{"sf1_id":1099327,"sf2_id":null,"title":"You're Never Too Old for Horseplay","author":"The Wizened Raconteur","words":5960,"posted_at":"2016-11-25T10:31:00.000Z","tags":["Anal","Anthro","Equine","Horse","Love","Lust","Mature","Oral","Pony","Rain","Relationships","Sex","Vaginal","Wet","marriage","older","outside"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1099327-you-re-never-too-old-for-horseplay","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/1099327","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=1099327\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"#53 of Miscellany\n\nThis will be one of the last publicly offered stories. Just saying.","content":"\nThe glow from the streetlight\noutside our bedroom window cast a soft aura around her features. Her face had\nchanged over the years, no real surprise, for so had mine. Raising five foals;\nthree stallions and two fillies; had rather aged us, as nature intended I\nguess. We both didn't quite look our ages, but on me the grey was filling in\naround my muzzle. There was no mistaking me for a young colt anymore, and that\nwas fine by me. I deserved every grey hair that I generously been handed.\nMy mare, now she was blessed with a\nrusty, rustic coat, and her mane of vibrant red locks still made her stand out\nlike a flame in a papermill. She was part Icelandic on her father's side, and\nCannemara on her mother's.  Me, I'm all\nArabian, and at the time of our marriage, there was quite a stink over it. Over\ntime, everyone got over it. Funny thing how everyone gets so worked up over the\nstupid things in life.\nBut that's a horse of a different\ncolor.\nI was contemplating something else.\nWe had met in college. At the time,\nI was a randy stallion looking to nail anything and everything, and that's no\nexaggeration. It was a wonder I didn't catch an STD as active as I was. Then I\nmet her. She was as wild as I was, only she had the brains to keep it contained\nwith cool reserve. She caught my eye, for why wouldn't she, and in turn I\ncaught her heart.\nAgain, why shouldn't it have been\nthat way?\nThat was thirty years ago. I look\nback on those heady years, sometimes with envy and sometimes with envy. No, I'm\nnot getting senile. I'm envious for more than one reason is all. Back then I\nhad the stamina of, well, of a horse. And she, my little pony of a girl, she\ncould match me move for move. She still can, but that's not saying much. My\nmoves have faded with time. Her's haven't. \nI'd love to blame it on any number\nof things, but the fact is that I'm tired. Not the sleepy kind of tired, but\nthe life-has-worn-me-thin kind of tired. She doesn't see it, and if I look in\nmirror, I sort of miss it too. But deep in my bones I feel it.\nSo, what else am I envious of from\nmy past? Well, for one, the easy way we accepted each other. I know there was\ndefiance in some of what we did. Me being an Arabian and her being a mix meant\na lot of other equines felt that we were blending impure blood into clean bloodlines.\nFolks tended to treat that like some sort of religion. I thought it was stupid.\nI still do. I might not like someone my kids decided to partner with, but in\nthe end, they must live with their choices, not me.\nI had my own to live with.\nRaysha; that being my wife's name;\nshe was a hoofful to deal with and I loved every minute of it. When it came to\nsex, I had never had anyone willing to take as many loads as I could give in a\nnight of frolicking, hence part of the reason for my wanton promiscuity. There\nwere a lot of girls who were willing to tackled what I had to offer, but they\nusually did it only once. Outside of my own clan, that of the equines, there\nare few out there who have the anatomy to take what I have to offer. I dallied\nwith a bovine lass once - a Herford - and I milked that relationship for all it\nwas worth. She moved on to her own kind, but the word through the grapevine was\nthat she constantly complained that she couldn't tell if they were in or not.\nMakes me sort of proud to be a horse.\nRaysha, now she was an entirely\ndifferent story. Unlike my physique, which was svelte and smooth and polished\nto the point of over refinement, she was small, tough, hardy and more than a\nmatch for any male. The first time we met, she had her lovely green eyes on me\nlike I was fresh carrots. She called me pretty boy. I was a pretty boy. And she was drop dead gorgeous. She wasn't built\nlike a cheerleader, or a gymnast, or any of those things you think of when you\nthink of a hot, sexy  female. \nShe was wild and untamed is what\nshe was. She had muscle where the others had thin legs and dainty fetlocks.