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Kieran didn't struggle to locate his father when he entered the arrivals hall. His huge sire stood towards the back of the expectant crowds, towering over everyone around him: a mountain of stallion in a field of chattering stalks. The young stallion stopped in his tracks at the sight of the tall horse's wide, brown face, staring in near-disbelief. It was him. He was right there. Really there. The horse felt a sort of pain in his chest: the uncoiling of a tensed-up spring that he'd carried with him ever since that day, three years before, when he'd said goodbye to his father in this very spot. He'd become so used to that tension that its absence now felt like pain...but it was simply relief. He was free.

The draft stallion still looked exactly as Kieran saw him in his mind's eye, most every night. The big male was gazing at the second exit, on the far side of the room, his short ears perked attentively towards it. He hadn't yet looked over to where his son now stood. Kieran tightened his grip on his luggage, and took a few steps towards him -- but then paused. As the relief of dissipated tension buoyed his mood, he began to feel giddy. Naughty, even. Before his father had a chance to look around and see him, he slipped to one side and began circling around the crowds, approaching his sire from behind. The tall male was paying no attention to the surrounding people, and Kieran was able to get right behind him without being noticed.

Twenty yards away. Ten.

His father was wearing faded jeans -- probably a pair he'd had since before his son left -- and Kieran stared at the firm mounds of horse ass they framed, swallowing the drool that filled his mouth and feeling his cock begin to harden further. He'd had a semi ever since the plane began its descent to the airport; Dad's ass was pushing that closer to "excuse me, sir, but could you put that away before you take out someone's eye" territory. Fuck. He'd missed his father so much.

Releasing his luggage, he stepped closer carefully, keeping his footsteps light, now barely an inch away from his sire -- and then slid his arms around him in one smooth motion, simultaneously squeezing against the thick body, nuzzling his head across the back of his father's neck, and allowing his crotch to rest against his ass. He was a foot shorter than the almost seven-foot draft, letting him fit perfectly against him in this position. Kieran felt his father's body stiffen at the unexpected contact -- and then relax when he realised who it was. He felt his father's chest expand as he took in a huge breath, and then expel it with a shudder, making Kieran's entire body shake.

"Gave me a little fright there, Kit," his father said, a tremor in his voice betraying the powerful emotions behind. The sound of him -- right next to him, right in front of him, he was here, he was real -- made Kieran choke with a half-laugh, half-sob; his arms tightened, and he pushed his face hard into his father's back, letting the shirt absorb his tears.

Dad never called him by his given name. He'd been Kit since he was a foal; apparently, he'd struggled to say his own name, and Dad had found it so charming, he'd adopted it. Kieran didn't mind; his father's voice was calm and mellow, and every word he ever said to him was soaked with affection. He could have wanted to call Kieran "Trashcan", and it would have been fine. In fact, the only time the younger stallion could remember his father using his real name was...well, the day when everything had changed.

"Sorry, Dad," Kieran replied, half-muffled in the folds of his father's shirt. His arms tightened a little more, and his hands squeezed the firm flesh under them. "You smell so good, Dad," he sighed, pure happiness bursting through him like the warmth of a rising sun. He smelled of hay, and dust, and the fierce, musky scent of hardworking stallion sweat. He smelled like...home. Because he was home. "I missed you so much, Dad..."

"I missed you too, Kit," his father said, and the tremor in his voice almost broke it now. "So, so, so much...my boy, my beautiful son...so...so pr--" The words twisted into a gulp and a shuddering breath. "So...proud of you, Kit...missed you so much..."

Kieran's tears burst from him as if from a mountain spring: fresh and pure. He wept for the years they'd spent apart, but also the years they could now spend together. He could see them in his mind's eye: the procession of time, year upon year, with him and his father side by side in all of them. Never apart again. He wanted his father to know that, but it was too much to express. He managed a blubbery, "I'm home, Dad, I'm home," and then fell into more tears. But his father understood.

"Yes. Yes." His father's grip on him was unbreakable. "You are. You're home, son. Home with me. You and me." He could feel his father's own sobs of happiness through the heaving of his body, and as they both wept for the pleasure of being together again, his heart grew and grew until he thought it might explode. Everything was perfect.

He could feel his father's bulk and heat all around him. The emotional reunion had filled his heart with irrepressible joy, but it had done nothing to dampen his ardour. His hard cock pressed up against that fine, firm rear; he wanted to do nothing so much as slide his hands down into his sire's pants and grope him, stroke him, squeeze him until he grew wet and hard and ready for playtime. He'd dreamed of it, night after night, as he'd touched himself and whispered his father's name. "I don't wanna wait to get home, Dad," he said huskily. He pushed his crotch forward a little more, in case his father had missed the hot mass of horse prick pushing up against him. "I need this. I need you. Let's find a bathroom..." He paused, remembering one fragment of the grand speech he'd practiced and then completely forgotten the second he saw his sire. "It's time to turn around, Dad."

But then his father did, and Kieran's tearful grin faded when he saw the sombre expression on the tall equine's face, streaked by his tears. "What's...what's wrong, Dad?" he said fearfully, his heart falling. His father's mouth opened, but he seemed unable to speak. What was this? No, no, no. Kieran's mind instantly began to invent horrible scenarios that might have happened. The cattle were sick. Dad was in debt again. Something was wrong with the farm. Oh, fuck...maybe Dad was sick. Oh, God, please, not that...

But then his father's eyes flickered up, looking behind him, and two huge hands fell onto his shoulders with a thump. "Kirry!" a mature voice bellowed, and Kieran spun around in shock. His still-watery eyes looked up into the face of a huge, grinning zebra who was running his eyes up and down the stallion's body. "Well shit," the stranger exclaimed, "look how big you've gotten, bud!" Kieran stared at him in blinking disbelief, and the striped equine chuckled at his expression.

"Don't remember me?" he asked. His accent was an odd mix of east and west coast drawls, as if he'd grown up on two different farms, ten thousand miles apart. "Can't blame ya. How old was he the last time I saw him, Tristan?" he asked, addressing Kieran's father.

"Um...not sure." Tristan sounded calm, but oddly restrained. Kieran shot him a confused look -- what the fuck, Dad? -- before the zebra grabbed his attention again by dropping a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, was a good while ago, anyway." The zebra beamed. He glanced between their faces, finally noticing the tear-streaks down their facial hair. "Emotional reunion, huh?" The hand squeezed familiarly. "Your dad's real glad to have you back, bud. He's been talking about you for days. And it's awesome to see you again myself."

Kieran stood stock still, half in shock and at a complete loss. Who in the fucking fuck was this? If it hadn't been obvious that Dad knew the guy, he'd have ripped the familiar hand off his shoulder and told the boorish zebra he'd made a big mistake. When the fuck had he met this guy? He racked his brain. Not from school -- high school, at least. And not while he was studying; the zebra was clearly also a rancher from his clothes and smell and sound. A random event? A party? He seemed far too familiar for that.

The zebra watched the thoughts flickering across his face with a wide, gormless grin. "You really don't remember, huh?"

If I did, I'd fucking say so, idiot, he thought. But Dad had taught him better than to say it out loud. Instead, he gave a wan smile and slowly shook his head. "Afraid I don't. Care to remind me?"

The zebra let him go, crossing his arms and tapping one hoof against the airport linoleum in amusement. "One more try. Sleepovers...toffee apples...Kit and Chet and Axel..."

Kit and Chet and Axel. It was as if he'd walked past a door in his mind countless times -- but never opened it. Those words turned the handle for him, and memories came flooding out. Three young equines, and all the world to explore. Adventures and misadventures and summer days that never ended. Friendships strong as family, and a striped adult who kept an eye on them...

"...Uncle Felix?" he said incredulously.

When he was very young -- shortly after his mother died -- his father had befriended another rancher: a zebra that lived nearby. Felix Berg. Tristan was never especially sociable, but Kieran only realised that years later -- about the same time he realised that Dad must have done it solely to ensure he had a couple of playmates his own age. Their ranch was deep in the countryside, far from other people, and while a farm held plenty of fun distractions for a growing colt, his father must have believed that he needed peers as well. So, one day, he'd been introduced to Chet and Axel, the mismatched sons of the lusty zebra Felix. Chet's mother had been a donkey, and Axel's a horse; neither of them was in the picture anymore. That hadn't seemed so strange to Kieran -- not having a mother himself either -- and the three young boys had bonded rapidly and intensely. With no blood between the families, the fathers had nonetheless become Uncle Felix and Uncle Tristan.

The boys had done everything there was to do together. They'd explored every inch of both their ranches; in retrospect, Kieran thought, it had probably been incredibly risky to let three unsupervised children roam a cattle ranch, but they'd loved it. No number of cuts, scrapes, bruises -- or even a fractured arm, after a particularly aggressive game of "who can push Chet the highest in a swing tyre" -- had stopped them. They'd harangue one father or another to let them sleep over at one another's homes, or to drive them to places.

Felix had been the one who'd taken them to the fair whenever it was in town; Kieran's father had found the rides nauseating. The fair had been the young colt's absolute favourite. The rides were thrilling, the lights and sounds and smells were dazzlingly distracting, and he'd gotten to spend all day with his best friends in the world. And, best of all, if they were well-behaved -- which had to be a fairly broad measurement each time, given what naughty little shits they'd been -- they'd each get an entire toffee apple at the end of the day, just as they were leaving. Those sticky, shiny treats had seemed to the young horse to be the height of delectation. Three sets of equine teeth would crunch away happily in the car on the way home, with Kieran sandwiched in between his two friends. In the driving seat, Uncle Felix would have one elbow sticking out of the lowered window, a pair of sunglasses on, and rock music playing on the radio. He'd hum along to it and occasionally look over his shoulder at his sons and their friend with a paternal smile as they annihilated the sweets. It had seemed to Kieran that that was how life was, and always would be. Simple and wonderful.

And then the Bergs had moved, and his friends were gone.

Years later, it had made sense. Ranching was volatile, dependent on cattle prices; if there was a bad year, entire farms could go under. For Uncle Felix, though, it had been the opposite: an offer he couldn't turn down on his property. With two growing boys to support and their futures to consider, he'd done the smart thing: taken the money, and moved across the country. One day, Kieran had had two friends he adored -- and the next, he'd only had his dad. He'd cried for days.

But children are nothing if not resilient, and on top of that, his father had made sure he was there to fill the gap and ease his sadness. After a few weeks, it didn't hurt so much anymore. He'd liked spending time with his father. It was as if the tall, stoic stallion had taken it upon himself to not only fill the gap left by his son's mother, but also the friends he'd lost. He'd invented Kit Days: one day every two weeks. He and his son would spend the entire day together, doing whatever Kieran wished. Usually a Saturday; Dad would make sure he was free, and he'd tell Kit in advance. And when the lucky day arrived, whoever woke first that morning would bound into the other's bedroom and jump on the bed until the other awoke. Then they'd crawl in under the blankets, and -- no matter whose room it was -- Dad would wrap his arms around him, and nuzzle against his neck.

"What do you want to do today, Kit?" he'd ask, his warm breath tickling the colt's ear. And Kieran would squeal with excitement, and Dad would hug him closer, and the young stallion knew he had the best father in the entire world.

As Kieran stared at the grinning zebra, he realised he'd forgotten the origin of Kit Days. They'd become the best part of his early life, and the memories of their beginning had faded away. Chet and Axel and Uncle Felix had been forgotten: replaced with the infinitely warm, tight arms of his father. Twice a month, without fail, from the time the Bergs moved, until...until the last Kit Day, a few months before he'd left. The day they changed into something else.

The zebra was looking back at him with a huge grin. "Just Felix now, I think, bud," he said with a nicker. He looked shorter than the horse remembered, but that was probably merely Kieran's fractured childhood memories of a tall, striped adult. He looked older, too; wrinkles showed in the dark skin around his eyes. "That took a while, huh?"

"It was...so long ago," Kieran said. Almost two decades. Shit. "How...how are you?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm good, bud, yeah, pretty good," the equine said, nodding along to his own words. He didn't answer the second question though, looking over at Kieran's father instead. The young stallion followed his eyes. Now he recognised the expression on Dad's face: embarrassment. The taller horse cleared his throat.

"Felix...dropped by for a visit," he said. One hand rubbed along his thigh, the way it did when he was uncomfortable. He met his son's eyes a few times, but kept glancing away. "We were chatting, and I mentioned you were coming home, and how we're going out riding for a few days to..."

"--to get your riding muscles back!" Felix finished. He slapped Kieran's side playfully. "Bet you've gone soft from all that studying. We gotta get you back on a horse, bud! Show us old fogeys how a young stallion rides!"

Kieran ignored him. His father's eyes were apologising to him. "So," Tristan finished saying, "Felix and the others are gonna join us for a few days, for the ride. Then they're heading home."

"U...huh," Kieran said slowly, processing the news. His father looked away and shuffled his hooves. The crowd bustled and murmured around them.

"I mean -- if it's fine with you?" Felix asked after a few seconds. Kieran turned back to look at him. "I know you haven't seen your dad in a while and all," the zebra added, "but we'll be out of your mane in no time. And the boys are so keen to see you again. And we all wanna hear about what you've been up to. Your dad's real proud of what you've achieved. You should see how he puffs up when he talks about it."

If it was fine with him. If it was fine with him.

Well, gee, what would be mighty fine would be to get Dad home, and rip all his fucking clothes off with my teeth, and shove his gorgeous fat prick so deep down my throat I can't breathe, and fuck his ass all fucking night until he can't even fucking talk anymore and the entire house stinks of sex and cum, and then fall asleep with my dick softening inside him because we haven't fucked in three fucking years...

But that wasn't how Dad had raised him. You didn't mistreat guests, and you didn't turn them away after you'd invited them to stay. That wasn't how you did things out in the country. So, Kieran smiled, and pushed his horniness to the side.

"Of course, Felix. You're welcome to join. It'll be good catching up, you're right." He'd just have to find time to get his father alone for a little fun. The zebra had clearly blindsided his father by arriving out of the blue, and the horse hadn't been able to say no to his old friend. Kieran wasn't going to sour things for all of them by being an unaccommodating dick mere minutes after arriving home. It was only a few days, after all. He could last a few more days.

Probably.

Something else the zebra had said registered with him. "Did you say that the boys are here too?" he asked. Felix nodded rapidly, turning and pushed himself up onto his hooftips, looking over the heads of the crowd before spotting someone and waving at them, gesturing them closer. A few moments later, two figures pushed past a gaggle of tourists: a zonkey, and a zorse.

Chet and Axel looked nothing like he remembered -- and, apparently, neither did he. "Woa!" Chet said, staring at the horse with what looked like admiration. "Kieran! Look at you, bro!" The zonkey's voice had a thick twang to it, far stronger and more west coast than his father's, He might never have stepped foot outside a farm a day in his life. "Shit, you got big!"

