Compromising Positions: A Fantasy

Nathan grunted, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, remember what I bring to the party, alright? So don't wear one another out before I get there. I didn't come all the way up here just to watch."

As he spoke, the older man began to strip. Perhaps it was in response to Cynthia, perhaps he simply wanted to underline his point. Whatever the case, he slipped out of his shirt, revealing his strong, though not sculpted, chest. It was not a body builder's body, nor a model's. It was more the body of a man accustomed to work. Without a plow or barn to raise, he had kept himself fit at the gym and on the streets. There was a solidness to his shape, an honesty to his form. The Greeks might have passed it over as less than ideal, but the Romans would have admired the rugged power it displayed.

This was a man who could tend to his fields, after months away at war.

Following his shirt came the pants, which he dropped, just before the shower door. Whether teasing or not, he still had a sense of shame and was not one to strut. Instead, there was a glimpse, a glimpse of powerful legs, rock hard calves, and the hint of the head of his cock. It was the same cock which Erin's foot had so thoroughly caressed. Apparently, it still held a lingering excitement from her touch.

Or else it was anticipating the touches to come.

"Mmm mmm, a girl can't see a sight like that, and not get a mind for dirty things, can she, Erin?" Cynthia's hands gently slid around her tanned lover's elbow. "Shall we head out to the hot tub, and see what we can do about all of this heat and bother?"

Erin nodded, still somewhat stunned by the appointments of the suite. It was obvious to the meanest intelligence - and hers was far from meanest - that this was meant as a love-nest, a place for lovers to play, discover, explore, with friends and without. Her eyes, drawn by motion, moved to Nathan as he stripped down, and she felt herself heating even more as his well-muscled body was revealed. It was the honest assurance and simple economy of motion that aroused her as well; no posing, no ego-trip needed for him. He was content with who he was and what he had achieved in life.

Cynthia's voice drew her gaze back and her eyes devoured her blonde lover's sweetly curved form. "I'd like that, a lot," she replied to the question as Nathan disappeared into the bathroom, which on its own appeared to be as large as her own rather more modest accommodation at the del Sol. Without further ado she stripped her short, filmy dress off, needing to free herself of restriction and encumbrance, and as she undressed she stepped close to the sultry blonde. Her fingers moved to the closure of her brassiere, eager to free herself from its confines.

She should have removed her panties first, though; her body had been responding to Cynthia's wicked, lustful teasing and the front of her silver underwear stood out as her girlcock swelled, placing the fabric under increasing strain. Dampened in the elevator by the nectar flooding from her girl's sex and the pre from her proud, thick weapon, the material gave way with a soggy ripping sound. Her growing shaft pushed through the destroyed garment, and the material framed her smooth, hairless sack. The now-useless underwear slipped down, the tatters sticking wetly to her inner thighs, which glistened with runnels of girl-honey. Growing like some obscene, fleshy tree rooted in her groin, Erin's horse-cock extruded further from her sheath, dripping pre.

Seemingly oblivious to the ruined undergarment adorning her smooth, bronzed hips, she slipped her arms around her petite, enchanting lover, easily lifting her in her arms. "You bother me a lot," she whispered, her face turned down, her lips seeking Cynthia's. "You're driving me absolutely mad, love, and I need you in the worst way." Her hungry, questing mouth came down on Cynthia's and her fingers gently, insistently pulled the scanty bikini top aside, curving around the blonde's full, firm breast. Desire and lust flamed within her, and she knew she desperately needed to thrust herself within Cynthia's welcoming warmth, needed to see and feel and hear and smell her blonde beauty filled with throbbing, powerful horse-cock.

Her burgeoning, pre-leaking cock bouncing against Cynthia's pert bum, she carried her sweet burden over the threshold onto the tiled patio and the waiting hot tub. "I need you in every worst way... and as soon as Nathan's cleaned up, I want you both in all kinds of ways."

Cynthia squealed, though she bit the sound off, muffling her response into a high pitched whimper. She hardly minded if her husband heard them or not, but she did not want to provide an excuse for him to come out too soon. First, there was much she wanted to do, much Erin, apparently, wanted to do.

Still, she loved the idea of her husband knowing that something was going on out here, though ignorant of the exact nature of their bliss. Cynthia adored the idea of him lathering up that sturdy cock of his, while thinking about all the wicked things his wife and her lover were getting up to. It reminded her of a little game she used to play when they were still just strangers who had gotten frisky at a conference "that one night." The poor man was trying to move on with his day to day, forget the most amazing sex he had ever had, and she simply would not leave him alone.

