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"Arr, lad! Ol' Foxy, she ain't 'ad 'erself any horsey meat since th' Splinter'd Mast last saw bright 'n blue seas!"

Ricky was floored by the place. He tried to think of the chain of events which had led him to the vibrantly-named and -staffed Freddy Pimpbear's Pussy. Something about his twenty-first birthday; a few unimportant details concerning him wanting to see some titties on said birthday; his bitch of a cousin telling him he wouldn't be seen in such a vulgar place, no way in hell, no sir.

Well, Ricky's cousin was off in one of the back rooms with the titular Pimpbear. Ricky recalled finding it pretty funny how quickly his cousin had latched onto the big brown bear's side, hanging off of him desperately. His cousin never gave it up for anybody willingly. Ricky made a mental note to ask the bear how he did it, and said note was filed loose-leaf with all the other minutia of the evening. He was blasted on sweet and syrupy rum and his mental file server was presently a smoldering mound of slag. All that really mattered, as his eyes and dick and hands seemed to concur upon, were the fat, pierced vixen tits in his face.

"You're, uh--, you're like a pirate or something? Is that what the accent is about? You've got like a Jack Sparrow thing going on," Ricky noted, fondling Foxy eagerly. He lifted both tits as if testing their weight and found he deeply appreciated their perfect shape. Their perfection had nothing to do with the traditional sense of perkiness, however, for Foxy's jugs were mature and plump things which brought to mind the quintessential MILF.

She tapped his head with the back of her hook. "Aye, lad! I be a real pirate, yer movie-magic seadogs got nothin' on Foxy!" She enjoyed a hearty laugh, chubby flesh jiggling against Ricky's taut body. Her fat behind was almost too much to ask of his lap, but he was a trooper about it. "So, what be yer name again, lad? Tis Ricky, innit?"

Somehow just the vixen remembering his name made Ricky blush and grin. He nodded.

"Well then, Ricky!" She smooched him between the eyes, leaving a big, slobbery smear in his fur. "Ya' gonna just feel up me titties or are ya' gonna," she tapped his head with her hook a second time, "do some'fin' more?"

That Foxy was a robot under all that perfect flesh and fur was actually not what Ricky had trouble grasping. Rather, Foxy's willingness and genuine interest in laying with him was his stumbling block. "Well, I mean--, you know... i-if you want me to, right? Yeah?"

She bellowed another good and hard laugh, earning the attention of those outside the curtained booth, but nobody peeked in; such was the peculiar etiquette of the club. "Ricky, boy! I be in yer lap, nakeder'n the day mama squeez'd me out. Already had me paw down around yer pecker, and still ya' gotta ask if Foxy _wants_it?"

Ricky chuckled, rendered sheepish. He squeezed the vixen close, nuzzling into her shoulder. "I'm so-o-orry. It's just I was with this other stripper once and she got pissed when I tried to feel her up. You know?"

Foxy scooted out of Ricky's lap, butt sliding onto the sofa. She startled the horse when she caught his snout between her wide feet. Turning him so his red gaze met her single yellow eye, Foxy growled, "Ol' Foxy ain't like most wimmin-folks, Ricky. How's about ya' start by rubbin' Foxy's tired, so vurry tired feet, an' ya' work yer way up from there?"

Although he wasn't particularly given to foot massages, Ricky found the notion of making Foxy happy an intoxicating one. He turned to face her, pulling a leg up sideways on the cushion. He took to rubbing one of Foxy's prominent feet, pushing his thumbs into the pads; deep in the heel; up through the arch. Much like when he performed cunnilingus, Ricky found himself playing Foxy by ear. Her soft moans and the gentle pushes showed him the way; a simple splay of her toes could tell him more than words ever could.

As Ricky worked, putting a little more soul into his massage with each passing second, Foxy let the untouched foot drift around his side. Ricky thus was given a direct look into the crook of her thighs where a shockingly delicate set of lips resided. She reached down, spreading herself with fingers in an inverted peace sign. When she was certain his drunken gaze was on the musky pink yawn of her pussy, she chuckled slyly and asked him, "Ya' wanna put down me foot now, lad? Seems ya' got me a lil' slip'ry here..."

Ricky nodded, two-toned hair bobbing in its trendy cut. His penis struggled inside of his jeans as he purposefully fell forward, it being a much quicker route than kneeling and scooting forward until he hit the prize. With his drunken forwardness, his nose crashed into her muff and he exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring wide. Foxy tittered at the warm blast of air.

"Yar, seems ye be mighty eager, lil' Ricky," she cooed.

