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My first apartment was a shithole.

I already know what you're thinking. Everyone says that. You gotta start somewhere. You never forget your first place. Bull. Shit. Believe me, I almost wish I could fucking forget about all of it. That sad, miniscule, roach-infested dump was horrible. I got depressed every time I walked inside. The kitchen sink made a noise like a drowning octogenarian every few minutes. The lights flickered and buzzed. The window in the kitchen faced the lichen-covered brick wall of the building next door, and the one in the bathroom had what estate agents call a "contemporary" view.

So, like, a gorgeous shot of the train tracks, with a refuse dump in the background. Contempo-fucking-rary.

But I didn't have options. I was poor. Well...fucking broke, actually. Turns out nobody wants to hire a geology major when the economy's gone to shit. My dreams of a six-figure job pointing at maps and going "them rocks be worth something" hadn't worked out as I planned. I worked part-time at the fucking museum, checking out samples for local quarries and keeping the exhibits clean. You know, like Mom and Dad always dreamed of for me. It paid just enough to keep me fed -- as long as I didn't get above myself and set my eyes on anything fancy, like ramen that came with its own plastic fork -- and housed. Pfft...lemme do that again, with air quotes. Housed. In that rat-dump of a fire hazard. Which leaked when it rained, somehow, even though I wasn't on the top fucking floor.

But...it was home!

No. No, it fucking wasn't. It was a place for me to avoid as many hours out of the day as I could. The one fucking saving grace was that it was really close to a gym, so that's where I spent my painfully numerous free hours. It would have been the bar, but I couldn't fucking afford a Ribena, let alone beers. And besides, working out that much made me fucking jacked. Never been that fit before, or since. You know how other guys work so hard to get rid of body fat? I didn't eat enough to get any, so that was already done. I had muscles on muscles, arms that could bend a tyre iron, and Old Faithful between my legs in case for some reason the guy wasn't into fucking fit stud stallion by itself. Getting laid became my drinking, and I did it as often as I could. I filled asses all across the city, and even a couple pussies that caught me unawares. I simply made sure to go to their place, not mine. Nothing turns a guy on like peeling wallpaper and a roach on a mantlepiece eyeing him out when he walks in, you know?

And hey -- if they didn't have a place either, there were still options.

The apartment block was full of other broke-as-shit guys like me. I didn't fraternise much, but I got to know some of them on my floor by sight. I didn't know or care what their real names were, so I made up my own. There was Red Dog, the tall, thin whippet with crazy red fur. Like, I think his mother fucked a post-box or something. No idea how he got that colour. Skittles the bull, who blinked a lot and jumped at loud noises. I checked out his package whenever I could: he looked hung. Never had a chance to actually do anything with him, sadly. There was Raygun, the cat who couldn't keep fucking still for longer than five seconds. Eyes always darting about like fish in a tank, flicking his ears back and forth, one hand scratching nervously at a spot on his arm so much it didn't have any fur left on it. Big Randy, an elephant. Then there was Lilliput -- smallest fucking hyrax I ever saw, dunno how he didn't get crushed on a daily basis -- and Forceps the fox, who always came home in scrubs.

Aaaaaand there was Swallow.

Swallow was my favourite. He was a deer. I suppose a stag, but frankly, that'd be pushing it. "Stag" says something, ya know. It says you're dealing with a male. You're talking antlers, some body strength, and a dick. It says at some point in his life, the guy has made a joke about "bros before does". Well...Swallow was about halfway there. He had antlers, sure, but they were these li'l nubs. I swear, barely two inches. Look -- this big. Here to here. Sad, right? Well, no, don't fucking nod your head, he couldn't help it, could he? You fucking bigot!

Heh. Just kidding, stripes. Gimme some more peanuts.

I don't think he ever even shed those freshman handles because they always had velvet on. Maybe he had some hormone issue or something. Would explain the rest. He had this slim, tight little body. No real muscle on him. Short, too...fucking love short guys. They're fucking adorable, especially with my entire dick in them. Looks like I'm building a meat skewer, ya know?

Heh.

He liked pretty clothes, and those peach shirts and tan pants clung to him like magnets. Straight down the chest, just a couple teeny tiny bumps where his pecs would be, and dipping inward as his waist narrowed a little. Not even the hint of a bulge, but a pert li'l ass, like...like a pert ass. Don't be fucking lazy, you know what a pert ass looks like. Check out mine when I leave later, that'll give you an idea.

