Can Have Too Much of a Good Thing
Kieran, a young Friesian stallion, finds himself with more than a 'plumbing problem' on his paws...
Can Have Too Much of a Good Thing
© Cederwyn Whitefurr
13th February, 2024
All Rights Reserved.
Kieran looked at the clipboard he held in one black-furred paw, checking the address against the house he now stood before. Clad in a lightweight mid-bicep work shirt and jeans, Kieran rolled his shoulders and adjusting his tool belt, clopped his way up the driveway, then up onto the porch. Adopting his work face as he thought of it, he reached out and his hooflet depressed the doorbell.
Whilst muted, the chime of the doorbell resonated loud enough for Kieran's sensitive hearing to perceive and he adjusted his stance, flowing tail swishing from side to side, as he awaited someone to answer the door. Moments later, the door creaked open, then slammed shut in his muzzle, much to Kieran's surprise and startled snort.
"Hello?" Kieran called out, gently knocking. "I'm here to fix the leaky plumbing? I'm from the Brackish Brothers?"
Noises come from behind the door, making Kieran's frown deepen, before it is thrown open with a deafening crash against the wall.
"Stupid door," growled a dark-haired woman, before she shuddered and held out a hand. "Hi, hello! I'm Isabella, please, call me Bella – everyone does!"
Kieran's confusion settled like a weight on his shoulders, as in one glance, he took in Isabella's form.
Human, slightly taller than himself, pale skin, raven black hair that hung down over her shoulders – attractive, for a human – older than me...
"Hello?" Isabella inquired, holding her hand out.
With a gasp, Kieran flustered, then gently took her offered hand in his paw, giving a gentle squeeze. "My apologies, a lot on my mind. A pleasure to meet you, Isabella, I must say, that's a lovely name – now, time is money and all that, would you show me where the problem is? I'm sure it's a quick fix."
Isabella gestured, letting Kieran enter her home. Glancing around, he noticed the family portraits, and the young child's toys scattered about and he twitched as Isabella's hand brushed his tail, as she shut the door.
What was that? Kieran thought to himself. Accident or intentional?
"This way please, oh, do excuse the mess, I got a young one, she's at playgroup, being a mother is a lot of hard work, it is right through here..."
Kieran maintained his composure, as he navigated the living room, which seemed to resemble a child's concept of a battlefield. He was mindful of where he put his dark hooves, stepping and even hopping over the scattered toys, books, and other things.
"You have a lovely home," came Kieran's lovely smile, as he hooked his hooflet thumbs into his work belt.
As he followed Isabella through the chaotic living room, he couldn't help but notice the subtle sway of her hips and the way her fingers traced absent-minded patterns on the edge of the doorway. Isabella's movements seemed unintentional, but Kieran began to wonder quietly.
"So, Kieran," Isabella purred, glancing over her shoulder with a playful, shy glance in her hazel eyes. "I must say, I've never had such a handsome handyman before. It's a pleasant surprise..."
Her word's inflection carried a hint of invitation, and she leaned back against the kitchen island, a sigh escaping her as she pressed her palms flat against the counter.
Kieran, attempting to maintain his professional demeanor, offered up a polite smile in return.
"I'm here to fix the plumbing, Isabella. Let's focus on that for now." His voice was steady, but the tension in the kitchen was palpable.
Isabella laughed, a sultry, melodic sound that echoed in the confined space, seeming to reverberate through Kieran's senses.
"Oh, Kieran, you're such a sweetheart – a breath of fresh air. I can't remember the last time someone like you came into this house," she mused, her fingers lightly trailing along the edge of the countertop.
Kieran twitched, his tail swishing before he crouched down and began tapping the plumbing under the sink, his eyes fixed firmly on the task in hand.
She's really into me? ME? Kieran's mind whirred like an over-tightened spring. She's married, I saw the wedding ring, the pictures... I'm a stallion, she's a...
Human? A strange thought floated through his mind. Haven't you – ever – imagined what it'd be like? A woman like her? Look at her, you silly, ignorant Foal! She's attractive, desirable even – you need me to draw you a schematic?
Kieran forced the thoughts out of his mind, as he concentrated with one ear on the tapping of the plumbing, his other ear twisting back to listen to the woman who stood behind him. He could feel her gaze lingering, her presence of an unspoken invitation, both from her body language and the scent in his nostrils. Once again, Kieran found himself torn between professionalism and Isabella's loneliness – and her desire, which was an allure almost impossible to resist.
She moved closer, her warm breath dancing on Kieran's back-swept ear as she whispered. "You know, a woman like me gets lonely, in a house filled with silence."
Her hand gently brushed his shoulder, a subtle yet intentional touch that sent ripples down Kieran's spine.
As the sensual teasing continued, Kieran's internal struggle became more apparent The line was blurring between his professional obligations and his desire. He couldn't deny the magnetic pull of Isabella's presence. He swallowed nervously, picking up a pipe wrench that he adjusted and slipped onto the pipe.
