The horse had not mated all season.
As the days grew shorter, his body thrummed and his mind grew clouded. His actions became torpid, every decision lethargic: weighed down by the heavy, endlessly throbbing orbs between his legs. Unemptied. Unsatisfied. He desperately pleasured himself as often as possible, but it was insufficient. Not an hour later, the ache would return, and so would his need. Mere orgasm was inadequate for a mighty stallion. A horse must breed.
He caught the scent one morning while cutting logs. Weak…but unmistakably male. The stallion would have been able to detect another male in rut across the entire valley at that point if he had to, but this was not that far. Down by the river, he judged. The heavy axe fell, forgotten, and he hastened to the path that snaked down to the valley floor. His crotch already stirred, and he reached into his breeches and clenched his desperate erection. At last. He would find this male, whomever he be—and the sweet relief that his ruttish scent promised.
Hurrying down the slopes, almost tripping over roots and rocks in his haste, he heard the unknown male whistling before he saw him. A light and airy tune, punctuated by grunts of effort. The voice was deep and caramel, born of testosterone and heavenly in timbre to the horse’s perked ears. The stallion’s lip trembled, and he slurped up a sudden rush of saliva.
Down the trail, down and down—until it ended on the pebbled shores of a river where a shirtless human male knelt, stretching bear hides. Peat-stained arms of steel gripped either corner of the tanning skin, pulling it tight across a wooden frame with a strength to rival the stallion’s own. His back muscles jostled for position, glowing in the sun with what looked like oil but could only be sweat; his dark hair shone with it. Under each arm, an inviting cave; across his chest, a glistening forest. And when the clatter of the stallion’s hooves on stone made him stand and turn to greet the horse, his smile caught the sun and glittered like polished ivory.
“Stallion,” the man said.
The horse felt the heat in his loins spread beyond his crotch, filling his entirety with warmth like honeyed mead. Yes. Yes. The man acknowledged only his species and gender. No name, no affiliation. He knew what the stallion sought, then—and he agreed. As if he could not: the musk of the stallion’s arousal bled fiercely into the air around them, and the equine’s thin clothing betrayed the full power of his body’s readiness.
A horse must breed.
“Man,” the horse replied, his voice roughened by lust. He watched the human kneel once more to continue working his hides. His natural strength showed in every motion, every pant of exertion, every curve and ridge of body and muscle. Worn leather breeches hid nothing of his rear, and the stallion stared at the pert, round orbs with giddy need. He wished only to rip his own breeches aside and sink his rigid member as deep inside the hairy, sweaty cleft of this forest man’s body as he could…but the human had acknowledged him first. It was for him to make the first move.
The horse sank to his knees beside the man and took a bearskin in hand, working and stretching it in the same manner as the human. The river burbled by beside them, and eagles cried as they soared high above. The sun rose to its zenith, baking down upon the stallion’s back until sweat dripped along his arms and soaked into his groin. The scent of horse grew more potent—joined by the scent of man. Charcoal and jessy root; warm sweat and leather. The workman smelled of work, and the horse breathed him in. His equine lust grew, and his eyes sought out the place between the man’s thighs where a mound of flesh sat hidden. Barely.
A horse must breed.
The man abruptly stood—his task still unfinished—and disrobed fully, undoing his belt to let his breeches fall to the ground. As the stallion stared in surprise and awe, the other male’s complete form was revealed. Two thick, firm cheeks, fuzzy with dark hair that sloped down to the cleft the horse had already imagined, sat above legs almost as muscled and furred as his own. The stallion whinnied, now heedless of showing his lust outright. Shadows hid the hole he desired, but they could not conceal it from his nose. His cock raged in the rude confines of his clothing, demanding to be freed: to be let loose to have this man for itself and breed him like a fresh spring mare. Here, during the last breath of summer, beside a river and beneath a blue sun sky.
