1 comments/ 21062 views/ 1 favorites Fox Hunt By: Katiecat "Some Women (Oh the shame!) like ramping Rigs, Ride flaunting in their powder'd Perriwigs; Astride they sit (and not ashamed neither), Drest up like men in Jacket, Cap, and Feather! " A Looking Glass for the Times -- Thomas Ellwood, c1670 I heard the baying of the hounds, the excited shouts of the whippers-in, and the huntsman's horn. I stepped out of the open barn door just in time to see the horses thunder past, hooves pounding the hard-packed dirt of the road. One by one, they gracefully sailed over the wooden gate at the end of the lane. These were Thoroughbred field hunters, so much more elegant and fine than the plodding draft horses that were my charge. The scarlet jackets of the riders proved this to be a fox hunt; hare hunters wear coats of green. I shook my head at the pointless pursuit of a quarry that was inedible. I know they say fox are vermin, and it controls the population, but I've seen the faces of the riders, their excitement in the chase – 'tis a blood sport, and cruel, and I found myself rooting for Brother Reynard, hoping he had the wits to quickly go to ground and end their fun. It was a cold November morning, the sky thick with rolling grey clouds; not a good day for a hunt, not at all. If the fox was fortunate, the storm would break, and the hunters would all turn back to his Lordship's manor. There they could stable those fine horses, warm themselves before the fire, and curse the weather and their luck. A chilling wind picked up, and sliced through my thin coat. It was going to be a bitter winter. I pulled the collar the best I could up around my ears, and was turning back to the shelter of the barn when I heard another horse approaching. The rider was leaning forward in the saddle, whipping the straggling beast with a riding crop to urge it to catch up to the hunting party. Imagine my surprise as the horse neared, and I could see that the rider was a female – not sidesaddle as a proper lady rides, but riding astride, like a boy, or an American cowgirl. Now, I am no expert in such matters of etiquette and high society, but in the opinion of this humble stableman, it just seems more sensible to be balanced with one leg on either side of the animal. But I'm sure the lady's mother would have been scandalized. The horse made it to the end of the lane, but would not jump the fence. It wheeled around abruptly, almost unseating the rider, who let loose with a string of curses I've never heard a lady utter. Thinking to appease her, I ran to open the gate. "You there," she called, "that will do no good. Come here." I doffed my hat, respectfully, as I changed direction and trotted toward her. "Beggin' your pardon, Miss, I just thought..." "Well then, that's the trouble. I don't believe you are being paid to think," she snapped. "Yes, Miss," I replied, humbly, my hat clutched to my chest. "Something is wrong with my horse – tend to it," she said, swinging down from the saddle. I realized this must be Lady Jessica, his Lordship's niece, whom I had heard was visiting from London. Sweeping the cap from her head, she released a tumble of hair, bronze shot with gold. Her features were elegant and regal, as befitted a lady of her station, and her eyes were coolly grey. I couldn't help but admire her fine trim figure; she wore a ladies' riding jacket, dark blue with a red hunting collar, with brass buttons and a close, masculine cut; a pair of tan riding breeches that hugged her thighs like a second skin; boots of polished black leather... *WHAP* I felt the sharp sting of her riding crop through the thin sleeve of my coat. "What are you gawking at, man! See to my animal!" "Y-yes Ma'am!" I stammered. The horse paced nervously (poor beast, it too had recently felt her crop), and I could see that its gait was slightly off. I lifted its left foreleg and could see that there was a sizeable stone in its hoof. I relayed this information to her Ladyship. "Get me another mount," she demanded. "My apologies, Lady Jessica..." Why was my mouth so dry? Why were my knees shaking? "Lord Edward stables his riding horses close to the manor house. The draft animals kept here are farm animals, only suitable for cart or plow." Her full pink lips drew into a tight line of anger and she closed her eyes for a moment; when she opened them again, they were a more threatening grey than the storm clouds overhead. With clenched fists and through clenched teeth, she hissed, "Then tend to my horse," and strode across the field toward the barn. I followed, leading the animal – and, I must admit, quaking in my boots. And it began to rain. By the time we reached shelter, the sky had opened, and it was pouring. The wind picked up, we were both drenched, and the dirt road had turned to mud caking on our boots. I shut the barn door behind us and lit a lamp; at least inside it was snug and dry. I hung my wet coat on a nail, secured the horse to a hitching post, and set to work with the hoof pick. Her Ladyship also peeled off her sodden jacket and hung it on a tack hook on the wall. Out of the corner of my eye, I admired her neat waist and high proud breasts, the damp white fabric of her blouse clinging to her skin. I determined that the hoof was not so tender or bruised as to prevent the animal from carrying her back to the manor house, and wiped my hands with a rag. There was a loud crack of thunder and the rain pounded mercilessly against the roof. I checked the nervous animals in the stalls, speaking soothing gentle words, when I felt as if I was being watched. Lady Jessica sat on a hay bale, long legs stretched out in front of her. "What is your name, stableman?" she asked. "Alfred, my Lady." She lazily removed her kid riding gloves, one finger at a time. "Well, Alfred, my boots are filthy. Come assist me." I went over to her, knelt at her feet, and began to wipe her boots with the rag. "No, no, that will never do," she scolded. "Do it properly, take them off." I'd never removed a lady's boots before, and was not sure how to manage such a thing. Finally, I straddled her right