Friday, November 28th, 1997 — Part 3: Roland Turner, age 16

     “You can look, you know. It won’t hurt you.”
     Roland finally lowered his eyes. It looked… just the same as he expected it to. Just like the pictures in the magazines. He’d never really looked at cat porn before, but it seemed similar enough to a mare’s, just a little more fur around the edges. The only difference being, instead of a clitoris, an inch-long cock had grown in its place. Small, especially compared to Roland’s own length, but prevalent nonetheless. The tip of it had even sprouted barbs, much like any other male feline. 
     Rollie sort of just sat there in awe, his hands on Jeri’s knees, unable to look away and unsure of what to do next. Taking note of this, Jericho stepped in to the captain’s chair.
     “It seems to me you’re a bit overdressed for the occasion. Now take off those stupid jorts.”
     …He thinks my jorts are stupid? Roland thought to himself, but did as he was told. He struggled with his belt a bit, fingers tipsy and anxious, but finally got it—as well as his pants—undone. He scooted off the bed and removed them promptly. 
     “Your shirt?” Jericho inquired, with more than a little suggestion.
     Roland took this time to kick the shoes off his hooves, and then removed his prized hand-me-down Brayer shirt. The only article of clothing that remained was his stark-white briefs that bulged with his plump balls and immodest half-chub. Flesh strained against the fabric, but it did not threaten to tear or even stretch—the garment was made specially for equines and their… proportions after all. He half-expected Jericho to demand he remove them as well, but the cat simply nodded in approval.
     “Those,” he said, referring to the briefs, “I will deal with later,”. Roland nodded back, and returned to his position between Jericho’s legs, one hand on either knee. His hands inched upwards, from the bottom of Jeri’s thighs and up to his stomach, and Roland gracefully flopped forward onto the bed. He moved his hands back down, teasing either side of Jericho’s nether regions, and then under his legs and around. Roland hoisted Jeri’s thighs up onto his shoulders. 
    He could smell every pheromone, every juice and excretion, every different kind of personal care product Jeri had used in the shower. His snout was less than two inches from the cat’s private parts. Jeri scooched down on the bed so that the horse’s lips touched the cat’s. Jeri’s cock nestled perfectly in the crease between Roland’s nostrils, and the horse froze up, eyes wide and staring at the cat. 
     “I was just trying to help you,” the cat said. “You know what to do next?”
     Instead of replying verbally, the horse dragged his tongue upwards, from the base of Jericho’s perineum to the tip of his cock. The cat’s dominance faded, if only for a moment, as his back arched and shuddered. He gasped, and placed a hand on the horse’s snout.
     “I’ll take that as a yes,” he continued.
	The equine’s tongue had no issues covering a lot of ground at once, and the strong muscle was able to part Jericho’s folds with ease. It certainly made up for his lack of experience. The cat squirmed and silently remembered just how long it had been since anyone had touched him down there. He certainly hadn’t fucked anyone else in this hick town, and he’d been there almost three months now. Before that, well… 
	Roland opened his mouth as wide as he could and plunged his tongue into Jeri. The cat gasped, and his hips lifted up off the mattress, pushing himself against the boy. The horse’s tongue went deeper henceforth.
     Jeri had bluffed a bit earlier; he had never been with a horse. He had never experienced the pure bliss of being eaten out by one. Their tongues were long and flat, almost as prehensile as they come, and about as wide as three of Jeri’s fingers. Nothing like a cat’s tongue, which are small and rough and have only a few centimeters of reach. Jeri was struggling to keep his composure as the teen rummaged around inside of him like his cooch was a disorganized duffel bag. The boy had a lot to learn—about pacing and technique and patterns and what have you—but his natural anatomy provided the wherewithal to drive the cat’s eyes into the back of his head. And that was just his tongue.
	Two hands rested, now, on top of Roland’s head, petting his broad cheeks, then grasping each of his ears like handlebars and pulling him ever closer. The horse had even tickled Jeri’s G-spot once or twice, completely by accident, but God if it wasn’t a happy one.
	“Oh, fuck,” Jeri whispered his first words in a while as Roland once again flicked the tip of his tongue against a sensitive spot. “Right there.”
	That’s good, right? That means I’m doing a good job? Roland asked himself. 
	As if in response, Jericho moaned a muffled Mmmph! and arched his back once more. Starting to get a bit tired, the horse pulled his tongue out and gave the puss’s pussy a few final licks. There were a few heavy sighs and pants shared between them. The strong puffs of air coming from the horse’s nostrils tickled the cat’s sopping folds.
	“Did—did you cum?” Roland asked half-heartedly.
	The cat only laughed heartily in response—the same genuine laugh Roland heard earlier when he asked the cat to share a drink with him. The cat tousled Roland’s head fluff as an old man would do to a young whippersnapper.
	“Not yet, kiddo, you’ll get there some day.” 
	Roland frowned, and Jeri took note of this.
	“Not that you didn’t do a great job—especially for your first time. But… you still need a little practice. And a lot more tonguework.”
	More tonguework? That’s all he had been doing for the past five minutes! More tonguework. Roland didn’t realize sex was so tiring. How much longer could it take?
	Jericho noticed the kid still looked discouraged. He put a hand beneath the horse’s chin and leaned forward. The cat smiled the kind of smile one only smiles after receiving some decent head. He smiled harder when he refused himself the pleasure of asking the horse: “Why the long face?”
	“Don’t look so sour, my love. It’s not over yet.”
