FSE

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He was late.

Alexander slouched on the couch, hooves up on the table, watching the television. Some local news person was talking excitedly about a local festival. Or perhaps a recipe book. The bay stallion really wasn't focusing.

On the floor under his legs, Polo sprawled, full and lazy. The big German Shepherd had helped him finish off some rib bones for lunch, and seemed to have gorged himself to satiety for once. Normally he'd be getting excited about his afternoon walk by now, but between the big meal and the hot, still afternoon air, it seemed he'd been conquered. His belly rose and fell in slow, regular, satisfied motions, and apart from the odd squeaky fart, he didn't make a single sound.

The television mumbled on breathlessly.

Alexander lowered one hoof to rub along his pet's side as he checked his watch for the thirtieth time. Still late. He frowned and forced himself to look away. This was stupid. He'd said he'd be there "after two". He didn't say at two exactly_._ It was a long drive. Maybe there was traffic. Maybe he'd gotten a bit lost. Maybe his plane had landed late. He'd call if he got really lost, anyway, and the phone hadn't rung.

The stallion glanced across at the phone on the wall, feeling foolish. He didn't need to do it. He'd used it just this morning to call someone. He didn't need to check it. Only an idiot would check it.

Feeling every inch the idiot, the bay stood up, walking over to the phone and picking it up. A dial tone greeted him, and he listened glumly. The phone still worked, as he'd known it would. Of course. He hadn't needed to check. But he had. Same as he'd checked his watch every few minutes for the last forty-nine minutes, watching the second hand claw it's way along the face, slicing up infinity into easy-to-digest pieces. He'd stared at it so hard -- so intently -- that everything around it had turned a little wavy and indistinct, and the clock's hand stood out like a proud scar, a barrier, a thing to be overcome. Forced aside, muscled through, ruthlessly violated in his quest to make time go faster and faster and faster...

It had still only been thirty-two additional seconds when he dared blink and look at it properly again.

Time and telephones refused him succour, and Alexander dropped the phone back into its cradle with a nickering sigh. He clomped back to the couch and fell into it heavily, making Polo look up at him curiously. Alexander stuck a hand down to scratch at the canine's rump.

"It's fine, boy," he said soothingly. "Your dumb dad's just acting like he's back in high school again. Don't worry."

He settled deeper into the cushions, looking at the television and making an effort to focus on it. Oh, raspberry tart? Yes, he was thrilled to know more. The secret was to freeze the fruit first? Spectacular. Hopefully, the Russians wouldn't get wind of their advanced dessert-making technology. Secrets could be so dangerous, after all. If they got out. Yeah. Best to keep 'em inside. That was Alexander's view. Keep those filthy secrets deep down inside, way down, where they couldn't pop up at an inopportune time to remind you about gym class, and jock friends, and the way his arms looked when he pulled himself up the rope without even using his legs...

He wouldn't say he'd been close friends with Brett in school. It had been one of those friendships of convenience. They'd shared a lot of classes together, and were both horses. That had been it, pretty much. Enough to make them pair up for projects, basically. It certainly wasn't that they'd shared any other attributes. Alexander's lanky tan frame had acted as the "before" to Brett's squatter, muscular Fjord form. His interests in being ignored by peers and handing assignments in on time had counterpointed Brett's casual acceptance of getting a sports scholarship as soon as he graduated, and coasting along on that indefinitely.

Despite those differences, they'd ended up getting along quite well. And while personality fit was the main reason, the fact that Alexander had realised that he was both gay and more than mildly attracted to Brett had given him extra motivation to keep the friendship going. Even in the face of Brett's easy and frequent luck with the ladies.

The bay stallion had kept that awful aspect of himself as deeply hidden as he could. It would have been...bad. The horses had graduated in 1961. As far as the country cared, people like him didn't exist then, unless they were monsters. He'd dated a little, here and there, only enough to convince his family that he simply wasn't great at it -- and enough to know he definitely preferred penises to whatever mares had. He'd attended football matches, and cheered when friends talked about their gals, and made sure to never, ever let his gaze linger. He was simply another socially awkward teenager, definitely not worth paying attention to or asking questions about. Nope. Regular old boring horse, all the way.

And sure, he felt a little flushed at those same football matches when the burly guys bumped chests and grabbed one another's asses. And in the anonymity of the crowd, he'd let his eyes wander, taking in the firm curves and mouth-watering clefts of football player butt. He'd put himself on the field in his mind, making the touchdowns and being mobbed by tall, strong men. Hugging them and feeling their muscles, their strength, their beautiful tight asses...

But never more than that.

They hadn't kept in touch after school, and apart from the odd fantasy now and then, Alexander hadn't really given Brett any thought. Life had gone on. He'd gone straight into the workforce as a grunt and fought his way up. An interminable series of boring jobs for bad pay had eventually let him buy his own place. He had a few friends that he saw socially now and then, and every other weekend he'd pay a visit to a little nondescript place in town, and have some quick, anonymous fun in a darkened room. It wasn't enough, but he dared not try for more. His life was boring and small, but it was all he had.

Then, a couple years ago, he'd attended his twenty-year school reunion. That had been interesting. Everyone was so old. So different. He'd rather enjoyed chatting to all the people he remembered, and some he didn't. People had changed: some individuals that he'd disliked quite intensely had mellowed into amiable middle-aged fathers, and others he couldn't even remember why he'd been friends with to start with. But the big surprise was Brett.

The Fjord was a sports scientist now. He worked with some pretty big names to improve their training and performance, and the expensive car he'd arrived in said that he was pretty good at it. He drank his own Kool-Aid, too: the five-foot-five stallion was in excellent shape. He'd turned his height to his advantage, having developed broad shoulders and a massive chest that made one overlook his height. Alexander had admired the buff physique when he saw his old acquaintance across the room, but had expected nothing but a casual hey, how are you sort of catching up. Only when he'd wandered closer had he noticed a pin on the Fjord's lapel with the name of his favourite football player on it.

Brett had looked down when he pointed it out, lifting it away from his body to read it. "Oh, Simons? Yeah, man, I work with him. Isn't he great? He's gonna go far. Did you see his performance in the last game?"

They'd ended up chatting for over an hour, eagerly swapping plays and predictions. Alexander had become quite a fan of fantasy sports after school, and Brett's hands-on experience with the players that he only knew by name and statistics was like getting a direct line to the coach. The beers probably helped. By the end of the evening, the two stallions had agreed to go see a game together sometime. And on the drive home, Alexander had daydreamed happily about the Fjord stallion stud that was back in his life.

Over the next few years, they hung out regularly. When Brett quit his job to start his own firm, he'd invited Alexander on board to help with the "day-to-day management crap", as he'd put it. But it would have meant moving across half the country, to a city with a less savoury reputation for those who preferred male company. Alexander had agonised over the decision for weeks before chickening out and turning it down. He made some vague excuse about family and left it there. A few times since, he'd regretted it, but regrets were for people with fewer secrets than him. Brett hadn't taken it personally, and things had gone on.

And then, one evening, a week or two ago, he'd phoned.

"Hey, Alex. How ya doing?" His voice had a country twang to it, all these years after he moved to a big city.

"Hey man!" Alexander dried off his hands, peering around the corner at a pot bubbling on the stove. He should have time. "I'm good, thanks. How're you? What's up?"

"Decent, man, decent. Sorry for the call out of the blue and all. I wanted to ask a favour."

"Yeah, of course. What do you need?"

"So, uh, I'm visiting a client in Fairview in a couple weeks." Fairview was a nearby town, a tiny spot on the map that produced grain and depression. "But the motels there look real shit. Heh. So, I thought I'd ask you if I could stay over by you after I land, then drive through the next day?"

In the nearly thirty years of their on/off friendship, Brett had not once been to his house. Not in reality, anyway. There was one fantasy he occasionally indulged, where he opened the front door one rainy day to find Brett standing there, naked and soaked. Water would run down the stiff hairs of his mane and off the tip of his cock. Alex would go down, and take his friend into his mouth, and...

