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He was older, blunt, and very impatient; somebody who knew what he had and what he wanted, with nothing else mattering. Flamey noticed his wedding band too, and somehow he didn’t have to ask to know that this stallion had a mare waiting somewhere and a couple of kids. He just [i]seemed[/i] like a dad, a strict one, and that made everything he did simply better.\n\n“I asked you,” the horse started in his even, yet nearly guttural voice, “what kind of faggot actually responds to ads asking for ass-hungry college boys.” As though illustrating a point, he slapped his semihard meat down on the twink’s face, landing it with force enough to stun the fox and make him squeak. “Clearly, though, the answer is underneath me. Do you like swamp ass, boy? Sweaty nuts? Get a hard-on from locker room-stinking cock on your snout, kid?”\n\nThe stallion didn’t even have to grind. Flamey did the brunt of the work, groping and nuzzling the flesh, alternating kisses with tender licks. Sweat, presently dried, made the dark meat sticky. Powerful musk emanated from the entire shaft and not just its piss slit which drooled precum obscenely, and Flamey knew from experience that the smell and the swamp would only get more potent from there.\n\n“I sure do, sir. Uh, do you prefer master instead? Since you did, y'know, request I wear a collar and all that.” He gave the horse his most charming smile, full of clean white teeth. With the horse’s cock against his cheek, he looked like he was posing for a candid selfie with it.\n\n“Sir works,” the horse curtly said. “I have business to take care of within the hour. We’re going to cover all the bases quick as we can here, boy.”\n\nFlamey tittered. He slid his fingers down to the leather band near the base of the horse’s cock; he supposed it was meant to work like a cock ring. It had less to do with his respect for the horse and more his desire to eat the stallion’s ass that he didn’t ask what the device was really about. “I’m cool with whatever you want to do… as long as I get my fifty bucks out of this.”\n\n“Right, I’m sure the money is the only reason you’re here,” the horse scoffed. He scooted forward on the bed, and where he once had his knees notched in the fox’s armpits, he now had the boy’s shoulders pinned to the bed using his kneecaps. Although Flamey winced, he felt a rush of submissive pleasure. Greasy cockflesh ground intimately against his muzzle.\n\nIndulging himself, Flamey sucked in the smell of the horse’s sweaty groin. He dragged his tongue across the broad, black meat. “I never said it was just about the money. I still want to, uh, how’d you phrase it in the email, sir? Suck the sweat off your asshole?”\n\nThe horse muttered something indignant, sliding forward and grabbing Flamey’s head in the same instant. He forced his balls against the boy’s snout, then over it, and suddenly much of Flamey’s face was gone from view. He could then feel the fox huffing and gulping, sucking hungrily at the limited and very tainted air he was given.\n\n“That’s it, sniff those balls,” the stallion huffed, shifting his grip to the boy’s ears. “Sniff ‘em good and lick up that sweat. Clean your daddy up.”\n\nIt seemed to Flamey that this daddy horse probably went through a lot of good boys, but then and there, he could fool himself into thinking he was the only one. It was just between him and the stallion, a little tryst the dad’s family never needed to know about, and Flamey liked being such a naughty secret. He ground his nose into the stallion’s thick, puckered asshole and he sniffed, finding that although the horse kept his body clean, he was a creature with a thick and masculine smell.\n\n“Going for my asshole already, huh? You like that?” There was the smallest hint of surprise in the stallion’s voice hidden under the masculinity. “Yeah, I’m sure you like it. That’s what faggots like you are into now, isn’t it?”\n\nFlamey thought first, with his nostrils flaring against the horse’s fine black anus, [i]it most certainly is, yes.[/i] And then he thought, more pointedly, [i]why, were fags different when you were my age?[/i]\n\nRunners of precum oozed from the stallion’s cock like syrup, heavy droplets falling into Flamey’s hair, the brunt running down the shaft. “Lick it,” said the horse, his tone low. [i]“Eat[/i] my ass, fox. Get your tongue in and we’ll make it sixty dollars.”