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Our Little Secret

Written by Amethyst Mare / Arian Mabe for Fyrdrgon

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The old barn creaked in the early afternoon sunshine, warm wood expanding and groaning like a creature rising from winter slumber. The red paint was cracked and peeling, though two buckets - woefully inadequate yet a promising gesture - with streaks of crimson rested solemnly beside the double doors, telling a tale of spring cleaning as was apt for the time of year. A short walk away from the dilapidated barn was the farmhouse, which was as picturesque as a country cottage could be, complete with a neat, white fence and well tended garden. Of the four inhabitants of the house at least one had the green finger touch, and she made sure that not a soul disturbed her blooming flowers or vegetables in the back allotment. The barn, however, was beyond the rein of that particular commanding officer. If she had known a fraction of the happenings of that barn, on the other paw, her intrigue may have been perked to dangerous heights. A breeze rustled dead leaves across the stony path and, within the barn, a dragoness giggled.

Housing only two permanent occupants, the barn was vastly spacious, the two mares stabled beside one another by the double doors for companionship and proximity to the open air. Snorting and stamping, they were more than aware of proceedings as a low chorus of pants and moans steadily rose in pitch and timbre. One mare, a palomino, craned her head inquisitively over the half-door, neck arched beautifully as she stretched into the aisle. A pair of slim, dark-blue jeans lay crumpled on a square of straw, which was neatly wrapped in orange twine, tossed aside in the throes of passion.

The dragoness in question sprawled on top of a tan horse rug, cushioned by a deep bed of straw. Her legs spread obscenely wide, wrapped around the head of a cougar who had his tongue buried in her dripping pussy. The rough appendage stroked and rubbed as he purred, sending tremors of pleasure into her nether regions, and the red dragoness twisted lustfully, eyes lidded. When she arched and shrieked through ecstasy, wings extending on either side of her body, the cougar leapt to his hind paws, licking her juices from his muzzle with a long, pink tongue. He grinned widely, showing a flash of sharp, feral teeth, and dove on top of the dragoness, paws caressing her black stripes with the finesse of a long-time lover, four tentacles undulating upon his back. Without any sense of hesitation, he lined up his throbbing cock with her scaled pussy and buried himself inside with a feline yowl.

The female beneath him bucked wildly through the throes of orgasm, each subsequent thrust forcing the breath from her lungs as the cougar pounded her like a male too long denied. Grunting, he crushed his lips passionately to hers and shared his partner's moans, driving both to greater heights. His uncut cock drove deep into her cunny while his flexible tentacles curled around to stroke and tease the dragoness' four, full breasts, drawing her nipples into taut peaks. Telling a tale of much teasing and foreplay, the cougar's thrusts quickened, the slap of hips striking scales shockingly audible in the quiet barn with only the feral creatures to bear witness. His back hunched as he fought to hold back the pleasure for a few seconds longer, but he could not deny the lusts of his earthly form. He flew over the edge with a shudder that ran through his whole body, growling into his partner's mouth as he ground deeper, wanting more even as it was willingly given. Breaking the kiss, the cougar's tongue lolled from his muzzle and he moaned loudly, paws squeezing the dragoness closer as each thrust shot a fresh spurt of virile seed into her snatch. The dragoness rocked her muzzle back, eyes blissfully closed: he had already fucked her through her second climax of that session.

Collapsing over his partner, the demon cougar gasped for breath and snaked one tentacle around to caress the dragon's cheek, lips breathily parted in the afterglow. Watching unobserved, a crow in the rafters tilted his head and cawed once, taking flight in a clatter of ungainly wings as he left a loose feather to drift down on to the panting, squirming couple. The dragoness half opened a single eye, watched the crow's progress and slumped back into the straw, raising a pair of shaky paws to stroke down the cougar's strong back. He purred under her ministrations, propping himself up on one arm so that he could bathe her narrow snout with his tongue.

Breathing as one, the couple was reluctant to break the silence, meeting each other's eyes and then sliding their gaze away in the next instant like a pair of shy schoolchildren. Eventually, the cougar took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sex, straw and the dragoness' tantalising perfume, and stroked her shoulder with just the tips of his fingers. His lips brushed over her neck and she groaned lightly, tilting her muzzle away.

