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The lingering memories of that eventful night persisted in the wolf's memories. Ember was still nursing a tender ass from when he'd been strapped up on stage and worked over with a fat, giant paw of one particular horse who'd had the intent of reworking his guts into an ironed cavern.

He rubbed his face, pinching the ridge of his nose between the eyes. It had been one hell of a time, even if it left him twinging each time he sat down.

Why, then, he had come out tonight to this local watering hole, he didn't know. For some strange reason, he thought perhaps he might be able to strike out as lucky but then what... did he really think he'd endure getting fucked up the ass for a one night stand?

He let out a sigh, snatching up his drink and downing the last swirling dregs that had since swilled with melted ice and turned mild. With a contempt gulp, he swallowed. Bitter as always - the club wasn't famous for its booze, after all. But he couldn't be bothered enduring cheap drinks anymore and the club was running a quiet evening - some event going on across town had taken much of the interested patrons away. It was probably for the best, Ember mused with a hint of mirth. He could do with the night off.

Gingerly, he stepped down from the barstool. His ass ached like a train had ploughed through it at full steam, and it left him with his guts feeling like they may very well slip out if he couldn't keep his concentration. Fisting was fun, getting rammed deep by a draft was better, the aftermath he could do without. His movements were slow, careful, like he'd just gotten out of surgery and was trying to mind the stitches. Maybe that was why nobody was taking much of an interest in him. There weren't many guys who were keen on battered holes. Even if they liked their flesh to be loose, sloppy, and ready, they didn't want something too open. They all liked that sweet spot in between.

Another sigh; yeah, probably calling it a night was the best bet. He'd come back when things picked up and he'd had a chance to recuperate. The club wasn't going anywhere and it'd be full again within the week. There was no rush.

Ember made for the exit, no groping paws attempting to stop him, and he took his jacket and scarf from the side, shrugging it on as he stepped out into the night's chill. It may have been a waste of time, but the wolf didn't try to look on it as a negative. At least he'd reconciled with himself to let himself recuperate, so there was that. It wasn't much, but it meant he could relax for the next few days and keep his mind off fucking for a change. He wrapped his scarf around his neck, blue and white stripes folding over one another until he could feel the soft warmth begin to curl around his upper chest. He just stood there, standing in the middle of the street, each breath snagged by mist as it escaped, as he waited. For what, probably nothing, but he felt compelled just to wait a moment. Taxis never came down his street, so if he wanted a ride home he would have to make the trip across the block to the ranking nearer to some of the tamer evening establishments. Reputations were everything, after all.

"Hey."

A voice had crept up in the quiet of the night, but Ember hadn't seen where it had come from. He glanced around, expecting to find someone asking for directions, asking about what kind of club it was from which he'd just came out of, something tedious and menial he had thought. But there was no one on the street, just the rather bored and distant looking bouncer who seemed keener on tapping at his phone than what Ember was up to. The wolf turned around - the tiger was the only other guy on the road, maybe he, though distracted as he was, had said hello.

Ember was about to open his muzzle to speak where again, a gruff voice whipped up again,

"Hey," the tiger's jaw hadn't moved. It certainly wasn't him speaking. "Over here..."

This time, he was able to see where the sound was coming from; he could see a small alleyway, tucked just round the side of the Event Horizon, and standing just within its narrow entrance was a rather large looking figure, antlers standing straight up from his head and silhouetted in the darkness and harsh streetlights. His face was somewhat obscured, what he was wearing was indeterminable, and if it weren't for the rack adorning him Ember would never have even known his species save for the hooves against the concrete. A small glow was simmering at what the wolf could only assume was his mouth, most likely a cigarette or a roll-up of some kind, nothing but a short stub now as he watched the figure pluck it from between his lips and flick it across the pavement and into the gutter where its light faded. Ember's eyes glanced between this shadowy person and the bouncer, and then further up the street where he could just about make out the taxi rank and rotating vehicles as they each pulled up for fares.

He brought his gaze back to the figure,

"You talking to me?"