Often, he would come home to an answering machine filled with a lustful voice, moaning as a playmate did such sinful things to her. "Guess," she would say. Nothing more, just "guess." It would be days before he started calling back, and a week more before he got up the nerve to actually play. His first guess had been wrong. His playmate's new lover was a woman, and she had been biting hard on Cynthia's left nipple.

He got better at it, much better. Soon, he not only knew where his tormentor was being licked, bitten or probed, but her partner's gender as well. He tried to play it off as something silly he did, just to amuse her. But she knew he was getting into it. Why? Because she also had a good ear, and she knew when her lover-to-be was stroking himself in response. Her second favourite session was when he came, accidentally, while trying to figure out if it was a man's or woman's tongue sinking into Cynthia's tight little rear.

Her most favourite, however, was when he could not guess at all. As far as he could tell, there was nobody with her, though she sounded as breathless and aroused as he had ever heard her. That was when the knock on the door came, echoed by his phone. She had closed her cell with a snap, pushed him inside, and after that, there was hardly a point in guessing, anymore.

God, wouldn't this moment be perfect for their old play? Surely the noises Erin made would make for some confusion. Could he possibly guess? Would he even imagine? Cynthia could hardly believe it herself. She clung to the beautiful and bare Amazon, feeling every bit the bashful bride that she could not quite manage when dressed all in white.

"You are so sweet." Cynthia leaned in, nuzzling at a breast; larger, deeper shaded than her own. "You keep mentioning him, keep assuring me, so that I don't feel guilty, huh?" She returned that kiss, melting in it, melting in lips more lush and powerful than any she had ever kissed. She was no virgin to another woman's lips, but something about Erin made it all feel so new.

She gave out a squeak when that hard, hungry cock slapped against her bottom. A safe squeak, now that they were outside and nearing the tub. Fuck, that cock had ripped apart her lover's panties so effortlessly. Whatever could it do to her? "NNnng, Er- Erin, yo- you really wan- want to put that in me, do- don't you?"

Cynthia shuddered, thinking about it. In that tremble, she mixed delight and dread, apprehension and anticipation. "Oh fu- ck!" Pinching the last kay sound off, she let her eyes wander. With a finely manicured nail, she pointed to a basket filled with scented oils, lotions and other. "Y- you might wan- want to try some of the ummm, purple stuff. I- it's supposed to be really good."

Only the bottle was purple, and it was supposed to be quite good, in fact. The fresh bottle was filled with a translucent goop that could turn the bumpiest bit of vegetable matter into a slick, sensual slide. It came recommended by animal breeders, in fact. If the back of the bottle was not simply hyperbole, the substance was originally designed to breed smaller mares with larger, troublesome stallions.

"S- sort of fitting, do- don't you think?" She giggled nervously, wetly, looking up into her lover's emerald eyes. "J-just the thing to slide i- in. And out, of course." The blonde continued, eyes low and lidded. "Y- you remember what we talked about, ri- right?"

When was the last time she was this nervous? When was the last time she questioned her ability to perform, or an organ to even fit? When last had her heart flutter and her words, stutter? "Oh Erin," she gasped, reaching up, fingers curling in crimson chains, "Whatever are you doing to me?"

Erin gently lowered her lover down onto the edge of the hot tub and prised Cynthia's arms from around her neck. Her eyes were brilliant, their green depths churning with a strange intensity as she loomed over the smaller woman. Her fiery hair moved as if possessed of its own life as the blonde's hands moved, buried in their luxuriant mass. In that moment, she seemed a primal force of nature, some elemental, wild creature unshackled, let loose on an unsuspecting world. Her hand reached for her ripely curved hips, stripping the destroyed remnants of her panties off, leaving her bare but for her stockings.

She fixed her eyes on Cynthia's as her strong, tanned fingers curled around the thin ties keeping the triangle of Lycra in place over the now-apprehensive blonde's mons. Those fingers tightened as she replied, "I want to fuck you, Cynthia. I want to feel you around my cock, gripping me with all your strength." She yanked suddenly, tearing the flimsy garment away, leaving her lover completely naked.

