The Merry Llewd

They weren’t all like the first. Chatter Lee and her husband was known throughout the castle and into the village for their adventurousness, although her more than him. Just the same, all the mares were willing and ready when he arrived.

“What exactly is that old doe giving them?” The count panted leaning against a recently closed door. “We might need that recipe.”

“Herbs,” the young doe said unhelpfully. “I doubt it would work so well outside tonight. Look.” She pointed up at the sky.

The night was cold, bitterly so, but the air was still. It was the kind of dead still that you could stand naked in and barely feel the cold, letting the air around you body warm, and just slowly drift upward. The stars were out, bright and sparkling with an unnatural intensity. The only clouds were a dense bank, squatting like a cottony beast up on the peaks of the northern mountains.. “It’s still,” the count said. “Beautiful.”

“It’s waiting. This is the night of the dwyregwely. The Merry Llewd. There’s powerful wild magic at work here. It waits to see of you’re worthy of it’s gift.”

“Gift?”

“Snow, Wind. Spring.”

Count’s mind pictured The image of a long winter, The brown earth exposed like a wound. Cold dry spring that never seemed to come. Crop seeds refusing to grow. It would be a disaster. Deadly even. He Gulped and then straightened his shoulders.

“Then let’s get on with this.”

What was there to complain about, after all? He was working his way through the village, meeting mare after willing mare. Yet frustration was mounting. The cursed metal ring sat cold and heavy around his ball sack, pulling down continuously and apparently contracting with each visit. The more aroused he became, the tighter it would become, until the rising pressure would be pushed back. It was infuriating.

They stopped in front of a cottage with a colorful sign depicting a read and white spiral hanging from its eaves. “This can’t be right. It’s the candy maker’s.”

“Is that a problem?”

“She doesn’t have a husband. She has a wife. Who did she send with Cinny?”

Fern consulted her map. “Oh yes. She has a brother who was willing. The details are not critical so long as the ceremony is observed.

When he knocked, the door swung open on its own. It had been left unlatched. “In the kitchen,” came the voice. Count ducked under the low transom and stopped. The tan earth mare was on her back on one of the low tables, moaning. her legs were up until her knees were either side of her pert breasts. Her tail hung down to the floor. Her wife was on top of her, a lime green unicorn. She was equally naked, and grinding. The two mares wet and swollen labia slid and ground against each other.

The unicorn looked back with a wicked smile. “We couldn’t wait. Now get over here!” As soon as he was in arms reach she pulled him over and into a kiss. It was the wild, wanton kiss of a mare in heat and the throws of passion, all hot lips, tongue, and even the threat of teeth. Two differently sized hands wrapped around his shaft and started squeezing and pumping. Counts hands found their way down the mares back and over her rump, finding the heat and dampness they had been so industriously been building. He could slide his fingers easily between the twin pairs of wet labia.

“Silly.. That’s not what goes there.”

With no more coaxing, he positioned himself behind. The mare lifted slightly, letting him slide easily between the twin valleys. The already-built heat and wetness was a shock after the cold of the night air. His stallionhood throbbed and swelled almost painfully. The brass ring seemed to give a warning tug. “Oh, Buck...”

“What? The unicorn looked over her shoulder, flipping her golden mane. “You never fucked two mares at once before, Count?” As she spoke, she bore her weight down, compressing the space his member was trapped in even tighter.

“Hng! Not like you two,” he said playfully. His hand wrapped around her dock, and he started thrusting. He could feel the nubs of their clits bumping over his swollen ring halfway up his shaft. There was the sound of moaning, and wet, wanton kissing as the mares made out. The Count was little more than a sex toy for this pair, and that was just fine with him. The thought excited him, triggering another throb, and another tightening of the heavy, cold ring constricting his balls.

A wave of frustration swam over him. He desperately wanted to release a torrent of hot went semen onto the taught bellies of these two mares, splatter their navels, and let them continue their wanton night, stuck together by his contribution.

But the more he thought about it, the more excited he got, the tighter, heavier and colder the prawnfingled ring became. It was infuriating. If he just continued, would it eventually fail, or would it pinch off completely, emasculating him like the palace geldings he’d seen in far off lands?