\nThat was all well and good, but there was something about her that got the old\nhormones raging. She was lovely without the aid of cosmetics. Her coat and her\nmane were all natural, in a color that most envied, and one that store-bought\ndyes couldn't duplicate. \nIt's still that color, though maybe\na little darker now. At the moment, part of it is draped across my chest, and\nthe light falling on it seems to give it an unearthly glow. It's something to\nsee when she flings it about in wild abandon, and it's impressive whether it's\ncompletely dry, or when she's just broken the surface of the water and sends it\ncascading outward, spreading water droplets in all directions. She did that on\nmore than one moonlit night during our courtship, and plenty more afterwards.\nThen again, rain does much the same thing.\nThirty years. She still has it\nafter all that time. I don't. Oh, I can still get it up, but not nearly as\noften as when I was young, impetuous and carefree. I could put it in her five\ntimes in a night, six on occasion, and once even managed to empty my balls\neight times. Now, once a night does me in. It's hell getting old.\nOh, I can deal with the dampened\nlibido. After all, a cock the size of mine takes a lot of blood to get it\nengorged, and I've quipped more than once that maybe I've donated too much of\nit over the years. Raising a family is hard work. You know, sweat and tears.\nAnd blood. I'm trying to be funny but I believe I'm simply digressing.\nIt's the dead feeling in my heart\nthat truly gets me. It's something I don't talk about and if I did, with whom\nwould I discuss it? I don't always know how to even describe it, other than to\nsay it's a bit like my old libido; what was once raging is now merely a\nwhimper. It hurts because she deserves better then someone who only has half\nthe feelings; less even, than he did three decades ago. I know she loves me\nwith all of her heart, and I do my best to show her I still care too.\nBut I think it's a lie.\nBut a good lie.\nI buy flowers for her quite often\nand it's a rare span of days where the vase sits empty. If she wants to do\nsomething, we do it. Am I happy? I simply can't say. I'm not miserable, but\nthen again, I don't look forward to getting up in the morning, If that\ncondition has a name I'd be interested in knowing it. It might be depression\nand it might not. I'm not sure naming it will make me feel any  better.\nIt doesn't matter I guess. I will,\nwithout hesitation, hit the SOB who asks me about my long face. Over time that\nlittle annoyance rarely pops up in conversation. But it is a mask I wear these\ndays, and not the prettiest one at that. The horseplay is gone from my soul,\nand I think that it's time to be put out to pasture.\nTake tonight for example. She knows\njust how to get the blood stirring in the places she wants it, but I was\ncontent to lay there and allow her to do all the work. What kind of male does\nthat make me? I remember bending her over anything that was handy, from a log\nin the woods to the kitchen table. I drove it home, and once it was home I\nmixed up between using the front door or the back. She loved it either way.\nNow, I let her do her own thing, and while I would be hard pressed to say I'm\ncomplacent, I don't know that there's another more accurate word for the way I\nfeel. \nI make it worse than it is by\ntrying to analyze my feelings, usually in the middle of our love making.\nNothing will kill your already diminished mood than trying to figure out why\nyou don't get aroused like you once did. Every once in a while, after a few\ngood strong oatmeal stouts or wheat beers, my mind will thankfully forget it\nhas a load of useless questions and I can function normally. That's almost\nworse. How do you explain to your partner that you can go for two hours one\nnight, and barely twenty minutes another?\nTonight's activities went well\nenough. She still rides me like a tall ship weathering out a storm. The\nmoisture sprays everywhere, and while she's anchored in one spot, she still\nrises and falls with wave after wave of pure, unadulterated lust. God how I\nwish I had that back. It makes me feel small when I can't return to her what\nshe gives to me. I just want to slink away and hide my face so she doesn't see\nthe tears welling up.\nWhen did I lose being who I was?