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Cole was half asleep when his phone rang. "Mmm, fuggit," he yawned, stretching and letting it ring. He figured it was a call from work. Whenever somebody left a hole in the schedule, he was on the shortlist (the shitlist, as he called it) when it came to filling in. On one hand, he was glad he was popular enough to be the go-to substitute. On the other, he resented having his weekends cut short so often. Hence, it was the shitlist.

He lifted his butt off of the bench and slipped his phone out of his pocket. Instead of Work, he saw the name and picture of a co-worker and friend, one Heath Gruder. A shark, Heath was a perpetual grinner who had a sense of humor drier than the salt lake and a lot of stories from his time in the Navy, although those only came out after a few beers. Cole answered without hesitation.

"Hey, and here I was gettin' ready to play some fag porn on your voice mail," Heath said. "You getting your thing wet right now or something?"

"I wish. Just snoozing at the park, that one a couple blocks from the club." The club, Nature Calls, the place his life seemed to revolve around. It wasn't just him. The place was so well-staffed and had such a breezy outlook on workplace flings that most of the employees didn't bother to socialize outside of work.

Heath laughed. "Need some company? Me and Zayne are looking for something to do. You could play with our balls."

Cole heard someone laugh in the background. He recognized Zayne's gravel-rough voice when he said, "Don't you get enough of that shit at work, Heath?"

The shark shushed Zayne, and he added with what Cole knew had to be a famous grin, "I was talkin' about our baseballs, you fuckin' pervert. Jesus fucking Christ."

The exchange left a tight smile on Cole's face. He put one leg over the other, elevating his hoof; he was a leggy zedonkey. As with all the talent at his place of employment, he was muscular, though less so than his coworkers. He was the closest thing to a twink that the club employed. That build and his exotic hybridization were what made him such a hot item at work.

"If you guys want," Cole breezily said, following a pair of mature but very desirable mares with his eyes as they jogged past him in tight-fitting gym clothes, "I'd be down to bat your balls around. Maybe get lunch afterward."

Heath and Zayne both snickered mischievously in spite of being over thirty. It reminded Cole of Beavis and Butt-head to an alarming degree. "Sure, bud," the shark said, gradually bringing his laughter under control. "We'll come to you."

Free of the phone, Cole relaxed on the bench again. He rested his shoulder blades on the backrest and his rear on the edge of the seat and stretched his legs out as far as they'd go. He made a mental note to weasel a massage out of Heath. Former Navy SEAL though he was, the shark had the dubious distinction of being licensed in massage therapy. His services were in hot demand among the dancing talent at the club. For a six pack, a refreshing rub could be yours; for a bottle of Southern Comfort, a happy ending was guaranteed. Cole just legitimately wanted a massage.

Heath and Zayne were informally lovers. Their schedules aligned flawlessly in spite of their differing roles (Zayne a security guard, Heath one of the numerous strippers), and what had begun as a sensible ride sharing arrangement blossomed into raunchy sex, then love. They avoided the term boyfriends, finding it too fruity, yet never denied it when labeled as such. Very damning was the fact that, while in the park looking for Cole, they walked side by side and held hands. Being openly gay was a non-issue for workers at Nature Calls. The reason was pure intimidation, since being a tall, muscular Adonis was a job requirement.

On that note, the lovers were especially frightful because of their massive, meat-eating teeth and leering eyes which never seemed to open past a cynical squint. Heath was a stout, ripped bull shark, his partner Zayne a living fossil as a carcharodontosaurus standing a spiny ridge over nine feet tall. Yet Heath was not noticeably smaller than Zayne, in fact appearing just as tall at the peak of his head fin. Together they made a terrifying pair of creatures, and no one would dare deny them their affection.

"There he is," Zayne nodded.

Heath grinned up to the gums, as he was known for, and trotted ahead of Zayne, letting his arm hang back a bit until his fingers slipped out of the dinosaur's grasp. "Sleeping beauty himself. Hey! Wake up!"

