FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Ruck stepped out of the cab at the foot of the long driveway to his childhood home. Money changed hands with the cab driver, and a cloud of dust on the arid dirt road covered the car's retreat. Tires ground the loose soil, tossing the beige matter high in the air. Ruck raised his arm to shield his eyes, coughing at the mess the driver had caused. It didn't matter. He was home.

After the dust cloud subsided, he shook the dirt from his fur, fetlocks swinging side-to-side. His arms and legs suffered less than his glorious mane, while the rest of his body was protected from the elements by his leisure clothes: a plain black t-shirt and pants. Dark glasses reflected the brunt of the midday sun. He collected his sand-blasted self and lifted his leg. At last, he crossed the threshold, setting foot firmly on his parent's land. The sandy earth rose around his hoof, the sturdy pillar of his limb sinking into home. This land wanted to envelope him, wanted him to stay and never leave again -- to trap him here forever. Ruck felt its pull, the warm comfort of familiarity tug at his soul. It was enticing.

Three steps. Then four. Then many. The grown-up mustang entered the past. His tall body carried him quickly up the path, the still air not yet whipped into a frenzy by the wind, leaving his rich coat of fur unmolested. The walk to the house took ten minutes. He took longer, seizing the opportunity to look upon the acres he ran and hid and played among in his youth. Those memories seemed so distant now, to him, a man of twenty-five. But seeing the same sights he spent his childhood days observing brought them closer than ever. He could almost taste the meals he used to enjoy as a child after a long day adventuring, and the smell of the farm reinforced that nostalgic sensation. He could get lost in a place like this. Not in the physical sense. The emotional.

Ahead! There she stood. His mother, in the porch of the two-storey white timber house he was raised in. He last saw her a year go, at his graduation. She positively shone that day, in fine formal wear, proud of her son's achievements. He looked towards the porch. She was as radiant as ever. No fancy dress this time, only her usual get-up. Tight-buttoned shirt with the collar splayed, the criss-crossing burgundy and yellow ochre pattern her signature style. She clad her bottom half with a pair of old ripped jeans, from where he stood Ruck could see muck-marks, evidence of a woman hard at work. A cowboy hat rested on her head, giving the mare a classic rancher's look. Past that her mane had been bunched back to keep it from flopping in front of her during the day.

Ruck's tail flicked as he approached.

She leaned against the door frame, a big smile on her muzzle.

He reached the entrance in silence. He removed his sunglasses, the shade of the porch now taking over that responsibility. This was the first time in a while his brown eyes (matching his fur) set themselves upon his mother's. Her grey-green irises shone brightly, staring deep into his soul. No words were spoken. One look was all they needed. One look that said: 'welcome home'.

"Hey Ma," Ruck said in a bass voice, the sound of which ripped through the idyllic ambiance, banishing any chirping of birds or rustling of trees to oblivion. That voice! Oh how his mother had longed to hear a word spoken by that voice.

"RUCK!" she squealed in her Southern twang. Leaping from the doorway, she wrapped her son in an enormous hug -- squeezing like her life depended on it. "Yer home! Mah baby..."

"I missed you too Ma." He brought his arm 'round her back, placing a firm hand on her shoulder blade, keeping the hug close. His other arm soon joined the party, locking behind her back, bending his knees to accommodate his mom's shorter stature.

He'd come a long way. And this moment made it all worth it.

She broke the embrace. "Can't ya stay fer more than a Summer?"

Ruck chuckled. Unlike his mother, time spent away from home had diminished his accent. "Ma, you know well I got a job, responsibilities..."

"I know I know, ya silly boy! I wish it was simpler. Like the ol' days."

"Well I'm here now. Make the most o' me."

"I will!" she exclaimed, "now hun, how's life in the big city? How's work?"

"Work's great. Got a position at a big firm downtown. So I don't want for much. Stayin' with some roommates to keep costs low, so I can put more into savings. We all pitch in for stuff. Nobody's an ass or got a big ego. Things're pretty good."

"Oh my God, I'm so happy fer ya! Hope ya saved some money fer yer dear ol' mama!"

"I did Ma. I did." He produced a small bundle of dollar bills, placing them on her palm and closing her fingers around the wad. "For being a great mom," he grinned.

She opened her hand. Shock and amazement washed over her, the matronly mare's jaw dropping. "Baby! How much is this!?"

"More than enough for a few repairs and renovations for the house. Plus enough for you to treat yourself."

"I...ya earn so much..." She stood there. Dumbfounded.

"Ma, I told you I have a great job. It's no big deal."

"Yeah it's a big deal. I can't believe--"

"That your son treats his momma right?"

Words weren't necessary to express her gratitude. The silvery twinkle in her eye was thanks enough.

"Where would I be without you? Eh Ma?"

She kicked her hoof into the porch floor, angling it so that the she tip-toed on the boards, her left leg twisting, lightly grinding her hoof into the wood. "Nowheres. That's where," she replied.

"I have a lot to thank you for. Especially this year."

"Shucks honey, I'm not one fer takin' credit. But ya did so well..."

"Oh I did more than well. Top percentile o' grades--"

"Just as smart as yer Pa!"

"--and I owe it all to your support." Ruck had left to pursue a college education, something his father pushed for, and his mother supported wholeheartedly. His father had done the same in his youth, studying hard to make something of himself. His parents met at a county fair, dad visiting his hometown for once in a blue moon and falling head-over-heels in love with a simple farm girl. One thing led to another, and with the blessings of both families concerned they were wed. Ruck arrived on the scene shortly after.

"I miss him honey-pie. More than anythin'."

