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Before anyone could say a word the stable door rolled on its track and the trainer reappeared. He seemed satisfied, and he looked into the stall and nodded to himself.
"Time for you to go, folks," he said quietly. The group looked at one another as if being roused from a dream, and remained motionless until one of the men began nodding suddenly.
"Yes...of course," he said shakily, taking his wife's arm as they led the group to the stable door.
The redheaded woman, bringing up the rear, slowly turned for one last look. The filly was lying on top of her stud, kissing him deeply, her lush body writhing against him as his hands stroked her curves, petting her. As the stable door slid closed behind her the woman could have sworn she heard a soft, feminine giggle from inside the stall, and she shook her head in disbelief.
How, she wondered, could this be real?
Their sweating bodies were dusted with clinging sawdust and the sight of the stud holding her down and taking her lent the scene a rawness that none of the spectators had anticipated. Even though she was close enough to touch she ignored the spectators, instead flailing her head and tossing her chestnut mane as her hands slid helplessly over the stable floor. He forced her down, her skin slick with sweat as his hands slid up her back. The stud leaned forward, pinning the whimpering filly down by her shoulders, his hips resting tight against her luscious rump, the two panting and still.