Cole rolled up his eyelids slowly, baring his orange eyes like a pair of dim headlights. He yawned wide and his jaw popped, causing him to wince. "Sorry. They worked me like a dog this week."

"You don't know the meaning of that 'til I've worked you like a dog," teased Zayne, grinding his palms together in a sinister way. His saurian hide sounded like sandpaper grinding on itself.

The shark glanced at Zayne, then smiled more mildly and sat beside Cole. At seven-foot-six, Cole was the small one of the trio. Therefore when Heath put a hand on his thigh, he was content enough to be passive. Besides his inferior size, he had a background in emergency medicine. Comparing that to Heath's time in the military, Cole typically deferred to the shark unless invited to do otherwise.

Zayne sat on the opposite side of Cole. Upon adding his enormous weight to the bulk Cole and Heath already put on it, the wooden bench wheezed tiredly. Zayne blinked, sitting terribly still, then regained his confidence and leaned over Cole. He cupped the zedonkey's other thigh and made most of it disappear.

Dressed for the summer weather was Cole in gym shorts and a tee that read WINDY CITY FOR LIFE, but the day was unseasonably mild and the sky was a depressed overcast. None of the studs were sweaty, though Zayne had some heady reptilian musk going on, and Heath had the fishy equivalent of it. Outing himself as the baby of the group even more, Cole only smelled like Degree deodorant.

"I thought we were gonna play with some balls?" Cole asked, speaking in an amused manner with the face to match. He touched Zayne and Heath on their wrist and hip, respectively. They were more dressed than he, Zayne in black cargo pants and a buttoned-down shirt, Heath in gray sweat pants and a blue wife beater.

The boyfriends sniggered almost in unison. Zayne reached up his leg of Cole's shorts and trailed a finger along the smooth curve of the zedonkey's ballbag. "Well, y'know," he sneered as Cole blushed at the touch, "I legitimately wanted to play some baseball or something, but I just forgot to bring the gear with me."

"Fondling you's just gonna have to do," said Heath darkly, nipping then on Cole's neck. Cole gasped and closed his eyes, pressing back tighter against the bench. "What do you think, baby?" he asked, looking across the young equine at Zayne.

The dinosaur's eyes, orange like Cole's but with sinister slit pupils, seemed to gleam at the question. What humor remained in his smile was of a lurid variety. "I thi-i-ink," he grunted in that lifelong smoker voice of his, "that it's a little too brightly-lit out here for some good old-fashioned faggo fuckin'. Otherwise I'd be down."

Cole had to laugh. He moved his hands to grip the studs by their thighs, much like they held him. "What, you guys don't want to share a jail cell with me?"

Heath and Zayne exchanged looks. The shark rolled his eyes as if to say here we go again. Zayne delivered: "I already have two indecent exposures on my rap sheet. Third time you get one, the club automatically bumps you up to working the pole." As Cole started to snicker, Zayne calmly went on, "I like being a bouncer, thank you very much."

"All right, fine," the zedonkey scoffed, loading his voice with as much inconvenienced disappointment as he could. "You guys live closer to this place than I do, let's get moving."

Although they all got up (much to the relief of the old wooden bench), Zayne immediately said, "Nah, fuck that, kid. There's gotta be someplace we can bang."

"What about that dump there?" Heath offered, nodding off at the margins of the park. Before the treeline started, there was a hut best described as ramshackle.

Shaking his head to convey I can't believe this shit, Cole explained, "That's the groundskeeper's shack. And it's locked."

Zayne started for the shack in such a way that said he wouldn't be stopped. Heath looked at Cole's bemused face and cracked a bit of a grin. "After you, bud."

After jogging to catch up to Zayne, Cole walked alongside the dinosaur and resented the fact that Zayne's size made him feel like a teenager just getting his first zits and pubes. "You did hear me, right? The door's locked."

Cracking a smile most certainly cribbed from his boyfriend, the carcharodontosaurus said, "You seem to think that's some kinda problem. Heath?"

