Cock-A-Doodle-Doo

Drooping Cocks

Richard worked his hips and gripped the saddle with his knees, feet snug in the stirrups as he leaned forward. His ass barely touched the seat as he rode, keeping his arms loose enough not to be pulled by the mare as her head ducked. She was a pretty good runner, as expected. She came from a long line of racehorses, and with a little more training, she might join them. He grinned at the thought, shouting an encouragement over the wind in his face as they tore around the track. Riding was exhilarating. There really was nothing quite like it. The snort of the horse, pounding hooves on dry earth, his own huffing breaths, the wind in his ears, slapping leather, and the clink of the reins.

Years of riding had given him the perfect poise, letting him bounce and rock in time with the mare's galloping steps without being jostled out of the saddle. His thighs and calves would probably ache later where he was keeping himself balanced, knees barely hugging the leather. The mare's head ducked as she galloped, glossy black mane billowing in the wind, chestnut coat damp with sweat from the workout, muscles quivering with each pounding step. Richard could feel sweat coating his own skin, both across his shoulders and on his brow where his helmet sat.

He hunkered lower, riding for all he was worth as they rounded the bend onto the home strip. His business partner was waiting with a stopwatch in hand, ready to capture the time and see if she made the cut. Richard urged her on, shouting over the wind and jostling the reins in encouragement, heart soaring as they flew down the country track. It was hard to believe it had taken him this long to get his own stables. Nothing was more freeing that being able to ride whenever he wanted and rearing horses every day. It was a change from racing, but he couldn't keep that up forever. Better to retire at the top of his game than lapse into obscurity or risk permanent injury.

The moment they crossed the line, Richard eased the reins and gave a light tug. The mare kept galloping for a good ten feet before she slowed, gradually snorting and raising her head as she followed Richard's guiding tug to turn about. Back at the line, his friend was grinning. That seemed like a good sign, and Richard was eager to know the numbers as he had the mare trot over. Excited grey eyes looked up at him, turning the watch so he could see. Richard let out a whooping laugh, punching the air and patting the mare's sodden neck. Two minutes and fifty-eight seconds. It was her best time yet, and they'd broken the three-minute barrier.

"In a few weeks, we might shave off another ten seconds, right Allen?" Richard said as he looked down at the panting mare. Despite the race, she seemed in good spirits. Tired, but happy as her ears twitched back and forth. She had plenty of time to improve. Being barely a year and seven months, she wouldn't be ready to start her career for at least another five months. By the time she was ready, they'd have a fleet of buyers lined up to see her. Her muscle mass was gradually increasing with her usual daily training regime, so it was entirely likely she'd be able to shave off a few more seconds before reaching her limit.

"With the rate she's growing, she might shave off even more!" He wasn't about to argue with Allen. He'd known him for years, and there was no one he'd rather partner with in this venture. Allen was an excellent businessman with a nose for the right horses while Richard knew what those horses needed to flourish and how to train and ride them. They made quite a team. Before retirement, Allen had worked for the stables where Richard's horse lived, though it really wasn't his horse. He'd ridden him every day for almost five years, but the stable owned the actual horse. It was a little sad, but he still wondered how he was doing from time to time. He must have retired by now, and was probably living out his last few viable years as a breeder before being handed off as a retired pet somewhere.

"I'll take your word on that, but ten seconds would be plenty! More than enough to give her a good standing." Allen nodded his agreement as he took the leading rein and held the mare steady as Richard hopped down. It was only once he was on the ground that the difference between them could be appreciated. Allen was a good five inches taller, and almost twice as wide from all the time he spent lugging bales and sacks around the stables and shovelling hay. Though Richard wasn't shy about getting his hands dirty and did a lot of the grooming, it was actually better for their partnership that he didn't do the heavy lifting. The smaller and lighter he remained, the easier he was to carry around the track.