His dad died a week before graduating. It was a black mark on an otherwise happy occasion. It affected his mom more than anyone else. Yet she dried her tears and put on a strong face as the flash of photographer's camera immortalised her son's triumph. Her husband would've been proud to see him then; smart, strong, handsome...

She led him by the hand into the house.

* * *

The old farm house's exterior was a sight to behold -- a clean, well-kept Carpenter Gothic home, built before electrification of the region. It had seen plenty of updates in the time since its construction, and while from the outside it hadn't suffered the ravages of time, the interior of the house bore the marks of repeated remodelling. Modern conveniences occupied nooks and crannies, haphazardly inserted wherever the space existed, with preservation of the quaint aesthetic a fleeting regard to its inhabitants throughout the years. Ruck's parents never minded much the 'corruption' of its antique look. They were people who lived in the_now;_ their minds on the godly-green land and its people. Drinking. Dancing. Lanterns hanging from trees in Spring -- illuminating the paths and parlours of the rural neighbourhood. Love. Laughter. And smiling faces. Who cared about the history of the building when there were far more important things in life?

Foggy glass panes were held in permanent suspension by the varnished wood of the original window frames. They'd begun to lose their transparency decades ago, but lingered on, eking out their twilight years, roughly forty percent opaque. Enough light was let in on a sunny day to avoid wasting electricity, but when the clouds came over, and the weather turned...that was when their age showed. Many parts of the house told similar stories.

The hall now entertained a familiar mustang. Older, yes. Wiser, yes. But still the same young colt who leaped and bounded up-and-down the stairs, clattered the cupboards, fiddled with the fireplace...getting up to a sorts of mischief, swimming in the throes of rambunctious youth.

Ruck's mom scurried off to the far side of the house, leaving him to wallow in yet more memories. "Looks like I'm home," he said, the scourge of his homesickness lifting.

* * *

Dinnertime came and his mother had prepared an aromatic meal comprised of mixed vegetables, onions, peppers, spices, and more; its rich scent burning his nostrils. "Smells good Ma," he nickered, taking a seat at the wooden table.

"I hope ya like it honey-pie. Wanted to put on a special meal for your first day back."

"Looks plenty special!"

They dug in.

As the hot food tantalised his tongue, chewing and savouring the sweet taste of home, Ruck peered over at his mother. He noticed her stare a lot; the table, the bowl...never at him. He worried over her, alone in the countryside. Farming kept her mind steady, though it's never been easy for one to avoid the sting of loneliness. With a mild sigh she resumed eating. Her lips smacked, her meal gradually disappearing to fuel her finely-aging body. Working the fields meant she was healthier than most her age, and despite a build-up of fat in the usual places her figure maintained itself well. "Heya Ruck,"

"Not enjoying it? You made it."

"I know that hun."

"It's...it's about Pa, isn't it?"

"Um...I'm okay, really..."

"Hey," he extended his arm, his hand reaching across the table to hold her own, "if you need to talk to someone, I'm here."

"Thank ya honey," she nodded, averting her eyes in a vain attempt at minimising the heavy feelings that permeated the air. "But I've been truckin' along fer months, if nothin' stopped me yet, nothin' will!"

"That's not how it works Ma. Just talk. A little. For me."

Reluctantly, she agreed. His mother spoke, he listened. Concerns about how tough managing the farmstead had been this past year, without her husband, floated between them. Ruck comforted her, bolstering her flagging spirits with eager optimism -- his was infectious. Soon she was beaming over his achievements. With assurances he'd be available to help out all Summer, her grief found itself without purchase. Slowly, it unmoored itself. Cast away as her happiness lapped at the edge of her thoughts -- like rushing water against loamy embankment...

"Ruck, ya bein' here means a lot to me. Even if it's just temporary."

"You never know. I might like it enough to stick around."

"Turn down the charm, mister!" she wagged her finger at him, "I know who I'm talkin' to. Y'all may be tall an' handsome, but yer the same boy who gave every excuse in the book to skip field work!"

Ruck made a bashful turn with his head, scratching his fetlocks. "Thought you might've forgot that."

"Time ain't made a fool o' me yet," she declared. "Don't worry honey-pie. I can tell when yer lyin'...an' this ain't mah baby speakin' lies. It'll be great havin' yer help fer the summertime."

Once dinner was over Ruck and his mother gathered the dishes. The house lacked a dishwasher, despite at least one person present in the house making a fuss about it whenever the topic arose. An old-fashioned sink plus faucet was their sole means of cleaning up. That didn't bother them. Ruck stood beside his mother giving her a hand as she soaped the water and began cleaning, working up to a rich foam. The water drenched their forearms, their fur heavy and wet. Still, it needed to be done. What would people think of him if Ruck didn't assist his widowed mother with chores while he could? It would be scandalous!

"Thanks Ruck honey."

"No problem Ma."

Washed and dried, their dishes and cutlery were put away, erasing all traces of their sublime meal. Ruck and his mother hugged, he thanked her for the food. "I knew it was still yer favourite," she cooed.

The time was late, and outside was dark. Hours had flown by during their dinner. Conversation sped things up immensely. Ruck was tired -- the long journey had taken its toll, there were bags under his eyes. He yawned. His mother knew how sleepy he'd become, she had a long day as well. Toiling in the fields, gathering fresh produce for sale at the local farmer's market on Sunday, and dusting the house in preparation for her son's return. It was gruelling, but it had all been worth it. To see the smile on his face, his rugged appearance scarcely concealing the little boy she loved without limit. He de-aged a decade or more in her presence, the proud stallion found comfort in his former role. "It was delicious. Though I'm awful tired now."

