanton, proud, powerful fountained, anointing Billy Joe's chest, his chin, the pony's furry belly. Cottage-cheese sized chunks coursed down his shaft, clung to his pubic hair, dripped from his balls.

Billy Joe's muffled sounds attracted Leathermaker's attention.

"I think (grunt) Thunderhoof's getting (grunt) close, Billy Joe. God damn, Singing Rain, you've got a hot ass."

Billy Joe worshiped the palomino's throbbing shaft with more single-minded devotion than a fundamentalist Christian preacher did a gay prostitute.

"Dad, yeah, you've got a big dick and .... uh, can, uh, I start with, uh!, Suleiman when shit -- that was deep! it's my time?"

"Take Daddy's cock, boy," Leathermaker snarled. "That horse will fuck you later." Greasy hot droplets rained on his back. The presence of the stallion drove him harder and harder. Yeah, watch me fuck. Watch me breed. Yeah. You think you're a stud? Hell, fuckhead, watch me fuck my hotassed little boy. Staring down into his son's warm, brown eyes, he was filled with the urge to show off. Yeah, boy, I know what you want. But I'm what you've got. Love it, boy. Love your Daddy's big dick.

Leathermaker knew Suleiman's thoughts weren't too far different from his own. Expressible in images, maybe, and in the poetry of feelings, but in the feeble metaphors to which human language was limited.

He glanced away from the coupling of boy and pony. Looked at his son. Singing Rain. Sweet butt. So familiar. So hot. That slut was why Leathermaker bred sons.

Yet -- Billy Joe's sweet, innocent, blond visage superimposed itself over Singing Rain's sweet, innocent, black-haired visage.

"Take Daddy's dick!" It didn't matter who he fucked. So long as he got his goddamned nut.

Suddenly Thunderhoof let out a loud trumpet. The leaves shivered in the nearby trees.

Leathermaker recognized that sound. Damn. In this moment, he wanted to be a ephebophile not a pedagogue. But the first time a horse came in a boy's mouth was an important moment for that boy. He turned his mind away, as far as he was able, from the sweet sucking pleasure he found inside his son's tight butt.

"OK, Billy Joe, OK. Back off. Back off. Get his head in your mouth, Billy Joe. Remember. Head in your mouth -- ungh! Sweet Jesus, you're a hot little whore, son! -- let him get off --- ugh! -- on your tongue -- best taste you'll ever have -- Singing Rain, if you squeeze me like that again -- "

Billy Joe coughed up the shaft. It was hard, very hard -- the pony was at maximum flare. But there it was, in his mouth, stretching his lips as they were a vagina about to birth some creature of unwholesome lust.

He felt the spasms in the pony's cock. He knew what they heralded.

Thunderhoof's whinny rose to a triumphant screech --

The vibrations in the palomino's cock increased in pitch,like a silent scream --

A streamer of a hot liquid hit the roof of Billy Joe's mouth. It felt like gravy steamy, freshly cooked, thick and chunky, pulsing with life. It gushed far more powerfully than Billy Joe's own eruption. Hot and thick,it swirled around, angry and furious, a flood confined in the narrow ravine of his mouth, scouring away the patina of life so that it's own power could flourish.

Billy Joe gulped and gulped, desperately, eager for it, needing it like opium -- but it overwhelmed him. It was just too much. The flood burst from his mouth with a blustery puff of air, splattering around Thunderhoof's plunging cock, drenching the pony's exploding balls.

Sperm vapors seared his throat, rose through his nostrils, exited his body as he exhaled. It wasn't human. It was equine. It smelled like horse sweat, and something else -- an extra-dimensional drug, an elixir of power and masculinity.

And it made Billy Joe's balls explode again. He doused the pony as thoroughly as if he'd pissed on the beast.

"Fucking hot!" Leathermaker's hips blurred as he pummeled his son with his gigantic cock.

Billy Joe had no interesting in speech. No. He wanted Thunderhoof's offering. All of it. In his mouth, on his skin, up his butt.

Yeah, up my butt.

A vision: Himself, blue jeans pooled around his feet, bending over, coyly looking backwards at Thunderhoof, who pawed the ground with lust.

He painted Thunderhoof's belly with more stripes of semen.

Squealing, Singing Rain wrapped his skinny thighs around Leathermaker's powerful flanks, toes flexing with delight. His eyes laughed, watching as his bestest friend in the world drank his stud pony's jism. He hooked his arms under his Dad's shoulders, murmured, "Fuck me harder, Dad. Yeah." He panted, lost in lust, then said: "Suleiman's looking at your ass, Dad. I think he likes it!"

"I know he likes -- erh! -- my ass, son!" Leathermaker's lips crushed against Singing Rain's.

Like all good things, Thunderhoof's orgasm dwindled away. The spurts came with less pressure. Then it was a trickle of gelatinous fluid, viscous and sticky. Then the spasms were over. The ponycock was quiescent. Its lust temporarily slaked.

Pony cum poured from his lips like a waterfall of hot glue.. Stinking pony jism glistened armored his chest as if he were an Argive at Troy. His nipples stood up like tiny rock spires lost in the midst of an endless ocean.

Billy Joe kept his lips fastened round that shaft. He did not want to let go. He wanted to pleasure this horny beast again and again. To be his slave. His tongue slithered on the hot meat, seeking potency wherever it could find it.

Billy Joe felt Thunderhoof's cock slacken in his mouth. A great shudder passed through the beast. Billy Joe savored the gluey, thick mass of ejaculate remaining in his mouth. He wouldn't swallow this. He wanted to keep this mass as long as he could.

With reluctance he let Thunderhoof's cock pop free. A thick rope of pony cum linked his shaft to Billy Joe's pink lips.

Thunderhoof staggered a bit. Billy Joe shifted a little, getting out from under him, in case he fell.

But Thunderhoof was a surefooted beast. The lovers ended up a few feet from each other. The pony turned his head, looked at the boy sitting on his naked ass in the dust, and whinnied. Flicked his tail.

Suleiman's black eyes glittered like the stars on a cold, clear winter's night. His dripping shaft twitched with each heartbeat. He shot one smoldering look at the blond boy and the palomino. But he would not be distracted long from the incestuous porn show happening below him.

Singing Rain popped Leathermaker's flexing cheeks. "He -- urgh! -- gets me so hot, Dad!" Precum rained on his flat hard belly, formed a sacred pool in his navel.

"Yeah, boy, yeah? My big stallion make you horny?" Leathermaker's eyes blazed. "Yeah, you're a hot fuck, son. Always have, always will be."

Thunderhoof was still horny. For his cock didn't retreat into its sheath to regenerate. No, it hung there, slack, glistening with breeding slime.

