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Stud Farm Written by Amethyst Mare / Arian Mabe

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Happy birthday, Pulley!

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There is nothing like dawn over a stable yard.

Sure, 'business', as they said, picked up during the day, but those initial moments of weak winter sunshine creeping over the hills were the most serene. Consisting of barn, feed room, tack room and lower stable block, the yard buildings were modest and immaculately kept, nestled in the arms of the hills. The countryside stretched for miles upon miles around and one could walk or ride all day if they so desired, sweeping across the hillsides at canter with not a soul to caution or restrain. There were hillier, wilder, places, of course, in the country as a whole, but this particular patchwork of fields and barns was perfectly secluded from mundane life. Even better, the stud farm was privately owned and the owner, perhaps one with more money than sense, frequently left the yard manager in charge of the day to day operations for weeks at a time.

The quiet, however, meant that all the work that was to be done was to be done alone. There was little time for mucking about, only mucking out, and the yard manager was busy. Despite the majority of the native breeds living out throughout the winter months, fluffy coats and rugs freckled with frost, the stretch of stalls still needed to be spotless by lunchtime. And then there was training to be undertaken, youngsters to be schooled. There was no rest for the wicked upon a breeding yard.

The bay equine snorted, slinging a pristine red head collar over his shoulder. Bare hoofed, his fetlocks were caked with mud and his tired eyes bore witness to the fact that he had been up for hours already, taking care of his charges on the yard. He could have done with more sleep and yet his steps were lively, ears pricked and head constantly turning to take stock of his surroundings. Though the work was hard, Pulley would not have had it any other way. What more could a stallion want than to trot up to the fields on a sharp, winter morning to bring in the youngsters? To see a foal take his first steps and take care of the stallions as they flicked up their heels? He chuckled to himself, mirth disappearing into the quiet. He could want for many things, most of all a short break or two or three, yet he never would. Later in the day he would have assistance from the new stable hand, someone he had hired part-time. It was good that the owner trusted him to hire at his discretion: it lightened the load just enough to keep him smiling.

It did not hurt that the bull he had hired was not bad looking either, he mused as he swung open the gate to the 'top strip' of field, whistling softly. It was always amusing to see if the youngsters had heard him approaching or not. Some days, they would be clustered around the gate, keen for a bucket and breakfast, but mostly they were to be found at the far end, bothering the neighbour's goats. The bull, a strong, black fellow with nicely curved grey horns had seemed impressed with the breeding facility and Pulley had the feeling that he would fit in very well over time.

If only he could get the bovine to relax. Mark was drawn as taught as the lead rope on a nervous colt, dashing from task to task with a kind of nervous energy that the stallion found exhausting after a time. Fair enough, he could not complain that the bull had not gotten all of his tasks done during the few afternoons that he had worked so far, but it would be nice to have some conversation too. It got lonely on the yard sometimes. Was it too much to ask for another voice?

The stallion rolled his eyes, leaned against the metal barred gate and whistled again for the youngsters: no doubt they were getting into trouble. His mind was on the bull, imagining his strong, able body, how the musculature of his body appeared when hard at work, strong arms sweeping in a firm line as he curry combed a piebald mare. That had been the day before and the memory was too fresh and sharp for comfort. Cursing himself, Pulley shifted his weight to the other hoof, the tightness in his jodhpurs both uncomfortable and decidedly pleasant. He was always half-dropped, the outline difficult to hide in the close fitting stable wear. Perhaps the bull had noticed. Damn it! He shook his head, overcome with images better suited to action than contemplation. Did Mark not know how hot he looked? While the two bays and single chestnut ambled their way down the length of the field, taking their sweet time, Pulley drifted into thought. He had time to kill, after all.

"What are you looking at?"

Pulley started and dropped the bucket with a loud clatter. It rolled across the paved slabs and came to a halt at a pair of dark grey cloven hooves.

