**Compromising Positions**  
*A Role-play between Bishiebunny and GingerM*

(c) 2010 Bishiebunny and GingerM

**Act 1 - A Fortuitous Meeting**   
   
 He wanted to visit Ireland, see the castles, the green hills, visit a pub and maybe explore his roots. She wanted Cancun, to hit the beaches and drink exotic drinks served with frilly umbrellas and fake fruit. In the end, they compromised.  
   
They went to Cancun.  
   
He wanted to spend their first day just sleeping off jet-lag in their hotel suite. Maybe relax by the hot-tub, and get a late dinner, after making love for the first, official time. Official because, at his age, there was no point in holding off until after rings were exchanged. Still, it would only be their third time and given the rough suddenness of the first, and the wicked, on-the-sly moment that was their second, he was looking for something more romantic this time. 

 He was looking to make love to his beautiful, bashful bride.  
   
 His bride, beautiful, but not really one to be all that full of bash, was walking along the beach. That was what she wanted, so of course, they had "compromised" again. She did look lovely, the sunlight shimmering off her tanned skin. She was like a child, looking for a bit of sand to turn into a mighty castle. With her tiny bathing suit and flirty behavior, she was certainly erecting many fine structures out on the coast.   
   
 Of course, none of those fleshy towers were made of sand.   
   
 He was a few steps behind her, trying his damnedest not to burn under that God-awful sun. His glasses were dark, his nose was white with lotion, and he was currently wearing a black Hawaiian shirt, with white pants, the cuffs pulled up over his ankles. Looking at his wife made him smile. Looking at the other men who were looking at his wife made him smile a little less.   
   
 He was smaller than most of the bigger, muscle-bound, Speedo-clad man-boys that populated the beach, but there was definitely an air about him. He looked like the sort of man that had friends, friends in dark alleys; friend who carried the hardware needed to make size matter little, if at all. And so the men watched, but kept their distance.  
   
 He appreciated that. The last thing he wanted to do was have his honeymoon ruined because of men behaving like boys. He blinked, realizing that he had lost sight of his wife. Suddenly, he felt her warm, tanned body collide with his much paler one.   
   
 "Oh god, oh god! Nathan! She is absolutely GORGEOUS!" His wife virtually squealed, her short-ish blonde hair brushed out of her face as she chewed on a plump, pink-painted bottom lip. "We have got to go over there and talk to her. Oh please?"  
   
 Nathan sighed and turned to the way his wife was gyrating with her round little bottom and had a look. To his credit, he did not whistle. In fact, looking at him, you could hardly tell there was much of a reaction all. In fact, you would have to be pressed against his white pants, like his wife was, to see just how interested he was in what he saw.  
   
 She squealed, feeling her husband's bulge pumping in his pants. With a giggle, she cooed in a sultry voice, "Mmmmm, does daddy like what he sees? Can we talk to her?"   
   
 Nathan really did not want to. He was enjoying the sight, but honestly, the last thing he wanted on his honeymoon was temptation. But Cynthia really seemed interested for some reason. Whatever was on her mind?  
   
 As usual, they compromised. As usual, Cynthia got her way. The couple made their way over to the sunning beauty that had attracted even more attention in her lounger than the tanned blonde had.  
   
 The pair stood, only a few feet away, looking at a woman so beautiful, neither of them knew what to say.  
   
 She was blissfully content. For the first time in quite a while, the young woman was able to relax completely. Normally her work at BGSC had a distinctly unpleasant habit of following her even after the working day was over, sometimes intruding into weekends and vacation. Not this time, though. This time she had left her 'crackberry' behind, and set forth for her holiday with only a prepaid cell to keep her in touch with the world. In keeping with this philosophy, the phone had been off for the majority of the week; indeed, she realized sleepily, she had completely forgotten it for this morning's foray to the beach.  
   
 She had wanted to go to Hawaii, but her budget hadn't run quite to that extent. Cancun, however, had been well within her means, and it was certainly tropical enough to suit her wish to lie on a beach, drinking cocoanut-flavoured rum drinks and de-stressing. Besides, she could always dress - or undress, as appropriate - as if she was in Hawaii, as long as she didn't take it too far. Thus, her attire consisted of a sarong riding low - *very* low - on her hips, and a lei positioned strategically on her bust, so that local mores would not be irretrievably offended.  
   
 *Someone's awfully excited,* she mused as a high-pitched female voice squealed nearby, disturbing her sun-worshipping. She rolled her head slightly toward the voice, squinting in the glare of the sun. Her lei slipped somewhat off its rather precarious perch atop her breasts, and she reached up to adjust it. This *was* Mexico, after all, and while this beach was for the *touristas*, nevertheless a certain amount of modesty was expected - and she was already pushing that boundary hard, between her sarong and the lei. The lei slipped again, and she gave it up as a bad job. Apparently this was her cue to get up. Her lei slid back into place as she raised herself on her elbows. Her dusky skin, almost toast-coloured, had acquired a slight sheen of sweat from the time spent in the brilliant tropical. With an almost automatic reflex, she reached up and adjusted the single white camellia she wore over her right ear, the stem tucked carefully into the heavy mane of fiery, waist-length hair which rippled like a mass of living flame.   
   
 A few feet away stood an oddly-matched couple, both looking intently at something just past her - no, *at* her, she realized. Intrigued, she looked them over in return. The blonde woman was clinging to the older gentleman in a way that made her think "sugar daddy" at first, but she quickly revised that first impression. The couple was clearly in love. He was shorter than many of the other beach-boys, older, a mature man instead of a boy in a man's frame, and she found herself studying him. He had a lean, whipcord toughness about him; she suddenly had the impression that he had walked some dangerous roads during his life.  
   
 She slid one leg up, and then froze as a soft zephyr of breeze played over her body, reminding her that she was in fact wearing absolutely nothing under her sarong, and that she had nearly flashed the entire beach. This would have drawn no more than a few censorious looks from the local self-appointed 'propriety police' for most, but in her case would likely have inspired shock and awe, followed by tarring and feathering and being ridden out of town on a rail, or the local equivalent. She let her leg slide gently back down, and then rolled to sit up on the lounger, her lips curving in a friendly, open smile at the couple.  
   
 "Hello," she greeted them, her head cocked slightly to one side. "I'm Erin."  
   
 Nathan gave what amounted to a smile for the hard-lined, hard-lived older man. He was not the sort to squander emotion and he kept his smiles in the same internal lockbox as his tears. At best, it could be said that his face got more pleasant. Perhaps open was a better way of looking at it.   
   
 Of course, with the sun set to broil his pale, Irish features, the change in expression might have simply been a wince.  
   
 Whatever the cause, he waited for Cynthia to say something. Not only was this her flight of fancy, she had long since established herself as the spokeswoman of the pair. This had suited Nathan just fine. He preferred being the strong, silent type. He liked to think, to consider and when he finally put thought into sound, he preferred it to have some weight to it. For instance, he did not often say, "I love you," but when he did, it had the feel of something solid, heavy, and eternal.  
   
 However as a pleasant pause began to twist into an awkward silence, he found himself looking toward his wife. Was that a blush? His bouncy lover was suddenly the quiet one; suddenly she had found whatever shame that was to be had in her free spirit. Nathan realize that the young woman had taken the peek he had not dared take.  
   
 Neither of them could have missed that chance slip, nor doubt the promise offered by a quick glance. Nathan had resisted, though not without a bit of internalized struggle. He was not the sort of man to sneak peeks, but they were out in Cancun, after all. The entire beach was one big peek.  
   
 It would have tempted any man. It would have tempted just about any woman. It certainly had tempted his wife and apparently, she had succumbed to it, gleefully.   
   
 Whatever hidden delights she had found she was keeping to herself.  
   
 Finally, Nathan rolled his eyes from behind his sunglasses and spoke. "Oh, English. Good; the last thing anyone wants to hear is an old man mangling a romantic tongue." He paused a moment, looking at his wife again.  
   
 She seemed to be busily chewing on her bottom lip and one hand was rubbing against his chest. He blinked, caught her hand by the wrist and began to run his thumb along her palm. It was a soothing gesture and he hoped it calmed his wife down. On the other hand, as excited as she seemed, he also hoped that perhaps the afternoon's encounter would lead to a particularly pleasant evening.  
   
 First things first. He needed to address the woman before them and stop looking like such a fool. "My wife was just," he paused, thinking, looking over the attractive woman. It did not really help. Erin was not only attractive, there was a sensual quality to her that made the older man feel downright plain and ordinary by comparison. The sun did not strike and bounce off her body as it might his. Instead, it danced about her curves, kissing her perspiration with lighted lips.   
   
 Following those rays of light, he finally found the excuse he was looking for. "She was just admiring your skirt and was wondering where you had picked it up. I promised her that if they sold them anywhere nearby, we would find her one."  
   
 Cynthia looked up at her husband, and then flashed a bright smile Erin's way. It was an odd smile, a sort of secret smile, the type that should be shared by two pranksters, in on the same joke. "Sarong, sweetie, and I doubt she got it nearby." The woman pulled away from the older man and stepped closer.  
   
 The older man sighed, watching his wife. Only ten feet away and yet she might as well have been on the bottom of the ocean. They had known one another for only a couple of years, and had tumbled into their marriage on what Nathan still believed was a young man's daydream. It still surprised him how lost he felt without her.  
   
 "Don't mind my husband. He's terribly shy and trying to be a good boy, and keep his eyes on me." Cynthia had no problem smiling. In fact, her smile was bright and infectious. "Nathan and Cynthia Dowell, newlyweds, as if you couldn't tell. And you are just about the most beautiful woman either of us have ever seen."  
   
 Nathan stepped forward at that, his voice going low, "Err, honey?"  
   
 Cynthia turned and gave her partner that same smile, the one that she used to get her way. "Oh, settle down, Nathan. She's heard it a million times already and probably in much ruder ways."  
   
 "Sorry - Erin Lochiel, I should say, and a pleasure to meet you both," she smiled, deciding to encourage whatever might be arising. Her smile widened to a grin, her face taking on a pixie air. "You're right, Cynthia; I've heard just about every variation of 'hey gorgeous' going, but I don't mind frank, honest appreciation. Particularly when it's not expressed in gangsta-speak."  
   
 "As for my sarong," she went on, unconsciously smoothing the silk draped over a richly-bronzed thigh, "I couldn't tell you where it came from originally - though I think," she looked at the red-throated hibiscus pattern on the fabric - "it's probably from Hawaii, originally. It was a gift from a co-worker just before I left, you see."  
   
 Erin picked up a small woven handbag from the pristine sand by her lounger, and stood up. The sun having passed the zenith, her face and front was cast slightly into shadow, and the strong tropical sunlight framed her with a faint nimbus of golden light. She tossed her head to clear an errant lock of hair from her eyes, and the luxuriant mass of living fire rippled, reaching to the small of her back.  
   
 She, for her part, continued to examine this chance-met couple. Cynthia was definitely coming on to her, but was Nathan also? If so, he was doing it in a rather more sophisticated way, playing keep-away-closer, and the combined effect of the blonde's frank attention and Nathan's indirect interest made for an intriguing effect. He was, she realized, much harder under his 'tired-middle-aged-man-having-midlife-crisis' look. The way he held himself, the wiry musculature of his body told her there were as-yet unknown depths to his character and experience. As for Cynthia, she made up for her youth with a refreshing zest and disarmingly direct approach. She, Erin felt, was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted, and was determined to get it - and if that meant dragging her new husband into and out of adventures, well that was just what was going to happen, so he might as well relax and enjoy it.  
   
 "I think I've had enough sun for now," she said, fishing in her bag, "but I just can't get into the idea of *siesta*. Perhaps we could get some lunch together? I'm staying at Casa del Sol..." she trailed off, momentarily hesitant, and then went on. "Can I ask where you're staying?"  
   
 Cynthia giggled softly, leaning toward the taller woman. "Oh, Nathan can. He can get into a siesta like nobody's business. Though I suppose, in his case, it's more like hibernating, isn't it sweetie?"  
   
 There were many things you might call the older man. 'Sweetie' would not make the top one-hundred. Still, his face seemed to light up when she addressed him. It was subtle and you had to be looking for it, but there was a tension about him, a screw that turned, which relaxed under the warmth of her grin. In fact, he seemed to unclench a bit, walking a little closer himself.  
   
 He had some idea what his wife wanted, though, he had no idea it was the sort of thing she would do more than daydream about. He certainly could not fault her taste, and if one was going to spice up a honeymoon, this was certainly the right way to do it. Still, he wondered just how far she would take her little flight of fantasy.   
   
 Surely it would end before the hotel room door, yes?  
   
 Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps it was her husband she was really flirting with. All of this tease, just to make her elder lover blush. Well, it was an easy game to play. Why not see just how far she was willing to take it?  
   
 "Sweet of you to say Erin, but I get the feeling we interrupted your sun bathing. If you really don't mind indulging my wife's little crush, please, let us pay for your lunch." His face brightened up a bit more, enjoying the game, now that he had his own piece in. "The hotel we're staying at has this nice, shaded area where they serve light lunches, cold beers and it has got a couple of fountains, if anyone's in the mood for wishing."  
   
 Cynthia stuck out her tongue. "You just want some shade. And I can see why, your cheeks are beginning to look like Erin's hair." She giggled and reached up, pinching one, before leaning into her husband. Turning back toward Erin, she gave the ravishing beauty an unreadable, yet obviously meaningful, look. "The fountains are wasted, though. I already have my wish."  
   
 The other man winced a bit at the pinch, and then looked down at his wife curiously. Alright then, so lunch with a beautiful stranger it was. If they were going to continue with this game, he could think of less attractive "opponents."   
   
 With a nod, he gestured to Erin and offered to take her bag, "Shall we?"  
   
 *Oh my... this is turning <u>very</u> interesting,* Erin reflected. She read the expression on Cynthia's face, recalled to mind the odd little smile she had worn a few moments ago. *Maybe I wasn't quite quick enough just now... did she see me? Does she know?* Her eyes narrowed slightly, her brow furrowed as she pursued the thought. *If she did... but she's not backing off. Maybe she didn't see anything after all - or else she likes it...?* She shook herself briefly, sending a sinuous ripple down her body, making her breasts sway enticingly.  
   
 "Thank you, Nathan! That's a delightful idea, and a generous offer. If you're both sure I wouldn't be in the way, this being your honeymoon?" She surrendered her handbag to Nathan, accepting his gruff courtliness as they left the beach and started down the promenade. "I need to stop at the del Sol briefly," she mentioned. "I don't think I can really sit down to lunch in this outfit. If you both wouldn't mind waiting, I'll be just a few minutes."  
   
 Erin was as good as her word, reappearing in the hotel lobby within five minutes. Her attire, though covering her more than her sarong, left little to the imagination. She had changed into a short dress of cool, filmy ice-green linen, cut with a moderate v-neck. The skirt of the dress was, at most, mid-thigh - and quite a bit higher in places, being finished in a ragged hem. She had added white stockings in a delicate lace pattern, and silver, high-heeled open-toed sandals.  
   
 "Okay - now I won't frighten horses," she quipped as she rejoined Cynthia and Nathan. She slipped her arm through Nathan's on one side as Cynthia flanked him on the other.  
   
 The trio strolled further down the promenade to Nathan and Cynthia's hotel, chatting. Erin didn't really want to mention work for fear it would somehow find a way to intrude on her holidays, but when asked, she couldn't really just say "Oh, nothing really," so she simply left it that she was a junior software engineer for a British firm that did a fair amount of defence contract work and that she really wasn't at liberty to say much more than that. The friendly give-and-take of their conversation led her into revealing that she was an only child, 23 and single. "It's just... well, it's hard to get involved, for me," she said, feeling that it rather understated her situation. It was nearly impossible for her to get involved with anyone else - not least because of the usual reaction.  
   
 It seemed, though, that there was an odd, electric undercurrent between the three of them, she felt. Though the talk remained light and casual, a subtle tension, an awareness of the couple ran through her thoughts and her nerves, spreading like warming fire through her body. *This*, she realized, *is going to be either very bad... or terrifyingly good.*  
   
 Cynthia squealed when she saw the latest outfit. She twirled her finger in a pointed gesture, teasingly as she leaned hard into her husband. "Oh Erin! You are going to have my husband thinking wicked thoughts all through lunch, wearing something like that. He adores pantyh-"  
   
 "Cynthia!" It was not quite a shout, more of a grunt. With anyone else, anyone other than his wife, it would have come with an implied threat and perhaps a tightening of those corded muscles that were not quite as aged as one might believe.   
   
 With Cynthia, it came out as a bit of a whimper.  
   
 His blonde wife made a little face and giggled. "You worry too much, sweetie. I don't think she's going to tell your friends back home." Even as she teased, she slipped her hand around her husband's back, stroking it lightly. Obviously she loved putting blushes on her stoic husband's face, but she did it with absolute affection for him. "Besides, I am sure there will be time to talk about all of our individual kinks, later on."  
   
 Nathan sighed, consoled. But he took the hint as well. Apparently his wife was looking for more than a nice lunch and a chance to tease her husband a bit. Just how much more, he was not sure. Still, she was right. Erin's outfit was very distracting and the older man could not help but let his eyes drift over it, now and again.  
   
 He enjoyed those long, satin-clad legs of hers. He liked the fit, yet shapely calves that drifted downward to equally feminine, equally beautiful feet. Whatever else happened this afternoon, he now knew what sort of outfit he was going to request Cynthia wear when they were alone.  
   
 That is, assuming they were alone. He looked back to his wife, and then to Erin again. As they chatted about their lives, jobs and upbringing, he could not help but indulge in a little fantasy himself. Whatever would his wife think of watching him, on bended knee, tending to Erin's beautiful toes?  
   
 "Honey?"  
   
 'Wh- what? They're nice, I admit it and-" he coughed, interrupting himself before he stumbled out of daydreaming male and right smack into blithering fool. "That is, what were we talking about?"  
   
 Cynthia's face grew warm and she leaned in, "I was just telling Erin how we met at a conference. You know, *Improving Communication Between Management and Staff*?" She giggled a bit, waiting, as Nathan pulled out a chair for her. "He had gotten into a little trouble for making one of his supervisors cry."  
   
 The little hotel dining area was quite beautiful. Instead of hiding within the dark recesses of the hotel itself, it was out in the open, embracing the surroundings and making use of the architecture as well. The fountains had an Aztec influence, but subtle enough not to seem too costumed or theme-driven. Plenty of shade, plenty of room, couples were all about, sharing meals and enjoying the view.  
   
 More than a handful of those couples were especially sharing the view that was Erin and Cynthia.  
   
 "He was wrong, and besides, I think he was a little sensitive." Nathan scoffed, "I didn't even raise my voice."  
   
 "Oh yes, sensitive. He was ex-military, Nathan." Cynthia rolled her eyes. "At any rate, Nathan's firm decided they had been overlooking this rabid wolf of theirs and perhaps, with a bit of domestication, they could put his talents to good use."  
   
 Nathan sighed, "I was happy with my little cubicle."  
   
 "You were hiding in your little cubicle, that's not the same thing." She stuck out her tongue and crossed one leg over. Nathan, for his part, was carefully pulling out Erin's chair and gesturing for her to settle in at her leisure. "Anyway, he met me, the youngest speaker at the conference. What was my topic again?"  
   
 The older man sighed, though there was a definite fondness to his voice. "*Getting What You Want*. I should have known what I was in for."  
   
 Cynthia leaned back, one foot sliding up and just, ever so slightly, brushing against Erin's own. "Oh honey, you knew exactly what you were in for, and you loved it." Turning back to focus on their beautiful guest, she gave another one of those conspiratorial smile. "Nathan's problem is that, even when he knows what he wants, he holds himself back and lets the opportunity pass him by. That's where I come in. I was not about to let him leave that conference without having a look at my hotel suite. And then, I showed him the other things he wanted to see, but did not quite know how to ask for."  
   
 "So, drinks? Maybe some chips? I know what you'll be having," he eyed his wife, "How about you, Erin?"  
   
 Cynthia only giggled, "I seduced him, married him and now, I keep an eye out for things he might want, without quite being able to come out and say it." Her foot drifted a bit farther up Erin's leg, hidden by the table. "And along the way, I get what I want, too."  
   
 Erin's lips curved in a slow, sensual smile as she nodded agreement with Cynthia. Feeling the blonde's small but perfect toes brushing softly against her legs was having a distinct, marked effect on her; it seemed as if every nerve ending was alive with tension. Her pupils dilated slightly and she locked eyes with Cynthia for the barest fraction of a second.  
   
 "I believe I'd like a pint of bitter to start, please," she said at Nathan's suggestion. She was enjoying this chance encounter more and more with every moment. For all his gruffness, Nathan was carrying off the role of the host perfectly, and she felt herself relaxing mentally as her body responded to the cues of her new friends. "Nathan, could I impose on your hospitality to the extent of lobster and salad?"  
   
 She shifted her long legs slightly. "Cynthia, I was thinking I might just nip into the powder room briefly, before lunch arrives. Could you show me where it is, here?"  
   
 Cynthia broke into a wide smile, before biting on her bottom lip. Her voice came out, a bit of a wet, whimper, before slowly tumbling back to its full and bubbly force. "Why yes, I think we should. It would not do to dine with un-powdered noses, would it?" She looked up to Nathan, "Lobster and salad sounds good too, right dear? You did save up all of your pennies for this trip like a good boy, yes?"  
   
 Snorting, the older man lifted his sunglasses, just looking at his wife. He said nothing, his eyes on her. He could tell from her tone of voice and the bite of her lip that she was terribly excited about... something. Dark eyes took in his wife and his lover, swallowing her up, for just a moment or so.  
   
 The younger woman began to warm under his heady gaze. Her cheeks burst into little blushes and she could not help but clear her throat. "I- I can pay for it, sweetheart."  
   
 Nathan let his sunglasses fall and shook his head, "We'll share the burden, like we share everything else." He smiled her way and then leaned in to whisper to Erin. "She makes about double my salary."  
   
 Getting some of her indomitable spirit back, and apparently having very good hearing, Cynthia retorted, "Which means that technically, the lobster and salad are on me. Which means if anyone deserves a reward for a fine meal, it'll be the cute blonde with the tan."   
   
 With a little sassy sway to her hips, she stood. In what seemed to be half flirt and half rebellion, she stuck her tongue out at her husband, before offering her shoulder to Erin. "Shall we retire to the powder room while the man folk sees to our order?"  
   
 Erin watched the by-play between Nathan and Cynthia; the deep affection they had for each other was evident from the playful teasing. Her seeming bashfulness under his rock-steady gaze told her quite a few things as well; for all that Nathan was content to let his beautiful bride take the lead in many things, she would not ride roughshod over him, nor he over her.  
   
 She followed the petite, bouncy blonde to the ladies' room, watching that pert bottom moving in a complex rhythm. Cynthia was clearly anticipating more than Erin's company for her and Nathan over lunch, and the redhead was becoming more and more excited herself. She glanced downward briefly as the two women entered the ladies'; the filmy, gauze-like material of her dress was pulled tight over the smooth, proud curve of her bosom and two round bumps in the taut fabric made her arousal obvious to anyone who glanced her way. Under the skirt of her dress she could feel herself swelling, threatening to overwhelm her silver lamé panties.  
   
 Fortuitously, the powder room was empty, and Erin quickly flipped the deadbolt as the door closed behind them, to guarantee Cynthia and herself a few moments of privacy. Before things went much further, she needed to be sure of her ground with Nathan's lady.  
   
 "You know, don't you?" she asked, leaning against the door. *No point in beating around the bush*, she had decided. "You saw when I was lying on the lounger." She cocked her head slightly, watching Cynthia's eyes, her stance, the set of her body. "Now you know *why* I'm still single. Men - or women, for that matter - who like girls like me are scarce." She smiled, a wry twist to her lips, her emerald eyes momentarily shadowed. "Not too many of them can cope with me. None that I've met, so far."  
   
 She took a step toward the cocky blonde, held out her hand in mute invitation to her, palm upward. "You saw and you didn't pull yourself away... just how interested are you? And does Nathan know?"  
   
 "What Nathan knows is that his wife may very well be on her way to delivering him the fire-haired, long-legged beauty of his filthiest daydreams." She smiled, her hand sliding into Erin's own. "As least, I think he knows this unconsciously. Consciously, I believe he is playing that game all good little boys play on Christmas Eve, when they wrap themselves up in guilt and fear, trying to deny that they will get any present at all. Fixing on an image of a stocking full of coal, they are really just protecting themselves against possible disappointment."  
   
 "The fear is universal." The blonde gestured, moving just a bit closer. "The guilt is Catholic."  
   
 Closer still, and then, slowly, the spirited fey of a wife began to slide down, "Me? I knew I was going to find someone on this trip. Someone beautiful, tempting, someone I could seduce and wrap up for my Nathan, with a pretty pink bow." As she spoke, she finally settled on her knees, looking up to Erin with a tilt to her head.  
   
 "Some women offer up their virginity on their honeymoon, thinking it a gift worth giving." Her hand slid up, slowly, trailing along Erin's silken stockings. "What they end up giving their husband is a lifetime of doubts, regrets, and never quite being sure that they made the right decision."  
   
 Her hand danced from that firm calf, up, teasing in a slow circle just behind her playmate's knee. "But I knew I had made the right decision. I knew what I was giving up, and I knew what I would not be giving up; not for any man, no matter how much I love him."   
   
 "At least, I thought I knew."  
   
 Cynthia's hand move up, slowly, moving along the edge, where stocking melted into flesh, where hidden, a heated bulge lurked. "Now, I find out that there is something I had never tried; a flavour I had never tasted. How could I possibly be worth the ridiculous amount Nathan spent on my ring, without giving it a lick?"  
   
 The woman's eyes were lidded, bedroom eyes, and her voice had become wet, even needy. "Lift your skirt, Erin. I want to see just how interested I am." Her tongue slipped out, running along her bottom lip, making it glisten. "Then we can talk about what my husband is going to know after tonight."  
   
 Erin's smiling eyes locked with Cynthia's, her lips parted slightly as her breath caught slightly in her throat. "I'm not sure what I find more... enticing... the prospect of fulfilling his fantasies, or discovering yours, Cynthia." Slowly she slid a hand down her stockinged thigh until it rested atop the blonde's, softly tugging her hand so the palm rested against the fabric-covered fleshy mass.  
   
 "The 'flavour' is called 'futanari'," she said, her voice low. She continued holding Cynthia's warm, soft hand cupped under her groin, and lifted the hem of her dress, revealing the panty-shrouded bulge. "Some call us 'dickgirls' or 'shemales', but those terms are, well, imprecise... and unkind," she went on. "Some of us are transgendered; some of us are true hermaphrodites."  
   
 She let the skirt fall again, her face becoming troubled. "Are... are you <u>sure</u> you want to do this, go down this path, not just for yourself, but your husband as well? Even among futanari, I'm... rare." She looked down at Cynthia's beautiful, pixie-like face. "I want to be with you both very, very much, but..."  
   
 "I won't deceive you," she declared. "*This* is what I am." With that, she removed her hand from Cynthia's and with a smooth, sudden movement, slid her silvery panties down to her knees, revealing her true nature. A smooth, hairless scrotum swung between her thighs, two large testes making twin bulges of the fleshy sack. Above it, where one might expect a penis - if one expected a penis at all - was a wide, fleshy protrusion, only three or four inches long, but easily six across... and within its opening, a glistening, wide flange of flesh, a light mottled grey in color. "If you want to back out, I'll understand," she said, bracing for the shudder of horrified revulsion she knew would follow.  
   
 Cynthia's eyes widened, and the blonde woman tumbled backward, onto her heels. A hand flailed back and caught herself before the fall had turned catastrophic. Not once did she allow her gaze to wander from the sight before her. It was everything she could do not to squeal. In fact, the woman had to bite into her bottom lip, hard enough to make it flush red under her girlish lipstick.  
   
 "Oh god, oh god, ooooh Erin!" She groaned, her voice taking on an uncharacteristically solemn tone. It was almost worshipful. Her hands danced upward, along and then under the impossibility before her. "It's real, and it's warm, sooo very warm." She leaned in for a closer look.  
   
 Her painted fingernails danced under it, giving it a little lift, as though trying to guess the weight of it. "I knew I saw something bu- but, I never expected thi-" Cynthia blinked, getting a firm grip on herself as well as the delicious treat before her. "I- I'm sorry, Erin. Here I am, a kid in a candy store, and there you are, all afraid I'm going to reject you or scream or...."  
   
 She simply smiled, as warm and tender a smile as her husband could ever hope to receive. Moving in, the young woman placed a soft kiss along the tip of the mottled grey possibility within, knowing it was nowhere near its fullest potential. Then, playfully, she took her lick, a long and hungry lick.  
   
 "MMmmm, I like futanari flavour," she breathed, her voice full of sinful promise.  
   
 Erin's breath caught in her throat when Cynthia exclaimed and fell back. She could tell right away that the blonde woman was utterly repulsed by the sight - at least she had bitten her lip, kept herself from unconsciously uttering the first shocked, horrified words that leapt to her lips - but she <u>wasn't</u> horrified, the redhead realized. Cynthia's hands were <u>not</u> snatched back in fear of contamination from whatever unholy <u>thing</u> was sprouting from Erin's loins; in fact, those small, warm hands were cradling her, caressing her, and she was leaning closer... then she felt Cynthia's lips brushing against her followed by her tongue caressing, teasing the retracted organ, and she closed her eyes, a soft moan escaping her lips as she slumped against the door.  
   
 "God...," she breathed as she heard Cynthia declare her taste for futa. "Oh... my... god...!" She flexed her legs, trying to spread them further, only to realize she was hobbled at the knees by her panties. Her legs quivered; she felt slow, languid trickles of pleasure run down them from her loins. Through pleasure-slitted eyes she looked down where Cynthia still knelt between her legs, her nimble tongue hovering bare fractions of an inch from the waiting, sheathed organ.  
   
 "Will Nathan be okay with this?" she asked.  
   
 Cynthia simply smiled, looking up at the unique woman, leaning hard against the door, trying to catch a breath that was quickly being stolen away. She noticed that Erin was somewhat caught by those panties at an awkward stretch between her thighs. The blonde liked that, liked the thought of this woman with her enchantingly powerful organ, being caught, even trapped.  
   
 She reached down and pulled the panties a bit more, till they were just around Erin's knees.   
   
 "So very sweet of you to be concerned about my dear Nathan." She moved in and laid a kiss along her companion's inner thigh, brushing her cheek against the organ. Then she turned her face, letting those lips of hers dance over the sheath-like flesh, her breath warm and sinful all about it. "And I can't promise you he will be into this."  
   
 Her fingers moved back up, continuing to stroke along the flesh that hid much of the expected girth. "But if you think I'm leaving this bathroom without at least seeing just how big and plump this beast of yours gets, then you have a lot to learn about me, Erin."  
   
 She looked up, gripping around the flesh, tightening. "I told you, sweetie, I gave up on some things when I said my vows, but not everything. If you are a good girl, I'll tell you about the night I spent with my maid of honour, while Nathan was off with his friends, watching implants jiggle and being bored."  
   
 "I very much want to learn more about you, and about your handsome Nathan," Erin replied in a throaty voice. "I just don't want to... cause a problem between you." She pressed her shoulder blades against the door and arched her back, pushing her hips forward. Cynthia's small, skilled hands on her sheath were waking intense pleasure in her body.  
   
 Under the blonde beauty's ministrations, her equine lady-cock began extending from the fleshy pouch. Within moments the flared glans had emerged followed by five or six inches of glistening penile shaft, with the promise of more to come. The meaty organ was not yet hard, and curved downward in an elegant arch. The skin of the shaft was very smooth and soft, and glistened wetly as more of it slithered out. It was mostly a light grey color, but there were small mottled patches of black and pink skin, including a heart-shaped pink patch on the right, about eight inches behind the wide knob. Her skirt, which had fallen to just below her sheath, was now draped artistically over the sheath and emerging member.  
   
 The redheaded stallion-woman looked down between her firm proud breasts, where her nipples were making distinct tents in the sheer fabric of her dress. She licked her lips in eager anticipation and her hands encircled her sheath, joining Cynthia's in encouraging her proud member to grow. It was drooping down toward her knees now as both women's hands caressed the tapering tube of flesh. Erin hefted the far end of it, began stroking from just behind the flared head down the first twelve inches of stallion, and in a voice husky with desire, encouraged Cynthia to continue working on her sheath and scrotum. "Oh my... please, keep stroking me... make me hard..." she moaned lustily.  
   
 Cynthia chuckled wetly, her eyes up to meet Erin's smouldering orbs, her fingers focused on the heat as it grew between her fingertips. "You let me worry about Nathan, dear. I-" The young woman stopped, blinking as she realized that the beast in her hand had grown far beyond what she could have predicted.  
   
 "Oh god, o- oh fuck, Erin. It- it's magnificent!" She let her eyes slip from tip to hilt as that cock extended, firmed and heated. The shape, she knew, was exotic, but it was the size that made her knees tremble and her bikini bottoms damp. "I- I had no idea this was even possible."  
   
 Erin's words pushed her farther still, leaning in and laying her lips to the side of it. She kissed along the edges, mouthing sensually, giving little suckling kisses. Every tease making it harder, larger, hotter than before, until she could feel the warmth radiating from that sensual flesh against her cheek.  
   
 She looked up to her companion, her excited center dripping. "E- Erin," she squealed, squirming from her position, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. "It's so beautiful but god, oh god, sweetie? I think this would ruin me. I've taken some monsters in my time, bu- but I'm not even sure if I could get my mouth around this."  
   
 Her voice was smaller now, softer, almost child-like. She had been so dominant before, but now, faced with Erin's cock, she felt like a little girl, gasping at the sight of her first cock, and puzzling just how it might fit. Of course, Cynthia had always been that peculiar girl who was eager to figure such things out.  
   
 Now, however, she wondered if she had maybe set her sights a little high. Perhaps it was possible to have eyes bigger than one's stomach. Or, for that matter, one's womb.  
   
 Erin's mouth hung open in a 'O' of desire, her eyes squeezed shut, concentrating on the tactile sensations of Cynthia's warm hands on her firming pole, Cynthia's heated cheek resting against the throbbing mass of muscle. Her hands continued to work the length of her cock as the rest of it emerged from the fleshy pouch, reaching its full twenty-eight inches. The flat flange of her knob was easily four inches across and immediately behind the head, the shaft spanned three inches, though it tapered, widening until the fleshy weapon was a little over four inches across where the slick, glistening mass sprouted from the tanned flesh of her sheath.  
   
 "Magnificent..." she breathed in a sibilant whisper. "I don't think anyone's ever called it that before." Her hands continued to move along her length, stroking vigorously. Thick veins pulsed at its base, carrying her life's blood through the mighty shaft, engorging it as it straightened into a hard, muscular spike, topped with the flat mushroom of her glans. Now that she was fully erect, her ball-sack seemed much more *a propos* to the size of her she-tool, which was unmistakably equine; a thick breeding cock any stallion would be proud to own.  
   