Kieran didn't know what to say to that. "Yeah, it, uh...just kept happening," he managed, still dumbfounded by the sight of the two zebroids. His faded memories only recalled two fat, striped little bodies; nothing at all like the confident, handsome males standing before him now. He couldn't begin to enumerate what had changed. For a start, Chet was big. Really big. The zonkey's broad chest strained the seams on his shirt, and thick thighs held up a body built for contact sports. Nipples like dimes stood out clearly against his white shirt, and with his long ears, striped face, and pale cream neck, he looked like a younger version of his father. Axel, by contrast, was taller -- although only by an inch or two -- and a lot leaner. He looked as if he might have stepped off a fashion runway. His tight shirt showed the curves of a finely curated six-pack, and his arms were perfection. His face was lean, but not angular, with his cheekbones peeking out below his friendly eyes...and he was holding a stuffed lion toy. For some reason.

After a couple seconds of silence, Kieran's dad stepped closer. "They've changed, huh?" he said with a hint of a smile. Kieran shot him a look; certain his father was thinking the same thing. Yeah -- they've changed into two hot fucking studs.

"I...yeah. Sorry! Sorry, guys," he said, shaking his head. An image of a fat zonkey nipple drifted through his mind. "This is just...unexpected. Haven't thought about you in ages...and here you are. All of you...at the airport...just, uh, as I get home..."

"Saaaame," Axel said, sticking a half-eaten ice pop into his mouth. His tongue curled around the lolly, sucking off the liquid noisily. Blue colouring streaked the long pink muscle. "We're taking a couple weeks off. Just finished a harvest back home. What you been up to, man?" His voice was more metropolitan, lacking the farmer drawl his father and brother had. Kieran wondered how that had happened.

"Uh...well, I just finished studying..." he began, but Felix patted him on the back to interrupt him.

"Sorry, Kieran. Don't worry." He shot a look at his son. "There's time for that later, Axel," Felix said gruffly to his son. He reached down to grab Kieran's bags -- hefting both as easily as if they were empty -- and smiled understandingly at Kieran. "Poor guy just landed. Let's head home first, let him get rested and cleaned up. Lots of time for questions later."

Kieran had all but forgotten that they stood in an airport. As they made their way towards the terminal exit, he tried to sound casual as he asked, "So, uh, why'd you all come down here? To the airport, I mean." He'd only expected his father -- because who the fuck would also expect their childhood friends and their father to appear?

Felix answered him. "Well, Axel wanted to get a souvenir that for no reason they only sell in airports"--the zorse raised his stuffed lion toy, and squeezed it; it made a tinny growling noise--"and then Chet thought he'd tag along, and I figured, well, might as well tag along too, ya know? Since it's been so long and all."

"Okay, yeah." Not a ton of social awareness, then. They chatted a little more as they walked, and as soon as their guests were speaking amongst themselves, Kieran drifted to one side, closer to his father. He glanced at the others, but they didn't seem to be paying the two horses any attention. "Dad," he murmured, glancing over to make sure his father heard him. "When are we gonna fuck now?"

His father looked agonised. He wants it just as badly as I do. "I...we gotta...um, wait..."

Kieran wanted to stick his tongue down his father's throat. "I can't wait, Dad," he huffed. "I watched your videos on the way here. I need you. I need that ass." He glanced around and risked grabbing his father's ass, making Tristan jump. "My dick wants your ass, stud," he growled. "And my hole wants Daddy's horsecock."

His father bit his lip so hard, it seemed he might draw blood. "We gotta wait, Kit," was all he could say, though. Fuuuuuck! Waiting was torturous. He could see his dad, smell him, pat his back or arm. But what he wanted to do was to swing his leg across him, shove that big stallion prick up inside himself, and ride him to an explosive, messy finish. Was that so much to ask?

His aching balls throbbed their agreement.

When they reached the car, Kieran made for the front door. He wasn't in the best mood; visitor privilege notwithstanding, the unexpected guests could all sit in the back. He wanted to be next to his dad. But Felix stepped up with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry, bud." He kept apologising for things, but he had no idea about the fucking zebra-shaped spanner he'd thrown into Kieran's plans. The young stallion forcibly unclenched his teeth. "My leg's been giving me trouble," Felix explained, grimacing slightly. "Can't bend it too well. Mind if I take the front?"

Yes, I fucking mind. "Oh, that sucks. Yeah, yeah, no problem." The back door was already open, and Axel was standing to one side. Chet had already climbed into the other side, and Kieran nodded distracted thanks to the zorse and climbed in, sliding over to the middle of the seat. The zorse climbed in after him, and the door slammed shut.

"Everyone in?" Felix asked, turning to look back at the three younger equines. Kieran felt a little sandwiched between the two striped studs, with Chet's mass moulding against him on one side, and Axel's lean hardness on the other. The closeness of their bodies was doing nothing for his frustrations, either: he wanted his father, but his dick was happy to get excited about any sexually promising male in a fifteen-mile radius. He coughed, crossing his hands casually over his lap and letting the two brothers chime in with confirmation. The car's engine guttered to life, and they headed out, catching the off-ramp outside the airport that would take them -- after a couple of hours -- to the horse's ranch.

The brothers seemed to sense that Kieran wasn't in the most talkative mood, and stared in silence out of their respective windows as Felix chatted to Tristan about something or other. Thank fuck for that. Kieran needed a moment to himself to try to figure out exactly what the fuck he was going to do...because these well-meaning striped morons had inadvertently taken a huge shit on his plans for the next few days.

The most pressing issue was the dull ache in his crotch. He'd deliberately held off on playing with himself for almost two weeks, expecting to be able to jump his father's sexy body almost immediately after landing and relieve the pressure with an unforgettably explosive welcome-home fuck. That hadn't happened. Obviously. And now, not only was he still backed up with a case of blue-balling so strong that paint companies would probably be contacting him to take samples, but he was stuck in a car for two hours in between two attractive males, with his impossibly gorgeous father right in his line of sight for a touch of additional sexual torture. It was high school French with Monsieur Bernard all over again.

Thinking about the brothers -- even in annoyance -- only made his crotch situation worse. They were really close to him, and neither of them wore aftershave or deodorant. The horse was surprised to find that he could distinguish their scents; he'd have expected two farm-working equines to smell pretty much the same. Axel smelled earthy and erotic; his scent put Kieran in mind of the literal rolls in the hay he'd had in his later high school years. His brother had more of a gym scent, of manly exertions and testosterone-filled grunts behind locker rooms; another favourite memory of the horse. Shit. The brothers would have been his high school dreams back in the day, it seemed. Bet they looked even better naked.

Fuck. No. Stop thinking.

The two brothers were still looking out of the windows, seemingly unconcerned with conversation, and Kieran dared to turn his head a little to either side and run his eyes up and down both of them. Chet's crotch caught his eye with a bulge that looked obscene even through his jeans. It couldn't be his dick, or he'd have to be half-dropped. The horse had heard once that donkeys had especially large sheaths, for whatever reason; it seemed Chet's mother had dutifully passed that gene along to her son. Shit...but if that was merely his sheath, how big was his dick?

His crotch throbbed and complained at him.

Looking at Axel was just as pleasant. The zorse was incredibly fit, and Kieran silently applauded his dedication and gym regimen. It took a lot of work to look like that, even if you had the free workout that farm work amounted to. All his muscles were wonderfully proportioned, but it was still his arms that made the horse's nostrils flare the most. Those stevedore arms looked like the finest things in the world to have wrapped around you: their strength supporting you as their owner's cock slid smoothly in and out of you, and you stared up into his eyes and made happy, slutty noises.

But the real joke was...as horny as he was, as desperate to dick something as he felt, he didn't want them. Either of them. They were hot, no doubt, and they'd probably be fun as fuck in bed, but...they were just pretty boys when it came down to it. A dime a dozen in farm country. Sun, fresh air and hard work bred them like flies. No. He didn't simply want pretty. He wanted his dad. The soft-voiced, broad-shouldered stallion who sat right there in the driver's seat, right in front of him. At last.

Three years he'd been away from him, stuck on a campus they couldn't afford to fly him back from, working hard to make sure he didn't fail. He couldn't let his dad down. The farm's debt was endless, and while his father made light of it during his final year of school, the horse knew that paying for his studies was going to put his father into an extremely precarious position. If anything unexpected happened -- a sudden outbreak of disease, a wobble in the market -- it could spell the end of the ranch. That was why he'd picked the major he had. He wanted to come home again, and help his dad turn the farm into an asset, not a liability. He wanted to free his father from that constant nervous worry of what if, what if.

He wanted his father to be happy. Nothing more complex than that.

He'd been the one to suggest that they save money by not flying him home twice a year. He felt a small frog in his throat as he recalled how his father had wept into his neck, holding him so tightly that he almost couldn't breathe, alternately telling him he couldn't be without him, and thanking him for his sacrifice. That one memory had carried him through the darkest times while he was away. Whenever he started feeling overwhelmed, or was afraid he couldn't get through it all, he'd remember that day. Only three years. Three short years and he'd be home, qualified and able to contribute more than just his muscles to the running of the ranch, and he and Dad could finally begin the rest of their lives together...

Dad. He looked at him now. The tall stallion was listening to something Felix was saying, his head nodding gently. His big hands rested gently on the wheel, guiding the car as effortlessly and carefully as he did most anything. He was so beautiful; Kieran's heart ached to behold him. His father's brown muzzle had a lighter splotch right at the end, around his nose, that made it look as if he'd dipped his whole muzzle into a cappuccino. Kieran used to stare at that splotch after they'd finished fucking, with his father's sweaty bulk hanging above him, snorting, huge and wonderful. He used to reach up with one hand and tug the muzzle down, and kiss the tip of that lovely nose with gentle lips. Then Dad would sigh, and kiss him back, and slowly lower himself onto his son, his weight pressing him down, down, into the warm hay beneath them, with only the stars above to see. Kieran would wrap his arms around his father -- he couldn't even make his fingers touch, his back was so broad -- and grip him tight, and drift away, as happy as any horse could be.

At the airport earlier, he'd told himself he could last a few more days, but now he wasn't sure that was true. It had simply taken a little time to sink in. He was home. With Dad. For good! No more classes, no more late nights of study to make sure he'd really understood the material, no more tutoring annoying freshmen to make a couple extra bucks so he wouldn't have to ask Dad for more money that month. He was really, really here...and all he wanted was to get his hands on the body he'd only seen through screens for the last thirty-six months.

In exchange for his not coming home for three years, Dad had made him a promise: biweekly phone calls. That had escalated within a month to online video when neither of them could bear to not see one another anymore. Dad had had to upgrade the line back home to support the bandwidth, but it had been worth it. It had been hard the first few weeks: really fucking hard. The tears had flowed freely and frequently, and Kieran had had attacks of anxiety that had come close to making him doubt everything he was trying to do. Dad needed him! The way he tried to sound so calm and in control, but was betrayed by the constant quaver in his voice. The way he'd always try to say goodbye and end the call before the tears turned into full-on sobs. The way he stroked the screen, his face bent at that slight angle he always used when he looked at something he enjoyed. It had ripped at the stallion's very soul, but the one time he brought it up, Dad had simply shaken his head.

"This is nothing, son," he'd said softly, his voice a salve to Kieran's pain. "This is an eye-blink. It's already over -- we just don't know it yet. You're gonna turn around one day, and realise you're looking back at three years, and I'm gonna be standing there, and it will be like it never happened." He'd snapped his fingers, and smiled. "Just like that. And then it'll only be you and me, y'hear? Like we said. So, don't feel bad, all right? You're too smart and beautiful for that. Don't be sad for now: be happy for the day you turn around."

Fuck. He loved that big beautiful horse so fucking much it hurt.

They'd adapted. Their distance had become the new normal, and they'd found ways to reduce the pain of their separation. Well, one specific way: exchanging nudes. The first time he'd flashed his dick at his dad over the camera, the older horse had looked scandalised. "What if the Internet sees?" he'd asked, and Kieran had assured him the Internet was not spying on them -- and then asked slyly if his father would like it if they did. His expression had been priceless. Kieran had continued to show off, and when he'd turned around from sending a close-up of his asshole, he'd found his father -- dick in hand -- staring at him.

"Daddy likes it when you show off for him," he'd said, and Kieran had nearly cum on the spot. He'd done everything he could think of to show off more -- the sight of his furiously masturbating father better than any aphrodisiac -- until his father had grunted that he was close, and he'd thumped into his chair and grabbed his own dick and pulled himself off as quickly as he could. Dad had groaned, and his head had fallen back, and his gorgeous black flare had spat its creamy load all over his nude chest. Kieran's had followed suit.

After that first time, his father had turned into a bigger exhibitionist than his son could have imagined. Something about showing off -- or being watched at a distance -- really did it for the stallion. He was constantly looking for ways to keep things interesting. One of the very first things he'd decided was that the laptop camera didn't only add ten pounds, it also added a keg and two tree trunks. He wanted to look good on the screen for his boy. He was gonna work out, properly, and turn his general farm strength into hot, visible muscle. "I'm gonna be a stud, son," he'd say, "for when you get back." Kieran would tell him he was already a stud, but that was simply for a little ego boost. His father seemed to have fixed on determined exercise as one of his coping mechanisms for being apart from his son, and Kieran was more than happy to encourage it. If it made his father happy and gave him something to fill his time, he'd never do anything to take that away from him.

Kieran still had a hard drive with every single porn chat they'd ever had. He'd revisited it so many times, it was a wonder the thing hadn't died. A few days before he flew home, he'd been looking through it, and he'd compared the very first video to the very newest. The difference was remarkable; seeing it happening slowly, week by week, hadn't had the same impact as comparing three-years-ago Dad -- tall, but bulky, with a big belly and heavy legs -- with new, cockfuel Dad. The belly had tightened up into a muscle gut, and the legs had turned hard and rippled. His wide chest was like one solid muscle, and his ass...holy fucking shit. Michelangelo would have wept to behold it. Kieran's dick certainly did.

His eyes dropped to that ass now. He could only see part of it, but it looked tight and eminently fuckable. It had been amazing before...he couldn't begin to imagine how good it would feel now. He couldn't wait to get into it. Driving his dick into his father's hole, feeling his tight muscles pressing into his flesh, slapping those buttocks with a palm to hear the slap...he adjusted one leg to let his thickening cock slip down a bit, and glanced guiltily at the males to either side. This really wasn't the time to be reliving memories like this...but nobody was paying attention to him. And he was so. Fucking. Horny.

His favourite video of all had been all about that ass. It had only been a week or two before. Maybe Dad had been extra turned on, excited that his son would soon be coming home. Right after the chat began, he'd told his son to hang on, and vanished off-screen. A couple minutes later, the jingle of spurs had become audible -- and then two leather-clad legs came into view. The material was skin-tight, and cut away around the crotch to expose as much skin as possible, while still leaving the genitals covered. When he'd turned, Kieran saw that the back of the legs was laced up, but his father's ass was exposed. He'd only gotten a glimpse before Dad turned back, and sat down on the edge of the bed with a thump.

"Like what you see, pardner?" he'd said, affecting the most stereotypical rancher accent imaginable. He'd had a leather jacket on, too, but it had hung open in front, showing off his body.

