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I sat across from the mare and tried not to look as nervous as I felt. She wasn't helping; she looked worse, her eyes darting round the little café and rarely able to look me in the eye, her tail swishing and her ears were back. I decided it was time to take the initiative; I reached out and held her hand.

She stopped her nervous twitches and looked in my eyes. She looked about to cry. I was probably no better.

"You are just how I imagined."

She said it with a smile. It broke the ice a bit. I laughed.

"You seemed to recognise me. I have to apologise, I didn't recognise you straight off."

It was true, and it surprised me. Waiting in the café, I was wondering where the hell the ferret caseworker from the agency had got to when I saw a mare in her sixties come through the door and stop dead. She was a draft mare, with chestnut coat and a white blaze at her face, white feathering and a mane and tail once dark now streaked with grey. Her face was a mask of something; grief, shock maybe? And she was staring at me. I knew it must be her, but mostly from her reaction. I would not have known her in the street.

Her mouth formed one word. Andrew. I nodded.

"Should we wait for the counsellor do you think?"

It was one of those little annoyances that these things are replete with. Protocol, process, system. Everything was supposed to be done according to a long-cherished routine. I gathered it was supposed to be for my benefit, but it rankled a little. I was forty-six years old for fuck sake, not a foal anymore, a mature stallion. And not that foal anyway. Not Andrew.

"Look Marion, if you are ok, I'm ok. We are both adults after all, I don't think we need too much handholding and...well if it gets to be too much, we will say something. Is that a deal?"

She nodded.

"Just like your father."

Ok, now I wasn't so good.

"How do you mean?"

She smiled, a long smile of remembering.

"He was always practical, direct, in charge. He also looked a lot like you. I recognised you as his colt the moment I walked through the door. Unmistakeable."

For some reason I hugged that to my chest like a warm blanket.

The documents were fascinating, I had to admit. When I received the file I was with the counsellor, and it was literally a file of physical papers, now a little yellowed with age. I pored over the pages seeking something I could not put into words, absorbing the little details one at a time.

The top document for some reason jolted me the worst. A court document, an affidavit written in the usual stunted prose of the profession and stamped all over with seals. But on its cover page it proclaimed what it was; in the matter of the child proposed to be named Richard Graeme Maxwell.

I was Richard Graeme Maxwell. It said so on my license, my passport, the hundred and one little things that make up modern life. How could I be proposed to be known as that? But once, long ago, I had been someone else; Andrew James Kelly. A court had decreed that things would change. I had never really internalised that shift in perspective, the moment when everything changed. I was one year old, the trial period for my adoptive family had ended and it was time for my new identity to become permanent. I knew nothing else. But for the woman across from me it would be the opposite. We stood on either side of a line, one where she knew everything up to the moment that Andrew ended for her, and I knew everything from the moment he became Richard in the arms of my parents. And now the two halves had come together. I knew this day could come, but dealing with the reality was another thing entirely.

Andrew. I rolled it over in my mind. I had wondered what the name would be for the longest time. Something awesome? Something banal? Andrew; it was fairly mundane after all. I had known a couple of Andrews in my school. One asshole, a kelpie cross two years above me who gave me grief. One good friend, a fellow equine in my year. I tried the name on like a suit; it almost fit, but it pinched in a couple of places. I shuddered reflexively at what I was doing.

No, I was still Richard.

What would I call her? Biological mother seemed too formal. Mum seemed...just wrong somehow. Marion. I would stick with Marion for now.

"Did you always know Andrew...ahhh sorry, Richard?"

I nodded.

"My parents told me when I was quite young. They were open about it, but of course, they didn't know much. I had been matched to them as much as the department could, but it was imperfect so of course I had to know. I thought all foals came from a nursery like me, it was only natural."

She laughed at that, tears behind the bright eyes. I knew she would have a hundred questions. The trick was anticipating them, and what I would say.

"How much did they know about...about where you came from?"

I frowned, feeling the world straying into difficult waters, but given where I was and what I was doing, figured anything less than complete breakdown was a win.

"Mum got a phone call one day, and they told her she needed to go to a place and bring all the things she had been told to prepare because it was time to pick up her new foal. I was naked and crying, I had no clothes or anything else with me. I was only a few weeks old. They didn't want anything from my old life they said, it was supposed to be a fresh start, a clean break, and so they also told mum nothing much about you. Just that my parents had been young, and I hadn't...I hadn't been given up easily. It was up to her to take charge, and to make me hers. It was a test; they wanted to see she could do it. I think she was always doing that, even now, facing the test, trying hard to make me hers. We don't talk about it much, our family doesn't do talking, but I know she felt insecure. When dad died, she admitted she felt guilty she was bringing up someone else's foal, and she felt she had to make up for that, make it up to you in a way, all the time."

