Stable Yard Studs

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

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“There you go, girl, in you go.”

Madoc stepped back, allowing his grey mare to settle herself back in her stable. They’d only just returned from a clinic and the drive had been long enough, twilight settling over the outdoor stable yard with the first glimmers of stars sparking to life in the sky. There would have been more if there had not been a grey sweep of clouds sullying the otherwise clear night, heralding warmer times, even if that night was crisp and clear.

The mare glanced back at him, but otherwise was content to settle to her hay, dressed only in a light rug that would do for the night. Other horses shifted in their stabled around them, though the Warlander equine anthro left them to it, stifling a yawn. The day had gotten on without him, though he was still glad that he’d gone to the clinic, even if it had been quite draining and his mane still had a knot in it that he hadn’t found the time to even comb out with his fingers.

His legs ached from the riding session, though he felt that he’d learned a lot, the stable already set up for his horse as Madoc left her to it. She’d done more than enough for him that day and, with a final, soft farewell, Madoc shifted back off down the stable yard, thinking of a hot meal and a beer, perhaps, to round off the day. His back ached terribly with a twinge of pain from all the driving and he groaned, arching his back as he passed the tack room at the end of the block of stables, pushing his hands into his lower back.

“Unff… Sheesh…”

“Something got you sore there?”

Madoc nearly jumped out of his skin, his throat squeaking in a whinny as his nostrils fluttered before he could even stop himself. Heart pounding, he gasped and whipped around, though he needn’t have been so jumpy in the quiet solitude of the stable yard in the evening, for the stallion anthro standing there, smirking a little,

“I didn’t think you were still that jumpy… You know I’m not actually trying to scare you.”

Madoc let out a breath, suppressing a roll of his eyes the best he could.

“Oh, hey, Ametrine.”

The chestnut stallion with a white diamond on his forehead was larger than him and taller too, though not by much, even if he had something of a looming presence to him, taking up more space than he actually did. It made Madoc feel smaller than he was, though the chestnut stallion had a way about sneaking up in places where he was not expected. Or maybe it was just that he was around the yard so much working with his own horses, even if no one seemed to know all that much about what he did with his private life outside the yard. Madoc supposed it was none of his business.

Ametrine grinned, stepping back into the tack room, flicking the light on.

“Hey. How’s the clinic?”

“Pretty good,” Madoc said with a shrug. “Got a lot to think about, but it’s a long day when you just do one, you know.”

“Yeah,” Ametrine chuckled, moving into the tack room, a little chilly, ruffling the base of his mane. “You want a cup of coffee? Was just going to make one. Before heading back, I mean.”

Madoc raised an eyebrow.

“What, at this time?”

Ametrine shrugged.

“I can sleep through anything, doesn’t matter when I have a coffee,” he chuckled. “But it’s easier to get the rest of the things done in the evening that I need to if I’m a bit, uh, perkier. Yeah… Something like that…”

Madoc would have pressed, but it seemed like he was getting a cup of coffee anyway. The kettle bubbled, rumbling with heat as it reached the boil, and the horses watched it attentively, Ametrine sitting back in a hard-backed chair, pouring a cup each of coffee that, really, was only drunk out of necessity. It most certainly was not what Madoc would have usually gone for, but both the company and the view made it worth it.

He’d been watching Ametrine out of the corner of his eyes for some weeks, since the horse had appeared on the yard, quietly getting on with his training, his work, all as if it was predetermined that it was going to take place. He moved around others with a fluid grace that did not quite match up with his height, but as if he was carefully deliberate of his own strength at all times. The horse drew attention without even meaning to, half the time, but Madoc’s eyes followed him, how easily he hefted bales of hay around, unloading most of the trailer himself when some others were still struggling with a few. He did not go down to a T-shirt often, but the pull and ripple of muscle under his clothes was evident even in the colder months. Madoc would not have istanbul travesti been shy to admit to himself that he was looking forward to the summer months and seeing a little more of the equine’s chestnut hide.

