Ekwoos’ Forbidden Secret: Sailling a Human Mare in My Private Locker
I’ve kept this locked in my Private Locker for millennia. Today, I crack it open. The rush hits hard—heart pounding, cock twitching at the memory. I’m Ekwoos, Horse God, galloping endless green plains between dawn and dusk. I mount every mare in sight, flood them, breed them. But that day, in a hidden valley, no fillies. Just a lone hut. Smell of fresh skin pulls me closer.
She’s there, naked, back turned, rubbing her body with white cloth. Sturdy legs planted firm. Wide hips begging. Long black mane with red glints sweeping her back. She hums soft. I creep near, silent. She spins—green eyes sharp, face young but knowing. Plump lips, long nose fitting perfect. Heavy tits for milking, round belly healthy, bushy cunt plump and inviting. Human, but mare-like. First time one stirs me. Why? She smiles big. ‘Come closer…’
Opening the Vault: The First Temptation
Her hand on my muzzle—soft, warm. Strokes my flanks. Then squats eye-level with my rigid horse cock. ‘Gods, so huge! Boys here couldn’t compare.’ Hesitates, reaches. I shift—horse head, mane, but man’s muscled body, cock throbbing huge. She drops, ass high, trembling. ‘Forgive me, Lord!’ I tease. She kneels, begs how to atone. ‘Show me how human mares forgive males.’ She grabs my shaft, kisses the flare, sucks deep. Tongue swirls, hand pumps. Hot, wet mouth—perverse thrill. I erupt, flooding her throat. She gags, coughs semen from nose. Jets paint her face, neck, tits, belly. Divine load, endless.
‘Again.’ She sucks nine times, mouth aching, body glazed in cum. I spill endless, she swallows what she can, rest drips everywhere. Slick, sticky heat on her skin. Then I crave her cunt. She washes, I return man-horse. ‘On all fours.’ I mount, tip slides into soaked slit. Tight—tighter than mare. Inch by thick inch stretches her. She gasps. I knead hanging tits, soft flesh yielding. Pump steady, not full depth—humans break easy. Cum gushes out her stuffed hole. ‘So good!’
Locking It Back: Eternal Cravings Sealed
She picks shape: mushroom head, curved like human, adjusted perfect. Deeper now, hits bottom right. She rubs clit, moans wild. I flood her again. Flip her—missionary. Pubes grind, tits squash on my chest. She screams: ‘Harder! Bite me!’ Climbs peaks thrice, I drown her pussy. Sideways, her back to me—tits in fists, tongue on neck. She quakes, soaked.
Every pose: her on top bouncing, me behind slamming, standing, squatting. Infinite ways. Then ass. Legs up on mound, cheeks spread. Tight ring yields slow. Deep in hot grip. Finger her clit, pinch nipples. She bucks: ‘Yes! No! Oh fuck!’ Orgasms rip her. I roar, pump bowels full. Too good. She begs rest—fragile human.
Months later, triplets swell her belly. My seed took. I return often, test every hole, every angle. She’s best—inventive slut. Others pale. Quality over quantity. Her moon-cunt milks me divine. This secret? Pure adrenaline rush sharing it. Chest light now, Locker seals shut. But the itch lingers.