So yeah, fem body all the way. Below the waist, two gorgeous, slim deer legs...you know how they go. You reach the hocks and they're practically straws. Pretty fucking hot. I know a lot of ladies that would just start crying if they saw him. And maybe they did, I dunno.

And now I bet you're thinking, s_hit, Tyler, you fucking stud muffin, why didn't you toss him over your shoulder like a cavehorse and throw him onto your bed and fuck him ten ways to Sunday three seconds after you met him...?_

...well, firstly, that's pretty fucking forward for a stranger to say, alright? There's a thing called social fucking decency. And secondly -- I wanted to. I mean, shit, he was so obviously gay. And hey! Woa. Hey. I'll be the first, alright, the first to say that you can't tell if someone's gay just by looking, alright? Look at me. Do I "look" gay? No. Of course not. I look like a stallion. A hot stallion, but just a stallion. If you ignore the "Sorry, ladies, I suck dick" t-shirt and this sweet sequined leather belt -- look how awesome this is, I got it made by a friend that does leatherworking, it's fucking fantastic -- then I'm as straight as you're not, stripes.

But Swallow was gee ay why gaaaaaay. I knew it, he knew it, everyone fucking knew it. And I wanted him. I wanted his ass. I wanted to destroy it, leave that lithe little doestag gasping and quivering as my cum drooled out of him and my thick prick slapped him in the face to shake off the last of my juice. I'm getting fucking hard just thinking about it.

Don't look. Social fucking decency, hello?

It wasn't only how the little deer cutie looked, either. He checked me out, plain and simple. I mean, everyone checked me out, so I'd gotten good at distinguishing a "damn that horse is ripped, I wonder what his workout is" stare from a "damn that horse is ripped, I wonder if he'll buttfuck me" one. Swallow's was the latter, through and through. If we were both in the hall, and I was locking or unlocking my door, I'd look around casually and see him looking back. Usually his eyes were focused lower down, of course. If I was leaving when he arrived, I'd nod, and smile, and walk a little slower, with a little more swagger, to let him see the goods. He didn't know what to do, then; he'd look, and look away, and blush, and look back again...he was all over the place.

But I couldn't nail him down, as it were. If I tried to start a conversation, he'd mumble and move away as quick as he could. If I stopped at his door, he'd blush and hurry inside. Even if he'd been leaving. Once I was loitering in the lobby, waiting for a package -- a real package, you dirty-minded little shit -- and I saw him walking in, and stop when he saw me, and fucking turn around and leave again. It was weird. If he thought I was hot, as he definitely did, why didn't he simply let me chat him up? But hey -- if the little deerboy wanted to play super hard to get, he was out of luck. I'd only put in so much effort, and after a while, I gave up. Plenty more holes in the sea. I'd still see him now and then, but I ignored him for the most part.

Anyway, long time later, one Saturday, I was out shopping. I'd scrimped and saved and gotten enough to make a fucking roast. Like a real person. I was really fucking excited, lemme tell you, and that excitement was only mildly diminished by me having to buy the stuff I needed from the shop at the filling station down the road, instead of somewhere that didn't have adverts for "buy 5 get 2 free" written on propped-up cardboard in the window. Budget roast, woohoo. Half gristle, the rest mostly fat, and maybe some meat in there too! Living like a fucking king, I was.

I pulled my battered shitheap of a car into the parking area, sandwiched between another windowless apartment gulag and some trash bins. Did I mention this was a classy joint? It wasn't really so far away that I needed to drive, but I was gonna have a lot to carry, and I was feeling lazy. Bite me. Not a single other car was parked there that day, and I clopped along the cracked asphalt towards the shop, my mind already on the chewy, greasy meal I was going to prepare. The shop itself was surprisingly big for a filling station. They'd partnered with some or other grocery store and had more than your usual selection. Meaning some unaffordable organic shit next to the mac and cheese. I used them for most of my stuff 'cos they were convenient.

I pushed the door open, jingling the stupid little bell, and wandered in, nodding at the clerk, who didn't pay any attention to me. Poor fucker. Weekend shift at that store must have been death. I grabbed a trolley and started wandering up and down, taking what I needed. I even got some fucking spices, la di dah. You know, in case the fucking Queen dropped by for a visit. There were only like four aisles, so it didn't take forever. Except...when I turned into the last aisle, I stopped.

