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Introduction:

Sarah lives alone and works an unsatisfying job. She needs something to spice up her life and finds just the thing in a stallion.

The first time I laid eyes on Big Boy, I was driving home from another monotonous day at the office, my mind still preoccupied with the endless spreadsheets and emails that had consumed my day. As I rounded the familiar bend in the country road, there he was - a colossal equine silhouette against the setting sun, his muscular frame casting an imposing shadow across the sparsely wooded field. I slowed my car to a crawl, my green eyes widening as I drank in the sight of him. He was a magnificent creature, his powerful haunches and broad chest speaking to a strength and virility that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. I couldn't help but pull over to the shoulder, turning off the ignition so I could admire him unencumbered. He regarded me with a haughty tilt of his head, dark eyes seeming to pierce right through me. I felt a strange fluttering in my stomach, a sensation I couldn't quite identify. It was then that I noticed the sizeable bulge between his hind legs, a sight that made my cheeks flush with a sudden, inexplicable heat. I shook my head, chastising myself for such a ridiculous reaction, and continued my journey home, the image of the horse etched into my mind.

Over the next few days, I found myself looking forward to spotting Big Boy on my commute. Each time I passed, I lingered a little longer, my eyes roaming appreciatively over his powerful form. I began to notice the way his coat glistened in the sunlight, the play of muscle beneath his skin as he moved. I started getting a thrill of excitement at my departures from work, hoping to catch a glimpse of him as I drove home. It was on the third day that I finally worked up the courage to stop and greet him properly.

I was on my way home, mind preoccupied with the day's frustrations at work, when I spotted him in his field. Without really thinking about it, I found myself pulling over to the shoulder, putting my car in park, and stepping out onto the gravel. My heart was pounding in my chest as I approached the fence, my long red hair whipping around my shoulders in the breeze. I could feel the heat of the sun on my skin, the warmth of the day seeping into my blouse and skirt. As I drew closer to the fence, I saw Big Boy's ears flick back, his head turning to regard me with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

I hesitated for a moment, my hand outstretched, before reaching out to touch his muzzle. His coat was softer than I had imagined, the coarse hairs tickling my palm. He snorted softly, his breath hot against my skin, and I felt a thrill of excitement course through me. I stroked his muzzle gently, marveling at the way his lips moved beneath my touch, the way his eyes seemed to soften as he leaned into my caress. I knew I should feel foolish, standing at this fence off the side of the road, petting a horse I didn't know, but I couldn't bring myself to care. In that moment, nothing else mattered - not the endless paperwork, not the office politics, not the loneliness that had begun to consume my life. There was only the feel of his skin beneath my fingers, the power of his presence, the raw, untamed masculinity that seemed to emanate from every pore. I knew, as I stood there with my hand on his muzzle, that I would be back. I would be back again and again, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the pull of his primal allure. Little did I know then just how far down that path my obsession would lead me.

Over the next couple of weeks, my daily stops to greet Big Boy became a ritual I looked forward to with increasing anticipation. Each evening, as the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, I would pull over to the shoulder, my heart already racing in my chest. I grew bolder with each passing day, spending longer by the fence, my hand no longer just a fleeting touch on his muzzle, but a lingering caress along his powerful neck and withers.

I found myself studying him intently, committing every detail of his magnificent form to memory. His coat was a rich, creamy white, almost glowing in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the trees. His mane and tail were a darker shade, a lustrous black that seemed to absorb the light. I learned the way his ears twitched when a fly buzzed too close, the way his tail swished when I turned to leave. I marveled at the play of muscle beneath his skin as he moved, the way his hindquarters rippled with each step.

One evening, as I stood there with my hand on his warm, solid flank, I felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to know more about this creature who had so captured my imagination. That night, once I had returned to the solitude of my small apartment, I turned to the internet, searching for information about the breed of horse that had so enthralled me.

I discovered that Big Boy was an American Cream draft, a breed known for their incredible strength and power. I read about their use in farming and logging, their ability to pull immense weights with ease. I learned that he stood at 16.5 hands tall, nearly two feet taller than me. I felt a thrill of excitement as I imagined the sheer size of him, the way he would tower over me, dwarfing me with his presence.

But it was not just information about his breed that I sought out that night. In a moment of boldness, I typed in a search term that made my heart race and my cheeks flush with heat. I had to know if I was alone in my fascination, if other women had felt the same inexplicable pull towards these magnificent creatures. And so, with trembling fingers, I searched for porn featuring women and horses.

What I found shocked me, thrilled me, and set my imagination ablaze. Video after video depicted women, some of them strikingly similar to myself, engaging in intimate acts with horses. I watched as they stroked and caressed, as they took the horses' impressive members into their hands and mouths. I saw the look of ecstasy on their faces as they were mounted, their bodies speared on the horses' throbbing cocks. I felt a rush of heat between my own legs as I watched, my hand slipping beneath my skirt to touch myself as I imagined it was me in those videos, me being filled and stretched and claimed by Big Boy.

Each night, as I lay in bed, I found my mind drifting to fantasies of him. I imagined the feel of his skin beneath my fingers, the weight of his body above me, the stretch of his cock inside me. I dreamed of the way he would dwarf me, the way I would be utterly at his mercy. I knew it was wrong, I knew I should be disgusted by such thoughts, but I couldn't help myself. I was consumed by a hunger I had never known before, a primal need that could only be sated by him.

And so, as the days turned into weeks, my obsession grew. I found myself counting the hours until I could see him again, until I could feel his skin beneath my fingers. I knew I was becoming unhealthily fixated, but I couldn't bring myself to care. All that mattered was him, all that consumed my thoughts was the desire to be closer to him, to know him in a way that I knew would be both terrifying and exhilarating.

It was on a warm, balmy evening that I finally worked up the courage to climb the fence and greet him properly. My heart was pounding in my chest as I approached the weathered wood, my hands shaking slightly as I gripped the top rail. I could feel the rough, splintered wood beneath my fingers, the way it dug into my palms as I hoisted myself up and over. I knew there was a chance I could be seen, that someone driving by could spot me and report me to the authorities, but I couldn't bring myself to care. All I could think about was him, all I could focus on was the need to be closer to him.

As I dropped down into the soft grass on the other side of the fence, I felt a rush of adrenaline surge through my veins. I was trespassing, invading his space, and the knowledge sent a thrill of excitement coursing through me. I approached him slowly, my footsteps soft and careful on the dew-kissed grass. He turned to regard me, his ears flicking back as he took in my presence, and I felt a moment of trepidation. But then he snorted softly, his breath hot and damp against my skin, and I knew I had made the right choice.

I reached out to stroke his muzzle, my fingers trembling slightly as I caressed the soft skin there. He nickered softly, his lips moving beneath my touch, and I felt a rush of heat suffuse my body. I knew I was crossing a line, that there would be no turning back from this moment, but I couldn't bring myself to stop. I had to have more, I had to feel more of him, and so I let my hand drift lower, my fingers trailing down the length of his powerful neck, over his broad chest, and lower still, until I was standing before the impressive bulge between his hind legs.

I had seen it before, of course, but never this close, never with the intent to touch. I could feel the heat radiating off of him, the way his skin seemed to pulse with a life of its own. I knew I should be afraid, knew that I was playing with fire in a way that could leave me burned, but I couldn't bring myself to care. All I could think about was the size of him, the sheer, overwhelming masculinity that emanated from every pore, and the way it called to something deep and primal inside of me.

And so, with a deep breath and a silent prayer, I knelt and reached out to touch him, to wrap my fingers around the impressive length of his cock as it emerged from its sheath.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I knelt before Big Boy, my hand wrapped around the impressive length of his cock. I could feel it throbbing in my grip, the heat of it searing my palm, and I knew I couldn't stop now. I had to see this through, had to know what it felt like to bring this magnificent creature to the pinnacle of pleasure.

With a deep, shuddering breath, I began to stroke him, my hand moving up and down the incredible length of his shaft. He snorted and stamped his hoof, his body trembling slightly as I worked him, his cock growing harder and more insistent with each passing second. I marveled at the way it pulsed in my hand, the way the skin seemed to ripple and dance beneath my touch. I had never seen anything so awe-inspiring, so utterly masculine, and the knowledge that I was the one bringing him to this state of arousal sent a rush of power and desire surging through my veins.

As I continued to stroke him, I felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to taste him. I had seen the videos, had watched as other women had taken the horses' cocks into their mouths, had seen the look of ecstasy on their faces as they had swallowed down the thick, creamy seed that had erupted from those impressive members. I knew it was wrong, knew that I should be disgusted by the very idea, but it didn't matter. All I could think about was the taste of him, the feel of him on my tongue, the way he would fill my mouth and throat and belly.

