PoiPonies (wun local kine story frum Hawaii)
The air was cold this morning with the hanging light mist and the volcanic fog from Kona on the next island over. Malama sighed tiredly as he mashed his way through purple mud as thick and sticky as molasses while the smell of rotting plants and stagnating muddy water slapped his sensitive nostrils like an after-taste of some kind of manure.
He'd worked in the loi with his uncle Kahono for as long as he could remember; the soothing feel of the sucking and gasping sun-warmed mud of the taro patch squishing against his hooves almost like a big purple vagina with many twisting and stubborn folds. It might be a strange way to describe how it felt to navigate the mud, as he pulled weeds and vines from the water while his tail matted and became grimy while it dragged behind, but other ways to describe the sensation failed him--especially, when it was tradition to believe that all the children of Hawaii came from the Earth mother, and the kalo (taro and poi) was her stillborn baby.
Malama was grateful for the shade overhead and the Leeward winds blowing up into Wai'anae from 'Ewa side. Otherwise, it was such a tedious harvest and uncle would yell at him all hamajang for sitting off to the side to rest while the taro went up and rotted.
Nearby, he could see his elderly kine uncle in the next field over in his usual tank top and ti-leaf sombrero looking hat, lightly jamming green stalks of kalo into the mud as he looked around warily to space them out right.
He didn't like all the rocks on the bottom of the muddy patches, but the frogs on his feet toughened up alright and he didn't have any problems from them since. Behind, he could see a little trail of mushed craters where he had stuffed his legs and pulled them out again.
Uncle Kahono hadn't fallen in the loi for at least a couple decades, and Malama looked at him with all kinds of respect; as he usually ended up with the stinky dark purplish mud all over his body at one point or another at any given time in a week of work.
"Eh, uncle! I like rest!" Malama yelled over, wiping sweat off his forehead and getting mud there instead by accident.
"Awwws! Hell no. We get another bunch of patches to do after this. Da kine bruddahs over in Kaimuki and Hale'iwa aren't gunna wait fo' dere poi!" The white and brown stallion with almond eyes uttered back, continuing to stuff the leftover stems of the kalo into the mud for the next harvest.
Malama pulled another ten weeds out and tossed them to the side where sat a big pile they used for composting, sighing with sweat all over his body and the discomfort of mud squirming into his braided fundoshi (Japanese thong) almost like gritty slimy tentacles; his bare ass glistening with a purple sheen between his sodden heavy tail. He let out a hushed whine as he felt more mud wiggle all over his nuts and sheathe. "But I is gunna fall!"
The old horse laughs at that with a stern and deep Japanese male's chuckle. Uncle Kahono was a mix of many different horse breeds, but his tutu was a hinny, his pa was Japanese pony, and his ma was local raised shetland. So, his ancestry was more hamajang than a malasada filled with tabasco and salsa.
He sighs as the work finishes and he can go to the open-air shack on the side of a lightly sloping hill. He washes up in the crayfish pond first, mud melting from his skin like smoke before he finally walks inside the breezy lodge.
It had been designed somewhat like a two-wall garage with two open ends; old withered banana and ti-leafs stitched into a roof above would harmoniously flutter in the light breeze throughout the day.
Uncle walked stiffly in the hut like one old fart, his bones occasionally creaking as he opened up a nearby bench and pulled out his stone bowl and round-bottom poi pounder.
Malama remembered Uncle's old poi pounder. It was made from grey basalt stone and looked like a "Sorry!" gameboard piece with a curvy bottom like a punching clown. He didn't know how old it was, but was told it was like one family heirloom already.
"Hey, bugga! How you like yo poi? Two or three fingers?" The ancient equine asks, taking some cut chunks of kalo out of a basket made of woven fresh elephant ear leaves. Malama looked briefly at the smoke-grey pieces of potato as Kahono began mashing it in the bowl with grinding strokes away from his body; occasionally lifting up a piece of the taro to get the consistency even for lunch.
They had to make alot today cuz they had some relatives coming up in an hour or two to help work in the fields. Malama sighed in pleasure as the earthy natural smell of the taro wafted into his mostrils. "Eh, eh uncle? Try pass me a piece of that boiled korm you didn't mush yet?"
The old horse stopped briefly, shaking his dusty mud-speckled mane in disbelief. "But if you wait abit, they is gunna be ready to eat and taste mo betta!"
"I no care, brah. I'm needin' sumthing right now." Then he took out a decent sized piece from the basket and nibbled on it with clear enjoyment.
The bland explosion of vaguely sweetened kalo made him only hungrier as him and the old fart went wait for the others to come up and hang.
Malama was surprised to be greeted by no one but a young chick in a mini skirt. She looked real pretty for a bay pony, he just kinda wondered why nobody else like show up for grindz.
"Howzit! My ohana decide to go up Hale'iwa for sum surf and ahi fishing, so they just drop me off on the way cuz I still like go farm deh stuff."
Kahono grins widely in disbelief, his slanted eyes going all over her body like one scannah. "That too bad, but I know my bruddah like his beach stuffs. Ah wells-Mo poi, mo betta! Right Malama?"
"Yeahs, I guess. Sounds good cuz I'm hungry from all that work." Malama nods, even while uncle continued to mash his giant pile of purple play-doh into one large blob of what amounted to Hawaiian mashed potatoes.
Then the girl went laugh at him, pointing at his revealing choice of underwear. "Nice thong, boy!"
Malama grew bright with embarassment; snorting with indignation. "It not one thong. It one Japanese underwear." He protested, looking over his shoulder in hopes that uncle would back him up.