I had not planned on being that honest, or that close to the core. For some reason her manner got to me, and I knew I needed to let it out. I looked up to see her face, a tear dropping down her cheek, but smiling still, the juxtaposition too much. I sort of gasped, and apologised.

"I'm sorry Marion, I..."

"Its ok Richard. This is the stuff I want to know. I want to know about you, all of it."

I did the best I could, leaving out some salient points though that could wait for another time. One in particular.

"Do you have someone?" She looked hopeful. I decided to tread carefully.

"Yes, we have been together off and on a long time, since we were in school in fact. A lot of false starts but we are doing better now."

She brightened at that.

"Since school? That's so romantic. Your father and me, well..."

I took her hand in mine and gave her a smile back this time.

"Tell me. How you met. All of it." And I realised, I meant it. I did want to know.

They had been next door neighbours it turned out, my father and her. Jason; Jason Gill. I had seen one reference only to him in the papers. Tellingly, he was not on the birth certificate.

There was a lot about the relinquishing mother, but one sheet included details on both sides, height, weight, species, breed, physical appearance, education, of my parents and their whole family. It had been used to match me to my adoptive parents, as best they could. It hadn't worked too well, I was way taller than my parents or anyone in my family and looked like nobody else in my family at all. One of my favourite games was watching people look at me and look at my parents and try really hard to find resemblances. Apparently, I had my dad's nose and my mum's eyes. Where my feathering had come from they had no idea; my whole family were standardbreds and thoroughbreds, no heavy at all.

I saw in the files my father had been tall like me, really tall for then, at six foot six though I had gone past that well and truly. He was described as a quarterhorse cross, chestnut coat, bay points, athletic, into rowing, and academically good especially in maths. It was the first time I broke down when I read that; I was the only one in my family with any science aptitude at all and I always felt like a bit of an alien. The thought that I made sense but, in another context, had hit me like a train.

I had always fought the feeling, it felt like a betrayal. I was Richard Maxwell. That was all. But in my heart I knew a part of me made sense as Richard Maxwell, and part of me made sense as someone else, a shadow me in the background. Now I could see the whole board and felt my sense of self mutating like a bad sci fi thriller.

She brought out a picture, and I looked at it with shaking hands. He did look like me, really like me when I was seventeen. The same mane with an unruly forelock, the same nose, with the same white blaze, the same eyes, the same colouring. He was wearing his rowing gear, and I could see the muscles under the tight rowing kit. I smiled, thanking God I had inherited his body and not my adoptive parents. Dad was not exactly an oil painting and mum was more pony than standarbred.

"Rowing...not me I'm afraid. I'm a total footy head and a bit of cricket..."

She giggled then, it was so wonderful hearing her sound like a filly. I wondered if that was what had captivated my father.

"Actually, rowing is kind of how we got together..."

"You had better tell me it all then."

She blushed and hid behind her grey forelock. I almost ruined it by tearing up.

They had both gone to private schools, ones I knew, a boys school and girls school then though the boys had since gone co-ed. And both were into rowing. The schools had boat sheds next door.

"We saw each other a lot then, but at the boat sheds. I flirted with him terribly, and he was always polite but it never went anywhere. I almost gave up until one day, I got a chance, though it was the most...ridiculously unromantic lead up you could imagine."

"Ok, now I'm intrigued..."

She chuckled.

"Things were very different then Richard. In a lot of ways. Seeing a young stallion naked; well that didn't happen. Premarital sex wasn't done. We were good girls after all. But we did enjoy watching the boy's crews from the school shed next door, I have to admit, and we would talk about how sexy they looked in their gear."

It was my turn to blush now, hoping she didn't see.

"One evening after training , when our coaches had gone and we were left to carry the boats back into the shed and lock up, the boy's first eight was next door on the slipway, and our crew, the first four from our school, was also finishing up. One of my friends, Natalie, our stroke, began teasing them. We had deliberately put on a burst of speed as we rowed next to them on the river, and caught them before they realised and their pride got them and they took off into the distance. Natalie was giving them hell about being slow, weak, poor physical specimens. She was grinning all the time, we all were of course, and she had an absolute crush on their stroke Andrew Williams who was a huge Friesian stallion already and built like a Greek God. But these are the things you do when you are flirting."