leg, facing away from her, grasped the heel and began tugging. "Oho, you would turn your backside to me?" she laughed, planting the sole of her other booted foot against my rump and shoving hard. Her right boot suddenly came loose, and I was sent sprawling, face first, into the straw. Embarrassed, I started to scramble to my feet, but as I rose to my hands and knees, Lady Jessica ordered sharply, "Don't move." What could I do? I froze. I remained motionless, on all fours like an animal. It was humiliating, but for some reason, also strangely exciting to be unsure what would happen, what it was she wanted of me. The next thing I knew, she was standing over me, her muddy left boot planted on one side of me and her stockinged right foot on the other. With no warning nor ceremony, she bent over, reached beneath my belly, unbuckled my belt, and yanked my trousers straight down to my knees. I protested in shock, "Milady, what are you doing?!?" "Oh, shut up," she snapped, "surely you know you deserve this..." I heard a swish and again I felt the sting of her crop, but this time against my bare buttocks. *WHAP* "That's for thinking on your own instead of doing as I bid you." *WHAP* "That's for not having a suitable mount ready for me." *WHAP* "That's for rudely presenting your arse to my face." *WHAP* I'm not sure what the rest were for – perhaps the storm, the stone in her horse's hoof, the fact that she had missed her day of hunting, or maybe just her generally irritated mood. I writhed, I squirmed; the crop burned and stung. "My Lady, please, I beg you!" I implored. "What, too much for a big strong draft animal like you, Alfred?" she said dryly. "I think you can take this...and much more." She reached underneath me, and grasped my dangling member, which to my dismayed surprise, was growing stiff – and even stiffer in her hand. She laughed, and gave it a few quick tugs. "Ah yes, I think you might even like the kiss of the crop!" She struck once more for good measure, and my traitorous prick leapt to attention in her grip; I cringed at her peal of laughter. She sat back down on the hay bale. "Now come over here and try again...do it right." I clutched my trousers and started to get to my feet. "No, no, no, naughty boy," she admonished, clearly amused at my predicament. "Crawl." What could I do? I crawled – awkwardly, since my pants were still around my knees. And I kneeled at Lady Jessica's feet and served as her personal boot jack. "Very good," she said, "now you're learning. I do believe I could take you back to London with me and have you trained as my lady's maid." I could feel my temper start to rise, but I dared not answer back. She stood up, looking down at me, and her expression was unreadable. I stared back up at her, not believing my eyes, as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse. "My Lady, please...be discreet!" I begged. I had no idea what would happen to me should Lord Edward discover me with his niece, and I didn't want to find out. There was a loud rumble of thunder again, and the wind howled outside. "Oh don't worry, Alfred, no one is likely to find us here," she said demurely, as she removed her blouse and tossed it aside. She slid her breeches down over her hips, then her bloomers, and my jaw dropped. She looked like a statue of a goddess, all white marble curves. Her white satin corset nipped in at her waist and flared out at her hips, and her full breasts spilled over the top. Below the waist, except for her silk stockings (which she was calmly removing) she was naked as the day she was born. "Miss, I have duties I must attend to..." I tried again, half-heartedly. But I remained on my knees, gazing in rapt attention at the neat thatch of hair at the junction of her alabaster thighs. She pushed me on to my back. "There is only one duty you must attend to at the moment." And she knelt over my head and my mouth watered, like I was a starving man at a banquet. I cautiously cupped her smooth buttocks in my hands, and when her Ladyship did not protest, I pulled her down and buried my face in her sweet snatch. She smelled faintly of leather and lavender and musk; I offered my tongue in service to this Venus, this Diana, this goddess whom I worshipped, greedily lapping at her juices that flowed like nectar. I nibbled the hard little button at the top of her slit, rolled it around on my tongue, and was rewarded with her sounds of pleasure. Obligingly, I sucked her tiny pink pebble and she ground her puss against my mouth. Her head dropped back, I could feel the muscles in her thighs trembling with tension. She moaned loudly, pulling my hair, and I could feel her wetness on my chin as she climaxed. She raised herself up off my mouth and slid down the length of my body, straddling my hips. So beautiful she was above me in the lamplight, her hair spilling over her shoulders in loose waves. She expertly guided my throbbing cock to her entrance, and in one smooth motion, sheathed me to the hilt. I gasped at the sudden heat that enveloped me; she reached behind her and squeezed my ball sack, commanding my full attention immediately. "Alfred, do not spend in me. Do you understand?" she demanded, giving another quick, tight squeeze to make sure I was listening. "Y-yes Ma'am!" I yelped, a little bit farther away from the finish line than I had been just moments before. "Good boy," she breathed, and she began to ride me. She unbuttoned my shirt and lightly ran her nails over my chest, then she pinched my nipples hard until I moaned in pain and pleasure. Maddening things she did to me, bouncing up and down quickly, as if on a trotting horse, my prick sliding in and out of her in short quick stabs; then grinding down against my cock, rotating her hips, shifting back and forth until I felt her shudder and a gush of her juices as she came on me, her quim squeezing my cock, and I was right there... "Lady, please," I warned, "I am so close..." I felt a rush of cool air on my hot skin as she lifted off of me and I groaned in frustration. Lady Jessica knelt between my legs, bending my knees, and began stroking