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I knew a guy who owned a farm once. That's really not the kind of connection that just appears out of the blue, so I'll provide some background: we went to high school together and were both in orchestra - me because I actually enjoyed playing an instrument, and him because he needed the fine arts credit in order to graduate. He was your average outdoorsman, you know the type: bit of an accent, short hair, stocky build, wears cowboy boots to school every day. It'd annoy me if we weren't friends.

His name was Alonso, and even after high school we remained pretty good friends. It was through him that I found an easy way to do all of the things that otherwise would be a bit difficult for someone like me - a gamer, a reader, a writer, a general geek - and my circle of friends to do, such as fishing, camping, and even hunting once or twice. Alonso, a nice stallion guy, inherited his family's farm and has since been having the happiest of lives he could possibly have, and still calls me over every now and then to hang out or meet his family or whatever.

On his farm, I've milked a cow (a feral one), fished in the nearby lake, gone camping in the nearby woods, shot a few deer (feral ones), eaten some of the best goddamn cheese in my life, ridden a horse (a feral one), and... well, ridden a horse. A few times.

Alonso's a horse. He has a thing for small otterboys like me, the one thing that sets him far apart from most other outdoors-types.

But, anyway, one time a while back he invited me over, and we watched a few movies and made some really good stew and just hung out as friends for a while, and he took me out for more horseback riding - the kind with the feral - because I kinda liked it my first few times and wanted to try again. This time he paired me with a large stallion of his, Rocinante by name, brown all over, the color of moist rich soil; a quiet beast and one taller than me at the shoulders, too. I had to step up on a little stepstool to get into his saddle, and having my legs around his body in the stirrups felt like straddling the nice horse who taught me how to hold and shoot a bow...

For a while I had to lean forward against the horn of the saddle in attempts to hide the little tent in my pants, remembering the last time I'd come over and how Alonso had come in after working with the animals, all hot and sweaty, and pushed me down between his legs and said "milk this..."

Anthro horses aren't quite as hung as feral horses (which, at this point in the narration, I don't yet know; that'll come later), but it's still a bit of a load, in more than one sense, to weigh down your shoulder or your tongue. Alonso went on another horse, a gelding maybe even a little bigger than Rocinante somehow, dusky speckled grey like an approaching storm on an overcast day. Of course Alonso had much better control over his mount than I did, but I was feeling a lot better about my riding skill once the sun had dipped below the horizon and shrouded the hilly landscape around the farm in blue-grey shadow.

"C'mon, Lukas," called Alonso from a short distance away - I'd gotten bored of going at a walking pace and had 'given Rocinante a good kick' in attempts to get him to gallop, and succeeded. I could already tell that my thighs would be sore come morning, and it looked like we'd lost track of time; I wouldn't be going home today. I mean, I could, but I don't necessarily enjoy driving in the dark - or driving at all. "It's about time to head back. I guess you're staying here tonight?"

"Yeah," I shouted back, "I was just thinking that. Thanks - I appreciate it."

"Yeah..." He rode up next to me after I'd figured out how to get the huge feral horse to turn around back towards the house (as Alonso's family had a rather nicely-sized house built on the property), and then reached over and patted the beast on his meaty shoulder. "I mean, you've stayed the night before, it's nothin' outta my fur. You know where the shower is, right?"

"I... know where the hose is."

"That'll do." He chuckled. "Seriously, though, there's one on the first floor, in the hallway just to the left of the entryway. Really easy to get to if somethin' gets all over you in the field. You know where the blankets are?"

"I... well, I know where the towels are."

"Eh, it shouldn't matter, anyway." He kicked his horse into moving a little faster. Over the next hill, the lights of the house came into view. "Right down the hall from that bathroom is the guest bedroom; you can sleep there. We always keep that bed made, and I know how you like sleeping with way too many goddamn blankets."

People mention that a lot. What can I say? I've always been like that - and it only got worse since I moved into a place with an Arcanine for a roommate, one who makes for a rather nice pillow as well as satisfies other occasional wants. I'm an otter, I have thick fur... I like warmth, all-over warmth. It's comfy.