I chuckled now, remembering. Flirting was still an art form in my time, and insults were as effective as compliments. More effective. Or even better, goading.

"They gave us some stick back, but at one point their stroke decided they should give us a demonstration of their 'prowess' so to speak. They had a thing it seemed, a little game they played, and they decided this was one of those times. Before we could react, they all dropped their rowing shorts and mooned us and we got a perfect view of eight awesome muscled rears, everything on show. We were shocked, but totally delighted. I think it was the first time I really got into boy's bodies. I borrowed my friends' Playgirl after that, Im ashamed to admit."

I was laughing now, imagining the scene. It sounded amazing.

"And my father?"

"He was the three seat. And he had an exceptional seat, such a perfect pair of taut stallion buns...but unfortunately, we weren't the only ones to see."

"Oh God..."

"Yes, their coach had left something in the shed and came back to get it. He saw them giving us the benefit of their...assets, and he went completely insane. They were in a lot of trouble, though we didn't know until the next day how much. We were all shuffled into a minibus and taken to the boys' school after class, and ushered into the principal's study there. It turned out the school was horrified at how us poor young ladies had been so traumatised by the terrible boorish behaviour of their rowing crew and we were to receive their apology before they were all suspended."

"I can't believe how much of an overreaction it sounds like it generated."

She smiled at me a little condescending.

"Richard, this was 1971. Boys did not show their naked bodies to girls like that, in public. It was a huge scandal. We all stood there a little sheepish in this big dusty study, all secretly remembering the sight of those, well I have to say, gorgeous male backsides, when all eight plus the cox came into the study, milling about, looking ashamed."

"When it was Jason's turn he apologised to us like they all were made to. He looked at me in the eye, pleading somehow, and I gave him a little wink and a smile. It seemed to calm him. I was also so in love with him. I wanted to hug him right there."

"So how did you go from there?"

"That night, I went next door. His parents told me he was in disgrace and wasn't seeing anyone, but I knew his bedroom was down the side of the house and I could get to his window if I climbed a side gate. I managed it, and knocked on his window. He seemed so happy to see me, and I climbed in trying not to make a sound."

"He was lying on his bed, shorts down. He went to pull them up, but I told him to leave them down. His dad had given my poor dear a beating because of his suspension, and his poor bum was so sore. His dad had said he was so eager to show his bum off, it could take his punishment. He lay there while I stroked his bum, and somehow, we kissed. I don't know how it happened, I wasn't planning it. I rubbed his sore bum, and cried for him, feeling the ridges of pain etched on his skin under the fur and feeling it was somehow my fault. Being a pretty basic male he groaned a lot instead, and when he rolled over I saw his erection. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It seemed the most natural thing in the world when we made love, I didn't think about anything, nothing, just the feel of him and his cries and moans and the way his face looked when it happened. We kissed for what seemed like an age, until he got nervous that his parents would find us and made me leave but he told me he loved me and we would be together again soon."

I felt warm, emotions warring inside. It was like knowing the end of a story and finding as you go back and read from the beginning, the content doesn't match the climax. But I felt warm all the same.

"So, what happened?"

She was solemn now. I held her hands in mine, at the wrists.

"He used to do that too."

I pulled back, but then returned, and she gripped my wrists in turn.

"We tried to get together again, but it was difficult. Both our parents were wary. I saw him a few times, and we kissed at the local milkbar, and made plans to meet and perhaps make love again when his parents went to a wedding. But before that day, I realised I had missed my period, and I knew it could be...well, it could be a problem. I didn't really know, we weren't so good on sex education back then, but I had been in heat when we made love. And the inevitable had happened."

I nodded. A problem now holding her hands and watching her shake.

"It was different then. There were no benefits for single mothers. And it wasn't something you were allowed to be, a single mother. The parents got together and put an ultimatum to us. Neither of us were ready for marriage, and so it was decided, no matter what we wanted. My stallion got another belting from his father, I heard his cries from my bedroom. I wanted so much to go to him then, hold him, comfort him like I had the last time but I was too busy dealing with my own parental disapproval. He looked so sad now every time I saw him. He would look at my belly and shake his head."

I was losing it now. My tears dripped onto the fake wooden table top, unheeded for the moment.

