Ryan hustled into the bathroom as quickly as the heavy door would let him, and was unzipping his fly even before he’d reached the urinal. He fell against the wall above the flush handle and let out a long-held sigh of relief as an uncharacteristic flood streamed out of him and into the porcelain basin. His bladder must have had the whole pitcher of beer in it. Well … he had been the only one to drink from it, and it was empty; she just kept sipping from her huge soda cup as she refilled his pint glass. He was just glad that he was a quiet, happy drunk, or he’d really have embarrassed himself in front of her tonight. He’d been dopey enough already, watching her big brown eyes bat at him while he listened to her talk, while he kept nodding for her to continue. He could still feel his ears sagging, but at least the world wasn’t sloshing around in front of his eyes any more. At least she’d been eager enough to do most of the talking for both of them. After the first time he felt her tail flick over against his leg, after he noticed that sitting beside her in the booth filled his eyes with the cleavage framed in her scooped sweater, he’d been useless. Whatever he tried to say just came out stammered and incoherent.

He’d known he had to go to the bathroom almost twenty minutes ago, but like a fool he’d waited until he was sure his bladder would burst before finally interrupting her to excuse himself. Somehow it had seemed rude. When he finally did say something, she just grinned, covering her mouthful of cheeseburger behind a lady-like hand, and told him to go ahead, motioning for him to shimmy across her lap.

He knew it was bad form for the woman to sit on the outside of the booth bench, even if he was the smaller of them two. Even for an antelope he was short and lean – a smaller creature than these booths were meant for – but she was massive, even for a cow. She wasn’t quite twice his height, but with all her curves – her round belly and bulging breasts squeezed into the sweater; her thick meaty thighs and ass squeezed into that short denim skirt – she outweighed him by a factor of three, at least. In fact, she was nearly too big to fit into the booth; only a few spare inches separated the bottom of the table from her legs. Still… when he scooted past her, he didn’t think it was only the tight fit that had trapped him in her lap, between the table and her thighs and the stretched hem of her skirt. He was sure she had been smirking when she told him the only way out now was to slip down between her legs to the floor beneath the table. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry to get to the bathroom, he would have been smirking, too.

Even after the flood had slowed to a trickle, even after the occasional drop had dried up, Ryan continued to lean over the urinal. He hadn’t seen anyone else in the bathroom, so he didn’t think he was violating any kind of man-code, but he was still new to the city and its faux-macho culture. He really needed a few minutes to catch his breath and compose himself, to put on a better face. He’d been behaving just like the immature youngster that everyone thought he was when he was out there with her, not the proud young buck she deserved – that she expected of him, he imagined. Blushing? Stuttering? Too embarrassed even to touch her in return, or to compliment her? A hundred times he’d thought of saying how lovely her tan fur sheened in the night-time city lights, of telling her how beautiful her brown eyes were (though maybe she’d take that the wrong way, now that she was wearing makeup), of finding something nice to say about the way her skirt hugged her rump that didn’t sound completely perverted. This was a date, after all, and she’d given every signal imaginable, from subtle hints to the glaring green light-

He heard the bathroom door squeal as it swung shut, and the heavy clomp-clomp of hooves crossing the floor tiles toward him. Once he’d shaken off the initial stupor of his interrupted reverie, Ryan hurriedly pushed away from the wall to find his balance and tuck himself back in; at least until he was knocked back forward and had to catch himself on the wall. He yelped in shocked protest, but his stiffening spine melted as a wide, flat tongue slopped up his neck and curled around base of his ear. A tan hand with neatly-trimmed hoof-like nails pinned his wrists against the wall, while a matching hand slid down his shirt, over his belt, and found his flaccid penis. A few quick, groping squeezes, combined with the swipe of the tongue moving across the back of his neck, brought it to life. Hot breath, heavy with the smell of cheeseburgers, washed over his cheeks and eddied around his face. “Don’t tell me you’re in such a hurry to put this away just because I walked in.” Her voice, of course. It was unmistakable. It was that sweet, breathy, honeyed drawl that had hooked him in the first place.