And so, with a moan of desire, I leaned forward and ran my tongue along the length of his cock, from the base to the tip. The taste was unlike anything I had ever experienced before - salty and slightly bitter, with an underlying muskiness that made my head spin with desire. I could smell the scent of him, the heady aroma of pure, unadulterated masculinity that seemed to fill my nostrils and cloud my mind with a haze of lust. I knew I was addicted, knew that I would never be able to get enough of this taste, this smell, this feeling.

I couldn't stop myself from taking more, from wrapping my lips around the head of his cock and suckling gently, my tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh as I drew him deeper into my mouth. He snorted and stamped his hoof, his body trembling with the force of his arousal, and I knew I had him right on the edge. I could feel the way his cock throbbed and jerked in my mouth, the way it seemed to swell even larger as I worked him closer and closer to his release.

And then, with a mighty bellow that seemed to shake the very earth beneath my feet, he came. His cock erupted in my mouth, his seed flooding my throat and filling my mouth and cheeks with its thick, creamy essence. I swallowed as fast as I could, my throat working to gulp down every last drop of his release, but it was impossible to keep up with the sheer volume of it. His cum spilled out over my lips and chin, dripping down onto my blouse and skirt, leaving sticky trails of white on the fabric.

I pulled back, gasping for air, my face and neck and bosom and thighs glazed with his seed. I could feel it cooling on my skin, could smell the pungent, musky aroma of it as it dried. It was a heady, intoxicating scent, one that made my head spin and my body ache with a need I had never known before. I knew I should feel ashamed, should be disgusted by the way I had debased myself, but all I could feel was a sense of deep, abiding satisfaction. I had brought this magnificent creature to the pinnacle of pleasure, had felt the heat of his release on my skin and in my mouth, and I knew I would never be the same again.

As I drove home that night, I could still feel the sticky remnants of his seed on my skin, could still taste the salty, slightly bitter flavor of it on my tongue. I found myself running my fingers through the cooling puddles of cum on my blouse and skirt, collecting the sticky essence on my fingertips before bringing them to my mouth to lick them clean. The taste only served to fuel the fire that had been ignited within me, the hunger that could only be sated by more of him, more of his touch, more of his seed.

By the time I pulled into the driveway of my small apartment, I was a mess - my hair disheveled, my clothes stained with the evidence of my debauchery, my body aching with a need that could no longer be ignored. I stumbled inside, my mind racing with thoughts of him, with memories of the feel of his skin and the taste of his seed. I knew I needed to do something, needed to relieve the pressure that had built up inside of me, the way a dam might burst under the force of a raging river.

I stripped off my clothes as I made my way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of cum-stained fabric in my wake. I could feel the heat of my skin, the way it seemed to burn with a fever that had nothing to do with illness and everything to do with desire. I lay down on the bed, my hand drifting between my thighs, my fingers seeking out the slick, swollen flesh of my sex.

I was already so wet, so ready for release, that it took only a few strokes of my fingers to bring me to the brink of ecstasy. I thought of him as I touched myself, of the way his cock had felt in my hand and my mouth, of the taste of his seed on my tongue. I imagined him above me, his powerful body dwarfing mine, his impressive length spearing me open, claiming me, ruining me for all others. And with a cry of his name, I came, my body convulsing with the force of my release, my sex clenching and fluttering around my invading fingers as I rode out the waves of my climax.

But even as I lay there, panting and trembling in the aftermath of my orgasm, I knew it wouldn't be enough. I knew that I would need more, that I would always need more of him, no matter how many times I brought myself to this peak. I was addicted, obsessed, consumed by a hunger that could only be sated by him. And I knew, as I drifted off to sleep that night, that I would be back to see him again, back to feel him, back to taste him, back to be claimed by him in every way possible. My descent into depravity was only just beginning, and I could hardly wait to see how far I would fall.

Over the next few days, my visits to Big Boy became a daily ritual, a necessary stop I had to make on my way home from work each evening. I would count down the hours, my body already tingling with anticipation as I drove along the familiar country road, the sun dipping lower in the sky with each passing mile. I knew that soon I would be with him again, would be able to feel his skin beneath my fingers and taste his essence on my tongue.

The field where Big Boy resided was a sprawling expanse of green, dotted with gnarled trees and lush bushes that provided ample cover and concealment. I had discovered that I could slip into the trees, hidden from the view of the road, and approach the fence from the far side of the field, where a small, weathered barn stood sentinel. Inside the barn, I had found an array of horse accessories and bales of hay, the scent of which seemed to permeate the very air. It was the perfect place to lose myself, to indulge in my growing obsession with the magnificent creature who had captured my heart and my imagination.

As I stepped out of my car each evening, I could feel my heart beginning to race, my breath coming faster as I made my way towards the fence. And there he would be, his head already turned in my direction, his ears flicking back and forth as he heard the crunch of my footsteps on the gravel. I could see the way his cock would emerge from its sheath, swaying and bobbing with each step I took, growing harder and more insistent with each passing second. It was a sight that never failed to make my mouth go dry and my core clench with anticipation.

I had started to pleasure myself as I sucked him, my hand drifting between my thighs as I worked his impressive length with my mouth and tongue. I knew it was wrong, knew that I should be disgusted by my own wanton behavior, but there was no stopping. All I could focus on was the feel of him in my mouth, the way he seemed to swell and throb with each suck and lick, the way he seemed to grow even larger and harder as I worked him closer and closer to his release.

By now I had begun to strongly desire swallowing him down my throat, feeling the thick, pulsing heat of him as he slid over my tongue and hit the back of my throat. But he was far too big, his cock a massive, intimidating presence in my mouth. I had measured it once, marveling at the sheer size of it - a full 30 inches in length when he was fully aroused, the thick, veiny shaft bigger around than my wrist. I could barely get my fingers around it, could barely wrap my hand all the way around his incredible girth. The thought of taking him into my throat, of feeling him slide down the tight, clenching channel of my esophagus, made my head spin with a dizzying mix of fear and exhilaration.

Big Boy seemed just as excited to see me each day, his nicker of greeting turning into a snort of arousal as I climbed the fence and dropped down into the field on the other side. He would nuzzle me immediately, his soft, velvety nose brushing against my cheek and neck, his lips nipping gently at my skin. I would laugh and coo at his eager attentions, running my fingers through his mane and over his powerful neck and shoulders, marveling at the feel of his muscles rippling beneath the silky fur. I would press my face into his neck, breathing in the scent of him, the musky, slightly earthy aroma that seemed to cling to his skin and fill my nostrils with each inhale. I knew I was becoming addicted to that scent, to the feel of him, to the way he seemed to dwarf me with his sheer size and strength.

Each visit ended the same way - with his explosive, earth-shattering release. I would feel his cock throbbing and jerking in my hand and mouth, the thick, pulsing shaft growing even harder and more insistent as he neared his peak. And then, with a mighty whinny that pierced the air, he would cum, his seed erupting from the tip of his cock in thick, creamy ropes that would paint my face and neck and blouse and skirt with his essence. I would swallow as much of it as I could, my throat working overtime to gulp down the sheer volume of his release, but it was impossible to keep up. His cum would drip and drip from my chin and cheeks, leaving sticky trails of white on my skin and in my hair.

I would drive home each night, my body aching with a hunger that could not be sated, my skin still sticky with the remnants of his seed. I would collect as much of the sticky essence on my fingertips as I could, licking them clean, not wanting to waste a drop. The taste of him, the scent of him, the feel of him - it was all I could think about as I navigated the dark roads home, my mind consumed by thoughts of him and the way he made me feel.

And so, once I was home, I would do what I had to do to relieve the burning pressure of my arousal. I would strip off my clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and lay back on my bed, my hand drifting between my thighs to the swollen, aching flesh of my sex. I would think of him as I touched myself, of the way his cock had felt in my hand and my mouth, of the taste of his seed on my tongue. I would imagine him above me, his powerful body dwarfing mine, his impressive length spearing me open, claiming me, ruining me. And with a cry of his name, I would come, my body convulsing with the force of my release, my sex clenching and fluttering around my invading fingers as I rode out the waves of my climax.

But it wasn't enough. I knew it would never be enough, knew that I would always crave more of him, no matter how many times I brought myself to this peak. And so, in a moment of desperation, I had turned to the internet, searching for ways to sate my hunger, to feed the beast that had taken up residence inside of me. I had watched hours and hours of horse porn, my body aching and throbbing with each video I watched, my fingers never still as I touched myself to the sight of other women being mounted and filled and claimed by the magnificent creatures they had chosen to debase themselves with.

I had also turned to more...unconventional methods of satisfying my cravings. I had a vibrator, but it was woefully inadequate compared to the sheer size and girth of Big Boy's cock. I would press it against my clit, my fingers pumping it in and out of my dripping sex, but it could never compare to the feeling of his skin, the way it seemed to pulse and throb with a life of its own. And so, in a moment of desperation, I had turned to the kitchen, grabbing a carrot and a cucumber, marveling at the way they seemed to mimic the shape and size of the cock I craved so badly.

