Stocktaking
One dutiful young lion gets some nice surprises when he is left to mind his parents' corner store. Sometimes, you need to take stock. In a lot of ways.
I studied my textbook with a sigh, eventually giving up and turning to the laptop open beside me. I was surfing yifftube, but discretely. I had the volume off, for starters. Given where I was, I really had no option.
My parents, in what I can only describe as payback for my many crimes, had taken a couple of days to go away together. That left me here to hold the fort, literally. We lived in a small modest house in inner suburbia, but with one crucial difference; we were on a prominent corner, and on that corner, attached to the house, was a shop. An old fashioned, honest to God, milk bar and convenience store right out of the freaking nineteen sixties. My parents had come over from Hong Kong before I was born, and when they had earned enough money to run their own business had bought the run-down old house and shop. Everyone expected them to knock it down and redevelop, but my parents were very Chinese in one way. Nothing better than running a business, and they were good at it.
Over the years since I came along, we had expanded a little, and I had started doing stints helping them out from when I turned fourteen. Duty. Respect. Family. Obligation. These were drummed into every Chinese kid, even if they were born in another country and sounded like Steve Irwin. I had come out of our bogan school speaking English with a country drawl like a native, and a form of Cantonese that made my relatives look unimpressed whenever they came, as they frequently did, to tell my mother how badly she was doing at everything and in particular raising a son.
They assumed given my atrocious accent that I could not understand them when they took aim at me in the room behind the shop, while I did my dutiful best serving our very Aussie customers their cigarettes, milk, pies, chocolates, or random grocery items. We stocked a little bit of everything, from fuse wire to condoms and lube. Whether your lights had gone out, or were about to go on, we had you covered.
Now that I was nineteen and at university, I was supposed to be beyond that sort of thing. That was the consensus of my Anglo mates at uni, who all mysteriously lived at home still with their mothers doing their laundry and cooking for them while they spent most nights getting blind drunk and scoring. I never pointed out the hypocrisy of their positions, nor their colossal ignorance when it came to Chinese mores. I was their only son. I would_never_ be beyond that sort of thing.
Once, some time ago, we had a genuine pair of Chinese guardian lion statues, in stone. One of my friends from school came around, an athletic equine called Trevor who came mostly to gorge himself on our array of apple flavoured sweets imported from China that you couldn't normally find here. He admired the little "Chinese dogs" as he called them, and asked what they meant. I told him about the pair, one male, one female. The male lion always has a ball under one paw, but the female lion has a cub squashed firmly and without mercy in the same place.
"There you have the Chinese family in a nutshell, mate, if you are interested." He got the hint. He always gave my mother a wide berth after that , which showed the big horse still had access to his predator instincts. Beware the Chinese mother.
To show the perfect way of symbolism in the world, we were lions too. I had grown up taller than my father, the Australian way of life having certain advantages, and I topped out nicely over six feet which meant I at least had a foot advantage over most of my relatives when they came to give me disapproving stares. I was lean and wiry, with a mane that was nicely growing out now, and I was not bad at running, which had been my saving grace at school where I was the best middle-distance runner only just ahead of my horse friend Trevor. It was something that saved me from being considered a total dork, as I was renowned as a studyholic in true stereotypical fashion. Asians were only good at study, I was informed, so it wasn't fair I was the best student in the school. In fact, my subject combination in final year, of physics, chemistry, two maths, English, and a language was known as the "Asian Six". The anglos did easier subjects, and partied. There was a reason this country relied on overseas students for most of its technology graduates. The Anglos at uni were doing marketing, and partying. The Indians and Chinese were doing the PhD's.
Unfortunately for my academic prospects, and for my relationship with my mother, things had gone downhill at uni. Out of the regimented world of school, and the more constant supervision, I had taken on more Australian characteristics than my accent. I studied as little as I could, if at all, and did my share of partying making up for lost opportunities. Hence here I was, in high summer, studying for a make-up exam so I could get a bare pass in physiology and move on with my life. But somehow in the foetid heat of January, with the air conditioner barely coping with the heat thrown out by the bank of refrigerators in the milk bar, and with my mane plastered to my body and my forehead with sweat, I found the motivation lacking. Whereas motivation for other things...
I brought up my favourite clip. Amateur porn always fascinated me, although only a bare fifth of it seemed to be actually amateur. The ones that were though could be pure fucking gold, and this one was the mother lode for me, a brand new clip only up for a week. A young stud horse, according to the description same age as me and straight, was laid back on a bed. You couldn't see his face, but you could see his ass, because he had pulled his own legs back gripping behind the knees, his hooves in midair, tail flopping to the floor off the edge of the bed, as a daddy bear of about forty went to town on his perfect ass with his tongue. He had the cutest tight tailhole, and a cute little brand on the very top of his left butt cheek, standing out against his palomino coloured coat, a snorting mustang. Bloody horses, too much horse was never enough.