"No, clearly the kitty cat who could tear me in two. Yes, you, puppy."

Puppy... Either the man had an odd choice of vocabulary, referring to people as childish terms, or the wolf was right in suspecting that him standing by the Event Horizon indicated a bit more about him. Only men of a certain nature used terms like 'puppy' and then names like 'boy' or even 'slut', which Ember didn't doubt he knew and used quite well.

"Come over here..." This time it hadn't been the figure who'd spoken, that much was clear. The voice was further off, as if blocked or hidden. Ember felt a little uneasy, but he didn't have much choice. Even if he made a run for it, he doubted he could outrun the larger guy, and he didn't think the bouncer would offer much help, focused as he was. It was a moot point to try and resist. Maybe, just maybe, they wanted a perfectly reasonable chat.

Though Ember's past experience knew damn well otherwise.

Perhaps not with reluctance but at least some measure of caution, the wolf walked steadily over to the alley. The figure slipped inside before he even had a chance to catch a firm look at him in better light, but as he rounded to the corner to the little passage, he could see his suspicions were confirmed. Whilst there stood a stag at possibly over six and a half feet or so, there was a second man, equally as tall, just as bulky, and potentially just as ominous and foreboding as his friend. Though in the dark, Ember could only supposed he, unlike his friend, wasn't a stag but a horse. He couldn't determine which breed, but he supposed the man was a draft. Memories from nights long ago crept into Ember's mind as he slipped from view of the street, entering into the men's small domain of shadow between the dumpsters and strewn debris.

The light wasn't as good as it could be, but a nearby exit sign gave off enough illumination to bathe the alleyway just enough so that ember could make out features. Both men were smokers, as the stag prepared himself another cigarette whilst the stallion appeared to be puffing on a thick cigar, burnt halfway down already. Ember wondered why they didn't just smoke inside, as it was by all means permitted given the temperaments and tastes of the club's clientele, but then he figured he might not judge these men too quickly, as they could have very well come from any other club tonight and were just taking a quick smoke break in this alley. They weren't exactly dressed in clothes that would suggest either way what they were up to either; the horse had leather pants, though that meant nothing as much of the gay community could pull off the look if they wanted to, and he wore a fishnet vest. His stag friend had torn denim jeans and a leather jacket, with a spiked belt holding up his waistline. Whilst sure, Ember could argue these men looked no different from the guys inside, it didn't necessarily mean they were from the same grouping. For all he knew, they could just be heading to a rave, or a metal club, or goodness knows where else.

The stag lifted his paws to his face, the sound of a metal scratch igniting in the air and a small flame flickering into life. He lit the end of his cigarette and took a few testing sucks to get the smoke flowing, but for a moment Ember was granted a look at each of their faces. The stag had a rather narrow muzzle, but his features were still remarkably bold. His eyes were covered in shadow, but for his species he looked quite intimidating. The stallion on the other paw was broader, with a somewhat dulled jawline and heavy expression. The cigar perched between his lips made him look brooding and ugly almost, until he drew it away and hurled out a great cloud of sweet-smelling smoke into Ember's face. The wolf coughed, but the horse looked strong and imposing, just as much as his partner. It was only the smoking which created this threatening composure on them both. But neither of them seemed intent on stopping as the stag tucked away his lighter.

"You're a pretty little thing," the horse said. He was the one with the deeper tone, his voice harsher than his counterpart. Ember was convinced it was somehow linked to their choice of smokes. What he had said, however, it wasn't a question or a compliment; it was a statement of fact. The wolf didn't respond, merely he shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his footpaws, "I remember you. You were up on stage, getting your ass impaled."

Ember nodded. The stag laughed,

"Told you it was him... The scarf gave it away." Ember's paws unconsciously reached up, thumb stroking at the fabric that was snaked around his neck, "But damn, boy, that was one hell of a performance."

