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"Fuck she was hot!"

"Yeah Mick, hot."

"She fucking wanted me! I told ya, she was gagging for it!"

"Yeah Mick, gagging. Specially when you chucked up all over her dress."

"Fuck I was in there."

I merely sighed, willing the kilometres to pass quicker as the increasingly twitchy lion driving the taxi sped through the night.

How did I get myself into this kind of mess?

Loyalty I guess. And kindness and regret and a hundred other contrasting factors. In the objective part of my brain I knew this was who I was. A friend in need, and boy did Mick need a friend. I just wish he wasn't such a pillock sometimes, particularly when he had a skinfull.

Growing up we had been inseparable, best of mates, a dynamic duo on the football field and at every party going. Even when I came out, hesitantly and fearfully, Mick had stood beside me when several did not. "Well, as long as you don't try anything on with me Hank, I don't give a shit. Besides, more tail for me right?" I loved the way the big stallion could be understanding and pragmatic at the same time. It meant I could love him without feeling beholden.

Thank God he never knew how much I did want him, even when I knew how he felt. Or maybe, even because of how he felt. Straight boys have always been a weakness of mine, and the big grey stallion was my ultimate jack off fantasy both before and after I finally gave in to my impulses and began exploring this wonderful world of guy sex. How many times had I pictured that first time I would suckle his heavy package, the slightly drunk stud begging for a servicing when his latest conquest failed to live up to her part of the bargain.

Sadly, or perhaps thankfully, it had never come. Then he had married Sharon and I had to admit it never would. Now of course, there was no way.

"Ohh fuck I feel butchers."

"Mick, maybe you shouldn't have had 15 schooners so fast on an empty stomach? We're not 20 anymore...fuck were past 40 and we can't do that shit."

"Fuck Hank, just having some fun...that's all."

I grunted at the stallion, his eyes now glazing over in the taxi beside me, the smell of vomit still sharp in the air. Yeah, fun. Keep telling yourself that Mick.

When Sharon had been diagnosed, Mick had been a tower of strength, the perfect support. I knew my Mick though, the insecurities and the fears. I knew it was all an act. I was the only one not surprised then when he fell apart after she died. I accompanied him on these binges because no one else would, all his other supposedly strong and caring friends mysteriously making other plans. I knew if we didn't, he would go anyway, and probably end up worse off. Instead, I helped him get unwound the only way he knew, his limited imagination unable to deal with feelings he couldn't express, then brought the wreckage home.

"Ohhh so fucking butchers mate...still huge night..."

"Quiet Mick, don't worry, we're nearly home."

Even in this state I think a part of me loved him. It was a while since I had called any of my lovers Mick in bed, but there was something still there. Maybe not the same though, I no longer saw him as my ideal sex fantasy. Age and reality had finally started curing me of my boner for Mick. I had few illusions that I was any more the sort that sexy straight guys fell for.

I'm a bear, big and burly muscle gutted guy like most my kind, now run a little more to gut than muscle and with my fur resolutely turning grey. Time to settle down Hank, and stop lusting after straight guys and hot twinks from the Zoo or whatever the latest trendy bar was called. I was acutely aware of the gay pecking order, and where I fitted in it. Let's say you would need to be checking out the basement. Thank fuck I bottom like no one else on Earth and give head like a vacuum cleaner on steroids.

"Number 147?"

"Yeah...keep the change."

I managed to open the door and somehow get a semi-conscious Mick from the back of the taxi. Mercifully, he unloaded a massive spew in the rose bushes rather than in the cab, for which mercy I could see heartfelt gratitude on the face of the lion as he gave a small wave and headed for his next fare. I must admit I didn't fancy having to pay for the cleaning too.

Pulling the swaying stallion upright, I ignored his now incoherent mumbling as I walked him with difficulty to the door. Putting one big paw into his pockets, I felt around for his keys. Nada. With increasing desperation I tried his other pocket, realising there was no sign of them. He had either lost them or come out without them. Either way we were screwed.

I looked in the driveway and noticed a sign from God, or at least whatever deity helped out mates who help drunk mates who aren't handling grieving. St Cedric the mildly pissed? I dunno. But there in the driveway was the small beaten up Ford belonging to Rory, Mick's son. He was home this Saturday night. He wouldn't be impressed, but then again, I wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth.