 "You see *why* I haven't had any partners, though." She nodded at the blonde temptress's hesitation. "I don't blame you. At least you haven't run screaming," she chuckled ruefully. "Having you touching me... even that much is much more than I expected."  
   
 "You said you didn't know this was possible," she went on in a surrealistically normal tone. "I've tried to figure it out myself - for obvious reasons I stay the hell away from doctors and hospitals, and I have no idea how Mum managed to birth me without my landing in a zoo - and everything I've been able to find out suggests I'm impossible. Yet here I am."  
   
 Erin pushed herself away from the door, standing straddle-legged, letting her heavy sack swing freely, resting the massive flaring glans on the edge of the sink. "I, um, need to relieve the pressure," she went on, her hands moving quickly now." She looked at Cynthia, a corner of her mouth quirking in a mute invitation. "Your hands felt so good... would you help me?"  
   
 Cynthia chewed on her bottom lip. At least, she tried. She had to stop with a little squeak as the constant pressure, particularly over the past few seconds, had made it rather sore.   
   
 Still on her knees, she watched her would-be-lover move, digesting all Erin had to say. "You - you're unique, Erin. Like nobody I have ever come across before. I'm afraid I can't just let you go that easy. It's just not in me to give up, not on something - not on someone I want." Her hands moved behind her and with a little fiddling, the top of her bikini tumbled down, revealing two absolutely perfect breasts.  
   
 There were bigger breasts out there; Erin's own, in fact. But hers were just the right shape for their size. They had a bounce to them but also accepted gravity's kiss. They were soft and shifted as she shifted, being quite real. The blonde would not have rejected the notion of fake ones, if they had suited her. She never had to make that choice. It was just one more of her little gifts.  
   
 "You can ask Nathan, sweetie." She purred, a hand moving up and brushing her thumb along her right nipple, both of which were hard. "Once I have my heart set on you, it's just about impossible to get away."  
   
 Winking, she slipped, put her hands on the floor and began to crawl toward Erin, feline-like, her round little bottom swaying in the air. "I- I'm trying to figure it all out, trying to see where we can fff- fit together." She moved up, wrapping her arms around the dark-skinned beauty's leg, nuzzling her face against both stocking and warm flesh. "I've tested my limits before, with lovers and toys. And as proud as most guys are of their little breeding stick, most men have no idea what we're capable of. Not when we put our minds to it."  
   
 "Not when it is something we really, really want."  
   
 As she spoke, she moved up, slowly, like a feline stretching upon her favourite scratching post; usually a couch. Her lip trailed along the taller woman's leg while her hand, with a head start, slid up and cupped those finally properly proportioned balls. She pushed at them, teasing, as her body slipped around. Soon, she was on her knees and just under Erin.   
   
 And just under Erin's cock.  
   
 Her features hidden by that shaft, she leaned up, laying her mouth along the underneath, running lips and tongue up, slurping as one might slurp a lolly. A very, very *big* lolly. "Fu- fuck, Erin, I don't want to let you go."  
   
 Cynthia's hands came up, wrapping around the shaft, hugging it to her face while her bared breasts pressed around the cock as well. Up and arched, she writhed underneath Erin's horse shaft, using her upper body to grip and stroke it. Grinding against that sinful heat, she moaned. "I- I want it Erin. Oh god! I need it. Pl- please, let me try... tonight! W- we'll figure out everything else later. I just...." She trailed off, feeling it pulse, its heartbeat; Erin's heartbeat, translated through flesh.  
   
 "Oh god! Mmmm, Erin, let me help you." She groaned, pressing those perfect breasts around the base. "I- I want to see my lover's cock cum."  
   
 Erin's head lolled back and her breath escaped in a hiss of sheer, sinful pleasure. She was exquisitely aware of every sensation along her proud, quivering shaft - even the slight zephyr of Cynthia's breath exhaled against the super-sensitive skin tantalized her, and a wordless groan escaped her lips.  
   
 *She wants me...!* Was the only thought remaining in the redhead's mind; all else was focused on the wicked, skilled lips and tongue working along the underside, moving toward her pulsing knob. "I... I want you, both of you," she ground out between jagged breaths. "Fu—uuck!" she exclaimed as the added warmth of Cynthia's breasts encased her, pressing against the base, against her heavy ball sack. Between those firm, plump mounds and the blonde's busy hands, she knew she couldn't last very much longer.  
   
 "Oh my FUCKING GOD!" Reflexively she bucked, thrusting her hips, the contrast of the sink's cool ceramic where her monstrous knob rested playing against the utterly sinful warmth of Cynthia's quivering tits, her lips, her questing tongue around and against the base of her cock. There was no more time for thought, for doubt - the array of sensations, of cool ceramic, of the welcome warmth of Cynthia's breasts cradling her, of her soft breath, warm lips and skilled, wet tongue; all came together and she knew she couldn't last at all.  
   
 "Yes!!! Yes!!!" she cried out, heedless of who might hear them through the door, through the walls. "For you, Cynthia!" she gasped as she felt the familiar sensation of her balls tightening, cum surging up the length of her cock-pole. Her hips bucked in a primal rhythm, her teeth clenched, and a geyser of white, sticky goo erupted from her pulsing, throbbing stallion-cock. Jets of horse-jizz shot against the mirror, the wall and sink. Her hands slid up just behind the jerking, cum-spewing head, bending the thick fuck-meat down just enough that the next blasts went <u>into</u> the sink rather than behind it.  
   
 Cynthia shuddered, holding on as best she could. She felt that powerful cock come alive between her breasts, jerking and lurching forward like something primal, unchained. She felt the heat of it, the pulse from every vein, and then the rush as the unleashed "dragon" breathed its molten load.  
   
 The spectacle, the sensation of, the bared ferocity, was beyond anything the newlywed had ever witnessed. She had said that Erin was that un-tasted flavour. Now Cynthia knew her for a feast.  
   
 Her inner muscles contracted, her swollen nub throbbed, and without ever once being touched, the blonde's wet petals, blossomed. Or, in less purple and more specific terms, the young woman came. She soaked her bikini and dripped in a sinful dribble that traveled down her thighs and landed in transparent spatters on the bathroom floor.  
   
 It was doubtful that the janitor would notice, not with an entire wall to clean.  
   
 Giddy with delight, she giggled at the thought of the poor hotel staff. She had grown up in poverty, her father breaking his ass to put her through college, and she did her best to succeed, to honour his sacrifice. Still, the idea of someone else having to clean up after her and Erin turned her on in such wicked ways.   
   
 She was a good person at heart, but never let it be said that Cynthia was not sinful.  
   
 She collapsed underneath Erin with a groan, finding the tiles to be terrible, terribly comfortable. Moreover, she found the drips of white, sticky rain a tasty precipitation. "Mmm, oh Erin, sweetie, tell me something." She giggled a bit more, one hand rubbing a bit of left-over cum along her right breast, the other playfully teasing her still-quivering sex. "Was that because you were backed up, or do you always explode like that?"  
   
 Erin panted heavily, her breasts heaving as she brought her breathing back under control. "God, I needed that..." she sighed. Her monstrous tube relaxed, becoming semi-limp, and the flanged head slipped off the edge of the sink, trailing a streamer of spooge, narrowly missing Cynthia's grinning face as it curved out in an arc from the redhead's groin.  
   
 She looked quickly around at the damage and winced. Thick dribbles of pearly jizz oozed down the mirror's face, the wall, and lay in creamy spatters over the hardware of the sink. Most of her load had gone into the sink, but in her haste to correct her aim, she had overcompensated and the drips Cynthia had sampled were from a pair of good-sized spatters on the front edge of the sink.   
   
 Hastily she grabbed handfuls of paper towel and began wiping the evidence from the wall. "Um, so to answer your question," she said as she cleaned up, "I wasn't 'backed up', as you put it, but normally I make a couple of pints." She looked intently down at the bikini-clad blonde sprawled comfortably on the floor, thighs glistening with her sweetness. "That was more than I usually make, but you and Nathan are... inspiring me, I guess." She turned on the tap, sluicing her cream down the sink drain, and giggled softly. "Usually I have a condom to, um, contain things - 'cos I do cum forcefully, no matter how much comes out. But while I've been here, I've been, er, relieving the pressure in the bath in my hotel; I didn't want to think about trying to get horse condoms past Mexican customs!"  
   
 Erin cast a critical eye over the wall and mirror. There were a couple of smears still, and some errant drips on the floor, but at least it didn't look like a cum-bomb had gone off. That, she had decided, wouldn't do at all; the last thing she needed was for one of the hotel staff to go clean the ladies' room and find her cock glaze over everything. She was fairly certain the waitstaff would remember the sultry, petite blonde and the tall, Amazonian redheaded *gringas* as having been the last *senoritas* to use it. Her horse-weapon had retracted back into her prepuce by now, her sack noticeably smaller, having been drained of cum, and she pulled her panties up briskly, concealing her animal sex.  
   
 "Up you come, love," she said as she reached a hand down to Cynthia. "Let's get you cleaned up as well before your man decides to call out the guard." Erin pulled her new-found lover to her feet, then picked her up and sat her on the edge of the sink. "Tsk tsk tsk... completely soaked through," she scolded with a teasing smile. She knelt on one knee, gently spread Cynthia's thighs apart and began licking the glistening trails of her honey with long, loving strokes of her tongue. Her nose twitched as the aroma of excited, dripping woman reached her, growing stronger as she neared Cynthia's bikini-covered treasure.  
   
 The younger, smaller woman, groaned in delight. Leaning, her legs spread, she slid a hand along the back of Erin's head. Her fingers slipped through ringlets of fire. "Well, it would hardly do t- to," she gasped a bit at a particularly pleasurable lick, "to sit down to eat with my husband with aAAahhh ahh a... a dirty snatch."   
   
 She giggled, enjoying the crude lingo.   
   
 "Wo- woOOoh- ould be unsanitary." She gasped, and one of her legs, thinner than Erin's but nicely shaped and graceful, slide around the beautiful woman's back. It curled and pressed her companion into her damp bikini bottom. The fabric felt so thin with all of that accumulated drip. It was practically seeping through, both from the original orgasm, and now Erin's terrible tease.  
   
 "Y- you knOOHww, I- I'm not sure that I'm going to end up cl- cleaner than when we first started." The blonde giggled again, or tried to, before her throat strangled it with a moan. "MMmmm, Erin, you are so much more than that big, thick cock, aren't you?"  
   
 Her fingers tightened in the red-head's hair as she gasped. "B- but I suppose we do have to ge- get mmMmMmph! Get goOOhing," she gasped, becoming quite breathless and the way she gripped her lover with her legs, said that Cynthia was not really in any hurry.   
   
 "Your lobster is probably getting cold by now."  
   
 As she leaned back, twirling an errant lock of crimson between her fingertips, she let her mind and mouth wander. "S- sooo, all out of condoms, huh?" Her expression could be best described as, well, a pout. Apparently, without that massive cock to tame her fantasies, she had again begun to consider the possibility of taking it on.  
   
 The redhead smiled and arched her neck, pressing her head back against Cynthia's hand, enjoying the feeling of her fingers buried deeply in her fiery locks. The sweet, enticing scent of her petite lover's aroused pussy assailed her, filling her senses. "I'm not worried about cold lobster, sweetness," she said softly, her lips the barest fraction of an inch from Cynthia's soaked panties. She exhaled softly, letting her warm breath flow against the blonde's crotch.  
   
 She grinned, feeling the blonde beauty's strong legs wrap around her shoulders. Her tongue flicked out, tasting Cynthia's sweet nectar through the damp, dripping Lycra triangle covering her loins. Her grin grew wider, her tongue pressed against the soaked fabric, pushing the material into the willing, parting flesh, moulding it to the sweet succulent flesh of labia and clit.   
   
 "Mmmmm," she moaned softly into Cynthia's pussy. "so sweet, so juicy..." Eagerly she moved her head slightly, sealing her lips around her lusty lover's mons and began sucking urgently, drawing the tangy nectar out of the damp material, tickling Cynthia's pussy through the thin, stretchy material.  
   
 Several moments later, she lifted her face, slick and shining with girl-honey, and licked her lips as she savoured the intoxicating taste of Cynthia. "No condoms, luv," she confirmed. "I imagine the hotel shop carries regular ones, for the guests, but -" she smiled, "- I don't think they'd do me much good." She looked down at the delicious, inviting sight before her. "Um, and I think we ought to straighten ourselves out and get back out to your Nathan." She leaned down and kissed Cynthia's sweet-flavoured, Lycra-covered treat, a promise that there was more, much more, in store, then rose gracefully to her feet, helping the smaller woman up as well. She spotted Cynthia's bikini top, bent and handed it to her. "Here you go, lover. Just until the three of us can be... private... together."  
   
 Cynthia had a hard time pushing past the veil that separated sensual pleasures from mundane reality.  
   
 It was a little like waking up from an intense, sheet-soaking dream and finding oneself, alone. Even if you had romantic plans that evening, it was hard to push beyond that sexual fog and begin with the morning routine. Usually, Cynthia was better at it, turning on and off as her whims took her. One moment she would be licking her fingers clean of the nectar that came from a co-worker's quivering folds, the next she would be using those same fingers to dial her mother on the phone.  
   
 This time, with this woman, she was still in a daze. That invisible, yet warm fog, wrapped around her body and teased at the edge of sensation as she began to slip back into her bikini. Even that flimsy bit of fabric seemed like such a terrible bit of bondage. It covered her when she only wished to be exposed.  
   
 Still, Erin was right.  
   
 "I- I suppose so." Cynthia sighed and walked over to the mirror, her center aching and the flesh below seemed to be pushing rudely against itself. She reached up and set her hair right, and dampened a paper towel to clean herself up a bit. It was almost ritualistic in a way, putting on the face of a young woman who might have done terribly wicked things in a restroom, but then again, she might have not.  
   
 "I want you Erin," she said, simply, firmly. "I want you bad enough to risk being caught with a foot of that unbelievable cock inside of me." She turned around, her hands up around her arms. "Ju- just be aware that I'm sort of flying without a safety net here. Both Nathan and I have talked about it and we made ourselves ready for this little honeymoon. Ready, you know, in case our hotel gymnastics came with consequences; little-bundle-of-joy sort of consequences."  
   
 Her body shivered, images of a lover impregnating her, dancing just out of reach. "In other words, I'm not protected here. Sss- sooo, if ummm, I find I can take all of that beautiful cock in me, you wou- would have to be careful, understand? " Her cheeks were flush as she spoke. The thought of being bred by that thick stallion cock was a fantasy that would linger, long after the memories of this trip had faded.  
   
 But there was fantasy, and there was reality, and she was finally back in the latter. "Ju- just something to keep in mind." Cynthia could not help but run her tongue along her bottom lip. Reality or not, she was certainly keeping many things in mind and most of them were sinful.  
   
 Still, she gestured toward the door, "Shall we?"  
   
 Erin looked at her, her brow furrowed slightly with concern. "At the risk of sounding bloody nosey, do you mean you two are using condoms only? No pill?" She unconsciously imitated Cynthia, her white teeth chewing her lower lip as she thought things through. "I'll be just as careful as I can, then... because I very definitely want you, Cynthia. I want you, and I want Nathan, too."  
   
 She leaned down to kiss her blonde beauty fervently as she tugged her dress back into place. "I want to fuck you both, and I want you both to fuck me... and I want to spend lots of time with you two, doing nothing else," she said as she broke the kiss, her voice quiet yet vibrantly intense.  
   
 Sighing happily, she unbolted the restroom door and gestured for Cynthia to precede her out as they returned to the table and Nathan.  
   
 Cynthia followed, trying her best not to fall back into the daze that was her new lover's wake. Her lips burned with that fearsome kiss and her ears warmed hearing Erin's desires laid bare. She ignored the middle-aged woman who nearly collided with them on her way to the bathroom. The poor dear had to have been holding it for quite sometime.  
   
 The blonde could not help but wonder what the older woman would think, when she entered into a bathroom that smelled as strongly of sex as any bed ever would. The thought made her giggle. That giggle gave her the strength to pull through the fog once more. Still, she could not help but tease a little bit. "Oh sweetie, we used to use condoms, but not this honeymoon."  
   
 She walked past Erin, turning just long enough to brush her fingertips along the darker woman's arm. "We've already decided that we are ready for the consequences; as ready as anyone can be. I have time off built up, we're both financially stable, and frankly, I think Nathan is hoping it happens. He really isn't the corporate ladder climbing sort."  
   
 Speaking of which, Nathan was sitting at their table, with a half-eaten lobster in front of him, and his second beer inside of him. He knew, or at least, he knew something. He did not need to see the glow about his wife's face, nor the faint, musky scent that wrapped around both women. All he really needed was his watch.  
   
 His wife was not teasing. His wife was not playing any game. She fully intended to satisfy her desires for feminine companionship, regardless of the ring on her finger. Of course, she was happy to share, and her taste was, as always, for the very finest. Still, there was a part of him that had hoped he would be enough for her.   
   
 But there was another part that whispered, "*You knew who she was when you married her. She has never hidden herself, not from you, not from anyone. Isn't that why you love her so*?"   
   
 That part had a point, and its position was further solidified by a very particular part of Nathan, that part which happened to stiffen between his legs, as the women approached.  
   
 Cynthia was beautiful. Erin was beautiful. If his wife really meant for this to happen, why not enjoy it? With that thought in mind, the older man stood up, and before his life partner could offer a single excuse, he brushed his lips across her own. It silenced her, as it often did and she leaned in against him, her fingers sliding down and rubbing against his chest.  
   
 Before she could ask if he missed her, however, he had moved on. He slid to the taller, more imposing woman. He stood before Erin, whose Amazonian frame was larger than his own. He had hardly noticed before, but then again, he had not been considering how to bring her to her knees before, either. His hands moved around her waist, pulling her body to his own. One hand moved up, sliding around the back of her head and he gave a twist.  
   
 If this was judo, and she was an opponent, even being larger would not have saved her. The practiced move would have dropped her to the ground. Afterwards, though, he would not have laid any bets on his chances. He could tell by her sudden grip that she was quite strong. None of that mattered, as he had no intention of letting her fall. He held her, dipped and at the perfect angle.   
   
 There was a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye as he kissed Erin, hard and deep.  
   
 With her legs out from under her, his arms supporting her body, she could not help but feel as though she were flying. His mouth on hers was deep, hungry and passionate. This kiss was no tease. This kiss was no game.  
   
 Cynthia's eyes widened. She remembered that move, like something out of an old movie. She remembered just how light-headed it had made her feel. The young woman could not help but feel a little twinge of jealousy, but she also knew her husband, like she knew herself. The green eyed monster was small and easily squashed. Instead, for once, she allowed herself to enjoy her husband's technique, from a voyeur's perspective.   
   
 An involuntary gasp of surprise escaped Erin's lips as Nathan took her feet out from under her, leaning her back as his lips came down on hers, hot, hungry, and demanding. Her arms flew up instinctively to catch herself, and she realized she had underestimated his wiry strength in her first appraisal of him. Almost instantly, she realized he was supporting her easily, and her arms continued their upward movement, to wrap around his muscular back, her strong, lean fingers digging into his shoulder blades as his tongue probed fiercely into her mouth.  
   
 He tasted like strength, like old-world charm, like solid, rock-steady reliability. She moaned softly into his mouth as she returned his kiss, striving to convey her desire to match his insistent passion. His kiss was not something tender or tentative; it was a statement of what he wanted, and he wanted Erin. Her green eyes locked on his as her answer was made clear: she wanted him, and she wanted Cynthia, and she made no apology at all for her desires. Underscoring her flaring lust, she wrapped one stockinged leg around his, rubbing her calf against his leg as she pulled herself against him.  
   
 A long, timeless span later, by unspoken mutual agreement, they both broke apart simultaneously and she smiled her thanks to him as he gallantly assisted her back to her feet. A glance at the table confirmed her suspicions: she and Cynthia had been rather longer than 'powdering their noses' would have warranted. Going by the intensity of his kisses with both of them, she was quite certain he knew they had been playing, if not exactly <u>how</u> they'd been playing.  
   
 "Thank you, Nathan," she said softly, her thanks taking in far more than his having ordered lunch for her. *Food...* she realized she was ravenously hungry, as well as thirsty. *And I rather think I'm going to need my strength,* she speculated. Grinning at the prospect, she moved to her seat as Cynthia did likewise, and sat down, digging into her lunch with gusto. Everything tasted wonderful, and she realized she was giddy with excitement, riding an euphoric rush such as she had never experienced before. Her eyes sparkled as she watched her new friends - dared she call them lovers yet? Cynthia, certainly... and Nathan very likely - tucking into their lunches. Every bite by Cynthia's perfect, even teeth; every swallow of beer making the cords of muscle in Nathan's neck move under his skin, drew her attention - and more than once she caught them watching her as she ate and drank, fuelling her body for what was to come.  
   
 Most of the meal was spent in that quiet, intimate silence shared by lovers who had slipped past the preliminary flirts. There were fewer games to play now, fewer promises to be made. They were no longer in that state where people talk around what it is they actually want to say. Everything was out in the open, everything had ceased being a potential.   
   
 Now, it was all promise.  
   
 Now was when the forward momentum of enticing a lover stopped. Now was when the backward shift of pondering one's own performance, began. The doubts were becoming personal. For instance, Nathan was worried over his ability to handle both women at once.   
   
 He knew Cynthia would help in that, but ultimately, he would be the only cock in the room. Would it be big enough? Would he be virile enough? Would he have the stamina to last the night? He could hardly hope to keep up with the demands of his ever-hungry wife and she seemed especially ravenous at that moment. Was he fooling himself in thinking he could handle a woman as beautiful and obviously passionate as Erin, as well?  
   
 Even Cynthia, for all of her wild, sensual personality, had her doubts. Well, not really about Nathan. She knew what to expect and though the old dog had recently proven his ability to learn new tricks, she also knew he was a patient and tender lover. At least, he was when she needed him to be.   
   
 Erin, she hardly knew. Erin was sweet, but who was to say what sort of person she might become when the clothes were off and that beast was looking for someplace warm and wet to sink? God, that cock of hers. Oh fuck, that cock. It made her wet and worried in ways she could not even remember feeling. It would hurt, honestly hurt. She knew that much. Would it hurt too much? Would she have to beg Erin to go slow? Would she disappoint?  
   
 She looked back to her husband, back to the man whose every line and curve she had traced with her eyes, her fingers and her lips. She sighed, softly, taking strength from his presence. Cynthia had always felt like she could do anything, that there was nothing, literally nothing beyond her grasp. She was the sort to climb up, ignoring how weak the branches had become underneath, if only so she could reach out and get that little bit of fruit she desired. Then Nathan had come into her life and she found the joy of having someone there, someone she could trust, someone that would catch her if she fell.  
   
 Being who she was, that only made Cynthia want to climb higher than before, to find another piece of fruit; one for her, one for him. The blonde Eve could not help but giggle at the thought. She turned to consider Erin again, taking a sip from her festive glass. How would Nathan react to all of this? Right now, he was expecting most men's secret fantasy. Right now he was thinking legs and toes, and soft breasts and panting, needy lips.   
   
 He had no idea the size of the serpent that was about to invade his little garden.  
   
 It made her feel a little guilty, a little wary as well. She wanted this, needed this, to go well. Tilting her head, she slid her foot forward. She ran it along Erin's calf, soothing, and adoring. Up and down, stroking idly with agile toes. Then, carefully, she guided the red-head's own foot up and over, to brush against Nathan's leg.   
   
 Cynthia hoped her new lover got the message. The devoted wife knew her husband well. She knew where all of his little buttons were, particularly the buttons labelled "stockings" and "toes." If Erin could only press those, he would be much more forgiving of whatever little surprise happened along his way.  
   
 Erin's face wore a soft smile as she ate, but her eyes were slightly vague and unfocussed while she fretted inwardly. Cynthia had said she didn't know how Nathan would react - and the redhead hadn't wanted to press the issue. She had been freaked at before by potential lovers, and there was still a very large, very real possibility this could fall apart.  
   
 For that matter, she wondered, would she be able to please, once the novelty had worn off? Her experience of sex was largely vicarious, obtained through movies, books and the Internet, and the problem was that a lot of it was so contrived, so staged, as to be ludicrous - and she knew she fell into the category of 'ludicrous', herself. Hermaphrodites existed, however rare, but so far as she knew, women like her existed only in the fantasies of anonymous porn writers who didn't have to consider the realities of such things. She could bring shock value to a tryst, but she knew she was woefully inexperienced. Would enthusiasm and her unusual gift make up for it?  
   
 A smooth, seductive pressure against her calf intruded on her awareness, and she realized it was Cynthia's foot. The small, delicate toes pressed against her, warm and inviting, as they stroked gently down the muscles of her leg, and the gentle massage spread a sense of languid relaxation spreading, working up her body. She felt her foot being lifted, her sandal being eased off by Cynthia's foot, then her stocking-clad toes were brushing against a leg - Nathan's, she realized as she felt the wiry musculature against her toes.  
   
 She glanced appreciatively at Cynthia for a split second, then smiled at Nathan from under lowered eyelids. Almost unconsciously she slowly licked her lips, tracing the tip of her tongue around as she worked her de-sandaled foot against his calf, sliding it sensually along, letting him feel the sheer material encasing her legs. Meanwhile, she set her fork down for a moment and let her hand fall to her lap, whence she quickly reached as far as she could without stooping over, tracing two fingers lightly over Cynthia's foot. She hoped fervently that between her response in his arms and the message of her foot on his leg, Nathan would be primed.  
   
 There were certainly parts of the older man that could be said to be primed. In fact, you could have even gone so far as to say, "cocked." His white pants were becoming tighter, and his stoic facade was getting ever more difficult to maintain. Apparently Erin knew, probably informed by his wife, about his little weakness. Though, to be fair, this hardly qualified as simply a weakness.  
   
 He could not imagine any man, or woman for that matter, who would not be turned on by those silken toes of hers, caressing their leg. Her feet were different from his wife's. Cynthia's feet which were smaller, ever graceful and had that softness that came from a woman who had never walked a hard mile in her life, not physically, at least. Erin's feet were somewhat larger, like the rest of her, but still feminine, arching in a lovely way, and powerful. As she stroked him, he could feel it, pressing like a true massage. Agile, sensual toes, that if they got anywhere near his cock, would grip him in a way that would put the water to his lips.  
   
 God, he was so damn hard.  
   
 "Y- you know," he said, offhand, as though telling a joke to his female companions, "Most men like a good foot massage, about as much as most women. But if you asked those men what they really wanted, they'd tell you to massage a wee bit higher."  
   
 Would she get the hint? And if she did, would he manage to get to the elevator before anyone noticed just how badly he would likely stain his pants? Good thing they were already white.  
   
 Cynthia was blushing in an uncharacteristic way. If Nathan had turned to see, he would have likely known why. There were all sorts of romantic and emotional reasons why the couple were together, but no couple survives merely on affection. There had to be heat, both the passionate sort, and the slow, sensual burn. As Erin's fingers brushed along the young woman's foot, the redhead was stumbling upon the latter.  
   
 The blonde's feet were very soft, almost fragile things. They adored being pampered and Nathan was a natural at it. Though he might number their sexual encounters at only two, Cynthia would have added one more to the list. A hard day, a comfy couch, she had put her feet into her fiancé's lap. Without a word exchanged, the older man had rubbed them, tenderly, adoringly. She would never admit this to him, having been far too embarrassed when it had occurred, but she came that day. She had cum merely from the skilful rub of her lover's fingertips.  
   
 Now, as Erin touched her feet, Cynthia could not help but whimper, leaning back in her chair. She slid down a bit and lifted her leg up and over. Her foot rested in the larger woman's lap. The sole of that bare foot, gently stroking Erin's upper thigh, getting gradually more intimate. "Mmm, maybe so, Nathan. But if you have the right touch, I think a woman can be just as happy with that foot rub; especially if her masseuse has soft hands."  
   
 Had anyone lifted the tablecloth, they might have been impressed by the somewhat intricate lines of legs, feet and fingertips. Erin's foot was against Nathan's leg, but he seemed to be coaxing her to raise it higher, to touch him a bit more intimately, if she dared. Cynthia's own leg was up and in Erin's lap, brushing along the Amazonian woman's upper thigh as curious toes seemed to be disappearing under the flame-haired woman's skirt.  
   
 That did not seem to be enough for the blonde, as she slid her other leg up and began to brush it along her husband's upper thigh as well. Nathan blinked and looked, first to his wife, then to Erin. His pale features burst into a reddish blush. He was a proud man, a strong man, a silent man, but if both women slid their sensual feet up against his hardening white bulge, at the same time, he was not quite sure he would be able to maintain his gruff exterior.  
   
 Hell, if they double-teamed him the way it seemed like they might, he could hardly be faulted for an outright howl.  
   
 Cynthia's voice spoke, soft and sweet, yet rarely so wicked as it was at that moment. "What do you think, Erin? Should we take our boy to Heaven?" She licked her bottom lip, winking at her emerald-eyed girlfriend. "We could just leave him to whimper and moan about what could have been. Or we could give him what he obviously wants, under the condition that, when the time comes, he gives us both exactly we want. How does that sound, Nathan?"  
   
 Nathan looked as though he were about to say something. Maybe something defiant, maybe one of his little in-jokes that he shared with his wife and his wife alone. Whatever it was he was going to say, it cut off the moment Cynthia's toes began to tease the right side of his hidden cock. "I- it... sounds like it is up to Erin."  
   
 Erin made a curious sound in her throat, a strange cross between a gasp and a soul-deep moan, stifled a-borning in an effort not to draw attention to their table. Her half-lidded emerald eyes had continued to watch Nathan's face, the set of his body, his hands as she traced her toes slowly, languorously along his leg, but her regard was broken as she felt the slim, delicate foot - it could only be Cynthia's - slip into her lap.  
   
 *Bright Lady in Heaven, she'll make me cum...!* she thought, distracted by the subtle, teasing sensations those beautiful toes were evoking. Cynthia had let herself slip down in her chair very slightly, which positioned her perfectly to work her toes against the bulge of Erin's stallion-member and sack in her panties. Those sweet, sinful toes were moving, pressing, caressing her, and she was only too aware of her body's response to the gentle, insistent massage. *Oh Lord... I <u>can't</u> get hard, not here, in public!* She was all too aware of the pandemonium that would ensue if she sprouted her erection in the restaurant. That was a very real danger; she could feel her balls throbbing and her groin muscles twitching as they built toward extruding her inhuman adornment from her sheath.  
   
 She felt curiously unable to stop things. She <u>knew</u> that if she lifted Cynthia's foot from her lap, Cynthia would understand... yet she did nothing of the sort. In fact, her strong fingers returned the favour, gently working the blonde's perfect little toes with a lover's tenderness, softly squeezing them, then tracing slow, sensual lines along the sole, around the heel and back up around the ankles. It took the form of massage, but as she caressed and kneaded the soft, tender flesh, she knew it for what it was; that she was in fact making love to Cynthia's foot, a token and promise of what she would do with the rest of Cynthia, later.  
   
 She smiled, her lips parted slightly, as she considered Cynthia's statement and Nathan's response. "I think," she answered in a voice husky with intense arousal, "that Nathan is perfectly ready to give us whatever we want..." As she spoke, she lifted her foot higher, letting her toes trail up Nathan's leg. Her attention was consumed by the tactile sensations in her toes, the skin of her feet and legs as they encountered his trousers. She wanted to make him cum in his trousers, she realized, to give him at least the release she and Cynthia had already enjoyed. Emboldened, she lifted her foot further, then lowered it to join Cynthia's foot in his lap.  
   
 "... because I think he's getting what <u>he</u> wants right now," she concluded. Her foot gently caressed Cynthia's, almost as a greeting, a sense of "'morning, neighbour", then slid up his left thigh until she felt the fabric of his trouser crotch - and the rapidly-firming flesh under - against her questing, lascivious toes. Slowly she flexed them, letting him feel the complex interplay of muscles and tendons as her tanned, stocking-covered sole pressed against his groin.  
   
 Erin sighed deeply as she and Cynthia teased Nathan and each other with surreptitious lust. She was taking an awful risk, letting her blonde lover continue to maul her horse-weapon, but it felt too good to pass up, and she was returning the favour with interest; the glow in Cynthia's eyes and something about the part of her lips spoke volumes. Nathan's face spoke volumes as well, promising volumes of something, very soon now, as both women's feet worked against his growing dick and balls.  
   
 On a sudden impulse, the redheaded horse-girl leaned down, picking up the silver high-heeled sandal which she had removed in order to tease Nathan. She quickly cast her eyes around the restaurant, ensuring no-one was looking their way, then brought the footwear up. Her tongue flicked out and she slowly licked up the back, from the base of the stilt to the platform and heel-strap as her warm green eyes moved from one lover to another... then her lips parted, and she sucked on the stilt like a lolly, and smiled wickedly.  
   
 Cynthia was touching them both. Cynthia was being touched by both. She was at their center, she was the fulcrum upon which their hard levers balanced. She loved being in this position, feeling the rush of control, with that sinful shame of having it lost. The young woman adored both cocks with her feet, feeling no pressure to prefer one above the other.  
   
 Granted, it was a complicated affair, with a degree of difficulty that was orders of magnitude above patting one's head and rubbing one's stomach. With her legs spread, her damp center grinding against her chair, she had to switch her attention from one foot (and one cock,) to the other, and then back again. Both of her groaning playmates got their thrills in their own time. Stroking Nathan was a bit easier, since she had help. All she really had to do was apply pressure, give Erin something to push against, while Cynthia's toes danced.  
   
 Erin's cock was trickier, both because her bulge represented something unusual, and because her new lover's fingers were so wickedly attentive. Apparently, the fire-haired goddess could also make a lover cum through massage. It was something Cynthia would have to explore later. For now, she tried her best to keep her attention on giving pleasure, as opposed to receiving it.   
   
 But like any gift worth giving, seeing her lover's response was its own reward.  
   
 She could not remember the last time her sex had stayed this consistently wet, her inner muscles at a near constant shudder. Erin had gotten her so very close to a secondary release, with those sweet, sensual lips. Now those kiss-delivered promises were finally being fulfilled. Moreover, there was something about the way those fingers danced along and between her toes. There was something about the way the lustful woman pressed them, with lidded, emerald eyes.   
   
 Oh god, Erin meant to fuck her, Cynthia realized.  
   
 It might seem like an obvious revelation but only to someone who had not witnessed that godly cock at full gorge. That thing, that wondrous impossible beast; Erin meant to push it inside of Cynthia's body, hard and deep. Fuck, how many times? How often? Wo-would she remember to pull out? What would the young wife do if Erin did not?  
   
 Arms across her chest, squeezing her breasts against herself, she eyed the lustful Amazon; that red-haired, stallion-cocked Gaia who Cynthia had tempted out of her sacred slumber. The blonde watched those wet lips wrap around a silver heel, slurping and teasing. Without warning, the wife's body tensed. What was simply damp, suddenly tumbled into a flood. Her toes tightened about both cocks, just as her internal flesh was doing the same.   
   
