THE STALLION RIDES
5 - Slut for Sultan
© 2015 R. Keith Peck
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Forest doesn't believe me. He lets me know how he feels right after I tell him what had just gushed from my ass.
"Lay off the 'shrooms," he says, wiping sleep from his eyes.
"Look at it, motherfucker!"
Forest rolls out of bed and heads into the bathroom. He doesn't say a word, looking down into the toilet bowl where five, maybe ten gallons of spunk -- horsespunk, goddammit! -- quivers like white grape jelly.
"It happened," I tell him. "I don't know how, but it happened."
I lean against the doorjamb. His fingers explore my ring, coming away coated with sperm.
"If you'd had a horse up there," Forest says, "you'd have sucked my arm up inside."
I start to protest, but he cuts me off.
"Don't BS yourself. You're the biggest slut since ... since ..." he gropes for the words.
"I'm the biggest slut outside the goddamned mares' stable!" I grin. "Come on, Forest, you know it happened. If it didn't, why is there a toilet full of spunk right in front of you? And don't BS me! You know how horse jism smells!"
Forest shrugs like a guy who's just heard his best buddy tell him about his trip on a UFO. "I don't know. Just flush it down and get back to bed."
"I can't!" Forest cries in frustration. "If you need a fucking explanation, call Mulder and Scully. They didn't call it X-Files because it was PG fucking 13!"
Twenty year old TV? Man, Forest is out of it.
I'm nervous when dawn wakes me. He's not talking. I cook breakfast to soothe him. He's all closed up. I try to mollify him with eggs sunny side up, with bacon, with sausage, with toast and real butter, with orange juice and coffee. It works. At the end of breakfast he manages a few bad jokes. Forest sits down to do the ranch accounts. He makes a few more jokes about how I better start watching what I eat. We both laugh, me more nervously than him.
But when I come downstairs, dressed for chores -- wearing boots, my most ancient, rancid jockstrap, a kerchief and a hat -- his jokes dry up. His face turns crimson. He doesn't stop working as I clomp through the living room. His back seems as broad as a warrior's shield; he keeps it angled toward me.
When I open the door to the stable all heads are thrust out of their stalls. They must've smelled me. They're staring. My cock gets heavier and heavier with blood as I collect my tools. By the time I've gathered pitchfork, wheelbarrow, and lowered several bales of hay from the loft, the pouch of my jock sags like I have a cantaloupe stuffed down there.
I've worked up a good sweat, too, and I smell the way a young man should. Ripe. Pungent. Potent. Horny. I glisten with sweat.
One by one I lead the stallions from their stalls into the pasture. Run free, studs, and get frisky in the sunshine! Normally I'll lead them out in twos and threes. Usually I'm in a hurry to get my chores started. Not this morning.
I leave Sultan for last. Sultan's eyes never leave me, burning into my naked ass as I lead his buddies out. I feel them oozing over my body like hot jism. He's silent, doesn't even grunt, doesn't neigh. He stares. Once or twice his tongue swipes his lips.
My smell gets to some of the stallions. Thor, especially. As l lead him through the stable, he nips gently at the back of my head. I turn, laughing, wrap a hand round his neck, and pull him to me. He's not in the mood for affection, jerking away and snorting a warning. He bounces twice on his fore hooves. Fine, dude, be that way. On we go. We pass Sultan's stall. Then, like a slug crawling down my spine, I feel Thor's tongue lapping my sweat. I freeze. I shiver.
"Fuck, dude, that's nice."
My hands grasp my knees. Is he thinking... oh yes. The bastard's a tease. His tongue moves slower than a glacier. Down. Down towards --
Sultan rumbles. I don't hear that sound. I feel it. Sultan's is the voice of a king, commanding a subject to obey the law. Thor whickers, clearly disagreeing. But he obeys. Thor's tongue is gone. Standing, I glance at Sultan. There is a fierce look in his eyes. He is warning not just Thor but me, too. The dream stallion swapped more than spit with him. Sultan knows I'm a whore for horsecock.
Thor doesn't give up. He does wait till we're out of Sultan's sight. When I release him into the pasture, watching his graceful body while I rest one boot on the lowest rail of the gate, he trots a few steps into the pasture. He turns. His sheath is swollen and about three inches of blunt cock protrudes. He shinnies. Look at me. Watch this. More cock slithers out, like an anaconda emerging from its den. It swings between his hind legs. It twitches once. His piss gushes. I'm that fucking close to hurling myself over the fence and throwing myself into the hot pool spreading beneath Thor.
But Sultan will smell him. And Sultan's warned me. As I strut back towards the stable, I shoot a look over my shoulder. Thor's eyes are fixed on my ass. The arc of his limp dong straightens into a rigid pole, thwacking against his belly. He wheels and races into the pasture.
I muck out the others. Sultan doesn't kick or stomp. If you don't know Sultan -- if you can't feel that keen, unnatural interest in his eyes -- you'd think he might have acquiesced to being left in his stall while his subjects frolic in the fields. You'd be wrong. That stud knows what I'm up to.
I work quickly. After filling the wheelbarrow full of old hay and horse shit, I head for the door. Sultan's head fills the stall and his eyes watch me as if I'm his personal Tumblr feed. I see his chest expanding and contracting as if he's galloped a hundred miles.
After I've spread the last stall -- Red Peril's -- with fresh hay, I'm raining sweat. Jockstrap and kerchief are sopping wet and I feel like half an inch of sweat squelches in my boots. I drink from the pump. Refreshed, I return to the stable. Walk where my lord commands. To Sultan's stall.
I park the wheelbarrow outside and rest the pitchfork on it. I tug the last bale of hay in place outside Sultan's door. I look up into Sultan's face. I feel like a little boy addressing God.
"Can I --" I stammer. My heart races. "Can I clean your stall?"
Sultan doesn't budge. He stares. I hear the rasp of his breath in his nostrils. His lip draws back. He looks at me, full of contempt.
"May I clean your stall?" I ask again.
He stomps a hoof.
Sultan whickers in triumph.
I unlatch his stall. He trots out, tail held high. Fucking hell, he's beautiful. His muscles ripple through his coat. Legs, body, head -- all proportioned in harmony with each other. Thick as a clenched fist, five inches of Sultan's cock protrudes from his sheath. He turns and waits.
Sultan watches me intently as I fork up the old hay and the dung. Impatiently he shifts his weight from hoof to hoof. He whinnies, urging me to work faster and harder. I do work faster, not even pausing to wipe the sweat from my eyes. When I'm done I push the wheelbarrow out of his stall, parking it next to the door. I spread fresh hay.
