The Inn Ch. 13

As her hands descended button by button, she lowered herself as well, until her knees touched the earth. A gasp from Leyna made me look her way, where I found Drog bent far over, the tip of one horn carrying the hem of her tunic slowly upward, revealing her clean, smooth belly beneath it. Her belt hung loose between his teeth, its ends dangling while he maneuvered that horn point right between her breasts – close enough to graze her breastbone, though I couldn't see from this angle whether it did.

Yndicir clasped my left boot between her knees and both hands.

"Step loose," she said. Once I'd done so, we repeated the process with the other foot, and I stole another glance Leyna's direction. Drog was using his immense hands to pull her top the rest of the way off, which freed her gorgeous, rich bosom to the night air.

The dryad rose and came around behind me, stripping the dress shirt from my shoulders and arms, tugging it loose from my pants, tossing it away. I felt the powdery brush of her nipples, heavy with pollen, just below my shoulder blades. Her arms encircled me, brought her hands to the buckle of my belt. Through the whole process of undoing it and withdrawing it from the belt loops, she leaned into my back, her nipples making tiny circles against my flesh while the floral intensity of her scent washed the air all around me.

Drog heaved Leyna up over one shoulder to get at her boots, bringing a laugh from her and then a comment of, "Oh, my – what a strong broad back!"

The dryad's hands unfastened my pants briskly and slid them down with no further teasing. Then, kneeling again, she helped me out of my socks.

Meanwhile, the bullfinch held my gorgeous blonde lover upside down, first by one ankle and then by the other as he ridded her of her breeches. She giggled and squealed the whole time, until he finally put her set her down on her feet, naked, wide-eyed, and breathing heavily.

Yndicir and Drog stepped back, the dryad holding an empty hand out toward Leyna and then gently motioning toward the ground at the center of the clearing. Mordwith waited there with an eager hard-on sticking out from between his curly-furred legs.

"An excellent undressing," said the satyr, one hand working his erection. "I'd almost forgotten the usefulness of clothing in foreplay."

"We can do clothing whenever you like," Loonce said, taking up a position in the air about ten feet over the goat man. His hands waved, and suddenly everyone in the clearing wore a different outfit, all of them fanciful to the point of outlandishness. He gave Fwill the tricorn a tricorn hat, for instance – and two smaller tricorns for the heads of his upcurved penis-horns.

"Figments, bah," said Mordwith. The sprite had put him in a hoop skirt that fully concealed his cock and the hand whacking it off. "Entirely not the same."

Drog, done up in a jester's outfit, cleared his bovine throat. "I don't recall the arbiter telling anyone to dress anyone else in figments."

"Sorry," said Loonce. He put down his hands, and all the clothing vanished, including his own.

"All right, then," said Leyna bravely. "I suppose I should – maybe just about here ..."

"Anywhere will do at this point," Mordwith told her. She lowered herself carefully to her knees and then went on all fours, looking over one shoulder as if to make sure the satyr wasn't already charging to mount her.

Then she looked at me with one eyebrow up. "You're still a bit far off, Simon."

Stepping over to her, I went to my knees as well. Mordwith approached her from behind at the same time. I found the grass that filled the clearing surprisingly soft and dry, although how I managed to notice as I inched forward to line my dick up with Leyna's beautiful, pink, waiting lips, I don't know.

She took hold of me with one hand and opened her mouth, blue eyes shining a promise of delight.

"Mordwith in first!" said Yndicir.

Leyna gave me a smile that tilted up on one side, probably at the expression of stymied lust on my face. Then she turned her head and shoulders to look at the satyr, who grinned at her and put his tanned hands out to caress her smooth, pale bottom.

"Yndicir loves to tease when she's the arbiter," he explained as his backwards jointed legs folded down to ease him into ready position. His cock swelled thick and stiff from his crotch, its tip pointed right at the extraordinary vagina I was trying very hard not to think of as my exclusive territory. Taboo excitement and a resentful sense of propriety fought within me as the heavy-horned beast man asked the woman between us, "Are you ready, then?"

"Oh, I'm most always ready," she told him playfully. "The question is ..."

Her eyes came round to me, alive with challenge. "... are you, Simon? Are you ready to watch another man's rigid member enter your woman?"

Everything in her voice and her gaze urged me to say yes – gave me permission to not just accept but actively want the sight I was about to see. As if to emphasize that in the most physical way possible, she slowly, rhythmically pumped my cock with her hand.