It took a few rings of the doorbell before I heard the sound of hooves clattering on the tiles in the hallway. A sleepy "Yeah yeah wait a minute" then the door opened and light streamed out to illuminate us on the doorstep. I probably looked a sight, but nothing like Mick, his face an ugly colour and his eyes red and unfocussed with a small trail of gross spittle dripping from his muzzle to his chest. Way to stay classy Mick.

"Shit he looks fucked!"

I focussed on the colt in the doorway a moment. I expected anger or disappointment, so I was surprised to look into his eyes and see the genuine concern. I probably shouldn't have expected the worst, Rory was a great kid. He was frozen for the moment though and he needed the voice of authority to break him out of it.

"Stop stating the bleeding obvious Ror and give me a hand will you?"

He gave a sheepish grin and took one shoulder of his smashed dad, and together we managed to manoeuvre the now comatose stallion to his bedroom. The place was a disaster zone, clothes everywhere and the bed looking like it hadn't been made in millennia. Mick had gone all the way to rock bottom and started to dig.

With a grunt, we dropped Mick on the bed, and Rory helped me undress the now snoring stallion to his boxers before he gently covered his dad with the duvet. Walking silently to the ensuite while I collected the mass of soiled clothes from tonight, he then came back with a damp cloth and cleaned his dad's muzzle with surprising tenderness. I noticed a small misting of Rory's eyes then, and realised with a start how much I had failed. I had tended to Mick, but who was tending to the colt?

After we had Mick settled, we headed for the lounge room. Rory made us both a cup of tea, dark and sweet like I liked it. He remembered the little things did Rory. As he dunked the teabag I watched him appraisingly. I had known him all his life, babysitting him as a foal when Sharon and Mike went out to paint the town red. He had grown and developed, and not just physically, but he still retained that same nature, an innate kindness that even typical late teenage awkwardness couldn't remove. I had been so focussed on Mick, I hadn't really given him much thought but in hindsight he must be doing it tough. One parent gone, the other lost at sea.

"How has he been?"

The kid gave a shrug and a rueful smile. "Well, pretty much as you see. I keep him going mostly, though I suck as a housekeeper."

"Hey, you are doing amazingly. Don't beat yourself up just keep looking after him."

"I try Uncle Hank, but mostly I just feel like shit. I don't know how to help him."

"I think you help him just by being there whether he tells you that or not."

"Thanks Uncle Hank. And thanks for going out with him, I know it must be shit but he needs it, and he is usually better the next day even if he has a hangover."

I smiled and ran a paw through the colt's mane, before giving him a quick shoulder punch. He grinned and returned the favour and I couldn't help but gasp. It fucking hurt!

"Shit, you must be getting strong!"

"Hey I'm 19 now, no longer a wimpy colt. Plus I work out. If I've been given these genes I might as well use them."

I laughed at that but another look confirmed what he was saying. The colt was a stallion now, and one who bore a more than passing resemblance to the Mick I knew and lusted after all those years ago. Same dapple grey coat, same mane and tail like flowing silver, same broad shoulders, same expressive blue eyes. I found myself absently checking out his package before catching myself and giving my mind a stern talking to lest any more such brainsnaps be in the offing. Still, the thought lingered, and with it the bittersweet feelings.

"What?" I suddenly realised he had asked a question and I hadn't registered the content.

"I said, do you want to stay tonight? I can set you up on the couch like dad did last time, you really don't look in great shape yourself and I don't think you should be trying to get home tonight."

I wrestled with that idea, but as if to make my mind up for me, I heard a clap of thunder and the sound of heavy rain beginning to spatter on the windows. The predicted thunderstorm was here and getting a taxi was going to be a bitch.

"Yeah, thanks Rory."

His smile was so warm and genuine it warmed my heart more than was comfortable. I told myself I was only being a good friend of the family, but part of me knew better. I loved the feeling of giving him that smile. It was the best feeling I had had for months, and I didn't want to run away from it yet.

