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Margaret

I stood on the verandah for a moment, the still summer air alive with cicadas as I shook my mane to dry it. Opening my nostrils, I could already smell the scents of the ocean, the peculiar mix of ozone, brine and seaweed that always seemed somehow familiar. For a mare who didn't especially like the water, I still responded deeply to these scents, reminders of past holidays and moments of tranquillity from a life less complicated but now largely forgotten. Except the smells; something about smell touched deep places inside and cut through the layers of time and memory. I smiled without knowing quite why.

"Why don't you go for a walk hun, I will be a while setting up here and to be frank that's easier with you out of the house."

"Ok mum, I might head for the pier. I'll be back for dinner."

My mother came up behind me, wrapping me in her arms and kissing the back of my head before giving me a slight push towards the gate and a nicker of farewell. She was doing well, at least on the surface, but I knew the turmoil inside. When Dad walked out unexpectedly her world collapsed, and no amount of putting on a brave face would heal that hurt. All I could do was hover like an expectant mother myself, not sure when to talk and when to back off, trying to be part daughter part confidant but seeming to fail at either. It is supposed to be one of the signs of growing up, when you realise your parents are mortal after all. I had grown up a lot these last few months, for this and other reasons.

With a slight backwards glance, I left the little holiday cottage and trotted slowly down the hill. The cottage was set high up on a street that lead directly down into the town and the start of the pier, centrepoint of this sleepy little fishing village. We had come at the invitation of friends, a chance for mum to get away and relax by the sea. They had made their holiday home available for two weeks, and we had packed up and driven down the coast, leaving behind all the cares and troubles for another day. Even here the past collided with the present though. We had come here once before as a family, three years ago, and Dad's memory still lay over my recollections of this place. I hoped mum was more fortunate.

The street dipped suddenly, and I almost fell scraping my hooves on the loose gravel before catching myself and laughing. I had forgotten what things were like down here, nothing quite as predictable as in the city. Perhaps it would be a good place to recharge, away from the normal and everyday things of our life.

Reaching the bottom of the street, I took in the sight before me. It was as I remembered, and clearly things didn't change quickly in North Head. The concrete ribbon of pier stretched out into a glimmering bay, a white line on turquoise, the brown mass of the breakwater and its stone pile beyond. The small fishing fleet were tied up, their job well and truly finished for the day, and alongside were the myriad of brightly coloured yachts I remembered, none too large or expensive but all looking well loved. A lazy flock of seagulls circled, hoping someone would bring their fish and chips to share.

The band of golden sand seemed narrower, and marked with dark patches of seaweed, but otherwise familiar. I headed for the beach, crossing the parking lot to walk under the shade of a stand of tall pine trees that lined the foreshore, my mane now flying slightly behind me as a gentle onshore wind made its presence felt down here by the water. The smells were stronger now, and I opened my nostrils wide and drank them in, the sharp notes delicious to savour.

A new scent added to the mix, and it intrigued me. The scent of stallion, sweet and sensual, masked by the ocean smells but still there. Following the scent with my eyes, I saw a small group of young guys playing on the beach, throwing a Frisbee to each other and laughing. There were a couple of dogs, a Doberman and a Collie, and one equine, a tall stallion whose scent pricked at my memory and made my ears stand upright.

I watched them play for a moment, my eyes sizing up the equine. He was tall, palomino colouring with golden mane and tail, wearing khaki shorts but nothing else. He moved with easy grace, his muscled back and arms uncoiling like a spring as he unleashed the Frisbee again in the direction of the Collie. As he awaited its return, I traced a line down his back, from the well braided length of his mane, down the indentation of his spine to the hollow at its base and the gentle curve of his behind, low slung shorts giving a delicious taste of muscled cheeks. His tail hung down and swayed in the breeze, tied off near his dock with a green and blue ribbon.

"Watch out!"

I was too caught up in an internal reverie to notice that the Collie had overcooked his next throw, and the Frisbee sailed over the straining stallion heading straight for me. I reacted instinctively, throwing out a hand and catching the spinning plastic disc just as the stallion skidded to a halt in front of me, his eyes widening.

For a moment I just stood, holding the Frisbee loose by my side as I took in the front view. It was every bit as good as the back. Defined muscles on his chest and abdomen, his torso tapering nicely from broad shoulders to a narrow waist. I caught just a hint of coarse stallion pubes above the top of his shorts, the enticing sight framing a generous bulge. He coughed, breaking me from my frank admiration and I looked in his eyes finally, a blush rising like a tide on my face as I realised he had caught me ogling him.

Deep blue eyes like the bay greeted my view, and the strange sensation of memory flowed through me again, stronger this time and making my ears twitch with uncertainty. His face wasn't what I had expected, a mix of sadness and joy but lacking the leer I expected from a young male who caught a mare eying his junk. As I looked, the joy evaporated, and the sadness took root.