"Me too." Her mouth opened wide to inhale, and exhale, infected with his yawning. She stretched her arms behind her back and heard the joints pop. She looked ready for bed. Sniffing the air, she turned and trotted out of the kitchen. Ruck followed.

In the hallway she stopped. Her hand gripped the end of the banisters, gliding over the smooth varnish and running down the length of the wooden pole until her fingers merely brushed the textured surface. Another second and they had separated, her arm dangling halfheartedly as she stared at the worn steps to the upper floor.

"You okay Ma?" Ruck asked, worry in his voice.

"Yeah baby I'm good," she replied, "it's just...this'll be the first time in a long time I won't be home alone."

From behind she felt her son's firm hands lay upon her shoulders, squeezing (not pinching) her body through the shirt. A braver woman would stem the tears...she could only hold back so much. Her husband's memory, her son here at last; it was overwhelming, and it hurt.

"Hey hey Ma, s'okay...s'okay." Ruck rubbed her shoulders. "I feel as bad as you do." His words were a comfort to her, knowing he felt the pain of loss as vividly as she.

She sniffed. And composed herself.

"Let's get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow is a new day," her son said, his voice quietened.

They ascended the stairs. Ruck first, then her. The boards creaked with familiarity as each sombre step carried the two horses upstairs. The ache in her limbs picked up. She looked ahead of her, to her son's large frame rippling with muscles. He would be such a great help. Big and strong. And clever too, just like his father.

Reaching the top, Ruck took a moment to drink in his surroundings. This was probably the first time he'd seen up here in years. In darkness save for a single window letting the moonlight in, he saw it as vividly as when he was a child. The same doors, the same frames, the same paint, the only difference being the proportions from his perspective, a lot taller then he'd been when last he stayed at home. He moved into the centre of the landing, joined by his mom, who absentmindedly shambled towards her bedroom.

Ruck went the opposite direction, arriving at a very special door. His.

The grown-up equine turned the knob, slowly opening the door, unsure of what he'd find. He flipped the light switch. The room, now illuminated, had no bed for him. Packed instead, were boxes and boxes of papers, miscellaneous household items, and in the middle of it all was a writing desk, once belonging to his father. He groaned, the sleep building in his eyes. He just wanted to go to sleep!

Hurriedly he went to find his mother. She'd entered her room and was in the process of letting her hair fall loose and free. He watched the shiny black mane flow, and dance, long and beautiful.

"M-Ma," he whispered, wanting to not disturb her too much, "my room..."

Embarrassment crossed her features. Her jaw dropped, which was quickly covered by her hands, and a simple 'oh gosh-darn it' told all. She rubbed her head.

"I'm sorry Ruck. I forgot all about yer room." She rose and walked past him, coming to the area in question. "Everthin's been so busy lately, I hardly had time to put this stuff away."

"What's it doing here anyway. You need Pa's old desk for somethin'?"

"I needed a place where I could put all 'em kinds o' bills, taxes, an' paperwork. Yer Pa always did that fer me. He was the one with the smarts to do it." There were traces of shame in her explanation, as if she wanted to hide the fact she was struggling...as if her son thinking she wasn't capable on her own was a particular fear of hers. She cursed her forgetfulness. How could she have dropped the ball so easily?

"C'mere, c'mere," Ruck brought his arm around her, speaking softly, "no need to get upset. I can do it for you."

"Y'mean...ya will?"

"Well I have accountancy training, be a shame not to put it good use. And what better use is there than helping my Ma with the family business?"

"Thank ya, honey-pie," she kissed him on the cheek, causing him to blush.

"We can clear this out tomorrow, and put my bed back in," he said, "not in the mood to try it tonight."

"An' ya can bunk with me!"

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh. Bed's big enough fer two." The unspoken fact that it had been their late father sharing the bed with her was ignored by both, lest it brought up bad memories. They had it hard enough without reminders.

"Won't this be weird?"

He looked at his mother. Her sculpted figure. Her pensive eyes. She was an image of mature beauty, were they not blood related he was sure he'd fall for her. It wasn't peculiar for anyone to be weirded out a little at the prospect of spending the night with their single mom whose body was a vision hardened by farm labour.

"I know, I know, sweetness. Yer a bit old to be sleepin' in momma's bed!" she giggled.

"Uhhh," he groaned. The same groan he made many a time his mom came out with an embarrassing remark. "Let's just go to sleep."

"Agreed." She took him to his new bedroom, his reluctant agreement bringing her a step closer to hitting the hay and getting some well-earned rest.

"Give me a sec hun, gotta change." The equine woman rushed inside, slamming the door shut. Ruck obeyed, like a good son. He loitered by the closed door, waiting for when he was permitted entry.

"Come in!" he heard through the timber panelling. He entered.

His mother sat wearing a comely pink nightgown, the kind one might see adorning a fair country maiden in the old days. Sequined, with white buttons and red edges -- in a paler hue than the pink colouring the rest of it. Her arms and legs were bare, the end of the gown approaching her mid-thigh, and not much else, where -- if not for her tightly-pressed-together legs -- one wayward cad might spy more than intended. Two straps held the gown, scaling her shoulders. Her bosom pushed the fabric out, exposing some cleavage. A modest amount, but enough to drive any hot-blooded male crazy. The material was thick enough to hide her nipples, reducing the impact on any onlookers.

Cushioning her wide hips and rear was the double bed they would be sharing tonight. To someone watching this might be construed as something...entirely different than what was happening. His mother must've realised this, as she adjusted her pose, the attractive older mare 'look' fading once pitted against the knowledge she was his mom. Ruck was too much of a gentleman to entertain thoughts of that nature anyway. He knew it. She obviously knew it. Best not dwell.

"I'll change once I'm under the sheets," he said, not letting her appearance get to him.

