by R. Keith Peck

Story Codes: MM/public/heavy metal

Copyright 1995, 2000 R. Keith Peck; All Rights Reserved

Originally Posted: Sat, 19 Oct 1996 [Usenet]

The stable reeks of hay, old leather, and piss. Rusty scythes and harnesses hang from pegs on the walls. Hot sunlight slants through gaps in the timbers. The air is like steam.

Stallions mill around me. Big beasts, all of different colors: black, white, bay, pied. They will not come closer to me than ten feet; they shy away if I approach them. Their ears are pressed back against their heads, their nostrils flair. They watch.

Like me, they're here to breed.

I stalk back and forth, heart hammering. I'm nude. My buns flex. I have no tan lines on them. My big balls -- shaved -- bounce off the hard muscles in my thighs. I'm erect. It's far too massive to jut upright like some little boy's cock. No, it thrusts arrogantly out in front of me, parallel to the floor, bobbing up and down as my heart beats, too heavy to stand tall. My foreskin is pulled back halfway over the fat cockhead. Precum falls like water dripping from a leaky faucet.

I stink of sweat. Sweat glues hair to my pumped-up pectorals. It has pulled my armpit hair into spiky tufts; it now drips off like the hot fluid leaking from my cock. There's sweat in my navel. My crotch hair, though, isn't matted, because it's been trimmed down to wiry stubble.

I need to piss. The pressure is intense. How I want to spray my scent over the warm hay. Mark my turf. But I don't, for this isn't my territory.

It's the stallions'.

Suddenly, the wait ends. He's arrived.

I see his silhouette through the gaps in the timbers of the locked stable door. He's just a shadow in the sun's hot radiance. The stallions smell him. I smell him. He's got a manly odor -- head-cheese, ball-juice, sweat and hard muscles.

He unlocks the stable doors, opens them. The sunlight explodes into the barn.

He says, "Horseboy."

"I'm ready. Get in here."

He strides forward, boots clumping. I see him clearly now. He's an older man -- but not old. Dark hair, bright smile. He wears boots and a tight pair of Levi's. Sweat streaks his chest. His nipples -- tiny, erect -- point straight at me like compass needles. His belly is firm, not chiselled. His prick pushes down the right leg of his jeans. Wet spots reach all the way down them -- drool from his cock. He's the male of the species in his prime.

He walks upright, eyes front, chest out. He's never had a woman, never been pussywhipped. Proud. Life's not beaten him yet. A male who breeds only with men.

He's called Forest. He keeps me. I keep him. We breed.

The stallions' heads turn with his progress towards me. Eyes glitter like wet sapphires. Their ears rise and turn to follow him like radar locking onto a missile. Big cockheads emerge from the sheaths between those legs. The air is enriched with their powerful male scent.

"Stop," I say.

He freezes. His eyes are glued to my erection, watching it slowly flex upwards, then bob downwards, a rhythm constant as a metronome.

A fly lands on my buttock. A twitch of muscle sends it away. I fart. "You hot?" I ask.

He nods. Eyes never rise from my erection.

"Me, too," I say.

He steps forward. He glances up at my face, sees me grinning. He stops in front of me. His eyes drop to my cock. My foreskin has slid further back -- air kisses my cheesy cockhead. Sweat drips off my balls.

I grab his crotch, feel the bulge. I unbutton the fly, but leave the top button closed. A few wiry wisps of pubic hair escape. I see the base of his thick cock, pulsing like a big fat earthworm.

I grab his chin. I force his gaze up to my eyes. He doesn't want to look away from my young prick. We lock gazes. He grabs my iron-hard rod and maneuvers the fat head into his fly. My wet pisslips kiss his groin.

He sucks in his breath sharply.

I let the flood loose. Hot piss sprays into his groin. The dark stain blooms in his crotch, runs down his legs. My piss runs along the length of his rigid cock. A spout of my pee pours over his pisshole, mingles with his precum.

His eyes roll up into his head. I kiss him. I hose him.

When my piss floods and overflows his shit-stained boots, I break it off and pull back from him. Instantly his eyes go down to my urine-dripping cock again.

