Pheromone Frenzy
Pheromone Frenzy
A (very) brief erotica by Joseph Raszagal
Pushing open the beveled glass doors that section off our office from the rest of the building, for obvious reasons that you're soon to learn, I briskly stride down the short hallway, past the water cooler and the three unpaid interns always seeking refuge in its general vicinity, and finally into the infamous 'brainstorming room'. To be fair, I'm going to tell you ahead of time that the word 'brainstorming' barely even begins to cover the voluminous kinds of shenanigans that typically tend to unfurl in there. For example, immediately upon opening the door me and my well-trained nose catch the pungent scent of sex and a LOT of it. Looking around, I see that all of the chairs have been pushed aside and against the walls; moved out of the way from the 'team effort' currently unfolding in the center of the room. Sprawled across the conference table, fingering himself like mad, is Walt Harrison, a brown and sandy tan wildcat and, more importantly, our lead editor. Surrounding him on all sides, masturbating with the same lusty fervor, almost as though there were some danger of it going out of style at any given moment, is a vast majority of our senior writing staff. Some of them had already climaxed, others were still working on it, and yet more looked like they were working on readying their tired, sweaty selves for round two. In fact, upon closer inspection I notice that Walt himself had quite clearly pushed himself past the brink a couple of times as well, not that that surprised me in the least. Despite being as meek as a mouse during most social interactions, no offense to any actual mice out there, the guy is a monster in bed; he had always been an enormous cum whore, practically an addict, and if there is one thing on this spinning stone that we call Earth capable of getting his dangling rocks off, it's being covered, slathered, basted, and showered in multi-species semen. The guy just loves being bathed in hot seed and it shows, crystal clear, on his face. Seriously, you'd think someone had replace his blood with liquid bliss or something.
Of course, it's possible that there's also a fair amount of ecstasy involved, and again, I wouldn't be in the least bit surprised. I mean, c'mon, it's Midnight City; there's a hookup for anything and everything every seven feet.
"These days, I'll bet half of them jizz in their pants just by seeing him pass by in the hall." I smirk as I slip out of my jacket and, of course, out of my pants. There was no way in Heaven or Hell that I was going to get left out of this circle jerk. "Heh, I'll be the first to admit that I get hard the moment I hear his voice."
Crude? Lewd? Fuck, I've had some go as far as to call me and my work-slash-pastime 'disgusting'. Not that I really care all that much; engaging in a 20 person orgy with 20 men and zero women probably does rank pretty highly among most people's taboos. I understand that, I really do. Me and my coworkers do things that a vast majority of the world would frown upon and damn us for; we do these things and then BRAG about them afterwards. To top that, we do these things and then make MONEY as a result; lots and lots of money. You see, when you work for Pheromone Frenzy, the hottest homosexual magazine that this world has ever and will ever see, almost everything ceases to cross the proverbial line. We've practically erased the line. Other than maybe a forgotten fetish or two originating from the heights of the Himalayan peaks or the depths of the lost city of Atlantis, we've pretty much documented it all and caught every last bit of it on film for you; immortalized for all eternity in any one of our four dozen existing issues. For a paltry $19.95 you can pick one up at your local bookstore and whisk it away home with you, into the privacy of your tightly locked bedroom where you needn't worry about being seen, or being heard if you're a moaner, pawing off to our studly selection.
And don't worry, your secret's safe with me.
"Ready for a warm coating of zebra, Walt?" I rumble as I cross the room, towering over almost everyone there, even those joining Walt up on the table. At just an inch shy of seven feet tall, my presence could easily be summed up as 'imposing'. Fortunately for me, my height and muscular build have always done a decent job of turning my coworkers on rather than frightening them away. I guess everyone loves a big, black and white, stallion beefcake every now and then. Just don't tell them that I'm an English major and not at all an athlete.
Stroking my thick member, already hard and throbbing, I step up to the plate and loom over the cum covered wildcat like a horny monument, draping him in my expansive shadow. Taking in a deep breath, my lungs fill with the combined scent of a dozen different species' seed; the distinctly male aroma that I'd have permeating my apartment if only they made sticks of incense that smelled like it. Sadly, they don't, whoever 'they' are. Walt's furry chest, covered in copious amounts of sticky, stringy goo, heaves up and down as he looks up at me. His mouth curls into a smile, a smile I've seen a billion times before, as his golden feline eyes lock onto my stiff erection and I swear it must have taken every bit of willpower left in his reserve to resist pouncing my pole right then and there.
"Patience." I chuckle, my words coming out thick and rich like pancake syrup fresh from the mixer. "It'll be yours soon enough."
I don't know, maybe I'm just an asshole, but this has always been my favorite part; there's just something about making Walt squirm and beg for it that has never once failed to send my libido pole-vaulting to new heights of horniness. Without looking, I glide my thumb across the tip of my big, equine dick and feel the thin layer of warm, slippery pre that my arousal has since summoned. With another sultry stroke, I smear the natural lubricant all over my dark rod and grin widely as the tan wildcat watches and literally licks his lips.
Oh yeah, he's ready.
"I hope you're already loosened up, man, because I don't really feel like taking the kind of time that foreplay requires." I smirk, still grinning with all of the haughty arrogance in the world. Well, what can I say? Complete and utter douchebags; that's how he likes 'em.
Hopping up onto the table, effortlessly given my height advantage, I look over everyone in the room and can't help but to smile as I scan the many faces surrounding me. Like Walt, they're all practically drolling with anticipation. Now that I'm involved, their roles have all been dropped from this stage production. It's just me and the cat now, one on one, literally, and they've all become the gaping, gawking audience.