Standing halfway down, looking at the frozen goods behind their glass doors with an expression of deep concentration, was Swallow. I don't think he saw me 'cos he just kept looking ahead, pondering the mysteries of hot pockets. I hadn't really had a chance to check him out at leisure before. He was in something fuchsia that day, with bell-bottomed pants. His cute little antlers poked out next to ears that flicked around now and then. He was pushing a trolley with beautiful, manicured hands that floated right above the handle, like he was afraid he'd catch something if he touched it. And in the rear, his fine, fuckable ass, long legs, and little snowpuff of a tail. I really like deer tails. They know what they want. Even if the guy's being coy, if you see that little white puff of fur lifting up to the heavens, you know you're gonna have a good time.

His tail wasn't lifting up at the time, but looking at it was getting me horny. I still didn't know why the deer hadn't taken me up on my obvious interest, but suddenly I had a pretty good idea to try and change his mind.

I left my trolley where it was, and walked closer. Hooves on tiles weren't exactly subtle, and Swallow turned towards me, doing a double-take before quickly turning back to face ahead. So. He recognised me. I gave a little smile, stopping right next to him, and looking into the depths of the frozen section myself. He didn't move. I stared forward, my only motion to lift my hand to my chin and say 'Hmm....' as if I was utterly fucking torn between the Three Cheeses or Beef Trinchado flavours. Then I reached for the fridge door, gripping it but not opening it.

Check these muscles out, doeboy, is what I was going for.

I squeezed the handle harder, making sure my muscles flexed for all they were worth. I'd stopped really close to him, and I knew he'd be feeling the heat radiating off me, especially this close to the fridges. I flexed my arm a little more, turning it to give my triceps some limelight, the fibres wrestling under my skin like a sack of ferrets. And...guess what he did?

Not a fucking thing.

He didn't move. Didn't turn. Didn't even acknowledge I was there. I did see his ears flick a little more frequently, though, in the reflection in the glass. And when I leaned back a little, his tail was a teeny bit higher than before. I let my hand fall from the fridge handle and coughed gently. Time for phase two. AKA: the genius phase.

"Excuse me," I said, trying to make my voice even deeper than usual, and pushed past him. Between him and the fridges. Facing him. Slooooooowly.

I practically oozed past him. There are fucking continents that move faster than I did. I shuffled my hooves in tiny increments, pressing my body against his in a completely unabashed manner. I looked down at his face, which was desperately trying not to meet my eyes. He had big, beautiful, golden hazel eyes. His nose was pitch black, with a hint of white whiskers around the edges. Wet and inviting, ready for a kiss. I didn't, though. I kept on sliding, angling myself a bit so he could feel my abs rubbing against his chest. When my dick reached him, I was already hard as sin, and it pressed against his slim form like a mould into plaster. There was no fucking way he could miss it. And still, he didn't move.

He said nothing, and neither did I. I slid all the way past, and stopped on the other side, turning languidly back to the fridges. "Oh," I said, "there's the same flavours on this side."

And I fucking did it again.

Went back the same way. Same speed. Maybe even fucking slower, I don't know. It took forever, and the entire time, I looked right at his face. And he looked away. But that time, there was a slight difference. Just a hint, but all I needed. As my cock squeezed along his belly like a rolling pin, I felt his tip. He didn't seem to have a large cock, but what he did have was very erect. The base of my cock caught against it, then pushed past. But that was all I needed to feel. I had him.

When I got past him the second time, I walked away. Didn't say a word, didn't look back. Walked to my trolley and pushed it back to another aisle. And then I basically loitered for like half an hour. Not exactly loitering, but I wandered up and down the four aisles, acting interested in shit I didn't need. All I really wanted to do was remind him. Remind him I was there. Remind him what I'd done, what he'd felt. Every couple minutes, I'd find his aisle, and wander along it. I didn't get close to him again. I just walked from one end to the other. Sometimes I stopped behind him and did nothing. Simply stared at stuff on a high shelf. Then I'd walk on. Once, I took something off a shelf and dropped it, then made a show of picking it up. I dunno if he even looked.

But he didn't leave an aisle while I was in it. I checked; stopped at the end of one aisle for ten minutes and read every word on the back of a can of baked fucking beans. He didn't move an inch.

Inside, I high-fived my dick.