"...Alex? You there?"

His dick gave him a mental slap. "Yeah! Sorry. Still here. Uh..." He stared into the wall, finding it tricky to focus.

"Listen, if it's gonna be an issue, just say, hey. No problem. I'll make another--"

"No!" Damnit, that had been far too keen. "Sorry," he lied. "My dog's being naughty. Don't worry, of course it's fine. We can have a sleepover." He grimaced, holding a fist to his mouth and kicking the wall. A sleepover? That was how the fantasy ended. Cuddling in bed. He'd let his mind wander. Focus!

Brett chuckled, a little. "Heh. Yeah, sure. As long as there's beer and beef."

"I'll make sure there is," Alexander replied, trying to sound airy. "When, uh, are you here?"

They'd finalised the details, and said their goodbyes. After he replaced the handset, Alexander had simply stood there, his mind racing. He really wished it wouldn't. This was perfectly normal. A friend using another friend's house to save some cash. He couldn't get his hopes up. He couldn't even have hopes. Brett was married, for heck's sake. Had been for three years. His wife, Samantha, was a gorgeous dappled mare, and Brett loved her to bits. He mentioned her all the time, and couldn't keep his hands off her when they were together.

No. Brett wasn't the gay one. Brett was the normal one, with the loving family and the freedom to be who he was. Alexander was the one that had to suck stranger's dicks on weekends and try to fill the emptiness inside with their cum. There was zero chance that anything would happen when Brett visited. Well...unless he found out. Somehow. And beat him half to death, or told everyone...

A sudden cloud of steam and the crash of breaking ceramic in the kitchen brought him out of his funk. The pot had overboiled, pushing the lid off to shatter on the floor. He rushed over and pulled the pot off the heat, nearly scalding himself. His hooves crunched on pieces of ceramic strewn over the floor, and he growled in exasperation. His own damn fault for forgetting about it. He put his hands on the edge of the Formica and sighed, letting his head hang down. Don't get your hopes up. This is nothing. This is normal.

He repeated that to himself now as he lay back in the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The fan spun, simply moving hot air from one place to another. Don't get your hopes up. This is nothing. This is--

Polo sat up, ears perked, looking toward the door. Alexander's heart leapt, and he fought it back down. No! He stood, smoothing his shirt and wiping his hooves along the hemp carpet. They weren't dirty. Why had he done that? Oh, heck. He walked to the door and opened it.

Brett's rental car was pulled into the driveway, and the attractive stallion climbed out. He waved cheerily at his friend, who smiled back.

"Hey man!" The Fjord opened the back door and wrestled a suitcase out.

"Hey, Brett," said Alexander. He stepped forward to offer help, but the Fjord grabbed his arm instead and pumped it.

"Good to see ya, bud! Shit, I realised on the way here that it's been like, what, fourteen months?"

"Um, yeah...yeah. Last time was--"

"--that box at the stadium, huh?"

"Yeah." Brett's clients had an endless supply of box seats for whatever sports he wanted. He'd invited Alexander to a game last year. It had been fun. "Time flies, huh?"

Brett shut the car door and faced him, suitcase in one hand, the other resting on his side. He was in a rumpled suit, with tie undone and shirt only half-tucked into his belt. "Yep!" He made a goofy grin. "And, sadly, so do horses. I fucking hate it, I swear." Alexander laughed.

"Wouldn't you be used to it by now, the amount you do it?"

"Shit, if only. I bet you they shrink those planes every time I go. Used to fit into a seat with space to spare. Now it's like a fucking tuna can."

"Well, we're not eighteen anymore. Less beer, more exercise, maybe?" The friendly jibe was largely empty: Brett still looked fantastic. Maybe a hint of a paunch as middle age began paying back the dues of youth, but still far stronger than Alexander. The bay stallion's taller form looked like a wild spruce next to Brett's thick legs and strong chest. He kept his mane trimmed in the Norwegian style, although he'd chosen to dye the tips white rather than black. It worked well; contrasting his brown eyes and black nose. And when Alexander gestured for his guest to precede him indoors, his eyes remembered exactly where to fall to get a good look at their old favourite as the muscular little horse inadvertently showed off his ass.

Don't get your hopes up.

Alexander followed Brett inside, shutting the door and rubbing his hands together. Brett was looking around, nodding.

"It's actually weird that I've never visited you, huh?"

It wasn't weird. Alexander had made sure never to invite the Fjord over. He'd been afraid of how that might be interpreted. "Yeah, guess so. Never thought about it." He stood to one side as Brett took it all in. "So, I've made up a room upstairs. It's only a single bed, so I hope that's alright...I mean, you're a munchkin, so I'm sure you'll fit."

Brett snorted and flicked his head, punching his friend on the arm playfully. "Whatever, Lurch. But yeah, that'll be fine. I'm gonna be drunk anyway, so I'm not gonna struggle to sleep. You got the beers, right?"

Alexander had. More than enough, and said so. "But," he said, "I realised -- aren't you driving tomorrow?" His query was waved down.

"Only gotta be there at like eleven," Brett said. "I'll be fine by then. Couple Advil and a coffee sorts me out." He hefted his suitcase. "Sam doesn't like me drinking too much, so when I'm out on the road I get to indulge a bit. Our secret, alright?"

He glanced across at his host, who kept his face carefully neutral as his heart thumped. Don't get your hopes up.

"Yeah, no problem. I won't tell if you don't," Alexander replied breezily, and Brett grinned back.

"That's what I like to hear! Oh -- who's this?"

Polo, ever the lazy sod, had roused himself at last and wandered over to sniff at the visitor. Brett's attitude transformed. He dropped his suitcase, going down on one knee and ruffling the German Shepherd's ears with his hands with a massive smile on his face. "Hello,boy! Aren't you gorgeous, huh?" Polo's jowls bounced about from the attention, and he made a goofy doggy grin.

"That's Polo," Alexander said. "He's my walking dustbin."

"Aw, I'm sure he's much more than that, aren't you, boy? He the one that was misbehaving when I called? What did you do, fluff monster?" The Fjord scratched at the canine's chest with one hand, stroking his back with the other and making Polo's leg thump happily against the floor. "He's pretty big, wow. Pure German Shepherd? Thought they were normally thinner." The copper name tag on Polo's collar jingled as his head was furiously rubbed.

Alexander watched Brett with amusement. He'd had no idea his friend was so interested in dogs. "I mean, I didn't really ask. A friend's dog had puppies, and he was trying to find homes for 'em, so I helped him out."

"Ah, good for you." He put a hand on either side of Polo's face and bounced the dog's head side to side. Polo's tongue lolled and his tail wagged furiously, loving the attention.

"Thanks. You got dogs, then?"

Brett's made a frustrated face. "Can't. Sam's allergic."

"Ah. That sucks."

"Mhm. Wish I could, but wife decides, right? Had them before, though. Love dogs." The Fjord stallion sounded wistful as he gave Polo one final furious rub, then planted a kiss on his nose before standing up. Polo sat and looked up at his new friend with simple adoration. "He's so friendly!" Brett exclaimed.

"You say friendly, I say lazy," Alexander replied, turning and heading to the stairs. "Come on, I'll show you the room. You wanna get takeaway tonight?"

"Sounds fucking great."

---

"...so, he's like, man, if I do that, the coach is gonna break my nuts! And I told him, if you don't do it, I'm gonna break 'em! And my cousin's a squirrel, so I fucking know how to do it!"

Alexander laughed at the story, taking another gulp of his drink. The afternoon had skimmed along pleasantly, with the two stallions catching up and discussing inconsequentialities. They'd gotten greasy takeout and had more than a few beers, and as the evening deepened, Alexander grew more relaxed. He took a final mouthful of beer and put the bottle down on the table, then belched loudly and unexpectedly. Brett stared at him in shock, his own bottle halfway to his mouth, and then dissolved into hysterical sniggers.

Alexander blushed. "Whaaaaat..."