I had penetrated myself with them, gasping and moaning as I worked them deeper and deeper into my sex, imagining it was Big Boy's cock spearing me open, claiming me, ruining me for all others. But even that hadn't been enough, and so I had turned to the internet once more, searching for something, anything, that could satisfy the hunger that consumed me.

And that was how I had discovered the world of horse cock dildos, the massive, veiny shafts that seemed to mock me with their sheer size and girth. I had ordered several, my fingers trembling as I clicked the 'buy now' button, my body already aching with anticipation of the way they would feel inside of me, stretching me, filling me, claiming me in a way that I knew I needed more than anything else in the world.

As I lay there in bed each night, my body still sticky with the remnants of my debauchery, I knew that I was crossing a line, knew that there was no going back from the path I had chosen. But I also knew that I couldn't stop, couldn't give up on the hunger that had taken hold of me, the need that could only be sated by him. And so, with a sigh of resignation and a thrill of excitement, I would drift off to sleep, already dreaming of the next day, of the next time I would see him, and the next time I would feel his skin beneath my fingers and his seed on my skin. My descent into depravity was only just beginning.

As the work week drew to a close, my anticipation for my encounters with Big Boy only grew. I found myself counting down the hours, my body already tingling with anticipation as I thought about the delights that awaited me in the field. I knew that this weekend would be different, that I would have more time to indulge in my growing obsession, and the knowledge made my heart race and my core clench with need.

On Friday evening, as the sun began to set and the sky turned a breathtaking array of oranges and pinks, I made my way to the field, my steps quick and purposeful. I could see Big Boy already, his head turned in my direction, his ears flicking back and forth as he heard the crunch of my footsteps on the gravel. I could see the way his cock was already hanging.

I climbed the fence with a newfound sense of urgency, dropping down into the field and making my way towards him. I could feel the heat of his skin, the way it seemed to radiate outwards, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. I reached out, my fingers brushing against his soft, velvety muzzle, feeling the way his lips curled into a smile at my touch. I knew I couldn't wait any longer, knew that I needed to feel him, to taste him.

And so, I set to work, my hands roaming over his powerful body, my fingers tracing the contours of his muscles as I stroked and caressed every inch of him. I could feel the way his cock throbbed and jerked in my hand, the thick, pulsing shaft growing harder and more insistent with each pass of my fingers. I leaned in, my tongue darting out to lick along the length of him, tasting the salty, slightly bitter flavor of his skin, the musky aroma that seemed to cling to every inch of his impressive length.

I took my time with him, my mouth and tongue working in tandem with my hands as I brought him to the pinnacle of arousal. I could feel the way his balls tightened and drew up closer to his body, the way his cock seemed to swell and grow even larger as I worked him closer and closer to his release. And then, with a mighty whinny that pierced the air and sent a shiver down my spine, he came, his seed erupting from the tip of his cock in thick, creamy ropes that painted my face and neck and blouse with his essence.

But I didn't stop there. I knew I couldn't stop, knew that I needed to feel him come undone again, needed to watch as he lost himself to the pleasure that only I could give him. And so, I set to work once more, my hands and mouth and tongue never still as I stroked and licked and sucked, my own body aching and throbbing with a need that could not be denied. I could feel the way his cock seemed to pulse and jerk in my mouth, the way it seemed to grow even larger and harder as I worked him towards his second climax of the evening.

And then, with another earth-shattering roar, he came again, his seed erupting from his cock in an even more massive deluge than before. I could feel the way it splashed against my face and neck and chest, the way it soaked through the fabric of my blouse, leaving me dripping with his essence. I knew I should feel ashamed, but all I could feel was a sense of deep, abiding satisfaction. I had brought this magnificent creature to the pinnacle of pleasure not once, but twice, and the knowledge filled me with a heady, intoxicating rush of power.

But I wasn't done yet. I knew I needed more, knew that I couldn't leave this field without indulging in one last fantasy, one last taste of the forbidden fruit that had become my obsession. And so, with a sense of daring that made my heart race, I moved behind him, dropping to my knees in the soft grass between his hind legs. I could feel the heat of his body radiating outwards, could smell the musky, slightly earthy scent of him as I pressed my face into the soft, downy skin of his scrotum.

I could hardly believe the size of him as I knelt there, my face nestled in his heavy, cum-filled balls, my body pressed against the incredible length of his shaft. It stretched out before me, a massive, pulsing column of equine flesh that seemed to go on and on, the thick, veiny surface nestling perfectly between my breasts as I wrapped my arms around it, stroking and caressing every inch of him. The length of him stretched all the way down along my belly and to my crotch. I could feel the way it throbbed and jerked against my skin, the way it seemed to pulse with a life of its own as I worked my way up and down his incredible length.

I knew I was playing a dangerous game, knew that if anyone were to catch me like this, pressed up against the most intimate part of this magnificent beast, I would be ruined. But I couldn't bring myself to stop the way I was touching him, tasting him, savoring every inch of his skin and flesh. I knew I was addicted, knew that I would never be able to get enough of him, no matter how many times I brought myself to this peak of depravity.

As I knelt there, my face pressed into his heavy, cum-filled balls, my body wrapped around the incredible length of his shaft, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to have him inside of me, to feel the way he would stretch and fill and claim me in a way that I had never been claimed before. I knew it was impossible, knew that he was far too large, far too powerful for my small, delicate body to take. But the thought of it, the fantasy of it, sent a rush of heat flooding through my core, my sex clenching and aching with a need that could not be denied.

I knew I would have to be content with this for now, with the feeling of his skin against mine, the taste of his essence on my tongue, the scent of him filling my nostrils. But as I finally pulled away, my body trembling with the force of my arousal, I knew that I would be back.

Little did I know, as I made my way back to my car, my body still sticky with the remnants of my debauchery, that the weekend would bring even more surprises and delights. For as I climbed into the driver's seat and reached for my phone, I saw a notification from the shipping company I had ordered the horse cock dildos from. They had arrived, and would be delivered to my doorstep first thing Saturday morning. The knowledge sent a thrill of excitement and anticipation surging through my veins, and I knew that this weekend would be one I would never forget. My journey into the world of equine sexual depravity was only just beginning, and I could hardly wait to see where it would take me next.

As the weekend began, I found myself in a state of constant anticipation and arousal, my mind never far from thoughts of Big Boy and the delights that awaited me. I knew I would have more time to indulge in my obsession, more opportunities to feel him, to taste him, to have him in ways that I had never dared to before. And as I lay in bed on that first Saturday morning, my body already aching with need, I knew that I couldn't wait any longer to explore the treasures that had arrived on my doorstep.

I stumbled out of bed, my feet carrying me to the box that sat on my kitchen table, the box that contained the horse cock dildos I had ordered in a moment of desperate, aching need. I could hardly believe they were real, could hardly believe that I had actually gone through with the purchase. But as I tore open the box and lifted out the massive, veiny shafts, I knew that there was no turning back now. I was committed to this path, committed to satisfying the hunger that consumed me, no matter where it might lead.

I started with my pussy, my fingers already slick with arousal as I pressed the tip of the smallest dildo against my entrance. I could feel the way my body resisted at first, the way my walls clenched and tightened around the invading length, trying to keep it out. But I was determined, and with a deep breath and a thrust of my hips, I forced the dildo inside, gasping at the sudden stretch, the way it seemed to fill me completely, reaching depths that I had never been reached before.

It was incredible, the feeling of being so utterly stuffed, so completely claimed by the massive length of the dildo. I could feel every ridge and vein, every throbbing inch of it as I began to move it in and out of my sex, my hips rocking and rolling as I fucked myself on the incredible toy. I could feel the way my juices soaked the shaft, the way they dripped down onto the sheets beneath me, leaving a sticky, glistening trail in their wake.

But I didn't stop there. I needed more, knew that I needed to push myself further, to test the limits of what my body could take. And so, with a sense of daring and a thrill of excitement, I turned my attention to my ass, the tight, puckered hole that I had never dared to explore before. I knew it would be difficult, knew that it would hurt, but the thought of being filled in a way that I had never been filled before sent a rush of heat flooding through my core.

It took time, more time than I had ever imagined it would take. I had to work the dildo in slowly, inch by excruciating inch, my body clenching and fighting against the invading length every step of the way. I could feel the way my sphincter stretched and strained, could feel the way it seemed to scream in protest as I forced the dildo deeper and deeper inside. But I was determined, and with a final, brutal thrust, I felt the dildo slip past the tight ring of muscle, burying itself deep inside the hot, clenching channel of my ass.

The pain was intense, a searing, burning agony that made me cry out and clench my teeth, my fingers digging into the sheets beneath me. But even as I gasped and panted through the discomfort, I could feel a sense of deep, abiding satisfaction washing over me. I had done it, had pushed myself to the limit and beyond, had claimed a new part of myself in the process. And as I lay there, the dildo buried deep inside my ass, I felt an abiding satisfaction.