"We can't stay in here for much longer, Hel," Ropes murmured to the dragoness, breath tickling her ear.

"Why not?"

Though she was long an adult, Helena did her best impression of a hatchling that had been told she could not have her favourite treat, widening her eyes appealingly.

"You know why." He nudged her side. "Fyr will be home soon and she'll expect to see you cleaned up, perhaps getting some housework done."

"That's just a ploy to get me to clean the kitchen and you know it."

Ropes laughed throatily.

"Maybe so," he conceded, ever the good-natured fur. "But Fyr did ask you to do it. And the kitchen is an absolute tip."

"That's not fair." Helena sat up, pushing Ropes back somewhat, though he still rested over her, pale eyes unblinking. "What are you going to do?"

"Continue fixing up the barn of course." He answered so smoothly that it was as if he had rehearsed the answer. "That's what I was doing in here before my daughter so deviously interrupted me. It was most rude."

"Hardly heard you complaining," Helena smirked.

"Come on." Ropes slipped on to his hind paws and offered the dragoness a paw that she gladly took, allowing him to pull her upright. "There'll be more where that came from next time Fyrdrgon goes away."

He looked the dragoness over hungrily, wishing as much as she that his wife was expected back later from shopping that day. It would have made for the perfect evening to spend it ravishing his daughter, muscles sore from the day of work and lusts repeatedly sated. Helena grumbled under her breath as she gathered up her clothes and the cougar could not help but follow the hypnotising sway of her tail, curling to the side as if she was deliberately showing off her curvaceous rump. The cougar shook his head: she was such a distraction. Yet an exceptionally good distraction.

As if sensing his momentary weakness, Helena turned slowly, arms overflowing with every article of clothing that Ropes had torn off what seemed too short a time ago. The dragoness posed seductively, the curve of her body too sensual to be an accident as she raked her eyes over his form with the hunger of a true predator. She had the appetite of her father, that much could be said.

"You know...there is still some time." She traced the tip of her tongue across her lower lip, tail arched wickedly.

It was tempting, almost too tempting. It would be too easy to just...no. Too late, too risky. Ropes shook himself. Shivering, the cougar forced a fixed grin on to his muzzle and darted forward, dropping a single kiss on the tip of the dragoness' surprised nose.

"Get going!" Ropes laughed, a tentacle cheekily swatting the red dragons rump with a resounding smack. "Fyr will be back soon. No amount of charm is going to work this time, so get to it, darling."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she muttered, casting a wistful look back to the squares of straw. "Not for a while though..."

"A short while," Ropes said firmly. "Get cleaned up, honey."

His tone left no question in the matter and, despite an inward groan, Helena put a smile on her muzzle and blew her father a kiss. As much as she didn't like it, there would be other instances to spend 'special' time together. The striped dragoness hummed a tune to herself and bounced into the afternoon sunlight, cum dripping down the insides of her thighs.

*

"Aren't you meeting today Leah, mom?" Helena asked for the umpteenth time.

A few days after the barn incident, the dragoness could not sit still. The itch in her loins could not be quelled by any manner of toy or even her tail shoved into her slit; she ached for the demon cougar's touch, his tentacles and his rough tongue upon her scales. She danced from hind paw to paw in the kitchen while her mother pottered about, a beige handbag slung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs at the side of the square table. She was supposed to have been out hours ago! The younger dragoness paced, taking three steps and whipping about to repeat the action as her mother, almost the spitting image beside their respective breasts, shook her head slowly.

"Anyone would think you're trying to get rid of me," Fyr said, more concerned with the plants on the kitchen windowsill than her daughter's queries. "As it is, I won't be going out today after all."

"What? Why?" The dragoness stifled a yelp.

Fyr studied her, turning her back to the sink; a couple of loose, pink petals lay cupped in her paw.

"If you must know," she said, tone stiff, "Leah's not feeling very well today."

"Oh...oh, I'm sorry," Helena tried to backtrack, offering her mother what she hoped was an appeasing smile. "I hope she feels better soon."