 The writhing woman became a knot. Twisted and corded, with a molten center, she gushed into her bikini and leaked into her chair. It was all she could do not to scream. But neither was she entirely silent. There was more than just the one couple nearby who conjured up a familiar scene from *When Harry Met Sally*.  
   
 All of them wanted what she was having.  
   
 Nathan's experience was somewhat different, though no less unhinged. Though he was being treated, pleasured, and would not have traded his place for the richest, most decedent monarch, he was also passive. There really was nothing the older man could do at that point, beyond enjoy. It made him feel both guilty, and adored. As Erin had mentioned, it was everything he could possibly want.  
   
 He had no idea what it is the pair wanted in return. With his wife involved, he knew that there would be a price to pay, whether he enjoyed it or not. It hardly mattered, he was in a state of bliss that few would ever know. Everyone had that fantasy or two, that reoccurring daydream that served to arouse when all others had grown stale or uninteresting. Nathan was experiencing that particular fantasy right then.  
   
 Whatever it was they wanted, he would give them, and still think himself a fine bargain hunter.  
   
 His cock ground between Heaven's brightest pleasures and Hell's most delicious sins. If that was the case, he was pretty sure his wife was the fallen angel, full of whispered temptation. Did that make Erin a Seraphim? She certainly looked it, with the crimson hair and powerful body. Nathan had no idea that between those shapely legs hid a flaming sword to match.   
   
 His own shaft throbbed and pulsed between something silken, strong and agile on left, and something softer, sweeter, more familiar, on the right. As his heated flesh responded to their push and pull, the grip and tug, he shut his eyes and just focused on pure sensation.  
   
 Touch here, press there; a melody of strokes that played above the hard, hungry rhythm of his cock's heart-fuelled bass line. Could he be blamed when he rose his hips up to meet them both? Was it sinful to feel his own inner tightening as that swollen, pleasured member began to rush toward its release?  
   
 Wo- would it feel this good, in the bed, with both women on either side? An angel that made his knees knock, with a sultry succubus whose every promise led him further and deeper into her dark embrace; whatever was a mere mortal to do? That thought almost pushed him over the edge.   
   
 Almost.  
   
 Whatever could be said to comprise that *almost* was there when he opened his eyes. There was sexual, sensual Erin, licking something shaft-like, something long, something hard. That was his *almost*, that was the final barrier. His face clenched, ever so slightly, a tightening at the corners of his lips. That was all one might see.   
   
 It was such a subtle preamble to what was going on below. His cock came alive in his white pants. It leaped and jerked, writhed and pressed. With every press, it found a caressing foot. With every jerk, there was a silken grasp. All of it was frustratingly blunted by the fabric of his trousers. Like a beast thrashing about in a cage, his cock seemed to reach out for those lovely sirens, and as it lashed, it exploded.   
   
 Again and again, his bulbous tip flared, pushing another sticky, molten load of ivory against the walls of its prison. He felt it, splashing against himself, soiling himself, pooling in a sticky flood. "O- oh fuck... fuc- fuck the both of you."  
   
 It was his moan, more than that, it was his prayer.  
   
 Nathan's soft, intense exclamation and the sudden, growing spot of dampness were Erin's cues. She had been eying his partially-drunk bottle of beer as her toes worked with Cynthia's to bring him to the edge, then push him over. She planned to reach for her own glass, 'miss' and knock his beer into his lap.  
   
 As it developed, there was no need for such subterfuge. She felt Cynthia's foot tremble, heard her low-voiced ululation of pleasure, and as her eyes moved to the blonde's face, her hand missed - and knocked her own pint of bitter into Nathan's lap. The dark, strong beer splashed over his shirt and trousers, leaving a brown-tinted patch of damp, neatly hiding the dampness spreading from within. The tumbler bounced once, soaring gracefully over his leg to shatter on the tiled floor. Glass shards flew everywhere.  
   
 "Bloody!" she exclaimed as she dropped her heeled sandal and rose hastily to her feet. She was greatly enjoying Cynthia's attentions to her girl-meat, but dared not let them continue any longer. She could feel a damp spot of her own in her panties, and felt the slow, surf-like surges of pleasure moving through her groin; if she didn't do something very soon, she would start pitching a tent the likes of which the restaurant staff and patrons had never seen. As it was, if they didn't get out of here soon, she'd be showing a tell-tail trail herself.  
   
 "Oh, I <u>am</u> sorry, Nathan!" she went on. She grabbed at a napkin, started dabbing at the spreading stain on his shirt. "Hell's bells... Cynthia, he needs to get changed and get those things soaking before they stain." She looked around quickly, her hair flying in a fiery fan behind her as she tried to spot the nearest waitstaff. She saw one of the staff emerging from the kitchen door, drawn by the sound of breaking glass. "Check, please - *por favor?*"   
   
 Newlyweds with a suite and a room service tab have a bit of pull in just about any hotel. Newlyweds who are obviously about to spend some quality time in their room, even more so. Aroused couples play, aroused couples lounge, aroused couples order drinks and chocolates and pay-per-views.  
   
 A spilled bit of bitter and a fractured tumbler was a bargain, when you thought about it. The wait staff happily saw to the mess, waiving the bill off as a formality. Nathan was having none of it. After untangling himself from Cynthia who was giggling and trying to "clean" her husband with a wet nap from her purse, he pulled out a couple of bills to lay on the table. "Gratuity, if nothing else."  
   
 Cynthia continued to giggle, having moved from her husband, to lean, rather naughtily, against Erin. Her fresh blossomed sex was a sweet musk about her, and that giddy gasp of hers was infectious, as always. "Mmm, look at our man, trying to impress us with a big tip." She looked up to the stallion-endowed beauty. "I can think of other big tips that are even more impressive."  
   
 Her husband arched an eyebrow. He had seen his wife get this way before, a sort of sexual inebriation. She was probably not all that far from removing her top, claiming her bikini was "stifling." He tossed another apology to the young man with the hand broom and the dustpan. The apology was appreciated, the twenty dollar bill that came with it, even more so. With everything settled, and an aroused Cynthia to handle, he herded the pair into the nearest elevator.  
   
 His wife was still leaning, even grinding, hard against Erin, purring in that way that made both men and women lose their will to resist. "Mmm, I think we're going up, sweetie. I think Nathan is all excited. I think you're about to see our suite." She pressed herself a bit closer to the larger woman, with hungry eyes. "Won't that be sweet? Will you be sweet? Mmm, I love sweets."  
   
 Her husband gazed at Erin, having removed his sunglasses. He wanted to apologize to her for his wife's little afterglow buzz. He wanted to thank her for his own. More so, at that moment, he could not help but wish he were a woman, particularly one as free-willed and sensual as his wife. Standing on her tip-toes and pressing her breasts to Erin's own; it looked like a lot of fun. "I think you are stuck on that word, honey."  
   
 Cynthia giggled, turning around, pressing her round little bottom against her companion's front. "Honey is sweet too. I like honey, when it's nice and warm, and dripping into my mouth." Her eyes closed, hands moving up, feeling the lurch of the elevator, and giving out a groan as it did so. "Oooh yes, I like honey quite a bit."  
   
 The older man found himself enjoying his wife's somewhat shameful display. Besides, in this elevator, who was there to see, or be ashamed? Surely Erin could care less. He could feel himself getting somewhat stiff again, in a near puddle of his own mess. Like his wife, it provided a musky scent, with just a hint of lager. "Eh, I'm a mess. I should probably get a shower."  
   
 Cynthia cooed, "I like the way you smell honey, it's oh so very sweet." This prompted a few more giggles, and a harder, more focused grind of her body. "But a shower is a wonderful idea. Gives Erin and me a chance to get the hot tub bubbling."  
   
 Nathan looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Erin and I, you mean. And do you really think I am going to leave the pair of you alone, again?"  
   
 The blonde closed her eyes, beginning to sway and humming to herself as she teased the more-than-woman behind her. "Why yes, yes I do. One, because you currently owe us, and two, because it's a nice hot tub and we don't want to get it all icky, now do we?"  
   
 Her husband sighed, watching the numbers disappear, the door slowly open. "We talked about this, Cynthia. There is no trying to get even in a marriage. If you start counting up who did what and when, things get forgotten, people get hurt." He pressed the door button, keeping it open, so that his lovely companions could walk out at their leisure.   
   
 "Oh silly, that's true for dish-washing and taking out the trash. This is just a wee bit different." Her hand reached back, gently taking hold of Erin's wrist. "Besides, it is not the same as before. You are taking the shower, you are the one who decides how long to take, you are in control." She wrinkled her nose up cutely. "Just think, love, you might catch us in a compromising position."  
   
 Erin's nostrils flared as Cynthia's musk teased her. The blonde temptress had maintained a steady stream of sly innuendos and double-entendres as they left the restaurant, and during the ride up in the elevator. The pressure of her rump against the redhead's groin only exacerbated her lust, and she moved against that sweet, enticing pressure.  
   
 Cynthia's behaviour, she realized with a sudden insight, was like an addict. She needed sex, craved it the way an addict craved the next fix, and for a moment she felt a brief resentment. She didn't want to be something consumed by Cynthia. *That's not fair,* she told herself. *Cynthia doesn't just take, to start with*. This was undeniably true. Addicts sucked in from their surroundings, like a black hole. Cynthia was a connoisseuse of sex, without a doubt, but the frenetic energy she radiated, the way she teased and tantalized... no, she was not a user. She gave just as much as she took. There were similarities of need, but that was as far as it went.  
   
 That analogy, though, did go far to accounting for her current giddy recklessness. Like Nathan, Erin realized the pert, petite blonde was a short inch away from stripping down in public. One part of the stallion-girl wanted that very badly, wanted to see her newfound lover misbehaving, setting the resort abuzz. Another part of her, the pragmatic, sensible part, pointed out that such behaviour would only draw unwelcome attention and probably a stay in the local lock-up.  
   
 Nevertheless, she thrilled to Cynthia's naughty behaviour and her body responded in kind. Since they were now safely in the elevator, she welcomed the warm, sensual body grinding against her groin, resting her hand on the smooth swell of the blonde woman's hip. She knew Nathan was watching them tease each other, was enjoying the sight even if he wasn't quite prepared to admit it consciously. It was, she reflected briefly, probably a good idea he didn't know her true nature just yet; she wasn't sure he would relish the prospect of being cuckolded by a prick-equipped woman - and she fully intended to cuckold him, several times.  
   
 The problem was her girl-cock; Cynthia's foot treatment has roused her quiescent member. At least now she was in no danger of causing a riot in the restaurant, but her insistent organ was starting to emerge and the broad, flat head was pressing with increasing force against the taut fabric of her underwear. *I hope Nathan plans to go right into the shower,* she thought, increasingly distracted by the firm, round globes pressing against her crotch. She was glad of Cynthia's warm, enticing presence; at least it concealed the nascent tent she was sure she was already pitching. *Cynthia and I need to work off some steam!*  
   
 She followed Cynthia closely, letting Nathan bring up the rear. So intent was she on the prospect of pleasuring her blonde companion, and being pleasured in turn, she nearly ran Cynthia over when she stopped at a door, fishing in her bag for her keycard. Her legs trembled slightly, and she bit her lip as the thought of what awaited her, the heaven-sent opportunity which had brought her to this point, with this couple. Scenes of pleasure and lust played in the theatre of her mind - Cynthia riding her monstrous pole while Nathan watched, both horrified and aroused, masturbating himself urgently... Nathan topping her, his cock plunging into her cunt, his pubic bone mashing her balls against her thick, erect cock... Nathan caressing her stockinged legs, kissing her feet while she slurped eagerly at Cynthia's flowing fountain... The erotic, sensual vistas playing in her mind accompanied her rising pleasure, and little shocks of pleasure built one upon the other, spreading through her body.  
   
 Suddenly she felt dampness between her legs as repeated jolts seemed to fire her loins. Her own musk wafted to her nostrils as she came, her pussy flooding, soaking her panties. She could feel her horse-member, her balls throbbing as well, and from the size of the damp patch, she knew pre was leaking from her stallion cock as well. *Please*, she prayed silently, *let him go for a shower straightaway...!*  
   
 The door unlocked with a muffled 'click' and Erin's eyes widened as she followed Cynthia into the palatial suite...

**Act 2 - "Won't You Come Into My Parlour...?"**

 The newlywed's suite had taken an exotic approach to luxury. Instead of compartmentalizing, it was largely spread out with few actual walls to split up the space. Less an apartment, more of a loft, the central theme seemed to be light, air and view. Most of the wall was window, a thick glass gazing out onto the beaches below.   
   
 Just outside, a tiled ledge following the same subtle Aztec theme, lead to a hot tub which was less than subtle. It was fed by a gape-mouthed spectre of a civilization, long since past. It was deep, surrounded by local flora, and could seat eight in a pinch; big enough for a small party, not so large as to lose intimacy.  
   
 The inside was dominated by a massive bed, semi-circular in design. The selling point being the lush cushions, and the ability to approach it from just about anywhere and slide oneself toward the warm center. Only the back was guarded, the headboard having a solar image with a mysterious, archaic face at its center. Behind that was a large mirror that could be covered or revealed, depending on whether the occupants wanted to view themselves or not. Moreover, at night, it would reflect the open view, giving a couple the feeling of being surrounded by starlight.  
   
 The kitchen was small, serviceable and seemed designed most prominently as a temporary bar for wedding parties. Opposite of it, a wall-mounted TV hung, with a shelf underneath that held a keyboard for web surfing, a console for noob pwning, and a cable box for pay-per-viewing. The movies available featured all genres, but the erotic, most of all.   
   
 Without many walls, the structure was broken up by columns etched with more of the Aztec decor, though an expert might quibble over influences from all about Mesoamerica. They were nice for sliding around, running your fingers along and leaning against while watching a lover undress. Matching them was the furniture, lacquered to appear as either stonework or exotically alive.   
   
 Cynthia probably had those filled with all manner of outfits and toys, despite Nathan's protests that they should "travel light."  
   
 Finally, there were sofas and love seats scattered about, where people could chat, lounge, or make love. They were all arranged so that the bed was ever the focus. Apparently, the entire room was designed to be a voyeur's delight. A couple could hold court on that bed, while their friends and lovers paid their respects with lustful glances and the shedding of cumbersome clothes.  
   
 Nathan turned to Erin with a bit of shrug, as though to say, "Not the room I had in mind, but eh, it makes her happy." His body slid behind and then past the pair. "Alright then, shower it is." He allowed himself a bit of a grin. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."  
   
 If only he knew.  
   
 The giddy, aroused blonde found that terribly amusing, "Oh sweetie, we plan on doing exactly what it is you would do. In fact, you might just be surprised how many of your fantasies we live out here."  
   
 Nathan grunted, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, remember what I bring to the party, alright? So don't wear one another out before I get there. I didn't come all the way up here just to watch."  
   
 As he spoke, the older man began to strip. Perhaps it was in response to Cynthia, perhaps he simply wanted to underline his point. Whatever the case, he slipped out of his shirt, revealing his strong, though not sculpted, chest. It was not a body builder's body, nor a model's. It was more the body of a man accustomed to work. Without a plow or barn to raise, he had kept himself fit at the gym and on the streets. There was a solidness to his shape, an honesty to his form. The Greeks might have passed it over as less than ideal, but the Romans would have admired the rugged power it displayed.  
   
 This was a man who could tend to his fields, after months away at war.  
   
 Following his shirt came the pants, which he dropped, just before the shower door. Whether teasing or not, he still had a sense of shame and was not one to strut. Instead, there was a glimpse, a glimpse of powerful legs, rock hard calves, and the hint of the head of his cock. It was the same cock which Erin's foot had so thoroughly caressed. Apparently, it still held a lingering excitement from her touch.   
   
 Or else it was anticipating the touches to come.  
   
 "Mmm mmm, a girl can't see a sight like that, and not get a mind for dirty things, can she, Erin?" Cynthia's hands gently slid around her tanned lover's elbow. "Shall we head out to the hot tub, and see what we can do about all of this heat and bother?"  
   
 Erin nodded, still somewhat stunned by the appointments of the suite. It was obvious to the meanest intelligence - and hers was far from meanest - that this was meant as a love-nest, a place for lovers to play, discover, explore, with friends and without. Her eyes, drawn by motion, moved to Nathan as he stripped down, and she felt herself heating even more as his well-muscled body was revealed. It was the honest assurance and simple economy of motion that aroused her as well; no posing, no ego-trip needed for him. He was content with who he was and what he had achieved in life.  
   
 Cynthia's voice drew her gaze back and her eyes devoured her blonde lover's sweetly curved form. "I'd like that, a lot," she replied to the question as Nathan disappeared into the bathroom, which on its own appeared to be as large as her own rather more modest accommodation at the del Sol. Without further ado she stripped her short, filmy dress off, needing to free herself of restriction and encumbrance, and as she undressed she stepped close to the sultry blonde. Her fingers moved to the closure of her brassiere, eager to free herself from its confines.  
   
 She should have removed her panties first, though; her body had been responding to Cynthia's wicked, lustful teasing and the front of her silver underwear stood out as her girlcock swelled, placing the fabric under increasing strain. Dampened in the elevator by the nectar flooding from her girl's sex and the pre from her proud, thick weapon, the material gave way with a soggy ripping sound. Her growing shaft pushed through the destroyed garment, and the material framed her smooth, hairless sack. The now-useless underwear slipped down, the tatters sticking wetly to her inner thighs, which glistened with runnels of girl-honey. Growing like some obscene, fleshy tree rooted in her groin, Erin's horse-cock extruded further from her sheath, dripping pre.  
   
 Seemingly oblivious to the ruined undergarment adorning her smooth, bronzed hips, she slipped her arms around her petite, enchanting lover, easily lifting her in her arms. "You bother me a *lot*," she whispered, her face turned down, her lips seeking Cynthia's. "You're driving me absolutely mad, love, and I need you in the worst way." Her hungry, questing mouth came down on Cynthia's and her fingers gently, insistently pulled the scanty bikini top aside, curving around the blonde's full, firm breast. Desire and lust flamed within her, and she knew she desperately needed to thrust herself within Cynthia's welcoming warmth, needed to see and feel and hear and smell her blonde beauty filled with throbbing, powerful horse-cock.  
   
 Her burgeoning, pre-leaking cock bouncing against Cynthia's pert bum, she carried her sweet burden over the threshold onto the tiled patio and the waiting hot tub. "I need you in *every* worst way... and as soon as Nathan's cleaned up, I want you both in all *kinds* of ways."  
   
 Cynthia squealed, though she bit the sound off, muffling her response into a high pitched whimper. She hardly minded if her husband heard them or not, but she did not want to provide an excuse for him to come out too soon. First, there was much she wanted to do, much Erin, apparently, wanted to do.   
   
 Still, she loved the idea of her husband knowing that something was going on out here, though ignorant of the exact nature of their bliss. Cynthia adored the idea of him lathering up that sturdy cock of his, while thinking about all the wicked things his wife and her lover were getting up to. It reminded her of a little game she used to play when they were still just strangers who had gotten frisky at a conference "that one night." The poor man was trying to move on with his day to day, forget the most amazing sex he had ever had, and she simply would not leave him alone.   
   
 Often, he would come home to an answering machine filled with a lustful voice, moaning as a playmate did such sinful things to her. "Guess," she would say. Nothing more, just "guess." It would be days before he started calling back, and a week more before he got up the nerve to actually play. His first guess had been wrong. His playmate's new lover was a woman, and she had been biting hard on Cynthia's left nipple.  
   
 He got better at it, much better. Soon, he not only knew where his tormentor was being licked, bitten or probed, but her partner's gender as well. He tried to play it off as something silly he did, just to amuse her. But she knew he was getting into it. Why? Because she also had a good ear, and she knew when her lover-to-be was stroking himself in response. Her second favourite session was when he came, accidentally, while trying to figure out if it was a man's or woman's tongue sinking into Cynthia's tight little rear.  
   
 Her most favourite, however, was when he could not guess at all. As far as he could tell, there was nobody with her, though she sounded as breathless and aroused as he had ever heard her. That was when the knock on the door came, echoed by his phone. She had closed her cell with a snap, pushed him inside, and after that, there was hardly a point in guessing, anymore.  
   
 God, wouldn't this moment be perfect for their old play? Surely the noises Erin made would make for some confusion. Could he possibly guess? Would he even imagine? Cynthia could hardly believe it herself. She clung to the beautiful and bare Amazon, feeling every bit the bashful bride that she could not quite manage when dressed all in white.  
   
 "You are so sweet." Cynthia leaned in, nuzzling at a breast; larger, deeper shaded than her own. "You keep mentioning him, keep assuring me, so that I don't feel guilty, huh?" She returned that kiss, melting in it, melting in lips more lush and powerful than any she had ever kissed. She was no virgin to another woman's lips, but something about Erin made it all feel so new.  
   
 She gave out a squeak when that hard, hungry cock slapped against her bottom. A safe squeak, now that they were outside and nearing the tub. Fuck, that cock had ripped apart her lover's panties so effortlessly. Whatever could it do to her? "NNnng, Er- Erin, yo- you really wan- want to put that in me, do- don't you?"  
   
 Cynthia shuddered, thinking about it. In that tremble, she mixed delight and dread, apprehension and anticipation. "Oh fu- ck!" Pinching the last kay sound off, she let her eyes wander. With a finely manicured nail, she pointed to a basket filled with scented oils, lotions and *other*. "Y- you might wan- want to try some of the ummm, purple stuff. I- it's supposed to be really good."  
   
 Only the bottle was purple, and it was supposed to be quite good, in fact. The fresh bottle was filled with a translucent goop that could turn the bumpiest bit of vegetable matter into a slick, sensual slide. It came recommended by animal breeders, in fact. If the back of the bottle was not simply hyperbole, the substance was originally designed to breed smaller mares with larger, troublesome stallions.  
   
 "S- sort of fitting, do- don't you think?" She giggled nervously, wetly, looking up into her lover's emerald eyes. "J-just the thing to slide i- in. And out, of course." The blonde continued, eyes low and lidded. "Y- you remember what we talked about, ri- right?"  
   
 When was the last time she was this nervous? When was the last time she questioned her ability to perform, or an organ to even fit? When last had her heart flutter and her words, stutter? "Oh Erin," she gasped, reaching up, fingers curling in crimson chains, "Whatever are you doing to me?"  
   
 Erin gently lowered her lover down onto the edge of the hot tub and prised Cynthia's arms from around her neck. Her eyes were brilliant, their green depths churning with a strange intensity as she loomed over the smaller woman. Her fiery hair moved as if possessed of its own life as the blonde's hands moved, buried in their luxuriant mass. In that moment, she seemed a primal force of nature, some elemental, wild creature unshackled, let loose on an unsuspecting world. Her hand reached for her ripely curved hips, stripping the destroyed remnants of her panties off, leaving her bare but for her stockings.  
   
 She fixed her eyes on Cynthia's as her strong, tanned fingers curled around the thin ties keeping the triangle of Lycra in place over the now-apprehensive blonde's mons. Those fingers tightened as she replied, "I want to fuck you, Cynthia. I want to feel you around my cock, gripping me with all your strength." She yanked suddenly, tearing the flimsy garment away, leaving her lover completely naked.  
   
 "No-one has ever... wakened me as you have," Erin went on, her voice thick with emotion. Lust was there, desire, a primal hunger that sought to be fed, that *would* feed upon Cynthia and whomever else it needed to be sated - Nathan, chambermaid, whomever struck her fancy. "I... *need* you." She took Cynthia's legs in her hands, spreading them, opening her wide to reveal the pink, moist treasure of her sex. Strength was in those hands, fuelled by an inferno of lust boiling up from her loins, barely held in check by a thin veneer of control.  
   
 She reached for the purple bottle, poured a generous measure of its contents onto Cynthia's silk-smooth belly, drizzling it like a fine sauce over her mound, across the labia peeking from within her outer lips. "Mares and stallions... hmm. This should work just fine, then... though it makes you the mare," she crooned as she began to rub the thick, viscous ointment into the skin around Cynthia's pouting pussy. Her hands worked the strangely-scented lotion, massaging it into her lover's skin. Two fingers scooped an errant trickle that had started to ooze down the soft curve of her waist, then probed gently between the siren-woman's lips, softly but insistently opening her, readying her.  
   
 Erin's face was a study in rapt concentration as she lavished her single-minded attention on Cynthia's body, her focus fixed on the blonde's wet, needy sex and her consuming need to fill her partner with her monstrous, straining fuck-pole. Her green eyes intent on her work, she continued rubbing, massaging, then turned her hands to tweaking and teasing, seeking to arouse and excite even further.  
   
 "Just the thing indeed, pretty Cynthia," she purred as she poured more of the viscous goo over the length of her quiveringly erect horse-cock. One hand thrust between her legs, she began stroking herself, rubbing the lotion onto her glistening shaft, and lowered herself toward her lover. "I do remember what we talked about," she went on, her hands cupping the firm, tanned breasts adorning Cynthia's petite frame. They were the perfect size, fitting into Erin's palms as if made to her measure. Her fingers closed around the hard, pebbled nubs of darker flesh in their centers, squeezing gently between thumbs and fingers. Her voice trailed off, not hesitantly, but... preoccupied.   
   
 "Don't fight it... don't fight me," she whispered into Cynthia's ear. "I'm doing what you want, what we both want." Her lips parted with a gentle exhalation of breath and she flicked her tongue out, caressing the blonde's ear. Her hips started to rock slowly, sliding her mighty shaft, now anointed with that thick lubricating cream, against Cynthia's mound, caressing her with horse-flesh in slow, powerful strokes. That terrific length slid up her skin until the flared knob brushed the blonde's breasts while the redhead's thick meaty sack pressed against her groin, a promise of what was to come.  
   
 Cynthia was roiling within. Her entire core had become molten, and like any good pool of magma, it was applying liquid pressure throughout her body. The lubricant did little to soothe that pressure, or snuff the internal flames. It puddled about her, dripped from her flesh and then, was pushed back within by attentive fingertips. She tightened, her sex gripping and suckling on those intruding fingers, trying to stave off the forthcoming eruption.  
   
 She was honestly afraid of it, afraid that once she let go, her collapse would be total, absolute. Where her nectar flowed, surely her will would follow. Cynthia knew, as her lover's voice became sweet, sultry rapture, that she was no longer in control.  
   
 Was she ever in control? Had she been bewitched this entire time? She looked, weak and small, into those bright, coaxing eyes. Oh god, Erin, why do you have to be so good at this?  
   
 It was simply unfair for the scarlet vixen to be that beautiful, that sensual, with an exotic nature and a wit to match. More over, it was unfair for her to stand on the apex of so many pinnacles of feminine beauty, while also being so wickedly hung. She was like a Petrarchan ideal made flesh. But god, what flesh, what sinful flesh and blood. There was no wisp to her, no unnatural perfection. It was real, it was warm, it was a lived-in sensuality that came from a life filled with all of the joys and misfortune that came between the cradle and the grave.  
   
 That was what took Cynthia's breath away. Not that she was so damn beautiful, but that Erin was so fiercely, independently real. The rest of the world looked just a bit greyer around the edges, for her presence. *Godamn it, girl, snap out of it*! *She is just another woman; a pretty one, a sexy one and she's got something special, no doubt, but you aren't one to fall to your knees! Reach out! Grab that cock of hers! Tell her that you will make it your own.*  
   
 Cynthia tried to focus on that flesh, as it ground lewdly between her legs, as it slapped harshly between her breasts, scattering freshly applied lube to either side. Sh- she just could not. Maybe it was Erin's size. Maybe it was Erin's command. Whatever the case, all she could manage was a simpering mewl, while below, her sex began to practically drool in anticipation.  
   
 The young blonde was not much for religion. That had always been Nathan's forte. She had certainly never bought into the concept of "made in our image." This once though, with a bared goddess before her, and that magnificent cock, pulsing with unsheathed desires, she could believe. If God was such a thing to have a face and form, Cynthia could think of no better evidence than the flame-haired seraphim before her.  
   
 Cynthia's inchoate, mewling whimper conveyed her fear mixed with utter need, and Erin responded to that animalistic noise with her own urgency. Her fingers flexed around the blonde seductress's pert, kissable breasts, kneading the soft flesh as they swelled with her mounting arousal. The redhead lowered her face to them, brushing her smooth, tanned cheek against the rapidly-hardening nubs of flesh, letting the locks of gilded fire that tumbled about her heart-shaped face brush like an angel's kiss over Cynthia's nipples with silken traces, teasing and tantalizing her.  
   
 Hungry to taste the alluring enchantress under her, Erin's lips brushed her lover's neck lightly as she moved down the quivering woman, drawing her sinful tongue along Cynthia's neck, across her collarbone and down between the two sensitive mounds. As she nuzzled and licked her way over the delightful curve of breast and nipple, she let her hands slide around the blonde's back, relishing the feel of her golden locks brushing, tickling her hands.  
   
 The stallion-woman moaned again, louder, her voice freighted with desire and arousal, and... possession? Certainly her arms curled the more tightly around her lover as she continued to suckle, working Cynthia's breasts with lips, teeth and tongue, catching her nipples between her teeth as she bit down just enough that her lover could feel the pressure, just a hair away from pain. Certainly her legs, straddling Cynthia's hips, closed on her ever so slightly as she continued to masturbate the blonde's dripping pussy with her heavy ball sack, rubbing her enormous equine cock against the velvety smoothness of mons and abdomen, and added the sensation of her questing, throbbing cock-knob sliding against the smooth curve of Cynthia's tit-flesh to the heady mix of stimulation.  
   
 "...Cynthia...!" she ground out, her eyes closed, her hands pulling her lover closer. Every nerve-end was quivering, alert, flooding her with sensation as Cynthia writhed under her. She was exquisitely aware of her petite partner's pussy, dripping, juicy as a fresh, ripe peach, pressing, rubbing against the smooth, hairless skin of her scrotum, swollen with need and lust as her testes churned, producing prodigious amounts of semen. Primal need drove her now, and the instinctual reaction of her body was to ready itself, prepare for the moment when her massive horse-dong would plunge into Cynthia's wet, willing sex until she orgasmed and emptied her balls of their quarts of thick, steaming jizz. The sheer, sensual pleasure of Cynthia's nether lips kissing, sucking at the lust-maddened flesh of her sack was matched in intensity by the heady feel of smooth, velvety skin against the lotion-smeared, pre-cum-dripping monster rooted in her groin and now stroking along the length of the blonde's quivering lustful body.  
   
 The possibility of Nathan catching them in this most *flagrante* of *delicto* hovered distantly in the back of Erin's mind, but if anything, it only served to fuel her arousal as she crouched over her tempting, alluring lover, humping her flesh-log against the silky-smooth skin. She wanted Cynthia to come, to squeal, shout, scream with lust, to feel that petite, athletic frame under her shaking with pleasure from repeated orgasms, surrendering herself to the redheaded more-than-woman... and then she would grant Cynthia the boon she craved, give her the gift of her mighty cock.  
   
 The thick, mottled cock pressed against Cynthia's flesh, searing her edges like a newly forged sword, desperate for quench. It pulsed as it shuddered, slick with lube and that delight that can only come when all shame has been discarded. This was not a shaft that had to hide under skirts, strain against panties or pantyhose, a dirty secret that was only allowed a peek from beneath a sun-bather's sarong. This was flesh unbound, unbridled, allowed to trot and flare its nostrils, drinking in the scent of the whimpering mare underneath. The flat of it pushed and idly slapped against the young woman's face.  
   
 Cynthia whimpered, feeling aroused and a curious sensation, much like... humiliation. It was a rare sense to have. She was the sort of woman who indulged herself and through her indulgence, others came to their own satisfaction. Men did not slap her cheeks with their cocks, they did not dare enter her from any entrance she did not make available, and they certainly did not grind their filthy balls against her nice, nectar-laden mound. Even Nathan knew where the boundaries lie, knew where he could push, where she would bend, and where she would turn around and break.   
   
 The blonde could be on her knees, smiling up to you with a white tear crawling down her cheek, and somehow you would know that the sticky substance clung only at her pleasure.  
   
 Now, however, she was lost. Now she was tumbling. Now, for once, she felt the tug of a leash from the collared's perspective. She was no slut, no whore; not for any man, nor any woman. But for Erin, she just might be a bottom. For Erin, she might just find enjoyment in sinful disgrace. For Erin, she just might tremble on her knees.  
   
 Cynthia had never been so vulnerable, nor so much in abject, shameful need. It was beyond humiliating. It was absolute loss of control. It was her body, begging, and as it begged, so too did the young bride. She found herself, not only being used, but grinding as well, pressing up against that beast, pleading with it for release. Her lust for Erin did not quite eclipse her love for the older man in the shower, but she would have been a liar had she said they were not similar in strength or in ability to move her, heart and soul.  
   
 The young blond was many things, but a liar, particularly when it came to matters of need, and want? Never. "SsssSssffffuck! Oh, Erin, ooh god, it's so big. It-it's so beautiful. I can feel your heart beat, through it... p- please, do- don't make me beg! Don't make me whimper- whimper? I- I don't want Nath- Nathan to hear."  
   
 She mewled and gasped, her body grinding as she spoke. Her breasts wrapped along the sides of it, slick and sinful, with all of that lube. Her upper body arched, her face, now coaxing the cock in its slaps. She was wanton now, her sex on absolute fire. Cynthia felt there was nothing, absolutely nothing she would not do to get that cock deep inside of her.  
   
 As long as she did not cry out, as long as her husband did not hear, as long as her breath held a hushed chastity, her lips were free to scatter all vows to the wind and kiss them as they slid by.   
   
 Again, Erin's cock made contact with her face. This time, Cynthia did not shy away. This time, she simply leaned forward, tongue extended, and gently lifted the pearl that her lover had been sweet enough to offer. When the flavour tumbled down her throat, when she nearly choked on just how rich and thick it all was, her heat began to blossom. When her throat tightened, working the syrup-like-seed, down to a waiting belly, the tunnel to her womb spread. It shuddered and then, writhed against itself.  
   
 Was she cumming? Oh god, was she really cumming so soon? Would she even have a voice to guide her magnificent stallion once the crashing waves within battered her free of all restraint? Did she care? "Oooh ErinNNnNn!"  
   
 "Won't... make you beg..." she replied in a low, throbbing voice, raising her mouth from Cynthia's breasts, both now glistening with saliva and the pre which leaked copiously from the end of her steel-hard horse-pipe. Spasms of heady pleasure shot through her, along the massive length of her from the warm, enfolding flesh as Cynthia arched up against her. "Oooh fu... fuck!!" she gasped, feeling her lover's questing, hungry tongue flicking over her flanged knob, probing into the wide, pre-cum-pouring slit as her cock slid between the blonde's firm, quivering breasts.  
   
