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Hello, everyone, and welcome to yet another Gruffy story! Just something that I came up with while I was writing my notorious Halloween special - and why do I always start writing Hollywood when I try to write Halloween??? - *chuckle* - anyway, this much more substantial story was brought on by working on that story, and here it is, for your reading pleasure!

If you have any comments, no need to hesitate with the feedback! All comments are much appreciated and enjoyed. Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!

Cheers y'all!

*

The green digital digits of the alarm clock said 20:54 on the latest glance made by Harold on the small white plastic box standing on the small night table next to his side of the double bed. The brown stallion's head rested against a soft pillow, propped up for comfort so that he could read his Tom Clancy in peace. It was relatively quiet for the hour, considering that the kids were still up, and for the fact that Brenda was still preening herself in the adjoining bathroom, its door open so that the stallion could see his wife of 18 years running the blow dryer over her mane. She wore an old pink bathrobe that was starting to show its age, and Harold had to agree that his wife was no longer 18 herself, like when they got married, but she had done well keeping herself in shape, and there were no complaints from Harold in regards to the looks of his wife.

She could still pass for 30.

Harold turned the page, his ears flicking idly at the continued wroom of the hair dryer, and checked the numbers on the clock again. 20:56.

"I'm taking Lucy out to get a new backpack tomorrow!" Brenda yelled from the bathroom, intent on keeping the conversation going even with the constant noise of the hairdryer making it relatively difficult.

Harold nickered a little.

"She still agrees to go with her mother?" the daddy stallion snuffled, his tail swishing over the bedspread that had printed flowers on it, a gift from their mother-in-law that was always checked upon whenever the momma mare visited, to see that it was loved by the couple.

They hadn't gotten around to getting a better one.

Brenda chuckled.

"Just about," the mare replied, throwing her head back a little to arrange her mane better for the grooming.

"I remember when Craig stopped wanting to go," Harold mused, now perfectly distracted from his novel, and not just because of the clock still ticking on the table, ever so slowly.

"When he was thirteen, of course!" Brenda replied, cheerfully. "They grow so fast!"

"They do," Harold rubbed the side of his long muzzle and gave the clock another longing look.

20:57

The stallion wore blue striped pajamas, a birthday gift from when he turned forty, that was last year. The oversized garment hung loosely over him, except over the belly, where he had slowly developed a small paunch over the years, due to the common suburban white collar sedentary life style he led. Harold could not describe himself as a hunk anymore, but he didn't mind so much, he still went out running and was determined not to get a heart attack by the time he was 50. The extra pounds had still piled up, though, and gave him a stockier build, but then again, he was the daddy stallion, he was supposed to be big and imposing, in his own way.

Brenda's tail swished under the hem of her bathrobe.

"We might even go and see a movie!" she yelled out after a brief lull.

Harold harrumphed.

"Sure, mother-daughter activities!" he chuckled for emphasis.

20:58

"Of course!" Brenda chuckled.

Harold rubbed his eyes and put the book away onto the side table, and then sat up, and then got to his hooves, and stretched his arms up. The too loose sleeves slid down over his arms, almost all the way to his elbows, and he snuffled at the odd sensation, and annoyed, tugged them back down and stomped the carpeted floor.

"I'll go and turn the sprinkler off, it's almost nine," he spoke, loud enough that it'd be heard over the thrumming of the miniature turbine going on in Brenda's hand.

"See you soon honey!" Brenda chuckled and flicked an ear at her husband.

Harold gave a quick smile and departed from the bedroom, into the corridor outside. His ears picked faint music from behind Rob's door, and the daddy stallion stopped, knocking over the door adorned with a Bruno Mars poster. The music did not go down, but a voice broke through.

"YEAH?"

"Remember that your sister will be going to bed soon, so keep it quiet, ok?" Harold spoke up.

"YEAH OK!"

The music still didn't go lower, but Harold couldn't be bothered to have an argument with his 18-year-old son, something that happened often enough and was not savored by the stallion, and thus, he simply trod along, passing Lucy's obediently quiet door before he took onto the stairs and walked down into the empty living room. His loose pajama bottoms rubbed over his broad hips, the elastic the only thing keeping them on, and he had to give his waistband a tug so as not to let them slip too low, while he walked through the kitchen and then opened the back door, admitting the stallion into the yard.