Huffing snappishly through her nostrils, Fyr turned back to her plants, the tip of her tail twitching in midair. Only somewhat pacified, the older dragon filled a small plastic jug to the halfway point with water, carefully topping up her charges until the soil stank richly. Helena, however, could not allow the matter to drop. Plonking herself into a chair at the table, she sighed loudly enough for Fyr to half-turn her head in an instant reaction. Neither spoke for several minutes, though Helena fidgeted, fingers pressed together with her thumbs chasing one after the other: Fyr hated when she twiddled her thumbs.

She could not remain silent.

"But I thought you were going to Ann Winters?" Helena interrupted the peace.

Freezing, Fyr glanced first one way and then the other, even her anxious tail stilling. If Helena had not been so pent up, her mother's reaction would have been more comical. As it was, the dragoness was forced to swallow the bubble of a giggle

"Helena." Fyrdgon finally settled for rolling her eyes and pressing a paw to her forehead in a no more dramatic fashion than her adult daughter. "That is not the sort of discussion that I would like to have with my daughter."

Helena's tail curled around the leg of the chair, holding in her mirth through sheer will. She was annoyed, true, but a little payback would hurt no one.

"So formal," Helena teased as a smile pulled at her lips. "Why, you already had 'the talk' with me! What am I to say if you want to dress up and look pretty like that!"

"Helena!"

The younger dragoness bit back a grin, nipping the inside of her cheek as Fyr turned a deeper shade of red. Sometimes it was just too easy to irk her mother to heights at which her scales flushed, yellow taking on a decidedly orange tinge. Did her father ever make her blush like that, she wondered? It was no matter. Helena shook herself: her mind wandering even as Fyrdrgon continued to splutter like a kettle boiling over. Shooting her mother a cheesy, winning smile, the dragoness bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Aw, mom, don't be like that, you know I'm just being...y'know." The dragoness waved her paw vaguely, already tired of the interaction and squirming from renewed arousal. Why were treacherous thoughts so easy to come by? That did matter. She licked her lips.

"Besides," Helena added, pretending an afterthought as she rested a finger contemplatively against her chin. "Ann Winters is the only place that does bras that fit me!"

That broke Fyr and her crimson poker face cracked into an indecisive smile, her whole muzzle lighting up from the mere act. A dragoness with four breasts did indeed find it difficult to purchase undergarments, that much was irrefutable! Helena found herself smiling in reply, matching her mother's reluctant mirth with her own, and was struck with the sudden urge to pull her into her arms. Fyr did not smile as much as she used to. It was a simple pleasure indeed to see her smiling, so much so that it even served to briefly distract Hel from more carnal delights. But only briefly. The younger dragoness cursed herself under her breath and rubbed her forearm, claws tracing over the scale patterns found there. Was it right, what she was doing? What would Fyr have said if she had known?

"Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to pop out," Fyr mused, startling Hel from her leap of conflict. "Now that you so kindly mention it, I could do with some new...things."

And doubt was forgotten. Excitement stirred in the pit of Helena's belly and her tail twitched like that of her feline father, the predator in her sensing the moment to pounce and not look back. She took a deep breath, paws trembling lightly.

"Well...why not?" The dragoness half-shrugged, a lazy smile quirking across her lips. "Jokes aside, it can't do any harm, can it? You deserve something nice, mom. You spend money on us but never you. Go on."

Fyr leaned forward on her forearms, resting her weight on one of the bare kitchen units that had previously been covered with dishes (a 'cooking' experiment of Hiss' gone wrong, to put it kindly). From the garden, birdsong drifted through the window panes, obscenely beautiful to the dragoness holding her breath. A thrush? A robin? She had no ear for feathered music and understood why she was concerned over the type of bird that was singing even less. Her scales itched and she shifted her weight constantly, fighting not to look at her mother who followed the younger's every motion, eyes alight with a mother's amusement. Something in Helena's chest tightened and she stood up tall, tugging down her shirt where it had risen to show a sliver of toned stomach. As if she was no longer interested, Hel pushed one of the dining chairs in further, scraping the linoleum, and made as if to leave the room.

