Saddles Half Off! A medley of equine comedy
SADDLES HALF OFF! A medley of equine comedy.
We remember old phrases such as you can lead a horse to water and such and such things, but you can't force the fellow to drink.
Well, it is an entirely different story if you lead a horse to a bar, and you are the one paying, then any plucky pony shall be glad to have his fill of demonic brew and get inebriated with the best of them.
Unfortunately, even the smartest of creatures make some triflingly strange decisions when under the influence.
This is one of several stories about the touching bond of horses and humans.
A HUMAN COMES TO DINNER
Isaac had one too many in his favorite tavern. A tad too much beyond his normal half competency. So, it came as no surprise to his boarding mates when he came back to their place with an expensive new pet in tow.
Oh, he was a robust healthy and dandy example of the species, but Isaac knew nothing of the care and feeding of humans, much to his friend's mirth.
"What's this, Isaac?" Remarked his sorrel furred roomie named Renard.
Isaac gave a tired gust from his nose as he spotted the curious blue eyes and white face of his other boarding mate peeking over the couch at the animal he had on a red tether about the human's neck.
"A new pet." Isaac remarks, blustering deeply with a moody snort.
"Is he house-broken?" Asks Renard.
"Is he tame?" Remarked Jules with a laugh.
"Does he behave around foals?" Muses Renard again.
"Is he 'MY' size?" Jules enquires, laughing at the obvious dirtiness of his statement.
Isaac looked at the human with the quirky difficult eyes and shrugged his mane.
"Why don't we train him to fetch beer for us while we have us a little hold-em?"
Jules smiled, throwing on a yellow visor before dumping all the magazines and mail from the dining room table with a sweep of his white-furred arm, dividing poker chips in three different sections and shuffling a deck of cards; almost bending them with his speed.
"You compulsive little shit. Always going to the cards." Isaac accused.
"Maybe, but I'm not poor from doing it." Jules returned.
"Looks like we should test your luck." Muses Renard.
"My luck is just fine, thank you, but yours I am worried about."
The man in his loincloth watched in amusement as they had at each other with insults and the like.
"Give me a fucking break. Two white? You can bet more than that, Renard!"
"Up yours, Jules. We both know from that smirk of yours you got something." Said Renard.
"I don't. Up five red, you pussy."
"Up five more." Isaac returned.
"Shit. You can beat him? I fold" Renard tossed down a queen and an ace.
Jules laid down the last card of the five on the table.
A seven, three, five, and a pair of two's.
"I go up two blue." Jules.
"Two blue. Raise eight red."
"Big spender! Watcha got?" Jules smiled, eyes slitted curiously like a scheming viper."
"Pair of sevens." Isaac remarks.
"How about the winner of this hand gets your pet?"
"Fuck you. He's MY investment."
"Yeah, but you don't know shit about raising humans." Renard pointed out.
Isaac knew Jules did, before coming to work in the city. Renard never mentioned if he did or not.
"Yeah, but neither does your dam, who I had fun fucking the past week." Isaac sneered.
"Oh, yeah? Old naked woman with floppy titties rolling down a hill!"
"Shit. That's gonna give me nightmares."
"Human...what the fuck are we gonna name him?" Jules asks, serious, his ears pointed forward to listen.
"Bob." Renard offered.
"Bob. That sounds like a retard working his ass off in a little cubicle." Isaac retorted disdainfully.
"Charlie." Jules ticked off.
"Charlie horse, isn't that a fun thing to work with."
"I dunno. I don't like my humans personified like horses." Jules spat.
"Huh. Don't some humans pretend to be horses?"
"Yup. They called it furry one time; had a whole fucking medley of animal types they pretended to be." Jules returned, in his cowhorse wisdom.
"What about winner of all earnings picks the name?" Renard offered.
"I'm game. You honestly think I was coming up with names in my beer fugue when I bought the little bastard?"
They shudder in surprise when they hear loud screaming and a white brunette-haired blur running all over the house. A lamp crashes to the floor, a vase topples and shatters, a humble white piece of clothing is spinning around on a blade of the ceiling fan.
"Let's call him Spaz." Renard laughs out, watching the new pet run all over the house, up and down the stairs-and through the kitchen several times.
"Little bastard." Jules seethes.
"What? Did he break something of yours?" Isaac asks, his eyes barely keeping up with 'Spaz'.
"No, but with all the trips he took to the kitchen, you'd think he could have gotten me my beer!"
