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It was just like Ricky to be off dancing, Jericho thought. That was, of course, dancing with scare quotes around it - Jericho didn't think mindlessly gyrating against the girls on the dance floor counted as dancing. He was hardly even in rhythm. By contrast, and feeling pretty superior for it, Jericho wasn't even tapping his hoof to the beat. He stood off to the side near the punch and snacks, sipping from a Dixie cup. His lips, ever tinted gold with his preferred lipstick, had a maroon hue from the punch.

Grabby, fuzzy hands closed around Jericho's hip. The pretty, sissy horse felt his heart leap in his chest, and he experienced brisk but potent exultation. He thought it was him, the foxcoon with that delicious southern drawl, whom Jericho had developed quite a fondness for. He felt warm breath on his ear, then heard in a wholly unfamiliar voice: "Hey, lil' wizard. Wanna cast some spells with my wand?"

Jericho groaned, pulling away. His admirer's paw slipped away, feeling almost nice as it brushed him. He spun on his hoof and adjusted the pumpkin-hued hat on his head. His nipples had stiffened in the brief encounter and they now poked through the fabric of his costume, a purple-and-orange vest which clung tightly and evoked imagery of both magicians and strippers in the same instance. "I don't, thanks," he said tartly to the admittedly handsome Husky dog whom had accosted him. He hated the obviously drunk look in the dog's bright blue eyes, but liked the jockish build. That he was wearing a football jersey with only a bright green jockstrap for his lower half actually seemed acceptable.

The dog frowned. "Wha-a-atever. Ricky said you'd wanna fuck."

"He would say that, yes," Jericho murmured, not surprised enough to feel angry.

Sudden deviousness crossed the dog's face. "Mind if I stick my drink between your thighs, cutie?" he slyly asked, gesturing with the cup. The punch inside lapped up with the sudden movement and a few drops splashed on the floor. "I figure it'll stay colder there."

Now Jericho felt some fluster. He scowled. "Don't you have some balls to play with somewhere?"

At this, the dog only chuckled. He turned slowly, keeping his nose pointed at Jericho much of the way, and then waded into the throng of dancing and grinding, still holding his punch.

It was better than half an hour later when Ricky came up for air. The black stallion, girlish and fit as he was, dripped with sweat. His costume was like a homeless version of Jericho's, with claw rips in the purple latex stockings and what appeared to be a punch stain on the magician vest. His matching orange wizard's hat was nowhere to be seen and his hair was ruffled.

Immediately, Jericho scowled. "What the hell happened to your costume?"

"Huh?" Ricky examined himself boredly. His crotch bulged obscenely in the cute orange g-string which came with the number; it was much more noticeable than Jericho's groin and he gave it a prideful look. "Oh, that," he said, and sniggered in his drunken immaturity. "Someone stole the hat. Uh, the rest of it, just kinda happens on the dance floor, you know?"

"I spent forty dollars renting that costume for you," said the smaller, more haughty stallion bitterly, looking Ricky over contemptuously. "So that we could match. There goes that deposit."

Ricky waved him off, his cheeks glowing from too much punch rather than embarrassment. He groped his crotch. "Match this, why don't you?"

Jericho snorted and instantly felt self-conscious of himself. "As if I'd want anything to do with you now," he snapped, turning away from Ricky.

It never seemed to matter to Ricky that Jericho was his cousin. Maybe in some way it enhanced the sex they were constantly having, but neither brought it up. He pushed himself on Jericho now and kissed him on the cheek, coaxing him to blush. "Oh, c'mon. You always want something to do with me."

"Debatable," said Jericho, touching Ricky's chest as if to brace his hand and shove, but instead his fingers lingered. "I can't believe you ruined your costume. You're so immature. I have no idea why I hang around you."

Ricky grinned devilishly, his perfect rows of flat teeth gleaming. He was getting horny; he loved Jericho's sass. He slid his arms around his fellow sissy boy and bumped noses with him. "I bet it's because Desmond's always near me. You ought to see how your eyes light up when you hear his name," he said, snickering. "Either way, you love me. Can't get rid of me."

"Don't tempt me," Jericho hissed, setting down his little paper cup to return Ricky's embrace. He kissed Ricky on the lips, but only he could make a smooch seem so reluctant and full of disgust. "It's not that I want to do this-."

"Oh, not at all, never," Ricky broke in, smiling wanly.

