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He really was insufferable.

Our home had been a building site for the last five weeks, and I had had just about enough. It was the summer holidays dammit, I was supposed to be getting in some serious quality time vegetating on the couch watching bad shit on TV and some all-night gaming sessions with the guys before uni started again. Instead, every fucking morning I was woken up at 7 O'clock with the sound of circular saws and nail guns. Fucking musical I don't think.

I should have blamed my mum I guess, after all it was my beloved parentals who decided on getting renovations done to our house at this time of year; and by parentals, I knew it was really mum. Dad just went along with whatever she wanted to keep the peace and spent as much time on business trips as possible.

But really, I blamed him. That fucking stallion.

For some reason, I had always kind of hated equines. As a fairly slender fox I envied their size and their assurance something fierce. So I guess when the lead builder turned up that first day and it turned out to be a big shire stallion I was never going to warm to him. He reminded me too much of every guy in school who ever stuffed me in my locker; eleven times, by the way, but who's counting anyway.

Jake. He even sounded like a jock numbskull with that name. Jake. Who the hell names their kid Jake, even some fucking oversized foal? It wasn't even shortened; I found out, he really was called Jake not Jacob. Even said so on his license.

Every day he would come onsite and give the other contractors their orders then get to work himself. He was a carpenter, and he seemed to handle a lot of the woody stuff. Half the time I came into the building area I'd find him with the same dumb expression on his muzzle, his eyes sort of crinkled and his muzzle clamped but with his tongue part out and curled a bit like he was taking an especially trying dump. He wasn't though, he was sawing or nailing or planing or whatever shit it was chippies did to wood.

We were getting a new kitchen, just what mum always wanted with stainless steel appliances and special granite benchtops and all that shit, and a bigger entertaining area with a new patio. Lots of wood, I thought a bit miffed that first day. Lots of reasons for the fucking horse to be around.

And then a few of things combined to make shit even more unbearable. Three to be precise.

First, the bastard seemed to take great delight in being nice to me, at least on the surface. I could tell he was just taking the piss, of course, and behind the façade of friendly bonhomie he was being a snide prick.

Like today, for example. I came in to get some Coke from the fridge before heading back to my room and a mammoth Steam session. He was working away there as always, long horsey tail shaking a little as he worked to fit a cupboard door to his liking. Same expression, same look of intense concentration. Fuck, it wasn't rocket science or anything, he was only putting some screws in but you would think he was solving the riddle of the universe.

He saw me come in and head straight for the fridge. I ignored him as always, but he never ignored me.

"Morning Lachlan. How's your gaming going?"

"Humpf" I gave him my best grunt and tried to ignore him.

"That's the way. Hope we aren't interrupting your busy schedule any."

"Humpf." See, he was taking the piss. I saw his offsider, a smirking tiger plumber, and the fucker was smirking too. I decided to bite, a little.

"You know Jake, if the wind changed, you might be stuck looking like a total pillock."

His eyes narrowed a little more, and he seemed to realise his expression because he suddenly sucked his tongue in and his eyes uncrinkled. Something replaced the look of concentration too; if I didn't know better, I'd have said it was a little glint of pleasure.

"Hey Jake, do you want to hear a good joke?"

I had him intrigued now. He nodded. "Sure..."

"How does a chippie order five beers in a pub?"

His eyes went a little blank as he searched his memory banks for an answer. I could almost hear the cogs turning. "I dunno..."

"Like this!" and I extended my left paw with two fingers against my palm and the remaining fingers and thumb extended. Fucking chippies were always sawing off their own fingers, it was legendary...

"Oh...shit..." I realised a second too late. He looked down, and I saw his left hand by his tool belt with the tell-tale stubs of his ring and little fingers. He normally had a work glove or something on, but today he had it out so he could pick up screws. Still, it was kind of funny. I couldn't help myself.

"Finding it funny Lachlan?"

"Um...yeah...sorry...but yeah..."

I thought it a good idea to beat a retreat then though, before mum came in and told me off. His eyes followed me though, all the way out of the building works and that felt good in a way. I could feel the fur on the scruff of my neck burning, and my ears twitched the way they did when I got into a verbal stoush at school and I managed to leg it before one of the Neanderthals decided to rearrange my foxy muzzle with their knuckles. It always took them way too long, must be the lack of brains.

I passed mum heading the other way as I went back to my room.

"Darling...not going to join me for breakfast?"

"Nah...got stuff to do, you know..."

I ignored mum's hurt look and closed the door. Stuff; that wonder all-purpose excuse. Of course, I did have a nice gaming session set up, but that wasn't the real reason I had scarpered. It wasn't even the angry looking horse.