Spaz climbs the refrigerator, crowded on top between the small space of the ceiling. Isaac and Renard try to shield their eyes from the human's nudity. Jules simply looks, as if he's taking comparisons of Spaz and his other stock on his parents ranch.
"You got a good deal, whatever you paid. It's hard to find domestic humans that aren't neutered." Remarked the white pony.
"What did you get for hold 'em?"
"Four of a kind two's" Jules returned.
"Just like us. Four of a kind; all weird and quirky in our own ways."
"Yup." The white cowhorse observes as they look at the new pet fall asleep on top of the wide area of the fridge.
SOMETHING PONY THIS WAY CUMS
For years, men struggled to find that perfect thrill-that ride which left nothing to be desired. It started with Ferris wheels and ground-based spinning rides, but soon turned into rides like roller coasters, platforms that spun upside down, and things which spun in a fixed circle.
Now in modern times, we who look for the next thing in nauseating shit yourself scared entertainment have no idea who pulls the strings in these modern times of amusement park splendors; amongst booths of food and games, amongst tents of different free shows.
I never knew this as I rode "the Viking"; a giant boat that went up and down like a huge ornamental pendulum and made me wish that I wouldn't fly out of my seat by accident, as my stomach raced to catch up with me.
I look forward; tousled hair of many colors; tail fuzz bouncing through the air. I look behind me; more furs screaming with arms raised-this is crazy-and I scream like a madman as I see the ship go high up, as I see a ground which is three stories down rush to greet me as I float with my sudden loss of inertia, the force of the ride jettisoning my thighs hard against the safety bar.
Then it slows-I can catch my breath. I don't think humans were built to go flying or to be held upside-down. Looking around, I notice that not many bird furs go to amusement parks-it bores them; like the equivalent of riding in a car, as a couple actually fall asleep on the giant roller coaster nearby.
As I get off the Viking, I look at my green wristband with the black EAC lettering; making sure I still had it on, but strangely, a small part of me wishes I lost it because then I would have an excuse not to go on more rides and freak myself out.
I look at the games; some where you throw darts at balloons, some where you throw darts into stars, some where you knock things down with bean-bags, and one caught my eye-a bb machinegun where you had to shoot out a star.
$2.00 for 100 bb's. Sounded good. My friends are good at everything else; I was the only one good with guns.
So I do that, taking careful shots as the gun-which looks like a Tommy gun affixed to an air hose, bucks slightly in my arms, but I miss a few portions of the star, so it doesn't really count. Fuck it; I was more accurate than most people who play this game, anyway.
Onto the roller coaster! (*unexcited gag* yay)
There wasn't anything wrong with the rides-the problem was they were too fucking scary to me. Last year I vowed never to do the roller coaster again because I thought that when it went down a slope, I felt like I would get shot right from my seat like a catapault right into the pavement. I truthfully cannot handle anything that feels like I'm going to die-particularly because of my fear of heights.
High things that go fast and spin around scare the shit out of me. On the steel gate leading up to the ride track is a white sticker with black ink lettering. The rules and cautions of the roller coaster; heart ailments and pregnancy and shit like that.
EAC Ltd.
What does that mean?
In all the times I went to the amusement park, I never knew anything about that company. It was always in the background, so to speak, and the only times I really heard about it was when they were being sued for injuries during an accident-which was seldom.
Flying-going fast-these are things which make me insecure in a little seat with a generic safety bar to hold me in place during the duration of the mechanical trial.
I am next up as the previous group of riders gets out of the coaster cart-some clearly unbalanced and drunk-looking-before the ride operator motions for me and the many others in line behind me onward to the brightly painted and cold steel of the unsafe-looking vehicle.
Why do I ride these if they very clearly freak me out? For that question, I do not fully understand myself. All I understand is that I paid twenty five dollars for the endless rides bracelet, and that is what I am going to do all night.
-Even if it kills me-
I am thankful that I had the mind not to eat before doing all these frantic speedy things of death; else, I think, I may leave some part of myself behind. Then again, that won't be a guarantee; I might still piss myself.
My friends had teased me about my cowardice last year; I couldn't stand to ride anything more thrilling than the Viking and roller coaster, but maybe if I work up my nerve-
I could do something more extreme this time around.
Climbing into the car, I feel as the padded bar closes over my legs with a vibrating snap of a lock, even as the group in line behind me take their own seats; having conversation of their own.