\nI've thought about having an\naffair. Not for the sake of being unfaithful, but to see if maybe something new\nmight trigger my system into being more responsive. But I never have gone\nthrough with it. Is that because I'm a heck of a nice guy? Hardly. I didn't\nwant to chance failing. At least at home I won't get ridiculed. She's that good\nto me. Nary a once has she called me out when I could perform. She just curls\nup and cuddles and tweaks my chest hairs and tells me what a great stallion I\nam.\nSometimes her words make me sick to\nmy stomach.\nWhen I was young, I was full of invincibility.\nI used it all up apparently, for now I feel fragile; like a porcelain figurine\nyou buy in a souvenir shop. \nIt's funny how I can still do most\nof the other things I did when I was younger. I may not be as fast or as agile as\nI once was, but I can still give the younger stallions a run for their money\nwhen it comes to keeping pace. Sometimes I think that my problem is just a poor\nself-image; a lack of confidence where I need it the most.\nMaybe I'm just afraid of letting\nher down and in worrying about it, make it come true. I think that's called a\nself-fulfilling prophecy. But I have no idea why I would sabotage myself in\nsuch a manner. Is it because I finally came to the realization that I don't\ndeserve her? That I never did?\nI let out a sigh, in part because I'm\nfeeling sorry for myself, and in part because thinking of all of our past\nflings was making me a little horny again. I wasn't going to wake her just to\nhave my third leg give out half way through. I wasn't that cruel.\nBut I felt her fingers dig into my\nchest a little, meaning she was, at the very least, marginally awake. Her\nbreathing shifted and I felt her head move.\nShe was awake.\nShe snorted into my hair and\nwithout looking up said,\n\"You're awake.\"\nIt wasn't difficult to tell when I\nwas. I was tense as hell.\n\"Yeah. I didn't mean to wake you.\"\n\"That's alright. What's it this\ntime?\"\nI told lies. Mixed up the excuses\nso as to not seem overbearing in my misery. The truth would hurt too much.\n\"Nothing.\"\nIt was the mildest form of lie I\nhad to give anymore.\n\"I doubt it,\" she said quietly,\nmassaging my chest. \"If it were nothing you'd be asleep.\"\n\"Maybe I should be. Sometimes, I\nguess, I stay awake thinking about life.\"\n\"Thinking? That'll always get you\ninto trouble,\" she answered with a grin.\n\"I know.\"\nShe sat up a little, looking\nsidelong into my face.\n\"There is something wrong, isn't\nthere?\"\n\"I don't feel...\"\n\"Feel what?\"\n\"That's just it; I don't feel. It's\nlike my insides have rotted out.\"\nShe snorted a little derisively,\nwhich made me a bit angry,\n\"I'm not joking.\"\n\"I'm sure you're not. Your just\nfeeling old and tired. All the spark is gone from your life.\"\nI was ready to argue with her in\nthe harshest of terms when her words sank in. She was right.\n\"How the fuck can you say that?\" I\nasked with total incredulity. \n\"With my mouth stupid.\"\nNow I was angry.\n\"Don't sass me! \n\"I'll do as I please. I always have\nbecause you let me get away with whatever I want.\"\nAgain, I was prepared to argue. But\nshe was right in a way I couldn't counter.\nI grew even angrier.\n\"What the hell is wrong with you!\"\n\"Nothing. We were talking about\nyou!\"\n\"Damn it mare, when did you\nsuddenly get to be psychic?\" \nShe smiled, showing those fine\nwhite teeth.\n\"Honey, you've been slowing down\nfor a while now. And you do a ton of things for me that you don't need to do.\nYou're sweet and you're kind but you don't think of yourself all that much. You\nknow, if you wanted to run off and play, I wouldn't mind.\"\nNow I was furious.\n\"You think I want to go have a\nfling with some random filly? Is that what you think?\"\n\"Maybe. I think you miss the old\ndays. Back when everything was simpler and easier.\"\nShe was right on the money. Even\nnow, with an empty house that was nearly paid for, our relationship seemed\nalmost too stable. It was predictable; good mind you, but boring. I was bored.\nMind numbingly so.\nI sighed.\n\"That makes me sound like a\nterrible horse.\"\nShe laughed.\n\"No it doesn't. How many did you\nscrew before we met?\"\n\"I don't know. Eighty or so.\"\nI figured there wasn't much point\nin lying. We had never discussed it before, and the way I was feeling, if this\nwas a deal breaker then so be it.\"\n\"All those girls and you could keep\ngoing and going and going until you literally dropped.\"\n\"How the hell would you know?\"\nHer hand reached down and began to\nstroke my cock, which had already begun to firm up...for whatever reason.