Billy Joe chuckled to himself. He'd done it. At last. Animal cum, inside me! He swirled the pony jism in his mouth. He staggered to his feet, made his way to Thunderhoof's flanks. Again he encircled the pony's thick neck. The beast's eyes seemed awash with tears.

"I wanna play with him, Dad!" Singing Rain pleaded. He sounded on the verge of tears.

"You want Suleiman -- fucking hell, boy, squeeze it, squeeze it like that, oh shit I'm gonna dress you up in your blue pajamas and fuck you silly, you hot little slut!" Leathermaker went mad between his son's legs, hammering his boy with powerful strokes..

"Do it to me, Daddy! Do it to me! It feels so dirty!" Singing Rain bucked up against his father's groin. He reached up for the stallion.

Suleiman's great head bent towards the boy. His nostrils flared, sniffing at Singing Rain's fingers. He snorted. He lowered his head, his tongue protruding, until he nuzzled Leathermaker's shoulders. The stallion moved down the working back, tracing the muscles, until his tongue slid into the sweaty swamp between Leathermaker's hard asscheeks.

"Good boy, good boy!" Grunting, Leathermaker spread his legs, allowing the Arabian's questing tongue more intimate access. In the process he stretched Singing Rain's legs into a wide open wishbone.

"Ow! Dad!" Singing Rain's whine was genuine.

Leathermaker pecked his boy's cheek. "Sorry." By a smidgen he reduced his spread. He lifted himself up into push up position, working his hips. His breath came explosively. Moist slurps sounded between Singing Rain's legs.

"What's he doing?" Singing Rain gasped.

"Rimming me," said Leathermaker. "Fucking rimmin' me deep. Shit!"

"Do you think he'd rim me?"

For the last few moments, before he detonated, Leathermaker savored that image. Yeah. I wanna see my horse eat my boy's ass. Fuckin' hell. Fuckin' hell.

"Oh! OH! Fucking hell!" Leathermaker roared, buried himself balls deep in his slender, hairless boy, and shattered with his orgasm. His burning eyes blazed downwards, entranced by the flesh he'd bred and was breeding.

"Oh, do it, Dad!" Responding to the massive explosion in his guts, Singing Rain's cock spurted, sliming his father's laboring chest. Sinew stood out in sharp relief as he wrapped his orgasmic body around his father's.

Thunderhoof slapped his cock against his belly in meaty approval.

Billy Joe, who'd watched his teacher and his friend finish their incestuous tryst, was re-energized. His heart throbbed. His cock was a like a tree limb grafted on his groin. The afternoon seethed with erotic possibilities, potentialities. Anything could happen.

Father. Son. Horses. Buttfucking.

He wanted to fuck.

There was, still, that metronomic meaty sound beside him.

Thunderhoof nuzzled Billy Joe's hip. His nose was hot like a desert against the boy's flesh.

The time for waiting was at an end.

Horse. Buttfucking.

Thunderhoof whinnied, sounding small and boyish. Playfully he nipped at Billy Joe's asscheek.

Pony. Buttfucking. Yeah!

Billy Joe spit the wad of pony jism onto his fingers. Like some enormous amoeba it dissolved into gluey rivulets on his palm. It felt like molten lard. Grinning at Thunderhoof, the boy bent over. Another whinny from Thunderhoof as his shapely buttocks parted.

Mmmm. It felt good. The hot desert air, kissing his virgin pucker. Billy Joe felt wanton, sluttish. Like a mare. He smeared the goo on his ring, shoved it up inside.

"Wanna be my stallion, boy?" He patted Thunderhoof's forehead gently. "Wanna breed me?"

The palomino gazed into the boy's eye for a long moment. Their hearts accelerated. Cocks throbbed synchronously. Sweat formed on their ballsacs, trickled down, dripped like tears for a desire never consummated.

The pony whickered. He turned round in a tight circle, approaching Billy Joe from the rear.

Disengaging from the hungry arms of his slut son, still distracted by Suleiman's persistent and talented tongue, Leathermaker saw the dance the two performed far too late. Not yet comprehending, he asked, "Billy Joe?"

Savoring the remnant of pony jism in his mouth, Billy Joe bent over. He shot a quick glance at the decoupling forms of man and boy. His pucker, nestled deep between his smooth asscheeks, pulsed and kissed as if slurping up the pony jism lubricating it.

"Billy Joe!" Now aware of Billy Joe's intent, Leathermaker rose, his long dong emerging with a prolonged slurp.

"Dad!" Singing Rain admonished.

Suleiman's head jerked upright. He paid no attention to the man who's ass he'd been so absorbed eating. His eyes devoured the slender semen-streaked boy beneath him. His lips sneered. His cock shivered, throbbed. Arrogantly he spread his legs, showing off his balls.

"Suleiman, you're beautiful," Singing Rain hissed, hoping his Dad didn't hear.

Suleiman whinnied triumphantly.

Leathermaker yelled, "Billy Joe! He's too big for your first -- "

Lumbering like a tank towards Billy Joe, the palomino's cock thrust forward almost to his forelegs. Stiff as a cannon, it streamed precum like smoke.

He reared. His cock thrust forward like a sphere.

"Billy Joe! No!"

Billy Joe laughed. He braced himself, hands on his knees. Thud. The pony landed on his back. He staggered but didn't fall. He reached back -- found it: Thunderhoof's mighty cockhead, huge and wet. He grabbed the shaft just behind the head, and guided the incoming missile to its target.

With a slurp, the pony thrust home.

"Oh fuck!" It felt like someone had slapped Billy Joe's head with a board. It was a stunning moment. Being pierced. Having something in his cunt. Because, yeah, it was a cunt. Something for a stud to breed. And the tool was massive.

No pain. No pain at all. It was natural. As if they fit.

"Oof!" He staggered, almost fell. He felt his assring distend unbelievably. The cockhead shifted inside his rectum. The urge to shit almost overwhelmed him. But he held it. Held that big thing. That alien thing. That cock. That ponycock.

There it was. Pulsing in him. Alive, and real. Huge, phantasmal, hot. The guest of honor at a teen aged boy's deflowering. Ponycock.

Thunderhoof shifted his body, seeking better purchase. His forelegs hooked round the blond's waist. His sharp hooves banged Billy Joe's shins, but the boy rode out the pain.

"Billy Joe? Shit, Billy Joe." Leathermaker was right there, concerned. "Are you all right?"

Deliciously, Billy Joe's rectum squeezed on the invader. Both horse and boy squealed their hunger for each other.

"Yeah," Billy Joe said, relaxing, adjusting to the ponycock. "Fucking hell, it's awesome!" He glanced over. Leathermaker crouched beside the coupled pair, his face a mask of concern.