 "Nnnggghh!!! Cyn... Cynthia!!!" Erin ground out. She knew her lover was cumming; she could feel her arms and legs trembling, the way shivers of delight rippled through the blonde beauty's body pressed tightly against the redhead's... and the sudden flood of sweet honey, spurting from Cynthia's pussy as pleasure lanced through her. The wet warmth bathed Erin's heavy sack, dripping from the bulging bronzed balls as their owner pressed them against the smaller woman's slick, glistening labia.  
   
 The moment she chose, the moment when it was *right*, was not a conscious decision. It was made based on much older, primitive imperatives than anything that resembled a choice. Her lover, her mare, was ready - and so was she. *Now* was the right moment as their bodies moved in perfect synchronicity. Though driven by the stallion's nature which had seized her, she still had her awareness, her humanity; it was simply that they were, for the moment, subservient to the needs of the wild, free animal governing her.   
   
 She let her wonderful, seductive armful go, reluctantly, and straightened up. Cynthia watched her with wide, staring eyes. Her mouth was parted in a long, drawn-out moan, her legs splayed open. The alluring, enticing scent of roused woman permeated everything around them, and not just from Cynthia. The redheaded stallion-woman knew her girl's sex was leaking just as much, her pheromones filling the air as well, so it was thick with the odours of lust, desire and sex.  
   
 "I know you want me," she spoke with fierce intensity. "and I want you, too. We need each other, Cynthia." As she spoke, she slid both hands along the slick, dripping horse-flesh, capturing her cock just behind the wide flare of her knob. Her feet shuffled as she moved her legs farther apart, letting her throbbing ballsack swing freely. Focussed entirely on Cynthia, she guided the glistening, leaking flange down her lover's silken skin, laying a trail of pre from just under those perfect, captivating breasts, over the smooth, gentle curves of her belly and over Cynthia's quivering mons, until the huge, flat, pulsing head was resting against the delicate, creamy crease of flesh between the blonde woman's parted, welcoming thighs.  
   
 "Yesss...." she breathed in a sibilant whisper, rocking her hips, pressing that huge column of cock-flesh forward, emerald eyes intent on the sight as Cynthia's pussy lips parted, the flesh stretching wide to accommodate the monstrous flange. The goop from the purple bottle had clearly made a difference in preparing Cynthia to fit Erin's inhuman cock inside. "A little... at a time, love," she murmured in short, panting breaths. The redhead's cock made a visible bulge as she rocked back and forth, working her massive length in. She groaned lustfully, feeling the wet warmth of blonde pussy gripping around her stallion organ, its passage eased by the combined effects of the lotion, girl-honey and Erin's copious flow of pre.  
   
 "Oh Goddess, Cynthia..." she gasped, her voice thick with wonder and desire. "You... you feel so amazing...!" Erin leaned forward slightly, continuing to force more of her fuck-shaft into the blonde. She looked down; it looked like just over a foot of her cock remained, and there was no way it would go in. She could see the bulge of her cock, distending Cynthia's tummy, reaching well up, and within her lover's quivering body, she felt the questing head snouting up against what could only be Cynthia's cervix.  
   
 No toy, no fist, and certainly, no man had ever filled her as the young blonde was being filled at that very moment. Walls that normally slid aside, parted gently by intruding lengths, were stretched, pulled taut against that mammoth member. Fingers, tongue, even her own cum had not prepared her for this. Was there any way to be prepared? Cynthia almost laughed, her voice light, having trouble breathing and accepting that cock, at the same time. "Li- like a virgin, ha- ha- huh Erin?"  
   
 The rims under her eyes were moist and getting damper. Soon, they would become fat droplets and roll down her cheeks and chin. It was not the pain that had the young woman on the verge of tears, nor even the pleasure as parts her inner walls were touched that had hardly been revealed before. It was being thrust backward, back toward an innocent state. At that moment, she could remember no other cock, no other lover. There simply was not room enough in her head for them. There was only herself, and Erin. There was only the two, and as that flesh sunk, they were rapidly becoming just the one.   
   
 It was more than just good to be impaled by her lover's cock, it was beautiful.   
   
 Wet, and still shuddering from an orgasm that came, what seemed like an eternity ago, her silken passage was remade by that terrible cock within. Inch by inch, it took her, sliding with a molten lube that added in Erin's claiming, but did nothing for the stretch. Oh god, her inner walls, filled with sensual synapses; they were all out, all laid bare. There was not a part of her sex that Erin's cock did not touch. She was being not only stretched, but outright remade. And with those nerves exposed, some of which who had never shared the same touch at the same time, lesser cocks usually hitting or, or the other... she felt something else as well.  
   
 It was a sensation, a vibration, that translated into a sound. It was the way you heard, and felt, thunder. It was deep within her, pressed to her as nothing had ever pressed. It was low and powerful and shook the young wife to her very core. With a gasp, her eyes going weak, a tear escaping to trickle down the right side of her face, she realized what it was. Erin's heartbeat! She could feel her lover's pulse as thick veins pressed against her, most intimately.  
   
 There were no lies between them, no masks, nothing hidden at that moment. All they were, was laid bare, and Cynthia trembled, realizing that her lover had not even officially started fucking her yet. Could the blonde possibly survive? It was not the fear of being stretched, nor the fear of being loosed or permanently damaged. It was her heart that worried her. She moaned, eyes looking toward feral, emerald orbs, wondering how deep to go, and whether there was any way out again.  
   
 Did she even need one?  
   
 Then, oh god, then, Erin's flared, flat cap, that beast that had stretched the most, pushed the most, caused the biggest, most wicked bulge in Cynthia's once perfect tummy... then, it brushed against that most intimate spot. The blonde's eyes went wide, and her lips parted in a breathless gasp. "OOohhhmmmMMmn!" Right there, right against her womb, her unprotected, ever-fertile womb. That cock was knocking at her most intimate door, and the young wife had neither the power, nor the will, to deny it.  
   
 Erin paused, sensations flooding her, overwhelming her. She felt she could distinguish every square inch - and there were a <u>lot</u> of those - of the skin stretched over her steel-hard phallus. That skin, slick and wet, was pressing tightly against the inside of Cynthia's warm, enveloping passage. She could feel her petite lover's walls rippling, massaging her mighty shaft, squeezing and releasing in a primal rhythm. Cynthia's cervix, the gateway to her womb, quivered as well, pulsing against the flat, seeking cock-knob, the strong ring of muscle not yet ready to grant admittance to the wicked python which had entered Eden.  
   
 She was a creature of instinct now, reacting to the signals of her body, of Cynthia's body clamping tightly around her thick, muscled tube. "Tell me...," she ground out as she drew back, "tell me... if you... can't..." She didn't know what she would do if the blonde couldn't or wouldn't; if she opted to back off, to deny the horse-woman. Her emerald eyes reflected the primitive, wild animal that now controlled the redhead's strong, striking body. That animal would not want to give up its mate.  
   
 Further sensation assailed her as her hips drew back; a reluctance, a suction. Simple physics dictated that; her cock, filling her lover's pussy so completely, was acting like a living, fleshy cork as it withdrew. The redhead pulled back until just the flaring knob of her mighty equine shaft was still lodged in Cynthia's greedy, sucking sex. The freshly-exposed length of cock dripped, coated with the young woman's sweet juices and the pre which ran not in drips but in a steady flow from the massive, inhuman glans just inside her.   
   
 The redhead's hands moved to Cynthia's hips, bracing her lover, as she drove in again, opening her passage anew with the engorged flesh, sliding in and in until she was once again pressed against the last barrier, pushing, seeking to enter. Her eyes glowing with feral lust, fiery hair swirling in a cloud of living fire about her shoulders, Erin drove herself into her beautiful, petite partner, working herself in and out in a powerful, pounding rhythm that swiftly consumed them both. Oblivious to all else, even to the possibility that Nathan might discover her mounting his wife, her world narrowed down, centered on the gorgeous woman under her, impaled on her, and concentrated on fucking her partner. She was all stallion now, and nothing would deter her,nothing would stop her until she had claimed her mare, marked her, bred her.  
   
 Nathan stepped out of the shower, steam bellowing out of it like some dark, sinful place. He liked his showers either scalding hot, where he could feel the heated droplet digging into his flesh like molten needles, or else, bitterly cold. The heat soothed what ached and reminded him of his less restrained, passionate youth. The cold, well, it was good for waking up bodies and putting to bed hardness.  
   
 No wonder why he chose the temperature that he did.  
   
 He could feel his body practically sizzling as his bare feet touched the tiled floor. He could feel those teen-aged indiscretions, swarming about his memory. He had been a fool back then, lucky to have lived through a hundred brushes with death, all brought on by a temper and lust that ran equally hot. A wet hand wiped a solid layer of mist from the mirror that made up most of the wall behind the bathroom's sink.   
   
 Was he that boy tonight?  
   
 The boy would have had no idea how to handle what was promised in the other room. The boy would have run, screaming. He had been a brave lad, but that was bravery born of ignorance. It was nothing like the courage Nathan displayed as he wrapped a white towel around his chest, snug against an erection that he had refused to waste in the shower.   
   
 He knew what waited on the other side of that door, or at least, he thought he did. Cynthia had, once more, been unsatisfied with simple fantasy. She had taken their daydreams and made them into her wet reality. That was just the sort of woman she was, the sort of woman Nathan loved.  
   
 Erin?   
   
 Erin, he wanted to know more. He wanted to learn more. Of Erin, he wanted to taste more. But she was not his wife, and it was for his wife that he would perform. As for the fiery-haired temptress that even now, danced about his fantasies, a succubus at spin? He hoped she thoroughly enjoyed herself. Still, that was lust, and Nathan knew love, and likewise, he knew the difference.  
   
 He promised himself that he would not forget that difference tonight. No matter how much every part of his body, every inch, every ounce of that heat, wanted and needed Erin's own, he would not lose his way. As his fingers brushed the sun-shaped handle, he felt the rush as excitement, fear, guilt and jealously, all shuffled about his heart.  
   
 "Please," he begged the sainted mother, "please, let me remember which is my wife, and which is my lover. A- and let my wife remember as well." He added no amen. It was not a prayer, rooted in sin as it was. Instead, it was an older man begging for some shred of control, even as he stumbled into Error's lair.  
   
 The door opened slowly, and at first, there was nothing but the misty haze from his molten wash. His eyes had to adjust while the last few kisses of sunlight, darted about the room. They were likely still in the hot-tub, which was fine, as he had not bothered to dry. Let them see him, flush and dripping. Maybe they might even grace the mature husband with a blush or two.  
   
 Wait, no, they seemed preoccupied. He walked closer, letting the towel slowly fall from his hips. His head tilted, and his cock surged, as he made sense of what it was he saw. He could hardly make out Cynthia at all. Her body was blocked, blocked in the most sensual way Nathan could possibly imagine. He saw her feet, her curled toes, saw them curiously raised. She was enjoying herself.   
   
 Well, she often did.  
   
 What was unique was the sight of Erin's body. She really was incredible. All of that towering form, that power, she was satin wrapped around steel and he let himself admire her feral grace. Her body tensed while her perfect, beautifully plump bottom, tightened. Then she collided with his wife, again and again. Every time, the pair moaned or grunted. Well, in Cynthia's case, it was more a scream.  
   
 Wait, something was odd about that. His eyes focused as he got closer, just barely apart from the glass that separated them. He saw Erin's bountiful, tanned breasts, bouncing, swaying, matching Cynthia's own, smaller ones. Were they... he was not sure. He had never actually watched his wife with another lover before. Even female, he knew it would make him jealous, heated with every bit as much envy as arousal.  
   
 Were they grinding their sexes together? Seemed an odd position to do so. His hand moved up against the glass, his breath making a bit of fog, his cock twitching and dripping a drool of pre-cum. His chest was tightening as well. He knew that it would be hard seeing this, watching them enjoying themselves so much, without him. He took a deep breath, trying to focus his calm. He had given his blessing, there was no taking it back now.  
   
 Still, what were they doing? Wh- why was she thrusting like that? Wh- why did Cynthia look so completely awash in pleasure? How far had they gone during his shower and did they even remember he was here?  
   
 W- were they using a toy of some sort? That's it! It had to be. Erin was not grinding, she was not stroking, she was outright fucking his wife. She was stabbing herself into the blonde. Nathan's eyes went a little wide, when Cynthia rolled back in bliss, and he caught sight of that distended center.  
   
 Oh god, how big was this toy? What exactly were they expecting him to compete against? He had always tried to be sensible about toys. He understood that they had their place in the bedroom. He never begrudged Cynthia her collection, and he knew that eventually, he might think of them fondly, as they tended to itches he was too tired or simply not in the mood to scratch. Still, the size of some of those things, the manner in which they moved, it was hard for a man not to feel a little intimidated.  
   
 On the other hand, it was just a toy, after all. It would not have his cock's heat. It would not have his cock's flesh. It would not be full with his cock's cum. Come to think of it, cum was something worth thinking about. Was their lover protected? What would Erin think of the sweet couple she met, if the husband of that couple accidentally got her pregnant?  
   
 He would need to ask her before they got too involved. That made him feel a little better. That reassured him a bit, silly as it was. He would be the calm, responsible one, and let his wife and his lover tire themselves out a bit more. He reached to the glass door, opening it slowly, shaking his head.  
   
 "You two are going to wake the nei-...."  
   
 Something was not right. Not right in the sounds being made, not right in the sweet, over powering scent of musk that permeated the air. As he got closer, something was definitely not right about that toy. It was neither strapped on, nor held in Erin's sex like some sort of Feeldoe. It was part of her body, a big, thick, hungry part. And that part was likewise connected to a beautiful, if humbling set of balls.  
   
 It was not even all the way inside, and yet he could see, oh god, he could see. Here, a cock, a real, flesh and blood cock, was busily slamming into and wickedly distending his wife. Nathan might have spent time pondering the curious shape of it. He might have stood there, frozen, intimidated by the colossal size of it. He might have, but he did not, because something else was prime above all other factors.  
   
 That slick, nectar-stained, wife-pummelling cock was bare. Bare and with every new, home-hammered thrust, getting closer to an inevitable eruption. Eyes wide, chest clenched into a knot, his hand moved up and caught his wife's would-be-stud by the shoulder.  
   
 "Wh- what in hell do you thi- think you are doing?" His passion fuelled his anger. His anger clouded his mind. All he knew, at that moment, was that he had to somehow get that cock out of his wife. He would deal with the rest later.  
   
 The redheaded stallion-girl didn't even notice his hand, at first, intent as she was on her blonde lover. Wordless, animalistic groans worked up from her throat, through her clenched teeth, ground out while her cock thundered into Cynthia in rapid, hammering strokes. Her balls churned, plump and swelling with her impending load of horse-jizz. Her breath hissed between her teeth, and all her world was centered on the blonde woman writhing beneath her, on the roiling, rippling grip of a sweet, tight pussy around her throbbing, rampaging fuck-pole.  
   
 The voice did reach her. The shock, the hurt, the outrage all rolled together in the male voice penetrating her brain. *What am I doing? What does he <u>think</u>* *I'm doing!*   
   
 "What does it look like, Nathan?" Erin's voice replied, strangely fey. "I'm fucking Cynthia, of course!" She raised one stockinged foot to the edge of the hot tub, subtly changing the angle of her entry. Her flared knob would shift slightly in the passage she had forged, stroking the few - very few! - surfaces it had missed thus far in its repeated journey into the blonde's welcoming body.   
   
 She raised Cynthia's left leg to rest against her shoulder, strong fingers caressing the smooth, tanned flesh while her other hand rested on Cynthia's mound, fingers spread, the web of her hand pressed against the muscled tube of horse-meat as it plundered the blonde. Her fingers danced over the swelling nub peeking out from the hood of flesh just above her stretched-open pussy, teasing, toying with Cynthia's clit; her thumb pressed into the crease of the blonde's dripping sex, filling the miniscule gap between Erin's thrusting horse-pipe and the bottom of her sex.  
   
 Slowly she turned toward Nathan, her eyes reflecting the light of her raw, unbridled, animal lust. She smiled slowly, and it was not a friendly smile. It was a stallion's smile, warning an encroaching stallion to clear off.  
   
 Deeper that cock went, the difference being a matter of half inches, but the sensation was a matter of miles.   
   
 Cynthia wanted to say something, she really did. She wanted to part her lips, and explain. She wanted to reassure her husband, to somehow, get him to give her just a moment longer. Perhaps, she even wanted to warn Nathan. Her new lover was dangerous, sweet and beautiful, but wild in a way that the young blonde had never encountered before.  
   
 The red-maned stallion was a beast at that moment, still Erin, but a deeper Erin, a darker, hungrier one. Over the time that she had fucked the blonde's trembling body, she had shown her dominant lusts, shown an intensity that was as arousing as it was terrifying. The woman who was fucking her was not going to stop. She was not going to stop in order to pull out at the last minute, and she was not going to stop because Cynthia's husband said to.   
   
 The gulping, gasping, thrashing woman whimpered with a sudden fear. Erin might just hurt Nathan if he pressed the issue. Worse, shamefully worse, Cynthia wanted her sunset goddess' building load. There was no part of her that did not want every inch of that cock. There was no part of her that did not want a womb overflowing with her equine lover's seed. She loved her husband, absolutely and completely, but at that moment, she was not his wife.  
   
 At that moment, that finite period of thrust and wet, resounding slaps of flesh against flesh, she was truly Erin's mare.   
   
 And so she remained silent. Unable to express this as that shaft sawed within her depths, she did not even try. How could she possibly say it? How could she even think it? Worst of all, some hidden, darker part of herself was proud of being taken, proud of what was to come. That dark part wanted others to know that such a beautiful, powerful stallion had claimed Cynthia as her very own.   
   
 Cynthia, mare of Erin, wanted Nathan to watch.  
   
 Nathan set his jaw, one fist tightening, but did not move. Erin's response, whether she knew it or not, had been the correct one. Had she scrambled, had she submitted, pulled away in a sudden fit of guilt, that would have only encouraged the older man. He would have likely lunged, reverting back to the primal beast that was caged between his ribs.   
   
 Instead, her brazen, dominant, and absolutely guiltless response, took him aback. Not only was she still fucking his wife, she had moved in order to get a deeper thrust. It was hardly fair. After all, she was already deeper than Nathan had ever been. His body trembled, enraged, and yet, nervous too.   
   
 The crimson-crowned succubus was bigger in more ways than one. She was probably stronger too. Of course, she was preoccupied with her thrust and he certainly had an advantage in terms of leverage, but there was that look in her eyes. She was ready, fully ready, to hurt him if he interfered. It was the sort of look he might give someone right before a bone was broken.  
   
 If he meant to pull the beauty off of his wife, he would have to do it seriously. Both of them were very liable to get hurt, and in the end, what would he have gained? Cynthia was not moaning because she was in pain, though it was likely that there was agony intertwined with her ecstasy. Would she thank him, or curse him for getting in the way?  
   
 The boy that wanted to thump his chest, cry out in a fit and prove himself a man, began to doubt himself. He curled up, small and unseen. He felt betrayed, unwanted, perhaps even unloved. With the unreasonable youth within cowed and silent, the older, more mature Nathan, took over.  
   
 "Sh- she is my wife, Erin." He spoke softly, addressing the sinful, flame-kissed denizen fucking his beloved. It was easier to talk to Erin, to pitch his voice just above the wet smack of pelvis to bottom. It was far easier than trying to speak to his wife.   
   
 The older Nathan was braver than the young, but not quite *that* brave.   
   
 "She is not protected. Neither are you, an- and I am guessing, that thing isn't just for show, is it?" His hand moved from Erin's shoulder and he drifted over to a stone bench, not very far away. Slowly, he settled down. He eyes drifting from the pair, and down, down to consider his cock, and wondering why the damn thing refused to soften.  
   
 The stallion-girl's wild heart eased slightly as Nathan sat down; the stallion within her triumphant as her competition gave way before the raw ferocity she exuded. She was near, she could feel it; near to fulfilling her purpose. Soon her overriding, urgent need would be sated.  
   
 Her breasts heaved as she panted heavily, the round, full globes swaying, bouncing hypnotically, the nipples straining, achingly hard with her arousal. Sweat beaded her forehead, her chest, back, belly and legs. Trim and fit as she was, she was expending energy at an incredible rate in her furious, thrusting drives into her blonde lover. Smooth muscles rippled and shifted under her skin as her arms and legs flexed, her hips moving in a strong, powerful, driving rhythm.  
   
 "She's not your property," she replied to his quiet statement. "She's also my lover, now."  
   
 She turned her head back to Cynthia, leaning forward as she bucked, pulling the young wife up. Her arms encircled the smaller woman, keeping her close as she stood. That muscular, mighty shaft, still stroking into the blonde's spasming puss, was supporting her as well as the redheaded horse-woman lifted her, tilting her back so her massive fuck-pole was spearing upward, working against the slight but real mass of Cynthia's body. Not quite able to penetrate the young woman's final barrier, Erin was using her partner's weight to assist her powerful thrusts, and she sighed in satisfied lust as she felt Cynthia's cervix opening before her battering ram. Cynthia, likewise glistening with sweat, clung to her, her pert, firm breasts rubbing against Erin's bronzed orbs, and both women gasped, groaned, giving voice to the waves of lust consuming them.  
   
 "Yesss.... Oh goddess yes...." the flame-haired stallion-woman groaned in sibilant, hissing lust. "Cynthia, I'm all the way in you...! Oh my goddess this feels so good!!!" She turned to look at Nathan sitting on the bench, then back to Cynthia's face, contorted in a rictus of lust. "Protection... doesn't matter any more, Nathan..." she went on. "I need this... and so does she." She leaned back, a low-pitched, penetrating moan of sheer, unadulterated animal lust escaping her throat as she felt Cynthia's cervix dilate and the questing, thrusting flange of horse-cock slid another few inches in, finally lodged in the blonde's womb. She quivered, her buttocks clenching, her legs shifting, spreading apart, revealing her heavy sack full with seed, bouncing, slapping wetly with every deep, penetrating thrust of steely horse-shaft. The stallion was displaying herself, to her mare and to her competition, sealing her right to mount and breed.  
   
 Nathan bit back his response, before it could leave his lips. He certainly never thought of his wife as a possession, but that was not the same thing as being possessive about someone you cared for, longed for, were incomplete without. He never felt like Cynthia's possession either, but he still felt an odd warmth when she clung to him at night, as though she meant to keep him in bed forever. Besides, the thick-cocked stallion before him had certainly taken possession of "her" lover. The word was meaningless in this room. He was not that sort of man nor was Cynthia that sort of woman.  
   
 There was no point in responding so he simply held Erin's gaze.  
   
 What was there that he could do? He could howl, or lash out, he could let his anger and jealousy escalate until he did not know himself anymore. He could look away or make some sort of ultimatum, before storming inside, and hope against hope that his wife followed after. Frankly, at this moment, he was not all that sure she would even be able to walk when the night was through.  
   
 Everything that came to mind was a young man's game. Older men were supposed to be smarter, more controlled, not let something like this happen in the first place. Older men did not deserve younger women like Cynthia. If they reached out for forbidden fruit, it was their own fault if they got bit by an equally younger serpent. Still, it seemed hardly fair. He had only been with his wife for such a short time. Certainly not long enough for her to become dissatisfied, assuming, of course, that she was ever satisfied in the first place.  
   
 *No, no, do not go there old man. That way lies self pity and doubt. You are not that, never that.* But, Erin's display, that drilling, pounding motion, her cock and all of its size, those heavy, sweat- and nectar-stained balls; all of it hurt. He knew there was more than jealousy, more than a sense of betrayal at work, there was pride too, and his was being challenged.  
   
 His eyes moved down to his wife, and then, away, not able to take it, not all of it, full in the face as it was. He did not need to hear her enjoying, did not need her silence as she accepted every inch of another's cock. Most of all, he did not need the heat that it brought to his body.  
   
 He thought his cock had been hard before, thought it nice and stiff after the shower, beaded it with water droplets. However, now he could swear the damn thing had swollen. It pulsed there, between his legs, up and strangely defiant. It was like a badger snarling at a bear. It almost seemed ashamed of him too, letting himself feel this way, feel below someone else. He certainly never had before.  
   
 What was there to do? What does a rational man do? What does an old man do? Whatever it was, he could not quite say. What he did know, if this was going to be the last moment he would ever really share with Cynthia, before whatever came after, he owed their relationship enough to see it through to the end. Nathan closed his eyes, leaning back, and then opened them once more.  
   
 If Erin was intent on putting on a show, by God, he meant to watch it. His hand moved down, sliding underneath the thick girth of his own cock. Smaller than the stallion before him? Obviously, but it was a nice cock, a firm cock, and one in need of a stroke. If his touch was all he was liable to get, he might as well make the most of it. Without another word, silent before the lover's embrace, he began to grip and pull his own shaft, the head of which flared.  
   
 Cynthia said nothing. Cynthia saw nothing. Cynthia was impaled in a way she would have thought impossible. Cynthia was a mare on a stallion's cock and there was nothing else in her mind, no room for anything else, other than how it felt, inside.  
   
 The world faded away, guilt with it. There was only that thrust, only that slap, only the feel of something warm, moist and alive within. She had already cum, twice, three times, perhaps four? She had lost count. Certainly, her body had begun to undulate and suckle on that spear inside of her when it had gained terrible, final entrance. Hell, was she cumming again?  
   
 Had she even stopped?  
   
 The waves came and the waves rolled. They bounced against one another, one orgasm slamming into another. Her entire body was a molten ripple, and never did the ripples slow. They merely crashed, expanded and swelled to ever greater eruptions within. Her mind could only process so much, her heart was only so big. Right then, at that moment, she was in love and if anyone had asked her, "who with," she would have been unable to answer.  
   
 Was it really alright, was it really okay to give more than one answer to that particular question? Would her husband understand? Would Erin? Would either of them feel slighted at the other's name? Would they both feel a bit revolted if she added her own to the list? Was that so very wrong? She felt so very good at that moment. Was it wrong to love her body that translated every thrust of her lover's meat, into the rawest, most sensual of pleasures?  
   
 They meant to breed her, both of them. Erin and Nathan were each looking for the young wife to carry their children. Would either of them expect her to love any of her sons or daughter, less? No, no, that much they would understand. If they could understand that, perhaps Nathan would understand when she howled, "Fuck me! Oh God! Fuck me Erin! P- put that stallion seed inside of me!"  
   
 Her legs tightened around her lover's body, toes digging into the Amazon's tightening ass. "Br- breed yo- your mare!"  
   
 Erin's smile grew wider as Cynthia writhed in her arms, impaled on the monstrous spike of flesh spearing up into her pussy, piercing her most private chamber. Pre was flowing into that space, lubricating the thick meat as the redhead took quick, jerking strokes, locked in the grip of Cynthia's greedy, clasping sex.  
   
 Her body spoke to her and to her lover, communicating its imperative need, a need which would not be denied very much longer. She was peripherally aware of Nathan's rapt attention, fixed on the sight of his wife squirming with abandoned lust on the obscene flesh-pole jutting up from her groin; she registered that he was stroking himself with increasing vigour at the sight of Erin fucking Cynthia with animal fervour.  
   
 Within the circle of her bronzed arms, her blonde lover gave herself over to yet another wave of earthly rapture, and Erin's heart pounded with the fever gripping her as Cynthia's voice gave birth to a lust-ridden shout, exhorting the redhead to pump her full of horse-jizz. That demand was accompanied by the reinforcement of Cynthia's legs contracting around her waist, those perfect, delicate, yet surprisingly strong, sensual toes digging into her, clenching against her taut buttocks. Those firmly muscled pads of flesh rippled, along with the cords of muscle in her strong, bronzed thighs as her thick equine cock rammed in once more; her mighty balls slick with sweat and girlcum swung forward, pendulous and full.  
   
 She came. Erin's body shook as she gave herself up, poured her essence through the focus of her cock. The muscles of her ass, her back, her legs stood out, clenched with the whole-body contractions which wracked her. Deep in her groin, strong muscles flexed powerfully as the imperative command of instinct gave its orders, and her balls began pumping thick, hot cream up the length of her enormous shaft, held deeply in her lover's body by the force of her own. Locked in the searing wash of her orgasm, she gripped Cynthia tightly while the length of horse-meat buried within the blonde pulsed, throbbed with vital life as waves of jizz surged toward her flared cock-knob. That knob, massaged by Cynthia's cervix, pushed into Cynthia's womb, flexed as the first of Erin's cock-snot erupted from the gaping opening of her urethra. An eruption it was, volcanic in its intensity. Gouts of stallion-semen spurted forth, flooding Cynthia's innermost chamber, filling every part of that receptive space with potent seed.  
   
 Erin's voice joined Cynthia's, screaming her orgasm. "Fuck!!! Cynthia!!! Take it, TAKE IT!!!" Though there were words, the shrilling cry was the triumphant scream of a stallion. Through it, her body continued to quiver, frozen in place, her stallion member jammed as far as she could drive it, while her massive nuts pumped, following the first massive load with further waves of rich, fertile horse-cum into Cynthia's womb until she could take no more. "All my cum... for you...!!" she panted, her body locked in the endless convulsion of orgasm, and she came and came and came...  
   
 Everyone has their limit. Physically and emotionally, there is a point of no return where stretched tensions snap. Pleasure becomes a bludgeon, pain becomes a soothe, and the world thrashes between insignificance, and being too wide and too wonderful. As the mind goes limp, the body soon follows, and only the heart is left to beat, alone in the darkness.  
   
 Cynthia was there. Cynthia, a woman whose boundaries could be said to exist just beyond the horizon, had been flung beyond their outermost reach. It was rare to actually feel the cum as it sunk inside; one was lucky to feel the surge of a cock as it jerked forward and within. With Erin, there was no mistake, no doubt. The cock within writhed, the cum slung forward felt like molten fingers, entering and spreading her body. Her rippling orgasm was soon overrun by a tidal wave, and like all true tsunamis, it was further followed by crash after crash of its sperm-laden children. Her womb was filled, saturated, distended to handle the load, and what could not be housed, leaked around the edges where that too-thick cock swelled to seal her quivering sex.  
   
 At that moment, there was no room for guilt or shame, no thought to lovers past or present; there was only Cynthia and a consciousness that was threatening to break the well-bred newlywed.   
   
 Darkness, peaceful and embracing, overtook the young woman. A blissful expression on her face, her eyes rolling up, Cynthia, too impaled to slip off Erin's cock, slipped out of her own mind instead. Swollen and smelling strongly of a stallion's musk, she simply passed out.  
   
 Nathan, separated by a voyeur's distance, lacked the pleasures and feral response that obviated all negative response. The sense of betrayal, and worse, abandonment, added a bitter edge to the sweet sights before him. Those emotions ate at him, taking their share of every stroke, every touch. They dug into his flesh, his sense of self, like rough ropes tied far too tight.  
   
 It was safe to say that he bled for every stroke of his cock.  
   
 Many might think an orgasm impossible under such circumstances. They would be forgetting biology. Few things moved a male to release quite like seeing another in full eruption. There was a reason why most straight porn included virile, thick, eternally hard males, a reason why the rest of their bodies were merely an afterthought. The *money shot *had a place beyond exploitation. It drove the same feral impulses that had made Erin so fierce, even in the face of another potential lover. To see it was to be swept up in it, either to submit, or to strive to top and surge above it.  
   
 Whatever the case, whether in spite of, because of the wicked realities of their current positions, Nathan did cum. He came hard, his cock coming alive in his hand. Blood raged, flesh responded, and a rope of white, capturing a few sparkles from the setting sun, arced up and over. It landed, warm and wet, in a plop along Erin's stocking-covered foot. It was followed by a second, and a third. Unlikely to be noticed in the leak of her own seed, spilling from his wife, it sizzled there, only to be smothered by a stallion's flood.  
   
 His chest tight, his cheeks flush with a fever given birth by a dozen conflicting emotions, Nathan leaned back against the guard rail, gasping. He could not remember the last time he had cum so hard with his own touch. His body was trembling as it fell, brutally, from peaked heights. Having seen the pleasures of Olympus, he found himself plunging toward Hades, where he was alone.  
   
 Alone, old, and abandoned, though he tried to fight those siren thoughts, pulling his heart toward bitter rocks. But he was without defense, having just come down from his recent release. Nathan was emotion at that very moment, and internal furies delighted in picking apart his armor of stoic resolve.   
   
 Something wet puddled at the corner of his left eye. Nathan hated it. He hated that sense of vulnerability, one he had spent a lifetime burying.   
   
 Was he betrayed? Certainly not by Erin. She was a stranger that he let into his home, with fantasies robbing him of sense. He had wanted her and in so wanting, had left himself open for this, unexpected as it might be. She owed him nothing. Cynthia? Cynthia he knew. Cynthia he knew like no other. She might have gone farther than he had reason to expect, but he had known when he had slipped the ring on her finger that the young woman was still a bit flushed from the wild night spent with her maid of honor. He had married her, loved her, for all that she was.  
   
 No, not betrayal. It was abandonment, that sense of connections, warm and wonderful, suddenly ripped apart, a ship pulling from its moorings by a crimson hurricane. That is what hurt, that is what made that stinging liquid orb grow. That had been the theme of his wild, reckless youth and he had tried so very hard not to set himself up to experience it again.  
   
 He was a damned fool, and was rightly abandoned for it.  
   
 Softly, he spoke, "Co- could the two of you take your little party into the bedroom?" He found himself unable to look up at either of them. "I- I am a man in need of a hot tub, and a shot of something clear." He shook his head, allowing himself a bitter laugh, "Probably two or three shots, come to think of it."  
   
 Erin groaned, her voice conveying the lust that consumed her, obliterating everything but her desire to breed. Clutching Cynthia to her breast, she felt her lover slump in her arms as the petite woman succumbed to the overwhelming reality of that thick, pulsing monstrosity piercing her. She looked down, blowing hard as she struggled to get her breath back, her hips bucking spasmodically while her cock jumped and surged with the recoil of her orgasm finally ending, her heavy nutsack collapsing slightly as the last of her sperm-rich semen pumped into the blonde beauty impaled on her mighty shaft.  
   
 "My... FUCKING... Goddess," she got out between deep inhalations, her breasts heaving, swaying hypnotically. She felt something wet and warm on her foot, soaking through the lace of her stockings and looked down. Thick, quivering splatters of spunk - *from Nathan*, she reflected -were starting to ooze in fat, sticky drops down her ankle and instep. *Good heavens, he must've cum like a volcano!* she thought as she looked at him. His cock was standing up proudly, the glans glistening with rich, creamy sauce. Threads of his jizz trailed from the purple helmet down his shaft and spattered his thighs. He must have pumped quite a load, she realized, observing that in addition to the three generous splashes of seed staining her stockinged foot, two or three more had fallen a bit short of the mark and now marked the line of fire from him to her.  
   