The closeness, however, sitting on chairs side by side, conversation flowing moderately between them as they sipped bad coffee, was not something that he had expected. He got on with Ametrine well enough, but he was a stallion who was so often so busy that he couldn’t stop to talk. Not that Madoc was usually the chatty sort, though it was oddly fascinating how Ametrine was able to get him to open up, to talk a little more, even when he thought he should have been getting on home.

Maybe, even then, he was wanting more. Maybe he was just glad to sit down, to rest his legs for a little while, or perhaps it was something else entirely. All he knew was that they shifted closer and closer, laughing at some bad joke that was not really all that funny, Ametrine buckled over and wiping tears from his eyes.

It was the coming together of a moment that, truly, had been months in the making, Madoc leaning back, nursing his nearly finished coffee and wondering if he should put the kettle back on for some tea. Did Ametrine like tea? He always had a flask in his hand, pretty much, but that could have been anything and, based on his drinking preferences that were so far known, was most likely coffee.

But that was no matter. He flicked the kettle on anyway as Ametrine’s eyes followed the path of his hand.

“Something says you’re not ready to go yet,” the red stallion teased, sitting back and rubbing his chin. “Though you don’t have to stay, mind, just shooting the shit before heading on.”

“Oh.” Madoc paused, though the kettle was already boiling, as if it was highlighting that tension between them, how it thrummed, nearly visibly, in the air between them. “Yeah… Ah, I always end up drinking cups of tea at home, pretty normal for me…heh…”

Not the smoothest thing he’d ever said, though it didn’t seem to matter. The other horse’s gaze was on him, not quite making eye contact but looking at his face, eyes moving from a cheekbone to the spot in the middle of his forehead where his grey forelock had been brushed to the side.

The kettle clicked off, boiled. Neither moved to sort it. Maybe they had both been waiting for a signal, some kind of sign, neither quite knowing what it was that they wanted to do about it. But, alone on the yard, the time to see if something lay there was finally, perhaps, upon them.

The question only remained if one of them was brave enough to take it…

Tension crackled between them, sparking off with hidden heat, legs so close that their knees rested on the edge of brushing. Madoc gulped, heart pounding, his mouth dry. What the hell was happening?

“So…” Their coffee cups were empty, Ametrine’s eyes seeming to take a long time to sweep up to Madoc’s face. “You heading off then?”

Neither would be able to say, not even in the beauty of hindsight, who had moved first, but their lips connected, soft, equine lips folding around one another. They moved together roughly, moaning, a deep, guttural sound, Madoc pressing in, grabbing Ametrine’s arm. And in that moment there was no going back to the rest of the yard, continuing with their evenings the way they had been meant to go before…well… Who cared about that?

The chestnut stallion vibrated lightly with a chuckle that Madoc didn’t want to wait to decipher, pressing in, his tongue flicking up curiously against the other horse’s. Lips parted willingly for their tongues to slip against each other’s within the lust of their muzzles, the soft warmth drawing each of them deeper. But there was a throbbing heat resting a hair’s breadth under the surface too, grunts tangling with moans, hands roaming, pressing down broad chests and firm stomachs, feeling out the tightness of muscle there.

“Damn, you feel good…” Ametrine grunted, breaking the kiss for a moment before crushing them back in place, tongue sweeping tenderly across Madoc’s lower lip. “Unff…”

The grey stallion’s heart pounded, though he didn’t need to do anything other than to let the moment take him along, sweep him away, Ametrine’s hands doing the work for him. He was as docile as a trained horse on the end of a lead rope with him, letting his shirt be opened, the buttons popping free, one by one, his jacket already having been unzipped over the top. It was too easy to slide his arms back a little behind his body, heart leaping, skipping a beat, to let it slide off, along with his shirt, revealing his bare chest.

Ametrine came for him hungrily as Madoc’s arms went around him, pulling him closer as the chestnut stallion nuzzled into his chest, exploring the muscle there, though there was no question that Ametrine was all around larger and broader. It was not a competition, but it did make Madoc’s heart do weird and wonderful thing, a band tightening istanbul travestileri and loosening around his chest with each pulse of desire, head swimming, spinning.