"You sure?" Leathermaker's gaze focused on the hot juncture where quivering ponycock was jabbed between a bubble-butted boy's cheeks.

Consumed with hunger, Billy Joe hunched backward, sinking his buttocks down on inch after inch of hard ponycock. He purred, "Oh yes."

He knew it was supposed to hurt. He knew he should be inflamed with agony. He'd read the stories. He'd seen a clip on an illicit site. He knew how it was supposed to be.

But it wasn't. It was pure heaven, the pony's shaft, and he wanted more and more of it.

With shivers and twitches, Thunderhoof endured the long moments as Billy Joe sank deeper onto his shaft. Clearly it was not easy for the palomino, for he thrashed his tail and bobbed his head with each inch of hot, fresh cunt he busted. His muscles craved the burst free, to thrust --

Finally, unable to endure it any longer, he did. Snorting, he buried his cock to the sheath.

"Oh. My. God." Billy Joe said.

"You all right?" Leathermaker said.

"Wait a minute." He closed his eyes. He felt full to the point of bursting.

It didn't matter to the pony. Lust waits for no beast. He whipped his cock backward, Billy Joe's slimy innards gushing on his cockhead as if it were a baby about to be birthed. Just as the boy's anus began to obscenely bulge the pony paused. He whickered, snorted, rammed forward.

Billy Joe staggered forward a few feet. But Thunderhoof clamped hard to him, refused to let him escape. "Oof!" Billy Joe looked at Leathermaker. "God it's hot."

"Shit, Dad! He likes it!" Singing Rain, a broad smile spreading across his face, pointed at Billy Joe's erection.

"Yeah, he does." Leathermaker knelt, watching, almost awed by the fact that the teen bore the weight of the bucking pony on his back. He reached out, cupped Billy Joe's swaying balls in his hand. "You do, don't you, Billy Joe?"

"Fucking hell, it's great!" He was grinning like a fool, he had to look like a fool with the golden pony on his back, but but goddamn it this was the best day of his life. Pony sperm percolating in his mouth. His body, anointed with the fluid. Thunderhoof the stud pony, on his back, fucking him. Bucking his hips. Balls swaying. Tail swishing. Ears laid back on his skull.

No visions. No pictures. Hard-cocked reality.

God said, "Let the land produce living creatures according to their kinds: cattle, creeping things, and wild animals, each according to its kind." It was so. God made the wild animals according to their kinds, the cattle according to their kinds, and all the creatures that creep along the ground according to their kinds. God saw that it was good.

Pony cock. Hot boy ass. Good thinking, God. Must be sitting on that golden throne in the sky, robe parted, divine hands masturbating the divine organ. Surely God had a horsecock to shame even the great horses of legend: Arion, Bucephalus, Pegasus.

The thrusts came, more powerful by far than what Billy Joe had seen Leathermaker dish out to Singing Rain. He absorbed them, amazing even himself. The cockhead plunged in his tight chute. His tight cunt.

Yes. Cunt. He laughed. He had a cunt. Like a mare.

A picture: A blond boy, in a stall, bent over, his hair flowing into his eyes. Tight blue jeans lying wadded up by his spread leg. The stall door opening, opening, opening. The muscled shape entering in. Dad. His dad. His cock, thrusting through the fly of his jeans --

He wished he had a tail to swish. To lift. He wanted to trot about, no jeans, no nothing, just his bare ass, dripping with lube, beginning for anyone, anything to breed it.

Thunderhoof whinnied, shifted his weight on Billy Joe's back, pumping. Sweat beaded on his balls like dew on a watermelon.

Leathermaker said, "You're pretty strong, to be able to hold him like that."

Billy Joe grunted, "Betcha I can't do Suleiman like this."

Leathermaker chuckled. "No, Billy Joe. I can, just about. But I need a little support. Like, say, that tree over there."

A long, straight-trunked pine, stripped of branches, lay toppled half in the pool, half on the shore.

"Hey, Dad! What about Suleiman?" Squatting almost under the stallion, the boy's hands caressed the mighty shaft, smearing Suleiman's precum along the smooth, hot flesh.

"Singing Rain," Leathermaker warned. Had he at last bred the world's most sex-obsessed teenager?

"He needs to get off! Look!" Singing Rain cupped one of Suleiman's testicles. The massive orb resembled a bowling ball slung in a tight leather sack.

"He'll get off, Singing Rain." Leathermaker read the stallion's smoldering gaze. "We won't be able to get home if we don't get him off." He knew the stallion's moods well. He chose his horses for their high sex drive, and he bred to increase it.

"Dad?" Singing Rain sniffed his palms.

"What, Singing Rain?"

"Can I suck him?"

"No, Singing Rain."

"Awwww! That's not fair. Billy Joe's getting his ass fucked silly and all I can do is sniff nutsweat!"

Consumed by wantonness, eager to be bred, dying for the pony's shaft, thirsting for sperm, Billy Joe rolled his hips, thrusting his butt back against Thunderhoof's awesome reamer. The beast responded with a chthonic rumbling sound. Coming to Billy Joe's awareness through his spine, the thrill and the power shot directly to his balls. The silver liquid of his sex thermometer, on an inevitable course, rose still higher.

The pony's fleshy cocksheath slammed against Billy Joe's buttcrack. Forelegs, immeasurably strong, imprisoned the boy's body. With each thrust the pony's body contracted like a tight spring, his muscles bleeding through his veined flesh. Thunderhoof fucked with no intention of letting this boy go until he'd had his way with him. Until a load of his sperm sloshed in the boy's guts.

Billy Joe knew it, felt it, and the knowledge drove him over the edge. Lightning struck, arcing from his balls to his mind. His cock spit long, thick ropes of jism onto the ground. Staggering, he spewed jism right and left. Dollops wet the ground, streaked Leathermaker's awed face.

"Shit!" He didn't think he could shoot so soon just after coming. He didn't think he could cum so long, or so hard. But he'd never had anything so substantial up his butt as a pony's lust-filled coltmaker.

As his rectum spasmed on the pony's shaft, the animal emitted shrieks, cries, ululations as if he were begging unseen equine gods to forestall his incipient orgasm.

Perhaps they heard. If so, they denied his prayer, eager themselves to watch the pony cum.

And cum that stud pony did.

Shrieking, Thunderhoof's glans flared, deep inside the dank night of Billy Joe's bowels. It expanded to the size of a clenched fist -- or maybe, deliciously, something larger.

Ramming his cock deep, the pony came.

Hollering like a madman, the pony came.

Balls shivering, flesh quaking, the stud pony came.