Brett took a moment to recover, wiping a tear away. "I think I know why you're single, dude," he giggled, sipping his drink. His host blew a raspberry of disbelief, pushing himself to his feet and wandering into the kitchen to get another bottle. Brett put his arm up on the back of the couch and leaned over, looking towards him. "But, seriously...you seeing anyone at the moment?" His face was warm and guileless when Alexander glanced over at him.

"Uh..." The bay didn't really want to be discussing this topic now. The alcohol had made him feel a little less in control than usual. "Nah. Just...can't seem to find the right girl."

A thonk came from the sitting room as Brett slammed his half-empty bottle down. "Dude!" He scrambled up onto the couch, his knees pressing into the cushions, and both arms gesturing excitedly towards his host. "Oh, man, I know what it is! I can help you!"

Alexander tried to push down the twist of fear in his gut at those words. Brett didn't mean it like that. He couldn't. "Yeah?" he asked, as casually as he could. It probably sounded ridiculously suspicious, but thankfully Brett was too drunk to notice. The bay tried to twist off the beer cap and failed, and opened a drawer to rummage for a bottle opener.

"Yeah! Yeah! So, like...what was the last girl you dated? Species, I mean?"

My hand. "Uh, a fox."

Brett nodded rapidly as if this was exactly what he'd expected to hear. "Bingo! And before that?"

My other hand. "Ummm...a goat?" He found the opener, and clinked the top off.

Brett flicked his fingers to make a soft whip-crack noise. "There you go!" He held his hands palms up, as if all had been made clear, and Alexander looked at him blankly as he came back to the couch.

"You're gonna need to explain some more..." he said slowly.

Brett held his hands close together in two half-spheres, fingers almost touching, and looked down at them with shining eyes. Alexander couldn't help but notice the sheen on him, under the incandescent lights. The short horse's hair was immaculate and gorgeous. He forced himself to look away, and take a drink instead. "I didn't get it until Samantha, man," the Fjord was saying, still staring at the virtual sphere formed by his hands as if it contained all the secrets of the universe. "And it's so obvious after, but I never thought about it before." He looked up at Alexander.

"Dude...mare pussy." He raised his eyebrows and nodded again. "Yeah?"

Alexander almost choked on his mouthful of beer. "I don't..." But Brett was off already.

"All the chicks I dated before Sam. The sex was good, maybe even great -- but I didn't know that. I only had them to compare against, so I thought it was really good, right? Then I met Sam, and that first night..." He put his hands to his temples and made a slow explosion motion. "And it makes sense, right? Mares and stallions, the perfect fit. I just fucking knew, right then. You ever had that feeling? Like, before, you were someone, but then a thing happened, and it changes you forever. You can never go back. Well, that...that's a mare pussy moment."

I had that moment when I saw you lift your tail in the shower one day after gym. More drinking, to cover any lustful look that might have come over his face at the memory. Brett was looking straight at him, and Alexander felt his heart beating a little faster. Don't get your hopes up. "So, uh, Sam has a nice...?" It only occurred to him now how they were using the diminutive form of Samantha in a way that kinda made it sound like Brett was married to a guy. The impossible thought was a little arousing.

Brett closed his eyes and sighed. "Oh, fuck, dude, you've no idea. She's the sweetest, wettest, tightest little thing...and she wants me all the fucking time." He opened his eyes and leered. "I always make sure to fuck her right before I travel. Then I can jerk off when I land, and still smell her on my dick."

The unattractive mental picture of having sex with a female was obliterated by the mental image of Brett masturbating. Alexander had never seen him hard before; the most he'd seen was an inch of tip dropped from a sheath in the showers. He'd probably have been able to see more if he'd looked for it, but he'd been terrified. He could imagine it, though. Easily.

The buff little stallion's thick arms flexing as he gripped his dark shaft. One hand fondling his balls, full to the brim with horse spunk. The way his chest would heave, sweat-soaked, as he tossed his head back and forth and moaned. The hand sliding higher, gripping harder, massaging himself right behind the mushrooming flare. Slick, wet noises as pre-cum dribbled over everything: down his hand, along his arm, dribbling from the crown to pool on his chest between those beautiful pecs and suckable nipples...

"Do it, Alex."

For a second, the bay stallion was in another world. One where he dropped his beer, and leaned in, and kissed his friend deeply, finding a wet and willing mouth that reciprocated. One where they said nothing, but undressed and explored one another's bodies, every bump and softness, every throbbing member and warm crevice. One where he could stop keeping his secret, and be himself -- just for a moment, just one damn moment -- with another person...

But that world was fantasy, and it died on the vine.

"Mare pussy is the answer, man," Brett said again, voice thick with drink. "Do it. Trust me. Find a mare, and she'll change your life." He took a deep drink of beer and slouched back, one hand unsurreptitiously adjusting his package. Feelings whirled in Alexander, and he tried desperately not to look.

Shouldn't have gotten your hopes up.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, desperately hoping that would satisfy Brett enough to drop the topic. When a scratching noise came suddenly at the back door, he was relieved. Any distraction was welcomed now. As Brett looked over in confusion, the bay stallion got to his feet. "It's just Polo," he explained. "He likes to sleep inside." He headed through the kitchen and pulled the bolt on the door, opening it to let the hound enter. Polo sauntered in, sniffing at the smells of beer and stranger. Alexander shut the door behind him and walked back to the sitting area, settling into a chair away from the couch this time. He didn't feel like being close to Brett right now. Which was stupid. It wasn't his friend's fault that he was an ordinary healthy straight guy who liked women. But even so, the bay felt a churning unpleasantness inside, and when he looked at the handsome Fjord across from him, it got worse. So, he sat apart, and looked across at the fireplace and the windows and the ceiling, and tried not to meet eyes with him. Thank God for alcohol; Brett seemed happy to drink in drunken silence.

Polo had crunched some pellets and lapped up some water, and wandered into the lounge to join the two horses. He flopped down onto his spot on the hemp carpet with a sigh, and Brett chuckled. "He had a rough day, huh?"

Alexander gave a wan smile. "Yeah. It's rough sleeping for four hours and then chasing squirrels all evening. Hey, Polo?"

The dog looked over at his name and wagged his tail. It thumped against the underside of the coffee table. He pushed one paw forward hopefully, ears perked forward like little dog-eared napkins, and Alexander shook his head. "No, boy," he chided, "it's too late for play. Dad has guests." When Brett looked in his direction, he explained. "Means he wants to go play fetch outside." At the f-word, the dog's paw moved forward a little more, excitedly.

"I could go play with him if you like?" Brett offered. He was resting his bottle on the arm of the couch, looking down at the animal. Alexander shook his head.

"Nah, he's just trying his luck. If he gets all excited now, he'll be up all night. He can wait for tomorrow." Polo waited for a little while before giving a sigh, as if accepting his fate, and instead lifted a leg to clean himself. Alexander stared out the window, trying to keep his mind on things that weren't Brett's closeness, or bulge, or muscles.

"He's not fixed?" Brett asked.

The bay stallion nodded, still looking at everything except the Fjord. "Nah. He's a good boy. Doesn't run around getting bitches pregnant all the time. I mean, if it becomes a problem, I can get it done, but can't undo it, right? So, I figured this way is better."

"Ah, yeah, absolutely. I feel the same. Let the boys keep their toys. I'd be pretty upset if someone took my balls without good reason. Samantha too!"

Alexander chuckled, not really listening. The alcohol was overcoming his system. He felt tired, but as host, didn't want to force his guest to bed. They sat in some silence for a while, and when Brett yawned, Alexander took the opportunity.

"Yeah, long day for you, huh? I think I'm gonna hit the sack too."

"Ah, yeah, sure thing. I'll head up too...feeling pretty dozy after..." He squinted, trying to count the empty beer bottles, then gave up. "Well, I feel plenty drunk, and that's what I wanted!" He lifted his last bottle to Alexander in thanks, and the bay stallion smiled.

