Cuckolded By Her Mother Ch 21

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

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Cuckolded by Her Mother

Chapter Twenty-One

She had not told a soul. She couldn't tell anyone - not anyone at all. Stolen kisses in shadowy corners, while she was going about her work of the day, were hardly something becoming of a dragoness and, oh, how Fyr was unbecoming of herself and her position in the household. It should not have been as easy to deceive her husband and her mother as it was but Scott made her want to do it more than anything else. Maybe that was why Ropes had done it all along - that sheer want for it and the pulse of need that drove through her every time the lips of another male touched hers.

It was strangely alluring to cheat. And, after all, he had set the precedent, hadn't he? He'd made their relationship what it was, something that was not only to be shared between one dragoness and one cougar, even if that cougar was a demon. But a demon of lust could not be tamed and perhaps that was something she should have known all along, even if she'd tried to make him something else: the trap that so very many love-struck furs fell into.

And yet it was not her husband causing trouble in their relationship anymore but Fyr who crept into the barn after her husband and mother were well and truly going at it in the bedroom, safely tucked away in the throes of lust that she had not thought she would ever have been able to match. Scott's run down car was noisy enough but he could get onto the property undetected if he walked at least part of the way down the driveway, although he was one of the reasons that Fyr was holding back from getting a guard dog sooner rather than later. She could only imagine what a racket one of those would put up to find an 'intruder' wandering down the drive late at night!

Without a dog or any interruptions, however, she was free to explore whatever was building between her and Scott, although the dragoness tried not to think about that too much. It was okay, she told herself, as long as she knew that Ropes was fucking Sasha. It wasn't as if she was actually doing anything with Scott either, of course, just kissing. A lot of kissing. His whiskers didn't feel anything like Ropes' and he didn't have tentacles to wrap around her either but he was nice to lean into all the same, the stoat letting the dragoness curl into him as if they were one and the same being.

"We shouldn't be doing this."

"It's okay."

"Just a few more minutes."

The thrill of needing him zinged through her as he pressed the dragoness back against the wall of the barn that she'd so lovingly and painstakingly put together for herself and her family. But it served a new purpose entirely as a weaker fur than either Ropes or Sasha kissed her against it, lips crushing passionately to hers as they playfully darted their tongues between each other's muzzles. For once, Fyr had the advantage with a longer, more slender tongue and could take some semblance of control, even though it was all in play and there was no true power play rocking back and forth between them.

Not like it was with Ropes and Sasha. No... That was very different. Not a bad kind of different but most certainly different all the same.

"Fyr," Scott breathed, his lips kissing a path up her neck. "Oh... Y'all are the finest thing I ever did lay my eyes on."

She couldn't tell if he was drunk on the thought of her at times or if there was something more going on, the stoat swaying and squeezing her so tightly that it was difficult to tell just who was supporting who.

How long it went on was only for them to know but Fyr could not deny the guilt curdling in the pit of her stomach, a physical ache that grew more and more with every passing day. With the greater amount of privacy out on the ranch, while she got to work doing all the ranch-like things she'd always dreamed of having in her life, Ropes took full advantage of the ability to call out date after date to the ranch. Of course, they were not so much dates as one-night-stands (did they count as one-night-stands if they were only there for an hour or so during the day?) but they flocked in the demon's arms and tentacles like moths to the flame, even if anthro moths didn't really like him all that much. Ropes didn't care about that though, as long as he had them to show off to and compete in the numbers game against Sasha, who was very willing to truck in or go out to visit her number of flings and squeezes, hot studs that could please her and yet not please her as much as the brutally rough cougar. After all, a demon would always need another demon to truly satisfy their need and Fyr simply could never have matched up to that.

And so why did she feel so guilty? Fyr clenched her jaw so hard it ached as she mucked out a stable, flinging dirty straw into the wheelbarrow with deathly, shocking precision. If Ropes was fucking everyone, didn't that clearly mean that she could too? That was how things worked, wasn't it? She knew that wasn't really too but not everyone was monogamous these days and she had the right to play the game by the rules that Ropes had set out too. For they definitely weren't monogamous anymore but what each of them were allowed to do seemed to change with every passing day.