"Yeah, yeah," the shark said from a few paces behind, also jogging to catch up. He produced a paperclip from his pocket, and Cole eyed it with a curious smile.

"You're gonna pick the lock? Seriously? Where the fuck did you learn to do that?"

"Boy Scouts of America, same place I learned to like a good rimjob," Heath answered, smiling pleasantly. He patted Zayne on his fine ass, the shape of which was hidden by his pants, but a grope revealed it to the touch. Following a highly suspicious glance around to be sure they weren't being watched, he knelt on the cement pad and straightened out the clip. "This won't take long."

Standing watch with his arms crossed was what Zayne did for a living at the club, and he did it now for free. The only difference now was that he lit a cigarette. Cole looked around too, but often shot glances back at Heath, watching him jimmy the lock with childlike curiosity. Catching the zedonkey's interest, Zayne chuckled and nudged his shoulder. "Hey Cole, buddy," he said, addressing him as if the equine weren't ten years his junior, "y'know, the first time I saw him do that, he was sneakin' us into a movie theater. The side door."

"Yep," Heath said, his tailfin idly swaying, flexing its muscles to work the fin. It was a tic he had in times of concentration, and it made him look like he was trying to swim in midair. "'Cause they'd banned us from the theater. You got caught with your pecker out," he laughed.

"Yeah," Zayne said, a little miffed. He took a drag off his cigarette.

Cole tried not to laugh, but he failed. "Uh--, so, only you were rocking out with your cock out, Zayne?"

The dinosaur smiled angrily. You tread on thin ice, young man. But he answered politely enough, "Uh-huh. That was my second indecent exposure. Heath here got his put away before the usher found us. I wasn't so lucky."

Finally Cole just let loose and laughed, and Zayne rolled his eyes but smirked.

Heath twisted the knob, and the door swung inward and crashed against the wall with a rattle, earning the attention of both Cole and Zayne. Glancing over his shoulder, still on his knees, Heath had a look that asked who's your daddy?

It didn't take long at all for the studs to make themselves at home. The shack smelled like spilled gasoline and the riding mower in the middle facing the Dutch doors separate from the door they used smelled like fresh cut grass. Both smells subjected Cole to unpleasant flashbacks of mowing the lawn on sweltering summer days. Thankfully for him, Zayne was of a mind to get right into the festivities. He grabbed the zedonkey in his huge, scaly hands, and he leaned down to share with him a wet kiss.

Cole gave what he got, moaning sluttishly into the kiss. Zayne's maw tasted like nicotine and his lips were craggy, but he knew how to use his tongue. The zedonkey reached down to the crotch of Zayne's pants, wasting no time with less erotic touches. That was a young man for you, thought Heath - just like Christmas morning, they go right for the biggest present. The shark decided he couldn't blame Cole, not when he himself was usually pretty hungry for Zayne's big prick.

The romp seemed to be all about Cole. Heath shoved down his sweat pants, but left on his jock. He squeezed the boy from behind and ground his loins against that perfect equine ass, able to easily feel the shapes of the cheeks through his thin gym shorts.

Against Zayne's rough lips, Cole shuddered out a moan and pushed back into Heath. Seeing the young thing's face light up so needfully made Zayne chuckle; the sound was dark and evil from his years as a smoker. He broke the kiss off but licked Cole's snout, starting at the cheek, ending between the eyes. "Look at you, kiddo," he sneered. "Shovin' your butt back like Heath's rubbin' the secret of life on it."

Over Heath's snigger, Cole sighed. Self-consciously he said, "Maybe I'm just playing submissive for you guys."

"O-o-or you like a stiff one up the ass," Heath offered, reaching around his young friend to squeeze his bulging groin. Cole cooed and returned the favor on Zayne's groin, and he learned that the dinosaur was getting stiff downstairs.

"Hmm, yeah," Zayne murmured, pausing to peck Cole on the lips. "Last time you were a pretty good top and all that, kid, but I'm willin' to bet you might just like having your own butt stuffed."