Kieran's dick had been out of his pants in seconds.

"Shore do, pops," he'd replied, in character. That had made Dad chuckle, and he'd spread his legs wide, making the bulge between his legs press tightly against the thin leather pouch that held it. One of his hands had slid over a thigh and grabbed the bulge, groping and squeezing it in a way that had made Kieran groan extra-loud, so that his father could hear. His dick had somehow gone from rock-hard to even harder. Rockier hardier? Whatever. Dad's hot body in a naughty cowboy outfit meant buttons were pressed. And when his father lifted one hoof to rest it on the bed, and worked lazily at the knots of the crotch-holder until it came loose, and his swollen, half-hard horsecock spilled out across the bedspread like every wet dream the horny young stallion had ever had...Kieran had sworn out loud.

"Oh, ffffuuuuck, Dad...!"

His father had grinned, but not replied, and groped himself further; dragging his dick back and forth across the bed covers and letting the near-constant stream of pre-cum leave a silvery trail behind it. It had been mesmerising -- but when Dad had suddenly got up, turned around, and gotten on all fours, Kieran had had to let go of his dick for fear of ruining his laptop with screen-shattering orgasm.

Tristan's legs were laced up behind with leather ties, as he'd seen, but his ass was entirely exposed. With his legs spread wide, his erect cock hung down between them like a long, thick ebony sceptre. The prize gem nestled above it: a crimson doughnut, flexing open and shut like a tease. Dad had already lifted his tail high, but he'd reached back with a hand to tug it even higher, making the skin pull taut and smooth. Hiding absolutely nothing from his son.

"I got a real problem here, pardner," he'd said huskily. "Got me this here ass, and nobody around to fill it." He'd let his tail go, and the fingers had slid down to rub over his doughnut. "Us farm horses are hungry buggers," he'd continued. "We need a feeding every day." And Kieran had had to bite down on a knuckle when he saw his father push inside himself with one thick finger. There was no faking the pleasure-moan that echoed from his speakers. "And I'm real hungry, pardner," his father had said, words half-breathed, half-spoken, and soaked with lust. "I need it real bad. Need a hot young stud to get right up in here...and feed me his load." A second finger had joined the first, and Kieran's dick -- sticking up from his crotch like the bluntest rocket ever made -- had jerked and squirted a glob of pre-cum out. He'd grabbed himself with both hands, wetting them with the pre-cum and jerking off with wild abandon, eyes locked to the sight of his stud cowboy father finger-fucking himself and moaning like a slut. It had only taken Kieran a few moments to get to the edge, and just as he felt his balls rising up...

A soft elbowing in his side made him jerk awake, and he snapped out of his daydream. Disoriented, the horse turned to blink at Chet, who smirked at him and nodded at the horse's crotch. "Long flight, huh?" he said softly.

Kieran blinked emptily at him, then followed his gaze. A small wet spot was forming on the front of his pants, and he gasped and closed his legs, trying to hide it. Chet sniggered. "I get ya," he told the horse, patting his leg. "I gotta give my guy action a couple times a day, or he gets real antsy. You wouldn't believe the mark this bastard leaves on boxers." He groped himself, and Kieran stared, wide-eyed, before catching himself and looking away. That only made Chet chuckle louder, and Felix turned to look back at him.

"You boys doin' alright back there?" he asked, and Kieran nodded briskly.

"Suuuuure are, Pop!" Chet said brightly. "Was just asking Kit how the flight was." A dramatic pause. "Long, he says." A laugh rippled through the car.

"Yeah...bet it was," the zebra said. "Last one for a while, though, huh? Bet you're glad to be home. Your Dad was telling me yesterday about how long it's been. I'm really impressed. What'd you do to not get homesick?"

Dad's thick fingers, pushing so deep, stretching himself wide, begging Kieran to fuck him...

"Oh," Kieran said, "you know. You find ways."

The zebra nodded. "Well, maybe you could teach some of those ways to these two lazy bums"--he reached a hand out to slap Axel's leg, startling the zorse to attention--"so they don't keep coming back home to make me feed 'em and do their laundry!"

"Aw, but pops," Chet said cheekily, "we gotta make sure you ain't fallen in the shower and broken a hip or something." He paused dramatically. "'cos you're old."

Another laugh ran around the inside of the car, and Kieran had to smile at the banter. Then Felix's eyes locked on to him, a lopsided grin still on his face. "So, your dad says you studied ranching, huh?" he asked the horse.

Kieran nodded. "Uhuh. Well, um, kinda," he instantly corrected himself. "There's no degree in that, exactly. I did business management, focusing on..." He trailed off. "Uh, boring stuff. Doesn't matter. Ranching, basically. Yeah. Heh."

Felix looked impressed. "You got a pair of stones on you, bud. Not a lot of brains in the ranching business. Lotta muscleheads out there that think you just gotta not let all yer animals die, and that's it." He nodded in satisfaction. "Can't wait to see what you can do for the old place. I think you'll do your dad proud."

"He already has," his father said, reaching a hand back to pat his son's knee. Kieran blushed, and the other equines laughed with delight at his embarrassment. On the plus side, the chatter was distracting him from his pants problem.

The rest of the journey passed in pleasant-enough conversation. Felix and his sons caught the horses up on what they'd done in the decades since they left, and Kieran filled them in on what had been happening on this side of the country -- with a few strategic omissions. The zebra, it turned out, had used the funds from the sale of his ranch to simply buy a larger one out west, where land was cheaper. He'd grown his staff in tandem with his ambitions, and ensured his sons knew everything they needed to make their way in the business themselves. When they were old enough, he'd put them in charge of one of his smaller farms, a few hours away from his own. "Can't have 'em too close," he said gruffly, "or they'll just run home to daddy whenever something ain't working." The brothers had started working it themselves, using some of their father's stock to set up a cow-calf operation, supporting the main farms. As Felix put it, "they haven't completely fucked it up."

"Yet," Axel had clarified with a smirk, and his father had slapped his leg again playfully.

"Yet," he'd agreed, with satisfaction.

"So, you're all three in ranching?" Kieran asked eventually, and the zebra nodded eagerly.

"Yep!" He stared at his sons with affection. "The boys followed in their dad's footsteps, same as me and my pop. And you and yours. Makes me real proud. It's the cowboy way, y'know, bud." He gave a queer smile. "Keeping it in the family."

"Heh." Kieran looked away, trying not to smirk himself. If only you knew. He quickly changed the topic. "So, uh, what's the plan for the next few days?"

Felix looked over at Tristan. "What's on the cards, Tristan?" Kieran's father seemed to think for a moment, and then cleared his throat.

"Welllll," he said slowly. "I figure, we just relax the rest of the day, seeing as its past lunch already. You ate on the plane, right, Kit?" Kieran nodded. "Right. So, make a few snacks, grab a whole heap of beers, and sit out on the porch. How about a barbecue tonight for dinner? Yeah. We can get the horses packed up tomorrow morning with supplies, and head out. Only need a couple days' worth."

"Where are you thinking we'll go, Dad?" Kieran asked, trying to making a silent point to the visitors. I live here; you don't. "Out by the ridge?"

"I thought the clearing there in the west, near the old mine shaft," his father replied. "Hills all around in case a wind picks up, and lots of wood around for a fire. Camp there the one night, then ride through the next day to Jason's Peak. Great view at night, and we can bring wood with us from the clearing for a fire. Then we head around the river, cross over, and approach home again from that angle."

"Sounds good to me, Tristan," drawled the zebra, and Kieran felt a flash of irritation. Butt out, you fucking black and white cockblock. His sons agreed, and Kieran looked out of the window, trying to distract himself from his jealousy. It would only be a few days, and then they'd be gone. Don't get upset, don't make things uncomfortable for Dad. The zebra was his father's friend, after all, and his sire didn't have that many to start with. The younger stallion tried to focus on the objects passing by the window instead.

As they drew closer to the farm, he began to recognise things; most he remembered, and a few he'd forgotten. The chatting had helped him suppress the neediness in his loins, but that flared up again as they passed the old brick train station on the edge of town. Dad and he had been trapped in there one day when a downpour had started while they'd been shopping in town. Alone, with likely hours to wait, Kieran had ended up teaching his father to deep-throat him while he sprawled on a weather-faded wooden bench. The thunder had drowned out most of his cries of pleasure, but only time would erase the splash of whiteness his father had left, sprayed across the cracked tiles.

His cock twitched at the memory, and he glanced at his father again, every detail of his sire's body standing out for him in excruciating detail. That fine, long mane, and the strong back it cascaded down. The big, burly chest, and the thick arms holding the wheel. The tight ass, and the fat dick that waited on the other side...fffffuuuuck! He looked away, trying to control himself. He'd get out of the car with an erection like a fucking flagpole at this rate. But he had to make a plan. Get Dad alone somewhere for an hour or two, and get this out of his system with a fast, fiery fuck. Then he could survive the rest of the trip, until their guests left. But if he and his father vanished -- together -- for a bit...was that suspicious? They had no reason to think the two horses had a secret like that. Could he get away with a facile lie about checking the equipment in the barn? Perhaps. People tended to see what they wanted to imagine...and who ever thought to imagine a father-son couple fucking like horny teenagers in the back of a barn?

His reverie was interrupted by a soft word from his father. "Almost there," the big stallion said, and Kieran stared out of the window just in time to see the faded wooden sign flash past -- du Plessis Ranch -- and then they turned into the dirt road that led up towards the house. A few minutes later, the truck clattered to a stop outside the barn, and Kieran was home.

He climbed out slowly after the brothers, familiarity welling up inside him at the sights and sounds of his childhood home. The peeling white paint of the house, stark against the blue afternoon sky. The smell of cattle dung in the air, and the sight of a small group of them wandering along, out beyond the trees that ringed the home. The buzzing of the cicadas and the chattering of noisy birds in the great beech that grew behind the house. The shocking red of the barn, and the welcoming gloom inside it. The feral horses that wandered around their paddock, snorting and waving their manes at the new arrivals. The clean, cool smell of the rural autumn air...

Kieran didn't realise he was crying until he felt his father slip an arm around him, and he simply turned and wrapped his own around his father's body, pressing his face to him and holding him as tightly as he could. He didn't give a fuck right now what the zebra and his sons might think. He simply wanted to hold his father -- his lover -- and delight in his closeness and comfort.

"You're home, son," his father whispered, and the younger horse took a big, shuddering breath, half-laughing and half-crying. "You're home, boy. You're here with me." One of his hands stroked his son's mane, and he kissed the top of his son's head. "You were so brave, son," he said, voice bursting with pride," and you did it. You did it, Kit! I'm so proud of you, son. And I'm never letting you go again, you hear? Never ever. It's you and me together now, forever." Kieran gripped him, fingers curling into his clothes and his hair, and nodded his head against his father's chest. Then he pulled back, and looked up into his father's soft eyes, and wanted nothing more than to kiss him -- and believed he saw the same desire in those dark orbs. His smouldering desire, barely banked, burst into fresh flame, and he knew he had to have his father now. He had to. He clenched his hands, stopping them from pushing up under his shirt there and then to grab his father's pecs, or around his back to grip that fabulous tight ass...

His father pulled back as soon as he felt his son's growing erection touch him, pretending that the hug was done. Kieran coughed, wiped away a lingering tear, and tried to sound casual. "Hey, Dad, can we go check out the state of the equipment? I wanna see if there's anything we can look at refurbishi--"

A big cream hand thumped down onto Kieran's shoulder, interrupting him. "Oh, now, come on!" Felix said with gusto. "There's gonna be lots of time for that later, huh? Take a couple days off! Relax!" He grinned disarmingly at the horse, and Kieran tried to think of an answer.

"Sure, but...it'd be nice to get a...head-start on things..." Felix blew a raspberry at that and waved expansively at the clear sky and the distant mountains.

"Look at that, Kieran! It's fucking magnificent. Autumn on the range, bud." He took an exaggerated breath. "I'll tell you what: as nice as it can be out west, the air just don't smell right. It's been ages, but it smells so good coming back here." He patted the horse on the back. "It's not every day you get to come home again, bud. Savour it. Forget about work! It'll be there when you're ready. Yeah? Let's get drunk and have a great evening hanging out!"

Kieran glanced over at his father, but couldn't think of a reasonable objection to the zebra's annoyingly well-made point. "I guess..."

"Great!" Another hard slap on the back from the zebra. "And anyway, you've been flying for-fucking-ever! I bet you'll want a shower first."

A shower. Yes! Water on for covering noise, and Dad could easily slip in after him for a quick suck and fuck. Perfect.

He smiled. "A shower sounds fantastic right about now. I'll head right up. Keep a beer on ice for me, will you?" He gave his father what he hoped was a sufficiently knowing look. "Dad, could you help me carry my bags up?"

But his father's expression made it clear he was missing something, and his body tensed. What now? Good fucking grief, why was it so fucking hard to get a moment to get laid?

It was Axel who slid the stick in between the spokes of that particular wheel for him, as he walked over with a disarming smile. "Don't waste your time," he said. The brothers had been speaking quietly by themselves off to one side, giving the two reunited horses a bit of space. "Indoor shower's busted."

"What? Busted how?" Kieran asked in disbelief. How many ways would fate devise to fuck him over? What next -- Dad's dick had fallen off during his absence?

The zorse shrugged and looked across at Tristan for confirmation. "Dunno. Burst pipe or something?"

"Feeder pipe burst out back," Tristan confirmed, sounding as if he was mourning the loss of a close relative. He stared longingly at his son. No shower sex for us, then, Dad. Fuck.

"Yeah, that," Axel said. "Wanted to grab one this morning myself. Feeling kinda musky."

"Musk never killed anyone, ya big pansy," Chet said, slapping his brother's arm as he walked past, carrying one of Kieran's bags.

"Some people prefer not to smell like a locker room, actually, Chet!" Axel snapped at his brother. Then he clicked his fingers and turned back to Kieran. "Oh! But your dad said there's one in the barn, I think? Except someone's gotta help you use it, so that didn't help me out earlier." He pointed a finger between the two of them. "But this solves that, huh? I'll wash your back, you wash mine? I mean, not literally, I can wash my own back..."

His foolish grin was entirely at odds with Kieran's sinking feeling as the zorse grabbed his arm and tugged him forward. There was a shower in the barn -- of sorts. His father called it the horse shower, and it was nothing but a contraption he'd put together to wash down their riding horses when they needed cleaning. A large shower-head drizzled water down whenever someone worked the hand-driven pump. Basic, but effective.

Also completely uncovered.

"I, uh, just need to get a towel..." Kieran began, but Chet chimed in, standing at the steps to the house.

"No worries! I'll bring a couple for you guys after I've dropped off your bags." The zonkey gave the two of them a thumbs-up and headed in the house. Kieran looked over at his father, trying not to look desperate, but his sire had no better answer.

"See you boys in a bit, then!" Felix said, patting Tristan's back. The two fathers turned and headed towards the back of the house, and Kieran slowly turned away, trailing after Axel as the zorse pushed the barn door open and went inside.