\n\n[i]A tip for something I’d do for free,[/i] thought Flamey, homosexual delight showing in the wag of his tail. He palmed the unyielding cheeks of the stallion’s ass as he worked the hot, pink ribbon of his tongue against his puckered goal. Flamey was experienced in this art form; he noted the delicate clenches and winks and he lapped, but he was less consciously aware of the rising musk. In response to the wonderful tastes and smells of the stallion, his own penis was stiffening beneath the faggoty yet comfortable thong he’d chosen to wear.\n\n“You need to hurry this along,” muttered the horse, speaking through nearly clenched teeth. Flamey could picture him gazing at his wrist watch, maybe thinking his mare might call any second now to ask where he was. [i]I found that ad you put out, don’t bother coming home tonight,[/i] she might say. The thought left Flamey feeling vaguely guilty, but where he felt guilt, he also found exquisite pleasure. It almost startled him how much he liked the notion of being a homewrecker.\n\nFlamey was, however, sanguine in his duty. “Mhm,” he murmured under the stallion’s heavy genitals, pushing his tongue harder against the smooching pucker of his anus. Overhead he heard the horse huffing, a snort here and there. Low, pleasured moans rumbled in the horse’s thick breast and Flamey found himself echoing the sentiment, though his moans were quieter, the mating calls of a domesticated sissy.\n\nFinally the fox’s tongue found purchase, slinking past the gripping pucker of his temporary owner’s asshole. Past black flesh lie delicate pink walls, their softness almost vaginal, and Flamey cooed. The stallion was surprisingly quiet with only a single huff out of place. He ruffled the fox’s hair jovially, but said in a domineering hiss, “Do you kiss your parents, boy? Kiss them on the mouth? I wouldn’t kiss my son if he did this to other men.”\n\nA grin split Flamey’s face ear to ear. He wriggled his tongue in the horse’s ass, inspiring in him a moan, and he reached up to the fat black rod hanging over his head. The precum running down it mingled with the sweat, adding to the musk, and Flamey smeared it around with decadent strokes and squeezes. He did, in fact, kiss his parents - but only on the cheek.\n\nThe rimjob was over before it even started, in Flamey’s opinion. The horse pulled back, freeing the boy’s tongue from his clenching, writhing rear. He dragged his balls across Flamey’s snout again, leaving the fur on his face streaked with musky, mildly greasy sweat. “That’s enough of that. That’s too queer for me,” he muttered shamefully. “We need to finish this up, young man.”\n\n“However you want to do it, sir,” Flamey chirped, smiling at the horse with musk-drunk eyes. He allowed himself a giggle. “But let me just say you have a [i]very[/i] tasty butthole. Definitely somewhere in my Top Five Puckered Orifices list.”\n\nAn uncomfortable, slightly irritable noise from the horse told Flamey to stop while he was ahead. A second later the horse said firmly, “Open your mouth. I want you to suck me off.”\n\n“Well, I–, that won’t really work like [i]this,”[/i] Flamey answered, smiling politely. “Why don’t you-u-u just rock back on those strong knees of yours and let me take care of you, sir?”\n\nThe horse considered it. He glanced at his watch - [i]that’s a nice watch, I bet your wife and kids got you that for Christmas, didn’t they?[/i] - and then twisted on a knee, swinging his leg over the fox. He rested on both knees and stared down at the boy, watching him closely, looking predatory in posture but like prey in his eyes.\n\nThis wasn’t the first time the fox had been with somebody so obviously uncomfortable about their gay desires. If he was being honest with himself, those were his favorites if only because he got to give them something they generally wouldn’t admit to wanting. As he got onto his knees, then dipped low again with his sweaty face near the head of the horse’s cock, he thought of how much he liked being a Casual Encounters whore.\n\nFlamey thought of the horse looking furtively at his watch, and that informed his pace. He opened his mouth and gulped down four, five, then six inches of the horsemeat. There was no coquettish teasing or gentle care; he started to gulp and suckle immediately. Promisingly, the horse moaned, and he touched Flamey’s head, cupping his ears in a familiar way.\n\nThe touch was relaxing, even reassuring, and Flamey was very appreciative of it. The horse said softly, “You’re good at this, boy.” It was enough to make the cock-hungry fox’s heart melt, but then the stallion, gaining a grin so tight it was almost a rictus, yanked him in by the ears. The fat, flared head of the horse’s cock speared open Flamey’s throat with the subtlety of a jabbing fist. Tears erupted in the fox’s eyes which opened wide, only to close tightly a moment later in reflex. He gagged and pawed at the horse’s flat abdomen, thinking madly something had to have been broken or ripped from that brutal penetration. His cock ached under the thong’s pouch.