With typical teenage awkwardness he folded out the couch into a bed, making it up with sloppy efficiency while I watched silently, sipping my tea. The night was catching up with me and the sight of a warm bed sealed the deal. It was only moments after I put my head on the pillow before I was fast asleep.

*****

I woke with a start, my mouth feeling like a vulture's crotch. My tongue seemed to have pressed itself against the roof of my mouth and there attached itself via the use of an unknown furry substance. I coughed and scratched my balls, and realised the duvet had fallen off me in the night. No wonder I felt cold. Part of me definitely wasn't cold though; my cock was like a steel bar, and had poked its way out of the fly of my boxer shorts to sample the night air. Not my classiest look I had to admit.

I swung my legs off the bed, finding I was mostly sober, just dealing with the remains of a headache and a beer boner that would allow me to jackhammer through concrete. I gave it an experimental stroke, and it felt good. Oh fuck did it feel good. For a nanosecond I thought about lying back on the bed and rubbing out the cum I could feel burning a hole in my nuts, but common sense reasserted itself. That would be an interesting thing to explain to Rory, or Mick if they came into the lounge room. Oh that? Um...I'm just...yeah....no explanation really. A part of me liked the idea too though, being caught by one of those studs. My hardon got worse.

"Bad bear. Very very bad bear. And dumb bear."

Tucking myself back in as much as was possible, I padded over to the kitchen and threw down a glass of water, followed by a second. That cured the lingering headache pretty fast, and the vulture crotch feel in my muzzle. It had its own price though, as suddenly my booze boner became a booze and piss hard boner. Time to relieve little Hank.

I padded as silently as a 240 pound bear can down the corridor, noticing that Rory's door was slightly ajar and the light on, but I was too much in need of an empty bladder to stop. The sensation was delightful, and I let out a long deep sigh of contentment once I finally got the stream to go, after a long agonising minute of indecision thanks to my hardon. Eventually it worked, and I whistled a soft tune as I drained. God I hated cider, and it always made me piss like a fountain, but it was the only way to keep up with Mick and not get hammered.

I found my cock still stubbornly hard, and contemplated a quick toilet wank, but decided against it. With the way I was feeling, I really needed a deep satisfying ball draining cum, the sort that you get from long hard stimulation and edging to perfection. I would forego a quick wank in search of nirvana.

Tucking in again, I headed back down the passageway, but this time the light caught my attention and held it. I also became aware of noises, low murmuring and sighing. Perhaps Rory was having a dream? Maybe he was having a nightmare? He had a couple when he was young, I remembered him waking up when I was babysitting crying and afraid. I had held him, then given him rides on my shoulders to take the monsters away. I would growl and bare my teeth like a convincing predator, banishing the nasty creatures that lurked in the night, then he could curl up next to his bear uncle and I would read him stories. He told me he felt safe when I was there.

The thought made me nostalgic, and a little sad. Now he knew that there were things worse than monsters, and I couldn't make them go away. Determined to make sure he was ok, I pushed the door open a bit wider; I wasn't prepared for what I saw.

Rory was awake alright, but he wasn't having a dream. Unless he was engaged in the most interesting sleepwalking in history.

The colt was on all fours on his bed, his ass pointed towards the door and my increasingly amazed gaze. His head was resting on his pillow, eyes closed, and he was moaning deep and long while he slowly fucked his tailhole with a moderate sized dildo. I could see it all in heartstopping detail; his muscled grey cheeks spread wide, the sight of his soft leathery cleft incredibly arousing. It was black, like Mikes, all the way from his dock to his scrotum, and I could see his big balls bouncing in his sack as he drove the dildo in deeper and harder on each thrust. A dribble of lube made his taint shiny in the light from his bedside lamp.

"Ohhhhhh...yes harder."

His voice came into play now, and it made things worse. Deep sexy moans, pleas, and sighs. He was getting into it so much. I could smell it too, a deep musky scent of aroused stallion. It had driven me completely wild in the locker rooms at school, when Mick would strip off for practice after a heavy petting session with his girlfriend, balls still aching and precum coating his flare as it poked from his sheath. He would give me a wink and a grin as he stuffed that weight into his jockstrap knowing he was shattering my mind.

"Fuck....please....give it to me..."