I admire my handiwork. From his crotch, down his inner thighs, all round his lower legs -- his jeans are soaked with my piss. I imagine it steaming on him. Hay floats in the standing pools. I've marked him. He bears my scent.

The stallions are neighing, like a murmuring crowd appreciating a good movie scene. I hear their heavy footsteps. They smell the sex in the air. A heavy slapping noise begins, sounding like great slabs of meat being whammed together -- five, ten, twenty hard stallion cocks smacking against bellies.

I say, "Kneel."

He sinks to his knees in the piss. I stride forward, my rod bobbing. It's so heavy and bloated with lust that I feel like I've got a third arm attached to me.

His lips, very very dry, part slowly as my cock approaches. His tongue lolls out. I put my cock in his mouth, sliding the hot cheesy head over his tongue. His lips stretch thin.

It's easy to empty my bladder into him.

He can't handle the initial spray -- a blast of piss explodes into my crotch. But he gets the rest. His Adam's apple bobs as he drinks.

The reek of piss is an erotic drug. I fuck his throat for a few seconds as I pee -- not very deep thrusts, because he gags too much on my long dong. Then I pull out, spit dripping in thick ropes from my cock, and drench his face with the last of it.

"Stay here." I get my sheathed Bowie knife from the peg from which it hangs. He drops down onto his hands and knees in my piss. I draw the knife. Brilliant stars of sunlight glitter on its keen edge.

We grin when we see the blade.

I kneel between his spread knees. Swiftly I cut a slit in his jeans, starting just below his belt and stopping just short of his balls.

He trusts me. I'm his mate.

I pull the ragged edges of the Levi's apart. I slip my fingers between his sweaty and pissy cheeks and prod at the tight pucker there. It's wet. I pull my hands from his ass and sniff. Piss, sweat and asshole. The aromas fill my nostrils.

This man wants to be bred. This horseboy wants to breed him.

I throw the knife aside, mount him. I shove my erection between his cheeks. Feeling my shaft, he moans.

I spear him. None of this slip in a few inches and wait garbage. I sink my shaft in to the hilt, one smooth ride. The hotness that engulfs my cock is better than any heaven dreamt up in any religion. I drive into him. My big hairless balls slap hard against his; sharp jolts of pain explode in my crotch.

I yank it out. My cock glistens with mucus. His asshole stretches like a rubber glove over the big head. It's hot to look at, but it's hotter still inside of Forest. So I slam it forward.

"Easy, easy ... " he says.

But I can't be easy when the fucking's this good. I start screwing him hard. The sweaty rhythm, back and forth. Animalistic, pounding. Muscles bleed through my thighs and ass as I fuck him. Shockwaves travel up his tanned body. I grip him by the hips and ride him.

My cockhead churns inside of him. He's squirming, adjusting himself, taking me. His chest heaves. My thighs beat against his ass.

The stallions circle us as we fuck, watching us. Their gigantic cocks are like a shoal of sharks hunting for prey. They whinny and snort.

So do I. I ram Forest repeatedly. Mucus flies from his asshole, splatters the floor. I bend down, bite him on the neck, then rear up and toss my hair. My hips churn. They're a blur. Fuck him fuck him. Who needs more than this? Who would not want to ram their cock up a hot man's ass? Is there anything better than fucking a man?

"Oh Christ," Forest moans.

"Don't cum," I spit.

He moans again. His asshole clamps round the root of my dick. I drill my cock against his prostate, torturing him. His head jerks up (I know his eyes are clenched shut), his muscles vibrate.

I don't last much longer. Sperm rips up out of my balls, flows through my pipes, and spews into him like an uncapped oil well. The tide of semen pulses in my piss tube. I hose him with a different fluid. I feel his colon bloat around the load I fuck into him. He can't take it all; it backflushes and starts exploding out of his ass with the sound of wet farts. What so proudly I sperm, I think, rewriting anthems in my head.

We're both breathing hard, sweating. I've bred him magnificently. I slip my cock out of him. A tide of gray cum slurps from his hole.

I stand.

He yanks the remnants of his Levi's off. Forest's erection is rampant. He rolls over. Precum runs over his cock. Thick, gooey sperm rolls down his thighs. He's grinning. He stinks of me.