* * * * * * *

He’d met Eleanor on the first day of his assignment to the temp job. Even if he hadn’t been walked right into half-glass office in the corner of the Customer Service department, he didn’t think he could have missed her. It wasn’t just that she was so big, or that her VP’s office peered out over her rows and rows of half-cubicled customer service agents. She had a presence. Whenever a call had transferred up the tiers of managers and made it to her, he heard her voice right away. She spoke softly, but her voice filled the entire department, even with her door closed. It was sweet, engaging, and soothing. He couldn’t imagine any customer, no matter how livid when they reached her, who could have remained angry for more than a minute with her on the line. She just had that kind of effect. Even the other VPs seemed to respect her, though she was only a cow and not a predator species like the pumas and wolves and foxes that filled the rest of the upper management. Ryan had spent many an afternoon during his temp stint waiting in a chair in her office while she typed up RMAs for him to run to the warehouse; whenever the COO came through her door, she waited for Eleanor to finish what she was doing and look up before she interrupted. Anyone else and that badger just snarled and bared her fangs; Ryan had gotten more than one growl from her just for standing in the aisle she was walking down.

Ryan never could figure out what Eleanor had done to earn that kind of respect; he’d never seen her be anything but amiable and fair and flirty. Especially with him. Especially flirty.

From the first day he’d met her she’d called him “Honeybutt” instead of the “Mr. Blackstripe” or “Ryan” he got from everyone else. She always sent him off with the RMA and a “please” (even if running the stupid forms was his job), and frequently the please was punctuated by a squeeze of the tuft of white tail that stuck out from the back of his pants. She gave him change to buy something from the snack machine when she saw him eating ramen in the break room every day. That afternoon that she was having trouble with her mouse and complaining about worthless IT – of course he’d offered to help, no matter how little he knew about computers – she’d sent him crawling under her desk to check where the cables plugged in. But once she had him on all fours down by her ankles, she’d rolled back into place, crowding him with pantyhose-covered knees while he fiddled with connections and she tested the mouse. She was wearing a short skirt with her suit that day, and it had hiked up just enough that when her thick thighs spread that little bit around him… Oh, god – there was nothing but pantyhose between him and her, and he couldn’t help but look. And again, and again! Hell, he was doing more staring and fantasizing about burrowing up under her skirt than fiddling with the mouse, but she barely seemed to notice. When she was finally satisfied that her mouse was working again and rolled away to let him free, his cheeks and ears were magenta and his brow was thick with sweat, but she just winked at him, pinched his tuft of a tail, and said, “Thanks, Honeybutt! That was just what it needed. I’ll let you know if I need your help again.”

In fact, they were on such good terms – she never missed an opportunity to waggle her fingers in greeting when they passed in the hallway – that when the position opened up in Customer Service before his month of temp assignment was up, he was sure he was a shoe-in. He put in his application, made sure his name was neatly printed at the top, and waited. But the last week of the temp job ran out without so much as a mention of his application, and that last Friday morning he saw Eleanor standing in the aisle, leaning over the shoulder of some hare while she taught her how to use the phone and headset.

Ryan was crushed. He did everything he could to avoid going back to Eleanor’s office for the rest of the day, even if it meant he had to spend the afternoon out in the warehouse where there wasn’t any air conditioning. Still, she managed to corner him in the hall by the drinking fountains before the end of his final shift.

“Hey, Honeybutt! Where have you been all day? I would have thought you would have at least swung by once to say hello on your last day.” She placed her hands on her hips, and he realized she was wearing that same skirt suit that had caught him out beneath her desk.

There was nothing for it but honesty. He furrowed his brows and looked her in the eye. “Well, Ms. Eleanor, I was kind of hoping today wouldn’t be my last day. I’d applied for that open position, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” A smile spread over her face. “I almost gave it to you.”

Ryan did his best to hide his disappointment, but his best wasn’t very good. “Why didn’t you? Wasn’t I qualified?”

“Oh… enough. Nothing too special, not enough that HR would question me. But… You see, Honeybutt: if I was your manager, then we couldn’t plan any …extracurricular activities, could we?” Confusion spread over Ryan’s face, so she added, “You couldn’t ask me out, for example.”