No, the real reason was that mum was heading for the kitchen, and I wouldn't be able to stay in there without gagging. That was the second reason for life sucking real hard right now. I kind of knew my mum was a colossal flirt. It was kind of icky to watch, but I ground my teeth and let it be. But from the moment Jake had come into our home she had latched onto the big stallion and gave him both barrels. It was sickening.

The first time it happened it took me a second to realise what was going on. Mum was normally very forthright and calm, but talking to the builder she was like some sort of giddy schoolgirl, all fluttering eyelashes and shit. She would complement him every chance she got, but the worst was when she started stroking his shoulder in this intimate way. He didn't even tell her to stop, just smiled that horsey smile and let her.

Then came the time yesterday when he saw me watching, my expression probably like sour milk, and he gave me a wink and swished his tail and flicked his ears. I had to stop myself yelling at them both and stormed off to my room instead. There was no way I could stomach a repeat performance this morning.

Sitting on my bed, I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. I had learned meditation to try to get through exams better. It didn't help my marks any, but it did help at times like this. I tried to let my mind float, slowing everything down until I could pick each heartbeat but it wouldn't come. Instead, all I could see in my mind was that magnificently stuffed crotch in Jake's khaki work shorts, and the deep crevice of his ass outlined against the overstressed fabric covering his rump.

The shorts tended to fall slightly down off his hips as the day progressed, leaving the elastic of his boxers visible and then as they dropped too a tantalising glimpse of ass crack and sometimes a hint of his pubes just poking over the fabric as his shirt lifted when he reached for something up high. I would imagine the sweat on those pubes and that deep crevice and lapping at both with my tongue and the taste sweet and musky and then...

Yeah, that was the third thing that was pissing me off. The fucker was smoking hot and I wanted to fuck him so bad my knot burned.

Every time I saw mum go all doe eyed all I could imagine was watching them go at it. And it had culminated in an especially disturbing dream a couple of nights ago, where I found my dream self in my parents' bedroom watching Jake plow my mum and all I could do was jack off at the sight of his horsecock rising and falling with his ass. When I woke up I didn't know whether to barf or jerk off. That probably accounted for my foul mood yesterday and the especially sour looks I gave the dumb fuck, but I was damned if I was going to tell him why.

Now I tried not to think of what was going on in the kitchen as mum fluttered around the horse, and opened up Skype instead. Time to call the gang and get in there and kill random things without mercy.

For a nerd fox it was the best I could do to work off the anger. I tried lifting weights once, but I think I broke my everything. The gym instructor at uni made me promise never to come back again; I hadn't had much trouble complying. After all, I had only done it to try to get into that Husky's pants, and he ended up with a stallion doing Commerce.

Now I had an expression that might be bad if the wind changed.

"Fucking horses..."

They were the pits.

*****

By the end of the day I had had all that I could take. Unable to really enjoy the gaming session thanks to the noise and the thoughts of naked buff stallions, I had resorted to my special stash of weed. Nicely mulled, it was a well behaved smoke based on a really rocking hydro batch that made your teeth numb without taking your head off or leaving you unable to speak. I finally relaxed under it's charms, though my gameplay went to the shitter. The guys told me to fuck off and I found myself a little bummed but most of all hungry enough to eat a horse. Even that horse.

I think I blame the weed for what happened, as much as that stallion.

Padding out to the kitchen, I found mum gone to her spin class and stupid features still hard at it. He was applying the finishing touches to mum's prized granite workbench, eyes crinkled and tongue out like normal. He was carefully wiping down the surface, which gleamed in perfect black shiny expensive detail. I headed for the fridge and a diligent search for some leftovers hamburgers I could have sworn I saw in the back. I was moving random useless shit like lettuce and cucumbers out of the way in search of real food when horsefeatures opened his damn muzzle.

"How was your afternoon Lachie?"

Now, I have this pet hate with shortened names. My name is Lachlan, it's not that hard, even for a 'Jake'. It was probably the only thing that might have made me abandon the search for food right then.

I turned to face the big lump with a wide shiteating grin on my muzzle and rolled my eyes.

"I dunno, how's your afternoon Jakey Wakey?"

I saw his ears go bolt upright, and his eyes sparkled again.

"What did you call me mate?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were deaf as well as being as dumb as that block of granite you're fondling, I said, how's your afternoon Jakey Wakey...umpf!"