\n\"Do you still think I was so naïve\nback then? I knew your reputation. That's why I was attracted to you in the\nfirst place. I come from a hardy line of equine. Yours is a little more\nrefined, leastwise that's what your relatives always told me, but in you I\ncould see the wild side everyone tries to drive out of a colt when they are\nyoung.\"\nI thought back to those days. It\nwas easy. My cock was out of my trousers more than it was in. She may have\nheard some of the stories, but I knew she hadn't heard them all. Like Miss\nLopez, the Spanish professor from Chile. Llama. Everyone commented on how her\nwalk had changed. I taught her the meaning of mincing. Her hole was gaping\nafter each and every round of sex and I think her pelvis spread by an inch.\nWhich got me thinking about what\nshe might be doing these days. Retired of course. Wonder if she ever got\nmarried. Then I shook my head. Why did I care? I had to deal with the here and\nnow.\n\"At the time I did. Those big green\nexpressive eyes of yours looked pretty innocent at the time.\"\nShe leaned back and made that face\nof hers, still perfectly executed after all of these passing years.\n\"Me innocent? I took on half the\nstallions in my school before I graduated. None of them had what you had\nthrough, and you just assumed that I was...innocent.\"\nThat got me thinking. The first\ntime I had nailed her was after a party off-campus. She had on a green dress\nthe matched her eyes, and no underwear. I was drunk enough at the time to\ndismiss that as accidental. I was seeing that it wasn't.\n\"So this whole time we've been\nliving a lie?\"\nShe pinched my cock hard enough to\nmake me wince. Strangely, it got a little harder.\n\"Try not to be too stupid, will ya?\nYou merely assumed. I assumed a few things about you too. Has life been so\nbad?\"\nI gave it some thought. I didn't\nhave to give it much, for life had been good. That was part of the reason I was\nfeeling so out of sorts. I really didn't\nhave a reason to feel the way I did. I should have been happy, but I was\nfeeling angry and upset for no good reason.\n\"No. So that first night, outside\nin the backyard, with you bent over the picnic table; that wasn't your first\ntime?\"\n\"Sure it was,\" she replied with a\ntouch of humor in her voice. \"It was my first time with you. Does knowing that\nI wasn't all pristine and prim somehow diminish the act in your eyes.\"\nI could still see it clearly, even\nthought my eyes were a bit blurry at the time. We had gone out to talk, for the\nhouse having the party was noisy and crowded, and she had led me to the back\nwhere the light barely reached. We sat down at the table and began talking. Now\nthat I don't quite remember. All my senses could detect was her scent, and her\nfeatures, and those eyes. I swear to God they glowed from within.\nAnyways, she got up at one point\nand stood there looking at me. Then catching the faint echoes of a popular\ndance song she began moving and swaying in time to it. I was mesmerized by the\ninnate grace she had, even though some called her stocky. Thin and leggy was\nfine, but a lot of those sorority girls got a dose of me and chewed the pillow\nuntil I was finished. While there was something ego boosting about that, in the\nlong run I got tired of it. I had needed someone who was a match; someone I\ncould look to as an equal.\nShe was shorter than a lot of those\nhigh society fillies, but the way she carried herself you would never have\nknown it. Insults slid off her back like rainwater. I mention that in\nparticular because damn if a storm didn't hit while we were out there. I was\nall set to run for the house, but she remained where she was, dancing to her\nown rhythm, ignorant of what was going on around her. And as she moved, and the\nrain came down, that dress plastered itself against her hide. The water drew it\nagainst her hide, and let me tell you there were some serious curves showing\nthrough. My cock went hard just looking at her.\nMy cock was hard now just thinking\nabout her back then. The I recalled I should probably answer her question.\n\"No. I don't recall even making it\na consideration. But I could barely get inside you!\"\nShe laughed again.\n\"You are stupid. All of your pretty\nlittle mares had all kinds of tricks for catching a male's eye, but none for\nkeeping them. How many of them do you think got divorced after only being\nmarried a year or so? How many couldn't even deal with tightening up what they\nhad to offer so that any following lovers didn't feel like they were about to\nfall into a well?\"\n\"A lot?\" I said lamely. I didn't\nthink about those things.\n\"Most of them. I still read the old\nalma mater newsletters, even if you don't. Macey has been married four times\ncompared to our one.