He shook his head. “Oh, I wouldn’t've-” A nudge from her knee cut him off, and finally confusion made way for surprised comprehension. “Oh. Oh! Would you… Would you like to go out, Ms. Eleanor? With me? Tonight?”

“It’s just Eleanor, now, and no, Honeybutt.” Comprehension turned to hurt, but only for the moment until she snickered and nudged him again. “Tonight I’m busy. But if you’re free tomorrow evening, it won’t come soon enough for me.”

* * * * * * *

That had been yesterday. Since Ryan was still new to the city and barely knew his way around the two blocks surrounding his closet-sized apartment, Eleanor had picked a place near him – a burger joint she’d been wanting to try. Of course they served salads and bean patties for folks like him, but Eleanor had ordered a tray full of burgers for herself. Thankfully (and against his insistence) she paid. “I can’t stand the thought of you paying on a credit card when you’re unemployed, Honeybutt.” She winked at him and added, loud enough that the cashier could hear, “Don’t worry. As long as you keep me happy, I’ll take care of you.”
Now her breath smelled heavily of cheeseburgers – of grease and cheese and salt and onions and tomatoes – but even with the undertone of meat Ryan didn’t mind one bit. It came out heavy and hastily as she kissed him. Her kissing style was anything but restrained – it was noisy, and wet, and sloppy, and her fat tongue left the fur around his lips and mouth and cheeks and temples soaked with saliva. Ryan loved it – he barely even noticed that he was sitting on a wet spot on the counter between the sinks. He tried to kiss her back, but more often his muzzle just disappeared into her slurping mouth, and he had to pull it free to breathe while she moved on to molest his ears or neck in whatever way she pleased.

She leaned over him, pressing him back against the mirror behind the sinks. One of her hands squeezed and stroked the erection that still sprouted through his open fly, but her other hand had grabbed one his curved horns like a handle to pull his head over to the side; exposing his neck and ear to her nibbles. She had a hoof propped beneath the door in wordless response to his earlier insistence that anyone could just walk in them. No matter how he squirmed beneath her, like an expert Twister player she kept one hoof fixed by the door and one hand down between his legs.

“El- Eleanor! No- we… unghh…”

Her teeth nipped at a tender spot on the front of his neck and he melted against her lips. Her hand pumped his erection and slipped the sheath down toward his scrotum. Ryan silently congratulated himself for the dozenth time that he hadn’t already gone and exploded on her hand.

“You like this, don’t you?” she whispered against the cone of his ear just before her tongue filled it, before her teeth and lips nibbled it gently into her mouth. “You like what I do with my mouth. Even if it smells like cheeseburgers.”

“Coming from your mouth, Eleanor, I love the smell of cheeseburgers.”

Her black lips spread in a grin he couldn’t see, and she hissed, “You know what else I do with my mouth…”

With a flick of her thumb, the button popped at the top of his fly. Again she forced him back against the mirror, this time to kiss her way down the underside of his neck, when the bathroom door opened suddenly and banged against her hoof. A crash followed from the other side of door as the poor guy trying to enter slammed against the stopped door. Eleanor called out in a surprisingly annoyed voice, “Occupied!”

“The whole thing?” came the pained whine from the other side.

She leaned in to begin kissing Ryan’s chest again, but he caught her muzzle and cradled it in one hand. “No, Eleanor – let’s go somewhere more private. We can go back to my apartment.”

“No thanks, Honeybutt. No offense, but I know how much you were making.” She pursed her lips, and for a moment seemed frustrated. “Fine, then. We’ll go to mine. We can take a cab.”

* * * * * * *

In the cab, Eleanor wasted no time after she gave the old goat in the front seat her address. She grabbed the bulge in Ryan’s pants without so much as a please or thank you, unzipped his fly, and then slipped out of the shoulder strap (which barely fit her anyway) to bend over into his lap and slurp his renewed erection into her wide mouth. Ryan’s eyes bulged; he bit down on his lips to keep from groaning and clenched his fists into the vinyl seat cushion to resist the urge to grab ahold of her horns. When her big tongue curled out between her teeth to lap in his scrotum, and he found his entire manhood swamped in the suction of her mouth, his eyes rolled and he began to kick and scrabble at the floor and door panels. He couldn’t help but gasp. The old goat’s eyes spent too long in the rearview mirror instead of focused out the windshield, but she didn’t say a thing.