Buckets of thick jism gushed into Billy Joe's ass. Thunderhoof jetted only as an oversexed pony can do. Grunting, groaning, eager to spew ever more, he filled the blond boy's deflowered rectum with his slime.

When it was all done Thunderhoof lay quiescent for a moment on the boy's back. Hearts thudded. Wind descending from the slopes of the mountains cooled them. The pony hopped weakly once, twice, then dismounted. His cock ripped free. A gout of jism escaped before Billy Joe clenched his asshole shut.

Billy Joe wanted, more than anything, to keep that hot, soupy gray ocean inside him. He knew it couldn't last forever -- he felt the pressure, knew what would happen. Inevitable, yes. But for these few seconds, few minutes that he could hold the pony's flow, he would keep it.

Like a witch's brew it bubbled and gurgled inside him, working a magic he couldn't comprehend.

Yeah, he thought. I just got fucked. By a pony. A goddamned stud pony thinks I've got a hot ass. He glanced back at his smooth asscheeks. Shed horse hair dusted his curves. There were bruises where Thunderhoof had clasped the boy's body to his bestial form.

Without even a backwards glance Thunderhoof staggered off towards the pond.

"You OK?" Leathermaker asked. His cock jutted up, threatening to spear his chin.

"Yeah." Billy Joe heaved a great sigh. Grinned. "Fuck, that was hot!"

"Yeah, it is." They communed, man and boy, part of the brotherhood of the stallion.

Singing Rain joined them. "He's good, isn't he? He fucked me a few days ago." He stroked his friend's flesh. Slyly, he scooped up a dollop of pony jism clinging to Billy Joe's balls. He ate it like ice cream. "Mmmm! He's the best!" He followed Thunderhoof to the pond.

"Yeah, he is!" Billy Joe agreed, laughing.

Suleiman sauntered after Singing Rain, nostrils flaring, his mysterious eyes boring into the slender boy's muscular ass.

"Whoa there, boy." Leathermaker stepped between the stallion and his son. He soothed the horse's strong body. Moving his way aft along the horse's body he seized the stallion's hardon. His strong hands worked the erect flesh. "Fucking Christ, you're horny." He looked at Billy Joe. "You turned him on."

"I think it was Singing Rain," Billy Joe said.

Singing Rain called over his shoulder, "It was your ass, Dad!"

As Thunderhoof bent his neck to drink, the slender brown boy encircled his neck with his arms and nuzzled the pony's delicate ears. His hand found the pony's belly, stroked it.

Suleiman thundered, swished his tail, and slowly, very slowly, stamped a forehoof.

"Suleiman thinks it was your ass too." Billy Joe grinned.

For emphasis, the stallion slapped his cock against his belly again. An arc of precum sprayed between his forelegs.

"So ... how does it feel?" Leathermaker asked, kneeling beside Suleiman. "Did it hurt?" He picked stray grass, glued by sweat and smegma, from the stallion's cock.

"Fuck, no," said Billy Joe. "It was ... I dunno. I can't really say. Awesome!"

"It didn't hurt?" Leathermaker shrugged. "Hmm. My first time it hurt like hell. And I didn't do it with a pony."

"Who did you do it with?" Pressure built up in Billy Joe's bowels, but he resisted it. The gooey fluid rose and sank within him like the wax inside a lava lamp.

"The Marquis himself," Leathermaker said absently, thinking of Lacoste and, of course, Paris. "I was younger than Singing Rain."

"When did you first do it with a horse?"

"A year later." Leathermaker noticed Billy Joe's boner, springing back to life. His own throbbed like a living log in front of him. His low-slung balls ached for release again. "I'll tell you the story some time." He ruffled the blond boy's hair. "You did good, Billy Joe. You had me worried. Letting a pony cop your cherry is a dangerous thing. But you did it. You did your Dad proud, I think."

"Yeah," said Billy Joe. He reached out, felt Leathermaker's hard rod. It was different from Thunderhoof's. Not quite as thick, not quite as long. Leathermaker's cockhead, sheathed in foreskin, lacked the brutal, mushroom head of the pony's cock. Of course, something of Singing Rain coated that cock. Father and son. A nova burned hot within Billy Joe.

"You like that, boy?" Leathermaker's voice was husky.

"Yeah." He turned around, showing off his pony-fucked ass. He purred as Leathermaker's rough fingers explored his smooth teenaged globes.

"I like that," Leathermaker said. "You're a slut at heart, aren't you?" He cupped Billy Joe's firm cheeks. Seizing his cock, he guided it towards the boy's butt --

Suleiman, clearly annoyed, snorted. He shoved his nose between Leathermaker's cheeks, thrust his tongue out, penetrated Leathermaker's sweaty cunt.

"Hey!" Singing Rain, who had been frolicking in the water, splashing Thunderhoof with great fans of shimmering spray, now froze in mock horror. "Dad! Quit molesting my friend!"

Leathermaker bent, exposing his ass to the hungry, horny Arabian. He lowered his mouth so it could deliver a prolonged Templar kiss to the deflowered blond. The blond boy's ass smelled of hay and pony and semen.

"I like it when your Dad molests me!" Billy Joe called back.

Singing Rain, hands on hips, shook a finger at Billy Joe. "You wore my pony out, Billy Joe. Look at him!"

Thunderhoof contentedly lapped water, his tail swishing. He stood with his legs parted, so as to allow his overheated balls to cool.

"His balls are all dried up! Who's gonna fuck me?"

Billy Joe moaned as Leathermaker's tongue found his asscrack, slithering that sticky, deep valley awash with sweat and cum. Leathermaker's breath reminded him of Thunderhoof sniffing at his ass as they'd trudged up here into the mountains. Leathermaker's fingers, kneading the blond's balls, made the slut teen shiver.

"I'll fuck you, Singing Rain, if you'll shut up," Billy Joe called.

Suleiman rumbled into the echoing need of Leathermaker's cunt. His thrusting tongue drove the Mahican to new depths inside Billy Joe's own ass.

"Promise?" Singing Rain said brightly.

Leathermaker muttered into Billy Joe's asshole, "Fuck, I think my goddamned stallion's going to kill me if he doesn't get some quick." His tongue slithered on, lapping the leaking pony jism.

Billy Joe, glancing towards the back end of the daisy chain, saw the look in Suleiman's eyes. The fire. The passion. The flaring nostrils. The quivering flesh. The spittle on the horse's big lips. The huge cock, thrusting out like an arm from his groin. His balls, swollen like grapefruit.

"I can -- " He moaned as Leathermaker's tongue flicked against his prostate.

Leathermaker stood. He smacked his lips. "Hell, no, boy. He's mine. You gotta work your way up to the stallions. Right, Singing Rain? Singing Rain? Singing Rain! What're you up to?"

