The Fox and the Hound
Badmiral Biscuit
I covered a yawn with a hand, even though I didn’t have to—there were no customers in the store. Hadn’t been for a while, I’d spent the last hour tidying up the shop. That had needed to be done, but it wasn’t how I wanted to end my day.
It hadn’t been an unproductive day; I’d sold a sofa set to Strawberry Sunrise and done a decent business in quills and quill accessories. Just the same, I was watching the clock as I faced the displays and wiped down the front counter; as the minute hand swept to the top of the hour I had my hand on the ‘closed’ sign.
There was still more to do once the shop was closed; a quick sweep and mop, balance the books, get together the deposit for the bank—that was on the way home, at least. Think about dinner, try not to get too distracted thinking about dinner. Think about Krystal, try not to get too distracted thinking about Krystal . . . add up the receipts again because I got too distracted thinking about Krystal.
A stallion’s work was never done.
Even with the maths error, I left the store only a half hour after closing time. Not a personal best, but not too bad.
Spring wasn’t in the air just yet, but the promise of spring was. It was light in the sky when I arose, and the sun was still up as I dropped my deposit bag into the receptacle at the bank. The air was chill but the sun was warm.
•••
Seven blocks later, I fumbled in my pocket for the keys to my apartment. My fortress of solitude . . . it had been, it was livelier now that Krystal was in my life.
Although it was still a fortress of solitude for a time: I beat her home.
I had an unwinding ritual. Once I was inside, I took off my loafers and set them on the mat in the foyer, then as I walked across the living room I started to unbutton my shirt. Some days, the couch was a tempting oasis—it was really too big for our apartment, but it had spent over a year at my store with no interested buyers. It was quite nice, and the price tag had reflected it.
My chef’s apron hung on the pantry door. I slipped off my shirt and replaced it with the apron, reaching behind my back to tie the strings, then I grabbed the wok off the pan hanger. We had some leftover veggies that were past their prime and headed south; a stir-fry was a great way to use them all up. You could put practically anything in a stir-fry and it would work.
While the pan was heating, I measured out rice and water into the rice cooker. That had seemed a useless extravagance at first, but once I’d gotten used to it, it was a nice set-it-and-forget-it appliance, much like the coffee maker.
Cooking was relaxing. I had a radio in the kitchen to listen to if I wanted, but I preferred the silence. Just me and the food, and whatever ambient sounds there were. The ultimate lo-fi background mix—no-fi.
•••
My ears perked as I heard the key in the front door. I wanted to run to greet her. Silly, like being a foal in love all over again; the stir fry wouldn’t stir itself but it would burn itself if I left it to its own devices.
“I’m in the kitchen.” I didn’t need to tell her; there weren’t many places I’d be if I was home, and surely she’d smell the cooking veggies, hear the hiss of oil.
We’d compared our senses one night when we’d had a few glasses of wine too many. She had me beat in scent, as I would have expected, but I had the edge on hearing. Only just . . . and that had turned into a continuing thing between us, her asking if I smelled something, me asking if she heard something.
I heard her strip off her boots. Left, then right, the same thing every time. One arm for balance on the doorframe, her boots had side-zippers so she didn’t have to lace them every time. One thud, she’d shift her weight to get the other one—something was different about it this time, the noises were wrong. When she came home, she was a creature of habit, at least for the entering the house ritual.
“I brought a friend.”
Oh. “Hello, friend.”
“Hello.” Unsurprisingly, an unknown voice.
Now I heard the familiar thump of boot on hardwood. Followed by a softer thud—smaller boot, or lighter shoe? I’d know soon enough.
Should I come out to the foyer to meet her friend? Or stay at my post and get the veggies just so? Stir-frying was an art, cook too long and they got limp and soggy, or burned. Just right, and there was a hint of crunch and a mushy, tasty interior. Al dente, as all things should be.
Another thump, another boot. The zip of a jumpsuit zipper; season dictated whether that fell before the boots. In the summertime she’d shed it at the door, one of the reasons that summer was the best season.