The horse shower was off to the side, blessedly hidden from the view of anyone walking past unless they stuck their head into the barn. This was already going to be awkward enough without Chet or Felix wandering past to chat about the weather or some other inconsequential bullshit. Why did that family have to be so fucking helpful? The horse kicked a bale of hay as he entered, and heard a snort from the zorse standing by the pump system ahead of him.

"Is it my dad?" he asked, and gave a wry smile at the horse's suddenly guilty expression, thankfully misinterpreting it. "Yeah, he's kinda loud. And he doesn't get a lot of time to hang out with adults he likes. Back home, he's an old horse working a young stallion's game. Doesn't get a lot of respect from the other owners. He was super excited to see your dad again. They get along."

Kieran had to agree with that. His father seemed to be dealing with their unexpected sex-hiatus pretty well, and Felix was probably helping. If nothing else, his randomly bellowing voice would soften even a satyr's erection.

"Talking about dad?" Chet asked, turning up at the door with two towels in hand. He tossed them to Kieran, followed by a translucent bar of soap. "Yeeep. Loud and proud. Just how he is. He should relax a bit after he's got a few beers in him, though. Speaking of which..." He gave a vague salute to his brother and Kieran. "I'm gonna go make sure the old fogeys don't drink it all before you guys are done. See you there!" And he was gone.

"...bye," Kieran said belatedly to the empty air. He walked forward and pulled the barn doors fully closed again, before walking back to the zorse and offering him one of the towels. Axel tossed it onto a pile of hay.

"Thanks." The pause was just long enough to make Kieran feel self-conscious. Even with the barn doors shut, the place was brightly lit; sunlight could fit through countless small gaps in the roof. "So -- you wanna go first?"

Kieran tried to think if it mattered, and couldn't get past the idea of having to watch this young stud showering while his balls were backed up like a goods truck on a one-way. "Sure," he said slowly, putting down his own towel and beginning to undress. Something about his careful gaze -- straight down at the floor, oh look at that piece of hay, yeah, keep looking right at that -- or the extra-slow unbuttoning and unzipping must have given him away, because he heard Axel give a small chuckle.

"Kieran, man, you...uh, like guys, huh?" he said, rubbing a hoof across the dry straw. The horse's sudden freeze answered the question wordlessly, and the zorse quickly raised a hand. "Hey, um, it's fine. I don't..." At least he seemed uncomfortable talking about it. That made two of them. "I work hard on myself, you know?" he tried to explain. "I'm used to it. At the gym, the guys...I see their eyes too. I know what they like. It's a compliment, anyway, isn't it?" The wood of the barn creaked gently in the day's heat, and the silence stretched out a little longer. "If a gay guy thinks you're hot, I mean," he added. "But, uh, don't worry. I don't care if you're hard. Just means...I mean...uh." He shrugged. "You can look. If -- if you want."

Kieran tried not to meet the sexy zorse's eyes. What would he even say? Thanks, Axel, you're really hot and all, but I'd rather think about my dad. But the other stallion's awkwardly gifted permission did mean he had an excuse for being hard, at least, so when his pants dropped, they each -- in their own way -- considered the inches of semi-soft stallion cock that hung from his sheath. A few seconds later, the pump started creaking as the zorse began working the handle, and water splashed down onto a concrete slab. Kieran stepped into it, the cold making him gasp, and quickly began rubbing himself down. Permission or not, the less time he was naked and wet in front of Axel, the better.

It only took him a minute to clean himself off, and then -- shivering a little from the colder-than-expected water -- he grabbed a towel and dried himself in record time, ending with the towel around his waist. The zorse stopped working the pump and walked silently towards the concrete slab of the shower. Kieran looked away as he began undressing, moving to the pump and grasping the handle. Yes. Focus on how the pitted metal felt, and try to ignore the incredibly fit equine getting naked over there.

He meant to stare off into the middle distance, he really did. He was going to work the pump and stare at nothing and wait for the zorse to be done. He could think of Dad's videos and his body and not have to explain why he had a raging erection. But as the shock of the cold shower faded, and his arousal ramped back up, he simply couldn't help himself. As his hands took the pump handle, his head swung about, and he watched the zorse.

Because Axel looked unbelievable.

His shirt came off first, and as his arms rose above his head, his obliques pulled tight, framing the rippled pattern of abs between them. The zorse's body hair was a pleasant chestnut colour, darker and thicker than Dad's, with lighter stripes bisecting it: the zebra markings curved in from his back, along his sides, and faded before they reached the mid-line of his body. His biceps grew firm again as the arms fell back down, and then tensed into delicious mounds of muscle as he tucked his thumbs into his pants and tugged them off in one smooth motion. No underwear for him, it seemed; two fat, shiny balls plopped right out, above a whorled brown sheath. Kieran got the impression the zorse was used to showing off for people; his motions felt almost choreographed, every movement part of a little dance the equine had designed to simultaneously tease a viewer and demonstrate his incredible fitness.

He stepped out of the puddle of clothes on the floor, one hand reaching down to push his nuts free of his inner thigh. They were so fucking big: if Chet had inherited a sheath gene from his nameless mother, then Axel had been gifted his father's zebra heritage in the ball department. He turned to walk under the spray of water, and Kieran got to watch a flawless male ass move away from him. He held back the instinctual snort, but his towel began to grow a little tight, and he quickly turned a bit to try to hide it. He was too fucking horny for this! He should simply tell Axel he didn't feel comfortable with it. Get his brother to come and drive the pump, or something...fuck, why hadn't he suggested that outside?

But his hands kept working the pump, and his eyes kept looking at the zorse.

Axel's face rose into the falling water, and he gave a deep and satisfied sigh. His balls were hanging very loosely, and every motion he made jostled them, making them bounce a little, or swing from side to side. He began running the bar of soap across his body, pressing into the muscles and the hair, working up suds. He turned his head from side to side, letting the water cascade over him and soak his mane to the roots. Kieran had rushed his shower, and his mane was still mostly dry; the zorse was taking his time. Doing it right. Definitely putting on a show.

He shifted the soap to his other hand and rubbed the suds in a circular motion around his chest and down his belly. The flesh underneath it barely moved, so hard was it; he could have been carved from stone. Wet and soapy, the hand reached his crotch and slid under his balls to lift them. They received a gentle, generous washing that just happened to push them out in Kieran's direction. How were they so big? No wonder zebras had a reputation for their finishes.

The ball attention -- or perhaps the silent observer -- was exciting the zorse a little, and his cock soon peeked out of its home and dropped a few inches. The horse had to do a bit of a double-take; the zorse's dick looked an awful lot like Dad's. Same pitch-black colour, about the same thickness when soft. Would it grow the same way, he wondered? Lengthening like a magical staff, with the flare growing proud and potent upon the head. He could watch Dad's cock drop a thousand times and not grow tired of it. He wanted to watch it now...but Dad wasn't here, and Axel was. And he was only looking.

Axel sighed, making the horse blink back to alertness. One of his hands was sweeping through his mane hairs now, dragging out any loose ones. The zorse had a horse's long, flowing mane, unlike his brother and fathers' shorter, brushier ones, and it grew dark and lustrous as it soaked up the water. The other was cleaning behind himself, fingers sliding up and down his crack. One of the two must have felt good, because his cock had dropped a little more, now looking fully extended. At least, Kieran thought it must be; if any more dark flesh dropped out, the horse would be seriously hung, even for their species.

"Ah, fuck..." the zorse said softly, letting his head flop forward and looking down at his fully revealed member. "Showers always make me..." He glanced over at Kieran, who was trying not to look as if the impromptu show was turning him on. The tent in his towel made the attempt pointless. "Hey, do you mind if...uh, I normally..." He made a jerking-off motion with one hand. "In the shower back home, and...it's kinda been a few days..."

Kieran's tongue disappeared, and his throat became filled with sawdust. He managed a hngh and then gave up. Axel smiled like a blushing bride -- not that brides usually had fifteen-inch horsecocks, at least before the consummation -- and looked away...but looked back with a naughty expression. "Will you...keep watching?" he said softly.

Kieran gulped and gave a faint nod. Dad...fuck, I want you, but...I'm so fucking horny...

Axel's hand slid up and down his cock a few times before grasping the head and squeezing it. The shaft thickened as Kieran watched, the rivulets of water running down it being deflected by the veins that grew proud and thick along it. The cock rose as it grew harder, too, and the zorse stroked the underside, looking down at his endowment with a wonderful expression: eyes soft, mouth gently parted, tongue slipping back and forth across his teeth. He couldn't have forgotten that Kieran was there, watching him; he simply didn't seem to care. He was going to pleasure himself to orgasm, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

The horse watched in lust and excitement, as eager now to see the other equine's climax as to see how he worked his member. He only really knew what he and his father did to masturbate, and Axel wasn't doing what either of them did. One of his hands was gripping his shaft right at the base where it merged into the skin of his dusky sheath. He'd squeeze hard, making the veins of his cock go rigid and making the shaft harden and rise as if what protruded from his body wasn't a penis, but a length of gnarled hardwood. Then he'd release it, and it would deflate a little, dropping down into a gentle curve with his heavy, blood-fattened flare drooping at the end. Or he'd place his other hand under that flare, and slap the penis against his hand: the prick hitting his palm with a meaty slap that sounded like a thunderclap in the barn's still, quiet atmosphere.

He grew harder yet, and his cock no longer curved down at all. His flare was swelling, and his urethra -- a dark, baleful eye on the bottom of his cock's nubbed crown -- stared unblinkingly at Kieran, as if daring him to do something about it. The horse grew harder, and pumped faster. The water was coursing down now, completely soaking the other stallion in its silver shower. Axel didn't notice. His eyes were shut now, and one hand held his flare right behind the crown, squeezing and pressing forward in turn as the other slid along the slickened shaft with rapid, jerky motions. His stripes were even darker when wet; russet marks that cut through the pale hairs as if a god had struck him on his side, to mark him as their own.

The soaking fur clung tightly to his muscled form, every twitch and flex making his gorgeous curves shimmer. His mouth was wide open now, and his breathing was fast. His flare kept getting bigger; fuck, that must be from the zebra side of his family, too. The fucking thing was twice as thick as his shaft. Faster his one hand slid, and harder the other squeezed, compressing and releasing the spongy flesh. Kieran did that to himself when he jerked off, and he could all but feel the sensations in his own dick now, like echoes: the electric sparks that shot all the way down his shaft and thrummed inside his belly, the blood heat of the flesh when it was that swollen, the incredible feeling of it when you squeezed, and it pushed back...

Axel's beautiful balls were rising up, and he was making sharp, grunting noises. The hand behind his flare was clasping the shaft now, angling it up into the air. It looked even bigger now, somehow, like a balloon about to burst. The zorse grimaced, his lip raised high, his nostrils wide as jet engines. He started to moan, a low sound that rose in pitch and volume as quickly as his nuts vanished into his body, and then he jerked, and froze, and...

His first cumshot could have been fired from a rifle. It squirted out of his dick at an incredible speed, arcing up into the air and almost hitting the underside of the second floor, before landing somewhere on top of a pile of hay bales on the other side of the barn. The second almost matched it, but smacked into a metal pail instead, dribbling down the side like molten metal. Each one after that was a little closer, splattering into the ground, creating a steaming white line that pointed right back at the flare that had created it. Kieran managed three or four shots on a good day; he counted nine from Axel before the zorse was done. True, the last two simply welled up from his urethra like thick white oil, oozing from his cock down onto the floor in a long, sticky rope of cum, but they were still so big.

Fucking hell. Zebra balls certainly met expectations.

Axel gave a long, shuddering groan, and his hands fell limply to his sides. His released cock thwacked into his leg and began to shrink back up into his sheath. "Fuck, but I needed that," the zorse gasped. He lifted his face and washed off the sweat that had formed during his exertions, then cleaned his hands of semen and stepped out from under the flow. "Thanks for the shower," he said, giving the horse a grin just as disarming as the ones his father deployed. "How'd I do?"

"Uh..." The wavy line of semen stretched a good six yards along the floor. "Pretty good..."

"Yeah." The self-possessed smile said it all. "Should really thank my Dad for these babies sometime." He gave his balls a satisfied fondle, then dropped them to grab a towel and rub off. "Now I can really relax, ya know?" He got dressed, and Kieran quickly undid his towel and did the same. Axel glanced at his hardness and smirked again. "If you need a little time by yourself..." he started to say, and Kieran's face burst into a blush. "I can tell the others you're a slow dresser," the zorse finished.

"Uh, I -- I'm fine. Thanks." He didn't want to attract attention to his dick right now. Unless you can get my father in here, too. Fuck...he fucking had to get Dad alone to deal with this. He'd blow a load in that warm mouth in no time, at this point. They only needed a couple minutes alone. Maybe when everyone was drunk...

Axel waited for him outside, and the two equines left the barn together, wandering around to the back of the house. On the porch stood a large table, surrounded by camping chairs. The table was already littered with bottles, with the biggest collection in front of Chet. Even as they arrived, he thumped another empty bottle down, belching disgustingly. Axel clapped his hands with faux politeness, and Felix slapped his son's meaty shoulder, his ears flattened in annoyance.

"Don't be a fucking slob, Chet," he said.

"Sorry, pops." A second, barely covered burp followed. "Must be my donkey side, huh? You definitely don't release gas like a well-fed milk cow when you're at home, right?" He sniggered and hunched down into his seat to avoid the harder slap that flew his way, and Axel sniffed superciliously at his family as he slipped into an open seat -- the one next to Tristan, sadly. Kieran had to take the one between Chet and his father, and jumped when Chet's hands grasped his arm around the bicep.

"Save me, Kieran! My father's trying to suppress my evidence of his own trashiness!" He giggled, hiding behind the horse's body.

"Jackass," his father replied, unable to conceal his grin. Chet let Kieran go -- gripping his arm a little tighter before he let go -- and grabbed a new beer bottle, knocking the cap off against the edge of the table with a well-practiced move.

"Half jackass, Dad. C'mon, get it right, you've had twenty-four years to practice." He put the bottle to his lips, and there was a moment of silence. Kieran must have looked a little shell-shocked because his father smiled at him and pushed his already-open bottle across the table towards him.

"You grab this one, Kit," he said. He sounded so calm and sexy. Kieran's face broke into a smile just hearing him speak. "I'll go fetch more. And don't mind these three." He gestured at their guests. "Felix likes it this way."

"Ain't no place in ranching for guys who can't speak their mind!" the zebra agreed, swallowing a mouthful of drink. "It's a hard business. I want my boys to say what they think, no matter what."

Will you...keep watching...

Kieran's seat thankfully didn't face Axel's, so he could avoid meeting the zorse's eyes as images of the male's impressive naked body flitted through his mind. Fuck. Fuuuck. He needed to blow a fucking load now. He gripped the edge of the table.

