CoC Urta Raphael 3some

Letting your lips split into a mischievous grin, you lean across the table and whisper into Urta’s fluffy ear. “Why don’t you meet me in one of the back rooms with the lights off in about thirty minutes? I’ll see if I can get a friend, we can make a party of it.”

“That shounds aweshome,” Urta purrs drunkenly as she stumbles into you, groping you unashamedly. “I’m gonna be sho ready for you...” She presses her semi-hard shaft against you in an unspoken promise of sensuous pleasure. You’re sure that if she wasn’t drunk it would already be throbbing against you, and the way Urta’s grinding, it might get that way in a hurry. The inebriated vixen kisses you with alcohol-stained lips before turning away and sashaying towards one of the private rooms in the back. She lifts her tail and wiggles her butt in your direction as she drunkenly wobbles her way towards a door.

Now... for the other half of this plan. You just need a certain rouge rogue to make his way over here so that you can drag him into an 'accidental' tryst with the captain of the guard. Just thinking about it makes your cooter moisten and your meaty, animalistic bestial dong experience a twinge of excitement. Grabbing a napkin and a pen from an accommodating waitress, you jot out a hasty missive:

Dearest Rogue,
I find myself locked in the fondest of remembrances for the things you’ve taught me, both in the realm of fencing and love, and a certain light-headedness has set in. I’ve been all alone, with nothing but my meal and this fine vintage of wine to keep me company. Even Urta, who’s usually here this time of day, isn’t here to regale me with her lesser tales - something about important business to tend to, I hear. Would you come call on me at the Wet Bitch? I have need of your skills, if you catch my meaning.

		Awaiting the thief who stole my heart,
			-Gundam

That should do it. The ginger fox can’t resist an offer like that. Stepping past a group of drunken canines, you make your way out into the city in search of a runner. You’re in luck! One of the orphans that works for him is panhandling nearby. You step closer, nearly doing a double take when you see the size of his take. The little guy has made more money begging than most honest craftsman can make in a hard day’s work. Sighing, you pass him the note with instructions that he deliver it directly to Raphael. At first, he feigns ignorance, but after he recognizes you, he nods solemnly. Apparently being the consort of a master of thieves has its PerkLib.

Turning back, you saunter confidently into the bar and get yourself that bottle of wine. Deception is thirsty work after all. The next fifteen minutes pass in a blur of grape-stained enjoyment and simple people watching. There’s a scout who’s just returned from the outside a table over, cuddling with his crush. They’re all over each other, sharing the happiness of two long-separated lovers. On the other side of you, two centaurs are trying to play poker, but one of them is apparently cheating, at least according to the younger stallion. You take another swallow of the subtle brew and recline, just taking it all in before the real work starts.

Narrow, familiar paws suddenly encircle your waist, and a puff of hot breath exhales past your ear. “Greetings, my supple swan.”

Smiling, you turn your head so that you can see the familiar fox’s lips, “Raphael, you rapscallion! Couldn’t you have just pulled up a seat?”

“Ah, but that would not fit my style, my dove,” he confidently rebuts. The hands squeeze your pleasant thighs affectionately as he slides around your side, hefting the bottle you’ve mostly emptied. “Mon deiu! I’ve come just in time, it seems!” He lifts the bottle and swallows the last few bits on his lonesome. Wiping the excess from his fur, he says, “I must protect my lady’s virtue. It wouldn’t do to have her drunk, horny, and alone in a strange place full of uncouth barbarians.” His eyes flick back and forth, and he whispers, “Like these. Surely there is somewhere more private we could go?”

You coyly ask him if he’s propositioning a respectable lady like you, and a little of bit of a slur comes to your lips. Urta’s still vastly more hammered than you, but there is a bit of an airy buzz vibrating through your consciousness when you try to focus. You rise, stretching languidly and pressing your big-but-tight backside against Raphael’s groin to further excite him. The small bulge of his narrow erection digs into your red, high-society bodysuit as you grind against him, as lithe and confident as the rest of the surly thief.