Not that that was unique to her. In the dog days of summer, I started unbuttoning my shirt as I walked to the house. Today it had stayed on and buttoned until I had all my ingredients out; only then was it removed in deference to oil spatters. Small stains wouldn’t show on a singlet, but my button-down shirts had to be dry-cleaned and starched and couldn’t show anything, lest potential customers think I was a slovenly shopkeeper.
Sometimes I longed for the utilitarian simplicity of her jumpsuit. Colorfast, stain-guarded, durable, maybe even comfortable, and I never knew what was underneath it until she unzipped.
Footsteps across the living room. Two sets, similar but distinct; her and a friend, Krystal in socks and her friend barefoot, claws clicking against the hardwood.
Not enough scent for my inferior nose to identify anything.
“I didn’t promise dinner,” Krystal said, her voice nearly in the kitchen. “But if you’ve made enough to share.”
“There’s always enough to share.” Some people never figured that out, but it was simple. You made more or you all ate less.
“You remember me telling you about Loona?”
She was right on the threshold. I nodded and turned my attention away from the stir-fry; a few seconds on its own wouldn’t ruin anything.
I did remember her talking about Loona. They’d known each other from way back, and I’d filled in some blanks from what she’d told me and what she hadn’t. Some of them were pure wishful thinking, fantasies . . . Krystal had described her well enough that I’d made a mental picture although it of course wouldn’t be accurate and I did my best to push that all out of my mind and let me see her for the first time without any preconceived notions.
Her fur was greyer than I’d imagined, and somehow the mane hadn’t come up at all. I’d already known she was gothy and had a torn ear—weirdly, which ear was torn hadn’t ever been mentioned and even with a 50/50 chance of being right, I’d been wrong.
She was also giving me a once-over.
When I was going to bring guests over, I let Krystal know in advance; that was the kind of surprise she didn’t like. I didn’t rate the same treatment; here I was in my singlet cooking dinner instead of making a good first impression.
At least I was still wearing my trousers.
“Loona, Davenport.” A simple but effective introduction.
“Pleased to meet you.” I reached out my hand, remembered I was still holding a wooden spoon in it, did an awkward transfer, and then we shook.
“Krystal’s told me all about you.”
“Good things, I hope.” Almost formulaic smalltalk, and yet it was what was expected.
“Says you’ve got a great cock.”
And there went the smalltalk, right off the rails in an epic explosion.
How the fuck do you follow that up? ‘Yeah, wanna see?’ Or ‘It’s nothing special?’ ‘She says lots of things?’ Or any of the myriad variations in between?
Krystal had her head in her hands; I guess she wasn’t expecting Loona to cut to the chase like she had.
“She’d know.” I turned back to the stir-fry. Didn’t want it to burn. “Never really checked a lot of other guys out in the locker room at the gym.” Which was a lie, I totally had, out of pure, understandable curiosity. Not to brag, but I was top tier.
“See, you’ve got a lot to talk about,” Krystal said. “You two amuse yourselves, I’m going to change into something more comfortable.”
‘Something more comfortable’ for her—at least when we were home alone—was nothing but her fur. Weird, but I didn’t object. I wondered what Loona would think if she returned in the buff.
“She’s gonna be naked, isn’t she?” Loona apparently already knew what Krystal’s idea of comfortable was.
“I don’t know, she usually.wears clothes when guests are over.” Said clothes being a long loincloth and a bra—a bikini top—I wasn’t sure if it had a specific name other than that. Something Cerinian.
I took the wok off the stove and set it on a trivet I’d put down before cooking. I heard the rice cooker click off a moment later; I’d timed it very well. “If she doesn’t, that’s not going to be weird, is it?”
“Not too weird,” Loona replied. “She never did like wearing clothes at our apartment, either. First it was just when she was in her room and then she’d go from the shower to her room, and then—”
I nodded; it had been about the same experience for me. She’d tried to encourage me to do the same, but it felt wrong to not have clothes over my bare fur in the public spaces in the house. Even sleeping nude had taken some getting used to.
I was getting more comfortable with it, though.
I pulled some matching plates out of the cupboard and was setting the table when Krystal walked back in, wearing exactly what I’d expected.
