The Merry Llewd

Fern was getting an education in bat pony anatomy. At first glance, their long wings, with their fine fingers and thin membranes, look weak and insubstantial. That was obviously not the case. The small, pink bat pony was standing on a step stool, legs locked. Her waist was bent at 90 degrees. She was being kept from toppling forward entirely by her wings, which were spread up and back.

Count had a firm grip just above the odd clawed thumb that they all sported, and was bouncing her mercilessly on his pelvis. Each time she bumped forward, the lower half of his shaft would briefly come into view before plunging home and impaling her again with a wet slap as their bodies came together. Her pert breasts bounced and clapped together with each thrust, and her tongue lolled out. He back was arched and her tongue repeated lolled out as she panted and moaned.

Without expecting it, Fern felt a sudden pang of jealousy. Clady had brought her on this expedition because of her “aptitude with such matters.” If Clady had ever been with a stud, she wasn’t letting on, and Faun, the third member of their little coven, would probably faint if one so much as kissed her.

Just a second or two won’t hurt. Her antlers lit and there was a brief moment of displacement. Suddenly, her sensations matched the mares. She was bent over, suspended by phantom limbs. A massive member was driving itself all the way up to her innermost barrier. Her vulva was being smacked repeatedly by those swinging balls, the hard, textured surface of the ring was landing on her clit.

With a shock, she broke the spell. She was suddenly back in her body. The enormous cock disappeared. Or more correctly, it was no longer inside her, but back across the room, railing that lucky bat pony. Under her dress, she could feel her own heat and moisture, had grown exponentially. What are you doing? You need to keep focused.

This was going to be a difficult night to hold in her natural tendencies and urges.