my aching member in her delicate hand. "What a handsome cock you have, you are hung like a horse..." she cooed. I looked down and watched her stroke my shaft, mesmerized; my whole body tensed, I felt so on edge. I couldn't help but thrust my hips, fucking her silken fist, the head of my cock was swollen and purple and weeping drops of fluid. Lady Jessica sucked her middle finger into her mouth, wetting it thoroughly; then, smiling wickedly, she pressed her wet finger to my arsehole and wriggled it right in, while still stroking, stroking, stroking... And I saw stars, and roaring in pleasure, I shot jet after jet of white foam onto my chest, and my belly, and some of it spilled onto her Ladyship's hand, dripping down her fingers. She held that hand to my mouth and raised one elegant eyebrow; in response, I dutifully licked her fingers clean. Lady Jessica moved away for just a moment, then spread out a saddle blanket on the floor and lay down next to me. We could hear the storm still raging outside. She stroked the side of my face gently, then toyed with my hair. "How do you feel, Alfred?" she asked gently. I lay there, unable to move – panting, heart pounding, still shaking. "Oh, wonderful, my Lady," I managed. "That was...amazing..." "Well, that's good," she said. She rose up with that wicked grin, holding a halter, and I felt her shove the bit between my teeth. "What game shall we play now?" Fox Hunt Prologue On the face of it, I was just having a pleasant jog. Here I was, running through the gorgeous grounds of the Kinloch-Strathinch estate. Nothing unusual, I often run a few laps around our club track after work. This afternoon I was running through some of the most glorious countryside I had ever laid eyes on. Rather out of character, I was not paying a single bit of attention to the wide vistas around me. Instead of relaxing and soaking in the pleasant surroundings, I felt vulnerable out in the open and all I could think about was to get to cover. That is why I scanned for, and headed towards a wooded area up ahead. Before you think I'm agoraphobic, I must stress that I had very good reasons to be wary of standing out against the expansive scenery. There were two reasons in fact. Two packs of hounds were on my trail, and as a consequence, they were never far from my mind. Not that I panicked, in fact my breathing was deep but regular. I enjoy running and I'm good at it. The endorphins were already cruising through my veins. They gave me an all over tingle and I'm sure they are the reason I get horny from running. My body is toned and men say that I carry just enough fat to be curvy. With the notable exception of my breasts which are rather large for my frame. I am quite a bit taller than most women I know, at close to 180cm. I was running at a comfortable pace with my breasts bobbing as I bounced over grass and heather. Oh, did I mention I was naked? Not that I felt naked. Even without a stitch, I looked fairly respectable, if a bit peculiar. I was covered from head to toe in body paint. Truth be told, I was rather artistically and convincingly painted. The actual dyes were of a high quality as well. No matter how much I perspired, I could not shift or smudge its red and white artwork. I cast a quick glance down in appreciation of the meticulous brush strokes. I was used to seeing red and white tones when looking at myself, since underneath the paint, freckles cover my pale skin. My coat of paint was mainly red, but the artist didn't need to use any dyes for the bushy triangle between my legs. The striking red curls were all mine, the same colour as the long hair which flowed out behind my head as I ran. Not for the first time, I wondered how I had gotten myself into this situation. How did I, a young Irish woman, end up streaking across the Highlands of Scotland? Perhaps I should have started this story at the beginning. Maybe as far back as when I was growing up on a farm in County Cork. Those years did a lot to shape my current social life, as I have always felt close to animals. Not that I have lots of pets, the closeness is more in a spiritual sense. My boss and friend Siobhan is very similar in this respect. She and I have taken this shared passion to role playing games, where people play as animals. She does the people bit, and I do the animal bit. That gives a little bit of background to why I had joined a fox hunt on this beautiful estate. Of course that's not unusual as such. Foxes have been hunted for countless years. That was the gruesome bloody kind that is fortunately now outlawed. This chase would not end with the hounds killing the fox by tearing it to shreds. At least I had a fervent hope it would not. You see, I was the fox in this hunt. Let's go back to last week at work when Siobhan and I were engaged in a far more mundane meeting, and I was in much more conventional attire. Hunting for sales Siobhan started the meeting in her usual manner. "Hi gang, let's get started. Next Thursday and Friday we're in Glasgow for the Show." This was not news. "Shelagh and I will be on the stand." Everybody else's face showed some relief, as it would only be Siobhan and I who would be spending two days on our feet with forced smiles. "Shelagh, what you need from the rest?" I listed what we would need to take to the stand. Glossy brochures, business card scanner, pens with our logo and a thousand other things. Siobhan made sure all logistics were minutely prepared and we were all clear. The meeting broke up and everybody headed back to their desks. I dallied until I could talk to Siobhan alone. "I spoke to Philip and Rosheen. They are in Scotland the week after the show." They are a blonde couple which whom Siobhan and I share membership of the Aristotle club. Philip is an out and out hunk. He is tall, strong and quiet. Rosheen is more extrovert and almost as small as Siobhan. She has a dirty laugh and an even dirtier mind. Aristotle is a pony play club in an enclosed race course south of Dublin. Philip and I play horses while Rosheen and Siobhan are trainers. "Fantastic, we'll catch up the weekend