"When you were born, he wasn't allowed to come. His sister was; she got to hold you for a bit, before they took you away. His best friend also, ...well, he got to hold you. My stallion was not allowed near the hospital. I had you for a week, only a week. I've missed you every day of my life since then my colt. I'm sorry."

She ruffled my mane while I tried to get a grip and she blew her nose into a napkin.

"Anyway, you need to tell me about your girl..filly perhaps?. How did you meet? You said you knew each other from school?"

I was taken aback for a moment and stuttered a lot.

"Ahhh yeah she...she was in my class. We had flirted a lot but not taken it anywhere yet. Actually, its funny, but we got together because of a punishment too."

Her eyes lit up with mischief.

"Really Richard. Don't tell me your bum got the treatment too?"

I chuckled.

"No, but...err...dad was handy with his fists. He was angry a lot, I think his work made him that way. His career had gone badly and he turned it into anger. S...she came around after I got a serious beating, and soothed my aching body. I can relate to your experience a lot; there is nothing for a guy who is in pain like feeling someone who cares touching your wounds its...magic."

"I hope you used protection dear."

I laughed at that, remembering, the long search for the condoms in my dresser drawer where I had hidden them from mum.

"Yeah, we did. No kids. Still no kids. She is a canine, a husky. Its not for us, we knew that when we got together of course; I'm sorry if you wanted to be a grandmother but, I wont be providing on that score."

I told her more, about my life, school, family, all the little things she had missed. But all I could think about was the sight of my father, seeing his next door neighbour filly who had a crush on him come through the window to find him dacks down licking his wounds. The poor bastard. And lucky.

When it was time to go and we were exhausted by the moment, we stood and walked towards the counter. I had two more questions though I needed an answer to, and I finally blurted the first out like an idiot.

"What happened after..."

She looked so sad then.

"We were never the same together Richard. Our parents tried to keep us apart, and for a while that worked. But when I finally insisted, and they felt they couldn't object any more, he had fallen for someone else. I knew it would happen...they had been in his life a long time, and I knew their feelings. It hurt though, but with what had happened, I couldn't blame him. I was sure I was just a reminder of pain."

I nodded, feeling her hurt. It etched itself all over her muzzle like a scar. I almost didn't ask the final question, instead just letting it out as a whisper.

"Why now..."

She sighed.

"I...survived breast cancer dear. Don't look like that, I'm all ok, but it made me realise. I don't know what the future holds. I should have known that after your father of course, but I had forgotten it. So I decided not to put it off any longer. I wanted to know...well I wanted to know, how badly had I done. I hoped like hell you were ok."

I took her in my arms, my resolve failing, and kissed her head.

"I love you mum. I always did, even when I didn't know who you were. I just hoped I hadn't fucked your life up too bad."

She shook when I called her mum. So did I.

"No regrets Richard. Not ever."

Well I had one right then, but now was not the time. I had been sparing with the truth, and in time I would have to tell her. But for now, it had gone as well as I could have hoped and that was all that mattered.

"Ahhhh Marion and Richard?"

The counsellor looked embarrassed. We just hugged, and ignored the ferret. If they were any good at their job, they should know they weren't needed any more.

When I got home, I dropped the keys into the bowl, flopped onto the couch, and cried. My partner was beside me in moments with a hot chocolate and sympathy. He was like that.

Mike was beautiful. He was always beautiful, with his perfect silver and black fur, now streaked a little with grey, his big brown and blue eyes, and his ready smile. He wasn't smiling now, so I kissed him hard a few times. He finally cracked it for a grin.

"Better my love." I sighed as he relaxed. I was more worried than he was.

"I was so worried Ric...how did it go?"

"OK, better than I expected. But I have a sin to confess my love."

He gave me an arch stare, his paw slapping my side in mock warning, but I could see in his eyes it was a little for show. He was wary.

"Do you need to be punished Ric?"

"I lied to my mother, so probably."

He steeled into the couch, and rested his muzzle in one paw, looking into my eyes gauging the moment. Finally he spoke, and he managed to keep any judgement out of his voice I was gratified to hear.

"You didn't tell her you were gay , did you."

"No. I also lied about how we met, a little."

He beckoned me to talk, a little curious now.

"How on earth did you get onto that..."

I told him about how my biological parents had met, and described their first time. He whistled, and I could see his groin tenting a little. I gave him a slap on the chest.