Listening to the stud horse moan and shudder always went through me like a hot knife when I was able to listen, because I could tell he had an Aussie accent, even from his sighs and moans. An Aussie accent sounds pretty naff trying to speak Cantonese, or quote Shakespeare. Moaning in ecstasy while having your ass eaten out though... Now I had to remember it while I watched, in case someone came in. Fuck he had a huge length of horsecock, and it dripped into his belly and chest in a line of pure wanton lust filled...
"Hey Sammy. Ready for the delivery?"
I looked up, my expression probably priceless, as I realised I had company. I had been so lost in the clip I hadn't heard, which was an effort, because the delivery guy was not exactly light on his hooves.
I blinked, and managed a nervous smile. I knew I was blushing under the fur.
"Um...hey....Brayden. Yeah...bring it in..."
I watched him head out the door again, my eyes lingering on his ass. Another equine, but very different. The one was in his thirties, and a drafter with black feathering on chestnut, huge bulging muscles everywhere, especially the one between his legs based on the colossal bulge in his shorts, and a set of tribal brands right down his left arm. He had a big, muscly ass that strained the fabric of his shorts. He always wore tight footy shorts, and a polo with high vis on top. His legs and arms were on show, but the parts covered were only marginally less obvious. He always made my heart flutter this one. I had forgotten we were getting a softdrink delivery today. I guess I had to thank my parents for something at least.
When the door opened again he was wheeling a trolley, and he headed for the storeroom in back whistling a tuneless melody as he went about his business. I went about mine, mostly admiring those muscles as they moved under skin and fur, and the way each butt cheek clenched and swayed as he walked, his tail high and swishing side to side.
I was still in a reverie, a meditation on hot bulky Anglo equines everywhere, when he came to the counter to arrange payment of the invoice. I was supposed to pay out of the till, and I worked the buttons mechanically to trigger the till opening while trying not to sweat or salivate too much. My tail was giving me away I knew. It was swishing like a scythe.
As I was occupied, he casually reached for the laptop and turned it to face him. I was a fraction of a second too late. I gave a stifled roar and slammed the lid down on his fingers. He gave me a slightly pained look, and slowly prised my claws off the metal and flipped it open again. I waited in trepidation as he took another long lingering look, his muzzle splitting into a grin.
"Nice..."
I waited several heartbeats, not quite understanding what I was hearing. His eyes were on mine now, boring in like lion seeking missiles.
"Lucky horse...you like ponies don't you Sam?"
"I...I...I..."
"Sam, I have caught you checking me out before. I can see you in the fucking mirror."
I looked at what he was pointing at. My parents had fixed a mirror in the shop, so you could see down the back from the counter. Of course, if you were down the back, you could see me at the counter, checking out a certain horse butt. Oh fuck...
"Quiet isn't it Sam. I guess most people are at work today, and it's a few hours from knock off time. Nobody around..."
I felt his hand then, stroking my paw. It felt like someone poured lighter fluid on my nerves and struck a match, but the flame burned with liquid pleasure. I let out a roar, eyes wide, tail up. My mane felt like someone had applied electrodes to it and made it stand out like the fucking lion king.
"How many customers do you get around now?"
"N...not a lot..."
His smile was pure 100% lust. I almost purred. Then he lifted my paw and turned it over so the underside was up, and ran fingerhooves over my buds. I almost came.
I was almost hyperventilating as he casually trotted over to the front door, slid the bolt home, and turned the "sorry, closed, back in 5 minutes" sign to face outside. I was hyperventilating by the time he came back.
"So Sammy...how about it mate?"
In the back store room, I was shaking. He took me in his arms and crushed me to his much bigger body. At least six five, and two fifty pounds of pure stallion muscle, I felt each and every pound as he wrapped his arms round my back and buried his tongue in my muzzle. I arched my back and turned to a puddle of kitty in his arms, letting his tongue pin mine down and ravish my throat like a conqueror. Equine hands went about their busy work; my polo top came off, revealing my lean chest coated in sweat. His muzzle found my nipples and suckled in turn, harsh horsey teeth biting playfully in the way a runaway train is playful with a platform full of unsuspecting commuters. He slid to a kneeling position on the linoleum floor, his rough kisses transiting down my flesh, down my chest, over my abdomen where he lapped at each individual abdominal and I was grateful for small mercies; my running had given me a decent six pack that a year of partying hadn't yet erased. His tongue licked across my pelvis, just barely catching a line of pubes showing above my shorts and making me squeal. Then he yanked my shorts and boxers down, and manhandled me round until I was bending over the counter stacked with boxes of stock.