At least Ember knew now that they were indeed visitors of the Event Horizon, though why they were stood outside in the cold wasn't answered. What made him shiver most though was not the chill, but the fact that these men had seen him, no... _watched_him as he was exposed and vulnerable, used and ruined on stage in front of plenty of others who'd all hollered on, as a stallion not unlike the guy stood before him had buried his arm up his rear and deeper beyond. They knew perfectly well what sort of male he was, what he was capable of, what he would do, and that bothered him.

"Thank you..." He didn't really know what else to say. For him, the 'performance' was something he could only recount through memory of experience, through reliving those gut-reworking moments in his head and remembering every last sensation as he was stretched wider and wider beyond belief, until he was left in the state he was still recovering from. For them, however, it was a simple recollection of a night out, a passing story between them about that wolf who was wrecked by a stallion whilst bound in front of dozens of leering men.

"Though I will admit, kinda disappointed they didn't invite folks up to try you out." It was the stag speaking, a glint in his eyes. Rather casually though, as if his statement had meant nothing, he reached up to take the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"I had to sign a waiver..." Ember said, though a small part of him suspected they were already well aware why nobody else was brought up on stage, "The club has to protect themselves as well as any performers, be they amateur or employed. Either of us would have been at risk." Giving him a knowing nod, like it was a perfectly acceptable explanation, and he said nothing more on it. His stallion friend however was quick to pipe up,

"But suppose then you, oh I don't know, wanted other guys to join in. You could say if you wanted that, right?"

"It wasn't really explained to me, I was just asked to sign..."

"But you would_though, wouldn't you? You'd happily serve other men if they wanted to use you. It's what puppies like you do, serve stronger... _bigger men..." Every word by now was becoming punctuated and heavy, the horse's breathing almost becoming laboured and hot. Ember was no fool, he could tell the signs of arousal when it hit a guy. He kept eye contact, but he knew that he had a choice to either leave now or stay and face whatever it was these two men had in mind for him.

"I suppose... But I don't think I caught your names." The stag laughed, his friend smirking alongside him. Ember didn't see the humour.

"Oh you don't need to know our names, boy, and we don't need yours either. Just get on your knees and do exactly as we say." Ember wasn't sure what to do; there was still a chance, some slim chance, that he would get back onto the street and make a dash for the taxis. Whilst he would hope the bouncer might intervene and help out, given the nature of the club, the wolf doubted which side he would pick to help out exactly. It didn't leave him with any positive options,

"I'm not gonna let you fuck me..." He added in a growl to his voice, though if it would do any good he wouldn't know. Again, he was met with sinister laughter, the occasional derisive snort thrown in there to accentuate the tone.

"Please, you think we wanna get down and dirty in an alley?" the stallion shook his head, "Fuck that, it's cold and late, we ain't got time for it. We just want that pretty muzzle of yours."

It would be now that marked Ember's last chance to leave. It'd be incredibly rude, if this was of any semblance akin to any other conversation, but he could probably get away without either of them caring too much. Like he planned, he could probably make it to the taxis, make it home, letting this night fade away into a memory. He might never even meet them again. Sure, he could run into them at the club, maybe exchange a nod or get a glare for saying no or declining them, but little else. But it came down to the split second decision, one he didn't have the right attitude to make.

"So you gonna kneel or what, boy?" The stag snorted, wiping his mouth with the back of a paw. It was casual, almost expectant, like there was no other choice involved. Perhaps there wasn't, the wolf thought. After all, being submissive in his nature meant service to all men, regardless of circumstance or company. It was, as the men's attitudes suggested, expected.

Whether it was with reluctance or just heady anticipation for what he realised he was getting into, the wolf got down onto the floor. First came down one knee, placed against the cold, rough concrete, followed shortly by the other, the sensation jarring up his thighs. He was certain the ground was beyond filthy, though it wouldn't have changed anything, but he could feel the dirt crunch beneath his kneecaps, dirtying his clothes. Ember looked up, squinting through the darkness, as both males reached for their groins with their paws.