“Oh, fuck…”

He could not help the curse that broke his lips, rolling his hips forward, groaning, a bulge rising there. His shaft pressed from his sheath, aching for attention, though it was not as if he did not take care of his needs when required, though it had been a while indeed since he had had a partner in his bed. Grunting, Madoc’s ears slipped a little submissively, questioningly, to the sides of his head, fingers shaking as they went for the red stallion’s jodhpurs.

Ametrine willingly lifted his hips for him, though it was hard for Madoc to even get his hands into the right place as Ametrine swirled his tongue around each nipple in turn, light and gentle, as if he was testing out just what kind of pressure Madoc liked. If his head had been spinning before, the grey stallion practically floated on hair, his cock aching with a devout pulse that surely spent a dollop of slick pre-cum into his underwear. His clothes probably weren’t going to be on for all that much longer anyway…

But it felt good to have another horse pressed against him again, sliding Ametrine’s jodhpurs down with difficulty, freeing his underwear and the thick bulge of his cock hidden within. They stood together, though it was a clumsy fumble to get each other out of their respective clothes, undressing with a frantic kind of reverence. Neither knew how long the moment would last, whether someone would come back to the yard that later and wonder what the light on in the tack room meant, whether they were doing the right thing. It might have been more like the right thing if they had been home in one of their houses, in bed together, but the crisp bite of cold air set off their skin tingling far better than the warm glow of any radiator.

“Unff… Fuck…”

It was Ametrine’s turn to swear as Madoc took the liberty of the moment to drop to his knees while Ametrine shrugged carelessly out of what remained on his top half, baring his chest. Madoc’s dick was out and hardening, but he ignored it instead of taking the chestnut horse’s cock in hand. Even though Ametrine’s jodhpurs and briefs were still tangled around one fetlock, the other blissfully free, he was bare enough for him to take his pleasure there, nuzzling and lipping playfully at the very tip of the stallion’s cock.

When Ametrine nickered and stomped, Madoc chuckled, pressing on a little, his hands roaming that meaty shaft, taking in how the skin pulled along the length of it, a little wrinkled, though it smoothed out as more blood filled the length. It was probably a good match in size for his when it came to length, yet the girth and weight of Ametrine’s cock was clearly greater, at least to him, Madoc’s tail flagging and lifting in obvious excitement. It may not have been what he had planned to do at the yard that evening (hell, he could even have been in bed by then if he had not stopped to talk with Ametrine) but it was so very much better than that, the heat of their bodies carrying them on.

It was almost second nature to take the horse’s cock into his mouth, feeling out the soft tip, how it would flare in time, though was simply flat and pliant. He sucked down more and more, feeding the fat length along the cradling effect of his tongue, rubbing the underside, feeling the bump of the medial ring as more slid into his mouth. The push of a cock into his throat, just at the back of it, was nothing to Madoc, considering how he swallowed, breathing through his nostrils, his ability to breathe not cut off. It was something that he had had to be quick to reassure non-equine partners of in the past, that he could deepthroat and not worry about needing to breathe, though sometimes thrusting particularly hard could squash the softer part of his nose where there was no bone.

He grunted, nose brushing Ametrine’s crotch, though the other stallion seemed curious about him, smirking and putting his hands back behind his head. With a cocky roll of his hips, he speared the last part of his cock into the grey stallion’s mouth, those velvety lips parting deliciously around him.

“Go on then,” he encouraged, a gleam in his eyes. “Show me what you got then…since you’re so eager to give all.”

That much was true, though Madoc played both ways, a switch who leaned more towards the submissive side. He supposed he was being rather obvious about his more submissive tendencies that evening, but it was easy not to care about things like that when there was a throbbing cock in his mouth, the ache of it making him want more, so much more. He pressed on, bobbing his head, showing off his skills as he’d been asked, though his hands were far from idle in the process.