I stand in the doorway of Sultan's stall, supporting myself -- I feel dizzy as all hell -- by gripping both posts. My jock has pulled away from my crotch. My big cock leaks into the pouch. Sultan stares at me, his ears shifting this way and that.
"Can we play?" I whisper.
He whickers softly, but doesn't move. He's checking me out, like I'm fresh meat at a sex club.
"Can I play with you, my lord?"
Sultan struts forward. I back out of his way. He trots through the doorway in a flash. With one deft thrust of his hind leg Sultan shuts the door behind him. He advances, snorting at me. I retreat until the rough planks of the wall stop me.
Sultan's funk fills my nostrils. There is nothing human about his smell. No whiff of soap or deodorant. No linen-fresh fabric softener and no body wash. He stinks of testosterone and brutal strength and jizz.
What an animal. All stud. There is no compassion in Sultan's eyes. I am meat. I am pussy. I shiver. Goddamn. I'm doing it. I'm going to get fucked by a stallion...
Sultan's nostrils blast hot air on my forehead. His lips are gentle and curious as they nuzzle between my eyebrows. I hear a sound, like two pieces of oiled leather rubbing together. He neighs. He's quite clear about what he wants me to do. I kneel, and look between his forelegs.
Yeah, I've seen Sultan's cock dozens, even hundreds of times. I've seen the stud in action, slicing that giant coltmaker in and out of drooling mare cunt. I've even seen his colts emerge between the straining lips of the vulvas he's ruled. But this moment, when I know for sure I'm going to be his mare -- fuck, man, this is one goddamned sweet dream come true.
I crawl under him. Sultan doesn't bother to ease his forelegs apart. He wants me to work for it. I crawl over the fresh hay. My cock leaps free of my jock. The pouch cups my balls while my shaft smacks my belly. Yeah, the damn stallion is just as hard as me. His fucking shaft is rigid as an arm. A strand of juice leaks from the pisshole, wriggling to get free.
His cockhead reminds me of a flower peeling back from a central bud. It is the central bud that leaks Sultan's precum, and it dominates my vision. The business end of a stallion. I can't look at anything else. Who the fuck would ever want to look at anything but a stallion's glorious cock? He gushes cum through that hole, and Sultan's cum is the most precious thing on this ranch. Hell, Forest is in the house right now, adding up how much money each spurt of Sultan's silver has increased his bank account.
I've always wanted to do this reverently, slowly, as if I were in church, but fuck when there's a three foot long horse hardon in front of your face, how do you goddamned keep promises like those? You do what the moment demands. I fasten my lips to Sultan's cockhead, sucking in that nipple that leaks his fluid, and I slurp down his offering.
Bam! It's like experiencing again the first time I'd ever ridden a horse. The exhilaration of flying through the fields. The heights. The heart pounding excitement.
It drives him nuts, too. Sultan lets out a trumpet that makes the planks shake. Hooves stomp in anticipation. His cock jerks, slapping against his belly. Planting my lips back on the head, guzzling his juice like beer from a bottle, I watch his hind legs shift. Watch his bloated balls surge like water balloons ready to be tossed. Watch his belly quiver. And swiftly get drunk on stallion precum. Sultan is like a thirteen year old kid, about to blast a wad just because he'd seen one of his buddies dive into a creek, wearing nothing but briefs. He's that damn horny.
"'S OK, my lord," I breathe, wiping stallion precum off my lips. "I'll make it last. I know you want it."
I start pleasuring the stallion, lapping at his dong like a retriever slobbering over salami.
My lips are sliding up and down Sultan's shaft, and my mouth is alive with the taste of hay and grass and oil and sweat, when the voice speaks.
"That's enough, Horseboy."
Sultan doesn't move, merely turning his head to see who's at his stall. But I scramble out from beneath the stallion, my face pinker than the animal cock I'd been slobbering on. Forest stares at me with narrow eyes. My gleaming hardon tells him precisely how much I'd been into what I'd been doing. But, of course, he already knows this. I'm embarrassed because I've been caught.
"There'll be time for play later," Forest growls. "Get the damn mares' stable cleaned out."
I scramble to my feet. I throw him a salute. "Yes, sir!" I reach for Sultan's bridle --
"I'll take your boyfriend out to the pasture, Horseboy."
Sultan snorts, disgusted.
I strip off my jock and the kerchief before entering the mares' stable. I'm not feeling embarrassed any more. I still got the taste of Sultan's cock in my mouth. I strut as I go about my work. I show off for the ladies. I do little dances for them, grinding away in front of their stalls like a stripper, thrusting my hardon at them.
"Come on, girls," I growl. "Get a lock at this big monkey cock! You know you want it!"
Goddamn. Did Ekaterina Magna want me baaaad. I do my dance and, pregnant or not, she squats and pisses herself. When she's good and drenched, all wet and ready for her stallion, she gazes back at me, tail raised, vulva winking. I enter her stall pumped up and ready to go. I don't make a move to get a stool or a bay of hay. Heh. I've learned how to tease. I've been taught by the best. I set to work. She whinnies in frustration. She whirls. Her nostrils oscillate between my stinking pits to my greasy balls. She whinnies again, pisses some more, and displays herself, shoving her hungry ass into my face.
"Sorry girl," I chuckle. "I know you want my ape dick. But Horseboy's got chores."
Fucking slut. I watch Ekaterina Magna after I lead her to the pasture. Ekaterina Magna thunders past Sultan, who stands alone, thoughtfully chomping grass, his cock still hard as a baseball bat. She kicks in front of Sultan's face. Look at me! I'm frisky! Come fuck me! Sultan turns and chases after her. They race to the far end of the pasture. Sultan mounts her, stuffs her, and churns away in her pussy. Thor runs toward them, his dong streaming like a flag between his legs.
Ekaterina Magna is the last mare I return to her stall. Ten fingers of stallion jism crawls from her cunt. It bubbles like thick glue. But two hung studs -- or more, because I think some of the other stallions had a go at Ekaterina Magna, too -- hadn't satisfied her. Once again, she looks back at me, still horny for monkey cock.
Fuck Forest! I have to do it. I know I don't have time to hunt for a bale or a stool. I leap and grab. I manage to link my hands beneath her belly. I stab in. Fuck! Fresh, hot horse jism oozes round my cock. I hammer her so hard I heard Sultan's cum sloshing in her womb. She whickers softly as I drill her. But I don't satisfy her. Can't satisfy her. I'm far too hot. I blast after a dozen strokes, sending a gallon of monkey juice into her cunt.
When I dismount, she looks back reproachfully. Fuck you, bitch! I stomp out of her stall and latch the door behind me. Stallion jism runs down my thigh and drips from my softon. My pubic hair is matted. Jism sucks on my balls like a hungry jellyfish.