Loona rolled her eyes and the both of us watched as Krystal opened the fridge and bent over to get a pitcher of juice. “So the two of you best friends now?”
“Only if she buys a sofa. Or a box of quills.”
“Ponies buy quills by the box?”
“One of them does.”
“Who needs to write that much?”
“I’ve asked myself the same thing more than once. Still, keeps the lights on.”
We had a small table, not meant for more than two. As the guest, Loona got the head of the table while Krystal and I sat on opposite sides. Our plates and glasses were all crowded together, but everything did fit.
The first part of dinner was awkward; I’d only just met Loona, while she and Krystal were catching up from their time apart. They’d kept in touch over the time, but hadn’t been able to meet face-to-face.
I wished that Krystal had told me she was bringing a friend home for dinner, I would have made something different for dinner. The stir-fry was a great way to use up fresh ingredients that were getting past their prime, but the rice liked to fall off the fork—I could have made a dinner where there wasn’t as much chance of spillage, of dropping stray grains. I got a few on my singlet and surreptitiously wiped them off. Krystal had one land on a boob and stick to her fur.
Just as I pointed it out, Loona reached over and grabbed it. How close had they been?
How close were they still? I had a lot of questions, ones that shouldn’t be asked at the dinner table.
As I tried to steer the conversation to more neutral topics and to find out more about Loona, I couldn’t help but notice Loona’s nipples poking through the thin fabric of her halter top.
Had they been lovers?
•••
“I know what you were thinking. We were lovers,” Krystal said. Loona had excused herself to freshen up after dinner. “Shared basically everything.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You’re not jealous, are you?”
“No.”
“That’s because your mind is going places, isn’t it?”
I nodded. My mind was going places.
“Good, ‘cause I told her she could spend the night if she wanted to.”
“And you thought I was silly to bring the deluxe sofa home when it wouldn’t sell.” I’d slept on it more than once; it was super comfortable. It breathed well, so I didn’t get all sweaty, and it had fabric that was plush enough to be luxurious but not so plush that fur stuck to it like a magnet.
“God, you’re thick.” Krystal bopped the side of my head, then touched her hand to my thigh, reaching between my legs. “No reason for her to be alone on the couch when our bed’s big enough to share.”
“That’s—” I snapped my mouth shut as I put the pieces together.
“Unless you’re uncomfortable with the idea.”
“Of course not. It’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”
•••
I got a bottle of wine out of our little cellar—just a cupboard that had been repurposed—and a set of wine glasses and we went into the living room.
The three of us sat on the couch, Krystal in the middle. It was a big couch and we didn’t have to all be scrunched together. Two end tables served for the drinks, although Krystal had to reach over Loona to reach her wine.
Both of the girls started exchanging war stories. I didn’t have all that much to contribute; the professional side of my life was rather boring. Sure, I had the occasional rude customer or unexpected sale, but in conversation that wasn’t as exciting as flying a space ship or going on occasional missions with the team. I was content to listen.
I was trying to let things flow naturally, to proceed as they would. There was a lot I hadn’t figured out yet, complicated dynamics that ought to be figured out over time until we were ready to go to the bedroom. That was okay, I was willing to let Krystal take the lead on that; she knew Loona better. She’d know when Loona was comfortable.
How would it go? And when it came down to it, what was the proper way to behave in a threesome? If I was even correct about that ever happening. Our bed was big; it could fit three or even more and we could all remain relatively chaste. If Krystal was in the middle, I could spoon her and as long as I was careful with my hands, not touch Loona at all. Or if we took up separate sides of the bed and left a gulf in the middle.
Maybe I’d get to be in the middle. When I considered it, that was clearly the superior position. Was that a position that should go to the guest instead? Head of the table, center of the bed?
Loona and Krystal must have had some secret girl communication between themselves because I was still pondering potential bed arrangements, their advantages and disadvantages, when I noticed that the two were kissing. I also noticed that Krystal had her hand up Loona’s shirt, and a moment later they fell into a pile on their end of the couch. It was plenty long enough to accommodate two girls prone and me sitting alone on my end, currently a superfluous member of this congress.