"Ya sure? Don't wanna embarrass ya."

"Naw it's fine." Ruck bit his lip, fighting the urge to compliment her sleepwear. It was just a compliment, right? 'What's the harm?' you might ask. He fought it anyway.

She moved under the covers, facing away from the vacant side of the bed. Ruck went around to the other side, hooves clomping on the carpeted floor. "Too old for pyjamas," he muttered nonchalantly to himself.

"Shush honey, just do what ya think is best."

He climbed into bed, and stripped down. Pulling his shirt up and over his head he freed his chest, revealing his toned body. Unbuckling his belt and removing his trousers, he was left with naught but his boxers. He cautiously folded and tucked away his clothes, making a mental note to unpack fully tomorrow. Now able to appreciate the bed, he settled in beside his mother. There was enough space to maintain a decent gap between them. He turned his back to her, the two now oriented in opposite directions. The cotton sheets felt amazing against his fur, caressing his hide. His mom always had an eye for quality.

Drifting to sleep, the pair's breathing gradually synchronised; the rise-and-fall of their chests beating with one unified tempo.

* * *

Ruck's mother was uncomfortable. In her sleep she tossed and turned, her mature, buxom figure contorting under the choking heat of the night. The atmosphere was clammy, the temperature risen enough to ruin a good night's sleep. Despite this, she didn't stir. Her body was determined to rest, regardless of the hassle it took. Her poor son shared her discomfort, on the far side of the bed he moved regularly. His posture constantly shifted in the hopes of settling.

She gradually approached the edge of the bed. Her knees, bent as she curled up, dangled over the fabric cliff face, leaving the cover of the bed-sheets. Her arms bunched tightly against her chest, squashing her breasts, pulled the covers closer. Ruck felt the duvet drag over him, and automatically fought back, gripping and grabbing handfuls of it and tugging. This contest continued with both mother and son separating further and further -- until both hung on the precipice of their respective sides. His mom exhaled in a strained manner. Her eyes remained closed, though she entered the tepid world of half-sleep. Walking the narrow tightrope between consciousness and the void.

Her nightgown felt like a lead weight, compressing her. It irritated her skin, brushing roughly against her fur with an unwelcome frequency. Her legs rubbed together, the heat of the night aggravating heat of another kind. Earlier, when in a fuzzy and tired state, she'd changed into her sleeping clothes -- forgetting completely to put on some panties! She let it slip her mind, whether by routine or chance. The length of the gown (however short) hid her mistake when her son was present.Lucky. Now she was reminded of it by the burning between her legs.Unlucky. In blossomed like a flower, spreading from a small region in her nethers -- her bud, her precious lips, and deeper, through the walls of her sacred passage. Moistening. Consuming her lower body with lust. Made worse with the knowledge her son shared her bed, and could wake up at any minute and discover her shame. She knew at a semi-conscious level she had to avoid doing anything that might let that happen.

The night progressed. She wasn't alone in her torment.

Their bedcovers found themselves cast aside, son and mom now lay in the open air. Ruck breathed, inhaling huge volumes of humid air and expelling it with force. He lay face-up in his boxers, exposed, without the cloak of the sheets to mask his erection. His underwear was held taut as his equine manhood pushed to free itself. His physical presence as a young, up-and-coming stallion was reinforced by the length of the rod he sported. His dick's inches were in the double-digits, how precise he wasn't sure, having never explicitly measured. Its throbbing nagged him, rubbing the woven walls of his boxers. He returned to lying on his side. His athletic body shifted in-place, one hand shoved beneath his pillow, the other draped across his chest. Those masculine paws wandered, digging under the elasticated strap at his waist. Carefully, he removed his underwear, sliding them down his muscly legs and discarding them. The exiled item of clothing fell to the floor. Temperature dropped in accordance with the extra naked surface, cooling him, but not a lot.

Ruck rolled over onto his back once more. His erection flopped haphazardly to his left, pulsing with the virility of youth. He groaned in his sleep. A small squirt of pre emerged, staining the sheets. Not content to stay still, he rolled again -- now facing his mother, her back facing him. His dick throbbed painfully, being dragged up-and-down the bedsheets in time with the rise and fall of his restless breathing. The thick pillar of flesh releasing more lubricant, anticipating action despite its owner's obliviousness.

He was dangerously close to his mom's behind, her bushy tail narrowly avoiding tickling his tip as she herself fidgeted. Her pussy moist and burning, was only a short distance away, increasingly sore and heated. At each flick of her tail she danced with fate, only saved by the difference in height between them.

Ruck was enjoying his dream, more satisfying now that he was hard. His cock twitched in reaction to the imagined events, stimulated but lacking the true feel of a soft pussy enveloping him. Forever trapped, unable to achieve orgasm. The curse of the wet dream. His upper half leaned forward, angling for a less annoying position. In doing so he smelled his mother, her scented mane. Fresh fruit extract of an unknown kind, scent matching how juicy she felt, bombarded by physical desire. He moved closer, her back to his front, breathing in her mane as it tickled his nostrils. He snorted, the sudden blast of air failing to wake her. Soon he made contact. His chest rubbed up against her shoulders, pecs propping up the blades. Bottom halves not yet entangled.

This would continue for several minutes. No new developments. Just closeness, teetering on intimacy.

Gradually, what started as a mere quirk of position and orientation became spooning. His arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her. She reciprocated, guiding his hands to a nice resting spot on her soft belly. His fingers wriggled, probing the tender midsection with care, driven purely by instinct and the intimate feeling of their motions clouding his thoughts. It was good -- her body responded well to this touch, sending waves of warmth to every point her nervous system could communicate with. The slowly-entangling pair were emerging from their slumber. Almost risen from the depths, she gazed at the wall from her bedside, shadows at play, her eyes heavy and glossed-over, dreaming...