The night air was fresh, and smelled nice, the grass was really doing well despite the heat wave, and Harold was glad that they had not imposed restrictions on water use yet. There was little dew that he felt when he stepped off from the flagstones and onto the grass itself, rusting under his hooves as he walked along the smooth grass on his backyard. He passed the small soccer goal he had set up for Rob when he was still young enough to want to play some one-on-one soccer with his dad, and snuffled at the sight of the slowly crumbling wooden structure. Harold was not a real handy stallion, he could barely operate a hammer and them some, which made him feel deficient in daddy skills, but he did his best, and the goal had defied gravity long enough by now.

The fence, however, that separated their lot from Joneses next door, that he had painted white when they moved in, to cover up the ugly shade of green it had originally come with. Harold had painstakingly lathered the wooden fence, about four feet tall, with white paint, and remembered how much fun Rob and Lucy had had with it, getting white smudges all over themselves. The kids wanted to help, of course they did, and hapless daddy Harold could not say no, especially when Brenda broke out the old, bulky video camera and said that it was definitely a home movie moment.

Harold's ears flicked up and down as he heard the hiss of the sprinkler, its constant little ropes of water smoothening the heat-damaged greenery with its life-giving splashes. The yellow garden hose snaked across the yard, leading into the little metallic device stuck to the soil. Harold knew that it was simply turned off by closing the faucet on the wall of the small garden shed that stood on the very rear end of the yard, behind the tall wall that separated them from the yard of the identical house on the opposite side, the next road. Their yard was its own little suburban island, belonging to Harold and Harold only, separated from all sides with fences, the tall one, the white one on the left side, and the white one on the right side, the one he followed no, closely, so that he would not get sprayed by his own sprinkler.

The stallion noted the small dot of red in the darkness even before his nose caught the smell of tobacco smoke, strong enough to make him snuffle and nicker a little, quietly. Harold was not a smoker, but the familiar scent did have an effect on him, namely, one of causing his pajama bottom front to push out almost instantly. Blood began to rush into his hard cock, long dormant in its sheath and now coming to life in one, smooth throbbing motion as the thick tip peeked out of its fuzzy prison.

The air felt even hotter than before as he walked along the fence, all the way to the back of the yard. There was a space of a few feet between the white fence and the corrugated steel wall of the shed, a perfect little back nook for storing the old lawnmower he hadn't gotten around to throwing out despite many times deciding to do it on the next weekend, and gentle reminders from Brenda.

The little red spot appeared again and hung in the dark air by the little nook, and when Harold came close enough, he could see the little puff of smoke rise, against the backdrop of the sky smeared with light pollution into a shade of vague reddish tint. No stars were visible, they barely ever were, with the streetlights and paranoia security lights and car lights all playing their part for sealing the natural night sky out of the way.

Harold's hoof smacked against the solid rubber wheel of the ancient lawnmower as he squeezed himself into the little, shielded space on the back of the yard, and rested his hands against the smooth top of the wooden fence.

"Evening," he said.

A dark shade moved in the dull semi-darkness on the other side of the fence. The male holding the cigarette up to his snout was tall, taller than Harold, much wider, too, aided by the imposing pair of horns adorning his broad head. The bright glow of the cigarette end, hot red when it was being sucked on, illuminated big, brown eyes, but Harold could only tell the color because he had seen those eyes many times in full daylight, too.

"Howdy," the bull grunted, blowing smoke out of his nose, his head tilted up a little, so that Harold would not get a faceful all sudden.

The stallion breathed out deeply, and then in, getting a good whiff of the bull in his nose, combined with the lingering tang of the smoke. His cock throbbed, hard, and the slit on the top of the blunt, broad, flared tip itched. His balls, despite his earlier shower, felt sweaty.

"How was work, Brett?" Harold spoke into the night air.

Another red flash, another puff.

"Okay," the bull replied, giving the stallion another look that was only known because of the little glint of his eyes in the darkness.

"Mine was a bit crap," Harold said as his hand naturally fell down to cup his thick shaft through the fabric of his pajama bottoms, making him nicker, quietly.

The bull turned around in the darkness of the backyard, still standing a few feet away, and Harold could hear the familiar rustling sound he always associated with these evenings.