"Don't recognise me, do you."

His voice finally broke the wall of mist around my brain. Scent, voice, eyes, everything came together finally and I let out a gasp as recognition dawned.

"Tommy?!"

"In the apparently watchable flesh. Long time no see Margie."

I snorted then, enjoying his taunting like I secretly enjoyed it three years ago. I had definite ideas then, as a sophisticated mare heading into college, and they did not involve being called Margie like some kid. Margaret, why couldn't he call me Margaret, I had said over and over exasperatedly. He just smiled as he always did and called me Margie just the same. I retaliated with Tommy, but he didn't seem to mind.

Now here he was, but Tommy seemed suddenly inappropriate. The awkward gawky colt I remembered was gone, a big and self assured stallion in his place. Behind the eyes it was still my Tommy, though there were new depths I wasn't sure I wanted to know about.

"You look amazing Tom."

"Thanks Margie. Guess I grew up as you told me to. I must admit I enjoyed the way you looked at me just now, I always wanted you to look at me that way. Pity the look didn't last once you knew it was me."

That hurt, but I knew I deserved it. He knew how I had felt about him, or at least I hoped he did.

He turned and waved to the dogs, telling them he had met an old friend and was going to have to leave them for a while. The Dobie waved back happily giving him a wink, but the Collie looked definitely peeved. They both headed for the water, and Tommy grabbed a t-shirt draped over a nearby post, casually covering that very watchable chest.

I made a sad face, playing with him, and he gave me a raised eyebrow look as if to say 'come on', then extended his arm, the gentlemanly gesture accompanied with his familiar smile, as I took the proffered elbow and allowed him to escort me along the foreshore.

"It's good to see you Margaret. Three years is too long."

"Oh it's Margaret now is it?"

"When I'm not too angry with you yes. Then it will be Margie again."

I nickered happily, enjoying the banter. It was so easy to slip into the dynamic we once had as if the years had never passed. The temptation was strong but I could detect dangerous rocks beneath.

"How have you been?"

"You got my letters, so I guess you know the details. Didn't write back much though."

I just nodded, not willing to tell him the truth. He had written ever since that summer, usually once a month, and I replied at first but soon got bored with the earnest young colt. College was a revelation, and a gawky teenager seemed a long way from my new life.

Then Doug had forbidden me to read them anymore, telling me he needed to be the only stallion in my life. I dutifully handed over the letters and watched him burn them. Once we had broken up, I regained some control of my life but something stopped me reading the new letters. I had just thrown them in a box, uncertain why I did it, until they stopped coming six months ago. My mental image of the writer was still stuck in that past, and seeing him now like this was jarring with my inner world.

"Sorry Tom, I loved getting your letters and all, but I was busy and college and everything and..."

"Yeah."

The depth of hurt in that one syllable would have made the ocean weep. I dropped my head to the ground and tried to keep silent for a moment lest I make things worse.

"Would you like to head for our spot?"

"Yeah, I'd love that Tom."

"Well then, follow me my lady mare."

He gave a slight mocking whinny and headed off at speed across the sand, looking behind to make sure I followed. Trying not to laugh, I played along, following the path I remembered as I followed his swaying tail, my mind noticing the enticing movement of his prominent muscled butt as he trotted through the shallow water.

Along the foreshore we went, until the beach was framed by high cliffs of sandstone, a narrow line against the waters which were devouring it at high tide. Puffing a bit with exertion, I finally caught him as we reached the familiar steps, redgum sleepers cut into the cliff and rising from the beach. He took my hand and helped me up, two turns of steep stairs until we reached the summit, a narrow patch of grass halfway up the cliff. Here was an old battered picnic table, shaded by a single old pine tree, and I sat down still panting as Tommy took his seat across from me.

We had spent so many hours here, talking, that long summer three years ago. I had met him the first day, just casually walking into the general store to pick up a few things for the holiday. A polite young colt had been covering the store, and we struck up an immediate rapport that continued after he finished work for the day.

Over the following days, I learned all about his world, the awkward colt seemingly unable to remain silent in my presence. Charmed, I reciprocated, telling him things I had told almost no one else and yet feeling strangely secure in his company. He was intelligent, and kind, and emotionally more aware than any other guy I knew, and it was almost like I suddenly had a protective younger brother like I always wanted. I knew he wanted more, and different, and it hurt to hurt him.

Struck by a sudden memory, I felt under the seat, seeking the familiar ledge beneath the bench, a hollow space formed in the framework of the legs. My hand closed around something and I grinned as I pulled it out.

