Beauty in Breeding

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Feral Equine Passion

This story contains consensual erotica between a non-anthro mare and a non-anthro stallion. Both characters are sapient, intelligent, and speak verbally to each other in the story. Both characters are adults and clearly written as such.

This story is fiction and intended only for fantasy purposes.

It was a dance, a moment, something that could never again be replicated, no matter how many breeding seasons we went through together. My mare, my darling sweetheart, a golden beauty of a palomino roaming free across the island, twirled around me, light on her hooves, a gleam in her eye that promised more. We were as bonded as the moon and the stars, but that is the nature of the herd, the pull of the bond that draws us ever closer.

Hooves tap the rocks in the gleam of the moonlight, the shine of it glossy on my coat, a dappled grey, my mane wild and spilling in a wave down my neck, something uncontained. Nothing about our wild herd was to be contained as my sweet Fyre picked herself up on her back hooves, balancing there, power held in her golden form.

Soon... Soon, we would come together again. And yet it was a dance that we had done so many times over that it did not bear waiting, not when no stallion and no mare would come forth to interrupt us.

"I want you, darling..."

But that was the delight of ours, our relationship, the romance that no one may have considered to come to pass between equines. We did not need to make excuses for ourselves, for we were as we were.

We didn't know where in the world we were, only that it was our corner of the world, myself, the band stallion, with my herd of mares, hooves thundering across the sand and even the ruggeder terrain closer to the centre of the island. The surf dictated the course of our days, where we would forage, where we would run, though there was never any fear of the water from the clear springs and rivers running dry.

The island provided, a paradise that no one came to, no one but the horses that lived there. Poised on an outcrop of rock as if I was going to hurl myself from it in a fit of play, I lifted a black hoof, pawing at the air.

Every mare in my herd was a friend, a comrade, someone that I had known for so many years. Sometimes, bachelor stallions stayed with my herd too, mingling with the pecking order, and I had no mind to that, understanding where our safety lay in numbers. In was in the pull of the tide, the flow of the water, the way that the wind brushed through the trees, shaking leaves from them in the touches of Fall.

That was the time that the need rose in us. Of course, we could breed at any time of year, but I sent those away that would challenge my bloodline, even though they could re-join the herd later. There were not truly any predators on the island anyway, not large enough that they would be able to bring down a horse, though there were natural dangers to be aware of also, something that would be passed down in the knowledge of the herd. From generation to generation, it was the knowledge that kept us safe, kept us away from humans, those that brought a rise to our withers and our heads shooting up.

We had to survive. We had to live. For that was the way of a horse, even though it was such that our existence and our lives on the remote island were quieter and softer than many.

Our need... We could come together with one another, in breeding joy, at any time, but there were better times to breed, times where our foals, when they were born, would stand the best chance of survival. It was ingrained in us, despite the mild winters, for there still would be a limited food supply, come the coldest months, though we, as equines, had our ways.

But we didn't want foals to come during the colder months, the harder months. So, we followed the rhythms of our bodies, even if passion took hold at other times.

Yet Fyre, with her golden coat and flowing, white mane, was the first mare that I took every season. It only seemed fitting, with how close we were otherwise, how we played off one another in the order of keeping the herd safe. There was no linear, set pecking order of control, yet there was a breeding need for me to be the stallion who furthered my bloodlines, the herd otherwise a fluid entity, everyone working together, taking the lead where needed. Of course, there was always me and my sweet Fyre to take the lead if there was ever a dispute between herd members, something that needed a ruling hoof and firm eye.

No drama. No fury. No fighting. That was not the way of a thriving herd, but as waves crashed on the shore, the tide in all the way to the low sand dunes and rough, tough ocean grass that even we did not eat unless in dire need, we knew it was time. Twilight softened to darkness as I watched over the herd, but Fyre was there, brushing up against my side, her nose touching mine, sharing breath.

"I need you."

She was a mare of few words, but our communication could not solely be through body language when we had so much more at our disposal. Two hearts beat as one and I nicker, bobbing my head, something stirring deep inside me already.

Horses didn't have a word for it. But, in a way, it was our need. What made our hearts beat, so much more than what other species' thought we were, but we did not need to pay them any mind at all, not when there was so much more that we could take for ourselves. We were fair to one another and the land and that gained us more, my tail lifting, flicking in a long fall of dark grey hair.

"My sweet..." I breathed, nuzzling her neck, the glorious arch of it, loving how she pressed in closer to me, as if Fyre could not bear to be apart. "Is it time?"

For it was never for me as the stallion to decide when we mated, when we came together. It was always her choice, the mare knowing when her body was ready. If not, Fyre would chase me away, though our trotting dance, following the swaying swish of her tail, told me otherwise.

"Dance with me."

Up on our hooves, as light as a feather, twisting lithely back and forth, muscles bunching and pushing where we had need of them. Not an ounce of extra energy was spent where it was not needed, though my sheath thickened softly, nostrils quivering at her sweet scent.

"Are you ready?" I breathed, closing in on her on the beach, soft sand shifting and washing around our hooves. "We can wait..."

But Fyre would not allow me to wait, not for the sake of her comfort, not for the sake of my concern for her. We had already had seven foals together, over the years, and she would soon come to the end of her time where she was willing to bear foals by me. But that would not change our relationship, not even as she matured more, taking on the role of a nanny mare, protecting and teaching the young of others in our herd.

Fyre would always be the most special to me. Perhaps it was wrong of me to choose favourites, but that was sometimes how life worked out. Our bond was as it was.

Thus it was that I nuzzled sweetly up under her tail, admiring the soft skin of her velvety dock, how she was fresh and ready for me, her marehood winking and fleshing. Her arousal slipped from it in a long stream, though it was how she braced her legs to urinate and demonstrate, as openly as she could, that she was ready for me, that I longed for the most.

It was raw and instinctual, all in a way more so than I could ever have hoped for, my head whipping up and my upper lip curling back as I languished in her scent. With my lip curled back, I could sift through her scent, the hot splash of urine soaking into the sand ensuring that the pheromones that infiltrated the air reached me, easily proving her need, her pleasure, how she ached for me.

End preview.

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