"What's up?" Brett spoke, a bit distant now that they were not face to face, as he only presented the back of his head for the stallion on the other side of the fence.

Harold breathed out through tight lips and he squeezed himself hard, below the thick tip.

"Lund's a motherfucker and wants us to work harder, but what's new?" the stallion snorted.

Brett stepped backwards towards the fence, and with a small creak that made both of their sets of ears flick, the broad bull came into a contact with the fence, making the whole wooden structure tremble a little as the tall, huge male rested his weight against it. His back was even arched forward a little, paws rested on his knees for comfort. The cigarette must have been between his teeth.

"Nothing, I guess, that guy's a prick in whatever he does," Brett huffed.

Harold's hands moved by instinct and landed over smooth fur on the bull's ass, feeling over its bare expanse as the stallion neighed quietly to himself. The oversized rump was not all muscle, but he did not mind, at all. He rubbed up and down, all the way to where the slightly flabby bottom of the ass cheeks mashed flat over the top of the fence that seemed to be very conveniently set to the perfect height. His cock was already leaking by the time his fingers moved over the bull's ass crack and spread the huge ass cheeks apart a little, thumbs feeling up the hot, dry crevice leading up to the base of the lifted tail, flicked to the side.

"He was at the shop one day," Brett's musings continued while Harold's thumb prodded against the bull's muscled opening, snuggly hidden in the fold of his ass.

It felt slick and it felt warm, and Harold nickered again, his cock throbbing wildly. The elastic of his pajama bottoms rubbed almost painfully against the rim of his cock-tip, making his heart race a little. His next breath brought in more bull musk, smoky scent and wet grass.

"What was good old motherfucker Lund up to?" Harold asked, still groping the ass sat on top of the fence.

Brett rumbled.

"New air conditioning, a nightmare job on that house of his, it's built in the sixties, not going to be an easy job fitting everything up to regulations into that kind of an old shack," the bull grunted roughly when the next jab came over his asshole from the horse's thick thumb.

Harold withdrew his hands and sucked on his thumb to get rid of the residue, and then tugged down his own pajama bottoms. He hissed at the sudden rush of air over his slick, sweaty shaft, it caressed his sensitive tip and his pink and black shaft all the way to his balls, heavy and huge in their loose sac hanging between his legs. He hooked the waistband elastic under them to push his balls forward a little, and gave himself a brief stroke, spreading whatever pre was on his tip all over it. The self-stimulation made him nicker loudly.

"Did you agree to do it?"

Harold grabbed the bull's ass with one hand to pry the thick cheeks open, just enough to push his cocktip between the fleshy folds, and left it there, breathing out as the hot flesh of the bull's ass closed on him, and his tip pushed against that muscled pucker of Brett's asshole.

"Told him that my man is going to come and check his place out but didn't make any promises. He wasn't so happy," the bull grunted a little at the intrusive sensation, but in no other way indicated that instead of just having a chit-chat, he was just about to get ass-fucked by the stallion's stick skewering pole of a horse cock.

"Good job," Harold pressed his palms over the broad rump and felt it up as he let his cocktip rest in the warm, loose grip, pulsing pre over the twitching funky bovine asspucker belonging to Mr. Brett Jones.

The bull grunted, quietly, as he felt the throbbing flesh pulse against his greased tailhole, that big tip really nudging against his wrinkled ring, planning to slip in at any moments and dominate the bigger bull's body with its very presence, piercing through into him.

"How's Marilyn and Dennis?" Harold spoke, his tail flicking and flapping against the rumpled striped fabric, while he squeezed on handfuls of fuckable bull butt in his palms.

"Marilyn says I should quit smoking so that Dennis won't want to pick it up," the bull grunted and puffed out a venerable cloud of the noxious stuff from his lungs.

Harold hissed, feeling how the bull's anus kissed his cocktip, stroking it from the outside with its continued, unconscious flexing motion.

"She's not wrong," the horse mused.

"I already tried the patch couple of years back."

Brett adjusted his ass, smoothly moving it from side to side, rubbing his fleshy taint against Harold's broad cocktip, bringing a nicker out of him.

"They always talk about hypnosis on the television," Harold gave an experimental push with his cock, bracing himself on his hands while he flexed his hips forward a little, pushing his oozing tip over the pre-smeared manhole.