I swallowed and nodded.

Her hand went still, and she smiled. "Well then, stop looking at me."

My face went red, I'm sure. Breaking from her gaze, I found Mordwith waiting with his sun-browned hands at my lover's waist and head tilted questioningly.

I nodded at him. He grinned at me. Then his thick-furred hips inched forward, and forward, until the swollen purple head of dick vanished from view beyond Leyna's curvacious ass. A bare instant later, she gasped and squeezed her grip tighter around my hard-on.

Mordwith didn't pause – he just continued his steady glide forward until the fur of his lower belly pressed snug against Leyna's cheeks. But his eyes widened with every centimeter of penetration, while Leyna furrowed her brow and moaned blissfully.

"Glor!" the satyr grunted. "This is a lovely wet and soft one you've got here, sir!"

It wasn't the sort of compliment I had any experience taking. "Um, thanks ... I'm pretty fond of her myself."

He laughed, while Leyna turned her head toward Yndicir.

"May I fill my other end now, Madam Arbiter?"

"By all means!"

I felt the eyes of the entire clearing full of mythic creatures, all focused on Leyna's mouth as her lips parted and her hand tugged me toward her. But I didn't actually see them staring, because I could no more look away from her perfect face than they could. Even Loonce darting down on his moth-wings to watch from two feet away didn't divert me – though the change in lighting did make me blink.

One knee after another, I inched forward at the urging of Leyna's grasp. Simultaneously, she leaned toward our connection, lips reaching, then brushing, then pursing into a kiss at my very tip. She took in the domed front of my cockhead, just enough to draw a circle around its tiny opening with her tongue. I swelled in response, and she tongue-tipped the resulting bead of precum away.

Her hand drew me forward again, closing our distance and letting the wet, cloud-soft ring of her mouth slip past the rim of my glans to the shaft behind it.

Then her eyes closed and she lunged forward, bringing gasps from me and Mordwith both as my erection vanished within her and his was revealed. With her lips flush around my root, she circled her hand around to my ass, carrying me with her as she swayed back to envelop the satyr's girthful rod once more.

Appreciative murmurs and mumbles sounded from our audience. Mordwith needed no further encouragement to grip Leyna's waist tighter and begin driving his hips. Without hesitation, she put her whole lower spine into motion, rolling her ass in time to his thrusts and using the impetus to bump her nose deep into my pubic hair. She still hadn't let even a centimeter of my dick out of her mouth, but the sweep and curl of her tongue side-to-side then front-to-back, then side-to-side again had me groaning with pleasure.

"Horns and pipes!" Mordwith gasped, his face an open book of carnal delight. "Ungh! This will not take long!"

"Mind the lady's interests, Mordwith," the dryad cautioned.

"If you could feel ... what she's doing – ah! – you wouldn't assume ... I had much choice!"

I felt the vibration of Leyna's chuckle through my hard-on and saw her plunge and rock her pelvis with even more abandon. Mordwith bleated. The fervor of her movements, coupled with a helpless increase in the force of the goat-man's strokes, now slid her mouth on and off of me in a sweetness of quivering suction.

"Leyna – oh, god –"

Her free hand, the one she wasn't using to support herself, left my ass and snaked beneath her to that little bulb of bliss right below the opening Mordwith so eagerly plowed. In time to our surging, thrusting oscillations she began to grunt. From the furrow of her brow, I could tell that the combination of thick-cocked fucking and masturbatory clit action had her speeding toward the "interests" Yndicir demanded, even as she kept up her masterful mouthwork all around me.

"Uhllgh! If the seed's supposed to hit our hindaur," Mordwith said, powering my lover forward against my crotch with his plunging, "she'd best get over here quick!"

I opened my mouth and agreed with him, although I'm not sure what came out had any intelligible meaning. The combination of raw, animal rutting and sexual collaboration blew my mind – and the way Leyna made herself the centerpiece so wildly, so naturally, and so adeptly – never in my life had I expected to see or be part of anything like this.

Yilma Greenwarden trotted over on her graceful little hooves and knelt and nestled forward until the taut flesh of her belly hovered against Leyna's waist and brushed the satyr's hand where he grasped and pulled at her in his humping.

"Gah! Uah ... almost there ..." Mordwith panted. His whole form shook as he pounded into my sweetheart's cunt. His mouth went slack. His eyes lost all focus. "OH, welling streams of springtime!"