The horse reached for his fly, undoing the top button of his leather pants, pinching the zip between two fingers only to drag it down slowly, meticulously. It was as if he were taunting the wolf, waiting and knowing that it was what he wanted. The hurry of time had gone out the window, it seemed, and he was content to let his fly unzip at whatever pace he deemed. His stag had much the same idea, only by the time he'd already finished letting his zipper open he was busy stuffing his paw into his crotch to cup and grope his bulge. Ember looked out of the side of his gaze to see, judging whether it was just because he was just generally horny or if he needed to fluff himself up before getting it out alongside the stallion. He suspected as much, because his head was tipped back to the horse by a heavy paw.

He was put face to face with a dirty bulge, a jockstrap covered in stains of pre, a rich smell of male musk emanating from deep inside. As the fly pulled away, it practically pushed its way out, like it had been confined to cramped insides and was now being given the chance to be free. Ember was left to stare at it. The paw didn't force him any closer but it wasn't taken away either. It sat on the side of his face whilst he stared down the horse's crotch, a few inches away from it, basking in the scent and heat. Unlike many other males who'd have gone to the club, there wasn't a ripe smell of unwashed piss or sweat, but the aroma was irrefutably male. Ember licked his lips as he was reminded of how it would taste in his head, like it was just teasing him. Everything the stallion seemed to do mocked the wolf, even his body did.

But he couldn't put off for any longer, and neither could the males, it seemed, as his head was brought forward and forced against the horse's bulge. Immediately Ember's senses flooded with the presence of the male, its heat now burning against his face, the feel of every throb through the underwear, the scent smothering him now. The hint of sweat, undeniable from the leather, mixed with the masculine stench of any cock, some indescribable common smell that every guy seemed to share. Ember didn't fight back as the stallion bucked his hips forward, grinding his manhood into the wolf's face,

"Go on, puppy," he slurred, paw working its way around the wolf's head, pushing it back so that Ember had to look up the horse's sculpted chest. His face was still shrouded in shadow and smoke, his expression unreadable in the dark, "Get licking."

Given the command, Ember didn't want to disobey, not at this stage; he parted his lips obediently and starting sucking. Plenty of guys had made him worship their dicks, some through the underwear, others not. It didn't matter, it was always the same. Kiss, suck, and slurp until the guy was satisfied. Ember made out with the bulge as was expected of him, smearing his lips across the damp fabric, the taste of sweat becoming more and more prominent the wetter he made the horse's jockstrap. With his tongue, he could feel for the outline of his member, his balls laying just behind what would have to be a thick cock. He could just about measure the size, vague as it was, through the underwear, but seeing would be believing. The horse could after all be one of the unlucky few of his kind to come up short, even with their remarkable girth.

He was pulled away from the jockstrap eventually, given a chance to breathe, as the stag pulled Ember by his scarf over to him. It was much of the same, unsurprisingly - apparently he neither wanted to be outshone by his companion nor did he want to be left out of the fun. His mouth was pushed against the stag's own jockstrap, muzzle dribbling with what errant spittle had smeared its way down his chin. Once more, the scent was almost the same, save for a tiny whisper of piss, probably from the stag's last bathroom visit, who knew. Ember did as was expected and lapped his tongue across the male's bulge, though it perhaps wasn't as thick as his friend's. That wasn't a problem. He knew he could never judge a guy's size based on his sheath or bulge. They would almost end up shocking you when it came to letting it all out to play and you would find yourself having bitten off more than you could chew - or this case, more than you could take...

When he was drawn back finally after soaking the stag's crotch, he was left to kneel, looking up at them both in some bizarre reverie, a worshipper looking up at his gods, two hulking figures who right now exerted all the power they needed over him. As if with some unspoken signal, they each pulled down their underwear at the same time, each with the intent of hooking them behind their balls so that it pushed their meat forward. The stallion by now was nursing what would wind up to be a strong hardness, his flesh still pliant and soft to a point, whilst the stag had taken to teasing his length free from inside, fingertips rubbing on his tip to coax the rest out. Naturally Ember expected to be drawn to the horse first, not resisting when yet again the paw returned to the back of his head and pulled him closer, his weight pivoting on his knees.

"Open up, I want to go nice and deep, you hear?"