Forest, pumping himself a cup of water from the well, stares at me as I emerge from the mares' stable.
"What the fuck have you been up to?"
I just grin.
That night Forest fastens me in a bridle. He's rough pushing the ball gag into place. I'm naked and hard, jumping from foot to foot, as he buckles the collar round my neck. He doesn't need to use the leash to drag me to the stallions' stable. He restrains me instead, because I keep running ahead. A couple of times he almost pulls me off my feet.
I'm crazy. I know it. And I fucking love it!
"I'm going to teach you," Forest growls, shackling my ankles and wrists to the sling's frame, "who you're supposed to be breeding."
I'm secured in the frame, unable to move, my hardon straining. Aching. Leaking. The stallions are free, milling around. Except for Sultan, who stands stock still, watching as Forest turns around and impales himself on my cock.
I bust a giant nut as soon as I'm sheathed in there, but that doesn't even slow me down. I strain against the manacles. I pound like an alpha male and that son of a bitch Forest teases me, tearing his ass away right when I'm about to soak his rectum with my kids. He stares at me over his shoulder the way Ekaterina Magna did. He backs up, because Forest needs my big dong. He rides me, grinding away, shouting for more. I give him what I've got. After his guts have been soaked four times with Horseboy's patented babymaking sauce, he must feel it sloshing inside like Coke in a half-filled three liter bottle.
I don't make a sound when Forest pushes me back into the sling. My body convulses when he slides his fist up my ass. Pow! Fireworks again. Put something big up my butt and I'm the Fourth of July. If I'd been able to speak -- if Forest had taken that damn ball gag out -- I would've begged for a second arm up my ass, and I know I would've shot my wad again.
But Forest is on to me. For the next few days he won't let me be alone with the horses. Yeah, he's a little jealous of the mares, of course, but he's far more jealous of the stallions. There isn't anything I can do, except trade secret looks with Sultan. Caress his thigh when Forest has his back turned. Flash the horses my ass. I know Thor wants in on what I'm putting up for grabs, and Shaka Rex -- all of 'em, I think, want to sink their horsecocks into me -- but they're gonna get sloppy seconds. My ass belongs to Sultan.
Forest is a smart guy. The bastard. All the errands he used to run himself -- driving into town for grub or mail or picking up sacks of feed -- the motherfucker assigns to me. He is alone with the damn horses, not me. Forest, not Horseboy, alone with all that succulent, surging power.
Am I jealous? No. Forest might dream of taking horsecock up his ass, but he isn't going to do it. The Mr. Hands thing scared him off. Am I pissed? Hell yeah. I'd planned to use my alone time to sneak beneath Sultan, grease up that gigantic cock, and try to catch that stud's baby.
Damn Forest. I drive that truck for days with my frowny face firmly pegged in place.
Sultan is getting pissed, too, stalking around his stall with a hardon, or staring at me from the pasture, twitching his cock, or whinnying at me as I walk through the stable following Forest. Sultan doesn't give a fuck what Forest thinks of his display. He's a stallion. Few rules governing his life. Most important? Be horny. Secondly -- be eager to breed. Third: show off how much a stud you are. And: any time you can, pump sperm into any cunt you can nail. A stallion's worth is measured in how often he breeds.
Sex with Forest becomes scorching. He's never been keen on whipping, but the more I make it clear I want to cheat on him with a big cocked dumb animal, the more pissed he gets and the more the idea appeals to him.
One day Forest -- having lashed me to the stallions' stable door, where I can smell them but can't get myself fucked by them -- drives back from town. When he steps from the truck he cracks a shiny, brand new whip. My hardon nods eager agreement. That night, Forest shackles me to a post in an unused stall, lets the stallions out, and stripes my back. Through my pain and my tears all I see is an endless parade of dripping yard-long animal cocks as the stallions circulate through the stable, peering in. When I cum -- he impales himself on my hardon, grinding away like a lapdancer moving to a slow beat -- I just about blasted Forest across the length of the stall.
This situation keeps getting weirder. I don't know why. I mean, Forest has no problems with me fucking a human, either some guy we've picked up or an anonymous thrusting through a glory hole in some truck stop. It's the horses that make him jealous.
I keep working it.
One day, Forest orders me -- yeah, orders; he isn't sweet and kind Forest anymore; he's Whipmaster Forest, worrying that his Horseboy is gonna commit adultery with the livestock -- orders me to drive into town and fetch the vet. Forest needs to know exactly which of the mares is pregnant. When they're gonna drop their foals. While he explains I grin, picturing my kid, drowsing in Ekaterina Magna's womb. He asks why I'm smiling. I tell him. He snorts. He doesn't believe I can sniff a mare's cunt and tell him exactly that she's pregnant and that Sultan, or Thor, or whoever, studded her.
I'm dressed in what has become my customary uniform. Jockstrap. Hat. Boots. Sweat. Tanned muscle. I climb into the cab. My naked buttcheeks squeak on the vinyl seats. Nonchalantly, I ask him to throw me the keys.
He blows up.
"You stupid goddamned fucking retarded cowboy! You can't drive into town like that! Dammit, Horseboy, you've lost all sense of reality!"
Maybe I have. Whatever reality I'm in comes complete with spurting horsecocks. But I sense how I can regain the upper hand. I hold my hand out, cupped to catch the keys. Forest curses, he yells, he even throws his hat into the dust and stomps around it. Fuck no, Forest, I refuse to put on a shirt. Or jeans. He grabs my arm, hauls me out of the cab and into the house. It's impossible for Forest to wrestle me into clothes. I flail my arms and I kick. Perfect imitation of a grand mal seizure. Forest can't wedge me in place long enough to slip sleeves over me or get my legs in my jeans. Heh. There's an advantage to living in tight Levis.
"You son of a bitch!" he snarls after giving up. He stalks from the bedroom.
But he doesn't give up trying to keep me out of Sultan's stall. He doesn't tie me up. I don't know why. After calming down, he leans from the truck cab and dictates a long list of chores. I mean a motherfucking long list. Mend this. Fix that. Clean this. Polish that. None of them -- not one -- takes place in either stable. All these chores need to be done in the house or in the garage or even out in the corrals or the pasture. Steel glints in his eye, promising me that if I don't have those chores done -- worse, if I fuck up even one -- there will be hell to pay. I get a cold chill. Hell, if I don't do what he tells me, I might become the Cityboy formerly known as Horseboy. And then how will I get stuffed with yard-long horsecock?