after." That Wednesday Siobhan and I arrived in Scotland and dropped our luggage off at the hotel. We took the bus to the conference centre to help set up the stand. As we walked up to our patch we saw a few people already setting up the posters and lights. One of them towered head and shoulders above the rest. He was dressed in camouflaged combat fatigues and was helping with a radio display. As he turned our way, we immediately recognised him as our friend. We shouted his name as one and ran up to jump him in a very unladylike bear hug. Josh is a Marine Corporal Radio specialist. He is even taller than Philip but unlikely to be mistaken for blonde. He is as black as the night. He carries himself with an almost matter of fact confidence and subdued strength. His gorgeous eyes smile as readily as his animated grin and his wide torso forms a classic triangle with his cute button tight ass. Due to an almost fanatical cycling habit, his long legs are very strong. Josh had been a visitor to our Dublin office to teach us about the radio set on display. We seduced him to visit Aristotle where he fitted right in. While he only played one day as a horse, he is certainly hung like one. Eight o'clock sharp the next morning, Siobhan and I walked onto the finished stand. Josh was there; immaculately dressed in his fatigues, ready to demonstrate the military radio while we would handle the civilian set. The two days at the exhibition dragged out. We got sore feet and tired from smiling and chatting. When I wanted some fresh air and restart my circulation, I took a tour of the show floor. Most displays were fairly similarly with glossy posters and shiny apparatus. Yawnsville. One was different. It featured large pictures of majestic Scottish landscapes and the stand was staffed by an attractive couple in running gear. As I passed, I made eye contact with the male runner. He had chiselled good looks and the clearest grey eyes. "Aren't you meant to be in the gym?" From their painful smiles I could tell I wasn't the first one to crack that lame joke. "Sorry, but you do stand out." To show their technical angle, the woman showed me a display on her left forearm. It was slightly larger than a smart phone and had a curved glass front. She explained its workings. "We offer a 21st century orienteering experience. No maps or punch cards, just this indicator. The computer keeps track." She showed me the master console which unsurprisingly indicated a dot in the middle of Glasgow. The setup sparked my interest and we discussed it in more detail. They introduced themselves as Laird and Countess of Kinloch-Strathinch, but quickly added that I was to call them Doug and Heather. Doug was less involved with the technical side of things so he asked if I was a runner. I suppose a natural question, given the shape I'm in and I confirmed I was. "You seen those new vests with hyper-wicking backs?" I turned bright red and stumbled to get a reply out since I love to run naked or as near as. He curled his mouth in a half smile and raised his eyebrows. "You have running gear, no?" I turned an even deeper scarlet and pretended that my phone was vibrating. I mouthed a sorry and pointed to it as I started an animated conversation with nobody while briskly walking back. I shared my embarrassment with Siobhan who just laughed. "Just as well you didn't mention hooves and bridle as your gear." On the Friday at the after show party, Siobhan and I tried a few sips of various Scotch Whiskys and they soon relaxed us. Due to my height and hair colour, it didn't take Doug very long to spot us and Heather and he made a bee line for us. They told Siobhan about their high-tech orienteering. Siobhan, as always the businesswoman, asked if the course was profitable. Heather shook her head. "It's just a half hobby. Doug is a chemical engineer. Food additives. I lecture Electronics at Highlands and Islands Uni." Now it was Heather's turn to satisfy her curiosity as she turned to me. "Why didn't you want to talk about your gear?" Siobhan giggled and I shot a glowering sideways look to keep her quiet. I dreaded the Whisky in her, but when I saw her dirty grin, I knew it was too late. "Shelagh runs mostly starkers. At best she's a horse, and not for Pantomime." I thought they'd be shocked but Doug smiled. "You're a pony girl." I sighed inwardly and capitulated. I gave them a full account of what the Aristotle club was all about. They were very interested in our stud farming. Doug asked if this part was stylised. We exchanged glances and admitted that we mostly ended up having sex, either in the stud farm or after. The club mixed pony play with swinging. I saw Heather give her husband's hand a little squeeze. "How long you guys in Scotland?" We admitted that our itinerary was as unglamorous as a weekend camping with Josh, Philip and Rosheen. Doug offered an alternative. "Much better idea. How about the five of you visit our little country retreat to try our course?" Neither Siobhan nor I would normally be so impulsive, but the few drams and the reassurance of the boys to watch over us piqued our curiosity. A quick phone call to Philip and Rosheen confirmed that we were all up for it. The Sporting Estate The little country retreat turned out to be a huge mansion with dozens of guest rooms. Exhausted from trade show and party, I dropped my clothes in a pile and sunk away in a mountain of eiderdown and satin sheets to sleep like a baby. The Saturday morning I felt refreshed and ready for new pursuits. The smell of breakfast wafted into my room. I had a shower and found a silk robe on a hook behind the door. It felt great next to my skin even though it was a fair bit shorter than I my own. I made a mental note not to pick anything off the floor while people were behind me. Following the smell down to the morning room, I passed corridors stuffed with highly polished antiques while my feet enjoyed the rich carpets. Down the stairs, I was followed by the eyes of stern portraits all looking uncannily like Doug. I found the rest in the same silks busy tucking in. When we were fed, Heather