He stepped forward what looked like only one step on those overgrown legs and gripped me by the collar of my polo. Suddenly the weed buzz kind of dropped away, though some parts remained and got even more intense. Like the one that had caused a wicked hummer in my shorts.

He placed his muzzle right against mine and I found I was staring into two wide blue pools of equine anger, still tinged with that unknowable sparkle. I could feel his breath on my fur, and found I couldn't help gulp a couple of times as I tried to get my brain into gear.

"You know, you really are an overprivileged little shit Lachlan..."

I managed to locate some spunk, though it didn't do me much good and it didn't come with a lot of common sense.

"Well you are just a dumb stupid horse and you can't do that to me anyway and....ahhhhhhhh!"

His muzzle curled into a smile, just as his free hand found my crotch. Even missing a couple of fingers, it still felt amazing cupping my sheath through the fabric of my cargo shorts. He gave a little stroke and I lay my head back and moaned.

"Time for some long overdue attitude adjustment Lachie."

"Wait!"

"I've seen you looking at me, I know you want it. Looks like your lucky day foxy."

Holy shit. It looked like mum's efforts were in vain..

He let go of my collar long enough to let me drop to my hindpaws, but it was only a brief respite. Instead he slid a hand under my shirt and ruffled my chestfur before gripping my left nipple between his fingerhoofs and twisting hard.

I tried to cry out, but instead I got a muzzle full of stallion tongue and found it hard enough just breathing as he tonguefucked my throat and his hand slid down my belly and under the waistband of my shorts.

He gave a little amused whinny as his fingers clamped on my hard cock, and I found I couldn't help blushing a little.

"My my...what does the fox say..."

"Fuck you!"

"Oh no, not me little foxy..."

He ripped off my shirt and flung it across the kitchen. My shorts weren't long in joining them, and I ground shamelessly against his thigh trying to rub my knot on his muscles. Jake was in charge though, and he wasn't about to let me have it my way.

He gripped me by the scruff of my neck, and sudden l found myself bend over the kitchen bench. His hand pressed my muzzle to the shiny black granite, and I twisted my head to look back in fear and need. Mostly need, I think.

His twinkle was there and now it was burning with heat. And amusement...

"Fuck I wanted this the whole time I've been here little foxy. I wondered if you would ever get up the guts to try something..."

The moral of this story I guess. If I had bitten back my displeasure I could have been getting hard stallion action the last five weeks. I would have wept for the lost opportunity but for the fact I was too busy moaning like a bitch in heat to cry.

Crying may not be long delayed though.

"Oh..."

His free hand roamed over my body while he kept me pinioned to the bench by my neck. Down my back, fondling my tail. He nickered in amused delight as he played with it, rubbing up and down like he was masturbating it. I didn't mind, but preferred him masturbating something else.

Then he stroked lower. I lifted my tail like a total bottom slut inviting anything and everything, and he took his time. Fingerhoofs slid over my taint, tickled the underside of my balls, then gripped my sheath and pulled back sliding the skin to expose my knot. He jacked it back and forward, rubbing my musk slicked sheath over that swollen sphere and back again, over and over until I was drooling on mum's precious bench. Then his fingers slid up again and he touched my tailhole.

I yelped as he thrust in roughly. His fingers were way too thick, and I was way too tight. It was then that the fuzzy weed cloud sort of drifted away and I was confronted by the thought of my poor tailhole struggling to take a horsecock.

"P...please..."

He grunted and patted my head.

"Yeah, guess you need some help."

He reached out and opened the fridge. I stayed prone over the bench like a good sub. No sense pissing him off...or denying myself the delights of horsecock, though I had no idea what he had in mind for lube.

My eyes widened as I saw him finally pull something out of the fridge.

"Might have to make do..."

He opened the tub of margarine. Extra light for my health conscious mum ...I prayed it would do the job. His thick digits played in the yellow oily mass before he held his injured hand before my eyes and I saw the liberal covering of non-dairy spread making the fingers glisten.

"Lick..."

Fuck it tasted good. The fingers withdrew soon though, and suddenly I felt them somewhere else.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh..."

Two fingers straight in. Thick horse fingers, right to the knuckle as I yelped and writhed and he held me down again with a crushing weight on the nape of my neck. Then he began to tease, rubbing, spreading his fingers wider, stroking the walls of my ass and coating it with margarine while his two finger stubs teased the back of my scrotum.

When he pulled them out I felt bereft, empty. My asslips winked begging for some filling. I closed my eyes, while my ears picked up all the sounds that told me what I needed to know. First the sound of a heavy workbelt and shorts dropping to the floor. Then the squelching, slick sounds of something being smeared all over a swollen cock, the familiar sounds from my own marathon late night jack-off sessions with a tube of mum's baby oil.