Singing Rain knelt beside his pony, his eyes afire, his hands caressing the pony's sheath. Thunderhoof stood in the water, flicking his tail. Singing Rain nuzzled the sheath as if it were a puppy. The palomino remained still. He bent his head to drink again.

"Damn you, Billy Joe," the frustrated boy called. "You drained him!"

Leathermaker glanced at Suleiman, whistled a variation on the theme he'd used before. "Come on."

The stallion pranced alongside Leathermaker as the horny pair made their way towards the huge tree trunk lying halfway in the pond.

"Dad? Are you? Are you going to do it here?" Singing Rain asked.

Leathermaker nodded. "Yep."

"You said you only liked doing it in the stables -- "

"When I'm breaking a horse, yeah. But once he knows what I'm about, I'll do it with him anywhere. Ow! Quit that!" The black stallion had nipped the Mahican's fine ass.

"He's really horny," Billy Joe said, following them. The pendulous sway of Suleiman's balls mesmerized him, just as they had on that seemingly long-ago hike up here. He wanted to feel them emptying in his cunt.

"Come here," Leathermaker said, slapping his asscheeks. Suleiman lunged, teeth bared. "No, not you. Fuck, he's hot, but stupid. Come here, Billy Joe. Walk next to me."

Billy Joe complied.

"All right. You still got Thunderhoof's jism up your butt?"

"Yeah," Billy Joe said, saliva thick and heavy in his mouth.

"Let me stick my fingers up your ass."

Leathermaker inserted one -- two -- three. Twisted them. Gurgling, a slimy tide flowed through Billy Joe's assring and coated Leathermaker's fingers.

Suleiman, sniffing the sperm, let out a frustrated, angry shriek. His cock stabbed from between his hind legs as if he had part of a telephone pole riveted to his belly. No soft arc of flesh hanging from his sheath. He bobbed his head as if he were banging along to a blazing thrashmetal track. He was tired of teasing. Leathermaker was his mare. He wanted to fuck, and he wanted to fuck now.

"Settle down, boy." Bending over the tree, Leathermaker smeared the hot goo over his anus. "Best lube there is," he said.

"You got a nice butt," Billy Joe said. He feasted on the sight of Leathermaker's ring, so intimate, so private, now exposed. Purplish, it looked immensely strong, like it could take an arm. It winked at the boy and at the stallion.

Suleiman sneered. His ears laid flat against his skull. He pawed the ground, his tail whipping. Leathermaker was the subject of his intense gaze.

Singing Rain bounding back onto dry land, his stiff boner nodding in front of him. "Shit! This is hot, Billy Joe!"

Leathermaker bent over the tree, supporting his torso with his huge, muscular arms. He grinned at Billy Joe. "Suleiman's a lot heavier than Thunderhoof. Gotta be strong for this. Gotta be strong. Can't really believe you could take Thunderhoof."

"I wanted him really bad."

"Yeah, Billy Joe, I know you did. Ow!"

Suleiman nicked Leathermaker's back. The stallion weaved back and forth, nervously, lips flaring, puffing like a steam engine. His balls throbbed like a pair of grenades.

"All right, come on." Leathermaker slapped his asscheeks. "I need it" he crooned to the stallion.

Singing Rain appeared, dripping with water. He enfolded Billy Joe in his arms. "Watch."

"I'm watching! I'm watching!" Billy Joe slowly began to jack his dick. He wanted to bust a nut again.

But now it was time for Suleiman to bust a nut. And whatever else he could get away with.

The stallion approached from the rear, head bobbing, tail waving. He sniffed Leathermaker's butt. Whinnied. He bounced off his fore hooves once, twice. Snorted. Frustrated, he stamped a fore hoof. His cock pissed precum. He whirled, trotted away, whirled again, came at Leathermaker at a good canter --

Rearing, the stallion seized Leathermaker's hips with his forelegs.

"Easy, boy, easy -- " Biceps and thighs bulged, strained. Leathermaker resembled some ancient Greek nude statue, wrought in pure bronze unsullied by the passing of years.

Suleiman thrust brutally with his cock. It missed, stabbing along the underside of Leathermaker's heavy balls. He withdrew, stabbed again. Gouts of stallion precum splashed on Leathermaker's back. It landed, dead center, on Leathermaker's slippery asshole -- but it didn't penetrate.

Furiously, Suleiman whinnied.

"Ungh," Leathermaker breathed. "Almost." His eyes rolled up into his skull, as if some ancient mental discipline was being invoked.

The stallion thrust again. Powerfully, as if he thrust a rapier at an enemy. He succeeded. He skewered Leathermaker, embedding his arm-length cock in Leathermaker's succulent guts in one awesome plunge.

"Fuckin' hell!" Leathermaker yelled. "Shit, you're killing me! You fucking bastard! Goddamned stud horse! Fuck me hard!"

Shit, Billy Joe thought. Holy fucking shit. This was power at its rawest and most deadly.

Utterly uncaring about the fragile, hot-assed whore he clasped to his groin, Suleiman ripped his cock down the chute until the tight ring bulged from the equine cockhead. Ropelets of Thunderhoof's jism hung from Leathermaker's asshole. Boom! A gutpuncher. Suleiman sheathed his gigantic cock in Leathermaker's cunt.

The huge beast thundered his triumph. You could hear it echoing down the canyon. They must've heard it back on Caballo's ranch. Yeah, the stud was sheathed in his mare. He lowered his head, growled.

"Argh!" Leathermaker grunted. "Fuckin' hell. Christ. Fuckin' hell."

Helpless in the stallion's power, his entire body shifted and twisted each time Suleiman thrust. His legs and armed strained to be bear the weight of the mighty stud on his back.

The stallion chortled. Embedded in the Mahican, sure of his conquest, he fucked. His shaft moved feet at a time, in and out. The pink blotch emerged slimy with pony jism, vanished inside.

"Fuck," Billy Joe breathed.

"Yeah." Singing Rain's eyes were wide. "I couldn't believe it, at first."

Billy Joe whispered in his friends ear, "You let him fuck you yet?"

"Nah," said Singing Rain. He grinned. "He wants too, though. He likes boys, you know what I mean?"

"Like Michael Jackson likes boys?"

"Yeah!" Singing Rain giggled.

"Cool!" Heat suffused Billy Joe's rectum. How would it feel, to have such a huge beast on his back? To be aware of such power coursing through him? Would his fur be rougher -- more masculine -- than Thunderhoof's? What would it be like, when your cunt verged on splitting up because of the massive organ plundering it? Would the ring of flesh, halfway between the mushroom cockhead and the sack of his sheath, drive Billy Joe to an unimaginable ecstasy? "You suck him yet?"