Bemused, the bull bent at the waist to collect the wayward bucket and offered it to the stallion by the handle. He cleared his throat and took it as if nothing had happened, holding it beneath the end of the hosepipe so that a steady stream of water trickled in. The tap was broken, again, so it was a slow process. Much like talking to the bull. The sweaty equine they were waiting on pricked his ears attentively, eager for a drink after a hard training session. Even on the lunge, the horses could be worked to thirst.

"Sorry," he chuckled, feigning innocence. "Must have zoned out there for a second. Seems like there's too much to do today, can't stop thinking about it."

Mark looked for a second and shrugged, taking a step back. The equine cleared his throat, tail swishing anxiously against his legs, the long boots reaching his calves. Despite the jodhpurs showing every carved muscle, the spatters of mud did not add any elegance to the look, only an air of long hours and dirty work.

He hoped the bull would prove some companionship on the quiet days when nothing much but conversations with the four-legged equines took place, routine and non-routine rolling into one another like a bale of hay.

"You been around horses for long then?" Pulley braved the silence, paw shaking lightly on the handle of the bucket.

The bull tilted his head fractionally to the left, only enough for the attentive to notice, brown eyes curious.

"You asked me that already," Mark said. He was almost too softly spoken to be heard.

Pulley laughed, brushing off the embarrassment the best he could. He could not help but be tongue-tied around the bull, but he'd be damned if he showed it.

"Well," he smiled, hoping it conveyed a sense of reassurance, though he feared his nerves shone through. "Have you?"

Mark rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

"Kinda."

"Kind of?" Pulley pressed for more information.

"Yeah."

The lack of words hung awkwardly between the duo and Mark rubbed his forearm, dirty nails scratching through his short coat in a low rasping. Stifling a snort, the stallion busied himself with the grooming kit and slung a stuffed hay net over his shoulder, allowing the weight to settle.

So much for conversation_, he thought. Like getting blood from a stone._ That would be easier_._

The bull shifted his weight and stepped back, eyes darting from tool to tool as he not so subtly sought an escape route that would not be so glaringly obvious.

"Let me know if you need anything else doing," he said as he retreated, walking backwards with a sheepish smile on his muzzle. "I'll be skipping out the barn."

As the bull near fled the scene, Pulley looked down at the bucket in his paw and pretended that it was not his arousal, an obvious bulge through the too-tight fabric of his jodhpurs, that had scared off his charge. He dropped the bucket with a thud, sloshing water over the rim, and brushed his forelock back, smiling with cheeky guilt that he could not really feel bad for. He was a stallion - he could not help it. He would not want to help it. As for Mark seeing... The four-legged horse had been between them, right? He had not seen, right?

If he had seen... Pulley's ears pricked. Then was he interested?

Pulley shook himself. A car pulled up on the top yard and crunched to a halt, startling him rudely from his musing. The beaten up black BMW whined as the engine sputtered out and the horse winced, half-raising a paw to his muzzle. What a dreadful sound. Mark should really let him have a look at that car. It was on its last legs, to say the least, if nothing was done for it. Poor car, even if it was a BMW.

Late to the party, his forehead furrowed and he dug in the pocket of his jacket for his mobile, checking the time. He did not often wear a watch and a phone did the job adequately enough as it was never away from his paws for too long. Ten-thirty and Mark was not due to start until two.

Early? The stallion raised an eyebrow. Though Mark was a hard worker, he had not once arrived early for the job. On the contrary, he always arrived exactly on time, exactly when he intended to.

But not this time.

The bull stumbled out of his car, hooves catching against each other in his haste - what was the rush? - and Mark, dressed appropriately for the day in a thick, green coat and black jodhpurs, raised his paw in greeting. Bemused, Pulley did the same, shuffling closer to the stable block to slide home the bottom bolt on the nearest half-door, lest the occupant pull a cheeky escape.

"Good morning," he said as the bull drew near enough for words, leaning back against the wooden door as an equine head appeared over his shoulder. "What brings you down so early?"

"Hey," Mark glanced down at his hooves, the pause audible. "Figured I could get some maintenance work done if I grabbed a couple more hours here," he continued pleasantly enough, smile reaching and warming his eyes. "Didn't you get the message?"