The shark grinned at his lover over Cole's head. He had begun to slowly gyrate, packing Cole's gym shorts into the crack of his ass with his burgeoning erection. "Now Zayne, babe, you know there's nothing wrong with liking some pecker up your ass. You sure enjoy 'em."

"That I do," the carcharodontosaurus emphatically agreed with a grin, "but this time, that little donkey donut is mine."

"You want the ass, huh?" Heath tutted. "Guess it's another sloppy, wet suckhole for Heath today."

Cole bucked back into the shark, and in turn, Heath growled through clenched teeth and returned a steady push. He started to vigorously dry-hump the boy - but he wasn't really a boy, just young enough compared to Heath and Zayne that they automatically considered him a knee-high kid. A huge smear of pre warmed the crotch of his jockstrap, rubbing off onto the material of Cole's shorts.

Swishing his tail, thumping its spiny length against the legs of the workbench and sending a nesting spider scurrying, Zayne said, "Don't sound so depressed there, Eeyore. Next time I bring over Claus, I'll make him touch his toes for you. He's a pretty good doggy like that."

Sneering at the witty banter and still pushing his athletic butt against Heath's advances, Cole worked down Zayne's zipper and popped open the button. He wasn't shocked at all to see Zayne's naked, uncut meat. Zayne, the lazy smoker; Zayne, the hard dinosaur who liked soft comforts and few hassles. Zayne of course went commando. Cole gripped the swollen, vein-pocked shaft before him and pulled on it, scrunching the foreskin up. As he let it relax, a dribble of precum fell free.

"God, you have a nice dick," Cole shuddered. He expected some ribbing but none came. Zayne petted the side of his head and neck gently.

Cole leaned in just enough that he could wrap his soft lips around the dinosaur's cock. As he started to suck those fat inches, Heath tugged down his shorts and wore his famous grin as he did it. "What's this, now? Little Cole's snoot is heading steadily for big, bad Zayne's sweaty pelvis, leaving the rear completely unprotected!" he announced, following it with an immature snicker.

"Yeah, yeah," Zayne groused, but he was watching - and listening to - Cole's eager work. The zedonkey didn't even seem to notice it when Heath knelt and gripped his cheeks. "You go on, smartass, enjoy yourself." It was a weirdly lazy intonation. He said ya'self. "I'll just fuck your ass tonight."

The shark let his tailfin brush around the floor while he busied himself with Cole's bottom. Being an equine, Cole had strong, long legs ending in a fine ass, a pair of twin bubbles full of pliant chub despite his muscularity. Heath grasped those chubby cheeks and pulled them apart, giving himself a look at the black anus between them. His heart actually started to race. There was something terrifically arousing about an equine asshole; that thick, puffy rim seemed to beg for a good tonguing. Heath saw fit to give it one.

Where Cole's sucking on the first five or six inches of the carcharodontosaurus' cock produced gentle, even modest noises, Heath purposefully tried to be the opposite. He slapped his tongue into Cole's ass crack and began slurping and slobbering, letting fly the most obnoxious noises of pleasure and suckling he could manage. If the intended effect was to make Zayne roll his eyes and smirk, he was doing a great job; and furthermore, Cole was blushing cherry-red, but whether that was from pleasure or embarrassment was anybody's guess.

While Heath indulged himself on Cole's winking pucker, the zedonkey stroked what inches of Zayne's cock he couldn't fit in his mouth. That was most of it, of course, and that was why the stroking proved so vital in the first place. His strokes smeared slobber along the length, lubing it well. "Mmh, work the nuts, kid, work those too," the dinosaur gasped, giving an awkward grind forward.