Or if he was being really wicked, Mick would bend over mid change and poke his ass at me, flexing his muscled cheeks and giving me a tantalising sight of his crack and his tailhole, his tail swishing teasingly from side to side while he pulled on his jock with exaggerated slowness. I always hated him a little for that, but it provided most of my jack off material for two years. Now I had the same vision again, the same muscled stud ass spread and the glorious taint exposed, tail swaying high. Except this time I also saw a long equine cock, fully hard and drooling pre into the bed, and the sight of a muscled equine donut stretching wide around a thick dildo while big balls jingled in the air. The past and present merged, and I was in the locker room again, this time with Mick doing everything I wanted, and I couldn't look away. I was in heaven. Is he gay? Is he bi? Is he curious?

"Ohhh Hank...please...fuck me hard..."

"Yes Mick...fuck!"

A moment passed before I realised where I was and what was happening again. In my shock I had kneed the door wide and cried out, startling Rory from his self pleasuring. He was not the only one pleasuring, I realised, as I registered that I was hard, my cock out of its hiding place and swinging in the air, my right paw wrapped around it and slowly jacking as I lived my teenage fantasy.

"Hank?!?! Oh shit!"

"Rory...fuck! I ....fuck!....what....?"

I should have run, I should have left, but all I could think was that this was the sexiest sight I had seen in my life. If lightning were to strike me down now (not out of the question given the weather), I could go happily knowing I had been vouchsafed a vision of the ineffable. A naked, 19 year old muscled stud colt hard and leaking with a dildo up his ass staring at my cock after moaning my name in heat. Paradise has some odd choices but I wasn't complaining.

"Shit, shut the door please!"

Too stunned still I obeyed automatically, standing there with my cock out and grinning morosely. Eventually I realised this was a bad thing and tucked it away, though it didn't make much difference as little Hank remained obstinately hard and bulged out my boxers in ways that needed no explanation.

At least it was a little warmer in there.

"Rory...I think we should talk eh?"

"Yeah, I guess it's overdue Uncle Hank"

"Maybe without the dildo sticking out of your ass?"

He blushed even deeper, and I could see it under his grey fur. Fuck it was sexy. He gripped the end and slowly worked the latex friend from his nethers, and I was in for another shock. I was a bit of a dildo aficionado myself, so I knew all the designs. Unsurprisingly, equine was my cock of choice, but the one Rory had was familiar. A nice thick but not too long ursine dildo known as the "Papa Bear".

"I guess you know now I'm gay."

"Well, I wondered after tonight's performance, but thank you for confirming it. Needless to say I won't be telling anyone. Does Mick know?"

He blanched and shook his head.

"Hmm..well maybe this is not the time, but you should tell him. He was ok with me, by the way, so I think he should take it fine, but I will be there when you tell him if you like."

His smile was so warm, it was that same smile I remembered from earlier. I felt my heart melting as my cock still throbbed. The colt would make someone a great husband one day if they were lucky.

"Oh thanks Uncle Hank. I have been meaning to tell you, I just didn't know how, but that would be great. I know how much dad likes you, and if you were there supporting me, I think he would find it easier."

"Maybe. It's one thing for your friend to be gay , your son may be another thing. But we will cross that bridge when we come to it. Now, you said you didn't know how to tell me. Why? We have known each other so long Ror and you know I'm gay. What's the issue?"

He blushed again, letting his forelock cover his face and hide his eyes. It was another gesture I remembered from Mick, when we first met in school he would get like that around girls he fancied.

The thought echoed around my brain for a moment, picking up strength on each pass.

"Ohhh Hank...please...fuck me hard..."

I realised he was looking at me now, and his gaze was steady. More than steady. Predatory. His tongue slid out absently, licking the air and wetting his lips as a twinkle entered those blue depths.

"You cannot be serious!"

"Yeah, it's true. I have the hots for you Hank. I have since I first realised I was gay but it's got worse recently, and I didn't know how to tell you without telling you everything. Everything about you, you always turned me on. I saw you asleep tonight, the covers were off and your cock out again. It's happened a couple of times when you stayed after bringing dad home. I knew I wanted you, you were perfect, the guy I always wanted to be my first."

That caused me to start a little.

"First? You mean?"