Taking his soft, furred hand in your own, you lead him towards the back room you saw your other foxy friend use. He stays doggedly on your heels, so close that you can feel his rigidity as it bumps and grinds against your big-but-tight ass, and you make a point of arching your back so that he’s forced to contact it again and again. You smile as his face loses some of its stoic focus to the alluring motions your rear is making. Raphael’s steps are getting a little uneven by the time you get to the backroom door, and as you spin around and pull him into an embrace, you inform him, “I got us a friend to play with...”

“Wha-?” Raphael tries to ask before you silence him with a kiss, crushing his mouth into your own and placing his upraised hand on your well-formed hips. You flip the latch and drag him into the darkened room with you, barely remembering to kick the door closed before two sets of foreign hands start to strip you. Raphael’s own garments are no match for your frisky fingertips, and you disrobe the surprised thief with ease thanks to the hypnotic kiss you’ve got him trapped in. If you’re going to be honest with yourself, the slow, sloppy kiss is having a similar effect, and once the bottom of your red, high-society bodysuit is off, the scent of your womanly desire clings damply in the air.

Stronger, more muscular arms wrap around you and Raphael, firmly compressing your bodies together. His dagger-like erection narrowly misses your moist snatch, instead wetly grinding across your lips and button, pressing on your belly where it can leak a trickle of liquid need onto your blue fur. A slightly slurred voice demurely coos, “Your friend has a nice butt!” as a slimy, slippery horsecock is pressed against your back, grinding through your big-but-fit rump’s ass-cleavage without an ounce of hesitation.

Raphael grunts as he’s manhandled, but for once, he’s rendered speechless. Instead of trying to fight it, he tries to adapt to the situation. His slender fingers traipse through your shaggy, blue hair and interlock on the other side of your head, one digit caressing the curve of your ear as he draws you back into a passionate kiss. His tongue forcefully spears past your own with a dancer’s grace and a swordsman’s strength, and soon, you’re on the defensive in an oral battle for the ages. Raphael releases his left hand so that it can trawl down your shoulder towards your breast, and he begins to massage it in order to distract you, something that works all too well.

You whimper into Raphael’s lips while your lust and alcohol inebriated brain struggles to come up with a counterattack. It comes to you when you feel a trickle of foxy moisture flow into your belly-button, and your return strike is as swift as your cunt is wet. Rocking your well-formed hips, you undulate against the crimson thief’s pecker, smearing it with your juices. Then, you lift yourself up with your legs and abruptly drop onto the foxy phallus, impaling yourself on its bulbous length. Raphael’s skillful kiss collapses under the weight of the sensations you’ve forced him to experience. The poor guy wasn’t expecting you to take him then and there, and you take the opportunity to violently kiss him, enjoying his pliant mouth while he slowly gathers his wits and begins to kiss you back, this time not so competitively. Your moist twat is now very loose.

Urta, perhaps feeling a bit ignored, suddenly forces a finger into Raphael’s tight pucker as she crouches, using her free hand to line her blunt horse-cock up with your tight butthole. You lift your tails and try to relax with her thick slab of penis so close to your backdoor, hoping she’ll be gentle. A drunken twinge of arousal knifes through your moist fuck-hole as you imagine her forcefully raping your hind-end, and Raphael can certainly feel the convulsive fluttering of your love tunnel as you sink into your imaginings. The gray vixen nips at your ear as she presses against your tight anus, slowly stretching your tight sphincter with constant pressure. You’re not really loose enough back there for this to be entirely comfortable, but the incredible fullness her length provides has a way of muting the pain of stretching. Your loose asshole is now a little loose.

Raphael breaks this kiss, his hips thrusting needfully against your mons with jerky, uncoordinated strokes, pumping to the timing Urta’s wiggling finger forces his prostate to obey. “S-señorita... w-who is your friend? Oooh, mon dieu!” he cries.