Yet where did that leave her? The piece on the side? She was his wife for fuck's sake and he wasn't fucking her! It had been too long since she'd felt his cock in her, the cougar seeming to take pleasure in holding her at arm's length, allowing her to watch and simply no more than that. Sasha had tried to get Fyr involved and yet Ropes had been the one making sure that she didn't get her lips or cunt on his cock, cruelly having her on her knees with her nose inches from the join of their bodies as he drove her mother to orgasm over and over again.

She wished it was her. But, even though she hadn't asked Scott to take her as yet, it was only a matter of time. And then she'd get everything she needed and much, much more along with it too.

At least, that's what Fyr hoped she'd get. There was never any way to truly tell, at the end of the day. The dragoness could only play with the cards in her paw, what she'd been dealt, and she only hoped she was doing it all alright.

Taking a deep breath in her own little bedroom, the dragoness curled into herself, the memory of Scott's kisses lingering on her neck and lips. Maybe it would be alright. She could only hope.

Things, of course, were never that easy and there was the matter of her elusiveness and evasiveness to deal with too. With Scott often visiting her under the cover of darkness, if she did not drive out to somewhere equally remote and peaceful to see him, it was difficult to maintain either a pretence of wakefulness or busyness. There were only so many shopping trips she could go on, after all, before an eyebrow was raised and a snarky comment about her spending all their money on herself was made. The money in their household was shared, of course, with Sasha working remotely for some hours every day now that her physical condition had settled after the egg laying.

And that was another source of guilt too. The egg didn't need to be doted on every hour of the day and night and, annoyingly, there was little reliable information as to how long dragon eggs took to hatch - let alone one laid by a demon! The doctors were as useless as ever when it came to something of a demonic nature but they'd done the best they could. The egg remained warm and safe and, sometimes, Fyr swore she could feel the dragonet hybrid inside bumping against the interior of the shell, readying itself, at some point, to break free of its growing grounds.

But she thought she needed to be there for the egg, to hold and adore it every hour of every day. Although she took it around the barn with her, she didn't dare carry it further afield, tucking it away as safely as she possibly could from the stream of Ropes and Sasha's lovers, although she knew that it was highly unlikely that anyone would interfere with it. Although it was, undoubtedly, an egg, it would have been as bad as harming someone's birthed young and she couldn't imagine even Sasha or Ropes allowing that. Going out shopping or meeting Scott, however, took her far away from it and her scales crawled with an itch that could not be satisfied until she was once again with the egg. It would not be her dragonet and yet her living her own life with the exotic thrill of Scott still drew on the sick curl of guilt all the same.

It was not something that would be all that easy to come to terms with and, truly, it was something that she would never have the opportunity to make so on her own. The dragoness was submissive, ultimately, to the wiles of her own life, although no one could have claimed her to be a completely passive participant with how she actively went after the stoat, craving his kisses and sweetness almost as much as she yearned for Ropes' tentacles wrapped around her.

No! Fyr growled and hefted the barrow out. The horse that the stable belonged to was only staying for a couple of days, a stopover on a long haul trip, but it was money all the same and people seemed to pay prime rates for transport and the like. Maybe she'd have to get a trailer of her own and add some transporting work onto her skill repertoire, although taking care of any livestock needing a stop-off was pretty good for her too. It kept her busy but not too busy, distracted but not too distracted.

And she so very badly needed a distraction. Wasn't Scott supposed to come by soon? Her heart lifted and, suddenly, the chores didn't seem all that frustrating anymore as she hefted the barrow out to the muck heap and added to the growing pile that would have to, at some point, either be taken away or spread as muck on the extensive land surrounding the ranch house. It would do well for fertiliser but it was not the nicest part of the ranch by far nor the nicest of jobs to tackle any day of the week. But she had to take care of it and she had to do the dirty work so that everyone else could have nice things and that she too could have that time with Scott.