"Yeah, I've been too chicken to do anything, and I wanted my first time to be good. I wanted you Hank, I realised that tonight. Please, will you take my cherry?"

I stood, doing an impression of a gaffed fish, my muzzle opening and closing without any sound. I didn't say no though, and Rory took that as a sign to continue. He stood up off the bed and walked over, his tail swaying and hooves making soft clip clops on the floor. Before I realised, he was next to me, and I felt his hands on my shoulders.

"Please?"

He leant in, and suddenly I was kissing him, this colt, our lips merging and tongues trying to battle ineffectually before settling in to mutual pleasuring. He smelt so good, and tasted better. But that was nothing to how he felt.

I knew it was wrong. Fuck I knew it, but it didn't matter. A part of me was doing this with Mick, and that part took over and told my conscience to get fucked, it was time. The rest of my body followed suit.

With inexperienced ardour, he crushed his body against mine, hands running down my back as he moaned sexily. I felt his hands reach inside my boxers to cup my ass and play with my stubby tail. He gripped hard, almost painfully, leaving bruises on my butt and I didn't care. I loved it, every brain melting cock twitching moment. Then he ground his crotch into mine, thick equine cock against my shorter ursine one. Only a thin screen of fabric between them.

I shuddered and moaned like a virgin myself as I felt his hands slip around my hips to cup my cock, jacking like only a teenager can, before he pulled my boxers down and rubbed our cocks together. I could feel the pulse in his incredible shaft, the twitch against my hardon so sweet as he started slowly wanking us together. I tasted blood as he bit down hard on my lips, and I responded, kissing back even harder and rocking my hips against his as he brought me close to the edge.

He backed off, leaving me panting and alone, a wicked smirk on his muzzle as he licked his lips savouring the blood, and his eyes flicked down to my throbbing cock.

This was a virgin?!Holy fuck I would never survive him after a few years....

"Please Hank...Please..."

"Ror..."

"I trust you Hank, I need you."

As he shuffled over to the bed again, resuming the position he was in when I first saw him, I knew I was done. That perfect muscled ass, glistening tailhole winking at me, his head on the pillow but eyes open now, blue depths boring into my brain.

A perfect young stud wanted my old bear body so much he was whimpering for it. What would anyone do? I never felt so good, or so alive. I could do this, and maybe show him the ways of our tribe, and who knows, maybe we could be together, the bear and the colt.

Baring my teeth in a predatory snarl, I launched onto the bed behind him as he whimpered softly, closing his eyes sexily in anticipation of pleasures to come. I had a weakness though, I loved tasting ass, and Rory's looked like the best I had ever seen.

His cry was a perfect compliment as I buried my muzzle in his crack, snorting warm air out my nostrils to warm and fondle his soft taint. I let my tongue out slowly, savouring his taste. First the base of his tail, then all the way down the magical mystery trail of his taint, the skin wrinkling in response to my touch. I circled his pucker, first lapping his sensitive anal lips and laughing a deep bear laugh at his cries of 'oh...oh...OHHHH' feeling that unique sensation. Rimming was one of the gifts of being gay, and if I had my way I was going to show him them all.

Leaving his perfect virgin pucker for a moment, clenching and unclenching under the assault of sensations, I licked the full length of his taint to the back of his scrotum, suckling those heavy foal makers and taking them deep in my muzzle to squeeze them teasingly between my teeth. There is something about having a predator wrap his sharp teeth around the balls of prey, something primal, and it seemed to work for Rory. His cock gave a great jerk and a line of precum shot out to join the growing wet patch on the sheets.

I couldn't resist that warm hole any longer though, and before long I had forced my tongue inside his hot warm tailhole to lick out the virgin colt. I felt him forcing back onto my tongue, his body now in the throes of the sex haze that I knew would only lift when he came. I would give him a long slow ride, perfect introduction to all the joys he had been missing. He was panting now, tongue out and drooling. I had him just right. This subby bottom was about to show the cute stud colt how to top. And I would make him beg for me first. I rammed my tongue in deep, seeking out his little colt nut, and he started babbling.