 Erin's breathing steadied as she lowered Cynthia down onto the sun-warmed tiled edge of the hot tub. Thick veins relaxed as blood flowed back into her body, and the ramrod-stiff, thick, muscled tube started softening. She took a step back, withdrawing, and her horse-dick pulled out, reluctantly at first against the tight seal it made in Cynthia's cunt; then with an obscene sucking *slurp*, the seal broke and the meaty organ slipped from the blonde's body. Its emergence paused only momentarily as the flared knob stretched her pussy lips wide again, then it pulled free with a distinct 'pop', followed by a gushing cascade of pent-up semen pouring from Cynthia's gaping puss.  
   
 The fey light left Erin's eyes as she recovered from the animal urgency of her rut, and she saw Nathan's face. He looked old, beaten and abandoned, and a pang of remorse smote her as she realized what he must be feeling. *He hates me and himself now... and it's my fault!* she cried out silently. What to do? She was still riding the exhilaration of mounting Cynthia, plunging herself into her lover's warm, pooled lust, filling her chosen partner with her seed... but Nathan, she realized, felt betrayed, inadequate and useless. He couldn't possibly compete with her gift, and both she and Cynthia were to blame for rubbing his nose in it. His words were even harder for their lack of condemnation; instead, the terrible, bleak acceptance in his voice flayed her with her guilt.  
   
 She stepped over to Nathan's side, holding out her hand to him. "Nathan... she loves you very, very much. You're an incredibly lucky man to be married to her. Please..." Her voice trailed off as she searched for words. "Please, you mustn't... you're not..."  
   
 Finding words useless, she dropped to one knee next to the bench supporting him, putting her arms around him, pulling his head to her breast. "Oh, Nathan, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you at all..."  
   
 Cynthia had let out a feline-like mewl when that too-thick cock had finally pulled from a sex that obviously did not want to let it go. Her inner walls had moved from a quiver, to an outright twitch. So much to process, all at once, the young woman drifted between consciousness and a warm, wet, oblivion. Her hands danced up her body, laying against her lips as she settled into a blissful state of unwake.  
   
 Good to know she is alive, reflected Nathan, pushing more bitter thoughts from his mind before they could take root.   
   
 His eyes looked up to the offered hand, and the goddess reaching out to him. Like a Valkyrie calling a fallen warrior home, he thought. Here he was, confused, in pain, and yet, being offered something beautiful, even wondrous. Of course, that assumed he could get beyond himself and accept. He wondered how many battle-weary Norsemen ever tried to spear their celestial agents.  
   
 Before he could respond, she was on him, around him, embracing him. Warm, soft curves, everywhere as they wrapped his bare, pale body. She was a peculiar woman, and not just for the obvious reasons. He wondered, for a moment, what it must be like to feel so deeply, so purely as she obviously did. To be a tyrant in ecstasy and a saint in remorse, was a mystery to a man who felt just as deeply, but was far more guarded with how he expressed it.  
   
 He found himself as curious, even hungry, to know her as he had been when Cynthia had first intruded on his simple, uncomplicated life. They both represented something that he was not, they both offered a chance to learn and be enriched by their differences. God, was she carving an Erin-shaped gap within him as well?   
   
 Damn them, damn the pair of them. One hole emptied out, and it seemed this woman meant to make another. How did they expect him to stand with that much emptiness inside? How does a man, or anyone for that matter, survive such absolute yearnings?  
   
 Still, bitter or not, and obviously confused, he could not deny her embrace. He could not resist her soft feel, both literally and figuratively. For one, it would have been petty and self indulgent to do so. For the other, he needed it. Oh god, at that moment, how he desperately needed it.  
   
 It did not even matter if her hold was genuine. It did not matter if this was her way of gloating, or manipulating, or just her own sudden need to alleviate whatever guilt she felt. All that mattered was that she offered an affection that even stoic Nathan could not deny. His hands gently slid around her body, looping and resting just above that unbelievably beautiful bottom of hers.  
   
 "I- I'm sorry Erin." He smiled, as best he could, trying to blink that worrisome wetness of the eyes, away. "I thi- think it is a little too soon, and I am a little too sober to be all that forgiving at the moment."  
   
 He reached a hand up, gently running it through those scarlet curls. "Asking me to step aside, while you two cucked me, that's one thing. Asking me to accept a sorry while my wife is still leaking y- you, that's another." His touch was still soft, his voice as well.

**Act 3 - The Other Side**

 She nodded in acquiescence. He was a proud man, with reason to be proud, and he was right: asking him to accept her apology while her seed was still dripping from Cynthia's sex was expecting too much. "I know," she whispered. "And... and if you can't accept it right now, I don't blame you." She shifted slightly in his arms and sighed. "They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions... what I meant to do doesn't excuse what I did." Her eyes fell; she couldn't meet his hurt, pained gaze any longer. "I hurt you, badly, no matter that I didn't plan to." She fell silent, simply holding him, being held by him, while a storm of emotions boiled through her.  
   
 Several eternities passed, while both of them grappled with their situation. She could feel the acid-sharp tang of his fear, his resentment and sense of loss, like spikes digging into her skin. Somehow the day had skidded out of control, moving far beyond a casual dalliance with an adventurous couple. She had underestimated them both; she had underestimated herself. What had started as a simple adventure had ballooned out of control, and she needed to reach him, to make him whole again, to show him he mattered.  
   
 She was acutely aware of him, of his maleness, of his hands resting on her body, just above the smooth swell of her buttocks, and between them, the slow pulse of his heartbeat in his cock. It had relaxed, but unlike hers, it didn't retract, and the warm flesh was pressing against her belly.  
   
 Gently Erin pulled back slightly, not enough to break free of his encircling arms. She smiled mistily at him as she rested her palm against his cheek and the fingers of her other hand wrapped softly around his soft member.  
   
 Nathan said nothing, his usual response when he could think of nothing to say, nothing that would matter at any rate. Were he in a better place, given time and perspective, he might have offered comfort, even assurance. He was a big boy after all, more to the point, he was an old man. Eventually, hollowed out or not, he would move on. He had done it before, after all.  
   
 In all honesty, he could hardly blame them for being true to their natures. In a way, it was his fault for getting involved without knowing them fully, absolutely. Cynthia had more lust to her than he had known; a boundary he had assumed was in place apparently was not. The question became, did all of this represent a change? Had she fallen in love with someone new, or did she expect him to fall into step with this new reality, to compromise once more?  
   
 For her, he might, he knew that. Though he was ready to pick it up and move on, to sail into darkness if he had to, he honestly was afraid of doing so. She had him, had him as no woman had ever had him. Did Cynthia know this and was she exploiting it? Whatever the case, whether this was the end of assumptions, or a marriage, they would have to... talk, when this was all over.  
   
 His eye slid up to take in Erin's own. He had made many assumptions about her as well. One of which he could be excused for. No one could have possibly guessed her unique attributes, or just how frighteningly virile and thick that attribute might be. The shift in personality had seemed like a change to Nathan, but that was really his own assumption. He did not know her, did not really have any clue what she was, inside.   
   
 Did the stallion who had just pridefully mounted and bred his wife coexist in this same, gentle beauty who was holding him, with near tears in her own eyes?  
   
 Were they one and the same, or was there conflict within, a spiritual conflict that mirrored the physical one? Was Erin a woman of discord, or was there a harmony to her that transcended Nathan's assumptions? Whatever the case, he had been mesmerized, seduced, and like any drowning Argonaut, had to take some of the blame along with the siren.   
   
 More than that, as he looked at her, he realized something about himself. He still wanted her. Not only did he want this comforting, intimate touch they were sharing, he found he honestly wanted to sample that stallion as well. Nathan was not a man to bow, back-up, or run. He might make allowances for his free-spirited wife, but she knew where the lines were drawn, tonight notwithstanding. Was there really a part of him, that inner boy, perhaps, that wanted to pushed beyond all doubt and pretext of strength. Was there really a part of him that wanted to embrace this suddenly re-found sense of vulnerability?  
   
 That thought made him shudder, a shudder that only intensified when her fingers drifted, caressing both cheek and still semi-hard shaft. He leaned into her touch, looking up at her, curious, even a little amazed, as his cock surged in her palm. "J- just who are you, Erin?"  
   
 Her brow furrowed slightly while she thought about her answer. "I'm... not sure," she replied. She took a deep breath, her bosom rising as her ribcage expanded, and her nipples brushed against his chest, sending tingling pleasure through her tanned body. "I think... I think I'm looking for the answer to a question," her expression cleared as she looked into his eyes again. "... and maybe, maybe I'm an answer to a question, too."  
   
 Erin lowered her hands, then gently disengaged from him, rising smoothly to her stockinged feet. "We should take this inside," she suggested, and watched as he stood and lifted Cynthia in his arms.  
   
 Inside, she turned to look at him again. "She does love you, very much," the redhead reiterated. "I believe you spoke from your hurt, but..." She paused, eyes clouding over as she reached for words. "You... you said you couldn't accept my apology, not with Cynthia leaking my cum, but ... what does that say?" She moved toward the bed alcove, leading Nathan and his fair burden. "Right then, the most important thing to you about Cynthia was that someone else had fucked your woman. Is that what matters most to you about her?"  
   
 Erin stopped by the bed. It was plush, luxurious, decadent, and made a standard king-sized bed look like a child's trundle bed by comparison. The redhead waited while Nathan lowered Cynthia to its sinful, sybaritic sheets, then flowed into his arms, feeling the play of his muscles under her hands, moving sinuously against his toned body and wrapped one long, tanned leg around his, grinding herself against his proud flesh. "I'm sorry," she offered once more, "sorry that Cynthia and I've hurt you. I won't pretend I didn't enjoy it, and I feel sure she did, too. But what we wanted doesn't mean we don't want you." She slid her arms around his neck, then took his face between her hands as she offered her parted lips to him.  
   
 The older man had still been warm when Erin left his lap, above and below. His body was drifting in a heady fog, the sort that his wife was far more familiar with. It was nice in that mist, uncomplicated and warm. As he blinked, watching the seductress who had woven that web of arousal, drift toward the glass door, he felt himself reluctant to leave it.   
   
 It followed her, trailed after her, like a long wedding gown. It spoke of not just sexual delights, but a place where all sins could be forgiven, all excess excused. It was a very different place than where he found himself as she slipped further away.   
   
 Alone, though separated only by a matter of feet, he became cool again, confused again, hard and tight again. Things that had not mattered when Erin had lighted on his lap, began to matter again. And then, there was his wife.   
   
 He stood up slowly, walking toward her, cradled by the tile of the tub. She always looked so beautiful, so innocent when asleep. You could hardly imagine that she would be the one waking you in the morning, with her lips around your cock and a hungry expression on her face. He reached out to touch that same, beautiful face, but paused, fingertips an inch away from her flesh.  
   
 Abandoned? Betrayed? Simply hurt and selfish? Whatever the case, it made it hard to reach out, to touch his wife, much as he longed to. But above all of those emotions, outside of the cruel confusion and the wounded pride, there was fear. The fear that his touch would be unwelcome, that she would not respond. What if she awoke suddenly, pushed away from him, and asked where Erin had gone?  
   
 What if?  
   
 He could not leave his wife to slumber, exposed on the balcony, based on a *what if*. Nathan did not stroke her or gently lay a kiss on her flesh. He did not hold her as he had that first night he had carried her across the suite's threshold. He wanted to, his heart was near bursting from the desire to do just that. Instead, he picked her up in a more chaste, almost fatherly manner.   
   
 He would carry her inside, and lay her gently on the bed, that was all. It was all he had strength for. Strange that his wife felt so heavy, when before, he had always been amazed at just how light she felt. Across the divide of glass, he carried her, feeling her warmth, fearful she might wake, fearful what she might say.  
   
 As for the Cynthia? She simply leaned into a familiar, beloved scent, nuzzling at his chest. Her dreams were beautiful, and if he could see them, if he could somehow be within her fuzzy, warm dreamworld, all doubt would have been immediately lost.  
   
 He could not. Instead, he listened to Erin as he walked, watched her body, heaving beautifully as her lips wandered. He did not like everything he was hearing, but he was not the sort of man to interrupt. Too many harsh things were made up of words only half heard. A curse could turn to a blessing, in the space of a paused breath.   
   
 Nathan laid his wife to finish her dreaming on the bed she had paid for. It was a bed far too big, far too fancy for a man like himself. It was a bed, however, that had made his wife squeal when they had first opened the door to their honeymoon suite, and he had been happy that they had gotten it. That recent memory danced about and warmed the older man in a special way that he had not felt since all of this began. It allowed him the strength to slide a hand over his wife's forehead, to brush some of the hair from her eyes, and look at her with a weak, vulnerable smile.  
   
 Then *she* was there. Whether serpent, Eve, or God Herself, Erin was around him. Her leg wrapped around his own and he felt his body tremble. Sheer fabric against his flesh, when it wrapped about something powerful and seductive, was one of his truest, most inescapable weaknesses. Though Nathan was careful not to show it, not in a sway or moan, he could feel his knees becoming liquid as she embraced him.  
   
 Her hands to his face, pulling him in, those lips, parted and waiting. Only a madman, or madwoman for that matter, could have possibly resisted. But she had said things, done things, and now he had to reply. His eyes held her own and he spoke, softly, leaving those lips to wait for him.  
   
 Secretly, he hoped they would wait as patiently as he had, listening and then, be there when he was finally ready to accept their sensual offer. His own hands came up, taking hers by the wrist, holding them loosely, but firmly as he spoke. "I- I made some bad assumptions, coming into this. Mistakes, because I was thinking with my eyes and not with my head."   
   
 He let his eyes drift about her for a moment, to be sure she understood. "But you are making some too. I've listened to men fuck Cynthia before. I've listened to her tell me all about her exploits, while she tries to get a blush out of me." He sighed, closing his eyes for the moment, simply enjoying Erin's curves against his body, letting his muscles move underneath her, and feeling her own respond.   
   
 "I always figured she was testing me, seeing if I was ready to accept her for who she was, because she had no intention of changing." He opened his eyes, giving a little half grin, "She likes who she is, and I think, likes who I am too."  
   
 His fingers gently brushed along the back of Erin's wrist, stroking as he spoke, his face getting harder, an edge to his voice, "But this is the first time she has mislead me about what was going to happen. I can guess why, but I can't really know. And since I can't know, I'm allowed to have a few doubts, right?"  
   
 Nathan's face changed again, softer this time, more vulnerable. "Th-there's more to it than that though. W- we were talking about having a child together. I mean, for her, it was just something that might happen. For me... " his voice drifted off, somewhere silent and lost, then, "for me it was more."  
   
 Now, his hands tightened on Erin's wrist. Not enough to be painful, not enough to restrain, just enough to let her know how deeply he felt what he was about to say. "I don't own my wife, I never will, but I will tell you this, I know myself. I know that if she has a baby with me, I will be there for her and for our child. I will be up at four in the morning to feed it, to change it. I will take off work to drive her wherever she needs to go, and if she gets sick, I will damn well carry her up the stairs to our bedroom."  
   
 His eyes were intense now, heat coming from his entire body. "Cravings, money, foot rubs, diapers, all of it... I'm in Erin, in for the long haul." His face twisted a bit, worn with a sudden admission. "It's not all roses and kittens. I'll be a rotten father. I'm grumpy and probably won't tell the kid I love him or her as much as I do an- and I'll still be ten times the father mine was."  
   
 "'Cause I'll actually be there." Nathan closed his eyes, pushing unwanted memories further and further away. They gave reason to his feelings of abandonment, of fear, reasons but not excuses. His eyes opened, "I know all of this Erin, 'cause I know me. But you? You, I don't know. I don't know what you plan to do as far as my wife and you go. I don't know if you plan to take her, or if you plan on dumping it all in my lap. I don't know 'cause I can't know Erin."  
   
 His grip on her wrists, softened. "I don't want to lose my wife. I don't want to lose our child-to-be, an- and I feel myself, right here, right now, about to risk it all with you." He sighed, his eyes weaker than they had ever been.   
   
 "Now you know. You know more about me than just about anyone else in this world. The only person who knows more is laying on the bed beside you, full of your cum." Nathan's fingers moved up, from her wrists and gently, brushing along her lips.   
   
 "Ma- maybe I'm being a bit possessive, but Erin, you have no idea how completely she owns me. H- how, at this very moment, you own a part of me too." His chest hurt, not only his heart, but his lungs too. He was not used to talking this much, to laying this much out on the line. Had Cynthia been with any other man, would it have come to this? Would he have poured out so much? Would he have practically begged?  
   
 "I want you, Erin, and I'm willing to do what it takes to show that. I want to know you, even help you know yourself." He shook his head, "But if this is really just a wild night for you with a sexy couple, you need to understand that after you leave, we still have a life to live, together. So yeah, whether or not you impregnate my wife... it's going to be something of an issue."  
   
 The last was said, with something of a smile. He needed her to understand. He was not a man protecting his property; he was a man trying to protect what family he had left.   
   
 His rough, calloused hand came up again, sliding his thumb along her bottom lip. "O- on the other hand, i- if you have a notion of j- joining that family, well... that is something else again, isn't it?"  
   
 Erin's eyes closed as Nathan's words poured over her, laying his heart bare before her. She realized, too late, the scope of the injury she had done him, had done Cynthia. In her joy at discovering someone who did not shy away from her in horror at her freakish nature, in her eagerness to share herself, she had done worse. She had *used* Cynthia, no matter that Cynthia had equally enjoyed their coupling. Now, she realized, she would have to deal with the consequences of her greed.  
   
 Cynthia could be pregnant; pregnant with *her* child. She realized, suddenly, that she had no idea if she was fertile. Given her unique nature, it was quite possible she was; certainly her equine organs were fully functional in every other respect. It would be asking too much of Fate to hope that her jizz was sterile. Cynthia, she recalled, had said she and Nathan "were prepared" for pregnancy... but the unspoken assumption had been that she would be pregnant by *him*, not by some chance-met stranger... and certainly neither of them had dreamed that a woman with a horse-cock might knock her up.  
   
 She winced slightly as his hands tightened on her wrists, but not because of that. His words laid out in stark, uncompromising terms the responsibility she had willingly let herself in for if Cynthia was indeed pregnant now. No-one had forced her to go with them; no will but her own had driven her to seduce and mount Cynthia. She would be the sire of this child, and the onus would be on her - not Nathan! - to support and care for this child... and Nathan had doubts, with reason. Erin hadn't thought it through, hadn't considered the consequences, and if this conversation hadn't happened, it was very likely she would have boarded her flight back to Heathrow and never given it another thought, except to relive the memory of Cynthia writhing, moaning with pleasure under her. She would have been just as callous, as venal as any man who had ever topped a woman simply to satisfy his lust without a thought for her. Her admonition to him had fallen far short of the mark; he was not preoccupied with the idea that Erin's seed was oozing from Cynthia; he was concerned that her seed was soaking in, that she would leave the pair of them to deal with the fallout of her lustful union.  
   
 She *had* to answer this; there was a debt she would have to pay, and not just in coin. She had to shoulder the consequences of her actions, and she needed Nathan to believe her, to accept that she wasn't just mouthing words. If even now a life was budding in Cynthia's womb, ripened by her seed, she would do her utmost to be a true parent, not simply a monthly support cheque. She would arrange her vacation time to spend it with her son or daughter - not just once in the year, either. Maybe she could relocate to America, to be closer? The big question, of course, was whether Cynthia was, in fact, pregnant. "Nath -" she started as his thumb traced the curve of her lower lip, then broke off. His last words absolutely floored her, and she stared.  
   
 "J-join your..." her voice trailed off as his words blind-sided her, her thoughts skidding on the glare ice of confusion amid a sudden, madly whirling welter of emotions. Was he actually suggesting it - dear Goddess above, was he suggesting a three-way marriage? Or was it a veiled denial, stopping short of telling her outright that it could never be, that her child - if there was a child - could only ever be a bastard, and that the best she could expect was a monthly bill for child support? But if it *was* a suggestion, perhaps even an invitation...   
   
 Nathan did not respond with words, not this time. They were exhausted, and somehow satisfied. They had been well spent or so it by seemed by the look in her eyes, the quiver in her voice. The words had moved her, pulled her in emotionally; pulled her somewhere that was as equally confusing, exciting, terrifying, and arousing as where he stood.   
   
 He had given her a possibility and whether in fantasy or in serious contemplation, she had not pulled away.  
   
 His heart was beating so fast at that moment, thinking the things a passionate lover thought when a daydream could be the foundation for a relationship. The logistics did not matter. The fact that they were still, in very significant ways, strangers, did not matter either. New desires formed a liquid heat, similar in depth, if not quite in flavour, to the hungry lust that had thrust this stallion's cock into his wife.  
   
 That had been the feral, the primal need that drove passions expressed in gasping, guttural grunts and groans. But this was the fantastic, that fairy tale love that drew princesses and princes to bed. It was a softer, sweeter thing, as different from the feral as the moon was from the sun. Both had their place in a lover's bedroom, but at that particular moment, Nathan desperately needed the latter.  
   
 If Erin wanted him, as she said she did, then he wanted to feel that want, as well as hear it. He wanted, needed, to taste it. Whether he was the frog or a slumbering beauty, he needed that kiss, perhaps never so desperately as he did now. He hungered for the sort of kiss that he would have only dared share with his wife before this very moment.   
   
 That is how he answered Erin's question and the slight tremble to her voice. He answered it with lips pressed and eyes shut, a storybook kiss. It promised happy ever afters and embraces that lasted forever. His hands slid around her body, one around the back of her head, tightening his fingers through those crimson coils as he had done earlier that day. His other hand moved down her back, sliding along the slope of it, until it found the ripe, rounded softness that was her bottom.   
   
 His fingers squeezed it with fingers with the trembling pressure of a lover who not only desired her, but hoped that she would respond in kind.  
   
 Erin quivered like some wild creature on the verge of bolting, thoughts and feelings tumbling through her in mad disarray. Then his arms were around her, his hands strong and gentle, twining in her flaming tresses, cupping her firm buttocks, and the skittish animal within her checked its precipitate urge to flee.  
   
 Safety, security, uncompromising honesty without judgement - that was the unspoken message of Nathan's embrace. Not without cost - never without cost. If she accepted the wordless offer, she knew she would have to commit herself to Nathan and Cynthia without reservation, as they would commit themselves to her. She would be bound to them and they to her, and there could be no room whatever for guile or shaded truth. They would accept nothing less than complete and utter trust, and would give it just as unstintingly.  
   
 She trembled on the brink of a precipice born of a storm of emotion. The prospect was frightening, terrifying; to this point in her life she had been self-sufficient, going her own way. Lonely, yes; the very few times she had reached for mere physical attraction and satisfaction, she had been answered with horror and rejection. She had quickly come to the conclusion that if she could not have even that, anything more was forever beyond her reach. But Cynthia had reached out to her, accepting her as she was with a simple, whole-hearted honesty, and now Nathan's words and embrace extended another hand, offering affection, companionship, family and... love? Could it be, on such short acquaintance?  
   
 And yet... goddess, and yet, if she took that hand, if she returned his embrace... what then? Could they make it work, could she be worthy of them? The only way to know was to take the plunge, to step with eyes open from the edge of the cliff, trusting that she would not fall, that Nathan and Cynthia would bear her up.  
   
 For the merest fraction of a second she tensed, recoiling from the awful chasm that yawned before her. Every instinct urged her to flee, to seek the safety of self-sufficiency... and then she took that step into the abyss, took Nathan's metaphorical hand. Her arms went around him in response to his, sliding up under his, her palms resting against the strong warmth of his shoulders, and she turned her face to him, her lips warm and inviting against his, accepting his kiss and gifting hers to him. Erin clung to him fiercely, her entire body speaking her joyful acceptance, her wish to become part of him, part of Cynthia, and her determination to bring everything she had to their union.  
   
 A sweet, timeless eternity later, she pulled back ever so slightly, a tremulous smile on her lips, her eyes bright and suspiciously liquid. She rested her forehead against his, letting the flickering flames of her hair tumble about them while she looked into the dark pools of his eyes. "Nathan... let me give myself to you?"  
   
 She had held him so tightly, like she never meant to let go. In that embrace, they had virtually melted together. When one had taken in air, the other had shared it. Their heartbeats had danced to one another's rhythm and when she finally pulled back, Nathan found himself seeking the breath she had taken away.  
   
 It had been a long time since anyone, even his new wife, had held him like that.   
   
 Erin was strong, so very strong. The beautiful woman was a terror in her passions, and seemed inescapable in her lusts. She was like a living embodiment of the flames that danced about her face and spilled over either shoulder. But there was more to a fire then its hunger and heat.   
   
 It was wild, yet solitary, separate from the world in a way, a thing that flashed to an impossibly brilliant existence, only to snuff when the moment had passed.  
   
 Crimson and gold, it needed nourishment, care. Perhaps it needed to be invited into one's home and cherished as a giver of life, and respected for its ability to take it all away. There was a vulnerability there, a need that wanted inviting into the hearth, to feed her lovers with her warmth, and to be fed in return by their affection. Nathan had learned much, been told much, in that warm embrace, and the slight tremble to her flesh that came directly afterward.  
   
 She was vulnerable now, needy now, and even a little afraid. There was something unseen on the horizon, a hope not dared expressed, like a birthday wished kept secret in one's heart. The young woman reached out with tentative fingers to him, as though he were a day dreamed fantasy and liable to fade.  
   
 Erin was not offering him some pity fuck. This was no bone thrown to an old man, neither out of kindness nor remorse. She wanted this, wanted him, and would be devastated if he refused.   
   
 The fear was understandable, but ultimately, baseless.  
   
 There was no part of him, least of all no physical part that did not want her. In fact, at that moment, Nathan was honestly afraid he might go mad if he did not have her, then and there. His hands moved to her chin once more, brushing against her bottom lip, but this time, pushing forward into her mouth, to see if she would suckle it, if she would melt to him. His cock plumped against her inner thigh, warm and ready, so very ready.  
   
 "Give me you, Erin. Give me all you have, and get every bit of me, in return." His eyes danced about the verdant fields that were her own. His other hand moved down her back, sliding to her round bottom, squeezing it, hungrily. His body warmed and he became a press against her, slowly lowering her down onto the bed, fully prepared to give just as much, if not more, as he intended to take.  
   
 Her eyelids drifted down as she felt herself being lowered tenderly to the yielding surface of the bed. Nathan's thumb pressed insistently against her mouth and she parted her lips, accepting him, tasting him. His hand tasted faintly of soap, of male musk. She could feel his warm, pulsing shaft pressing against her as he pressed her into the satin sheets, feel his strong hand caressing, fondling, squeezing her ass, and her body responded to his touch eagerly.  
   
 Her arms, still embracing him, pulled him down with her to the surface of the bed, and she let one hand work its way further up, burrowing into his dark locks. Her red-gold tresses spread over the sheets in a fan of living fire. She moved sinuously under his warmth, squirming gently, doing her best to communicate her willingness to share herself, give herself to him. Her breasts quivered, slumping slightly as she reclined, the soft, bronzed flesh jiggling pleasingly with her writhing movements. Having mounted and pierced Cynthia, the redheaded stallion-woman was moving into a receptive mood, a vessel eager to be filled, to welcome this man with her body and make of herself a covenant between herself, Nathan and Cynthia.   
   
 Her stocking-clad legs has become disentangled from his as he bent her back and laid her down, and as she settled into the luxurious bedclothes, she spread her long graceful limbs, opening herself to him. The mottled, fleshy tube had retreated back into her sheath, but the flat, wide head of it was clearly visible, gleaming wetly, nestled in its warm home. Smiling, she slid her hand between their bodies, between her strong, tanned thighs, lifting her heavy sack to expose her womanhood for him. The soft, pearled pink flesh glistened with moisture already, and her perfume, the heady scent of an aroused, willing woman, wafted about them. Her eyes flared with her ready heat, and she bared her teeth slightly as she bit his thumb gently, inciting, exciting him. Even receiving, she was a fiery, lustful spirit, not content to passively accept him, but actively luring, seducing, drawing him into her to slake her thirst.  
   
 "Come, Nathan," she invited him, freeing his thumb. "I want you, so very badly; I <u>need </u>you in me, filling me." Her breath caught in her throat as she prepared to take the last step in her resolve to commit fully and completely to her two new-found lovers. She had filled Cynthia to overflowing with her potent seed and she could think of no clearer demonstration of her intent than to give the ultimate gift of herself to this man. "I need to bear your child."  
   
 Nathan's body quaked, a tremble that that swept through them as emotions slid from one to the other. What was need, became want. What was demanded, was then begged. They had become a pendulum, sweeping broadly, back and forth, as their bodies gathered sweat and sweet smelling musk. How thoroughly she had him at that moment, how aroused, feeling as though the lace leash between them was tugging her way once more.   
   
 So many plans for how to lay with this fiery feast of a lover, in as "safe" a manner as possible. Erin was a shimmering, groaning, gasping collection of curves and warmth. Any of them would be a welcome place to grind a thick, cum-laden shaft like his own. He would welcome a chance to fuck her beautiful thighs, just grinding his cock between those powerful legs until he lost himself utterly. Her breasts or those lush, bottom cheeks? They were caramel curves that would hold him with a subtle grip, milking his shaft to release.   
   
 Any of them would happily accept his load, he was sure, and if she asked... and it would have to be Erin who asked as he found himself willing to obey her in surprising ways, he would gladly clean that same mess from her flesh.  
   
 On second thought, Nathan supposed that was hardly surprising. The image of Erin as a feast was not an idle one. So much of her body, he desired. So beautiful, and warm, in both power and softness, he found himself mesmerized, his saliva gathering. If she wanted it, he would place his mouth over every inch of her, suckle, kiss and lick, every spot, without hesitation or pause. Succubus or goddess, he would worship her and welcome whatever salvation or damnation came.  
   
 That was when he knew. His cock twitched, a pearl of pre building, bubbling and rolling down the tip, landing to splash and then gently roll about her welcoming folds. He knew what she wanted, what he wanted, how they would truly become a family without regrets. Nathan smiled, a smile that was just for Erin, exclusively hers, just as Cynthia had her own. It was a smile the rest of the world would never see, unless they happened to be on the bed nearby, slowly waking.  
   
 Cynthia's eyes slowly opened, opened in time to see that smile, and hear her husband and what he said next.  
   
 "You will, Erin," his hands slide down his lover's thighs, spreading them just a bit more, pulling her hips closer. His cock head, teasing, pushing, smearing and spreading that eager sex of hers. "If I have to make love to you all night, and into the morning, I am going to put my baby in you."  
   
 His wife gasped, eyes going wide. She opened her mouth, as though to say something. Then, aroused, guilty heat, blossomed about her cheeks in a blush. She was still leaking Erin, after all.   
   
 Granted, she was still Cynthia. Her guilt came from keeping this little secret from her husband for so long. She had been greedy with their lover and not, thoroughly sharing as she should. There was no shame in the cum itself, in the possible new life that could very well be catching with her.  
   
 To be honest, she wanted to slide over to the pair now, to coax that beast back to life, and ride it as Nathan plunged into Erin's aching heat. She held back, however, feeling it only fair. Her heart was tight as she watched her lover and her husband, together. So many emotions, and some of them hurt, she had to admit. Still, it was the moment's penance, to be their voyeur, as he had been.   
   
 Usually, Cynthia took what she wanted, but this time, for this want, she was absolutely willing to pay.  
   
 Nathan heard his wife, felt her eyes, knew her expression as the one he had worn not too long ago. Silent, her body a tremble, full of longing and doubt, and yet, acceptance. His next words were confirmation, and a sweet soothe to both women, but especially for himself.   
   
 "W- welcome, to the family, Erin." With that, he pushed forward. An inch, then two, sliding into silken depths, pushing aside flesh that gripped and suckled and gulped at him, demanding more, ever more. He intended to give more. She would have all she might want tonight, and any and every night that followed.  
   
 Erin's clear, emerald eyes widened as Nathan entered her, and she drew a shuddering breath, every nerve ending in her woman's channel afire as the fleshy invader drove deeply. "G-goddess!" she gasped, feeling his thick, questing shaft spearing her, impaling her. She heard another gasp and turned to see Cynthia's blue eyes fixed on the junction of flesh, the union of man and horsewoman being forged in the furnace of their heat.  
   
 His flesh-spear bumped against the thinnest, flimsiest of barriers, the thin membrane that marked her as a woman who had never borne a child. Still virgin, strictly speaking, though she was by no means innocent or naïve any longer; certainly not after Cynthia. She smiled up at Nathan, the man she would share with Cynthia, rolling her hips under him, arching her back, eager to feel him plunge past that wall, to take her virginity and plant his seed in her ready womb. *Am I fertile?* she asked herself, realizing she couldn't for the life of her remember where she was in her cycle. *I hope I <u>am</u> fertile*, she thought with one part of her mind. Most of her attention was on Nathan, and most of the rest on Cynthia.  
   
 "Nathan... please... take me. Take my cherry and give me your child!" she moaned in urgent lust. She looked again at Cynthia and reached a hand toward her petite lover. "Welcome back, lover," she purred. Her other hand snaked around Nathan, up his back, pulling on him, reinforcing her need for him, her desire to be mounted and fucked and filled with his steaming cum.  
   
 Cynthia let out an oddly pitiful whimper. She was not the sort to envy any woman her fun. She was the sort to make her own and then share. This though, this was beyond the physical, beyond the usual squirming, squealing moments as the bed shuddered and shook. She had been prepared to watch Nathan fuck a playmate of her selection.   
   
 But watching her Nathan actually *make love* to that person, that was something else again. Erin's call did not go unnoticed, nor could Cynthia ignore the thick, slow dribble of stallion seed from her recently ravaged and still somewhat gaping sex. She was simply unprepared for what she saw, how her heart trembled and her breath caught. If this is what Nathan felt, well, when all of this was over, the two of them had some nurturing to do.  
   
 Nathan found himself unable to concentrate on anything but the beauty before him. His world shrank and though he had no intention of it, his wife was just outside that self-contained universe. There was Erin, and there was him and nothing else could possibly matter more. Suddenly, he understood why his wife seemed powerless, even reluctant to call out to him before. Like his wife, he knew that, when the moment was over, there would be talking and crying, and definitely some hard love-making shared.   
   
 But for now, there was Erin. Her arms around his body, her purr, the way she pulled him toward her; the woman's gravity could not be denied. She wanted, she needed and there was no part of him that did not agree. His plump cock-head nestled against that slick sex, placed against unexpected resistance.  
   
 When was the last time he had broken down the gates of a virgin's womb? He could not remember, but he could not help but smile a little bit. It made Erin seem somehow, vulnerable, in a good way. It pulled her from the lofty pedestal and pressed her firmly into the sheets they shared. "Mmm, already, finding out all sorts of new things about my new lover, and mother-to-be."  
   
 As he spoke, he thrust. His voice having been sweet, his eyes full of love, he hoped them enough of a distraction for her. His cock slammed in, a good four or five inches. It broke through her dam and settled into the sweet reservoir beyond. She was warm inside, wet, and now, there was just the faintest sensation of increased moisture, heated by her heart.  
   
