THE STALLION RIDES
2 - Stud Service

by Araddion

2014 R. Keith Peck

 

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"I had that dream again." My butthole leaks a dollop of Forest's jism as I buckle my jeans. The sun is warm on my shoulders. I hope my butt isn't sunburned again. I thought I'd learned that lesson.

"Again? What's that? Third time this week?" Forest feeds himself with the strand of precum that's been hanging from his cock since he bred my butt.

"You know I want to," I say, plucking the hat from the pump and screwing it onto my head. Where's my shirt?

"You know it's dangerous," says Forest, stuffing his cock into his Levis and reaching for his shirt. "Who was that guy? Mr. Hands?"

I won't talk about that. "I know it's dangerous. It doesn't change the fact that I want to." Where's my fucking shirt?

"I know." Forest stretches, and then squints down the road that serpentines down into the valley.

"Someday I'm gonna do it." There's my shirt, wadded where Forest threw it. It tumbles once in the breeze. Fuck it. I don't need it. This tan will protect my torso. I sniff my armpits. They remind me of my favorite jockstrap, hidden away in the house in a drawer.

"I know," says Forest, standing and reaching for his hat. "And when you do, Horseboy, I'm gonna be there."

I nod. He nods. This is the closest Forest has ever come to acquiescence.

Forest squints. "There he is. Betcha it's Blacky."

Coming up the road is today's work. Today's profit. A trailer pulled by an F350 powers up the serpentine lane. Behind it the valley is green, and the sound of the river cuts through the air. The sun ascends towards the meridian, glorious and merciless.

I fill the tin cup chained to the fountain and guzzle. Guzzle several times. Fucking Forest takes the fluids out of you. Forest doesn't say a word, standing in his wide stance with his arms folded across his chest, his eyes on the approaching truck. But when I offer it to him he takes the cup of cold water. Several times.

"You said two" I ask, standing next to him, cupping and kneading his ass.

"I said two," says Forest. "Did the sun or the buttfucking fry your brain? El Cojones Ranch."

"Gonna double team 'em?"

"You bet."

The truck rumbles beneath the sign, trailing dust like a comet's tail.

"Who' do they want to do the servicing?" I ask.

"He didn't specify. Just get 'em pregnant, he said. So I think --"

"Sultan," I prompt. Sultan's gray coat, charcoal mane, and long pink dong always make my butthole squirm.

"Yeah, Sultan," Forest murmurs. "Can't use Shaka Rex."

I grin, remembering the rain of stallion semen yesterday. "Yeah, he really shot like crazy, didn't he?"

"You drank half of it."

"You drank the other half." Forest frowns as the truck circles in the turnaround for easy unloading. "Thor. It'll be Thor."

"Gotcha."

Because Forest is the owner of this place he steps forward to greet the kid stepping down from the truck. I, his not-so-humble Horseboy, follow behind.

"Blacky," says Forest, shaking the kid's hand.

Kid? Well, he's eighteen. But look at him. He's definitely a boy. He's sucking on a grass stem. Spanish ancestry ... his honey-dark skin and shoulder-length glossy black hair and wanton eyes. His hat is canted far to the back of his head. Blacky wears a smile that never leaves his face. His plaid shirt, sleeveless, hangs open. Smooth chest, defined but not muscular. Flat belly with no reassure trail. Tight Wranglers. Very tight. Slender hips. Good sized bulge where his cock and balls rest.

"Two, this time," says Blacky. His voice is light, almost musical. His eyes flick to me, then back to Forest.

"We know. How long do I got 'em for?" asks Forest.

"He says he wants 'em pregnant. Don't matter who the sire is, he wants colts. Keep 'em for the weekend, he says."

"You ever saw a stallion breed a mare?" I ask.

"Oh yeah," says Blacky. He shoots a look at Forest. Right eyebrow raises a question.

"Call him Horseboy," says Forest, grinning. "He helps me out. All right. Let's get these mares out of your trailer."