"Tomorrow," Fyr bobbed her muzzle decisively. "Tomorrow, I will go. It's got on too much for me."

Helena near smacked her palm into her face, catching herself just as her paw twitched upward. Would she ever get time alone with Ropes? The situation was becoming...ridiculous. Breathing slowly and deeply, the younger dragoness glanced down at her bare hind paws before daring to meet her mother's eyes with the calmest gaze she could muster.

"That's great," she smiled wanly. "Give me a shout if you need a paw with anything...okay?"

She needed more than a paw with her own activities, but that could remain unsaid in her mother's presence. Flicking the tip of her tail in a draconian farewell, Helena slipped into the hallway without allowing her mother the chance to reply. Slumping against the wall, Hel exhaled the breath she had been holding, wings drooping on either side of her body as if her very form was visibly deflating. Why couldn't Fyr just leave? The dragon had admitted that she wanted to go out! Her mother was too much of a homebody...and Helena was so horny. Groaning quietly, she thrust a paw into her jeans and panties, just to find the flimsy material soaked through and her sex tingling under the lightest of touches. Viscous juices clung to her fingers when she withdrew them and Hel guiltily shoved the digits into her muzzle, licking and sucking her nectar until nothing remained. Caught in the moment, she lapped and slurped lewdly, curling her flexible tongue around each finger even after all remaining traces of her juices had been lapped up. Reduced to a gentle pant, the dragoness whimpered and nuzzled at her fingertips, seeking more even as she forgot the source in sheer, horny need. If only her fingers could become her father's shaft as she suckled, the moment would have been perfect.

Knowing her mother was around the corner, busying herself with pots and pans as she so often did, Helena wormed her fingers back between her legs. Her folds dripped as her legs eased apart and she pushed her hips out from the wall, lips parting in a silent moan. Flinging her free arm wide, she clung on to the wall as if for life itself and drove her fingers deep into her pussy, forcing her juices out around the digits with a grunt of effort. Again and again her fingers sank into her hungry sex, demanding relief that could never be quite achieved alone. Though able to restrain her groans of erotic ecstasy, the dragoness dug her claws into the wall, leaving in her wake deep scratches that would be rediscovered at another time.

"Something on your mind there, darling?"

Helena leapt away from the wall, scales tingling. Adrenaline coursed through her nerves and it took her a few desperate seconds of her heart pounding against her ribcage for her to realise that a cougar smirked a pace from her and not a dragon. The scent of her sex hung heavy in the air and Helena snaked her tongue out, moistening her upper lip as if to taste it. Her eyes dropped instinctively to the obvious bulge in her father's jeans, the cougar clearly enjoying the sight of her masturbating so fervently. He raised an eyebrow and the dragoness snapped back into action.

"Dad?" Helena's breath caught and she launched herself bodily into the cougar's arms, hissing as quietly as she was able. "Fuck me! I know you want it as much as I do! Who cares that Fyr's here? She'll never know. Oh, please, please, just take me, I can't -"

The cougar clapped his paw over her lips, eyes darting to the open doorway. Fyr hummed in the kitchen and Helena growled under his paw, eyes flashing. The cougar shook his head slowly as if he was trying to rid himself of some annoyance buzzing around his ears. His ears slanted to either side as his tail lashed repeatedly, pulling Helena further down the hall out of range of Fyr's, so far, oblivious hearing. Sensing his unrest, the dragoness squirmed and dug her claws into her father's arm, claws biting through fur to cut flesh. Ropes shuddered and swallowed the flare of pain, a tentacle winding around to remove Helena's paw firmly from his forearm. Wriggling like a demon, she hardly seemed to notice his rebuff and bared her teeth savagely.

"Hel, shush," Ropes fought to soothe her, tightening his arms about her waist. "We can't now, shush, Fyr will hear you."

It felt like he was stating the obvious but it pulled Helena from her lust-crazed trance. The dragoness rocked on her heels, pulling away from his body even as the cougar's arms cautiously restrained her, the demon's eyes ever-wary. She blinked and exhaled slowly.

