Date: Sat, 15 Sep 2018 12:42:35 -0400
From: J Wize <jaywizetoo@gmail.com>
Subject: Summer Stallion

DISCLAIMER:

This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of explicit
sexual acts between men.

If this type of content offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not
read it.

Author's Note:

This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for personal
reading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if you wish to post them on
your own site, please contact the author for permission.

If it is illegal to read such material where you live or if you find the
topic distasteful, then please leave now.

Copyright 2018, jaywizetoo, all rights reserved.

Please contact me at jaywizetoo@gmail.com if you like. I welcome all
feedback.


* * *


The heat of Summer had faded hours ago, when most folk were long since
asleep in their beds.

I lay in mine, staring up at the ceiling, my mind filled with impure
thoughts and imaginings; the things only a sixteen-year-old's hormones
could bring into such keen focus.

The clock beside me read "2:16 AM". I could hear grandpa's snores coming
from across the hallway outside my room. And I could feel my own heart
beating in my chest.

I had thought about what I was about to do for quite sometime, but I had
never seemed able to summon the nerve. Tonight, I would break that cycle.

I eased myself out of the extremely creaky old bed, my bare feet landing on
soft carpet without a sound. For a time, I just sat there, staring across
the moonlit room, running through the plan in my head.

Then I rose, left the bedroom door slightly ajar behind me and headed down
the hallway. The grandfather clock in the living room calmed me as I
passed, its slow ticking a counterpoint to the rhythm of my breathing.

I let myself out the back door, taking care to ease it shut.

Looking back, I find I am grateful that there were no security systems in
those days, beeping loudly, announcing the opening of windows and doors to
the whole household.

Outside, crickets chirped and a light, cool breeze ruffled my hair. I miss
country living. The nearest neighbors lived half a mile away on our lonely
road.

In the shadow of ancient oak trees and the old house, I slipped out of my
pajamas, hanging them over the railing of the back porch, just out of sight
of the door. For a moment, I bathed in the excitement of being so exposed,
added to the taboo of being in such a state outside my grandfather's
house. But I knew that this would pale in comparison to what I had planned.

I was already hard as I set off across the wide lawn towards the barn. It
was painted red with white trim, and was grandpa's pride and joy. He had
always farmed to some extent, though he had spent many years as a
high-level executive for an agricultural co-op in town.

He owned four miniature draft horses (miniature being a relative term, as
true draft horses are massive), two mules, one quarter horse and a
Tennessee Walker that towered over all of the others.

These magnificent animals were incredibly friendly and docile. They had
been ridden often, or served as harness horses that could pull wagons for
parades or the long wagon trains out west so enjoyed by the horse club to
which he and grandma belonged.

All of them were used to being groomed and handled. Jack, the Halflinger
Stallion, had made grandpa some money as a breeding stud over the past few
years.

I had grown up with most of the animals, even known a few of them when they
were just colts. I had brushed them, fed them, cleaned up after them,
prepared them for shows and polished their saddles and leathers until they
gleamed in the sunlight.

The barn was quiet. At this hour, very little moved. The big white door
would make a terrible racket if I tried to open it took quickly, so I had
to inch it open, holding my breath as each soft iron grating of the wheels
above sounded like a train whistle.

It was impossible, I know, that my grandpa would awaken and hear his barn
door being opened, but the probability wasn't zero, and that still meant
there was some lever of danger. I knew what I was doing couldn't be looked
upon as anything other than wrong.

But I didn't care.

Besides grandpa himself, a hired helper named Patrick lived in a tiny house
grandpa owned just across the driveway. He had lived there rent-free fir
years helping out with the place; mowing, trimming hedges and trees,
general maintenance on the farm and its equipment. He occasionally took
care of the horses and mules when grandpa was away, but for the most part
his work was outside of the horse barn. He was a nice guy, always pleasant
and polite, with a great sense of humor and an unassuming, honest way about
him. That's probably what my grandpa liked most about him, in
retrospect. Trust was important to men of my grandfather's generation. That
and hard work.

Once the door was open wide enough I slipped inside, pausing for a few
seconds to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. Up above, very pale
moonlight poured through the dusty skylights.

The sweet scents of alfalfa hay, cedar sawdust, oats and saddle leather
filled my nostrils. I inhaled deeply, stretching like a cat in this
midnight playground; a world all my own, surrounded by the safe darkness of
night.