Blacky leads the first mare down and passes her to me. This Arabian with a coat glossy like obsidian -- high-spirited in a controllable way, meaning you got to keep hold of her bridle at all times -- Blacky calls Nessie.

"'Cause she likes monsters?" I ask, picturing Sultan sawing away at her.

Blacky laughs. He's a great kid who can catch a dirty joke when it's made. He turns and heads back up the ramp.

"Look at his butt," I mutter to Forest.

"Can't look at anything else."

"You think he gives up his ass?"

"Only way you work at El Cojones is to give up your ass."

Blacky has a slender ass. Round, yes, but not a bubble butt. The tight denim hides nothing and promises everything. Forest and I watch his butt flex as he untethers the second mare -- a beautiful chestnut with a white mane and fetlocks.

"Down, boy," Forest murmurs.

"Down, hell," I say. "Up that butt is where I want to be."

Blacky struts down the ramp, leading the chestnut mare. "Bourbon," he says, introducing her.

"Nice," I say.

She is shapely, finely muscled, pliant and easy going. Her vulva is engorged. I stare at it as Blacky, following Forest, leads Bourbon towards one of the service corrals where Forest has the stallions breed. I smell Bourbon's scent, too. This lady needs it. She needs her womb filled with gallons of stallion seed. So powerful is the need of both mares I can even smell Nessie. She's far more pungent than Bourbon. Her smell chases me, seeming to waft upwind.

As we pass the stallions' stables the tumult breaks out. Breath, released explosively, booms like thunder from within the timbers. Hooves stomp, signifying frustration and desire and lust for horseflesh. Low neighs tremulous with bestial fury, and my balls rumble in sympathy.

Forest pauses at the gate of one corral. "Blacky, put her here." He points to the other corral. "Horseboy, there."

We tether the mares. They look around, breathing deep, ears alert, tails snapping at buzzing flies. They can smell the stallions. An entire stable full of stallions, each in their stall, their massive balls dripping with sweat, their cocks peeping from sheathes, tails twitching, ears flat against their head.

"Go get 'em, Horseboy," Forest barks. "You help him, Blacky."

Blacky walks beside me to the stables.

"You like horses, Blacky?" I ask.

He grins. "I like 'em a lot. Ever since I was a kid."

"You dream about 'em? I do. Had one last night."

"What kind of dream?"

I pull open the stable door. Blacky follows me inside. Brilliant beams of sunlight slant through the timbers. Flecks of dust circulate in the air. Out boots clomp on the floor as we head down the central aisle. There are closed stalls to either side.

"What kind of dream?" repeats Blacky. He's fallen behind me, lingering, looking into the stalls. Behind him, head after head peers over the gates. Whickers of appreciation reverberate through the air. I smile thinly. They're staring right at Blacky's ass. Heh. Horny bastards. They want him too. I know they stare at my ass, when I'm not looking. I have to turn round real quick to catch them, but I have, and they always look away as if guilty.

"You know," I say in a level voice, "the dream where you're fucking a horse."

He laughs, catching a dirty joke I haven't made. "Pretty wild dream, man." His eyes flick to my butt. "You the mare?" He laughs nervously.

"Yeah," I say. "Sometimes."

"Heh. Pretty wild."

More and more heads pop out of the stalls, watching our asses as we head deeper into the stable.

"Easy, boy," I say. The stall is labeled "Thor." The stallion whickers at us. He is a sexy, strong, muscular beast. If stallions surfed ocean waves Thor would look the part. His coat is the color of coffee with a huge amount of cream stirred in. Mane and tail are wheat-blond. He canters forward jovially as I open the door.

Blacky takes Thor's bridle. The lithe beast sniffs the kid, nuzzling his neck, finding his armpits fascinating. Blacky laughs, which draws an affectionate lick from Thor.

"I think he wants to fuck me," Black says.

"I betcha he does."

From a stall not far away great Sultan peers at us. He is equine royalty. His erect ears crown his skull. His long charcoal mane falls like mantle. His coat is gray. Sultan is a breeder, the king of this stud farm. He lives to fuck and fucks to live. Even though a load of his semen in worth thousands to the right people he gives of it freely to all and sundry. He is patriarch, and emperor.