Ryan was no connoisseur of blowjobs – if he was being honest, he could count the ones he’d received on the four fingers of one hand – but he’d never been attacked like this. They’d always been about him before, and about the girl between his legs negotiating with herself just how long she was willing to touch her mouth to what was down there versus how much pleasure she thought he deserved. Never had he felt like he was just the body attached to the cock, pressed back into the seat with a firm hand at his sternum – that the point of it was not to pleasure his flesh, but her mouth. It was …amazing. It would completely spoil Ryan to other blowjobs, he was sure of it. She was noisy, and not particularly gentle, and demanding, and just as wet and sloppy as she’d been with the kisses; enough so that the goat’s ears had begun to burn pink and she cleared her throat as she focused her attention back on the road. Ryan could do little more than hold on for the ride and try not to scream like a fawn as his orgasm was finally suctioned out of his loins.

He slumped back into the corner between the seat and the door afterward, dazed and dumbfounded. He didn’t know what to say when he was done and beginning to shrivel, but she still remained bent over his lap, cleaning the sticky seed/saliva stew that had dribbled on his legs and belly with long, wet strokes of her tongue.

Apparently she was satisfied, because when she sat up straight and tucked herself back into the shoulder strap, she was grinning like she had a winning poker hand. Perhaps she did. She’d just made a willing slave of Ryan; at that moment he would have jumped in front of a bus if she told him that it would be a fair trade. When she reached up behind his head and pulled him down into the lap of her jeans skirt, of course he was only too eager to return the favor, even if he could barely reach the top of her thigh with the lap-belt crimping him in place. He slid his hand up between her thighs to cinch up the skirt.

“No, no, Honeybutt.” She chuckled. “Not yet, anyway. There’s no angle for that in a car. Just lay here and stay still for me, okay?”

The young antelope nodded, and when she began to stroke the tufted fur behind his ears and on the back of his neck, his eyes closed peacefully and he sighed.

Once he was calm, she began fiddling in her purse. Ryan ignored it – she was probably just fishing for her lipstick and a compact – until he felt something strange. It was like the vibration that rattled his shins whenever he went to the barber to have his hooves ground down, but he felt it in his skull and teeth. Of course he knew what it was, even if he couldn’t believe it – she was filing his horns!

His eyes opened a moment before his mouth. He wasn’t really going to protest. No, he was – a buck’s horns are second only to his manhood – but her hand clamped over his muzzle and held it shut, cutting him off. “Shhh, darling. Just a little off the top.” Her file stopped for a moment so she could spread her fingers an inch or two. “Where you’ll be going soon, I’m especially tender. I’m sure that neither of us would want to see me hurt there, right?” She winked, and Ryan just nodded.

It wasn’t that bad, when he didn’t think about it – just a gentle pressure and back and forth tug that melted into to the engine rumble and the street texture of the cab ride. The cabbie barely complained about the mess, and Eleanor silenced her with a promise that she would “take care of it”. Horns would grow back in a few months, after all; he might have decided that a little trim was worth it, just for the pleasure of nuzzling into the denim hammock of her lap where it met her warm belly. He could feel her humming more than hear it, and once she was satisfied with her work she put her file away and stroked the short hair under his chin. When the cab finally came to a stop in a swanky neighborhood down by the river and Eleanor propped him back up onto his own ass, Ryan reached up to feel a couple of blunted stubs that barely bulged beyond the contour of his skull. For a moment he fretted – that was more than just a couple of inches! It would be a year before he could show himself in public again! But just a glance at Eleanor leaning forward through the divider window to pay sent that thought back where it had come from. He didn’t care. If that’s what Eleanor wanted, he’d keep them that way for as long as he knew her.