Cole obliged; how couldn't he? Zayne's balls dangled so plump and full that it would've been crazy not to fondle them. The dinosaur was a perfect stud, built and hung, handsome and musky. Cole started to advance with his gulping mouth, pushing the limits of his maw. Despite his enthusiasm, he quickly hit the point where he couldn't open his jaws any further. His saliva ran down his cheeks in weird patterns, deflected and shifted by his fur and the motions of his head. With Zayne's cockhead against the entrance to his throat, he almost caused himself to gag but managed to avoid it. And as he gulped and sucked, he rolled the scaly stud's balls in his drool-soaked fingers. They throbbed under his touch.

Down below, Heath was unspeakably lewd. Matching his noises for sheer nastiness, he made a great effort to work his tongue inside the boy, forcing open that snug fuckhole. His penis ached in the jockstrap, stretching the material as far as it would go before bending itself. Just as needful was Cole, whose horsecock hung free and dribbled precum all over the shed's stained cement floor. The groundskeeper would smell dick for weeks to come.

Heath pulled up with a sound like coming up from a dive that went on longer than expected. He clumsily wiped his lack-of-lips on the back of his arm, and then enjoyed another famous grin. "Zayne! I got the little hoofer all lubed up for you," he coyly said. "Got that mouth stretched out for me yet?"

Zayne, snickering, ushered Cole up and said hotly, "C'mon, kid, let's get that tail of yours hiked up. Don't worry - I'll bet my dick'll go so far up your butt, you'll be tastin' it again."

"Mmh, yeah. But we need someplace to do it," the zedonkey murmured. The three of them started to idly look around the shed, but then, sowing some ingenuity which the two older queers found admirable, Cole put a hoof on the mower's deck, his knee on the seat, and reached back to pat his fine ass. His perch put it at the perfect height for Zayne. "Here you go, big boy," he chuckled.

"Good thinkin', kid," Zayne said, no condescension, no kidding. "Heath, man, you got 'em?"

The shark rolled his eyes but nodded. "Stickler for those goddamn rules," he scoffed. From a hip pocket of his sweat pants, he produced three rubbers. "Here," he said to neither stud in particular, passing one to Zayne and another to Cole who looked at it dubiously. Rolling his own on, Heath impatiently said, "I seen how you jizz. You really wanna ruin that poor groundskeeper's fine John Deere riding lawn mower with a generous slopping of your baby gravy?"

Cole laughed and said, as he rolled the rubber down past his flared cockhead, "Nah, nah, you're right... Still. I hate wearing these things."

"Company rules, kiddo, on and off the premises," Zayne quipped, saying it as premi-sees. Properly suited, he pushed up against the prone zedonkey, grinding his big prick in perpendicular to the hole. It filled the deep cleavage of Cole's bubble ass and then some, and he started to lewdly grind, chanting slyly, "Hot-dog, hot-dog, bi-i-ig greasy hot-dog." The gruffness of his voice made Cole imagine a New York City hotdog vendor, pitching his product on the side of a busy street.

"Really, every fucking time?" Heath asked with genuine annoyance.

"Yeah, since it gets your pussy all rumpled up," Zayne said with a wink. He kept hotdogging but skipped a second verse of the tuneless chant.

Heath pushed his meat against Cole's soft lips. The zedonkey momentarily nuzzled the shark's cockflesh, amused by the color of the rubber: pussy pink. "Smells like bubblegum," he chuckled.

"Suits you then, right? Now you don't gotta taste fish," Zayne brightly said.

"Fuck off," Heath snapped. "I could make a lotta belts and boots outta you." Leering down at Cole, "Open up now, kid."

Cole did, and Heath didn't waste a second. His bubblegum-sheathed meat slipped smoothly into the zedonkey's maw, filling it easier than Zayne's bigger, clumsier cock did. His blunt cockhead kissed the back of Cole's throat and he asked, wearing the tiniest of smirks, "You gonna swallow me or am I gonna have to just do business up front, kid?"

While Cole tried to psych himself up for a deep-throat blowjob and fondled the shark's heavy, sweaty nuts in an effort of appeasement, Zayne pulled back, then went in at a straighter angle. It was plain to see that his big cock was too much to ask for that tiny, winking pucker it was rubbing against, but he didn't own a t-shirt that proclaimed BIG THINGS IN SMALL PLACES for no reason. Gripping his cock around the front inches to brace it and putting his strong muscles to work, he started to penetrate the zedonkey.

