Inspired by...
Here: https://www.sofurry.com/view/580809 GO HERE. This is the animation that this exposition is based on. Give Anhes some tasty views.
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Waking up didn't have the usual sting most mornings after a party did, but there was still a fuzziness to my head and I propped myself up on my elbows. The morning sensation of being pleasantly hard was no surprise though, considering what I did last night. Or rather who I didn't do last night.
I rolled over to give the beds other occupant a sideways glance and, sure enough, I found Tim still sleeping as peacefully as...well a lamb. And oh what a peaceful, white and innocent lamb he was. We didn't even do anything last night aside from the drinking.
For all his enthusiasm for getting loaded for his eighteenth birthday, Timmy had last night proven that he had the alcohol tolerance of a field mouse, but twice the ambition. It had taken all of one-and-a-half glasses of red to send him off. It seemed rude to continue the festivities without him when it was his birthday, so I'd carried him off to bed, unwrapped him down to his underwear (which was my present) and let him doze under the covers with me to keep him warm.
Tim only had a few close friends, which I had originally attributed to him being shy as his doll sheep visage may have suggested, and he'd had his main party with them the week before the actual date due to scheduling conflicts. Which meant that last night had been just for us. Well, us and a bottle of good merlot. Fortune had dictated that even his parents would be out of town, some private getaway to see elderly relatives or some such.
All things considered, it was actually funny to look at him now, passed out and distinctly still virgin. Last night Tim had been so endearingly eager to do the deed, and show me how good he had gotten with all the practice he'd had at home.
Now there was a scary thought. Sweet and innocent Tim, the eighteen year old ram who for some reason hadn't even grown his horns in yet, and still carried his lamb fleece, practicing at home with some monstrous dildo to take his horse boyfriend the very fortnight he hit the age of consent. The fear was passing however, the arousal at the thought endured.
I could've reached over to stroke him, but breakfast wasn't going to make itself and I'd have all day to molest him. I wonder if he'll run, timid little thing he is, and twisted sicko I am. Then we can play at predator and prey, I could chase him round the house, up and down the stairs and then catch him while he feigns mock terror. I'd carry him to the bed in my arms lay him down, then snog and his him in an equine interpretation of eating the flesh from his bones. I looked forward to it.
I had enough sense to close the bedroom door behind me, so as not to wake him while I was shuffling around in the kitchen. Digging through the bag of provision I'd brought with me, I set about toasting instant spinach wuffles, pouring orange juice, and peeling mangos. I may not have rocked by boyfriend's world last night but I could still do a lot better than eggs benedict.
My morning wood was just below half-mast now, and despite its persistent frustration I wasn't angry at Tim from being unable to indulge me. If anything it made him more adorable. It was just...disappointing. But I could live with disappointment. Two years his senior and a horse, all my lamb and I had done in the three months we'd been together was some tongue lashing.
I confess I don't really understand how we haven't at least touched each other, but for some reason the seventeen year old who snuck into a University gay bar thought that the age of consent thing was really important. I found this flummoxing considering this was the same seventeen year old who approached me at the bar, and without the slightest bit of reservation told me he'd "like to dance, and go out some time, and kiss". He said all three, like that, without even knowing my name. There was no physical way for me to say no. Just couldn't. It's opportunist law or something. Naïve didn't begin to describe Tim. It wasn't simply that he hadn't had bad things happen to him, bad things tried to happen to him then gave up in the face of his shear exuberant optimism. It was almost a superpower.
Luckily his parents seemed to make up for his lack of caution with their world weary cynicism. Mr McNamara (and mind you it was Mr) would have needed to give the look he first gave me several washes in detergent for it to reach the level of dirty. Mrs McNamara (and it WAS mind you Mrs) was slightly warmer. But only slightly. The fact I was attending University managed to lighten their disposition for all of half a second before they immediately turned to ask what a University student was doing with a senior high scholar. Somewhere along the line I guess Timmy managed to forget the detail where he snuck into a Uni bar. So of course, when I told the story it had to be me, asking him out. I was just passing by on the street and he was just so handsome, and it was a star-crossed lover thing...
So now his parents thought I was a perv who picked up random guys on the street. So there was that. But honestly the overprotective (or perhaps appropriately protective) parents really added to the whole Tim package. That made it a forbidden fruit kind of thing. I was surprised when he said his parents were okay about having me over when they were out of town...but I also knew better than to probe too deeply into that.
That was another thing about Tim, for that simple demeanor he seemed remarkably good at getting his own way and making sure that absolutely everybody around him loved him to death. I had the general feeling that he wasn't quite as simple as he made out to be, and a sneeking suspicion that deep down...Tim may be a little bit supervillian. But he was a sickeningly adorable villian, so what did I care.
