Dance of the Purple Moon
40×30 oil on canvas
He races at her, biting along her mane and at the ears. She kicks him hard. Their struggle, short but brutal, a primitive, lustful dance, their ritual of mating. They circle about until she allows him to smell her, keeping well away from a mount.
Bearing his teeth, he screams wildly. A mount is imminent, so hard and regal. Once again, she moves to the side, a well-planned agitation. He enters instead her anus, him screaming in ecstasy, her, wincing in pain.
Excerpt from Steps: A Memoir