After Forest tears off down the drive, I shoot around that damn ranch like an ADHD kid who's just got his first nosefull of cocaine. I. Am. Motivated! I swear I cut and install a new rail in the corral fence in five goddamned minutes. I don't know how I keep from slicing off a finger. Hell, I'm shaking like Tokyo in a Godzilla rampage.
You can talk about a man being ruled by his cock, but a Horseboy is ruled by his cunt.
Forest isn't back by the time I'm finished. There's a moment after I'm done, after I've checked all my work to make sure it's up to snuff, when I start bouncing from foot to foot. I grin. An evil grin.
Yeah. I'll do it.
I'm careful. I put up all the damn tools, clean everything up -- scraps of lumber, bits of wire, the brooms, the pitchforks, the saws.
When I open the door to the stallions' stable the smell of horses makes my heart soar. It's a sunny day. Golden motes of dust drift in sunbeams. The stallions thrust their heads out of their stalls. Lust glitters in every pair of eyes. I strut into their sanctum. Yeah. They want to fuck me. My jock reeks of sweat, cum, and piss. And my armpits? Christ, man, let a high school soccer team play at the height of summer without deodorant and maybe, just maybe, that team might've been riper than me.
Sultan sees me. Sees the passion blazing in my body. He whinnies and spins away from his door. I feel like a boy again, so I leap the door, thudding onto his turf. He whickers. Sultan sounds the way a dude does when hot porn begins to roll.
We stare at each other. Two tiny flames burn in Sultan's eyes. The meaning is clear. Rape. He's just as frustrated by Forest's bullshit as me. Sultan quivers. My breathing intensifies as I imagine the power Sultan barely holds in check.
Sultan is the master. He has his own idea of how this scene should play out. The stallion advances. He nudges me, butting me against the wall with his head. When I try to turn around, Sultan neighs in my ears. The sound was erotic. You're gonna like this.
I'm cool with rape. If it's done by a horse. And he's brutal.
"Do it, Sultan!"
I rest my forehead on my folded arms. Sultan's breath rasps in my ears. I moan when Sultan's tongue slithers across the back of my neck. I kick my legs apart and whore my ass out. Look at them globes, horsie. They're gonna treat that shaft right.
"Come on, buddy," I plead.
Sultan is a master. He takes his time. His nostrils inhale my funk and his lips and his tongue slurp my sweat. He grunts when he drinks the sweat beading my armpit tufts. I groan -- gotta show appreciation to a top, especially if it's an animal -- but Sultan thinks I'm getting a little uppity. He asserts dominance, nipping the skin between my shoulder blades. The bite hovers on the edge of pain. I shudder. I know he can chomp down hard if he wishes. I've seen how Sultan treats mares that refuse to submit to his urge to breed. Looking back, I see one of his fore hooves paw the floor, raking up straw, and I hear that wet, meaty sound that means his gargantuan cock is slapping against his belly.
"Yeah, Sultan. You know what I need!"
Briefly his bite intensifies. I whimper. Sultan releases me. Down that tongue slithers. It feels like a globule of warm oil rolling down my back.
"Please," I beg, bouncing on the balls of my feet. "Do it!"
Sultan's tongue pauses at the entrance to my buttcrack. His breath puffs against me like steam. He bites my right buttcheek. I jump. Then he chomps the left, and I jump again. Then ... nothing. He's still, waiting to see if I'm going to try to escape his equine lust. I arch my back, spreading my legs wider, showing off what I want him to have.
"Hell no! I'm going nowhere, buddy!"
I belong to this stallion. Any stallion. I'm their mare-on-demand. My cunt is hungry for their spunk.
Sultan's tongue licks down my cleft. Sultan is direct. He goes right for my ring. Sultan, this horse, this stud stallion, tastes my pussy. One lick, savoring my sweat, then he thrusts. My hole gives way. A lewd neigh bubbles from Sultan. A relieved sigh escapes me.
Goddamn! Fuck gerbils! If you want to feel something alive in your butthole, let a horse stuff its tongue up your hole!
I turn my butt up and give Sultan better access.
"Oh, yeah, eat it!"
Three, four, five inches of horse tongue sink inside me, flailing around. The tip finds my prostate, pummels in, then creeps inward. My nails claw the rough wooden wall. Sultan's velvet lips kiss my asshole. My cock geysers precum.
"Come on," I beg, "please. I wanna have your colt!"
I hear the stable door creak open. Heh. I wonder if Forest is alone. I grind my ass against Sultan's lips.
"Just go on to the mares' stable, Doc. I gotta check on something."
Cunning bastard. Fine. If he won't let the Doc see me and Sultan, I'll make sure Forest sees.
I spread my legs even wider and throw my arms out. I'm a saltire, plastered against the wall, while Sultan munches between my buttocks. As his tongue churns, Sultan sounds like a dog drinking from a bowl. You might think I'd been raped by a motorcycle gang and I'm whelping a cream pie.
Yeah, Forest. Yell. Don't be shy! A stallion's nose buried between your Horseboy's buttcheeks. Sultan's tongue buggering my ass. My eyes rolled in a sex-crazed delirium up. Watch me hump, Forest. Watch me hunch back at the beast.
Forest slaps jeans and a shirt on the stall door.
"Get dressed. Play time's over." He turns on his heel and slams the stable door behind.
Sultan looks at me reproachfully, smacking his lips and tasting my ass, while I dress. A long precum serpent sways from his cockhead.
"Sorry, my lord," I say, pulling on my shirt.
Sultan steps forward. He pushes his nose between the halves of my unbuttoned shirt. He nips my left nipple. Then my right. Don't forget. He raises his head and looks down at me. I button my shirt, staring up at him, curious. What's on the stallion's mind? Sultan lets me finish, watching thoughtfully.
His head descend. I get spooked. Fright punches me in my gut. I don't know why. Maybe because of the tender look in Sultan's eyes. The softness. The warmth. It's too fucking weird! I scramble out of his stall and race after Forest.
Forest doesn't say anything to me while the vet examines the mares. I follow along, trying to be a good obedient Horseboy, racing to fetch whatever the vet needs.
But my heart throbs for Sultan. His giant cock. His stud balls. But what about the look that emanated from his eyes as I dressed? I swallow. I picture things. Really weird things. By the time the vet leaves, a fist-sized precum stain darkens my jeans.
I remember staring at the stallions' stable before following Forest into the house, wondering, panting, fascinated by that look.
Swiftly, Forest acts to regain the upper hand, thinking he'll thwart me by refusing to make trips to town. That means we're cut off. That's fine with me. Let him stare at me as I much out their stalls. Let him! Let him think he's winning!
I bide my time. Each day the stallions eat. Every other day something breaks that needs replacement. Mail piles up at the post office. I know he can't keep this up.
"It'll happen, my lord," I tell Sultan, caressing his face through the stall.
