Thank goodness she has decided to play along.
He doesn't want her to talk, though. Even the few words she utters in a seductive whisper are almost too much, pulling him a bit closer to reality and away from the hormone-clouded fantasy he is living in right now. Talking requires thinking, thinking breeds awkwardness, and awkwardness kills libido. Though his skin is still hot and his breath is coming fast through his flared nostrils, in that small moment he experiences a pang of doubt.
This isn't me, is it? is the first and last thing he thinks before she lips at his hip and he becomes a desire-driven machine once again.
He wheels around in a half-circle, following the mare with his eyes as she begins strolling down the hill away from the herd and into the trees. His scarred bottom lip twitches with excitement. He can see her tailbone clamped firmly down atop her buttocks, but everything else about her body language indicates something to look forward to. Like a little boy promised ice cream if he behaves well, he cheerily flags his tail and slips into a fancy, high-legged trot after her.
Oh, how satisfying and enjoyable it is to let himself give into his whims! His mind is completely and blissfully empty as he nips at her withers. The thought that she might already be pregnant, and therefore, that he will be becoming a father soon, is as far from his mind as icebergs are from the rainforest.
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