Eventually -- and, I'll be entirely fair, no thanks to me -- Swallow was done shopping. I'd been in the store for forty-five minutes; no idea how long he'd been there before me, but fair to say he'd now spent an hour in that shitty store being alternately molested and then stalked by a big stallion. I'm probably fucking lucky he didn't call the cops. Not that he would have. You'll see. I'm not a fucking creep, relax. And even if I was, I wouldn't be telling you a fucking story that accentuated my creephood, now would I?

Anyway. Swallow's trolley was pretty full. I made lazy circles in between the rows until I saw him head for the checkout, and then I followed. I didn't even have half the shit I'd meant to buy, but a roast was the least interesting thing on my mind then. I had a new plan.

I watched Swallow push his trolley into the checkout lane. His tail was up. Waaaay up. Like it was trying to climb his back, stand on top of his head, and plant a flag with the words "Fuck Me Now" on it. I grinned to myself, and got into line behind the deer, leaving my own trolley off to the side. Who cared about that now. As the sleepy assistant began to unload and scan the trolley's contents at the speed of boredom, I stepped closer. Right behind the cute, short, feminine stag. Close enough to stroke his tail, and feel him start...but not move away. Close enough to then slip a hand down the back of his pants, and press against his asshole with my middle finger.

He jerked like I'd shocked him, which in some vernacular I had. And then he pressed back against me. Juuuust a bit. Just enough to make me aware that he wanted it, and I muffled a satisfied, horny whinny. There we stood, him looking down at his trolley, and me standing casually behind, turned a little to hide my arm, and fingering his pretty little deer hole. It was all we could do with the assistant right there, and that drove me crazy. I wanted to lean in close and whisper the dirtiest fucking things to him. I wanted to press my whole body against his back and make him melt into me. I wanted to take a hold of his antlers and pull his head back and whinny as I kissed his soft, white neck while my dick slid up, up into his beautiful body. But that would have been going too far, here, even for me. Which was fine. The clerk was slow, and not paying attention. We were the only patrons in the store. And I was fingering his rosebud for all it was worth.

He was so loose, I swear he must have been fucked already that day. Either by another guy or by a big fucking toy. My fingertip slipped right into his warmth, and explored. I pressed against the soft sides of his tunnel, stroking them with a lover's touch. I pushed in deeper, beyond my knuckle, swirling about and scratching gently, back and forth. I pushed upwards, along the top of his insides, and pressed into a little spot I knew he must have. I felt him shiver when I hit that, and the tiniest, softest eep came from his mouth. Fuck yeah. He was all mine now. I still had zero fucking clue why he hadn't thrown himself at me before, but he was into it now, and that was good enough.

I pushed a second finger in, using the leverage to spread him apart. He could take a serious dick, I could tell. My own serious dick jerked at the thought of being introduced to this fine male fucktunnel. It was perfect. Warm, and soft, and stretchy. All it needed was a thick, musky coating of stud stallion cum, and I had all sorts of ideas for how to give it that. I finger-fucked the little deer as I pondered, and tried to control my breathing as I got hornier and hornier, and picked my favourite option for what to do next.

A few items before the end of his purchase, I suddenly pulled my digits of him. His ears, which had been flicking more and more frequently as the anal exploration continued, froze. I grunted loudly, so even the dozy clerk could hear, and muttered, "Ya know, I don't actually need anything today."

I pushed past Swallow yet again -- making sure to face him, so my dick rubbed across his ass -- and sauntered over to the exit. I didn't leave, though. Not yet. I leaned against the wall, one hoof raised and braced against it, and crossed my arms. The clerk gave me all the attention he usually did, which was none, but the deer's eyes flickered to my face, and I took the opportunity to lock eyeballs with him. He didn't look away. For a few seconds, I simply stared...then I raised my hand to my nose. I took a deep, dramatic sniff of the fingers I'd so recently pulled out of him, and I'm happy to say I actually nickered. Fuck but it smelled good. I can still remember it. Clean, but musky. A little grassy. Like a deer. Like a fuckboy. Like sex. I let my eyes close, taking another deep sniff -- then opened my mouth and licked along one finger, tasting him. My dick jerked in my pants at the taste, I can tell you, same as it's doing now at the memory of HEY I told you not to fucking look, you fucking perv!

Just kidding. Here. Yeah -- I'm fucking big, huh? Hehehe. It's good being a stallion.