invited us to her workshop. "Principle is simple. The GPS unit goes on your arm and position is radioed to others" Doug had been quiet so far but now added a twist to our orienteering. He picked his words carefully. "You're not quite alone in your animal play." The Countess of Kinloch-Strathinch smiled and mockingly rolled her eyes. "No mincing words, darling. We play as dogs." This got her a sheepish grin from her husband "Well yes, my pack is Doug's bollocks and Heather's the bi-bitches." Rosheen had a slight blonde moment and asked if the stammer in bi-bitches was intentional. Now it was Doug's turn to smile at his spouse's expense. "Well, remote Scotland has two pastimes. Fishing and fornicating." He paused for effect. "Let's just say that Heather's girls like fishing both banks of the river." He went on to explain the rest of their plan for the day's hunt. Two packs of horse-led hounds compete to see who can catch the fox. It sounded great fun to me. Looking around the room, I could see that everybody was up for it. Siobhan immediately turned into organising mode, as he often does. "Josh, Shelagh and Philip are our horses, but we have no gear." Doug said that one of his pack members had friends who were into pony play. They had two shoulder fitted horse saddles that they were happy to lend us. Rosheen and Siobhan were the smallest and lightest among us, so they were to be the boys' riders. Doug and Heather's packs wanted to stick to dogs, so that only left little old me for the part of the fox. With the casting settled, I broached the issue of costumes. We explained how we used bridles, leather hooves and butt plug tails for horses. Heather gave us an account of their way. "We don't use suits because they're too hot to run in. Doug and I use body painting." Doug asked if we were fine with orienteering naked and I was glad to see that nobody had any problem. The DB and BB packs would be three dogs each, which was how many they were able to rustle up at such short notice. Our hosts would adorn all animals apart from the horses. Rosheen and Siobhan would be body painted in rider outfits. Josh and Rosheen would lead the bi's with Philip and Siobhan guiding the bollocks. Doug and Heather took us to their art studio, for our decoration. It was a high ceilinged room with gigantic windows. There was a raised plinth in the middle, flooded from three sides by the glorious daylight. Rosheen is a natural exhibitionist so she was the first to put her silk robe on one of a row of hooks along the wall. Seeming to give off an almost radiant glow in the bright light, she stepped onto the plinth. She stood like a showgirl with legs apart and hands on her hips, pelvis pushed out provocatively. She twirled round slowly to give us all a good look at her petite form. "Would you like to start on a small canvas?" Doug and Heather were appreciative of the ice being broken and set to work with their body paint. Since Rosheen's hair colour extends to her pubes, they were blended in with light tan riding breeches. An unbuttoned white shirt with a knot tied on her belly made her resemble a casual horse rider. Siobhan soon followed. She hung up the silk robe and her brown curls danced around her head as she marched to the plinth. Her even smaller body received a red riding coat which made her look a bit more formal than Rosheen. A few layers of paint went on her large breasts and even after that her dark nipples still stood out like it was a sheer garment. Next, she was adorned with black trousers to match her meticulously groomed pubes. It was extremely well done, with cravat on her neck and a hanky in her breast pocket. If you were myopic, you could easily mistake my friends for fully clothed, pint-sized Amazonians. It was time to start on animal coats so Doug disrobed to allow her ladyship to turn him into a hunting dog. As I had seen on their stand, he has a runner's body without being too wiry. I half suppressed a gasp as my eyes slid down to his crotch and I noticed that he sported a set of rather large balls. They were hanging below the head of his all together respectably sized penis. Doug noticed the surprise on my face and winked at me. "Aye lass, that happens when you wear the kilt a lot." Heather joined in and chuckled: "I call them his wrecking balls." I had to admit that they looked very much like that as his clean shaven sack swung slowly when he stepped up. Heather lovingly painted him all over into a convincing simile of a proud hound. By this time our little ensemble was joined by four more people who had brought two horse shoe shaped shoulder saddles. The Count swapped plinth for palette and did an equally stunning dog rendition on his wife. They cooperated to give the remaining four dogs their painted furs. Meanwhile, Philip and Josh had hung up their robes. As they walked back to fit the saddles they were tracked by six pairs of dewy females and three pairs of slightly envious males. The bi-bitches weren't the least bit embarrassed and stared intently at the muscular bodies and large penises of our men folk. By now, I was the only one not in costume and still wearing any kind of clothing. A hush fell over the room when I put the last robe on the hook. I carried my long red hair, freckled skin and red bush with an assertive, tall, almost feline walk to the plinth. "Shelagh, one hell of a paintable body." Heather sighed. Both she and Doug set to work to turn me into a vixen. I had never had body paint applied before and it felt really sensual, like a feather massage. Some areas were a bit ticklish but the overall feeling was one of latent sexuality. I could sense from her breathing that Heather was equally aroused as her husband, whose only sign of excitement was that the his penis was now hanging lower than his balls. They managed to control any trembling as they painted carefully. When they were satisfied with my foxy look, it was time to start our new adventure. We all went outside to the back lawn. Heather clipped on our forearm gadgets and explained the legend of the small map on their displays. "The green