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Been a while since I wrote a centaur gal and a feral stallion havin' fun. Reckon it's time I fixed that...

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“All right now, git out there and work them biscuits off!”

Every morning ‘cept for Sunday! I swear, sometimes I feel like skipping breakfast just so momma couldn’t use her favorite line, but who can walk past a platter full of hot biscuits and not dig in? Not a healthy young mare, that’s for sure. Or a stallion. Pa certainly puts them away as much as me and Anna-Mae, ‘cept this morning he was going to the cattle market to sell off those two fillies. Didn’t take long to break in, but even when it comes to mustangs, the girls are always quicker to see sense. Pa once said it was because with them it’s always one head doing the thinking, which he thought he said out of my earshot. Momma was always on him to be mindful of the fact he’d been blessed with daughters, but we do stallions’ work so I don’t think it should matter.

Most hooved gals like us do, at least by human standards. There’s a sayin’ ‘round these parts - Mares don’t wear bonnets! And sure as sunshine I was pushing a stetson down on my blonde mane as I trotted out into the yard. Damn if it wasn’t a fine morning - the dew still heavy on the grass even though the sun was fully out and was promising a nice warm one. Nice and open space all ‘round too. The town was a swell place to visit, but I don’t rightly see how humans can live over there. Then again they are on the small side, so maybe it works out for them? Won’t catch good honest centaurs living in those crates they call houses, an’ don’t get me started climbing all those teeny-tiny stairs!

“Peggy, wait up!” Anna-Mae called out, covering her ginger braids with her hat before trotting up to me. “What are you gonna do today?”

“Promised Pa I’d try to knock some sense into Slapper…” I said, referrin’ to the new stallion we got in. Real young one too, and a fine animal. Had his share of mares, enough to make him confident, but still as much a hot-head as any colt.

“Good, I wanna help!”

“I got it covered, Anna-Mae. I need you to let the mares out to graze. You know he’s not gonna pay me no mind if he’s got his gals to look at.”

“Well couldn’t you take them out? I’m not a filly anymore, I can break in a stallion too, if you or Pa’d let me!” she pouted. And she was right - her eighteenth had gone by a month ago, but she was still acting like a filly, and momma was no help - coddling her freckle-faced little Anna-Mae. Just ‘cause I take a little more after Pa’s side don’t make me any less her daughter, but at my sister’s age I was a little more ornery, enough to learn how to tame mustang stallions.

“You wanna make yourself useful? Go see if ma needs some help…” I tossed back.

“She went into town too. Can I at least watch?”

“All right, but stay out of my mane. I can’t work if I need to keep one eye on Slapper and the other on you…” I said, being a little ornery again, but it was a good mood for workin’ with stallions. At least for our kind.

Humans had to resort to horrible things, like beating the animals or even gelding them. Ain't that a damn shame - you get your hands on a fine beast and you snip his chances of ever being a sire. Pa says that they do that because horses just don’t respect humans without fear. I guess I can see that. Hell, a human makes about as much noise running as a dog does! Now my lower body may be about the size of a pony or burro, but I still stand tall and can kick up a helluva lot of dust when I gallop. Horses respect that, even the wild ones. We’re half-horse and half-human so I guess it makes sense we’re the go-betweens. That’s why everyone knows to buy from centaurs - we sell good, healthy and well-behaved animals, either for saddlin’ or pulling wagons or ploughs. Slapper was gonna bring in a good price - the sonnuvamare looked fast, had a great glossy coat, but needed to be taught who was in charge.

“Why’d Pa name him Slapper anyway?”

“Cause he needs a slap on the rump to get his attention…” I lied. My lil’ sister wasn’t ignorant about where foals came from, living on a ranch and all, but she was still a little too sheltered. Truth was that Slapper got his name because of his favorite pastime, which consisted of flexing his cock and smacking the damn thing against his belly until he slung his spunk.

Sure ‘nough I could find his stall by sound. Well, that and scent, since he was the only stallion we had in the stable right now. A fact that Slapper knew and it only served to make him… cocky. He did have an impressive length swingin’, but I’m no filly and it would take more than some colt just turned stallion to impress me. If anything it only got me thinking of Jacob.

“Now there’s a stallion, you lewd sunnova mare. Out there on the trail, driving cattle, making money so me an’ him can get a place of our own and start workin’ on some foals.” I insisted, fitting the young stallion’s harness and clipping on a lead. If I were being honest, Jacob had something he liked to show off as much as Slapper liked to show his pecker. Got it just a few months ago - a brand spankin’ new Smith & Wesson - and to see him twirlin’ it you’d think he sees himself as the next Jeremiah Colt. Still, he’s bound to grow up once I present him with his firstborn foal.