"I think I'll go help Dad get the--"

Felix's hand grabbed his bicep, exactly as Chet had done on the other side. "Kit! Kieran. Bud." Was he drunk? He pushed the half-finished beer closer to the horse. "Relaaaax. Your dad can handle a six pack. Because he's got a six pack, right? Huh?" The zebra frowned. "Well, no, I dunno. Does he?" He threw the question away. "Doesn't matter. He's real fit, huh? Really impressive at his age. I askeded...asked...him what his secret was...he said it gets him laid. Um." He took another sip of beer. "Point is -- you drink, and relax, alright? You just flew however fucking many hours to get here. Take a load off." The hand on his arm didn't move, and Kieran sighed, grabbing the beer and downing half of it in a deep swallow. Perhaps alcohol would make him less fucking horny. Yeah. The famous libido-suppressing effects of beer.

"There we go!" Felix gusted, squeezing the horse's arm and then scooting his chair a little closer. "Have a good shower? All nice and clean?" He sniffed at the horse.

"Sure," the horse replied cautiously. The bottle in his hand was a great excuse to not meet any eyes. Where was Dad? He was seated almost directly opposite Kieran. Could he risk a little footsie under the table?

"I'm surprised you agreed to a shower without a mirror nearby to do that metrosexual mane up after, Axel," Chet said, leering at his brother. Axel gave him the finger back, and Chet snorted. "Pretty boy zorse."

"Linebacker zonk." But neither of their tones were hot. Their entire family seemed to love jabbing at each other, and did so until Tristan returned with fresh beers, frost still whitening the outside of the bottles. He cracked one open for himself and tilted it towards his son.

"Welcome home, son," he said, his voice cracking a little. "I can't tell you how happy it makes me, having you here with me again."

Various versions of "Yeah!", "Welcome home!" and "Woo, Kieran!" fell out in a babble from the other three equines. Axel thumped a bottle onto the table like a gavel, and Felix waved one about wildly enough that some beer escaped and splashed onto Chet's face, making the zonkey splutter.

"Dad! For fuck sakes! Watch it! Don't need you spilling all over me." He wiped the beer off with annoyance. "Fuckin' spraying yourself all over the place..."

"Hey, that's exactly what your mother said," Felix replied casually, and it took a few seconds before the others realised what he'd said. Unexpectedly, it was Tristan who burst into laughter first, and what lusty laughter it was. Kieran's entire body felt a thrill of delight to hear his father laugh so unabashedly. It was like a signal. Things are gonna be all right. Everything's gonna be all right now.

"Really didn't need to know that, Dad," the zonkey said, rolling his eyes and taking another drink. His father looked at him with a sneaky expression.

"Oh yeah?" he said casually. "Well, then you're gonna hate hearing how Axel's mom was the better lay." That made Axel choke, and he spat a mouthful of beer up into the air.

"No, please! I don't need to hear this!" he begged, looking at his father with wide eyes. Tristan was still trying to hide his laughter behind a hand, and failing. Felix shrugged, and cleared his throat dramatically.

"It was the summer of...eighty-five? Eighty-six? How old are you boys now?" Axel had stuck his fingers in his ears and was humming loudly, and Chet was staring at his father over his bottle in combined disbelief and amusement. "Guess it doesn't really matter," the zebra decided. "So. It was the 80's, and zebra fever was sweeping the nation. If you define the nation as 'my pants'..."

Kieran shook his head as the zebra continued to relate the tale of how he'd seduced Axel's mother in painfully explicit detail. With the three striped equines occupied, he took the opportunity to catch his father's eyes. They stared at one another, and Kieran tried to pass some of the lusty fire in his belly through the look. I want to fuck your face, he mouthed. His father frowned and shook his head a little. I don't understand. Kieran tried nodding up instead, indicating the upper floor, and then raised his eyebrows a couple times suggestively. Let's go have some dad-son fun time. His father's head-shake was more deliberate this time, and his eyes jumped between their guests. Kieran almost ground his teeth in frustration. Damn his father's good country neighbourliness! If there was ever a time to fob off your visitors so that your son could toss you onto a bed and feast on your perfect ass with his hungry tongue...

Kieran reigned his thoughts in and took another sip of beer. Relax. He was letting his dick do too much thinking. He could keep it together. There would be an opportunity to be alone with Dad soon enough. Tonight, at least. He'd generously offer "his" room to the guests, and sleep in his father's room. And promptly make sure neither of them did much sleeping.

"Okay, listen. I bet you, I fucking bet you that my mom was better in the sack than yours!"

Axel's remarkable statement drew Kieran back into the discussion. The brothers were pointing at one another in a state of great animation, and Felix was grinning and looking between them.

"No fucking way," Chet said dismissively. "And also, we can't prove that, so. And also also, she definitely wasn't."

"I know how you can prove it." Tristan's voice joined in, unexpectedly, and four sets of eyes swung to look at him. He took a sip of beer before answering, lifting one hoof onto his chair. Kieran could see the bulge of his crotch. Well, hello, Dad. "We got a little system out here for resolving disputes. Don't we, Kit?" He looked directly at his son, who looked back blankly. We do? Not that Kieran could remember. But there was something in his father's expression that excited him...and then there was the way he'd casually bared his crotch at him.

"Ohhh, yeah, that system." He nodded as if he understood, and their guests looked at the two horses in turn.

"What's the system?" Axel asked curiously.

"Real simple," Tristan said. The older horse pointed the neck of his bottle at a large tree that grew about a hundred yards away. "Race from here to there, and around it, and back. Winner, well, wins."

"How's that prove anything about this situation, though?" Chet asked curiously. Tristan merely shrugged.

"You already said it -- you can't prove the answer easily. Not unless you can magic up those two mares from wherever they are these days. So: you do this, instead, and the winner gets to say, uh..." He tried to hide his smile. "Gets to say that their dam was a hotter fuck." Kieran's dick jerked at his father's crude words. You're a better fuck than any mare, you sexy thing.

Axel seemed confused. "I mean, Dad already said..." But the zonkey tapered off as the older horse gave a snort.

"Maybe your dad's got bad taste..."

"Hey!" Felix flicked a bottle cap at his friend. "Bitch."

"...but, taste or not, he doesn't know shit about Kieran's mom." They all turned to stare at Kieran, who felt his face growing hot. Why was Dad dragging him into this? The stallion squirmed in his seat, and the others chuckled.

"Well, then," Felix said with a smirk. "Three mothers. No way to prove anything. And everything on the line! In the race of the ce...nt...u..."

His words trailed off as Tristan stood up and shucked his shirt off, lifting the tight-fitting material up and over his head in a quick action. Kieran's mind blanked out as he was unexpectedly greeted by the hairy, muscled torso of his father standing right before him. Had any of the others been watching him keenly, they might have taken note of the way his mouth parted slightly, and his nostrils flared, and his upper lip rose a little in unconscious flehmen. A horse in a state of deep arousal. But, luckily for him, they were all looking at the same thing he was.

His hot fucking stud of a dad.

The hard-earned muscle gut that Kieran had admired over video chat was so much better in person. He could see all the details now. The way the smooth skin bulged just enough to hint at the hardness below, with faint indentations like an echo of the pretty-boy abs Axel had. The massive pecs and the cherry-red nipples that topped them, begging for a lick and a suckle. The shoulders like cinder blocks -- and the railroad-sleeper arms that hung from them -- completed the effect. Dad was a dream, the quintessential farmer horse from every poster and textbook in the last hundred years, and Kieran's dick now stuck down his pants leg like a rolling pin. Fuuuuuck. He slipped a little lower, to let the table obscure how aroused he was.

"Good to see you're keeping fit and all, Tristan," Felix said drily, "but that shirt wasn't gonna slow you down much."

"Oh," his father said casually, "didn't I mention?" He undid the buttons of his jeans. "You gotta run naked. For it to be legitimate and all. Farm rules."

Kieran almost clapped a hand to his mouth as the denim cloth slithered to the floor, but thankfully the cheer and applause from the others hid the squirmy groan of need that he made at the sight of his father's sheath and balls. His father knew what he wanted...and he'd found a way to give it to him. At least partly. But Kieran accepted it gladly, and his eyes roved madly over his father, trying to burn every detail into his memory before it went away.

Tristan's crotch was unchanged from their last video, apart from a fresh trim to the pubic hair. The sheath hung loosely between his legs: a short stretch of skin connected it to his belly, and its mass made it hang from that like a feed bag from a hook. The cockhead peeked out a little, black on black with white dappling: Dad was a little aroused. Not that that was unusual for stallions. Back in the day, when Kieran had taken sex ed at school -- a pretty redundant thing to be teaching a bunch of thirteen-year-old farm boys, he'd always thought -- the instructor had taken special care to point out the stallions in the class, and explain that horses had higher libidos than other species. He said that as they went further into puberty, they'd find that their dicks would always be a little aroused -- pretty much no matter what was happening -- and they shouldn't feel bad about it. It was simply how they were. He also cautioned the other males against mocking stallions for being hard in places like locker rooms, because it wasn't something they could control. Which had been a lifesaver for the many, many times he'd actually gotten hard in locker rooms.

Below the sheath, Dad's lovely balls rested, plumped forward by his closed legs. Kieran desperately wanted to nuzzle up into them and feel his father's sheath brushing over his head as he licked along the smooth skin of his testicles, hugging those massive legs for support. Surrounding himself with his father like a warm, protective coat. And...he would. He could do it soon. The realisation that this was real, that this wasn't happening via a screen, hit him again, and a starburst of relief and delight and horniness raced through his veins. Dad had found a way to give his son what he most eagerly desired.

Tristan put his hands to his waist, a confident equine Atlas. "Guess I've won by default, huh?" he said to his immobile guests. That got a reaction: Felix snorted.

"Like hell, Tristan," he said, pushing his chair back and quickly unbuttoning his shirt. His sons followed suit, and Kieran's dick began to soak his pants leg as three more fantastic specimens of masculinity were unveiled before him. He was afraid to look too closely: they might notice. But, a casual sweep of his head let him take in the key points. Felix looked like a shorter, less built version of his own dad. His legs were well-defined, and his balls were unreasonably large; definitely the source of Axel's own productiveness. A fat black zebra dick hung flaccidly from a tight sheath. Axel hadn't changed in an hour: his cock hung half out of his sheath, and his perfect muscles shone dully with reflected light. And Chet...

Chet had a sheath like a fucking grain silo, which bobbed up and down hypnotically as he drunkenly struggled to pull his pants free of one leg.

Kieran had to flick his eyes back to check a couple of times, not believing what he was seeing. The zonkey's sheath was enormous. It rose nearly to his belly button, as thick around as a water bottle, and swung around almost like a penis when he moved. A pink cockhead peered from the opening; an unusual colour for a donkey. The zonkey's build was closer to Kieran's father's than his own, with a stockiness that probably pointed to a big reserve of stamina. Shit, how long would he be able to go for...and with a dick that fucking thick, how would it feel...?

"Any time now, son," Felix said drily. "We're all fine just standing around, watching your sheath swing like a windsock."

Chet growled. "Can't...get...the fucking...thing..." With a final hard pull, his hoof came loose, and he staggered backwards. "Off!" He threw the pants to the ground and stamped on them angrily; that only made his sheath bob about even more. Kieran risked a longer look, since the others were looking too. The zonkey's cock was dropping some more, and the sheath had not misled on its passenger's thickness. It was terrifying, and amazing, and Kieran wanted it.

Chet slapped his hands to his sides, posing like a superhero. "Sorry yours isn't big enough to swing, Dad," he said to his amused father. "No need to be jealous."

"Sheaths never got anyone pregnant, son," his father shot back. "Gotta have a dick inside for that, not a piece of pink liquorice."

Kieran remained seated as the striped stallions continued to tease one another. He would have knocked the table over if he'd tried to stand up, but his father had thought of that. He looked at Kieran. "Too tired to run, son?"

Bless you, you gorgeous stallion. "Yeah, Dad, sorry." He gave a pathetically weak yawn. "Long flight, y'know..."

His father nodded. "Of course, son. But you know the rules. You'll have to accept the forfeit after."

Oh, fuck, yes. Kieran didn't know what the forfeit for this invented ritual would entail, but with Dad planning it, he was sure he'd love it. "Of course, Dad," he said with a smile, trying to stop it evolving into a grin. "Farm rules, right?"

"Farm rules, Kit," he said with a nod. His eyes flicked around the other naked equines and he briefly waggled his eyebrows, as Kieran had done earlier. Oh, I fucking love you, you beautiful thing.

Tristan walked off the porch and out into the sunlight, scraping a line in the dirt with one hoof. Kieran soaked up the sight of bright sunlight on that naked body, holding in a desire to leap across the table like a starving sex addict and start sucking on his dad's muzzle there and then. His chest ached with adoration and love for this incredible, beautiful stallion who had not only made him and raised him, but become his lover and his best friend. Dad knew him so well. He knew Kieran wanted to get his hands on him, and he'd given him the next best thing. Four equines studs to admire.

"Line up, contenders!" his father called out in an announcer's voice, and Felix and his sons stopped their joshing long enough to form up on the starting line. They were all facing away from Kieran now, tails swishing, legs clenched, and Dad joined them. But he raised his tail extra-high, to give his son a view of his doughnut: the firm red ring sandwiched between his hard ass-cheeks, mounted atop a sight of paternal back-sack that made the young stallion's mouth water. Daddy, perfect Daddy, I'm gonna rim that hot fucking hole until you're screaming my name.

"Kieran, count us down, please," his father called. Kieran cleared his throat, trying to ensure no trace of huskiness betrayed him.

"Three...two...one...go!"

The stallions hurtled away in a cloud of dust and excited whinnies. Hooves pounded into the ground with thunderous force. Arms swung back and forth; Kieran saw Axel swat at one of his brother's long ears with a free hand, earning him a snap with Chet's teeth. Incredibly, they seemed more or less neck and neck when they reached the tree, but as they rounded it, Chet grabbed onto a broken branch and pulled himself around with momentum, avoiding the wider curve that all the others made. As snorts of exertion and whinnies of disbelief followed behind, he moved to the head of the herd, sprinting with all his might back towards Kieran.

It only took them about fifteen seconds to cover the distance back, but it felt like an eternity to the horse. Kieran stared directly at all of them. At their crotches. At the long, flaccid horse, zebra, and donkey cocks that had all dropped from the excitement and adrenaline of the race, and slapped back and forth between their owner's legs with meaty sounds that he could hear. Ohhhhh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck...fuck me, studs, fuck me so fucking hard. Kieran's body was slowly losing control over his desires. He wanted to throw himself at this bevy of male masterpieces, to suck on them and be sucked, to fuck them until he was dry and to ride those magnificent pricks with his hungry, hungry asshole until they filled him right back up again. He wouldn't make it to the end of the day, let alone the end of their visit. He had to fucking cum, really fucking soon, or he might literally die.