An old pack of cigarettes, and a half empty bic. The nostalgia gripped me like a vice as I opened the pack, counting.

"Hey! I thought you didn't smoke!"

He looked sheepish then, a broad embarrassed grin covering his muzzle.

"You have a good memory. I only took a couple, honest. I didn't think you would mind. I offered to repay you if you remember."

"Yeah, that's right. Its ok, I don't smoke any more. Doug didn't like it."

"How is toilet features."

"We're separated. For good. And you don't need to look so pleased."

"Sorry, sorry, I'm deeply saddened by this turn of events. I shall have to send him a nice fruit basket the slimy cunt."

"Tommy!"

"Well, I could tell he was no good for you Margie. Whenever you talked about him it was like he was some sort of bad drug you couldn't do without. He treated you like shit."

"I know. He's gone now, so there's nothing left to worry about."

My voice wasn't convinced, and I could tell Tom had picked up a troubling echo and was about to ask questions. He was always ridiculously intuitive, even at 15. I decided to change the subject.

"The bay still looks amazing."

"yeah"

And it did. From our lofty perch, we could see over the bay, the tall mass of the central city now visible through the haze fifty miles away. A mere hop as the crow flies, but due to a quirk of geography, a long way away in reality. I realised that just now I didn't miss it. The wind was stronger now, my mane whipping behind me as I stared out to sea remembering.

"Come on. I want to visit your mum, pay my respects so to speak. Can we do that now?"

I was surprised by his look, the sudden pain, and assumed he wanted to stay here with me instead. He nodded though, eyes clouded, and rose silently from the bench.

"Ok, guess you had better follow me then."

I knew the way, but maybe he thought I had forgotten. After all, I hadn't recognised him straight away.

We retraced our steps slowly, Tommy not running now, his head bowed and hands in his pockets. When we reached the carpark, I expected to cross it and head up the narrow street towards their house, but instead we turned hard left and headed into town proper.

"Where are we going Tommy?"

"I thought you might want to bring some flowers."

I nodded at his touching gesture, remembering how considerate he always had been. His mum was an old school type, and appreciated small courtesies.

Tommy's parents had welcomed me into their hearts as much as Tommy had. I was expecting to be bored shitless all summer, and instead between Tommy and his family, I had been looked after like I never thought possible. His mum rapidly became an idol, a sassy and competent role model, and the two equines seemed deeply in love. When she had learned that I was about to head off to college and couldn't cook, she took it on herself to teach me, and I had plunged headlong into their kitchen, coming out with a respectable portfolio of simple dishes I knew how to cook and a lot of encouragement. My Dad even ate it and told me he was proud.

We reached the small flower shop, up a side laneway off the main shopping strip. The proprietor greeted Tommy warmly, and they shared some gossip about the local cricket club and his dad before he introduced me to the owner. I chose a small bunch of lillies, she always had those around the kitchen while we talked, and Tommy paid before I could fumble for my wallet.

As we headed outside, I gave him a dead snake look, but he merely shrugged sadly. It had been a running joke when I was here last, he never let me pay for anything even though it cost him most of his meagre earnings from the general store to pander to my whims. I had been younger and stupider then, I should know better now, and I was a little angry with myself as we trotted on faster.

It was a moment before I realised we were heading in the wrong direction, our path leading further up tower hill behind the town rather than down towards his house near the foreshore. I was going to ask, but didn't want to reveal that I didn't know he had moved, keeping up the fiction of reading his letters. I hoped their new place was as nice as the old one, a big low house on a bluff above the beach.

We kept on up the hill, past the last house on tower hill road, and I began to get a little worried as we continued. There was nothing up here from memory, except the water tower that gave the hill its name. That and...

With growing dread I followed as we turned left, leaving the road as it petered out in a gravel laneway, instead heading through a wrought iron gate into a different place altogether. The sign read 'North Head Cemetery', white on black, and I repeated the phrase over and over in my mind as if it would make more sense that way.

Tommy trotted on slowly, picking his way amongst the gravestones and the mounds of grass, his ears telling me all I needed to know, until we stood before a simple headstone and a small square area covered in white marble chips. A vase stood in the middle, empty. I read the gravestone, my heart breaking.

In Loving Memory of Natasha Morrison

Beloved wife and mother.

In Epona's arms

The date was seven months ago.

I placed the lillies in the vase, reaching out to run fingertips along the inscription as if to prove to myself it was real. I felt my heart breaking, and I flung myself into Tommy's arms, the startled stallion deep in his own thoughts and not ready for an armful of mare. He stumbled for a moment before regaining his composure, strong hands stroking my mane as I cried into his chest.

"I'm sorry, you did ask to come though. I thought when you never replied to my letter that it didn't matter to you. I'm sorry for what I thought about you."