"Fuck hypnosis, I don't buy that stuff," the bull grunted. "It's all just a rip-off, I swear."

Harold bit down his teeth and gave another push, but the muscled gates of the bull's asshole would not allow his huge girth to pass through, yet.

"Sure your GP could get you some pills or something for it," the stallion huffed, growing slowly more and more frustrated at the lack of success in getting into that ass.

"Dunno," the bull snorted.

Harold' fingertips dug into the flabby flesh more deeply as he squeezed on the bull's ass hard, keeping himself well-poised as he bore more of his weight down to that single spot, his cocktip against the brown bull's eye target for his manly arrow of fuckflesh.

"Gave me some stuff when my prostate got inflamed," the horse growled under his breath, making another thrust with his demanding hips, needing that entry into to heat of the tall male in front of him, on the other side of the fence.

"Guh, hate it that the docs want to stick that finger up your fucking ass whenever I go there for any reason," the bull grunted, his asshole again flexing in contact to the pulsing dong trying to fuck its way into Brett's rectum.

"Felt fucking cold," Harold recalled his own experience with such an examination as he bore down on the bull, keeping a constant pressure against the suctioning greasehole belonging to the smoky-beef-scented daddy bull enjoying a cigarette in the peace of his own backyard.

The pursed asslips kissed the horsecock another time, licking over it practically with the hot, pre-soaked folds of that pursed oversized bull pucker, kneading over the flesh trying to stick into it so intently that it was impossible to stop the grunts anymore. The stallion neighed and jabbed his hips forward one more time, and much to their grunting pleasure, the blunt tip finally managed to force its way past the ring of muscle now stretching taunt right below the thick tip. Abused muscles quivered in his body, and Harold had to bit down his teeth to suppress a groan, as he felt the heat of the bull's rectum taking him in, licking hot waves of sensation all over his own pink tip now buried inside the tight bull-hole that didn't like fingers in there, but didn't mind cocks.

"Do you know what the doctor suggested as preventive measure?" Harold snorted, keeping his hips still for a while, waiting for the bull's grunts to subside.

"Yeah?"

"Daily..." Harold pushed another two inches into the tight gripping heat of the bull's shithole, savoring the suctioning caress of the dilated musclering stroking over his veined shaft. "...masturbation whenever I'm not sexually active."

Brett chuckled, and coming from someone as big and burly, it sounded much more like a flow of grunts, something that was not too far off considering that his ass was in fire after getting the huge girth of the stallion's flared tip past his tailpucker and into the more expansive reaches of his hot and lubed back passage.

"Fucking pervs, all docs," the bull spared his paw from his knee briefly so that he could shake off some ash down to the dew-slickened grass below his paws, spread wide for balance.

"Yeah, seems like it."

Harold pulled back one of his earlier inches through the throbbing asshole belonging to the bull whose ass was hanging off the fence, and then pushed in three more, now one third of the way inside the scorching hot, slightly dry anal canal. Saliva foamed on the corners of his muzzle as he held his tall body in check, keeping back the urge to simply start breeding deep into his makeshift mare. The tension caused all of his modest muscles to flex.

"I think that the kid's discovering his cock too y'know," Brett mused once he had cleared his lungs of the fumes inside them for the moment, and gained enough breath to speak, his air having been taken from him by the jamming of that cock inside his ass with enough force to make it feel like it had actually pushed against his diaphragm.

"Oh yeah?" out Harold went, and back again, now topping six inches inside the bull, halfway there in sinking all of his horse dong into the bull.

The bull grunted roughly at the pressure grew inside him with each and every thick inch taking its place in Brett's slimy rectum. He coughed, once, and spoke again.

"Yeah" Brett snorted, distracted by the feeling of his entire muscled back tunnel squeezing down on the eight inches of cock now moving inside him at a slow fucking pace, spreading his asshole wide open.

"How you...reckon that?" Harold had to catch a breath upon the feeling of that tight hole closing around his shaft when his tip nudged past Brett's prostate, eliciting a little moo, and further tightness on his cock, sinking slowly into the bull's bottom with his thrusts.

"He...hmmm...always snaps his laptop shut whenever anyone comes in the room..." the bull crooned, roughly, as nine inches took him for the first time, dwelling deep into the bull.