Anyway, I licked his taste from both my fingers. When I opened my eyes again, he was still looking at me, and I smirked. I knew I had him, then. Whatever internal battle he'd been fighting was over, and the sex god had won, as I always do. I stepped away from the wall, pushed the door open -- with another jingle from its stupid little bell -- and walked out into the parking lot to wait.

A couple minutes later, out he came. He had a plastic bag in either hand, and he walked slowly. I sauntered up to him, reaching down to take both bags from him, and put them on the ground to one side. Then I crossed my arms again and looked down at his wide, quivering eyes.

"You made me work for this, huh?" I told him, reaching forward with one hand to flick a speck of lint from his shoulder. I could have covered the entire side of his face with my hand.

He was shivering a little. "P--please..." His voice was as soft as the rest of him. My lust roared, and the drumbeat of my heart sped up, playing my private, horny rhythm.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Of course, little doestag," I said, with a smile that probably looked like a shark's. "I'll fuck you. No need to even ask."

He whimpered, eyes pressing shut. "Sir...please...I--I can't..." Sir was a good start. He already knew where he slotted into the hierarchy. Which was under me, of course.

I put a hand on his shoulder, cocking my head curiously. "You can't? Of course you can. You can do anything you set your mind to, little thing! Especially..." My voice got huskier as my mind spun the future out of whole lust-cloth. "Especially if that's being fucked by a stallion. Didn't you feel my test protocol in there? You're stallion approved, don't worry. We'll get that greedy hole filled to the brim with a nice hot present, hm? And some extra, for you to take home to enjoy later."

The deer made a little whine of need and anguish. "Sir...my master...I--I can't...not allowed..." He brought his porcelain hands up to his mouth, squeezing them into fists, and his eyes filled with tears.

Well, shit. The little fuckable doestag was owned. I mean, of course he was, right? That perfect little fem form would be catnip to every dom in the city. Explained why he'd never tried to get a taste of me. But I was young, horny, and didn't give two tiny shits assembled into a fractionally larger single shit about whichever pudgy old fur had left his greasy mark on this perfectly fuckable little cervine.

I picked up both his shopping bags on one hand, and took his arm with the other, pulling him towards my car. He came along easily, although I had to slow down to let his petite little legs keep up. "Here's the problem, Swallow," I said, as we walked. I'd actually forgotten that wasn't his name, but I only thought of that like a week later. "You've gotten me really fucking horny now, what with being a fuckable little femdeer and all, and as much as you say you can't, I think you really, really want to." No response from the fuckable little femdeer at that, and I kept going. "So, you tell me who your master is, and I'll chat to him, and sort this all out, alright?" We reached my car, and I let Swallow go, opening the door and dumping the bags inside before turning back to him. "What's his number?"

Swallow gaped at me, then mumbled some digits when I snapped my fingers impatiently. I pulled out my phone, dialled them and waited, tapping one hoof. Swallow was looking at me with trepidation, and I patted him on the head and booped his nose with a finger. He blushed, looking aside, and I felt my balls tighten. Then, someone picked up.

"Hello?"

I gave Swallow a radiant smile. "Hello. Is this Swallow's master?"

"Huh? Who the fuck is Swallow?" The voice was gruff, with the subtle lisp of a big cat. I guessed tiger.

"Oh, you know Swallow. Everyone knows Swallow." I winked at the deer. "Little deer? Short antlers, slim body? Super fuckable ass?"

There was a long pause. "Who the fuck is this? Is Kyle there?"

Kyle, then. Well, I preferred Swallow. "Yes, Swallow is here. He was just telling me how his master has forbidden him to get fucked by strangers. How rude of you to keep him all to yourself. Deer are a public resource, everyone knows that. Although, if you're the one who stretched him out earlier, please accept my thanks. It'll make it a lot easier for my dick to slip inside."

The tiger had begun hissing and yowling halfway through my response, and I had to laugh. Big cats are so fucking easy to rile up. Go for their mates and they lose their shit instantly. My chortle did not, I have to say, improve the situation, and the cat started screaming and swearing at me with terms that -- dare I say -- your ears are too timid and virgin to bear. Past Tyler only laughed more.

"Hey, pussycat," I teased, every inch the cocksure fucking stallion, "you'll get over him, okay? If you'd like some sloppy stallion seconds, though, come on down to the filling station on Fourth and Longton. You can follow the sweet smell of my cum with your sensitive kitty nose." I ended the call, cutting off a final howl of fury, and tucked my phone back into my pocket. Swallow was looking at me with a cautious expression, and I grinned widely. "Master kitty says I'm welcome to fuck your ass, Swallow. He said he's been worried about your satisfaction for a long time, and he knows a stallion can fix that right up."