Once Zayne began the rough trip inside, Cole's efforts to gulp down the shark's dong ceased. He visibly tensed and his tuft-tipped tail lashed. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes but his big, black piece of stallion meat throbbed and dribbled precum into the reservoir of his grass-green rubber.

"C'mon, kid, swallow it," Heath urged, holding him by the ears, wielding them like handlebars. He ground forward and although Cole winced and made an unsavory noise that went gurk!, Heath kept going. "You done it before, I've seen it, so do it no-o-ow," he said, switching from a gruff cadence to that of a whiny child. "Come o-o-on."

Zayne was sitting pretty, a big grin on his face and half his dick buried in a tight ass. No such problems with that end of the zedonkey. No gag reflex to get past, just some well-trained muscles and a spit-lubed butthole to fuck. He stroked the boy's smooth back, going with the grain of the fur and pausing at his hips to give his butt a rub. "God, what a tight ass," he uttered, earning Heath's ire.

"Come on, Cole," the shark grumbled, grinding in again, beginning to gyrate.

Cole glared up at Heath with his wet eyes. The expression said okay, fine! Just quit fucking whining! Fighting against his well-meaning gag reflex, he bucked forward with his head and speared open the opening to his throat. Heath let fly a gratified moan, and he took his hands off Cole's ears to grip the steering wheel and backrest of the seat. He needed the support.

"Goddamn, that's the shit," Heath breathed, staring down at no particular point of the boy's back. "Ga-a-awd, thas'sum some goo-oo-ood throat, right there."

Zayne's hips butted into to Cole's round behind, making the equine look particularly tiny by comparison. The dinosaur's nuts dressed in their tan, sweaty hide frotted Cole's smooth, black balls, and he petted over the young stud's back, starting at the shoulder blades and stopping around the bottom of the ribs. Saying nothing, he pulled back, going slowly. The length of his cock exited the boy and made the vibrant orange shade of his rubber visible again. The reservoir of the condom was filling up fast with precum, and it dragged along the reamed walls which his cock was vacating, providing a little extra tease. It wasn't a surprise that Cole's own cock was bloating his rubber and throbbing madly.

Still with a quarter of his cock to go, Zayne pushed it back inside, and the zedonkey groaned around Heath's meat. He pawed at the shark's hip, then shuddered as he acclimated to feelings of pleasure again. By just beginning to bob his head, he coaxed Heath to do the work for him. Not exactly what he wanted, but it freed him up to focus on pleasuring himself, something he did in earnest.

The seat of the old lawnmower creaked as it shifted under Cole's rocking weight. Zayne pushed him one way, Heath the other, both beautiful men keeping the other in check. They sometimes met gazes over the boy's back, saying things silently they'd never say aloud. They did not, for example, say I love you. It never happened. But in longing gazes and coy little smiles, they said it now without uttering a word.

Mature fag romance aside, the hairless studs were loving both tight ends of the zedonkey. Zayne felt like that snug, black donut and the muscles inside were milking him, and he wasn't exactly wrong. Heath reached underneath Cole and palmed his bulging throat, finding great eroticism in the shape of his cock felt through the boy's fur. "Mmh, Jesus Christ," he puffed, pushing his hips against the equine's nose. "Doin' okay, kid?"

"Mmh-hmm," Cole uttered. The wet smack of his masturbation said the same thing.

Zayne put a foot up on the deck of the mower and gave himself a little more leverage. He started to really bump those strong hips against the zedonkey's ass, making the thick cheeks jiggle and wobble like a popular gelatin dessert. Cole groaned around the shark's cock, masturbating faster and harder. The pleasure he took from the assfucking made him more eager to please himself, and the more he did just that, the more his anal muscles clenched and squeezed the dinosaur's member.

