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The two brothers were still looking out of the windows, seemingly unconcerned with conversation, and Keith dared to turn his head a little to either side and run his eyes up and down both of them. Chet's crotch caught his eye with a bulge that looked obscene even through his jeans. It couldn't be his dick, or he'd have to be half-dropped. The horse had heard once that donkeys had especially large sheaths, for whatever reason; it seemed Chet's mother had dutifully passed that gene along to her son. Shit...but if that was just his sheath, how big was his dick?

His crotch throbbed and complained at him.

Looking at Axel was just as pleasant. The zorse was incredibly fit, and Keith silently applauded his dedication and gym regimen. It took a lot of work to look like that, even if you had the free workout that farm work amounted to. All his muscles were wonderfully proportioned, but it was still his arms that made the horse's nostrils flare the most. Those stevedore arms looked like the finest things in the world to have wrapped around you: their strength supporting you as their owner's cock slid smoothly in and out of you, and you stared up into his eyes and made happy, slutty noises.

But he didn't want them. Either of them. Ugh. They were just pretty boys, a dime a dozen in farm country. Sun, fresh air and hard work bred them like flies. He wanted his dad. The soft-voiced, broad-shouldered stallion was right there. Right in front of him. At last. Three years he'd been away from him, stuck on a campus they couldn't afford to fly him back from, working hard to make sure he didn't fail. He couldn't let his dad down. The farm's debt was endless - especially after the rough year just before the horse had graduated - and while his father made light of it, the horse knew that paying for his studies had left his father in an extremely precarious position. It was why he'd picked the major he had. He wanted to come home again, and help his dad turn the farm into an asset, not a liability.

It had been he who suggested that they save money by not flying him home twice a year, every year. He felt a small frog in his throat as he recalled how his father had wept into his neck, holding him so tightly he could almost not breathe, alternately telling him he couldn't be without him, and thanking him for the sacrifice. That memory had carried him through his time. Just three years. Three short years and he'd be home, qualified and able to contribute more than just his muscles to the running of the ranch, and he and his father could finally begin the rest of their lives together...

He watched his father. The tall stallion was listening to something Felix was saying, his head nodding gently. His big hands rested gently on the wheel, guiding the car as effortlessly and softly as he did most anything. He was so beautiful; Keith's heart ached to behold him. Dad's brown muzzle had a lighter splotch right at the end, around his nose, that looked like he'd just dipped his mouth into a big ol' cappuccino. Keith used to see that splotch when they finished, with his father's sweaty bulk hanging above him, snorting, cum still drooling from his tip. He'd just reach up with one hand and tug the muzzle down, and kiss the tip of his nose with gentle, loving lips, and Dad would sigh, and kiss back, and slowly lower himself onto his son, his weight pressing him down, down, into the warm hay beneath them, with only the stars above to see them. Keith would wrap his arms around his father - he couldn't even make his fingers touch, his father was so broad - and grip him tight, and wish every good and lovely thing in the world to be given to his father in exchange for the priceless gift of partnership he'd given to his son.

At the airport, he'd told himself he could last a few more days, but now he wasn't sure that was true. It had just taken a little time to sink in. He was home. With Dad. For good! No more classes, no more late nights of study to make sure he'd really understood the material, no more tutoring annoying freshmen to make a couple extra bucks so he wouldn't have to ask Dad for more money to have enough food for the rest of that month. He was really, really here...and all he wanted was to get his hands on the body he'd only seen through screens for the last thirty-six months.

In exchange for his not coming home for three years, Dad had made him a promise: biweekly phone calls. That had escalated within a month to online video, when neither of them could bear to not see one another anymore. Dad had had to upgrade the line back home to support the bandwidth, but it had been worth it. It had been hard the first few weeks: really fucking hard. The tears had flowed freely and frequently, and Keith had had attacks of anxiety that had come close to making him doubt everything he was trying to do. Dad needed him! The way he tried to sound calm, and strong, but was betrayed by the constant quaver in his voice. The way he'd always try to say goodbye before the tears turned into full-on sobs. The way he stroked the screen, his face bent at that slight angle he always used when he looked at something he enjoyed. It had ripped at the stallion's very soul, but the one time he brought it up, his Dad had simply shook his head.

"This is nothing, son," he'd said. "This is an eye-blink. It's already over - we just don't know it yet. You're gonna turn around one day, and realise you're looking back at three years, and I'm gonna be standing there, and it will be like it never happened." He'd snapped his fingers, and smiled. "Just like that. And then it'll just be you and me, y'hear? Like we said. So don't feel bad, alright? You're too smart and too beautiful for that. Don't be sad for now: be happy for the day you turn around."

Fuck. He loved that big beautiful horse so fucking much it hurt.

They'd adapted. Their distance had become the new normal, and they'd found ways to reduce the pain of their separation - like exchanging nudes. The first time he'd flashed his dick at his dad, the older horse had looked scandalised. "What if the Internet sees?" he'd asked, and Keith had assured him the Internet was not spying on them - and then asked slyly if his father would like it if they did. His expression had been priceless. Keith had continued to show off, and when he'd turned around from sending a close-up of his asshole, he'd found his father - dick in hand - staring at him.

