Jake finished cleaning the stalls at the McCooley Stables farm by early afternoon. The grain and water buckets filled, fresh white wood shavings spread and stall doors wipe down with bleach water till they shone whitewash pure. He'd spend the afternoon spreading, but now would soon be a quiet time. The day was hot though, and despite their having various trees and shelter roofs scattered through their paddocks, the horses, especially the 3 and 4 year olds and the stud, would have to come into the cooler, open barn. The heat and flies would make them sweat, and maybe lose weight, and thoroughbred breeders and owners worried about those things. Besides, like most days there were already visitors in the barns, and watching the paddocks. Scouts, admirers, investors and what-not, already drooling over the prospects of what Beggars Pride, the stud, had produced though the season was still weeks away. There were some promising fillies, Jake admitted to himself, but he wasn't a fan of the training let alone the race. Jake moved doors to block some parts and open others of the barn and paddocks. He'd start, as always, with the brood mares.

Four dozen thundering hooves rattled the barn walls as Jake stood aside to give room to each pair of charging horses he let in. Each horse knew her stall, and filled it, the stalls being the largest boxes in the barns lower half, and the only ones ever bedded with straw. Each mare had a gangly legged, awkward looking foal at her side, the oldest had two. After they were settled and hayed the young-stock, yearlings and two-year olds, thirteen of 'em all told, filled the smallest stalls on their front moving toward the main barn. The racing age horses, colts on the left, fillies the right, got the next largest stalls in the main barn, coming in on leads, and here the visitors were heaviest, crowding the alley as Jake fought each horse past. Last, and with the big stall at the head of the barn, was the stud. Jake loved leading him, the taut muscular frame parading from his small round paddock past all his admirers with his neck arched and head held proud. He carried his tail high and stepped like the champion he was, light shining from his jet black coat. His groomer, better dressed than Jake, took over just outside the barn though, and finished the performance for the gaping crowd. Jake, happy to leave the spotlight, passed easily out of sight to the back of the barn and mounted the smallish John Deere, it's smudged green paint belying the gleaming, antiseptic barn. The spreader, dirtier yet, told the truth of the farm, Jake thought, as he headed away from the blacktopped paths, and manicured paddocks, past the mowed yet less even pastures, and down a dirt road over the creek. This time of year the shit was only spread on the farthest pasture, and that's where she waited. The tractor seemed slow, always achingly slow, on it's way to her.

Spreading done, over the south side of this large fenced field today, Jake crested the hill heading north. There a corner set off from the rest with electric wired posts, maybe a half an acre with a tree sided shelter, walked a beauty Jake thought rivaled any thoroughbred back in the spotless barn. Part Quarterhorse, part Morgan, her chestnut flanks catching the sunlight as she turned, thick bodied and short-legged, she whinnied at the tractors approach, running the wire to that side of her paddock with her black mane and tail flowing in her own wind. Firestorm, just stormy to him, with not a white mark on her and her coat shining like polished copper, was his horse! It still fascinated him, his horse!

He bought her with monies he'd saved from the Thoroughbred job, doing with-out the niceties so many of his friends enjoyed, games and girls and going out and such. It never really bothered him much, especially the girls part. For some reason, he'd no real interest in girls beyond the passing biological lust, and that he'd found he could do with-out. He'd thought he was gay for a teenaged while, fading though as he hit his twenties, but he'd not even a lustful interest in guys. But Stormy he already loved. He'd always felt a kinship to horses, and having his own only reinforced that, making a bond he'd not known before. She had a stall at the end of the barn by the brood mares in the colder months, but Jake liked this little paddock. It was more private, especially this time of year. Jake sprang from the tractor and almost ran to meet his mare. It was only a fear of spooking her that slowed his step.

Stormy stuck her head out as he approached, nickering softly while he ran a hand along her poll. Jake resisted lingering there to move toward the small shelter and enter through a side door. A few bales of straw and hay lay to his right, a fork and barrel of grain to his left along with a fork and shovel. The straw and hay, like the paddock, were board paid for by his duties at the farm. The grain and tools he bought with his pay. He entered through a small gate and mucked out the shelter, fighting a nosy Stormy the whole time, and filled an old wheelbarrow with the leavings. He wheeled this out and scattered it far from her paddock, and returned to spread new straw and fill the hay rack. He briefly checked the large watering tank he'd also bought before turning his attention to grooming Stormy.

He began by brushing her vigorously all over and scraping the loose hair and dirt off with a slicker. She loved this part, nickering and tossing her head, leaning into every itch. She needed a good bath, Jake thought, and reminded himself to bring the shampoo and things on his day off tomorrow. Today, a rinse with the hose and another slickering would do. She danced a bit as the cool water hit her hot skin, Jake keeping it a slow flow from the back of her head down her compact body and along each leg. He gently lifted her tail, and a thumb over the hose end, sprayed carefully cleaning manure and such from her dock around her anus and pendulous vulva. A cloth here alone so far, and he was as always a bit surprised at a brief tightening of his jeans as he felt her soft vulva wink beneath the rag. He didn't understand that, seeming lust that he'd only felt toward women, and then rarely. He quickly let her tail drop, as blood and thoughts rushed his brain, a bit embarrassed, and shut off the hose. After another slickering, removing the water from her coat, he ran a hand down each leg and lifted, checking and cleaning the hooves. Her grooming done, he stepped her off the cement pad and unclipped the lead from her halter. She lightly tossed her head, and cantered away a bit into the sun.

Jake stepped to the light himself, checking his watch for his lunch hours end before running hands again along Stormys flank. He talked to her, low and easy as was his way, as he lay a cheek against her side. Her musk, a deep equine scent like leather and sweat and... and what? He didn't know, but it swam in his head and again he felt a rush of blood, above and below his body center. He didn't avoid it this time, and slowly he relaxed. Another feeling entered him as he moved to her head and looked deep in those large dark chocolate orbs. She nickered again, and nuzzled him on his stubble covered cheek. He felt the soft, velvety feel of her nose and lips on him, caught her grassy sweet breath, and felt a love that made his head swimmingly dizzy. He'd never known this before either, but he liked it. His hands, calloused and hard, ran down her soft throat and caught the folds where it became her chest between her forelegs. She lay her head heavy upon his shoulder, nickering soft as he spoke, and shifted her weight hoof to hoof. Her eyes half closed as he rubbed her chest there and whispered to her a while, then, with a snort her head came up quick and she trotted off to the far side of the paddock. Something I did, Jake wondered, but an engines noise soon removed that thought. Another, shinier tractor mounted the hill as Jake stepped out of the paddock and moved toward his. He looked again at the time as he recognized his boss. Nope, not late he thought, but close, and he called goodbye to Stormy promising to be back that evening for a ride.

He started the tractor, and headed to meet the other a little ways from her paddock...