"Just remember to close your door, or else Polo might wander in," he said. "He's a loud sleeper, if you know what I mean." The dog farted, as if on cue, and the two horses chuckled. They got to their feet. Brett made a vague attempt to clean up, but Alexander waved him away. "I'll sort it tomorrow, don't worry. Got a day off." In reality, he'd applied for a day off, so that he wouldn't have to rush to work the next day and lose out on a little more time with Brett. He pushed the Fjord stallion around the couch in a friendly manner, towards the staircase. "You head up." His friend's body was so firm. He almost squeezed it. "Have a good rest, man."

Brett saluted him and made his weaving way upstairs. Alexander watched him vanish, eyes falling like a dropped cock to the stud's pert ass as it disappeared, then sighed and went into the kitchen, listlessly packing a few things away. He'd give Brett a little time to himself in the bathroom. The last thing he wanted was to go up and come across a naked, wet Brett, fresh from the shower. Yeah. That would be awful. Hair all smooth and beautiful from the water. Mane spiky, eyes lidded. Sheath, dark and mysterious and welcoming...

"Uh..."

Alexander started, blinking his mind free of the daydream and turning to see Brett leaning forward over the landing's bannister. "Oh, hey," he said, half-swallowing the words as a toad slipped up and down his oesophagus. "Um, everything fine in the room?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Brett said, tucking one arm behind his head and scratching his stiff mane. "I just...can I borrow...like, a wet wipe, or..." He gestured awkwardly at his crotch, the outline of a hard dick clearly visible through the trousers. "I...don't like using, uh, toilet paper or anyth...and I can't, uh..."

Alexander stared. He knew he shouldn't, and part of his mind was freaking out over the risk, but his eyes were glued to Brett's crotch. It was perfectly framed between two wooden balusters, bulging out wonderfully in the manner of restrained, hard horse cocks everywhere. The stallion so rarely got to see one like this; he was used to seeing them through a gloryhole in a dim room. Still clothed, it was somehow even sexier. There was a little mystery to it, a winking understanding that suggested that, hey, one should perhaps come a little closer and see what might be causing such a big bulge...

"Just...talking about Sam, and everything," the Fjord was mumbling, missing or mistaking the intent of his friend's stare. "I...kinda need to..." He gripped his mane and chuckled softly. "I really need to jerk off."

He trailed off, and Alexander gaped back for a second before blinking and looking about. "Uh..."

"Like, I normally have, um...but I don't have my...um, with me..." The awkward explanation was not needed, but Alexander was sufficiently embarrassed and turned on by it that he didn't try to stop it. He stuck his head into the laundry and grabbed the first random bit of cloth that he saw. An old towel he used to dry the dog with after a bath. He walked over and handed it to Brett, looking up at him as he did. The position put his bulge directly in his line of sight. It was big and round and snaked down the leg in a manner that made Alexander's own dick twitch.

You can jerk off into my throat. He could think it all he wanted, but he could never say it.

The Fjord took the towel and gave a woozy salute. "Thanks a lot, man. Thanks." He turned and went back into his room. Alexander stood motionless for a moment, not breathing, disbelieving. Only at the sound of Brett's door closing did he exhale. Heck. Hecking heck. His guilty crush was...jacking off. In his house. Right now.

He couldn't see it, he couldn't get involved, but merely knowing it was busy happening was making him hard. Well: harder. He'd had a chub all evening.

His hand slid down to grip himself, fondling the soft flesh and trying to breathe shallowly. It took him a second to realise he was subconsciously trying to hear noises. Pervert. But the doors were solid -- or Brett was quiet.

Alexander felt himself up some more, remembering the stud stallion cock that had been right before him moments ago. He wondered if Brett was super hung. He wondered how he liked to masturbate. He wondered what noises he made when he ejaculated. If he was a screamer. Screamers were hot. He wondered if the fact that he'd come out to get a towel meant anything.

Don't get your hopes up.

The house and the night beyond it were both silent. Alexander's hand had brought himself to full erectness, and he tugged his pants down a little to free it. The slimy flare bobbed out, smearing against his shirt. He could jerk off now and relieve the pressure. Or...he could...

He could always get closer.

Alexander transformed from horse to mouse, walking up the stairs with painstaking footfalls, as if negotiating the traps of an ancient tomb. Polo followed, the gentle clicking of his claws on the wooden stairs somewhat undermining the stallion's careful steps. Alexander didn't even notice. His ears were perked and swivelled toward the guest room door.

He was hardly breathing by the time he stopped outside the guest room door. He hadn't meant to; it just happened. Some irresistible part of him was manoeuvring his limbs now, while his brain flashed red and yellow emergency lights that obscured all rational thought. He stood like a statue, straining for sound. For any hint of anything.

There was nothing. The room might as well be deserted.

The stallion became abruptly aware of how he looked. Standing outside the room, with a full erection and a very guilty look. He only needed the "I'm a secret cockhound" sign around his neck, and the image would be complete. With an act of will, he forced himself to relax, turn, and take a step towards his own room...

"Uuuuhhhh..."

Time froze. The world disappeared. Everything contracted into a single, incredible, perfect thing: that faint but unmistakable sound. Alexander's heart was a machine now, a punch press smashing against his ribs. Brett would hear it. How could he not? It was so loud.

Two rapid steps took Alexander away from the spare room and into his own. He shut the door quickly, pulling back at the last second to ensure it didn't slam. The machinery of his chest was at full speed, and his cock was responding. He pulled his pants off as quick as he could, almost tripping when one hoof got caught in the belt, but twisting to fall onto the bed instead.

He was shaking with need as he took his member in both hands. His cock was iron, harder than he could ever remember, supported by the engine thrumming in his chest. There was no control or subtlety; he went straight for the kill. Prodding and massaging all his favourite spots, he shut his eyes and played that pleasure-sound over and over again in his mind.

Uuuuhhhh._Brett, jerking off. Feeling himself up. _Uuuuhhhh. Thinking about his wife, dripping all over himself. Stroking faster. Uuuuhhhh. Stroking him now; stroking Alexander. Kissing him, sucking on his tongue. Rubbing his hard Fjord dick against him. Uuuuhhhh. Pushing him down, down, forcing him to lick along his balls and between his legs, down to his secret delight...

His flare was obscene, and the cumshots flew from it like a volcanic eruption. Alexander had to clamp a hand over his mouth to muffle the scream of pleasure. His balls ached with the strength of it, and he soaked his mane, his face, his shirt with his seed. The intensity made his legs curl up, and when he stopped screaming, he simply moaned, endlessly. Exhausted and satisfied. He lay on the bedspread limply, cum dripping off him onto the duvet. It would stain. He didn't care. It was worth it.

When the intense aftermath had faded, he got to his feet -- swaying momentarily -- and walked into his en-suite. In the mirror, a cum-drenched apparition greeted him. He stared back. "Look what you did to me, Brett, you sexy beast" he whispered sotto voce. Imagining his friend could hear him. The bay stallion turned the shower on, and pulled his stained clothes off, letting them pile up in a corner, and stepped into the hot water to sluice away the remains of his unforgettable climax.

When he returned to bed, clean and warm and nude, it smelled faintly of cum. That would fade; he simply wouldn't let Brett in here tomorrow. No reason for that anyway -- well, none that didn't live only in his desperate mind. He slipped under the blankets and nestled into the pillows, sighing deeply and closing his eyes. Time for sleep. He'd had his fun -- indeed, far more than he could have expected. He should sleep. He needed sleep.

Thirty minutes later, he lay on his back, staring up at the invisible ceiling.

Uuuuhhhh.

He couldn't put it out of his mind. After an orgasm that had blown away any other that he'd ever had, he couldn't stop thinking. In the darkness of the room, his imagination flourished. He was with Brett. He was Sam. Sam was a guy. Brett, fucking his spouse. Fucking him. Filling him with horsecock, beautiful black Fjord horsecock...