"How...how did it happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tommy...Tom. I never read your letters. I'm so sorry, please forgive me but I lied. I never knew this happened till right now."

I held him, a drowning mare holding on to a piece of driftwood on a stormy sea, and he just held me back. I expected him to throw me off, yell, scream, but instead he just held me, continuing to stroke my mane until the tears turned to gasps and quiet shaking. Still he held me.

"A brain tumour. She was diagnosed about a year and a half ago. She fought hard Margie, she didn't go quietly."

The tears started again in spite of my best efforts, and I had to blow my nose softly, realising after I did it that I had used Tommy's t-shirt.

"Oh God I'm sorry..."

"Don't worry. Mum hated this t-shirt anyway."

We both started giggling then, as sometimes happens when there is too much emotion to contain, and we both stood, arm in arm, two mad equines staring at a grave as the sun dipped lower on the horizion.

"How are you coping my sweet colt?"

"I dunno. Numb still, and I still don't believe it a little. I keep expecting her to walk through my door and catch me jerking off or something."

The image was enough to leave me doubled over in hysterics, the stallion giving me a look. All I could do was give him a questioning stare in return, and he blushed crimson under the buff coloured fur.

"Yeah, trust me not my finest moment."

"How about your dad?"

His eyes darkened then.

"Not good."

"Can I go see him?"

He paused for long moments before letting out a long sigh.

"Yeah, but just be warned ok. He's not in good shape."

We walked silently back down the hill towards his home, our hands clasped together unselfconsciously. I mulled over the past, guilt pouring into my brain and not letting go. If only I had known. If only I could have been there for him, seen her one last time. Maybe I could right the wrongs if a little late.

The house was as I remembered it, but the front garden gave some warning of what was inside. It was overgrown, weeds and dead grass competing for prominence, and branches entangled as native bushes reverted to a primitive fight for survival.

We headed inside, Tommy treading warily as we picked our way towards the lounge room. I saw a figure propped apparently asleep on the sofa, and it took me a moment to recognise Vaughan, the stallion seemed to have aged decades. His mane was shot through with grey, and his face was drawn and lined. An empty whisky bottle lay casually on the floor.

"Dad. Dad! Look who I found."

Bloodshot eyes opened, the stallion's gaze blank and glassy at first but eventually the eyes focussed and regained something of the former life I once knew.

"Well well well, if it isn't little Margaret. Told you she would come back to you one day son."

"Dad!"

"Hey, your father knows these things. You were fretting like a lost pup for nothing and writing bad poetry."

"Dad, enough you are embarrassing me as usual."

"That's what fathers are for son."

We chatted awkwardly for a while before Tommy excused us to head to the kitchen, checking the fridge for leftovers.

"Emo poetry?"

"Don't ask. It was bad."

"I can imagine. How long has he been like this?"

"Pretty much since mum died. He held it together until then and just fell apart."

"I'm sorry. Again."

"Don't be. I'm just a colt who gets crushes for older fillies and writes bad emo poetry. You don't owe me anything. I have remembered something though."

I was about to protest, but he headed for the pantry before I could form any words. When he came out, he was holding a battered book I recognised. His mum's recipe book.

"Mum wanted you to have this. She wrote something for you inside, in case you ever...anyway, it's yours now."

I held the old worn cover, trying not to notice the hurt and tears in his eyes as I felt the fabric on my fingertips. I opened it, seeing familiar pages, complete with his mother's neat notations in pencil in the margins. As I leafed through the pages, not really seeing, an envelope dropped to the ground. As I picked it up, and recognised my name in Tommy's mum's handwriting. I pushed it back between the pages hurriedly.

A loud crash came from the lounge room, and Tommy ran for the door, yelling at me to wait. I followed though, immediately expecting the worst and prepared for a crisis. I wasn't quite prepared for what we found though.

Vaughan had apparently tried to stand up but been unsuccessful, and instead had fallen hard, breaking the whisky bottle and partly knocking himself out. There was broken glass everywhere, and blood was beginning to spread from a deep cut on the groaning stallion's head.

"Fuck! Dad! Marg..please, just go ok? I've got this."

"Tommy!"

"Please, just leave us alone ok."

"No!"

As the terrified stallion tended to his dad, staunching the wound with a teatowel and cradling his head, I walked calmly to the telephone and made a long call. Sometimes only one thing would do.

*****

The doorbell rang a few minutes later, and I opened it while Tommy cursed from a distance. His dad was groaning loudly now, periodically heaving onto the carpet while the young stallion became increasingly frantic.

"Well daughter of mine. This is a turn up for the books."

"Mum! Enough comment for tonight thanks. I need you."

"I know hun. And I'm glad you called me in."