His furry hips jerked back, revealing the full fat thickness of his rod, every inch of it absolutely dripping with Leyna's juices. Yilma leaned her chest toward him. He flailed one hand loose from the lovely bare waist he'd been clutching, grabbed at his sex-slick dong, and got it aimed just a heartbeat before he came.

From his cock burst a series of jetting white gobs, and from his throat burst a prolonged, "Hmmah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!"

Yilma's tits and belly received a thorough splattering of pasty satyr-cum: one, two, three, four, five heavy splurts of clinging seminal slime. Then Morwith flopped onto his back with a groan, shouldering Leyna's feet and calves wider as he fell. For a moment I thought he'd just rudely dropped out of the action. Then Leyna's hips lowered and she gasped her way involuntarily free of my near-orgasmic manhood.

"Gods of all coupling," she groaned, "it's so long."

The fluid slurping from beneath her bottom half told me she meant the goat-man's tongue, which had her wide-eyed and whimpering in seconds.

"Ah – ooh – muhhhhh –" As the blue eyes rolled up in her head, she somehow managed to lunge forward and deep-throat me, pushing me that one needed step toward climax before losing herself to insensate spasms. The feel of her mouth and throat around me and the look of her as she came flipped my testicles' switch. I had to yank back and fumble for my cock as desperately as Mordwith had moments earlier. Despite Yilma leaning into it, I didn't manage nearly as successful a job coating her – my first spurt arced down across Leyna's shoulder, my second traced from Yilma's navel up across her right breast, my third trailed down her bicep, and my fourth missed entirely. Everything after that was dribs and drips that would have landed on the ground if the greenwarden hadn't gotten her hand under my tip.

Once she'd caught up the last of my issue, though, she lifted it up just under her jaw and smeared it down her throat to the inward curve between her collarbones.

"Oh. Fuck." Loonce hovered over us, shaking his head. "There's hot, there's hotter, and then there's that."

Leyna rolled away from Mordwith's still-flicking tongue, curling herself around me with one hip on the grass and both arms about my chest. Her post-orgasmic quivering vibrated into me through the embrace. Yilma reached over to her and scraped that bit of my cum off her shoulder so it didn't go to waste. She wiped it around her own left nipple, leaving the areola and roused nub gleaming.

"Encore!" said Yndicir, clapping lightly with a rapturous enthusiasm in her eyes.

"Oooh," groaned Leyna from where her face pressed into my chest. "By all the whores in heaven, I think we'll need a bit to recover first!"

"Ha!" said Loonce. "She wasn't talking to you!"

And with that, the little sprite-man flitted to the ground mid-clearing and stood with his arms raised. The green glow coming off him flowed up, and up, until a translucent bubble of light as big as a car floated four or five feet above him.

When it stabilized there, the vivid image of Mordwith's cock and crotch filled half of it, and the luscious curves of Leyna's ass and mons and slit filled the rest. Then Loonce gestured his figmentary closeup into motion, and we watched the moment of penetration in all its slow-motion, high-zoom glory. The urgent round bulb of that cockhead drove forward, pressed against the damp seam before it and rode inward, parting the trembling cunt-lips with its fullness and then leading the vast, magnified, veined cylinder of satyr shaft onward, inward, deeper, deeper ... until a great wall of curly fur butted up against the juncture of sexual insertion to hide our view of it.

"Criminy," I muttered, which made Leyna tilt her head up at me and smile.

With a wave, Loonce pulled the angle back slowly, revealing Mordwith in profile with his cock plugged full depth in Leyna's bottom, his hands tight about her waist, and his face slack with amazement at the sensation of the entry he'd just made. Further back still, the perspective widened to include me as well, moving forward at the pull of Leyna's hand around my dick. As she kissed and licked and surrounded my tip, the view closed in again, until Leyna made her final lunge up to my root.

At that point, the scene wavered and jumped to an image of my beautiful blond-haired serving maid power-fucking me and Mordwith simultaneously, one of us with each of her ends. Dumbstruck male astonishment on both our faces made it clear who had control of all the action. For the next several minutes, spritely illusions replayed every wanton instant of our menage, all the sweat and saliva and slick, sweet pussy juice captured crystal-clear – every thrust and withdrawal, every inward suck of Leyna's cheeks, every jerk and spasm of our muscles as the fever of lust carried us away. It ended with the satyr's thick wads of goat cum and my own silky human spurts arcing across Yilma's front – but not before Loonce treated us all to a view of the one part I'd seen the least of: Mordwith's ridiculously long tongue reaching up from his mouth like a pink tentacle to writhe its way into Leyna's slit and lingually fuck her to her orgasm.