Ruck's lower body moved to align with his core, straightening, his shaft now in the danger zone. Aching. He was tall enough that his stallionhood didn't line up with her vulnerable entrance immediately. Some more twisting and turning was necessary for it to find a way in. He palmed her furry stomach with one hand while the other squirmed underneath her waist and entwined her from below. Broad forearms now held her...supported her. His mother's arm went behind, grasping in the dark. She found her hand confronted with the rippling barricade of her son's abdomen. Tentatively her fingers skirted a mere inch from his flesh, teasing his fur as they drift past. Both waking horses were on a collision course neither wanted to occur -- and neither sincerely wanted to avert, instinct trapping all common sense.

Ruck's mother carried on her exploration, hand placed firmly on his body. It was solid. A well-exercised temple. She caressed her son.

His eyes opened. This was unexpected.

Both were finally awake.

"MA!" he blurted out, surprise taking him by storm, "I didn't...mean to...wake you..." His voice stayed low, almost apologetic for his exclamation a second ago. The room was silent, except for breathing.

"Mmmm...that's okay baby," she mumbled, "yer a lot closer than I expected..."

"You...you want me to move back?" he asked as her palm continued to journey across his physique.

"No baby no. S'okay...it's all good..."

The gravity of what they were doing (or about to do) weighed little upon them. Focus remained on cuddling, albeit more sensual than Ruck was used to. But familiarity kept him calm. How many months had his mother been alone? And in all that time, do you think she never wanted to hold him close? Her last remaining family? Everything was fine. This was okay.

He rested his muzzle on her neck, his grip on her steady. She sank into the comfort he provided, pouring herself into the mould his body made for her. As they joined, fur-against-fur, she could sense his heart beat, the powerful muscle thumping in his ribcage. The experience of laying against him was laced with nostalgia. Not for him, but his father...the way he held her, caressed her...

Ruck breathed in her scent. The aroma of her washed mane hadn't faded, nor did it diminish the strain he was feeling in his loins. "You smell nice Ma."

"Y'all feel nice hun."

Spooning morphed into groping. Ruck ran his hands under her nightgown, pulling it up -- from slightly past the waist to her midsection. Her shapely legs were left naked, so too was her round ass. He rubbed and stroked her, getting nearer and nearer to the underside of her breasts. His hooves kicked and toyed with hers. Her leg shifted, rubbing her thighs together. The burning continued.

His mouth nibbled at her neck, the ebb-and-flo of his short, excited breaths tickling her sensitive skin. He found the perfect vector of attack, stimulating the nerves that dotted the side and back of her neck. His mother gasphed, stunned at his precociousness; his touching, his feeling, his...fondling.

She put her hand to use, penetrating the empty space between her ass and his groin, hoping to find something special. Her other pawed at his limbs, making a show of fighting off his advances, but secretly egging him on -- directing his attention to the best spots. Her fingers flexed in the dim light, and came across the monster dwelling due south of her gatehouse. The serpent had been sighted!

Its capture was quick. Equine digits encircled the fearsome tube of flesh. Warm to the touch. Ruck's breathing hastened, the young man expecting great things from this turn of events. She stroked it. Veiny and slippery.

"Oh God Ma--muh--momma!"

"Like that honey-pie?"

"Yeah,_uugghhh,_yes Ma I do--!"

She tightened her grip on his dick, causing him to squeal. A titilating sound emerging from a willing partner, the symphony of their love. She squeezed more fiercely, the solid mass retaining its shape, as testament to the hardness of his blood-filled organ. Ruck yearned to fuck.

Stroking, sliding her hand along his length -- from the flared tip, over the medial ring, and almost reaching the base -- learning his tells. Which moves produced the greatest relief. The poor poor boy!He must be so pent-up...so uncomfortable...mo __m_ m y will make it better._

Ruck felt his mother grip him, each squeeze a shot of life into his tired body. His lethargic self was giving way to a energised stallion, ready to give this mare the ride of her life. What experience he had with women before didn't matter, he had a feeling this would take both of them to new heights. The taboo alone would be enough to send them over the edge. Yes, the fact she was his mother buzzed in his brain, distracting him from devoting himself entirely to their foreplay. Bah! No more! He put that annoying truth aside, tucking it far down in the vaults of his mind, locking it up and throwing away the metaphysical key.

She did the same.

As she dry-milked his cock, her free hand took control of one of his and lowered it towards her puffy slit, thick and meaty and hungry for some stallion.Not yet, she told herself, she'd have her fill of him in time. First, he can demonstrate how to please a mare.

"It's okay baby," she said, sensing his apprehension. They were crossing this threshold no matter what, he just needed a bit of encouragement. "S'okay..." she cooed, her voice faint but audible, "go ahead..."

Ruck's index finger nudged against her clitoris. She went quiet; not speaking, not mewling, not even breathing. The moment was here! At last, after hours of restless sleep...it was too good to want to miss a thing. His hard fingertip found it again, pressing gently as the rest of its comrades sat on her lower abdomen, where the thigh meets the hip. She bit her lip. He mushed his finger against the fleshy nub, breaking her composure. "Ahh!"

Mom was enjoying this. Ruck smiled as he nestled his head beside hers. And this was merely the prelude to greatness. His shaft tingled with each methodical stroke of her hand, compressing and expanding along its length as the ring formed by his mother's paw traversed it. Throbbing. Painfully erect. That would be fixed in a couple of minutes, if all went well.