We headed for the lounge room, the two stallions looking up as we entered with matched expressions of shame and surprise.

"Hello Thomas. Hello Vaughan. It's been a long time, and I wish I was seeing you again under better circumstances."

Vaughan dropped his head to the ground again and let out a loud moan, while Tommy screwed up his face and looked daggers at me.

"I said I've got this."

"Thank you young stallion, but it should be clear to you that you haven't. Margaret filled me in, and I must admit I'm terribly sad for you both. Natasha was an amazing mare, you were both lucky. But, and my daughter was right in this, it's clear neither of you are coping well and this little emergency needs more than just strength. Something you've probably got precious little of left Thomas, if I'm any judge."

The young stallion's face worked with a mix of emotions, anger and shame and pain all there at once as he cradled his dad's head in his lap. He was losing the fight though, tears beginning to flow from his eyes and down his cheeks. I had to turn away, not wanting to let him see me seeing him lose control. I headed for the kitchen and turned on the kettle.

After a few minutes, the door to the lounge opened again, and I heard soft voices inside, my mum and Vaughan sharing a joke. Tommy came through, closing the door again and walking up to me before wrapping me in a hug.

"Hey"

"Hey'

"Your mum is good at this."

"She's a nurse Tom, she knows what she's doing."

"I know. Not just that though. Your mum suggested I go to the house with you and have some dinner there. She and dad are getting on just fine, and I'm not much use here."

"You are plenty of use Tommy. You aren't supercolt either. And I'd love your company for dinner if you'd agree to join me.'

His smile almost blinded me it was so glowing, I couldn't help but smile back. We looked in on the two older equines, Vaughan now more coherent and apparently happy, my mum tending to the gash on his forehead and keeping him occupied. Both gave us a dismissive wave, my mum's smile containing a twinkle as she mouthed the word 'shoo!'.

Night was falling, the heat of the summer's day still lying over the town but the breeze from the ocean made it tolerable as we trotted silently along the road and back up the hill. Tommy was deep in his own thoughts and I left him there, our hands linked together keeping open the contact between our hearts where words had failed.

When we got to the cottage, I headed into the kitchen, getting the pre-prepared spaghetti Bolognese we had brought down with us out of the fridge. I could tell Tommy was starving, his eyes lit up at the sight of the food and he licked his lips unconsciously. I heaped a large portion into a microwave bowl and began the necessary nuclear warfare.

"Hows your dad? Isnt he down with you this time?"

Now it was my turn to explain.

"Tom, Dad walked out on mum a few months ago. We never saw it coming, he had been having an affair for years but he kept it secret till the last."

"Oh shit! I'm sorry Margie, that really sucks. I liked him too, he used to play beach cricket with us and joke around, I thought he was cool. I should have known he was an asshat."

"You weren't the only one he fooled. Mum worshipped the ground he walked on."

"Not you though?"

"Something always made me pause. He reminded me of Doug a little."

"I wish you had written back Margie. I would have been there for you."

"I know Tommy. I'm an idiot, and a bad friend, and I don't deserve you. I had a slight excuse though; Doug made me burn your letters, he was a complete control freak and I never really recognised it until it was too late."

"Is that why you broke up?"

"That and...other things."

The memories were flooding back now, and I was shaking in spite of the warmth in the cottage.

"Marg...the way you always described him, and the way you are talking now...did he ever hurt you? Like...physically?"

I couldn't answer that, just staring into the microwave even after it chimed its ready signal.

"I am going to hunt the cunt down and kill him really slowly."

"Tom!"

"Nothing. Just speaking aloud. Seriously though...where is the cunt...I'm just asking for information sake. Fuck toilet features is so so dead..."

"Tom, leave it be. It's over now, he can't hurt me."

"Tell me that when you aren't shaking like a leaf."

"Tom, please. You can't fix everything in the world my sweet colt. I did this to myself, and I got myself out of this."

"I could never do that to you."

"I know Tom. I know."

And for some reason it surprised me to feel the warm feeling inside as I said those words, and knew they were true. My sweet colt was nothing like Doug. I had known that all along.

We headed for the lounge room once the pasta was ready, both taking a couch as we started the process of making up for lost time. I had found a bottle of wine in the fridge, and after the many shocks of the day, not to mention the ongoing Doug memories, I decided I needed the relaxation. Tommy joined me, and we clinked out glasses in a toast to old times and new.

It was so easy, talking to him. The young and excitable colt was still there, tempered by experience and memories of pain into something deeper, more rounded. He complimented me as he used to, and the shy smile reminded me of that colt but the body was new, and as the wine took hold, that body began to fascinate me again.