But I still wasn't done. I still had one more frontier to conquer, one more taboo to break. And so, with a sense of trepidation and a thrill of excitement, I turned my attention to the largest of the dildos, the one that most closely resembled the magnificent cock that I craved so badly. I knew it would be impossible to take it all the way, knew that my throat was far too small and tight to accommodate such a massive length. But I was determined to try, determined to push myself to the very brink of what was possible.

I pressed the tip of the dildo against my lips, my tongue darting out to taste the stale, plastic surface. I imagined it as Big Boy's cock, remembering the way he would throb and pulse against my skin, the way he would grow even larger and harder as I worked him into my mouth, inch by inch. It gave me inspiration as pushed the dildo into my throat. I could feel the way my neck clenched and tightened around the invading length, the way it seemed to scream in protest as I forced it deeper and deeper inside.

I managed to get just a few inches of the massive shaft swallowed down before I had to stop, my body convulsing with the effort of trying to breathe around the obstruction in my throat. I could feel the way my lungs burned for air, the way my head began to spin and swim with the lack of oxygen. But even as I pulled the dildo out, gasping and coughing and sputtering, I knew that I would try again. I would train my body, would push myself to take more and more of the massive length, until I could swallow it down like the wanton slut I had become.

But for now, I had other plans, other delights to attend to. And so, with a sense of purpose and a heart full of anticipation, I made my way back to the field, ready to see my beloved Big Boy once more.

Over the course of the weekend, I visited him again and again, my body aching with the need to feel him, to taste him, to have him in every way possible. Each time, I would climb the fence and drop down into the field, my heart racing as I made my way towards him, ready to indulge in the depravity that had become my greatest desire.

And each time, I would bring him to the pinnacle of pleasure again and again, my hands and mouth working in tandem to bring him to a massive, earth-shattering climax. I would stroke and suck and lick, my own body throbbing and aching with each pulse and throb of his incredible length. And each time, he would cum, his seed erupting from his cock in thick, creamy ropes that seemed to paint the very air around us.

But this weekend, I had a new idea, a way to make the most of every drop of his precious essence. I had brought a cup with me, a large, sturdy plastic cup that I knew would be able to hold every last bit of his release. And as I worked him towards his climax, my mouth and hands never still, I would hold the cup beneath his swaying, jerking length, ready to catch every last drop of his seed as it erupted from his cock.

It was a messy, filthy business, and I knew that anyone who saw me would be horrified by the way I was debasing myself, the way I was reducing myself to little more than a receptacle for this magnificent beast's pleasure. But I couldn't bring myself to care, couldn't bring myself to stop the way I was touching him, tasting him, savoring every last bit of his essence.

And as I knelt there in the grass, the cup filled to the brim with his thick, pungent seed, I knew that I would drink every last drop, would swallow it down like a wanton slut. I would let it coat my throat, my tongue, my lips, would let it fill my belly with the heat and weight of him. And as I drank, I would think of him, of the way he had filled me and claimed me.

As the days turned into weeks, my obsession with Big Boy only grew more intense, consuming every waking moment and invading my dreams. And as I made my way to the field each evening after work, I knew that I was becoming a creature of pure, unadulterated lust, a slave to the depraved desires that had taken hold of me.

At home, I threw myself into practicing with the horse cock dildos, determined to push my body to its limits and beyond. Each night, I would lie on my bed, spreading my legs wide as I forced the massive shafts inside, inch by excruciating inch. At first, it was a struggle, my body screaming in protest as it was stretched and filled in ways it had never been before. But I was relentless, driven by a hunger that could not be denied, and slowly but surely, I began to make progress.

Weeks passed, and I found myself able to take more and more of the incredible lengths inside my greedy holes. My pussy, once tight and resistant, now gaped and clenched around the dildos, sucking them in deeper and deeper with each thrust of my hips. My ass, once a tight, puckered knot of muscle, now relaxed and accepted the massive intrusions, allowing me to take 12 inches of the thick, veiny dildo deep into my bowels.

But it was my throat that saw the most remarkable progress, my once fragile and delicate muscles growing stronger and more accommodating with each passing day. I could hardly believe it when I first managed to swallow 6 inches of the massive dildo, my neck bulging obscenely as I forced it down my spasming throat. But as the days turned into weeks, I found myself able to take more and more, until I could finally, astonishingly, swallow a full 15 inches of the incredible length, my belly bulging outwards as I choked and gagged and retched around the invading shaft.

Each night, as I lay there, my body aching and dripping with sweat, I would think of Big Boy, of the way his massive cock would feel spearing into me, claiming me, ruining me for all others. I would imagine the way it would stretch and fill me, the way it would reach parts of me that had never been reached before. And as I fucked myself on the dildos, I would cry out his name, my voice echoing through the empty house as I brought myself to a shattering, mind-blowing climax again and again.

But my obsession didn't stop at home. No, it followed me to work, where my thoughts were consumed by the magnificent beast that had become my entire world. I found myself staring blankly at my computer screen, my mind drifting to the feel of his skin, the scent of his coat, the way his muscles rippled beneath his glistening hide. I would imagine the weight of him on top of me, the way he would pin me down and take me, hard and fast and without mercy.

And so, in a moment of desperate, aching need, I made a decision. I started wearing a butt plug to work, a thick, girthy length of silicone that I would slip up inside me before I left the house each morning. The feeling of it nestled deep in my ass, stretching and filling me, was intoxicating, and I found myself squirming in my seat, my pussy dripping and aching with a hunger that could not be denied.

But the real magic happened after work, when I would make my way to the field, ready to indulge in the depravity that had become my greatest desire. Each night, I would jerk Big Boy off again and again, my hands and mouth working in tandem to bring him to a massive, earth-shattering climax. And each night, I would bring him to the pinnacle of pleasure twice, my own body throbbing and aching with each pulse and throb of his incredible length.

But as the weeks passed, I found myself wanting more, needing more, and so I began to push the boundaries even further. I would stroke and suck him to climax after climax, until his massive cock began to soften, the thick shaft no longer fully erect and ready for action. And then, with a sense of daring and a thrill of excitement, I would press the tip of his cock against my entrance, feeling the way it would catch and stretch my lips, before popping inside with a gush of my juices.

I would ride him then, my hips rolling and rocking as I impaled myself on his semi-erect length, the way it would stretch and fill me, reaching depths that no man could reach. I would feel the way it would throb and jerk inside me, growing harder and more insistent with each thrust of my hips, until I could feel it pulsing against my cervix, the massive head kissing the entrance to my womb.

But I didn't stop there. No, I was greedy, insatiable, and I needed to have him in every way possible. So I would pull off his cock, my pussy clenching and dripping with the loss of him, before pressing the tip of his shaft against the tight, puckered entrance of my ass. I would have to work it in slowly, inch by excruciating inch, my body screaming in protest as it was stretched and filled. But I was relentless, driven by a hunger that could not be denied, and slowly but surely, I would feel the massive length of his cock sinking deeper and deeper into my bowels, until I could feel the way it throbbed and jerked against my walls, the way it seemed to reach the very center of my being.

But even that wasn't enough. Even as I rode him, impaled on his massive shaft, I found myself craving more, needing more, and so I would pull off his cock, my body aching and dripping with the loss of him, before turning my attention to the massive length that hung heavy and low between my face and his hind legs. I would press the tip of his shaft against my lips, my tongue darting out to taste the stale, slightly bitter flavor of his skin, before parting my lips and taking him into my mouth, inch by inch, until I could feel the way he stretched and filled my throat, the way he seemed to reach the very back of my neck.

It was a struggle, a battle against my own body's instincts, but I was determined, and slowly but surely, I would force more and more of his massive length down my spasming, convulsing throat, until I could feel the way it throbbed and jerked against my tongue, the way it seemed to pulse with a life of its own as I swallowed around it, my neck bulging obscenely with the sheer size of him.

But even as I pushed myself to these incredible heights of depravity, I knew that it would never be enough, that I would always crave more, always need more. And so, as the weeks turned into months, I began to conceive a plan, a way to finally, truly have him in the way that I had always dreamed of.

As I drove down the familiar country road, my heart raced with a mixture of excitement, anticipation, and a touch of nerves. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, the sun shining brightly in a cloudless blue sky, as if the universe itself was smiling down upon the momentous occasion that awaited me. I had been preparing for this day for weeks, and now that it was finally here, I could hardly contain the way my body thrummed with arousal and need.

In the passenger seat beside me sat the inflatable arm floaties, the very same ones that children used to stay afloat in swimming pools and lakes. But I had a different purpose in mind for these colorful, buoyant rings. I planned to use them as a safeguard, a way to limit the incredible length and girth of Big Boy's magnificent cock as he finally, finally fucked me in the way that I had been dreaming of for so long. I knew that even with the floaties, it would still be a tight fit, still a struggle to take him inside me. But I was ready, more than ready, to face that challenge head-on.