"Keep your hands to yourself, Horseboy!"
On the day when Forest finally caves in -- he'd busted our last band saw blade, and we need a working band saw -- -- I'm carrying an armload of lumber towards the mares' stable. I wonder what he's gonna do. Forest stands by the pump, arms, folded, tapping his feet. He looks natty in plaid shirt and jeans. Me? Well, I'm wearing a coating of sweat and my jockstrap. And my tan. I've turned dark gold over the preceding days.
For a second I wonder why he's staring down the drive. Then Blacky pulls up, eyeing me shyly from the cab. Turning around, he almost takes out the front porch. He doffs his hat at me, those teenage eyes glowing as I swing my heavy jock his way. I still want to nail that tight brown ass. A man can hanker after cowboys and horses.
Forest walks to the truck as Blacky shuts off the engine.
"Here you go," says Blacky. He passes some packages to Forest. "Make sure I got the right blade."
Forest pecks him on the lips. The kid giggles. He watches me as Forest opens a package and eyes the shiny blade.
"Come on, Blacky," Forest says, opening the cab door. "Let go up to my room." He leers. "I'll make a deposit."
"We going to play with Horseboy too?" Blacky asks, climbing down.
"Nah," grunts Forest. "Horseboy's going a little crazy."
Blacky casts a look over his shoulder as Forest, hand resting just below the kid's broad leather belt, guides him into the house. The boy reminds me of a mare.
After pitching the lumber in an untidy pile, I emerge from the mares' stable. I look up at our bedroom window. The curtains are open. Blacky supports himself on the window frame. He's naked, and his cock swings between his smooth thighs. Forest saws away behind him.
I shrug. If it's meant to hurt me, it doesn't. The porn show makes me stiff. I fish my cock out of my pouch and let Blacky get a good look. He grins and I see those supple hips start working Forest's shaft. I jerk my thumb up. You keep Forest entertained, Blacky, and I'll make it worth your while when I can.
As I open the stable door, the smell of stallions pours over me thick and pungent as piss.
The frustrated stomp resonates like a gunshot. Sultan. He stares at me from his stall.
I've been summoned.
I race to him. Sultan backs away. I vault over the door and gaze up at him.
"Yes, my lord?"
The look in his eyes is so strange, so alien to his masterful presence, that I don't at first recognize it. It is soft. It is tender. It is the same look that had spooked me a few days ago.
We stare at one another. I feel my heart racing at sixty miles an hour. Sultan's ears swivel towards me. His tail swishes. For some reason, I think he's struggling to come to a decision.
Sultan advances. One hoof plants itself between my boots. Sultan sniffs my ears. Velvety lips nuzzle one. His tongue slurps, and I giggle. He makes a sound -- hard to describe -- but I'm pretty sure he's trying to imitate me.
Sultan pulls back, and he looks down at me again. Silence. His lips work. His tongue moistens them. With his eyes bright as comets, he bends his head towards my face.
The stallion's lips touch mine. I part them, and feel the animal's tongue flow inside my mouth. The kiss fills me. It's the first time I've ever kissed a horse. Sultan is gentle, like a boy first exploring another boy's mouth. We savor it. He tastes human warmth and I drink the sublime power of a stallion. His saliva cascades into my mouth, thick as syrup. It tastes the way grass smells. My throat works, greedy for everything the beast is giving me.
I slip my arms round Sultan's neck. My fingers intertwine with his mane. His tongue continues to explore me, seeking to sink down my throat. I stroke his fur. The muscles of his neck quiver as I caress him.
Sultan is hungry. His lips slobber on mine as if he is gnawing a peace. I breathe his exhalations. It makes me dizzy, and hot, and I lean forward into the kiss, inviting Sultan to take more. To take all that he wants.
When I hear him make that sound -- it's like a whimper crossbred with a thunderstorm -- I know what it is, and my own balls respond. Sultan's ejaculation splashes between his legs. My own blasts against his chest. We never break our kiss. We shoot in perfect unison. Sultan's giant meat thrashes. Sometimes he fires his cum along his belly, sometimes balls of it skid through the hay, sometimes gouts of it douse my balls. I spew strand after strand of my juice, painting him from the base of his neck to the upper part of his forelegs.
When our orgasms subside, we pull away. Sultan pants, looking a little scared at what he's just experienced. I'm pretty sure Sultan sees the same expression on me. I mean, it's one thing to take an animal's cock up the ass. But to kiss one?
His stall reeks of mingled human and horse jism. Mine clings to his fur like the strands of a spider's web. His spooge drenches everything -- what you'd expect of a stud like Sultan.
I give him a peck on the lips. I lay my cheek against his, caressing the opposite.
"I'll come for you, my lord," I whisper to Sultan. "Before dawn."
He neighs. I almost bust my nut again. Sultan's promising me I'll have his colt in my guts in just a few short hours.
I pull Sultan's lips to mine, and I give him another long kiss, thrusting my tongue between his big teeth and exploring his mouth. He responds to it with a whipping tail and hooves that rise and fall like pistons moving in a great machine. He trembles as if delirious with joy. I sense his happiness. He's gonna fuck a human. The thought turns him on.
Goddamn. Sultan thinks I'm hotter than the mares he services.
I break away. Strands of horse saliva link Sultan's lips to mine. I crawl back over the door of his stall.
"Before dawn," I whisper. "I promise."
Blazing eyes say: You'd better, hot ass.
I wake, just as I knew I would, without need of the alarm. My hardon tents the sheets. I ease myself out of bed. Forest, worn out after a marathon session in the sling, snorts once but doesn't wake. I creep into the bathroom and douched the lower ten feet of my colon. No shower, of course. Sultan and I love how the other smells.
I dress in old denim cutoffs. Way too tight. They'd been cut from jeans I'd worn as a teenager. They'd been a great way to pick up men. Heh. Now I'm moving beyond mere human meat. They'll carry me to the realm of horsecock. Then boots, and a hat, because cowboy.
Before I leave I glance at Forest. I'm sure when he wakes he'll wonder where I've gone. He'll guess what's up as soon as he sees that Sultan's stall is empty too. But he won't know where I and my new lover have gone to mate.
I stuff two full bottles of lube in my backpack, sling it over my shoulder, and go out to meet my destiny.
Sultan waits for me. I open his stall door. Out he struts, tossing his mane and curling his lip. I caress his ball sack. The motherfuckers are huge. Swollen. The size of grapefruits.
"Gonna drain 'em," I promise him.
Sultan trumpets. He knows I will.