He grabbed her breast, cupping the large tear-drop, feeling one of the rock-hard nipples his mother was sporting. They poked at the fabric of the nightgown, threatening to stab through the piece. The same breasts that fed him for many years now served as an erogenous zone, somewhere to tease and play with, driven by his newfound desire. With a rub and a pinch he summoned delightful sounds from his mother, a melodious string of 'oohs' and 'aahhs' that wove themselves into an impromptu tune. She always had a beautiful voice. Whether it was singing him lullabies as a child or humming in the fields, her dulcet tones were a comfort. Her soft voice made things sound right and proper, and the world safe and harmonious. There's no question what they were engaged in was_academically_ wrong, if one were to step back and analyse the situation from afar, dispassionately. To their minds however, the only morality was love. Pure love. Shared between a mother and her son.

Ruck fingered his mom, his tips probing her damp cavern. It was warm and wet, and squelched as he wriggled his fingers inside. His palm flattened her swollen clit, dragging it back-and-forth with the motion of his massage. These furry invaders slipped between her nether-lips and the depths of her pussy, stimulating the its walls, soaked in the juices of its lining. She was desperately in need of male attention. The drought of the past year had brought a monsoon to the fore when the notion of bedding a young, healthy stallion crept into her mind this night. Wickedly, she guided him, helping his ministrations pleasure her the right way. Her thoughts turned to sinful matters, descending into depravity with each eager plunge of his digits.

Her nude backside and hips wobbled, bouncing before his stallionhood. He needed more. More excitement! More arousal! To accomplish this, Ruck removed her nightgown, pulling it completely away. Once his mom's head was clear of ruffled sleepwear he threw it across the room. She watched it strike the wall and fall to the floor. Her last barrier was gone.

"Thank ya honey, was gettin' a li'l stuffy in there."

"No problem Ma," he growled sensually.Happy to help.

His index finger flicked and fidgeted inside her. "Ooohh Ruck baby...ya know just where to touch!"

"I did some things in college besides study."

Oh my, she thought,my baby boy's a real stud! She pictured him wooing the ladies on campus, a handsome farm boy showing them all how they 'do it' in the country. Those well-to-do city girls with their books and their looks were positively defenceless!

"Ya-_yuh-_ya been with many girls?" she stuttered as he tended to her.

"O-on-only...ahh...a couple," Ruck replied, losing his speech faculties whenever she picked up the pace masturbating him.But I learned more than enough to show you __a good time_ , Ma..._

"So ya know what happens next," she moaned, "the birds an' the bees."

"The birds and the bees," he repeated, finding it difficult to concentrate. "Mmm-hmm." He withdrew his hand from her slit.

She stopped tending to his shaft, now finding her way to his balls, giving them attention as they sat snugly in their pouch. Her hand rolled his sac gently, squishing his large orbs.Those things'll shoot plenty, she thought,heh...mama's little six-shooter...locked and loaded...

He grumbled, his balls massaged by her deft motions. "Shh...stay still...momma knows best," she murred coyly. Ruck, enraptured, obeyed. He held himself rigidly, refusing to budge as she handled his endowment.Mother knows best. Truer words had never been spoken.

A hearty throb rocked his world. Ruck's member jerked under its own strength, fighting with the vice-like grip of his mother's mitt. The reproductive organ dripped pre in greater volumes than before, wetting the area between him and his mother -- leaking onto her hand and arm. He struggled to contain a moan. What escaped him was a nicker instead. She released her grasp on his testes. The flared penis stood proudly to attention, upright and erect. Free of his mother's touch. Standing tall, ready to please her...

Her lower lips, starved of attention in the brief minutes between Ruck's hand leaving and her sensual massaging, flared up in heat and wanton desire. She craved him. Emotionally and physically.

His tip scuffed the fur on the back of her thigh, an inch below the curve of separation where her furry cheek rose from her leg, oozing its slimy anticipation across that patch of fur. Nearby, his mother's vulva pulsed with an eager flex of her vaginal musculature, dripping its own juices to match his release.

Contact was sudden. Their bodies kissed in the most intimate way.

Pushing, he entered her, his flared head confronted with her pleasant folds. His mom squealed -- he was making love to her. Long-awaited love, akin to what she enjoyed with his father. His sabre settled snugly inside as he paused, an inch deep. They both gasped in shock. What had they gone and done?

"Ma," Ruck cried, "it feels so--"

"Good? Yes baby. It's good fer me too!"

He held there, dragging out the pleasure of initial entry, until he could no longer control his lust. Ruck adjusted his hips, pushing his cock into his mom. His powerful pillar sank into her pussy. Two inches, then three, then more -- his flattened equine tip opening up the passageway, clearing the way for the rest of his member. The vaginal lining embraced its visitor, blood-filled flesh met blood-filled flesh as they rubbed and pressed together. Closing around him tightly as he ventured forth, her inner walls clamped down, impeding his flow. Ruck groaned in tandem with his mother as they wriggled in-place to find a better angle of penetration. His mom spread her thighs, confidence enough in their course of action to abandon any tight-legged hope of warding away her desire. The move gave Ruck what he needed to push deeper, and the young stallion gleefully obliged, holding her leg high in the air.

His medial ring slipped past her nether-lips, marking the approximate half-way point of his length. His mother felt as though she had room to spare. Mares of her calibre were built to take this sort of punishment. Large female anthros were his choice of lover. Other species much smaller than him he'd slept with, but nothing beat a girl accepting the entire package without complaint. Ruck continued to press his incestuous advance, widening her swollen lips as the base of his cock was swallowed whole. He stopped, fully hilted, sac nestled snugly at her thighs. Drawing out the pleasure.

