The Stallion Mounts His Colt

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First Time Under His Feral Father

Bairon shook his head, the black Iberian colt well into adulthood, but...well...he was a little bit of a late bloomer when it came to some things. Sure, he could fly down the rough mountain slopes, kicking up clouds of dust, like it meant nothing at all to him, streaming powerfully into the arms of the wilderness. He knew where to find water, to find sustenance, how to move his rogue band of rambunctious colts around the plains when the going was good...but there were matters of love that he had not yet become privy to.

That was why Bairon was surprised when his father, Damascus, appeared. On a moonlight night, the tall, grey stallion with a fine arch to his Iberian neck and a light-footed stride, was a sight to be beheld, Bairon practically weak at the knees. He floundered back and forth, feeling as if he should be seeking attention and respect from the older stallion, even though the two were from the same blood.

Still, the stallions talked, conversing with one another, settled and comfortable, even though Bairon had a lot to learn from his father, for he had left the main herd many years ago. They lived for a long time, their kind of horses, learning from one another and passing their knowledge down through generation after generation. He hadn't had to leave, as long as he did not try to challenge the stallion in charge, Damascus, but it had felt right to strike off with a bachelor herd of stallions. If they had not bred or been with a mare, they took the title of colts for themselves.

Damascus, however... He aroused something in Bairon that the young, black stallion, for all his years and the wisdom that he'd thought he'd gained, could neither have expected nor anticipated. It was something new, something different, the tightening in the pit of his belly, the thickening of his sheath. He'd only ever felt something like that before when he'd been urinating, but that was something very different indeed. It did not come at all with a heated flare of sexual desire that, to be frank, he did not understand. He'd only been around the other stallions so far and yet none of them had been able to rouse any kind of sexual desire in him, not at all.

They played amongst each other, of course, but Bairon had never seen the appeal. He wanted something else, something more peaceful, taking note of the times, the landscape, the desire of the world around him. Some of the others had even teased him and said, through his spoken stories, that he was something of a poet. And yet he appreciated that.

Damascus' smell sank into him, however, a deeply rooted musky, earthen scent with a hint of spice too. The stallion was so powerful with strong, rounded hindquarters that Bairon simply couldn't take his eyes off, the flick of his long, silvery tail calling attention to the heavy balls beneath. Yet it was his words, so soft and intoxicating with an alluring tone to his voice, that Bairon sank the most into, wanting to hear more, even as the stallion approached him in the dip of a small valley, a river running through the bottom.

"There is something you want to ask me, colt," he rumbled faintly, a twinkle in his dark eye, the last rays of rich sunset cast over his grey coat. "But it's okay if you cannot yet find the words for it."

Damascus snorted and nickered, putting an even more dominant arch into his neck, his grey sheath thickening and filling out. It was then that Bairon's attention was given a focus: a thick, fleshy, meaty focus. Damascus' cock pushed out, mottled with pink and grey - though the majority of the shaft, from the medial ring down, was grey. Not many shafts were like that, but there was never again going to be one like that, quite like that, for Bairon, not as the younger stallion grunted and dipped his head submissively.

"Come," Damascus snorted, a gleam in his eye as he turned side-on to his son, showing off his flexing, twitching shaft, the head thick and flat, gleaming with pre-cum. "You are my son and it is time that you learned a little more about the ways of pleasure in the world... I've seen you watching."

Bairon snorted and pawed at the ground, though there was never any worry about him not wanting it too, his shaft aching, though the colt's attention was not on his own body. No, he was too busy staring at his father's cock, nuzzling at the tip, dipping down onto his forelegs so that he could get half under the stallion's body. For he was strong and mighty, his body rippling with firm, functional muscle, and Bairon longed to be closer to him, to be taught and be shown, even as he followed his father's nickers to trace his tongue over the head of his cock.

"Mm!"

He grunted in surprise. He hadn't expected that taste, the odd, thick slickness of it, how it clung to his tongue. It was hard for the colt to swallow, though all that was made easier as he carefully took the stallion's cock into his mouth, letting the flat head push over his tongue.

"Easy there, colt..." His father rumbled, sides reverberating lightly. "Slowly... Deeply... You shall learn."

And Bairon knew that he would too, all with his father there to guide him, to help him, nickering to him how to move his head, how to push his lips down around his cock and take it deeper. There was no gag reflex, of course, for Bairon to worry about, though Damascus lovingly guided him, flexing his hocks and tucking his rump down a little, thrusting and grinding. It was not as he would mount another horse, to be fair, but it was better than that, for he was there with his very own son.

End preview.

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Thank you for reading! This is a preview of a 2000 word story and a taste of my longer works, available to purchase, worldwide, via Smashwords and Commissio!

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