"Well, aw shucks," Singing Rain said, kicking at a rock. "I-- "

A soft neigh arose behind them. Turning, they saw Thunderhoof regarding them, his eyes aflame. Again, he sported a proud erection between his legs.

"He's my stud!" Singing Rain said. "Uh ... you mind?"


"This." Slender, smooth fingers entered Billy Joe's butt, fishing for grease.

"Oh. Sure." He bent over, giving his friend access. He relaxed his asshole. Jism burbled gently into Singing Rain's palms as if from a spring.

"Thanks," he said. His lips brushed Billy Joe's cheek. "You're the best."

The boy bent over the log next to his father. He slathered the gravy on and in his butthole, mixing the pony's jism with his father's studly babybatter. Grinning at his father, he said, "About fucking time!"

Leathermaker's mouth, hanging open, trailed drool. His nipples spiked up into tight turrets. His cock swung below his belly -- hard and rigid, but still overwhelmed by the incredible power of Suleiman's thrusts. His butthole clenched, hungry for horsecock. He saw his son next to him, preparing for the pony, but he was too far gone in his own pleasure to be able to respond.

Singing Rain whistled at Thunderhoof over his shoulder. "Come on, stud! Give it to me!"

Thunderhoof didn't need to be prodded. He rushed towards the boy. He reared, his cock a dripping spear. He crashed onto the boy's back, hooked his forelegs between Singing Rain's thighs.

"Ooof!" A giggle. "You're horny -- "

Thunderhoof speared his long cock between Singing Rain's taut buttocks.

"Oh, Thunderhoof!" The sweet boy crooned, absorbing the shaft, his eyes molten and content. "I love you so!"

Thunderhoof, grunting, thrust himself in up to the sheath.

Fucking hell, Billy Joe thought. Fucking hell. Who would've thought that it would be this week when the whole world changed?

Suleiman's mane and tail flew like pennons on a chaotic battlefield as he thrust. He was wild, untamed, consumed by passion in a way no human could ever match. His exposed asshole contracted with each thrust tossed Leathermaker's way. Sweat foamed on his flanks, on his sheath, on his fat balls. His haunches, like black marble, were a memorial to the raw power of an animal lost in lust.

There was little of grace and poise to his movements now. He was no pretty beast. He was a stud, and goddammit he was going to fuck this man's ass. He ruled here. Let this little humans strut and play all they wanted. He was the great and powerful Suleiman, seducer and fucker of herds -- there was nothing they could do to top his great power.

"Oh, Thunderhoof!"

The pony rode the boy powerfully, mastering his slender form, but didn't brush the edge of violence the way Suleiman did. His breathing was labored as if he'd just come in from a long and thrilling race. The palomino studded the horny boy as surely if he were working up to seed his third -- or thirtieth -- mare. There was something tender about his motions, though. He jabbed deep, yes, for Singing Rain's ass was the sweetest chute he'd ever fucked. But he'd looked into the boy's eyes, and knew that in there lurked a protector, a companion, a fellow. Singing Rain was not Billy Joe. Yes, Singing Rain was for love.

But the hot blond boy -- his shapely human ass, alien yet enticing -- the pony knew was built for fucking hard and long.

Suffused with the soft-focus, semi-real quality of a dream, the image of Suleiman plowing Leathermaker blazed in Billy Joe's mind. That muscular body. That black fur. That streaming tail. That big cock. That cum-loaded balls. That butthole.

It was too much. He couldn't remain a mere spectator. There was jism in his balls that wanted to squish and squirm in a cavern of hot, moist flesh.

He approached Suleiman, reaching for him but not yet touching him.

The stallion seemed oblivious. Snorting, roaring, Suleiman stallion hopped from foot to foot, joined to Leathermaker's stretched and immensely pleasured flesh with his titanic cock. His tail flew like a scythe. Yet he exuded a scent,a smell, and Billy Joe drank that scent the way a horse might sniff an excited, lonely boy masturbating alone in his room with bestial thoughts on his mind.

Billy Joe cupped the stallion's swaying balls.

The horse sheathed himself, stilled. The veins snaking beneath his fur seethed with constrained energy. His great head turned. Dark eyes smoldered at the blond. He too knew this boy was meant for sluthood. To service the breeders. The lips curled in a sneer. Big teeth gleamed. The rank scent of horse sweat obliterated the clean scent of pine.

"Oh, god, Billy Joe," Leathermaker gasped. "What are you doing? He's flaring -- fuck -- flaring -- goddamn -- "

The horse trumpeted, stamped, ripped his cock out of Leathermaker's ass. The huge organ, displayed to Billy Joe's eyes, was adorned with rectal slime and horse precum and pony jism like pearls. An obscene thing, distended with lust, quivering, alien, huge. The head had expanded into a mushroom shape larger than Billy Joe's clenched fist. Maybe even larger than Caballo's fist.

The stallion's eyes fell on Billy Joe's hardon. He snorted. Swished his tail. Nickered as if laughing at the feeble human breeder. Grunted as if lusting after those sweet alabaster curves.

He stabbed forward, sheathing himself in the Mahican's hungry ass.

"Fuckin' hell," Leathermaker grunted. "Goddammit, you're hot!"

The man's cock exploded in gouts of jism, dousing the dry wood of the tree trunk in a massive tide of his fertility.

Billy Joe's own cock vibrated, a violin string teased into emitting a high note. He clenched his eyes, bit down on his tongue. Whimpered. Fingernails bit into his palm. Precum poured out of his soaked pisslips, coursing down his shaft. The sympathetic explosion in his balls loomed ... threatened ... diminished.

Barely. He'd barely contained it. He still felt the high. It surged through his blood. Like Suleiman, like Thunderhoof, Billy Joe wanted to fuck.

Arrogantly, the black Arabian shafted Leathermaker's tight human ass, snorting, grunting, carefree, abandoned to the rut. His forelegs, hooked round Leathermaker's waist, drew the tiny, succulent morsel of flesh deeper into the damp lusty space between the stallion's thighs.

"No ... oh god ... " Leathermaker choked. "Shit, he's horny! Urgh!" Again and again the arm-long cock jabbed in him with enough force to knock a him off his feet. His biceps and thighs strained to withstand the power of the sex-crazed stallion.

"Dad," Singing Rain said, his voice husky. "is he doing ... you good?"

"Hell yeah, son," Leathermaker gasped. His cock still throbbed, dripping jism like tears of joy, even though his orgasm had clearly dissipated.

