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This is a homoerotic piece of anthropomorphic fiction. You are warned.

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Hello y'all, welcome to my new miniseries "My Brother's Best Friend!"

This is my commemorative everything kind of a story, to celebrate lots of views, watches, and posted stories and whatnot. I hope it is an interesting read for you.

If you have any comments, don't hesitate! Also remember that all faves, watches and votes will help others to find these stories as well.

Have fun reading!

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Dark, hot, leathery nipples, protruding from a broad chest. Pectoral muscles like slabs, with a little bit of dark hair in the crevice between them, soaked in sweat. Musky, hairy armpits covered by beefy arms, shoulders slung back to show just how much muscles he's packing in those thick limbs. The hair and the sweat make a hot, glistening trail over his belly, that is not a round one, but firm, and with clearly defined muscles, a real six pack, large, fit, defined muscles well on display, just above the lustrous dark hair covering the pony's groin. The sheath is black and leathery and surrounded by a fuzzy layer of thicker hair that smells like sex. The sheath is drawn back into a dark fold to allow the penis to emerge. It's at least nine inches long, perfectly shaped and in proportion with the thick body it protrudes from. The tip is black and has a dent in the center, the piss slit from which a small stream of pre-cum drips in a constant, slow stream, pumped out by a subtle flexing motion of that length of equine flesh, slowly pulsing along to the strong beat of the dream male's heart.

He is kneeling, showing his proud member off with a confident smirk over his broad muzzle. He has large teeth that are visible whenever he's smiling and they are pearly white, and you want to stroke your tongue over them when you kiss those lips. You want to kiss that muzzle and you want to push your tongue inside it and make that large, thick, rut-smelling male bray. You want to touch that huge, formidable, pulsing cock and put your lips around it. You want to explore its silky skin with your fingers and hold it tenderly in your palm, just so that you can feel its huge girth and how it gently throbs with masculine energy. You know that it is a powerful organ, and connected to the large balls nestled in their black sac between those strong, tense thighs of the kneeling male. They are covered with very soft fur that might tickle your nose when you push your muzzle under them and breathe in the smell of a real male, not a little colt. He smells wonderful and you know you want to lick those large, potent orbs and feel them drawl close to that powerful male's body when you are trying to make him cum and spill his seed in huge, sticky quantities.

You want to slither your tongue over those spheres and make them quiver, make that whole, firm body tense with the erotic sensations concentrating on the core of his being, his cock, the most powerful tool of pleasure available to a male. You want to service him, make him his through the force you have over him, to make him yield as a slave to the pleasure only you can inflict over him. You want to explore that body and touch it all over. You want to draw fingers over his arms and under them, and lick that thick musk away from your fingers and watch him as you do that, slithering over your own digits that have been stained by his masculinity.

You know you want to.

You want to run your hands over the round mounds of his rump. It's not just an ass or a rear, but it's wide, flared and round and made of thick muscle, and just a hint of fat covering it, naturally, to make it even more attractive a thing to look at. That makes it into a rump, because he is a horse, maybe a miniature one, yes, but it is a great, shapely, beautiful, brown ass belonging to a beautiful, hot, confident, sexual male. Your eyes can't draw away from the flare of the small of his back, where his spine curves upward, and below disappears into the base of the tail hanging protectively over the pony's ass crack. Sometimes he braids it or simply ties it down, so that he can bat things with it, like it's a stick, but you prefer it like this, all ropey and stringy, protective, swishy, and ever so alluringly clinging over the sweaty buttocks. In your dreams he's always been working out before you catch him off-guard, and he will simply stay there, and pose for you, because he knows you can't stop watching his every move. He is beautiful as much as he is handsome, not classic beauty that has often been made into art, but he is beautiful for you, he is sexual, and he is dangerous.

It is dangerous to imagine how your tongue could slide over that firm neck and along that spine, to bite gently over the protruding base of that flimsy tail, to remind him that you have the power over him, even if he has so much more physical strength and potency when compared to yours .Still you are able to do this and hear him nicker, and listen to his every wavering breath. Your eyes move over to his rump, and you know that you want to do unimaginable and forbidden things there as well. You know that you want to touch him everywhere, run your fingers down his taint, touch those big balls you can see from this angle as well, hanging proudly and solitary between the firm thighs. You can see how their smooth skin slowly becomes more leathery and grows into that smooth taint speckled with black hair all along its length, slipping between those hard muscles halves of his rear.

