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Tristan sat on the porch, watching his son baling hay under the midday sun.

He'd been there a while now, though he couldn't say quite how long. He'd rather stopped noticing the time once his son took his shirt off. There must have been a time before that happened - and before the erection in his pants was quite as thick - but it was not a time he cared to think back to right now. Now was for ogling the shirtless, sweaty stud in the yard.

He took another drink from the bottle he held and slowly rubbed his engorged dick through the denim of his pants, nickering softly, his eyes locked on Kieran's sweaty, grimy body. His son glistened in the daylight as if coated in oil; every movement made a new curve shine or flexed a different muscle. His strength was fantastic. Only the powerful flexing of his arms as he tossed each pitchfork-impaled bale onto the back of the truck betrayed his effort; he made it look as simple as stacking plates.

Each bale that thudded down onto the bed of the truck threw bits of itself into the air, drifting languidly in the shimmering heat. Tristan snorted hard, sucking in the smell of it. He loved hay. Other scents might be more quintessentially farm-like, but they didn't remind him of the things hay did. Of making a little nest inside it in the barn during a thunderstorm and snuggling up with Kieran. Of cutting it in the fields, only to end up throwing clods at one another, hiding behind hay rolls and laughing like idiots. Of charging his son's defences, overwhelming them, falling onto him and kissing him. Kissing, and stroking, and grinding...

Tristan shook his head and snorted, gripping the breadth of his cock through his pants. Yeah. Now was a good time.

He got to his feet and sauntered out into the yard. The sun's heat radiated back at him from the baking ground, and the sky was blue and bright; he tipped his hat forward a little to reduce the glare. Ahead of him, Kieran had paused, leaning against the pitchfork with an amused expression. He waited until his father stopped a yard or two away from him, then sucked thoughtfully on his teeth.

"Firehose," he drawled eventually. Tristan felt an electric shock at that word and tensed his muscles to maintain his composure. Kieran had read his mind; this was his favourite roleplay.

"Farmboy," he growled in response. He raised the brim of his hat with one finger and squinted at his son with what he hoped made for a good suspicious look. "Still workin'?"

"Ain't I fuckin' just," Kieran responded. He raised the pitchfork and drove it into the dry earth, yawning and lifting his arms in a casual flex that made his biceps form into small mountains and the rippling muscles down his sides spring into hard relief. Forests of hair emerged from his underarms; Tristan had made him swear to stop shaving them after their reunion. "You got me doing all the work out here, Firehose." Kieran spat off to the side and rested one hand casually upon the extremely prominent bulge that had formed in his pants the moment his father had begun walking towards him. "Seems to me you should be out here helpin', and we'd get it done in half the time."

"I ain't payin' you for your opinion, farmboy." Tristan gave a husky snarl and felt a thrill to hear his son barely suppress a gasp. Kieran's massive chest was rising and falling faster now. "You're gonna pay off that debt, and I'll decide when you're done." The older stallion stepped closer and pushed a finger into his son's chest. Right where the hair was thickest. He really shouldn't, but he couldn't resist lifting the finger to his nose when he pulled it back, wiping the trace of sweat onto the skin right under his nostrils. Kieran noticed, and just hid a smirk before resuming his role.

"You ain't payin' me at all, Firehose! Why, I been out here in the sun all the livelong day, movin' hay like your own personal little beast of burden, and I ain't had so much as a drink o' water!" He put his hands to his sides, puffing his already-impressive chest out dramatically. Tristan gritted his teeth to avoid simply falling into the gorgeous, musky valley that lay between them. "I deserve a drink!"

"You don't deserve nothing that ain't a beating, farmboy!" Tristan walked around Kieran, dragging a finger over his son's sleek, slick body. "Being all lazy out here on my dime. The nerve." He tucked a finger into the top of his son's pants and tugged. "Drop 'em, farmboy. I'm gonna smack your ass until it's so red them honeybees start coming to you lookin' for their pollen."

Kieran put on a cocky expression, but he unbuttoned his pants and forced them down over the now-obvious length of his erect penis. The hefty shaft bobbed back up into the air, and Tristan stared, enraptured. Only when Kieran snorted and stamped a hoof did the other stallion recall what they were doing.

"Pah!" he said dismissively. "Ain't no wonder you're working so slow, farmboy! That little prick's barely enough for a pony!" A line that always made him snigger, staring as he was at near twenty inches of prime stallion cock.

