The Horse Penis Whisperer
By pomponioxyz Near Geneva, Switzerland I. Alberich Karl was six five, built like a panzer tank. When he shook Fedor’s hand the younger, shorter, bespectacled, and weaker man felt diminished. Fedor’s mother, Dehlia, could not help but scowl. “I guess Alberich is now yours,” smiled Karl handing over the reins. Fedor’s hand tightly held the reins of the magnificent horse. It was an uncut stallion. And it was the one with which Karl had won just about every dressage competition
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