I ignore their talk as I look forward at the parallel metal tracks. They proved to be scratched and dulled beyond their original luster. This was certainly a ride that had been around for at least a decade of endless thrills.
At that moment, I did not know whether it would be comforting to ride when it was old like this, or if it was new and lacked wear.
-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-
I hear the wheels begin to turn, feel the slight rumble of the uneven scuffed tracks underneath as the pulley system drags the two joined coaster cars up a big slope-
-And me in the front to experience it all!-
-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-
Up we rise, just a few more yards and I will probably wish I had never done this; just like the dozen or so other times I got into this cart.
The best relief is when the roller coaster ends-when it feels so good that it stops it's almost like a resolve of calm right after an orgasm.
"Ohshit-ohshit-ohshit-ohshit-ohshit-" I begin to mumble under my breath as we near the top.
Then I see the deep fall before me-a hundred yards straight down-as the roller coaster car picks up speed in little increments until...-
"OHSHIT!- OHSHIT!- OHSHIT!- OHSHIT!- OHSHIT!- OHSHIT!- OHSHIT!- OHSHIT!- OHSHIT!- OHSHIT!- OHSHIT!- OHSHIT!- OHSHIT!- OHSHIT!-" I scream out as the cart slides down like a greased phantom of gears and hellish velocity. My stomach is in my throat as I grab the bar real hard-afraid of squirting right through the seat and safety bar to my death. Then it reaches the end of one drop, calming me for a bit.
It levels out-spinning around in a circle and shoving me to the right real hard-before I see the next big slope coming at me...it looms yards away, ready to drag me down after letting me get a good glimpse of the ever more impressive drop ahead.
There weren't any words in my vocabulary to describe how scared shitless I was, this time.
"OHFUCK!-OHFUCK!-OHFUCK!-OHFUCK!-OHFUCK!-OHFUCK!-OHFUCK!-OHFUCK!-OHFUCK!-OHFUCK!-OHFUCK!-OHFUCK!-OHFUCK!-OHFUCK!"
Maybe there was, as I feel my hair trying to escape from me, even as screams follow my own in stereo. At the bottom of the second hill, I see another spinning snail formation which shoves me to the left, as I feel the ride finally end.
Holy shit; I don't want to do that again! I think as I wobble around.
"That was fun. Let's never do that again."
But I will; right now, while the experience is so fresh and painful and scary, I don't even want to look at the ride from hell, but I will probably ride this scary thing another dozen times tonight, even if it does make me wish I had lost this wristband!
Why? The memories of men and their pain is quite short, when it comes to matters of personal risk.
To my right is a milk jug and ball game. Get the ball in-no rebounds-and you can walk away with a stuffed panda-that is, after you traded in thirty six small prizes. Sounds like a gyp to me, especially since I don't have a good throwing arm to begin with.
Nearby are two large tents; one houses a pig racing event which runs every two hours. The other is shelter for a petting zoo with goats, a pig, a llama, and a Brahma cow and calf.
To see non-anthromorphic animals amongst furs is a strange sight, indeed!
I had actually seen Cavies, rabbits, and a pony at another fair some time ago, but I guess they get whatever the farmers have to display for the kids.
Farther out is a little booth where they sell glow in the dark things. Lightsabers and antennas, and stickers, and maybe some inflatable stuffs, but those didn't glow. In short, it was like a one stop shop for a rave.
High above spun the wide bright circular rims of the Ferris wheel with the floating gondolas; some camera flashes can be seen in the sky as riders take pictures of the view below and pray the pictures will come out right with the darkness and distance below.
Exciting and expensive times indeed, when one visits the fair ground.
Where will I go next? I think to myself, trying to figure out the condition and readiness of my body for more thrills.
"Where will he go next?" Mused a brown and white pinto pony, staring thoughtfully at a view-screen of numerous flashing dots moving all about.
There were many patrons of the park to keep him and his study busy, but this one strange green dot among others captivated him the most because it never seemed to stop for too long a time at any one place.
"You do not eat. You do not rest. All you have done is ride and explore the fair." He checks a map briefly, smiling wryly.
"And go to the bathroom roughly twenty times each hour."
The horse thought it would be interesting to get acquainted with this little green dot, but he wondered how he would do that without sounding too suspicious.
"Oh, for the novelty of mundane affairs!" And then he is off to scheming and planning in a completely different way than the other fellows at the R&D branch of the EAC.