 Erin was staining his cock with her nectar and with her blood. Somehow it seemed fitting. He carefully pulled back till just the tip of his cock was inside, and then, brushing the salty drips from his lover's eyes, he thrust forward once more. Again and again, Nathan sank into her and with every push, found himself falling deeper and more impossibly in love.  
   
 So warm, so tight, a velvet embrace that shuddered when he cock pressed, pushed, and stretched her inner walls. It slurped and gulped at him, kissing his cock, milking it, demanding everything he had and more. Nathan was happy to give it to her.   
   
 His hands moved under her left leg, sliding up that silken fabric. His mouth turned to kiss along her ankle, to bite at her toes. With her body extended, with her tunnel tightened, he began a slow, yet steady pound. The sound of their sex, of the bed squeaking, and his wife's moan, drifting about their suite.  
   
 "Ungh!" Erin grunted, a brief flash of pain felt in her loins as her last barrier was swept away, pierced and riven asunder. Then the sweet, fulfilling sensation of Nathan's cock driving fully into her, opening her, stretching her in a way she had never felt. *Oh my sweet Goddess!* she thought, her mind a whirl of sexual heat. *I never knew how <u>good</u> it feels!* Her virgin cunt sucked him in, welcoming his cock, massaging his shaft, moulding to his thick, strong manhood. Instinctively her body responded to him, swamping her mind with the pleasure of strong, repeated thrusts in a steady, hypnotic rhythm of lust and life.   
   
 She flexed her leg as his mouth, his lips made love first to the smooth bronze skin of her thigh, then moved along to the sheer stocking, working down as he raised her leg gently, and then she felt him placing delicate, sweet kisses around her ankle and sucking and nibbling at her toes. Thrills and shocks of ecstasy shot through her from her foot and her pussy as he applied all his considerable knowledge and skill to his love-making. The redheaded stallion-woman writhed under his caresses and bucked in eager, hungry lust, driving her hips up to meet his thrusts, seeking, needing to impale herself on his man-meat.  
   
 "Yes, yes! G-goddess yes!" she cried out, heedless of who might hear. "Fuck me, Nathan! Fuck me hard!" Eyes alight with desire, she reached out to Cynthia, drawing the lovely petite blonde closer, wanton and lustful. Her teeth bared, hair spread in a fan of living fire across the satin sheets, she pulled Cynthia's hand over. "Touch me... touch my tits, lover," she breathed. "Play with my tits, squeeze them, love!"  
   
 She was lost now, she knew it. She could <u>not</u> go back, could not forswear this. Nathan and Cynthia had shown her what could be, and she wanted it, needed it, wanted to gift herself to them. There were no fancy clothes; only their naked bodies; no words of ceremony other than cries and moans of lust, urgent desires to be slaked; no covenant but the willing gift of herself to Nathan, just as Cynthia had given herself to Erin. For all that, for all the brevity of their acquaintance, she knew she was now well and truly wedded to this lusty, playful pair. There would be months and years ahead to learn all there was to know of them, to scale the heady heights of pleasure with them, spending days and nights in happy, sweat-slicked tangles of arms and legs. She kept a tight hold of Cynthia, covering her co-wife's pale, fine-boned hand with her own larger, bronzed one, while Nathan topped her, driving his thick cock, slick with her cunt juices, into her in deep, strong strokes.  
   
 Her breathing grew ragged under Nathan's urgent fucking and little moans escaped her. Though Nathan's hands gripped one leg, her other wrapped around his pumping hips, locking him into her aching, hungry cunt. She needed to feel him opening her, filling her, treating her to this new and wonderful sensation. He continued his assault on her toes, and the combined sensation of nips and bites on her hosed foot together with his long, hard cock spearing into her pearled pussy and his plump balls spanking her ass had her shivering, quaking, trembling, trapped in a whirlpool of lust that could only be satisfied with the baptism of his seed in her womb.  
   
 "GODDESS YES!" she shrieked, little sparks of pleasure suddenly blooming into explosions in her loins. Sheer orgasmic pleasure spasmed through her and she shuddered, helpless in its grip. Sweat gleamed on her breasts, her hips, her long, strong legs. Sweet honey flooded from her pussy around Nathan's thick, pistoning prick and she howled in animal lust. "FUCK ME HARD! FUCK MY CUNT HARD! CUM IN ME! MAKE A BABY IN ME!" Strong muscles flexed as her pussy gripped his rampaging cock, eager to milk his spunk. She felt something shifting between her legs as Nathan's powerful, plunging strokes not only stretched her eager pussy, but rubbed against the underside of her horse balls. A slow pressure, as if something was starting to press against Nathan's flat, muscled belly.  
   
 Cynthia almost resisted, almost hesitated, as if she could ever deny her lover's impossible gravity. When Erin touched her, all will slipped away. Electricity shared, as though a broken circuit was now happily rejoined.   
   
 It compelled her to obey.  
   
 Cynthia had recognized this as ceremony, sacred and sensual. Nathan was not just indulging in a shared fantasy, he was pulling the woman of their desires, of their need, closer and affixing Erin into their lives. A knot was being tied and it encompassed all three of them. The last few remnants of guilt, the bitter twinges of jealousy, everything that made the wife want to give the pair their moment alone, while secretly hating them a little for it... faded into that shared, wet pool.  
   
 It was almost too much, too many emotions to hold in at once. Cynthia could hardly contain them all. Watching her husband, truly watching him, as he made love to another, seeing the concentration on his face, the movement of his lips on Erin's toes, how he delighted in the thrust, how he shook in the pull. Never had she wanted her husband more, never had she so wished she was the one laying back, with that proud, thick cock, building up a breeder's load inside of their writhing bride.  
   
 Or husband? Erin could be both. She *should* be both. Like the emotions within Cynthia, their lover could not be contained within such easy terms. Infernal and divine, masculine, yet oh so feminine, darkest depths or stiffest, thickest shaft, there was no caging this woman in easy definitions. Nor did the free-spirited blonde want to.  
   
 When Erin reached out to her, what ultimately sapped the smaller woman's will to remain a silent voyeur was not the sweet Eros of Nathan's new wife. It was the possessive, hungry, demanding grip of Cynthia's new husband. God, oh god, she wanted to be fucked by that beast of a cock again.   
   
 Oh god, she wanted Nathan to watch, amazed. Mmm, and then to join, to be held, smothered, wrapped between them, finally and fully sated as physically as ever she had been emotionally. To share a child between them, to give them both a life to love as deeply as they ever loved her.  
   
 Well, perhaps not quite as deeply. She fully admitted a touch of selfishness in that regard. And wicked too, she realized as her eyes beheld that slowly rising stallion's tool. Her lips catching on Erin's breast, parting to reveal her teeth, suckling and biting, tugging most fiercely, she could not help but form an image in her mind.  
   
 Her Nathan, pinned underneath that uncompromising, unfettered cock. Why should only Erin be both husband and wife? Why could they not all dance between roles as easily as position? Yes, there would be a touch of revenge in it for her as well, but she instantly forgave herself that. As she suckled and lapped at molten bronze curves, she squirmed inwardly with a naughty girl's delight.  
   
 She could not deny Erin anything, not a part of herself, not an inch, and not an entrance. If her flame kissed stallion demanded her tight back door, she would whimper, shiver and then bend over. Why should Nathan be any different? After all, Cynthia would have given him that treat as well, had he ever asked for it.  
   
 Cynthia groaned, wondering if this was to be their life; to find boundaries within one another, hidden virginities, only to be burst with a gasping, grunting, demanding thrust? Would they tumble into bed and find brand new sins to commit with and against one another, only to reconcile in cum and sweat and tears? *Please*, she prayed to her goddess, *please, give her that*.   
   
 Her fingers danced down Erin's middle. They paused a moment to touch the shuddering muscles that hid under soft flesh, just about her lover's stomach. Nathan must be pounding her so very sweetly, her orgasm must be so very close. Cynthia's own sex was spasming, sympathetically, as though she could feel each and every thrust within.   
   
 Mmm, and now, look at that. The stallion's cock had emerged once more, like an engorged clit, it rose, shaking and shuddering. That beast of a shaft, it had an effect on their lover, a beautiful, primal effect. Whatever might Erin do were it inflamed, just as her heart was still racing from an all encompassing, feminine orgasm?  
   
 Would she pull her wife, Cynthia, down once more to tend to that delicious monster? Or would she make a blushing bride out of their shared husband? Either, at that moment, seemed far too sweet and forbidden a treat to possibly resist.   
   
 Biting her bottom lip, the blonde Eve reached down to grip and stroke, coaxing the serpent to fully emerge, that they could share a passionate fruit with their beloved Adam.  
   
 Nathan, through this, was focused, determined, hungry and needful of the release that was bubbling within. His mind was too slick, too wet a place for particularly complicated thoughts to take hold. He was all instinct now, all cock and lips and tongue. As he thrust inside, Erin's body responded with a grip that would have pulled a tree straight from the Earth's jealous womb, roots and all.  
   
 She was pulling him, suckling him in, and undulating on every side. The noise of it, more than just the crash of bodies against one another, was pervasive. It was slick, thick, as liquid and flesh combined to create a suction that was more than just muscle, more than just thrust. It was getting harder to pull out of her, harder still, emotionally. Being inside, fully, absolutely, and feeling her internals dance about his shaft, embracing and possessing his cock, was a paradise he could hardly bear to lose.  
   
 So he sped up, moving just an inch or so within, but with rutting, grinding strides. He found his Eden, again and again, in short, powerful ruts. As he nuzzled against the satin covered sole of her foot, he made unspoken promises never to wander too far from her humid, silken gate.  
   
 His eyes wandered about his lover, taking in both her impassioned pleas, no,** demands**, to be bred, to take his child. He saw his other wife as well, using lips that he had become an expert on, to kiss and pleasure breasts that Nathan meant to learn more about. It made him smile, all previous thoughts of abandonment, a youth's fears, evaporated, drifting about only as the heady musk that embraced all three.  
   
 Still, he could not help noticing the rise of Erin's curious addition. It touched him, rubbed against him, slapped at his stomach, beating out a rhythm that echoed Nathan's thrust. He was not sure how to feel about that, how to feel about it.  
   
 No, that was not quite right. He recognized it as a part of Erin, and being so, he could not deny that fearsome shaft. It was jus- just that it represented something unknown, mysterious and beyond the older man's understanding. Bigger than he, more virile, something that, when unleashed, took his wife, took both of his wives and made him a voyeur.  
   
 Unwilling? Perhaps not. Perhaps next time that sturdy shaft sunk into Cynthia's quivering heat, when he had less to fear, less to doubt, he might enjoy the sight. Perhaps. For now, he found himself secretly thanking his blonde wife for gripping it, pulling it away from his own flesh.  
   
 Nathan was not quite ready for everything that dark, towering breeder contained, and apparently, his wife secretly understood.  
   
 Funny how two hearts and minds can be so well intertwined and yet mistake one another's intentions so completely. There was the wife, teasing a cock to stand, proud and firm, seducing the behemoth's owner to ever more wicked indulgences. Meanwhile, a husband, free of the touch of something he was not quite able to fully grasp, thanked her for the "consideration."  
   
 Whatever the case, whatever Erin held in her heart at that moment, stallion, mare or a sensual blend of both, Nathan's plump shaft within was less complicated, less subtle in its yearning. It ground, gorged, spread inner walls that would form back around it, and then, as that suckling, sinful tug became unbearably tight, it swelled. Stained in nectar, blood and precum, it lurched forward inside of their lover's inner heat.  
   
 Coming to life, smaller yet no less of a beast than Erin's shaft, it surged forward, the tip expanded, the slit spouting a molten gout of ivory deep within quivering folds. It pulled back a bit, not by Nathan's hips, but by its own flesh and blood, before surging once more, erupting again, with another rope of seed, and then another, and another.   
   
 The cock had been promised a womb to paint a dirty white, a sinful center to baptize with release, and it was not to be denied.  
   
 Erin felt him, felt his cock expanding within her, flexing, throbbing, the focus of his lust. She felt the hot, sticky flood as he pumped her urgently, erupting within her pussy, and knew with sudden, certain bliss - she did not know how she knew - that she *was* fertile, that his seed would travel up, seeking her center. Wet warmth spurted from him, filling her with potency, and she shivered at the thought, the realization that she was about to make a new life courtesy of her lover's cock-cream.  
   
 Pleasure consumed her, washed her over and through, and caught in that orgasmic tide, she bucked with wild abandon, pulling Nathan down to her, crying out. Nothing mattered to her but the thrusting, driving rod held tightly between her slick, gripping labia, stroking him, squeezing him, embracing him. Wetness flowed from her girl sex, coating his plunging cock with her essence, flowing down the smooth skin of her bucking, quaking ass, tinged ever so slightly with red to stain the rumpled satin sheets of the bedclothes.  
   
 Nathan loomed over, his strong muscular ass rising and falling with repeated, pounding force, his lips on her silk-shod toes, his questing, humping prick rubbing against her balls as he took her with skilled, loving thoroughness... *Goddess, I never thought it could be like this!* she realized while her body responded with ancient instinct. Muscles in her back and ass tightened as she moved under him, her free leg tightening around his waist, locking him into her while he blessed her womb with thick, rich seed. Quivering, aching with her need, she answered him with her body as fiercely as she could; fucking him with all her strength and passion. "YES!" she shrieked, all control gone, strong, tanned body squirming under his, slick with sweat. "GODESS YES!! POUND ME! FUCK ME! FILL ME!" The musk of all three of them surrounded her, permeated her senses. She was exquisitely aware of every throbbing, spurting jet of his cum into her, the feeling of his excess seed oozing from her puss to mingle and enrich the spreading stains of lust beneath their writhing, coupling bodies.  
   
 Cynthia's loving, lusty attentions to her breasts brought further dimensions to her release; her blonde lover's hot, hungry mouth on her nipples only amplified her pleasure, heterodyning her nerves, slowing time into an endless golden eternity of orgasm. The electric sensations flooding through her body seemed, curiously, both all-encompassing and strangely distant as she floated on a sea of lustful desire and fulfilment. Her co-wife's small, questing hand on her sprouting horseflesh, teasing her, urging her, dared her inner beast yet again... and the beast responded, at first sleepily, complacently; then with growing need and ferocity. Her staff grew, her balls plumping, caressing Nathan's pounding shaft, and the growing, flaring flange of equine cock-knob rose between their rutting bodies until she felt it beginning to push between the firm, proud breasts where Cynthia suckled and nipped happily.  
   
 \[COLOR=windowtext]The flame-haired stallion-woman gripped her blonde lover's hand tightly, as if that earthly anchor was all that could keep her from scattering under Nathan's assault while he took his new wife with loving, forceful need and gave her his child. "Dear goddess, don't let go, Cynthia!" she husked, her eyes alight with lust and fire. "Don't let go!"\[/COLOR]  
   
 Nathan began to slow, his sweat-kissed shoulder shuddering as the long, hard, glorious rut finally began to subside. He had pushed through that envelope, that moment where his body let loose his mind to flow free and above it all. It drifted on wispy, sensual zephyrs, to think the sort of heavenly thoughts that were only possible when all natural needs were completely satisfied. It was a bliss born of absolute ecstasy, and it was as much of a child of Erin's as whatever new life might come from the mixture of his fluid and her womb.  
   
 It let him gaze at his lovers, his wives, the women he would give life to, and give his life for. All thoughts of abandonment, of jealousy and hurt, extinguished. They simply could not exist in a man who loved both partners so very deeply. It might return later, on some cold, bitter night when he was alone in bed and might wake to hear the sounds of both Erin and Cynthia, thrusting and shuddering underneath one another.  
   
 But he knew all he had to do was turn and watch, see the joy on their faces, to know the warmth would flow into him once more. Besides, there would be nights that Cynthia would come to him and him alone, and nights when he would seek out Erin as well. He saw this, passionate future, this daydream, spreading out before them, along with beautiful children, born of their parent's love.  
   
 Romantic, even frilly thoughts, but they were his and they made him smile. Still, his stamina was exhausted, his strength, for the moment, gone. He crashed hard, into his own body. Suddenly the physical was important again, natural limitations creeping up, and those delightful reminders of the waking world swelled.   
   
 There was the smell of them and their sex, that sweet and bitter mix of fluids that came with an adult's musk. There was the flavour of silken toes on his lips, toes he regretfully let go of, the leg sliding down, to keep from straining his lover too far beyond her own physical boundaries. And there was the cramp in his own leg.  
   
 He had ignored it through thrust, forgotten it in eruption.   
   
 Now, like a jealous lover, denied too long, it made itself known in a twist of muscles and tendon. The knot punched the back of his calf, a fist of sore tissue that made Nathan wince. "So- sorry Erin. I-" He groaned in apology, pulling his cock out from her softly gripping sex.  
   
 Well, that was his intention. He found her sex to be a little easier getting in, then getting out. It gripped him with tight, hungry muscles and he groaned when it playfully refused to let him simply pull away. "NNnngg, Er- Erin, oh god, that feels wonderful, bu- but I got a cramp dear. MMm, pl- please?"  
   
 Cynthia giggled, leaning against her crimson haired lover, still stroking that nearly fully risen cock, teasing at the tip. She had no intention of letting that shaft go, unless, of course, Erin was about to put it to some real use. "Oh poor Nathan. Is our virginal bride too tight for you? Did she wear you out, already?"  
   
 Nathan grunted, leaning over suddenly, his hand on the back of his blonde wife's head. He pressed his lips to hers, which protested, but not all that much. Kissing deeply the woman he had first married, he rolled his cock in and out of Erin's gripping sex. In and out, in and out, he rolled and pulled until finally, his shaft slipped free with a wet, gushing *schlorp*!  
   
 Pulling back from the kiss, Nathan licked his free-spirited wife's nose. "Never dear, but I- I could use a moment." He grinned, reaching back and untangling himself from Erin's legs. Or, once more, trying to. This time, he knew he was beaten as there was no arguing with the power of those caramel thighs.   
   
 He tried a different tactic, pointing to that massive flesh that Cynthia was stroking, the one that was sunk, beautifully between Erin's glorious curves. "It looks to me like the two of you have something to deal with anyway. Let me rub this cramp out and you two can rub that, ummm, stiffness, away too."  
   
 Licking lips that still tingled from her husbands kiss, the wicked young woman continued to grip and fondle Erin's cock, leaning up to whisper in her ear. "You know, I think he's still a little nervous around this beautiful beast of yours." She cooed, wetly, naughtily, "Probably because he hasn't made friends with it yet, like I have."  
   
 Now she was purring. Now she was Eve, tempting the serpent. "Is it really fair for us to get all nice and stretched, feel that warm, creamy load, and not share the experience?"  
   
 Nathan was still trying to find a way to rub at his knotted calf and pull himself from between the silken bondage of Erin's legs. He only heard a giggle, a purr and a whisper, but he knew his wife. He looked at the pair, suddenly suspicious. "What are you two planning?"  
   
 Cynthia ignored him, still teasing, "Poor Nathan, two wives and no husbands. Poor Erin, only one wife. Is that really fair?" She giggled, licking at her lover's ear, teasing it in the same way she was coaxing that thick cock. Her fingers moving up and down, all the way, fondling the swollen balls below.  
   
 "I can hear what you are saying, Cynthia," Nathan lied. He tried unlock the legs that had him absolutely pinned, fingers moving to those beautiful feet curved against his bottom, cupping him so sweetly. Normally, he would have adored being in this position, but something told him there was danger here; sweet, sinful danger at that.  
   
 Erin smiled up at her new family; her husband, wife and lovers, while she caught her breath, her honeyed skin gleaming with sweat. "Mmm, Nathan... thank you, lover!" She caressed his legs with hers, then laughed gently as she released him. "I'm sorry, dear."  
   
 Sitting up, she ran her fingers through her hair as Cynthia's wickedly skilled hands continued to tease and tantalize her horse-member, her back arching as she stretched luxuriously. The red-headed horse-woman leaned forward, her lips parted, seeking Nathan's mouth fleetingly, then pulled back.  
   
 She looked from Cynthia to Nathan, her new spouses, her face growing serious. "Thank you, both of you. I... I never expected this to happen," her tone making it clear that 'this' was not simply the lustful romps on the hot tub and the bed, but the new-forged bond which made them now a three-way family. A little breath of laughter escaped her lips as her eyes unfocussed a bit. "I thought I was just going for holidays... I never expected to find love." Her hand left Nathan's face to come to rest on her taut abdomen, as if she could sense new life within her. Looking over toward Cynthia, she rested her other hand on her blonde lover's smooth belly. "I feel sure I gave you a baby, love... and I very much hope Nathan gave me one, too."  
   
 She lifted Cynthia onto her lap, enjoying the smooth, silky warmth of the blonde beauty's pert bottom against her thick shaft. Grinning, she eased the saucy blonde off to lie between Nathan and herself, sandwiched between them, then swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.  
   
 "If you two will excuse me, I need to use the loo... though," she smiled, looking down at the fleshy tube standing up proudly from her groin, "I'm going to have to take care of this, first." The sultry, bronzed redhead sashayed into the bathroom, her firmly muscled butt swaying gently from side to side with each step. She turned her head to look lovingly at her spouses. "Don't wait on me, loves..."

**Act 4 - Fit Together**

 The smaller woman squeaked as she was nestled between the pair. She indulged in a few seconds of bliss, nestled between twin furnaces, the sweat-stained bodies of her husbands, her lovers, on either side. Cynthia had groaned when her bottom slid along that awoken shaft, but it devolved to a whimper when her flesh was reunited with that of Nathan's.  
   
 It was too soon.   
   
 The regrettable distance that had built up between them had been pierced like summer-time soap bubbles from a plastic hoop. Her eyes were shy and her breath caught. It would have been better after their play, better after her husband was a writhe of exhaustion and emptied balls. Better, she thought, to curl up against him when he was drifting, vulnerable, and beyond all casual cares.  
   
 Right now, he was still too strong. Right now, he was still fierce. Right now, he might leave if her lips stumbled or his own heart faltered.   
   
 When Erin slid off the bed with a smile, the free-spirited wife whimpered, eyes moving from one to the other. When they rested on Nathan's dark, deep gaze, she felt herself start to tremble. She could not face her husband alone, not yet.  
   
 Her bottom lip slipped into a familiar pout, one that might have worked, were Erin not already off the bed and at the bathroom door.  
   
 "Something not go like you planned?" Nathan asked, his voice quiet, his body perfectly still. "I can relate. But you know, that happens sometimes." He reached up, touching her face with strong, calloused fingertips. "I think she wants us to talk."  
   
 Cynthia shook her head, biting her bottom lip with eyes cast low. "No! No talking Nathan. Not now, please. To- tomorrow, over a late breakfast. Tomorrow, after we've burst a few bed springs. Tomorrow, when we're all hung over on sex and nobody can look each other in the eyes without smiling." Her hand moved up, laying on her husband's chest. "Please, Nathan. I want distance, I want sex, between us an- and what got a little out of control."  
   
 "You want me worn out so you can plop on my lap and kiss me till I start laughing again, huh?" Nathan sighed softly, running his thumb along her throat.   
   
 "I- is that so wrong? I admit it, I got in over my head with all of this Nathan. Bu- but I lov-" The words cut short as her husband's palm covered her mouth.   
   
 "Not yet, Cynthia. I'm not ready to hear that, yet." Now his eyes drifted, now his body trembled. So much resolved in making love to Erin, so much left untouched. He moved his hand away from her lips when he felt her kissing that sensitive spot between thumb and fingers.  
   
 "Wh- what is it you want, Nathan?" Her voice was soft, once more. It usually was whenever she asked that question. It always made her feel vulnerable, out of control. She prided herself on knowing her lover, on anticipating and exceeding his needs. She wanted him sprawled, gasping, unable to keep up... never frustrated, never empty.   
   
 Nathan's smile was slight, the sort of smile that only a devoted lover, someone who had traced his face for hours as they slept together, could possibly see. "I- I want to be intimate with my wife." His chest filled, then emptied in a deep sigh. "Nothing kinky, or wicked. Nothing too spicy, nothing that would end up in a Penthouse letter." His hand on her body, his thumb gently rolling along her right nipple. "Not looking for strawberry or chocolate, here. I just want a scoop of vanilla with the woman I married."  
   
 How could he do that? How could her husband make missionary sound so exotic? How could his touch flood her sex with a rolling, humid heat? Her heart was racing, her swollen sex was clenching, and her nipple rose to his touch, obediently. She had to close her eyes, unable to look at his own, when she whispered, "No."  
   
 "No?" Something inside beat... wrong. Like it choked, or spit out a cog. Whatever it was, it hurt. "Cynthia, can you remember the last time we just did it? I mean, no teasing, no flirting with our waitress. No whispering the dirty things you might do to her if I don't make you squeal. No porno, web-cam, no toys, just us?"   
   
 Cynthia fought back the wetness that was building under her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat before it could form. It was another conversation she did not want to have while vulnerable, laying sprawled out on sweat-stained sheets. She knew it would come up eventually, but not now. There was too much there, too much that would distract. "S- sweetie, w- we can save that for our fifth year, or tenth anniversary. I promise, we'll have all th- the stale, everyday fucking you c- can handle I- I just... just...."  
   
 "Just what, Cynthia?"  
   
 Now, she blushed. Nathan had been deflected for now. Something had slipped by, either because Nathan had not noticed, or else because he recognized it as the sort of topic to be discussed some other night. That was good. Of course, now, she had a difficult question to answer. Licking her lips, she looked up into her lover's eyes and whimpered, "I- I'm really stretched an- and open and... fu- full of her, baby."  
   
 Now it was her husband's turn to blush. Vulgar as it may sound, that would definitely be some sloppy seconds there. His wife would still feel him, even if his size was almost child-like in comparison, but could he really enjoy himself, wrapped in another person's churning seed? Even if that seed belonged to his new, other wife?  
   
 "So- something more, Nathan. I- I don't want there to be any doubt, you know?" She looked away now, knowing that this might hurt. "I- I want to know whose child it is, wi- without having to guess."  
   
 Now Nathan's brow furrowed, a different sort of heat rising in his features. "A- are you bullshitting me? Ho- how long do you plan on keeping me out?"  
   
 Cynthia sniffed and reached out, gripping her husband's wrist, stroking along it with her thumb. "J- just till I test positive sweetie! Ple- please! Y- you and I can do everything else. M- maybe get some condoms." Her voice got quiet at the last, near begging.  
   
 "Condoms?" Nathan crumpled a bit, shaking his head, "Th- this is not fair, you know that, right?"  
   
 Now she grunted, "No- not about fair, Nathan." She sighed, "There's nothing fair about nine months of swollen ankles and breakfast barfing." Her hand gripped his tighter still. "I know, baby, I know you wanted to be my first. Well guess what? I- I wanted to be your first too."   
   
 Now, her husband blinked. Now, his eyes drifted to the bathroom door, and then back to his wife. Those same eyes began to waver.   
   
 "S- she's going to know it's yours. And I know that it's my fault and that we're going to love them both the same an- and all of that." She moved now, moved up and against him, laying her head on his chest. "It's stupid, and silly but I need this. C- can you understand that?"  
   
 Nathan could.  
   
 Her hair, his fingers were running through her hair, the way he did when they were alone. He was touching her in that special way that he only did after they had made love, and they were both well spent. She shut her eyes and began to kiss his strong, somewhat fuzzy chest.   
   
 His voice was soft as his touch, closing his own eyes, fiddling with an internal knot that was slowly coming loose. "What would you have done, Cynthia," his other hand moved down, along her back, "if I had left? Wh- what would my wife had done if her husband had packed a bag and simply walked away?"  
   
 Her husband was surprised, very surprised, how tightly her nails dug into his back. She slid one leg over his thigh and he felt that powerful grip that was his lover's possessive touch. "Erin and I would have made love all night, and into the morning." Her voice was different now, less vulnerable, more assertive, like her usual, tempestuous self. "Then I would have reported the cards stolen, told the family you had been kidnapped and set the police chasing after you."  
   
 Nathan could not help but laugh. Maybe she was just telling him what he secretly wanted to hear, telling him that he was important to her. It could be her way of assuring him that she had no plans on ever letting him go.   
   
 On the other hand, it was Cynthia, she might be serious.  
   
 "Don't laugh Nathan." She looked up, one hand moving to tighten in his hair. "I never had anyone that was precious to me before you. Never wanted someone as fully and totally as I want you. I- I still can't believe I'm here, married. Never thought it would happen, never thought I would ever want it to happen. But now?" She allowed herself a wet smile, "Now, you are mine and I don't care how much I mess up, I'm not letting you go."  
   
 "And here Erin was ready to yell at *me* for being overly possessive." He said it, playful, but inside, he was melting. Most little boys who run away, in their heart of hearts, want to be chased. And below, between his legs? He was beginning to stir.  
   
 Cynthia grinned. "That's different. That's all about people thinking they own one another just because they can't tell the difference between a ring and a leash." She touched him again, with her other hand, sliding around and enveloping his stiffening shaft. "I don't own you because we're married. I own you, so I figured I might as well marry you."  
   
 His shaft groaned, pulsing in her delicate touch. It flared at the tip, delighted to be remembered. "What about Erin?" He found his hips moving slowly, cradled in that warm palm.  
   
 Her fingers moving up and down, teasing in stroke. "I think, sometimes, she owns me. Sometimes, but not all the time. I- I'm not sure. But I know I want her with us. I know I want to be her lover, her wife," now she grinned, "and her husband too."  
   
 Nathan grunted, his hand returning to Cynthia's breast, tugging on her nipple, teasing it as though his fingers and thumbs were rough lips, pulling it to attention. "Doesn't leave much room for me, does it?" His body thrust a bit more, a bit harder into that palm. He loved her touch, but he wanted her to know, with all this talk of owning and possession, that he was still himself, still strong and virile and capable of taking what he wanted as well.  
   
 His wife giggled softly, "Husband, lover, and wife, too." She ran her thumb along the tip of his cock head, smearing the risen pre over it. Idly, she touched him like that, sharing a silent moment, building a silent thought. Finally, she spoke once more.   
   
 "Do you trust me, Nathan?"  
   
 "N- not a good time to be asking that, you know?" He sighed, though he was enjoying her delicate attention. "I think you've got some work to do first."  
   
 Cynthia cooed softly, moving forward, and catching one of her husband's own nipples between her teeth. She bit at it, hard enough to be felt, tugging before letting go. "I know baby. You were all vulnerable tonight an- and I didn't prepare you for it. But if you let me, if you ca- can trust me, once more, I promise you that the next time you're feeling all vulnerable, it'll be ooh so very good."  
   
 Her husband put a hand to his wife's chest, pushing her back, ever so slightly. His eyes on hers, his voice calm, but direct. "What is it you want, Cynthia?"  
   
 Cynthia's hand moved from the back of his head, taking his wrist once more. She brought his palm up and ran her lips over his fingers. Her mouth kissed one, then another, and then, took a third deep inside, suckling on it for a long moment. She did not need his moan to tell her how much he was responding to the tease. The surge of his cock told the tale. "I- I can't tell you. I can't ruin the surprise. It's like everything else we've done Nathan." Now she burst into a wide smile, "you know the rules as well as I."  
   
 His eyes closed, remembering the first night they had spent together. He remembered her pulling out a suitcase filled with outfits and toys and strange lubrications and oils. He remembered going pale, and turning to the door, wishing her a good night.   
   
 He had been a hairbreadth from stepping out of the best thing in his life when she had cooed, "Here's the rule, handsome. Whatever I want to do, all you have to do is try it, just once. If you like it, great. If not, I promise never to do it again. That's fair, isn't it? I mean, it's just like Brussels sprouts, right?"  
   
 Cynthia, in the present, ran her cute, wet tongue between his fingers once more before nodding. "I know, this will be like the third new thing you've tried tonight, but please, sweetheart? I mean, it is our honeymoon, right?"  
   
 *They need some space, some time,* Erin had thought when she excused herself to the bathroom. *It's been a very intense day so far... I don't even know for sure how I feel, aside from wanting to be with them and love them, and I think Nathan still feels a bit... left over, left out.*  
   
 She looked around the bathroom appreciatively. It was on the same lavish scale as the rest of the suite, and the centrepiece, the crown jewel, was the huge bathtub in the centre of the room. To one side was a long vanity with two basins and a vast expanse of mirror; on the other was a couple of stalls with translucent panels; no doubt the loos were behind those. Beside those was a generous shower with multiple heads and taps; that would be eminently satisfactory, she thought.  
   
 She stripped off her stockings, stained with cum and sweat, dropping them on the floor. Bare as Eve now, though blessed as Eve never was, she stepped into the shower stall and took her straining, hardening shaft in her hands.  
   
 Slowly, with practised ease, she drew her hands along the slick length of her cock, teasing it, bringing it to full size and girth. The mottled skin stretched over the thick muscle gleamed with her wetness, from the lubricating juices of her sheath. The familiar sensation of fingers on flesh elicited the accustomed response; she could feel the nerves in her horse penis tingling, spreading tracks of pleasure along her length. Sighing, she pulled up on the turgid mass, bringing the wide, flat head closer to her breasts. One hand rubbed that pulsing end gently as she slowly inserted a finger into the gaping, shadowed mouth of the cum-pipe, and she hissed as that finger sent tingles of fire lancing down her pole to the eager orbs in the bronzed sack below her cock-sheath.  
   
 Those balls needed attention, too; she continued slowly stroking her beastly member with one hand, letting the other wander down below the tree-like mass to tease, titillate, tickle her scrotum and the massive testes housed therein. Her eyes closed and she leaned back against the cool marble, one hand thrust between her legs, hefting the weight of her balls, and the other gripping and sliding up and down the length of mottled skin stretched over firm, spongy cock-meat.  
   
 Her lovers' voices rose and fell out in the main room, and she caught snippets of their talk as she masturbated, her hand moving along her cock with increasing speed. *Cynthia's very much the in-charge, the alpha of the pair,* she mused, then caught herself. Cynthia and Nathan weren't a pair now; they were two of a triplet, with herself as third. *And me? Am I more take-charge than Cynthia? Than Nathan? Or does it matter, so long as we remember to love each other?* Love... what a thing to have found, and in such a strange, wonderful manner. She had gone with them initially out of curiosity, a hope that perhaps some light, sexy play might take place... all without revealing her special nature, because she knew how that would be received. Cynthia had proved her wrong, had not only accepted but eagerly sought to experience Erin's unique gift. Her mind floated back, reliving again the feeling of cool porcelain under her quivering shaft, her flanged head on the edge of the basin; the smooth, silken warmth of Cynthia's small but deliciously perfect breasts wrapped around her beast, until her horse-pipe had erupted all over the basin, the walls, the floor. That experience alone had made her holidays worthwhile, and everything that had followed since had been a piling of pleasure on pleasure, bliss on bliss... and the culmination, her gift of self to Nathan, receiving him inside her while Cynthia watched and petted her...  
   