And Foxy was right: Ricky tore into her with hard, hungry, slobbery slurps. The broad muscle of his tongue dragged over flawless cuntflesh, tweaking the button and the hood of her clitoris in the same brutish sweep. He peeped up at her, perusing her pretty yet surly countenance, thinking to himself what a miraculous place this club was.

Foxy's body was chilly, though Ricky had quickly come to grips with that fact an hour before when he sat with the bunny in his lap and his finger in the bunny. Before the horse had begun his inexorable dive into inebriation, the rabbit laid out for him sweetly and simply that he and his kin were machines, and he asked if that would be a problem. Ricky told him honestly that it wouldn't be.

Now an hour later, with his tongue plumbing the chill depths of the so-called curvy scurvy one and his cock grinding so needfully and painfully on the insides of his briefs, Ricky thought again how wonderful the club was. He reached up, fingers brushing her smooth, fair belly and the divot of her navel. His eyes drifted shut not in passion but laziness, and his knuckles brushed the underside of a swollen teardrop tit.

The pirate hooked her long, stout legs around Ricky's back as though sitting Indian-style with him in the middle. Her paw tousled his hair, twirling two-toned locks around a digit. "Rrr... yer tongue be good fer more'n just sweet-talkin', so it seems t'be, says I."

Ricky's lips stayed crammed into Foxy's cunt. He whined, this noise of submission swallowed up by her bawdy body. "I wanna fuck your brains out," he bleated, plaintive as his whine, muffled by the musky muff against his teeth. He mouthed her with his soft horse lips, leaving the grain of her fur smeared two ways.

She laughed, appreciative of the honesty and audacity in equal measures. She toyed with his ears with fingers and hook alike, rubbing and loving with the former and pinning with the latter. "Ya' wants t'fuck ol' Foxy, is that what yer pleasure be? Well, s'pose I can oblige ye."

The drunk stallion tilted up his nose, letting his lips touch the hood of Foxy's clit. He was smiling dreamily, tail swishing, drunk on rum as well as heady vixen musk. "Can you really?" he cooed.

"Arr, I thinks so!" said Foxy triumphantly, hooking her big feet under Ricky's bottom. With a laugh and a yank of her legs, she hauled the twink up across her fine body. His nose bumped hers, bodies crotch to crotch and breast to breast. "Ye be a real cute laddie, Ricky-boy," she drawled, and gave him a firm smooch on the lips. "Good taste in wimmin-folk, too! Some boys don't seem to be knowin' who the best lass 'round here be."

The blush warming Ricky's cheeks was as much the work of Foxy's praise as her personal stash of rum. He grinned toothily, rubbing his nose into hers. "When we're done, do I have to leave?"

Foxy's facade cracked and she laughed. "Aw, Ricky-boy," she cooed, voice as syrupy as the rum she chugged, "ye can stay wit' me as long as it suits ya', lad."

Ricky and Foxy made their way to the vixen's room, her steps firm and confident in contrast to Ricky's stumbling hooves. She held him up often, supporting his slender form with ease. She coaxed him as they walked, nudging him along, patting his side as if leading a meek show pony. "C'mon, lad, lil' further now. Ye almost be in ol' Foxy's booty den."

Cued by the presence of bodies, the lights in Foxy's pirate den came up to a moody level, a dusk hue. Ricky bumbled forward, taking in the plastic loot and the real sabers crossed on the wall. "Whoa. Your room is pretty cool."

With the door shut at their backs, Foxy snickered and strode near, feet whispering on the carpet. "Aye, lad! Now, 'ow's about ya' siddown a'fore ya' fall down?" she drawled, gleefully shoving Ricky into the bed. He smacked into the comforter silently, briefly face-down and ass-up before he settled complacently.

The vixen flipped up her eyepatch and caught Ricky's tail inside the curve of her hook. She pulled it high and grinned wide, golden fang sparkling obscenely in the low light. "Tis' a mighty fine booty ya' sportin', lad!"

"Aw, thank you," Ricky sighed. "Yours is the best though."

"Arr, ye be speakin' the one-n-only truth there, lad," replied Foxy. Proving that having just one paw was no handicap, she deftly opened his fly and slipped her hook into the backs of his jeans and briefs, quite purposefully slipping the cold metal into his ass crack; his squeak was a delight. Down she tugged, disrobing the boy below the waist. "Ye be mine fer the takin' now, Ricky-boy," she growled, warmth yet in her voice, but with an undertone of lust.