His tail has been flicked to the side so that you can see the entirety of his musky crevice. He's been sweating so much that the longer hair stick against the dark skin there. The skin practically glistens when you lean in to take a hot breath over his crack...making him shudder with pleasure, when that warm feeling touches all over his skin...just before you draw a breath, from him, through your nose, to have him. He smells clean, but he is musky, dark and tangy after sweating so much during his past exercise. He knows that you prefer him like this and won't wash until you are done playing with him. All of his manly scents have concentrated here, under his tail, in that furry parting of his big, fleshy rump cheeks, where his sweat had ran all over that muscular, defined back. Those muscles have flexed and worked, driven to the limits, to make them even better, bigger, harder, firmer, more beautiful and better to touch, and they make him feel sexier than ever before, especially when it is your hands sliding over them, slowly. You're allowed to touch, and his neighing noises tell you that it is also wanted. when you stroke his rump, and draw those heavy halves apart so that you can push your muzzle up close and between them.

Your eyes catch the sight of his anus, and your maw waters up. It's black, smooth skin, pure muscle, as you know, pursed to close over the portal into the deep, hot reaches of his forbidden body. The glossy, sweaty skin becomes puckered towards the center, where a hint of pink is displayed. It is not a recessed, little inwards bud like those tailholes you've seen in porn, belonging to canines or felines, but a big, hot tight equine pucker hidden from your view only by the tail hanging over it, not by the natural folding of skin or the thick muscular rump providing extra cover. This hole's out there in the open, sticking out, calling for your lips, wanting you to touch it and let you both draw pleasure by touching that dark sinful skin. You want to run fingertips over that muscular ring and make it quiver and pulse strongly. You wish to try opposite hands and pry on its edges, and feel how he works against you, when you try to open him up, so that you may touch him from within, but he resists, for now. You can content yourself for a while to simply stroke the inner rim of that muscle doughnut, smoothly spreading a mixture of saliva and sweat and pure musk over the lighter-colored skin. You can hear his breaths hitch every time you touch his tailhole, knowing that it's a place nobody is supposed to touch another, unless you want to inflict the most formidable and secret erotic acts upon that sensitive skin. You want to push your finger through that tight opening and feel his body clench down on you, surprised by such an alien presence within him, as you stroke him from within, searching for that little special spot there with a funny name. Prostate. Love nut. Sex toy. Male G-spot. P-spot. Whatever it's called in those things you read online, you know it is enough to make him gasp and push his rump back against your fingers to make sure you're pressing harder over that hidden nub there, on the wall of his secret back passage. You sometimes wonder whether you could make him cum simply by rubbing that place until your fingers become tired, or he can't take more of it.

It's a fun little idea.

You can't forget the rest of him either, no way. You can run your tongue up and down between his rump cheeks and taste him, that sweaty, spicy, salty scent of a male in rut, and needing whatever sexual contact he can have. He quivers a little as he feels your tongue there, your chin, ticklish, just a little, touching his balls when you lick and lap over his crevice. He can't believe that you have your maw in his ass, touching him there, tasting him, making his flesh slick with your spit as much as with the sweat that was there before. The meaty taint glistens with hot slickness when you try to tug on the more loose skin at the base with your teeth, but you don't really manage it...too delicate, even on such a sturdy male. You have to be content by simply breathing in his musk and licking some more, lapping up and down that crevice until you reach the tailhole that has been stroked by your fingers throughout this venture. You have only seen it in porn but you want to do it, and you know it will feel great, when your slick tongue glides over the hot, pulsing skin. It's as if you were licking the tip of his cock, not the entry into his ass, when he gasps, and moans, and your ears flick with that secret, dangerous knowledge that you have your mouth over someone's asshole, and it's kinda cool.