I'm sure Swallow really had no idea what was going on, but his breathing had sped up, and I couldn't miss his eyes darting down to my crotch. He wanted to believe, and I let him. Does that make me a bad horse?

Well, I don't fucking care, so give your judging look to that fat walrus at the other end of the bar who's on a date with his mistress instead. Let's get back to Past Tyler.

Past Tyler looked around casually. The parking area was still deserted. I pushed the deer towards the open door. "Get in," I said, huskily. "Get in, and get on all fours." Swallow smiled shyly and did as he was instructed. He was such a good boy. I played with his tail a little, then pulled down his pretty bell-bottoms, revealing the hole I'd played with earlier. It was puffy and beautiful, and I whinnied loudly at the sight. With another quick glance around to make sure nobody was in sight, I unbuttoned my pants and let my cock out. I rested one arm casually on the top of the car, and the other slipped along Swallow's back to grab an antler. I paused for a second, then. There was something I'd quite enjoyed a few months back from another guy I'd fucked, and I wanted it here as well.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you, Swallow," I growled. "Call me daddy."

The deer gasped, quick, short breaths of delight. "Fuuuuuck...fuck me, daddy," he moaned. "Fuck me now, fuck me like a dirty doe slut." His voice was full of lust, and I felt like my body was on fire. I simply couldn't wait longer.

I pulled back on his antler and drove my stallionhood deep into his waiting hole with a roar of conquest.

I don't know how many fucks I've had in my life. Call it a trillion. That rough, messy fuck in the back of my car, in a public parking lot, with only my own body and an open door shielding up from discovery, is one of the absolute hottest. Everything just...worked. His ass was incredible. He knew exactly what to do to accommodate a big boy like me without it turning into a greased-sausage-down-a-hallway situation. He was warm, and firm, and gorgeous. I, of course, was horny as shit after the teasing and the fingering, so that made it feel extra good. Being in public was a huge fucking turn on, too: one I didn't know I had before then, and one I've indulged many times since. The risk of discovery merely notches everything up to eleven. You ever tried it? Well, you should.

And on top of all that, there was the way he sounded. Soft squeals, moans like velvet, and the stuff he whispered...hoooly shit. He was a fucking dirty boy, and it drove me wild. I fucked him with every ounce of pent-up stallion neediness in me, and he paid me back in words.

"Oh daddy, horse daddy, stallion daddy...fuck yes, fuck my needy doe cunt, fuck me hard...so hard, daddy, so fucking hard! I need it, daddy, I need it so fucking much, I've needed it since the first day I saw you, I wanted you so bad, daddy, I wanted to crawl to you and beg for your cock and suck you off every day, all day..."

I fucking knew it.

He had more. "I need to be punished, daddy, punished with your big horse cock. Oh, daddy stallion, you're the best daddy, I want your cum all over me, daddy, in me, covering me, I want to lick it off your cock, fuck-daddy, I want to feel it drooling out of me and soaking my panties. I want to stink of you, daddy stallion, I want you to fuck my doe pussy so hard it aches for days. Wreck my hole, fuckdaddy, destroy me with your perfect cock, make me remember forever..."

I gave him everything he asked for. I was sweating like a pig in no time, and it soaked into my clothes and added its stink to the smells of the fuck. Stallion pre-cum and deer drippings, the wonderful musky scent of his hole...and Pine-Fresh car deodoriser. Yeah. Can you fucking believe it? I'd put a new one in that morning. I get hard every time I smell it now. Had to switch to the lemon one 'cos I can't drive properly with a constant erection. Fucking crazy how the brain works.

I was flaring up inside him, and he loved it. I saw him lift one hand to feel my bulge inside him, then jerk his dick off a bit, then go back to supporting his weight as I spread him wide and deep. He was squeezing around me just as a lover should, and I'll say right now it's one of the top three asses I've ever had. That gorgeous doestag was born to be fucked, and he knew it. My pre-cum was making filthy, squirty noises every time I pulled out, and it felt so right. We were rutting like animals in that filthy parking lot in public, so of course we should make disgusting, horny sex noises. I loved every second of it.