Three years ago, he had been a tall, gawky teenager, hands and hooves too big for his body, broad shoulders apparently standing up in defiance of gravity with no visible means of support in his lanky frame. His mane had been a golden birds nest, tail a random collection of twigs, and he hid behind his forelock whenever he spoke.

Now the colt had become a stallion, and one I was becoming increasingly aroused by. The muscles, hidden under his t-shirt now but still standing out against the fabric. The silky braided mane and sensual tail, swishing against the fabric of the seat. The soft feathering on his flexing forearms and calves. In my mind's eye I replayed footage of him effortlessly slinging that Frisbee, his body poetry in motion, while my heart catalogued the ways he was nothing like Doug. Generous, kind, gentle, sensitive. Three years was a long time; long enough to overcome long held inhibitions, especially when aided by most of a bottle of Riesling. Also long enough for him to age just enough that I wouldn't be breaking the law.

I had had brief flirtations since Doug, but nothing really lasting, and nothing satisfying. I had been too wound up, my senses on alert still and unable to relax. Now, as the alcohol flowed through my veins and left me feeling warm, I looked at Tommy, my sweet caring Tommy, and I felt no fear and plenty of lust. My muzzle broke into a silly grin, one that got broader as he related a story of his misadventures on his last day of school.

"So stud. Tell me, did they at least teach you how to look after a mare in that school?"

"Ahh...I...what do you mean?"

Grinning wider now, I opened my legs a little, letting the scent of partly aroused mare waft into the room. I saw his eyes widen, nostrils flaring slightly and his ears flicking randomly as he took in the new turn of events.

"You heard me. I'd hate to think you were all talk. C'mon, you've wanted me for three years, correct?"

He blushed crimson then, the sudden turn in the evening blowing his composure. Proof it was a new Tommy though came soon enough, when he looked me right in the face with those deep blue eyes, a half grin on his muzzle as he nodded distinctly.

"Right, well, if you want me stud, you have to woo me. And you can start by showing me what I've been missing."

His mouth turned down then in a puzzled frown, no longer so confident.

"You mean..."

"Yep. Get naked for me Tom. Or is it still Tommy?"

His ears pricked up straight then, and he stood for a moment like a rabbit in the headlights. His muzzle set in determination though, and eyeing me off as if I had gone quite mad, he slowly pulled the t-shirt off his torso and dropped it onto the ground.

I gave him slow clap, and a half wolf whistle, and he grinned a little embarrassed and a little proud as I ogled his body. He even flexed a bit for me, showing off, and I got to see a genuine sex pack as he tensed his abdominals. He had the most delicious line of thicker fur, running from a patch between his pecs down across his abdomen and burying itself in the dense thicket of his pubes, now poking obviously above the waist band of his boxers as they slid above his low slung shorts. I needed to see the lot now, and I motioned him to continue, not sure if he would comply.

My adventurous young stallion was made of stern stuff though, and shaking his head as if unsure what he had gotten into, he hooked his fingers around the waist band of his shorts and boxers, and pulled them both down to his hooves, standing up straight and proud with that cute hint of blush at his cheeks again.

I could hear my own heart beating in my chest, and feel the way my nipples swelled, warm night breezes seeming to caress them as I stared. Below his abdomen, a tuft of delicious dark buff stallion pubes topped a deep brown to black sheath, swollen and silky, with a hint of broad cock visible at the opening. His generous testicles hung loosely below, between powerful thighs showing each individual muscle in defined detail. His tail swayed gently behind him, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, giving me a knowing smile, before he started a slow circle, showing off his ass and tail for me like a stripper before returning to look at me.

I looked in his eyes, deep pleading pools of uncertainty, and I smiled. Not a mocking smile, a warm smile, and he responded with his own, as bright and happy as the one he gave me in his kitchen when I agreed to take him back to the cottage. I knew what that smile meant, how much he wanted to please me above all else. That wasn't going to stop me tonight. It was going to urge me on.

I crossed the space between us, almost tripping over the old rug in my haste, and we fell into a hard embrace. I felt him against me, his tight body, and the swell of his cock beginning to rise against me as we kissed. His muzzle opened and we devoured each other, years of denial making it sweeter.

I felt his hands on my body, fingers fumbling with my clothes, and I gave him a hand, guiding his touch until I stood as naked as he was, our bodies touching everywhere at once. He was fully hard now, I could feel it, the hot pulsing length in my hands as I sampled his feel. He was bigger than Doug, that much I could tell, and he felt so alive, like a wild creature in my grip that might escape at any moment.

His look was so touching then. Fear and need and desire mixed together, and I kissed him on the nose because he was too sweet not to. Taking his hand in mine, I led him to the bedroom, the small front room that I had claimed. I left the main light off, but turned on the side lamps, their soft orange glow matching the colour of his fur perfectly, and I lay back on the bed as he drank in the sight of my body. The feeling of being viewed and appreciated so obviously was an amazing erotic touch, his gaze sliding sensually over every part of me as if trying to commit it to memory for all time.