Ember obliged; opened his mouth as far as he could as he was fed the beginnings of the horse's shaft. The head, whilst not yet flared, was tricky manoeuvring into his lips, careful not to scratch his teeth against the sensitive cock. The stallion took over on letting himself inside, holding the wolf's head between each of his paws as he sidled forwards. His cock slid into the waiting maw an inch at a time, slowly, once again the horse taking his leisure as he enjoyed the warmth of Ember's mouth. It wasn't even halfway before the flat of the head bumped up against the back of his throat, making him resist a gag that lurched up his throat. But the stallion was intent, persistent, and Ember could do nothing except fight his reflexes and allow the man what he wanted. The member was pushed further forwards, bending at the slight curve of the wolf's neck, and disappeared deeper down. He could feel it force its way down, spreading him open wide by the sheer girth, making his neck bulge as it went into him. The horse moaned aloud as he drew up to his medial ring, his cock now well and truly buried inside the wolf, and refused to stop as he tried to push himself deeper inside. The taste of the male was all he could focus on, it swelling in his maw. The wolf cherished it, as much as he could, his tongue all but forced down by the size of the male entering him, the notes of musk not lost to him. But he was steadily becoming aware of the fact that he could hardly breathe. The member had since clogged his throat, cut off any passage of air, and was leaving him to exhaust what little oxygen he had left until rising panic had settled in his chest. He didn't fight back though, knowing it would be expected of him to allow the male his satisfaction of a warm muzzle around his cock for as long as he wished, but there would be a point he could take no more. He tried not to focus on it, tried to push it from his mind as he concentrated on sucking the cock being forced into him, but it wasn't possible forever.

Ember couldn't hold it back any longer. He was desperate for air, not getting enough through what choked snorts he could via his nose, and he struggled against the hold of the man, squirming away as he tried to pull back. It took longer than it should have, as if the stallion relished in the sight of the wolf distressed and short of breath, but he eventually pulled back, not enough to be removed entirely, but enough to allow a short burst. Ember wheezed in what he could, his chest heaving as he breathed, until all too quickly the stallion forced himself back down. Once more, his cock was pressed deeper down, further than before, the ring slipping past his lips and into his mouth. The balls were in sight, tantalising close in fact, but again before he had chance to reach that milestone, he was lost for air, lungs burning, and he panicked once more. Again, the horse savoured the sight of him, writhing on his cock, before letting him off for a chance to breathe, though it wasn't long as before. Ember had barely recovered before the stallion took hold of his head once more and fucked his cock into his waiting lips. Again he was stretched out, his jaw aching now as he was left to suck on the large member, feeling each inch slide into him with a measured strength behind it. He probably wasn't the first muzzle the stallion had fucked, probably won't be the last either, and it showed in his movements. Steady and paced, not rushing to fit in all at once but not letting himself be refused because of gags or chokes. Ember was drawn close to the male's sack once more, the sight of bushy pubes in view, the dick within him searing its passage down his throat and feeling as if it might very well impale him right to the stomach. With a sense of misplaced elation, it felt, Ember's nose was pushed into the horse's crotch, his wet chin scraping against a hefty ball-sack, finally bottoming out on the stallion's member. Every pulse and throb of that dick inside him was magnified and intense to the wolf, the dull discomfort of having something far too big to be stuffed down something only designed for food was sharp to his senses. Drool had since leaked from past his lips, unable to slurp it back up due to having his muzzle full, and it stained thin streaks down his fur. Ember was held there, he guessed so that the stallion could feel the enveloping embrace of a tight throat around his fat cock, for as long as possible, his lungs desperate for air and left for a little too long this time, but eventually he was allowed up. The paws around his head were released this time, giving him a chance to move back on his own accord, and with a gurgled gag and a pained gasp, he pulled himself off the horse's endowment. What startled him though was that since he'd started, the stallion had grown, his arousal building with the sensations as any man would, but it had turned the once soft, pleasant cock into a solid monster, standing up rigid and slapping against the male's abdomen. It was longer too, meaning Ember realised he'd misjudged just how far the horse was inside him, leaving him to feel like some kind of perverted magician, pulling the man's dick from a space he hadn't thought could fit it.