To my left, the tack room beckoned, filled with harnesses, belts and
straps, sales and jars of leather polish, stained rags and leather-working
tools. To the right, the feed room contained stacks of hay, a large covered
bin filled with molasses coated horse feed, and all of grandpa's grooming
brushes with their stiff, ancient bristles.

Beyond both doors, the barn was lined with white stall doors, on the other
side of which the animals stood quietly, or slept.

I padded, shoeless, along the gallery, pausing to look over the low wooden
walls into each stall. Gentle eyes peered back at me, some more alert than
others, and some heavy with sleep.

I stopped at Jack's stall. I felt a shiver run down my bare back, and a
stirring in my groin as I saw him.

Jack was Grandpa's only stallion. He was a beautiful Halflinger (a
specialized breed from Austria), with a rich chestnut coat and a white
mane, tail and fetlocks. His body was heavy, muscled and powerful, standing
around fifteen hands in height.

He snorted once and ambled over to the wooden wall to say hi. His white
nose poked over the wooden slats and I reached up to pet the silky-soft
skin there.

"Hey, boy," I whispered. "You're still up, huh?"

A blast of hot, moist breath through his nostrils warmed the skin of my
chest, tickling me and making my cock jump.

"You wanna have some fun, stud?"

His eyes were large, chocolate brown and friendly. He raised his muzzle,
pushing against my hand, and stamped once with his left hoof.

I reached up to scratch around his ears and his head lowered, the ears
hanging to the side. He had been handled by kind farm hands since he was a
colt, and I had learned how to relax him.

I stood there for a time, letting him get used to my presence. Friendly or
not, a horse was a potent presence deserving of care and respect. I made
reassuring sounds as we stood in the quiet of the darkened bar.

I could see the heads of the other horses and mules peering over their own
walls, vaguely curious of their late night visitor as I slid open the stall
door.

My bare feet touched warm sawdust. I curled my toes in it as the scent of
cedar and alfalfa dust filled my senses. I felt dizzy.

It was even dimmer inside the stall, but I could still make out the shape
and color of the stallion's reddish-brown form. The long white tail swished
gently back and forth, and he blew air through his lips.

I approached him from the front. A big brown eye watched me with placid
patience.  I extended a hand palm-up to let him get used to me. He sniffed
and I stroked the velvet skin. With my other hand, I rubbed his neck
beneath the coarse, heavy mane. The flesh was amazingly warm to the
touch. I felt the powerful muscles of his shoulders ripple beneath the soft
sorrel coat. He didn't flinch or react, so I moved back, spreading my
fingers and massaging along his side, to the top of his back, and
ultimately to his strong haunches and rump.

I had seen muscular men during my short life to that point. There was
something about their power and masculinity that filled me with burning
desire, and had for as long as I could remember.

But nothing I had ever seen could compare to the raw maleness and muscled
beauty of Jack's might frame. The glossy hide bulged and rippled with every
movement in what little moonlight managed to make it into the stall.

Jack whickered, and I felt my cock harden further, throbbing with each
heartbeat as I moved around the big body, exploring every curve and
inch. Time seemed to blue as I lost myself in stroking the soft hair and
communing with this hulking stud.

After making over him for a time, I ended up behind him, staring at the
wide rump divided in two by the gleaming white tail.

With one hand, I caressed his left buttock, letting him feel my
presence. With the other hand I slid his tail aside, exposing the dark skin
of his taint, crowned by a large black anus. Minutes passed as I remained
glued in place, unable to tear my gaze from the sight.

I had never been able to see these parts of the stallion while I was
working in the barn with grandpa during the day, except for brief flashes
now and then while we were bathing the animals, or brushing them down. I
could only steal brief glances when grandpa wasn't looking.

But tonight I could take my time, drinking it all in. My mouth watered as I
stared at the round, puffy lips and massive testicles hanging heavy and low
in their smooth, dark sack.

The scale of them made me light-headed. I wanted to worship this
magnificent animal's body forever. And now, I no longer needed to imagine
what that might be like. I reached out, letting my fingers graze the
velvety skin, brushing away bits of dust and hay and sawdust.

Jack barely moved, swaying slowly as I made comforting sounds to reassure
him.

"That's it, stud. It's all good. Just let me make you feel good," I leaned
in, drawing closer to the huge rump.  I closed my eyes, as one might before
kissing a lover. Moving closer and closer until I could feel the heat
emanating from the stallion's skin, I made contact. My lips touched the
impossibly warm and soft ring of his anus.

