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His life was in the gutter. Never had he been so... stressed. He wished last night were a blur, yet it wasn't. Too much alcohol, too much dancing, so much sweat... so many moans and screams of pleasure... and all he could think about was what would happen next and what he could do to make it right. Laying face up on his bed with a soft and warm creature next to him, he wondered how life could just twist itself so hard it would crack your reality. Was he doing wrong? Was he a sinner? He had never considered himself a religious individual yet this word came to his mind every single time his eyes turned to the left and perceived the silhouette of his last night lover.

What had started as a small get together with some friends suddenly and quite swiftly became an all out fuck fest. The kind of fuck fests he took advantage of in order to get laid: Morgan had never thought about settling down or having a husband or fuck buddy or whatsoever. He had only one interest in his life: become the best at what he did for a living and get his rocks off from time to time with whatever consenting slut that crossed his way. Being a pony horse usually brought weird looks from his equine peers. Most horses didn't like his breed yet he couldn't care less: having a 12 inches girthy cock and balls heavier than a Clydesdale's he felt certain enough about himself so as to just let ignorant bigot comments and snarky retorts fly by without affecting him. That also helped him convince any true cock hungry sub to do his willing.

However he lived with the constant frustration that came from the issue that made finding partners so easy: most subs were amazed (if not scared) of his size. Most people thought that ponies were the watered down version of any real horse (there, that phrase, "real horse"), thus believing that they could taste the forbidden fruit from him without problems of any kind; in reality, about half of the interested tended to back up once they confirmed that his prominent bulge was no hoax. In only one night he had had four failed blowjob attempts and one scared bunny who almost fainted after looking at his sheath. His sheath for Christ's sake! Damned small species: the true small species were scared that he would turn their insides out and the big species looked at him as if he were a cursed leprechaun or something. So, with a hefty pair of blue balls and more than six shots of tequila in his system, he stumbled upon a certain someone.

Morgan was in his early twenties when he graduated from college and began working soon after in order to do something productive before starting his PhD. He was the youngest of four siblings, each one no more than one year older than the next. His family wasn't the herd-y type. Every single one of his siblings had moved out from their parent's house once they started college or turned 21 (weird family tradition, he supposed), and he certainly wasn't used to keep in touch with his family and neither were they. That's the main reason why walking into his oldest brother had been such a surprise. Now he and his blood relatives may have not been the best at staying in touch but by no means that meant he didn't enjoy spending time with them, and Marlowe, his oldest living brother, had been his favorite relative to be around. He had been a great role model, a cool brother and a laid back friend. Despite being a pony as well Marlowe had a slim body, powerful legs and a broad back that looked way more in proportion than the short stubby legs, thighs and shoulders his youngest little brother had. At first he was confused as to how Marlowe had ended in a party in his apartment but soon overcame said query by simply taking it as what it seemed: a coincidental event.

He went and hugged his slimmer sib. Marlowe seemed befuddled by coming across Morgan, yet he returned the hug and smiled warmly at him. And so it began. They started drinking together; Morgan introduced him to some of his friends, to his roommate and all the while Marlowe did the same; afterwards they danced a little because "why the hell not?" and from there things got... weird. They somehow ended up playing strip poker with a mixed group of strangers and as they kept on drinking, laughing and losing clothes, both brothers reacted in ways they surely wouldn't have had if sober: Morgan on his part started oggling at Marlowe's body; slim yet so muscular it seemed he was chiseled from marble, how his light brown coat seemed to glow golden when hit by the light of the lamp, how his snout looked oh so very perfect to cuddle against, how his little ears twitched whenever someone said something flattering. Marlowe on the other hand was taken aback to discover that his little brother was built like a brick: despite his short limbs and wide snout his movements and gestures exuded strength, masculinity; his scent wasn't at all musky, it was like earth and spices, it made you feel like you were safe, like you were home; his movements were tough and powerful, like the ones a statue would do if it came to life.

Time flew by as the liquor continued flowing into their stereotypical red plastic cups and once both of them stripped down to only their boxers games became more daring. First it was an "I've never, ever..." game then it slowly morphed to a sexy daring game that included sucking thumbs, frotting and sniffing underwear. Pushed into a haze of scents and feelings both brothers, basically grappling each other in what most spectators would describe as a "Hot and sweaty stud vs stud match", found the way to the room and by sheer awkwardness achieved to be left alone. They fell onto the bed giggling like school girls, Morgan on top of Marlowe. They could feel the breath of the other with every exhalation and without much words Marlowe clumsily kissed Morgan on the lips. His first reaction was to return said kiss. Morgan wasn't much of a kisser, yet Marlowe's body... no, that wasn't right. Marlowe as a whole, his body, his scent, his heat, all of him made him want to caress his body, to taste the flavor of his skin; all the while Morgan's presence was arousing Marlowe over board but not just in a sultry kind of way: he wanted to feel his body, to feel overpowered by this stud who happened to be his brother.

Kisses became nibbles, nibbles became licks and at some point they just merged into a wild make out sessions that had both horses sweating like only lovers do. No blood bond could refrain those equines from fulfilling what their bodies asked them to: both of them wanted to, needed to fuck. Raw sex energy flowed through their bodies fueled by the paper sheet thick almost non existent inhibitions that the liquor had left them with, and it asked them only one thing: to fuck as hard and for as long as only a true equine could.