"No bridle for you, my lord." I unbuckle the offending leather contraption and drape it on the stall door for Forest to find. When I'm done half a foot of limp horsecock protrudes from his sheath. The head clenches, releases. I stroke his flanks. Sultan's heartbeat feels like a herd of stallions racing past.
I swallow. Goddamn. What have I got myself in to?
I lead him outside, giggling as he nips playfully at me. I leap, leading with my right leg, and I swing onto him. Bareback. I lean forward. My denim-encased hardon throbs against his coat. I clasp my arms round his neck. I nuzzle his ears.
"Let's go, stud."
Sultan shatters the pre-dawn with a tremendous trumpet. He rears and off we go.
Sultan, galloping flat out, turns this way and that as I tap his neck. On the far side of the pasture there is a segment in the fence where one of the rails is poorly fitted. In seconds we're there. I drop from his back, remove the rail, and coax Sultan over the lower one. He's frisky as all hell. I slip the rail back into place. Before leaping up onto Sultan's back I cup those balls again. Wow. Hell. In just a few minutes, what's in Sultan's nuts is going to be swimming in my colon. I can't let 'em go without kneeling and licking them. Sultan whickers, spreads his legs, and lets me pay homage to his supreme power.
I don't know who owns the land we gallop across. It's open country, sparsely crossed by dirt roads and hiking tracks. As dawn begins to turn the east as pink as Sultan's cock, I hear the gurgling of the stream.
"Slow down, my lord."
Sultan drops to a canter. He's frisky still, bouncing on his fore hooves, eager to rear up and drive his titanic shaft into my hot monkey ass.
I tap his neck. "That way."
The path snakes its way through a thicket of bush and skinny young saplings. We'll have privacy. Though let me tell you privacy is the last thing I give a fuck about. Personally, I wouldn't mind a camera crew from a news network, reporting live from, well, Times Square or, better still, Salt Lake City. I laugh at the picture. An American Dream: Stallion Fucks Man. An earnest anchor: "Has American liberty gone too far?" Sperm-covered Horseboy, grinning wildly as he saws his ass on horsecock: "Hell no! American liberty don't go far enough! Don't spay or neuter your pet! Let 'em fuck you in the ass! Buttfucking is nature's way of birth control! Bring on the stallions!"
Large blocks of stone lay strewn along the banks of the stream. One of these is going to be the altar I sacrifice a cherry to my equine god. Which one? Think, Horseboy, think. You want this to be right for Sultan. Yeah. There's one, about waist high, not too broad, not apt to topple over as Sultan powerstrokes me. A few feet away there's a taller stone, so Sultan can take me when I'm on my back. If, of course, he wants to.
I grin. This is going to be a long, heaven-sent day.
As soon as I slip off Sultan's back, he whirls. His giant cock is hard and dripping. The head flares, contracts, and then flares again. He advances, strutting, bouncing, grunting. See me, little monkey? See my big horse cock? I'm gonna put this thing up your pussy. You ain't gonna leave this place till you got Sultan's colt in your butt.
I stumble backwards. Demonic light flickers in Sultan's eyes. "Easy, boy, easy --"
Sultan reigns in his passion. He halts. His chest works like a bellows. I lick my lips. His head rears up as I approach him. He peers down. His ears rise like the decorations of a crown. I slip the backpack off my shoulder and let it fall to the ground. I spread my arms, palms open.
"Take me, my lord."
Sultan lowers his head. His tongue dances across his lips. I open my mouth, ready and eager to receive his kiss again. But this morning my lord Sultan isn't about tenderness. About love. Sultan is here to fuck me.
Sultan's teeth clamp down on my left nipple. I screech but he doesn't let go. He's got the pressure perfect. I'm on the far side of pain, but not too far. Tears form in my eyes and begin to leak. Sultan gives me a brief respite, laying his nose against the side of my head and puffing furnace-hot breath into my ears, before treating my right nipple the same cruel way. I know he wants to be rougher, but I know he knows he can't. It saddens me. I'd give anything to be able to take what he can dish out.
When Sultan's finished with my nipples, his nostrils drop right to my crotch. His lips gnaw at the outline of my hardon. His breath puffs, hot and heavy, against my shaft. His teeth clamp to the waistband before I have a chance to push the bulge into his mouth. Snap! One flick of his head and they tear free.
Started laughter escapes me. Hot shit. Sultan's gonna pound me!
Sultan stares at my cock, flailing around because I'm getting frisky as him. It's a little funny, watching him, because his nostrils are so close he's looking at my cock cross-eyed. Sultan's tongue slides out. I stop my dance. It plucks the pearl of precum my pisslips offer up to him. I gasp. Sultan rumbles, savoring the precum he's smelled but never before tasted.
Sultan's eyes blaze. Then he surges forward and sucks down my cock to the root.
Oh fuck, I wasn't planning on this. A blowjob from a stallion. Fuckin' wow. I writhe and I twist and I quickly go out of my mind. My balls are just as overstuffed as Sultan's. I can't take this pleasure. I thrust in Sultan's mouth, feeling him grunt. My balls pound the stallion's lower lip.
"Fuck! I'm coming!"
I feel Sultan gulping down my juice, and his liquid cheeks and sin-obsessed tongue milk my spurting shaft for more. I shoot the hardest I've ever shot in my life. It almost feels like someone's punched me in the gut. Sultan likes what he tastes. His long tongue slips out and curls under my balls. I feel the tip poking at my asshole.
Sultan releases my cock, smacking his lips and belching. Once again that head rises. His hooves shift. His shaft throbs between his hind legs.
Get it ready.
You didn't have to be into beastsex. Any idiot can read that message in his eyes.
I back away, my cock as rigid as ever and shiny with stallion spit. I dig a bottle of lube out of the backpack. I grasp the head and fight his cock away from his body. I pour the liquid along Sultan's cock, emptying about half the bottle. I work it in. Carefully, because from the way it quivers and surges in my hands I know Sultan is about to spooge.
Sultan trots after me to the stone, nudging me, nipping me, bouncing, his breathing loud as a tornado. You don't see the kind of passion that blazed in Sultan's mind except in the best porn.
"Hang on, my lord. Hang on!" I pour a handful of lube and grease myself up. I cram about half my fist into my ring. Maybe I could've taken more, but then it wouldn't be tight, and that's what my lord wants.
Sultan trumpets at me to hurry it up. I swear he's as loud as a motherfucking T. Rex.
Sultan noses me back until my legs collide with the stone. I turn and plant my palms on the rock for support. I feel alive, man. Alive! Sizzling with electricity and power. I think back to the first time I ever took a human cock up my ass, and I didn't feel as right, as thrilled, as enraptured, as I do right now.
He's bouncing on his fore hooves. Fuck, I know he wants to mount.