Ricky forced his droopy eyelids to open, thinking it was like shoving up the slats of a rusted garage door. He drank in Foxy's pirate den; locked eyes with her tattered skull and crossbones flag on the wall; smirked at the lusterless plastic loot spilling from a hardwood keg in the corner. But if he had anything clever to say on the matter, he was preemptively silenced when the pirate bitch pulled aside a cheek of his ass. He felt the point of her hook on its twin, digging slightly in and pulling to the side as earnestly as her paw. Under the cool air of her den, his plump equine anus winked. Ricky's drunken blush deepened in shade.

Growling in all her sexual hunger, big bushy tail lashing and fanning heady musk throughout her den of booty, Foxy thrust her coarse snout between the boy's cheeks and slurped from backsack to tail base, slathering smooth black horseflesh with a heavy coating of slobber. Under the pleasures of her cold, lapping tongue, Ricky grinned, moaned, arched his spine. He bunched up the patchwork sheets in closed fists.

"Aw, my ga-a-awd," Ricky puffed. "Oh, gawd," he repeated. "Mmm. Christ. You eat ass?"

"If'n the ass be worth eatin', lad!" Foxy boomed and bit his two-toned tail, laughing around its well-groomed locks. Sudden as a crash of thunder and equally startling, she smacked Ricky hard enough that his bubble butt jiggled, flesh making mesmerizing waves under shiny ebon fur. With a snicker rife in immaturity, Foxy yanked apart the cheeks again and crushed her lips into the pillowy ring of his asshole. She smooched it, sucking off the sweat a night of dancing and drinking had left on him. Down she went, the thick pad of her nose dragging his taint and ever perusing his musk, and she closed her hungry lips about his fat and hairless balls.

Foxy sucked his nuts, huffing from his ass as she swallowed the sweat marinading his loins. She reached up under his shirt, raking claws down his back until lithe muscles arched again; and she prodded at his bottom with the point of her hook, putting dimples in his plush boyflesh which never lasted. Under her brutish but sensual care, Ricky squirmed, panting and moaning and gasping in equal measures, never knowing quite what to expect but loving every second of the vixen's pleasures without fail.

He groaned over the sounds of suckles, "Oh my Christ, that feels so fucking weird. But good. So good..." Shaky bitchboy fingers felt across Foxy's head, smoothing down a pert ear. He touched the pad of her nose and made her nostrils flare. "I'm just--, ah, my god. I'm sorry. I'm sweaty, I kinda get really sweaty when I drink, sorry."

First a laugh around Ricky's fat balls, the size of which filled her spacious maw. Foxy pulled off, teeth dragging on his smooth scrotum but not snagging. "Arr! Ricky, me cabin boy!" she cackled. "Don't ya' know Foxy loves'er summa that ball soup?" brayed the vixen, punctuating the last two syllables with jabs of her hook into his ass cheek.

Ricky laughed. It was a deep, soul-cleansing kind of laugh, a sound coming from deep in his drunk, pizza-filled gut. When he peaked and started to trail off into hitches and titters, Foxy thrust her pretty muzzle into the crack of his ass again, treating his spit-shined pucker to a detailing. As her tongue tip followed the rim, Ricky's fading laughter broke, becoming a shuddering coo. He started to giggle again, and he groaned as the pirate dragged her pink tongue across the entirety of his thick, black pucker.

"Real fine fuckhole, me lad," drawled Foxy, grinning big and wide, her yellow eyes full of possessive desire. She gave the pucker one more kiss, but she made it a damn good one; not content only to lick its surface, Foxy stuffed her tongue in past the clenching anal flesh, digging her powerful yet cold tongue far enough inside that Ricky found himself thinking of the times he'd fingered himself. His cock throbbed between his belly and the bed. A great smear of precum in her sheet grew bigger still.

"Mmmwah!" Foxy smacked her lips and yanked back her sinful seadog tongue. For one picturesque moment, a bridge of her slobber linked the tip of her tongue to the quivering ring of his backdoor. She wiped her jowls on the back of her arm, her mannerisms far removed from elegance.

Caught in the grip of his buzz and the pleasure of an excellent rimjob, Ricky innately understood that Foxy had put many men in that same exact state of nirvana. Knowing that he was one of dozens hardly made him feel insignificant; rather, he felt like he was part of something wonderful. As his booty-craving mistress rolled him onto his back, his uttered a blissful, tiny noise and gaped at the dusty planks of the ceiling. His equine cock, head flaring and shaft breathing with his pulse, drooped slightly to the right and awaited eagerly the vixen's love.

"This is the most fun I've had in--, well, in years I guess," Ricky drunkenly murmured. He tittered. "I was a roadie for this singer asshole, really coked-up jerk," the horse reminisced, lacing his fingers over his belly. "I got his sloppy seconds now and then."

