"Look, you know that if you have any problems, I'll deal with them. If you don't want Miss Cuddis to tell anyone, it will never spread."

He trots in place nervously, raising his front left leg in accordance with the back right, then doing the reverse as he lowers the first two onto the grass	. The black-haired and onyx-flanked youth is much too anxious to bother brushing his shaggy hair out of his face as he looks dead ahead into the seated woman's leather-brown eyes, still unprepared to open his mouth about the cause of his worry.

The auburn-haired woman takes one of his hands and clasps it between her own. "I promise, understand?" Poor colt Murell seems scared to a point somewhere between witless and shitless.

If he shuts his eyes, she can't tell through that jet veil of hair. It makes her want to brush her own wavy chestnut brown locks away just to give him an idea. At least he's quit pacing. However, the covering lends itself to one method of divination: the depth of his exhalation. The first thing he does as she returns his hand is to brush the draped follicles away from his features. He inhales until it seems his chest will burst before he launches into babble.

"I saw that Mister Arlangor was dragging a fawn into the village today and he said she was going to be his wife so he brought her into his tent and I wanted to see what having a wife was like since every centaur needs a wife but I didn't know what you were supposed to do once you had a girl to be your wife so I watched what he was doing and he kept touching her all over and then he made her get on her hands and knees and I saw his..."

That's all she needs to hear. She presses a finger to the young centaur's lips, startling him into silence.

"D-did I say something I wasn't supposed to? I watched him step until she as under him and then I saw she was dripping from somewhere on her butt just like he was dripping and then his flanks moved and he went into the place that was all wet and he was tossing his head like he really enjoyed it..."

"How did it make you feel? Did you want to do anything when you came to your senses?""

"...both making lots of really weird noises and he wouldn't stop moving but it didn't look like- Huh? Uh..." Back to trotting and not talking.

"Come on. You can tell Miss Cuddis, can't you?"

"I... I can tell Miss Cuddis anything," he repeats with a dearth of conviction.

"Very good, Murell. Now, I think you can skip to the part where you stopped watching Mister Arlangor."

"Well, they were getting really noise and there was a big slapping sound every time Mister Arlangor's flanks moved and one of them was really loud and that was when I came back."

"Did anything seem off when you returned to reality?"

"I felt really warm like I wanted to run through the river a few times and it was more than just warm from being in the sun it was from inside and there was something really warm pressing against my belly and it was kind of wet and sticky at the end and it was hard to walk so I wanted to find something soft to rub it against-"

She cuts him off by patting him on the head. Here she thought there were three things centaurs were born knowing: bows, booze, and banging. "There's nothing to worry about, Murrel. Miss Cuddis has it all figured out."

"R-really? Then what was it?"

"What you saw Mister Arlangor doing with the fawn was a perfectly natural part of life for just about every living thing: sex."

It's like the blood in his face is simultaneously trying to drain away and rush up. The latter wins. "U-uhm, Miss Cuddis, I don't really think it's appropriate to be talking about that until I'm older..."

"No no. If you're old enough to be having these feelings and old enough to report that 'wet and sticky stuff' on your belly, I think you should know."

"W-well, if I-I'll listen if you say it's alright, Miss Cuddis."

"It is absolutely alright, Murrel. You saw it, and you deserve to know. Now..." She draws her fingers up her ivory blouse, letting them play over her collarbone. "Would you mind if I tried to replicate that?"

"I-if it would help you, Miss Cuddis, I wouldn't mind, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel kind of good too."

"That's sweet of you," she coos as she undoes the button at her throat, savoring the chance to breathe freely as she descends to the next fastener. And the next. There's appreciable cream-colored cleavage on display behind the royal blue brassiere by the time she sits back. "Do you feel kind of like you did when you saw Mister Arlangor?"

He's preoccupied with murmuring to himself. "They look a lot like the ones on the ladies..." is all he gets out before coming crashing back into the real world with more nodding than is strictly necessary. He fails to pause to reveal his face from behind all that hair. It's something she finds both charming and irritating. "Maybe not quite so much but I do feel all warm like I did there."

The lack of babble is a definite improvement. "Mmhm" provides recognition as she resumes the work of casting off her milk-white blouse. She reclines once more, her fingers tugging her navy blue skirt upwards as she spreads her legs. It will certainly be a treat to his engrossed gaze when he quits staring at her chest. When he does look, his instincts take over for a moment, forcing him to rear up onto his back legs. Her suspicions are confirmed: he's erect. The better news is that he's not particularly precocious and will fit without much difficulty.