"Please no more teasing Hank. I need it now. I knew you had the perfect starter cock the first time I saw you hard, just the right size for my first. I wanted the guys at college so bad but I wanted to try out someone I could trust who wasn't too big first. Please...just do it...ohhhhhhhhh..."

The dream shattered, the fantasy gone in a moment. Starter cock. That was what I was. A warm dildo, just the right size, a familiar presence. I should have stopped, should have walked away, but the dominant predator had been unleashed. In place of joy, warmth, care, lust had taken hold. And anger. This colt was going to get a memorable first time.

I knelt behind him, running my claws through his tail then down his ass, little whimpers accompanying this rough treatment. Lines of white in his grey fur as my claws snaked along his skin; then patches of red as I dug in hard, breaking the skin and making him cry out in surprise. He kept position still, confident in his control. I would see how long that would last.

Spreading his ass cheeks wide, I lined my cock with his tailhole. It felt slick against my tip, the tapered head of my ursine cock made to plunder colt ass. It would go in easy at first, easier than any stallion with their thick blunt flare. But it widened to a nice broad base, something the arrogant stud would learn soon enough.

I pressed a little, rocking my hips only enough to make his pucker dimple and push in but not let my cock enter, his donut widening a little then closing again in a cycle timed to his heartbeat. His moans grew with each new cycle, a deep sound of approval. I cherished it for a moment, tasting it, running it over my tongue and into my ears, filling my body until it settled in my cock. My head rocked back, feelings in overdrive.

Before he realised what I was doing, I leant over him, pushing his shoulders down into the bed hard, my muzzle against his ears.

"Keep your ass pushed up for me ok? And try to stay quiet...we don't want to wake Mick."

I had wrapped one paw around his muzzle, stifling his response. He nodded, still feeling secure, thrilled by the moment but not yet understanding.

I rammed my hips forward, driving inside and burying my cock half way in one callous thrust. His whole body shook and spasmed, cries lost in my paw. I felt his ass most though, warm buttery depths, the incredible tightness as he gripped my shaft, trying to push out and instead drawing me deeper into heat. I knew I needed it all. Lips on his neck, kissing and nibbling, I continued thrusting, a little longer each time until with a final thrust I hilted inside him, his quivering pucker wrapped around the base of my cock.

"There colt...you took it all. Now relax and let me take charge or it will hurt more than it needs to."

He nodded, three quick robotic jerks, and I pulled out, feeling every inch of his gripping ass on the way out, my tip wiggling inside his rosebud before sliding in gently this time, feeling him sigh in relief. The sigh turning to a fresh cry as I used the last two inches to reinforce my point, holding then ramming forward deep and painfully. He was along for the ride now, and I would choose what sort of ride this horse was going to have.

Every ounce of insecurity, and every ounce of disappointment I had over Mick went into that fuck, so help me God. I lay over him, feeling his body on my fur, his own pressed into the bed, and I lifted his ass higher again, my own squat legs strong enough for what I wanted. Lining up just right, I began piledriving him, my cock sliding down the skin between his tail and his ass before ravishing his hole, his tail thrust to one side. A hard slapping sound filled his room and he grunted into my paw over his muzzle as I fucked the cocky stud harder and wilder than I even knew I could.

The feeling was incredible. His tight hole opened a little, but each new thrust still felt like the first, a sense of amazement at the way he could grip so tight yet still open for me. I could feel him shuddering under me but I didn't care how he was feeling. All I could feel was his ass, my cock, and his body at my mercy.

"That's it pony...take it like a good mare."

His moan was perfect, and I felt his ass suddenly clenching even tighter. I looked down to see his arm bent under him, moving in a familiar pattern. He was jacking his long stallion cock all the while. Suddenly, he couldn't take any more and he began squeezing my cock, his ass on fire as he unloaded into the bed. I let him ride it out, the last quiet shudders as his orgasm receded. I rested a moment, letting him get his breath. I was nowhere near cumming yet, age and alcohol having their effect. The stud was going to realise soon enough that you finish when the dom has had enough and not before.

I pulled out, a loud pop echoing in the room as his ass relinquished my cock reluctantly, a line of thick precum still joining my tip to his pucker. I watched it droop and fall to the bed slowly panting from the exertion, before reaching for Rory's legs and turning him over before he could regain his senses.