The toaster beeped signaling the need to plate the wuffles so I dumped the handful of mango slices on the side, picked the piping hot breakfast pastries and carried them to the bedroom with a glass of freshly...poured OJ. I set the plate down on the dresser next to him, expecting the smell alone to wake him, and waited.
And waited.
But So far his only reaction was to take slightly deeper breaths. Now I wasn't an unreasonable man but patience wasn't a strong point of mine, so I flung the covers off. To which he responded by rolling over to lie on his stomach, which meant I now had a full view of his little cotton tail and salmon underwear. And it was salmon, not matter how many times I insisted this still meant it was pink.
The perfect round suppleness of him was...intoxicating. It was enough to send a tickling sensation that started building in my shaft again. So I lapsed, alright? I was weak. Actually I'd say I was almost Job like in my restraint until that point, so now I indulged. I tentatively placed one hand on each supple cheek, hooked by thumbs under the elastic and slowly eased downward. At the time, I was under the delusion that a full view would be enough...for a while anyway. It sure as hell was not disappointing. Unfortunately that simple contact was also apparently enough to wake my sleeping boyfriend.
"Arthur?" Tim didn't so much speak my name as coo it. Regretfully I had to tear my gaze away from his rump to meet his eyes. And oh what a look greeted me when I found my way there. Tim's look was...well it was many things. It was all at once scarred, anxious, and excited but also expecting, and hungry. To my hormone addled brain that look was the one thing I wanted most...permission. Getting to touch his soft supple rump may have been enough to get me to half-mast but that look was enough to push me all the way to full attention and reaching for the bottle of lube I'd brought and left on the dresser last night.
Now being a horse, one bottle didn't last long at the best of times but in this case, I made sure to empty that sucker all over my shaft and pour the meager ounce left in the cleft of his buttocks. I began massaging it in with my fingers and found them slipping inside him with surprising ease.
First one, then two, then three, each soliciting a slight moan. He really had been practicing. The thought of him alone, working himself over with a dildo just to get himself ready for me was enough to get me....well... there was no other term for it. Positively. Throbbing.
I was on my knees above him now, lined up beneath that little cotton tail and bending over so that I could nibble his ears. My tail flicked as I applied just little pressure and bent down to whisper, "Let's see how well you've practiced."
I slid in. A slight clench, from which he quickly recovered, then nothing but slick relaxed muscle cradled me in to my midring. The place I was in then was all at once soft, warm, and moist. Tim was somehow managing to be completely welcoming while at the same time gripping the ever-loving shit out of me.
I offered my assessment. "Quite well apparently."
I rocked forward a little more, then back. Slow, and long thrusts that drew high pitched, moaning whimpers each time. This was heaven. This was warm, slick and wet heaven. Soft cotton, angelic white heaven. I bent my head forward a little so I could suckle and stick my tongue down his ear, and my reward were more of those cute squeals of his. Before long I'd settle into a rhythm. A little longer and he began his own rhythm of valiantly pushing back as I half-dicked him.
That's right. My sweet little lamb was not only enjoying the act of me defiling him, he was actively trying to make me do it more. Now a sicko I may be, but I make absolutely no apologies for being so turned on by that, that I came in thick globby ropes not five minutes later. My tail flagged, my ears flicked forward and I nickered and even let slip a neigh or too, while I pumped my gooey release into him. Luckily I made not of a particularly desperate and exasperated cry slightly beforehand that made me suspect I hadn't made the faux pas of finishing first.
Not being particularly eager to pull out at this point I remained hunched over him, careful not to put my full weight on him. I was quite happy to sit with my shaft in the pool of cum I'd made in him while we basked in the afterglow. Even when my knees got tired, I was long enough to roll to the side but leave myself in. He didn't complain. Nor did he complain when I reached under him to see if he really had enjoyed that as much as I suspected.
Sure enough the wetness I felt confirmed that I had indeed done my job right. Still, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't give him a few courtesy strokes? A crap one that's what. I also wouldn't get to hear those adorable squeaks of his. Being a good lover is its own reward sometimes.
The next look he gave, once he pried open his eyes from the brain shattering sensation of me half-jerking him, was the similar to the look he'd given before. But now all uncertainty had left him. I smiled. He smiled back, softly. Everything he did was soft. He even said, "Good morning, pony" softly.
Pony? That was interesting. "So I'm your pony now am I?"
Tim tried his best to give a shit-eating grin, which came out a little too soft, and merely became a grin. "Only if I'm your lamb."