"No-one has ever... wakened me as you have," Erin went on, her voice thick with emotion. Lust was there, desire, a primal hunger that sought to be fed, that would feed upon Cynthia and whomever else it needed to be sated - Nathan, chambermaid, whomever struck her fancy. "I... need you." She took Cynthia's legs in her hands, spreading them, opening her wide to reveal the pink, moist treasure of her sex. Strength was in those hands, fuelled by an inferno of lust boiling up from her loins, barely held in check by a thin veneer of control.

She reached for the purple bottle, poured a generous measure of its contents onto Cynthia's silk-smooth belly, drizzling it like a fine sauce over her mound, across the labia peeking from within her outer lips. "Mares and stallions... hmm. This should work just fine, then... though it makes you the mare," she crooned as she began to rub the thick, viscous ointment into the skin around Cynthia's pouting pussy. Her hands worked the strangely-scented lotion, massaging it into her lover's skin. Two fingers scooped an errant trickle that had started to ooze down the soft curve of her waist, then probed gently between the siren-woman's lips, softly but insistently opening her, readying her.

Erin's face was a study in rapt concentration as she lavished her single-minded attention on Cynthia's body, her focus fixed on the blonde's wet, needy sex and her consuming need to fill her partner with her monstrous, straining fuck-pole. Her green eyes intent on her work, she continued rubbing, massaging, then turned her hands to tweaking and teasing, seeking to arouse and excite even further.

"Just the thing indeed, pretty Cynthia," she purred as she poured more of the viscous goo over the length of her quiveringly erect horse-cock. One hand thrust between her legs, she began stroking herself, rubbing the lotion onto her glistening shaft, and lowered herself toward her lover. "I do remember what we talked about," she went on, her hands cupping the firm, tanned breasts adorning Cynthia's petite frame. They were the perfect size, fitting into Erin's palms as if made to her measure. Her fingers closed around the hard, pebbled nubs of darker flesh in their centers, squeezing gently between thumbs and fingers. Her voice trailed off, not hesitantly, but... preoccupied.

"Don't fight it... don't fight me," she whispered into Cynthia's ear. "I'm doing what you want, what we both want." Her lips parted with a gentle exhalation of breath and she flicked her tongue out, caressing the blonde's ear. Her hips started to rock slowly, sliding her mighty shaft, now anointed with that thick lubricating cream, against Cynthia's mound, caressing her with horse-flesh in slow, powerful strokes. That terrific length slid up her skin until the flared knob brushed the blonde's breasts while the redhead's thick meaty sack pressed against her groin, a promise of what was to come.

Cynthia was roiling within. Her entire core had become molten, and like any good pool of magma, it was applying liquid pressure throughout her body. The lubricant did little to soothe that pressure, or snuff the internal flames. It puddled about her, dripped from her flesh and then, was pushed back within by attentive fingertips. She tightened, her sex gripping and suckling on those intruding fingers, trying to stave off the forthcoming eruption.

She was honestly afraid of it, afraid that once she let go, her collapse would be total, absolute. Where her nectar flowed, surely her will would follow. Cynthia knew, as her lover's voice became sweet, sultry rapture, that she was no longer in control.

Was she ever in control? Had she been bewitched this entire time? She looked, weak and small, into those bright, coaxing eyes. Oh god, Erin, why do you have to be so good at this?

It was simply unfair for the scarlet vixen to be that beautiful, that sensual, with an exotic nature and a wit to match. More over, it was unfair for her to stand on the apex of so many pinnacles of feminine beauty, while also being so wickedly hung. She was like a Petrarchan ideal made flesh. But god, what flesh, what sinful flesh and blood. There was no wisp to her, no unnatural perfection. It was real, it was warm, it was a lived-in sensuality that came from a life filled with all of the joys and misfortune that came between the cradle and the grave.

That was what took Cynthia's breath away. Not that she was so damn beautiful, but that Erin was so fiercely, independently real. The rest of the world looked just a bit greyer around the edges, for her presence. Godamn it, girl, snap out of it! She is just another woman; a pretty one, a sexy one and she's got something special, no doubt, but you aren't one to fall to your knees! Reach out! Grab that cock of hers! Tell her that you will make it your own.

Cynthia tried to focus on that flesh, as it ground lewdly between her legs, as it slapped harshly between her breasts, scattering freshly applied lube to either side. Sh- she just could not. Maybe it was Erin's size. Maybe it was Erin's command. Whatever the case, all she could manage was a simpering mewl, while below, her sex began to practically drool in anticipation.

