Kinktober Day Twenty-One: Musk
#17 of Kinktober 2018
Sloan is a stallion who knows exactly what he's good for -- his scent. Any time he rides the public transportation system, the rest of the world knows it, too!
--
Kinktober Commission for Basque
It was very rare that he made trips to the city, but Sloan could expect much the same reaction. Of course, it was always a little stronger in the summer... and of course, he sometimes had to swap cities, because people would wait for weeks at a time to see if they could catch him on the subway route again...
But the horse had to admit that there was a part of him that enjoyed the attention.
It was, after all, the attention that kept him from simply bathing before the came to the city. He'd been born with a particular gift -- at least, he considered it a gift -- and it was something that he made sure to cultivate, as opposed to doing whatever he could to hide it. After all... there weren't many colts in the world who could say that they'd driven their mother to fuck them, simply from the scent that rolled from their bodies.
That was one of his prized, star moments. It was a memory that he kept tight and locked away in his mind, and it was that moment when he truly realized the power that he could harness, if he simply allowed himself to be himself, if he allowed himself to go without bathing... if he worked hard, sweat hard... and then simply reaped the profits of such laborious actions. He worked and earned his living on a farm, so it wasn't as though the laboring part of the process was all that hard for him to accomplish.
The rushing sound of the train arriving in the empty subway station brought his attention up -- no one really got on at the stop by his little farm, so he'd been enjoying these last few minutes alone. But, he knew that the train would soon be crowded; his may have been one of the first stops on the way to the city, but there were twenty others between the moment that he got on and when he was going to be able to get off.
The double entendre in his words couldn't be ignored, and he had to let out a little chuckle of delight and expectation at what was to come. With a saunter that no one could see, but swagger that carried him with such grace and pride that the woman running the train had to do a double take to see what the very country looking stallion with coveralls on was prancing about, he entered the train and sat down on one of the cushioned seats with a smooth and practiced motion that made his scent waft through the car that he was in.
He knew that it wouldn't just be that car though -- it would take a while, because they were closed off to one another... but sooner rather than later, the air would circulate, and he would find himself surrounded by his own smell; he was used to it, it was something that followed him throughout his entire day.
He felt it when the train actually accelerated slightly, and a smug smile spread across his visage -- Sloan knew exactly what had happened. His scent had made it to the front cabin. One time, the driver had actually stopped the train and come to investigate what had caused his head to spin in the first place; he'd had his cock sucked that day, and he imagined that if the people around him hadn't been so keen on being near his smell, they might have complained about the fact that they were late for their next stop.
Thankfully, no one seemed to give a shit, because the conductor had pulled his overalls down in order to get to his prick, and the man had nearly cum in his pants just from the waft of smell that had been released when he'd done so. He'd barely gotten his lips around Sloan's prick before he'd let out a whimpering moan and filled his tighty-whities with evidence of his pleasure... but he'd kept his mouth locked around the horse's cock and sucked hard and hungry as though he'd never taste anything so amazing again.
Sloan hadn't seen him since; he had a feeling that, after he'd gotten off of the train... something inside of him had told him that he probably needed to find a new job, or else he was going to be obsessing over horse dick for the rest of his life.
That happened sometimes -- there were vagrants who came onto the train every day, after they'd slept in the seat where he sat. The horse only knew this because they would sometimes etch out love letters to him in the metal backing of the seat in front of him, words of adoration, words of pure lust. He could sometimes see the stains of where they'd humped the seat until they came, just from sniffing his scent -- just the lingering smell of his musk was enough to bring them to orgasm day in and day out. They'd talk about how his smell was the only thing that kept them going... and as a month passed and it started to fade slightly, their letter would get more and more desperate, begging him to come and grace their 'bed' with his wonderful scent again.
It was odd, but satisfying. Of course, the letters were often painted over at the end of the quarter maintenance to the cars -- he tried to make sure that he took a trip into the city at least every few months so he could read what had been left behind for him. There wasn't a point in leaving his mark if he was going to simply ignore the reactions to it, after all.
The car slid along smoothly for the next ten minutes, and then came to a halt. The extra speed that the conductor had picked up caused Sloan to rock forward slightly, and he let out a low chuckle as the doors slid open. His fun was really about to begin.
A low flood of people came onto the car; for just a moment, they acted as though they didn't notice anything. They settled into their seats, the fresh air that they'd stepped out of following them in and making things seem normal... until the doors slid shut.
It was only then that he watched as head after head quickly jerked up, eyes flickering all around the area to locate where in the devil the musky scent that was flooding their senses came from. Sloan waited until all eyes were on him, and then with a slow grin, he spread his legs.
The reaction was almost instantaneous -- the women who had entered onto the train instantly let out low moans, their eyes fixed raptly in his direction. Most of the males who had followed them shrank back in their seats, their shoulders instantly slumping and their eyes narrowing in a mixture of anger and shame at the fact that such a scent, such a musk, overpowered them in every way possible, demasculinized them with nothing more than particles in the air. Sloan didn't have to do anything to show every male on the train that he was superior to them in every way. He just had to exist.