When the frozen image of our sperm-coated hindaur winked out, I heard a bullish grunt from Drog and looked over to find him milking his immense pizzle – a foot and a half long if it was an inch, with a head like a turnip but shiny with fluid. The pink length of it struck a vivid contrast to his coal-black belly and the mighty fist he worked up and down its shaft.

"The arbiter best have a part for me in the next go," he huffed, slowing and then stopping his whackery but not releasing his grip. "I'm afire to plug something, and if you make me wait ..."

Yndicir smiled and waved her bark-grey hand at him. "Our next round makes use of almost everyone ... since I see Loonce's lightshow has revived Mordwith and our human guest nicely."

She had that right – my cock stood at full attention again, as it had through most of the illusory replay session. The goat-man sat on the far side of Drog now, but I could see he'd been jacking off just like the bullfinch.

"Simon," the dryad told me, "you will plumb my flower with your stamen, while Mordwith gives me a bum-tupping."

I swallowed. The satyr leaned his head forward past Drog's shoulder and gave me a high-browed grin. Leyna patted my stomach encouragingly.

"Drog will – with care – kneel between Leyna's raised legs and seat his endowment well up in her channel."

The hand on my belly clutched, pressing nails into my skin as Leyna bit her lip. "Ofara make me wet and wide enough!"

Drog just breathed out an, "Ahhh."

"Meantime," Yndicir went on, "Loonce will give her something to wet her lips with."

"Skippish!" the sprite exclaimed.

"Yilma will be ready to soak up as much of the expulsions as she can."

The greenwarden nodded, then glanced at the last unassigned member of the company. "Nothing for Fwill?"

"No concern over that," said the tricorn. "I'm a one-and-done type. That is, I can spout thrice a night, but it's all at once and then I'm more than ready to sleep."

Yndicir's hands clapped. "Then we begin. Simon?"

She held her arms out, so Leyna released me with a kiss to one nipple. I rose from where I'd been kneeling during Loonce's show and crossed the clearing to the awaiting plant-woman. Up close, the perfume of her filled the air almost to an intoxicating sweetness.

"So ... how ...?"

"Here," she said, stepping in close and encircling my neck with her arms. "Lift up on me by the haunches."

I reached around to the backs of her thighs. Once I had them, she jumped up in a quick, smooth motion and wrapped her legs tight around my waist, where I could feel the soft petals of her vaginal orchid against my pubes. My throbbing dick rested along her taint and between her ass-cheeks.

"You're really light!" I said, surprised.

Her small round face hung before mine, a smile on her charcoal lips. The scent of roses poured off her not-quite-hair.

"I have some dandelion in me," she explained, "a few generations back. Now ... Mordwith! If you would, please, come and point his prick at my blossom that I might enfold it."

"With pleasure!" said the goat-man.

Yndicir curved her back as Morwith approached, putting a little space between our bellies and crotches. Taking her cue, I used my grip on her bottom to shift it farther outward. For a moment I felt the glide of her lower petals along the top of my shaft, and then the satyr squatted low behind her, took hold of my erection, and angled me into the delicate bloom that surrounded her slit. The petals kissed my flesh like flowers swaying in a breeze.

"Are you ready to pollinate my depths?" she asked. I nodded, and she eased onto me with a sigh, her floral tubule smooth, deep, and wet with nectar. She gave a delighted look and searched my face. "Good?"

"Holy cow, yes. Amazing."

She laughed. "Even Drog hasn't compared me to a cow's hole!"

"You've missed the mark there," said the bullfinch. "She's nothing like a heiffer on the pole."

Tightening her legs so that our groins squeezed even more firmly together, the dryad said, "Oh, he may have mis-spoken, Drog, but he certainly hasn't missed the mark!"

I didn't bother trying to explain the 'holy cow' idiom and probably couldn't have mustered the brainpower to manage it, the way she fit and thrilled me with her vascular tunnel.

Others, though, didn't have the benefit of that distraction. Alighting on the grass next to us, Loonce put hands to hips and craned his neck to get a good view of our engaged genitalia.

"So is the arbiter going to direct the next coupling?" he asked impatiently.

"Oh!" she said, bouncing lightly against me. "Oh, yes!"