"What message?" Pulley blinked.

"I spoke to John earlier," Mark explained, ducking his muzzle, deferent. "I need a bit of extra money and I know there's things that need to be fixed around here, fencing and stuff. I thought I could do it. There's a lot to be done and John agreed with me..."

Mark trailed off, looking down between his hooves. The horse licked his lips thoughtfully.

Mark was on a first name basis with the owner? The stallion took a moment to digest this information, stroking the black head resting comfortably on his shoulder, curved cheek bone digging into his shoulder, though he would not push the mare away. Pulley did not know whether he should be offended that the owner did not let him know about the change of plans - did he think the stallion was not capable of maintenance work? There was no time! - or pleased that Mark had unexpectedly shown up early. Even though he was not the best at making casual conversation, to say the very least of his attitude, it was good to have him about the yard. The work did need to be done, after all, and there really were not enough hours in the day.

"Fair enough," he said, a little short. "Guess you know what to be getting on with then?"

Mark flinched.

"Yeah," he coughed. "Yeah, I'll do that."

He regretted his abruptness as soon as the bull had turned his back, but he was right - there was a lot to be done and he would hate to delay work for anything other than very good reasons. The stallion sighed, mentally running through the remaining tasks for the day. Yes, there was very much plenty to be getting on with. He would make amends with the bull later. Out in the field, one of the yearlings whinnied, a shrill, wild pitch reverberating across the fields. He was answered with neighs and like whinnies, jolting Pulley into action.

Yet he could not shake the feeling that much would happen later, though what indeed?

*

With the stalls mucked out and all immediate work completed for the day, Pulley took a long draught of water from the bottle he kept with him as he worked, liquid dripping down his chin. He sat down heavily on a square of straw, still tied with orange twine, and took another drink. It was much needed.

Raising his head, he glanced towards the block of stables to his right, the space beyond leading to the upper yard where Mark worked, whistling all the while. Apart from the occasional car rumbling past the stables on the road, the bull was the only two-legged sign of life in the vicinity. He tilted his head, studying the nearest stable door, left half-ajar, its charge out in the field causing his usual trouble. Hadn't Mark worked on something in that stable? The O-ring fixing by the hay rack? Something like that. He could not help himself. Curiously, he checked that Mark was out of sight. Of course, he did not have to justify looking at Mark's work, but it felt wrong to be so openly nosy.

Slipping into the stable, he let the door swing to at his heels, the straw bed groomed perfectly with a strip of floor at the front where the water bucket rested, filled to the brim. He glowed with satisfaction. It was good to be on top of the day's work. Reminding himself of the immediate task, he inspect the hay rack and adjacent O-ring. Earlier that day, the ring had hung loose from the wall, held on by a single bolt in the stone. The stable's occupant liked to be a little rough with his surroundings and, truth be told, it was a miracle that it had lasted this long. Now, however, it had been moved a few inches higher to an undamaged stretch of wall, still close enough to the hay rack to provide equine entertainment while grooming was being undertaken but away from the damaged, chipped stone. He ran his fingers over the cool metal, shivering lightly at the chill. The bull had even polished it.

Hm...not bad.

He could not fault Mark's work. It would be useful to have a safer spot to tie up Jasper when he was being groomed or saddled - the younger horse was quite fidgety in adjusting to handling and needed to be tethered for most tasks. Pulley smiled and stepped away from the rack, hooves scuffing up some of the neatly laid straw, though no one would notice a wisp or two out of place. Absently, he rubbed his thigh, bumped the hay rack with his shoulder, and let his thoughts wander.

On the top yard, Mark whistled.

As he was want to do when alone, the stallion shifted uncomfortably from hoof to hoof, body demanding attention that he did not always have the time to give. Groaning, he looked down, black forelock flopping over his eyes, as the bulge in his jodhpurs swelled noticeably. There was no way he could go out on the yard looking like that. Desperately, the horse huffed out hot air through his nostrils, trying to think of anything and everything that would calm him down, allow him to go back to work, what he should be doing. Mark's whistling constantly reclaimed his attention, despite his best efforts, and all he could think of doing was bending the sexy bull over the wrapped hay bales and feeling that warm, sweet muzzle around his cock.

