Author's notes:
1. This is a work of fiction. The activities and practices described in this story are not necessarily either condoned or recommended. If you choose to do anything described in real life with real people you do so at your own risk.
2. All characters are fictional and are 18 years or older; any likeness to any living person is purely coincidental. The story is purely imaginary and, to the author's knowledge, bears no relationship to any factual occurrence.
3. This story is self-contained but follows on from Summer Camp, The Club and Surrogacy Services. To find out how Carla and Troy first met and fell in love, it is suggested that you read Summer Camp first, then The Club to learn of their next venture, and finally Surrogacy Services to read about their development of services to childless couples.
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It was late afternoon when I felt the gentle snuffles of Sheltie's breath against my hand as he nibbled the treats I held for him. Pip, our horse trainer and general stablehand, held the halter of this tiny horse, a true miniature Shetland pony with an impressive pedigree. He was one of several horses included in our purchase of the small horse ranch and he was a very popular sire for Shetland horse breeders. Right now, we were awaiting the arrival of Greg and Cynthia, who also bred Shetland ponies, from out of state. They had their own stud stallions but wisely used Sheltie to expand the gene pool. Pip looked to the gate as I stroked Sheltie's mane.
"They're here," she announced.
I watched their modest sized horse float circle the yard then pull up beside the fence. Cynthia came over while Greg busied himself opening the rear and guiding their mare down the ramp. She shook herself and snorted, before looking around as Greg held her halter and led her towards Sheltie, who immediately smelt a female mare in season and began pawing the ground.
"Easy, fella," said Pip, patting Sheltie's flank.
I noticed that the mare was also suddenly more alert with the stallion present, skittering around a little as she now led Greg towards us.
"Hi Cynthia, I'm Carla. Welcome to the Ranch House horse stud and riding school," I greeted her, "Good trip?"
"Yeah, went well, no problems. Looks like they're keen to get to know each other again."
"Sure does. They met a couple of years ago, didn't they?"
"Yes, we've got three mares and we breed them alternately with our stallion and with Sheltie. Seems to be a good mix. If you want to reciprocate and breed your mares with our stallion that could be an option."
"Well, at present we don't have a Shetland mare, but I guess we could always buy one from you, bred from your stallion. I'll have to think on that."
Meantime, Sheltie and the mare were becoming better acquainted. Greg had closed the gate so we'd slipped the horses off their leads and they were strutting and cantering around the yard, each seemingly interested in the other. I noticed Sheltie's penis had enlarged and was dangling below his belly as he felt the primal urge to mate with a receptive mare.
"Hi, Greg, I'm Carla," I introduced myself to Greg as he arrived to stand beside Cynthia.
"Hi, Carla. You've got a great horse there. Never yet produced a poor foal from our mares."
"They'll be Ok for a while," said Pip, coming to stand beside me, "I'll get the coffee ready. You guys must be tired after your drive."
With a final glance at the cavorting horses, we followed Pip to the staff kitchen area and for the next half hour we chatted while the horses spent time renewing their acquaintance. After a while, Greg, who was facing towards the yard, called our attention to Sheltie, now mounted on the mare, his hindquarters pressed against her rump as they mated. After a few minutes the deed was done and he slipped off her as she moved forward, his penis still engorged and dripping horse cum on the ground.
"Well, I think that's all finished now," said Pip as the horses stood close together, like lovers after a satisfying session.
I noticed Cynthia was staring fixedly at Sheltie's penis, unconsciously licking her lips with the tip of her tongue. She turned towards me and leant near my ear.
"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be fucked by a pony?" she whispered.
"Yes," I replied, "It's a great thought but I've never been game. Have you?"
"Often," she replied quietly, "But I've never been game either. A Shetland would be ideal, I would think, not too big like other breeds."
"Tell you what, why don't we both work on this and we can stay in touch. You up for that?"
She grinned. "You're on," she said.
"Ok, what're you two hatching up now?" asked Greg, noticing our conspiratorial manner.
"Nothing, darling," replied Cynthia, smiling towards her husband, "At least nothing we care to talk about at present. I might tell you later if you're really good."
Greg knew his wife too well to push her, so dropped the subject.
"We'll move into our room then and the horses can roam free in the yard, Ok?" asked Greg.
I resumed my role as hostess. "Yes, of course. I'll show you to your suite now. We've changed a few things since you were here last."
"Yes, a new broom sweeps clean, and all that, I suppose," replied Cynthia.