She caught him by the hand and yanked him across the seat and out of the cab, then hurried her ahead of her own clomping strides up the foot alley between a pair of old brownstones. “Some of the people in this neighborhood can be so nosy about guests,” she confided in a hushed whisper behind his ear. Then she pinched his ass, and he squealed with such surprise that she had to clap a hand over his mouth, before she pinched him again. He naturally retaliated by wriggling his long grey tongue out between her fingers, and it only escalated from there. By the time they’d made it to the service elevator at the back of the building, they were out of breath from laughter and she had him suckling on one of her fat fingertips like a teat. She maneuvered him into the elevator, slammed shut the gate, punched her floor, and backed into the corner of the car where she could lean against the hand-rails. Her chubby finger became a hook in his cheek, and she pulled him down to one knee in front of her and shimmied up the hem of her skirt.

Ryan didn’t need much in the way of encouragement to push his muzzle into the lace-covered pillow of flesh beneath her denim hem, or to flick his tongue out against the woven surface, then twist his neck to go further down as her hips rolled forward. The lace was soaked through with a mixture of salty sweat and tangy-bitter juices, and though he wasn’t the type to be intoxicated by the smell or taste, he loved the way she felt against his lips and tongue; he loved the heat of her bulging thighs pressing against his cheeks. For a few moments she let him lick and explore, but when that one delve of his tongue behind the lace made her gasp and shiver, her legs spread further and she hooked her hand behind his head. Her fingers spread and curled around the nubs of his horns. With that grip on his skull, she pulled him firmly against her, directing the bridge of his muzzle into the cleft where the lace wrinkled between her swollen lips. He could roll his eyes up just enough to see most of her face over her belly, to see that she was distant with concentration. Even when she looked him right in the eyes, it felt like she was staring through him.

Then the elevator jerked to a halt and an old bell clanked, and Eleanor swore as she steadied herself. She pushed Ryan back mid-lick and poked her head out of the elevator just far enough to make sure there was no one in the hall. She hooked him by the upper arm and hurried them both down and across the hall to her door; she harumphed as she fumbled the keys in the deadbolt. She was in such a hurry they practically fell together through the doorway once it swung open, and she barely paused to lock the door again behind them or turn on the light before rushing him down the short hallway to her bedroom. Her clothes were flying off even before she was all the way in her room – skirt slumping down around her calves at the same time she was untangling the knit sweater from her horns. When she glanced up as she was pushing down her panties to join her skirt on the floor around her hooves, she caught him standing there, fully clothed and staring, and demanded, “Hurry!”

Then she shook her head – “Oh, never mind!” – and before Ryan knew what had happened, he saw the ceiling spin above him, and he was flat on his back in the middle of her bed. The cushion sank around him as her knees dug in on either side of his head, and then her fingers were prying open his mouth and flattening out his tongue. “That’s right. Just like that… Don’t move.” Her thighs jiggled as she shifted forward, and they squeezed and tensed as her weight settled down on his mouth. His world became the heavy crush of salty-tangy-slicked fur and the small diamond of light he could see between her buttocks and hooves; then her swishing tail cut that off, too. Somewhere above him a bra fastener snapped, and one of the massive lacy cups landed over her hoof; her sigh was as contented as if she had slipped into a hot bath at the end of a long day. Her voice came muffled from between her thighs. “Oh… Naked is so much better. If there’s one thing I can’t stand about this city, it’s the prudery. As if we didn’t all have nipples and cocks.”

She gave a little side-to-side wiggle to settle his open mouth into just the right spot beneath her smother of flesh, then began a slow, practiced, rhythmic back-and-forth across his tongue and lips. She seemed to know exactly what she wanted and needed, and was as handy with the little shifts of her hips as if he had been a vibrator in her hands. When he tried to lick, to stiffen his tongue and curl it up between her slick labia, she pressed a firm finger down into his solar plexus. “Stop. Just let me do it. I’ll tell you what I want.”