\"\nAhh Macey. She was from the big\ncity. I showed her things that she had never seen there. She too was a pillow\nbiter. And a screamer. Got the cops called on me that night.\nGod I was getting horny!\nShe was still playing with my cock,\nan obscenely long thing that was a pain in the ass to hide in my pants on a\ngood day. Then again, it had been a pain in the ass in other ways too. If they\ndidn't scream from the front hole, they did with the back. No, I wasn't always\nnice back then. I'll admit it. But Raysha took it anyway I was willing to give\nit.\nThat night in the rain, she danced\nand spun through the raindrops until the dress clung to her like a second skin.\nShe danced right up to me, rubbed her rump across my crotch in an open\ninvitation to do something much more daring. I didn't need to be asked twice.\nNor even have it suggested that there was more to her than she was offering. I\nwas under the distinct impression she wanted me. And I knew I wanted her too.\nShe bent over the table as I\nstruggled to get out of my wet clothes. I don't know if you've ever tried to\nget undressed when your jeans and tee shirt are caked against your hide, but it\ntakes time and finesse and patience and that night I had none of those.\n                The\nshirt ended up in tatters. The jeans were good enough to be worn home before\nfinding their way into the trash with a busted zipper. \n                Needless\nto say I got them off...eventually.\n                Needless\nto say I got off...eventually.\n                But\nhere I am saying it.\n                But\nthat's because it's worth saying.\n                She had\nthe finest rump I had ever seen. It was solidly built; not fat, not rotund, but\na muscular piece of meat that could stand up to me and everything I could throw\nat it. It was lucky for her it was pouring down rain, for it helped with the\ninitial penetration. She was wet inside and out, but even her natural\nlubrication was hard pressed to accommodate my ungodly cock. This innocent\nlittle thing was about to get a rude awakening. \n                I\nfought with her dress to get it out of the way, in the end leaving it balled up\nin either fist and using it to restrain/control her. Now don't get upset with my\nwords for I don't mean it that way. I used it to hold her in place and to keep\nher from hitting the ground, or slipping and hitting her head on the table. By\nthis time, it was a monsoon level storm that had overtaken the region and raining\nwas coming down sideways.\nWe failed to notice.\nI have stuck my cock in a lot of\nfemales. I mentioned that. A lot of them had been tight little whores, errr,\nladies and so I had to take my time shoving it all inside. But by the time I\nwas done, I had ruined a good many of them for anyone else. I was under the\nassumption that Raysha would be the same. Good for one solid fuck and then\ndisappointment from there on out.\nShe was having none of that. I\ndidn't even know a mare could squeeze the way she did. I buried my cock to the\nhilt, itself a minor miracle, but the way she clamped down on it and didn't let\ngo was mind boggling! I had never had a gal who could do that. It made me\nthink.\n                That\nwas then and this was now. She broke my train of thought.\n                \"Listen\nstud. Do you hear that?\"\n                I\nhadn't been paying attention. My thoughts were elsewhere.\n                \"I do.\"\n                \"Are\nyou thinking what I'm thinking?\"\n                \"God I\nhope so.\"\n                She\nslipped out of bed, put on an old dress she had relegated to the donation pile\nand slipped out the bedroom door. I didn't bother putting on anything. There\nsimply wasn't a point to it.\n                I was\ngoing to bring up the matter of what the neighbors might think, but it quickly\ndawned on me that I didn't give a shit. This was my house and my property and I\ncould do what I wanted in it. And I knew what I wanted tonight. I might not get\na second chance.\n                She was\nalready soaked from the downpour by the time she made it to the wooden table\nout back. I stood there for a moment in the doorway, recalling that first time\nwith a vividness that overlapped what my eyes were seeing here and now. What\nwas gone in my life wasn't love; it wasn't even romance; it was that\nspontaneity of doing something crazy just for the joy of it. It was breaking\nthirty years of routine and going back to doing the things before we had grown\nup and had to \"know better.