"Daddy likes it when you show off for him," he'd said, and Keith had nearly cum on the spot. He'd done everything he could think of to show off more - the sight of his furiously masturbating father better than any aphrodisiac - until his father had grunted that he was close, and he'd thumped into his chair and grabbed his own dick and pulled himself off as quickly as he could. Dad had groaned, and his head had fallen back, and his gorgeous black flare had spat it's creamy load all over his chest, and Keith's had followed suit.

And after that, Dad had turned into an even bigger cam slut than his son. Something about showing off - or being watched at a distance - really did it for the stallion. He was constantly looking for ways to change things up. One of the very first things he'd decided was that the laptop camera didn't just add ten pounds, it also added a keg and a couple of tree trunks. He wanted to look good on the screen for his boy. He was gonna work out, properly, and turn his general farm strength into hot, visible muscle. "I'm gonna be a stud, son," he'd say, "for when you get back." Keith would tell him he was already a stud, but that was just for a little ego boost. His father seemed to have fixed on determined exercise as one of his coping mechanisms for losing his son for so long, and what was wrong with that? It was a far safer option than other addictions he might have gone for, after all. If it made his father happy, and gave him something extra to fill his time, then Keith would never do anything to take that away from him.

Keith still had a hard drive with every single porn chat they'd ever had. He'd revisited it so many times, it was a wonder the thing hadn't died. A few days before he flew home, he'd been looking through it, and he'd compared the very first video to the very newest. The different was remarkable, and even though he'd seen it happening week by week, it was much more shocking to compare three-years-ago Dad - tall, but bulky, with a big belly and heavy legs - with new Dad. The belly had tightened up into a muscle gut, and the legs had turned hard and rippled. His wide chest was like one solid muscle, and his ass...holy fucking shit. Michelangelo would have wept to behold it.

His eyes dropped to that ass now. He could only see part of it, but it looked tight, and eminently fuckable. It had been amazing before...he couldn't begin to imagine how good it would feel now. He couldn't wait to get it. Driving his dick into his father's hole, feeling his tight muscles pressing into his flesh, slapping those buttocks with a palm to hear the slap...he adjusted one leg to let his thickening cock slip down a bit, and glanced guiltily at the males to either side. This really wasn't the time to be reliving memories like this...but nobody was paying attention to him. And he was so. Fucking. Horny.

His favourite video of all had been all about that ass. It had only been a week or two before. Maybe Dad had been extra turned on, or excited that his son would soon be coming home. Just after the chat began, he'd told his son to hang on, and vanished off-screen. A couple minutes later, the jingle of spurs had become audible - and then two leather-clad legs came into view. The material was skin-tight, and cut away around the crotch to expose as much skin as possible, while still leaving the genitals covered. When he turned, Keith could see that the back of the legs were laced up, but his father's ass was exposed. He'd only gotten a glimpse before Dad turned back, and sat down on the edge of the bed with a thump.

"Like what you see, pardner?" he'd said, affecting the most stereotypical rancher accent imaginable. He'd had a leather jacket on, too, but it had hung open in front. Showing off his body. Keith's dick had been out of his pants in seconds.

"Shore do, pops," he'd replied, in character. That had made Dad chuckle, and he'd spread his legs wide, making the bulge between his legs press tightly against the thin leather pouch that held it. One of his hands had slid over a thigh and grabbed it, groping and squeezing it in a way that had made Keith groan out load. His dick had already been so hard, he wasn't sure he'd last long. Dad's hot bod in a naughty cowboy outfit? Buttons were pressed. And when his father lifted one hoof to rest it on the bed, and worked lazily at one of the knots of the crotch-holder until it came loose, and his half-dropped horsecock spilled out across the bedspread like every wet dream Keith had ever had, Keith had sworn out loud.

"Oh, ffffuuuuck, Dad..."

His father had grinned, but not replied, and groped himself some more; dragging his dick back and forth across the bed covers and letting the near-constant stream of pre-cum leave a silvery trail behind it. It had been mesmerising - but when his Dad had suddenly got up, turned around, and gotten on all fours, Keith had had to let go of his dick for fear of ruining his laptop with an uncontrollable orgasm.

Dad's legs were laced up behind with leather ties, as he'd seen, but his ass was entirely exposed. With his legs spread wide, his cock hung down between them, like the long, thick ebony handle to a sceptre whose gem was the ruby doughnut that nestled above it. Dad had lifted his tail high already, but reached back with a hand to pull it even higher, making the skin taut and smooth, and hiding nothing from his son.

"I got a real problem here, pardner," he'd said huskily. "Got me this here ass, and nobody around to fill it." He'd let his tail go, and the fingers had slid down to rub over his doughnut. "Us farm horses are hungry buggers," he'd continued. "We need a feeding every day." And Keith had had to bite down on a knuckle when he saw his father push inside himself with one thick finger. There was no faking the pleasure-moan that echoed from his speakers. "And I'm real hungry, pardner," his father had said, words half-breathed, half-spoken, and soaked with lust. "I need it real bad. Need a hot young stud to get right up in here...and feed me his load." A second finger had joined the first, and Keith's dick - sticking up from his crotch like the bluntest rocket ever made - had jerked and squirted a gob of pre-cum out, to begin it's journey oozing down the colt's shaft. He'd grabbed himself with both hands, jerking off with wild abandon, eyes locked to the sight of his cowboy father finger-fucking himself and moaning like a slut as he did so. It had only taken Keith a few moments to get to the edge, and just as he felt his balls rising up...