And yet as hard as Zayne was working, it was Heath who started to huff and pant as he almost casually facefucked the equine. He wasn't even thrusting fast enough to make his balls swing up and hit Cole's chin but he was blushing and grinning, panting and groaning. His ballbag was pulling up noticeably taut, and he rested heavily on the lawn mower, turning its wheel by leaning on it. "Uhn, shi-i-it. Gonna bust my nuts here, kiddo...!"

"Hmph, already?" tutted Zayne, leering across the boy's arching back. "You-u-u fuckin' lightweight," he snickered.

"Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up, you big fossil," Heath groused, moving his hand off the wheel, putting it on Cole's bulged-out throat. "Aah, fuck me, kid, you got a velvet goddamn mouth on you. Fu-u-uck, fuck me," he bleated. Not long after, Heath sank into wordlessness, and he leaned over the zedonkey. That hand on the boy's neck slid around and across his back, resting eventually on his hip, and he suddenly brayed in strained pleasure, clenching his eyes and gritting his teeth in something besides a big grin for once. He shot his wad, bloating that candy-flavored condom like a bubble inside Cole's throat.

That was too much for the zedonkey. His eyes popped open wide and he grunted around the shark's cock. Heath kept it buried a couple of sweet moments longer. With cruelty which his time in the military had imbued him with, he grinned and found himself enjoying the boy's distress. From the way Zayne coyly smiled across at him, it seemed even the good-natured dinosaur enjoyed a little squirming. But Heath finally relented, and as he pulled back, he pinched the condom just in case it decided to snag or slip off.

When the bulk of the reservoir slopped out of his throat, Cole sputtered and coughed, and he really got going on that when the rubber was out of his mouth completely. Through the kid's coughing fit, Zayne kept bucking, the people under the overcast sky outside kept innocently enjoying themselves in the park, the spider he'd scared descended her web again under the bench, and the world kept turning.

As he tied up the condom, making a fat water balloon out of it, Heath effused, "God damn, that was a good squirt. Thanks, kid."

"Sure, yeah," Cole winced. "Fuck."

Too suddenly, if Cole's shocked bray was anything to go by, Zayne hugged him close and lifted him off the lawn mower. He put the boy down before the dusty workbench, gave him just a second to grip the sides, and then started up again like nothing before. He humped with such vigorousness that the smooth hide on his nuts spanked Cole's big horse balls. The strikes made such noisy slaps that anyone listening outside would've been forgiven for thinking a little corporal punishment was going on inside those rickety walls.

Heath pulled up his bottoms and sashayed around the mower. He plopped his used rubber on the workbench and knelt beside the action. "Christ, if I had a fucking camera right now," he lustily said, closing a fist around the zedonkey's meat. He started to jerk it hard and fast, and Cole outright whimpered. It wasn't a whimper like you'd hear from a dog, but the equine analog to one. It was a pathetic, overwhelmed kind of noise either way. "Awh, fuck, fuck, guys!" Cole gasped, bending over move, resting his elbows on the workbench.

A desperate, strained quality affected Cole's face. He was grimacing and blushing, his eyes narrowed and a little wet from that painful but oh-so-gratifying assfucking. "Fuck the shit out of me, Zayne," he whined, as though it wasn't already happening. "Goddamn, man, I fucking love this!"

"You and me both, kid," Zayne gushed, smacking a palm down on the bench, stirring up a little plume of dust and scaring that poor spider back into hiding. "Fuckin' Christ, you got such a nice ass. Love them fat cheeks you got, fuckin' love 'em," he groaned, mashing his hips forward over and over, just reaming Cole's poor little fuckhole with his big, orange-clad cock.

Down below, not minding the cobwebs his tailfin got in, Heath jerked on the boy's dick with everything he had. It was a big dick, fat and black with a big flare at the end like a fist. Heath had had it up his ass a couple of times, so had Zayne. And he could spout that it was cool for any one of them to bottom, for a young guy like Cole to get on top, and he did enjoy a stiff one up the ass as much as any other queer; but Heath knew then and there, as he and Zayne rocked the kid's world, that he belonged on the bottom with two dicks stuffed inside of him; the young buck letting the men do the work. That was how it worked in the military - why not in the world of faggotry, too?