"You really know how to handle your tool," Isabella's voice whispered in his ear.
Kieran flinched, her breath sultry and warm against his ear, and with supreme effort, he flicked it back forward, but his tail began to slash from side to side. With an equine word unfit for polite company, and thankfully, not understood, Kieran strained and the tight nut of the S bend gave and he put his pipe wrench down as he began unscrewing it. Placing a bucket beneath it, Kieran wrinkled his nostrils as the clog splattered down, the gurgle of the sink draining and the smell almost made him wish he could throw up.
“Oh, my god - “ Isabella gagged, slapping her hands to her mouth and dashing from the kitchen, her romantic thoughts vanishing.
One small mercy... Kieran thought, as he tried his best to cover his nostrils, as he walked the bucket outside and dumped it as far from the house as he could find, before washing it repeatedly and turning it upside down to dry. Returning back inside, he reassembled the sink plumbing and then ran a few gallons of water to ensure it was functional. Once he was certain, he washed his paws vigorously with soap and water, then dried them on a hand towel.
*
What now... Kieran mentally sighed, his ears swishing as he heard the quiet footsteps. How do I tell her -
After a few moments, Isabella returned, she seemed normal – as normal as she could be, her face slightly flushed and wet, Kieran suspecting she'd done what he could physically not.
Isabella, unable to contain her curiosity, moved closer, her fingers tracing imaginary patterns on the back of Kieran's neck. “You know," she murmured, her voice low and seductive. “I can't help but wonder, what a strong, capable stallion like you desires..."
Kieran, his heart in the back of his muzzle, or so it felt, felt the organ pounding out of control. He wrestled with conflicting emotions once more. The professional facade he'd maintained began to crack, revealing the vulnerability beneath. Isabella's touch, once innocent, now was intentional, carrying with it a softer sincerity and genuine care.
As Isabella's fingers ventured down to the small of Kieran's back, he paused, glancing over his shoulder to meet her hazel eyes. The air crackled with anticipation, as she smiled and the corners of her eyes crinkled in mischief and longing.
“Isabella," he began, his voice a blend of hesitation and desire. “I'm here for the plumbing, not for..."
Kieran's gasp echoed in the air, as Isabella, emboldened by lustful desire, spun him around, pressing both of them against the kitchen cupboard. He tried to utter something, his protests muffled by her lips pressing firmly against his dark ones. Blinking in both surprise and arousal, Kieran found his paws instinctively interlacing behind her head. Passion surged within him, primal, raw, and unrestrained, and he fervently responded to her kiss, turning the tide of this encounter in his favor.
The room became a blur, desire mixed with carnal lust, Isabella feeling the hot flush that spread up her cheeks, pulled back slightly, her hazel eyes locked onto Kieran's dark ones.
“You feel it too, don't you?" she whispered, leaning back and looking down between them, at the straining jeans of the stallion, a growing wet patch spreading from her lustful embrace upon his clothing.
Without thought, Kieran didn't respond, as he forced her back against the kitchen island counter, his strong paws under her thighs and he hoisted her up, dropping her on the counter. His body meshed against hers, kissing, licking, and nibbling at anything he could reach, Isabella moaning and grinding her hips against him – equally lost to the lust of the moment.
Their lips locked in a fervent exchange, a cascade of primal emotions flooding both of them. His breaths deepened a heavy panting that resonated with her shallower ones, almost in sync with each other's carnal desires.
As the sensual dance continued, Kieran's internal monologue echoed in a part of his mind, lost in the sensations and desires of the here and now. He marveled at the unexpected connection, questioning the boundaries he once thought were steadfast. Isabella's touch, the taste of her lips, and the scent of her drowned him, consumed him whole, drowning his last remnants of hesitation.
Isabella's fingers hungrily gripped at his belt, then with a purr, it whisked through the loops, cast aside like refuse. Her fingers fought against the button on his jeans, desperately clawing at it until it popped and her hands dived down inside.
“Mmmph!" Kieran gurgled, his eyes widening and ears snapping forward.
“Need...stallion..." Isabella grunted, her face flushed and body trembling. “Now..."
Her fingers tightened around his length, which only added to the sensations the equine mind couldn't refuse.
With a grunt, he forced his hands under her, pulling her close as her hips met his, thighs gripping tight and he stumbled towards where he assumed the bedroom was.
It turned out he was right...
*
Their clothing was almost torn off each other, kisses, trembling, and caresses fuelled by lust, not wisdom, as they tumbled down onto the bed together. With a giggle, Isabella bit down on his shoulder, in a hard, but playful way, struggling with her feet to slide his jeans down his dark, velvety thighs. In response, Kieran pulled her blouse off and negligently tossed it onto the bedside table.
His broad, slick tongue swirled between, then over, each breast – quickly making the nipples ache and stand like twin peaks, her hips grinding against the thick, meaty length that was between his belly and her own.
