How beautiful the Centaurides are, even where they are horses; for some grow out of white mares, others are attached to chestnut mares, and the coats of others are dappled, but they glisten like those of horses that are well cared for. There is also a white female Centaur that grows out of a black mare, and the very opposition of the colours helps to produce the united beauty of the whole.

Philostratos the Elder

Warning: This is a story for ADULTS ONLY! It is definitely NOT for children. This story is a serious work of social criticism that does involve sexual intercourse of the characters and may offend the readers, as it does describe sexual interaction of various kind including such with male and female centaurs, that some may find objective.

Contains: Female and Male Centaurs, Horses.

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Similarities with other fictional characters are purely coincidental.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, or any other fictional characters, is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

Reading sample:
The Centaurette sprinted down the hill, her hair and mane where flying in the wind. She could smell the fresh grass, the flowers and the trees. Holding her nose in the air, closing her eyes and sucking in the scents with a deep breath. This morning she had made love to her lover. She thought of his muscular chest and shoulders, the sweat pearls on his crest and neck. His moving flanks and his cute buttock with the proud raised tail. His strong arms caressing her breasts and his hooves rubbing over her shoulders. Her tail was whipping against her flanks when she ran up and down the slopes, through the small orchard. She had dressed herself in the green sleeveless tunic skirt, that accentuated her breasts so well and that made all the centaurs of her clan turning their heads to her. She laughed out loudly, without decelerating she plucked an apple from a tree and bit into it. The juice ran down her cheeks when she broke into a full gallop. Her hooves where flying over the soft green grass. It was late spring and the flowers where in full blossom. Butterflies and bees where swirling around. The Centaurette laughed, she jumped over a fallen tree trunk. Changing quickly directions she sprinted past the trees. She loved the feeling of freedom and raw speed. Her flanks where steaming and she could feel the strength of her body when she stamped over a moss-grown depression. Sweat was evaporating in small clouds of steam from her shoulders, flank and quarters. A strong smell of musk came into her nose and the sound of joyful neighing and nickering drew her attention. She turned towards the sounds running up a small hill, her hair coat was shimmering in the sunlight. It enhanced the contours of her muscles beautifully. She exulted extending her stride length to even greater speed and brought her body to an abrupt halt when she reached the summit.
On the other side of the hill she watched a herd of wild horses grazing on a glade. Occasionally one would burst out and run towards another one rubbing its nose against it. The Centaurette saw panting nostrils and stamping hooves, for a while she enjoyed watching the play of the mustangs. After a while she accelerated and her muscles carried her at high speed down to them. She charged upon the glade challenging some of the mustangs to a race. For a while she was racing with them. Then the black Lead Stallion of the Herd took her challenge, they where galloping across the grass. Their hooves where whirling, their bodies where thrusting each other, both enjoying the excitement of their speed and the play of their muscles and s