But as the stallion stumbled up and forward—as if jerked about by puppet strings—to bury his rising lip in the human’s inviting body, the man moved on with a single soft chuckle and walked into the river. The stallion watched him go, hands clenched, shivering and snorting with need. He tore his loincloth aside, standing naked before sun and sky, letting the man see the full extent of the lust and might that awaited him—if he would simply take it. The man, it seemed, did not care. He cleaned himself, slowly and carefully, raising each arm in turn to splash cool mountain water on himself until droplets glistened in his hair and across his thick fur like tiny gemstones washed down from the mountains.
A horse must breed.
The stallion raised his head and whinnied loudly. His cock stood proudly before him, hard as blacksmith’s iron and curved only by its own weight, the flare half-swollen and dripping freely. His broad nostrils sucked at the air, panting and grunting, mind spinning with anticipation of what was to come. The water was up to the man’s waist now, and when he turned to face the horse again, ripples and reflections hid most everything the horse desired to see. The smile on his face said that he knew, but the look in his eyes betrayed the intensity of his own need. He had had his fun, and the time had come.
The man came forth from the water. Wetness coated him, smoothing his body’s hair to a dark, glistening coat. More of him was revealed with each step, until…the horse breathed out raggedly. A rough thicket of hair around a heavy, uncut cock, dark as roasted chestnuts. It was thick for a man and as veined as a stallion’s own, with low, fat balls that seemed to the horse to be as full and needy as his own. If that were even possible. Water dripped from the cocktip where the human’s sheath ended to expose a bright pink glans, but when the water ran out, the dripping continued. The horse snorted and smirked. The man’s need equalled his own, then. That was good. It would make their consummation that much more satisfying.
The stallion approached, eyes fixed on the human, ready to begin. But as he drew level, the man lifted a hand up and stopped him, palm to chest. The horse’s whinny of disbelief was cut off when the human’s thumb found his nipple and stroked it, sending a shock along the muscles of the equine’s chest and making the horse grunt and blink. The man’s other hand dropped to clasp the equine’s prodigious flare, squeezing gently against the blood-hot flesh and pulling on it as he did so.
The horse froze at the unexpected touch, trying to process it. His dismissive sneer changed to confusion, and then wonder. The man’s hands were rough and well-worked, yet tender. He applied them like a pair of familiar tools, working in perfect synchrony. It was erotic and pleasurable, but that much was easy. A mere wind blowing across the stallion’s skin would have been erotic by now. No, it was the sheer precision of it: the speed and smoothness and accuracy with which the human manipulated the stallion. He had been with a horse before, without a doubt. The horse blinked, panting heavily and nickering, watching the slight smile on the man’s face as he looked back, clearly judging the efficacy of his actions by the expressions they produced on the stallion’s face.
The horse’s own hands fumbled outward, seeking a hard cock of his own to clasp and a firm body to enjoy. But the man’s response was to tighten fingers on a nipple here, massage more firmly against a muscle there…and deep inside the stallion’s mind, something flipped. His hand wrapped around the man’s warm cock, stroking it inside its strange sheath, but it was a rote action. He no longer wished to assert himself. He did it because it was something to do while he waited for the man to be done with him in this way…and be ready to use him in another. A horse must breed.
Or be bred.
Eyes that flashed and then grew demure told the human of his readiness. The man laid him down upon the bear hides, tenderness in every touch even as furious lust burned in his eyes. The stallion panted, eyes wide, exposed; his cock lay long across his belly, flare oozing pre-cum onto his chest. The man stroked both the equine’s shaft and his own, collecting their fluids before sliding two lubricated fingers beneath the stallion’s tail. The horse grunted, clenched, then moaned as the man sighed. His digits flexed inside the stallion’s body, touching him as expertly and familiarly as he’d manipulated the stallion’s other sensitive points. When they retreated, the horse cried out in loss—but it was not for long.
Two powerful arms gripped the stallion’s fetlocks, pushing them apart to fully expose his ring. The man’s panting was as hoarse as the stallion’s now, and the fires in their eyes came from the same coals. The cock tip that probed the horse’s sensitive hole felt like one of those same coals, and the stallion nickered and gripped the bearskins as it slowly, slowly, so slowly slid inside. The horse’s mind whirled, as anguished as it was coated with pleasure. He desired this—so much so—but…not like this. Not as two gentle lovers exploring one another’s soft and new bodies to find their most superficial limits. He wished the man to breed him as a stallion would—as he would. As an unfettered creature, made of lust and born into the world with the sole goal of satisfying it and unheeding of anything else in its rampant search. His eyes sought out the man’s, wordlessly begging him.