Chet -- drunkenness notwithstanding -- crossed the line first and leapt into the air. "YEAH!" he screamed. "Chet's mom -- best lay!" His fully dropped dick -- as thick as a side of meat -- seemed to float up as he jumped, hanging in the air like an extra-fat sausage...and then swung down hard when he landed, smacking against the zonkey's striped thigh with a clap like a firework going off. Kieran had to look away, for fear of cumming in his pants. Shit, shiiit, Dad...the plan worked too well. Abort, abort! He tried to catch his father's eye, but Tristan was laughing and pushing Felix away as they heaved for breath and congratulated the zonkey winner. And when he did finally catch his son's eye, there was an overconfident look in them that only made Kieran hornier. His reserved father didn't often take control...but when he did, it was the hottest fucking thing in the world.

"Chet wins!" Tristan said, slapping the zonkey on the back. "And Kieran gets the forfeit." He licked a drop of sweat from his lips. "Same forfeit as always. Getting sheathfaced."

Kieran's heart rate doubled, and his expression must have looked remarkable, because all the striped equines burst into laughter. At least they seemed to interpret it as shock. "Woa, that face!" Axel said. "Never got sheathfaced in school, Kieran? Or did you do the sheathing?"

Sheathfacing. The classic equine dominance play...if you were a teenager. Grab a guy's head, tug down your pants, and force his face into your sheath. Rub it back and forth a couple times, and let go. It wasn't exactly sexual; it was just your sheath. Sheaths weren't ribald, if you kept your dick inside. Wasn't like you were making him suck you off or anything. But it was sexual-adjacent, and it definitely marked him with your scent. The implication was clear enough to make it hysterically funny for a pack of hormone-overcharged sixteen-year-olds.

"You know the rules, son," Tristan said, walking around the table towards his son. Kieran tried to appear discomfited, but it was difficult with his brain screaming YESYESYESYESYES. His father was gonna sheathface him. He'd get to smell Dad, maybe taste him. Feel his thickness pressing into his face...oh fuck, yes, yes, yes, do it, do it, do ittttt...

"No worries, Tristan. I got this." Chet's drawl intruded from nowhere, and a drunken hand pressed itself to the horse's chest. "Winner's prerogative." He stepped in front of Kieran's father, and before the older horse could respond, the zonkey had grabbed Kieran's head with two hands and pushed it into his crotch.

The unexpected switch made Kieran's body stiffen in surprise, which helped. It would have been suspicious if he'd melted into Chet like he wanted to drown in the heat of his body. But under the table, his dick flared like a mushroom cloud, and his hole clenched down on a paternal cock that wasn't there. His brain was in disarray, the constant visual torments now wiped away by the smell, the taste, the feeling of zonkey dick. Chet wasn't technically sheathfacing him; his dick hadn't climbed back up into its home yet, so all he was doing was grinding his dick and sheath into Kieran's face. And the horse wanted it to never end.

The zonkey's fat cock felt like velvet against Kieran's skin, and smelled like cum and stallions. His sheath was so large that it clung onto the first few inches of his shaft like a cloak, even when dropped, and the folds of skin rippled back and forth as Kieran's head was pushed from side to side. Kieran dared not outright lick the drunken male's member, but he pulled his lips in to wet them and allowed Chet to do the work of coating them in his oils. There was a slight hint of sweat from the impromptu sprint, and Kieran wished the zonkey would press him deeper so that he could smell the full force of his musk; the glorious scents that lurked in the deepest folds of his voluminous sheath. The cock pushed over his nostrils again, and Kieran shivered. That wonderful, unique feeling of dick: soft, yet firm, moulding to your face as it bulged -- and with the constant promise of more.

Eternity ended. Chet's hands released Kieran, and he stepped back, arms held triumphantly in the air. "Sheathfaced! Woo!" Kieran tried to make his disappointment manifest as relief, and chuckled along with the others. They started to dress, and the young stallion took a last look at the forest of dicks before they were covered up once more. The Felix clapped a hand onto Tristan's shoulder.

"Didn't you say there's a good butcher in town?"

"Yeah. Best steaks you ever had."

"Fuck yes. Let's go get some for dinner, huh?" He looked across at his sons. "Can you boys handle a potato salad and some corn-on-the-cob to go with it?

"As you command, pops," Chet intoned, slipped his shirt back on, biceps bulging out the fabric. "Garlic butter for the corn? How about some mushrooms, too?"

"Now we're fucking talking. You got all of that, Tristan?"

"Got potatoes and seasoning. But no fresh mushrooms. There's a grocery near the butcher, we can grab some there."

"Great." Felix thumped his hoof against the wood of the porch. "A-hunting we shall go! See you boys in a bit. Get the fire started while we're gone."

The younger stallions various gave thumbs-ups and nods to the older ones, and the two fathers disappeared through the house, heading to the front. A few seconds later, the rumble of a car engine sounded, and then slowly faded as it made its way to the main road. Kieran stared down at the table, pretending to be lost in thought as he waited for his rock-hard dick to subside. The brothers settled down as well, and Axel grabbed another bottle of beer. Kieran studiously avoided his eyes: he'd glanced at them briefly, and the zorse had been looking at him with an amused, knowing expression. Did you enjoy that? Yeah, he had, so what? And he wanted more, so what of that? And he wanted to...fuck, he simply wanted to cum! His dick didn't seem interested in getting any softer than steel.

"You got some interesting traditions out here, Kieran," Chet said, another beer bottle already in his hand. Kieran chuckled.

"Yeah. You know how it is. Not much to do, some days...you make your own entertainment."

"Oh yeah, it's the same out west. Guys will do most anything to keep busy." He looked over at his brother. "Remember Wangalong?"

"Shit! Yeah." Axel blinked. "Forgot that..."

"Wangalong?" Kieran asked.

"Uh, how to explain it..." Chet thought for a bit. "I mean, basically, you get a bunch of guys, and, uh, they pull their dicks out, and race. To cum."

"Oh."

"But that's only the start. Last guy to cum is the loser. He's gotta...heh. He's gotta go stand, and bend over, and show his ass. And the others have to cum again. On him." His grin spoke to happy memory. "Closest hit to his asshole wins."

"Oh, damn," Kieran said. "That's...something." Something he suddenly desperately wanted. He imagined bending over and having the other four studs unloading against his ass. Fuck yes. And then Dad could step up and just ram himself in there...

"Farm guys are always fucking horny, right?" Chet said. "But we won, every time." He pointed at Axel. "Secret weapon. That twinky fuck can hit a target right in the middle from like ten yards."

Oh, I can believe it. Axel was looking down shyly, as if he hadn't given Kieran a demonstration of his skills earlier. You're all a bunch of horny buggers.

The topic shifted to memories of their time as kids, with Kieran reminding them of good times they'd forgotten, and the brothers doing the same for him. As utterly nonsexual as the topics were, the horse simply couldn't get his erection to fade. Too many thoughts of naked, sprinting stallions, and explosive zorse cumshots, and guys with cum-soaked asses. Finally, Chet checked his watch. "Better get going with the dinner stuff before Dad gets back." With various grunts, the brother pushed themselves to their feet. "See you in a bit, then, Kit," Axel said. The horse nodded back.

"Yeah, sure thing," he said. "Might go unpack." Or go fill a fucking bathtub with my pent-up load.

The other two stallions went indoors, and Kieran heard cupboards being explored, and fraternal chatting. He carefully slipped out from under the table, his erection an obvious bulge down his pants leg, and hurried around to the front of the home. With the brothers inside, he didn't dare use any room in the house to relieve himself, but there was an easy answer to that. Just as there had been back in his horny teenager days.

He made a beeline for the barn and went inside, pulling the doors nearly shut, so that only a sliver of light came through. It was much darker inside now, as the sun sank behind the trees. Shaking with anticipation and relief, he climbed a ladder that rested against the back of the barn, leading up to a loft. In winter the extra feed would be stored here, but right now it only held some rusting tools and a couple bales of hay. Perfect. Kieran tore at the strings binding the bale with near-frenzied speed, breaking it down into a pile of loose stalks quickly. He fell on top of it, pulled down his pants, and finally, fucking finally, after half a day of unbelievable erotic stimulation and obstruction, he grabbed his dick.

FUCK, it felt good.

It would have been even better if his father was with him, but he couldn't wait anymore. Anyway, he was so damn horny, he didn't think he'd struggle to still give his father the fucking of his life that night. He made a mental note to get something to stuff in Dad's mouth; couldn't have his screams of pleasure alerting their guests to their fun.

He could have blown his load in seconds, but he held back. He couldn't be sure when next he'd get a little privacy, and there were a few things he wanted to think about before he painted the loft white. Things like how Dad had looked, standing in the sun, nude as perfection. Or how Dad's ass bulged, under his tail: like two fucking perfect peach halves, begging for his son to bite down on them. Or the sight of four handsome stallions barrelling towards him, dicks flying free, nostrils flared. Ready to win. Ready to fuck...

"Fuck, Dad...I wanna fuck you so bad right now..." he whimpered to himself. He gently squeezed his painfully hard dick. "I should be fucking you right now. Blowing my nuts all over you, making you all sticky, licking you clean again, starting over..." He moved his hand a little higher, closer to his sensitive flare. "Riding your cock until you shoot your colts deep inside me..." Almost there. "Tie me up and fuck me hard, Daddy..."

The barn doors creaked open, and Kieran froze. There was a second of silence, and then--

"Empty." Axel was attempting to whisper, but the beers were impeding that. He was very audible -- as was Chet.

"Okay. Quick. Dunno when Dad will get back. Show me." The zonkey's words were slightly slurred. Kieran was almost afraid to breathe. What were they doing here? They wouldn't be able to see him, at least -- unless they also climbed to the loft -- but that made it equally impossible for him to see them. Or escape. He could hear, though, and their hoofsteps could be tracked to the side of the barn, where the shower was.

"From here...to here." Axel sounded incredibly proud, and Chet's low whistle made it seem he agreed.

"Nice job, bitch. Never seen you shoot a wad like that before."

Kieran's eyes widened at that. That was a...interesting thing for a brother to say. There was the scraping sound of hooves shuffling against the ground, and then a giggle.

"Mhm. I asked Kieran if he wanted a show, and he...didn't say no. And he's so pretty. I wanted to make him happy."

"Such a good boy," Chet purred. "Simply looking at you makes people happy, you sexy fuck." The unmistakable sound of kissing followed, and Kieran's dick -- on the verge of softening from the fear of being caught -- shot back to full mast. Holy fucking shit. The brothers were lovers? Those...teasing little fucks! Axel's shower show, and...and Chet slamming his dick into his face...

More giggling, and then a groan. "Ahhhh...that's fucking great, bro," Chet said. "Squeeze harder. Ahhhhh..._fuck yeah..."_

The sounds moved closer to Kieran; the brothers were headed to the back of the barn. The noises of sloppy kissing grew louder, interspersed with exhortations for Axel to feel Chet up more. They were right below Kieran now. The horse was trying to breathe as gently as he could, but the situation was exciting him tremendously. Another pair of incestuous lovers...and such handsome ones, too. The stallion slowly rolled over onto his side, trying not to make a sound, and gently scraped away the hay until the slats of the loft were revealed. They had been roughly fitted, with many gaps between them, and Kieran angled his head until he could see the brothers below him.

Chet was on his back atop a bale of hay, with Axel straddling him, kissing him deeply and grinding his ass against the zonkey's crotch. It was easy to superimpose the wonderful mental images from earlier and imagine Axel's tight butt sandwiching his brother's fulsome sheath. The stallion took his dick in hand again. He'd tell Dad all about this later. He'd find it fucking hot.

Axel lifted his head and sighed. "Shit, Chet, I need this..."

"What do you need, slut?" The zonkey sounded infinitely amused, and one hand reached up to tweak at his brother's nipple through his tight shirt, then rub down his abs. "Say it."

"Mmmmfff..." Axel squirmed a little, but seemed pleased. A game, then. "I need your thick donkey dick, bro." He took one of his brother's long ears in hand and stroked it. "I need it stuffing my ass...and pumping me full of you." He grabbed his shirt and tugged it off, then pressed his hands against his brother's pecs, groping them. "I wanna spend all night chatting to everyone, feeling your cum drooling out of me, soaking into my underwear..."

"Yeah." Chet's eyes were bright. "That's what I thought. Stand up, you pretty little stallion slut."

Axel slid off his brother, and Chet quickly pushed down his pants, braying softly as his hardened dick flopped free. Kieran's hand on his dick tightened at the sight. Chet was unbelievably thick. Not as long as Kieran, even, but so much thicker it didn't matter. The zonkey's monster dick would wreck even the loosest hole -- but Axel was clearly well aware of that. He stared at the exposed penis with open-mouthed hunger, and then tugged off his own pants as quick as he could, the gorgeous -- and more normally proportioned -- dick from earlier stabbing out into the late afternoon air. One hand reached around to his rear, and with a slutty ohhhhh, he pulled a plug out of his ass and tossed it aside. How long had that been there? Kieran hadn't noticed it when he was showering -- although he had been a little distracted by all the stallion's other attributes.

Axel straddled his brother once more, positioning his ass until the donkey flare caught his ring, and gave a shuddering sigh. "Yes...breed me, handsome..."

"Still wet?" Chet asked, and Axel nodded vigorously.

"Yes, stud. Kept last night's present in. All nice and gooey and warm for you." He leaned down to kiss his brother again. "Top me off, bro."

Chet grunted and thrust his hips, and his bottle-dick squeezed into his brother's hole. A tease of cum squirted out around the edges, but then Axel was fully sealed again. The pink beast slid deeper, Axel's dark ring stretching like elastic to fit his brother inside himself. The noises he made were guttural and desperate, and seemed to drive Chet to greater heights of lust. The zonkey gripped his brother's sides and pushed in harder, braying loudly, until the final inch of his dick was buried inside Axel -- and then he pulled the entire thing out, and thrust it right back in.

Kieran did have to put a hand to his mouth to smother the moan at that. The brothers clearly knew one another's bodies very well, because if Chet tried that on him, it would split him open. But Axel simply moaned louder and rode his brother's hammering cock like it was nothing. Talented little cocktease, then. Kieran's hand slid up to his flare and squeezed. He didn't know how long the two of them would be at this, and he wanted to cum while he watched.

"Harder, Chet...harder...yes...fuck, you're so thick, bro...fuck my pretty ass...wreck my hole, bro, it's yours, do it..."

Kieran's imagination ran wild. What if the barn doors opened now, and Dad was there? What if he walked up to the brothers and took his own dick out, and started jerking off onto Chet's thick muscles? What if Kieran went down and started rimming his dad as he masturbated, making him cum all over Chet's body, and making Dad lick it off while he fucked his beautiful, pert asshole...

He tried too hard with that image. The orgasm was suddenly there, roiling at the base of his dick, unable to be stopped. Shit! He could feel a whinny climbing up his throat, and in panic, he slapped both his hands to his mouth, desperate to contain the betraying noise. His cock jerked loosely in the air, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the whinny back down. Every muscle clenched as he pulled on every part of himself that he could feel to block the sound from coming out, and he felt the orgasm rising, rising -- and dissipating.

No, no, noooo...!