You give him a reassuring peck on the lips as a few more inches of mammoth dick nestle into your squeezable, toned rump, filling you full enough that you can feel your lovers' members sliding across each other through your dick-filled insides, Raphael’s small, vulpine dong is smothered with the expansive, pre drooling horse-cock, and the smaller male seems almost afraid of the size of your companion. You squeeze your inner muscles to caress the smaller fox-dick and answer, “Just a friend with a fun little package. I hope you don’t mind...”

Urta’s finger pushes a little harder on the rogue’s tender rosebud, making him lurch against you harder. His poor knot is already starting to swell inside you, and he’s clearly trying his best to hold on. This situation you’ve forced him into just isn’t something he was ready for, for once, and it shows. A thick ring of prepuce slides into your distended asshole fast enough to make your own confident expression twist into a dopey, whining grin, one that only widens as you take Urta all the way to her big, swollen balls, her sheath folded up around your pucker.

The situation spirals completely out of control at that point. Raphael is lewdly moaning as he pistons in and out of you, his swelling knot popping and stretching your labia as it drags through them again and again, each time a little larger, a little harder, and a little more forcefully. At the same time, Urta begins to crudely pound your loose backdoor. She ravages your backside with long, hard pumps of her hips, drunkenly mating your ass. The thick, fat flare inside you scrapes along your walls as it slides through you, pressing down on every sensitive bundle of nerves as it goes, and by virtue of its own size, it forces Raphael’s smaller erection to press up inside your loose fuck-hole, rubbing a sensitive, hot little spot inside you that has your legs shaking as your strength slowly ebbs out of your ecstasy-wracked frame.

You throw your head back to rest on Urta’s shoulder as a shuddering explosion of bliss goes off in your womb, shivering through your tight channel to contract about the knotty fox-cock inside you. Your undulating walls have the male meeting your orgasm with one of his own, and the bulb at the base rapidly inflates, immobilizing itself inside your clenching, cock-milking canal. Warm semen flows out of him in long, thick spurts, exactly like you desire. Hands, Urta’s or his, you don’t know or care which, pinch your nipples as climax wracks you. The swollen flare expands as Urta bottoms out in your big-but-fit butt, and you feel her jizz pumping up through your well-stretched guts, filling you with so much liquid heat that you wonder if you’re going to melt. You let go and close your eyes, cradling your slowly-inflating belly as you’re creamed from both sides, filled with thick spunk until your middle feels ready to pop, the whole time moaning and crying, panting out demands for more.

The two clueless sperm-pumps exhaust themselves in either side of you, spending their passion in thick gobs that you’re all too happy to take. Only after each dick is utterly drained and your pussy and asshole wear masks of dripping white goo, do you let them slide free of your imprisoning holes. You pant for breath as you lean against a box, rubbing one hand over your middle.

“Mademoiselle, I must confess, I did not enjoy that nearly so much as when we are alone, under the moonlight,” Raphael mutters disconsolately, as he stumbles in the dark, trying to get dressed.

Urta slurs, “Well, it was fun. Who cares if Gundam wants to be double-stuffed with fox?” She squeezes your large backside as she’s trying to get dressed, her limp cock dangling between her legs in the poorly lit room. “Or is that horse?”

You get dressed too, though your red, high-society bodysuit is sorely stressed by the size of your middle at this point, and the way it jiggles and wobbles makes you wonder how long you’ll have to handle it before it passes. Urta lights a lantern, before turning around, and the horrified expression on her face is mirrored by the one on Raphael’s.

“Him!?”
“Her?!”

The door opens and closes with a slam as Raphael goes into full flight, and Urta stumbles after him before tripping into your arms. You hold the snarling girl in your arms while she drunkenly tries to go after him, eventually rounding on you.

“You made me have a threesome with... with him!” Urta growls.

You kiss her on the nose and press your cum-stuffed middle against her, pointing out that not only did she completely emasculate him in size alone, but she also got to make him dance on her fingertip like a puppet, all while cumming longer and harder than he could ever hope to. The foxy fox curls her ebony lips in a rueful smile at that, running her hands over your middle in admiration of her work. “I guess I did, huh? Hopefully taught him a lesson!”

(Raphael probably won’t fall for that again, but hey, it was fun!)