After a while, we made it back to the stables a bit of a ways away from the house; Alonso dismounted successfully on his own but had to help me, or else I'd have fallen out of the saddle. I stood by while he tied the horses in, gradually getting used to the general scent of the stables - since you never really think about or realize how much feral horses stink until you're right up close to one. Lined up, three in a row, stood the horse he'd taken today, then Rocinante, and then a donkey, one that I though seemed a little out-of-place amid these elegant steeds and whatever; when I asked what its purpose was, Alonso chuckled and said "oh, yeah, that one's named Sancho's Ass", I guess because he has a family member named Sancho? I don't know. Donkeys don't really interest me.

We talked about plans for tomorrow on the walk back to the house, listening to the crunching of the footpath and feeling the cool moisture of the tall, overgrown grass on our ankles. He opened the front door for me, I thanked him and stepped inside, he led me to my room- and then pinned me to the wall, slid a paw (hand? hoof? I've never really thought about that with horses) into my pants, and said "How about a ride tomorrow?"

I grunted, wriggled a little, licked my lips... Alonso's half-brother was also staying the night, so unfortunately, we couldn't do anything tonight. I'd love to, though, as I'd had the thought of horse cock on my mind all day... "Sure. But only if I get a taste of what I'll be riding first."

"Ah, you know I'll let you have all the tasting you want..." and with that, Alonso squeezed my rump with his other hand, grinned, and left the room, leaving me in the dark with a bit of a half-erection and a want to suck someone off, which... well, really wasn't out of the ordinary for me. Good thing this bed had several blankets - I'd need all of them to wipe off the mess I'd invariably make all over myself when those thoughts got too strong to ignore later in the night.

I stripped down to my underwear, climbed into the bed, and tried to peacefully fall asleep - rather unsuccessfully. Instead of that, I kept on rolling over and over, sliding to the side, adjusting my position, reaching down and grinding against my own paw because my boner just wouldn't go down... and then I had to bite my other paw in attempts to resist pawing off. I really wanted to go upstairs and bury my muzzle between Alonso's legs, but with his half-brother here too and probably some other family members, I wasn't really willing to risk that...

...Although, thinking about it...

Quietly, as quiet as I could, I pulled my jeans back up and left the room, first casting a wary glance down the hallway in either direction before stepping out. My jeans only slightly hid the evidence of my erection, but that didn't worry me too much - with any luck, I wouldn't run into any living creature other than the one I intended to see, down the hall, out the front door, along the dirt-and-gravel pathway, through the door to the stable...

...and then, before I fully know what I'm doing, I was standing there beside Rocinante, who had his head lowered in quietly munching at some food. From here, the horse smelled gently of dirt and sweat, a strangely pleasing scent; I stepped forward and placed a paw midway along his side to feel his pelt, totally different in texture from any other - thick, stiff hair-like fur, firmly oriented in one direction, rooted in just-as-thick strong skin. Easy to separate and draw lines in with your claws, quite difficult to push the wrong direction... would probably be silky-smooth if it weren't so stiff.

Rocinante huffed and pawed at the ground, which meant... something, I'm sure. He seemed a little impatient, almost, as if he knew what I'd come there to do: he moved slowly back and forth, each time bumping and pressing his shoulder against my chest, and then one time even leaned over and chewed on my headfur, resulting in me giggling.

"Hey, you remember me?" I said, still gently brushing his pelt with my claws. "...Of course you do. I was on your back for a good hour or two just earlier today... I dunno how good your sense of smell is, but you probably recognize me by that alone, huh?"

The horse stopped chewing on my headfur and instead started snuffling between my ears, which honestly distracted me a little... the tent in my pants had receded somewhat, but still, the fact of just being there, so close to this feral horse, kept me a little interested, a little excited. It felt only natural to gradually pull away from Rocinante's gentle nuzzlings, to step back further down his body and move one paw, one arm, underneath his chest to his belly, to between his legs...

I had to reach around a little, but stopped when two of my fingers rested over the warm, soft folds of his sheathed cock, at least as wide around as your average water bottle and maybe three-quarters the height. My heart was pounding in my chest, as I'd never done anything of this sort with a feral horse before - but... Rocinante didn't seem to mind. In fact, he stopped pawing at the earth and again pressed his leg against me, as if to say, go ahead.