Dang, I gotta stop that. But it’s one of those days, I guess, nature sendin’ signals and all that. Good thing Jacob wasn’t here, since until we get us a nice homestead to call our own, I can’t let him mount when my body really wants him to. And having this degenerate slapping his junk around me probably ain't helpin’. Well Slapper, time to boss some manners into you. I unclipped his lead as I led him into the coral, just the two of us. I gave him his head and watched him prance around like he was God’s gift to mares.

Once he had his fun, I started trotting alongside him, up close and personal like. Matching his speed and being none too polite as I jostled him towards the fence. He tried to play coy, but I knew Pa ran him through this, and it didn’t take long until he was going in circles, keeping close to the fence even after I stepped away a little. Had to admit, he was a fine figure of a stallion, trotting around in the mornin’ sun like that.

“Peggy! Lemme show you what I…”

“Anna-Mae, you git out of the coral while I’ve got a stallion in here! I can’t keep eyes on both you and Slapper!” I said, watching my sister secure one end of a lasso to a post in the center of the coral and grab hold of the loop.

“But I’ve been practicin’! Come on, if you just…”

“Anna-Mae, not another word! You git your flank on the other side of that fence or so help me…” I began but Slapper’s snort cut me off and I turned to face him. Just him being surly and wanting attention, but he did take my eyes off my sis. I saw the shadow of the rope ahead of me but before I could do anything it was already around my arms, being pulled tight by a filly whooping in triumph.

“Gotter in one!” Anna Mae brayed, prancin’ happily as I turned around to face he with my arms pinned to my sides.

“Anna Mae, you git your buns here this instant and untie me, or I swear to God above I’ll take a bullwhip to your flanks!” I insisted, but the damn fool girl just kept on prancin’.

“Can’t you git yourself out? You bein’ so much better at ropes and such?” she taunted, crossing her arms across her chest.

“I coulda, if you’d tied a proper lasso. What were you thinking girl, the noose is too dang tight! If you get this ‘round someone’s neck you’ll wind up killin’ them! You wanna be a cowgirl or a hangman?” I said.

The trick with a lasso was that it only tightens when you pull it tight. Otherwise, it just goes slack and harmless. Teaches the animal to behave – you act the fool and try to tug free, it’ll choke ya, but if you calm down it’s just a necklace. What Anna Mae tied wasn’t the knot you used for horses, it was the one you used for horse thieves! A good one too – try as I might I couldn’t pull even one arm loose.

“Fine! Then I’ll just come and get my big brave bronco-bustin’ sister out of trouble, will I?” she said, her tail swishing behind her as she trotted over.

To slow and too smug, cause Slapper was already between us. You know one of those days when a bunch of small things pile up and make a big problem? Like entering heat, havin’ to deal with a problem stallion, and a younger sister who won’t do what she’s told? Well, we had ourselves a big problem now, and it was swingin’ between Slapper’s hindlegs. Anna Mae had a chance to bluff her way past him, but the moment she saw what ol’ Slapper was packing an’ shown off she froze. And you don’t show fear around a sonnuvamare like this one. The palomino pervert snorted, shook his mane and pawed the dirt, and Anna Mea felt for it, taking a step back cause she didn’t know you don’t give a stallion like Slapper so much as an inch.

“Anna Mae, now you listen to me – you git your ass on the other side of that fence or I’ll kick your keister so hard people will think you’ve been branded with a horseshoe!” I said, and for once my lil’ sis obeyed. I only wish to god she’d done that before throwing this god-damned rope. Ol’ slapper loved that! He’d just got a chance to show off in front of a mare in heat, sure to make her heart flutter. Except I ain’t no god-danged horse! The stud was trotting around me now, showin’ off, but I knew for a fact he’d turn his mind to courtin’ soon enough.

“Anna Mae, go run down to Holsen ranch, see if there’s anyone there that can help.” I said in a calm and steady tone.

“But… I can’t leave you in there with… him…” she stammered, goin’ all red in the face just cause Slapper’s tally-whacker was still swingin’.

“Not another word outta you! I’ll be fine, so go on and git!” I said, and heaved a sigh when my lil’ sister actually got to trotting. I wasn’t going to be fine, and I knew it. One look at Slapper showin’ how he got his name was enough to make that clear. Odds are that by the time she came back I’ll be an expecting dam, and if I hadn’t gotten the fool girl out of the corral, Slapper would have probably gotten her too. Truth was, I wanted her outta here so she wouldn’t watch while it was goin’ on…

“Slapper! You git your sorry ass back in that stable!” I shouted, trying to sound as if I could drag him in there easy as pie but just couldn’t be bothered.