dot is the house, each blue dot is a horse or a dog. The red dot is the fox and the green circle is the lodge." The rules of the game were simple. The team catching the fox first would win, unless the fox reached the hunting lodge to beat them. I got a five minute head start which I used to full effect by immediately taking off at speed. I had no trouble working out which way I was going and soon settled into a steady jog across the heather. This is how you found me at the beginning of this story. I thought I'd be clever rather than tire myself out with running at full speed. The large leafy oak trees would block my gadget's view of the sky. This meant that I was unable to navigate directly towards the lodge, but it also meant that no one would see my position on their displays. When I got to the woods, I jumped over some undergrowth and froze dead in my tracks. Across a small clearing was a large stag who regarded me quizzically while chewing his lunch. I admired the majestic animal until it got bored and bolted. The encounter had cost me precious time, so I quickened my pace northwards. I worked out by dead reckoning that the hunting lodge was a few kilometres up a gentle slope. It turned out I was spot on and pretty soon, I could see the finish through the trees. I was about to accelerate for a final sprint when I saw another majestic sight that made me freeze. This time it was not a wildlife specimen but a familiar tall black shape with a small tan and white figure on top. I hid behind some bushes and crept closer. As I sneaked along a ridge I confirmed that it was Josh's naked muscular form. I sighed silently in admiration and took a minute to shamelessly stare at the perfectly carved ass on top of his muscular legs, widening out to his broad shoulders which were hidden under the saddle that kept the tan ass and white torso of Rosheen aloft. I looked dreamingly at his massive penis which hung on him like the Mull of Kintyre. They were looking to my left so I crouched down while tip-toeing to the right along the ridge. As I turned a corner to make a dash for the lodge I nearly fainted from shock as the bush in front of me came alive and Heather stuck a smiling dog face out of it and simply said Woof. I briefly thought of running back down the hill, but her two pack mates had already cut off my retreat. The three bitches took me to the lodge while Heather signalled her cavalry accompaniment in the distinct low tech way of a loud wolf whistle. The hunting lodge The front door of the lodge led straight into a large room which looked even larger due to a number of full height mirrors along the walls and a mirrored ceiling. Only the tasteful modern furniture kept it from looking tacky. The room was dominated by a central white raised area just over knee height. As the bitches threw me onto it, I was relieved to find out that it was an oversized mattress. Heather and her pals symbolically imprisoned me in a triangle with their legs forming the sides and a furry pussy on each corner. Heather held my hands above my head while the other two each held a leg. Fox Hunt I'm not into girls, but I could not escape the fact that I was sharing a bed with three other open legged, naked women. Just then the door opened again and Josh entered, hunkering down with Rosheen bending over his head. This let her pert white breasts hang over his forehead. The sight of four spread eagled girls on the huge bed caused his large penis to twitch. The three bitches were again transfixed by the black pendulum as it grew a little bit with each pulse of arterial blood. He let Rosheen dismount. She reached out and lifted the head on her open palm as if to weigh it and let out a little squeal of delight when it rose out of her hand. "I could hardly concentrate on my display with that thing swinging." Josh was quick to quip back. "So that's where that damp in my neck came from." To all us girls' disappointment he swung his turgid penis out of sight as he turned to the door to show us the tan spots on his neck from Rosheen's thighs. There was indeed a wet patch between them. His muscular back, ass and legs made a nice consolation image though. Just at that moment the other hunting party came in. Siobhan bent under the door as well. I was surprised that Philip didn't bump into anything as her large red breasts covered his face. She immediately fixed on Josh's penis rising as if to point at her. "Somebody is getting into the spirit." She looked down to her own horse. "Make that two." Philip's penis was starting to rise as well. Her temporary height advantage let her take in the four of us on the mattress. "No wonder with a four open pussies welcome." The Scottish bitches showed no inhibitions. The sight of the hard cocks had distracted them into a dreamy look and they had released me to caress their own breasts and bellies. Their movements turned more deliberate as all three were gradually sliding their hands down to their spread lips and soon each was lying back panting and wriggling with a finger on their clitoris as they rubbed themselves vigorously. I wondered if synchronised masturbation was another Highland sport. The sexy sounds and sweaty musky smells in the room were making me half think about joining in when Doug took direction. "In a decent hunt, pack gets to feast on the capture." This made my heart skip a beat but since the mood was not one of carnage and cannibalism, I relaxed to see what form this part of the game would take. The five visitors were taken by surprise when the three bitches quickly converged on my body and started nibbling and licking at me. Doug noticed our wonderment and explained. "Edible paint, a wide range of flavours." Rosheen was inevitably the first one to turn from spectator to participant. She walked over to Josh, stood on the tips of her toes and pulled his head down for a kiss. She ran her hands across his back muscles and rested them on his ass. "I'm dripping from watching, you fancy a fuck?" Josh superfluously agreed as by this time his penis had risen to its awesome erect stature. It twitched in anticipation