The stallion moaned lowly, paws dropping to his straining sheath like a colt scenting his first mare. Always horny, he did not often have the chance to satisfy himself as much as he needed and fantasies were so alluring, calling to him with sweet words and whispered promises. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips and his ears pricked, attentive to the smallest sound.

Work was sorted for the time being so...why not?

To hell with it. Leaning back against the stone wall with a mischievous grin, the stallion unhooked his jodhpurs, letting the zip slide down as his hard-on swelled, pressing eagerly against his undergarments. He rubbed his palm lightly over the bulge, suppressing a moan the best he could, and pulled down his underwear in turn, eager to be sated and feel that oh so exquisite, raw pleasure. One of their stallions out at grass whinnied loudly, reminding him of exactly what he was doing, where he was. He could be caught at any moment. The revelation sent and excited, shivering thrill down his spine. As soon as his boxer-briefs were tugged down far enough to cup his heavy balls and expose the sheath, his shaft grew rapidly, standing up proudly from his crotch. Biting his lower lip, the stallion let out a low groan and wrapped his paw around his length.

Why did it have to feel so damn good every time? His paw slowly moved up and down his length, pumping in long strokes that made his tail flag in anticipation, mimicking the act of breeding. Closing his eyes, he imagined Mark lowering himself to his knees, the big bull suddenly devoid of any semblance of clothing, nuzzling and lipping sensuously at his overfull balls. The stallion's head tipped back against the wall and he snorted, hips thrusting out fantasy and real life. In his mind, the bull looked up at him, brown eyes brimming with lust, and lapped along the underside of his sizeable, enough to intimidate a lesser fur. But not his bull.

His breathing quickened in time with his strokes and his fantasy bull plunged his muzzle down over the head of his shaft, lips forming a tight 'O' to contain his girth. It was a struggle but Mark somehow managed it, thrusting his head down until the flatter tip of Pulley's cock pushed into the back of the bull's throat. The horse's tail flicked restlessly and he pushed the waistband of his underwear down further, rubbing and rolling his balls gently in one large paw as the other drew the quietest whinny of pleasure that he could muster from his lips.

"The fuck?"

Pulley's eyes flew open and he bolted upright, shoving himself off the wall with a panicked nicker. Of all the times to walk in! Mark stood in the entrance to the stable - he had not even heard the door swing open - framed in the doorway with his jaw comically slack. The two males looked at one another for several long moments. Neither spoke and the horse's cock hung in the air between them, pre cum dripping into the straw.

"I...uh..." Mark did not know where to look. "I'm sorry... I'll come back later!"

The last words came in a rush. Pulley couldn't blame him. Beating a hasty retreat, the bull stumbled over his hooves in his haste to get away. However, as he tripped, a chuckle bubbled up from his throat, amusement bursting in open air.

The horse's ears pricked. Maybe, just maybe...

"Hey - wait!"

Against rational judgement, Pulley leapt forward, hooves clattering over stone. He caught the bull's arm and yanked him to a halt, the lower half of the stable door partly separating them. As if caught by indecision, Mark paused mid-step and looked back, a flush warming his muzzle.

"Um...care to join?"

The horse sheepishly asked, ruffling his mane up with his free paw - the other still held Mark's upper arm and he was having a hard time not stroking the tight muscle beneath his palm.

"What do you mean?" The bull said after a pause, thin tail flicking.

The horse ran his fingers down Mark's arm, feeling the muscle tremble. The bull snorted, moving as if to back away and unconsciously leaned into the stallion's paw. Pulley grinned widely, tail flagging high and cock drooling yet more pre like the virile stud that he was. He was still hard and his confidence increased fractionally as he caught the bull's eyes lower to his hard-on. Mark licked his lips nervously.