As I turned down the final dirt road that led to the field, I could feel the way my pussy clenched and dripped, my body already aching with the need to feel him, to taste him, to have him in every way possible. I parked the car and stepped out, my legs shaking slightly as I made my way towards the fence, ready to climb over and make my way into the field.

And there he was, my beloved Big Boy, standing proudly at the edge of the field, his magnificent head turned towards me, his dark eyes already filled with a hunger that mirrored my own. I could see the way his ears pricked forward, the way his nostrils flared as he caught my scent on the breeze, the way his massive chest swelled with each deep, anticipatory breath. He knew, somehow, that today was different, that today something extraordinary was about to happen.

I climbed the fence with a newfound sense of purpose, my body tingling with excitement as I dropped down into the soft, dew-kissed grass on the other side. Big Boy was there in an instant, his head dipping down to nuzzle against my neck, his lips brushing against my skin as he nickered softly, his breath hot and heavy against my flesh. I could feel the way his muscles rippled beneath his glistening coat, the way his powerful body seemed to vibrate with a barely contained energy.

But I needed more, needed to take this slow, to make sure that everything was just right. And so, with a gentle but firm hand, I began to guide him towards the barn, my fingers splayed across his broad, muscular neck, my other hand rubbing and caressing the sleek, taut flesh of his flank. He followed me willingly enough, but I could feel the way he strained against my touch, the way he tried to maneuver his massive body to get me beneath him, to mount me right then and there in the open field.

I had to dance with him, literally, as I coaxed him along, stepping nimbly to the side as he tried to catch me off guard, to pin me down with his weight and his strength. He nearly succeeded more than once, his hooves kicking up clods of earth as he pawed at the ground, his breath coming in great, heaving gusts as he grew more and more impatient with my teasing. But I was determined, and I managed to guide him into the cool, shaded interior of the barn.

As we stepped inside, I could feel the way my heart raced, the way my breath caught in my throat. The barn was filled with a soft, diffused light, the golden rays of the sun streaming in through the high, open windows and casting a warm, inviting glow over the straw-strewn floor. It was the perfect setting, the ideal place for me to finally, finally give myself to the magnificent beast that I loved with every fiber of my being.

But even as I stood there, my body trembling with anticipation and desire, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of nerves, a momentary hesitation as the reality of what I was about to do sank in. I was in love with Big Boy, deeply and completely, in a way that I had never loved anyone or anything before. I wanted to be his, wholly and utterly, to give myself to him in the most intimate and primal way possible. But I knew that it would be a struggle, a battle against my own body's limits and the sheer, overwhelming size of him.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the way my heart raced in my chest, the way my skin prickled with goosebumps as I stripped completely naked. I reached out to stroke Big Boy's soft, velvety muzzle. He nickered softly, his lips parting to reveal the strong, white teeth beneath, his tongue darting out to brush against my palm as he nuzzled into my touch. I could see the way his chest swelled and contracted with each inhale and exhale, the way his massive body seemed to pulse with a life and an energy all its own.

I knew that I was ready, that I had prepared for this moment for longer than I cared to admit. I had pushed my body to its limits and beyond, had trained myself to accept the incredible lengths and girths of the horse cock dildos that I had used to ready myself for this very occasion. I had swallowed more of Big Boy's seed than I ever thought possible, had let it fill my belly and nourish my body, had grown addicted to the taste and the scent and the sheer, overwhelming essence of him.

But even with all of my preparation, even with the way my body ached and throbbed with the need to feel him inside me, I knew that it would still be a struggle, a battle against the very real limitations of my human form. Big Boy's cock was massive, a full 30 inches in its fully aroused state, with a girth that swelled to 4.5 inches at the base and a thick, pulsing 3 inches thick along its incredible length. It was a beast of a cock, a monster of a shaft, and I knew that it would be a challenge to take it inside my body, to let it stretch and fill and claim me in the way that I so desperately craved.

With trembling hands, I finish my preparations, my heart pounding so hard I swear Big Boy must be able to hear it. The rich, musky scent of him fills my nostrils, making my head swim with desire and anticipation. I can feel the heat radiating off his powerful body as he looms over me, his hindquarters pushing and pressing against me, trying to maneuver me into position. But I'm determined to do this right, to make everything perfect for our first time together.

I've stacked three bales of hay perpendicular to the larger stack, the rough, golden stalks of grass scratching slightly against my bare skin as I arrange this makeshift bed. The bales together are nearly 4 feet high, a firm perch from which Big Boy can mount me. I've draped a soft horse blanket over the top, the worn fabric soft and slightly rough against my fingers as I smooth it out, creating a barrier between the sharp edges of the hay and my sensitive skin.

Big Boy seems to sense my intentions, his ears flicking forward and his eyes widening as he watches me with an intensity that makes my core clench and my pussy drip with need. I can feel the way his massive body trembles with anticipation, the way his muscles ripple and flex beneath his glistening coat as he shifts from hoof to hoof, his patience wearing thin.

But I'm not ready for him to take me just yet. No, I have more preparations to make before I can finally, truly give myself to him. And so, with a deep breath, I reach out and place my hands on his magnificent cock, my fingers barely able to encircle the thick, pulsing shaft.

He responds immediately, his powerful body shaking and his head tossing as he lets out a deafening whinny, the sound echoing off the rafters of the barn and sending shivers down my spine. I can feel the way his cock throbs and jerks in my hands, the way it grows even harder and more insistent as I stroke and caress the incredible length, marveling at the way it pulses with a life and an energy all its own.

I take my time, savoring the feel of him, the weight and the heat and the sheer, overwhelming size of him as I run my hands along his shaft, from the base to the tip and back again. I can't help but salivate at the sight of him, at the way he glistens in the soft, diffused light of the barn, the way his skin seems to shimmer and shine with a sheen of sweat and anticipation.

And then, with a racing heart and a body that aches with desire, I lean in and run my tongue along his shaft, from the base to the tip and back again. I can taste the salt of his skin, the musky, slightly bitter flavor of his arousal, and it makes my head spin with want and need. I can feel the way he shudders and shakes as I lick him, the way his hindquarters stomp and paw at the ground, his impatience growing with each passing second.

And so, with trembling fingers, I reach into my purse and pull out one of the inflatable arm floaties that I bought specifically for this moment.

It's a bright, cheerful color, the kind of thing that a toddler might be excited to wear in a swimming pool, the kind of thing that might make a parent feel a little more at ease as they watch their child splash and play in the water. But for me, it's something else entirely, a tool, a way to make my darkest, most depraved fantasies a reality.

I carefully work the floatie over the sensitive, engorged head of Big Boy's cock, my fingers brushing against the delicate, velvety skin as I ease it into place. It's a tight fit, a struggle to get it to slide up and over the thick, pulsing shaft, but I persevere, determined to see this through. And as I work the floatie up and up, I can feel the way Big Boy's body trembles and shakes, the way his breath comes in great, heaving gusts as he senses what is to come.

Once the floatie is in place, I take out the small pump that I brought with me. I attach the pump to the valve on the floatie and begin to squeeze, watching in awe as the bright, cheerful color begins to expand, the floatie growing larger and more substantial with each pump of the small, plastic bulb. I can feel the way Big Boy's cock throbs and jerks in my hands as the floatie expands, the way his body seems to pulse with a newfound energy and a hunger that can no longer be denied.

I continue to pump, watching as the floatie grows to a full 8 inches in diameter, the soft, buoyant material stretching and expanding to encase the base of Big Boy's massive shaft. It's a tight, firm fit.

I add a second floatie, then a third, working them up and over Big Boy's incredible length, inflating each one until his cock is covered in a bright, colorful array of buoyant rings. It's a strange sight, almost comical in its cheerful, childlike appearance, but for me, it's a way to make my darkest, most depraved fantasies a reality.

As I sit back and admire my handiwork, I can hardly believe the way Big Boy's cock looks, the way it's been transformed by the addition of the floaties. What was once a full 30 inches of thick, pulsing horseflesh is now a more manageable 12 inches, the floaties effectively shortening and cushioning his incredible length.

I know that it's still going to be a struggle to take him inside me, but with the floaties in place, I feel a newfound sense of confidence, a knowledge that I can finally, truly give myself to Big Boy in the way that I have always dreamed of.

As I lay back on the soft horse blanket draped over the stack of hay bales, I feel the rough texture of the fabric against my bare skin, the slight prickle of the straw beneath adding a delicious edge of discomfort to the overwhelming pleasure that is about to consume me. I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the frantic pounding of my heart as I spread my legs wide, exposing myself completely to Big Boy's hungry gaze.

I don't have to wait long before he takes his cue, his powerful haunches flexing and tensing as he rises up onto his hind legs. He looms over me, his immense size and strength both terrifying and thrilling, casting a dark shadow across my prone form. I have to crane my neck to look up at him, my eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe as I take in the sheer, overwhelming sight of him.