\"\n                So like\nthat first time, I was out in the rain, feeling the rivulets of water running\ndown my face and neck, over my chest and back, and finally across my butt and\nmy belly. None ran down my cock because that piece of meat was sticking\nstraight up in the air as tall and as proud as could be. In much the same way, her\ntail was up, held aloft by two strong hands reaching back to grip it hard.\n                Again, I\nwas going to say something and thought better of it. Words were great, but at a\ntime like this, it was best to save them when it was over. That thought seemed\nto snap something inside of my head, for suddenly I felt young again; not too\nyoung mind you, but a weight had been lifted from my conscience. It wasn't her\nI was disappointed in, nor even myself; it was that life had grown bland. It\nwas time to reach into the spice rack and liven things up again. It was time to\nmake this marriage palatable again.\n                This\ntime, as I pushed that obscene thing I call a cock inside of her, I watched it\ndisappear, inch by inch. It seemed to go on forever, and she took every bit of\nit as she always did. I once commented that her pink hole was a black hole,\nwhich got me punched in the arm. But it was uncanny to watch it slowly be\nengulfed. The comfortable constriction at her opening was a firm grip that\nnever once faded over the years in snugness or tautness. It was enough to make\nyou believe in miracles. \n                As the\nrain poured down, it washed away my worries and my fears. It took a few years\nwith it too. The grey remained, but the attitude changed. I was only as old as\nI felt.\n                And I\nfelt good for the first time in a long time!\n                Her old\ndress ended up going in the trash the next morning. As before, I had a fistful\nballed up in each hand and by its presence alone kept her from sprawling on the\nground. It might have been easier just dropping the two of us down into the\nmuddy grass, but I got the idea that this was supposed to be a reminder where\nwe had started and thus deserved a modicum of respect. I could deal with that.\n                I\npounded that mare forever. While I'm exaggerating of course, it's only a slight\none. I tickled her insides until her body shook, and in with reaction that I\nknew was all too real, she let loose a garbled cry as I triggered an orgasm in\nher unlike any she had had in a good long while. And I didn't let up. I had\nblown a wad earlier, and thus I had the edge taken off my libido, but it was\nstill revving much faster than it had in a year or more.\n                I could\nhear the material of the dress ripping as I slammed her back into my body with\nenough force to bruise a rhino. She managed to keep her hands on the table, but\nonly barely. Water poured down from the sky and despite the volume of it, it\nwas unable to quench the newly relit fire inside of me.\n                If the\nneighbors heard they didn't let on and to be honest I just didn't care. Let\nthem see what we had together. I slammed it home until I thought my legs where\ngoing to give out, and my arms grew fatigued and sore from the effort of\nholding her in place. I was just despairing at being able to blow another round\nwhen I felt my balls tighten up, and this time they did so almost painfully.\nThe load rose from deep down below, passed thought my cock with enough force to\nmake my toes curl, and then out and into her body. I swear it was as if I had\nlaunched a torpedo. It exploded inside her, sending shock waves through her\nthat I could feel through my connection to her via her dress.\n                Then\nthe material gave up the ghost and tore, sending me careening backwards and her\nto slide off to the side and into a puddle. I splashed to my feet and went to\nher, stopping to stare at her wet form on the ground. While I hadn't ripped her\ndress on that first day, she had still ended up kissing the grass...just like she\nwas now. I thought about it. I didn't know if I had it in me to relive that\nmoment.\n                Oh,\nwhat the hell. \n                I\ndropped on her, yanked that fine tail up and over her back and sank into her\nass with savage lust. I hadn't bothered doing her anally in months, and even\nthen my performance had been lackluster. Time to show her I still had it.\n                Her\nfingernails dug furrows in the wet ground as I pushed everything I had into her\nin one massive thrust. I heard her gasp as I pushed the hilt of it into her\nuntil there simply wasn't anymore of me to give.\n                \"Ffffffuck!\"\nshe said through gritted teeth.