"Come on, I've seen you looking," Pulley smiled, though he was not confident in how sure he came off. "Or are you really not into this?"

He threw caution to the wind and doubted himself a second later. What if he had made a terrible mistake? The poor bull! Breathing shallowly, the stallion's heartbeat pounded against his eardrums, racing in his chest as if he was entering the show ring with the best horse in his stable. He rubbed the very tips of his fingers down the bull's arm, half-looking away in his own shyness, though no one would have suspected nervousness from him.

"Um..." Mark blushed and looked down between his hooves. "Why...not?"

The stallion's tail swished - he was not about to question Mark's answer! Taking the bull's paw, Pulley smirked and stepped back into the stable, drawing Mark along with him. The bull came willingly, weaving around the door and stepping up close, paws more boldly resting on the stallion's waist. The horse shook his head and caught himself, snorting lustfully as his cock twitched and Mark eased in close to trap that hard length between their stomachs.

Surprising the stud with his confidence, Mark nuzzled into the taller horse's neck, paw dropping daringly low to squeeze his arse. The stallion squealed and flagged his tail, dragging the bull's muzzle to his in a flurry of passion. Mark's hard, lean body ground into his and the hoers found himself with his back to the cool stone of the stable wall, lips hot and eager upon his and a tongue exploring his muzzle with the gentle fire of a lover. Raising his paw to tentatively cup the bull's muzzle, Pulley groaned, cock throbbing with deep-set need. It was better than the fantasies.

"I_had_ seen you looking...you know..." Pulley gasped as their lips parted for breath.

"I wasn't being very subtle," Mark answered, dropping a quick kiss on the horse's nose.

Mark had the good grace to flash a grin, teeth startlingly white in the comparative darkness of the stable. Throwing aside his jacket, the bull wasted no time in dragging his shirt over his head, ears springing up cutely from the fabric as it was yanked away. Following suit, Pulley trailed his paw down the bull's hard chest with a soft moan and ripped off his own shirt, tearing the corner in his haste. Jodhpurs and underwear were more easily discarded - those were kicked aside, leaving the two males in decided states of undress, panting in the fresh chill. There would be enough heat in the stable to keep both of them warm son enough.

"Let's take care of these for you..."

Pulley folded to his knees on the straw, undoing the button on Mark's jeans and sliding them down in one quick motion. Nuzzling under his orbs and thickening member, the horse breathed in deeply, taking in the delectable aroma of sweat and musk. His own cock twitched in response, begging to breed, as he lapped over each of the bull's heavy nuts in turn, taking his time even as his body pulsed with need. Above him, the bull snorted and moaned, tongue lolling out from his muzzle. His shaking paws found the stallion's mane and he threaded his fingers through as Pulley took his shaft between his lips, giving him a long, hard suck.

Biting his lip, Mark bucked wantonly, panting open-mouthed. The horse's paw, thus far forgotten, traced a path up his leg, nudging his undergarments further out of the way as he groped the bull. Modesty had long been thrown to the wind and Pulley bobbed his muzzle slowly around that hard length, making the bull want him as his fingers teased lightly under his slim tail. Mark tensed and relaxed in the next breath, hide quivering as if he had run many consecutive miles, though fatigue was not prevalent in his case. Fire raced through his veins as his tail hole was toyed with, the stallion's fingers pressing gently but insistently until one eased within. Mark stiffened and groaned deep in his throat, feeling how he was patiently stretched by one and then two more digits, making three total pushing within his hot breeding hole.

If the stallion had had any concerns about the bull desiring their liaison, Mark's pants and grunts set his mind at ease. He half-closed his eyes, arching back as if to take the three digits deeper, though Pulley teased, thrusting them slowly until the bull growled under his breath, a rough, guttural sound. The stallion shivered. How many times had the bull been mounted before? Groaning, the stallion's tail flicked. It was too much - he couldn't wait. Neither could wait. Pulling back from the length of stud-meat between his lips, Pulley left the bull panting and grinding back against his paw, inadvertently thrusting his fingers deeper as Mark claimed every scrap of pleasure. Raising an eyebrow, the stallion looked up with a grin.

