The Ironworker

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Every hammer strike echoed throughout Caramel’s forge, through the walls and adjacent house, too. The heat from the furnace was incredible, rolling through the tiny space in waves while Caramel swung his hammer, every blow flinging sweat from his arms onto the dusty floor. The space smelled of iron and stallion and oil, and scorch marks covered the walls and sturdy furnishings.

With all of this going on around him, it was no wonder Caramel didn’t notice Big Mac come in. But horseshoes didn’t make themselves.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Caramel’s muscles tensed and surged as shaped the curve of the shoe, keeping an eye on the red-hot iron and his grip on the tongs, working quickly before it cooled. Even his apron was drenched in sweat, and the drops matted his brow.

“Afternoon,” he heard a calm, deep voice beside him. Caramel nearly jumped and dropped everything when he snapped his head to look at the big red stallion. Caramel was by no means a small or weak stallion, but Big Mac defied conventions of size and strength. Tall, broad and burly, Big Mac was truly a gentle giant. Caramel was amazed Big Mac could find clothes that fit him. The flannel shirt and jeans seemed ready to split at any moment.

Not that Caramel would mind.

“Hey,” Caramel greeted him. The two had been close friends for years now, and being with one another was easy and comfortable, despite Caramel’s attraction to his huge friend. There was no need for Caramel to offer hospitality; Big Mac sat down on Caramel’s worktable, his hooves still touching the ground. “How are you?” Caramel asked him.

“Fine,” he replied.

And that was all that was said. Big Mac understood that Caramel was busy, and neither stallion was exactly talkative. Besides, Caramel still had to work the horseshoe in front of him before it cooled.

So, with a nod and a smile, he went back to it.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

It was almost done, really. Once the curve was nice and smooth, he would drill a couple holes in and then move on to the next one. Just a few more moments of pounding.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Zzziiip.

Caramel registered the sound of Big Mac undoing his jeans, but he hardly gave more than a sidelong glance. As hot as Big Mac and his legendary cock was, Caramel still had work to do. He didn’t have to ask to know what Big Mac was doing. The only thing more legendary than the crimson stallion’s equipment were his legendary needs. Big Mac wasn’t a sexual pony in any real way, but Caramel knew that it took a lot of hormones and who knew what else to make a stallion that size, and Big Mac had explained how uncomfortable, sometimes bordering on painful, it could be to go for a few hours without release. Thus, he had gotten rather used to the sight of the farm stallion masturbating. He did it when he was comfortable, and Caramel certainly didn’t mind. Once, Caramel had even had dinner at Sweet Apple Acres, and when everypony was finished eating they headed into the living room to sit and watch TV. Big Mac hadn’t hesitated to stroke himself right there on the sofa, Granny Smith in her rocker and Applejack right next to him, neither paying much attention while he blew his load. Caramel suspected that only Apple Bloom hadn’t seen his habit yet, but he doubted it would make much of a splash when she learned about where babies came from. It was just normal behavior for stallions.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

“Ahh,” Big Mac sighed when he let his length out into the open. Caramel, out of the corner of his eye, could even see him heft his huge, grapefruit-sized nuts out of his jeans. With all the noise in the forge, the sound of Big Mac popping open his shirt buttons was inaudible, but Big Mac let out another sigh once he took it off, exposing his hairy chest and arms to the fiery air.

Caramel had to steal a glance now. Big Mac was completely naked now, his clothes in a pile beneath him. The stallion’s body was already glistening with some sweat, but it could have been from his morning chores at the farm. Caramel had seen Big Mac naked plenty of times, but every time he was duly impressed with the sheer size of Big Mac. His arms, chest, and stomach all rippled with muscle, his bulging pecs dominating his frame, and Caramel could see the big, sensitive nipples nestled in the bed of ginger chest hair. The treasure trail continued down his abs and ended in the bush of his pubes, from which rose his friend’s towering stallionhood. Caramel doubted he could even fit a hand around it, and he wondered if Big Mac expected to have intercourse with anypony, with the length seeming almost too large to be practical. The flare alone was broader than Caramel’s palm. And finally, hanging between his apple-bucking thighs, were Big Mac’s big balls. It was almost amusing to see them, resting so heavily in Mac’s loose, hairy scrotum. They actually hung over the lip of the work bench, swaying just slightly as Big Mac took his hand to his erection.

The great stallion closed his gentle, green eyes and let out another sigh as he started to stroke, and Caramel went back to work. The two stallions were quiet guys, but Caramel couldn’t exist in complete silence the way Big Mac could. They had known each other for so long that conversation didn’t come with difficulty to them.

Big Mac’s stroking wasn’t heavy enough to be audible yet, but Caramel took his completed horseshoe to the quenching oil as the big stallion made himself at home. “How was your morning?” Caramel asked him.

“Fine. Busy,” Mac answered, no clear signs of pleasure yet invading his voice.

“Lots of chores to do?” Caramel was putting away the shoe and getting out a new strip of iron to work, placing it in the furnace to heat.