Apparently what she wanted next was a naked Ryan, since she tugged his belt open and slid it free of his pants. There was no break in that back-and-forth rhythm, but each extra movement and stretch across his belly spread her labia wide and sent a small gush of her juices washing over his tongue for him to swallow or choke on. She drew deep, heavy breaths through her nostrils, and her belly quivered where the tuft of hair on his chest tickled it. His pants came off next, flung over the side of the bed with his underwear, and finally his shirt – which came off the wrong way quite easily after she twisted her fingers into the fabric on either side of the collar and tore it down the front.

Once she had him naked, her fingers traced along the stripes of color that surrounded his belly, then grabbed his wrists and pulled them back to place his hands on the bulges of flesh at the top of her waist. “Hold on, Honeybutt.”

Ryan was glad he did, because she had been taking it easy on his face before. Her hips began to rock and bounce and shimmy, and between his saliva and the increasing flood of her juices their flesh began to slap together with the sound of sex.

“MmMmMmMmMmMmM,” she hummed, her voice undulating with the vigor of her grinding.

Ryan considered the possibility that he might die like this – he could barely gasp the breaths of air bellowed through her thighs by her rocking motions, and with his jaw still spread wide under her labia it felt like he was drowning in a sea of oil-slicked leather cushions. It would be a good way to go, he decided, as he caught a quick breath between a gap in her flesh and strained his neck against the anticipation of her weight grinding back down on him. He was drowning in Eleanor! The thought of her cumming on his face was… he couldn’t explain why, but it was deeply erotic, and even though her hands hadn’t come near his cock, he could feel it springing to life. Suffocating like this would make him the envy of every red-blooded creature back at work. It was even worth losing his horns.

But before he could begin to see stars, she’d rocked off his face with the agility of a bedroom ballerina and turned around to straddle his lap. “Quick, quick! It’s happening!” As she lifted him out of the divot she’d forced him into in her mattress, hugging him tight against her slick belly, he could feel a sudden warmth – a wet squeezing sliding down his erection.

He hugged the bulge of her stomach back. No… this was better. Even spooning her stomach, his muzzle nestled into the canyon between the top of her belly and the curves of her heavy breasts. Through sticky eyelashes he could see that she was grinning again, like she’d just found a winning lotto ticket, and then her breasts came mashing together on either side of his face. Something warm and wet streamed over his shoulders and down his back, and when one breast fell away and her finger wedged in between his lips, it tasted like cream. Ryan slurped greedily, and felt her vaginal walls quiver and clench down on his erection. Eleanor’s breath faltered, catching in her chest.

When he stretched his lips to try to follow her withdrawn finger up the wet streaks to her nipple, her thighs tightened around his waist and she pushed his muzzle back to center. “No! You stay right there.” Back came her mashing breasts, squeezing again and again like oranges being juiced on his temples. Each squeeze squirted a fresh new rivulet to dribble down his back until his fur had soaked through; with each squeeze her warm vagina grabbed at his erection. Her shoulders rolled forward to keep him trapped in cleavage while her fingers wandered down the curve of his back, rubbing back up against the hairgrain to work her milk all the way down to his skin. By the time she was kneading his buttocks, Eleanor was gasping and moaning.

Ryan didn’t know what it was – maybe it was the blowjob earlier that had drained him, or maybe the pumping squeeze instead of the slide of her vagina, or maybe being buried in her breasts and drenched in her milk was just more kink than he could handle in a single night, but while her breath began to quicken and become shallow and her thighs gripped around his waist, he couldn’t get beyond just hard and aroused. He couldn’t imagine what more he could possibly need; simply listening to her gasp and moan through her orgasm should have wrung his stones dry.

But she didn’t seem particularly concerned as she slid off Ryan’s lap and onto the bed beside him, and his still-hard phallus sprung up to attention between. She took it casually in one hand and idly stroked it – just absent-mindedly petting it really, as if it were the most natural thing in the world – as she tilted her head to look the antelope over. “Dear God, Honeybutt – you’re a mess.”

He knew it, too. His eyelids were half-sealed shut, and he could feel his fur sticking up wet and every which way. But he didn’t say anything – his lids drooped as he rocked with the rhythmic stroke of her fingers.

“Close your eyes, darling.”