Loona’s shirt came off and landed on the floor, not followed by a bra. Either they were taking things slow or she wasn’t wearing one. I wasn’t sure, there were plenty of straps under her shirt and they must have been doing something. I’d never been an expert in ladies’ fashion, and Krystal was the practical kind of girl who either wore functional, comfortable underwear or nothing at all.
Her shorts followed. I saw two hands on the waistband, one blue and one white, and then Loona was wiggling her butt to aid in the removal. Things went well until they got to her legwarmers, then the fabric snagged and I decided now was a good time to jump in and help out, tugging the leg-holes over. Then, once the girls had released their grip, I slid them the rest of the way down and off, folding them neatly before placing them on the end table, next to my wine glass.
Loona moved her hand to her panties, apparently forgetting how impatient Krystal could be. She ran her hand between Loona’s legs, hooked the crotch of her panties with a finger, and pulled them aside, giving me a quick peek at the hellhound’s pussy before her hand blocked it, one finger already going for the prize.
Their years apart must have caused a lot of built-up sexual tension.
Loona moaned at the contact and ran her hand up Krystal’s thigh, getting her own fingers wet. Krystal arched her back and lifted her tail, giving me a fantastic view of the two fingering each other along with a whole host of emotions that I currently lacked the ability to process. Horniness was an overriding one, though.
Krystal never really needed to get warmed up, but Loona might, so I let the two of them have their fun while I watched, until Krystal decided it was time to move things forward. She started kissing her way down Loona, kissing her neck and breast and belly and then between her legs. The couch was still long enough to accommodate the three of us without too much crowding, although Krystal’s ass was almost in my face. There was no downside to that; Krystal had a great ass, perfect in every way. I never got tired of admiring it, touching it, kissing it. . .
I could feel Loona’s feet moving on my thighs, her claws catching on the fabric of my trousers. She had her eyes closed and one hand on a breast, leaving the other exposed. That nipple was pierced, and I couldn’t wait to find out what it felt like..
She wiggled her legs and like a magic trick, her panties suddenly appeared. I helped pull them off, folded them and set them on the end table, noting just how damp the crotch was.
“You could do something, you know.” Krystal’s voice was muffled; she had her muzzle buried in the hellhound’s crotch. “Join in.”
“I’m happy just watching.”
“Don’t be weird.”
Don’t be weird, huh. Krystal’s ass was right in my face, so I leaned down and blew a raspberry on her left cheek. She slapped me with her tail, Loona laughed, and it seemed to release some of the tension in the room.
I was going to pay for it later, though.
I shifted around on the couch until I was right behind her, grabbed her hips and then just waited, watching her tail twitch in anticipation before I leaned in for a kiss.
It was an awkward position. As big as the couch was, it wasn’t wide enough for three pairs of legs trying to occupy the same space. Krystal shifted around and planted one leg on the floor, while Loona lifted one onto the back of the couch. For the rest, we kind of tangled together, keeping out of each other’s way as much as possible.
Meanwhile, I kept my muzzle under Krystal’s tail, a familiar place, one where I’d spent a lot of time. I wondered if Loona knew something that I didn’t, had discovered a trick that I hadn’t. It seemed doubtful; I’d explored every inch of her with my tongue, I knew what got her worked up and what made her melt.
One thing Loona had discovered was my cock. She was teasing me through my trousers with a paw, running along its length as best she could.
Between my underwear riding up and my trousers pulled tight, I was starting to have a problem down there. I hadn’t exactly thought out my position. Not that I was having regrets; my tongue was deep in Krystal while she ate out Loona, and the party was just getting started.
I leaned and reached forward, not worrying too much about the even more awkward position that put me in. I let go of Krystal’s hips long enough to rearrange myself—which gave Loona’s foot access to my head—then reached up and started running my hands over Krystal’s boobs, cupping them and holding them, feeling them bounce as she went down on Loona.
We kept this position for a good few minutes until Krystal shoved me back with her ass, then pulled forward, away from me. She licked her way back up Loona, ending with a long French kiss. Loona was still playing footsie with my dick, and I had a great view of the two of them.