The bay flipped onto his side, trying to forget. He was hard again. He took deep, measured breaths, trying to trick himself into falling asleep. There was nothing more to do, he reasoned. He'd been lucky, it had been good, but...that was all. Nothing more could possibly happen. Brett was fast asleep by now, doubtless. Alcohol and a good orgasm were a great combination for a deep night's sleep -- except for Alexander, apparently. Although, his friend had drunk a good amount more. He must be out like a light.

Uuuuhhhh.

Alexander wanted to stop...but did he, really? He sat up in bed, looking ahead. It felt like before, outside the door. Some other part of him was moving his body, and the rest was just...watching. The ability to stop it was right there, if he wanted. Pull that lever inside, and override the machinery. Get back in bed and take a sleeping pill and put an end to the night. He had the power.

He didn't want to.

He swung his legs off the bed and fished out his winter slippers from under it. They fit nicely over the hoof and all the way up the hock. Their padded bottoms also happened to muffle the noise of hooves on flooring.

He stood, and walked towards the door. That mysterious inner horse was in control again. Open the door. Step carefully over the dog sleeping right outside. Take a couple of steps to the guest room door. Stare at it. Reach for the handle. Turn, softly.

Alexander hated squeaky doors. All the hinges in the house were oiled and balanced. The door swung open without a single sound, revealing darkness beyond. A darkness that slowly resolved to a lump on a bed, with the weakest sliver of moonlight across it from improperly closed curtains. Alexander stared at his slumbering guest, hearing the snores and becoming emboldened. He stepped closer, slowly. One step. Two.

Brett was lying on his belly, legs spread to either side. He was as nude as glory. The side of his face was pressed against the pillow, his expression one of beatific slumber. One arm was tucked under the pillow, and the other hung loosely off the edge. On the floor below it, a rumpled towel lay on the floor. Alexander froze when he saw it, the steampunk heart inside him clattering noisily back to full speed. Three steps. Four.

He got down slowly to one knee, reaching along the floor to where the towel lay. He could smell it. His breathing sounded to him like gravel in a mixer, but Brett didn't move a single hair. His fingertips snagged the edge of the towel, and he tugged it towards himself, then grabbed it. One shaking hand lifted it to his face, and he took a deep sniff.

Maleness. Dominance. Power. Sex. Stallion.

It was lucky Alexander was already on a knee, because he might have fallen otherwise. The aroma was otherworldly. It was nothing like his own: nothing like those second-rate guys he sucked off in dingy club bathrooms, either. This was...pure. Prime stallion flooded his nostrils and suffused his blood. He breathed it in, again and again, the cooling spunk smearing against his nose as he pressed deeper into the towel, desperate for a stronger hit. He felt as if he could cum on the spot. Any fears about what he was doing were thrown aside. The owner of this smell, the horse-stud splayed atop the bed was all he wished for right now.

Alexander pushed himself back to his feet and looked down on Brett. It was unfortunate that the Fjord was face down, so he couldn't see his cock, but that wasn't the end of the world. With a final deep breath of his crush's cumrag, he let it fall and reached forward to place one hand on the bed, alongside Brett's one leg. His other hand followed, and then a knee. He tried to move slowly, to not shake the bed, but Brett was deeply insensate, and if Alexander did jerk around a bit much and make everything bounce, it was not enough to wake the other stallion. Neither was the pressure of two quivering hands against his ass-cheeks, pulling them apart to expose the night-dark hole between them.

Alexander stared at the doughnut before him as if it was a dream. He'd certainly dreamed about it a number of times, but he'd only had a few stolen glances to work from. Now, with his eyes fully adapted to the darkness, he could drink it in as much as he desired. The black ring stood slightly proud of the lighter flesh around it, striated with folds that met on the axis, like an eye. It was moving ever so slightly; it took Alexander a few seconds to realise that with every breath Brett took, his asshole relaxed a tiny bit, then clenched again. It was beautiful.

And if it looked like an eye, then it was winking at him.

The bay stallion let one ass-cheek go -- itself muscled and firm, like a perfect side of beef -- and brushed his fingers over the doughnut. It was soft. So soft. He felt again, to be sure. The flesh of the anus felt like a pair of lips. Alexander's pink cock was leaking all over the bedspread now, his arousal at fever pitch. The smell of the Fjord's own cum should hide that in the morning. Alexander pressed a single finger to the ring, more intently now. He could feel it flexing with each silent breath his guest took. It was incredible. And the warmth...while the skin felt as warm as the room, with the little pressure he was applying, he could also feel another heat. The one inside the Fjord.

Alexander put his free hand back on the ass-cheek, pulling them apart once more and then leaned down. He smelled it before he tasted it: musky, sweaty, stallion ass. It drove him wild. His tongue darted out to lap at it, sliding not only over the doughnut but above and below it as well. Brett's ass, he immediately knew, was all the meal he needed for the rest of his life. He licked up and down in long, slow strokes, trying to contain his sounds of pleasure. He teased around the ring itself, poking at it, feeling it give. He wanted to suck on the entire thing. He did. His lips wrapped around it, a match every bit as perfect as whatever Brett did to his mare. The ring winked and squelched under his tongue's frantic attention, and his closed his eyes in heady lust. But this was not all he desired. Not by far.

When he pressed inwards greedily, he found heaven. Muscle stud ass was infinitely better than the greasy, flat asses he'd experienced in the club. This was firm, and tight, and gripped his tongue like it loved him. When he pushed, it gave, but with a smoothness that lured him deeper and deeper. His lips suckled around the entrance as his tongue delved into the heart of it. He didn't even know what he was feeling. When he tried to formulate the idea, his mind rejected it as impossible, denying the immediate evidence of his senses. Was he really rimming his school crush, Brett the stud, right now? Was his tongue buried so deep in tight stallion ass that he could practically tickle his colon? Was this real?

The part of him making the decisions was not quite as hampered by questions. As his mind screamed and danced and hugged itself in glee, his body gently squeezed the firm ass-cheeks and gave the hole between them a deep and slobbery loving. He wanted to pleasure Brett so much. Always had. He wanted to tongue-fuck him forever, to make him clench and scream his name and pump his stud load all over his bed until the entire room stank of him, just as the towel did. Alexander pulled his tongue out, and rubbed his nose over the hole blissfully, smearing a little of Brett's own cum over it.

"Brett...your ass is amazing..." he murmured, barely vocalising. "You're so incredibly fit, stud. So tight." He rubbed his nose up and down the crack, the tip of his tongue poking out to feel the warm flesh. "I knew you'd taste good. Everything about you is so good. I wish I was yours." He tongued the slippery hole a little more, thinking. He pulled back again, glancing up along the ridge of the stallion's spine this time. Almost willing him to hear. "I wish we could make love, like we belonged to each other." That quiet truth hurt more to say than he'd expected, and he fell silent, looking down at his handiwork. The hole was glistening now; shiny with his spit. It didn't look any more open than before, but it still pulsed to the rhythm of his breathing. The stallion stared, taking it all in, immortalising this perfect moment in his mind.

But, like an addict, he was already thinking of his next high. He glanced at the face of his sleeping friend. Brett was really out of it. Could...could he do more...?

That line of thought was cut off by the click, clack of claws on floorboards, the unexpected sound amplified by the dead silence of the night. Alexander stopped dead, his blood turning to ice at the unexpected sound, then unfreezing when he realised it must be Polo. He turned to see the dog standing in the doorway -- looking at his owner with a cocked head -- and breathed out a shuddering breath. That damn dog! He raised a hand and waved it, trying to gesture the hound away in silence, but the friendly animal simply moved closer. He nosed at the towel on the ground, apparently recognising his scent on it. Alexander felt even more adrenaline pump into him, making him quiver. Polo didn't like baths. If he figured out that that was his drying towel, and thought a bath was coming, and barked...

As quickly and quietly as he could, the fearful stallion backed off the bed, settling his hooves onto the floor and hurrying out of the room with a rapid shuffle, pulling Polo along with him by his collar. The dog followed meekly, and only when they were both back in his room did Alexander sigh, half from relief and half depression. That had been fun. It would have been even more fun if he'd been able to hear Brett say how much he enjoyed it, but the bay stallion had already gone far beyond risky into "playing with strong, angry fire that could smash you to pieces if he caught you" territory. Enough was enough.