The young blonde was not much for religion. That had always been Nathan's forte. She had certainly never bought into the concept of "made in our image." This once though, with a bared goddess before her, and that magnificent cock, pulsing with unsheathed desires, she could believe. If God was such a thing to have a face and form, Cynthia could think of no better evidence than the flame-haired seraphim before her.

Cynthia's inchoate, mewling whimper conveyed her fear mixed with utter need, and Erin responded to that animalistic noise with her own urgency. Her fingers flexed around the blonde seductress's pert, kissable breasts, kneading the soft flesh as they swelled with her mounting arousal. The redhead lowered her face to them, brushing her smooth, tanned cheek against the rapidly-hardening nubs of flesh, letting the locks of gilded fire that tumbled about her heart-shaped face brush like an angel's kiss over Cynthia's nipples with silken traces, teasing and tantalizing her.

Hungry to taste the alluring enchantress under her, Erin's lips brushed her lover's neck lightly as she moved down the quivering woman, drawing her sinful tongue along Cynthia's neck, across her collarbone and down between the two sensitive mounds. As she nuzzled and licked her way over the delightful curve of breast and nipple, she let her hands slide around the blonde's back, relishing the feel of her golden locks brushing, tickling her hands.

The stallion-woman moaned again, louder, her voice freighted with desire and arousal, and... possession? Certainly her arms curled the more tightly around her lover as she continued to suckle, working Cynthia's breasts with lips, teeth and tongue, catching her nipples between her teeth as she bit down just enough that her lover could feel the pressure, just a hair away from pain. Certainly her legs, straddling Cynthia's hips, closed on her ever so slightly as she continued to masturbate the blonde's dripping pussy with her heavy ball sack, rubbing her enormous equine cock against the velvety smoothness of mons and abdomen, and added the sensation of her questing, throbbing cock-knob sliding against the smooth curve of Cynthia's tit-flesh to the heady mix of stimulation.

"...Cynthia...!" she ground out, her eyes closed, her hands pulling her lover closer. Every nerve-end was quivering, alert, flooding her with sensation as Cynthia writhed under her. She was exquisitely aware of her petite partner's pussy, dripping, juicy as a fresh, ripe peach, pressing, rubbing against the smooth, hairless skin of her scrotum, swollen with need and lust as her testes churned, producing prodigious amounts of semen. Primal need drove her now, and the instinctual reaction of her body was to ready itself, prepare for the moment when her massive horse-dong would plunge into Cynthia's wet, willing sex until she orgasmed and emptied her balls of their quarts of thick, steaming jizz. The sheer, sensual pleasure of Cynthia's nether lips kissing, sucking at the lust-maddened flesh of her sack was matched in intensity by the heady feel of smooth, velvety skin against the lotion-smeared, pre-cum-dripping monster rooted in her groin and now stroking along the length of the blonde's quivering lustful body.

The possibility of Nathan catching them in this most flagrante of delicto hovered distantly in the back of Erin's mind, but if anything, it only served to fuel her arousal as she crouched over her tempting, alluring lover, humping her flesh-log against the silky-smooth skin. She wanted Cynthia to come, to squeal, shout, scream with lust, to feel that petite, athletic frame under her shaking with pleasure from repeated orgasms, surrendering herself to the redheaded more-than-woman... and then she would grant Cynthia the boon she craved, give her the gift of her mighty cock.

The thick, mottled cock pressed against Cynthia's flesh, searing her edges like a newly forged sword, desperate for quench. It pulsed as it shuddered, slick with lube and that delight that can only come when all shame has been discarded. This was not a shaft that had to hide under skirts, strain against panties or pantyhose, a dirty secret that was only allowed a peek from beneath a sun-bather's sarong. This was flesh unbound, unbridled, allowed to trot and flare its nostrils, drinking in the scent of the whimpering mare underneath. The flat of it pushed and idly slapped against the young woman's face.

Cynthia whimpered, feeling aroused and a curious sensation, much like... humiliation. It was a rare sense to have. She was the sort of woman who indulged herself and through her indulgence, others came to their own satisfaction. Men did not slap her cheeks with their cocks, they did not dare enter her from any entrance she did not make available, and they certainly did not grind their filthy balls against her nice, nectar-laden mound. Even Nathan knew where the boundaries lie, knew where he could push, where she would bend, and where she would turn around and break.