"Oh yeah?" Kieran retorted, unable to wipe the grin from his face. "Bet this farmboy's still bigger than you, Firehose." Tristan whinnied, feeling the lust begin to take over. Not yet!

"Well, let's just take a look, farmboy!" Tristan tried to push the lust aside by focusing on undoing his own pants. That only brought his hands into contact with his dick again, though, and by the time he'd undressed to match his son, his thighs and hands were smeared with pre-cum, and his cock was painfully hard, throbbing before him. He licked himself clean cockily. "First time seeing a real stallion cock, boy? That'll explain those big eyes then." He made a show of looking down at his long cock, and then his son's. He was, in truth, bigger, but only by half an inch. Not that either of them gave a fuck. Horsecock was horsecock. "Looks like you lose, farmboy! So, bend over and take your punishment like a good boy."

"I ain't no good boy, Firehose," Kieran growled. He rolled his shoulders and made his pecs bounce, reaching down to tug on his nutsack and make his dick bob around. "I'm a bad boy, and I'm thinking I'm tired of taking instructions from a little-dicked colt like you."

"Oh yeah?" Tristan asked. He had to say it twice; it came out as a breathy, needy croak the first time. So close. "And what're you gun' do about it?" He stepped closer, close enough to see every drop of sweat running down his son's body, close enough to smell his wonderful smell of hay and sweat and horse, close enough for their dicks to slide alongside one another. The breathlessness was back, but it helped for the last word. "Farmboy?" Their eyes locked, and as Tristan stared into his son's face, he felt like he was falling in love with him all over again.

Then Kieran slapped a hand to his father's mouth and pushed him backwards, onto the hay bales.

"I'm gun' remind you who's the alpha stallion around here, Firehose," he hissed. Tristan made the necessary vague attempt to fight back, but Kieran really did have the upper hand on him, roleplay or not. After a few seconds of fruitless struggle, he blew air through the fingers covering his mouth, making wordless, vaguely angry sounds. Kieran wagged a finger at him. "Too late, Firehose. You need to learn some respect, huh? Yeah." He grabbed his father's cock and squeezed it a little, nearly making Tristan's eyes cross over in anguish and pleasure. "I'll show you how we teach respect where I come from."

Kieran's forearms pressed down on Tristan's chest, making the older horse groan with delight. His son's strength was such an aphrodisiac, and doubly so when he was using it to restrain his father. Tristan's legs had already spread by the time one of Kieran's hands dropped to push them apart, and he saw his son cock his head with a half-smile. Already? He chuckled at him through the fingers - then gasped as his son's hand found his tailhole. "You ever gone done had a horse like me in here, boy?" his son asked mockingly, and Tristan shook his head violently. "Well, ain't there just a first time for everything, huh? Saddle up, Firehose. You gonna get horsefucked."

Fuuuuck, yes.

Kieran gripped the flare of his tumescent pole, stroking up and down a little, then smearing the pre-cum over his father's nose. "Smell a stud, bitch," he growled, and Tristan breathed in, head spinning from the intense aroma. Kieran's smells had become so fucking concentrated since he moved back to the farm. It was incredible, like he was taking in the raw strength of nature and concentrating it. He couldn't stop the moans now, but didn't care. This wasn't roleplaying anymore, this was fact. He was being dominated by his son, and it made him so fucking hard and needy that if he didn't get that long, beautiful stallion prick inside him in the next few seconds he felt like he might die.

"Yeah, Firehose," Kieran purred. He was dragging it out, the horny little fuck. Tristan loved him. "Moan for your alpha. Flex that hole for me, let me feel you." Tristan clenched his ass as hard as commanded. "There. Who's the good boy now?"

Me, Tristan thought. I'm your good boy, son. Fuck my brains out, you handsome fucking stud.

Kieran stepped back, pushing his cock down until it was aimed like an arrow at his sire's quivering doughnut. "You'd better keep that tight hole loose, boy," he said. "Tight virgin holes like this ain't used to real stallions like me." Tristan's hole was infinitely far from virginal, and was anyway still lubed up with the load his son had pumped into him in bed that morning. Kieran's dick would sink into his insides like a tree-trunk disappearing into quicksand. "Are you ready, Firehose?"

So fucking ready, son.

"Tough," the younger stallion said, and with a grunt, he started pushing into his father.