Krystal finally turned her head to look at me. “You’re still wearing your clothes?”
“I didn’t have time to take them off.”
“He’s shy about being naked,” Krystal said, loud enough for me to hear. “Guess we’ve got to undress him.”
“I can—”
I started to rise, Krystal was faster and pushed me back down in the couch.
Loona, meanwhile, was still lying spread-eagled on the couch, one foot still on my dick and the other hooked over the back of the couch, and I got my first good look at her naked. Well, mostly—she was still wearing her leg-warmers and her arm sleeves and her choker and her harness.
What was that harness for? It ran down her cleavage in a pentagram, and a strap ran under her breasts, which wouldn’t offer any support at all. It was very inviting, although it felt wrong to go for her when my girlfriend was right in front of me, one hand on my shoulder and the other unfastening my belt buckle.
I got distracted enough with Krystal’s hand on my crotch that I didn’t notice when Loona crawled over to check me out as well, like watching a present be unwrapped as Krystal first pulled my trousers down, then reached in through my fly and pulled my dick out.
She could have taken my boxers off, too, but I guess that would have made for less of a dramatic reveal. And I could have been wearing a nicer pair of boxers; I had some silk ones that were perfect for intimate moments.
“Holy shit.” Loona poked my dick with her finger. “You weren’t lying.”
“Told you.”
“Now who gets it first?”
“Who gets it first?” Krystal had her hand on my boxers, but relaxed her grip. “That sounds like a cheesy line from a porno.”
I reached out and tweaked one of her nipples. “Not like the question was going to come up in an etiquette book.”
Loona had half solved the problem by wrapping her hand around my cock, squeezing the base while she kneaded my medial ring with her thumb. She crouched down, turning my head towards her, then looked at Krystal for permission.
“Go ahead, I know you want to.”
That was permission for both of us. Loona licked her lips then the head of my rod, then started bathing my shaft with her tongue. I tensed up as she touched her lips to dick and put my hand in her mane as she started giving me a blowjob.
Krystal wasn’t content to be ignored. She watched from her position between my legs until Loona and swallowed my dick all the way to the root, then got on the couch next to me, resting her head on my shoulder.
I didn’t need to be told what to do; I slid my hand between her thighs and began fingering her slit.
“I’ve always wondered what it looked like to be getting a blowjob,” she said. “Shame you can’t see her tits.”
It wasn’t just that Loona was huddled over my crotch, she didn’t have much going on in the boob department. Not that I was complaining; her whole body type was skinny and wiry, and small breasts suited her well. Krystal had a more rounded figure, and a chest to match.
“I can see yours when you’re giving me a blowjob,” I said.
Loona shifted on the couch, giving me a peek at least. Krystal took the opportunity to reach across my chest and start fondling Loona’s nipple, while I let go of my grip on her mane and ran my hand down her back, down to the base of her tail and along her cheeks—it was a reach, but I could just get my fingers on her slick lips. Now I was fingering two girls at the same time, which was actually more mentally challenging than I’d imagined it would be.
It never seemed to me that girls never really liked giving blowjobs, but then I liked eating pussy so who knew?
Whether she didn’t want to or in the spirit of sharing, Loona stopped after a few minutes and let my dick go. There was some shuffling on the couch as Krystal took up her position. She gave a better blowjob, but I couldn’t say if that was a lack of skill on Loona’s part, or Krystal just knowing what I liked.
Loona had maintained her crouched position on the couch, tucked in close so I could still reach her pussy. Krystal was kneeling on the floor and my arm just didn’t stretch that far, but I could see that she was fingering herself.
It felt like the girls were getting the short end of the stick. I assumed that this was just prelude, that neither of them had any intention of finishing me off—although if they did, I imagined that they’d just go back to getting each other off while I recovered.
Picking favorites was a dangerous game, but I could lie down on the couch and let Loona sit on my face.
I moved cautiously; I didn’t want to knock Loona off the couch or have Krystal accidentally bite my dick.