"Just fuck me already." She repeated once more, slumping all the same defeated in his arms, hair hanging over her face. "I can't fucking hold it back anymore. I need it, dad, I just do!"

Her voice rose with that final word, forcing Ropes to step back, shaking his head. Standing as tall as she was able, Helena folded her arms and curled her tail about her leg, meeting her father's gaze with a defiant glare. The cougar's tentacles drooped and he dipped his muzzle, pale eyes holding his daughter's gaze without blinking, as unswayable as his decision.

"Not yet."

*

Helena refused to face Ropes. A lesser dragon may have claimed she was sulking, though would never have said so to the red dragoness' face if they valued their life in the slightest. The only thing sharper than Helena's claws was her tongue, a talent that she had demonstrated upon more than a single occasion. It had been several days since the incident outside the kitchen with no shortage of similar incidents in between and yet the ache between her thighs refused to diminish in the slightest. Having little else to do, she spent the majority of her time in her bedroom, avoiding as much contact as possible with her family and filling her pussy repeatedly and often with the extent of her toy collection. Though even that couldn't satisfy her for long and it was exhausting exertion that left her trembling unpleasantly - nothing like the shivering glow of fucking a real partner.

Moping, she slumped across her bed, mussing up the perfect duvet that she had smoothed into place an hour or so earlier. The creases should have bothered her and her stomach grumbled as she rolled on to her stomach, naked from head to toe, yet she could not find the will to be either aggravated or rediscover her appetite. Someone stomped past her bedroom door, pausing to listen, and the dragoness scowled, turning away. Once only that morning had her brother asked why she was sulking but was swiftly dissuaded from further probing with a withering glare. Males were too easy to manipulate into backing away, in Helena's not so expert opinion.

"Helena?"

Mothers on the other paw...

"I'm fine, mom," Helena raised her voice to be heard through the heavy, wooden door. "What do you want? I thought you were gardening today."

Fyr ignored the comment and tapped the door with the tips of her claws. Tat-tat-tat.

"Can I come in?"

The younger dragoness rolled her eyes.

"No!" Helena growled, a snap in her tone, catching herself in the next second, a flush of heat rushing through her cheeks and down her neck. "I mean...heh..." Think, think! "I'm changing. Changing clothes. Sorry, mom."

An easy explanation and one she had given many times when she hadn't wanted her mother to enter. Helena grimaced. What, had she reverted back to a hatchling all of a sudden? Giving such excuses to her mom!

"Okay." Fyr seemed hesitant, going quiet for a few seconds. "Well, come down when you're ready."

"Will do."

The brief exchange may have been found comical to an onlooker - as much in their household - if it had not repeated several times already that very day alone. As it was, Helena suppressed a sigh and pressed her muzzle between the plush pillows, burying herself in the muted darkness and warmth until her mother padded down the hall, barely making a sound as she left. Once again with silence for company, Helena traced a paw between her breasts, fingertips seeking out each pert nipple in turn and squeezing. She moaned softly.

Forgetting her promise to go downstairs, Helena rolled on to her side and slipped a paw between her thighs, cupping her sore pussy. Slick juices drooled on to her fingers and a tear of frustration leaked from the corner of the eye closest to the pillows. Though her sex ached, she felt helpless to resist the dirty need to fill her sex with two and then three fingers, struggling to add a fourth due to the shape of her paw. Thrusting her paw hard enough to smack into her crotch, Helena cried out in a mixture of pain and arousal.

How long would she go so denied?

*

Helena woke with a start and sat bolt upright. The room was dark, the curtains still open and there was no sound to be heard. What time was it? She must have drifted off after... The memory made even the frustrated dragoness blush. Had her mother seen her? Why was it so quiet? Was everyone already asleep? Heat coursed through Helena's body, abruptly reminding her of what had prompted her to sleep, or at least the exhaustion involved.

Scrambling off the bed, Hel kicked the bed sheets aside where they caught on her claws and cursed fluently. Nothing had changed! She was as worked up as ever and yet something was not quite right in her mind. She flung a shirt over her head and dragged on loose jeans, forgoing any manner of undergarment, and tore into the upstairs hallway. Hiss? She already knew her brother was not there, he was no concern staying with a friend, most likely to avoid her. Helena sprung down the hall past the bathroom with energy she didn't know she had to the one room that she truly needed to check, only to find a greater confusion: the door of the bedroom shared by Fyrdgon and Ropes swung wide, the bed perfectly made. Neither were anywhere to be seen.

