-
Her breath smelled heavily of cheeseburgers now – 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 however she pleased.
She was leaning 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 fellow 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 at all after she’d given the old goat driving 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 shoulderstrap (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 to be truthful, 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 was wanted to give him. 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 corner between the seat and the door afterward, dazed and dumbfounded. He didn’t know what to say when he was done, 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 turn her on. 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 show him just an inch or two with her fingers. “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 sling 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 left 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 though far away. 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 on of her fat fingers 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 grabbed the stubs of his horns like handles. 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!”