 But Nathan wasn't cooperating, she realized, continuing to listen as she stroked herself, cupped her balls and squeezed the mighty globes gently, urging herself onward. *Nathan... no, both of them aren't sure... maybe this isn't going to work,* she realized, feeling sadness welling in her heart even as pleasure flared in her loins. Part of the problem, she realized, was that without meaning to, she had usurped the gift of being first for each other. Cynthia would not bear Nathan's child before Erin's, and Erin's womb, not Cynthia's, was quickened, blessed with Nathan's seed. She felt guilty... though curiously, she didn't feel guilty for having snagged 'firsts'; she felt guilty because she didn't feel guilty, as well as confused. She didn't want to be the cause of any dissension... but she also wanted to be mother to Nathan's child, to be sire of Cynthia's.  
   
 Soft, teasing whispers spoke of flesh on flesh in that room, of physical desires being met even as hearts spoke, seeking answers. Their talk was becoming more interspersed with gasps, panting, little moans and vocal shivers, and Erin's ready imagination supplied a panorama of images to provoke such sounds... Cynthia on hands and knees between Nathan's legs, her hands wrapped around his manhood - a manhood still slick from Erin's slick, gripping, purring sex, fat white droplets of his essence oozing down the meaty thickness... her lips and tongue lavishing his balls and cock with saliva... Nathan lifting the petite blonde, his strong hands pushing up on her firm buttocks, her head lying back, her thighs parted, his tongue busy stroking, teasing her sex... tasting Erin's seed within the blonde's gaped, oozing sex...  
   
 Nathan's voice came clearly: "Doesn't leave much room for me, doesn't it?" and her heart sank, visions fleeting, even as her physical arousal continued to grow with every stroke, the pulsing veins in the base pumping blood into her cock, hardening it further. *Please, Cynthia... don't say the wrong thing, please don't... Nathan has more pride than you realize, I think...* She straightened a bit, pushing away from the stone tile, her hands pausing their rhythm, cocking her head in an effort to hear Cynthia's reply. More words, mostly muffled, but for the last: "I mean, it is our honeymoon, right?"  
   
 Erin's breath caught in her throat. *Our honeymoon... but is "our" two? Or three?* Heart hammering in her chest, she rested her hands on her achingly hard cock and listened for Nathan's reply.  
   
 It was a long time waiting, a long time spent in a humid silence. Their lips were still, but their fingers had taken up the conversation. They touched one another as though they had become both deaf and blind. Their fingers drifted, expressing themselves through a sensual Braille. Through sense, through sensation, they spoke volumes.  
   
 A couple lost in a dark, quiet wood. All about them were sounds and scents, both terrifying and exhilarating. They could almost hear the seductive wolfess, howling at her lunar lover, and feel the bristle of barked, sticky trees. Those were the emotional barriers that had grown up around them. Most were new, but a few were old, having not been recognized till that very moment. Through that darkness, they sought one another out, afraid of being lost forever, but more afraid that they might stumble out into the daylight, alone.  
   
 Finally, Nathan spoke. His voice thick, as though he had been drinking deeply from that dark forest's sap. "Put them on for me."  
   
 Cynthia was slow to respond, gathering her resolve. Her response was meant to be playful, flirty and in control. Instead, it cracked, choking on the tearful lump she had finally submitted to. "P- put one what, Nathan?"  
   
 Her voice grew in strength as his name slipped between her lips. He was her strength and her anchor. More over, he was hers, and there was just no denying that.   
   
 Not now, not ever.  
   
 "You know what I want Cynthia, and I've talked way too much tonight as it is." His voice betrayed a touch of frustration, a hint of annoyance and a bruised pride. He certainly did not want to say it. Either because he was embarrassed, or because his wife knew exactly what he was talking about. "Put them on, like you did that first night and y- you can have what you want."   
   
 There was a pause, and then his voice came back up, with just the edge of a wry grin, "Again."  
   
 There was a sound, like a scritching. It was the noise of Cynthia's soft fingers brushing along Nathan's rough, stubbled throat. "H- how can you be so sure that I even brought them?"  
   
 Now Nathan grunted and there was another sound, a muffled, fleshy pop. Perhaps it was the older man's strong, calloused palm, coming down on his wife's bottom in a playful spank. "Because it's our honeymoon, right?"  
   
 Cynthia squealed, laughed and wet, suckling noises drifted from the bedroom and through the open bathroom door. Once, twice, three times, a handful, a then a dozen, she was kissing him all over. She let out a moan when his hand squeezed her ripe, wiggly bottom. "MMmm, of course, my *other* husband, you are absolutely right."  
   
 Soon there was the sound of a body, the lighter one, slipping off of satin-sheeted bedsprings. Nathan's voice followed the moving figure, "So I'm the *other* husband eh, Coraline? Which wife does that make you?"  
   
 A drawer was opened and something too light, too silken to make noise, was pulled from it. "Oh don't be silly Nathan. I'm the alpha wife. You and Erin will have to fight over who gets to be the *other* wife, and which one of you has to settle on just being the husband that night."  
   
 Nathan grunted, "You realize she can probably hear us Cynthia. Yo- you ma- may wan...." His voice trailed off. Something was going on.   
   
 Cynthia was doing something, something that could not be seen from inside the lavish bathroom. It could barely be heard. If Erin strained and leaned forward as best she could, she might just catch a snippet of what sounded like something incredibly sheer sliding up long, beautifully slim legs.  
   
 A melodic giggle answered her husband. "You never could finish a sentence when I slipped these on." She cooed softly, playfully, "I think Erin might just understand what I mean more than you do right now. But I promise you, it'll all make sense in the morning. I- oh hell, you aren't even listening to me right now, are you? Just starring at my legs, at my calves, watching the way the fabric spreads about my toes."  
   
 There was little human response, but the bed grunted, as a larger, muscular weight shifted on it.   
   
 Cynthia cooed and based on the sound of sensual fabric rubbing against itself, was moving closer to the bed. "See how sheer they are lover? So fragile and beautiful, not a seam to be found. Yet, they wrap my round little bottom, and dripping, swollen mound, so beautifully. You could just reach out with your tongue and taste me, couldn't you? Right through the fabric."   
   
 Again, there was no verbal response, but the bed groaned once more. Perhaps there was also the sound of an older man, whose breath had caught while his heart rate climbed. If so, it was not the only part of him on the rise.  
   
 "MmMmmm, such a dirty little boy and already so hard. I wonder, is that for me, or for what I'm wearing?" Cynthia cooed, her sinful tease followed by the sound of a large body being pushed back to lay fully sprawled on the bed. "Shall we see?"  
   
 *Put them on? Put what on?* wondered the fiery mustang-woman. Cynthia's voice... her beautiful blonde lover was still upset, and Erin realized that for all Cynthia's take-charge attitude, she needed Nathan's rock-solid reliability, depended on it to anchor her. He had asked her what she would have done if he had just up and left, and she was desperately afraid that his question was not rhetorical; that he had considered that very thing.  
   
 A smack, followed by giggles. Erin strained her ears. *Please... * she wasn't even sure what she was praying for. She wanted her two lovers to come to... not mere acceptance, but to embrace this new arrangement. Her body, unconcerned with the thoughts roiling in her mind, responded to older, more basic imperatives as she moved her hands along the thick, throbbing mass of horse-flesh. She shifted her legs, still leaning against the wall of the shower, her feet now straddling the drain, letting her plumping testes brush against the cool marble. The contrast of warm thighs either side and coolness against the smooth flesh of her scrotum flashed electric sparks through her nerves and her mouth dropped open as she moaned softly, her voice freighted with wordless hunger.  
   
 Nathan still seemed a bit irritated, though, she realized as she listened intently. He wanted something, and Cynthia was being difficult. A sudden image in her mind arose... Cynthia, turned over her knee, her upturned bum reddened with palm prints as she spanked her wanton blonde wife - and at the same time, Nathan standing behind Cynthia, driving himself into her in long, deep strokes, piercing her. Erin's hips began rocking, pumping forward, thrusting her horsecock against empty air. One hand slide back against her sheath, stroking the soft, tanned flesh now opened wide to free the mottled monster that snouted forward, seeking warmth and wetness. That hand slipped down further, her palm nestling against the full, seed-rich sack, her fingers wrapping as best they could around the bronzed skin enclosing her generous babymakers, slowly stroking and squeezing the plumping flesh.  
   
 *'She can probably hear us'...* *Goddess, they're getting off thinking about it...!* That realization whirled through her head while her back arched, driving her proud stallion-member toward the ceiling. The illicit excitement of listening on a private moment between them was quickly supplanted by the thought of her lovers playing to that eavesdropping, picking their words, their actions to weave an audio tapestry fit to rouse her to a fever pitch... and it was working.  
   
 Her busy hands paused momentarily. Someone had moved... and what was that sound? Fabric, the kiss of something sheer against skin...? *Stockings, or pantyhose,* she mused, excited further, as she heard Cynthia's comment about her toes spreading the material. The thought, the image of Cynthia in stockings, teasing Nathan... her lovely legs encased in slippery, sheer satin, stroking gently down his legs, caressing his muscles, until Nathan's control was pushed to the breaking point... Nathan lifting Cynthia, his hands warm and loving on the blonde beauty's bottom, supporting her with her hosed legs parted while his mouth made love to her, tasting her, drinking from her fountain through the sheer material... Cynthia stalking him, feline, predatory, crawling up, her lithe legs trapping her prey beneath her, a smile fit to do the most lustful Cheshire cat proud as she flirted, teased, brought Nathan to a fever pitch... these images tumbled through Erin's mind, mixed in a whirling storm of lust and her moans grew louder and longer.   
   
 Her legs trembled slightly while she masturbated herself, spreading farther apart as pre started dripping from the gaping cum-pipe. One tanned hand gripped her thick, proud member, sliding slickly up and down that mighty shaft from knob to base; the other cupped around her scrotum, feeling the pulsing testes within while her fingers grazed the nubbin of clit behind that sack, stroked her pearled crease, urging the flow of her nectar. Erin floated through a haze of lusty images as her breathing grew short, coming in panting breaths, while she pleasured herself, eager for release.  
   
 The silken shadows that were his wife's legs, danced along Nathan's tense, tightened muscles. She moved her legs expertly, spread and then straddled, gripping and wrapping him up within her sheer thighs. It was as much a writhe as a dance, pressing her flesh to his own. Their bodies were warm, sharing a mix of sweat and spilled sex. The air was heavy with it, a scent so thick, it could be tasted. It was the scent of her husbands, the musk of his wives, and she drank it deeply while leaning down to catch one of his nipples with her teeth.  
   
 He grunted as she bit, applying the sort of pressure that only a lover was allowed. She could feel his body responding, know by that barely restrained moan that he was losing himself to that moment, losing himself to her. She adored his pride, admired his strength, solid and regal; Nathan was her lion, whether on her leash or off. It was just, at that moment, it was causing him confusion, contributing to his pain. It would return, but for now, she needed him to submit to sensation, to allow himself to be lead by pleasure, alone.   
   
 For Cynthia, that was often easy. A few words, a tease here and there, perhaps a dangled shoe, and he would let her lead him to all of the delightful treats she had planned for the both of them. However, tonight, she shivered, tonight she had almost gone too far. Tonight, sh- no, she did not even want to think about it. Like Nathan, she needed to drift beyond that terrible possibility. Her nails dug into his sides, digging into his flesh, possessive as her fabric-covered legs gripped his body tightly.  
   
 If he was her lion, she was his lioness.  
   
 "NNnng, ge- getting frisky, Cyn?" Nathan winced as she dug in. He could feel her, wrapping, tightening around him. He teased her with that rarely used pet name, enjoying the attention. He knew that some of this was manipulation. Some of this was designed to make him forget, or better yet, to remind him why he had married this remarkable woman in the first place. But it was the desire behind it that truly calmed the worried brow that was her husband. It was not the tug of the leash, but more the affectionate desires of the woman that had first affixed his collar.  
   
 No sweeter sound to a running dog than his master's voice, calling out a beloved pet's name.  
   
 Cynthia just grinned, leaning in and catching his bottom lip. Not quite a kiss, her teeth caught, tugged and pulled at it. She suckled a moment before finally letting it go. Then she moved in and gripped his throat with those same teeth. She was small but fierce, especially now. Her body moved, grinding more intimately as her tongue slipped out to slide along his throat. Finally, she pulled back and purred, laying her head to his chest.  
   
 He became very aware of her lower body, how it was moving, how it had caught his own between satin-sheathed legs. That sinful fabric blunted the heat of her flesh as she closed her inner thighs around his cock. He found his hands moving down her back, petting his wild cat, his lioness. He moved them down her body, sliding under the hem of those seamless pantyhose, till he found his firm, calloused hands, gripping her ripe, round bottom. She moved as he did, groaning and grinding, pressing down till the top of his cock was snug against the bottom of her hidden sex.  
   
 So very close to that wet, welcoming heat, separated by only the thinnest of ethereal fabrics. With just the right thrust, he could probably push through it. With just the right angle and applied force, he could be inside of her, pantyhose or not. He could sink inside, despite his wife's whimpering protests, despite the heated cum he would find inside.   
   
 Cynthia knew it too, and she slowly ground her well-fucked sex against his straining member. "My Nathan is getting frisky too. But he's going to be a good boy, isn't he?" As she spoke, she began to work her body, tightening her thighs around his cock, pressing him more intimately against her. "He loves his Cyn, after all. Loves her more than life itself, and he trusts her, and wants her, almost...." She trailed off for a moment, forming a little circle of flesh that included her thighs, pantyhose, and humid sex. It was the perfect silken grip for her lover to fuck.   
   
 Working that makeshift circle, ever tighter around his cock, moving more intimately with direct, dominating motions, she leaned up to whisper into his ear. "Almost as much as I wan- no, need you." Faster she moved, gasping as her feminine lips dripped honey and a stallion's seed, all over her husband's shaft. "That doesn't change Nathan. That never changes!"  
   
 Nathan came, as hard and completely as he had ever cum while actually within his wife. It was not actually inside of her, her husband being that *good boy* she described. Instead, the cap of his cock swelled, peeking along with an inch or so of its length, from between his wife's tightly-twined thighs. It began to make a terrible mess, surging forward as it let loose a miniature geyser of cum, followed by another and another. White ropes landed in sizzles along his wife's covered thighs.  
   
 She cried out as well. His body pressed and ground against her sex, her clit directly stimulated by both his pelvis and the sheer fabric that moved up and down her mound. Cynthia came, her sex tensing, pulling Erin's earlier load deeper within. What did not get pulled in, seeped out with her sex's release. A mixture of man, woman and stallion, intermingled into a wet explosion shared between the reacquainted lovers.  
   
 She could hear them moving, the soft whispers of sheer fabric on skin, the husked voices rising and falling in a susurration of seduction and guile. Cynthia - her lover, her mare, her wife - was teasing her Nathan, her lover, her stallion, her husband. Muffled thumps as bodies shifted, locked in a primal urgency on the unseen bed while the flame-kissed horsegirl panted in eager lust, her hands moving at speed over the quiveringly erect, engorged cock sprouting from her crotch.  
   
 *Ohgoddessohgodessoh...* a whirling, chaotic confusion of thoughts, images, feelings flooded through her. Her mouth hung open in an 'O' of orgasmic pleasure as shocks of desire flooded through her, sweeping over her, sweeping her away on a tide of lust and arousal. "Nnnn...!" she moaned, a low, intense ululation of urgent need escaping her. Erin trembled, her back pressed against the exquisitely finished shower walls, its beauty lost on her as she concentrated on the sounds of lovemaking drifting in from the bedroom. Gasps, moans of pleasure from the bedroom drove her on, spurring her to greater heights. The fiery stallion's moans matched theirs, her excitement building, compounding.  
   
 The sheer, wicked, urgent <u>need</u> in their voices as husband and wife cried out together triggered her. Her voice answered theirs as her athletic, bronzed body shuddered in the grip of release. Her back arched, pushing her out from the supporting wall; her balls seemed to swell in her hand as her strong fingers massaged the smooth warm flesh. Her hips bucked involuntarily, driving forward as if to impale some phantom lover, her pulse thundering in the thick veins of her shaft. A surging sensation roared through her and she felt her shaft bulging, flexing as a gout of semen exploded from the wide, flat knob. That gout went on for several seconds in a long, rippling jet, a thick, creamy flood that splashed against the wall of the shower and spread in an obscene glaze of jizz.  
   
 "Yes...!" she gasped, eager, desperate fingers squeezing her sack and cockshaft. "Oh FUCK YES!!!" A drooling string of horse jizz linked her muscular fuck-pole to the dripping mess covering the wall for a bare second, then gave way as the flared knob flexed, the shadowed mouth of her cum-slit gaped and a second jet erupted, just as forceful, just as voluminous. "OH FUCCCCKK!!!!" the scream ripped from her throat as she came in shuddering, jerking spurts of boiling seed. Dimly she felt her girl-sex flooding as well, her pussy lips parting as if pierced by a man's tool, the warm pink flesh gleaming wetly while clear, sweet honey flowed out, coating her inner thighs and the back of her pumping balls.  
   
 Three, four blasts... she gripped the cum-spewing weapon as the stallion madness seized her, her hands flying along its inhuman length. Wordless wails of animal lust tore from her throat while her balls churned, her abdominal muscles tensing, contracting, pumping her rich, white sperm up the surging, rampaging length of horse-cock, painting the shower and a goodly portion of the marbled floor with pearled she-cum. The scent of her woman's juices wafted to her flared nostrils, the mare-scent as strong in the nectar running freely from her flooding, trembling crease as the stallion-scent in the thick rich seed spurting from her equine tool. Panting, her breasts heaving, she stroked herself with unashamed abandon while she came and came and came...   
   
 Stallion-woman though she was, she couldn't cum endlessly, however much it might seem that way in that pleasure-wracked, cum-splashed eternity of release. Four more times the dragon roared, belching forth the heated cream, but then the volcano subsided, the white lava slowed, as she came back to herself. Her thick, meaty equine she-cock drooped as veins relaxed and blood flowed back into her body. Streamers of jizz trailed from the glistening knob to the walls and floor, now liberally coated with a cooling, pearly glaze. A final parting spurt drooled from the wide cum-spout, the eye in the head of her stallion member, hanging on a thick rope, stretching in slow-motion to the shower floor. Only drips remained as her heat subsided, the fat, white drops oozing one by one from her cock, matched by the runnels of sweet honey tracking down her quivering legs, splashed over her tanned, drained sack.  
   
 *Goddess that was good...!* she thought shakily, gathering her lust-scattered thoughts. She braced herself for a moment against the marble, now warmed where her body had rested, and looked down.  
   
 A light sheen of sweat bedewed her breasts; below, her heavy horse-cock was still semi-engorged, slick with cum where her hands had massaged stray, flying drops over the gleaming, massive flesh. The flared knob still dripped clouded pearls, and she felt the wetness behind her balls, streaking her legs. The walls of the shower were a mess. Cum covered the marble, dripping in thick, oozing rivulets down the polished stone. More cum pooled on the shower floor... and, she saw, on the bathroom floor; it looked as if a gallon jug of milk had been spilled over it. There were thick splashes of her spunk on the counter, the faucets of the sink, dripping down the mirror. *I didn't think I was going to get that carried away,* she thought ruefully to herself. Up to this point she had been pleasuring herself two or three times a day in the bath of her hotel room and while her stallion nature meant she'd produced a considerable volume each time, it had been nothing like this. The only thing she could think of to explain it was the excitement her lovers brought to her, to spur her to such efforts. *I don't think even horse condoms are going to be an option for our future, either,* she mused. Gazing over the sticky, cooling goo, she realized her churning testes must have produced semen by the quart with every long, shuddering eruption. No mere latex sheath would restrain that; if nothing else, hydraulic pressure would split any condom ever made, from the firehose intensity of her cumming.  
   
 She wasn't inclined to worry about that at the moment; cleanup could be left to later - indeed, to the hotel staff; for what this suite must be costing her spouses - *and me,* she realized - the housekeeping staff should be handling everything and anything. *No*, she thought, a lusty smile curving her generous mouth as she felt her nipples hardening again, her loins stirring anew, * I think I should rejoin my loves.*  
   
 The bronze-hued beauty pulled open the bathroom door and smiled further at the sight that met her eyes; her lovely, handsome Nathan lying on the bed, satiated, cuddling her equally lovely, gorgeous Cynthia... she sniffed the air appreciatively, the distinctive scent of his musk, his seed splashed so liberally over her blonde lover's hosed legs, the sweet, wild tang of her pouting, dripping sex. *This... this is right,* she thought. *This is who we are - three husbands, three wives, three lovers, bound together.*  
   
 Framed in the doorway, backlit by the soft light from the artfully placed fixtures in the bathroom, she paused, one hand resting on her hip. Her lithe, tanned form glowed a rich golden tone, and the proud, wild stallion-girl was for the moment merged with the gentle, loving Erin; fertility and virility housed in a single being. Her flaming tresses stirred in a soft zephyr of breeze as she cocked her head, her emerald eyes alight with eager desire for her lovers. "Shall we?"  
   
 Cynthia clung to her husband, perched like a lioness on a particularly hardy prey. Her eyes were a wild pair, turning to gaze over her shoulder. They embraced that silhouetted goddess behind, encouraging the crimson-maned lioness to share in the blonde's meal. There was a sense of purr and power in her pose, her nails ran down Nathan's fuzzy chest, leaving little red trails down his pale front.   
   
 The willful prey grunted at that, folding the intensity of the scritch into the pleasure of his most recent glow. He felt so warm already that the sizzle of a scratch was easily endured. He could not see the beauty his wife was adoring, but he could easily imagine her.   
   
 He had spent enough time with those delirious curves to have them etched in his mind's eye. Her expression, her hair falling in fiery, springy tumbles about her throat and shoulders, the tightening of her leg muscles and the lift of her breasts that came with every heady breath. But there was something else, too. There was a scent, one that he was slowly beginning to associate with Erin's unique beauty. It was a musk, a heavy, deep, even imposing, musk.  
   
 It was not quite the scent of a man, it seemed to dip deeper, darker, like the sultry voice of a seductive starlet. Her scent was at once dangerous and intoxicating. Granted, one usually went with the other.  
   
 The slim blond wrapped around Nathan's frame laughed softly and turned equally dangerous eyes to her husband. "If you could see how beautiful she looks right now, you'd forgive me for what I'm about to do." Before her husband could reply, she leaned in and kissed his lips. Her hand slipped behind his head, and her nails dug little furrows along the back of his neck. It was hard to empty her husband's lungs, especially with her lithe frame, but she had the advantage on top, while he was still reeling from one of his favourite flavours of orgasm.  
   
 Finally, she broke the kiss and turned back to Erin. "We certainly shall. It looks like our Nathan has gotten me all messy." She squirmed a bit, her bottom covered in a seamless film of satin, now stained, both externally and internally, by sticky release. "Of course, you made a bigger one, inside."  
   
 Nathan blinked, looking up curiously, wondering just what winding, wicked path his wife was merrily skipping down, this time.   
   
 Then he felt it, felt a new warmth in a thick, shuddering drip. He had a good idea of his own capacity, he knew his load and how easily Cynthia coaxed extra from his pulsing member. But the heat that was making a mess of his lap as well as his wife's upper thighs, was far greater than any one man could produce. It spread about him and marked him, as though claiming his body as it had claimed Cynthia's own.  
   
 Her orgasm, the grinding of his cock against those swollen folds, must have coaxed that sweet, and dangerously intoxicating flow from within her. Now it was spilled. Now, if he was properly interpreting the look in his lover's eyes, she meant to have him taste it, at the very least. His hands moved up and his lips parted, ready to voice an objection.  
   
 She silenced it with another kiss, and another, and then another still. Leaning forward, she whispered sweetly into his ear. "I know it's hard for you love, I know yo- you might not be ready for it. But please, trust me. Do this, and she will be ours, for always."  
   
 Unspoken, but obvious in the way she ran her fingers through his hair was the addition, "Just as you will forever be ours."  
   
 He groaned, weak before his wife, feeling his resistance melted by those sweet, whispering lips. An uncommon blush rose to his cheeks. He felt, odd, small at that moment, even afraid. It was different, however, than the turmoil from before. It was a sort of vulnerability that was strangely new and, he had to admit, a little exciting. His stomach seemed to flip over, and it took his heart along for the tumble.   
   
 All he could do was mutter, in an unfamiliar pout of a voice, "I- it's hardly f-fair."  
   
 Cynthia cooed, leaning against him, and kissing his forehead, comforting her little man as he approached the unknown. "Love rarely is. Still, you gotta trust me here. I know just how to balance it all out." As she spoke, she began to slide up her husband, moving with those silken legs, leaving a warm, sexual trail as she did. She paused in mid pose, her thin, yet shapely legs preparing to straddle her husband's brightly blushing, and soon to be cum-stained, face.  
   
 "Erin, would you be a dear and clean up our little Nathan's cock? You don't mind tasting a bit of him, a bit of me, and a lot of yourself, do you?" Her cheeks were pink while her eyes glittered with a knowing expression. They were tumbling every tighter, ever more intimately toward a truly blessed trinity and she knew this was a particularly important step for Nathan.  
   
 She had no doubt that Erin would be delighted in helping their husband, their would-be wife, take that next step. It was almost like carrying him over the threshold, to the waiting marriage bed. Cynthia could not help but flush again, excited to see what her husband might look like in Erin's sizzling white.  
   
 Purring sensually, Erin licked her lips and advanced on the bed, muscles rolling under glowing caramel skin. "I think that's an *excellent* idea," she murmured with a wicked, teasing lilt to her voice. The rich odours of her lovers assailed her nostrils, filling her mind with darkling lusts as she slid herself onto the bed. Her mane fell over Nathan in a fiery tumble of teasing silken strands as she wiggled into place, and she shivered as the warm fullness of her bronzed breasts brushed along his hairy thighs.  
   
 Settling into position, she pursed her lips and blew softly across his member where it lay, slowly softening from his last erection. White seed dripped from his helmet, oozing thickly from the slit. Her hands slid smoothly, warmly along his legs until she reached his firmly muscled ass and dug her fingers in, gripping his flesh with strong, tanned fingers as her watering mouth sought his balls. Sweet and wet, her tongue wrapped eagerly around the juicy plums awaiting her and she began sampling the mix of flavours. Cynthia was there, she tasted her delicious pixie lover... and the unique musk of his freshly-spilled seed, also coating his skin... and herself. Nathan's prick was wet, drenched with both her girl nectar and the horse semen that had oozed from the petite blonde's flooded cunt through the sheer material stretched taut over her pouting sex.   
   
 *Different,* she mused as she worked busily with eager lips and tongue. She had tasted her own equine richness before. Curiosity had prompted her when she had first entered puberty, becoming a woman; when she had first felt the need to touch herself, to grow her staff until her new-made creamy sauce erupted, startling her the first time with its force and volume. She had tasted herself many times since then, enjoying her flavour. *But with Cynthia's sweetness as well, it tastes... richer?* She groped for words as her hands clenched Nathan's ass and her mouth groped his fleshy pole. *Maybe it's the combination... Nathan, Cynthia and both of my juices...*  
   
 Warming to her work, the fiery horse-woman sucked his balls in, her lips closing around his plumping sack as she worked them with her tongue, then let them slip wetly from her lust-stained lips. Erin raised herself up on her elbows and descended on his hardening prick, her wet, warm mouth engulfing him as she relaxed her throat and felt his eager cock-knob probe into her. Her breasts pressed into his legs as she swallowed him whole and she squirmed against him, pleasuring her sensitive nipples against the dark, sweat-matted hair of his skin. Her teasing, dancing tongue washed about his shaft and balls, cleaning the mingled essence of the three lovers from him. Impulsively, she slid her tongue along the underside of his quivering meat and scrotum, until the pink, pointed tip emerged against her spittled lower lip and gently probed the soft flesh behind his balls, lapped against his puckered ring. She felt no shame or disgust; Nathan, she already knew, was fastidious; he would have cleaned himself thoroughly.  
   
 \[COLOR=windowtext]Between her golden thighs, pressed against the damp sheets so thoroughly stained with the lovers' juices, she felt her horse-cock stir anew. It hadn't fully subsided after her explosive cum in the bathroom; merely softened, arching out in a sinful curve of muscular flesh, and now fresh desire rose in her, blood flowing into the thick veins adorning her heavy shaft, rousing the stallion once again. Fuelled by a rising tide of lustful energy, she trapped his lower body under hers and drove her tongue past his balls into his ass.\[/COLOR]  
   
 There she rose, having slid along his body on a slick of sweat and sex. The stain of their sensual lubricant turned her flesh into a ripe, succulent thing. She was fruit, she was forbidden, and whoever else she may share her heart with, she was also his. Of course that leash of possession tugged both ways and he had to admit, she had the stronger claim. Nathan looked up into Cynthia's lidded, warm eyes, and knew then how even the most pious Adam could be easily swayed.  
   
 Not that Nathan qualified as particularly pious, at least not where the bedroom was concerned. He would have never sent his first wife away. Lilith would have shared his bed of leaves and saddled him whenever and wherever she willed. Women never came off particularly well in those stories, a tribute to the age it was written and a poignant reminder of the corrupted sensibilities that still remained. Whether by Milton or King James, it was a bad rap.  
   
 When it came to the myth of Lilith, the mother of monsters, whose only sin seemed to be wanting a hand in the pleasure of herself and her husband, Nathan always felt it was Adam who came out the worse. Had he simply let fear corrupt his desires, his love? Had he trembled underneath her? Had he felt too vulnerable, confused and perhaps, feminine? Did he doubt himself and a role he felt had been divinely ordained?  
   
 Whatever the case, Adam was an idiot and both of his wives had deserved better.  
   
 Still, under Cynthia's slow crawl, her heavy press, the drip of flavours that were neither his own, nor that of the woman above, he found himself also trembling. With a heart knotting in confusion and arousal, his own will was beginning to falter. Easy to revert to the child, easy to cry out in fear, begging to be brought back to those calm, easy paths where all was comforting, all was conformed. Cynthia had, as she so often did, lead him beyond his boundaries, to a mysterious world of temptation and unfamiliar vulnerability.   
   
 He could mask himself, slip under the guise of a firm stoic. They did not have to know he was afraid, that his breathing had become laboured, that his hands had begun to shake. He was strong and they would believe an honest, "No." They would have no reason to doubt if he simply lifted his wife from her poised position, laid her down gently beside, and told them both he was simply not ready.  
   
 Erin would have to understand, would see that they were stumbling ever deeper into shrouded woods of uncanny desires. She would recognize him as a man taken a step too far, a pace too fast, and leave it at that. There would be other nights, other chances. They were all connected now, that leash of possession had split three ways and each could tug or be tugged by it. Whatever else happened, Nathan knew, tonight would not be the only night they shared, not by a long shot.  
   
 Calmed by this thought, emboldened by a new sense of self mastery, he reached up to take hold of one lover, so that he might explain himself better to another.  
   
 Crimson curls of silk silenced him. The tumble of a bronzed body, and all the curves it contained, stole the words from his lips. Greedy as they were, they took his breath as well. His mouth gaped, his eyes stretched wide and whatever mask he meant to slip behind, crumbled to dust as her lips took hold. The child within had been settled, fears brushed aside by the warmth of a mother's kiss.  
   
 So sweet her inquisitive brush, so insistent the engulfing lips, and so playful was her dancing tongue, that he forgot himself. He forgot his fears, his vulnerability, and even his body forgot to shake. Like a lotus eater, stuffed on petals, he knew only this intoxicating blossom and everything else dulled to a colorless inconsequence.   
   
 "Hey now big boy, no forgetting me," Cynthia giggled, running her fingers through his hair, adding her own personal comfort. Her touch drifted around his ears, along his lips and then to either side, gripping the back of his head. She was steadying him for what was to come, physically and emotionally.   
   
 The child within had two mothers, two Eves, and neither would ever let their Adam fall.  
   
 When the young blonde slid into position, he submitted. He might have whimpered, but it was soft enough that neither of his lovers heard, or if they did, paid much notice. Nathan was wrapped in a sea of silk, the familiar flavours of his wife's sweat and sex, wrapping around him. It was dark between her thighs, humid and dripping with a thick musk. Like Erin, he would find some of those flavours familiar, like Erin, he would find one of those flavours was new.   
   
 Unlike Erin, he was in far greater danger of drowning.  
   
 The flavours were a mix of the bitter and the sweet, the bland and the ripe. Cynthia pressed those flavours hard to her lover's lips, grinding a well fucked, swollen sex, against her husband's face. Her clit, especially, found a nice spot to rub against, just along his nose, teasing and enjoying the roughness of Nathan's face. It was almost too much, as well-bred as her sex had become. But the sheer pantyhose blunted the sensation, turned it into something more subtle, more easily endured.   
   
 Legs tightening around her lover's head, she found herself moving to deepen the grind, to increase the pleasure. Her hips moved and, as they did, her pleasure rose. Soon she upped the intensity, pressing more, and then all of her weight on Nathan's face. She adored when his tongue slipped up, sinking against her moist center. She lifted every now and then, to let him take a breath of stale, cum-kissed air, before thrusting back down into position. Perhaps it was simply desire. Or perhaps there was a part of her that was a little jealous of the expression her husband had made while savouring Erin's oral affection.  
   
 Whatever the case, she was not simply teasing her sex, nor just giving her lover a taste of a seed she meant to see him suckle directly from the source. It was more than just play, more than a dominant deriving pleasure from the rightful worship of her honey-laden sex. She was fucking him, as hard and frantic as he had ever thrust within her quivering shape. Cynthia was outright fucking Nathan's face, and in so doing, was reaching a height of pleasure that was comparable to even the thickest, hardest of stallion-shafted thrusts.  
   
 Never so vulnerable, never so confused, never quite so washed in pleasures and uncertain roles, Nathan's groans turned to almost feminine moans, when Erin's tongue slipped where no tongue (not even Cynthia's) had sunk before.  
   
 The mix and mingle of erotic, exotic scent - perfume, male musk, female musk, semen and girlcum - assaulted Erin's nostrils. Her tongue explored Nathan's ass, probing into him, tasting the skin textured with fine hairs. Her view was filled with his maleness, the proximity magnifying them until it seemed he must be as well-equipped as she. She looked up further to see Cynthia grinding her wanton, lustful sex against his face, smearing him with the potent mixture of her juices and the stallion's seed - and he was fucking her back with his tongue, tasting the mixture, moaning in his throat while his cock roused again.  
   
 Determined that she also should share the feast, the flame-haired woman slowly crawled up his body, sliding her bronzed self along him. She kept her arms either side of him, pulling herself and pushing with her strong, graceful legs, working her way toward that tempting, delicious pussy being so thoroughly kissed, licked and sampled. As she moved sinuously along, her horse member rubbed against his thighs, the sensation and friction exciting her, arousing her. Her heartbeat quickened and pumped her lifeblood into the thick veins adorning that mighty shaft, hardening her stallion-meat. Her breasts brushed along the inside of his thighs, the short fine hairs tickling, teasing as her nipples rubbed against his skin, trapped between the narrowing valley of his thighs while she wormed her way along him.  
   