With a frustrated grunt, he stopped thrusting, panting, but the two mares continued, kissing and grinding on his shaft, using it like a self heating, self lubricating, self throbbing toy between them. The green mare on top let out something like a whimper, and her body jerked as a gush of warm fluid flowed over his stallionhood.

There was a long moment of just panting. The sounds of kissing stopped. “Honey,” came the candy mare’s breathless words. “I’m ready to try it.”

The unicorn looked over her shoulder, pupils dilated, mane in disarray. “You ready to be gentle Count? There’s a pony here who needs to know the feel of a stallion’s cock.”

Count paused, leaning over to get a clear view of the cream-colored earth pony. Her nose was flushed, her ears splayed, her normally tight curls a fizzy umbra around her head. “You mean you’ve never...”

She gulped between gasped and nodded her head. “Never. Only insane mares like this one.”

“And you’re alright with this?”

She nodded. “Give it to me Count.”

The green unicorn swung off her wife, and stood beside her, taking her all in, from wet pussy to heaving, pert breasts, to her panting and slightly crazed looking visage. “You heard her Count.” She slid a hand down and spread the her creamy pussy lips to reveal the pink within.

Count needed no other encouragement. He settled his tip into the hollow of the mare’s spread pussy, moving it back and forth. The heat was intense, and he pushed forward.

“Hmm. That’s it,” the green mare spectated. “Spread those folds. You feel that sweetie? That’s a real, big stallion’s cock spreading you out.”

“Ohh. I feel it. Give me more Count.”

He obliged. His sensitivity seemed to be dialed all the way up. Each fold and ridge was discernible. It had been a while since he took in the view of a mare spreading to take him in. He started moving in slow, small thrusts.

“More!” Her hooves suddenly dug into his backside, driving him forward. He thrust deeper, and gasped at the sensation of her muscular tunnel clamping down on him. Her back arched and her juices flowed.

The green unicorn giggled and reached down to spread her juices up the rest of Count’s shaft. “Beautiful.” She looked at the doe. “Enjoying the show?”

Count glanced over just in time to see the doe quickly pulling her hand out from under her dress, fingers glistening. Her nose blushed a bright red. The air currents carried a new scent to Count’s nostrils. The scent of the doe’s juices was equally enticing but distinct enough to discern from the copious fluids from the two mares. His nostrils flared and his stallionhood throbbed painfully for release. He began thrusting hard into the mare, who responded by arching her back and letting out long guttural moans.

His thrusting continued for some time, excitement mounting, at the sight of this gorgeous mare squirming under his attention. A pair of green fingers squeezed and played with her clit at the same time, only making her groan more.

“I can’t take this any more,” the unicorn said suddenly. She hoisted herself up onto the table, straddling her mate and standing straight. She looked down and brought her marehood into direct line with Count’s muzzle. He needed no hint of what was expected, and his long, almost prehensile bat tongue soon went to work. The mares hands went through his mane and ground his face into her marehood as she moaned.

Then she suddenly pulled back, turning around. Planting her hooves on either side of the prone mare’s hips, she bent, muscular legs locked and showing an impressive flexibility. Her marehood was once again in Count’s face, and her face was inches from her mate’s. Their tongues reached and met and they kissed, moaning into each other’s mouths.

The lewd display was too much for Fern, who began to service herself again. She had no idea that tonight would be as difficult to get through. She’d heard about the lascivious nature of the ponies to the south. Now she was seeing it first hand.

Count, for his part, found the pussy in front of him to be the perfect distraction from the hot, tight marehood that was threatening to either drive him over the edge or into a life as a gelding. He focused his attention on hitting all the appropriate spots, changing order, listening to her moans to find this particular mares most sensitive points, and favorite motions. It was a poor distraction however. The smell and taste of a mare in a state of ecstasy was far too stimulating. She let out a shout muffled by her wife’s lips, and a gush of fluid hit Count’s lips and tongue.At that moment there was another round of clamping, rhythmic pressure on his tip and shaft, the familiar pressure started to build in him, combated by weight and tightness of the ring.

His balls were swinging, spanking the mares plot with each thrust. His tip was swelling, but so was the pain.