Fyr was...gone?

Spinning about in a whirlwind of activity, Hel darted downstairs, checking each room in turn. Living room? No. Kitchen? No. Garden? No. Hall closet? Certainly no. So where were her parents? Was something wrong? Her stomach dropped. Had something terrible happened?

Arousal momentarily forgotten, Helena took ten seconds to breathe deeply and calmly, slowing her racing heartbeat. She licked her lips, mouth suddenly drier than it should have been. Wilfully ignoring her mussed hair, she drew her body up tall, as if to give herself strength, and strode outside in her bare paws. No one was in the garden either and the front door shut quietly at her heels but it did not matter: the barn was alight with the flickering electrics. As quickly as her heart rate had escalated, it slowed, and she berated herself for jumping to terrible conclusions so quickly, though it could not have been helped even in hindsight. Instead of relief, anger and frustration flooded her senses, paws turning hot as she clenched them into fists. Why worry her so? Her family did not think.

And Helena did not think as she trotted up to the barn at an easy jog, making no attempt to hide her presence. The night was eerily quiet as if it was waiting for someone or something to happen and a shiver ran down her spine as if somebody had poured a bucket of cold water over her scales. The fear of finding the house empty had not yet left her soul and she swore under her breath, increasing her pace until she was in a light, ungainly run. Her feet slapped against the rough stone path and she slammed both paws on the wide door, pushing it open with an agonising creak.

She thrust the door all the way to the wall and stood panting, her chest heaving as if she had run a marathon. The flickering artificial light within - in desperate need of replacement - betrayed the barn's occupant and the cougar's eyes gleamed wickedly. Stretched out upon a fresh stack of straw bales, Ropes' tail flicked lazily from side to side, the cougar as naked as the day he was born. His soft, uncut cock rested against his stomach where smears of pre-cum betrayed earlier arousal, and accentuated the lingering taste of male musk in the air, a subtle undertone to the crisp night pricking at her nostrils. Ropes pretended not to notice the dragoness and, though she would have had it otherwise, considering his indifference, Helena's arousal flourished in a blossom of heat. Eyes narrowed, the dragoness tapped a hind paw against the floor, claws clicking on the stone.

Tap, tap, tap.

Ropes chuckled, squirming into a more comfortable position on top of the straw. His cock hardened simply from the sight of the dragoness, nipples perked against the fabric of her shirt, even as his tone remained as cool and collected as always.

"What are you waiting for?" Ropes stretched out his body luxuriously. "Isn't this what you've been wanting, sweetheart?"

Helena couldn't argue with that. Or she could have done so, but it wasn't worth the fight when she could have the sexy cougar instead. Or at least that was what her lust-addled mind enforced, repeating the statement until the words blurred together and a low, vehement growl rolled from her lips. Taken aback, Ropes moved as if to comfort her and was promptly pinned to the straw in a draconian pounce. Squatting over his crotch, Helena snarled and clawed at her jeans like a creature possessed, desperate to remove them yet unable to quite catch the button and zip. Her paws shook terribly and she whined, the sound coming from deep in her throat.

Taking pity on the dragoness, Ropes rolled her over, pressing her gently down on to her back. He made quick work of her jeans, unhooking the button with one claw and yanking them down, as eager as she with his cock bobbing in the air as if in the affirmative. She murmured softly, unintelligible words, and he ran his paws up her sides, caressing her scales as he drew her shirt over her head with a gasp of appreciation. He would never get used to seeing Helena's bare body, so like her mother. He wondered what it would be like to get both of them in on the fun together. The dragoness lewdly spread her legs, separating her cunny lips with two fingers to show off the glistening moisture found there. Held up and away from her body, her legs trembled.