"Wh-what n-n-now?" he asked. Did they break off? Or keep going? A line had been crossed, something both of them were willing to accept, right up 'til her entrance tickled his balls. Concern flowed through them -- mother and son -- for committing this sin.

She glanced back at her son, worry painted over his muzzle, and stared longingly into his eyes. "Go ahead," she said softly. His eyes matched hers, and doubt was vanquished.

With her permission secured, Ruck started moving his hips. Slow and steady. Building up to a stronger rhythm. He grunted from the feeling of sliding his pecker out and back in; the long, drawn-out pace served to enhance his experience. The sensation of her wet tunnel, her secretions coating his member, soaking the skin as it entered, bearing down at a glacial rate, penetrating her in the most erotic and intense way conceivable...it blew the young man's mind. The gradual build-up to a thunderous main performance had abated. Now came the fun part.

From behind he fucked his mom in the sweltering heat of the night. His hips bucked, his cock thrust, and his arms grabbed mounds of his mother's flesh caught in a sweet mix of agony and pleasure. The way his stallionhood was treated made him appreciate the release he'd been granted. The thousand-tonne weight of unsatisfied horniness lifted from his body and mind, allowing his mind to clear. The desperate atmosphere devolved them into wild animals, rutting under cover of darkness, frantically searching for a worthwhile existence in the harsh and uncaring expanse of nature. Those desires, those same drives, occupied their thoughts this very moment, and guided their actions. Keeping Ruck virile and his mother receptive.

His mom's ass bounced with each thrust. Her breasts shook, and a shiver ran down her spine. His size and speed forced her into a frenzy. Wanting more. Her elevated leg, cupped by her son's strong hand, bounced as well -- hoof loose and dangling above them both. The sopping smack of his balls against her echoed off the walls, accompanying the vocal moans and groans of their lovemaking.

"Just as b-big as yer Pa!" She talked up his nascent attributes, hoping to stoke his fevered lust. Ruck listened, and responded in kind, whispering sultry words into his mother's ear. Words about her figure, her curves, her breasts, the sensation of being inside her, and how great she made him feel. He hissed when another thrust brought his cock-head to the gates of her womb. Tightness closing around him the further he penetrated. An intimate exchange of sexual encouragement played out between them. Ruck's mother was in awe of his stamina.He's so like his Pa. So smart. So strong. She wondered what her late husband must the thinking, if he was looking down on the newly-bonded couple. His father was never the jealous type...he'd be proud of their son taking up the mantle in his absence. Becoming the man of the house. She was sure of that. Ruck certainly inherited his dad's physical prowess. Now he's gone and inherited his place in her bed.

They picked up speed. Breaking down boundaries in a fit of rampaging lust.

"God baby, I ain't felt this good in a long long time!"

"M-Ma?"

"Don't stop...duh-don't...keep..."

To the mustang, after ages away from home, life changed before his eyes. Melting, pouring into the mould fashioned by their sordid acts. It would solidify, become as hard as cast iron; unbreakable when pitted against the trials of the mundane. He passed the point of no return when his throbbing flesh eased into her warm, juicy folds. His life took on fresh purpose, spurred on whenever his pumping hips drove his manhood into her canal.

His mom whinnied, drowning in delight. "Yer mama's buckin' bronco...YEE-HAWW!!!"

No time to laugh at her exhilarated sillyness, Ruck's mind was fixed on fucking his mom senseless. The beautiful mare he was bedding mewled and moaned as thrust upon thrust ploughed into her from behind.

Minutes passed. And her climax grew closer. A little longer...a little longer in the arms of her son and she'll be fulfilled.

Church pastor would probably disagree, as would the rest of the local congregation, but in her moment she knew they were wrong. That some higher power had ordained she and her son would mate. Who couldn't see that Ruck was truly an angel sent to comfort her? He was a good son, always was...he'd know.Let's put those smarts to use.

"Ruck baby...are we blessed?"

"Momma?" he managed between exertions.

"Are we,_gah,_blessed baby? This f-fuh-feels s-so right."

"So right," he cried.

"D'ya agree?"

"Yeah momma! This is the...thuh...gasp...best."

Dew gathered in the corners of her eyes. Sparkling in the moonlight. "Thank ya honey, thank ya sooo much!"

She clutched his ass cheek, fingers stabbing his taut rear, digging into the mass of flesh in a vain attempt to speed him up. Tail tossing wildly. Tears pooled and overflowed, matting down her facial fur as these droplets of concentrated joy found their way to the soft cloth of the bed-sheets. She choked back a cry, in love with the moment, and the pleasure her son was bringing her. The advancing heat of the night...the embrace of her son...things fell into place; in her thoughts, Ruck was salvation. Salvation from the crippling boredom of a widow. Salvation clad in familiar robes.

The moment was consumed by pure feeling. Her grip on his backside held. She pulled her son close, synchronised with his pumping hips, managing their last few thrusts -- the most important of all. This would be wonderful for both of them. She was dead set on making that a reality.

Ruck -- like his mother -- discovered things about himself in the chaos. He viewed their relationship in a whole new light. After tonight, he'd never be able to put aside what they've indulged in. He would, from this time, and forevermore, see her as more than a maternal figure. A mare, ripe and willing to explore their deep desires...

A busty, curvy, mature lover.

His lover.

"Ah! I...love you momma!!!"

"RUCK!!!!"

"I'm close Ma!"

"I am too baby!"