I had been throwing dimes on a polished display table trying to win a giant stuffed dog. I had little success in this game, as I never made it land quite right in the little enamored circles. As a dime rebounded right into a collection bag bordering the table, I feel someone trying to get my attention.
Turning around, I see a brown and white pony stallion in jeans and a red tee.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm done. You can have it." I declare, walking away to take my next triumph; maybe the Inverter.
Yeah. Let's do the Inverter and see if I can be held upside down without going totally fucking crazy from the fear.
"You move like a horse." Came a strange voice from behind.
What? Drunk guy. Some drunk guy. Ignore him. I just walk to the next ride; the one that flips me around, but the voice continues behind me; apparently I hadn't lost him.
"I tried to state a fact, but apparently you do not take it as a compliment."
I look back into light almond eyes of the pony. I have to wait a few minutes for my turn, so I'm forced to have a conversation with him if I didn't want to get off sounding rude.
"What do you mean?"
"You don't stop anywhere for too long and you haven't eaten all night. You drank plenty because you piss a lot, but you don't eat." Remarked the pony, rubbing his whiskered chin.
"Have you been stalking me?" I accuse, somewhat scared.
People get stalked and robbed all the time. Even a strong guy like me can get his ass kicked.
"Oh, no! no! no! I'm no stalker, I've just been tracking you." The pony responds with a laugh.
"Tracking? Like they do with wild animals? How?" This was getting really weird!
"Your wristband. It has a device built in so I can see where you go. The EAC uses these trackers to try and determine popular trends for the invention of new rides."
"What is the EAC? Nobody ever seemed able to tell me that." I ask, watching mr. pony cautiously.
"I frankly don't think anyone else here knows, either. It stands for the Equine Amusement Company; a company owned and operated completely by horses such as myself."
"Why?"
"Why not? Who knows more about speed and the freedom of flying than we do? We take what we know about being a horse, and try to incorporate that into rides to give non-equine creatures a chance to see what it's like."
"But what about birds?" I enquire, surely birds must know more about flying than horses.
"And look how coming here bores them! The experience of flying is most fantastic to those who cannot. We run fast down hills with a breeze in our face to try and taste that special feeling."
"I see."
"Each ride here is for a different feeling; a different dream of the horse. Just one thing bothers me. Why did you not try the Inverter or Fireball?"
"I'm doing that, now, aren't I?" I respond.
"Are you?"
It's my turn to go up next; I don't know if I can do it anymore, knowing that it will be so high up.
"Maybe not. I have a lot of fear."
"Fear?" The pony curiously repeats.
"Yes, like I'm going to die or something."
"Fantastic!" Then the pony laughs out hard, whickering out, catching the attention of others waiting in line.
"What the hell is so funny?!" I protest.
"Be afraid, be very afraid. We horses are paranoid and afraid of pretty much everything. Suppose, as you are running down a hill, you get pounced upon by a mountain lion, or a snake bites you, or you trip and break a leg? Another part of going fast is that fear that something bad will happen."
"I felt like I was afraid the roller coaster was going to dump me faster than a cheating girlfriend."
"Fear and excitement; never a dull day as a horse, I guarantee that!"
People pass us by, getting on the ride even as we talk. A million colored lights flash around his shiny furred face. Above, the Inverter takes off without me, spinning around several stories high in the air in fast wide arcs, twirling now in the opposite direction, now still and upside-down as people lose change and one idiot girl decides to take pictures with her digital camera while being held in this odd position.
I imagined, my heart stilled, that the flashing lights of the rides blurred, the rides themselves going at unimaginable speeds; but that was just me.
"Ready?" He points to the ride, which hasn't even started yet; people are trying to get past us.
Was it my imagination when I saw it start without us?
"Let's do this."
I have many doubts and fears as I climb into the specialty suspension harness, the pony taking the seat next to me. When I first rode the roller coaster, I was ready to sell my soul to get off after the first rattling drop.
At this moment, I am having those same anxieties crash through my body like a fender bender times ten at the bumper cars.
"Shit."
The brown funnel ears flit toward me suddenly, but the horse takes no other notice of me.
Almost there; I see the operator push the buttons, and I see that I am definitely not having second thoughts-I'm just going to end up pissing myself.
"You need to relax more. There are a lot of you human creatures dying from stress, it seems." The pony observed.