Ropes would not refuse such an open invitation. He dropped to his knees with a devilish grin, lapping directly over Helena's engorged clit, allowing her no time to adjust to the sensation. Crying out, Helena's back arched and she clung on to her bent back legs, claws digging into the scales; she hardly felt the sting or blood trickling down her legs. Her body trembled and her jaw fell slack as the cougar fervently attacked her most intimate region. The dragoness' tail alternated between still and slack, unable to consciously decide how to hold the fifth limb even as it thumped into Ropes' stomach. She made no apology, however, except in the form of a throaty moan, hind paws planting themselves firmly on the straw to grind her pussy into the cougar's tongue.

The cougar paused a moment, his daughter's juices marking the fur of his muzzle. Despite her whines, Ropes' lips quirked up in a smile, eyes alighting on a brand new grooming kit, neatly packed away in a red box. Though he doubted the dragoness would understand the intent of his actions, he slipped out one tentacle to hook and drag it closer, the box scraping over the stone gratingly. From within, he delicately selected a plain curry comb and a sweat scraper with a ridged handle for grip; a low purr rumbled from deep within his chest, that of a feline about to enjoy 'his' cream. He intended to do some 'grooming' of his own.

Helena half sat up on the bale only to collapse back as something large was pressed into her dripping pussy. Wet as she was, it was with little difficulty that Ropes pressed that handle of the sweat scraper into the dragoness' cunt, licking his lips at how her juices oozed out around the blue plastic. One could not resist a taste. Scooping his treat on to the tip of one finger, Ropes sucked it clean and dipped his muzzle gracefully to lightly tease her clit once more, all while working the handle of the tool deeper. His tongue swirled around her clit, raising the nub as it swelled with blood, and drove several inches of the scraper's handle into her pussy in short, sharp thrusts, just as if she was being bred by him. Her moans of ecstasy were all the encouragement he needed to continue, if the squirming, panting dragoness and the sight she presented was not delightful enough alone.

The dragoness was yet to see the curry comb and, while she begging Ropes without coherent words for more, he curled a tentacle through the handle and silently lifted it. The cougar had the ability to be exceptionally stealthy when called for and Helena knew nothing of the new 'toy' until the bristles brushed lightly over two erect nipples in turn. Digging her claws into the straw, she arched violently and gasped, eyes going wide as Ropes bared his teeth, his own eyes suddenly more predatory than ever. Again he stroked over her nipples, on the other side this time, letting the soft brush stimulate nerve endings that were too often forgotten. The bristles raised a flutter of soreness in Helena's sensitive nipples but Ropes had more than enough to play with, considering her four rather than two breasts, practically spoiled for choice. Swapping between his soft paw pads and the brush, Ropes mercilessly teased and stimulated the dragoness' breasts until she cried out as if on the very brink of orgasm, every muscle in her body shivering without conscious control.

It was too much, all too much. Every inhalation of breath shot Ropes' senses with a fresh hit of his daughter's arousal, his throbbing cock woefully unattended. He'd have to fix that. In a flash, he was up on top of the straw and his daughter, straddling her chest and facing down the length of her curvaceous body. How could he not find her as beautiful as her mother? Each dragoness was a different flavour and - Ropes leaned down to lap away her leaking arousal - why should he not sample every flavour on offer? He pinned the dragoness down with his bulk, holding her in place for the attentions of his relentless tongue as he pounded the grooming kit toy into her sex. Each thrust produced a wickedly lewd squelch and the dragoness lost a fraction more control each time, slowly but surely giving herself up to every dose of pleasure he had to offer. She was no better than addicted.

In such a position, Ropes bucked his hips, pushing his cock between Helena's breasts with a low murr. To have the soft mounds of scaled flesh squeezed around his dick was a manger of heaven in itself but to have such a beautiful dragoness on the edge of climax beneath him at the same time? Roused by the thought of Helena's impending orgasm, which he knew with a feline delight had been long denied in the way she so craved, the cougar ground against her breasts, leaving streaks of pre cum in the wake of his needy thrusts. He was becoming just as bad as the dragoness, regardless of her extended denial! Ropes grinned, imagining being just as would up as Helena, and drove the 'toy' deep into her pussy, letting the wider end with a rubber edge stroke over her clit every time he pushed in hard.