Of course, I could be totally wrong, but he also didn't seem to mind when I knelt down and crept underneath him, stopping when my muzzle came within a few inches of him - when I could feel the pulsing heat of that shaft, still hidden in warm skin. Anticipation tingled across my whole body and brought back my interest in full force, to the point where I had to unbutton and unzip my pants just to release some of the pressure. Right behind that sheath hung the horse's full sack, heavy and oblong, each individual orb looking like its size was half that of my head's... again before I knew what I was doing, I leaned forward and pressed my nose into the warm, warm bare skin between the base of his cock and the top of his sack, just bathing in the heat and the scent.

It was like... well, like Alonso's musk, but definitely different. Alonso had a strong, rich, masculine scent, very much a male one when I press my nose into his sack; Rocinante's scent, on the other hand, seemed to combine that with dew, and earth, and leather, and... and this odd spice that seemed to only flavor the musk of ferals. I breathed in through my nose, long, deep breaths - it was clear that Alonso spent dear time keeping this horse clean, since not a single fleck of dirt or dried skin or anything came under my nose as I traced my way up Rocinante's sheath, gently rubbing the base with a paw. His wasn't exactly a powerful musk, as it didn't linger on my lips and in my nostrils after I moved away, but... cupping my paw at the end of his sheath, pressing in a little, galvanized the horse into humping forward a little and into bringing out a little bit of his actual length - oh, that brought the scent back, especially as he moved towards my muzzle. I breathed in deeply.

His length had already become hard; it just took a well-placed paw and some forward bucks from Rocinante himself to urge his length out all the way, and... God, it just kept coming. First it came to be the length of my paw, fingers extended; then it slid out longer so it was half my forearm, three-quarters of it, the whole length; and then a little further... throbbing and twitching, feeling for all the world like a bar of steel wrapped in warm, soft velvet. I had to move back a little further because I honestly didn't think, even as a feral horse, he'd be this large - I mean, I'd seen several videos before, but still...

The end of his cock smelled wonderful - like the rest of the area, but a little stronger, a little muskier. I hesitated a little in moving my muzzle towards it, but in the end couldn't resist, and closed the distance between my mouth and the head of his cock, and... dragged my tongue up along it, beside the opening at the end. In response he twitched again, pulling his length up out of my grasp and over my head; I had to pull it back down and continue with more force and eagerness than before, squeezing and rubbing further down towards the ring around his length with my other paw while swirling my tongue around and gently sucking at the end.

God- I could hardly fit him into my mouth, much less past my teeth, but again - I couldn't resist. I'm not that good at deepthroating other people, so I didn't even try with this damn feral horse. I scooted forward, inch by inch, each time drawing his thick length a little bit deeper into my muzzle - a little bit further past my lips, a little bit further over my tongue, stroking him fast and hard with my paw. The skin of his cock felt... loose, almost, in its ease of movement, like... like an uncut cock, a very uncut cock.

Hell...

Rocinante seemed to be enjoying himself. His sack had pulled upwards toward his body, which I remember Alonso mentioning when we saw two of his horses going at it one time - "oh, that means he's into it!"... and then he bucked forward, temporarily choking me and forcing me to pull back off of his length. I'd be perfectly content to give him a helping hand, as I'd seen my non-feral horse friend do before, but... how did he do it?... one paw along the length, one focusing on the end, squeezing and rubbing...

I wish I'd thought to bring my camera, or even my phone... I bet my roommates back home would love to see a few pictures of me with a feral horse's cock between my lips, or a video of him thrusting into my throat. Ah, maybe next time - Rocinante started humping forward faster and more urgently, even dipping down so that his tough belly pressed against the top of my head. That's what led me to believe that I was doing at least somewhat okay in getting him off, which just consisted of me thoroughly massaging the end of his cock where the flesh remained soft and supple, which had started to squirt a clear precum, and at the same time running my other paw along his length, squeezing, stroking, feeling the veins and contours, the heat and firmness - and then, Rocinante snuffled and neighed, and bucked forward a few more times-

-and spurted out his seed, through my fingers and all over my muzzle and chest. The first burst took me by surprise, and combined with Rocinante's cock already having flared widely up, I moved my paw away from his length - which ended up allowing the horse to further unload against my muzzle and chest, like a goddamn firehose of cum... it had a sort of flat taste, one that I didn't quite get a good chance at sampling past licking off my lips due to the more liquid nature of it. Rocinante's length started retreating back into his sheath almost directly after his orgasm, pulling back out of my paw as well as dripping the last of his cum, more viscous now than what had spurted out over me.