Big Boy's forelegs come to rest upon the hay bales above my head, the rough, calloused hooves digging into the soft straw as he positions himself over me. I can feel the heat radiating off his powerful body, the way his breath comes in great, heaving gusts that ruffle my hair and send shivers down my spine. And then, with a grunt that sounds almost human in its intensity, he lines up the tip of his massive, floatie-encased cock with my entrance.

I brace myself, my fingers digging into the hay beneath me, my body tensing in anticipation of the inevitable. And then, with a powerful thrust of his haunches, he forces his way inside me. The walls of my sex grip, resist, but he is irresistible. I feel his cock burrowing into me. He thrusts again, and the thick, buoyant rings of the floaties pound against my entrance as 12 inches of his incredible length plunge into my tight depths.

The sensation is unlike anything I have ever experienced before, a searing, stretching, almost unbearable mix of pleasure and pain that steals the breath from my lungs and makes my vision go white around the edges. I can feel every ridge and vein of his massive shaft as it pushes and prods at my inner walls, and the pressure of the floaties at my crotch.

Even with the floaties in place, limiting his penetration to a mere 12 inches, the force of Big Boy's thrusts is more than I could have ever imagined. Each powerful surge of his hips drives the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping and panting, my body jerking and bouncing with the sheer, overwhelming power of his arousal. I am completely pinned beneath him, utterly at his mercy, my wrists aching from gripping the hay bales so tightly as I try to anchor myself against the relentless onslaught of his thrusts.

The pain is intense, a burning, stretching agony that radiates out from my core and makes my toes curl. But even as I grit my teeth and try to bear it, I can feel a corresponding surge of pleasure, a dark, twisted ecstasy that builds and builds with each punishing thrust of Big Boy's hips. The way his cock pounds against my cervix, the way the floaties batter and bruise my entrance, it's almost too much to take. But I am taking it, I am doing it, and the knowledge that I am finally, truly being fucked by the horse I love sends a dark thrill racing through my veins.

Big Boy fucks me with a single-minded intensity, his powerful body surging and rocking above me as he chases his pleasure. I can feel the way his muscles flex and ripple with each thrust, the way his breath comes in great, ragged gusts that fill my ears and make my head spin. He is a machine, a piston of raw, animalistic power and strength, and I am the willing vessel into which he pours all of his pent-up desire and lust.

As the minutes tick by, I find myself growing more and more accustomed to the incredible sensation of being filled and stretched and used in this way. The pain begins to fade into the background, replaced by a deep, pulsing ache of pleasure that seems to emanate from my very core. I can feel my body responding to Big Boy's relentless fucking, my pussy clenching and fluttering around his plunging shaft, trying in vain to draw him even deeper inside.

But the floaties, those bright, cheerful rings of buoyant material, serve a purpose beyond mere protection. As Big Boy's thrusts grow more and more urgent, as his body begins to tense and shudder above me, I realize with a thrill of dark excitement that the floaties are prolonging his arousal, preventing him from reaching his release.

Each time he slams into me, each time his cock punches the floaties against my pussy, I can feel him growing harder, his shaft pulsing and throbbing with a newfound, desperate intensity. He is teetering on the brink, his massive body coiled and ready to explode, but the floaties hold him back, denying him the release that he so desperately craves.

I know that I should feel frightened, that I should be terrified of the sheer, overwhelming power of the beast that looms above me. But all I can feel is a dark, twisted sense of pride and satisfaction, a knowledge that I am the cause of his torment, the reason for his desperate, animalistic rutting. I am the one who has brought him to this point, who has pushed him to the very limits of his control. And I am loving every single, agonizing second of it.

As Big Boy continues to fuck me with a single-minded intensity, his thrusts growing more and more erratic and desperate, I find myself wondering just how long he can keep this up. How long can a horse, even one as magnificent and powerful as Big Boy, maintain this level of arousal and stamina?

As Big Boy's thrusts grow increasingly erratic and desperate, I can feel the tension in his powerful body building to a fever pitch. His grunts and snorts fill the air, the sound of his labored breathing mingling with the obscene squelches made as his cock ruts into me with a single-minded intensity. I know he is close, teetering on the very brink of the most intense climax of his life.

Suddenly, with a deafening whinny that echoes off the rafters of the barn, Big Boy slams into me one final, brutal time. His massive cock, still sheathed in the floaties, plunges as deep as it can go, the buoyant rings battering against my crotch as his pulsing shaft throbs and jerks inside me. And then, with a shuddering, convulsing heave of his haunches, he begins to cum.

I have never felt anything like it before in my life. A torrent of hot, thick, viscous fluid floods my insides, painting my walls white as Big Boy's seed erupts from his massive cock. It is an overwhelming, almost drowning sensation, the sheer volume of his release far beyond anything a human man could ever hope to produce. I can feel it sloshing and churning inside me, my belly beginning to swell and distend from the sheer force of his ejaculation.

Big Boy's body shudders and jerks above me, his powerful muscles clenching and unclenching as he rides out the waves of his intense orgasm. I am pinned beneath him, utterly helpless, my body wracked with a mixture of pleasure and pain as I am filled to the brim with his hot, sticky essence. I can feel it seeping out around the floaties, dripping down my thighs and pooling on the horse blanket beneath me.

As suddenly as it began, it is over. Big Boy's pulsing ejaculation slows, then stops altogether, his massive cock softening and shrinking inside me as the last spurts of his release dribble out. With a grunt, he pulls out, his shaft slipping from my abused, gaping hole with a gush of his seed. I can feel it pouring out of me, running in thick rivulets down my thighs and staining the blanket beneath a pearlescent white.

Despite the intensity of what we just shared, despite the trauma of being so thoroughly used and filled, I am not done. I am never going to be done. I slide off the hay bales, my legs shaking and unsteady as I lower myself to the ground. Kneeling before Big Boy, I take his softening cock in my hands, marveling at the way it twitches and pulses, even now, in my gentle grasp.

I lean in, my breath hot against his sensitive skin as I begin to coax him back to life. I stroke and caress his shaft, my fingers tracing the ridges and veins, my lips and tongue lavishing attention on the head, the tip, the base. I can taste the lingering musk of our coupling, the slightly bitter, salty flavor of his release still clinging to his flesh. It is intoxicating, addictive, and I find myself craving more. I stroke him and lick him and suck him, and he responds by stiffening, his cock re-engorging. It swells and pulses in my hands, it's heat on my lips, searing.

As Big Boy begins to stir, his haunches trembling, his feet restless, I know it is time for a new position. Normally this is where I'd jerk him off to a second orgasm, but today is different. I will give myself to him completely. I rise on shaky legs and position myself upon the hay bales once more, but this time, I lie face down, my legs spread wide and straddling the stack, my ass raised and presented to him like a bitch in heat.

I reach back, my fingers parting my cheeks, exposing the tight, puckered hole that I know Big Boy is eager to claim. I can feel the heat radiating off his body as he looms over me. And then, with a grunt of pure, animalistic hunger, he rises up onto his hind legs once more.

This time, as he positions himself behind me, I can feel the heat of his massive cock as it slides between my cheeks, the thick shaft parting my flesh and seeking out the tight, clenched entrance of my ass. I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to relax, to prepare myself for the incredible intrusion to come.

And then, with a powerful surge of his haunches, Big Boy forces his way inside me. The pain is blinding, a white-hot flash of agony that steals the breath from my lungs and makes my vision go black around the edges. I can feel every inch of his massive, floatie-encased cock as it pushes and prods and stretches my tight hole. That thick horse cock just plows deep into my bowels without stop, heedless of anything, until the buoyant rings of the floaties batter against my sensitive flesh. With no respite to get used to or accustomed to this forceful invasion, he begins thrusting, pounding my ass.

I am pinned, trapped beneath the sheer weight and power of Big Boy's body as he begins to fuck me in earnest. Each surge of his hips drives the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping and choking, my fingers scrabbling at the hay beneath me as I try in vain to anchor myself against the relentless onslaught of his lust.

The sensation is unlike anything before, making my head spin and my stomach churn. I can feel the way my ass clenches and spasms around Big Boy's plunging shaft, the way my body struggles to accommodate the incredible intrusion. But Big Boy is merciless, his powerful haunches surging and rocking as he takes his pleasure from my most intimate, secret place.

As the minutes tick by, I find myself growing more and more accustomed to the incredible sensation of being filled and stretched and used in this way. The pain begins to fade into the background, replaced by a deep, pulsing ache of pleasure that seems to emanate from my very core. I can feel my body responding to Big Boy's relentless fucking, my ass clenching and fluttering around his plunging cock, trying in vain to draw him even deeper inside.

But even as I lose myself in the dark, twisted ecstasy of the moment, I can feel a sense of unease beginning to creep in. The way Big Boy is fucking me, the sheer, overwhelming power and intensity of his thrusts, it is unlike anything I have ever experienced before. I can feel the way my body is being pushed to its absolute limits, the way my insides are being battered and bruised by the force of his lust.