When I got close, I gave up on looking casual. I pulled my arm from on top of the car and gripped the bottom of his pretty fuchsia shirt for leverage, pounding my hips into his hole and snorting like a madman. He egged me on, calling me sexy things, dirty things, powerful things. He made me feel like the sex god I am, and it simply made me nail him harder and harder. The entire car was rocking back and forth from my impacts now. I didn't care. I was so far gone by then that if someone had walked right up to me and asked me to keep it down, I probably wouldn't even have noticed. My dick was fully flared and had been for who knows how long, but his ass had taken it all. I ravaged that little fem deer's asshole and I revelled in it -- and then I came.

Now, you didn't see my balls earlier, but they're even more impressive than my dick. Close your mouth before something flies inside. It's the zorse in me, y'see. Big delicious balls, huge fucking loads. When I came inside that slut, I'm surprised he didn't pop off the end of my prick like a balloon on the end of a hose. He actually grunted at the first blast, and then started moaning, over and over again, saying "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yessss...". I was somewhere else, lost. The orgasm was intense beyond fucking belief. The only thing I could feel was the line of fire that was my dick, spraying every ounce of cum my body could produce deep inside the horny deer I was fucking in the back seat of my shitty car in the parking lot of a second-rate filling station.

Who's the best fucking stud, huh? Yeah, it -- wait, who? Who the fuck is Bucephalus? No, it's me, fucknut.

When I did come back to sense, though, I realised two things. One: Swallow was slumped on the back seat of my car, face down, almost passed out from pleasure. His tail was splattered with cum, as were his lower legs. Ego boost. Two: I'd cum like a champ, which meant the same back seat of my car was now soaked in champ juice. Shit. The deer boy hadn't been able to hold even half of it. That was gonna be a problem to clean. Still, on balance, I called it a win. I pulled my pants up and carefully tucked Swallow inside before closing the door. He could nap, and I'd take him home later. Least I could do, right? I was feeling pretty good.

Buuuut like a minute later, as I got ready to leave, a massive fucking tiger showed up and beat the living shit out of me. Seriously. I didn't stand a chance. He was a mountain, and I think he sharpened his claws on a diamond anvil or something. Learned a lot about the difference between vanity muscles and proper muscles that day, and about how long you need to wait in the emergency room to get stitched up after a tiger's claws have done a fucking number on your face, and how to lie when the nurse asks what led to the incident. Look here. You see this? That's from him. That was a real deep one. Yeeeep. Whole lotta learning happened that day.

But afterwards, I still lived in Swallow's building. And when he broke up with the tiger a couple months later, I was still there. And when he knocked on my door the one day, I let him in. My apartment was still as crappy as ever, but it was different with him. If we lay on the bed after a fuck, and we saw an army of roaches carrying a French loaf off to somewhere or some shit, I didn't need to feel ashamed. I just said, "Still better than that parking lot we fucked in, huh?", and it made it alright, you know? So that's why I don't wanna completely forget about that worthless excuse for accommodation. Swallow's the one thing that makes it worth remembering. He was a good doestag. I bet he still is.

---

The stallion ended his story with a noisy slurp of his cocktail. The zebra barman in front of him was breathing heavily, and one hand adjusted his pants every few seconds. Tyler winked at him.

"Sorry if I turned you on, buddy..."

The barman blushed. "It's...fine, sir. It's just...if you're free later, maybe...?" He trailed off as Tyler shook his head.

"Sorry, bud. Normally I would, really, but I'm kinda here to...meet someone."

No sooner had he said that than a slim brown hand slipped over his shoulder. A wide smile formed on his face, and he turned to one side to lock eyes with a beautiful, feminine-looking stag. The stag looked at him with delight, running a finger along his muzzle.

"Oh, look at you, daddy stallion," the soft voice came. "How the years have added up, hm?"

Tyler snorted. "You say years, I say experience." He looked at the stag with genuine fondness. "You're still as pretty as ever, though..."

The stag giggled. "Flatterer." He reached forward to take the stallion's cocktail in one porcelain hand and downed it in a few large gulps. "Oops. Looks like your drink is finished. But I'm still thirsty, daddy stallion..."

The horse got to his feet, his powerful bulk eclipsing the smaller cervine, and his thick arms slid around his shoulders like a sweater. "Well, ain't that a shame? Come on upstairs, then. I've got a nice stiff drink for you there..."