Below are a collection of hot stories and messages I've received online from people about their time at Horse Market. Enjoy reading them and feel free to send me any pictures or videos of you enjoying said stories hehe 😈💦💦💦

Race Bannon

By HorseMarketSF | August 13, 2020

Horse Market: One Mare’s Perspective

By Mare 134 (Washington, DC, January 2020)

I arrived about 20 minutes into the mare check-in window where there was already a line waiting.  Mares could choose a white hood for safe sex only or a red hood for bareback sex; a majority of mares, including me, selected a red hood.  I learned after the party that there were a few white hood mares, and some were mounted almost as much as red hood mares!  A lanyard with a free bottle of lube was also provided.  The stable hands were all friendly and willing to help, and after check-in, escorted mares up to the third floor where the event was to take place.  Before the escort, each mare was markered on the back with their number and photographed from the back (for the post-event Best in Show for stallions and mares).


The setup of the third floor was stunning to say the least.  I might dare call it a homosexual heaven: an even distribution of padded picnic tables, steps and leaning areas, tables, fuckbenches, and slings.  Perhaps Willy Wonka came to mind: “Come with me, and you’ll be / In a world of pure insemination!”


As the mares congregated, most explored the space, as I did.  Mares could also select their own starting location instead of being assigned by stable hands.  Although I was very briefly tempted to occupy the sling that I loaned for the event, I opted for a spot at one of the padded picnic tables, where at least three or four other mares joined me.  I felt there was good camaraderie, and I commented to some of my fellow mares about being bareback brothers together, ready to service all the stallions.  Someone also made a Handmaid’s Tale joke about our red hoods, with me adding that today, all of us were “Of Stallions.”


Before we took up our positions, the Stable Master ascended one of the steps to briefly address us.  He explained the event procedures: whenever any mare needed anything at all – a glass of water, to be moved to a new location or to the rest area or bathroom, to order another drink, whatever – he was to raise his hand high and a stable hand would attend us.  They also roved about to keep an eye on us and occasionally checked-in with each mare to ask if we were OK, if we needed anything.  He also joked that he’d make sure to tell the stallions not to just slamfuck us; we raised a cheer and some applause!  The moment was then upon us.  We took our positions and donned our hoods.  The stable hands helped us to tie them on so they were secure and we waited.  I bent over on the picnic table in position and quietly said some short mantras to myself: “I want to serve.  I want to serve.  I want to make these stallions happy.  I am theirs to use,” and other sentiments of the sort.  I really wanted it to be perfect, for me and especially for the stallions.


Before I had put on my hood, I had taken a final glance around and seen all of us bent over, and it was beautiful.  We fell silent and were standing by, the DJ started playing his set, and the stallions began to enter the space.  One stallion brushed his hand on my ass, another felt my hole.  The air seemed to get more charged with anticipation as stallions arrived and the first mountings occurred.  The mare to my right was mounted and he moaned; I grabbed his hand tight and simply said “Congrats, brother.”  He happily thanked me and focused on servicing his stallion while I waited.


Finally, my moment to serve came.  A stallion approached between my legs, added lube, positioned his cock, and entered my mare hole for the first time, but it was not a long fuck; he seemed to just be sampling me.  I am sometimes used as a “fluffer bottom,” though it can be disappointing.  I just hoped it wouldn’t be the only role to play.  Thankfully it wasn’t.


Another stallion soon mounted me; it felt to me as if he was wearing full leather attire, since I felt the pants against my legs and ass.  This was the first one to inseminate me, and I was profuse in my thanks.  I brought along my own marker for the event, and I reached up and asked him to mark my first load on my ass.  He obliged, then added more text.  I waited a few minutes, then overcome by curiosity, I raised my hand to summon a stable hand and asked him what the stallion wrote next to the sole tally mark.  The stable hand replied, “It says CUMSLUT.”


I am usually a silent bottom, but I decided this time to be more vocal, to both encourage and thank each stallion who graced me with his phallus (and, when it happened, his seed).  My usual expressions during most fucks were alternating variations of: “Yes, Sir,” “Thank you, Sir,” “Fuck/Breed my mare hole, Sir,” “Please use my mare hole, Sir,” “I’m your mare property, Sir,” and so forth.  Some stallions were vocal as they mounted me, others not so much.