"Oh--, oh fuck, gawd," Cole winced, his words becoming tight and strained like a big, invisible set of hands was squeezing him around the middle. "Gonna cummm..."

Heath just kept jerking and Zayne just kept rutting, but the carcharodontosaurus was starting to suffer that labored breathing which could only mean an orgasm. First was Cole's, however. That relatively little zedonkey bucked forward a couple of times, fucking Heath's sweaty hand. "C'mon, kiddo," Heath gruffly said. "Dump your nuts for us, you know you wanna."

"Oh, god-fuckin'-damn, do I!" Cole yelped, and he couldn't hold it any longer. Not that he'd ever been trying to hold it back, quite to the contrary, but he was finally there. Crying out in release, Cole clenched so tightly that Zayne was stopped cold, and he shot a massive load into that green rubber. It bloated to an insane degree, turning the translucent reservoir opaque like a water balloon full of milk. He let loose that peculiar whimper a few more times, and then he put his head down on the dusty bench. "Fuck, Zayne, are you--, are you gonna--??" he awkwardly asked. His legs were shaking.

Zayne was right there, and there was no doubt about that. He defied those clenching rectal muscles to keep the fucking going just a little bit longer, but as soon as the boy had clenched down to have his orgasm, Zayne was done for. He bucked in just a couple more times, moving slowly, angling upward, stimulating his dick with such whims. The reservoir bulged weirdly in front of his cockhead, putting pleasurable pressure on the zedonkey's velvet walls, but all that seemed to stop mattering when the carcharodontosaurus roared. It was amazing, like something from Jurassic Park but condensed by the half-rotten walls of the shed. It rung out on the tools on the walls and the sheet metal of the mower. Cole and Heath's ears stung and their brains were rattled, but it was the perfect sound to accompany the dinosaur's orgasm.

The burly Zayne being the biggest stud in the room with the biggest nuts of them all naturally meant he had an incredible amount of spunk to give. It seemed like it wouldn't end. It was one rope after another of the most wonderfully hot, nasty jizz Cole had ever felt in his ass, even though this wasn't his first rodeo with Zayne. It was somehow perfect, and even Heath reveled in the magnificence of the dinosaur's climax.

Even as his orgasm wound down and left him panting, him being so easily winded as a smoker, Zayne was in control. He held onto Cole with only one hand, but the zedonkey cherished his masculine grip. He pushed his butt into it and crooned.

In what was almost an anticlimax after such theatrics, Zayne pulled back and freed both his cock and the bloated reservoir. "Mmm, goddamn. That was real good."

The dinosaur tied up his rubber like Heath had done his. Just for the sake of politeness, Heath peeled Cole's off of his still-hard member and tied it up for him, doubting if the groundskeeper was going to mind the extra specks of pre on the floor.

"What do, ah--, mmm," Cole sighed, scatterbrained after his climax. Zayne laughed and patted his back. "Thanks... What do we wanna do now?"

"Now?" Heath shrugged. He stood up and stretched, making the cords in his neck bulge and his bones pop all over his body. Following a satisfied noise for such a good stretch, he said, "Get some beer, go home, and catch a game on TV."

"Sounds good to me," the zedonkey agreed. He straightened up too, twisted around, and stroked Zayne's breast, tracing the big crescent of sweat he'd put in his nice button-up shirt. "No more dicks in my ass tonight. O tomorrow, for that matter."

Dressing along with Cole, Zayne slyly said, "Su-u-ure, kid, no problem."

On the way out, Cole and Zayne following Heath a few steps behind, the dinosaur leaned close to the boy and surreptitiously said, "Wanna help me DP Heath later?"

Cole snickered. "You know the answer to that."