His brain was experiencing utter confusion. He was feeling pleasure -- but not the same peak he got from cumming. The orgasm was there, so close he could almost touch it...but somehow unreachable. Already settling back down to general low-level horniness. His dick was softening, too. What the fuck? He hadn't cum! Why was his body acting like he had?

The whinny had also melted away in his throat, and he took his dick in hand again, squeezing it to try to bring it back to life. It ignored him. He masturbated it desperately, and a dribble of cum oozed out -- but it didn't get any harder than putty. He squeezed his balls and teased out yet more cum, but it simply dribbled out onto his belly, gathering into a puddle like a sullen teenager. It didn't shoot out, and it didn't feel good. It was as if his orgasm had been torn away moments from its peak, and replaced with...nothing.

Kieran let his head flop back onto the straw, frustration surging through him. Why him? What had he done that he wasn't allowed to just cum today? Would Dad be the solution, tonight? He fucking had to be, now. While the faux orgasm had lessened his need a little, he could still feel the invisible clamp on his balls: tightening slowly, but consistently. They still demanded the full service.

Below him, it sounded like the brothers were approaching their own climaxes, oblivious to the struggling stallion above them. Kieran shakily rolled over again to peer down through the crack. The forgotten cum, still pooled on his belly, followed his motion and splashed onto the wooden floor, immediately oozing down through a crack.

SHIT!

Kieran stared in terror as his semen slid between the wooden boards and formed a huge, pearlescent droplet on the underside -- right above the violently fucking brothers. No, no, no, no... He tried to reach for it, but his finger was too large to fit in the gap. The droplet grew larger as more cum trickled down, and he frantically flicked away what liquid he could. It grew some more, now large enough to be noticed, if it were to -- say -- splash onto your back while you were being filled by your brother's incredibly thick donkey dick.

Kieran's heart, only barely slowed from his failed orgasm, went right back to slamming into his ribs. He stared at the droplet of his cum as if it was the most important thing in the world. It was almost motionless now, seemingly frozen...but only almost. With agonising slowness, it grew downward, the fluid link holding it to the wood thinning, thinning...

Axel's scream of ecstasy, hurled from a mouth flung up to the sky as his dick exploded between his legs, probably did it. The disturbed air wafted up, and the droplet completed its detachment. Straight down it fell, as if aimed: right towards Chet's mouth, opened wide to scream a carnal response to his brother's ass-clenching orgasm. Right down his throat.

Chet didn't notice at first, lost as he was in pleasure, but when he lowered his head with a shudder and smacked his lips, he definitely did.

"Got some of your cum in my mouth, I think." The zonkey swallowed, and blinked. "Oh -- that's nice. Are you eating differently lately?"

"Nu-uh," Axel said. Chet's cock was deflating, and slowly slipping out of the zorse's rear -- alongside a wash of semen. "Must be all the wholesome air out here. Hey -- take it slow!" Kieran saw his ass tightening around the cock as it slithered out of him. "Wanna keep it all inside."

"Such a cum pig," Chet said with a chuckle. "Is that plug gonna hold it all in, piggy?"

"Nah," the zorse said as his brother's cockhead flopped out onto his leg, thick as a sex toy. He carefully slid off his brother and went to pick the plug up from where he'd tossed it. He walked with his legs close together and his tail held down. "No plug on the planet could keep your whole load in, Captain Sploosh." Chet smirked again and put his hands behind his head. His chest was shining with sweat, and cum soaked his cock. Kieran wanted to lick every inch of him.

Axel slid the plug back up inside himself with a pleased expression. "Ahhh...yeah. There." He patted his rear. "All set. It'll ooze out all evening, zonkadonk." He walked back to his brother and waggled his ass in his face. "Gonna be sitting in a small pool of your jizz for hours. You can smell my jock later and think about that."

"Yeah, while I fuck another load into that gorgeous ass." The zonkey got up and gave his brother a kiss. "Love ya, bro."

"Love you too, cutie." The zorse looked around. "Alright. Let's get back before the old men see we're gone. You know how Dad gets. Any idea where Kieran is?"

"Hiding out somewhere, jerking off to the image of your cute butt, I bet." The brothers laughed as they exited the barn, and the sound of their voices slowly faded. Kieran took a deep breath and allowed his muscles to relax. Well. That had been a fucking disaster. He slapped at his sheath, but his cock ignored it. Fuck you too, then, you soft asshole. A real soft asshole would be so good right now, though...except he apparently couldn't get hard enough to fuck one. Fuck!

After a short while, the stallion judged that enough time had passed that the brothers would be back inside. He climbed down from the loft, sparing a moment to walk over to the hay bale the brothers had been fucking on, and look at the wet pool Axel had left next to it. Mere hours after his first tremendous orgasm, he still managed this much. Zebra balls; Kieran was rather jealous.

He peered through the ajar barn doors to make sure the brothers weren't nearby, then quickly slipped out and headed in the front door of the house. He took a deep breath, and sauntered through the living room, heading to the kitchen. Chet was there, washing the potatoes. He glanced over and smiled at Kieran.

"Hey, Kit. Where you been?"

"Around." He grabbed a grape from the fruit bowl and popped it into his mouth. The little tension he'd relieved from his aching nuts had at least freed up some mental energy. He felt as if he could interact with other people normally again, now that his brain wasn't constantly running the word "SEX" across his vision in massive glowing neon. "Need any help?" he said, crunching down on the fruit.

"Nah, man," Chet said. "We're imposing on you, don't be silly. Grab another beer and relax. We'll sort it all out."

"Well, alright then," the horse said with a smile, tipping a non-existent hat at the zonkey. "Thanks."

He pushed the screen door open and plonked down into a chair, reaching for a beer. Axel was building up a fire, and Kieran sipped his drink, his eyes gliding up and down the zorse's rear. Was that a hint of wetness he could see in between those pert ass-cheeks? His ass full of his brother's donkey load, with only a plug holding it in. Capable at any moment of coming loose, and releasing the flood, soaking his underwear, his pants...shit, fucking all of him in fragrant, gooey zonkey semen...

"Figured out fire yet, bitch, or do I need to go find a big black monument?"

Chet barged onto the porch from indoors, and Kieran dropped his eyes to the table. Axel stood back, holding his hands dramatically towards the flickers of flame climbing his pile of charcoal.

"Behold. I am the fire lord. So suck my dick."

"In your dreams."

Kieran suppressed his laugh, then turned at the sound of a cantankerous car engine fighting its way up the road. A few minutes later, his father and Felix appeared, carrying bags.

"Food's here, boys!" Felix bellowed, lifting the plastic bags high. "How're things going here?" He peered at the fire. "Jeez, Axel, did you have to fetch the flames from fucking Olympus? I expected it to be further along than this." Then his head turned, and he sniffed curiously at his son -- but then moved away without saying anything. Kieran wondered if the zebra could ever guess at the source of Axel's new cologne.

"Sorry, Dad," the zorse said. "Had to help Chet out first. He couldn't figure out the vegetable peeler."

"Screw you, pretty boy, don't blame me."

The striped family continued to argue with good humour as Tristan rolled his eyes and carried the food indoors. Kieran gave him a smile when he returned, and Dad gave him a huge smile back. Such a handsome face. The two horses settled down as their guests fussed about with fires and food and cutlery, and Kieran slid his foot across, rubbing his hoof against his father's fetlock. The older stallion glanced at their guests, but they were only vaguely looking in their direction. He rubbed back, then held a finger to his lips for silence. As if Kieran was going to say anything. Pushing back from the table a little, he tugged his pants down a bit, showing off a couple inches of cock to his son, then quickly covering up again. Kieran licked his lips and made to do the same for his father -- before remembering his little problem. He compromised by tugging his shirt up a little to show off his firm belly; Dad seemed happy enough to ogle that. Sorry, Dad. Those fuckers broke my dick.

"So yeah," Felix said, thudding down back into his chair and grabbing another beer. The two horses whisked their vision away from one another. "What was I saying? Oh! The equipment. Yeah, so, the bank said they'd part-finance it, but they screwed me already when I got those automatic milkers for the dairy cows..."

Afternoon faded to evening as the brothers cooked, taking their sweet time about it, but when a steak like a small county slapped down onto Kieran's plate, he had to admit that they knew what they were doing with meat. Both kinds. The horse was famished, and dug in happily as sides and salads were passed around the table, rapidly diminishing as five hungry horses got to work.

Eventually, Tristan pushed his plate away, only a single rib-eye bone remaining of the small mountain of food he'd started with. He gave a huge, unselfconscious belch, which made Felix chuckle and Kieran look at him with shock. "Dad!" he said, and Tristan gave a lazy shrug.

"Please, Kit. Like that's the worst thing this bunch has heard at a dinner table." His father almost seemed in a chipper mood now. Perhaps the opportunity to show off his hard-earned body to his son earlier had helped him release a little tension. The big horse looked over at his zebra friend. "Felix, my memory's kinda gone to crap in my old age, but I think there's a fair chance that that steak was better than half the sex I've ever had."

"Well, damn," Felix said, picking at his teeth with a toothpick. "Gotta try harder next time. I won't be satisfied until the last bite makes you jizz your pants, Firehose."

Axel barked a laugh at that, but when his father's expression didn't change, he looked at him curiously. "Firehose? That sounds like a story, Dad..."

The zebra shrugged. "Eh, not really. When we still lived out here, that was the nickname the ladies in town had for your Uncle Tristan." He gave his horse friend a sly expression. "Heard more than one mare say she planned to spend the weekend getting a washing from a firehose. Shit -- a good few more than just one washing, if the rumours were true."

"Damn! Uncle Tristan, the town stud," Chet said with admiration. The zonkey looked at Kieran's father with respect; the horse felt like hissing at him. Back off. He's mine. "More like fire_horse_, though, am I right?" Axel rolled his eyes at the pun, and Tristan groaned.

But Kieran looked at his father and considered. They called Dad Firehose? That was...hilarious, partly, but also incredibly hot. He did cum a lot, but Kieran had never thought it was that exceptional. On reflection, though, perhaps he'd simply been accustomed to it. If memory served -- and his memories of fucking his father were as fresh as the day they'd been made -- It was about on par with what Axel had managed. And Axel had zebra genes going for him. Huh. So, Dad could add "big producer" on top of all his other big attributes.

Such a sexy stud.

"Did you have any favourites back then, Firehose?" Felix asked, poking his friend lightly in the side. "Justine always made those moon-eyes at you when you walked into the store."

"Ugh, no, she--" Tristan cut himself off, looking warily at Felix. "Oh no, don't get clever now. If I say anything, you'll never fucking let it go."

"Oh ho ho!" Felix roared, leaning eagerly to one side to look at Tristan. "Well, you shouldn't have said that, bud, because now I'm not stopping until I get a story." The horse shook his head repeatedly, as if trying to make the topic move along, but Felix was relentless. "Come ooooon. Come on! You know you want to. C'mooooon..."

"Think of the children, Felix," Tristan pleaded, gesturing at the three younger stallions around the table. But the zebra simply made a noise of dismissal.

"The children are all grown up, Tristan. They've probably done shit we wouldn't believe." You have no idea, Kieran thought to him. "I'll prove it," Felix added. The zebra's arm swung around. "Kieran. What's the best fuck you ever had?"

"Oh, no, come on now..." Tristan started to say, but Kieran took opportunity by the mane and shoved it into his pants.

"Last day of school. Locker room." The young horse didn't know where the bravery came from. Perhaps to save his dad from the questions, or a vain attempt to dispel his remaining neediness. But he knew for a fact that only one of the stallions at the table was straight, so maybe it was merely from a desire to...show off.

There was a pregnant pause in the air after he spoke, as if all the other equines had taken in a simultaneous breath. His father's eyes were wide as saucers, and Kieran stared right at him with a smile. Oh yes, Daddy. You showed me yours earlier; time to show mine.

"_Now _that sounds like a fucking story!" Felix hollered, looking at the young horse with an impressed expression. "A final fling with a classmate before the end, bud?" His voice lowered a little, and his smirk grew. "Or...a teacher?"

That'd do. "Yeah," the horse said, sounding casual even as his heart thumped. He was really gonna do this. It was naughty and thrilling and so erotic. Axel was sitting there with his brother's cum leaking out into his underwear, and Dad over there; his cock probably doing the same. If it isn't drooling yet, Dad, it will be after I'm done. A table full of secrets. He'd spin a tale for them, and they'd never know the unbelievable truth, even though it was sitting right in front of them. Like two brothers who fucked in a barn and didn't tell anyone.

It was a rush.

Felix and his sons were watching the horse with focused looks. "Well, c'mon, bud," Felix goaded. "Gotta give us more than that. What subject did she teach, at least?"

"He taught, uh, Life Skills," the stallion said. One life skill, anyway: how to fuck. He also noted the flash of excitement that appeared on the zebra's wide face when he said he, but nobody commented on the casual correction of his sexuality. "I'd liked him for a while, and we'd been...fucking for a few months." A few months of constant, horny action. Dad had been insatiable, as if he'd been saving himself up for his son his entire life. "I went to say goodbye to all my teachers on the last day. You know. Before I headed out." Dad had driven him there, and joined him; the town was small, and he knew most of the teachers by name.

"So, I went around all the classes, did my thing. The...uh, the teacher said I should pop by when I was done." That was a total fabrication. "So, I did, and we went for a bit of a walk, just checking out the school one last time." Dad had attended the very same high school, and kept saying how much things had changed. New buildings here, new paint there. Kieran called it his old-man commentary. "Somehow, we ended up near the pool, and he, uh..." His mouth was dry. The memories became so vivid as he walked through them again, and his balls ached...but his dick was still doing a dead worm impression. "He turned to me, and said, 'Last chance to be the schoolboy that fucked his d--teacher'."

"Heh. Sounds like a horndog," Felix said. His eyes were glued to Kieran. "Wait -- was he a dog?"

"Nah, a -- a horse."

"'course he was," Chet drawled. "Kieran wouldn't settle for anything but the best. Horse dick always wins." He seemed to realise what he'd said, and added, "After donkey, of course. And zebra."

A ribald chuckle ran around the equines, and Kieran blushed and tried to remember the story. His father had slowly leaned back in his chair, and then slid down towards the floor. Kieran knew that move. Let the table hide your fat hard dick, Daddy, while I tell the nice people about the fun we had.

"_Fucking right," he shot back to Chet, feeling bold. _Just like you, brotherfucker. "He pulls me into the pool area, and he's kissing me next to the bleachers, and I was freaking out that someone would see, but his lips were so soft and nice...fuck, he's a good kisser."

"Is? You still fuck?" Axel interjected.

"Uh, no, I mean..." The horse shrugged his misspeak away. "Once a good kisser, always a good kisser, right?" He hurried on. "So, finally he agrees, and we go into the locker room, and close the door. And he -- he just throws himself at me, like an animal. Kissing every part of my face, and pulling up my shirt, and kissing everything under it...and tugs down my pants...like..." Like he knew I was leaving for three years in only a couple of weeks. "And I'm up against the wall, and it's just really fucking nice, and then he...gets to my dick...and swallows it whole...fuuuuck. It was fucking awesome." Dad had put the lessons he'd learned on that rainy afternoon in the train station to good use. The feeling had blown Kieran's mind.