\n\n“This needs to go quicker,” the horse reiterated, moving Flamey’s head as if he were a toy to be fucked. “I have a meeting to get to,” he said again, as though that justified the brutal sex. He bounced the fox’s face against his groin, making sticky jowls press into his loins, even pulling him in so much that the squeezing leather band slipped into Flamey’s overwhelmed maw. His cock reamed the fox’s throat much as a pipe cleaner might, spreading tender flesh wide with its bulging, drooling flare. The fox sputtered and gagged all but constantly, with drool dripping from his chin, but the horse’s abuse was constant. It was as if the fox had stopped being a living, feeling thing and was simply an object to dump his nuts into. Flamey would have liked that rhetoric.\n\n“Good god, goddamn,” the stallion said, panting the words. His chest heaved. Sweat erupted from his brow and he wiped at it absently, leaving a darkened smear in his forearm’s fur. No longer did Flamey gulp or suck; he was just trying to draw breath around the horse’s meat, and even that was troublesome. The fox’s eyes were so teary he could see nothing, his throat raw. He wondered if what he felt just then was what being maced was like. His cock oozed precum through the thin fabric of the thong.\n\nDeep, heavy breaths from the stallion signaled something big. Every breath was labored, and Flamey envied him being able to draw them so easily. “I’m about to–, I’m going to cum,” he said in a groan. “It’s going to happen. Fuck, I’m gonna shoot down your throat, boy. Are you even conscious?”\n\nFlamey touched the horse’s belly, his hip, his ass. He was conscious, that much was for sure, and he was as desperate to guzzle down the horse’s cream as he was to have that very painful obstruction out of his mouth. He still couldn’t see, and breathing was even more difficult. His nose was running, his chin soaked with saliva he could not swallow. He had never felt so indignant or afraid in all his life, and his cock had never been harder.\n\nAt last, with a snort that could have been a whinny with only a bit more passion, the married stallion jerked Flamey against his loins and shot hard, blasting a half-dozen ropes of dense cum down his throat. That small number seemed like a never-ending barrage to the choking fox, and Flamey had no choice but to accept it; the bulge of the flare was past his throat’s opening, and he felt it slopping into his stomach, feeding him with that protein-rich baby gravy only a stallion could manufacture and release in such quantities.\n\nThe horse held Flamey against his loins, shuddering and taut. His grip on the boy’s ears was painful, nearly crushing delicate cartilage, but he let go before he could dogear the fox. “God. That’s it. That’s what I needed. You earned your money, boy.”\n\nFlamey didn’t stay put. He pulled back suddenly, dislodging from the spent stallion cock, kept mostly erect by the leather band. He coughed the moment it slipped free and doubled over on the bed, gagging and sputtering as the horse meat dripped on the back of his head. He thought the stallion might pet him, offer comfort, but he didn’t. If anything, the horse was uncomfortable - and very ashamed.\n\n“Ah… here,” the horse said, muttering the words. He climbed off the bed and left the words hanging as he dressed, trying to tune out the sputtering of the fox, whose cock was still so very hard. When he was fully dressed and aptly ignoring the sissy slobber all over his cock, he fished out two twenties and two fives from his wallet. These he dropped on the bed as though tipping the waiter, and he left without a word more. Just like that, he left Flamey’s life for good - and still with that tight band of leather around his cock.\n\nFlamey ignored the money on the bed while he coughed and cleared his throat and blew his nose. He ignored it even as he masturbated, an episode which took mere moments. It was only when it was time to leave the motel room that he acknowledged the bills. He thought, as he stuffed them into his pocket like tissues, [i]I need to answer these ads more often.[/i]\n\n\n\n\n\nCommissioned by http://www.furaffinity.net/user/flameyfox/\n\n\n\nWritten by http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ceeb/\n\n\n\nArt by me :p", "description_bbcode_parsed": "The fox touched his collar, tracing the black leather and tapping his claw on its buckle. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Could you ask me again?”