It felt like all the blood in my body rushed to my cock. It felt heavy and
engorged as I stood there, mouth to ass for the first time with a living,
breathing stallion.

I kissed him as I'd seen humans kiss, lips moving and caressing. I slid my
tongue out and licked slowly around the puckered ring, wetting it silently
in the darkness.

Jack rumbled, deep within his chest. He shifted slightly, his legs
spreading and the white tail lifting into the air.

"You like that, boy?" I licked harder, tasting the stale saltiness of
him. "Fuck, you're hot. Don't think grandpa ever did this with you, did
he?"

I locked my mouth around the puffy ass lips and slid my tongue inside
him. The flesh was steaming hot and surprisingly clean. Horses' diets are
largely made up of hay and oats, so there was nothing foul or dirty inside
his anus. The hot, pink walls hugged my tongue as I moved it around,
exploring, probing, my face buried deep in Jack's huge, muscular ass.

I felt like an animal myself, to be honest, gradually losing control as I
surrendered to my instincts. I wrapped both of my arms around his haunches,
hugging as I pulled myself closer to him, my tongue digging deeper. I felt
like i could suffocate in his dark nether regions; the entire universe lay
within the hot, clinging anus, and I struggled to reach its limits.

Jack stamped one hoof and shook his great head. His tail lifted higher, and
a blast of methane gas suddenly filled my mouth. Unprepared, I
instinctively inhaled and my head swam. I hadn't expected that, but I was
too far gone to stop now. I pulled away and took a couple of cleansing
breaths before plunging back into that magnificent hole.

I reached down to weigh each of the massive balls, massaging them slowly as
I tongue-fucked the stallion's ass.  I lost track of time. I have
experienced many kisses in the years since that night, but none of been as
passionate, as filled with raw, erotic energy as this one.

Jack seemed to enjoy the attention, his back end swaying back and forth as
I licked and sucked, the noisy anal slurping sounds now filling the stall.

At last I pulled away, breathless. My cock was leaking steadily onto the
sawdust floor. I felt below the huge nuts in their smooth, black skin sack
with one hand, and found his giant cock, thick and warm, hanging below,
fully dropped. I gave one last long, slow lick around the ring of his
butthole.

"Looks like you're good and ready, stud," I whispered, moving to his side
and dropping to my knees.

Before me, Jack's huge penis hung straight down, swaying with each slight
movement he made. The skin of the sheath was the same colors as the
grapefruit-sized balls hanging behind it, but the big cock itself was
covered in mottled pink skin, stretched smoothly along the swollen organ.

I saw there for a moment, marveling at it. Everyone knew horses had large
genitals, but knowing a thing and coming face-to-face with it are two
different experiences altogether.

Jack whickered softly, and the massive pole twitched. I reached out,
mesmerized, and took the shaft in my hand. My fingers didn't come close to
wrapping all the way around its girth.

The meat was warm and supple, silky smooth, heavy, radiating potent
masculinity. It was as if I were holding in my hand the phallus of a living
god. I was drunk with lust. The shaft itself was clean, free of any
impurity. He had been bathed earlier today, as he had bred a mare for one
of grandpa's customers. A clean penis was more likely to impregnate the
mare than a dirty one.

The stallion seemed perfectly relaxed as his huge cock showed no signs of
shrinking or retracting into the dark sheath. I took my time, fondling him
and massaging the thick flesh gently. I traced the full length of him, from
the very base of the 20-inch tool, where its circumference rivaled my
biceps, to the tip, where the wrist-thick shaft ended in a slightly flared,
flat head.

As I explored him, the cock hardened somewhat, and I knew I couldn't wait
any longer. I leaned forward, bringing my lips to the pink skin. The heat
of the organ soaked into my mouth and my lips parted, allowing my tongue to
emerge and lap at the soft flesh.

At the touch of my mouth to the stallion's cock, I had to fight the urge to
cum right then and there. The eroticism of this moment was almost
overwhelming. I ran my tongue up Jack's magnificent maleness. The taste,
vaguely salty and musky, filled my mouth and lungs as I feasted there in
the dark stall on prime stallion meat. Jack shuddered, and the cock
hardened further against my lips.