Warm breeze flowed in from the open window, and I let it travel over my fur, prickling and caressing, as he finally approached on heavy hooves. He drew me into his arms again, and we kissed, but this time his lips explored new territory, nuzzling at my neck, then down across my collar bones to my breasts, his muzzle locking around each nipple in turn and tongue flicking harshly at the tip.

My appreciative groans must have emboldened him, because he continued his licking progress, down my chest, lapping at each rib, then across my belly. His nostrils flared wide as he approached my sex, and I almost laughed in pleasure at the sight of his open admiration for my scent. I could see the flared rim of his cock swaying in the air, each fresh lungful of my scent drawing a new throb and a spurt of clear fluid from the tip that I longed to touch, slick on my fingers.

Then his muzzle descended to my quim and I lay back to enjoy. First tentative licks and nibbles at my outer lips, then his tongue slid inside me, lapping up my excitement as I writhed against him. He huffed against me, warm torrents of breath warming and tickling my nethers, then I cried out as his fingers found my clit and squeezed hard.

"Gentle! Damn, I don't know what those fillies at your school are into, but I need to be worked up to that. More gentle licking please."

He grinned at me sheepishly, saluting with mock seriousness, and I returned his gesture with a mock complaint about clumsy colts before lying back to receive more pleasure. And he had taken my advice it seemed, now careful and slow, his fingers and tongue building their pressure on my lips but leaving my clit alone for now. This went on for ages, my orgasm boiling but stalling, as he worked away at my folds. Eventually I tapped him on the head to get his attention.

"Now would be good."

He let out a whinny, and then peeled back the hood from my clit as I arched my back in anticipation. My moans were loud, honeyed expressions of contentment, as his tongue lapped at my swollen nub, the pressure building and building until the dam inside me burst and I held his muzzle against me tight and screamed out a wild orgasm into the summer night air. He had the good sense to go on licking while I shuddered in a hard cum, and to stop once my body went slack.

I was only partly satisfied, but well warmed up now, and I wanted it all. Leaning up to him, I pulled him down to me, my legs wrapped around the small of his back as we entwined together. I felt his thick flare against me, rubbing my sensitised clit as he kissed me and touched my nipples. He showed no sign of cutting to the chase however, and I gave him an amused snort, noting the strange look in his eyes as I gripped his cock. He looked terrified.

I pressed his flare against my slick folds, his thick end perfectly engaged in my opening, and I pulled him in, one hand guiding his cock, the other on his right ass cheek propelling him on. My folds parted, painfully t first and I gave a slight grimace but ignored his attempt to stop and just pulled him all the way into me.

We rested a moment, my cry of triumph echoing around the room, merging with his own deeper cry of pleasure. His look had changed to amazement now, muzzle wide open and little pink tongue slightly extended. I had to kiss it, hard, and we locked out muzzles in a wild kiss, our first with him inside me, as he slowly retreated from my depths by flexing his beautiful ass and hips but holding his chest still tight against mine.

Almost immediately, he was thrusting hard and steadily, the sensations pure pleasure for me as I experienced his youthful vigour to the fullest. His fingers dug into my shoulders, and he pressed on, his pace building rapidly until he was pounding hard against me and I held on for the ride.

Before I could enjoy it too much however, I felt his whole body tense and shudder, his tail flagging in a tell tale sign as his grunts turning to cries of "no" before he let out a whinny and I felt the spreading warmth inside. His final jerking thrusts stopped, and he held me against him, his chest heaving as he relaxed. I just held him too, letting the moment pass and enjoying the feel of him inside me.

"Im so sorry Marg, please I..."

"Shhh don't worry. It was beautiful Tom. Just relax, and we can go again soon."

He nodded, and nuzzled my neck, his body relaxing against mine as we cuddled. I could feel him inside me still rock hard, and I knew he was ready for more if I could stop his embarrassment making him lose the moment.

"Lie on the bed for me Tom. I want to enjoy you my sweet stallion."

With hesitant movements, he slid from my depths, flopping on his back as I moved on the bed, his eyes following mine as if seeking any sign of disappointment or mocking. I gave him my warmest smile instead, and turned it a shade hotter as I straddled his hips, teasing his length with my folds as I pushed down onto his body.

His embarrassed sighs turned to fresh groans of pleasure as I teased him, and soon I had taken him into my hands and guided him into me again, this time setting the pace and depth of his thrusts with my own body. I rode him slowly, using my body to find and experience each part of him, the broad flared tip, his long shaft, the wide medial ring, all were used on my skin until I felt the deep burning need growing inside me again.