Flamey was beginning to understand the horse. He was older, blunt, and very impatient; somebody who knew what he had and what he wanted, with nothing else mattering. Flamey noticed his wedding band too, and somehow he didn’t have to ask to know that this stallion had a mare waiting somewhere and a couple of kids. He just seemed like a dad, a strict one, and that made everything he did simply better.

“I asked you,” the horse started in his even, yet nearly guttural voice, “what kind of faggot actually responds to ads asking for ass-hungry college boys.” As though illustrating a point, he slapped his semihard meat down on the twink’s face, landing it with force enough to stun the fox and make him squeak. “Clearly, though, the answer is underneath me. Do you like swamp ass, boy? Sweaty nuts? Get a hard-on from locker room-stinking cock on your snout, kid?”

The stallion didn’t even have to grind. Flamey did the brunt of the work, groping and nuzzling the flesh, alternating kisses with tender licks. Sweat, presently dried, made the dark meat sticky. Powerful musk emanated from the entire shaft and not just its piss slit which drooled precum obscenely, and Flamey knew from experience that the smell and the swamp would only get more potent from there.

“I sure do, sir. Uh, do you prefer master instead? Since you did, y'know, request I wear a collar and all that.” He gave the horse his most charming smile, full of clean white teeth. With the horse’s cock against his cheek, he looked like he was posing for a candid selfie with it.

“Sir works,” the horse curtly said. “I have business to take care of within the hour. We’re going to cover all the bases quick as we can here, boy.”

Flamey tittered. He slid his fingers down to the leather band near the base of the horse’s cock; he supposed it was meant to work like a cock ring. It had less to do with his respect for the horse and more his desire to eat the stallion’s ass that he didn’t ask what the device was really about. “I’m cool with whatever you want to do… as long as I get my fifty bucks out of this.”

“Right, I’m sure the money is the only reason you’re here,” the horse scoffed. He scooted forward on the bed, and where he once had his knees notched in the fox’s armpits, he now had the boy’s shoulders pinned to the bed using his kneecaps. Although Flamey winced, he felt a rush of submissive pleasure. Greasy cockflesh ground intimately against his muzzle.

Indulging himself, Flamey sucked in the smell of the horse’s sweaty groin. He dragged his tongue across the broad, black meat. “I never said it was just about the money. I still want to, uh, how’d you phrase it in the email, sir? Suck the sweat off your asshole?”

The horse muttered something indignant, sliding forward and grabbing Flamey’s head in the same instant. He forced his balls against the boy’s snout, then over it, and suddenly much of Flamey’s face was gone from view. He could then feel the fox huffing and gulping, sucking hungrily at the limited and very tainted air he was given.

“That’s it, sniff those balls,” the stallion huffed, shifting his grip to the boy’s ears. “Sniff ‘em good and lick up that sweat. Clean your daddy up.”

It seemed to Flamey that this daddy horse probably went through a lot of good boys, but then and there, he could fool himself into thinking he was the only one. It was just between him and the stallion, a little tryst the dad’s family never needed to know about, and Flamey liked being such a naughty secret. He ground his nose into the stallion’s thick, puckered asshole and he sniffed, finding that although the horse kept his body clean, he was a creature with a thick and masculine smell.

“Going for my asshole already, huh? You like that?” There was the smallest hint of surprise in the stallion’s voice hidden under the masculinity. “Yeah, I’m sure you like it. That’s what faggots like you are into now, isn’t it?”

Flamey thought first, with his nostrils flaring against the horse’s fine black anus, it most certainly is, yes. And then he thought, more pointedly, why, were fags different when you were my age?

Runners of precum oozed from the stallion’s cock like syrup, heavy droplets falling into Flamey’s hair, the brunt running down the shaft. “Lick it,” said the horse, his tone low. “Eat my ass, fox. Get your tongue in and we’ll make it sixty dollars.”