"Sorry, my lord," I call over my shoulder. "I'd take your weight if I could."
His teeth clamp on my shoulder. I've been told to shut the fuck up.
I expect Sultan to be rough. He exceeds my expectations. It starts with Sultan frantically he snuffles in my ears. It proceeds to teeth raining love nips everywhere: back, flanks, buttocks. I writhe, a plaything for his equine lust. My asscheeks taunt him.
"Bite 'em harder!" I growl.
Sultan goes after my thighs and even my calves. Sultan sounds like a volcano building up to a world-levelling blast.
"You're my lord, Sultan, and I'm your mare!" I call at him.
That seems to focus him. Sultan has asserted his dominant over me. He doesn't have to pretend to submit to human rules. It's his giant horse dong that rules this sweaty, smelly Horseboy.
Sultan eases himself over me. His fur scours my naked back. I tense, waiting for the punch of that first thrust. I remember how my lord likes to treat his mares. I'm a kid again, eager to receive three feet of horsecock up my ass for this Christmas in July.
There it is. I sigh when I feel the horse's giant cockhead pressing against my greasy asshole. A little high. I shift, and it's centered. The stallion's heart thuds against my back. His legs quiver round me. I feel his flaring cockhead spreading open my asscrack. His pisshole drizzles hot stallion precum right into my squirming socket.
Wow. Goddamn. Wow. Here I am, under a stallion, ready and eager to get horsefucked. I've wanted this all my life, ever since my dreams of the white stallion helped me anoint the bed sheets with my first loads of spunk.
The only thing separating Sultan's leviathan and my guts is a tiny ring of muscle.
I feel the power building in him. I picture his eyes slitting over in anticipation. I brace myself.
Sultan doesn't punchfuck. He ease forward, as gentle as that raging beast can be. My asshole dilates and dilates. I feel his hot flesh levering me open. Wider. Wider. Goddamned. Can I take this? If it's too much, can I escape? Oh, shit, I can't. I can't back out now. I'm mounted by a stallion. I've got to take the horse's cock!
"Oh fucking Christ, give me that cock!"
Right on the verge -- right when I think my ring is about to rip -- Sultan's cockhead pops inside.
"Goddamn," I murmur.
Sultan squeals. I hear him, and I feel him through the giant instrument prying my ring open.
That makes it real for me.
I've got a horse inside me!
Even if somehow I couldn't guess from the sheer size of the thing Sultan's shoving into me, I'd know it was animal cock. His body temperature is far hotter than mine. Christ, my ass must feel like a cool Fleshlight being slipped onto his coltmaker. And his skin is different, thicker, more corrugated.
There's pain, too. You remember that first time you took a man's cock up your chute? The pain is like that, but magnified. A throbbing ache that reverberates like a drum. But there's something about that kind of pain that makes you want more.
Sultan shakes himself as if he can't believe we're actually doing this.
On it comes, inch after inch. My ring contracts as the thinner shaft enters me. The agony fades. I can concentrate on the horse's dong. The texture of Sultan's cock feels like oiled leather.
Sultan grunts and thrusts. I'm expecting about two feet of cock. He gives me only half that. I lose control of myself. I feel my rectum struggling to throw out this monster. Sultan squeal with delight, loves my struggles.
Suddenly Sultan pants, then roars while stamping his hooves -- and floods my guts with horsecum.
I've never felt anything like this. The stud stallion pours more juice in one blast than I've ever held inside me. It lodges like a slime cannonball far up my guts. Sultan grunts with each cumshot, jerking forward, his giant weapon sinking deeper and deeper into my colon, sliding along a pathway of sin greased by his own breeding sauce.
"Yeah!" I cry. "Breed me, Sultan!"
As Sultan advances, I feel my innards realign as his exploding, titanic, triumphant cock makes its way home inside me.
Even though I'm deliriously happy -- shit, has my breeder launched a pound of jism up me? two pounds? -- I know Sultan's disappointed. He's a stud. He doesn't like to be thought of as a premature ejaculator. But when any male -- human, canine, equine -- finally gets what he's been hankering after ... well, we've all been there. You just gotta shoot and paint that cavern with your finest offering.
I squeeze out, "'S OK, my lord."
Sultan's violently juicing horsecock makes it easy for my colon to accept the organ. The slime tide coating my guts makes me hungry for the whole goddamned shaft. It's like I get drunk on horse jism. I back down the road. My guts rumble ominously. Sultan's flared cockhead pushes the horsespooge lake deeper inside. I feel my belly swell and sag. Sultan's shaft feels thicker than a bodybuilder's thigh.
"All of it!"
Sultan presses forward. I press back. We both want it. The fullest joining possible.
Sultan's sheath docks between my buttcheeks.
I anoint the stone with my seed. My prostate twitches furiously, crushed by his gargantuan shaft. My orgasm engulfs us both. Sultan, tortured by my contracting colon, screeches then unleashes another flood.
A brief respite. My legs quiver. So do Sultan's. Sultan's smooth inner thighs shift on my buttcheeks. His cock feels like half a telephone pole is lodge up me.
If that stud feels embarrassment at again coming so quickly, he recovers. His giant shaft begins to move. I whimper. Instead of insertion, its withdrawal, and it's the saddest thing I've ever felt. Cum gurgles within me, chasing down my colon after Sultan's retreating cock. I feel empty and void as space itself. Revolting noises blast between buttocks. But the noise makes my heart soar, because it's the sound of Horseboy, copulating with a stallion.
The cunning bastard lodges his cockhead right at my ring. Sultan saws minutely, pushing the flared head in and out of my cunt. I fart fat dollops of semen between my boots. I squeeze. Rivulets of slime pour down my thighs. Sultan senses my challenge, and punches back inside. Who the hell am I to reject Sultan's proud fuckshaft? It's my first powerstroke. I take all of him in one brutal thrust. Air whooshes from my lungs. His unborn colts bluster out of my hole, streaking his legs wit spunk. Ropes of stallion cum sway from Sultan's fat balls; they grab my asscheeks like tentacles when his sheath once again kisses my ring.
"Come on!" I grunt. "Fuck me!"
Sultan trumpets his conquest. And he goes mad. Energy bursts from him. He churns, whinnying and neighing and screeching. His tail thrashes.
My fingers claw the rock. Getting fucked by Sultan is like being God's condom. When that giant dong moves, I move. When it pours more spunk in me, I bloat up to contain it.
I can't tell you how long Sultan and I were together that first session. It is just one, long blissful coupling of a horse and a boy. We were each other's favorite drug. Giant dong, tight butt, spurts spunk. Groaning human rolling eyes in bestial delirium. Puffing stallion, thrusting madly.
