From: megadeth@parsifal.nando.net (Megadeth)
Subject: The Stallion Rides (MM+equine voyeurism)
Date: Sat, 19 Oct 1996 19:59:32 GMT
Organization: Nando.net Public Access

This story contains explicit sex between males, not all of 
which will necessarily be human, and makes no pretense at conforming 
to or advocating any particular ethical standard.  

If such material offends you I'd like to point out the convenient
DELETE key located on your keyboard.

If some arrangement of circumstances (age, ethical standards, 
religion, anal retentive personality, etc) makes it illegal for 
you to read sexual material of any nature, I suggest you locate 
one of those "How to Make a Pipe Bomb" pages the Internet is 
rife with (at least, Tom Brokaw says the Web's rife with them) 
and alter your form of government.  

I welcome comments on this and other stories put out by Studfarm 
Stories and Services.  We may be reached at megadeth@nando.net.
Megadeth@nando.net has a silly yet non-pornographic web page at
http://www.webbuild.com/~megadeth.

(c) 1996 Studfarm Stories and Services


THE STALLION RIDES
by
R. Keith Peck

	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 
chiseled.  His prick pushes down the right leg of his jeans.  
Wet spots reach all the way down them -- drool from his 
cock.
	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 pull out, 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.  Breaking free, it slimes his belly.  I step across 
him, straddle him, then sit.  My ass presses against his 
erection.  His cock slips between my cheeks.  "Your turn."  
I slide forward and back on his prick, feeling like a boy 
riding a banister.  
	This transition is always so easy for us.  Natural.
	Forest's hands reach back and feel my round ass.  I 
bend forward, still rubbing, and kiss him.  I suck his 
tongue into my mouth.  His hand traces my crack, moseys its 
way along down to my soft, moist pucker.
	He presses two fingers against my hole.  They're slick, 
and slip inside of me easily.  Like missiles seeking a 
target, they dart to my prostate.  I arch my back, moan.
	I'm in heat.  And this man knows how I like to be bred.
	Forest lifts me from his crotch, pulling his fingers 
free of my sucking ass.  He sets me down into the cooling 
piss, stands, then picks me up.  He cups my cheeks.  I 
spread my legs.  Three fingers slip inside of me this time.  
As I open my mouth to moan, he presses my lips against his.  
I kiss him as lustily as I would kiss my father.
	He carries me to a bale of hay.  The stallions are in a 
frenzy.  It's scary.  They wheel and dance around us.  
Nostrils flare, teeth are shown.  They're not keeping their 
distance.  Hooves sound like thunder on the wooden floor.  
We're in the middle of a hurricane of horses.  The air is 
rich with their odor.  Their balls are obscenely bloated, 
their vast cocks are like flagpoles protruding between their 
powerful hind legs.  Manes and tails are tossed.
	Forest puts me down on my hands and knees onto the 
bale.  How whorish I feel.  My cock is thick and rubbery.  I 
curl my fingers under the rope binding the hay.  I arch my 
back downwards, opening my crack and showing Forest my 
asshole.
	His tongue probes me.  I whimper as it flails at me 
down there.  It's huge and cool, as if it were a gigantic 
slab of meat.  My asshole puffs out.  He slips his tongue 
in.  His moans vibrate in my intestines; mine 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.


The End.

=======================================================
Keith Peck
megadeth@nando.net

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