I was damn glad that I'd left my shirt back in the room. Sure, much of the cum had splattered onto my jeans and probably soon would dry there - (God, though if it didn't make for an excellent lube, as I reached down and started to paw myself off...) - and the same for the fur of my chest and belly. I only brought one pair of clothes, since again, I hadn't planned to spend the night here. I could just... shower as soon as I made it back into the house...

...or, I could wait. I smelled so richly of horse cum - it absolutely covered me, and, God, that turned me on. I leaned back against one of Rocinante's front legs while I continued to paw off, keeping my eyes on his slightly-less-full sack and soft sheath... I couldn't help but wondering when he'd feel like going at it again, because I'd be more than willing to provide another paw or mouth. Hell, if I'd thought to bring lube, I might even offer my tail - but, without, he'd likely split me apart-

Just as I was coming close to the edge myself, the horse's cock, speckled charcoal and pink in color, again started to drop out of his sheath, as if he knew what I wanted. In fact, I slowed my stroking to a stop - I couldn't tell if it was still-wet horse cum that covered the head of my cock or my own pre - to move forward a little, to reach up and gently lift his cock with my other paw. It wasn't hard like it was before; now it felt like... well, like a limp penis, imagine that. Still it oozed little drops of cum, and - hey, what can I say? - I straightened up onto my knees to lap at it, still pawing off but trying to hold myself off for just a while longer. If only I had been prepared before; I could have position my mouth at the end of his cock just at the right moment so that he spurted out, again and again into my throat, and I'd swallow it down, again and again.

Still eager, still damn turned on, I leaned up and closed my lips around the soft end of his cock, again swirling my tongue around to clean off the rest of his seed - but instead received a blast of hot piss, not as forceful as the first bursts of cum, but... definitely more plentiful. This, too, caught me by surprise, and I ended up swallowing some before moving backwards and again dropping his cock out of my mouth, spluttering and gagging. If I thought my roommates' piss was musky... Rocinante's had a sort of bittersweet taste to it, kinda reminiscent of his cum - and, God, it was so damn hot. This horse either didn't care that he still had me between his legs, or he knew and... well, also knew that I maybe-sorta-kinda enjoyed it. I tried not to swallow any more - I think I've said before, piss gives me a mad stomachache - but I angled myself so that it poured down onto my lips and muzzle, so that it splashed down over my chest and cock. Still I stroked myself slowly, gently, since this was awesome, but - hell, with a feral horse emptying his bladder all over me, there wasn't much I could do. I tried to take my paw away from my own cock, but the very movement itself was enough to push me over the edge: there I sat, kneeling down on the balls of my feet, leaning back while a horse unloaded his piss into my fur and while I bucked upward, panting through clenched teeth (which still let the yellow liquid into my muzzle and onto my tongue), shooting out my own cum into the downpour...

And, then, just as I finished, Rocinante, too, finished, the rush of hot piss diminishing into a stream, and from that into a drip - which I ventured to catch on my tongue, swirl around, spit out - and then into nothing. My nose had already been overloaded by the sharp scent of the piss, and now, it was all I could smell, which... probably also held true for anyone who came within ten feet of me. Maybe I could just borrow a pair of Alonso's pants; mine were damn well ruined, thoroughly soaked through with horse cum, horse piss, otter cum... probably drool and sweat too.

Shaky-legged, I scooted out from underneath Rocinante and stood up, but then had to lean on him for a while to catch my breath. Coulda sworn that he gave an amused snort, so as a response I wiped my face off on his coat. "Damn..." I breathed, and started to zip up my pants. "Does Alonso do this with you?- you seem like... you don't mind having someone between your legs... I know I didn't mind it."

Seriously, though, I'd have to take a long shower - and maybe I could bring my jeans in with me, too, just to get them wet from water instead of piss. On the way back to the house, I started to come up with reasons for why my pants would be wet, just hoping that Alonso hadn't awoken... I don't know how I'd explain myself.

Hey, at least now I know that next time I come over, I'll bring a spare set of clothes, just in case.