	‘My love’? Roland asked himself. Is that just a saying, or…?
	Jericho leaned down further to kiss the teen on the nose. He pulled the horse closer and kissed him on those gigantic lips, still wet and stinking with juices. The cat could taste himself on the boy’s breath, and it made his cock throb and swell.
	The cat was completely torn, now. He wanted so badly to shove the boy’s snout back into his crotch and give him a few pointers on how to properly snack on a snatch. But he tried not to be selfish in the bedroom.
	Jericho leaned back again and adjusted his legs, pulling them up and then sticking them down between the horses. Between the cat’s feetpaws were nestled two plump balls, and the teen’s already-stiff cock twitched so hard it made the fabric of his underwear tighten. The cat fondled that luscious sack with his toe beans, watching as the horse’s eyelids fluttered and his focus wandered into a haze on the other side of the room. His chin came to rest on the cat’s navel, tongue lolled out like a dog on a hot day. After what felt to the boy like an eternity, but in reality was hardly thirty seconds, the cat bent his knees and inched his feet upwards to the base of the equine’s cock. 
	Jeri’s heels rested just below the medial ring, toes curled around the base. As one foot moved up, the other moved down. He massaged the boy’s dick, swirling his soles in a circular motion. Roland’s grip on the cat’s hips tightened; so did Jeri’s grip on the horse’s length.
	Roland had never considered himself one of those ‘feet guys’; he hadn’t really had much of an opportunity to develop any specific fetishes yet. So there was nothing particularly arousing or unpleasant about being rubbed by the cat’s hindpaws. After all, feet are just the hands of your legs. But after this, and for the rest of his life, a footjob from the older feline was one of his favorite ways to relax on a Friday night. The only thing that was really going through the horse’s head that night, however, was: He’s touching my dick, oh my God, he’s touching my dick.
	Flexible as he was, Jericho’s knees bent even further, grasping the waistband of Roland’s briefs and freeing the trapped erection. He moved his feet to the upper half of the horse’s dick, his heels now cupped just beneath the head, which threatened to flare at any moment. Roland’s cock swelled as he finally felt the warm pawpads directly against his flesh; somehow rough and smooth at the same time (much like the cat’s tongue, as he would soon find out). Jericho simply laid back and watched the teen melt into his lap, petting him gently behind the ear. He placed his other hand on top of Roland’s and interlocked their thumbs.
	Suddenly curious, Jericho moved his right foot so that his pad was pressed up against the head of Roland’s penis. As the cat suspected, the teen was pre-cumming. A lot. 
	He used this to his advantage, and slickly slickened both paws with pre, moistening Roland’s shaft. It worked well as lube—naturally, that was its main function—and allowed the cat to pick up speed. The kid continued leaking, so there was no lack of supply. 
	Roland pushed himself up off the bed and onto his knees, Jericho’s feet still wrapped around his cock and rubbing.
	“I… I think I’m going to cum.”
	“Do you want to cum?” The cat slowed his motions but did not stop.
	“Of—of course I want to… but isn’t it kind of soon?”
	“We can always go again.”
	“I don’t know if I can—Nngh!” The horse grunted—a splurt of pre-cum splattered onto Jeri’s stomach and the tip of Roland’s penis flexed, his flare nearly fully in bloom. 
	“Stop! Stop!” The boy cried, and Jeri did just that. He cautiously removed his feet, knowing the kid was dangerously close to ruining his orgasm. “Ah! Don’t—don’t touch it!”
	The horse covered his eyes with his hands and tried to think of anything besides cumming. His cock twitched and pulsed, throbbed and leaked—right onto Jeri’s stomach. The cat laid in front of the teen, watching in awe as the horse’s dick jerked and twitched. He wet a finger and a thumb in the puddle of pre-cum soaking into his bellyfur, then moved them down and wrapped them around his barbed, inch-long cock. He began to stroke, the slick, quickly-cooling fluid sending shivers up his spine.  Roland’s cock throbbed out of nowhere, sending another jet of pre-cum out into the air, landing on Jericho’s arm, stomach, and fingers.
	Jericho gasped and his cock throbbed, absolutely loving being covered in the horse’s emissions. He moved his hand down to slide two fingers inside of himself, both of them drenched in fresh pre-cum. Jeri watched as the horse tried his hardest not to cum. Something about the kid denying himself that simple pleasure drove the cat up a wall.
	Rollie finally removed his hands from his face and opened his eyes to see the cat fingering himself before him. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself now. He felt like he needed a few minutes of rest before he could start going again—he was still too close to cumming to jump right back into it. But what now? He had already knocked the two big sex things off the list: oral sex and footjobs. What else was there, really? 
	He made eye contact with the cat, who continued fingering himself and said nothing. Panicked, the horse looked around the room for suggestions from the audience. None came, regrettably. So he broke the silence with an apology.
	“Sorry, I just… I was scared, I guess. I didn’t wanna… cum so soon. And like… from just you rubbing it with your feet.”
	“You wanted to get to the good stuff first before blowing your load?”
	“I guess, yeah.”
	“What, that wasn’t good enough for you?”
	Roland blushed. “No, I mean, it was amazing, I just—”
	“Don’t worry,” Jericho had stopped rubbing himself now, “I’m much better with my hands.”
	The horse blushed deeper. Jeri sat up and grabbed the horse by the cock and coaxed him closer. 
	“Why don’t you lay back, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
	Roland did as he was told so Jeri could do just that.