He pulled on some pyjamas; he was sweating a little now, and feeling chilly in the night. He let his mind work as he dressed, collecting the memories, treasuring them. Every second was to be burned into his mind. The way Brett looked naked. The smell of him. The feel of his cooling semen against Alexander's nose when he'd sniffed the towel...

The towel.

He'd moved the towel.

Terror flooded his system, every worst-case scenario springing fully formed into his mind. Brett would see. He'd know. The Fjord would see the towel was moved and he'd figure out what he'd done and he'd confront him and beat him up and make him confess and tell everyone and ruin his life...

Alexander's heart was smashing against his ribs again, but not in an enjoyable way. His breathing was wild and ragged. His mind was screaming at him. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

He had to go back. He had to put the towel back where he found it.

Every sense was heightened now. Every tiny noise, every grumble as something settled was like a pistol shot in his mind. His blood was on fire. He could do this. It was right outside. Ten seconds and it was fixed. He could do it. Alexander reached for the door handle...and heard a cough. He froze. No, no, no nooooo...

Brett was awake.

The hoof steps outside were lethargic, but seemed to be coming towards the master bedroom. Or not? It was hard to be sure. Alexander held back a panicked sob and backed away from his door as quickly as he could. He was already trying to invent excuses, trying to think of a way to escape. Maybe Brett would be too embarrassed to confront him. Maybe he'd...leave? Maybe he could avoid him until he left. His heart was supercharged now. Was this what a heart attack felt like? He couldn't think, couldn't reason. Child-like reactions floated to the surface as his adult faculties deserted him. He'd lie in bed and pretend to be asleep. Brett wouldn't wake him. He'd pretend to be asleep until his friend left, and never, ever speak to him again.

The horse skidded over to the bed on his soft slippers and crawled inside, blankets tucked in tightly under his neck. He closed his eyes, trying to relax and give a reasonable facsimile of being fast asleep, but the quivering of his muscles made that difficult. Sweat was making his body cold and clammy. He lay, in fear and tension, waiting, waiting in agony...

There was the sound of a toilet flushing.

It was as if a vast spring inside him had been released. Tension blew out of him with a jagged sob. His muscles went limp, and he sunk even deeper into the bed as his body turned to jelly. He was exhausted. The ups and downs of the evening had drained him, and he almost felt like crying. But it seemed okay. Brett hadn't noticed the towel had moved. Or maybe it was too dark. He could creep back in later and fix it...

There was a breath of air across his face as the door swung open, and Alexander's beleaguered body stiffened once again. With his eyes closed, the bay stallion had to infer everything from sound alone. The hoof steps stopped right at the door. "Polo", came a questing whisper, and a coppery tinkle answered as the dog lifted his head. There was a soft sound, like a hand patting a leg, and the dog got up, claws scratching on the floor. The claw sounds moved outside, and there was a final wash of air when the door closed again. And that was it.

Alexander lay still, confused. What had just happened? Brett had woken up to piss, and then...fetched his dog? Why? He couldn't think of any reason that made sense. Maybe he wanted Polo to sleep in the room with him...but, again, why? Well...he had said he liked dogs. Maybe he wanted to feel a dog sleeping on the bed for one night before he had to go home again?

Alexander rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The repeated hammer blows to his adrenal system had left him completely unable to fall asleep. He'd lie here and wait for Brett to fall asleep again, quickly move the towel back, and then hopefully, finally get some actual rest.

Until then, he could simply let his mind wander through the memories of rimming his sleeping friend's butt. His eyes closed to indulge his memories. Heck, he'd tasted so damn good. He'd been so tight. Not so tight now, heh. Alexander would think about that whenever he saw him now. Oh, hi Brett, I tongued your stud ass once while you slept and I loved it. Another secret for his stash. A good one, though, for a change. He still wished that he could have heard Brett telling him how much he liked it. He got really turned on when the guy told him how good it felt when he ate them out. Heck, lying here now imagining it, he could almost hear the moans he'd make. They sounded so real.

...but he wasn't asleep yet. And those were real moans.

With his blood a mad cocktail of chemicals, and still shivering from the stress of discovery, Alexander was feeling a little dissociated. He'd thought the sounds were in his head, but as his eyes snapped open and he focused -- even halting his breathing -- he realised that he could hear the noises through the wall. Very soft, barely carrying. Only the utter stillness of the night let him hear it. Regular, breathy moans. Slutty moans. And some even softer words. "Fuck...fuck..."

And, interspersed between them, soft growling.

The stallion rose as if in a dream, wafting to the door and pulling it open. He took two steps to the guest room door, pushing it wide with one hand and flipping the light switch on with the other. Illumination flooded the room, revealing all.

Brett was on top of the bed, on all fours, facing the wall. His side gave an unobscured view of the erect cock jutting straight out from his crotch and along his belly. His tail was raised high, arcing up and over his back like a spray of golden water. Behind him, half-turned, with one leg thrown over Brett's back and crotch pressed hard against his ass, was Polo. The big dog looked over when Alexander entered, tongue lolling, but then looked away; his owner wasn't nearly as interesting at the bitch under him. From the position he was in, it looked like his entire cock was buried inside the Fjord.

At the other end of the stallion, Brett's head was turned to the doorway with an open-mouthed expression of complete terror. His eyes were pinpoints in huge fearful sclera, staring at his naked host, and he seemed frozen in place. Or, more than seemed; when he tried to pull away from Polo seconds after the light came on, he winced, and the dog growled at him. Alexander knew enough about canine mating to realised that they were tied.

His friend wasn't going anywhere for a while.

The two stallions simply looked at one another for a moment. Alexander felt like he should say something, but couldn't begin to formulate what that should be. His eyes flickered between Brett's fish-like expression, his obviously hard cock, and Polo at the end, looking into the middle distance with deep satisfaction as he pumped his bitch full of puppies. It was utterly ridiculous, like some sort of sexual chimaera, and the implications were making Alexander ragingly hard and unexpectedly audacious.

He burst out laughing.

Brett misinterpreted that, letting his head fall and looking resolutely down at the floor. "When he's softened," he said in a tone that sounded like he was trying hard not to cry, "I'll go. You won't see me again. I'm sorry. I'll pay you."

Alexander's mind was spinning. He felt giddy. "Yeah, alright." He giggled. He couldn't take this seriously for some reason. "Polo's stud fee is two hundred dollars. But I'm warning you now, don't expect puppies the first time." He clapped a hand to his mouth, shocked at his own boldness, but almost instantly dropped it when he thought of something better. "But I'll waive the fee if you do something for me."

Brett's voice sounded like it was being dragged out of him by wild dogs. "What do you want?"

Alexander reached down to grab his crotch, easily as hard as he'd been earlier. He wanted everything. No matter the aftermath. "Let me feel you," he said smokily. "Let me stroke your amazing, gorgeous body, and touch your perfect cock, and eat out your ass until it's full of my spit and you're moaning so loudly it wakes the dead."

Brett's head turned, his face once again as shocked as it had been when Alexander caught him. The bay didn't give him time to say anything: he climbed onto the bed and took Brett's cock in his hand, huffing a single hot breath when he finally laid hands on the thing he'd fantasised about so many times over the years. His hand stroked along it, feeling it like it was the first cock he'd ever touched. Every vein, every ridge of skin, every inch of it was unbelievable. Brett wasn't hung beyond reason, not for a horse; he was perhaps a touch larger than Alexander. No, it was everything else that he had trouble believing was actually happening. His lifetime crush, naked on his bed, taking a _dog cock..._and now getting stroked off by him. It made him so hard, he could barely stand it.

The Fjord horse had still not said anything to Alexander's sexual demands. He was looking ahead and downwards now, not making eye contact, as if he wanted this to be over with as soon as possible. Unfortunately for him, the impression he was trying to give with his body language was being drowned out by the much clearer words from his cock. Under Alexander's talented attentions, the long Fjord cock was getting fully hard, dripping freely again onto the bed and jerking happily every time Polo adjusted his position. Alexander's eyes were fixed on the growing member at first, taking in its beauty, but when he noticed the way Brett reacted to every movement from the dog, he grinned.