"Michael Benetti, are you seriously getting a hardon imagining my father's ass?"

"Well I get a hardon imagining yours often enough so I figure it's only fair..."

I kissed him, passionately, tearing at him. In the face of everything, I needed this. I needed to come back to the present, to Richard Maxwell, to a life that was familiar and known and already as complicated as I could cope with. I needed him. He seemed to know.

He took me to bed, and undressed me quickly. Not much foreplay, not much ceremony, not much except the heat and the need. He lay me on the bed, my ass propped up with a pillow, but he had a surprise. He had taken me at my word.

"This is for lying to your mother you bad horse."

His paw felt so good, big and rough as it was. I loved the feel of it, back when we were at school, as he would hold my hand when nobody was looking. Now I loved it more when he lay it on my ass with his claws just barely out and spanked me just right until my buns burned and my tailhole burned and I needed him like life itself and he took me with passion and intent and a thoroughness that left me drained and made my cock soak the pillow in load after load of ecstasy before he tied me with a last vital thrust into my guts. Even at forty-six we fucked like we were seventeen. It had been one of our things, all through the stop start world of our lives together.

As we lay there in the heated aftermath with him still tied inside me I remembered that first time. It was not my body that took a beating though, as I had told Marion. It was his.

We were footy mates, best mates even, but I had no idea he was gay, and I wasn't about to tell him I was. I didn't want to lose him, so we joked and partied and did what young guys do with their mates and talked about girls and footy and random stuff. Nothing serious, nothing emotional or real. That was what you did.

So, when he had a huge fight with another of our footy team, the captain, a huge normally placid bull guy with a perpetual grin on his muzzle, right there at school, trying to beat the shit out of each other it came as a total shock. I had no idea what could have happened, and he wasn't in a talkative mood.

That night, there was a knock at our door, and it was Mike, with a small bag. He hadn't said anything during the day. I had no idea he was coming over.

My parents gave me all sorts of grief, but I managed to get them to invite him to stay. He needed to for some reason, that was clear, his face was a mess and not from the black eye he got in the fight with Thomas Sanguinetti.

I had a little trundle bed in my room, and I settled him in late after dinner once my parents went to bed and just stared at him.

"Talk mate. What the fuck.?"

I realised during dinner something was badly wrong. He could barely sit down.

"Ric, can I...I need to get my gear off...is that ok...?"

I was horrified at what I saw. Every movement seemed to bring him pain, his eyes wincing and then streaming tears. When he was naked, he just lay there, like a beaten dog. I realised that was exactly what he was when I went to his side to cuddle him and he drew back in agony at my touch. I felt bruises under his coat in several places ,especially on his ribs. I burst into tears.

"Ummm Ric...if you could see your way clear to stop blubbing, do you think you could help me out?"

I was so embarrassed, I just went to the bathroom and got a bowl of cold water and a washcloth and settled in to the task of soothing his body. He groaned a lot, and it went right through me. I was hard and terrified he would see.

"Mike...what is going on..."

He looked at me with haunted eyes and seemed to sigh internally. He lay on his pillow, voice muffled by it, and let it all out.

"I...I'm gay mate. I've known a while, I hated it but I've known. I'm sorry. Please don't hate me. If you need me to leave I'll understand but...please don't send me away. I've got nowhere else to go. I thought...well, I thought Tom might be too, or at least interested. We used to joke around a bit about, well about blowjobs and stuff, and he would flirt with me or so I thought. I finally took the plunge and I told him about me and told him I liked him. He went mental instead, I got that so wrong. That was what the fight was about. We both got suspended, and Tom told his dad what happened, and Tom's dad told mine. Dad is really, really not into gays. Like a lot. He gave me the worst beating of my life, I screamed like a banshee, but he kept going. He told me to go away and come back when I can be normal. Mum didn't lift a finger to stop him. I...I don't know what to do mate. I don't know what to do..."

He was crying uncontrollably then. I was so angry, so hurt, so afraid for him. And jealous that he hadn't come to me instead of that boofhead Tom Sanguinetti. But I had a job to do.

I kissed the nape of his neck. He stopped crying, turned and looked at me.

"Please don't send me away Ric...please..."

"Mike, I...I will talk to mum and dad..."

I didn't have the courage to tell him right away that moment. I wanted to. Part of me was a little hurt and angry he hadn't come to me first though. That held me back, for now. Instead, the next morning, I went to speak to my parents as I had promised Mike.