I could have spent all night making love to this stallion's huge, throbbing
cock. I worshipped him, bathing in the experience, wanting to sample and
savor every inch of him; of this fantastic animal and his massive tool. It
imagined I was sucking on a mythical beast in some dark cave on the other
side of the world, where unicorns and minotaurs and griffins still walked
proudly through the wilderness.

I turned the cock, flexing it against its muscles and pulling it down to
tease the stallion.  I laved the swollen head, digging my tongue into the
wide urethra, exploring the salty, acrid taste of dried piss, and something
else; something slick, and salty-sweet.

I slid as much of the huge head into my mouth as I was able. The wide glans
popped past my lips, locking the swollen flesh in my mouth. My cheeks
bulged outward, stuffed with stallion cock. I looked down my nose, along
the length of the mammoth tool. My heart pounded. If my grandpa could have
seen me like this, teenaged mouth full of his prized stallion's swollen
dong, I could imagine what he would have thought or said.

The sight of a tall, thin 16-year-old nursing on that huge penis, his eyes
closed and his lips stretched wide, would shock anyone, I thought yo
myself.

Reaching up with both hands, I double-fisted the hard shaft, working my
tongue in circles as I jacked the stallion off. I couldn't have known what
I was doing, really, as I had never masturbated a horse before, but this
did seem to be doing the trick.

Jack's haunches twitched in time with my long jerks, the cock thrusting a
few inches at a time, pushing my head and stuffed mouth backward,
punctuated by his deep, guttural grunts. He was close, though I did not
know this at the time.

The head widened further, forcing me to release a portion of it from my
mouth. I sucked and licked more passionately, my lips and chin coated in
Jack's slick fluids.

The giant testicles swung back and forth heavily, drawing up closer to the
horse's groin in their black sack. On some level, I knew something was
about to happen, though not exactly on a conscious one.

The stallion tensed up and let out a whinny, then a series of snorts. The
blast was more powerful than I could have imagined, even having watched
Jack breeding various mares in the past.

The first gush completely filled my mouth, splashing out around my lips in
all directions. I coughed, sputtered, swallowed. The flavor was wild; pure,
undiluted stallion spunk, fresh from those titanic balls.

The flared head popped free of my mouth and blast after blast of hot, white
cum drenched my face and neck, my chest, my belly. It ran in thick rivulets
down my torso, over my hard cock and tight balls.

I reached down and began fisting my own manhood, the hot semen lubing me
and filling the air with its powerful, fecund scent.

I lost control. My lips returned to the erupting cockhead and I swallowed
everything I could. The flow had subsided a bit, and a steady stream of
cream slid past my tongue, coated my teeth, and made its way down my throat
to my greedy belly.

I drank from Jack until the orgasm ended, when no more semen leaked from
the slowly deflating shaft, and beyond.  I squeezed my left hand, milking
the huge organ and sucking at the now smaller head, drawing forth as much
of the stallion's essence as I could.

The stall fell silent as I shot my own load through horse-cum-soaked
fingers, trying (mostly successfully) to stifle my own cries as I climaxed
into the cedar dust.

Moments passed, and I became very aware of my exposed state. I licked
Jack's cum from the fingers of my right hand, savoring the taste of the
slowly cooling liquid.

With my free hand, I did my best to cover the huge, wet pools of semen with
the sawdust. It wouldn't do to have grandpa show up in the morning to a
stall reeking of horse cum, with big dark spots where the big balls
unloaded all over the floor. I hoped the evidence would fade long before
dawn.

Rising to my bare feet, I rubbed Jack's neck and he whickered, snorting and
bumping me lightly with a long white muzzle.

"Thanks for that, stud," I said softly, "I think you enjoyed that as much
as I did."

I chuckled, patting my now full belly. "I doubt I'll need breakfast
tomorrow morning..."  Jack sniffed lightly where my hand rested, inhaling
his own scent from my fingers.

I leaned down to plant a kiss on the big, silken nose, then slipped out the
stall door, closing it behind me. In a moment, I was outside the barn,
moonlight shining down upon my naked body. I used the garden hose to wash
myself as well as I could, then dressed in my pajamas and tiptoed my way
back into the house, and back to my bedroom.

It took some time for me to fall asleep. My mind raced with the memory of
what I had just experienced. For a time, I just stared up at the ceiling,
basking in the sense of taboo, and of accomplishment. I'd done something
few ever got the opportunity to do.

As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about how much of the summer was
left. I knew I hadn't tasted the last of Jack's cock and ass.

I dreamed well that night. Very well.


* * *