I'm pretty sure I'm clinically insane, out of my mind with pleasure, while Sultan fucks me.
Each time Sultan cums, I feel it blooming inside me as if an atom bomb has gone off in my soul. The heat, the wetness, the slime, the sense of being obliterated and made a prisoner to stallion spunk. I try to keep count of how many times Sultan impregnates me. Four times? Five times? That stud never misses a stroke, pumping away at me, tail thrashing, his lips drawn back to reveal his teeth, his head craning skywards as he saws away at the tiny figure abasing itself between his studly legs. Sultan is happy. He's doing what he's here to do.
Sometime in the mid-morning my stud needs a break. So do I. We've been screwing each other for hours. Sultan pulls out, grunting as he yanks that flared cockhead through my hungry ring. My asshole gapes, vomiting horsespunk. Sultan bounces away from me, joy radiating from him. He stops, and then he starts to strut, tossing his mane at me. I swear he grins as I straighten up. As he wanders into the stream, Sultan's cock doesn't retreat to his sheath. It hangs in a long, proud arc, slathered in cum.
I wipe drool from my lips. "Awesome cock, my lord!"
He snorts. He buries his muzzle in the water, drinks, and then raises his head. He stomps a hoof. That's a command. I follow him out into the stream.
We drink our fill. Sultan acts a little surprise when I peck his lips. He stares at me, eyes hooded, and then he bends down and scoops a mouthful of water from the stream. Tightly closed, his lips seek mine. His tongue forces its way between my lips. Water gushes into me from Sultan's mouth. I stroke his chest as I gulp it down. Sultan is about to pull away. No, my lord, no. I slip a hand around his neck and pull the stallion back. It's a very long kiss, and when he breaks it he struts back to the bank, his hardon jutting long and powerful yet again.
I follow Sultan. My hands caress his body, moving inevitably to his balls. He whickers, knowing what I want. Grinning, I turn towards the stone where we mated. Teeth dig into my shoulder, halting me.
"No?" I say, looking back into Sultan's fierce eyes.
Sultan's dong has softened and swings between his legs. His eyes fix on me. Mischief smolders there.
I dive and scurry beneath him. The stallion times it perfectly. Sultan's piss bursts across my face like a sunflower. I laugh, open my mouth, and gulp down the stallion's golden wine. I grab his limp dong and put the head right to my lips. Hit piss is more refreshing than the water he gave me from the stream. I drink and I bathe, wallowing in sin.
After his bladder drains, Sultan circles round me. Thoroughly drenched with stallion piss, brimming full of stallion cum, I'm reclining on my butt, my palms supporting me. Just savoring the moment. Sultan forces my knees apart with his head. I expose my cock to him. The stallion stares at my junk.
"You want it?" I grin at him.
Gently his lips enfold my meat. He even sucks up my balls. His tongue laps at the spunk sliming my taint. Our eyes lock. Golden morning light twinkles in Sultan's eyes.
"Here it comes!"
I sigh and relax, and let my piss flow. Sultan does a great job lapping it up. Some escapes, of course, contaminating the stallion piss beading on my skin. But Sultan drinks most of my flow. By the time my bladder is drained, my cock throbs. So does Sultan.
I caress his face. "My lord," I whisper, "I don't think I'm pregnant."
Sultan snaps his cock against his belly. He knows how to fix that.
I try to get him to fuck me while I'm lying on my back. I think it'd be awesome to look up at his surging body, to feet his torso contained within my legs. But Sultan snorts derisively when I lay back on the convenient rock. Stupid monkey. Roll the fuck over.
I roll the fuck over. As soon as I put my ass in the air the way Sultan wants, he spears me, uttering a triumphant neigh that reverberates along the stream. He huffs and his powerful hips churn. I'm the one who squeals as his cock plunders my cunt. The breeding resumed. We rut and we growl so much it's a wonder the whole county didn't hear us.
I'm sure Forest was watching the pasture from our bedroom window. He walks out the front door just as I leap naked off Sultan's back. Forest puts two and two together, and gets three feet of horsecock.
"So you fucking did it," Forest muses.
The evidence? Well, the pie-plate sized puddle of horsecum balanced on Sultan's spine leaked from my pussy during the gallop home. Tentacles of jizz streak Sultan's flanks and belly like mud on an ATV. Goo still bubbles from my ass as I essay a grin at Forest.
"Hell yeah, we did it!" Laughing, I throw my arm round Sultan's neck. "Didn't we, stud?" I tousle his mane.
Sultan neighs, nips playfully at me. Damn right we did, monkey slut.
"Took the day off," I say. "Sorry I didn't tell you." I glance at Sultan, who seems to be grinning stupidly, like a kid who's just got his first piece of pussy. "This way, my lord." I jog towards the stable. I know the stallion's tuckered out.
Silently, Forest follows.
I put the bridle back on Sultan and make sure he's got plenty of water and plenty of feed. I hear Forest's boots clomping behind me.
"You did it, didn't you?" Forest quiet voice states the obvious a second time.
"Yep," I say. "Just me and the stallion." I latch Sultan's stall shut then turn. "Horsecock up my ass all day. Did better than Mr. Hands, huh?"
Forest clouds over at the reference. That's a touchy subject. "What about me?"
"I'm pretty sure Sultan wants to nail you, too," I say. "But he's a bit worn out right now."
Forest follows me as I head towards Thor's stall. "You could take a freight train up that ass," he says.
"Heh," I laugh. "I felt like I had a freight train up my ass. Sultan's a stud, Forest! Motherfucker's got it where it counts." I thrust my arm -- fist clenched -- straight up into the air. "I didn't think I was ever gonna get those balls drained!"
Thor's lips curl as I approach. He breathes in my funk. Human sweat, human ass, but most powerful of all: Sultan's jism. He shifts. He almost jerks away when my lips press against his, but as my tongue slithers along the inside of his lower lip Thor realizes something very odd is going on. Something odd, and pleasurable. He pauses. He pushes back at my kiss. Thor's lips work. He likes it, and soon Thor and I are swapping saliva.
"Come on, buddy," I croon to him. "Sultan nailed me eleven times. But you know what?" I grin at Thor, and he shifts his ears quizzically. "I still don't think he got me pregnant!"
Thor vigorously nods his head. He backs away. I climb over the stall, feeling a belt-length strand of Sultan's sperm slither from my cunt.
"So what am I supposed to do?" Forest asks, taking my place at the stall door.
Kneeling under Thor, my hands caressing the stallion's cock as it slips free of the sheath, I grin. "Watch. And join in, if you've got the balls."
- keep those palms and cunts greased for -
- "The Stallion Rides - 6 Locked in the Stable" -