Ryan obeyed when he saw her mouth open and coming toward him, and just in time for her wet tongue to swipe up the side of his face and over his eyelids. Immediately – instantly – his erection went from firm to rigidly hard, and she giggled as she squeezed it back.

“Oh, I see!” She rotated his head the other direction and swiped slowly up the other side of his face, then smiled her appreciation at the squirming effect it had on the phallus in her hand. “Well, we’re both in luck, Honeybutt. Especially if you like the smell of cheeseburgers.” She blew through pursed lips over his muzzle, but her humid breath just smelled like Eleanor, now – like sex and sweat and sweet, thick cream. “I saved just enough room. Keep your eyes closed now.”

Ryan sighed in ecstasy as her tongue and lips washed over his face and neck, and he arched back to give her plenty of room to wander down his chest and belly and attack the rigid erection waiting for her. But he was surprised to feel her hoist his head back up toward her, and to feel her lips press against his with what – for a brief moment – was a proper kiss. He eagerly tried to kiss back, but only found her finger pushed to his presented lips. “Be patient, Honeybutt, and I promise it will be worth your while when I get there.”

He wanted to ask her what she was talking about, but her fingers had clamped his muzzle shut. This time when she brought him back to her for a kiss, her lips had spread wide – too wide – and then her teeth replaced her fingers at the top and bottom of his snout.

“Wht?” His eyes opened wide. Her hands had slipped beneath his arms and she lifted him from the bed and over her head.

“Shhhh…” Eleanor’s tongue hissed against his lips before stretching out to cradle his chin and pull his head further into her gaping mouth; her jaw worked quickly and her teeth clenched behind his skull and jaw. Ryan squirmed, and weakly kicked at the air a couple times, but she just squeezed him tight in response, hushed him until he was still, then freed a hand to reach down and stroke his erection back to the fore of his attention. “Mmmhmmm…” she chuckled as he went slack, just before she gulped his shoulders into her mouth.

He barely restrained his mounting climax long enough for her tongue and lips to slither their way over his torso to pull in his erection; by that time his face was just a stifled, sodden wad at the back of her throat. Eleanor’s hands had worked all the way down to his hooves, and she spread his legs apart enough for her tongue to curl up beneath his balls and squeeze. Ryan’s orgasm came with one last, thick breath, and shuddered through his entire body.

He thought he was suffocating then, because that orgasm seemed to stretch out toward the horizon. His life flashed before his eyes, but it wasn’t what he’d done; he saw what was coming. He was outside and above his own body, above her, and he saw her glowing with delight as she hungrily gobbled up the legs that used to be his, no longer concerning herself with taking it slowly and sensually. Her belly was swollen and lumpy as she sunk back into her soaked sheets, but the only movement in the lumps came when she pushed at them with her fingers, smooshing the bulge of a head or the sharp press of a knee back down into the mass. A gurgling sound in her stomach gathered into a quick belch, which she half covered with her fingers though no one was around to see. Even if she was naked and sprawled in her bed, a predator now revealed, she was every bit the Ms. Eleanor from work. She was more: she was all of the flirting and winks and insinuations fulfilled. He found himself sharing in her contentment as her eyes drifted shut and she smacked her lips happily; he settled in just to gaze at her as her breathing became slow and steady and she began to snore. The rest of the night and the morning passed like one long moment of watching her breasts rise and fall with each breath. As the light began to stream in through the gaps in her curtains, he felt himself tugged toward the brightening light. He resisted. She woke slowly, and he held on above her. She rolled out of the bed, and stumbled hazily into her bathroom, but he didn’t follow. He didn’t begrudge her the previous night, not even his life. Now that it was gone, it was so easy to let go. His only regret, that he’d had but a single night with her, was left behind, forgotten in the room as he soaked out through the lemon yellow brightness glowing through the curtains.

When Eleanor finally returned to her room, she picked through her clothes, searching for an outfit for the day. All she had on the calendar was a little shopping, but that new clerk at the grocery store was kind of cute… She put back the sweats and pulled out the shirt with the deep-scooped neck and smiled. Unconsciously, she wet her lips in anticipation.