The human grinned.
White-hot pleasure stabbed into the horse’s rear, and the stallion bellowed into the sky as the soundless thrum that had filled his body all season surged to a cacophony. The man’s cock, even if generous for his kind, was no stallion’s length…but it did not need to be to reach the singular place inside the horse where heaven lived. And when it did—when that smooth pink head found it and ground hard against it—electricity exploded within the stallion, touching his every cell and fanning the simple coals within to an inferno.
The grip on the horse’s legs vanished—only to reappear at his sides. The man’s hands now clasped the muscles of the stallion’s sides, half-gripping, half-stroking them: indulging in the outward pleasures of the muscular horse’s body even as his cock probed the inner ones. The man’s hoarse panting intertwined with the stallion’s moans and whinnies, and he grunted every time his cock hilted inside the equine. The sounds were half the pleasure, for the horse had never heard anything like them. This man bred him like some kind of first forest creature, just as he had hoped he would. A stag, a bear, a satyr; like none of them and all of them. Full of lust and vigour, deep in his rut and driven only to breed. As the man’s sweat grew, his scent became rich and glorious in the stallion’s nose. His sounds were the sounds of domination and the thrill of copulation.
The horse shut his eyes, lay back, and let the man use him.
A calloused hand found his hard cock and took it up, stroking its length with curiosity and lust. The stallion flexed it for his lover, letting him admire its full size and firmness. A particularly hard thrust told him it was appreciated, and the hand slid up to rub against his sensitive flare. The stallion gasped and flexed, every muscle clenching involuntarily—and the man responded. His hips exploded, hammering even more fiercely into the horse as the equine’s tunnel tightened around the deliciously thick cock inside it. The stallion’s legs, hanging loose since the man released them, contracted and rose. His knees pulled back, and his hooves spread apart to expose as much of his tailhole as possible to let the man keep breeding him as fiercely as possible.
The hand on his cock slid down to grip the base, but the horse snarled and grabbed it, returning it to his flare. He was too close; it would be agony to lose momentum now. The penis inside him had leaked enough to thoroughly lubricate his passage; the man’s thrusts were strong as iron, but felt smooth as silk. The human’s engorged glans was pitiful compared to a true flare, but every time it slammed the stallion’s prostate, the difference was academic. The shock of pleasure it rammed through the stallion’s quivering body on each impact felt no different. Whether it was a man or another stallion’s hand gripping his flare in anticipation of the explosion of semen soon to come, it would come.
For once begun, there was no stopping a stallion’s orgasm.
The horse groaned and bent upward as his balls contracted. He could not hold his legs apart any longer; he let them relax, and his long fetlocks wrapped around the man instead, hooking the impromptu lovers together and tugging the human forward encouragingly as if he was not already fucking the horse with all his might. As the man interrupted his grunting and panting to gasp in delight at the feeling of powerful equine legs tightening around him, the horse took his shaft in hand, lifting it away from the man’s gropes and pointing it upwards, towards the sky.
The flare throbbed in the warm air, massive and mighty, as the stallion reopened his eyes to look upon it. Behind it, the man’s eyes glittered at the sight of the stallion’s incredible arousal, and his lip rose in a grin. The pace of his fucking accelerated, trusting in the stallion’s legs to keep his frantic motions from dragging him loose. The huge horsecock swaying in the air between them ran slick with pre-cum and radiated heat like a poker fresh from the furnace. The stallion’s concentration was waning fast, but he kept his grip on the base of his shaft, keeping his flare standing high and proud even as it grew heavier, thickening and darkening with rushing blood. One final proud look at the might of his endowment, and the horse closed his eyes again, feeling his balls vibrating inside himself. So close, so close.