Foxy, listening to the boy, rummaged through a hardwood chest along the wall. Her paw brushed past sex toys assorted, all tossed in with the randomness of a more innocent toybox. Under the crowd of fake dicks and cock rings and anal beads, she found her lube and headed back to the bed. "Arr-har, sloppy seconds wit' music-lovin' wenches, aye? An' what bearin's that got on yer time here 'n now wit' ol' Foxy?"

The stallion folded his slim arms behind his head. Foxy pulled off his bottoms entirely, and he cooperated, moving his leg to help shake his hoof free. "Um, well... you know." He watched the vixen, quirking a smile when she drizzled cold, clear lube across his cock. It glazed his black flesh more completely than his smears and streaks of precum, its viscosity seeing it deviate little from its plodding drips even as it followed fat veins. "I did things I shouldn't have done," he quietly said. "Did drugs, took advantage of girls - and some guys. I guess what I wanna say is that it's--," Foxy unintentionally hushed him when took hold of his cock in her paw, squeezing, then stroking him, smearing about the plentiful thickness of the lubricant.

"Arr, speak yer piece, laddie," Foxy said gently. "Ye be in good hands here. Well, in one good 'and," she chortled.

Ricky chuckled with her. He let himself lay flat, arms spreading as though he wanted to make a snow angel. "All that stuff's weighed on me for a while. So it's nice that I'm here, just enjoying myself, and it's... not wrong or anything. I'm not having to do weird, extreme shit just to feel good for once. You're an awful lot of fun, Foxy."

She smiled, climbing up over Ricky. Her bed creaked under her heavy weight, but much as the sofas in the front could hold her up, so were the beds made with the animatronics' heavy-duty construction in mind. She planted her lubed paw on the patchwork comforter, gazing down in his crimson eyes. The plump mounds of her tits invited a lewd touch; Ricky provided it, albeit passively. "Well, me lad," she tutted, "ain't sayin' now that Foxy's got th' key to yer redemption." The vixen leaned low and smooched his prettyboy lips, pushing the wideness that was her ass back into his cock in the same movement. "But if ya' feel comfor'ble wit' me and yer happy, then that's about all a scurvy dog like me can ask fer, boy!"

Less passively, Ricky felt around to Foxy's back and raked his slim fingers through her fur. Her coarseness was alluring; he got the impression then, as before, that Foxy was not a delicate girl-next-door but a bawdy woman who could take a pounding - sexual or otherwise. He smooched her lips and asked timidly, "Can I pick which hole I get?"

Foxy snickered. "Ya' mean y'might not wanna sink it in me big ol' ass?"

Ricky grinned, embarrassed. "Well... no, that's exactly what I wanted, actually. You're good."

She nipped his cheek, making him gasp. "Seems you lads always wanna make it so Foxy can't siddown without it hurtin'," she dryly told him, and she looped his dense meat inside of her hook. The cold steel left Ricky shuddering pleasantly, but it was of course the firm grind of Foxy's huge and flawless bottom which caused him to moan and coo and molest her so desperately.

The flawless accuracy which came with being a robot served Foxy well. She licked her jowls in thought, peering over her shoulder needlessly as Ricky's flared, fat cockhead rubbed the pucker of her anus. "Mm-mm-mm, yo-ho-ho, a pirate's life fer me," she softly murmured, barely in tune as she concentrated. A push down on the twink's cock; now a helpful tug with her hook. She put her eyes on Ricky's drunk and happy face, smiling herself at the pleasure she saw there. "Ya' look awful pleased wit'cherself there, cabin boy," teased the pirate, and she bit her jowly lip, at last forcing herself down. Ricky's meat entered her without a hitch, riding on a sheen of lubricant. The horse let loose a sound only describable as a whimper, clutching the vixen tightly in his thin arms.

Foxy settled into Ricky's lap, fat round cheeks eclipsing his narrow body. She kissed him gently, yet flicked her tongue against his lips. A rumbling came from deep in her dense breast, shaking the horse in his bones, and she began to buck up and drop down in her ponderous but wonderful way.

Beneath the pirate, Ricky cooed and moaned softly. He admired the beauty of her stern face with eyes which were dreamily half-lidded, making Foxy fuzzy at the edges, giving her a halo of warm light. Down went his hands, sissy digits tough with the callouses of a day laborer stroking with the grain of her soft, synthetic fur all the way to her hips. He clutched her breedable width, letting his fingers dig divots into cold and pliant flesh. "You're gonna make me cum," he muttered, undermining the sweetness of the moment but making Foxy snicker.

"As it oughta be, lad," she growled in reply, bushy tail swishing. "Just so long's ya' don't want Foxy pullin' up a'fore ya' can bust yer nut, boy... love me one o' them creamy-pies."