 Nathan's prick and balls slid over her chin, along the smooth warmth of her throat, over the strange convolutions of her collarbone, until his man-staff encountered the full, silk-smoothness of Erin's breasts. Those warm, sensitive globes enveloped his member as they rode up over his pelvis. Aroused and tickled by his hairy legs, her nipples were bullet-hard now, and he could feel them tracking over his hips and belly as his stallion-cocked lover neared the goal she sought, the feast he was drinking from Cynthia.  
   
 At length the fiery horsewoman reached her prize and her pink tongue flicked out to join his, diving into the sweetness of Cynthia. Eagerly Erin drank, her tongue dancing over her blonde lover's pouting, drenched pussy lips. She moaned with Nathan as she tasted herself mixed with Cynthia, and in her ecstasy, she squirmed and writhed atop their shared husband. She was only peripherally aware that Nathan was pinned beneath her; all she cared about at the moment was her utter need to taste her co-wife's dripping snatch. Her hands gripped Cynthia's thighs as she joined Nathan in sucking the potent mix of horse and human oozing from her pearled lips... and between his legs, her cock grew and hardened, the flat mushroom head of her equine knob pushing forward, sliding under his balls, until it was pushing against the tightly puckered muscle of his anus...  
   
 Nathan found himself sealed within a sensual coffin of flesh. He could feel his old life being lowered into the warm ground, covered in the soft envelopment of his wife and their shared lover. He had experienced this before, the loss of breath and sight, sacrificed to his wife's trembling thighs, martyred to her greedy sex.   
   
 So many times she had smothered him, so many times had she pressed him below, sealing him into an unfamiliar, yet pleasurable sensation of submission.  
   
 But Erin was something new, something he was still coming to grips with. She was a flavour on his tongue, a flavour that dripped from his wife's quivering folds. More than just her cum, there was her sweat, her perfume, all the scents and perspiration that said who and what she was. It would have been overwhelming even without their twin bodies, pinning his own.   
   
 Cynthia, he could lift, if he really wanted. He was at a bad angle, and if she really got feisty, she could cinch her legs around the back of his neck and hold on like nobody's business. There had even been a night, a month or so into their relationship, where she had done just that; nearly knocking her lover unconscious while she thrashed and squealed above. He had finally lifted up with her still wrapped tightly about his head, pulling them both to a standing position.  
   
 When Cynthia had found herself, suddenly upside down, dangling from her lover's lips? She had laughed, then taken his cock into her wet, welcoming mouth. Her sex had gushed at just that moment, delighted to see her stud's power on full display.  
   
 But Erin was not Cynthia. Erin was larger, curvier, and quite simply, stronger. Their little playful tussle before had come to a draw only because he had surprised her in that kiss. Now, he was at her mercy, and doubly so. Air was in short supply and his mind had become a fever of confusion and frustration.  
   
 So cruel, her sliding over him like that. So unfair, feeling those breasts for just a moment against his reawakened cock, only to have them slide up, apparently too distracted to play. He was under her with Erin fully atop, and he was not at all surprised to find himself unable to move.  
   
 Never had he been more the captive, never had he been less in control. Never had he felt something press against his tight bud and felt such a sudden, and overwhelming since of vulnerability and panic.  
   
 Cynthia gasped as she felt it, felt her husband bucking underneath them both. The bucking of his body, the shudder of his shape, told her all she needed to know. Erin's lips might have found the blonde's sex, but it was her cock which had found Nathan's own.  
   
 Her hands moved down, running through Erin's wild, crimson mane, playing about the copper curls that twirled around her fingers. "Oh god, Erin... h- he's frightened. B- but I know my husband, I know what he needs. I knew it the first time I laid eyes on him, and I promised myself I would never, ever let him go wanting."   
   
 She gently brushed the sweat-matted hair from her lover's face, cooing softly, "Please Erin, give him what he needs. What we both need. Make him your wife... make him *our* wife." Her eyes were wet, not just with lust and love, but her own fear. It was something she usually suppressed, quiet but always there in the back of her mind, like a whisper in the dark. "D- don't let him leave us, leave me. I know if you cl- claim him, like you claimed me, none of us will ever worry about being left alone, ever again."  
   
 Cynthia leaned down, her arms wrapping around the back of Erin's neck, nuzzling against the side of their mocha-skinned beauty's throat. She smiled, kissing, whispering and promising. "*None* of us."  
   
 The fiery stallion-woman raised her head to look at Cynthia, then shifted her gaze to Nathan, her eyes alight with love and promise. "She's right, Nathan, dear love... She's been your wife, I've been your wife... Now, please let me make you our wife as well, and us husbands to you." Resting on her arms, she motioned for her blonde lover, her co-wife, her co-husband to free the very nervous man beneath them. Her green eyes sparkled as she radiated her love and desire for him. "Trust her, trust me... trust us, my love. We won't hurt you."  
   
 Reaching between Nathan and herself, she gently caressed his hairy thighs, her fingers tracing the lines of muscle under his skin. Those bronzed fingers slid up his trembling legs, closer and closer to his manhood, until she was slowly tracing around each orb and up the quiveringly hard shaft surmounting them... and as she did, her stallion-cock pulsed slowly, she-pre bubbling up from the fat equine knob.  
   
 Erin lowered herself again, resting her full weight on Nathan, her breasts pressed against his chest, and her lips, stained with Cynthia's nectar, sought his equally-stained mouth. "Mmm...," she murmured softly, her tongue probing into his mouth. Her arms went around him, loving yet confining, and as she settled into the kiss, she slowly rocked her hips, bumping her dripping, oozing girlcock against his tight pucker, smearing her pre-seed as lubricant as she pushed gently, moulding the rubbery flesh of her she-stallion against his backside.  
   
 "Cynthia, dearest love...," she broke the kiss for a moment, "perhaps you could cradle Nathan's head in your lap at first? I know he loves eating you, but I think he's very nervous and needs to see us, see that we love him and cherish him." She gently stroked his short, dark hair back from his face as Cynthia got comfortable, easing herself under his head. "Nathan, beloved, just as you've shared yourself with both of us, just as I've shared myself with Cynthia, let me share everything I am with you. We love you." she bent to capture his mouth with hers again, and as she did, she reached between her lover's legs, her hand wrapped around her shaft's flared knob as she pushed in earnest against his well-lubed ring... and she inhaled sharply as with a soft, muffled 'pop' she felt the spongy head slip inside, his anus gripping her tightly.  
   
 Nathan had never felt weaker or more vulnerable. His face was covered in a glaze of his wife's fluid and the thicker, creamier load that was Erin's own. The older man's pale features had reddened, having been rubbed near raw. There was even a bruise or two, just under the surface. Cynthia had never ridden his face harder, had never been so greedy or wanton. She had never pressed her legs so tight, ground so hard, nor let his lungs go so long without relief.  
   
 She had wrapped him in that humid darkness, her thighs were the coffin lid and her sex was the wet rose, laid affectionately atop it.  
   
 He couldn't even hear his wife's plead to their mutual lover, could not make out the words. Not with her frantic heartbeat so close, her inner thighs whispering the rhythm of the heated siren above him. That was all he heard; the thump-thump-thump of a young woman whose passions had brought them both to somewhere new, and neither were absolutely sure of what was about to come next.  
   
 Cynthia knew her husband, knew his limits, knew the tremble in his chest and the squirming thrash below. She knew what it meant; their bronze-skinned lover with the impossible cock was pushing her husband to the very edge of those limits. And when she saw Erin's emerald orbs sparkle, she realized her wish had been granted.  
   
 Her crimson-manned djinn meant to push their shared husband *beyond* those limits, beyond his boundaries, beyond his expected role. Erin meant to make a wife out Nathan. More than that, the wild woman meant to consummate this new relationship... just as Cynthia had begged her to do.   
   
 Cynthia wondered who was more afraid at that moment, Nathan, or herself?  
   
 She moved as Erin bade, following their lover's will, like a leashed pet or an adoring spouse. Cynthia supported Nathan's head, cradling him in her arms. She held him as the siren spoke, promising pleasure unmeasured. He was too weak to resist, unable to withstand their warmth. It held him as firmly as the larger woman's powerful body pinned him.  
   
 Cynthia gasped, feeling her inner muscles quiver as Erin kissed Nathan... kissing the smaller woman's husband, the larger woman's wife. There was jealousy again, as there had been before. Now she was envious of the power the bronzed beauty exerted.  
   
 Erin's hips thrust.   
   
 Both Cynthia and Nathan clenched and gasped when they heard the wickedly audible, wet plop. She was asking for trust, guiding him to lay back and enjoy. But there was another edge to it, something unspoken. It was like before, when the larger woman had suddenly taken the blonde's smaller body.   
   
 Once that cock was hard, once it was in position, there was no stopping it.   
   
 Erin meant to fuck Nathan, Cynthia was sure of that. And whether or not he accepted what they had to offer, whether or not he squirmed and gasped, or relented and submitted... she had the feeling that their copper curled goddess was not going to stop until she had spent every gallon of her load inside of him.  
   
 That thought sent the blond woman's body spinning, unleashing a tightness within, a breath she did not know she had taken. The knot released and poor Nathan probably felt the wetness along the back of his head as she came. Her fingers reached up, curling in Erin's hair as she released and groaned, trying her best not to lose absolute control. Biting her tongue, lest she demand their feminine husband fuck their masculine wife harder still.  
   
 Nathan might have grunted, might have gasped, he might have even howled. Whatever it was he might have done, he found it lost in Erin's throat. He felt her, swallowing his very essence, unable to resist, unable to deny her anything. Even so, fuc- fuck... she was big.   
   
 So... damn... big.  
   
 Her world narrowed as it had before, a spotlight - a laser - focused on her spouses. Nathan's sudden, gasping clench of his strong buttocks, tightening his puckered ring around Erin's she-stallion, and her body reacted with base, primal instinct. Tenderness and love still held sway in her, but that dark nature, the wild, primitive need that drove her when roused, whirled in her heart, fanning the flame of desire to a white heat.   
   
 Erin's smile changed not a bit, but as the light in her eyes shifted, mutated, it took on a hungrier aspect, a smile of possessive passion. Her legs splayed, draped over his, she rose on her arms, the golden globes of her full, warm breasts swaying with a cobra's hypnotic rhythm, and she thrust into her man, feeling the spear of her flesh forging a channel inside him. His backside was a new frontier for her, never visited, never dreamt of, and she broke trail in him with eager longing and ardent lust.  
   
 "Relax, Nathan," she urged him again as his instincts rebelled, seeking to expel the thick, pulsing invading shaft sinking into him. "Cynthia knows... she knows how it feels to have me inside; she'll help you... won't you, my love?" she smiled at the blonde goddess cradling their shared man. "Once... you relax... everything will be so much better... you'll enjoy this, I know you will, my heart..."  
   
 Lust fought love in her breast as her body fed sensations to her brain; the hot, tight, squeezing clench of his anus, his passage gripping tightly around the wet silky skin encasing her horseflesh... the tingling awareness of arousal, his body against hers, warm and redolent of maleness, the intoxicating, maddening scent of Cynthia's sex as she flooded under Nathan's head... She had been half-hard already; now she was intimately conscious of her stallion-hood reaching full hardness as she thrust anew, each stroke sinking deeper into her man-wife's virgin ring, filling him, and beneath, inching closer with every push, her smooth, deeply-tanned sack pulsing with equine lust.  
   
 "Na...than...," she panted, her hips moving with metronome regularity, muscles rolling smoothly under her skin, "oh... my... beautiful... love!!"  
   
 Nathan's eyes shut tight, the strain overwhelming as the heat rose from a simple flame, into something molten, magma like within his bowels. Friction, friction caused by something so very tight, so absolutely untested, being thrust into by something so very big, much too big to be denied.   
   
 And she was swelling, not just tunnelling through his body with thrust, but also by growth.  
   
 Her cock's width was an endurable, delightful torment to a woman's sex. A sex designed to stretch and tug, wrap around something wide, yet never quite so wide as what biology would eventually require of it. Nathan's bottom was different. It only had so much give, so much it could bend, before it began to quiver on the verge of break.  
   
 Erin's cock had already pushed him to the very edge of those limits, filling his spasming tunnel with a rod of flesh that could not be denied. His bottom was no immovable object, but her cock might well be an irresistible force. The tension mixed with something else, something beyond heat, beyond the way his inner muscles were pulled out and then slammed back in. It was a slow, shameful, growing pleasure that caused him to arch and writhe.  
   
 She was touching something within, something that you didn't really need a horse cock to touch. But because of her size, she touched it in ways that it might not have been. Her fat cock-head, stroking his prostrate gland, then pushing past, sinking ever deeper, till the poor man thought she might just rearrange his entire inner-structure.  
   
 Heat, pleasure, a body being reworked by that unmerciful cock, Nathan found himself unable to even submit to it. Submission required a certain amount of control, an ability to say yes, instead of no. There was no control here, no leverage to make that sort of choice. He was not being asked to surrender.  
   
 Erin's pounding cock did not seem to have the mercy or patience for such a thing.  
   
 Instead, he was being absolutely conquered. Her cock was winning; had already won, in fact. There was nothing inside of Nathan that could possibly resist its assault, no will that could be rallied against the rhythmic intruder. Every fuck of that hard, sweat-stained, cum dribbling shaft, killed her husband-wife, obliterated him. Then, when she pulled back, when the end of her shaft brushed his pleasure center once more, he found himself being brought back to life.  
   
 Nathan shuddered and shook, skewered between damnation and salvation, as though fucked on either side by both the angel and the devil within Erin's fast-beating heart.  
   
 Cynthia wrapped around him, a tear running down her cheek, rolling off her chin, landing on his eyelids. She trembled before that ever so quiet fear, that notion that she might somehow lose him tonight. The blonde woman knew all too well how completely and utterly their crimson-maned goddess could devour them both. She clutched her husband tightly, rocking with him, whispering encouragement.   
   
 "Shhhh, shhhh baby, relax. I- it'll be over soon. The first time is always the hardest. Bu- but then, then you will be o- ours, forever."  
   
 She smiled warmly, brushing the wetness from his face, seeing his own eyes open, looking up at hers. He managed a weak smile, only to grit his teeth and gasp at yet another thrust. His body trembled in her clutch. His hands moved up, wrapping around the back of his wife's head and pulling her down, kissing her softly while Erin fucked him brutally hard.  
   
 She could feel herself slowly losing; the stallion madness was growing, taking control of her, with every plunge, every stroke. The feeling of a man's bottom around her hardening, swelling shaft was new, just as new as the feel of Cynthia's pussy had been, and her heart pounded with a trip-hammer beat as she thrust. The rich orchestra of sensation, of his moans, his maleness, the tightness of his channel gripping her tightly, the feeling of her fat flared knob pushing deep, all heterodyned the pleasure flooding down the mottled muscle driving into him, sending tendrils of orgasmic lust flooding through the bulging testes smacking against his bottom each time she hilted herself in him.  
   
 *I... I'm in... all the... way...* she flashed fragmentary thoughts. *Now... he's my 'mare'... as well as Cynthia...!* The realization struck her suddenly; she was indeed stallion to both of them now, and also mare to Nathan... but not yet to Cynthia. Panting as she bucked, her hips rocking with primitive, primal need, she looked at her blonde lover cradling Nathan's head, supporting him as she fucked his ass with deep, powerful strokes. "Cynthia..." she half-moaned, half-panted, "tell me... you have... strap-on... mount me... while I mount... our husband!"  
   
 Cynthia's fingers danced over Nathan's features. The oddest, softest smile on her face, watching him strain and struggle, gasp and squirm. Her lips still tingled from the kiss, marvelling at how tender it felt, how warm. He truly was theirs, now and forever.   
   
 "*Wife*, Erin. He's our wife right now."  
   
 The blonde beauty looked up, her eyes wet and full of intimate, secretive affection. Everything she had ever wanted, ever needed, was finally in her grasp. Nathan was strong, sure, a solid, never-broken foundation. But sometimes he was too strong, too hard for his own good. She would never speak her fears aloud but there was this voice within her, one that whispered cruelly in the dark. It warned her that such a strong man, a masculine oak, could not hope but one day break, be battered down by a harsh world.  
   
 Now he had some give to him, now he would be softer when he needed to be, now he could finally bend.  
   
 Her husband, her wife, her Nathan, was finally vulnerable enough that she could truly protect him, the way she always wanted to. The way she knew she was meant to, the very first moment their eyes had first met. She opened her mouth, parting wet lips, to thank the thrusting goddess that had granted her fondest, most shameful wish.   
   
 Before the words left her tongue, her mind fully filtered Erin's request out of the gasping, groaning, and bottom slapping background noise. "St- strap-on? I... oh god, Erin." Her body went warm, her toes curling. With another kiss to her beloved husband-wife, she slowly pulled away from him, away from the glorious sight of her partners echoing slap of flesh against flesh.  
   
 Cynthia pulled out a largish toy, the very implement she had originally planned on bending her husband with. She ran her fingers along the rubbery, bulbous head, taking in the heat of her palm through the conductive gel inside. "I- I meant this for our *wife*, Erin. I meant to do to him, or try to... make him see himself, see us... I...." Her eyes were wet and her throat lumped with emotion.  
   
 She closed the former and swallowed the later, reaching down to attach the device to her hips. "I don't think I could have done it, without you. I- I don't think this would have been enough." Her hands moved up, sliding over Erin's shoulders as they undulated with the crimson-haired stallion's thrust. "You don't know it yet, lover, but you saved us both tonight."  
   
 Cynthia moved behind her dark-skinned partner, hands moving around, reaching up, cupping those magnificent, bouncing orbs. Two fingers squeezing hardened nipples tightly. She leaned forward, kissing just between Erin's shoulder blades. "For that, I think I better reward you, huh?" Her hips moved, her toy teased, sliding along exposed valleys and tempting curves.  
   
 She whispered softly once more, another kiss, lining the fat warmed cap at her lover's entrance. "For that, I think I better just make you my wife, too." As she spoke, she rose up and plunged forward. The rubbery tip digging deep into wet folds, spreading them fully around the thick pseudo-cock-head. "A- after all, I don't want you getting away from me either... now do I?"  
   
 Erin practically purred as she settled into an easy rhythm of buck and thrust, feeling Nathan relaxing, accepting her as stallion, testing the role of mare and finding it an unexpected pleasure. Her male mare moved under her, flexing, clenching around hir mighty shaft, soft moans escaping his lips as she tamed him. Her eyes met Cynthia's as the petite blonde beauty shared their union as well, her eyes glistening with love for her man and her stallion-mare lover. Those perfect lips parted, her pink tongue just visible as she started to speak... then jolted, slithered to a halt.  
   
 The flame-kissed stallion saw her request sink in, the desire to be Cynthia's mare while being Nathan's stallion at one and the same time; saw those limpid blue orbs widen, heard the sharp, indrawn breath. *She... she will!* The though burned in Erin's brain as she saw acquiescence even before the words tumbled from her blonde lover's moistened lips, and seeing, she felt sudden, sweet pleasure flood through her girlsex, a rush of honey trickling from between her golden-tanned labia and over her bronzed ballsack, smearing over Nathan's thighs with every thrust.  
   
 Eyes green as fresh young leaves watched with rising anticipation as Cynthia drew out a thick, gleaming black strap-on. The sight of those sweet, sinful fingers sliding along the slick rubbery length triggered her again, and she gasped with the surge of pleasure, the orgasmic release spurring her to plunge deeply in her Nathan. Unconsciously she licked her lips as the blonde goddess strapped that toy around her hips, the black phallus standing out proudly, shiny, black and gleaming. It was no simple cylinder or tube, but a strikingly accurate reproduction of the most prideful male member, moulded veins crawling along its length, crowned with a magnificently thick glans fit to spread open the hungriest pussy - and below, it too sported a hefty sack, the better to spank a lover's ass and thighs with each thrust...  
   
 Her hips never ceased their strong, ploughing pace, a panting, lust-fuelled metronome marking the beat of coupling as she lowered herself against Nathan, her golden breasts warm and full against his chest, the wiry black hairs teasing her nipples, adding yet another line to the symphony of arousal. But there was a counterpoint now, and she must play that theme as well with Cynthia, and she shifted, spreading her legs wider than was needed simply to be a stallion. Clearly visible to Cynthia now, her heavy sack bounced with each stroke filling Nathan's bottom, but also revealing her gleaming, honey-drizzled labia, parting as her blonde girl-husband moved into position, ready to claim Erin as wife, as mare.  
   
 *Oh my Goddess!* she closed her eyes, praying as she felt those warm, soft hands sliding under, cupping her breasts, her nipples hard as bullets against Cynthia's palms... then the sweet, soul-searing touch of her lover's lips between her shoulders as she rutted Nathan, his bottom hot and tight around her flexing, pumping she-stallion... and *Goddess!* Cynthia was teasing her with that thick latex cock jutting from her petite hips! She could feel the broad, black head tracing down the crease of her pussy and her legs trembled, quivering with need... and when Cynthia thrust, when her lover pushed her ersatz maleness in, that thick, rubbery bulb thrusting into her dripping sex felt as wonderful as Nathan's cock spreading her lips apart, gaping her, and she screamed, all control lost. "CYYNNTHIIAAAAAA!!!!!!"  
   
 Her husband was not a screamer. He moaned, grunted, and, if you were lucky, gasped your name in a awestruck reverence. Her name slipping between his lips, sacred as a prayer, always made Cynthia shiver in ways that no other man had ever quite matched. But then again, no man (not even Nathan) had ever cried her name out in this primal keen of passion that seemed to be Erin's sole domain.  
   
 She tightened around her lover, all sense of formality and seduction forgotten. All control lost. All rational thought, obliterated. Suddenly, Cynthia knew that same intense fire that had caused Erin to fuck her so proudly, right in front of Nathan. She found herself wishing Nathan was not quite so distracted, could see just how firmly, possessively, and without a shred of shame or restraint, she was mounting their new wife.  
   
 Cynthia sunk that thick length deep within her lover, pounding the fleshy, rubbery head up and deep. She gave her hips a twist, a roll, then slammed it forward again. She played with Erin's breasts, taking them as roughly as the red-head's sex. She squeezed and tugged, tormenting and releasing, only to grab them once more. Where her fingers dug in, where her nails scratched, she marked her lover's warm, womanly curves, as her own.  
   
 The male beneath them gasped, feeling a sudden shift in weight and tempo. They were pressed against him, on top of him, pinning him down, pressing him into the bed as though he might be pushed right through it. Silken sheets wrapped around his form, cushions shaped themselves to his flesh, and for all of their give and surrender, it was nothing like what was happening inside of his stretched tunnel.  
   
 The cock head within had flared suddenly, almost as though it had gone through a second hardening, plumping to a point that pleasure and pain became a wet, sticky mess within. He could no longer separate, could no longer put them into their own little special compartments. There was only Erin's cock and he found himself shrinking before it.  
   
 The heat within, the size, the shape, it made him melt away, melt into something tight, something spasming, something whose heartbeat had realigned just to match Erin's own. What was she doing to him? What was she making him into? Her cock was flame, his body the wax, and with every thrust and pound, she reshaped him into exactly what she wanted... *needed* him to be.  
   
 And that was when his own cock, rubbed against by the thrusting of the woman above, finally gave up all pretense of resistance or doubt. It surged, swelled, and then gouted, covering Erin's belly and the bottom of her breasts with his release. His eyes shut, and his voice, soft for such a gruff, powerful man, pleaded, "No- now, oh please... Erin, now. C- cum ins- inside of me."  
   
 As the unfamiliar words left his lips, Nathan realized that he would never again blame his wife for uttering the same.  
   
 The red-headed stallion-woman bucked atop her mate as his words sank into her consciousness; her shaft thick and throbbing with her pulse, beating a tattoo in her lover's ass... and as she withdrew herself in preparation for each successive thrust, she felt her other husband, her Cynthia's proud adornment ramming deep inside her sex, filling her void as wonderfully as Nathan had. That void - but void implied emptiness and cold, and Erin was by no means cold.  
   
 No, Erin was both anvil and furnace, her ready flame stoked to a white heat as her new woman-husband took her with rough, pounding strokes; no matter that the cock was latex, the balls slapping against her thighs rubber; they were Cynthia's, and she revelled in the sensation of her blonde beauty topping her, fucking her cunt with lust-maddened abandon; the black spear slick and glistening with her womanly juices as well as the generous load of Nathan's seed already bestowed within Erin's womb and splashed on her golden thighs. Her breasts were on fire under Cynthia's hands, mauled by petite yet skilled and knowing fingers that squeezed and pinched her shuddering flesh. Now she was mare to Cynthia, and her blonde stallion rode her hard, the pale thighs meeting her golden ones with loud smacks as Erin's cunt opened, sucking and grasping hungrily at the strap-on girl cock driving into her.  
   
 That rough ploughing, her furrow opened wide by Cynthia's strap-on, added extra urgency and need as she in turn plunged her mighty stallion shaft deep in Nathan's bottom. No seed, no juices of his own to ease her passage, but there her horsecock had provided as well, dripping a thick, pungent drizzle of pre even as she had entered him, savouring his gasps and moans as he surrendered to her, giving her the gift of his anal virginity. She had doubted for a moment that he would accept her; he might have struggled and fought her, and in her stallion madness, she might have refused his refusal, mounted him despite his wishes... and thereby torn this new-made three-way marriage asunder.   
   
 But that had not come to pass; instead he had welcomed her into his body - not without trepidation or fear, but in trust that she would not hurt him. And now, as she moved atop him in the complex rhythm of their threesome, fucking him with all her might while she in turn was fucked by Cynthia, he had gifted her with a clear and unequivocal sign of his pleasure; and shi groaned in pleasure as his hot seed erupted between their rutting bodies, splashing her belly and breasts with a copious load of hot, sticky jizz, and his throaty, urgent desire for her gift.  
   
 "Oooh.... Now, now, my love!" she husked in return. Slowly she pushed herself up on her arms, letting Cynthia adjust as well, and thick strings of semen stretched between her breasts and Nathan's chest. Proudly, tenderly, she smiled down at her man-wife while Cynthia's hands roved over her breasts, smearing his seed. All the love she felt for them both shone in her eyes as she felt her pleasure building to a crashing crescendo in their symphony, and she shrieked her pleasure as she felt his bottom clench once more, triggering her, and her heavy horseballs began pumping her stallion cum into Nathan's ass.   
   
 "FUUUUUUCCK!!! YES, MY NATHAAAAN!!! TAKE MY SEED!!!"  
   
 It burbled and bubbled, rolled and slurped as it flooded his body; a wave of pressurized pleasure that he felt both as it slammed within him, and with every pulse of the cock sending it his way. He could not have escaped it if he had wanted to, could not have run far enough, submerged deep enough. The cum that came, sought him out, with boiling tendrils of excited cream, coating and renaming every part of him.   
   
 A scream left his lips, without censor or hesitation. He didn't even try to hold it back, or think how it might make him appear. He simply responded, having been fucked into a feral state. At that moment, he would not have been surprised to have suddenly grown breasts, to be fully and completely transformed into the mare of this unbridled stallion.   
   
 His hands moved up to her arms, gripping them tightly, so very tightly.  
   
 Had she been Cynthia, he might have left bruises. Nathan held on with a grip that spoke of a mind afraid to tumble any further. She had pushed him so deep, had held him so long under her still waters. He could drown, he knew that, could lose himself in those depths and never return. But he could never do that to Cynthia, or to Erin for that matter.   
   
 They needed him whole, just as he needed them.   
   
 Nathan would not be broken, not tonight. Not for his own sake, because the warmth and dominant affection his crimson-haired goddess offered was tempting. Were it just about his need, he might have let himself be bent to it, to become just *that which she fucked*, and be happy to be only that. But no, he would not be broken for the sake of his family, for his wives, his husbands. He would remain Nathan.  
   
 Only now he was Nathan, plus something else entirely. Closing his eyes, he let that other side take over, to writhe and groan, to gasp and tremble underneath that fiery bucking beast. Later, he would become Nathan again, but for now, he was just a mare, quivering with the beauty of a freshly fucked and overfilled "womb."   
   
 Cynthia would have loved to have seen it, her view being obscured by the sweat-stained back of her own mare. She promised herself that next time, next time she would be sure they had a camera set up, to capture the moment. She wanted to stroke her sex while she witnessed what must be a beautiful transformation, rippling through Nathan's overwhelmed self.   
   
 But there was something to be said about what was heard; listening to those screams, those thrusts, the sound of something huge emptying into something tight, yet well-stretched. The sounds were enough, along with the sudden abundance of musky flavour that permeated the air. It was more than enough to cause her sex to explode, dribbling wetly all about the harness and straps, falling like dew between her legs and Erin's own.  
   
 One hand wrapping around her lover's waist, the other moved to the rubbery black balls that had been slapping Erin's ass and the back of her upper thighs,. Cynthia asserted her grip, her voice a hoarse whisper in the copper-maned woman's ear. "A- and you... my mare, take... mine!"  
   
 Cynthia *squeezed*!  
   
 The warm liquid, designed to get warmer still when injected into something wet and quivering, flooded out the tip of her pseudo-shaft. Cynthia groaned as the toy shook, the special valves within designed to make the entire shaft pulse and lurch as it exploded. It brushed wickedly against her clit which was already almost too sensitive. It made her scream, her body aching from pleasure that seemed to never end.   
   
 The trinity clenched, and for a moment lost, it was difficult to separate them into their individual parts. Like a heart, they pulsed together. Beating, pumping, emptying, as a singular whole.  
   
 Erin gasped and bucked convulsively, her mind and body awash in pleasure. Cynthia's voice in her ear as her special toy pumped thick, warm pseudo-jizz with each pounding thrust was a goad to her, and she responded in the only way she could; thrusting back against her blonde lover, the gold-tanned globes of her ass meeting Cynthia's porcelain thighs while thick latex spread her pussy wide and gouts of ersatz semen jetted from the pulsing toy jutting from her woman-husband's loins. In turn, as she recovered from each thrust, drawing herself off the proud black strap-on member, she drove herself again and again to the hilt in Nathan's ass while her own hot seed bubbled like lava, forced out around the glistening, jizz-slicked fleshy pole each time she drove into her man-wife again.  
   
 Gasping, panting, breasts heaving, she subsided slowly from the orgasmic peak of release and fulfilment. A low moan, compounded of loss and satisfaction, rose from her throat as Cynthia relented, pulling her toy out; then she in turn braced herself and pulled back. Her balls drained, she felt herself slowly softening as she withdrew from her lover's backside, her shaft slithering out wetly, reluctant to leave his warmth. With a 'pop' she felt her flared cock-knob slip out, followed by the pent-up flood of she-stallion spooge she had released inside him. Utterly satiated, she moved off him, rolling onto her back as she pulled Cynthia down atop the pair of them.  
   
 "My very dear loves..." she murmured, holding them both close. Her gaze fell on the clock and surprise jolted her. *Not even twelve hours...? It feels like we've spent a year exploring each other...!* It was hard to believe; only a day ago she had been aloof, alone, self-sufficient, masturbating in a bathtub to relieve herself; now she was bound inextricably to both her lovers, heart, body and soul. She hadn't anticipated this; she had hoped for no more than a romp, a chance to use both cock and cunt and thereby satisfy her physical lusts.  
   
 Now, though... she smiled, content, completed. *I've found my heart, my true loves,* she reflected. Tenderly she turned her face to Nathan, bringing his face to hers, and her lips parted for him. He had gifted her with his seed and she hoped with all her heart that even now, a new life was blossoming in her womb. She felt his mouth on hers, warm with his strength and promise, the rough stubble of his unshaven face a pleasantly scratchy sensation. His seed in her and adorning her, and hers in him; she was coming to fully appreciate what a gift of trust he had given her when he allowed her to mount him and take his anal cherry.  
   
 Cynthia's lips intruded - no, not intruded; she could never intrude, for she was an equal third of this new arrangement. No, Cynthia's lips joined theirs, and somehow, they were managing a three-way kiss, their mouths and tongues dancing together. It was a bit awkward as they tested and shifted, for mouths were not really designed to kiss more than one other mouth, but they were making it work... Cynthia, her co-wife, her co-husband, still proudly endowed, the cunt-warmed latex of her strap-on hard and unyielding against Erin's thigh, her pale breasts flattened against Erin's larger, warm-tanned ones and Nathan's hairy chest.  
   
 "Th..thank you, Erin, Cyn," Nathan's voice was a curious mixture of strength and submission. His had been, in many ways, the greatest test. Cynthia was no stranger to the pleasure of a cock entering her, and equally obviously was familiar with - and delighted in - plying her strap-on, though with whom previously was a question not to be explored just now. Erin, a primal force of lust, had plied her stallion-shaft with a zest that belied her inexperience and that zest had been matched when she gave her cherry to Nathan.  
   
 Erin's green eyes were suspiciously bright as her spouses cuddled close, and her voice choked a bit as she strove to frame her new-found joy and love in pitiful, inadequate words. "Cynthia, Nathan... thank you both for this, for us. Thank you for welcoming me home -" she swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and sniffled. "Thank you for becoming my husbands, my wives... and making me your husband, your wife..."  
   
 Exhausted, wrung out with emotion and physical exertion, the trio drifted into the arms of Morpheus, each still bearing the marks of their lovers' attentions. The bed, rumpled and stained beyond redemption, cradled them regardless as sleep claimed them, and they snuggled together like a basket of kittens.   
   
 <div class="align-center">\*\*\* \*\*\* \*\*\*</div>  
   
 The housekeeping staff wondered about the *gringo* couple which had rented the palatial newlywed suite. Often unseen and unremarked by guests, these were the women who saw the comings and goings in the resort, and they could have told some remarkable tales. This morning, the talk had been of this couple, and the tall, flaming *gringa* redhead who had gone with them into their suite yesterday and - so far as anyone knew - was still in there with them. This was one of those times when they might almost draw lots to see which of the staff would have the privilege of cleaning the suite, for the couple were generous tippers and now, they all wondered, agog with curiosity, what was transpiring with three of them in there?  
   
 The dining room staff could not help; no-one had seen these guests come down to breakfast. Yet as the three women pushed their carts down the hall, they could see there was no "Por favor, no disturbe" sign on the door. They must have left early and broken their fast elsewhere, then...  
   
 The smell when they eased open the door was almost a physical thing; a deep, heavy musk, hinting of power and prowess, of deeds best not mentioned except - perhaps - at Confession. A lighter yet no less disturbing scent was overlaid on it and their pulses quickened, though they were unconscious of it. Clothes were strewn on the floor and the door to the generous balcony was ajar.  
   
 But what... a gasp, a sudden inhalation... for the first of the chambermaids had entered far enough to see the enormous circular bed, and as she looked and the three figures - naked, unashamedly naked in their slumber - registered on her, two of them rolled over onto their backs, and unbidden, a scream ripped from her throat...

**INTERMISSION**