The Merry Llewd

Chatter Lee gave her husband a pat on the rump as he left. “Do us proud, schnookums.” Then she set to work. She hung the pomander over the door with a bit of wire, stoked the fire, did some quick tidying, and then used her small mirror to check herself over. “This will have to do.”

The whole time, she could feel the warmth of the strange reindeer draught spreading through her. It started as a glowing knot in her belly, and then spread outward until her cheeks felt flushed, and her fingers felt strangely warm and nimble. It spread down through her legs until the frogs of her hooves felt like they were warming the flagstones beneath her with each step. But by far, the effect that dwarfed all the others, had nothing to do with how far the warmth had travelled, for the trip was quite short. The core of the heat in her belly had sent out an intense pseudopod downward to settle into her loins. The heat brought dampness and need. She let out a small moan as she waited.

Fern lead the count down the street. He felt ridiculous in his heavy, yet billowy robe. If he stepped too far, his legs would push out the robe, and the expanding space would suck in the frigid night air. It would swirl up his legs to his unprotected genitals. Its chill was retained by the large, ornately carved, brass ring the shockingly unembarrassed doe had place around his scrotum. He could never not be aware of it. It sat there, not constricting, but cold and heavy; always present.

It was the one island of resistance against the warmth. As the had left the castle, Fern had pushed a flask into his hand and commanded him to drink. “Just a sip.” A sip was all that was needed, apparently, for the burning heat was still flowing through his body. The cold was intense against his bare sheath, but did little to quell the heat that was building there. As his tip peeked, unbidden from his sheath, it would occasional rub the soft fabric that lined the cloak, only making it more aroused. He found his attention pulled to the backside of the doe in front of him. Heh. Or hind. They’re also called hinds. Seems more appropriate right now. Unlike the mares of the village her tail was little more than a tiny tuft, pointing upward. It gave him an excellent view of the curves of her hips. Hips that seemed to be swaying more than strictly necessary for walking down the street.

Eye’s front, Patagium. He quickly refocused on the mortar work of the garden walls, the small snow drifts that had managed to form against them, despite the dryness of the winter. He looked for anything to pull his attention away from the inviting curves in front of him, and his growing stallionhood, wanting to push out of the precariously fastened robe.

Fern consulted her map and looked up at the citrus above the cottage door. “This is the place. Now remember the rules.”

Count saluted. “Leave only smiles.”

She tilted her head slightly as she parsed his words. Damn, the way her antlers moved with her head were cute. “That’s right. You’re saving yourself for later, no matter how tempting it may be. The ring will help you remember.”

As if to punctuate her words, the ring was suddenly in his consciousness again, cold and hard. If anything it seemed tighter. Without looking away, Fern reached out and knocked on the door in a quick staccato. The sequence was truncated before the fourth rap when the door swung quickly away from her hand.

“Count!”

A dark pink hand reached out and pulled him inside. Fern had to step lively to not be closed in the door. Inside, the space was warm, dimly lit, and cozy, with heat radiating from a low fire, and also off the body of the voluptuous dark pink earth mare. Chatterlee had always tended toward what some of the guards referred to as “thicker than treacle in winter.” Her figure was only accentuated by her fondness for corsets. She was wearing one now, and nothing else.

“Oh hello deer. He he.” Chatter Lee giggled at the doe as she slid through the closing door. “Are you part of the festivities too?” Her voice was deep and sultry. She was already pressing her voluminous breasts against Patagium’s chest. A hand had expertly found its way through the folds of his robe and had clamped almost painfully tightly around his shaft, which immediately pushed back with swelling and stiffening.

The doe’s pupils shrank and her ears splayed. “I-I’m here to officiate. I need to make sure the Count is properly prepared for the ultimate ceremony.”

The experience was intense and unbalancing, and it gave Count a small bit of pleasure to see the doe taken off balance too. He gave a small chuckle, but it turned into a moan as Chatter Lee’s hand started to move expertly up and down his shaft. The mare looked up. Her smile was both sultry and wicked. “Oh I know. I know all about how to prepare him.”

“I suppose that’s why you were the first stop. You’re going to break me into the routine easily.”

“Ha. Nothing easy about it, my dear.” She pushed him back against the closed door and pulled at his robe until the clasps let go and he was bare from the chest down. “I don’t know what was in that potion that old witch gave me, but I sure hope she gives the recipe to the Abbess before she leaves. It is warming in all the right ways and places. Care to feel?”

She raised a hoof up to rest it on the doorknob, showing a flexibility that was surprising for someone of her Rubenesque stature. She pressed forward, and guided count’s tip against her waiting lips.

“Oh my... That is hot...”