"Lets see what kitty hole tastes like..."
My tail was high, and so was the pitch of my scream as a thick draft horse tongue invaded my virgin pucker. Yes, virgin. I hadn't gotten up the courage to actually do anything yet. Now it seemed it was happening the only way it was going to, without me having to take any real initiative at all.
Just as I felt I was about to either cum, faint, or both, he pulled his tongue out and stood. I felt big hands on my hips, lifting me suddenly. My hindpaws rested on a shelf just above the floor. A little extra height, just what I needed for what was to come. I lent forward, arms propped on the counter, as I heard the sibilant slither of fabric on fur. I turned to look, seeing his footy shorts down around his feathering, and a full length of angry erect pink and black mottled horsecock swinging in the air above a massive pair of horse testicles encased in silken black skin. I tried to whimper, but he pulled me into a kiss, then pushed me forward a little.
"Gentle, please...wait...where..."
"Shhh Sammy. I pocketed some lube and condoms from the shop. I owe you twelve dollars eighty."
He dropped the empty plastic packet and half empty bottle on the bench. I heard a slick sound, liquid caressed onto latex, the sound so rude to my ears. Harbinger of things to come though; as I felt his flare pressed to my pucker, I bit my lip and tried to stifle a scream, but instead as he nudged inside and waited, let out a sigh. He rocked slowly back and forward, giving me a little more each time, his flare safe under latex and coated in a gallon of lube easing inside and over taut skin complaining at the outrage of such a mammoth first penetration, but in a slightly querulous way like an angry pensioner. His flare nudged my prostate, my familiar friend, target of my nocturnal explorations with a modest sized dildo my mother had yet to find thank fuck. What was smacking it now was an altogether different prospect, and much more terrifying and satisfying. It slid past, and I felt another ridge of flesh on my abused pucker. Without so much as a by your leave, it rammed in snapping my hole wide, and the medial followed the path of destruction and blissful pleasure already plowed by his flare. I was filled, like I never dreamed possible. Physiology study didn't prepare you adequately for this miracle, the ability of a willing yet inexperienced anus to take the heaving mass of a stallion cock. Perhaps if my make up exam included it I could pass this time.
I realised with shock that his nuts were resting on my fuzzy ass, and he was panting like me, his muzzle against my ear. His tongue flicked out and licked my furry ear, making me writhe.
"Now relax Sammy..."
I tried, but in the end I just went with it knowing it would hurt as much as it felt good, but the good would outweigh the bad in the end. He rutted into me slow, then faster, his hips slapping into my butt, his stifled whinnies of lust making my ears burn. One big equine hand reached round to grab my chest, fingers pinching my nipple in a deathgrip of sensation. The other found my leaking cock and jacked me fast, his hand seemingly oblivious to the rough touch of my barbs. I was leaking so much he probably could only feel precum, a thick layer covering all as my overheated cock twitched and jerked and I began to meowl like a yifftube whore and begged for it deeper though that was physically impossible.
When I came it felt like my soul emptied from my cock. A series of throbs, deep in my ass, then rising until I roared and an ocean of spunk spurted all over the bench. Long, thick streaks of lion cum sprayed like a fire hose all over the place, all over my parents precious shop stock, and I didn't give a fuck. All that mattered was the fact my ass now felt like it had been attacked by razor blades, my cock felt like it would fall off, and the stallion hadn't cum yet. Frantically, I tried squeezing my ass. It was a little late to repel boarders, but it might just help him along.
The wild screaming whinny told me I was on the right track, and then his lips closed on my shoulder and he bit down not gently and I felt him pull me against his body, his chest heaving on my back, sweat dripping from his coat between us and slicking the space between my back and his belly. The heat from inside my broken ass was like fire, and I felt his withdrawal as if it was the removal of fire from civilisation. My ass felt an emptiness I never thought possible, though that may be because my pucker was wide enough open to receive a small truck now and I felt a trickle of lube slicking up my sensitive taint. I looked down, and noticed that the worst of the spunk apocalypse seemed to have landed on a pack of kitty litter boxes. I chuckled at that one.