as Rosheen leaned back on the edge of the mattress and pulled her knees up to open her pussy wide. Josh knelt in front of her and kissed her inner thighs. "Honey flavour." He spent a few minutes licking her blonde pussy, before trailing kisses along the white paint on her belly and breasts. He held his enormous member and carefully placed it in her pussy. Rosheen let out a groan as he settled inside her. It was quite a spectacle to see Josh's black tower slowly but surely disappear into Rosheen. It was as if there was a hole in the mattress and they were doing an elaborate magic trick. Siobhan looked on appreciatively with Philip. She had smeared her artistic red coat and black trousers as she rubbed herself just like the three wide open legged Scottish bitches had done earlier. "Rosheen, can I borrow Philip?" Rosheen had to take great effort to answer coherently under Josh's pounding of her small form. "Be my guest, get fucked silly. I know I am." Siobhan picked a spare corner and draped herself back in the same supine posture as her pal. Philip took over rubbing Siobhan's abdomen and used one hand to spread her pussy wide open. He ran the fingers of his other hand between the inner and outer lips and circled her clitoris until she was begging him to touch her. He relented and pushed down with two fingers into her vagina while softly rolling her clit from side to side with his other hand. When he was convinced that she was wet and ready, he entered her gently and another muscular ass started sinking steadily down into a hungry pussy. The end of the mattress was starting to look like a small scale oil exploration field with two beam pumps, each with its own stroke and rhythm. The wet noises completed the illusion. Meanwhile, I was still being licked and nibbled from three sides. Heather was gently cleaning my arms that she and Doug had painted so artistically earlier, while her fellow bitches busied themselves nibbling paint off my sides and legs. Doug again took command of proceedings again. "That is our fox clean now, boning crew take over." Siobhan got back into the game, raised her hand "I've got a boner here." She took Philip's face in her hands. "You want to bone Shelagh? Philip looked at Rosheen who had a mixture of concentration and elation on her face. She nodded agreement. "You and Josh take care of our vixen." Josh and Philip carefully pulled their long penises, shiny with female juices, out of my pals. I had to giggle; they looked like they had swapped groins as Josh was stained tan from Rosheen's body paint while Philip had framed his balls and penis with dark smudges from Siobhan's blackened inner thighs. I excitedly told the boys to come and bone me. Pretending that they needed any enticement, I playfully tugged my nipples and spread my red haired lips with both hands. Philip kneeled astride my torso and caressed me as he tenderly smeared the paint on my breasts with his large hands. He effortlessly slid his moist erection between my breasts, for a slow, deliberate tit fuck. Josh wasted no time either and kneeled behind Philip. He grabbed my ankles and diligently buried his black tower into me, aided by liberal helpings of Rosheen's vaginal excretions mixing with mine. Meanwhile, Heather's team, deprived of their prey, had arranged themselves in another triangle beside me, but only smaller in size. Each bitch had her right leg stretched flat out and her left leg straight up in the air in an almost impossibly wide open angle. This spread their lips without them having to use their hands. They touched their left feet to form a pyramid while each had her head buried between the legs of the girl next to her. I heard wet noises and saw tongues licking lips and clits with fingers in vaginas and hands sliding over breasts, backs, asses and abdomens. I admired their flexibility and wondered what other party tricks they had practised. The other pack hadn't done much else than watch, albeit with obvious, twitching relish. Doug was keen for them to join the proceedings and his upside down grey eyes smiled as he looked down on me. I supposed that the incredible sensations from both Josh and Philip's penises were showing on my grimacing face. "Mind if we join in?" It took great effort to take my mind off the two jackhammers for a moment, and I diminutively said that I was just a poor little capture and that I was at his mercy. "Shake paws with the lads. They look pleased to see you." I looked up and to my right and left and as he indicated, I saw two painted dogs sporting large, rock hard erections. As directed, I put a hand around each cock and started a slow but firm double hand job. The paint turned out to be a good lubricant. As I pumped them in unison, I showed them that it's not only Scottish girls that know a bit or two about synchronised finger work. Then, all of a sudden the lights went out. It took me a second to realise that this wasn't an electrical fault, but that my eyes were covered with two large, soft, smooth globes. I lifted my head up and they slipped off my forehead into my hair. When I opened my eyes, I saw Doug kneeling over my head and his colourful erection was right over my face. I stuck out my tongue and took a long, broad appreciating lick all the way down to his wreckers and tilted my head to the side to suck on them gingerly. "Brown sugar, hints of cinnamon. Strawberries? You're a genius blender, you're not Earl Grey?" I tilted my head further back and opened wide to let him enter my mouth. A few months ago, Rosheen and I had taken a fancy to learning to deep throat. We would practice on Philip, who was never asked but didn't seem to mind whenever we would march up to him, unceremoniously pull his pants and briefs down and take turns trying to bury our noses in his blonde pubic hair. I went through my breathing regulation, stuck my tongue out all the way to keep Doug's penis away from the area sensitive to my gag reflex and started to seriously devour him. My girlfriends were sitting on a couch at the side of the mattress. Siobhan looked on open mouthed in awe but Rosheen was