“Mhm. Time for you to help put it out. No teasing this time. At least not from you.” She stepped back and squatted until she could rest his tip against her lips. Her tongue lolled out and circled his urethra. In a swift motion, she pushed her head forward until his shaft was deep in her throat, and her muzzle pressed into his belly. He could only gasp in response. She gave two quick bobs, and then stood, spinning around and bending forward, grinding her broad backside against him, his stallion hood resting in the crevice. She reached between her legs and guided his tip into her wet and winking pussy lips, pressing straight back. Both ponies faces formed an “O” as she slid back until her broad butt pressed against his pelvis, and her walls throbbed and clenched down on his shaft, which throbbed back.

“Oh.. Buck...” He muttered.

“You like that, County? Bet you’re already wishing you could fill that hot tunnel...” She clenched down on him to punctuate and moved up and down on his shaft, making them both pant slightly. “...but not tonight, deary. I get to be the tease tonight.”

She gestured the doe forward, reaching out and taking her hands. Using her for support, she started pushing her hips back over and over, taking the hard and throbbing shaft. Her broad, fleshy hips flexed and bounced with each impact against counts hips. The door began to rattle and bang in the frame.

Fern blushed profusely at suddenly being physically involved in this lewd display. Soon the mare was hugging her closely, panting in her ear. The mares large, soft breasts practically swallowed her small pert orbs in their warmth.

“Count is a real gentlecolt,” Chatter Lee huffed in her ear, “but he can be a horrible tease. He can hold back better than any stallion in the castle. He likes to make us mares beg. That’s what makes the thought of how pent up he’s going to be so delicious. Tonight is Revenge of the Mares, hehe, Ohhh! No fair.”

Her explanation was cut off by count grabbing her dock and taking over the thrusting. His balls swung and smacked her clit with each thrust. His stallionhood seemed to grow even more and rub her walls. She arched her back as she felt the electric tension grow within her loins.

With a sudden whim, she grabbed the doe’s face in her hands and pulled her into a kiss, tongue suddenly invading her mouth, just as the waves of pleasure ran through her body and a deep moan escaped into the other mouth.

For Fern’s part, her eyes went wide and her ears went back. Then her lids fluttered. She could still taste some of Clady’s elixir on the mares lips and tongue, along with remnants of the virile stallion’s pre and musk. She felt a blush going to her cheeks and a hint of the warmth the mare must be experiencing in her nethers.

Count was holding the mare’s dock tightly, looking down at the enticingly lewd flair of her hips as they bounced from his thrusts. His dark stallionhood was glossy with her mare juices. He could feel the familiar pull and pressure in his balls and at the base of his cock. Combined with it, however, was a new sensation. The cold ring around his scrotum refused to warm to his body temperature. Its weight made his balls swing furiously, and it felt tighter than ever. The higher his arousal, the tighter it seemed to get. If he approached the edge of ecstasy, it seemed to transition into something cold, small and incredibly dense, pulling down on his bollocks, and cutting off any hope of completion, even as Chatter Lee’s hot and tight marehood clench around him and her juices flowed freely.

Finally, Chatterlee pushed back, pressing him against the door and taking him so fully into her, that he could feel the hard nub of her cervix kissing the base of his tip. She clamped down on him tightly, and brought him to the edge. It felt like his plumbing straining to release, but no release would come.

Chatter Lee released the slightly panting doe and stood, arching her back and putting an arm up around the stallion’s neck, nuzzling into his neck. “Thank you, County. I could do this all night, but I guess I should leave some of the other mares. She slid slowly forward, until his stallionhood sprang free.

Chatterlee staggered slightly, putting a hand on Fern’s shoulder to steady herself. “I hope hubby has as good a time. I don’t envy you, watching all this and no none for yourself. You’re going to need a little something by the end of it. Feel free to stop by if you need a little help with that.” She gave a wink and stepped over to collapse in a chair by the fire, sweat glistening on her fur and breasts still heaving.

Patagium was still leaning against the door, panting and slightly wild eyed. He had yet to make it more than a pace into the cottage. His stallionhood pointed outward and slightly upward, reaching further than the rest of him had yet to come. It was bobbing with his rapid heartbeat.

“Ah- Are they all going to be like this?”

Fern stepped up next to him. “They’ll all be different, of course, but there might be a theme for the night.” She produced a flask and a small flannel cloth, tipping the flask and moistening the cloth with it’s contents. She then proceeded to wrap it around his shaft and wipe it up and down. Count stiffened at her touch and the movement of the soft cloth. The cold liquid quickly seemed to warm his sensitive skin. “Oh my....”

“Just a bit of hygiene,” she smirked up at him. “Nothing to get too excited about.” She gave a small giggle as his stallionhood throbbed in her hand and release another small dose of pre, which she teasingly wiped off his sensitive tip.