I didn’t get much use at my initial picnic table location.  As I listened to the mares to my left and right being mounted vigorously and inseminated, I was happy for them but naturally jealous, and something told me I might not expect too much use other than sampling.  The mare to my right asked to withdraw to recover for a bit, and I slid over to his standing position.  I recall one stallion mounting me for a bit, another probing my hole and/or spanking my ass, but that was it.  Eventually, I gave up, raised my hand high, and asked the stable hand to move me to another location of his choosing.  I was slowly walked and placed at the padded tables along the far wall not far from the DJ stage.  After feeling around to get my bearings, I decided to hop up on my back and raised my legs while on the table, and this was my primary position for most of the rest of the Horse Market.  It was of course challenging, and I had to get off the table occasionally and bend over for a bit so I could get the blood circulating, and for stallions to see my load count and temporary “tramp stamp.”  But I was convinced that stallions walking in that area would be enticed by at least one mare straining to keep his legs raised and hole in a position that aligned perfectly with their cocks.  I was right.


Several stallions took their turns mounting me; most allowed me to drape my legs on their shoulders.  Some sampled my mare hole, some of them inseminated me.  Throughout the event, whenever a stallion added his seed, I did my best to get them to add a mark to the growing tally on my ass, and others didn’t hear me or just walked off before I could ask anything.  Whenever a stallion couldn’t mark my ass, I raised my hand high and had a stable hand do it for me.  Although I was satisfied with this approach for my first Horse Market, the next time I serve as a mare, I want to let go completely, to abandon myself to the stallions without any thought of load counts.  Just to serve and to be happy in doing so.


Throughout the event, I imagined the room around me, and what I thought of was glorious and was probably true: mares bent over, mares in slings, mares left and right being fucked, being bred.  I could almost detect an air of glee among the stallions.  They doubtless walked around observing, walking up to mares, mounting them, etc.  This world belonged to them, and mares like me were proud to serve, to exist as their spermbanks.  Men from all over the country (perhaps around the world?) emptying their balls in us, we mares carrying their sperm long after they’ve gone back to the host hotel and back to their own cities.


One stallion who mounted and inseminated me reinforced the point I was thinking.  When I said my usual lines, he corrected me and made me repeat his own sentiments: “I am everybody’s property, my mare hole belongs to you all,” and the like.  It brought home to me the communal nature of this gathering.  Yes, all us mares were the collective property of all the stallions, and deserved to be mounted or not according to their wishes, not ours.  (The Horse Market rules, of course, allow mares to refuse a stallion if he’s too big or abusive, etc.)  By the end of the event, eight stallions had inseminated my mare hole, and I was thrilled.


Fewer and fewer stallions lingered to mount as many mares as possible.  The house music eventually faded away, and the announcement was given for remaining stallions to dump their final loads and depart.  Another 10 minutes passed, and we were told to take off our hoods.  There was a collective relief and scattered applause at the conclusion of the inaugural Horse Market DC.  The mares went downstairs to collect their belongings and head home, but I lingered a few minutes longer to take in the scene, stretch my legs, and make sure my sling was being packed for me to take home.  The staff present were again very helpful.


The first Horse Market DC was almost perfect.  It was simple, gay sex the way it is meant to be.  This was my first time at a larger application of my own basic philosophy: that tops always ought to choose their bottoms and simply use them.  In the face of the Horse Market setup, our current bathhouse culture is woefully inadequate, with tops taking forever to pick the one or two bottoms they intend to fuck before going home.  I was a little nervous or jittery at first, but I gained more confidence in myself and the abilities of my mare hole as time went on, especially after I was moved to the second location.


This story is but one mare’s perspective, and I wish I could learn more from stallions on their own experiences.  (Maybe one day, I’ll gain that stallion experience on my own!)


For future mares: the Horse Market is simple, anonymous sex, and lets you simply exist to serve stallions.  Come cleaned out, get in position, get your hood on, and enter a good headspace to let yourself go.  At least in my opinion, yes, you will get mounted, and you will almost certainly have a great time!


For future stallions: we mares exist for YOU, and we serve you with joy and with great pride in our abilities.  Enjoy yourself fully!  We want you to mount all of us, to feel your cocks slide down our throats and up our holes, and hopefully to feel your sperm shoot deep inside us (with or without the rubber).  No mare can see it under our hoods, but we want you to walk out of the event space with the biggest smiles on your face and the emptiest balls in town.


Thank you, Stable Master, Stable Wrangler, and every volunteer who helps you put on one of the hottest sex parties around… now stallions and mares, all of you my brothers, let’s play!!!