Thunderhoof whinnied. He almost bounced on his hind hooves, so hard did he fuck the slender, taut body of the boy beneath him. Panting like a steam locomotive chugging up a hill, he longcocked Singing Rain the way a true slut deserved.

Billy Joe's eyes came to rest on the palomino's own pucker.

Large, brown, buried beneath Thunderhoof's flailing tail, it beckoned. Called. Crooned. Begged for it.

Billy Joe's grin was feral. Could I? Could I really? Ponies kick, and kick hard. Would he let me? Would I live?

A picture: Father. Naked. Alexandra. Her flesh, quivering, as her cunt absorbed his cock. Absorbed his cock. Again, and again, and again. Her orgasm. Tight blue jeans tumbled on the hay-strewn floor. Absorbing cock. No. No, not father. A blond boy, muscular, wide-shouldered, big-cocked, behind the mare --

Like a voice the words came: You're an animal too. The words were raspy, dry. As if that old man, the Shaman, were speaking to him now.

It was an addiction, horseflesh. He saw his future. He'd need it like a junky needed a needle. Yeah. It would be vile and depraved. His flesh burned for it.

Shoving his fingers up his butt, extracting the gray slime Thunderhoof had injected him with, he leaped into the abyss. Smearing it on his shaft the smell enfolded him with invisible tentacles. Raw, raunchy, powerful. Male. The funk was a poem whose meter only animals could apprehend.

Heart hammering, he growled. Had a bear heard that growl, it would've shit itself blind.

Billy Joe eased up behind Thunderhoof.

Suleiman didn't fail to notice the shift. He jammed his cock deep in Leathermaker's guts. The man's rectum trembled like an overstuffed sausage on the verge of splitting. The Arabian's obsidian eyes burned on the blond flesh as it crept up behind the frantically fucking pony. Drip. Drip. Sweat feel from the stallion's swollen nuts, marking the half-seconds as they marched by into the past.

Billy Joe's fingertips touched the pony's butt. The pony's flesh surged against his palm, hard and alive.

But Thunderhoof gave no obvious sign of disapproval. He sawed away at Singing Rain's chute, nickering and whinnying softly as if talking dirty to the slut boy.

Billy Joe grasped Thunderhoof's tail near the base. Pulled it aside. He slathered the jism oozing in his palm onto his shaft. The remnants he painted onto the pucker.

Now Thunderhoof sensed something. His frantic thrusts subsided into a mere gentle pounding. The palomino's head revolved so that one eye regarded the blond stud behind him. You could almost see the puzzlement, the questioning, the confusion.

Then he trumpeted, nodded his head, blond mane flying. Ever so slightly he parted his hind hooves.

Billy Joe spit. The globule landed dead center on Thunderhoof's anus. Like a cunt, it winked at him.

"What ... " It was Singing Rain. He sounded as if he were in the middle of running the longest marathon ever. "What are you doing, Billy Joe?"

"Just you wait." Billy Joe chortled. Ho ho. This would be the best. Yeah. The best.

He pressed his apple-sized cockhead between Thunderhoof's buttocks. The sphincter pulsed, opened, kissed his moist flesh. Against that tight portal his cockhead looked huge, penetration unthinkable, even monstrous. The way a stallion's cock did in that microsecond before penetrating a man's tight buttock.

But it was horseflesh. Hot. Moist. Dripping. Against his cock.

Billy Joe whinnied. And thrust.

Snap. Cram! His balls smacked against Thunderhoof's ass. He did it to the slut pony the way the fucking pony had done to him. One fiery, awesome thrust. Cherry busted, the way an equine busted a cherry.

The pony jerked. Flesh quaked. He absorbed the lesson as deeply as he absorbed Billy Joe's cock.

Billy Joe dug his fingers into the pony's thighs. His biceps striated as he used his strength to subdue Thunderhoof's power.

The pony's flesh squished as he sank into it. It was hot in there, like he'd thrust his dick into a deep tub of melted butter. And it was desperate for him. Thunderhoof's rectum sucked on Billy Joe's cock. It did not want that shaft to leave. No, though the palomino stood motionless, head lowered, tail flicking nervously in Billy Joe's fist, he did not want that moment to past. Thunderhoof wanted to savor it, to remember it the way a boy would the first time his dad came to him ... in that naughty way.

Through his cock, through the chute, Billy Joe felt the galloping rhythm of Thunderhoof's erotic heart.

"Slut!" The word hissed between Billy Joe's lips.

Thunderhoof nickered. He shifted. Shifted again.

"Ugh!" It was Singing Rain. The pony had begun fucking him again.

"Whore," Billy Joe hissed.

Thunderhoof arched his neck, craning towards the sky. Slowly he parted his hind feet. His asshole squeezed Billy Joe's cock like a hand, the sphincter pulsing like a boy's lips on a man's huge cock.

Something like a hot tongue brushed against Billy Joe's balls. It was Thunderhoof's own nuts. Though drained time after time, they still felt like a pair of hot water bottles, effervescing with energy and ready to go.

"Your pony's a stud," Billy Joe grunted. He slid his cock down the pony's tight tunnel until the sphincter bulged ominously. He squealed as Thunderhoof clamped down on his cockhead.

"Yeah, he is!" Singing Rain said, grunting, spreading his legs in wanton abandonment. Arching his back and lifting his butt, he gave himself up for the pony's lust.

Suleiman snorted. Arrogantly, he again ripped his cock free of Leathermaker's ass, brandishing it to the two boys coupling with the pony. The alien shaft throbbed in the hot afternoon for all to see. With a whinny clearly dripping with contempt, he stabbed back inside.

"Again ... " Leathermaker's grunt was faint. A shower of semen blasted from his cock. Thrusting his butt backwards into Suleiman's violent thrusts, he rutted, whorish and wanton, on the beast's gigantic cock.

Billy Joe plowed the horny pony. What a rush. He felt the power between his thighs -- his own cock, and the natural power of the beast itself. He drew himself tight against the hot body, feeling the bristly hair against his groin, against his chest. Thunderhoof's smell filled his nostrils.

"Fuck him! Fuck my pony, Billy Joe!" Singing Rain flew like a condor riding a storm of ecstasy.. Thunderhoof's organ was rigid as a steel bar. The cockhead flared at maximum. And it raped the boy. From sphincter to darkest night of his guts, the pony's cock thrust. It felt as if his body enclosed a small thermonuclear explosion. He felt ready to fly apart in gray, slimy filaments.

"I'm fucking him," Billy Joe growled. Fucking hell. This was it. Yeah. Much better than whacking off to porn on the PC. Real, raw horseflesh, spasming on his cock. He connected with the animal's flesh far more intimately than he ever had with the flickering images on the screen, no matter how hot they were. And Billy Joe had found lots of raunchy shit -- that guy fucking the mare who'd just been drilled by a stallion ... the squishing sounds ... the jism running from her cunt ... down his balls ... her fur soaked with stallion cum ... his cock spurting pearls of human jism into the stinking sea of stallion cum.