\n                \"You\ngot it,\" I said happily.\nFive minutes into it we were both\ncovered in grass and mud. I didn't notice. I was too intent on showing her that\nI did remember what it was like. It was fun. I didn't think it was possible to\nreclaim this much gratification from an act repeated hundreds upon hundreds of\ntimes over three decades. But I was back with a vengeance. I wasn't twenty\nanymore, and she wasn't eighteen. And I didn't care. I didn't want to be that\nyoung and stupid again. I just wanted to live life like I was, with at least a\nportion of the stamina I once had. There was something liberating about letting\ngo. \n                And I\nlet go.\n                Skipping\nthe gory details, I'll tell you this. I screwed that poor mare until she\nfinally cried uncle. I was wiser now than I was back then so I eased up when I\nfelt it was getting to be too much for her. In the end (her end - the end of\nhis story, whichever you prefer) I pulled out and was content to be done. But\nshe wasn't about to call it quits. She flipped over, sat up and stroked my cock\nuntil that motion and the rain washed it clean.\n                Then\nshe sucked me off until I thought my balls were going to come up through the\nhead of  my cock. She sucked and sucked\nand never let up until I came. If the previous one had been painful, this one\nwas the pinnacle of combined sadistic pleasure and luxurious misery. She\ngripped by sack, milking the boys until the flow started and then refused to\nstop. She nearly choked on the volume, barely managing to swallow fast enough as\nthe stuff gushed forth like a fire hose. Even then, traces of it erupted out\nthe sides of the mouth as her cheeks ballooned from the amount I was producing.\n                I felt\na little sheepish. The rest of the feeling was relief and pride.\n                We lay\nthere in the rain for an hour before we could manage to muster the strength to\nget on our feet again. Once inside, we headed straight to the shower (I know,\nbut wouldn't have you) rinsed off, dried off and contemplated what we had done.\nI grabbed a beer for each of us, went to the living room and sat down on the\ncouch. She sat opposite me.\n                \"Still\nfeeling bad for yourself?\"\n                \"Fuck\nno! How did we manage to lose that?\"\n                \"Speak\nfor yourself mister. I've always loved you.\"\n                \"I love\nyou too, but I just got lost in everything else I guess.\"\n                She\nsmiled around the lip of the bottle.\n                \"I hear\nit happens. Found your way back I see.\"\n                \"Oh God\nyes! I can't wait to do it again!\"\n                She\ntook one hand away from the bottle and lifted her butt off the couch, rubbing\nit gingerly.\n                \"That\nhole isn't seeing any action for a while. I was ready to open my mouth and see\nthe tip come out.\"\n                I\nchuckled. \"Yeah, I might have gotten a little carried away,\"\n                \"I'll\nforgive you. Better to be overboard than over the hill.\"\n                \"Oh,\nI'll pay for this in the morning I'm sure,\" I said ruefully, flexing my joints.\n                \"Lucky\nyou. I'm paying for it now.\"\n                \"Is it\nthat bad?\"\n                \"Bad\nenough. This ole girl is out of practice.\"\n                \"Then I\ncan suggest two things.\"\n                She\nlifted the beer to her lips before asking;\n                \"And\nthose are?\"\n                \"More\npractice...\"\n                \"And?\"\n                I\nfinished my beer, dropped to my knees in front of the couch and buried my\nmuzzle in her crotch. She was about to complain but a well-placed tongue lashed\nout and stopped her. She still found words, but they didn't come across as a\ncomplaint. She shifted, leaned back and spread'em wide.\n                \"Now\nthis is the sort of horse play I missed. Wanna go back outside?\"\nI pulled my face out long enough to\nanswer.\n\"No thanks. It's plenty wet right in\nhere.\"\nShe hit me in the head, but only\nlightly. She didn't want me unconscious before she had a chance to be. And who knew; maybe just maybe I might just\ncoax another round out of my cock. It had been a long while since that had\nhappened, but what the hell? A guy didn't know until he tried. In the meantime,\nit was my intent to soak the couch with as much of her lubrication as I could\npossible procure. Sure she'd be mad. But that would be tomorrow. And we needed\na new one anyways. This reason would as good as any. I smiled as I went back to\nwork.\nLife was looking up.\n"}