Free Ride 5

"Of course we'll give you passage, elf, why wouldn't we?" Falsen had asked, smirking as he spoke, and Amaethon had felt a shiver run up his spine, knowing that it was a promise of something. He sleeps soundly in the centaur camp, and when he wakes it's with four ropes tied around him - cuffs at each of his wrists, around each of his ankles.

He yelps as he's pulled up from his bedclothes by the four ropes suddenly being pulled taut, and one of the other centaurs comes up and cuts his nightshirt off him, leaving him naked, and Amaethon looks up at him from where he's suspended in the air, his four limbs spread out.

"About to pull me in every direction, Ever?" he asks breathlessly, and moans when the young centaur takes the two fingers he'd been sucking on out of his mouth and strokes them down Amaethon's cunt, playing around the edges of his hole. He moans, hot blood flushing up his cheeks and across his chest, and feels his cunt throb as blood rushes downward too. He's suspended damn near six feet off the ground by all the centaurs as they walk in formation, carrying him through the camp, and Ever trots after him, thumbs over his cock, strokes down the delicate skin either side of his cunt. When they come to a stop, Amaethon swings in the suspension, lurching forward, and when he swings back Ever has three fingers out and ready, so that Amaethon slides right down onto them.

He moans at the stretch and the warmth of Ever's fingers, feeling them curl and rub against the roof of his cunt, and he closes his eyes and sighs as he tries his best to use the ropes he's suspended in in his favour, to rock himself down onto Ever's fingers.

"Falsen was right, you are a whore," Ever murmurs - he's a young man still, barely twenty, and Amaethon chuckles as he smiles up at his thoughtful expression, at the way the consternation so pulls at his youthful features.

"Professional

and

hobbyist," Amaethon agrees, and groans quietly when Ever taps his thumb hard against the little jut of Amaethon's cock. The young man's cock is extended, dripping a little at its huge, blunt head, and Amaethon wonders if it's Ever who's going to fuck him first, if they're going to sink him all the way down onto the young man's heavy shaft by using the ropes to swing him, just like they're swinging him down on Ever's fingers. "This is a charming way to wake up, I'm sure."

"It's an early morning, and you've a fair ride to Lania," Ever says. "Two or three hours once you're out of the woods, and the woods themselves will take a while."

"I'm sure," Amaethon says, and lets out a noise of surprise as he's pulled off of Ever's fingers and tilted at the same time - his cunt feels raw and open, wanting and desperate for a prick inside it, even knowing that any of these centaurs' horsecocks will feel like they're splitting him open - Hell,

because

he knows it, because he craves it.

Falsen is standing at the ready, his front two hooves braced on top of an old trunk, and he lifts one of them to allow Amaethon better under his body.

He shudders at the sudden heat of the centaur's body, at the sheer weight and warmth of his heavy body, smells the sweat and musk and dust that clings to the thinner hair covering the horse's part of him. The other centaurs pull the ropes up higher, so that Amaethon's chest is pressed up against Falsen's body, and he feels just how wide he is, feels the thick muscle underneath the skin, the

weight

of him, the sheer power packed into his body.

They don't swing him, this time - they carefully manoeuvre the ropes, and Ever grips Falsen's prick for him and holds it steady as he brings it wet, blunt head up against the opening of his cock.

From what little Amaethon can see in the tiny gap between their bodies, held up as he is by ropes, he can see how fucking big it is - twice as large, easily, as Ever's young prick, and completely dwarfing Ever's fingers. Lined up against his cunt, he feels how obscenely

hot

it is, feels its eye bulge and sputter out a bit of thick, slick precum that spatters over his open hole and his cock, and he moans as he feels it drip down between his cheeks, searing hot against his asshole and his thighs.

"Ready, elf?" he hears Falsen rumble, the noise muffled by the weight of his belly between his mouth and Amaethon's ears. His cock presses up against Amaethon's cock and Amaethon

feels

it, feels the way it kisses his open cunt that's not nearly open enough - and then Ever leans back and the four men at the ropes tug downwards, and Amaethon howls as he's forced open by his huge fucking prick.