"Think you can handle a ride, bull?" Pulley licked his lips.

In lieu of a verbal response, Mark nodded, shuddering bodily as the horse withdrew his fingers, leaving his hole aching for more, clenching around nothing. The bull nodded once more and turned to face the stone wall, placing both palms flat against it. Regardless of nerves, he found the courage to thrust his rump back provocatively, even giving it a cheeky wiggle, looking back at his stud for the time being over his shoulder. Mark huffed and flicked his tail up high, showing off the tight pucker under his tail. The stallion scrambled up behind him, haste in his hooves, and wrapped his paws around the bull's waist, nipping lightly along the line at the back of his neck.

"You're sure?" Pulley breathed in the bull's ear, cock sliding back and forth between those muscled rear cheeks.

Mark nodded his head vigorously, leaving no doubt or question in the air between them. Grinding against his partner, the stallion grunted, sinking two fingers up to the knuckle in the bull's rear, testing his readiness. Groaning, the bull arched further, thrusting his rump higher as if to display his readiness to play the filly, tail swishing constantly with a mind of its own. Removing his fingers and instead replacing it with the slick head of his cock, Pulley rubbed it over the winking pucker, letting his own pre cum work in as the best lubricant they had available. There was no lube in the stable block - only at one point - but that did not matter. Two eager studs would find a way.

He could be gentle too.

Teasing the head of his cock over the bull's eagerly clenching tail hole, the stallion worked his hips forward, tail flagging as his length slowly, agonisingly so, spread Mark open. It seemed to take an age for that tight ring to swallow the tip of his member, forming a tight seal around the horse's fat length. Any pre cum that was sure to drool into the bull, well, that would be trapped inside until the stallion was good and done with him, pulling out with a sloppy sound and mess of cum. The stallion shivered, anticipating the moment, and pressed harder, paws stretched over the bull's hips and rump, squeezing. Upon the first few inches easing in, the bull tensed, every muscle going rigid in a heartbeat. Groaning lowly, Mark thumped a closed fist against the wall, releasing all breath held in his lungs in a sharp exhalation. Pulley nipped his lower lip anxiously, paws rubbing patient, soothing circles into Mark's hide until he relaxed. They should have had lube. But it would not have been as sweet otherwise.

The bull looked back over his shoulder, eyes hazy with lust and breath coming in quick, needy pants.

"Please..." The bull flushed, ducking his head down between his arms. "More. Please, harder."

Pulley stroked the bull's hip, one paw sliding around to his stomach, holding him closer. What other response could one have to such a request? Hiding a grin, the stallion thrust as hard as he dared, grunting like a feral as his cock slid in up to the medial ring and further, using his weight to bear into the breeding hole. Mark squirmed deliciously and groaned as the horse pushed deeper, thrusting his body off the wall to help, inch after inch filling his tight rump.

Without forcing the full length of his shaft in, Pulley withdrew a few inches, only to thrust in with a throaty grunt, ears splayed in lust. His tail flicked and he pulled the bull back as he pushed in, rocking mark against him and filling him just a little more every time, each thrust coaxing a gasp or moan from the bull's parted lips. Muscle flexed in the bull's back, visible even through his shirt, and Pulley snorted heavily, nostrils flaring. The bull's cock hung unattended, a string of pre cum drooling from the tip into the straw. The intoxicating aroma of musk, arousal and lust hung over them and the horse's breath came shallowly as he ground in deeper and deeper, making his bull whimper at his size. Need rose in the stallion and his fingers tightened on Mark's hips, digging into flesh.

