The younger stallion trembled faintly, but he was there for the same reason Jack was, his hips rolling back, taking a length that was meant for his backside. He moaned softly, for the moment was not always to be rough and coarse between the two of them, leaning over, his tail flagged, welcoming his father's touch. Those older, ruggeder fingers dug into his hips, dragging him back, and he grunted thickly, ears twitching, trying to catch everything in a moment even as it swept right by him.
But the wind of change, of passion and pleasure, was there for him too, carrying him along with it as his anal ring clenched down around that thick meat, his father's thrusts driving him forward into the wall. He was right where he wanted to be, the crisp air of the wild pricking at his lungs while he took an even bigger prick up under his tail.
"Unff... Really needed this... Ah, boy..."
Samuel groaned, finding a pace and rhythm that suited him, hips smacking into his son's backside with every thrust. It stretched out his son as it did every time but the older stud could not help but marvel at the fact that Jack's tail hole returned, every time, to its usual tightness. It was luscious to power into, as much so as it had been the very first time they had come together, straining taut, tight and wanton, yet Jack ground back at him with every thrust.
Jack's hooves dug into the frosty ground, hard yet still possible to be broken into, panting heavily, head swimming with lust. But his father was not about to allow him any time at all to bear through the force of his strokes, powering into him, claiming him as he had done so many times before. But, out there, it was quite as if no one else at all existed in the world, panting and heaving, sweating under their coast while a good portion of their lower halves were exposed to the crisp, winter air.
The stud stallion, however, could not help but pick up the force of his strokes, that tight hole welcoming him each and every time. The cold air may have nipped at him, but he wouldn't stop, couldn't stop, slamming in, letting Jack's grunts fill the air, the stallion nickering and snorting, nostrils fluttering with pulses of devout breath. For he had to keep breathing through it all, even as Jack's cock slapped up against his stomach, bouncing and streaming pre-cum that would not be held back through any means.
It had to come, had to be spent, Jack tensing, bearing back, the flood rising behind the dam. His father's cock demanded that he give in to it, needing it all, panting heavily -- yet holding back simply was not possible. Out there in the cold, crisp air, he screamed a stallion's scream of climax, his voice echoing down the valley, the sheep lifting their heads but being too familiar with such sounds to worry themselves all that much. It was of no concern to them, not when there was so much at play, so much more to life, their lives out on the mountainsides quiet and peaceful.
But it was not peaceful for Samuel as he hammered into his son's backdoor entrance, stretching him out, the smack of their bodies connecting resounding. Yet it would not be stopped until that ultimate high of prickling desire had come to sweet fruition, tail lifted, powering on. His lip quivered in the moment before orgasm but not even an older, wizened stud like him would hold back from lust, snorting and heaving, balls aching as he thrust and thrust.
Jack felt every last rope of hot cum flooding his backside, trickling out of his strained tail hole even as his father kept right on thrusting and thrusting, unwilling to stop. Muscles bunched and pulled, forcing himself on, caught up in the lust of the moment while the rest of the world, for the two of them, at least, came to a stop. There was nothing else there but the rush of hot breath in his nostrils, the feel of a tight, velvety hole gripping his cock just so, heat searing through his body while the coolness of the outside world softened the edges.
There they stayed, both revelling in climax, Jack's cock dripping and drooling, yet his orgasm was spent and wasted on the frozen ground. Whether the soil would melt enough for his seed to seep into it that day or not was by the by, Samuel covering his son's body with his as, just for a moment, they stayed there, savouring it.
It may have been frozen out but they would warm the day with the lust of their bodies.