He panted for air, as much as he could get, fearing he wouldn't be given much of a chance to breathe, as he looked up at them both. The stallion's cock glistened in what little light there was, spittle running down his shaft, the blotches of pink highlighted from the surrounding blackened flesh. Ember could almost make out the texture, rough and leathery, from the distance, though it may have just been an expectation of his. Equine anatomy had always been something of a fascination, and as the horse stroked his length with one paw, spreading the coating of spit all across himself, it was mesmerising to watch such beauty in a monstrous form. But the stag's turn was next, and Ember glanced across to his cock.

True to his species, he didn't possess much in the way of thickness as the wolf had first believed, but it was almost terrifying that the length was near enough close to the horse's own. He held the base, a thumb pushing down his hardness, tilting his tip to the wolf's muzzle. He wasn't told to approach, he wasn't told to go down, but the stag's fierce glare, intense enough that it had Ember nearly cowering. It compelled him to move forward, to raise his paw and take the male's member from him, his head bowing down to meet the tapered tip of his cock. He opened his mouth as he should, tongue reaching out to curve against the underside as it slipped inside. The salty taste of pre and faint detection of stale piss met his buds with an explosion of taste, something he'd been denied somewhat from the horse, who had simply barged in and not cared for the wolf's ministrations. But Ember now had the chance to sample the man, head bobbing down just a few inches onto the thinner cock, letting it push its way down naturally, not forcing it to go necessarily deeper but knowing he would be expected as much to let the stag hilt his throat just as his friend had done. He wasn't rushed, allowed the chance to adjust and relax, but watched over constantly. Ember only looked up a few times, just random glances upwards to see what the men were doing, but each time he was met with the frightening eyes of the male above him, staring him down, almost daring him to disobey for a chance at punishment. Ember didn't doubt that perhaps under any other circumstances the male would have him screaming for mercy weren't the setting so public and detracted from intimacy. The horse had since taken back to puffing on his cigar, paw now groping his balls as he watched the wolf swallow down the stag's shaft. He didn't seem to be as intense as his partner, leaning back against a wall whilst the wolf was indisposed, but he wasn't losing interest, as each slap of his cock, intermittent as it was, rang out into the quiet of the alley with wet smacks.

Ember felt the tip of the deer's cock prod at the back of his throat. His reflex, quicker this time to resist, was antagonised by the change in size, the precision hacking up a cough to attempt to expel the stag. But with a flashing movement, the male had his paws snatching at the wolf's head just like the stallion before him, and he pushed downward, forcing Ember onto his cock. There was no struggle of thickness, that much was certain, but quickly Ember found himself wondering if that was a reprieve or a curse, as the stag was hilting himself down his throat with ease. He choked on the cock, able to splutter breaths around the shaft, but it didn't stop the male from ramming back and forth relentlessly. He was skull-fucked brutally, his body reacting to try and break away, but the strong grasp of the stag held him there, the clear resolve to use his muzzle as nothing more than a toy to fuck, the only thought he'd probably had when he'd beckoned the wolf over. The cock was thrusting down his gullet, the feeling of it pressing perfectly against every wall, as if it was made to fit, making him choke each time it pushed too far. Ember was almost worried he might actually do what the horse hadn't and somehow fuck right into his stomach, as impossible as it sounded, but the feeling as that he could very well throw up if the stag kept it up for too long. But he found himself not resisting as much as he should have; sure, his body wasn't happy about the rough treatment, attempting to do all it could to regurgitate the male and prevent the intrusion, but Ember's mind wasn't thinking about stopping him. His paws had since shot out to steady himself against the male's thighs through his jeans, his body leant forward so that the stag could fuck his throat and muzzle easier. He was giving himself over to them, he was letting them do exactly what they wanted and for a small part of the wolf it scared him. It set his mind back to that night, where the very same had been done. Another male had used him for their pleasure and their pleasure alone. But Ember had the difference of choice - though he'd signed papers, it had been in advance, well before he'd gone on stage gagged and bound. Now, he'd trotted over like a good little pup, he'd stayed even with amply opportunities to leave, and now he was letting his body be abused to the point of breaking, figuratively as it might be... It was an extreme frame of mind to be in.