He can feel it, feel the stinging, burning stretch as his cunt is forced open, his lips forced apart, feeling like a sword hilt is being pushed through the eye of a needle - he scrabbles helplessly at the underside of Falsen's huge belly, but it's fucking inexorable, the way they drag him down onto the length of Falsen's prick.

He can feel the blunt, agonising sink of the huge thing into him, feel it distorting his guts, and he whimpers as they pull the ropes back and then swing them down again, drawing him off the length of Falsen's cock and then sinking him down onto it again. The friction is somewhere between sublime and torturous, and he whimpers as he feels his belly stretch, feels the give as the thing shoves his organs out of the way to fit more of it inside him. It's undoubtedly penetrated right through to his womb, and he thinks about that, the horse cock splitting him open, not even yet all the way inside.

Where to next - to his lungs?

"We need to flip him," Ever decides, and Amaethon keens as he's pulled all the way off of Falsen's prick again, leaving him so empty he can barely stand it. They move too quickly for him to say anything, for him to even protest as he's flipped onto his belly instead of his back, still hanging in the air.

They swing him underneath Falsen's body again, and he nearly screams as Ever tugs his cheeks apart and nearly impales him by his ass instead. It's a sudden, sharp agony, and Ever laughs before he puts his other hand under Amaethon's belly and pushes him up, at the same time angling Falsen's cock down.

This time, there's no preamble - the centaurs drag him down in one sudden movement, and Amaethon yells out as he sees Falsen's huge cock stick out from his body, can see the imprint of it through the pulled-taut flesh of his belly as it's buried in his womb. He can feel the folded skin of Falsen's sheath up against his arse as he stares down, starry-eyed and dizzy, at the way his body is distorted around the stallion's shaft he's impaled on, the distension of his belly. His cunt feels so stuffed full it aches, and there's a dull pain inside him, his cervix no doubt fluttering uselessly against the already-completed invasion, centaur's pre sputtering hot directly into his womb.

"Wow," says Ever breathlessly, and as the other centaurs, laughing, come in to toss the ropes to one another, tying Amaethon around Falsen's body, his arms and legs stretching backward around his bulk, he sees that Ever's cheeks are flushed, that he's pink and with sweat shining on the human parts of him, the bits where the skin is bare with no hair to hide it. "They said you could stretch."

"I can," mumbles Amaethon, and he grunts as one of the others tightens a rope, drawing him up slightly higher - his cock is super sensitive, pressed hard from below by the leg-sized cock spearing him open.

"We could make you gravid with a foal or two," Ever says aloud, stroking down the side of his body and then reaching to squeeze Falsen's cock

through

the flesh of Amaethon's belly, wrapping his hands loosely around the head of his prick, and Amaethon yelps - at the pressure, at the drag at his already aching, stretched skin, but most of all at the burst of pre- the movement makes Falsen's prick let out, such that Amaethon can feel the burst of wet heat inside him. "We had to flip you over - otherwise your belly would be crushed between the two of you. We'd have to keep loosening the ropes or the pressure would force it out of you around the edges, and where's the fun in that?"

Amaethon feels dizzy as Falsen steps down from the trunk and makes him swing a bit in his place - he's completely impaled, Falsen's cock buried in him and his body utterly helpless where he hangs in place, his legs and arms immovable.

When Falsen steps forward, he swings just slightly in his place, and he moans at the shift of the cock inside him, the pressure of it, the way he's stuffed so full he feels as though Falsen's prick should pop out of his mouth.

"Let's go," says Falsen loudly, and Amaethon's howl is drowned out by the hoofbeats all around him as they take off, and strapped powerlessly in place all he can feel is the onslaught of Falsen's prick inside him, his heavy balls slapping hard so hard against Amaethon's ass he feels like he'll have fucking bruises from them by the zaend of the ride, and every now and then, a fresh spurt of pre- is pumped into him, hot and wet and wonderful.

"He'll be ripe as a fruit by the time we get there!" Falsen calls to Ever, and Amaethon doesn't hear Ever's response over his own desperate moan.