One hand slid around to Brett's rear, sliding under Polo and feeling around his friend's well-stretched ring. The knot was just inside, held tight against the anus by Polo's awkward position. Alexander probed gently, pushing the flesh in and feeling it spring back. On the other end of the bed, Brett gave a muffled groan that no amount of feigned disinterest could obscure. Oh, he'd liked that. A little more stroking and prodding -- with commensurate noises from the Fjord stallion -- confirmed things to Alexander's satisfaction. Well. Wasn't this interesting.

He slid closer to Brett's head, keeping up his strokes on the erect cock under his friend's belly. "Do you like that, Brett?" he asked softly. No reply. Alexander stroked the wonderful Fjord maleness for a few seconds, thinking. "I don't mean the hand job, by the way. I mean Polo." He gave it a little while longer and then filled the taut silence with another question. "Do you like a dog's cock deep inside? He's knotted in you, I see. That's impressive. Not your first one, then, I'll wager?" Another few seconds. Brett's flare was wonderful to play with, and the bay took it in one hand, covering it with his palm and squeezing at the flesh. Pre-cum smeared against his hand as he worked. "When you said you loved dogs," he started to say, "I had no idea you were queer for--"

"I'm not a queer!" The final word was spat out with all the fury of an epithet, and Alexander's hand stopped moving for a moment, before continuing.

'Well," the bay said conversationally, "you sure take a dick well for a straight guy." Brett took a sharp breath, as if about to retort, but ended up letting it out in a sigh.

"I'm married," he said thickly. "Gonna have kids. I ain't queer."

Alexander looked at him for a couple of moments, then released his friend's cock and slid off the bed to kneel down in front of him. Brett turned his face away, but that didn't stop Alexander.

"Brett," he said, "just stop. Stop pretending. Look at what you're doing. You wanna think this doesn't make you queer? You think a dog in your butt instead of a guy is getting around the rules? Alright." He sat back a little on his haunches. "Fine. Tada. There: you're not queer. Happy?" When Brett's face turned to him with a frown, he raised a pointed finger. "But. That's just a label, my friend. It's a word, and it doesn't make you do what you do. You know how I know?" He felt like he was flying. It was so easy. The words tumbled from him with nary a thought. "I'm queer. I suck dicks and lick asses and it's great. And you're not queer, and you have a wife and you love her and you wanna have kids. That's also great."

He pointed at Polo. "But, you're also on my bed right now, filled with a really thick cock, and you like it. I mean, a dog, that's kinda out there, but..." He shrugged, holding out his two hands out, weighing between them. "Whatever works for you. My point is, you don't have to choose." He paused for a moment, hoping the revelation would have the desired effect. Brett kept looking at him; that would have to do. He ploughed on. "You don't have to choose, man. It's not one or the other. That's what nobody tells you, because you like women so, therefore, you're normal." The air quotes were massive. "But -- there is no normal! There's just...stuff you like, and stuff you don't."

He slid a little closer to the Fjord, who was now looking at him intently. "Brett. This...this is a mare pussy moment. This doesn't mean you don't love your wife, alright? It just means...you got needs." He took his crotch in hand again. "I know those needs. I know them really well. And I don't wanna replace what you got. I just..." He bit his lip. "I just want to make you feel really, really good, stud. For one night." He pointed again at Polo, who licked his finger. "As good as my dog's dick does, or better. So just...give me the hecking truth, alright?"

Brett stared at him for a long moment before giving a little nod. His head dropped down onto his arms and he let out a long, whistled breath. Alexander patted his shoulder and leaned in closer to his ear. "Yeah. Let it out. And tell me...do you like this?"

The Fjord looked back up at him, and it was as if an invisible mask had dropped from his face. Something that hadn't even been noticeable before was gone, and when he spoke, it was with certitude and desire.

"Yes."

Alexander's cock jumped, and his excitement grew. "Does it feel good when I jerk your cock?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Feels really good." Brett licked his lips, his ears flicking back and forth.

The bay's breathing grew heavier, and he took his friend's cock in hand again, stroking it. "Like this?"

Brett sighed. "Yeah. Ahhh...fuck, yeah."

Alexander had to slow down his breaths to avoid hyperventilating. "You like my dog's penis inside you? Knotting you? I felt it. He's really big." Brett nodded, a hint of a moan coming from him. "That knot's gotta be holding back a lot of semen, huh? You like thinking about that? All that cum, sloshing around inside you, from my dog..." Brett moaned louder, his thick dick flexing in his friend's hand. Alexander let it go, undressing rapidly to free his own pink dick. He took it and Brett's in each hand, pumping both of them in time. "Did you see my dog's sexy cock and just need it in you, huh?" he asked. "Needed to feel a male pumping himself deep inside you? Just needed to surrender to the animal, to become his bitch..."

Brett's voice was as breathless and needy as Alexander's. "No, I...I saw it, and it was hot but...I wasn't gonna do anything. But I woke up from a fucking intense dream...about having something in my ass...and I felt so fucking horny I thought I would die. I just..."

"...needed to get fucked," the bay stallion finished for him. Brett nodded rapidly. Alexander's balls were aching from how hard he was. He leaned in and took a deep sniff of Brett's body. He'd been sweating before, and it had dried on his skin. He smelled wonderful. "Guess what, stud," he murmured. "That dream was me. I made you horny." His mind spun with the scent of masculinity. "I just had to see you naked. You're so beautiful, Brett. And you were asleep, with that perfect ass in the air, and I ate you out like it was the best and last meal I was ever gonna have." Polo was trying to pull back from Brett now, each tug making the Fjord stallion moan loudly. One of his hands reached for his own cock, and Alexander let it go.

The bay stallion sat up on his knees, jerking his own cock with both hands above the stud's back as Brett masturbated himself furiously. "I rimmed you so hard, you fetched my dog to make him fuck your greedy ass," Alexander gasped. "Because I get it now, Brett. I've figured you out." He was pushing himself as hard as he could, reaching for the finish. Polo was straining to pull out of Brett; the Fjord must be clamping down, trying to keep him inside. "I know what you want. You want asshole worship. To be fucked and licked and sucked back there until you're wet and loose and spurting your hot stud cum all over the place..."

Brett was panting under him and whinnying, one hand masturbating rapidly. He was close. Alexander shut his eyes and focused. "You're such a hot stud, Brett. Come for me, stud. Your ass is full of knot, you can feel it..."

High moans from the handsome Fjord. "Yes...oh, fuck, yes..."

"...you feel his big dick in you..."

"...oh, fuck I love it, fuck me Polo, fuck my ass, boy..."

"...and you're gonna get more from me as soon as he's done with you..."

A choked, rising cry was the signal that Brett's limit was reached, and the sound of it pushed Alexander over the edge as well. As the Fjord's self-control collapsed, Polo was able to pull his dick free with a wet schlock that made Brett scream in pleasure. The two stallions emptied themselves with gasps and whinnies and long, drawn-out whimpers. Alexander felt the scent of his friend drive into his nose, and he nearly fainted. His own seed was spurting across the other stallion's back in thick white gobbets that soaked into the fur and pooled between the muscles, oozing to the edges and dripping down either side.

Alexander looked down at his friend's cum-streaked back, still heaving from the power of his own orgasm. He didn't even need to think about it. He lowered his face and started licking up and down Brett's back, taking in the mingled tastes of cum and sweat and horse. As he did, one hand slid around to feel his friend's hole. It was loose and slimy with Polo's seed. The bay stallion stuck three fingers in, swirling them around to happy noises from Brett, then pulled them back to lick them clean.

It was all too wonderful, but it wasn't enough. He knew what he really desired. What they both did.

His licks moved further and further back, until he was nibbling at the base of his friend's tail. It had fallen back down after Polo's exit, but now it rose again. "Yes, stud," the bay said with delight, "you know what's coming, huh..."