It might have worked too – I saw his ears prick up, but then I saw his nostrils flare. His ears were telling him one thing and his nose was telling him something else, and when I saw his teeth flash when he curled his upper lip to get a really good sniff, I knew which advice the sonnuvamare was gonna take. Sure as shootin’, I was talking like a centaur stallion, but I reeked like a mare in heat. My arms weren’t doing anything – not grabbing at his harness, pulling on his lead… not even giving him a wallop with my hat. I was just standin’ there, winking and reeking of heat. Don’t matter to the likes of him if I’m a centaur mare, a horse or a donkey, we all smell as sweet as molasses to a stud like him.

Slap!

I gasped as the meaty sound rang out, knowing even before I looked under his barrel that Slapper had decided I wanted what he was packing. His pecker, his seed, his foal. He took another long drag of my scent, and I heard another slap of horsecock hitting horse-belly. When he approached me he was cautious but confident, his massive member swinging left and right underneath him. Hard not to be confident when you got that, I suppose.

When he got close I danced away from him, my smaller hooves kicking up dust as I tried to posture all aggressive-like. Maybe he’d figure a skittish mare’s more trouble than she’s worth. Heck, a stallion could wind up maimed or worse if his partner decided she’d rather give him a hoof instead of taking his spunk. And I could do it, but I knew that deep down I didn’t have the heart to hurt him like that. He didn’t want to harm me, after all.

Slap!

But he was gonna get me into a world of trouble! He’s big, bigger than my Jacob, and he wasn’t goin’ to be no gentlecolt either. If he got on me, that thing would batter me with as much force as those haunches of his could provide – a hard rutting, an ungodly mess and a foal. A feral one, always. Not like it hasn’t happened, and not like mares without much in the way of money hadn’t resorted to jumping fences at night, sneaking into a prize studs stall. Horse mares don’t own their foals, but if a gal was desperate and she picked a good sire, she could get a good price for a foal that would be no different than one a feral mare would throw.

Slap!

He wasn’t buying it. He’s no doubt had skittish mares. Out there in the wild there’s no one who’d hobble a potential dam to make sure he could mount her safely. He snorted and shook his head, letting me know he was there and that he was interested. As if his pecker was too subtle. I raised a hindleg, he backed off a step but the moment it went down there he was again. I felt him huffing at my rump before the first bite – real dainty, like he was a gentleman kissing my hand. That’s how sunnovamares like him start – sweet as molasses until they’re on your back and you’ve run out of all options but one.

He kept nibbling down my left leg, right to my hock and then back up. I danced away again, but he followed. I swished my tail to shoo him away but just wound up stirring up my scent and exposing my winking marehood. I found myself wishing he’d just giddiyup and get it over with, but he was being pedantic, teasing me like a feral mare and with the same goal. I felt my cheek burnin’ and made sure no one was around when I heaved a sigh and let go.

I looked dead ahead as my stream hit the dirt behind me, knowing that Slapper would be taking an interest. This was the last thing he needed to do – make sure his mare tinkled before he mounted, otherwise him pushing in would set her off and make things awkward. Once I was empty I knew he’d waste no time fillin’ me. Sure as sunshine, I felt him rest his chin on my rump for a few breaths and then he leaped up. It all happened in an instant – his teeth finding my braid, his forelegs wrapping around me until I could feel his hooves on my teats, and that thick meaty cock making an ungodly mess as it stabbed wildly at my rump.

My breath was comin’ in awful hard as I braced myself. I couldn’t avoid a ruttin’, couldn’t avoid having Slapper’s foal, but I reckoned I could avoid a twisted ankle. I felt Slapper’s flare jab at my haunches, wet heat soaking into fur as his back flexed and he tried to find his mark. He missed it completely when his pecker slid too low and rubbed between my teats, but smooth skin meant he was close. A stallion’s pride and joy is too damn long and too damn heavy to just stand still, but there was a trick. The same muscles that Slapper used to beat his meat against his barrel would make the damn thing snap to attention, level to the ground and braced just like a God-darned lance. That’s what happened – a flex, a prod against my privates, a wink and…

“AaaaauuuugghhhHHhh! Sonnuva… whore!” I said, a little too distracted from being mindful of my language by the stallion sheathing himself into me.

