212. Still too many. Breath ragged, I stagger to the bench. Track lights sear the faded red tartan. Notebook out, fresh coq sportif bag beside. Scribble: September 7, first session, 212 strides. Goal: under 200 by year’s end. Muscles throb hot, begging more. Walk it off, trot slow. Chalk line marks start. Knee down, hands plant. Imagine the call. Bang. Explode. Stride lengthens, body rises. Curve bites, lean in. Peak speed straightaway. Second bend, pain claws. Muscles lock, heavy. Final straight, steps stumble, body screams. 199. Collapse spread-eagle. Lungs torch, cold night rips in. Every fiber pulses alive. Pain mine. Victory tastes sharp.
Skip stretches. Walk home, high buzzing. Flick switch. Track dies. ‘Good night.’ Detour stables. Love-hate this zone. Gyms glow, tennis grunts echo. Horses pace boxes dim-lit. Bold tonight, victory fuel. Stroke old racehorse’s forehead. He nuzzles, calm giant. Turn. Him. Towering shadow, chest broad under shirt. Heart slams. Legs shake. Fear spikes lust. Nipples peak hard. Cunt warms, wet quick. Hypnotized. Palm to his heart. Boom-boom under pecs. Other hand joins. Unbutton slow. Inhale musk, sweat-salt. Fingers trace ridges, abs steel. Glimpse thin lips curve. Hand drops. Cock strains pants, throbs hot. Stroke it firm. He grabs wrist. Drags to empty stall. Shoves me down hay.
The Fever
Crop in hand. Tip grazes tits over tank. Flanks quiver. Groan escapes. Props on elbows, thighs splay. Crop trails to shorts, teases slit through fabric. Arch. Rip tank, bra off. Leather kisses bare peaks, sweat beads. Close. Strip naked. Four paws, ass high. Unknown owns dark behind. Crop slicks ass, dives thighs. Press back. Cum shatters. Body bucks, freezes, melts. Hay sticks skin. He steps near. Blanket drapes. Eyes shut. Orpheus fear. Horses whinny only. Dress later. Home. Number in bag.
Dawn gray. Phone lights. Text: ‘Tonight, same, my turn.’ ‘OK.’ Day churns fantasies. Storm brews. Rain lashes, thunder cracks. Horses freak. Soaked coat drips. Stall. Back broad. ‘Don’t turn. Please.’ Smile shared silent. Wrists bind easy—he yields. Blindfold ties. Leave him. Return: bucket warm, sponge ready. Squeeze face. Grin. Wash shirt clings torso. Pants mold cock bulge. Linger there, rub magic. Peel wet clothes. Chest carved, cock rigid arcs. Splash it cold. Moan rips. Vengeance.
The Blaze
Crop dances skin. Torso flexes. Cock begs, denied. My ache builds. Strip bare. ‘Kneel.’ Ass grinds shaft slick. Tease head at lips. Thrust back. Fills stretch-burn sweet. Pulse races wild. Heart hammers ears. Skin fire-clash. Ride urgent. Cum rips us. He floods hot. Collapse shared.
Blankets tangle. Storm fades. Skin glows fever-warm. Breaths sync slow. Pulse echoes calm. Him faceless still, but branded soul. Stables hold secrets. Walk home reborn. 212 to this. Worth every stride.