"And I guess being chewed on by mountain lions and bobcats is not stressful for you horsies." I retort, finding my legs turn to shit before we even get started.
"Just a cup of coffee to get us started." The pony jokes, as the big platform swings back and forth, getting increasingly higher with each pass.
Then, I'm upside down watching my hair go all over the place, listening to the horse whinny with laughs of such mirth.
"SSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTT!!!!!!!!"
Upside-down looking at the ground below, where if I fell loose of my seat, I would most definitely die, I couldn't help but fall into my usual habits of panic and bargaining and maybe a little of my usual macho laughing of madness.
"Well, someone is having a fun time." Observes that same cultured professional voice.
"Fuck no! This is fun in a 'shoving broken glass shards up my ass' kinda way."
He crinkled his nostrils in disdain at my comment;
"Really? Would you be on such a ride if it were so discomforting? Would you have done the other ones so many times if they were truly unpleasant? Admit it; there's a reason why you do it and you keep going back and don't know why."
We're upside down again, and the sight of his floating white and brown pinto mane is quite comical.
"I know why."
Then we dipped down fast as the car spun with a wicked whiplash, but the horse barely noticed, as he was too busy talking with me.
"Why? You might solve a big part of the puzzle for my company." And he was earnestly curious and eager to hear what I had to say.
I held up my bracelet.
"Because I paid $25 for this wristband, and even if it scares the fucking spirit outta me, I am gonna get my money's worth!"
To that, the horse has a great gay laugh.
"Yes, I can well imagine money would have something to do with it. How would you like to ride something a little more...compact?"
"What, like a car or something?"
The horse smiles with coy eyes, as his mane is thrown over his face with the next flip; a pen dropping from his pants pocket to the ground far below.
"There is one ride of the horse we have been unable to duplicate. Tell me, what is the horse most famous for?"
"Running?" I offer.
"Besides that."
"Bondage?" I joke, speaking of the way that horses put up with different harnesses, and how this equipment seemed to amuse the anthro ones with certain lecherous kinky pleasures.
"No." the pinto muses with a deep happy laugh.
"Horniness."
"Bingo! We never got that one quite right."
I couldn't believe that; it was just the strangest thing for the pony to say.
"So, how would you test that-to put it into a ride?"
But I already knew the answer, and that cute plump equine physique was perplexing to me. I saw as the ride stopped, as the pinto unhitched himself and walked off the platform with an arrogant saunter of his hips.
"Why don't you come with me and find out? The EAC takes a proactive role in researching new rides."
I followed nervously behind, wondering if this would be another ride I would regret going on, or if it would finally answer the question of why I had such fear which could not be overcome.
"Sure thing." I say, smiling a little, following right behind that muscular swaying ass and swatting active tail.
We soon came to a darkly lit warehouse area that was enormous and empty as space. I guess this is where they normally kept the rides for storage until next year.
That pony, he goes right in the middle of all this emptiness and begins to pull up his shirt. I gaze on passively, already knowing what the equine had in mind. That chest is so muscular and hairy and sexy, and I just loved the way the brown and white mixed; like a can of paint of one of the colors had been thrown at him.
He shakes out his mane, widening his stance as he smiles with a little blush. Then I watch as his pants slide slowly down his thighs...down his knees...down to his hooves as he kicks out of them.
The pony looks gorgeous standing there in just a black pair of briefs; his package bulging out like a softball had been kept in there.
I just-I don't know, but I felt like just touching him would make me melt in bliss.
A blush takes over his face as he swats his tail and stomps impatiently with stallion horniness, his goodies bouncing like melted silly putty.
I cannot wait as he takes the underwear strap in one hand and wiggles out of the briefs, his tail gets pulled down through a hole in the back like the threading of a needle, as he kicks his underwear at me, the garment landing on my face, still hot and musky with his wonderful primal animal aroma.
As I pull down the hot fabric, my eyes catch the quick exploding growth of his stallionhood, as the pony grows to a remarkable size, and I look at it and quake with fear.
I thought about what it would be like to go on a more personal thrill ride, but I never thought I'd be faced with something so monstrous, thick, and heavy. It looked like a boa constrictor coming out of his pelvis, except the head wasn't quite right.
"Still afraid, I see. If you give up, now, you might miss the grandest adventure of the horse; a good horny session of being treated like a mare in standing heat, and I won't be cruel, oh, no. Horny as I am, a beautiful mare such as yourself warrants a gentler touch for 'her' first time?"