Finally I guided his hand to my clit, one broad thumb rubbing over the nub as I leant over him until he could wrap his lips around my left nipple. Bucking against him wild and fast, with his own hips pushing up into me, and a fire lit in my nipple and clit, I fell over the cliff hard, throwing back my head and letting out a wild whinny of my own. As I came down from the high, I realised he had not come this time yet, chest heaving but otherwise under control.

In the grip of full on lust, I bit his lips hard in a kiss, drawing blood, and pulled at his body until we had changed places again, his body over mine and my legs wrapped in the small of his back. I dug my hooved fingertips into the perfect muscled mounds of his ass and squeezed hard, drawing a pained nicker from my stud, as I begged him to fuck me as hard as he could. A command he obeyed, slamming into me over and over with increasing force, the lewd slurping of cock and slap of hips becoming one continuous chorus and a deep sexy growl boiling from his chest as he mauled my neck and I raked his butt without mercy.

The next cum was a long drawn out affair, waves of pleasure flowing and receding and flowing again until I was throwing my head from side to side uncaring who heard my cries. His growl became a fast panting gasp, and I felt him thrust and stop buried deep inside me, that beautiful living creature I had held in my hands now pulsing out the last of its power inside me as he unloaded his second cum into me for the night.

Afterwards we cuddled, nose to nose, smiling the obscenely satisfied smile of new lovers, our bodies entwined and at rest, his cock still half hard inside me. I felt good, and alive, though I was pretty sure my body would ache by morning.

As I clenched my pelvic muscles, teasing him, I felt his cock suddenly thicken again, my stud returning quickly to full erection as I laughed in pleasure.

"Think you have a third in a row in you stud?"

"I don't know, I've never done this before."

"What, none of your school fillies ever had the stamina to empty you properly the way a full grown mare can?"

"No, you don't understand. I've never done this...before."

I suddenly felt very sober, and my heart skipped a beat as I gripped his head tight and stared into his eyes.

"You're a virgin?!"

"Well, not any more."

My mind was in a frenzy now, and I just stared at him, slowly realising what I had done as I looked into his eyes. Eyes misted with total unconditional love and devotion, his first love still in his arms, our first sex and his first time making it all the more special.

I had assumed he was such a stud he must have had fillies throwing themselves at his hooves. One night of wild sex, scratching a series of itches, I could have him and yet his experience and my restraint would mean it would be no more than that, another notch in his belt, and a warm memory to take into his next real relationship.

I had ignored the love in his eyes, and the many signs of inexperience, and plowed on into a wild night of lovemaking instead, taking his virginity and his heart carelessly. And now I had no idea what to do about it, except be terrified myself.

Pushing him off me, his face with the first signs of uncertainty, I lay him down beside me as I curled up in a ball next to him, beset by panic.

"Margaret...what's wrong?"

"Tom, I think you should go, your Dad will need you."

"But your mum is there, and I thought you wanted me finally, I thought we were..."

"Tommy, I don't know what I wanted ok. I thought...it doesn't matter what I thought. We shouldn't have done this. I think you should head home, and I will see you tomorrow ok?"

I almost cried when I saw his face then. The pain was so sharp, and I realised my ham fisted attempts to back away from what I had done had instead crushed him flat. He thought he had done wrong, and nothing I could say now would make it better.

"Tommy, I didn't mean...you were great believe me it was the best..."

"Save it Margaret. Just save it. Yeah I fooled around a bit, and I had offers, but no, I never actually did it. I was waiting for the right filly, and none of them seemed to hold a candle to you. I thought I was ok, that I could do this right you know, and be special for someone. And when it was you...I should have realised I would be useless."

"Tommy, listen to me, you made me cum so much, no one has made me feel like this, it was beautiful hun, I just..."

"I said save it. I'm sorry Margie. I'm so so sorry. I'm still the useless colt you ignored all those years ago, except now I'm an eighteen year old virgin, even more pathetic. I was stupid to think it could be different."

"No!"

He turned and headed out of the room, and I followed hard on his heals trying to explain. Instead we both ran headlong into my mother, heading for the kitchen as we exited the bedroom. We all stood there a moment, awkwardness so thick you could cut it with a knife, until Tommy snatched up his clothes from the floor, dressed rapidly and headed for the door, stuttering apologies following in his wake as he headed into the night.

I had managed to put on my t-shirt and jeans half clumsily, and I stood staring at the open door and the night outside, tears streaming from my eyes as I cried for him to forgive me, to come back. He didn't however, and eventually mum closed the door and stood in front of me, understanding in her eyes as she patted my mane.

"I think you had better tell me everything hun."

I just held her and cried.