It's firm skin, good enough for a soft nip, without pressure, just a presence, to tell him that you're here, as you take his protruding pucker between your teeth and your lips and give it a tug. He groans. He wants it. The muscle flexes, and you can feel it against your fingertips, pressing over the sides of the hole. The pony brays and neighs when he feels you making circular laps over it, as if you were drilling your tongue into the center of his anus, while your lips move, kissing his pucker wetly. You are connected ass to maw and he lifts his head and nickers, loudly, as you bore into his flesh with your tongue, simply because you can. The scent is strong enough to make your head swim with it, and the taste over your lips and your tongue is powerful, earthly, masculine, and hot...simple flesh, and a hint of the earlier sweat you have by now completely swallowed, as you have eaten out his ass. The large, hot, sweet-smelling male seems to be very much into it, even if you'd never think that he would enjoy anything to do with his rump, let alone have another male, a smaller male, touch him there.

You kiss him hard, and his flesh flexes, but won't yield. He is strong and he wants you, but you cannot pierce him so easily, a tongue is not strong enough to get past the firmly closed gates of his tailhole, and won't open with such an act. He enjoys it, eyes, and craves for more, but you know that both of you need something else, something more fulfilling.

You have a hard cock, standing proudly from your own loins, and your balls are full of pent-up spunk that you want to pump inside him, to mark this strong male as your mate. You want to breed his hole like you would do a mare, if you ever gave a second thought to pussy. The pink hole of a mare holds little allure to you. You want to have the dry, black heat of a male. You want this male, who looks at you with lust in his eyes and presents his bare rump for you, knowing that you want it. He knows that you want to spit over his tailhole and then press your thick cockhead over it and hold it there, slick skin against almost dry black skin, telling him that you intend to breed him hard and take him. You take and he gives, and that's how it has to go between two males in lust.

Top.

He has a strong cock, meant for breeding, for spreading tight, wet holes open and filling them with his cum in strong spurts of seed, until the bred hole can't take more and the rest will simply spill out and taint you with its tangy scent and hot slickness. You are made for breeding, rutting and fucking. You have to be strong, to take what those willing are to give to you, and that is your natural purpose. You have what is given to you, and you take it with pride, gleefully, panting, with your muscles straining and your breaths becoming hot huffs. Perhaps your muzzle will foam as you bite on his neck and claim him as yours with your seed and your taste over his mauled skin. Maybe your fingers will leave marks over his furry hide as you hold his body close to yours when you mate and breed.

Bottom.

He offers himself freely, pushes his rump back at you and lifts his tail aside to expose himself without shame. He knows that he's strong, too, because the top doesn't care for wimps. It takes a strong, muscular male to take all the energy and strength offered by the top. A lesser male can't withstand the invasion of such a strong spear churning through his innards, spreading his pucker wide open and painting the walls of his canal with hot pre. The growing heat and friction lets rise to a lust inside the bottom, the want to simply hold on and be bred endlessly, taken with abandon, lost in the sensation of serving another male. It isn't weak, it is powerful, it is power over someone, with your body, by letting them claim yours with theirs. They are left exhausted by your vice-like grip and your heated pressure, and the warmth your body radiates, in and out, when they take you hard. You never feel more powerful than when you have a cock driving in and out of your convulsing, aching tailhole, reminding you with each breath-catching, energetic thrust that you are with a strong male now, who chose you because you are strong and can take everything that is given to you, hard and fast, as you are bred. You revel in the sensation when he seeds you and fills you, marking you as his, even if it's briefly, before he collapsed panting against your back. His slick tongue licks the back of your neck and he speaks nonsense to you, and you know you have exhausted him, he cannot move, he cannot think, he cannot speak, he is yours. Perhaps he soon leaves and your back feels cold, but the heat of the seed flowing out of your body, over your taint infuses you with a renewed sense of warmth, when your satisfyingly sore pucker closes down on itself, reminding you that you just got totally fucked. Perhaps your own cock pulses on its own yet, unattended, neglected while you were enjoying submissive pleasures in your backside, or maybe it is mashed between your belly and a pool of your own cum, pumped out of you by the sheer force of that cock piledriving into your ass. Your rump. Rearhole. Tailgate. Cornhole. However sloppy you are, you think of your hole with pride. You've satisfied you both.