I drooled, still afraid, but wanting it badly as he well knew. I threw off my shirt with all haste, sneezing when some dust hit me. But I stopped there uncertainly; if I took off more, there might be no turning back.
I seriously thought about his big hot member spreading the tight parched flesh of my ass as he penetrated ever so slowly like the teasing caress of satin on my insides. I breath deeply, my face sweating as his briefs fall off my head and I am there antsy and fidgeting.
I'd been fucked I the ass before. In fact, each time I enjoyed it like the deepest most satisfying pleasure one could undertake-if one didn't count fucking a tight pussy or tailhole. Giving always felt better until I saw the mass of dick the pinto bore. Then, I wasn't so certain; was never more confused in my life.
"Shhhhhhhhh. Would my sweet girl feel better if I let her play with it?" He offered with his kindest patient voice, slowly ambling up toward me with the obscene thing jutting out like the fierce pointed prow of a ship as he clucked at me with soft affectionate giggles.
He takes my hand and puts it on the head of his pink rigid thickness of flesh, sighing as my fingers slowly grasp and squeeze the juicy shaft. It feels like a wad of clay as I work it with my hand, his member springy with ripeness of blood and bliss.
I go along the smooth hairless skin down to his sheath cleft and begin to tickle his big balls with a finger, much of my hand still wrapped around the base of his stallionness with a light, but firm grasp.
Then his free hand traveled slowly to the front of my jeans and begins to rub along my own twitchy rod of desire, each stroke of his fingers slowly fondling and playing with my whole package-
-Ziiiiip!-
Until he began to unbutton and unzip the fly of my pants as I let him do what he felt like; using my hands to lift his glans to my lips to lick and slurp along the tip of his strawberry ice cream colored cock. I enjoy eating his dick flesh like it were an ice cream cone, as he drools and let's my pants fall to the floor.
"Uh...Nggg! Is this-uh-okay, or should I stop?" He kindly asked through blissful clenches of his horsy incisors.
I licked around his head rim in a circle, going like the Tilt-a-Whirl on his stud meat.
"Please keep going, I want to feel it inside me." I whisper, awed, as I drink all his pre as it leaks out, enjoying it all with fond desire.
The pony takes hold of the waistband of my red underwear briefs and begins to tug them slowly down; I feel them crawl like a snail along the sensitive skin of my buttocks. Then they fall to the ground with feather light touches all over my legs with the barest of brushes.
"I have bared you. Are you ready?"
I just about felt like fainting, as I gave his cock tip one last kiss, making the pony shiver.
"Oh, yes, master. Please show me the new ride."
He pointed to the ground, and I blushed, nodding as I got on all fours amongst the dry dust and dirt of the unswept white-grey concrete.
He gave a loud trumpeting call, curling his lip back as he shoved his muzzle eagerly into my crack; his cock almost touching the floor when he was on hands and knees himself.
His nose rummaged in my butt as that raspy tongue took long sand-paper licks of my anus, each stroke grinding through me like velvet combined with sand. Then the tongue probed further as he licked my anal rings with sexy focused movements of his most tender muscle.
After a moment, he retreated, leaving my ass cold and bare with his saliva-before he got up on his knees and grasped his member in one hand, and began to probe my hole with the other, sliding each finger along the puckered opening as I moaned from the delicate intrusion.
He laughed with such joy and eagerness as he prepared me to be bred.
The pony drools and spits; all of the fluid landing on his cock; which he rubs along the shaft and head to lubricate. I watch him oil his organ; my ass-and I am filled with excitement and dread at the same time.
What will THIS thrill ride be like?
"Take a deep breath, and push out calmly like your taking a dump."
I do as he says, trying to ignore the doubts and uncertainty of a horse taking me with the largest protrusion I have ever had inside me.
"And hold it."
Then I felt the hot steamy head begin to enter me; both rings of my butt screaming in protest as I concentrated with difficulty on the thought of relaxing and accepting his slow, but eventual deep penetration into my fragile body.
Then it all hits me at once when he pops past both muscles of my tight half-virgin opening; the pleasure, the pain, the fear, the excitement, the passion, desire, bliss, joy. All of it spun through me like a whirlwind of chaotic love. Each pass of his soft hot organ made me grunt until I could feel all of him inside me with little pain.