Turn-taking seemed to be clear in the men's minds however, as the stag eventually relinquished his grip on the wolf's head and all but threw him off his crotch. Ember coughed and spluttered as suddenly he was given the chance to breathe without a cock stuffed down his throat. The feeling of abrupt emptiness overcame him, but it was a welcoming sensation, as by now his neck was feeling sore and raw, reaching up with a paw to stroke along his nape, the apple of his throat, and up towards his jawbone as he did anything he could to soothe the inflammation.

But out of the corner of his eye, he watched the stallion stoop down, standing up on his hooves and approaching the wolf. He grabbed at both ends of Ember's scarf, bunching them up in the grasp of his paw, as he lifted it towards himself. The garment tightened around the wolf's neck, and when it began to clench and choke his throat, he was forced forward, pulled by the horse's strength. His knees scraped along the rough floor, until he found himself right between to two men, both crotches looming over him, their cocks bouncing against one another and their balls pressed together. Ember's face was smeared between them both, his spit wiped across his head, the pre dribbling down onto his brow, the taste of musk, of bitter cum and piss on his tongue and lips, as if there was nothing else to taste at that time. The heat was incredible, as both dicks pulsed with every heartbeat from the lumbering giants, and it bore down upon his cheeks until he swore he might as well have been flushing from embarrassed coyness. The stag had taken to jacking himself off, his paw running up and down his shaft with quickened strokes, the slick sound loud enough to be heard from where the wolf knelt, whilst the stallion angled his cock back down again.

Now that he was at his hardest point, it was difficult for him to bend it all the way down. Instead he lifted the wolf's muzzle up, aided by the scarf, utilising it as some kind of mock-leash, and lined up his head with those smeared lips. Ember opened wide as he was once again introduced to the fat cock, the flare grinding against his mouth and cheeks, pushing right down to the throat again and not stopping until the horse had buried himself up to the medial ring, holding himself there. This time Ember had tried to take as many deep breaths as he could, tried to measure his intake so he wouldn't be struggling as much as he was, and he waited, keeping his lips sealed around the massive shaft as it throbbed, small jets of pre probably streaking down his gullet and into his stomach, though he many taste it for himself. It just felt sticky, thick, as it oozed its way down the inside of his chest, the sensation uncanny, like he hadn't drank for hours and was only now just taking his first gulp.

It was at this point that the stallion took his time to fuck the wolf's muzzle as he pleased. Unlike before though, Ember wasn't used to the sensation. For the stag, it had been simple enough, if not rough and savage; his shaft had been smooth and tapered enough to allow the feeling not to overwhelm the wolf. But the horse provided a different challenge, where the thickness proved to be a problem on top of the length. As he levered himself forward, sliding himself into the wolf's muzzle, Ember felt like he might very well gag, choked up on a clogged sensation, before he pulled back. The feeling didn't leave though, it stayed just in the pit of his chest, building each time the horse pushed forward. Ember would have wanted to stop, to let the feeling pass, though he was quite convinced it wouldn't, but the stallion wasn't keen on stopping and he was fairly sure even if he asked, he would refuse. He had to endure, to let the member push down into him only to be removed, to be slid back and forth into his maw, to stretch out his neck with an obscene bulge. It was almost comical, he was sure, were it not for the moment it was in, where Ember was the one being subjected to it all whilst they used him like nothing but a sleeve.

The stallion picked up his pace, though still measured as it was, but with more force and vigour. He adjusted his hold on the wolf's scarf, pulling it tauter around his neck, making the cock feel more pronounced in his throat. Ember was being slammed onto his crotch with ruthless strength, each thrust becoming harder than the next as he was brought back over and over against the horse. The male was grunting, his lips peeled back, joining his friend's attitude in becoming more dominant. The stag was stroking himself off furiously, Ember expecting him to eventually aim and shoot all across his face as his mouth was practically raped by the stallion, but he started to chat to him, casually, like they were doing nothing except sharing a smoke outside,

"Dude, let me have him for a sec, I need to blow."