cheering me on. "Suck that sucker." Doug, while enjoying himself, was too well mannered to spurt down my throat uninvited and perhaps a bit apprehensive about drowning me in the process. He looked to the licking girl mountain to my left. "Sure need me some cunt. That a bitch in heat I smell?" Heather joined in the banter. "Big boy, you want doggy style?" She disentangled herself from the other girls and picked a free spot by my right side. She leisurely went down on knees and forearms. Her dog colour painted, heart shaped ass was sticking in the air as she crossed her arms and pressed her breasts so far into the mattress that her wet lips were peeking through on top. They looked like a bright orchid on top of a brown earthenware tripod, unfolding its pink petals in search of pollination. Now it was Siobhan's turn for some vocal encouragement. "Fuck the bitch. She's gagging." Not that he needed the slightest bit of persuasion as he knelt behind Heather and easily slid into her. He held onto her hips and started to slowly bang away at her pretty rump. His balls lived up to their pet name as they were swinging in a long arc, slapping against Heather's lower abdomen. Doug was making authentic canine growling noises while Heather whimpered theatrically with each stroke of his cock and impact of his balls. The duo left over from the cunnilingus pyramid hardly missed a lick as they rearranged themselves into a more traditional sixty-nine position at the other side, left of my head. They held each other tight and mashed their breasts into each other's torso. My two hand job recipients looked at the girls longingly and I let go as they were involuntary drawn to the energetic bitches. Released, the two dogs stood at opposite ends of the 69. They asked and got muffled permission to slide their paint smudged cocks into a pussy each. The bitches added licking balls and shafts to their diet of pussy lips and clits. Group sex is also amazing if you can see, hear and smell it up close. I turned my attention to Philip as he was going from low grunting to more urgent noises. I pressed my breasts together and flicked my tongue at the head each time it would turtle out between them in ever more rapid frequency. He hardly needed me to help him as he froze and let out an incomprehensible utterance. Very loud for such a quiet man. Long jets of hot cum flew from his swollen cock to my neck just below my chin, bouncing off to form a gleaming pearl necklace. When spent, Philip got up, kissed me tenderly and sat in the middle of the spectator's couch. He was sporting enough to finger his girlfriend and Siobhan who each draped a leg over an arm rest and one over his leg to give him room to play with them. They put their heads on his biceps and looked on with half closed eyes. I now not only felt, but saw Josh again while he was slowly but methodically slamming his monster cock into me. I looked into his beautiful black eyes and pleaded for him to redecorate my innards in tasteful cream. He leaned over me on his strong arms to get a better angle. I pushed my heels into his marble-like ass muscles and we fucked most energetically until we both came loudly. The frenzied fucking from the aristocratic two-some and commoner four-some corners was coming to an equally loud conclusion of orgasms. The room grew quiet apart from everybody breathing deeply while recovering. We all got up, leaving a most intricate pattern of damp spots and paint smudges. Lucky white Heather Doug and Heather were the perfect hosts and we all retired to a rugby team sized sunken hot tub in the back garden of the lodge. We soaked off the last bits of body paint, relaxing our muscles tired from running and sex. We drank champagne from elegant flutes to celebrate our hunt in style. After we had dried off with oversized fluffy towels, we rounded off the day with a leisurely walk back to the main house. It was funny to contrast the lazy naked ramble with the earlier hectic race to the lodge. Once back at the main house, we got dressed, had some supper and got lifts to our respective accommodation; Rosheen and Philip back to the camping and Josh, Siobhan and me back to Glasgow. We went to Siobhan's hotel room to chat about the exhilarating day we had and to lie in the afterglow. While we were lying back on the bed talking, Siobhan's phone and mine both chimed. It was a message from Heather. "Hi Grls, thx 4 joining 2day. Looked like u had as much fun as us. Forgot to tell about other biz beside day jobs & orienteering. www.luckywhiteheather.org, member section, c 4 yourself. Kisses D&H" Siobhan fired up her laptop and soon had the site up. The respectable front consisted of pictures of the estate and an explanation of the orienteering activity. There was indeed a little members link in the small print along the bottom. Entry was through a twenty pound credit card transaction. "On expenses." Once the member site loaded, we saw our Laird and Lady again, welcoming us as a new member. There was a link for latest videos and we clicked on it. "A German flag?" Asked Josh innocently. It did look like it as an artistically out of focus opening shot showed a black, red and yellow striped smudge. Instead of a national anthem, there were muffled groans and moans coming out of the laptop speakers. We all looked open mouthed as the shot focussed and zoomed out. The flag imitation was the black top of Josh's head, my red pubes and the blonde top of Philip's head lined up perfectly. We could now see Josh pounding my pussy and Philip my tits. Pretty soon the video showed all our sweaty sex shenanigans of that afternoon. There was footage from impossible angles and even shots of our bodies from the neck down while we were running across the estate. "Those arm units had cameras." Josh deducted. "That lodge had more recording behind mirrors than Big Brother House." I said. We looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Other business. What those canny Scots like?" Siobhan said. "Well and truly dog-bollocking, bitch-lapped for all to see." I added. "Out and out foxed." Josh concluded.