I had come out to my parents, who were pretty much ex hippie leftie types. Very different to Mike's lot, Italian immigrants with a lot of traditional values. Still, it was one thing to have a gay son, another to find he was sexually active in the AIDS terrified eighties. And another again when I told them Mike had been kicked out of home and I wanted him to be able to stay.

My dad was a solid citizen though. He didn't agree, but he did agree to go and talk to Dario Benetti. He thought a man to man talk was needed.

When he came back he looked ashen.

"Mike, you will be staying with us for...well, as long as you like. Welcome to the family pup. Now, lets get your stuff from the car."

That night, after dinner, when we were in bed again and the reality hit my boy, he crumbled. He shook all over, and tried to hide his tears. I couldn't hold back any more; I slid into bed with him and held him, gently as he was still sore all over, and told him.

"I'm gay Mike. I've had the biggest crush on you for ages you stupid fucking loser. Of course we weren't going to send you away. I...I don't know what to do either, but...you aren't alone mate."

I stroked his flanks, listening for his moans. He watched me, wonder in his eyes, a hint of something other than fear and pain there for the first time since the previous night.

When I got bold and kissed his bum he hissed but lifted his tail high. I explored his fuzzy cleft, and he lifted off the bed, and I became acquainted for the first time with the sheer perfection of his cock red and swollen as it poked from his sheath, and his heavy nuts covered in a perfect dusting of dark hairs. I loved those hairs each and every one. I made him promise never to shave.

When it was time, and we both knew it was time, we did the little dance of discovery. We wanked eachothers painfully hard cock, we sixty nined to a shattering orgasm and I felt the completeness that comes from having my stallionhood buried to the hilt in a beautiful male's muzzle. I was trying not to make much noise so I wouldn't wake my parents and the tension made it take a while but it was so powerful when it happened. I knew I needed more.

He wanted to top. I wanted to fuck that perfect ass too, but I realised after the beating he might be hurt, and I really wanted him anyway he wanted to do it. After a stupid fumble to find my hidden condoms and lube, which I had bought one day in a fit of optimism and then hated that I thought I would never get to use them for real, he grinned at me like a demon, and I took up position on my bed with my ass up on a pillow, ready for anything terrified and elated. They weren't canine pattern so the condom almost fell off, and that was the least of our worries though. We knew nothing, except we needed each other.

It hurt a lot, and it felt strange that first time, getting used to the feel of another male inside me. Luckily we had plenty of energy for practice to make it better. Four times that night, four increasingly hard fucks until I was spent and so was he and we curled up together in my bed and fell asleep with our bodies entwined. That was how mum found us the next day, and we had a long, difficult chat.

We were not allowed to have sex was the stipulation, not under their roof. We did it a lot in other places instead, though in the pressure cooker of a new relationship and living under the same roof we found our ardour not matching our ability to work out the emotions and we both found others instead who seemed less complicated and less like a surrogate brother. But we always came back, and now, it felt like forever.

One thing Mike had taken from his dad though. He was a strict disciplinarian. And when he worked out how much I hadn't had my ass tanned as much as him, he decided to even the score. On the night of our year twelve dance, when we got a hotel room together, he first introduced his hand and then his belt to my ass because I was ogling Tom Sanguinetti's muscled bull ass all night and then we fucked so much the occupants of the room next door complained to management. I was hooked.

"Wonder if your father got turned on getting his ass spanked as much as you do hoss."

His eyes were open now, and he was looking at me with love, and a little sadness. I squeezed his furry scrotum, wondering if he had been inside my mind, and gave him a deep kiss on the muzzle.

"I am so not asking Marion that. No way."

"Well, after finally telling her she has a gay son, it might segue nicely into the conversation Ric. You are going to tell her, right, all of it? And introduce us? After all, if you look alike, he must have had one fucking hot ass and a big stallion cock that was hard 24-7."

"You are talking about my father you realise?"

He gave me a leer. "Yeah, bet he was hot. Now, answer the question."

I nodded. I intended to. Mostly. Some things; well some things might need to stay under wraps. Including what my beloved did to my stallion ass when he got a chance. I had one more thing I needed though, and I realised, I needed him for this too.

"Mike, I wasn't going to ask but...I need a favour. I need...I need to see him. It would have been his birthday tomorrow. I guess...the time is right.."

