[The sounds the stallion makes, though rumbling and imposing, are also enough to make Matt's chest ache with pride and something like affection, mind all but blank with happiness -- he's helping, he's doing good, he's being good, and it's probably horrifying on some level that such a shameless, illicitly lewd act makes him react like this, but it does. He's wiggling happily on his knees, both hands eager and a little clumsy as they squeeze and stroke the heavy, hot weight of the centaur's cock, making up for lack of finesse with eagerness.
The cramped quarters are already overheated from the stallion's shuddering panting, and the sounds Matt's making -- wet, obscene, filthy sounds, gulping and groaning and trying to swallow down as much of the enormous shaft as he possibly can, chin and throat streaking with saliva and precome, eyes half-closed in drunken bliss at the taste -- are impossibly loud, echoing against the stall walls. When the stallion thrusts, cock sliding thick into Matt's throat, making him grunt softly in surprise, it's too much for him to handle anymore.
One hand keeps working along the stiff length, but the other moves, shoves between the too-tight fabric of the shorts the calf wears and his swollen, slick sex. Matt moans in relief, shivering as he ruts down against his fingers in time with his mouth over the stallion's cock, wishing they had more room, maybe one of the stalls equipped with a breeding bench that would put him at the right height, bent over and on display. He can feel and hear the centaur shivering and shuddering above him, knows it wouldn't take much -- if any -- convincing to get him to mount up and feed his lovely fat cock inside a warm willing body.]
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The cramped quarters are already overheated from the stallion's shuddering panting, and the sounds Matt's making -- wet, obscene, filthy sounds, gulping and groaning and trying to swallow down as much of the enormous shaft as he possibly can, chin and throat streaking with saliva and precome, eyes half-closed in drunken bliss at the taste -- are impossibly loud, echoing against the stall walls. When the stallion thrusts, cock sliding thick into Matt's throat, making him grunt softly in surprise, it's too much for him to handle anymore.
One hand keeps working along the stiff length, but the other moves, shoves between the too-tight fabric of the shorts the calf wears and his swollen, slick sex. Matt moans in relief, shivering as he ruts down against his fingers in time with his mouth over the stallion's cock, wishing they had more room, maybe one of the stalls equipped with a breeding bench that would put him at the right height, bent over and on display. He can feel and hear the centaur shivering and shuddering above him, knows it wouldn't take much -- if any -- convincing to get him to mount up and feed his lovely fat cock inside a warm willing body.]