"Be honest with me now, Murrel. What do you want me to do?"

"K-keep taking our clothes off!" He's as anxious as he is eager.

"Absolutely." She reaches around her back to unclasp the undergarment, tossing it into the heap begun by her blouse. She cups her hefty breasts from underneath, never breaking eye contact. "Come here and touch them."

He steps forward, hands outstretched to grasp the wonderfully soft globes before him. He looks up as his grip finds its mark, waiting for a nod of approval and receiving it. She can smell the pheromone-laden musk, musing on how impressive it is for one so young to be so powerfully surrounded by the sour-salty scent of virility.

"That's good," she whispers as he rolls the tender flesh in slow circles with his palms. She gives him another pat on the head as his thumbs glide over her nipples. Her eyes watch hi tail flick back and fourth, leaving her ears to catch his need mumblings. "Give me a moment, Murrel. You can keep going when I finish."

The colt nods and steps back, completely unaware of his equine half's rocking back and forth. She raises her hips, sliding the sapphire skirt and moistened cerulean panties down to her ankles in a single fluid gesture. She turns her head to the side, giving him a coy look as her left hand cups a breast and her right rests on her shaven mound. His jaw hangs slightly agape.

"Since you're so small, I don't think you'll be able to mount me, and by that same token, I can't be on my hands and knees under you, so..." She stands, crouches down, and allows herself to topple onto her back.

He approaches before her back has touched a single blade of grass. That bestial scent of manhood fills her nostrils as she becomes auditorily preoccupied with his desperate whining. As his front hooves stop their stride just shy of her shoulders she takes a moment to smile fondly at him from below. Her fingers glide over his ebony chest, not quite reaching the thinning hair that signals his human half. "The thing to remember is that you must be very-" A gasp her off. Her own. "gentleeee..."

The color of his face is easily comparable to that of raw tuna. His legs are spread, mimicking her movement. A finger trailed down his left fetlock offers encouragement as his flat, drooling tip pokes and prods. The boy was just thick enough to offer a pleasantly mild stretch.

He groans in a baritone surprising for his age as he thrusts forward, sending a bit of color to her cheeks to mirror his. She welcomes the weak attempts at flaring he makes with only a content sigh. Despite the reputation of size centaurs carried, he wasn't especially difficult.

The male's mouth manages something coherent. Something very much like a low pleading. "Miss Cuddis..." The smile on her face widens again as he press forward, stuffing a few mottled inches into her gash. His throbbing and delightfully energetic production of clear pre makes his inability to endure quite clear. It's endearing to her, even moreso than the non-aggravating facets of his hair curtain.

His sheath soon nudges her entrances. With nothing more to fit inside, his motions become quick and they become sloppy. The air fills with his quiet cries of lust and the filthy slapping sound of his thrusting. She hardly minds. His first time is adorable and it would be too much if he was both cute and good in the sack.

After half a minute more, he seems to grasp the concept of pulling back to thrust forward once more. She rests her forearm under her wobbling breasts to contain their jostling as the colt pants above her. His hips shake every time he drives forward, leaving nothing but his sheath exposed to the air. Continuing is going to be difficult, as evidenced by the vigor of his movement.

"A-ah! Miss Cuddis!" His fists ball against his sides, left with only that outlet as his thick member twitches and his hips rut desperately. She closes her eyes, reveling in the spreading of her passage by his flaring tip and awaiting the imminent sticky bliss. Ropes of it spatter over her insides, setting her quivering and finally dragging a sordid moan from her lungs. Lying there, limp and overyjoed, is all she can do as he rides himself out with warbling moans. A trail of white follows his withdrawal, still dripping from his shaft until the head pops free. A last spurt begins the puddle forming between her cream-white thighs.

He glances down. "Uhm... Miss Cuddis?" He kneels beside her, an expression of genuine concern on his face. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She musters the concentration to push herself up into a sitting position as she laughs. "Absolutely not, Murrel." A hand finds a resting place on his human shoulder. "That what Mister Arlangor was doing with the fawn," she sighs.

He chuckles nervously. "C-can we try it again some time?"

She pats his flank. "Promise to quit peeping on your neighbors and I might."