The hand returned, now clamped over my muzzle. I opened as wide as I could, suckling the fingers into my maw and tasting the margarine. Not bad, for extra light...

"Now try not to alarm the neighbours Lachie Wachie..."

I bit down on his fingers out of spite. Then I bit down out of pain as the thick flare punched its way under my tail and spread my poor ass pucker terribly wide. I begged him to take it easy, whimpering into his hand, but he kept up a slow steady pressure and then rocked his hips gently back and forward until an eternity later I felt the kiss of his heavier balls on my furry taint and sack, and his flare bottomed out deep in my guts.

He bent over me then, and kissed the top of my head between my ears.

"See...handling wood is a useful skill Lachie..."

I had to admit he had a point.

After a few minutes of gentle thrusting he sped up and pounded his hips into my ass. I felt my body pressed hard against the unyielding bench on each new penetration, the slam of his body pushing the air out of my lungs, only to return in a shuddering gasp as he pulled back. My cock was leaking over the side of the bench, the tip rubbing painfully on artificially distressed oak each time. I was close, but not. My balls ached.

To his credit, he seemed to realise. Suddenly, I felt my ass emptied as he pulled out and I collapsed against the bench. Not for long though, as he suddenly bent down and gripped me by the ankles. I was pulled up bodily, with obscene ease. Damn horses and their strength. I had a brief glimpse of a grinning muzzle before he twisted his arms and I found myself rotating until I was lying back on the benchtop with my legs up. He hooked them over his shoulders, and reached down to guide himself into my perfectly placed ass.

All the way in one long thrust. It felt incredible this time, and I could look down and watch that impossible length disappear into my tailhole until his pubes nestled against my groin.

His injured hand reached for my cock this time, gripping gently as he played with my shaft.

"Now, are you going to cum for me like a good little vixen?"

How could I deny him?

As he began to fuck me harder. His head leaned back with his eyes scrunched up and his muzzle clenched and his tongue out curled like it was when he concentrated. Normally it looked stupid, but now it was incredibly hot. He was putting his all into fucking me, just as he put his all into everything he did. I had a new appreciation for perfectionists; while lazy was my raison d'etre, perfectionism in the sack was to be applauded. Now I just needed to find some...

I felt it then, the build in my balls. Weed tended to make it near impossible for me to cum, but the effect of a foot of horsecock plundering my ass and that hand jacking my cock was too much, as was the sight of a muscled stallion with his work shirt drenched in sweat and his mane swinging and tail twitching as he fought back his own orgasm. My hindpaws clurled over his shoulders, my balls clenched, then my ass, and he whinnied as he felt me grip him tighter and then the spasms started and I felt the rush in the base of my cock near my knot.

I screamed. He whinnied. My load shot like a cannon, spraying past my head and onto the granite, coating my headfur on the way. I felt the burning heat in my ass as his load filled me to the brim, and the sticky feel of it leaking past his still swollen cock and over the base of my tail as his last few thrusts came to a shuddering halt and he opened his eyes and gave me a grin while I reached up to push his sweat drenched forelock away from his eyes.

I did kind of like the look in his eyes.

"Ohhhhh Jake! Jake? My spin class was cancelled, so I thought I would come back and show you my new workout top. Do you think it makes my breasts look bigger? Jake?....Jake!"

We both turned to see my mum in the doorway. She was decked out in lycra, her pert breasts even more prominent than usual, and a cloud of scent wafted through the room and made my nose twitch. She had stallion on her mind it seemed.

Her expression was priceless, though I was a bit hurt. From her looks, I couldn't tell which she was more shocked by, the defiling of her son, or her granite benchtop. Judging by the way she gasped seeing the perfect lines of my cum streaked past my head, white against the black, I had to go with the benchtop.

Unfortunately that was the last time I saw Jake. I blame the stallion, of course. He really was insufferable, even mum could see it after that.

Still, I did have to thank him for a few things. For example, my mates have no idea why, but when I get in the mood and have some weed, I can't resist heading for the fridge and a large tub of margarine. Just one taste and it all comes back, and I have to head for some quality time.

Mum saw me do it once, just stick a finger into the tub and suckle it in my muzzle while the feel of Jake's horsecock filled my ass. She yelled at me, of course, and then her curiosity got the better of her.

"Why the hell are you doing that anyway honey? I didn't think you even liked margarine?"

I had to give her a wink, just like the stallion did to me.

"I dunno...I just can't believe it's not butter..."