"Muh...mmm--"

Ruck's body shook. He roared, letting out a great whinny that subdued the room. Teeth bared. Snarling. Grunting. Gasping for precious air as time slowed to a standstill. His mom shivered, her lower lips suckling on his cock, forming a pressurised seal in the hopes of drawing out her son's milk. The youthful stallion felt his hips jerk forward, carried by the sensual cosiness of sinking into his mom's pussy. One last hurrah. His balls throbbed, expelling the sticky snow-white cream stored in his depths. Up through his massive shaft, and erupting from the flared tip. Ruck came. His stallionhood did its duty, firing ropes of cum -- thick, laden with seed -- at his mother's waiting womb. The jet of cum splashed off of her cervix, collecting in her canal and overflowing until it spurted from her pussy into the sweaty outside air. It was heaven on Earth. What could parallel the sensation of emptying his aching balls into a warm, forgiving home?

His mother followed in quick succession. Her walls quivered. They contracted around his erupting phallus, coaxing his seed. She struggled to keep breathing, ending up making short, sharp inhalations, her senses battered by the orgasmic sensations coursing through her. After hearing him cry out, all thunder and lightning, she wanted to do the same. To let him know she was feeling his warmth filling her. "R-R-Ru-R-Ru-R--" was all she managed; her body was weak, and wracked with her climax. She felt his head fall upon her shoulder, Ruck taking a mouthful of her shoulder blade and biting down to stay the rawness of his long-anticipated cumming. Force was applied, and she felt his teeth dig into her. But she didn't care. There were better feelings to be had than pain. And she intended to experience them to their utmost. He filled her, quenching her body's thirst.

Five good spurts emptied him. A significant volume of his ejaculate poured out of her and all over her legs and the bed, staining it with a mark of their evolved love. Ruck's balls were spent, having fired their payload, and now bounced in their sac as the young stallion shook, rocked by the peak of his sexual terminus. His penis continued to twitch and throb, squirting any remaining cum, adding to the sea of stickiness inside his mother.

They gasped. Then sighed. Their orgasms fading. The equine pair lay motionless and quiet.

Ruck's mom was the first to break the silence. "Oh God baby thank youuuuu..." Her voice faltered, dwindling away to nothing except a hoarse whisper. She let her leg descend, Ruck no longer holding it up, closing herself around his shaft, still tucked inside her pussy and pulsing with waning ecstasy. She squeezed him with the hand she'd slapped on his ass earlier. It had held fast during the last minutes of their rut, never losing its perch. Caressing exerted muscle with her palm and fingers, she sensed his growing apprehension. As his seed flowed from her tunnel, seeping from between her legs, and pooling dangerous close to her womb's entrance, the realisation hit her too.

"This is bad Ma! This is bad! We can't...we shouldn't have done this."

"Shhhh...honey-pie...there ain't nothin' to be concerned 'bout. Ya love me, right?"

"I do, but this? This is wrong, this is against the law--"

"Hey," she cradled his head as he lay against her, his muzzle resting on her neck, "them's rules fer city folk. They don't know the hardship of workin' the land."

The harshness of Ruck's worry was only matched by the uncomfortable pinching of her nipples, solid as a rock throughout the whole endeavour. Her son fretted, yet she could only focus on her hard peaks, pulling her away from the emotional support he needed. She tweaked one of her nubs. A bolt of unreleased pleasure shot through her, forcing her to expel the air from her lungs. Her body reacted to the unexpected sensation, tightening up, limbs bunching together, close to her sides. Ruck was trapped between his mother's thighs. And they crushed his sensitive manhood. Her tunnel shrank, wringing the last vestiges of delight out of her son. This caught him unawares, and his concern was paused while he devoted his senses to experiencing his mother's grip.

Returning to his senses, his mom told him it was okay. What they did...it was something special. Her practiced hands found their way once more to his swollen member. She lovingly coaxed acceptance out of him with each stroke of her hand on his swollen pride and joy

"They don't understand. They don't wanna."

Her words were honey, sweet and dripping. And hard to argue with.

"They don't know how tough it is when y'all're alone on a farm. Nothin' but the birds to talk to. Ya need to feel good, yer body says so. What's so wrong 'bout sons helpin' out their mamas when the itch is about?"

"Are you sure Ma?"

"I'm sure baby. I'm sure."

His mother turned her head, and pulled him into a kiss. It was the single most amazing thing Ruck had experienced, surpassing even the climax of their fateful lovemaking. All his doubts and the warnings of society melted away, leaving just him -- a healthy stallion -- and the mare that now shared this bed with him. Names, labels, roles...they all disappeared. Expelled from his mind, and hers.

They held each other close, mom finally facing her son after their lascivious acts.

She asked something of him. Something she hoped he'd answer correctly. "Ruck...baby..." with tears in her eyes, tears of hope and possible joy, she spoke, "don't go back to the city."

"Ma?"

"Don't go back. Stay here."

"I--"

"I know ya have a wonderful job...an' money an' prospects...but after we..." She had trouble saying it.

Ruck didn't: "we made love."

"Af-after we...made love just now...I can't go on without ya. Not away in the city. Please stay, ya can help me run things. The farm needs more than little ol' me!"

"You know I'll do anything to help you out Ma, but is this really the best--"

She cut him off with a finger on his lips. Ruck felt the sweet digit, coated in her juices, press against his muzzle. It took a fierce amount of restraint to avoid devouring the morsel she'd placed so tantalisingly in his path.

"I know y'all'll be walkin' away from a lotta money...but please honey-pie...please look inside an' tell me what yer heart is sayin'." In a storm of emotions she pleaded with him, her eyes doing most of the talking. It tore him apart to have to make the choice, but Ruck knew everything had changed this night.

He didn't hesitate to reply.

"I will Ma, I will." Ruck's arms enveloped her. Her stallion had come home.

"Stay with me..." she mumbled, facing renewed assault by the sandman, her mind turning once more to her dreams. "Stay with the farm..."