Hot bodies made for an even more concentrated scent, after all.
Within three stops, there was no longer room for people to sit apart from one another, and Sloan felt a twinge of satisfaction as a small pony came forward and spoke to him in a gentle voice. Her eyes were wide, though, staring at him... and her nostrils were flared. "I-is this seat taken?" People had avoided it, either because their husbands were pulling them away, or because they were trying to save what little dignity they had by keeping themselves from completely falling apart when they sat next to him.
The small tan pony, though, had no choice. He smiled at her and spoke in a slow drawl. "Not at all, miss." And he made to scoot over, so that she would have plenty of space to get settled with the bag that she clutched to her chest like some kind of lifeline. She scooted into the seat, and he heard it as she inhaled sharply again, watched as she squirmed and fidgeted uncomfortably.
For a few moments, he simply sat back and enjoyed the reactions of everyone around him. When he stretched, letting his legs fall further apart and rock outward, he heard the entire car let out an entire sigh of pleasure, echoed by moans of unhappiness and discontent from the males. His eyes watched as a few of the people around him tried to discreetly slip their hands into their pants, attempted to relieve the arousal that was washing over them. It wasn't really subtle, but no one but him really noticed... because everyone was far too distracted with their own emotions, their own burning lust and need to really realize that they weren't suffering alone.
Beside him, though, the pony was giving probably one of the most valiant efforts that he'd ever seen. She had her teeth gritted, and a death grip on her bag. She held it so tightly that the leather groaned out the protest that she seemed unwilling to utter, and her head was tipped forward so that loose tendrils of her white mane trailed into her face. She was breathing hard and heavy... but she wasn't touching herself. She wasn't moaning.
She was doing everything that she could to resist the allure of his musk.
While he might have found her tenacity appealing on any other day -- and it wasn't that he didn't find it appealing now -- Sloan couldn't help but to feel as though she was challenging him. It had been a long time since anyone had, really... and he felt his own cock harden slightly at the thought of it. She was such a small, delicate thing. He was sure that he would fuck her senseless, nerveless, if she could even take the enormity of his cock.
Of course, it would be fun to stretch her wide until she could.
But first, he needed to make sure that she realized that even the most strong-willed on the train couldn't resist what he had to offer. At first, he did nothing more than scoot a little closer to her, so that his arm was brushing against her shoulder. She let out another low whimper, and then actually buried her face against the bag that she held so tightly to her chest, as though she could somehow disappear within the confines of the leather and escape the emotions and desires that were making her skin flush so deeply that her tan coat looked pink.
He smiled slowly -- she was a pretty little thing. With a faked yawn, he started to stretch slowly. She whimpered, her eyes widened, blue hues showing all white around the edges as he slowly maneuvered. There was no resisting -- he'd never met a soul who could stop themselves from giving in with what he was about to do.
Slowly, casually, like a young man trying to pretend that a yawn had wrapped his arm around a girl on their first date, Sloan stretched his arms above his head and the brought it to rest behind the pony's back... exposing her fully and completely to the scent that wafted from his armpit.
She twitched once, her nostrils flaring, her entire body going rigid... and then, without warning, she threw her head back and leaned into his body, so that her entire muzzle was buried in the depths of his pit. One deep inhalation, and another cry of pure pleasure ripped from her throat. Her fingers dropped the bag that she'd been clutching, the last vestiges of her resistance completely faded, and instead she gripped tight to his overalls as she inhaled deeply one more time and then cried out again a moment before he watched the white pants that she wore slowly stain from her crotch -- the liquid spilled down between her legs, and soaked the seat beneath her as orgasm tore through her. Just the scent of his pits was too much; she couldn't be strong anymore. She couldn't resist.
She came hard, and then immediately came again when he scooted closer so that her nose was in contact with his bare flesh. She screamed pleasure and twisted, writhed, until she could no longer catch her breath, until she couldn't think straight... until the pleasure that was ripping and tearing through her was far too much... and with one last cry of pure passion and frenzied pleasure, she slumped against Sloan in a dead faint.
He chuckled, delight and pleasure pouring through him. Maybe when she woke up, he'd invite her back to his farm. He had a feeling that the two of them could have a very good time... and he also had a feeling that whatever resistance she'd had before would be completely and utterly faded when she finally came to.
He slid her down until she rested on his lap, and then felt it as she gave another jerking cry -- even in her unconscious state -- and came one more time from being snuggled so close to his sweat-soaked balls.
With a slow grin of satisfaction, he sat back in his seat, his prize cuddled in his lap... and the smug satisfaction from the effect that he could have simply from existing pouring through him and making him feel completely and utterly content.
Sloan really, really loved taking trips to the city.