He looked at me with a mix of fear and lust and surprise as I raised his legs over my shoulders, wrapping him in my arms and crushing him against my musclegut as I kissed him hungrily. He responded, a little uncertainly now, as I lined up again with his tailhole.

I was watching him, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the kiss, even the feel of cock against his plundered hole. His eyes flew open in wide pain and astonishment though as I thrust in to the hilt in one movement, his ass now opened wide and inviting after the first fuck. This would be deeper though, and harder, the new position my favourite in the rare times I topped. I wrapped my arms around the helpless stallion, gripping him against my big body, and pressing him into the bed.

"Now hold on pony"

Never taking my eyes from his, I started to fuck. His legs wrapped around the small of my back as I pounded into him, my teeth bared in a wild snarl as I ground into his quivering ass. It felt magic. I felt the fight go out of him, his whole body going slack as he moved with my thrusts, and I sped up, chasing the sensation of his incredible ass gripping my cock. Harder and faster, my body putting every ounce of energy into rutting the cocky colt until finally I felt it, the feeling in my balls I had been chasing all night.

I kissed him, growling into his muzzle as his eyes started to roll back and he grunted in pain and desire. He would have to take his chances though; I wasn't waiting for passengers. With a final series of rapid shallow thrusts I went over the cliff, biting his tongue hard in my passion as I unloaded a huge spray of bear cum into his virgin ass. I could feel every shot leave my cock, the way the warmth spread around my cockhead as cum filled his depths. By the time it finished I had seen stars, and I rested a moment, panting and satisfied.

I opened my eyes again, seeing Rory for the first time since I had gone wild. The sight was mixed, his eyes a combination of hurt and lust. The regrets started, but the anger was still there and it kept me cold for the moment.

"That hurt!"

"Yeah, well anal sex hurts Ror, at least at first. Lucky you had such a modest sized cock your first time"

"Yeah but...you tried to make it hurt!"

"Not really Ror. I tried to make it memorable, and for you to feel it. Hopefully that worked out. Remember, you pursued me kiddo."

I saw the look of reproach, the faint look of slapped puppy in his eyes as I pulled out of his ass. I couldn't resist though, and I held his legs still and bent my muzzle to his pucker. It was red and puffy, the kid would be sore in the morning. Maybe a last pleasant memory would be good. Reaching out my tongue I lapped at the red lips, hearing his cries emboldening me to continue and I went at it hard, licking his leaking hole then sliding my tongue inside to sample his depths. I loved the taste of his ass so much, even more after I had filled it.

He groaned theatrically when I stopped, holding him in my arms now and looking into his face with a slight frown.

"What's wrong now?"

"You didn't make me cum the second time, and I was just getting going again when you were licking me. Could you suck me off or something, please? I need to cum, I want to feel good again, please?."

I just snorted and slapped his ass, getting off the bed and standing in front of him. As I put my boxers back on, I let the bitterness and anger creep into full view finally. Maybe I was angry at myself.

"Too bad, you are lucky you got to come the first time. Go have one of your stud mates from uni take care of you, another horse maybe, hung like you and as pretty. I'm just the starter cock and you got all an old bear like me can give you."

I saw his eyes go wide as he suddenly realised what had happened, and he tried to form words, anything, but I wasn't sticking around. I turned and headed for the door.

"Thanks for letting me be your first Ror. Now go find someone you actually like and leave me alone."

I closed the door and headed for the couch, trying not to cry.

*****

We had avoided each other the next morning, an occasional grunted query all we shared as we got ready while tiptoing around a hungover Mick. As he was painfully sensitive to noise, the big stallion was appreciative of our efforts at silence, thankfully blissfully unaware of the reasons.

Rory was still giving me the slapped puppy look, and by now I couldn't blame him. There was no excuse really, and I felt like the worst cad on Earth. I couldn't wait to get out and head home, away from the recriminations and the guilt. Most of all away from the two stallions, the best friend I had loved and mooned over pointlessly for years, and the younger stallion I had fallen in and out of love with in the space of a few minutes.

The lingering sensations of his body haunted me, the feel of his kiss, the touch of his hands, the way his ass felt around me. I could still smell his scent on me even after my shower, powerful reminder of what we shared.