I was eager for the thrill, the burning wicked lust deep in the recesses of my ass and prostate as he melted me, heart and soul, and then stirred my insides with his rod like a butterchurn, and I couldn't wait for the cream to come out of all of that hard work; his hips pistoning, and his tail flagging with each little jet of hot lubricating pre-cum.
And as I felt the pony rock on my back, shoving his warm length of firmness into me, I wondered in this strange new ride-'who was the rider, I or him?'
CRAZY FOR HORSES
He lay on the couch; dazed from the sudden change of scenery of a small well decorated office from the usual boredom of his usual blank boring padded room.
How many times had they stuck him with needles and strapped him spread-eagled to a bed when he had gotten a little out of hand (or hoof in their case)?
At any rate, the zebra in her armchair with the steno pad and blue work suit/skirt was anything but amused over his latest stunt.
"You are a strange creature, John, and I'm not merely speaking of the fact that you are human. How many little episodes does this make, if you were to guess?" She calmly puts itout there, like asking HIM would make him understand and feel guilt over it.
But he goes slowly down the list without any emotional response; leaving her much chagrined with a pouty snort.
"...and that time in the cafeteria I threw the jell-o at super OCD Harry...and the time I flushed my anti-hyperactivity drugs down the toilet (wasn't that a fun day?)...and the time I taught skizophrenic Dave to hide chess pieces in a certain area to make into weapons later to fight the people who used his teeth as radio transmitters..."
John calmly looks at the black-nosed mare with the blue eyes, "Did I miss anything?"
"Cheeky bastard. You didn't feel anything?"
"Should I have? I may not be sociopathic, but I do not see why a few pranks merit a guilt-trip or mid-life crisis." John reasoned.
"Of course not. Leave it to a horse to wonder about the serious moral issues, but when it comes to humans, some more or less have the mischief of monkeys; which would test the patience of bloody saints! Do you know how long Dave was in surgery as we had to go and remove all those things from his bum?"
"The game of Chess will never be the same." John jokes, laughing a great deal.
"Not our game, at least. I daresay we had to throw out that whole thing and buy a new one."
"Then I motivated capitalism. Hooray!"
"You are incorrigible. Is there frankly nowhere you will go with these strange little pranks?"
John began to laugh; finding humor in being controlled by horses and lying on a couch in a strap-jacket (or whatever the hell you call it) being interrogated by a zebra with a British accent.
"Some places. I have a few questions."
"What? I hope I don't encourage more of your little shenanigans. Tell away, monkey boy." She seethes tiredly through those equine buck-teeth.
"I really don't know. What if I say something you don't like?"
"Sticks and stones, John. I don't care what you say as long as you stay your nonviolent self. Actually, it is strange that you do everything you can to annoy the bloody hell out of us, but you are as nonaggressive as they come, plus you don't fling poo like real monkeys."
"Even mischief makers have standards." He retorts, spitting on her nice wine red carpet for fun.
"Clearly. But if you had a record for violence, you would never leave that cell as long as can be helped. Where is the monkeying around in that?" She reasons, tapping her steno pad with a safety pen that retracts the point if too much force is applied; like stabbing, for instance.
"Apparently Stripes, ya don't like a monkey on your back."
She cringed in response to that vulgar nickname.
"Restless little shit causing havoc for my guard friends and the docs. I thought we'd agreed last week that you'd behave?"
"I did that for two days, but found the place dull to my liking. The games you have bought suck. There's nothing on t.v. anymore that I can relate to. I have eight Napoleons asking me for directions to Waterfort or Waterjam or whatever the fuck they call it. And, there are fucking LINCOLN'S trying to educate me on the error of my ways."
"You don't have to be crazy to work here, but it helps." She reiterates with a laugh for my own strange misfortunes.
Hey, I found Elvis!
Three of them.
"So, I wanted to ask if you fingered yourself."
"If I did WHAT?!" She repeats; aghast.
She was certainly hot in a 'exotic sexy assed girl with a tail' sorta way. He had fantasies of fucking the female staff of this place; as all women interned here were completely nuts, and not in a 'crazy for coco cock nymphomania' way.
"Well, it's just one of those things I fantasize about. I mean, if girls here are too out in space, what does that leave me?"
"We are not toys for you to play with. Get those stupid ideas out of your head!"
John smiled in his usual rascally way.
"I can't. Every time I look at you, I think 'shit, stripes has such a fuckably plump ass', and of course, 'those tits look better than Jenna Jameson in 3-D'. Living in a place like this makes a guy think crazy things."