Sultan stares at me as I approach, breathing deeply. His hoof grates on the floor. He knows the deal and he's impatient with my slowness.

"Good boy," I say as he trots out of his stall. About a third of his dong protrudes from his sheath, pale pink in color. His balls sway in their loose sack. The smell of Sultan's sex is a rush.

"Wow," says Blacky. "They've both got clean cocks!" Thor's dong hangs down, fully unsheathed, but limp.

"Yep," I say, leading Sultan towards the door, Blacky alongside me. "I wash 'em every day."

He chuckles. "What a job."

"Best one I ever had."

Sensing Sultan's eyes on my butt as I lead him by his bridle I straighten up, throw my shoulders back, and put on a show for him. Blacky imitates me. Thor neighs his appreciation.

Outside, with the smell of the mares permeating the air, the stallions get rambunctious. Sultan even tries to rear and tear out of my grip. I keep firm hold of the bridle. I've got to keep this a battle of wills here. If Sultan turns it into a contest of strength he will, obviously, win. Since I know Sultan well I keep our struggle on a mind-to-mind level, and prevail. Thor, who takes his cues from Sultan, remains placid, though if Sultan had won he'd have joined his lord in racing to the mares. I've seen it happen. It's one of the hottest things I've ever seen.

"Shit," Blacky laughs, looking back at Sultan. "Fucker's hung."

"He likes your ass," I say.

Blacky laughs.

Forest, having seen the commotion, makes the right choice. "Horseboy. Let Sultan have Bourbon." The chestnut mare is in the nearest corral. "Blacky --"

"Got it," he says, leading Thor on. That stallion's dong is now fully extended, swinging between his hind legs like a drunken snake.

The stallions emit an ear-splitting trumpet the moment they enter the corrals. The mares melt with excitement. They buck. They kick. Their eyes have been on these two studs and they're eager for them. Tails lift, displaying vulvas dripping with thick, mucous-like fluid. Bourbon and Nessie squat and piss. This sends the stallions into a frenzy. Snarling lips bear huge square teeth.

We shut the corral gates and join Forest, who stands with one boot on the middle crosspiece of the fence enclosing Thor and Nessie.

"I fucking love this," says Blacky. His eyes shine and he's shifting his weight from foot to foot. He adjusts his crotch.

"We all do," says Forest, his eyes watching his two stallions and the mares.

Sultan trots towards Bourbon, his giant cock growing harder with the planting of each hoof. His ears flatten against his skull. His tail swishes. His lips curl in a derisive sneer. Saliva pours from his mouth and precum streams from his hardon.

"She's gonna get it good," murmurs Forest.

Blacky snorts a laugh, but he's transfixed by the porn show.

Thor trots round Nessie, capering, tossing his head. His huge cock slaps against his belly. He's showing off. He's saying to his mare: Hey! Look at me! Look at my cock! Look at what I'm gonna stick up your cunt!

"Fuck," I mutter "I wish I was a stallion."

"Why?" asks Blacky. "Who the fuck wants to be covered with flies and stand out in the goddamned sun all day?"

"I do," I say. "They get to fuck. Fuck all goddamned day."

Sultan, screaming, rears up on Bourbon. He spears her, growing. She screams her delight as his stiff rod sinks in. His teeth clamp to her neck. Her back arches, her legs spread, and she shoves her butt up his cock. Another thrust and the stallion is embedded balls-deep in the mare. He grunts and begins to churn.

Thunder rumbles from the stable behind us. The stallions have sensed their master is breeding.

"And all they want to do is fill the goddamned universe with their cum," I say.

Nessie does like monsters. For as Thor mounts her, humping madly, she thrusts back. Cunt and cock meet and the giant horse shaft slides home. Thor trumpets. Everyone and everything within three miles now knows he's fucking a mare.