"Fuckin' wait your turn, I'm almost done."

"You take fucking forever though, I'll be quick."

"No, fuck off..." That seemed to be the end of it, though the stag didn't look impressed. Ember was more focused though on the cock inside him to really care what the deer did with himself. If he wanted to cum outside, inside, it was all irrelevant at the moment. Whatever the stallion did first was his main priority, his main interest. He could feel the male throbbing inside him, something deep down his throat growing. It was an uncomfortable sensation, one Ember was almost struggling and panicking at, as he soon realised. The horse was soon to be finishing, ready to unload, which meant his flare would be extending and growing. Visions of it burned in Ember's mind as he felt his chest ache with the sensation, the horse forcing as much of his cock down his throat. Balls slapped against his chin, the thick bush of the stallion's crotch pressed against his nose, as he bucked forwards, dick buried and wedged. By now, it was impossible not to feel the flare, the feeling crushing against his diaphragm and leaving him all but winded.

"Fuckin' hell!" The stallion nickered, growling with pleasure, "Fuck! Fuck! Gonna cum!"

"Fuckin' hurry up!" The stag had but in, trying to hurry the horse along though it was obviously out of his control now, "I wanna feel him sucking me off as I shoot."

Ember couldn't taste it, it was stuffed too far down his throat to back up in any sense and the flare, too large for his gullet, had plugged him up so that the seed had nowhere to go except straight to his gut. It amazed him though that he could feel the pulse along his tongue and cheeks, every jet of cum that coursed through that cock could be felt against the urethra, but it all just flooded into his stomach. The sensation of being overly full tripled exponentially, the edges of its rim scraping against his throat, the horse easing himself against Ember's muzzle as he enjoyed the glow of his orgasm, cherishing the feeling by the look of euphoria painted across his muzzle.

"Fuck it, I need him now," the stag stepped up to the wolf's muzzle, stretched as it was, "He looks like he won't mind."

The wolf could do nothing as the male took a hold of his muzzle, turning it slightly to face him. The scarf kept his body in place, tight around his neck and squeezing against the horse's member, but the stag was determined to push himself inside. His tip poked at Ember's lips, finding some gap to pierce, and succeeding much to his dismay. His maw was forced wider open, to the point where it was just pain and agony as his jaw stretched to accommodate far too much, the stag pushing himself in without a second thought. His hips quivered with a slight tremor as his climax rolled through him, cum spurting into the wolf's mouth and filling up what little space was left. With the horse already occupying the only direction down, the seed quickly backed up, spurting back around Ember's lips and splattering back onto the males' crotches, droplets landing against their balls and inner thighs as Ember sat there, stomach bloating with the excessive flood the stallion continued to pump into him whilst his muzzle was painted a discoloured white, the stag's seed coating his lips and face. He groaned, not from pleasure but discomfort, as he could only kneel there until the men were finished, wishing they would both just be done already so he could clean up and rest.

But even as the stag pulled his cock back out, wiping the dregs and smears of cum and spit across the top of Ember's head as if he were nothing but a meaningless rag to clean himself on, the horse turned to him, his tone nonchalant and his expression placid, tame,

"You go off to the bar, I'll catch up." As to prove some kind of point, he gave a testing tug of his cock in the wolf's overstretched muzzle, the bulge in his neck trapped below the scarf, the flare showing as it bloated his throat, "Looks like I might have to wait a while."

The stag just huffed, tucking his limping cock into his jeans and strutting off like nothing had happened, flicking the stub of his cigarette into the rest of the garbage surrounding them. He left them both, the stallion standing over the wolf, cock buried into the maw, a lingering cigar butt in his lips that was barely burning with a faint ember, whilst Ember sat there, nothing to do but patiently wait, stomach swollen with the horse's seed, too full and lethargic from exhaustion to really care any differently either way.