"Ohhhh? So you got yourself some Japanese panties up over at Chinatown?" She sniggered out, and Kahono seemed to release a few muffled giggles of his own.
"Man, whatevas. We gots sum stuff to do." And then he turned toward the field he was weeding, receiving another round of laughter from that rude girl even as he like give her stink eye. "Just don't mess your nail polish."
As soon as his feet sank into the edge of the mud, it was such a pleasure that he almost forgot all about the chick.
Until she went and jump in too, splattering him with muck. "Aw! Why you gotta be an annoying cuz? I wish I had wun cuz who would actually help me."
"You like beef?" She asks, staring him down like one mongoose.
"What? You like beef? I dunno. I'm not used to hitting girls." He declared, hoping she would shut up already.
"Who sed I was wun girl?" She stood for him like the statue of Kamehameha and he suddenly realized this cousin he got to see on occasion was flat-chested. Not a big deal by itself, but she was flat-chested and nineteen.
"Oh fuck! You wun MAHU!" Malama yells in disbelief, shaking his head and unable to see the truth. "All dis time my cuzin was wun mahu? Why nobody tell me?" Uncle Kahono could only laugh his ass off. It was clear he knew this entire time and had left it as a prank for Malama to figure out.
The guy, wun Hokulani, blushed and began to laugh in that same chirpy feminine voice. "Ho brah! You neva ask!"
After this, Malama would CERTAINLY be asking alot more questions; if for no other reason than to keep himself from plowing wun guy! "Why you like be wun chick?" He couldn't deny that the guy look all nice and stuff.
Hokulani giggled and looked along the half finished field. "Well you could tok about why I look like this, or we could get this done and have sum lunch."
It was then that he felt his stomach argue with him and he agreed briefly, beginning to walk daintily around the stalks and roots of the taro as he pulled up all the different weeds and vines. "Shoots! I like eat already!"
They had been at it for maybe an hour, while Malama thought about what it would be like to fuck wun guy. Strangely, it didn't feel as natural to him as his friends, but watching those bobbing thonged dark chestnut asscheeks as Hokulani bent down and showed the upside of his skirt off seemed to do something to him.
Malama was maybe one or two more peep shows away from getting fully hard and fucking his cousin like a lecherous menehune.
"Oh gawd! I gotta pound yo punani now!" Malama whined out; his cock desperately fighting to escape from his tight dun undies.
Hokulani giggles, flirting her tail as she-He! looks back and bends down even further to give Malama not just a peek of ass, but silk covered balls too. Gay or not, he was horny enough to fuck wun wild pig if he hada.
"I no got wun punani, you know." He counters, hand on his hip seductively as he taunted like a first rate tease.
Malama struggled to bring down his fundoshi, and when his cock sprang up like a lead pipe, Hokulan's eyes lit up in surprise as he realized that the naked pony was serious. "Um-WOW. I had no-"
"-Can I fuck you?" Malama states, his bulging cock all sticky and hot with sweat.
"Sure!" Then Hokulani pulled up the back of his skirt even while Malama waded up toward the mahu mare and gave the gay boy's thong a sudden snap against his willing asshole as the slut yelped in lusty surprise. "Ey!"
"A an alphabet, bitch!" He teased, poking his dirty cock at her hole while holding it steady with his muddy hand. "Hope you not wun of dem 'clean' girls cuz I iz gunna make that ass all dirty kine."
For added fun, he dipped his cock into the slimy muck nearby and brought it back up to the willing slutty asslips of his sissy cousin.
Hokulani squealed out in violated shock as he felt the mud-covered cock slam up his tight backside. The pony in the dress didn't expect to take half the poi pond with him when he went home, that was fo' shore!
The slut grunted as the slick grimy cock entered his butthole effortlessly as a needle, his ass quaking and trembling for more of the hot/cold mud-boner.
"Das right. You not just wun slut-now you wun dirty slut, too!" Malama sneered, plowing his cousin like the whore he was and enjoying every second!
The mahu pony bit his lip as he looked back with the whites of his eyes and his dark brown ears all lowered in submission. Malama grinned and laughed lightly as he felt his gay cousin back that tight ass into his own girthy member all coated in the satin dark violet mud of the field. "Yeah, you iz gunna like dat, yeahs?"
The stripper slut only nodded in response, his muck-covered tail raised and bent to the side for easier pounding access. Malama gave him props for dat; he always like watch how much his cock wen stretch a hole as he thrusted.
"Oh gawd, your like wun beast!" The mahu moaned out; his ass rippling like firm jell-o with every spank and thrust of Malama's toned thighs.
From all the encouragement and furious plowing, he suddenly felt his brown pony coconuts tense up and ready a giant load for that hungry lil' femme-stud's ass!
"I iz gunna blow!" He whines, grinding his cock in an ever more voracious and violent way as that hungry boi butt sucked all over his cock and made him wanna shoot like wun cannon.
Then he gave a loud trumpet of primal lust as his tail worked up and down involuntarily like a bellows to the muscle spasms in his crotch and okole. He filled his cuz to the brim with enough milk to feed four gay stray cats for wun week!
No sooner had his cock softened and dropped out of the oozing punished horsehole, did his cuz suddenly twist about and pounce him into the mud. "I herd you when like be dirty?" Hokulani teased.
Then they wrestled and had sum secks in the muck like two pigs, completely forgetting about the small luau later. The wun that uncle wen prepare with de poi, and lomi lomi salmon, and kailua pork, and haupia, and the sticky rice.
He guess uncle no wanna interrupt his grandson and 'neice' while they be havin' fun and all.