Three of us -- Forest and me and young Blacky with the tight ass -- watch the breeding. Most stallions mount up and blast their loads almost immediately. Not these. Forest and I have trained them. They fuck to enjoy. For pleasure. They churn furiously for minutes. They prolong the act the same way humans do. Here they're safe. After all, they're not screwing in some remote mountain pasture ringed by wolves. They are here in these corrals, safe, and with no other duty but to move sperm from their balls into their mares' wombs.

These stallions love to fuck.

Not taking his eyes off the mares, Blacky asks, "So. Why does Mr. Forest call you Horseboy?"

Forest turns away, shaking his head, smiling a wry smile.

"Lots of reasons," I say. "But mainly because of this." I unbuckle my belt, peel open my fly and shuck my jeans down below my buttocks. My long dong sways in the breeze. It looks huge. We shaved my crotch once again this morning.

Blacky takes his eyes off the horses, looks at my cock, and swallows once.

"Forest calls me Horseboy because of my big cock," I say, gripping my growing shaft. "Horse." I pull out my shaved balls. My smooth groin is already displayed for Blacky. "Boy."

Blacky's eyes flick back to the horses. He chews thoughtfully on the stem of grass. "You, uh, gonna zip back up?"

"Nope," I say, slowly jerking my meat, watching Sultan do his best. "Watching horses always gets me hard."

Forest's eyes are cool, mysterious, and bright like pools of quicksilver. But his cock, once again hard, throbs against his fly.

Rivers of froth course down the inner thighs of the two mares as the stallions hammer at them. You can see their eyes roll up. You can see them catch themselves as their knees weaken. They quiver and seethe with sound. They've never felt anything like this. Their heads bob and the buck, rutting as shamelessly as the stallions themselves.

Blacky hooks his thumbs in his belt, shifts his weight. "Me, too." His words are almost inaudible over the wind.

"Take it out," Forest murmurs, groping his crotch. "I know you want to."

The kid doesn't hesitate. The cock Blacky pulls out is impressive -- but doesn't rival what I've got. Nor Forest's. It is uncut and the retracted hood reveals a head slathered with cheese. Glorious mancheese. Forest's nostrils flare.

"Hot day, ain't it?" I say.

Blacky nods, his hand moving on his cock. His eyes dart between the horses, lingering on Thor, but coming back to my cock.

"Think I'm gonna cool off a bit."

Keeping hold of my breeder with one hand I cup the other about six inches in front of it. I relax. Upon impact my piss explodes everywhere. Droplets darken my jeans. I flip handfuls of my piss on my chest, over my shoulder. Yeah, it's warm. So is sweat when it emerges. As it evaporates it cools. Best thing about piss drying on you is that it's your smell. It's you, man, distilled down to the bare essence.

Blacky stares at me. A drop of precum descends from his cock.

"You hot?"

He doesn't say a word. Beside him Forest pulls down his zipper and fishes inside his Levis.

"You ever watch a horse piss?"

He nods.

"Kneel," I say.

Blacky puts his hat on a post but doesn't take his shirt off. My flood plasters it to his slim body. He even turns from side to side as if in a shower.

"Like?"

He nods almost imperceptibly. His cock jerks.

Forest pushes Blacky's head down. Urine turns his glossy black hair into a skullcap of sin. He's good and soaked when I cut off my flow.

Trust me. I've got more in reserve.

Forest says, "Blacky," he orders. "Turn round."

Blacky turns, still on his knees. His eyes laser in on Forest's cock like a kid who's just seen his favorite toy.

"Do it," I say.

Forest nods. "Open wide, Blacky."

Blacky's jaw drops open. Forest eases his cockhead in. Blacky's tongue swirls round the meat. Forest sighs, his eyes roll heavenward, and then suddenly a flood of piss explodes from Blacky as the kid coughs. I grab his head and hold it in place. He begins to drink. From Forest's sneer I can tell Blacky's expression shows distaste. Soon enough, however, the distaste vanishes, and I listen to him gulping. My cock throbs against his ear.