He held me then, and his eyes clouded. I hated I had done that, partly to make him shut up, though I needed space for my emotions my husky boy was not going to leave with his constant banter. It was something I loved about him, of course, his easy charm and humour, but I needed something different now. I needed a rock.

As we drove the next day, I wondered what my father felt with my mother. I wondered who he was then, and what parts of me apart from my body and my ability with numbers had come from him. Now I would never know. He had died in a car accident when he was still young, his life barely begun. I hated that I would never be able to know him, or to thank him. For putting up with the grief, the shame, and the sacrifice. He had no choice it seemed, they had no choice, but I still felt I owed him.

The cemetery was bleak on a cold winters day, which was unsurprising. They were not nice places, no matter what the trusts who ran them tried to do in making them seem like some sort of park. I found the grave in Wattle Grove Seven, a simple plaque in the ground marking the resting place of Jason Gill, who died aged twenty-Three and was loved and missed by his family. No mention of his once love, and the foal who had been made to disappear. I left some flowers, and an apple, and for some reason a little certificate I got for winning a maths prize when I was in year 10. I had wanted him to be proud of me. I hoped to fuck he was.

We were startled when another person came up, looking wary. He looked about sixty or so, a tall stallion, a Friesian with some silver in his mane but an upright bearing. His big grey eyes glistened, sparkling in the winter sun.

"Excuse me, I couldn't help seeing you here but...ahh.. are you visiting Jason Gill?"

I nodded and shook his hand. He was so uncertain, it seemed odd from someone who appeared like a stallion who was normally sure of himself.

"Yes. I'm Richard Maxwell and this is my partner Mike Benetti. We are here to...well, to pay our respects."

He seemed to give a little start when I mentioned partner. I pressed my lips together anticipating the worst, but he held out his hand and I relaxed.

"I'm Andrew Williams. I knew...I knew Jase at school."

Andy Williams...the name seemed familiar, and then I remembered.

"You were in the rowing crew together. You were the stroke who got them all suspended by getting them to moon the girls crew."

He was wide eyed and staring.

"How did you...how..."

"I heard from his girlfriend back then, sorry I know it must have been embarrassing. But...well, it led to me. I'm his colt, or I was. I was adopted out when I was born, but according to my biological mother, that's what led to them getting together so...um...are you ok?"

The stallion in front of me looked about to break then, his head to one side, eyes misting.

"I thought I recognised...you look so much like him and..."

He ended up in my arms sobbing. Mike looked on, worried and shocked.

"Little Andy. He told me you were named after...after all these years. My God..."

It was only then it hit me in the chest.

He stood and wiped his eyes, looking at us both with a smile.

"It's good to meet you. I never thought I would. Jase would have been so proud, I know you would have loved him like I...ahh...and he would have loved you if he had the chance."

As he stood there in my arms, my love held me till I stopped shaking. The stallion couldn't seem to cope though, and he turned to walk away. I gave him my card and asked him to call when he was ready. He nodded, and I felt like he would. He seemed to need to know things too.

"Do you have enough answers Ric?" My husky watched my face, his eyes a mask of worry.

I dissolved in my husky's arms.

"I don't know..."

"I do my love. I know a beautiful stallion, who was there for me when I was at my lowest. He came from somewhere. Maybe from a stallion who lies here, and a mare who found love for him when he was down. Maybe from that stallion there, who looked like he died and was born again too when he saw you. You can work it out now my love. All of it. But no more secrets. It's been forty-six years my love, and too much has been lost already."

I nodded, my muzzle on his neck. I would call Marion, and she would know it all. For good or not. And...I knew too, the hardest of all, I would tell Mike I had secretly been corresponding with his mum all these years. Mike was right, secrets had had their day, though how he would take the last I had no idea. But for now, I needed to go home.

"Now I need you to take me home and make me feel ok Mike."

"Sure Ric."

I was Richard Maxwell, colt of Derrick and Linda Maxwell. I was also Andrew James Kelly, colt of Marion Kelly and Jason Gill. And that ridiculous mix was ok by me. I had been named after my father's...? I watched the stallion go, his eyes bright, and wondered. Maybe not today. But one day soon.

"Are you ok hon?"

"Yeah." And in spite of the tears, I knew I meant it.

=========================

This is dedicated to a friend of mine, who has looked after me better than a parent ever could. He was adopted when he was a baby, and this is also for his biological parents, who brought him into the world from love, who lost him to forced adoption, and who managed to make an awesome person whether they knew it or not.