I grin back. A rope of precum hangs from the head of my cock. rebound off the stable walls. I rock and grind my ass on his face, clamping my cheeks together. I've yearned for the pleasure of someone being in that spot since I was a boy.

He pulls back. "You smell like a mare in heat," he says, breath hot in my crack.

"Colt," I correct. "A colt."

His fingers pinch my nipples into turrets of flame. His tongue plunges into my asshole. I twist like a barbecue, revolving my asshole on his tongue.

He pulls away. His spit slides down the underside of my balls. My nipples feel like pebbles. I know what's coming. I cross my arms, rest my head on my forearms. My ass is spread wide for him. I'm shaved there, too.

The stallions, like males at a porno flick, are gathered round and are watching, trying to fade into the fantasy unfolding before them. Their huge cocks are peeing precum, their balls are vibrating, their breathing is explosive and deep.

Now my prick is big and hard. My big cockhead is sliding against my navel. My balls boil with seed again.

I want him in me.

His cock probes my twitching hole. The contact is a relief. His hands seize my hips, fingers digging into my flesh. My asshole gapes open as he pushes it in. His cock makes my asshole into Mammoth Cave. It tunnels in. His pelvic bone slams against my ass. His cockhead burns like a hot star within me, but still my ass wants more.

My dick twitches. I spurt a dollop of piss, soaking the bale. His thickness scrapes my prostate, presses against my bladder. His arms enfold me. I'm a colt joined to a stallion

He withdraws. Down my chute it slithers. His rod strokes me. It stirs the memories of all the other fucks we've had together. My ass strains to shit out the huge head. But Forest won't leave my ass that easily. He shoves it back in. Air farts from my hole.

He breeds me. I moan.

The cock churns in me and I skewer myself on it. Rock and roll. His strokes get longer and longer; soon he's yanking the whole thing from me, then plunging in like a cavalry charge. He fucks me like a man.

Pleasure explodes in me, travels in shockwaves through my body. His groin slaps against my upturned ass. I lift off my forearms, shove my ass back against Forest. His pubic hairs grind on me like steel wool.

He nails my prostate. I screech. He's standing upright behind him, his hips a blur as he dicks me, stirring the drink of lust.

Fingers clamp on my nipples. I can't stand it anymore. I explode. The orgasm originates deep within my asshole, explodes out of me by way of my balls. No hand touches me; only this man can make me cum by fucking me. The white hot fluid again courses through my body; I buck like a colt being broken. I fire my load, curse, spit.

As my load dribbles away, I feel a jolt of electricity shoot up my colon. He grips my hips, slams in to the uttermost depths, writhes and bucks and curses. It feels like he's shooting hydrochloric acid up my ass. It burns. The fire licks the back side of my bladder; helplessly I piss in the hay, dissolving the ropes of my cum with my pee.

I collapse forward onto the bale. He falls beside me. We pant in the heat. His hand gently rests on my ass. Cum bubbles between my cheeks.

A shadow obliterates the sun. We turn.

A huge stallion rears above us. He's black -- black eyes, mane, fetlocks -- save for his prick, which is a deep brick red.

His forefeet strike the sides of the stables above us. Wood splinters. His prick rages. Babe Ruth's bats weren't as big as that cock.

His balls contract madly. In slow motion I watch his pisshole gape.

The initial blast of horse-jism is an inch thick and splatters against the wall like a jet of molten silver. It splatters over us. My skin burns where it touches. More jism erupts, a hot fount of equine lava spraying with the force of a stud racehorse pissing.

We both turn face up as that huge beast fires his offering. Creamy ropes of stallion juice coat us.

When he finishes, the other stallions begin. Legs lift, pricks take aim. A herd of stallion balls contracts. Jism rains, falling like liquid fire. Gigantic cocks pulse, shoot, coat us.

I open my mouth, catch the offering, eat it. Testosterone. My stomach bloats on stallion sperm.

I look over at Forest. His lips are parted and are coated with horse juice the color of Vaseline. I grin. "Good show, huh?"

He winces as a jagged line of jism lands on his face, then laughs. "Fuck yeah. You know, since you came, my studs're showing a lot less interest in the brood mares I own."

There is the thunder of hooves as the true studs race off to pasture.


Tetryons: So small you don't know they're a deus ex machina

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