No questions were made, no doubts while touching each other. Marlowe wanted to be his younger brother's mare and Morgan needed, even demanded that his subby bitch elder brother withstood what he had to give. And so they did. Their bodies melted into one another. Marlowe's moans could be heard through the thin walls of the apartment as well as Morgan's studly snorts. Marlowe's whinnies while Morgan went to town on his ass should've been heard had the music volume been a tinge lower; Morgan's whimpers were muted by all the noise in the apartment. They enjoyed each other's attentions: being brothers didn't stop them. For that night they had become lovers, and fervent ones at that. Once the thumping began, the music's bass helped cover it a little. When the music died down a little said noise was perceived by some unimportant individuals who didn't gave much importance to it. Inside the bedroom powerful thrusts made the mattress creak, the bedhead bump and the photographs on the wall shake: grunts and moans mixed with whinnies and snorts, all this noises were the sounding proof that two entangled bodies were enjoying themselves to the max.

The party ended at some point and their fornication did as well. With a last studly neigh Morgan filled Marlowe's insides with thick pony cum for the nth time that night. Ponies weren't famous for his stamina. Morgan was, and Marlowe got to be grateful about it. Exhausted and more gleeful than ever, they didn't even got up from the bed and just rolled over. Marlowe became the big spoon, no words were exchanged. Morgan accepted his big brother's embrace and melted into his arms. Marlowe nibbled on Morgan's stubby little ears and whispered to him: "I think I like you bro". Marlowe fell asleep quite rapidly after saying that. Morgan felt the strain of such an enthusiastic love making session as well. Thinking how his brother had come hands free at least twice that night made him happy. Morgan knew he had been a proper stud helping his mare enjoy sex at least a little. Having that in mind and a cocky grin on his face, his eyelids suddenly felt as heavy as lead and then darkness embraced him as warmly as his brother had, and then just fell unconscious.

That had been last night. Morgan had woken up with a slight headache, the taste of sex in his mouth and a warm feeling on his back. The realization hit him like a train wreck. He was in bed, he had had the best sex in his freaking life and the responsible for that had been his older brother who happened to bare an astounding morning wood that tickled his butt cheeks. Something here was wrong, oh so wrong. Why, then, it felt so fucking right? The word sinner came to his mind recurrently. Once his groggy state started to dissipate and the cobwebs cleared, all of the implications and consequences of what had taken place last night wore him down. The worst part for him was that even though one half of him was making him age rapidly due to stress, the other half felt as if he had only started living for real that morning. "Well, fuck", a simple thought invaded his mind. He couldn't move, he didn't want to move. Morgan didn't know very well what was happening. He wanted to know what would come next... he felt as if his life was in the gutter. He had just fucked his brother silly and he had loved it and he didn't know what to think of it since various parts of him were struggling to try and put some sense to everything. Words like sinner, shame, pleasure, love and complicated swarmed his thoughts.

The cosmos worked fast in order to help him. Marlowe shifted slightly and Morgan froze. His heart skipped two beats. His brain told him not to turn his head, not to make eye contact, perhaps even play the dumb card and just act as if he was asleep. His dick peeked out of his sheath just as his brother's scent hit his nose: it smelled like a recently fucked mare, sugar, oats, leather and sweat. Again, he thought: "Well, fuck".

Marlowe opened his eyes and had a smile that said: "I so fucking got laid last night". He saw his brother next to him and immediately noticed in Morgan's gaze something was bothering him, making him tense up. For a moment he worried for his little brother. He thought he knew what to do, and, as he perceived stress and awkwardness from his sibling, he smiled as warmly as he could and then said: "Morning, gourgeous". Morgan just short-circuited so hard you could smell burnt toast. Marlowe then proceeded to hug Morgan and then placed a peck on his cheek. Marlowe didn't feel anything weird: he felt wonderful and he was ok with everything that was implicated. His brother on the other hand seemed to have some issues, yet when Marlowe's lips touched his snout, the tension on his body faded just a pinch and his cock grew a little bit more. Marlowe continued his merciless barrage and said in a soft and casual tone: "Hey stud. Care for some breakfast? My treat". This offering put Morgan between a rock and a hard place (emphasis in hard place just as he felt his brother's leg pass over his own thus feeling his engorging member), so it was Marlowe's turn to be worried: perhaps his offering had been too blunt, maybe his brother would be scared and would snap; he hoped for the best. Marlowe was aware of the shit storm that would take place if just a single seemingly insignificant event got to go wrong therefore he maintained his best poker face hoping his stud didn't notice. If Morgan noticed, he didn't show it.

So many thoughts were struggling in the simple pony's mind. His lover's smile melted said thoughts and no idea got to infect him. Before Marlowe woke up he was feeling nervous, guilty, unsure... after having heard his brother's words he felt fuzzy inside. Never in his life had Morgan felt like this: he wanted to protect Marlowe, he wanted to be there for him, he wanted to make him happy and watch him smile every single time he had the opportunity to. He had so many thought crossing his mind yet one overpowered the rest. He had to make his mare happy. Simple as that.

Uneventfully, Morgan held his brother's gaze and after a minute he simply smiled and turned on the bed in order to grab Marlowe's butt cheeks. He grasped the chiseled buttocks and said: "First milk my cock and then I'll do anything you want, beautiful". What the future would bring he didn't care at the moment; he needed to have this mare again. Marlowe smiled as well as feeling joyous that his brother hadn't pulled him away; everything was unorthodox at best, but he wanted just one thing: to be possessed and to worship this stud's figure. Blood meant nothing; society meant nothing; only them counted. And it seemed they were happy.