He gripped me hard, danced around to bring his hindlegs flush to mine and incidentally burry every last inch he could in my sore marehood. It would have hurt worse if I hadn’t been in heat and it was mighty sore now. But things were messy back there, some of it my own and some of it Slappers. I didn’t want the pecker-head, but I wasn’t dry, that’s for Goddamned sure! He’d gotten the whole thing as deep as it was gonna get but he was still trying to stuff more in. I could actually feel his member bend inside me before he decided it was time to start makin’ foals.

“Auughh! Ungghh… aaaaAAauuuugghhh!”

I was tryin’ not to make noise ‘cause I dang well didn’t want anyone comin’ over and seein’ me like this, but it’s hard to stay quiet while someone’s punchin’ you from the inside. God almighty, why do feral mares put up with this? I was in full-blown heat and things back there were as wet and loose as they could get, but taking Slapper was an ordeal. Losin’ my cherry didn’t hurt as bad as this, and that wasn’t no picnic, let me tell you!

I must have been gripping him too tight ‘cause I know how a stallion moves on top of a mare and I still wasn’t getting the long merciless strokes that I was bracing for. I could feel my insides straining around more than they were ever meant to take, delivered none too gently by a half-wild mustang. But take it was all I could do now, cause Slapper was a heavy sonnuvamare and had a good grip on me, even firmer than my grip on him. As he tried to rut me proper I could feel the burning ease into a throb, or maybe that was just him throbbing inside me.

When he managed to slide a foot or so out with a long wet noise I braced myself and still wound up crying out like a filly getting her haunches smacked with a switch. He punched into me, knocking the wind right outta my chest as he bucked in with everything he had. I tried to brace for the second one, but it damn near knocked me over, and I think it might have been Slapper’s grip on my haunches that was helping keep me up.

My cries didn’t melt his heart, and he showed me no mercy, putting me in my place as he worked to put a foal into me. I felt my cheeks burn as I winked around him, ‘cause I sure didn’t want him on my back no matter what my privates were signalin’. As far as slapper was concerned, that just meant I needed what he had, and with every plunge into my messy folds he was workin’ to deliver. I managed to time my exhales to his thrusts so that at least I could catch my breath, counting every one because I knew for a fact this ordeal wouldn’t last long.

I was proven right when he began to flare, growing mighty big deep inside me to make sure his seed went here it needed to and where I didn’t want it. He pushed in deep enough for his pecker to bend and for the tip in the middle of the flare t kiss the right spot and then I felt it. Slapper was right ‘cause the first rope of his spunk shot out so hard I felt it like a hot wet slap. The other one too and then it was just like bloating until something in me gave way and the flood pushed in deeper. My breath was suddenly ragged as revelation sunk in along with horse seed.

Jacob had finished inside me often enough, but only when I wasn’t in season. It felt mighty different now that I was, it felt intense and I found myself hating the sonnuvamare for being the first one to make me feel like this. I looked over a shoulder and glared at him bit he didn’t care none. He didn’t mind his mare poutin’ if she raised her tail and didn’t make trouble. And I didn’t, did I? I stood there and presented and let a god-damned horse break me in like a filly in her first heat.

Slapper wasn’t a romantic and he knew when his job was done. His shaft was still hard when he slid off and outta me, the flare making me wince as it tugged on my lips before popping out. There was a gush of warm seed and then the cool sensation of a mornin’ breeze reaching places it couldn’t normally reach even when I winked. The sunnovamare stretched me out good ‘n’ proper, the tool that’d done the job now dangling between his hindlegs as white spunk drooled between mine.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw how much had splattered on the ground, with this load still trickling outta my gaped cunny and runnin’ down my teats, makin’ it look like I was already making milk for his foal. I shoulda felt violated, being taken like a beast by a beast, but all I could think of was how we’d need to up the asking price when selling this stud. I suppose it was easier to think of the mares he’d breed down the line than the one he’d just covered.

I stepped away from the puddle that was taking its time to soak into the hard-packed dirt as if I could pretend that I didn’t help him make that mess. I also squeezed down with my muscles back there, trying to flush out as much of his load. Not that it would help, not with me being in heat, but it just felt humiliating to be standin’ there while he watched me drip his spunk.

Now I don’t rightly know what was going through Slapper’s mind. Did he think he hadn’t done the job right, or did he think I was making room for more? But sure as shootin’ the moment I pushed out everything that wasn’t sloshing around in my womb, there he goes again, teasin and niblin. And he meant business to…

Slap!