"Omfff!" Tristan said, still muffled by the fingers covering his mouth. Kieran hadn't paused; from the moment his flare pushed through the ring to his balls coming to rest against his father's taint, no more than five seconds passed. Tristan felt the cock surging up inside him, spreading that wonderful, irreplaceable feeling of stretch and fullness throughout him. His muscles unclenched, and he slumped back against the hay, quivering with pleasure. Kieran's weight on him did not relent; his son knew he'd developed a taste for it. He rested against the bale, legs spread wide, his son's dick buried inside him, fucking him slowly.

"There we go, Firehose," Kieran murmured, and his words were full of love. "There's the cock you want. You like being filled?"

The fingers on Tristan's mouth dropped away, and he nodded vaguely. "Yes, son."

"Good boy. Good boy." Kieran pulled out only about ten inches of his dick each time, thrusting them back into Tristan's wet, hungry ass over a period of seconds. "You just love getting fucked, hey, stud. Tell me you love my dick, Dad."

"I fucking love your dick, son," Tristan moaned. The sun's heat had not abated, but the heat inside him was greater yet. Kieran's flare was like a barrel rolling up and down his passage. His son's smell mixed with the scent of the hay under them, and the dry, dusty air to make a perfume that filled his nose on every breath. This was life. This was everything. Outside, under the big sky, beneath his son. Filled by his cock, covered by his body, tasting his...his...

Tristan lifted a hand to bring Kieran's face closer and kissed him tenderly on the lips as they made love. He lost track of time again. There had been a time before this happened, before their lips locked together and their tongues entwined as cock bred ass below them, but it was not a time he cared to think back to right now.

The long, generous fuck left Tristan so sensitive inside than the moment Kieran sped up, preparing to push to orgasm, the older stallion's body leapt for the finish line itself. "Oh, shit!" he gasped, gripping his son's side as he broke the kiss. "Oh, Kieran, I can't...too much, son, I'm gonna..."

Kieran responded by hammering his hips even faster, looking down at the paternal dick sandwiched between them with fierce eyes. "Cum then, Dad! I wanna watch it." Had sexier words ever been spoken? Tristan's head thumped back, his hands lying limply to either side; this ejaculation would not need any help from him. The barrel within him scraped up and down, hitting his prostate every second, pounding the little nub until pain and pleasure melted together and there was only the agony of the building pressure in Tristan's balls, the pressure that was so close to cresting, he just needed to push a little harder, a little more...

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck...!"

He still had a firehose, after all. The first few blasts drenched his face, as they always did, and the rest landed everywhere. Kieran's tongue dove down, slurping up his sire's ample seed as it ran down his father's muscular body. The dirty, sexy, wonderful noises his son made as he did so only made Tristan clench his dick harder. "Drink it, son," he gasped, making Kieran moan. "Drink Daddy's cum. Are you gonna pump your load into him, boy? He wants it. Give it to me, Kit..."

His son didn't even stop drinking his father's cum when he came. He just grunted, muscles clenching, dick buried far inside him. Tristan felt the flare pulsing through his belly muscles, staring in delight as Kieran licked all around the bulge it made, swallowing every drop of semen the flexible younger stallion could reach. Only when his tongue had washed clean every part of Tristan that he could reach, did Kieran bend upright again, groaning happily.

"Fuck, Dad," he sighed. "It's like you didn't even fucking cum this morning." He cupped his father's testicles in one hand, hefting them. "Good fucking work, boys." A good deal of cum had escaped his tongue and dribbled down onto those balls, and he smeared it onto his fingers and lifted them for a lick. "Firehose," he said, affecting the drawl of his character again, "I've gone decided I don't need that drink after all. Had me a nice healthy serving of stallion cream instead."

He pulled out slowly, clearly enjoying the pleasure-dulled expression on his father's face as he did so, and then climbing right back on top of him after, his flaccid, cum-soaked cock nestling on Tristan's abs as they kissed again, hands sliding slowly across one another's bodies, just happy to be together.

A distant roll of thunder eventually interrupted, and Tristan opened his eyes, glancing off to the side to eye the dark clouds building on the horizon. "Shit."

"The hay?" Kieran looked down at him questioningly.

"Yeah."

His son did a quick assessment, eyes flicking about, then smirked down at his father. "Seems to me," he drawled, "with the two of us workin' together, Firehose, we can get it done in half the time."

"Well, now, farmboy, hang on just a hay-tossin' minute. I ain't gonna help you out for free." Kieran slid from his father's lap and reached for the pitchfork.

"Sure as Sunday, that's fair," the younger horse agreed. He struck a pose, tail flagged, hole exposed. "How's about you take payment after'n we're done?"

Tristan grinned. "Sounds mighty fine to me."