As always in such times, I sought solace in work. The garage didn't really need me there today, none of the staff were in, but I decided to go anyway, and I would subsume my guilt and need in the meticulous details of a carburettor for the E-Type Jag I was restoring. Anything to take my mind off it.

I was busy bent over the engine bay when I heard a soft cough, and in surprise managed to jerk my head up suddenly and smack it into the hood. Cursing like a sailor, I held my sore head for a moment before managing to get the ringing out of my ears and straighten up to see who it was. I should have known.

There was Rory, trying not to laugh, though the laughter hadn't reached his eyes which were still sombre pools of blue. He was shuffling his hooves on the concrete, and couldn't hold my gaze for long, dropping his eyes to examine the oil stains.

"Hey."

"Hey."

A moment's pause, which turned into a long awkward silence. At least we were looking at each other now.

Predictably, we both opened our muzzles at the same time, competing apologies clashing in mid-air before we both stopped in confusion, a nervous laugh filling the void.

"You first Uncle Hank."

I thought about turning the tables, but realised it was time to man up and show some backbone. I would make the running.

"Ror, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have had sex with you at all, it was wrong, and even more the way I did it. What you said...well it hurt me, but it was no excuse for doing what I did. I should know better."

His eyes grew wide again, and he looked like he might cry but held himself in check, but his eyes spoke louder than his words even. And what they said made my heart skip a beat.

"No, I'm sorry Uncle Hank. I seduced you, I know it. And I don't even know why I said what I did, I didn't even really believe it myself."

"Then why did you say it?"

"Well, you had your muzzle buried up my ass and no one had even given me a hand job before now. I wasn't exactly thinking straight with what you were doing to me."

That made me smile a little, mostly from the ego trip. I thought I had made him feel good, it was nice to know it for sure.

"But mostly, I wanted to give you an out, in case you didn't want to stick with a stupid young guy. Truth is, yeah I've wanted to get on with some of the guys at college, but none of them make me feel the way I do about you Hank. With them it's just sex. What I felt for you was always different. And you taught me how different last night, and made me see what I had stuffed up."

He came towards me now, and somehow I couldn't stop him. I wanted to believe. He put one hand on my chest, soft fingertips ruffling my greying fur where it was exposed, my overalls open to the waist. I never wore a t-shirt under in summer when I worked alone, and I was religiously glad of it now, the feel of the colt's touch like water to a thirsty man. I groaned softly.

"You taught me sex is as much about what's under here as anything else. About what's between two people as it is about what's here..."

My moan turned to a gasp as I felt his other hand clasp my bulge, the combined stimulation too much to take. As I became instantly hard, I was both amused and quietly annoyed, particularly when I caught his cocky smirk. The smirk became the familiar smile though, the smile that lit up a room, and I melted, allowing him to pull me in for a kiss, one returned with eagerness. He still smelt incredible, and tasted. But the feel was still the best of all.

"Do you think we can start again Uncle Hank?"

I snorted, looking him over as he stood now uncertainly, his tail swishing nervously and his hooves shuffling on the floor.

I knew I was going to regret this, but I knew the answer before I even spoke it out loud.

"I think so Ror, but only if you promise to drop the 'Uncle'"

His grin made my day.

"One more thing though."

"Oh?"

"I may make a poor starter cock..."

"Please, I've said I'm sorry..."

"But I make one hell of a starter ass!"

It took him a moment to register what I'd said, then his ears perked up, his tail stopped in mid swish, and a stupid lopsided grin spread over his muzzle. I matched his grin with mine, nodding my head in the direction of the small office before turning and walking with my slow heavy gait to the door. I headed for the window, drawing down the blinds, hoping he had got the signals.

I needn't have worried, as I heard the sound of hoofs in the office, the door closing with a solid thud. Whistling a happy tune, I reached for the buttons on my overalls, letting them fall to the floor and stepping out, my ass still towards Rory.

A soft nicker, then a whinny, and a smell. The scent of aroused colt, ghost of locker rooms past .

Now let's see if you are better than the Mick of my dreams.

As I felt him wrap his arms around me, his hardon already pressed into my back, I knew I wouldn't be disappointed.