You don't care whatever you do, as long as it involves your bodies moving together. It is slow at first, it always is, when a cock plunders the depths of a tailhole barely lubricated with saliva from a tongue, briefly stretched by fingers, to make it easier to get past that gripping heat and into the smoldering anal depths of your mate. No matter the complaints of your body, when you drive yourself to the limits, whether to pump into that ass your hips slam into with every thrusts, or bracing to take each and every of those lusty acts upon your body, you are alive, and you are fucking. It makes your skin crawl under your sweaty furs, it makes your breath catch when you simply can't do anything but pant and let yourself become immersed in the moment, as you continue the never-ending motion, the primal urge to tilt your hips in that very special way. Back and forth the strength goes, passed to and fro, through the connection of a thick cock passing through the quivering gate of an anus, into a tight tunnel that is willingly taking in the other, for your shared pleasure.

You fuck hard and you know it can never last very long, but after all that teasing, it matters little. Your bodies are on fire and you need the release, the explosion of energy from within, to be swept away on that haze that rises over you when the pleasure is finally upon you, and it's all there is left to the world, besides the ragged moans and pulse of muscles, hips, skin and veins transporting essential energy throughout your straining bodies. You bite, you scratch, you bray and you hold onto slick, heaving skin, and the slapping sound of a pair of balls hitting another intensifies, making yours ears flick constantly. Tailholes squeeze down, one simply on itself, the occupied one, around the stiff length spreading it open, making both hard cocks throb as the sensations intensify and grow.

You groan that you're going to cum.

Your seed explodes out of your body, majestically, almost in slow motion, when the world disappears and you only feel pleasure for that blessed, singular moment between this place and the other. You are hanging, and you don't know how long it lasted, when you finally open your eyes and you are still here, with that other heaving pile of flesh connected into your own body. Everything feels slick and smells of musk and rut, and you are drained, you are tired, but you are smiling. You lick each other's lips and you share breath and scent and smile, and stroke each other's sweaty bodies and relax, letting the heat slowly dissipate. Your bodies never loose their contact. That hard cock deep in that ass is not going anywhere, and it keeps you together, even when the hot cum covering your bodies becomes sticky and starts to cool down. You smile and you laugh, and your eyes and tails flick. A pleasant soreness spreads over you.

Maybe you love each other, or maybe you simply connected by lust, but you know what you want, and you have done exactly that.

You have rutted and you have fucked and you are...

"...fuck...gonna...Brand.."

Jeff's hand flew over his shaft as he felt the heat blast through his adolescent groin to signal that his orgasm was imminent. The pony was lying on his bed, covers folded his knees simply bit his teeth down and let it rip, and continued jacking off over his modest member as it throbbed and shot his creamy load all over his broad, round, furred chest, painting it with streaks of white. He smelled and felt them but did not see, because Jeff's eyes were closed and all he could see were the images of his brother's best friend Brand, the subject of almost each and every one of his dirty, sexual fantasies.

That hunky, muscular, brown-furred, cocky, tall-eared, apple-loving, big-assed, possibly quite gay pony Jeff had caught jerking off in his brother's room while sniffing on Jeff's brother's dirty gym jockstrap.

The awesomely annoying male who had jumped into the maximum lust category for the 16-year-old virgin gay pony who couldn't spend an hour without thinking about burying his muzzle between Brand's sweaty ass cheeks and taking a taste at his rump.

The same ass he had seen Brand finger, lustfully, and there was photographic evidence to prove the fact that the bodybuilding pony liked it up the ass.

Jeff's body relaxed as his orgasm waned and he simply laid there, slick hands falling off to his sides as he breathed deeply into the dark air of his bedroom, now smelling of adolescent cum and dirty thoughts.

He couldn't remember how many times he'd already woken up that night to thoughts of Brand, and he'd feel his hard cock, cop a feel and go to town on it. His trashcan was already probably half-full of crusty tissues as signs of his horny actions. He'd have to sneak them out before his mother noticed it when cleaning his chronically messy room.

Jeff was planning to be a whole lot sneakier, too, if he was to have his way with his brother's hot best friend.

It was Friday, after all, and a whole new day.

Well, not yet, he discovered with pleasure as he took a sneak peek at his phone to see what the time was. It was still only five twenty-five am...still a few more hours before another day at school...a whole many boring lessons that would give him a whole lot of time to finetune his slowly growing plan.

The Plan, with a capital P.

Jeff smirked to himself as he reached into his nightstand for the packet of tissues, and decided that sometimes allergies gave the best excuses.

*TO BE CONTINUED*

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There we go, a second miniseries installment in the making! What do you think? Is he going to have his way?

Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well.

Cheerio!