"Stand up, Blacky." Forest pulls his cock free, his diminishing stream splattering on Blacky's golden chest.

Blacky scrambles to his feet, head bowed. Forest turns him. Pressing between Blacky's shoulder blades he forces Blacky against the fence of Thor and Nessie's corral.

"You like Thor, don't you?" says Forest.

Blacky nods. "Fuck yeah."

Forest yanks Blacky's jean halfway down his thigh. Goddamn. What an ass. Pale amber in color, taut and sculpted. Not a hair in sight, even when we pry it open and begin to explore his pucker with our fingers. He's tight, and he cries out when our fingers enter him. Yes, two fingers at once.

Something roars and the crows explode from the power lines.

It's breeding time for Sultan. Every inch of his gargantuan cock is embedded within Bourbon. I'd swear he poured his juice directly onto her ovaries. His balls are sucked up tight between his thighs. His tail thrashes up and down. Not a drop escapes Bourbon's cunt as he gushes into her. But when he withdraws a thick, sticky mass of white sperm slides out, glistening, to plop on the dust.

Inside Blacky's rectum my forefinger curls round Forest's. His prostate is swollen and he gasps as we probe it.

"Breedin' time," Forest mutters.

Blacky leans forward and spreads his legs as much as his jeans will allow. Forest hawks up mucous onto his fingers and smears it on Blacky's anus. I cough up a gob and anoint Forest's cock. He lines up, pushing his cockhead into the socket.

"Go easy," pleads Blacky. "Easy, man, you're fuckin' hung!"

When Forest plunges into Blacky our second stallion cums. Thor's not as cataclysmic as Sultan but that's not saying much. He groans and moans and it's clear from the fact that every muscle he has appears outlined in his cream-colored coat that he's pumping a torrent of sperm into Nessie. Enough sperm to sire a thousand herds.

"Oh, man," gasps Blacky. His cock, untouched, spews semen across the fence.

Forest's pubic hair grinds up against Blacky's butt. Forest's face is a mask of delight as the eighteen year old's butthole clenches on his invading cock. "Oh man," he moans. "Sweet!" He shoots a look at me. "Back door, Horseboy, now!"

Right before I kneel and plant my face between Forest's buttocks I catch a glimpse of Sultan. The gray stallion canters round his corral. His huge cock swaying, the head still flared. Bourbon remains tethered, shivering, her swollen vulva disgorging gob after gob of stallion cum. Sultan whirls, leaps towards her, his cock hardening, and as my tongue spears Forest's butthole Sultan approaches Bourbon, neighing equine obscenities.

Forest doesn't thrust very far, hammering Blacky with short strokes, because he's pretty much trapped by my face and Blacky's ass. He likes it, though. His butthole squirms on my tongue and I can feel with my chin his balls going tight against his shaft. His crack smells of sweat and hay. Only thing missing is the reek of my jism. Haven't yet bred Forest today. My man's been in top mode.

Sultan isn't taking chances. His mare might not be pregnant. What stallion can allow that? Rearing, he leaps on her again. She tries to sidle out of the way but his teeth clamp on her neck and he holds her firm as his giant cock slices in. A tsunami of stallion jism blusters from her, anointing Sultan's thighs, sheath, and foam-flecked nuts.

Blacky groans.

Forest's strokes get longer and deeper as Blacky relaxes. Moist sounds emanate from the junction of teen and man.

My bladder's insistent. I stand, spit on my cockhead, line up, and embed my dong in Forest's guts. He grunts but it's not as if he's never had my breeder up there. I close my eye, sigh, relaxing as his asshole moves up and down my shaft.

Suddenly he shoots me a look over his shoulder. He grins. Sighs. "Nice."

The warm feeling blooming in his bowels is my piss. No, it isn't easy pissing through a hardon but both Forest and I have mastered the art. I pinch off the flow before voiding completely. Not going to have a chance to replenish my private Fort Knox of piss until lithe Blacky's butthole is soaked with a sticky load of mancum.