Drawing Mark sharply away from the wall, Pulley bore him down into the straw under his weight, sinking the entirety of his shaft under the bull's tail with a strangled gasp. Beneath him, mark scrabbled for purchase in the straw, making it up to his knees, jeans around his ankles, while his forearms buckled beneath him. Rump thrust into the air, there was little the helpless bull could do but take the pounding as Pulley dragged one hoof up, planted it firmly on the ground and ravaged his filly under fresh leverage. The cold no longer mattered and their coats glistened with sweat, damp strands of mane clinging to the back of the stallion's neck. His cock drove home with a wet 'shlop' every time he thrust and the sheer volume of pre cum slickened his passage, making the motion easier and easier as Mark arched back. The bull pushed himself up on his forearms, muzzle lowered as he groaned, a gasp forced from his lips with every thrust. Straw scratched along his knees and stomach, yet he hardly felt it, only conscious of the horse above him, paws gripping his hips and waist. Unconsciously, he squeezed down upon the thick breeding shaft plunging deep into his rump, shivering bodily. Gritting his teeth, Pulley tossed his head. He needed to breed!

It wasn't the act of release, it was the whole manner of the act, and desire crashed upon him with a greater force than anything he had ever experienced. He had to hold back, he could go more than this. Yet it felt as if he had not bred in months, let alone the mere days it had been. He snorted again and again, ears slipping back against his skull as he bucked wildly, half-closing his eyes. The stable was abruptly warm, the horse's skin tingling erotically . He snaked his paw around the bull's belly, paw scraping through the straw until it closed around Mark's hard cock, the head slippery with pre cum. Taking care of his partner first and foremost, the stallion stroked firmly, pumping the bull's shaft in time with his thrusts, rocking Mark forward.

A little longer. He could hold off a little longer.

Pulley leaned far over his partner, grabbing on to the bull's right horn to pull his head back. The bull gasped, chest expanding in such a swift inhalation and pushed into the horse's paw, closer and closer as the desirable violation beneath his tail teased repeatedly over his prostrate, forcibly milking him like a cow. The association made the male bellow and thump a fist into the straw, balancing on the edge as he was roughly handled, something locked away inside him loving it ferociously. With a throaty moan, Mark rushed to his peak and panted, spurting thick ropes of cum into the straw, perhaps to be later discovered by another of the stables.

The bull cumming set off the stallion and, paw coaxing every drop of seed from the throbbing cock, he ploughed into his bull like a creature possessed. Driven by need and lust, he gave in to his baser instincts, eyes becoming lidded and electric pleasure sparking through his nerves until the chain reaction combusted. Ramming a final time into Mark's tight tail, the stallion groaned and ground against him, releasing jet after jet of seed into his rump, balls tightening up between his legs as their contents were spilled but never drained. Both paws went to the bull's waist, encircling and pressing their sweaty, steaming bodies close as the stallion huffed, grinding in as deep as was physically possible until he was until spent and satisfied.

Exhausted in the moments after orgasm, the stallion flopped comically to the side, landing on his back in the straw and pulling the bull with him. Though Mark grumbled, he did not coherently complain, so Pulley took this to mean there were no complaints - perfect. His softening member slipped from the bull's rear and rested over the horse's thigh. It would take a while to return fully to its warm sheath. Lucky thing was that, with the morning's tasks completed, they had time. Pulley smiled and nuzzled the back of the bull's neck softly, huffing warm air over his twitching coat. Squirming around, limited by his jeans trapped around his ankles still, Mark wriggled on to his back, giving the stallion a bemused smile in return, lips tugging up curiously. It was impossible to not smile.

"What?"

"I did not think you would go for it," Pulley admitted, grinning like a colt.

"I told you," Mark replied, standing up with a groan and retrieving his shirt from the straw, taking a moment to stretch out the stiffness from his limbs. "I wasn't being very subtle."

Watching the bull shrug into the shirt, tail flicking to and fro happily, Pulley's cock stirred against his thigh, thickening and hardening without even taking the time to soften into its sheath. With a sly smile, he clambered to his hooves and came up behind Mark, wrapping his arms around the bull's waist and nipping the back of his bare neck. The bull inhaled sharply, tensing and rumbling with a chuckle as the stallion pressed into him, cock pushing insistently against his cum stained rump.

"Round two, stud?"