A tip for something I’d do for free, thought Flamey, homosexual delight showing in the wag of his tail. He palmed the unyielding cheeks of the stallion’s ass as he worked the hot, pink ribbon of his tongue against his puckered goal. Flamey was experienced in this art form; he noted the delicate clenches and winks and he lapped, but he was less consciously aware of the rising musk. In response to the wonderful tastes and smells of the stallion, his own penis was stiffening beneath the faggoty yet comfortable thong he’d chosen to wear.

“You need to hurry this along,” muttered the horse, speaking through nearly clenched teeth. Flamey could picture him gazing at his wrist watch, maybe thinking his mare might call any second now to ask where he was. I found that ad you put out, don’t bother coming home tonight, she might say. The thought left Flamey feeling vaguely guilty, but where he felt guilt, he also found exquisite pleasure. It almost startled him how much he liked the notion of being a homewrecker.

Flamey was, however, sanguine in his duty. “Mhm,” he murmured under the stallion’s heavy genitals, pushing his tongue harder against the smooching pucker of his anus. Overhead he heard the horse huffing, a snort here and there. Low, pleasured moans rumbled in the horse’s thick breast and Flamey found himself echoing the sentiment, though his moans were quieter, the mating calls of a domesticated sissy.

Finally the fox’s tongue found purchase, slinking past the gripping pucker of his temporary owner’s asshole. Past black flesh lie delicate pink walls, their softness almost vaginal, and Flamey cooed. The stallion was surprisingly quiet with only a single huff out of place. He ruffled the fox’s hair jovially, but said in a domineering hiss, “Do you kiss your parents, boy? Kiss them on the mouth? I wouldn’t kiss my son if he did this to other men.”

A grin split Flamey’s face ear to ear. He wriggled his tongue in the horse’s ass, inspiring in him a moan, and he reached up to the fat black rod hanging over his head. The precum running down it mingled with the sweat, adding to the musk, and Flamey smeared it around with decadent strokes and squeezes. He did, in fact, kiss his parents - but only on the cheek.

The rimjob was over before it even started, in Flamey’s opinion. The horse pulled back, freeing the boy’s tongue from his clenching, writhing rear. He dragged his balls across Flamey’s snout again, leaving the fur on his face streaked with musky, mildly greasy sweat. “That’s enough of that. That’s too queer for me,” he muttered shamefully. “We need to finish this up, young man.”

“However you want to do it, sir,” Flamey chirped, smiling at the horse with musk-drunk eyes. He allowed himself a giggle. “But let me just say you have a very tasty butthole. Definitely somewhere in my Top Five Puckered Orifices list.”

An uncomfortable, slightly irritable noise from the horse told Flamey to stop while he was ahead. A second later the horse said firmly, “Open your mouth. I want you to suck me off.”

“Well, I–, that won’t really work like this,” Flamey answered, smiling politely. “Why don’t you-u-u just rock back on those strong knees of yours and let me take care of you, sir?”

The horse considered it. He glanced at his watch - that’s a nice watch, I bet your wife and kids got you that for Christmas, didn’t they? - and then twisted on a knee, swinging his leg over the fox. He rested on both knees and stared down at the boy, watching him closely, looking predatory in posture but like prey in his eyes.

This wasn’t the first time the fox had been with somebody so obviously uncomfortable about their gay desires. If he was being honest with himself, those were his favorites if only because he got to give them something they generally wouldn’t admit to wanting. As he got onto his knees, then dipped low again with his sweaty face near the head of the horse’s cock, he thought of how much he liked being a Casual Encounters whore.

Flamey thought of the horse looking furtively at his watch, and that informed his pace. He opened his mouth and gulped down four, five, then six inches of the horsemeat. There was no coquettish teasing or gentle care; he started to gulp and suckle immediately. Promisingly, the horse moaned, and he touched Flamey’s head, cupping his ears in a familiar way.