I know that I should be frightened, that I should be terrified of the beast that looms above me, using me in the most primal, animalistic way possible. But all I can feel is a dark, twisted sense of pride and satisfaction, a knowledge that I am the cause of his pleasure, the reason for his desperate, rutting thrusts. I am the one who has brought him to this point, who has pushed him to the very limits of his control. And I am loving every single, agonizing second of it.

As Big Boy continues to fuck me with a single-minded intensity, his thrusts growing more and more erratic and desperate, I find myself wondering just how much more my body can take. How much longer can Big Boy maintain this level of arousal and stamina? And more importantly, how much more do I want to give him, how much further do I want to push him, before I finally, truly break?

I can feel the relentless pounding of Big Boy's massive cock against my prostate, each brutal thrust sending jolts of painful pleasure radiating through my core. The floaties, my source of protection, now feel like cruel instruments of torture as they batter and bruise my sensitive flesh with every surge of his hips. Tears stream down my face, my body wracked with a mixture of agony and ecstasy as Big Boy fucks me with a single-minded intensity that knows no mercy.

I have never felt so utterly used, so completely at the mercy of another being's lust. My ass is on fire, the skin stretched taut and raw from the relentless pounding it receives. I can feel every ridge and vein of Big Boy's thick shaft as it plunges into my depths, the floaties on the upper half of his cock the only thing keeping it from driving all the way an and killing me. The pain is blinding, a white-hot flash of agony that steals my breath and makes my vision swim.

But even as I cry out, my fingers scrabbling at the hay beneath me, I can feel a corresponding surge of pleasure building deep in my core. It is a dark, twisted sensation, the way my body betrays me, craving more of the brutal fucking that is pushing me to my limits. I am trapped beneath Big Boy's powerful body, pinned and helpless, my legs splayed wide to give him the deepest access to my most intimate place.

I can feel the heat of his breath, the way his chest heaves and rises with each labored breath. He is close, teetering on the brink of the most intense climax of his life. I know because I can feel the way his cock twitches and pulses inside me, the way his thrusts grow more erratic and desperate with each passing second.

And then, with a deafening roar that echoes off the rafters of the barn, Big Boy cums. His massive cock jerks and spasms inside me, painting my insides white with his hot, thick seed. I can feel it flooding my guts, my belly swelling and distending as he pumps what feels like gallons of his potent cum into my deepest recesses. I am drowning in it, consumed by the sheer volume of his release.

As suddenly as it began, it is over. Big Boy's powerful body goes still above me, his massive weight pressing me into the hay as he catches his breath. I can feel his cock softening inside me. With a grunt, he pulls out, his shaft slipping from my abused, gaping hole with a gush of his seed. I can feel it pouring out of me, running in thick rivulets down my thighs and staining the blanket beneath.

For a moment, I am unable to move, my body traumatized and broken. I lie there, face down in the hay, my legs still splayed wide, as I try to process the incredible, overwhelming experience I just endured. Every muscle in my body aches, my ass throbbing with a deep, pulsing pain that makes me want to cry out. I feel used, abused, and utterly spent.

But even through the haze of pain and exhaustion, I can feel a flicker of excitement, a dark thrill at the knowledge that I have pushed Big Boy to his limits, that I have given him the release he so desperately craved. I know that I should be satisfied, that I should be content to have fulfilled my purpose. But I am not. I need more.

With a herculean effort, I drag myself off the hay bales, my body protesting every movement. I crawl across the floor, my arms and legs shaking with the exertion, until I reach Big Boy's softening cock. One of the floaties is already falling off, the bright blue rubber deflated and drooping. I peel it away, tossing it aside as I turn my attention to the magnificent shaft before me.

I lean in, my breath hot against Big Boy's sensitive flesh as I begin to lavish it with kisses and licks. I stroke and caress his length, my fingers tracing the ridges and veins, coaxing him back to life. I can taste the lingering musk of our coupling, the essence of my own ass, and the slightly bitter, salty flavor of his release still clinging to his skin. It is intoxicating, addictive, and I find myself craving more.

It takes nearly a half hour of diligent stroking, licking, and suckling to coax Big Boy's massive cock back to full, throbbing erection. I work tirelessly, my jaw aching and my tongue growing weary from the effort, but I am determined to bring him back to peak arousal. As I feel his shaft swell and pulse in my grasp, I look up at his towering form, my eyes wide with anticipation and a hint of trepidation.

With one of the floaties removed, over 16 inches of Big Boy's glistening, veined cock is now fully exposed and jutting out, the upper half still snugly encased in the remaining buoyancy aid. It is a breathtaking sight, the sheer size and girth of his equine manhood, and I feel a thrill of excitement and fear course through me as I contemplate what is to come.

I shift my position, moving to kneel directly beneath him. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the task at hand, and lean in, wrapping my lips around the bulbous head of Big Boy's cock. I can taste the lingering musk of our previous encounters, the flavor of my own ass still clinging to his flesh, and I find myself growing heady with desire.

As I begin to take him into my mouth, inch by thick inch of his shaft disappearing past my lips, I can feel Big Boy growing restless above me. His hips start to twitch and shift, his hooves pawing at the ground as his arousal builds once more. The movement causes his massive cock to jerk and twitch inside my mouth, the head slamming against the back of my throat with each fidget.

I gag and choke, my eyes watering as I struggle to accommodate the sheer size of him. I pull back, gasping for air, my throat raw and aching. I realize that if I am to truly take all of Big Boy's magnificent cock, I will need to surrender myself completely to his mercy.

With a newfound determination, I climb up onto the hay bales, the rough straw pricking at my skin as I settle onto my back. I let my head hang over the edge, my neck arched and exposed, my lips parted invitingly. I look up at Big Boy, my eyes wide and trusting, silently giving him permission to take what he needs.

Big Boy looms over me, his massive body casting a shadow across my smaller frame. He rises up onto his hind legs, his forelegs reaching out to either side of me, coming to rest upon the hay bales at my feet. I can feel the heat radiating off his body, the power and strength emanating from every muscle. And there, at the apex of his powerful haunches, is his cock. Glistening and throbbing, it juts out towards my face, the head already leaking pre-cum, the musky scent filling my nostrils.

I reach up, my small hand barely able to encircle his girth, and guide his massive shaft to my waiting lips. I part them further, my tongue lolling out in invitation, and with a grunt of pure, animalistic hunger, Big Boy thrusts forward.

In an instant, he is down my throat, his cock plunging into the tight, wet heat of my mouth and sliding down, down, down as the head passes through my neck. I can feel the shaft pulsing in the tight confines of my esophagus. I gag and choke around his thickness, my throat convulsing and clenching as I struggle to breathe through my nose, to relax my muscles and accept the incredible intrusion.

Big Boy begins to move, his hips rocking and thrusting as he fucks my face with a single-minded intensity. I am pinned beneath him, utterly helpless, my head locked in place as he takes his pleasure from my mouth. I can feel the heat of his body, the weight of his muscles, the sheer, overwhelming power of the beast above me. I am at his mercy, completely at the whim of his lust and desire.

As he pistions in and out, his cock plunging through my throat with each thrust, I can feel a sense of pride and satisfaction wash over me. I am giving Big Boy what he needs, what he craves, and in doing so, I am fulfilling my own darkest desires. I am the focus of his pleasure, the object of his deepest, most primal instincts, and I am loving every second of it.

Even as my lungs burn and my head spins from the lack of oxygen, even as my jaw aches and my throat is battered by the relentless pounding of Big Boy's massive cock, I find myself craving more. I want to push him further, to drive him to the very limits of his control and beyond. I want to be the reason he loses himself completely, the cause of his ultimate, mindless ecstasy.

And so, I surrender myself to him fully, my body going limp and pliant beneath his, my throat open and accepting, my mind hazy with a mix of pain and surreal accomplishment. I am Big Boy's to use as he sees fit, his plaything, his toy, his willing and eager fucktoy. And I have never felt more alive, more complete, more utterly satisfied in all my life.

As Big Boy begins to fuck my face with increasing fervor, I can feel every throbbing inch of his massive cock as it plunges in and out of my stretched, abused throat. The sensation is indescribable, a sickening yet strangely exhilarating pain and torture that chokes my breath and makes my head spin.

With each powerful thrust of his hips, Big Boy's enormous shaft drives deeper into my neck, the bulbous head pushing past the tight ring of my throat and plunging into my stomach. I can feel the thick, pulsing veins and ridges of his equine cock dragging along the sensitive flesh of my esophagus, stretching it taut around his incredible girth.

The pressure is immense, the feeling of being so utterly filled, so completely invaded, unlike anything I have ever experienced. Big Boy's cock is not just in my throat, but inside my very chest, the thick shaft pulsing and throbbing against my heart, my lungs, my very being.