He gave me a slap on the ass, and bent to pull up his shorts, shoving a still dropped and semi stiff cock covered in a condom bulging with a spent load of stallion milk into his way too tight shorts. I could see his fucking medial through the fabric.
"Got to get to the next delivery mate...but I will see you next week, ok?"
As I watched him go as if nothing had happened, just pausing to give me a wink and a flick of his high-lifted tail, I thought I should feel used, angry, or something. Mostly I felt horny still. And elated my cherry was gone, and in such a blaze of glory. And in pain. My poor ass...and I didnt know how I was going to explain to my parents that I wanted to mind the store next week. Voluntarily. Alone.
With the door unbolted, I had a customer. A very angry looking old ewe, who it appeared was ready to give me a talking to.
"Young cub, that was nothing like five minutes!"
"Yeah, it wasn't..." time dilation was a thing, I had found, at least in sex. It felt like only a minute, and at the same time an hour what we did back in the store room. The only dilation more impressive was the one that happened to my ring. I smiled feeling the burn, and tingle, in my broken hole. I knew I needed more. And soon. And this time, I would be confident enough to ask for it.
My smile seemed to make her angrier, as she waited for me to get her packet of cigarettes from the storage cabinet and ring up the bill.
The afternoon dragged a bit after that, but I was rewarded with a second surprise for the day. My mate Trevor, who like all good Anglos these days sill lived with his parents three streets over like he did at school, came in. The lure of apple sweets was still strong. He looked happy, but a little curious. He was looking at me with those big beautiful blue eyes clouded in thought.
"Problem pony?" he always loved and hated me calling him that. He called me kitty for the same reason.
"Um...something different about you kitty? You seem...I dunno...changed."
I just shrugged it off and directed him to the latest batch of apple sweets and settled into my spot behind the counter. When he bent over to pull a bag out of the box though, I had to do a double take.
His shorts had ridden down, as had his briefs. It was one of the things I loved about the sexy bastard, that sight of the top of his ass showing, beautiful palomino coat curving out over the swell of a perfect stud horse glute. I had seen what was below in school, in the changing rooms too. It was even better, especially when he flexed. But now, there was something different. A little brand on his left butt cheek at the top, of a mustang.
He saw me staring, and stood, twisting to look at what I was looking at, then smiling a big goofy smile.
"Do you like it mate?"
"Um....yeah....ahhhhh..."
"Our under nineteens footy team won the grand final this year. We made a pact early on, if we won it, we would all get the club mascot branded. We are the South Denning Mustangs, so we got a mustang brand from this guy in St Kilda. Looks wicked I know, but it hurt like fuck at the time and...ahhhh mate, something wrong?"
He could see my face I presumed. My jaw had definitely dropped. My tongue was probably out. And my eyes...well...
"Ahhh yeah Trev. It's...um, are there any other palomino equines on your team?"
"Nah mate, a Chestnut and a Friesian so...what's wrong?"
My tongue slid out to lick my lips. I felt warm again. And that tingle in my ass was back with avengeance. I had an idea, and went for it.
I turned the laptop around, turned up the volume, and pressed play. I watched my stud mate. I knew enough soon enough.
He hid behind his forelock. Fuck it was cute.
"Ahhh Sam...I can explain...really..."
"Mate, explanation would be superfluous. All I want is a shot at what that bear got. Game?"
This time I made sure to clear the stock off the bench. I hadn't cleaned up the spunk yet. He could smell it, the poor stud, his nostrils flared in surprise and wonder as he held his legs back for me this time, and I sized up the prize of a fat pony pucker. Not like the delivery driver though; I would be gentle.
"Now, relax stud..."
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
His nuts felt amazing against my claws, and my tongue, but nothing like his hole. That was magic. When I jacked him just under the flare with my tongue buried in his ass he shot past his shoulder, all over the floor before the dribbles coated his belly. I licked it out of his navel, and off his chest, taking my time over one thick globule clinging perilously to his right nipple. I tested his erectile flesh with an incisor, but didn't pierce. Not this time anyway. He would look so hot with a nipple ring though...
"Sam, ahhh....I'm straight mate, please don't tell anyone..."
"Mate, I will do you a deal. Don't tell my mother, and I wont tell yours. But, if you want more, come next week. Just...a bit earlier, might be good..."
At the mention of my mum, we both shuddered. I had to be thankful for small mercies.
When he opened the front door, it was to be confronted by a goat who looked fit to burst.
"Really kid, I must protest. That was the longest five minutes in history. What on earth were you two doing?"
I looked at my stud mate, and his guilty expression, and laughed. If only he knew.
"Stocktaking..."
Well, close enough.