The touch was relaxing, even reassuring, and Flamey was very appreciative of it. The horse said softly, “You’re good at this, boy.” It was enough to make the cock-hungry fox’s heart melt, but then the stallion, gaining a grin so tight it was almost a rictus, yanked him in by the ears. The fat, flared head of the horse’s cock speared open Flamey’s throat with the subtlety of a jabbing fist. Tears erupted in the fox’s eyes which opened wide, only to close tightly a moment later in reflex. He gagged and pawed at the horse’s flat abdomen, thinking madly something had to have been broken or ripped from that brutal penetration. His cock ached under the thong’s pouch.

“This needs to go quicker,” the horse reiterated, moving Flamey’s head as if he were a toy to be fucked. “I have a meeting to get to,” he said again, as though that justified the brutal sex. He bounced the fox’s face against his groin, making sticky jowls press into his loins, even pulling him in so much that the squeezing leather band slipped into Flamey’s overwhelmed maw. His cock reamed the fox’s throat much as a pipe cleaner might, spreading tender flesh wide with its bulging, drooling flare. The fox sputtered and gagged all but constantly, with drool dripping from his chin, but the horse’s abuse was constant. It was as if the fox had stopped being a living, feeling thing and was simply an object to dump his nuts into. Flamey would have liked that rhetoric.

“Good god, goddamn,” the stallion said, panting the words. His chest heaved. Sweat erupted from his brow and he wiped at it absently, leaving a darkened smear in his forearm’s fur. No longer did Flamey gulp or suck; he was just trying to draw breath around the horse’s meat, and even that was troublesome. The fox’s eyes were so teary he could see nothing, his throat raw. He wondered if what he felt just then was what being maced was like. His cock oozed precum through the thin fabric of the thong.

Deep, heavy breaths from the stallion signaled something big. Every breath was labored, and Flamey envied him being able to draw them so easily. “I’m about to–, I’m going to cum,” he said in a groan. “It’s going to happen. Fuck, I’m gonna shoot down your throat, boy. Are you even conscious?”

Flamey touched the horse’s belly, his hip, his ass. He was conscious, that much was for sure, and he was as desperate to guzzle down the horse’s cream as he was to have that very painful obstruction out of his mouth. He still couldn’t see, and breathing was even more difficult. His nose was running, his chin soaked with saliva he could not swallow. He had never felt so indignant or afraid in all his life, and his cock had never been harder.

At last, with a snort that could have been a whinny with only a bit more passion, the married stallion jerked Flamey against his loins and shot hard, blasting a half-dozen ropes of dense cum down his throat. That small number seemed like a never-ending barrage to the choking fox, and Flamey had no choice but to accept it; the bulge of the flare was past his throat’s opening, and he felt it slopping into his stomach, feeding him with that protein-rich baby gravy only a stallion could manufacture and release in such quantities.

The horse held Flamey against his loins, shuddering and taut. His grip on the boy’s ears was painful, nearly crushing delicate cartilage, but he let go before he could dogear the fox. “God. That’s it. That’s what I needed. You earned your money, boy.”

Flamey didn’t stay put. He pulled back suddenly, dislodging from the spent stallion cock, kept mostly erect by the leather band. He coughed the moment it slipped free and doubled over on the bed, gagging and sputtering as the horse meat dripped on the back of his head. He thought the stallion might pet him, offer comfort, but he didn’t. If anything, the horse was uncomfortable - and very ashamed.

“Ah… here,” the horse said, muttering the words. He climbed off the bed and left the words hanging as he dressed, trying to tune out the sputtering of the fox, whose cock was still so very hard. When he was fully dressed and aptly ignoring the sissy slobber all over his cock, he fished out two twenties and two fives from his wallet. These he dropped on the bed as though tipping the waiter, and he left without a word more. Just like that, he left Flamey’s life for good - and still with that tight band of leather around his cock.

Flamey ignored the money on the bed while he coughed and cleared his throat and blew his nose. He ignored it even as he masturbated, an episode which took mere moments. It was only when it was time to leave the motel room that he acknowledged the bills. He thought, as he stuffed them into his pocket like tissues, I need to answer these ads more often.





Commissioned by http://www.furaffinity.net/user/flameyfox/



Written by http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ceeb/



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