She tries to remain professional, but under her modest composure, he sees her cringe like his words had dealt her a blow.
"As if you weren't crazy when you got here?" She declared with a hue of barely hidden contempt.
"Aren't we all a little crazy? You tell me why you don't like me."
"You are chauvinistic, disruptive, ignorant, lecherous, devious, manipulative, demanding, impulsive-
He cut her off, then-
-You forgot good in bed." John interrupts, grinning.
"The only time I've EVER seen how 'good you are in bed' is when I have you sedated and spread-eagled to a gourney. You sleep like an angel, which is how I prefer you."
"Ouch-maybe I would be nicer if you could provide me with something for entertainment."
"Checkers and satellite t.v. usually keep most of them content-and for the rest, they're too high on meds to care. You though...your condition and behavior don't warrant medication-not like that tipsy downer shit."
"Overdosing might be fun. Maybe I'll see Fonzie."
"Shut up." She slapped her forelock in frustration, sweaty locks of mane sticking to her hand for a second.
"Or maybe I can start running around naked to show all you sexy maresies how hot I am."
"SHUT UP."
"Or maybe I can-
-SHUT UP, you dirty bastard!" She roared.
Silence fell over the office for the longest time.
"I see now that you are clearly under-stimulated at this facility. I will fill out the paper work to have you transferred to prison. Which prison, I do not care anymore."
"Wait! I am crazy!"
"Really? You were sentenced to our care by a judge and no other weird little quirks have turned up in your behavior to make you a danger to the outside world."
"But I developed a new condition at this facility."
The zebra barely bats him a glance, sick of his many games. She honestly did look too frumpy and professional.
"You got a condition, alright. You have a rare problem of pestering even when you've been threatened countless times to stop."
"I can't stop. Not this."
Her wide Grevy ears go forward, as she focuses one eye on him.
"Really? You never told me why you never stopped these rascally diversions. Why do you keep on with it when there is no one who is amused by your little games anymore?"
"Horses seem to forget that it is the flies and biting insects who keep life interesting. It may make things uncomfortable, but without them, you wouldn't have those nice tails and all you would focus your attention on is eating, and therefore less aware of predators."
"Do I have to smack you with my tail to get rid of you? Is that what you're saying?" She jeers with a tired blustery snort.
She watched warily as he got up from the sofa, arms immobilized in the white of a thick straitjacket. He walks over, smiling, then to her surprise-
-before she can react-
-he falls over like a tree, his face planted in her cleavage looking into her eyes.
"I'm crazy for horses."
WHY I SUCK AS A SALESFUR
Hello there! Before I go into detail on my wares, let me tell you a little bit about myself. I was born a skunk up in good ol' Memphis Tennessee! I didn't really like being stuck in a place where skunks are always blamed for fart jokes, so I quit high school and came into New Jersey.
Now, I made a decent wage working as a salesfur for a novelty sex products company. Oh, I had a fantastic time of it; demonstrating the products was fun; particularly the different types of lubricants, but suddenly, because someone else retired, I can't sell in the same neighborhoods anymore. I got reassigned to some high-end gated communities that have given permission to my employers for me and others to solicit door to door.
But this is why I suck as a salesfur.
Now, imagine, bear with me, that I have every popular item stored in my home for when someone wants something in particular. These are very much in high demand, but suddenly I am faced with the pickiest and stubborn customers in the world.
Horses.
Horses will be absolutely indecisive about everything; it's maddening. They want lube that tastes like carrots or apples (which we don't make); they don't need a vibrator because they have a fully bendable vibrating Thor off of Furbay or some other online store.
I get creative and ask if they want a vibrator for their ass, and they just brush me off with comments like 'oh, my husband likes it back there, there's no need.'
We offer masturbation sleeves that could accommodate elephants, penis pumps for orca size, and a massive vibrating/ rotating butt-plug, and still they show no real interest.
There are even some premium articles available-but they already have subscriptions for the magazines they like for upwards of thirty years!
Finally, the DVD's. The DVD's come cheap; only ten bucks compared to the fifty dollar and above rip-off price tag for what sex shops want-but horses apparently-
Enjoy making their own sex tapes and sharing them with each other.
I'd even recommended to a mare one time to get a third vibrator for her mouth to simulate a gang-bang, but ultimately-
I just suck as a salesfur, and my daily quotas for sales frankly stink.