"But he only sucks me off for a bit. Then he starts climbing my body again with his kisses, and he starts talking dirty. 'Bet you've spied on a lot of naked guys in here over the years.' That was hot. Immediately made me think of all the studs in my year. So many sexy guys. 'Bet you jerked off at home to them a lot. Did you ever jerk off to me?' Told him I did. Only in the previous year or two, though. I thought it -- well, it was wrong, for a bit. Like, in my head. My dick didn't care. Used to change the face in my head at first, pretend it was a movie star or someone else. Or say a different name when I came. But I knew it was always him. Got harder and harder not to look at him. To wonder what was under the clothes."

The stallions may as well have been dead, such was the silence at the table. Kieran grabbed his beer and took a mouthful. Retelling the story had made his mouth dry. "So, I tell him all that, and he's licking along my neck, and he gets to my ear, and he just about swallows it, and he whispers back, 'I know. I could see how you've looked at me this year. Horny stallion eyes. Scared the shit out of me -- but not as much as how much it turned me on. Just didn't know how to make it happen.'"

"Then he steps back, and walks around the locker room, taking off his clothes. Big guy, tall, good body. Fantastic dick. It's bouncing around, getting hard, and he's smelling the air and growling like a fucking horny beast. Says 'Teen hormones, teen sweat, teen spunk. Who doesn't fucking love it, huh?' And then he's walking back to me, naked as fuck, dick like a shotgun, aimed right at me, and he fucking...tears my clothes off." Kieran mimed a ripping action. "Like, ruins them. Rips the fabric, like he literally can't wait to get me naked. He's breathing really hard, and I'd never seen him that turned on. Like, before, he had kinda a...nice-guy attitude? So considerate and sweet. But this was...fuck, he was someone else. And I couldn't fucking resist it. And he says, 'Turn around, boy', and his voice is..." The stallion shook a little. "I never heard him say anything like that before. I'd have fucking done anything he wanted. So, I turn around, and he's all around me, and then his dick's at my hole, and I was fucking terrified, 'cos he was so big...but I was so horny, I couldn't have stopped, and..."

The stallion stopped and took a deep breath in. "Uh, so...we fucked. And it was fucking hot. And...yeah. Last day of school, I nutted against the wall of the locker room, and just left it there. My bit of school legacy." He grabbed the beer again and gulped down the liquid, waiting for someone to speak.

"Holy fucking shit." Axel was first. Of course. "That's way fucking better than my last day of school. Hot damn."

His words snapped the spell, and the other equines laughed. "Didn't you spend the last day in detention, Chet?" Felix asked.

"Yeeeep. Mr Pappendorf." The zonkey sighed. "He really thought he could make me a better person. Through detention. Weird guy."

"That's nothing," Tristan said. "I had a teacher -- Ms Geoffrey? -- who kept a bag of these smelling salts in her drawer..."

Like a tide washing away footsteps, the assemblage drifted on from Kieran's story. The young stallion kept an eye on his father; he gradually slid back up his chair, but it took a good while. You're welcome, Dad. He felt good; he'd given his father an erection without touching him. Second best thing to giving him an erection in his ass. But he'd address that later that night, definitely.

When the time came to retire, Kieran was terribly casual about it. "So, listen," he said, addressing their guests, "you guys can take my room, it's no problem. I'll sleep in my Dad's room, and there's a couch that should fit..."

Oh," Felix said breezily, "don't worry, bud. You don't need to do that. Who wants to sleep with their dad, huh?" The stallion tamped down the brief flare of fear. They didn't know. They couldn't. "Those beds won't handle two muscled studs like your Dad and I--" Felix continued.

"Dream on, pops."

"--or Chet's fat ass at once, so I think...Axel can sleep in your Dad's room, you and I take your room, and Chet can grab the sofa."

Kieran wanted to scream. He wanted to scratch out the zebra's eyes, and kick him in the nuts, and yell no, no, no, you fucking helpful piece of shit, you're ruining everything, just SHUT the FUCK UP and give me five FUCKING minutes to suck my FUCKING dad's fucking COCK!

"Great plan, Felix," he said.

He was done. Reality itself conspired against him. His very body betrayed him. He simply didn't have the energy to try anymore. The few days that had seemed so manageable at the airport that morning now stretched out into the distant future as impassable obstacles. He'd be dead by then, he was sure. His balls would explode in the night, killing him and obliterating everything nearby with the power of the detonation. Perhaps he could leave a note. Dear Dad. Wanted to fuck you, but every atom of existence made it impossible. PS: Chet's fucking Axel.

Sigh.

He looked at his father, trying to convey how he felt. I tried, Dad. Sorry. His father's expression was carefully neutral; did he understand what Kieran had been trying to do? He must. Ugh.

The horse stomped upstairs behind Felix. His father and Axel followed behind. When he reached the spare room, he sighed. "I'm gonna take a shower," he told Felix.

"Another one?" the zebra asked.

"Yeah." I don't need to answer to you. Mind your own business.

The hot water was the most pleasurable thing he'd felt against his body all day, which was depressing. Kieran stood in the shower, staring down at his dick. A couple inches of it hung from his sheath, soft as dough. He gave it a half-hearted jerk, but it didn't respond. He simply couldn't understand. Had he broken his dick? He'd felt like he was having an orgasm...and there'd been temporary relief...but his balls hadn't completely emptied, and the ache hadn't subsided. He'd felt better, for a bit...and then he'd gotten too clever, and told the story about Dad fucking him in the showers at school. And now he was just as horny as he'd been before -- except robbed of the ability to relieve himself.

He tried to imagine his father, as vividly as he could. His scent, his taste, the feel of his muscles under a wandering hand...but his dick simply dropped a little more and remained as flaccid as before. Kieran ground his teeth in frustration and finished washing himself off. This was bullshit. Fuck! Perhaps a night's sleep would help.

A night's sleep next to someone else's dad.

The stallion looked up the corridor to his father's door as he crossed from the bathroom to the spare room. He was almost ready to murder every over-helpful zebra in the world by now. Why couldn't he have kept his stupid stripey mouth shut? He could be in there with Dad now. Dad would fix this. He could tease Kieran's dick to hardness with a nice wet sheath-job. Ugh. Stop thinking about sex, dumbass!

The stallion pushed the door open distractedly -- and caught himself before he fell over his own feet. Felix was lying on one side of the bed, one leg raised, resting a book against it. Between his nude thighs, a black zebra dick rested against the bedspread. He looked at Kieran, peering over a pair of reading glasses. "That was quick." Then he glanced down at himself. "Oh...I hope this isn't a problem? I usually sleep nude."

No, it's fine, I can't get hard anyway. Apparently. "No, yeah, that's cool," the horse equivocated. He put his toiletries down on a side table and slipped under the blankets on his side of the bed. It made sense, really: a weird end to a frustrating day. He'd ended up in bed next to a dad after all...just not the one he'd hoped for.

"Well, g'night," he started to say, turning to face away from the zebra and tugging the blankets up to his chin, but the zebra cut him off.

"Do you like massages, Kieran?"

"Um..."

Felix carried on speaking as if the answer didn't matter. "Nothing like a massage, right out of the shower. Never had one?" The zebra kissed his fingers. "Mwah! Wonderful. Muscles are all warm and half-relaxed, and the massage gets you the rest of the way. You drift off to sleep, and wake up more refreshed than you would believe."

"Oh...cool..." Kieran stared at the wall. The zebra said nothing more for a moment, and the horse dared to believe that might be the end of the conversation. He didn't really feel like discussing massages with his childhood friends' naked dad as they lay in bed together. Today had already been strange enough.

The papery slap of a book closing put paid to that hope, though. The bed jostled a bit, and Kieran felt a big hand grasping his exposed shoulder. "Here -- I'll show you," Felix said, in a voice quieter than his usual blustery volume. His unrequested fingers began to squeeze gently, working their way from the horse's neck, down to the edge of his shoulder, and then to just below the shoulder blade. Kieran almost said something then. The thought crossed his mind: telling Felix to stop and leave him alone, and then going to sleep to put an end this irritating day, and maybe dreaming of a better one. But he couldn't.

Because as weird as he knew it was, with his back to Felix, it was all too easy to imagine they were his father's hands.

The hands continued to work at his muscles, and he winced as a thumb found a knot under the skin. "You're so tense, bud," Felix murmured. "That flight must have been really rough, huh?" Not a single person in this family must ever have flown on a plane, because they seemed to think air travel was like being strung up on a rack. The thumb worked around the area, pressing and shifting the horse's muscles -- and when the knot came loose, Kieran gasped. "Yeah, see, bud?" the zebra asked. "How good does that feel? C'mon -- roll onto your belly, and I can do this properly."

The stallion paused for a moment, feeling the pressure of the zebra's big hands against his side. Just like Dad. Wordlessly, he shifted, his face pressing into the puffy pillows, his back exposed. His still-soft dick pressed into the bed, too, but it wasn't like there was anything to worry about there. He felt like Felix could slap him in the face with Dad's own dick at this point and his sheath wouldn't so much as stir.

"Now we're talking," Felix said, his voice still uncharacteristically soft. He shifted onto his knees and began working the full width of Kieran's back. The horse had to admit that it felt really good. The zebra knew what he was doing, and knot after knot came undone under his experienced digits. There was a pleasure to the way the pain built slightly as he struggled with a particularly tricky spot -- and then dissipated as he worked the fibres loose. Down he moved, sliding back and forth, handling the lower back...and then, when that was done, moving to Kieran's ass.

The fingers against his glutes made the horse's hole jerk. He'd drifted away a little under the zebra's hands, imagining they were his father's, but feeling a hand on his ass brought him back. Felix must have felt the clench too, because he chuckled and apologised.

"Sorry. Should have said something." But his hand didn't move. "It's...easier when I can see the skin, though. Is it all right if I pull these down?"

Reasons to say no flitted through the horse's head. None of them were more convincing than continuing to pretend that it was his father touching him with those strong, careful hands. "Sure," the horse said.

The zebra's thumbs slid into the elastic of his boxers, and smoothly they were pulled down to his thigh. A second surprise: with a grunt, the zebra straddled his legs. "Easier from this angle," was the only reasoning he gave. Kieran accepted it. His eyes were closed. Dad was sitting atop him.

The hands began to press his ass-cheeks, working them as thoroughly as they'd worked his entire back. They slid up again, and did another pass along his upper back, sliding around to his sides, just about slipping to the front of his chest. Kieran felt so warm.

"That was quite a story you told today," Felix murmured, as if pointing out the lint on the pillows. His hands didn't stop what they were doing. "Pretty lucky for you, huh?" The horse didn't reply, and the zebra kept going. "Reminded me of a similar thing I had in my senior year. Not a teacher, though. Just a friend. A good friend."

He shifted up Kieran's body a little, his weight now resting right at the top of his thighs. "Was in the middle of the final year. Exams are coming up, you're trying to figure out where you go after that...everything's about to change, ya know. And that makes you start seeing things differently. School's this kinda...before-world, and you can finally stand up and see all of it, and all the things you should have done differently. All the things you never did at all." Kieran felt new motion against his skin, right between his cheeks. Like a finger sliding languidly up his skin. A pretty thick finger. With a wet tip. "During those last months of final year, we'd hang out like we'd done for years. Nothing new between us. Nothing we hadn't already said a hundred times before."

The zebra's dick rested along his entire ass now, the weight making it fit snugly into his crack. He could still imagine it was Dad.

"And the one day, he just looked at me, and he said, hey, you wanna try something? And I said sure. And we went down to the locker rooms, just like you did. Same old locker rooms. I can still smell 'em. You know what I mean. Guy smell. And my friend, he gives me this weird look. And he steps real close and...he kisses me. And then he steps back, and I'm not sure what to say, because...well, what do you say? And he's looking at me, and licking his lips, and I'm looking back, and...he does it again. A bit longer. Bit deeper."

Kieran felt the zebra lift his weight a little, and shift it back. Then forward. Then back again. Slowly rubbing his dick against the horse's ass.

"And then," Felix said, and his voice was still low, but now hoarse, too, "he just turns around, and tugs down his pants, and there's...there's his ass. And I just...stared. And all I could think is, well, shit...this guy's a real close friend, and that didn't feel so bad. So...I reach for his ass. Give it a squeeze. It's nice. And it looks nice. Like yours." The zebra stopped massaging the horse, and used one hand to push his dick deeper into the gap between Kieran's cheeks. The young stallion could feel the pre-cum dribbling down his crack now, pooling around his hole as the zebra frotted himself against his rear. "And he just says, hey...lemme feel you against me. So I whip it out...and rub it against him."

The zebra's breathing was definitely hoarser now, and his cock was almost fully hard. His hands pressed into the bed on either side of Kieran, supporting his weight over the horse, the faint scent of sweat building in the air. "And I rubbed...and rubbed...and kept going...until--"

Stop talking, Kieran thought. Please. Felix's irritating story about his first time with a guy was making it hard to imagine him as Dad. Kieran simply wanted this one, tiny, pathetic, barely satisfying moment to work in his favour...and by some miracle, it did. The zebra stopped talking, and the only sounds left in the room were grunts, and heavy breathing, and the squeak of bed springs.

Kieran could sense the body suspended over him, radiating heat. Perhaps the massage had stimulated his skin, but it felt hotter than the shower water had been. And without sight, the dick sliding back and forth along his crack felt exactly like Dad's. Dad, pleasuring himself against his son's body, grunting like a bull in rut. He was simply a sex toy for his big stud of a father, tonight. A thing to be used to make him happy. And happy he certainly was, as the now-constant dribble of pre-cum across his hole was proving. It pleased Kieran to please his father. He only wanted him to be happy, and his body was just another tool to achieve that.

Dad was moving faster now, his breathing ragged. He was getting close. Dad was going to finish on him, because that was right. They belonged together, as close as they now were, forever, and the gifts of their bodies belonged only to each other. Father and son...lover and lover.

The bray of the zebra's climax was choked off, and Kieran felt Felix -- no, no, shit, focus, it was Dad -- freeze. A splatter of wetness landed on his back. The zeeb-Dad didn't shoot very far; almost disappointing. Probably wanked too much earlier while thinking about his son.

Four or five shots and a final dribble, and the deed was done, it seemed. He hung over Kieran for a moment, sucking in air, and then sat back against the horse's thighs. Something soft rubbed across the stallion's back; a cloth, cleaning up the mess. He lay still, letting it happen. Dad took care of him, after he'd taken care of Dad...

"Thanks, bud," the zebra grunted, his western country accent shattering the illusion. Kieran lay still as the zebra climbed off him and settled in under the blankets next to him. No reciprocation for the horse, then. Like it mattered. He lay unmoving, his body a tomb for his own arousal. Only when a loud snore started next to him did Kieran slide out of bed, sitting on the edge and looking down at his dick.

Still soft as pigshit.

The horse sighed, lay back down, and tried to fall asleep.