Sultan's cries of delight arouse Thor again. The cream stallion must know some secret about pleasing a mare for Nessie is quite willing to take him a second time. As Thor nips her buttocks her head lowers, her tail lifts, exposing a swollen vulva birthing long worms of horse jism. Thor mounts smoothly and slides his shaft home with an obscene gurgling sound.

I hope the fence. Blacky's eyes squint as Forest churns in his guts. But those eyes flick first from Sultan in action, to Thor in action, and finally to my long dong, stinking of sweat and musk and piss and butt. But Blacky's eyes quickly go to the stallions. Like me he knows there's no better show than horses fucking His cock slaps against his belly in time with Forest's thrusts.

I kneel in front of the kid. Blacky's got some of the best cheese I've ever tasted. Rich and pungent. Utterly male. A paste of young testosterone. His pubic bush, tickling my nose, smells of pee. His nuts are tight.

Forest gives the order, whispering hoarsely in Blacky's eye, "Piss, kid. He wants it."

Kid's got the best piss I've ever tasted, and I've tasted a lot. Not remotely crisp or clean or lemony of like warm beer. It's piss, man, dirty raunchy piss, and it tastes foul and powerful, as if it's been fermenting in the bottom of a urinal. Blacky's been holding this gold since his morning cup of coffee. I picture him loading Nessie and Bourbon into the trailer, bladder beginning to tug as his consciousness. And playing with his bulge as he drives. His stream isn't a geyser. He's still a boy. The only mouthfuls of his flood I miss are what I want. I love the feeling of another male's piss coursing down my nest and chest and soaking my crotch.

I spit the final mouthful into Blacky's sweaty face. "Feel better?"

He nods reaches down, jerking himself off. He manages to bend lower, supporting himself on the middle crosspiece of the fence. His tongue swipes his lips as his mouth gapes open. He waits. I tease him. Kid wants to watch the horsies fuck. Can't blame him. If this wasn't such a common occurrence on Forest's studfarm then I'd be in the same mood.

"Come on," he finally begs.

I stuff my cockhead into his mouth and let loose. A golden spray blasts into my crotch. I'm a man, so when I pee it's a geyser. Forest and I laugh. In seconds, however, Blacky gulps. I don't have much left but I give him all of it. And Blacky's eager for it. He sucks on my cockhead like a nipple.

I shoot a look at Forest. His eyes are blazing with lust. "Ready?"

"Fuck yeah!"

Blacky takes my cock down his throat. His hot breath explodes from his nostrils against my piss-sopping groin as Forest's pubic bush collides with his buttocks.

"Let's skewer this boy," I moan. I pull Forest to me and shove my tongue into his mouth. "Breedin' time."

Indeed it is.

Ever hear two stallions cum at once? It's like global thermonuclear war. You can feel their energy pounding through the earth beneath your boots. Their trumpeting splits your ears. You can almost feel your hot blood pouring down your neck. Bathed in that sound you can think of nothing but a river of semen cascading down your cock. It's the only true ecstasy there is: the moment of breeding, of creation.

"Shit," gasps Forest. "He's cumming!"

Hot patches of thick white human sperm splatter on my jeans. I can feel Blacky attempt to join in the stallions' ululation but my plunging cock chokes it off. He goes limp after his orgasm fades but the two guys embedded inside aren't done.

"You're a mare now, Blacky," I grunt.

"Damn right," breathes Forest.

The hot breath on my buttocks surprises me. I stop, jerk around. Thor's there, his huge cock limp but not sheathed, swinging between his hind legs, remnants of cum slathering it. His ears are pricked forward as he sniffs my butt.

"Come on, boy," I moan, pushing my ass back at him. "Do it!"

Thor's tongue slithers out and licks the sweat off my buttock. The smell of sweaty horse surrounds us, overwhelming all combined human scent. I grind my butt against Thor, begging for something I've only dreamed of, but the stallion's doing only what he feels like doing. Or maybe he's teasing me. Payback for showing off my ass to him? Who knows? His tongue, big as a hand, slurps my buttocks, down the backs of my thighs, then up my spine.