I can feel the heat of him, the scorching, searing warmth of his horse flesh as it drives into me again and again. It's like having a furnace shoved down my gullet, a burning, all-consuming heat that threatens to consume me from the inside out. I can feel my skin flushing, my body growing hot and clammy as I struggle to process the overwhelming sensation.

As Big Boy's thrusts grow more urgent, more insistent, I can feel his cock swelling inside me, growing even thicker and harder as he builds towards his impending climax. The pressure in my chest becomes unbearable, the ache of my stretched, battered throat a constant, throbbing presence. I can feel every twitch, every pulse, every minute movement of Big Boy's magnificent shaft as it plunges through my most intimate, vulnerable places.

My jaw feels like it's going to shatter, my teeth aching from the strain of being forced apart by the sheer size of Big Boy's cock. I can feel the muscles in my neck and throat clenching and spasming, reflexively trying to reject the intrusion, even as I force myself to relax, to accept the brutal fucking I am receiving.

The sound of Big Boy's hooves pounding against the barn floor, the creaking of the hay bales beneath us, and the crude, wet squelching noises of his cock plunging in and out of my throat fill my ears. It's a symphony of depravity, a lewd, filthy soundtrack to the debauched act we are engaged in.

As Big Boy's thrusts become more frantic and desperate, I find myself struggling desperately for air, my lungs burning with the need for oxygen. Each time he slams his massive cock into my throat, I feel a sickening lurch in my stomach as the wind is knocked out of me, my body instinctively trying to expel the massive intrusion. I try to breathe through my nose, but the musky, pungent scent of Big Boy's arousal and the sheer size of his shaft inside my neck makes it nearly impossible to draw any breath.

My head begins to swim, spots dancing before my eyes as I teeter on the brink of passing out. I claw weakly at Big Boy's haunches, my nails digging into his flesh as I try to signal my distress, but he is too far gone in his lust to heed my silent pleas. I am at his mercy, completely at the whim of his animalistic urges, and I can only pray that he will grant me a precious breath of air before he finds his release.

Suddenly, with a deafening roar that shakes the very rafters of the barn, Big Boy throws his head back and lets out a guttural, primal whinny. At the same time, his massive cock pulses and throbs violently inside me, swelling to an almost unbearable size. I feel a searing, scalding heat flood my throat and chest as Big Boy's seed erupts from his shaft, the thick, viscous fluid pumping directly into my stomach in powerful, forceful spurts.

The sensation is overwhelming, the feeling of being filled, of being used as a mere vessel for Big Boy's pleasure, more intense than anything I have ever experienced. I can feel every inch of the 16 inches of his cock that are not encased in floaties plunging fully into my throat, the head slamming against the entrance to my stomach as he empties his massive, churning balls inside me.

At the same time, the floaties on the upper portion of his shaft press hard against my face, the rubbery material molding to the contours of my cheeks and nose. I try desperately to turn my head, to find some small pocket of air, but it is impossible. I am completely sealed off, my nose pressed hard against the unyielding surface of the floaties, my lungs screaming for oxygen as Big Boy's orgasm seems to go on and on, an endless torrent of horse cum flooding my insides.

I feel my vision starting to darken, my consciousness slipping away as I teeter on the brink of blacking out. Just as I think I can take no more, I feel Big Boy's thrusts begin to slow, his hips no longer rocking with the same desperate urgency. I can feel his cock, still semi-erect and throbbing, beginning to soften and shrink slightly inside me.

With a grunt of satisfaction, Big Boy slowly withdraws his massive shaft from my abused throat. I can feel each inch of it dragging against my sensitive flesh, the ridges and veins leaving a burning, aching trail in their wake. As the head finally pops free of my mouth, I collapse back onto the hay bales, gasping and choking, my body wracked with coughs as I try to catch my breath.

It takes several long, agonizing minutes for me to regain any semblance of composure. I roll over onto my side, my stomach churning and sloshing with the massive load of horse cum I have just taken. I can feel it sloshing around inside me, the sheer volume of it making me feel bloated and uncomfortably full. I take deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm the racing of my heart and the spinning of my head.

As I lie there, slowly recovering, I can feel the sticky, pungent essence of Big Boy's seed beginning to leak out of my throat, dribbling down my chin and onto my chest. The taste of it is overwhelming, the musky, slightly bitter flavor coating my tongue and the back of my throat. I can smell it, too, the thick, heady aroma of equine semen filling my nostrils and making my head swim.

But despite the discomfort, despite the feeling of being utterly used and defiled, I can't help but feel a sense of deep, dark satisfaction. I have given Big Boy what he needed, what he craved, and in doing so, I have fulfilled my own deepest, most depraved desires. I am sore, aching, and exhausted, but I am also alive, more alive than I have ever felt before. And as I lie there, basking in the afterglow of our intense, brutal coupling, I know that I will be back for more, eager to surrender myself to Big Boy's insatiable lust once again.

As I slowly sit up, my body still aching and sore from my intense encounter with Big Boy, I take a half hour to gather my scattered thoughts and regain some semblance of control. I can feel his presence nearby, his hot breath occasionally puffing against my skin as he nips playfully at my arms and shoulders, as if reminding me of the pleasure we just shared. I try to ignore the lingering soreness between my legs and the sticky, drying remnants of his seed on my skin as I start to collect my clothes, eager to put this sordid interlude behind me and return to the semblance of a normal life.

Suddenly, a shadow falls across me, and I look up to see a man standing over me, his face etched with a cold, stern expression. My heart leaps into my throat as he speaks, his voice low and threatening. "I've been watching you for a while now, Sarah," he says, using my name like a weapon. "I know who you are, where you live, where you work. I've seen everything. I've been recording it all."

I feel the blood drain from my face as the realization hits me - there are cameras everywhere, recording every depraved act I've committed here with Big Boy. The man continues, his eyes glinting with a cruel, calculating light. "I have the power to ruin your life, Sarah. To destroy everything you've built, everything you hold dear. Your reputation, your career, your relationships... all of it would be gone in an instant if I chose to expose your little secret."

I'm frozen in place, my heart pounding wildly in my chest as I stare up at him in terror. I know he means every word, and the thought of losing everything I've worked so hard for fills me with a bone-deep dread. I open my mouth to plead with him, to beg for mercy, but the words die in my throat as he continues.

"But I'm feeling generous today, Sarah. I'm going to give you a chance to make this work in your favor. The first thing I want from you is a display of your submission, a sign of your obedience. Get on your knees, right now, and show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do. Suck my dick like the eager little slut I know you are, and maybe, just maybe, we can come to an arrangement."

I hesitate for only a moment, my mind reeling with the implications of what he's asking. But the fear of exposure, of losing everything, is too great. With shaking hands, I sink to my knees before him, my eyes downcast as I reach for his zipper. I can feel the heat of his body, the hard, insistent bulge of his arousal pressing against my fingers as I free his cock from the confines of his pants.

I take a deep, steadying breath, trying to steel myself for what I'm about to do. Then, with a silent prayer that this will be enough to save me, I lean forward and take him into my mouth, my lips stretching around his thick, pulsing shaft. I can taste the musky, slightly bitter flavor of his skin, the salty tang of his pre-cum as I start to bob my head, taking him deeper and deeper into my throat with each passing second.

I lose myself in the act, determined to make this the best blowjob of his life. I swirl my tongue around his sensitive flesh, I hollow my cheeks to create the tightest possible suction, I even relax my throat muscles to take him impossibly deep, until I can feel the head of his cock pressing against the back of my throat. I can hear his groans of pleasure, feel the way his hips start to rock and thrust against my face, and I know that I'm succeeding in my goal.

After what feels like an eternity, I feel his cock swell and pulse in my mouth, growing even harder and thicker as he nears his peak. I redouble my efforts, sucking and licking and slurping with wild abandon, desperate to bring him to his release. With a guttural, animalistic roar, he hilts inside my mouth, his hot, thick seed flooding my throat in powerful spurts. I swallow it down, careful not to waste a single drop of his essence.

As he starts to soften, I release him from my mouth, gasping for air. I sit back on my heels, my chest heaving and my lips swollen and slick with saliva and cum. I look up at him, my eyes wide and fearful, waiting for his judgment.

He looks down at me, his expression inscrutable for a long moment. Then, slowly, a small, cruel smile curves his lips. "Not bad, Sarah," he says, tucking his spent cock back into his pants. "Not bad at all. I think you and I are going to get along just fine."

He reaches down and grabs me by the chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Be here tomorrow morning, bright and early. Buster isn't the only horse on my farm that could use a good fuck toy. I have a stable full of them, and I expect you to put that tight little body of yours to good use. Understand?"

I nod mutely, my heart sinking as I realize the true extent of my predicament. I am well and truly trapped, a plaything for this man and his stable of beasts, with no choice but to obey his every depraved command. As I gather my clothes and prepare to leave, I can't help but wonder what fresh horrors tomorrow will bring. But one thing is certain - my life will never be the same again.

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