Her heart pounded, the beat of it quickening just at the mere thought of, once again, being wrapped up in the stoat's strong, warm arms. Oh, how she needed to be there, her wicked liaison soon to surely bear fruit that she shouldn't have sunk her teeth into and yet could not resist all the same. Fyr trembled, pausing for the briefest of moments to brush her fingers against her lips. His kisses lingered there, soft and gentle. Ropes had never been like that. Or, at least, Ropes had never been like that except to turn the tables on her, turn everything upside down and on its head - just to show her where she belonged, the place she truly was in.

Sucking in a breath, Fyr shook her head and hefted the barrow out and on its way, lips pressed into a thin, tight line. The problem was that she rather liked that place too. And she liked being with Scott, all the promises his embrace held, words not yet whispered. Things could be different and yet things weren't bad either.

Fyr groaned. There was no point thinking about it or over-thinking it at the very least. Scott was coming, the ranch house was empty and now...

The dragoness smiled secretively, eyes glittering in such an image of her mother that she would have been shocked had she had the nerve to glance into a mirror. Oh, she had her secrets too and she had to go for them if she wanted to play them at their own game.

She could have her fun too.

She'd barely gotten the wheelbarrow outside the barn, however, before stopping dead in her tracks, head raised and nostrils ever so slightly flared, the dark curves of them puckering in with every breath. Every scent seemed accentuated, the dark loam of the soil rising after recent rain and the ever so slightly pungent aroma of manure penetrating her nostrils. But they were no unpleasant smells and she hardly could pay them any mind as Scott's car sat before the ranch house, heralding a far more enticing experience altogether.

The wheelbarrow could wait.

She wasn't dressed to see him! Fyr cursed herself, breaking into a light jog. She'd wanted to be dressed up in something slinky and sexy, something that showed a little too much cleavage but not too much: she didn't want to be completely slutty, after all. Oh no, that wouldn't give the impression at all that she was a sophisticated dragoness in control, a dragoness that could have whatever and whoever she wanted!

The truth of it was that she had never truly had that control to begin with, the whole thing an illusion of something far, far more illustrious than what Fyr could have ever imagined.

It didn't matter that she wasn't wearing the right clothes. She could compensate for it by drawing herself up tall and proud, setting her shoulder blades back and holding her head high. Yes, that little swish and flick to her tail would do very nicely, the sway to her hips just so. Fyr smirked in her most sultry fashion, batting her eyelashes at no one and nothing in particular as she posed for herself, her sexual need and desire rising with every step she took. Everything was going to be fine. She could have her cake and eat it too and no one would ever know that she'd stepped even a single toe out of line.

But something was wrong.

She knew that as soon as she stepped foot inside the ranch house - Scott hadn't been in the car, perhaps he was wandering around looking for her? - and heard the moans. She knew those moans very, very well as she was usually the one with her muzzle stuffed between the thighs of a certain dragoness every night, causing them in intimate, carnal detail. Those moans haunted her dreams and breathed fresh life into her worst nightmares, everything coming together in one confusing

Fyr's mouth opened and closed several times and yet no sound came out, forcing her to steel herself and try again, raising her voice.

"Mom?"

Fyr's heart pounded, her mouth dry, blood roaring in her ears. Did her voice usually tremble so much? She sounded weak... Like she was nothing. Just what they thought she was.

Up the stairs she went, one by one, as the moans grew in pitch and volume. There was no masculine edge to them, which should have bolstered her spirits and yet her heart only sank more, the driving beat and pound of it the only percussion that moved her feet.

The dragoness' jaw ached, clenching it without realising. She could not have possibly known what she would find in her bedroom and, yet, part of her still knew, the sickening curl of dread rising up from the pit of her stomach to the back of her throat, bile that could not be pushed down or swallowed as the need to vomit rose.

The bedroom door beckoned and she had to answer its call, swinging it open with breath restrained in her chest, unwilling to release it for fear of making everything all too real. But it was not the main master bedroom from where the moans were coming from and Fyr turned to her own bedroom door, the edge of which had been left ajar, perhaps for her to later find, with a red, lace bra hanging from the handle.