It might have taken minutes more if the man had eased his pace. If a cool breeze had blown in off the river, pulling the stallion back from the precipice. If he’d concentrated and clenched and made it last that little bit longer. But, instead, the stallion felt a touch of something cold upon his flare—and then a rush of warmth. He cried out, and his eyes flew wide to see the man leaning forward, still fucking the horse’s ass, but now also slurping on as much of the upright cockhead as he could with his mouth. The noises were wet and carnal and ecstatic; the man’s eyes were closed, and he kissed and tongued the horse’s flare as though it were a long-lost lover. His wet tongue found the sensitive ridges around the corona as his lips sucked hard on the thick flesh, drinking down every drop of the small river of pre-cum the stallion was producing. His moans came out like whimpers, and all the while, his hips thrust and pounded and slammed and—
The stallion’s orgasm erupted from his flare like a winter geyser: pale, steaming fluid soared into the air between the mating couple and splattered back down on them, hot as passion. The man screamed as the stallion’s body contracted around him, trapping his cock inside the equine ass, and he must have cum then, too. The horse didn’t notice. His entire world had contracted to the twenty inches of flesh standing tall between, the source of the waves of pleasure now thundering through his body. His balls clenched a second time—it couldn’t even be a second later, but time was optional right now—and the second volley of cum exploded out of his cock and into the sky before landing back atop their backs and chests and heads.
The man was more prepared by the third blast from the stallion’s cock. His mouth barely covered the stallion’s urethra in time to have the blast of fluid pumped straight down his throat. He choked and gagged on the sheer volume, letting it run from his mouth and down the sides of the stallion’s cock, then tried again. A fourth and fifth, and some successful swallowing. Cum was pooling in the stallion’s sheath now and leaking down over his balls, feeling like teasing fingers. The horse’s head whirled, and his muscles fluttered. The semen-rich portion was finished; the stallion’s ejaculate was suddenly thicker. Gelatinous and musky and rich. The man’s lips and fingers soon glistened—as if glazed—as he wrapped his hands around the stallion’s flare to catch whatever he couldn’t swallow, letting it pool in a makeshift sea. The horse felt the heat of his own fluids covering his sensitive cockhead, and shuddered wordlessly. He could still feel the man’s cock inside him, as hard as if he hadn’t cum at all. It seemed to twitch in time with the horse’s final, lesser squirts as the two of them descended from the rapturous heights of climax.
Even when the balls of both man and horse had given up all the seed they had, the man’s face remained immersed in the pool of jizz he’d formed around the stallion’s flare with his cupped hands. Hungrily he gulped down as much of his lover’s cum and thick gel as he could, and then—when not enough remained to take whole, breathless mouthfuls—licked the skin clean until, at last, nothing but air touched the stallion’s soft flare. Then, with a sigh and a groan, the man let it fall, and the equine shaft slapped down wetly against the horse’s chest.
The horse had long since untensed his legs, and only the human cock inside him still joined them. Now that, too, withdrew, pulling free easily as the man shuffled backwards and then stood back up. Half-dried sweat glistened across his powerful body in the sunlight, mixed with pale semen in the forest around his softened cock. The sight pleased the horse; his need had been prodigious, and any male that satisfied it would have been sufficient, but to have been bred by one as perfect as this man was most agreeable.
As the man stepped into the river to wash, the horse lifted himself onto one arm to watch him—then started and turned when he heard the sound of movement. From out of the forest came two more men, each even larger and more muscled than his lover. The horse’s eyes grew wide…and wider still to see the large bulges in their breeches as they grew closer.
The man in the river came out to meet them, smiling widely.
“Brothers,” he said, and his voice was thick with love.
The other men acknowledged him with eyes that roamed his naked form and lingered long on the obvious remains of his mating with the stallion. Then, as one, the three humans turned their eyes to the horse, whose breath caught and whose cock began to harden again at the inimitable power of the lust in their eyes. Wordlessly, he pushed himself up, placing himself on all fours and hiking his tail in the direction of the three humans, his muscles already shivering in anticipation.
For if horses must breed, then so must men.