Ricky sighed, eyes closing and lips smiling. "You and me both, hot stuff."

Poor grammar notwithstanding, Foxy liked the sentiment. She licked his chin; his lips; the curve of his nose. A taste of his flavor and musk had soaked into her fur and she gave it back to him, letting Ricky experience for himself the delicacy that was his own male stink. "Ah, Ricky-boy," cooed Foxy, letting her spine arch and her drops shift smoothly into gyrations, "ye be sportin' a damn fine horsey-dick, I hopes ya' know. Real surprised ya' can walk wit'out tippin' over if ya' catch what Foxy's sayin'!"

He smooched the tops of Foxy's thick breasts; drunken drool caked in her fur. Dryly he said, "Ah, well... it works like a kickstand. Kinda like how you've got flotation devices if your ship capsizes, huh?"

"Oh, got us a funny boy here," Foxy clucked. She bit her lip, mashed down her ass and grinned at the horse nose-to-nose with his handsome young face which presently contorted with nearly painful pleasure. "If'n I want ya' t'give yer opinion, lad, I'll tell ya' what it is," she darkly growled, yet humor was rampant in her yellow eyes, the mischief implicit in her swishing tail.

"Gawd, yes. Yes, ma'am, miss Foxy." Ricky squirmed beneath the hefty pirate, holding her ass so tight that he could nearly feel her endoskeleton. His legs curled inward awkwardly. "Ga-a-awd," he whined, "I'm gonna pop..."

A nearly hideous grin twisted Foxy's jowls. She snickered in blatant malevolence and slipped her hooked arm under Ricky's shoulders, nudging the safe back of her hook along his shoulder blades. In one swift heave, she pulled him up and outright stuffed his snout into her cleavage. From Ricky came a delighted, small noise, and he threw his arms around the middle of her back.

"Aye, you savor them titties, lad," Foxy sighed. "'Cause this ol' seadog sure as salt be savorin' yer pecker."

Foxy nibbled Ricky's ears, nosing through his soft hair. She gyrated against him, clenching rhythmically with snug, synthetic anal walls. The marvel of her engineering was undoubtedly her personality and thought, but Ricky had ceased a while back to think that the vixen riding him was anything less than a living creature. She felt perfect, but not in any jarring way which took away from the fantasy; she gave him the ride of a lifetime, and all he could think was how incredibly good at this she was. He drooled into her cool cleavage, fake flesh and fur warmed by his humid breath. He petted her heaving and muscular back, and the ruts his overzealous fingers left in her flesh filled out as if he had never dug in. He wanted only to touch and feel her until he passed out.

She bit her lip, gold fang gleaming as a snaggletooth. Chill juices oozed from her snatch, drooling across the stallion's loins. Though her box was woefully unloved, she took uncanny pleasure from the anal penetration; a narrow clue that she wasn't organic. She rumbled her scurvy nothings into his ear, soft utterances of how he, sweet little Ricky-boy, was the best cabin boy she'd ever had. Things Ricky knew were bullshit, but earnest lies he guzzled down just like the rum. He felt like his cock was going to explode.

Ricky bleated a most pleasurable noise into her muffling, thick boobs. He squeezed her as tight as he possibly could and then came, shooting deep into the animatronic's beautifully fat ass in heavy and hot ropes. Foxy crooned when she felt the first twitch of his cock; the flare of the head; pulsing in his veins and all along his shaft. It was the orgasm proper which made her shudder and smile, a truly dreamy expression worn as much in pleasure of her own as in happiness that she'd given another handsome boy exactly what he wanted - and for his twenty-first birthday, no less.

The vixen kissed Ricky between his ears. Semen oozed from her, escaping the snug but not quite perfect seal of her little pink anus to run down Ricky's big black cock. She cooed for him. "Real good work there, laddie... ya' made ol' Foxy feel pretty gawddamn good fer a scurvy pirate," she said with a chuckle. "Ya' gonna snooze now wit' me?"

It took Foxy letting go of Ricky for him to free his snout from her tits. The fur on his muzzle remained matted with his own sweat; a smear of it had an imprint of his muzzle inside the vixen's cleavage. "I'd like that a lot," he tiredly mumbled. "If, uh, it's all right with you..."

"Aw, Ricky-boy," tutted Foxy, pulling up with ponderous care. She leaked his semen, drooling it on his loins, yet Ricky seemed impassive to the feeling. Foxy laid beside him, good arm under his shoulders, snout nearly against his, and she pecked his cheek. "You go on ahead 'n snooze in me bed all ya' like. Foxy'll be right here with ya' the who-o-ole time."