"Fuck yeah!" bellows Forest. He's cumming. I know that look.

"Do it, bastard," I growl.

Thor snorts. His hot tongue rests on the top of my buttcrack for a moment. Then down it slides. I shudder. My head lolls back. The excitement builds. Thor thrusts his tongue up my ass. Fuck! It feels thicker than Forest's hand but it slides it much easier, as if belongs there. The damn stallion probes and finds my prostate. He jabs his tongue at it.

And I shoot and pour about a billion babies down Blacky's throat. Even as my spasms subside the stallion's tongue probes incessantly. It feels like a giant blunt cock, rubbery and alive, evil and electrifying.

Too much.

I whirl away, my cock ripping out of Blacky's throat. The kid's eyes go wide. Not five feet in front of his face dangles long stallion dong, smelling of cunt and cum.

Forest pops Blacky's butt. "Come on. Let's get cleaned up." He glances down. "Man, I came like a horse!"

Blacky begins to rise but I've seen something. Thor's thunderous whickering confirms it. Before Blacky moves far I grab his head, still wet with my piss. "Don't move," I order, grinning. "We're not done."

Obligingly, Thor moves forward a few steps. It's easy to grab his cock. Fuck! It's like handling a snake. It jerks in my grasp. Hot and slimy. I aim it. Blacky's eyes go blank with shock.

Stallions piss like literal garden hoses. Human streams have nothing on what a horse can put out. And if that horse has blown two giant wads inside his mares there's a bladder in his body with an ocean of golden equine liquid ready to be voided. Golden shower isn't the right word. Downpour? Thunderhead? Supercell? Hurricane? Can't say. Neither can Blacky, who's spluttering and struggling to not drown in the flood of stallion piss.

Make no mistake. Kid likes it. The streaks of jism his cock fires are washed away by Thor's pee the moment they land on the ground but they're there.

When Thor's empty -- it takes a few minutes -- he snorts contemptuously, farts, and trots off.

Blacky straightens, wiping piss from his eyes. Every square drop of him is bathed in horse piss.

Forest pops Blacky's butt. "You're a hot fuck. Pull up your jeans, Blacky, and get the horses stabled."

"Sure thing, Mr. Forest." He pulls his clothes into place. He retrieves his hat and unlatches the gate. His expression is neutral except when he sees Thor. A grin spreads over his face.

Forest calls, "Be careful of Thor. He'll try to fuck you next."

Blacky's eyes go wide.

"Come here, Horseboy."

I hop the fence.

"Turn round."

The first couple of slaps are hard and brutal but they get my cock hard again. Forest twists my arm behind my back and hauls me over to Sultan's corral, where the great gray stallion stands there, cock hanging, waiting. Forest's slaps are less powerful but they stung and they leave me gasping.

Sultan trots over as Forest closes the gate behind us. I think he knew the script.

Forest shoves me to my knees. "Pray, Horseboy. Pray!"

I even fold my hands.

Sultan maneuvers over me, easing sideway so my crouching form is beneath his belly. Forest seizes his cock and aims it at me. I raise my bowed face towards the horse's cockhead. Sultan's pisshole points at me like a finger amidst concentric circles of rubbery flesh.

And yeah, when he soaks me, I cum. There, beneath the stallion's belly, as his pee gushes over me, washing away my purity and infusing me with sin, I jet cum everywhere and moan and writhe and call upon the ghostly shape that trots in my dreams.

Stallion piss tastes like wine but it makes you far, far drunker. An intoxication that lasts. Is permanent.

Sultan, bladder voided, his reign unchallenged, sidles away from my sopping body. A giant hoof almost lands on my foot. The sun radiates against me and the pee begins drying. I shiver.

"Good. Good, Horseboy." Forest helps me stand. "Now get these horses to the stable!"

 

- stand by for "The Stallion Rides - 3 Sloppy Stallion Seconds" -

- Coming Soon -
- The Sequel to "Gone Fishin'" -
- The Novel Rolling Thunder -

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