Loona figured out what I was doing and moved around to give me space, then straddled me, accidentally kneeing me in the ribs until we got everything sorted out. The position was hardly comfortable; I still had my feet on the floor and a twist in my spine and I’d managed to put my elbow between two couch cushions where it was currently stuck.
As I guided Loona into position with the one hand I did have—wrapped around her tail, because that was convenient—I noticed for the first time that she also had her clit pierced. Like her earrings and nipple rings, it was the same dark metal. Not for show, then, but for pleasure.
I could give that pleasure. I pulled her tail down, guiding her onto my face, and started licking. She had a different, funkier taste than Krystal.
Figuring out what she liked distracted me from the blowjob, at least to an extent. Her piercing was a focal point; every time I licked it I could hear her moan, I could feel her muscles tense and relax. I could hear the metal beads click against my teeth as I twisted it with my tongue, and then I’d move on somewhere else before coming back, constantly changing up to increase her pleasure.
•••
As Loona’s tail lifted up, I looked into the face of Krystal. She’d given my dick back to Loona, but not before pulling my boxers off.
“Don’t be hogging her,” Krystal said. She pushed my head down, and I expected her tongue to take the place of mine; instead, she kissed me on the lips first, then went in with her tongue.
I could watch, or I could tilt my head far enough to lick her nipples—or I could alternate, which was the right thing to do.
“There’s something I want to try,” Krystal said when she came up for air. Her muzzle was slicked with saliva and the hellhound’s arousal—mine was too, I could feel it in my fur. “But we’ve got to change positions.”
“I’m game. My back hurts, my neck’s stiff, and I think my arm’s falling asleep.”
“Loona?”
She didn’t answer right away. I knew why; her nose was pressed against my stomach and she could hardly talk with my dick in her mouth. I felt her slide up, more quickly than she had been. “Yeah?”
“You ready to feel his dick inside you?”
“You should—oh, fuck.” Licking her clit, twisting her piercing was a perfect way to distract her. “Mmm, go first.”
“You’re the guest, you should go first. I know you want to.”
“You don’t have to twist my arm.” Loona got up off the couch and I sat back up, twisting my neck to release some of the tension.
“Straddle him, and Davenport, slide your hips forward, right up to the edge of the couch.”
I suddenly realized where this was going; or at least I thought I did. I’d seen it in a porno before.
“Back to him, good, let me guide him in.”
I wasn’t going to see much from this position, but my hands had more freedom—I always liked mounting Krystal from behind because it let me play with her boobs and her clit, even let me feel myself as I fucked her. She also liked that; sometimes it was her fingers exploring our union.
My dick bumped up against hot, wet flesh and I could feel Krystal’s hand on my cock as she aligned us.
Loona took her time settling down over my dick, getting used to the girth. I helped by fondling her breasts—it wasn’t much help, if I was being honest, but it made me happy. Her barbells were a fantastic focal point, and just like her clit piercing, gentle twists made her moan in pleasure.
I’d been wondering if I could feel her piercing riding against my dick. I couldn’t; if there was any sensation at all on my end, it was lost in everything else, especially as Loona reached my medial ring and Krystal took that as a signal to start licking my cock.
I wanted to thrust up, but I let Loona take her time. I had plenty to focus on to keep me from getting impatient—letting one hand roam down her belly, towards her crotch. Krystal nipped at my finger when I got too close: she wanted to protect her territory. That was fair; as far as I was concerned she’d been making nothing but good decisions since she decided to invite Loona over for a threesome.
Loona arched her back, finally planting herself at the root, and let out a deep breath. Krystal licked my balls, then up to my shaft, and then I could just feel the tip of her tongue as she licked Loona’s clit. I ran my hand up Loona’s belly, and I swore I could feel the outline of my dick inside her. I didn’t think that was possible.
She tensed and lifted herself off my crotch, not yet going for any kind of rhythm, just a slow even rise until my medial ring slipped out, and then she slid down again. I gave her nipple a tweak and she gasped. I started to wonder if it was possible to have too much pleasure?
Loona started off slow and then started to pick up the pace as she got used to me, only using half the length of my dick—my medial ring was a good place to change directions, it seemed.