"Eat my fucking asshole, you horny queer bitch!" Clearly, the Fjord didn't have a problem with downtime after orgasm. That was good news. It was also a little on the overly macho side, but Alexander could overlook that. What mattered was, Brett wanted this. Alexander moaned, snuffling under the tail and then sliding his body around to behind his friend. "Lift it up for me, handsome," he said, and Brett's rear rose. His hole was perfectly positioned, and what a sight it was.

Polo's knot had stretched it much wider than when Alexander had seen it earlier. The flesh of the ring was crimson now, and fluttering as the muscles flexed open and shut. It was soaked in cum, which had splattered the surrounding hair and still drooled out even as the bay watched. Polo's semen...but Alexander realised he didn't care. Cum was cum.

He dove in, slurping up from the perineum to the bottom of the ring. Cum oozed over his tongue and was eagerly swallowed. Different. Not bad. He dove deeper, suckling on the upper and lower parts of the widened ring separately. Brett actually squealed, his body pressing back at that sensation. Alexander smirked into the flesh. "Horny boy likes that, huh?" he tried to say, doubting the stud would hear him. He slid his lips around, licking up all the traces of cum on the outside. Saving the best for last.

Only when the skin around the horse's doughnut shone like a polished floor did he dip into the crimson centre. His tongue glided in without any effort, drowning in slippery seed. He huffed, gripping onto Brett's legs and pushing his face as deep as it would go. He had his chance now: to rim Brett again and hear how he was making him feel. That was all he wanted. With eyes shut, he pushed forward.

He had no idea how long they spent like that. Alexander's mouth was tied to Brett's ass as surely as Polo's knot had been. He licked gently, and he guzzled. He dug deep, and he probed. He introduced Brett to his prostate, which made him scream so hard Alexander thought the neighbours must surely have woken. Not that they'd have a chance of guessing what the noise was. _I'm just here, eating out my sexy friend's amazing asshole, making him scream with pleasure. No big deal. _

Brett's head was on the bed, resting on his hands. In between moans and invocations, he gave his friend instructions. Like a pair of explorers, they mapped out his body, finding the areas that pleased him most. "Go back," he'd huff, and Alexander would return to the spot near the entrance that made him quiver. "Deep, deep," and the bay would seek out the buried nubbin that made the bedspread tense as broad stallion hands gripped against it and pulled in ecstatic agony.

Or just, "Fuck me". And then Alexander's long stallion tongue would do what it did best, and slide as far in as it could, and out again, stiffening to reach the deepest parts of his friend as the muscular stud pushed back to help him. He'd press along one side of the passage, then the other. His friend's inner heat was glorious, and his taste -- now cleaned of every trace of Polo -- was simply stallion, pure and beautiful. Alexander couldn't imagine anything better -- until Brett's hand reached back to rest on his. He peered around to meet his friend's eyes, which were half-lidded and lustful above nostrils that flexed and snorted.

"Fuck me, Alex," the handsome male whispered, and Alexander knew the difference.

The bay rose up, pressing his hard erection against Brett's rear and slipping inside with a welcoming squelch. Both stallions groaned as Alexander's long cock disappeared into his friend's body. There was nothing in the wide, loose, well-fucked ass that stopped him from hilting in one go, and when his balls pressed against Brett's body, he stopped and sighed in delight.

"Fuck you, horse," Brett gasped, "don't stop now!" Alexander chuckled. He pulled out, and thrust in again, inches of horsecock slipping along that hot warmth and feeling his friend doing his best to tighten onto him. He didn't go fast. Why hurry? Long, slow strokes massaged Brett's body and made him squirm and moan all over again. Alexander even slid a hand down to cup the Fjord's balls, feeling their weight as he made love to his friend's ass. Measured thrusts in; gradual pulls out. He kept his flare inside, though, exploring the soft depths that his tongue -- and Polo's cock -- had opened up already. And if he took too long to push in again, Brett snorted and pushed back himself, forcing his friend's fat flare deep inside him and making him gasp and shudder with pleasure.

When Alexander's breaths got shorter, Brett knew. "Finish in me," he begged, taking his own cock in one hand. "I want to feel it." The bay sped up, but it was hardly necessary. He'd been on the edge for a while; only the languid pace of the sex had kept him from blowing his load inside his friend's fantastic ass a good while ago. Three, four, five sharp thrusts -- and his hands curled up as he emptied his second load of the night. He gripped Brett's sides and held himself deep, feeling his pulsing prick filling the hole that had been a sexual playground for all of them that night. Brett gave a long and happy moan, his body tightening on the cock inside him as he was filled, and unloading again onto the bedspread; it was so soaked by now, there was a splashing sound this time.

When Alexander was done, with cum dribbling out around his shaft, he withdrew. His flare dragged out a good helping of semen; it ran down Brett's crack and along his ball sack as the bay stallion collapsed onto the bed next to his friend. Brett flopped down next to him, breathing heavily. He took deep, satisfied breaths, pushing his mane out of his eyes and meeting Alexander's eyes. As hormones faded, silence grew. At first it was simply the pleasant silence of shared pleasure, but as neither of them said anything, it began to grow uncomfortable. When Brett broke the look to stare at something else, Alexander knew.

The bay stallion tried on a few sentences in his mind. Stay. We can figure this out. Nothing's changed. Two friends, two secrets. If this didn't give them enough common ground to go further, what could? He'd told Brett that he didn't want to replace what he had, that this was only for the night but...he couldn't let go. They had a connection. He'd never been this close with anyone that knew what he was. They could make this work, definitely. Right? It would be hard, but--

"I'll...need to leave early."

Alexander stared at Brett. His cock had retreated into his body. Just a naked stallion, lying in his own cum. "Sure. Yeah." The dream quietly disassembled, the pieces dissolving.

"Thanks for...the advice." So, either a cock dispensed wisdom now, or they were going to ignore everything. Alexander felt a familiar sensation forming inside, and hurriedly got to his feet before Brett saw any tears.

"Yep. Yep. I'll...see you tomorrow."

"Night."

The bay stallion walked back to his room, stepping once more over the dog sleeping at the door. He slipped under the covers and lay still, eyes wide, staring into nothingness.

Shouldn't have gotten your hopes up.

---

He half expected to find Brett gone when he woke up, but the Fjord was standing downstairs in boxers, making coffee. Two Advil sat on the counter. Brett gave a thin smile when his host came down the stairs in pyjamas, and wordlessly offered him a mug of joe. Alexander took it with mumbled thanks, and drank to ignore the awkward silence.

Fuck.

When Brett walked around the island and gave him a hug, it was a real surprise. He put the mug down and hugged back fiercely. Brett's hands were digging into Alexander's back, and his head was tucked into the nape of his neck. When Alexander felt his collar dampen from tears, he tightened his arms around the other stallion and pressed his nose to his neck, giving him a single understanding kiss.

They hugged one another in complete silence, and Alexander let his friend weep into the abyss.

When Brett pulled away, he whisked away one errant drop and cleared his throat. "So...I'm gonna be off, then," he said, with the tone one used to mention curious weather.

"Might wanna get dressed," Alexander pointed out, with a fake smile. A snake was curled up in his belly.

Brett looked down and chuckled. "Right, yeah. Heh." He stared at Alexander for a moment, almost as if he wanted to say something, but simply nodded briskly and went upstairs. Alexander took his coffee up again and drank it slowly, waiting. It was finished long before Brett returned, dressed and packed, but he held onto the mug anyway. One hand on the door handle, another on the mug. No free hands when he faced Brett in the doorway. No accidental final handshakes or hugs. Only a light farewell, and then the rental car was gone, down the road.

Alexander stood in the doorway for a good while, staring at where it had disappeared around a corner. His lips moved, speaking unheard words. And then it was as if an invisible mask was placed over his face. Something that was visible there a moment before was abruptly whisked away. Another stallion took his place, and that stallion shut the door and went back inside.