And yet it was real and she couldn't do anything to take away the image of her mother riding Scott on her own bed, the dragoness' thighs wrapped around him as if she needed to pin him in place. With his cock well and truly buried into her openly dripping cunt, however, Scott hardly seemed to be in any position at all to pull away, eyes closed and lips parted in a silent moan that Fyr later hoped he'd been holding back for fear of upsetting her.

She would have been wrong.

"Why, hello there, dear..." Her mother purred, squeezing her thighs just a little tighter around the stoat's hips. "I did so hope you would join us soon."

Fyr stared, hardly blinking, hardly breathing. The stoat's fur was matted as if it was not the first orgasm he'd had beneath the dragoness but something seemingly about her - or perhaps something she'd given him - kept him hard as she rode him, rocking her hips sensuously to pump herself full of his smooth-skinned cock.

Uncut, she thought dimly, noticing the feature as if through a fog, a haze of emotion that wasn't truly emotion at all that wraps itself around a fur and refuses to let them go, lest they drift away from themselves. His cock... It was uncut. Just like her husband's.

The dragoness gulped loudly and yet could not find it in herself to drag her eyes away from the train wreck unfolding before her. What a thing to notice as her secret fling was fucked by her own mother!

Scott's eyes grazed hers and she shook her head, although there was not a hint of apology in those brown orbs - the orbs that she'd gazed into on so many occasions and yet... She didn't truly know the stoat at all. She inhaled sharply, a little of the roar fading from her ears. It wasn't enough. But she definitely didn't know the stoat at all.

It was beside the point that she had been the one almost with his cock in her, the one cheating. Traitorous moisture prickled in the corners of her eyes but she thrust it away, tail lashing as she fought down arousal - hey, who wouldn't have been aroused looking at the object of their desire in the midst of sex? - interlinked with disgust that...well...

Could she really be all that disgusted? Fyr groaned and pressed her fingers to her brow, trying to smooth away the worried lines there, although the small action was more to have something to do with her fingers, which trembled as if she had been taken ill all of a sudden, than anything else. Her scales rose into a ridge that would no doubt stick if her face stayed that way but she wasn't exactly going to start worrying about that when...

Oh, one thought was too much to keep track of! Taking a breath, Fyr shook her head, the room spinning and spinning and spinning until just staying upright seemed like a tall order to take care of.

Words... The fog swelled around her. She needed words.

Say something!

"Mom... What are..."

The dragoness threw her head back and laughed, tail lifting as if she was trying to show off for her daughter but, really, Fyr's eyes were only on Scott, lowered to his balls, softly furred, and how they churned. A fiery, burning part of her wished that he was sunk balls-deep in her and yet she could not turn her head away to imagine it for herself, her world crumbling around her from frail and fragile walls.

"Oh, you didn't think I didn't know now, did you?" Sasha chuckled, flipping her paw dismissively as if the thought was one that should never have crossed her daughter's mind. "Honey, you are so obvious!"

Her sickeningly sweet tone rolled over Fyr like syrup, poisonous in its sweetness, and the dragoness took a step back, her ear frills twitching.

"I..." Her cheeks burned. "I am? What... I don't..."

"Fyr..."

Scott's voice rose, a wheezy croak that didn't seem to come naturally from his sweet lips, and she froze, heart in mouth and everything moving altogether far, far too quickly around her.

"Scott?" She breathed. "Oh..."

But there was no sense in saying anything more, for they both knew that they'd been done as his head fell back onto the very pillow where Fyr rested her head each and every night, his cock jammed fully into her mother. Sasha laughed breathlessly and patted the stoat's cheek in such a way that it could only be taken as a condescending action. Fyr shuddered. Maybe her mother had planned it all along, planted Scott on the team just to get to her...

As paranoid as it made her both seem and feel, the dragoness knew that it wasn't exactly something she could put past Sasha after everything that had happened.