"Think your boy's watching porn all day?" the horse snorted, breathless, when he forced another inch inside the pliant anus, now topping ten inches, and two more to go, before he'd be balls deep.

The bull grunted.

"Tried to check his browser history but you know...kids nowadays."

The cigarette was halfway gone.

Harold began to shaft his cock into the bull in earnest, skipping any further preliminaries as he simply began to fuck in and out of the tight, wide open and sloppy bullhole with his thick daddy stallion cock, slipping into the hot tightness and then pulling out so that the night air could stroke his slimy cock as well. It felt good in its odd way, a shock to his system that was only alleviated once he thrust himself back up to the balls inside the bull's conveniently propped butthole, and take him all the way to the sheath. The hairless fold of skin mashed against the bull's ass crack on each thrust, adding to Harold's sensations as he kept on fucking, playing the part of the stud down to T.

"Sneaking around like little motherfuckers," Harold concerted with his neighbor, his hips slamming to the bull's on each and every back and forth motion of his cock in the churning heat of the convulsive manhole trying its best to take the pounding as smoothly as possible.

"And goddarn school for not giving them any sex ed...may have to tell him the facts of life soon enough...think thirteen's a good age for that?"

Harold licked his chops, trying to prevent his drool from dripping out of his muzzle, as he raced with his body, plugging the bull's brown button with all the strength his office-chair-molded ass could muster for the daddy stallion's fucking action.

Brett mooed softly again.

"When I was 13...shit...," the stallion slipped, momentarily, but did not miss a beat in cranking his shaft into the bull's hole, "...I wanted to fuck everything that moved..."

The bull chuckled roughly, distracted by the fire in his ass that was strong enough to stop his cock from growing hard from all the internal stimulation his sexual system was getting from that huge cock pounding against his prostate, mashing the gland practically flat against the folds of his rectum. The bull's cigarette now only hung precariously between his thick bovine lips. Drags from it had a soothing effect on the bull, who kept mooing a little with every particularly strong thrust coming from behind, pounding into his juicy ass. The stallion's hips collided with the bull's on each and every thrust, the impact made their balls jingle, and the tick slabs of Brett's ass jingled, forming a smooth fat and muscle pillow for the horse to ram against.

"Same for me...better have that talk soon, don't want him to go fooling around..."

Harold kept penetrating the hairy orifice at a hard, fast pace, really working himself up to frenzy as he pumped his big dick into the bull's suctioning receptacle.

"He's a...ahh...GOOD kid!"

Brett grunted when Harold hilted himself once again, the huge girth of the very base of the horse dong spreading his asshole even wider open than before, sending extra sparks of pleasure through his achy innards.

"I'll make sure he is," the bull replied after another deep moo that almost extinguished his cigarette with the strong rush of air from his snout.

"That's a good dad," Harold hissed between his tightly held teeth.

"You...BET!" Brett's lungs expelled more smoke and air in a breathless grunt that came from the very fact that he had a foot of cock sliding in and out of his rump at a breakneck pace, hard enough that the backs of his thighs were almost beginning to chafe against the wooden fence.

The creaking of the fence mixed with the other sounds at present, the fleshy slaps and the little moos and grunts and the horse's snorts, as he worked himself in and out, slamming into the juicy hole that was on the offer. He took it and he bred the bull like a mare, like Brenda, but this hole was tighter and grittier, and suited Harold just as fine, or even better, he couldn't quite decide, as long as he had something tightly wrapped around his daddy horse dick, he was quite the happy stallion. His ears flicked up and down with the slurping sounds the bull's asshole mode upon each and every penetration of the thick shaft inside him, plunging into him and filling up that back passage with the horse's thick cock, sliding past the now slack pucker and then into the deep, steamy passage, stretching him out. Brenda had never agreed to anal sex, a fact that made the bull's tailhole ever the more inviting, as he pumped and humped and huffed as if he was taking part in a horse race and just reaching the finish line.

He wasn't too far off from that notion, however, his balls ached from slapping against the fence and the bull's taint and from the pent-up cum wanting to come out of them, the blood was rushing through his body, the sensations were all over him as he fucked the bull, making the fence shake steadily. The horse held tightly onto Brett's hips, keeping them steady as he thrust into the squeezing, living hole, pulsing and prodding and re-arranging the bull's musky interior with each and every plunging push into his back tunnel. His cock throbbed and felt like it was swelling even bigger, its already immense proportions becoming even larger as he continued fucking the bull hard.