The dragoness soared over the point of no return with a hoarse scream that Ropes was briefly thankful she had little breath remaining for; it would not do to disturb the neighbours again. Pinned by the weight of her father's body, she could only writhe weakly and gasp out moans of a similar kin. Electric pulses shot through her body and her legs shook uncontrollably, only held in check by her father's tentacles, which wound around the errant limbs until the wild high had peaked and she slowly came down in ripples of continuing orgasm. The dragoness panted harshly, vaguely aware of her father's cock on her over stimulated breasts, though that was of little concern to her in the moment. Her orgasm seemed to last for minutes, though it could not have been longer than one, which was impressive by itself.

Overcome, every muscle in Helena's body fell limp. Only her chest moved, heaving as she sucked in great breaths, air scraping through her dry mouth and throat. She tried to speak, though all that emerged from her parted lips was a satisfied whimper as a tremble simultaneously wracked her body in the delicious afterglow. She would have lain there all night if Ropes had allowed her, finally having that one explosive climax that every second of desperation and arousal had been leading up to for days beforehand. It was incomparable. Having subdued his wild dragoness adequately, Ropes rolled off the straw and slipped between her thighs with a throaty purr, more than ready to have his fill. Rubbing the tip of his cock between her folds, his tentacles twisted like snakes, poised to strike and make their claim.

Outside, a twig snapped.

"What was that?" Helena hissed, sitting bolt upright, heart thudding in her chest.

Pausing, one paw wrapped around his throbbing length, the cougar listened intently. Something outside rustled and the unmistakable sound of shoe-clad hind paws on hard stone echoed, betraying the barns peace. Ropes gaped like a fish and shoved Helena off the straw bale, depositing her firmly on her hind paws in the process. Pushing his muzzle close to hers, he growled under his breath, pale eyes halfway to full panic.

"Get your clothes on!" He whispered, shuddering at how even that low speech seemed to carry in the night.

The footsteps grew closer. Helena stifled a nervous giggle, thrusting her legs into her jeans. Someone tapped the barn door as she fumbled with the zip.

"Ropes? Are you in there?"

Could it have been anyone else? Scrambling into his jeans with greater haste and balance than his daughter, Ropes stumbled to the door with his cock leaving an evident bulge in his trousers. Would that he could will it to go down! Plastering on a calm smile, he opened the door less than the span of his body, ensuring no entry and minimal sight inside.

"Fyr, honey." Ropes' voice was as smooth as silk. "What are you doing up here at this time? I thought you were staying the night with Bella?"

The red dragoness shook her head, squeezing her arms about her waist as she had dressed too lightly for the encroaching chill.

"Something came up... You know what that sister of hers is like. Too much to explain. What are you doing in there so late?" Fyr asked, stretching up on her tip-toes to peer through the crack. "Why are you out here? I thought you'd be in the house. You should be in the house."

"Don't worry." He smiled charmingly, stroking her chin with one of his tentacles. "Sadie, that's one of the mares, was acting up, think a fox spooked her. Seems to have settled down now."

Helena imagined Fyrdrgon bobbing her muzzle, accepting her father's meagre explanation. In all fairness, it wasn't a bad one, but she had no idea about the hastily dressing dragoness within the barn. Dragging her shirt over her head, Helena darted for the side door of the barn, pussy still dripping and glowing with post-orgasmic warmth. It was a miracle she could move at all with how her legs trembled, but somehow she slipped out the door into the cool embrace of night.

Pausing there for a moment, she considered their actions, a lazy grin enveloping her muzzle. She hugged her arms about herself and bounced on the balls of her hind paws, unable to contain her high spirits for the sake of appearances alone. Who was there to see her? She struck out for the house at a brisk walk, skirting well clear of the main entrance of the barn as she trusted the night to conceal her bath. Every step reminded her of the illicit tryst, the pleasant ache shivering right down to the tip of her swaying tail. Thinking of the unsatisfied cougar stuffing his cock into his jeans, likely leaving a noticeable damp patch of pre, her grin grew wider. Poor Ropes.

It would be good for the cougar to be needing her for a change!