The sound was real meaty now with his once again hard pecker covered in both his mess and mine, the smack of cock on horse leaving a wet mark on the underside of the snorting stud. I looked at him in disbelief, but managed to brace myself in time not to stumble and fall as the randy bastard heaved himself onto me. I wish to God I could at least stop winkin’ but if I couldn’t do it the first time I damn well couldn’t do it now that I’ve felt a stud without feelin’ release. I looked around, and there was still no sight of Anna Mae rushing back with help.

I looked dead ahead and kept my hooves to the ground as Slapper poked a few times before sinking in. He was no more gentle than the last time, but I was loose and a mess and God help me I was eager. The ruffian caught my braid as if I wasn’t already bound and at his mercy, his hindlegs dancin’ a little closer as he hilted.

I came over all funny like when I felt his flare hit bottom inside me. I was looking over the hills, and the shadows the early mornin’ light cast and I knew for a fact the sight would have taken my breath away even if Slapper’s thrusts hadn’t done it. Dang if it ain’t a beautiful world out there. God’s country… Even if it is Slapper’s, it just feels right bringing a little foal into all this. I suspected it was just my heat messing with my head, but while I had this randy stallion on my back, I was gonna let it. I was going to look at all that beauty, I was going to feel good about bringing life into it and…

“Mnnnnggaaaauuugh!”

So help me God, I was gonna cum. And I wasn’t going to feel guilty about doin’ it, at least not yet. It was Slapper’s second run so he was taking a little longer, and a little was all I needed. My insides were already tinglin’ after the first hard rutting, and even though he wasn’t bein’ any gentler this time ‘round, he’d left me slick and after his first round. I could feel myself winking around his tallywacker, every wink causing me to rub up against him, every vein, every ridge, every hard hot inch of the stud.

I could feel the rim of his flare rubbing around deep and I could feel his ring rubbin’ around shallow, the rough see-saw motions of a stallion workin’ to breed his mare. Being tied up made things more… intense. When it was Jacob mountin’ me and I was close I liked to play with my breasts a little, and even now as I looked down at my freckled bosom and my hard-as-nails nips my fingers were itching to tweak and pinch. The ornery stallion tugged on my braid again, pulling and yankin’ my head up. He was rutting me, fucking me like he had every god-damned right to, like I was put on his earth to take his cock, his load, his foal…

“Come on you sunnova… mnnhhhh… a lil’ m-more… mo… mmmmhhhmmmm!”

I managed to clench my teeth and stifle myself just in time. Fuck me if I didn’t feel like letting out a whinny, like I really was just a feral mare cumming around Slapper’s slapper. The stud didn’t ease up on me even though my legs were all quivering and my marehood was trying to milk him dry.

The sunnovamare didn’t bother stifflin’ himself. He spat out my braid and let loose right near my ears, loud and proud as he pumped his second load into me. I was still up in the clouds when he began sprayin’ and I was lucky that he’d stopped thrusting because at that moment you could have pushed me over with a feather. He snorted behind me as he pumped me full, as full of himself as I was full of him. He must be thinking how he’s got me beat - the strange mare who’d bossed him around now cumming like a happy little filly as she took as much of his spunk as he body could hold. Took his sweet time getting offa me too, making me carry his weight until his pecker shrunk and slithered out. Then he started trotting around me, shaking his mane and just being all insufferable. If this sonuvamare thinks I’m gonna take it easy on him from now on, he’s got another thing coming.

The momma-madness had passed and I sure as sunshine didn’t want or need another go, but with nothing to do and a fertile mare all tied up, Slapper helped himself. Took him a while for run number three, enough to make me cum even though I really didn’t want to. Managed to make a mess again, when I was sure he'd be shooting dust and I was sore enough by now to wince every time I winked. By the time I saw Anna Mae running off with help he’d just barely dismounted, but there was no way I was gonna hide what had happened from my sister and… Zeke Gunderson? Dang, Anna Mae had to run half-way to town to find someone, and with ol’ Zeke’s joints being what they were they couldn’t exactly gallop back.

I flagged my tail so as not to look like a hussy, but he knew what had happened of course. My tail wasn’t quite big enough to hide the mess soaked into my hindlegs right down to my god-darned fetlocks, and there were puddles of stallion spunk all over the place, evidence of more than one mountin’. But he did me the kindness of pretendin’ he didn’t see nothin’ as he let Slapper away. Once the stallion was gone, Anna Mae stepped in to loosen her god-damned noose, and strike me down if there weren’t tears in her eyes and a wobble to her lips, and her even not having watched me get covered!

Well, at least I’m sure she’ll never pester me to let her work with any of the stallions…