Harold had to bite down his jaws when the spark finally flew and he was off, his cock throbbing, spitting and trashing inside the bull's lewdly slurping pucker, shooting a steady stream of cum into that hot orifice he had stolen for himself. Now he was filling up the bull's colon with his manly nectar, filling out the barren manpussy with a good dose of horse juice. The growing heat inside his belly made Brett moan, loudly, and the smoking stick between his lips fell down to the grass, sizzling out as it hit the damp grass, and the scent died out the same, replaced with the musk of ass-fucking in their noses, now that Harold was breeding his male with a frothy load pumped straight into Brett's guts. The horse knew that his load would stay there and slosh around inside the bull for quite some time, marking the daddy bull as nothing but an ass bitch at heart, who craved to relief his anal itch with a raking horse cock buttfucking him all the way until the slutty hole was filled with a good fresh batch of sticky equine heat.

Harold bared his teeth and nickered, his cock still pulsing, his balls giving out more spooge into the tight rectum sucking down on his cock to milk every last drop on him, and he snorted, loudly, keeping his hips steady as he let his body work it out. The bull took it stoically, simply standing there, hooves widely spread, ass on the ledge formed by the fence and mashed flat against the horse's groin, his cock impaling the seated bull completely. The heat growing inside his belly dominated the daddy bull fully, making him shiver a little, though he would never be caught showing any of that submissive thrill going through his system, that was for himself only, and not for sharing. His hands were clenched into huge fists against his thighs as he rode out the sensations in his aching ass. He had not gotten off, but he knew that a few minutes of hard doggy-style pounding Marilyn Jones's plump ass would be more than enough to get the bull's own juices flowing, and he could get down to sleep, both sides comfortably sated for the moment.

Harold didn't stay inside the bull for much longer. As soon as the flow of cum ebbed down and oozed out completely, he gripped firmly onto the bull's hips and then pulled out, hurrying to catch his shaft with his hand so as to not to let the sticky, sloppy cock flop against his pajamas and smear them with a mixture of cum and the lube from the bull's ass, now all over his thick, length. The bull grunted at the sudden sensation, as he was again spread open by the flared tip, and then his asshole was free of any intrusions, and gaped out into the night air for a moment before the muscles tried to close themselves down again. The flexing of his ass muscle made the bull grunt a few extra times, and his tail flopped down, smacking against the fence as it came down to protect the bull's achy taint.

Harold stepped over to the garden shed and turned off the tap with a quick twist of the faucet handle, and then quickly disconnected the hose and without further ado, pushed his own fully hard cock under the tap and turned the water on again. He hissed loudly at the icy cold flow hitting his most sensitive skin, but it had the dual effect of cleaning up the sticky residue and forcing him back into his sheath, which he was almost done by the time he deemed himself clean enough, turned off the water, and stood up again, pulling his pajamas on again as well, from his knees.

The bull was already gone, and only darkness met him in the far corner of the yard, as the stallion gazed over to the other side of the fence.

Harold snuffled, still smelling a hint of the smoke upon himself, and began his way to get back inside.

*

Brenda was plucking a few errand hairs off her chin by the time Harold returned to the bedroom. The tall stallion walked over to the bathroom, his hooves clicking on the tiles, briefly, before he put his arms around the mare and pulled her close, nuzzling her neck.

"You don't need to do that," the horse smirked to himself, licking against a familiar spot there.

The mare shivered, and let out a little neigh.

"Oh you silly," she chuckled, her ears and tail flicking, the latter brushing against the front of Harold's pants, and his sensitive sheath. "And you smell of smoke again..."

Harold chuckled and kissed his wife's neck.

"Brett was out having a smoke as always."

Brenda tsked as she studied herself on the mirror over the sink, that also featured the brown stallion, his head buried against the back of her neck.

"He really should quit, it's a filthy habit."

Harold's hands came up over her belly and cupped her breasts through the silk of the robe, bringing a nicker from the mare.

"He really should," Harold murmured.

*

Thank you for reading my story. If you have any comments, I would appreciate them greatly.

Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well.

Cheerio!