FSE

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Shekh winced with that last sip of his drink, all of the dregs of the additions having floated down to the base of the glass. The gin was nice, but maybe he shouldn't have opted to use dried mint instead of fresh - but then, that wasn't so much his fault seeing the number of folks who had shown up tonight. Lukas had certainly kept himself busy at the bar, and then in front of and then under it when the others at the party had requested something a little more personal from the slim little otter.

But still, a drink was a drink, and though the hyena lacked the particular skill that Lukas had, he knew how to mix a good one. Strong, too: as he swung his head over to his other shoulder to peruse the living room, far emptier than it had been just a moment ago with folks stumbling to the other parts of the house to finally sleep, he felt the world slosh around him and continue spinning. Still, though, his eyes remained fixed on the view revealed to him right there in the recliner, the big stallion - apparently another friend of Lukas's - sitting back with his legs spread, beer in one hand and phone in the other... and, obviously, no underwear beneath his gym shorts.

Shekh swallowed and leaned in closer. The fabric folded forward around the impressive weights just barely held inside, the leathery skin of the equine's sizeable balls draping down along his inner thigh, shimmering faintly with a gathered sheen of thin musk; as the hyena watched, they shifted and stirred with the subtle changes in temperature, now pulling up towards the horse's groin, now spreading further out again, supple skin hanging loose and heavy around them, dense wrinkly sheath just barely out of view at this angle.

Shekh tilted his glass back again but found it empty, then realized that the horse was looking right back down at him.

"Can I help you?"

The hyena suppressed a little burp, wiped his mouth, and swallowed again. The intoxication settled over him like a thick cloak. Thick and warm, he thought, eyes drifting down again. Thick and warm and soft, with that... kinda firmness inside. Can definitely fit one. I bet I can suck it right into the back of my throat...

"Yeah," he answered, without thinking about it. "Nice balls."

First the stallion frowned, then blinked, then rolled his eyes and smirked. He rested his phone facedown in his lap and moved that hand down, at first Shekh thought to hide his treasures from view, but then instead he hooked a finger into the leg of his shorts and pulled it up his thigh. Those large balls lifted up with the shift, squeezed and rolled against one another, and then draped heavily back out and over the front edge of the seat cushion, jostling briefly side to side and then sinking down further.

"Thanks," he responded, and let them hang there. "Grew 'em myself."

Shekh shifted where he sat at the foot of the couch. Already he had forgotten when or why he had moved to the floor, but right now he certainly didn't regret it. He tilted his glass in again, and still found it empty.

"Mind if I..." With his other paw he motioned towards them, still stirring gently. Sleek, silky brown pelt gave way to skin similarly brown, muted and matte, wrinkled near the base of his sheath, stretching out to luscious smoothness around the curves of his heft; still seeing his appreciative audience, the horse idly reached down, lifted them up onto his wrist, and scratched at a spot on his leg underneath, then let them sag back down again. "Suck 'em?"

And with that the stallion smirked again, hooked his thumb around the stretch of skin hanging between sheath and balls, and gave a slow, deliberate tug, stretching his sack to its limit and bunching them out into his palm for a moment. "Thought you'd never ask. You've been staring since that otter disappeared into the other room. Be my guest."

Yet again the world swayed as Shekh swung to place his glass on the table, then even more so when he pulled himself over. He didn't even bother standing up, instead just tugging himself along with one paw on the couch and the other at the table leg; once in place there, already surrounded in the low, earthy scent of equine male, the horse dropped his balls back down against the cushion, muttered something under his breath, and looked back to his phone.

Not that Shekh noticed. Slowly he turned himself to face his prize, eyeing the way that the skin stretched and wrinkled over itself between the weight of the horse's balls, the limit of the pants leg tugged up to his groin, and then the sheath held inside, with warmth and scent constantly puffing out from inside. Already he was hard in his own pants, and would have reached down to free that pressure had he not had other plans for his paws: the hyena reached forward with both, one cupping underneath the offered weights and the other wrapping gently around the spot just above like the horse had done himself, squeezing the supple, slightly greasy skin together, tugging them out towards his muzzle.

And how he stretched. I suppose he has to,_Shekh thought, _with bell-ringers like these fuckin' things... very quickly he discovered how perfectly his muzzle fit in the shallow crevice in between the horse's balls, how well his tongue scooped underneath one and then the other, how perfect the sweat and musk felt smeared across his lips, soaking into his fur, coating his throat. Eyes closed, he pursed his lips and suckled at the supple skin, feeling it curl and draw into his mouth; he rolled the loose surfaces back and forth over his tongue, between his lips, against the roof of his mouth. He swallowed, taste of booze replaced already by the stronger, smoother musty heat of horse, earthy, grassy, slightly acrid; he moved his paws to the stallion's thighs and brought himself in closer, nipping softly at the leather skin, drawing it further in, until finally his pursed lips pressed against the shape of one of his balls there against the horse's thigh.

So Shekh swallowed again, shivered, and parted his jaws, stretching them open, keeping his lips in around his teeth. A little more sucking, a bit of work from his tongue, a visit from one of his paws to nudge in from behind... and that heft slurped within the skin of the stallion's sack and plopped past Shekh's lips into his mouth, at once pressing down on his tongue and up at the roof of his mouth, warm and heavy. Delight shuddered through his body, and then he could no longer resist reaching down, undoing his fly, and bringing himself out into the air of the living room, already stroking steadily while he continued mouthing at his captured prize, tugging it to the limits of the skin, rolling it back and forth, swallowing around it.

"Ah - jeez," the stallion murmured above him. A heavy hand rested between his ears. "Do you wanna, uh... take this into the other room? I can-"

Shekh shook his head, loving the sensation of one ball jostling against his cheeks from inside and the other bumping against his muzzle from outside. Again and again he opened his mouth to slurp in more of the supple skin, nose lifting up inside the horse's shorts, each breath drawing nothing but concentrated scent thickened into taste where it filled his mouth.

His jaw churned with his suckling, lips and nose pressed right up against the wrinkled, leather folds of the base of the horse's sheath, firmness growing steadily from within. Eyes halfway open, Shekh looked over, tilted his head, nudged the other ball up against himself, let it press against his lips squeezing around soft, slick skin...

I don't think I can get the other, he thought, but I won't know 'til I try.