He gradually became aware of someone speaking.

“Count. You need to stop now. Count!”

“Grahhh!” He pulled out of the mare and stepped back. His breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked around wildly. Fern was standing there looking both concerned and stern. The green mare collapsed on her mate. They both looked up at him with sultry but satisfied expressions. He didn’t know what else to do but bolt from the cottage.

The cold air hit him with a shock, but did little to quell the fire. His cloak was still flung wide and his stallionhood swung from left to right with each step. This cottage’s garden wall was taller than most; almost shoulder height. He leaned against it, panting.

That was where Fern found him. His breath came out in gouts of white vapor in the cold night air. Similar curls of white were coming of the hot moisture of his stallionhood, still out, erect, and visible.

“Enjoy the show?” he said, not turning around. His voice was deeper, with eldridge overtones.

“You know I did. I can’t hide that. I know this is difficult. Trust me. I really understand.” She thought of how wet she was and how much she had started to envy each mare as she watched her being taken my this stallion. “At least you’ll be getting some release at the end of the night.”

There was a long tense moment as count turned to her, looking her up and down. Twin jets of vapor were coming from his nostrils. His stallionhood pointed at her, steaming in the moonlight. With a sudden movement, Counts hands were on her narrow waist, lifting her and pressing her back against the rough wall. His lips were on hers. She could taste the mare he had just been servicing on his lips. This wasn’t to plan. This was wrong, but the heat in her loins only increased. She could feel his stallionhood pressing against her.

Then there was a dizzying moment of acceleration. He thrust her upward in his strong arms. Her cloven hooves flailed in the right air, and she grabbed the only thing she could for balance and support, which was the top of the garden wall. The stone was could and rough against her hands. Snuffing at her musk, his muzzle probed under the hem of her dress, lifting it. Following the warmth and moisture.

His tongue played over her inner thigh, further and further, and then found her moistened folds. Her dress was bunched on his muzzle, and his eyes, grey in the moonlight, looked up to find hers with a questioning expression.

“Please,” she breathed, and then gasped as his tongue ran up the length of her slit and immediately set to running complex patterns over her clit. Almost immediately, she felt the wave of pleasure overtake her. She had been on edge for many houses, and nearly brought herself some release in the last one. Her body was ready. Her hands moved to his head, both providing balance and pushing him closer. There was something under her fingers that didn’t belong. Behind his usual mismatched horn, hidden within his mane, were two bony plates. They clung to the contours of his head, down behind his ears, and then swept outward like a pair of handlebars on a bike. They seemed to grow even as she felt them.

A chill ran through her even as her body tensed and her mouth involuntarily formed an “O” directed at the heavens. His tongue reached inside her, exploring her. She could feel her walls clenched down on the muscular appendage even as it reached further in, much further than she’d ever had a buck or a doe reach. Thoughts of comparison disappeared however, as a cold, electric pleasure ran through her and she lost herself to it.

Slowly the world came back into focus. The stallion’s breath was still hot on the soft down of her inner thighs as he lapped at her flowing juices. Then with a grunt, he put her down on wobbly legs. She looked up at him, looming over her. His priapism pressing against her belly. His hands slid down over her hips and started to lift her dress. This was it. The folk tales she had studied where come to life. She would be taken by Gwyntgogle, the north wind. She would make it her plaything. She would be mistress of the North Wind. All would cower before her, mighty pow—

“No!” she said firmly, her hands going to his wrists. “Not here. Not with me. Not right now.” A coruscating green flame seemed to lick over her antlers. A blue flash shot from her eyes. Count stepped back, looking momentarily stunned and confused. Then he straightened his back and let out a long, shuddering sigh.

“Of course. Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do. There’s nothing to be sorry about, but you must keep control of yourself for a bit more.”

He nodded. Somewhat comically, the motion made the steaming tip of his stallionhood follow bob as well, as if in agreement. “Next house then?”

“Next house,” she agreed. They started up the street, side by side.

“And...” she looked away, suddenly coy. “Thank you. I needed that. Perhaps,... when this is all over.... if the princess.”

“Yes.” He said simply. “Please!”