"He's cummin'!" Singing Rain cried in a voice reminiscent of St. Mary's shrieking when God the Father flooded her womb with his divine potent seed.

A whinny exploded out of Thunderhoof. His tail thrashed like a rattlesnake. His butthole shrank on Billy Joe's plunging cock.

"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" Singing Rain cried out as each pulse of hot pony jism

"Oh yeah, you like that boy, don't you, boy, yeah, take my big cock!" Billy Joe spit on Thunderhoof's heaving back. He rabbitfucked the pony, jamming harder and harder, rising up the curve towards the cliff's edge --

"Good one, Billy Joe." Leathermaker's voice was wan, weak, as if he were half-shifted to an alien dimension. Still he bore the stallion's weight on his back, and still he twisted and shifted his butthole like a nymphomaniac on Suleiman's big cock.

"Fucking hell!" Billy Joe groaned. "Yeah, I think I'm gonna -- "

And he did.

It came out of him, like fireworks, like lightning, like a meteor raining doom on a desert city -- the mother of all orgasms. Billy Joe knew he would never have another one like this in his life. The first was always the greatest, the moment of revelation.

He seized the pony just in front of its forelegs. Jabbed his crotch against the butt.

"Fuck you you hot assed bitch!"

He hosed Thunderhoof's guts with a tsunami of his jism. He cut loose. He let it all go. He bred that pony, soaking its rectum with his human slime. Sweat poured from his skin like a secondary ejaculate.

Billy Joe staggered back, his cock slipping out of the pony's butt, glistening with semen. He'd shot gallons. He knew it. He'd felt the fluid boiling around his cock.

Wearily, Thunderhoof dismounted from Singing Rain. The pony snorted. Farted. The smell of his own sperm blasted into Billy Joe's face.

The boy stood, almost like an old man. His cock hung in an arc, shrinking. Ropes of jism hung from his glistening cockhead. Sweat dewed him, as did horse hair. The pony's hooves had bruised his thighs and legs. His asshole was not a tight pucker -- it was a slit, barely closed, and a tide of jism drooled down his right thigh.

But even as Billy Joe's heart slowed as he came down from his high, rumbling from Suleiman heralded something even more awesome.

The stallion craned his neck back, his black mane streaming, his tail the banner of a beast lost in lust. His long shaft barreled in for the last time into Leathermaker's steamy guts. To the sheath.

"Oh that bastard's doing it!" Leathermaker groaned.

With a grunt subterranean in its terrible power and purpose the stallion came. His body froze into a statue of black marble. Except for his balls, swaying, contracting, blasting his stud potency deep into Leathermaker's cunt.

"Holy shit! Holy fucking shit!" Eyes clenched, fists bunched, Leathermaker's thighs strained as he jammed his butt against the stallion's sheath, hungry for the goo the stud horse was injecting.

"Damn," Billy Joe whispered.

Tears rolled down Leathermaker's face. "I'm gonna die. He's fucking killing me!"

"Dad?" Singing Rain asked softly, stepping forward, knowing there was nothing he could do.

Suleiman roared. The sound echoed off the canyon walls like an artillery exchange. His fore hooves clamped Leathermaker's puny form against his groin. The stallion jetted into the rectum, breeding that muscular body with pounds of jism.

"Fuckin' hell! Fuckin' hell!" Leathermaker gasped, gurgled, came again.

His abused anus couldn't handle the pressure. A massive explosion of goo burst from Leathermaker's asscheeks, dousing the stallion's groin. A tide of slime coursed down Leathermaker's tights and pooled around his feet.

"Goddamn," Singing Rain breathed, toying with his groin. "He's so fucking sexy!"

"You ain't kiddin'!" said Billy Joe.

With a triumphant whinny, Suleiman ripped his cock from Leathermaker's asshole, slathering a torrent of fetid horse jism all over his sweaty back. The giant organ pulsed. Streamers of jism flew from the swollen, flared cockhead, landing with a wet sizzle on Leathermaker's back. Pure showoff.

Satiated, the stallion dismounted, his cock a tentacle of rubbery flesh drooling like a madman.

Leathermaker collapsed over the log, panting. Air blasted from his asshole, blowing shards of jism ten feet behind him.

"Jesus, Dad! Are you OK?"

"Yeah, son, yeah." Leathermaker panted. He turned to look at Singing Rain. "You still want to tussle with Suleiman, boy?"

"Yeah, Dad, yeah!"

"Meet, too!" said Billy Joe.

Suleiman nickered wearily. His cock retracted into his sheath.

Thunderhoof nuzzled Singing Rain's flanks. His nose dipped towards the boy's crotch.

"Shit!" Standing as if he joints creaked, Leathermaker grinned at the boys. "Damn, it hurts!"

"Yeah," Billy Joe asked anxiously, "but it hurts good, doesn't it?" His butt felt sore -- not painful, just used. Loved. Needed. Surely it was similar for Leathermaker, a grown man, much larger and able to handle Suleiman's forbidden cock.

Leathermaker winked. "You bet." He whistled Suleiman's tune. The stallion snorted, froze, and began to piss while staring at Leathermaker. "We gotta get back to the ranch. You're Dad's going to want to know what happened here."

"Really?" Even after all that it happened, it was a strange thought. What would he do? Would he stand in front of Dad, rocking back and forth on his heels, casually telling his father that he liked getting screwed up the ass by a pony?

He smiled wryly. Maybe it would be like that.

Leathermaker moved towards Suleiman. "Let's go, boys."

"What're you doing tonight?" Billy Joe whispered to Singing Rain.

"Playing with my pony." Singing Rain giggled. "You wanna meet me in the stall tonight?"

"Yeah! Can I?"

"Sure, Billy Joe. I'll share my studpony with you!"

Leathermaker, overhearing them, chuckled to himself. Horny fucking boys. Maybe they're not so dense after all. His guts boiled with stallion jism. Conscious of it, his cock began to stiffen. Pretty fucking horny myself. "Suleiman! Come on! Let's go, stud!" He glanced at Billy Joe, at Singing Rain. Christ, what a pair of asses. I wanna fuck those boys silly.

Suleiman emitted a sound that could only be described as a chuckle. He dropped his cock and pissed.

Billy Joe and Singing Rain laughed, scrambled for the golden flood.

An archive of my Internet erotic fiction can be found at http://sites.google.com/site/araddion/

Email: araddion@gmail.com