Your mare is ready and willing Came that thought in his mind, the thought that wasn't his own.
He rose, kicking away his jeans and slinging his work shirt after it, before he stretched, his athletic body rippling and moving in subtle ways, his favorite toy from Colt-hood, slapping against his abdominal muscles.
“Call me a saddle, because I want to be the perfect fit for you..." Isabella's husky voice called up to him.
Unable to help himself, Kieran did what his rational, but suppressed, mind could not...
*
Isabella grunted, moaned, and gripped the coverlet. No man, not even her husband, could hope to compete with that which not only filled her – but threatened by its incredible sensations – to send her beyond the realm of possibility. It was not just the length, whilst pleasant enough, but the sheer girth of it – it did things, made her truly feel, to experience pleasure in ways she'd long forgotten could or would exist. She felt, for the first time in nearly twenty years, truly, alive and loved – not by a man, but by a creature who was neither horse – nor human, a beautiful, sensual, and amazingly considerate lover.
Kieran snorted through flared nostrils, ears back, instinct threatening to drive him over the edge, as he felt the desire, the willingness beneath him, the way it caressed and squeezed, molding to him like a second skin – before he withdrew, panting and shuddering, then angled slightly differently and eased forwards again. His weight, supported on his knees against the end of the bed, inadvertently pushed her downwards, only heightening the incredible, mind-destroying pleasure. Inch by inch, he worked himself forward – until at last, he felt his medial ring pressed down upon – that singular sensation, halting him as he snorted like a feral stallion having run a dozen miles.
*
The more Kieran gave, the more Isabella's body responded – matching his move for move, a harmonious, synchronized movement, two bodies intertwined, becoming one. They explored each other's body, with tongues and fingers.
Isabella's muffled cries as she reached that which she'd thought impossible – again and again, longing, begging, for her stallion to truly fulfill her – yet it was denied to her, again and again.
For hours, they shared this, at times, feral lovemaking between them – the coverlet beneath them wrinkled and wet, their combined sweat and their combined own natural excretions.
*
Riding Isabella like a mare, her squeals, grunts, and gasps like ambrosia to Kieran's sweat-slick ears, he finally surrendered the sliver of self-control he had left – easing his medial ring inside her, then giving her everything she had begged for – his penile head flared and he whinnied in a loud, piercing exhalation, as his gave his foal-cream to the human beneath him – their combined pleasures building and resonating together...
*
Neither saw the slitted blinds of the cupboard open a crack, then a short, sharp gasp and heavy panting as a faint voice called out, interspersed with slick, wet sounds.
“Fuck...yeah...urgh..."
With a faint click, the blinds slid closed and the door quivered...
*
What initiated in the intimacy of the bedroom, reached its crescendo beneath the warm streams of the shower. Kieran, now weary, stood under the cascading water, his head bowed and one paw splayed against the tiled wall. The rhythmic clatter of his hooflets echoed in the confined space as he ground his teeth, his tail flagging like an ancient water pump. Pleasure surged, akin to a rising tide, as tender hands caressed, cupped, and stroked. With a suppressed whinny, Kieran surrendered once more to the woman who knelt before him, their connection sealed in the intimate sanctuary of the shower as he once again gifted her with his seed.
*
Finally dried, clean, and exhausted, Kieran leaned against the hallway wall, as an equally disheveled Isabella slumped against the wall beside him, shuddering and wide-eyed. With quivering fingers, she reached into her slacks and then pulled out a money clip. Peeling off five large denomination notes, she held them out to Kieran, who snorted, then blinked at her.
Pressing them into his paw, she gently closed his fingers over it, then leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the side of the cheek.
“For servicing rendered..." Isabella smiled, then caressed his forearm, her index finger sliding down his paw with a suggestive lingering touch. “Thank you. I guess you really can have too much of a good thing..."
*
A week later, Kieran sat in the company office, one paw cupping the side of his head as he listlessly picked through the hearty salad, his mind not paying attention, despite the grumbles and other noises from his stomach. Nearby, some work colleagues were clustered around a tablet, wide-eyed and glancing from it to Kieran and back to it. Some laughed, some stared, and some alternated between the two emotional states.
“Wow..." one startled voice gasped.
“I know, right? Who'd think it?..."
Concern spreading across his dark features, Kieran sighed and pushed himself up from the table, his hooves loud on the hard floor as he approached.
“What are you colts so obsessed..." Kieran snorted, then his eyes went wide and he stared down at the tablet, eight sets of eyes turning and raising eyebrows, as the startled young colt saw himself from a rear PoV, giving a bored, lonely housewife, a very good time..."
“Atta boy!" One of his colleagues laughed, slapping him hard on the back.
“Damn, I thought you were a Friesian, not a plow horse..." Another laughed heartily.
As they playfully jabbed and ribbed him, all the startled, mouth open and wide-eyed Friesian could do was stare at the video playing on the tablet
All two and a half hours of it...
END