•••
She came a lot faster than I would have expected. Krystal might have gotten her all wound up, or it might have been the two of us hitting all of her pleasure points. I felt her tense and clutch around my dick, then slump back against me as she gasped for breath. I let her recover and I was hoping we’d continue, but she instead got up off me, shuddering both as my medial ring slipped out of her and then my glans.
Once she’d dismounted, she turned and gave me a kiss, then leaned back against the couch and sighed in contentment.
For a minute, my dick was cold. Soaked with girlcum and now just out in the open air. Krystal didn’t feel the need to put it in her mouth or between her breasts or anything else, she was letting me suffer.
If it could be called suffering; I needed a little time to cool down, or else I’d cum as soon as Krystal mounted me and that wasn’t fair, she’d been getting the least attention so far.
She finally relented, at least to a degree. She gave me a kiss on my thigh, and then she stood up, her knees both cracking as she did.
“Do you want—”
“Stay there,” she instructed, and I nodded. I was happy where I was; I had a hot hellhound cuddled up against me and I was looking at my girlfriend over the length of my cock.
Krystal leaned down into my crotch, rubbing her boobs against my erection and trapping it against my stomach. Then she started to climb up me, her fur soft and tantalizing as it rubbed my dick, and she kept it pinned between us as she sat on my lap.
She reached down and grabbed the hem of my singlet, pulling it up and over my head. No great secrets were revealed; I didn’t have any piercings or tattoos or cool scars. I caught Loona’s ears perking and falling as my shirt came off, maybe she was hoping for something interesting. She had scars, more felt than seen. Her long fur covered a lot.
Krystal pressed herself against my cock and ground against it, rubbing me with her boobs as we kissed, and then she lined me up and rather unceremoniously sat on my dick.
To be fair, we’d had a lot of practice, and for today we’d also had a lot of foreplay.
I let her set the pace at first, just to know what she wanted. Slow and sensual, or fast and dirty? I couldn’t guess what was in her mind.
She kept me in a tight embrace, and we kept our lips locked. I’d had more freedom with my hands with Loona, whereas our lovemaking was slow and passionate, more of a holistic experience than just hitting the right pleasure points relentlessly.
Loona had rallied by the time Krystal had her first orgasm. I hugged her tight until the spasms passed. She rested her head on my shoulder and clenched Loona’s hand. Once she’d had a minute, I started with gentle thrusts to set a tempo and then we picked up the pace—now it was a race to the finish.
I could feel Loona’s other hand between us, sometimes groping for a boob, sometimes playing with my nipples or exploring my belly, and then she reached down between us and I felt her hand against my dick. Krystal leaned back to give her access, then hugged me tight again, trapping her hand at the bottom of each thrust. It didn’t feel like she was doing anything—not to me, at least; she might have been rubbing Krystal’s clit.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders to pull her in close. She resisted at first, and then joined us in a three-way hug, and Krystal finally broke away from me to start kissing her. It was a different kind of passion than we’d shared, but no less intimate.
Perhaps I could have held on longer, but I didn’t want to. I felt Krystal start to lose herself in the throes of another orgasm, and I was close and there was no point in trying to hold back any longer.
There’d been a time when I’d warned her, but now we knew each other and we knew our bodies; Kyrstal slammed herself against my crotch and let her pelvic muscles do all the remaining work, clenching around my shaft as I came.
•••
I’d thought the orgasm was great, but it was nothing compared to the afterglow. Krystal had stayed on my cock until it had gotten soft and fallen out of her, our lips locked and her tongue halfway down my throat. Then she’d rolled off and flopped against the couch on my right side.
Never in my life had I thought that I would be coming down from an earth-shattering orgasm with one hot chick on each arm—it was the most complete feeling I’d ever had. Like I was the king of the world, like I’d achieved nirvana.
My balls were sitting in a puddle of cum and there was another puddle under Krystal—the couch had very good stain protection, one of its selling features. If the cum left a mark, so be it. It would be a fitting memory of the best evening I’d ever had.
For it was still only evening. Outside, the sky was painted with the colors of sunset, and I had an idea that the night was only just beginning.