"But you won't leave me alone until I do." Jericho glanced around the dimly-lit room, across the busy dance floor and the quaint decorations of skeletons and pumpkins and fake spider webs. Sexy, skimpy costumes abounded, and so nobody paid special attention to the sort-of matching pair of girly stallions hugging by the punch bowl. "There has to be somewhere private we can-."

Ricky, who knew Jericho detested interruptions, cut in to say: "Let's fuck in the bedroom. I screw the girl who lives here, she won't mind."

How charming, thought Jericho as his cousin led him off without another word on the subject. Of course, everybody who saw them heading up the basement stairs hand-in-hand knew that they were going somewhere to fuck.

Ricky ineffectually pawed around for the bedroom's light switches but couldn't find them, and left it at that on his way inside. The otter girl who lived there did so with her parents, and their empty but quite disturbed bed waited in the middle of the room for yet another couple to make use of it. Ricky shoved his cousin onto the bed, enjoying but not acknowledging his fuss over behind manhandled.

In the dark room, with music thumping two floors below them, Ricky climbed onto his bitchy cousin and pressed against him, crotch to bulging crotch followed by girly chests and faces. The kiss was sudden as it was lurid, Jericho giving in to Ricky's advances rapidly as he often did. Ricky batted the hat off of Jericho's head, shoving it away on the bed.

Ricky snorted from his nostrils, a nearly feral gesture. Precum began to ooze through his g-string's pouch, the elasticity of which was being tested by his swelling horsecock. Jericho was stiff too, but he only tented his g-string. He was nowhere near as gifted as his cousin, saddled with a simple uncircumcised cock, having missed the horselike genitals others in his family took for granted.

Jericho slurped across his cousin's palate, dragging his tongue's tip along the ridges. He threw his legs around Ricky's back, his hooves clacking together, and he pulled with his legs to ensure his cousin frotted him more firmly.

Drunken and hungry for a good lay, Ricky opened his maw against Jericho's. Their lips were smeared with drool and their teeth once clicked together. Ricky's tail swished above his perfect, pronounced boy butt and he asked, mumbling against Jericho's snout, "You cool to take it up the butt?"

A huff from Jericho was Ricky's answer, but he followed it up emphatically: "Not here. And not with you."

Ricky with his red-and-white highlights and fucked-up costume smiled impishly. He mashed his loins insistently into Jericho's and made his younger cousin groan. "I fucked Desmond while you were off sipping punch and bitching about how nobody put effort into their costumes."

"You did not!" Jericho barked, and then he realized what he was being baited into. He frowned severely and turned his head aside. "I don't care if you did anyway. It's not as if I like Desmond."

Snickering in his drunken but knowing way, Ricky grabbed his cousin's g-string and peeled it down. His knuckled brushed Jericho's smaller but eager erection and his delicate balls along the way. "I'll let him know you don't like him, then," he said. "Next time he's sucking me off."

Jericho grumbled. "You don't need to be involved in my-."

"Oh, shut up already," the older stallion barked. "He thinks your bitchy shit is cute. It gets old for me, personally."

In the darkness, Jericho gazed where he guessed Ricky's face to be. Soon he heard a wet suckle, and he blushed for a moment. "Well, it-, it doesn't matter what either of you think, now does it?"

Suddenly Ricky felt around his cousin's tight, pink anus with saliva-slicked fingers. Jericho revealingly eased his legs apart as far as the g-string around his knees would let him. "See, that shit right there," hissed Ricky, somewhat irritably. He rubbed firmly on his cousin's snug entrance, then wriggled two digits inside, opening him easily. Jericho stayed fairly well-trained but still let out a hiss of pleasure and pain. "Mister I-don't-need-anyone, when you've probably got a shrine to him in your closet or something." He let out a laugh as he worked his fingers in to the knuckles. His cousin groaned aloud for him, arching his lithe body. "You gonna cum for me?"

"Perhaps," Jericho muttered with a bit of strain. He chewed his lip, sucking off some of his muted gold lipstick. His tail flicked and he touched his small penis, tweaking the glans in careful, knowing fingers. "You're lying, though... Desmond's not here. I can't smell him on you."

Ricky laughed, and he started to pump his cousin's snug ass. He pulled down his g-string and clutched his meat, but masturbating with his left hand was clumsy and ineffective - especially when he was buzzed. "Fuck, what did he do for you? Gotta be something good for you to be totally in love with him."

"I'm not-!" Jericho started, and stopped himself with a haughty groan. "Fuck you, Ricky. It isn't my fault you don't understand complicated feelings."