They moved smoothly, fluidly, caressing the length of cock that was not in his muzzle before he sank, ensuring that Ametrine got as much sensation as possible, travesti istanbul the stallion quivering above him. The horse seemed to have been holding back a moan and Madoc resolved, in that moment, to push him over that edge, to render him so lacking in control of himself that he would neigh like it was his first time all over again as he spent his load. Hopefully straight down Madoc’s throat…

It was a challenge that he did not have to complete and yet one that he set for himself all the same, moaning, grunting, lapping and swirling his tongue around the fattening tip of Ametrine’s dick every time he pulled back. Not a moment was left to waste as he put his tongue and lips to use, even very lightly humming, though that was only brief. He didn’t want the stallion to get used to any single sensation, always keeping him guessing, though it was the smooth slide of his lips and mouth back and forth along the meat of his smooth-skinned grey shaft that was the crème de la crème of it all. Truthfully, Madoc could have only done that and he still would have rocked the stallion’s world, though he wanted to do more.

It was a driving need, an inexplicable twist in the pit of his stomach, yearning and pushing, whimpering softly around the stud’s length. It was inherently submissive to be on his knees and Madoc leaned heavily into it, not wanting anything else, not as pre-cum spilt onto his tongue and he did his best to look up at the stallion as he swallowed.

“Unnff… Fuck, that’s hot.”

Madoc smirked around the length of dick in his muzzle, tilting his head a little to the side, lips caressing, pulling, though he could not tease for so long without riling Ametrine up. The chestnut stallion bucked his hips with a sensual roll, betraying what strength had not yet been shown from his body. He thrust and ground with devout intent, focusing entirely on the stallion who was down on his knees, the grey lightly dappled, though his dapples could only be seen when he was out of his clothes. It wasn’t that Madoc was trying to hide them, only that some parts of himself were quite naturally kept under wraps.

But he was quite comfortable where he was, his skin prickling with anxious heat, needing it, his cock in his hand, stroking, teasing, keeping himself hard even though the stallion thought that he wouldn’t soften all that easily. The moment still sparked with a luxurious kind of attention, grunting around that length, his muzzle bobbing increasingly fervently in a lewd, wet slurp. Above him, Ametrine grunted, though he pressed on even more eagerly, his hands around the stallion’s balls, massaging softly, though a rougher press here and there could not be avoided as things heated up between them.

He drove down, a hand winding furiously into his mane, dragging him there even though he went willingly. Ametrine cursed above him and Madoc stifled his amusement, for he was more turned on at how he was getting the horse off than anything else. Yet his heart surging in that way could not be settled so easily, pounding, his cock aching, even as that monster of a dick throbbed in his mouth. His jaw ached as he took it all down, the grind into his throat making him want to swallow, drooling a little from the corners of his lips.

Yet the flare was coming, plumping out more and more as it scraped deliciously over his tongue, down his throat, Madoc levelling his head and neck out so that it was an easier glide. Ametrine groaned, a deep, masculine sound that reverberated from him into the submissive stallion and Madoc held himself still as his muzzle was fucked harder, more ruthlessly, the very beginnings of the chestnut stallion coming apart on the air.

Yet he unravelled beautifully in a gleam of easy dominance, so smooth that it came quite naturally to him, the horse grinding, slamming in, the rough twist of his fingers into Madoc’s mane dragging him into place. It only took a few more slams until the equine whinnied in triumph, his tail flagging while Madoc opened his mouth as wide as he could for the deluge that was to come.

If Ametrine said anything, he didn’t catch it, not as his throat worked around the thick length of stallion meat, milking and caressing it, though it was a tease at best, something erratic that he could not quite control. There was no discipline or rhythm to the massage of his throat, but he groaned in delight as a load of cum disappeared straight down it. He felt it slipping there, pushed to his belly with every gulp he made, his tail flicking back and forth, hairs sweeping over the bare floorboards of the tack room, the smell of leather heavy in the air. The forgotten kettle was likely cooling, but Madoc could have laughed at the thought that they had ever been planning to go for a second coffee or a tea.

It didn’t seem important anymore, not as he took a hot load of cum down his throat, eyes half-lidded, slipping softly into that deeper sense of submission, the world around him wavering faintly as if he was not truly present. All that mattered was sensation, desire, the pulse of his cock and how Ametrine’s hardly softened at all within his mouth as he spent his load.

A little, it softened. No more than that though, not as the horse drew out, a smirk quirking at his lips.