“Eeyup. Gotta make sure the farm’s in shape for the harvest. Ohh,” he let out a moan.

Fap fap fap fap.

“I hear ya. It’s a busy season for me, too.”

“How’s yer mornin’?” Big Mac asked.

“Oh, fine,” Caramel answered. “The Running of the Leaves is coming up, so I have to make sure I have a stock before then.”

“How many more do you have to make?” Big Mac’s stroking was really taking off. With a few grunts and bucks of his hips, Caramel heard the splatters of Big Mac’s plentiful ejaculation hit the floor below.

Splat, splat, splat, splat.

“Maybe a hundred. But I have a few weeks,” Caramel answered over the wet sounds as he opened the furnace. The climax seemed a bit premature to him, but if Big Mac had been busy, this was likely the first opportunity he had gotten for release all day.

“How many are ya gonna do today?” Big Mac asked. Just as Caramel suspected, Big Mac was needy today.

Fap fap fap fap.

“Maybe ten or twenty. Depends.” Caramel fixed the strip of iron in his tongs and wiped the sweat from his brow before beginning to flatten it. He could smell the sweat of Big Mac’s labor as well.

“Well, don’t work yerself too hard.”

Clang! Clang! Clang!

“Oh, I’ll be alright. Lunch is soon anyway.”

Fap fap fap fap.

“Ya gonna meet anypony?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting a bite. Ng!”

Splat, splat, splat, splat. “Ooh.”

“You should go on ahead. I’ll just fix myself something.”

Clang! Clang! Clang!

“I thought you had time?”

Fap fap fap fap.

“Yeah, but if I get ahead then I can relax this weekend.”

“You should take a break.”

“I’ll break for lunch and keep working.”

Clang! Clang! Clang!

“Heh. I thought I was a workaholic. Ooh,”

Splat, splat, splat, splat.

Caramel laughed, looking up at Big Mac for a moment. His friend smiled back, his hands still working his great, thick shaft. Sweat was pouring down both of their bodies, and the shimmering heat carried with it waves of stallion musk. Whether it was from the work or Big Mac, Caramel felt his own member slip out of its sheath and grow hard in his pants, but he paid it no mind as he took the shoe to the horn of the anvil to be curved. Big Mac had a pool of semen growing beneath him, but it wasn’t in Caramel’s way yet, and he had a mop somewhere around here.

Fap fap fap fap.

“Ya even got plans for the weekend?” Big Mac asked.

“Not yet.”

Clang! Clang! Clang!

“Me either.”

“Maybe we should just relax.”

“Sure. Have a few ciders, play cards.”

Splat, splat, splat, splat.

“Sounds good. Your place?”

Clang! Clang! Clang!

“Eeyup.”

Fap fap fap fap.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too. Apple Bloom likes it when Cheerilee comes over.”

“I’ll bet she does.”

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Splat, splat, splat, splat.

Big Mac seemed to pause for a moment of rest, lazily stroking himself while Caramel finished working the shoe. After Caramel quenched it, he spoke up again. “Take a break and rub one out with me.”

“You know, I don’t distract you at your work.”

“It’ll only take a bit. ‘Sides, you look like you could use it.”

Both stallions were very aware of Caramel’s erection. With a smile and a roll of his eyes, he conceded. “Alright, but just a load.”

“Eeyup.”

Stepping around the puddle of semen, Caramel hopped up onto the workbench beside Big Mac. The heat radiating off his friend was all too similar to his furnace, and even a whiff of Mac’s manly scent caused Caramel’s cock to pulse.

Without a trace of nervousness, Caramel began to undress, tossing his clothes behind the workbench. He let out his own sigh when he felt the heat hit his chest directly. Caramel couldn’t compare to Big Mac in terms of size, muscle, hairiness, or stallionhoods, but Caramel was far more well-defined than Mac was, and much more sensitive. The sight of Big Mac’s great rod alone sent little shivers racing down his spine along with the droplets of sweat, and he realized that even sitting down, his eyes barely cleared Big Mac’s huge, meaty pecs. His cock gave another jolt as he wondered, ever so silently, what it would be like to run his hands along those firm muscles or that hard shaft.

But his own rod called for attention, and Big Mac was patiently waiting for Caramel to start with him. Taking his shaft in his hands, Big Mac following suit, he gave it a squeeze. Hard as the iron he forged.

“Ooh,” both stallions moaned.

They began rather slowly. Big Mac’s endurance could have kept him going for no pony knew how long, but Caramel couldn’t just pump loads out onto the floor like Big Mac could. He took his time and explored his body, and Big Mac allowed him the time to enjoy himself. Caramel’s hands roamed, feeling his own firm pecs, tweaking his nipples, running his fingers through his patch of chest hair. Everywhere he touched he felt heat flowing from him and sweat flowing down him. He liked feeling sweaty. Caramel wasn’t always the most masculine guy, but when he worked the forge, he felt every bit as manly as Big Mac was. The moisture under his hand and coating his body was quickly having an effect. His cock pulsed once more, now issuing some pre.

“Oh, I needed this,” Caramel moaned.