Beginning to sneer, Ricky yanked back his fingers - Jericho clicked his teeth and winced - and threw himself at his cousin again. He mashed down so their loins crashed into each other. Ricky's sweaty black horse balls smothered Jericho's demure coinpurse and his flared cock completely eclipsed the other twink's meat. He began to hump vigorously, bucking with impatient hunger against his cousin. Beneath, the gold-accented twink whose thoughts would not leave Desmond gasped and cooed, while also finding the time to mutter, "You're such a slut, Ricky."

"I have fun," Ricky noncommittally said before he kissed his cousin. The kiss was deep from the very beginning, Ricky's tongue slopping into Jericho's equally-sized maw quite forcefully. His two-toned tail swished as he made out with Jericho then, beating the insides of his cousin's mouth with inebriated laps and sucks. He ground into Jericho cumbersomely, basically mashing their loins together, but it pleased them both to no end.

Bitchy Jericho always responded so well to his cousin's advances. When Ricky was a drunk and sweaty thing, it was even better. Jericho liked the foxcoon because he was never drunk and oftentimes perfectly hygienic, but Jericho had his indulgences, and his cousin seemed the perfect person to experience them with. So he let himself be drawn into the moment, and he caressed Ricky's back, feeling eagerly across slim girly lines and the sweaty material of his magician's vest. He felt all the way down to Ricky's ass cheeks, those twin black bubbles which were wet with sweat and incessantly clamped in together as their owner bucked over and over for the sake of his clumsy frottage.

Jericho crooned into the kiss. He leaked his precum, pitiful amounts of the stuff next to Ricky's constant beads and drools of it, but it was his contribution to the mess either way. His small cock throbbed, foreskin pulled taut and glans blushing with hot bloodflow. His balls drew into the hot crook of his groin.

Even though Ricky had blasted off three times that night already, he was always ready for more, and especially when he was with his huffy bitch of a cousin. He pulled back from Jericho's lips, his tongue sliding free like pulling a tissue from its box. Saliva caked their lips, and they panted as the kiss so gently ended. Jericho said in his tight but needful way, "Harder, if you have to do this. I'm going to cum."

"Me too. God, me too," Ricky said with his labored breaths catching in his throat. "Shit. I kinda wish he were here," the stallion admitted, bucking and grinding with urgency he reserved only for his orgasms. "I'd let him stick his little dick in me..."

Jericho licked his lips, smearing off more lipstick which was by then faded and diluted into a sandy shade. He shuddered beneath his cousin and without warning, he came, shooting against the underbelly of his cousin's throbbing horsecock. "You bitch," Jericho murmured, squeezing around Ricky's neck. Their noses bumped. "He's mine."

Ricky grinned huge and toothy, a very drunk but also devious grin. He smashed his hips against Jericho's well after the younger twink's climax but said nothing, thinking only about this sweet possessiveness which his cousin didn't often exhibit. It was cute to him, and he found himself thinking they'd make an adorable couple if it managed to get off the ground. The opportunities for threesomes were mouthwatering, too.

As suddenly as Jericho but with much more force, Ricky brayed in climax. His cock throbbed, growing tense and arching briefly away from Jericho's loins. He grimaced, going perfectly still for a moment, and Jericho began to sputter, "N-not on me! Not on my costume, you moronic-!"

But Ricky was already there, shooting before the insult passed his cousin's lips. In the darkness, Jericho could only feel the thick slop of his cousin's cum gushing across his breast, spelling the ruination of the cute magician's vest he'd hoped to make use of somehow later on. There was simply no way to get semen out of fabric; god knew Jericho had tried in the past to rescue cute tops and oh so many pairs of underwear from the dreaded crusty yellow stains of dried jizz.

"God damn you, Ricky," Jericho grunted, disgusted but resigned.

"So-o-orry-y-y," Ricky said, and laughed lamely. He fell against Jericho abruptly, rubbing the mess into his own partially destroyed top. By then it didn't seem to matter. "Y'know, though, I sent him a picture of you in this outfit. He said he wanted to see you in it himself after the party."

"You are the worst. The absolute worst," the younger horse said flatly.

Ricky wanted to keep going and say that Jericho could just get on his all-fours so that Desmond couldn't see the mess on the front of the top, but he decided not to. "I'm sure he'll be glad to see you anyway."

"Yeah... well." Jericho closed his eyes. "Not that it matters if he does or doesn't. I don't care."