I've always been an exhibitionist at heart, so I can't lie. I fucking love it.
Dropping down onto my knees, I rest my heavy, striped sac upon Walt's nose and gently grip the back of his head with one hoofed paw, forcing his face into my groin. His muffled whimper is a clear sign of satisfaction, something that I've become QUITE accustomed to over the past few years, and that fact is only reinforced as something wet and warm suddenly brushes against my taint... over and over again. Although I can't see his licking, the feeling is enough to write a series of books about and it isn't long before my own tongue comes lolling out one side of my stout mouth. Oh yeah, he knows what I like. With my free paw, I smear his gooey chest up and down, covering my palm and fingers in a thick coating of the combined ejaculate. Clamping said paw and all of its collected goo around my dick, I stroke it a few more times and marvel at how effective a lube semen turns out to be; whether it's canine, feline, equine, avian, human, or otherwise. Stepping back a pace and freeing Walt's eyes from the blindfold that my balls had become, I grab him by the chin and lift it just enough for his gaze to fall upon the object that he so covets. Those eyes were practically sparkling as they took in the sight; my ten inch zebra cock all lubed up with the pungent spunk of a dozen others.
"Ready to get fucked by pretty much every single person in the room?" I purr.
No words. Walt just licks his lips again and nods his head.
"Then get on you paws and knees." I command.
He does, quite quickly too. And once in the proper position, he lifts his lovely, little rump into the air and wiggles it from side to side, taunting me with it like when someone teasingly taunts a child with a piece of candy or an ice cream cone. Needless to say, the taunting works in ways that I can barely even explain, and in microseconds I'm already mounting him, gripping his tail like a leash in one paw and holding him in submission by the small of his back with the other. With how fervently Walt had been fingering himself before, penetration is as easy as it can be, but considering my length and girth, his immediate moaning works wonders for my sexual ego. So, spurred on by that vocal applause, I pull about halfway out and then slam back in, moving my paw from the center of his arched back down to his ass so I can have greater control as I breed him. Each following thrust summons from him a series of ecstatic whimpers and whines, my plump testes colliding with his own upon every surge forward, the contact creating a steady, rhythmic beat as I continue my rut. His ass cheeks conform to my belly and thighs like a fitted glove each time I bury myself in him, not sparing even a single centimeter. By this time, my own tail, braided into a long, black rope with a single silver ring decorating the very end, begins to swing wildly from left to right as well, just like my submissive little kitty's has been the entire time. All around me, my fellow coworkers continue jerking themselves off, some kind enough to assist each other in the act. Following that example, I reach around and under Walt's stomach, grip his pink pole, and treat him to twice the pleasure.
"Ah!" Shouts the wildcat, his body growing more tense with each passing second.
Although a bit better at holding in such sexual cries and outbursts, Walt wasn't alone in that sentiment. At this point, I'm close too, VERY close, and though I might be fairly skilled at prolonging the ride, the pressure building up inside of me couldn't be contained for much longer. Every plow, thrust, dive, ram, hammer, and surge into that slender trunk of his brought me closer and closer to my climax and having made it through my morning shower without giving myself the old "low five", this orgasm would definitely prove to be one to remember. Think of something along the lines of a violently erupting volcano and you're about as close as you can get. Well, with that erotic explosion in mind, I hump harder and faster, practically pushing my balls inside along with the rest. Walt's cramped confines, hot and moist, finally tighten as his whole body shudders from the strength of what must be his fourth orgasm today. My bone, already buried at maximum depth in his yard, is suddenly gripped tight from all sides by this fleshy vice and that's it, that's all I can take; I finally teeter over the edge and spurt every last drop of my pent up sperm into that sexy feline ass and moan like a French whore the whole time. Perhaps not the biggest ones around, my testes still can't be described with words like "tiny" or "compact", and about halfway into emptying them I just plain run out of room and have to pull out. The very moment I do this, a thick gush of milky cum comes spurting out of Walt's stretched hole, dribbling down his legs and forming a puddle beneath him on the table. But, not yet finished, I proceed to spray his slender back with the remains, painting his sandy coat of fur just a bit more than it had been before.
Now he was truly COVERED in spooge.
And, much to my surprise, that's when a flash of bright light floods my eyes from somewhere beyond my peripheral vision, blinding me for a brief moment.
"You're looking nice up there, Jack." Chuckles Maxwell Grenadier, an onyx raptor with bright green eyes and stunning scarlet feathers, as he drums his claws along the side of his expensive camera.
"Th-thanks, Max..." I huff and puff, still getting my breath back. Not only was I exhausted from my rut, but now I had to blink the piercing light out of my eyes. Great.
"Care to thrust all the way back into him so I can get another shot?" Asks the 20-something reptile as he lifts the camera back up and adjusts the focus. "Oh, and bite his tail too, that would look really nice given your dominance in this particular situation."
"I'm always dominant." I say in return, sticking my tongue out at him.
Readying his camera for another take, he retorts with a wink, "Come back to my place after work and we'll see how long that lasts."
As jovial as the remark was, I'm not the dullest knife in the drawer; I see the underlying offer for what it really is. Oh, he's on.
"So, is that shot going to be for one of the lesser articles or do I have to worry about ending up in another calendar?" I question as I scratch at my mussed hair.
Stroking back the mane of feathers atop his head, Max smirks with a toothy grin, "Are you kidding? This shot is gonna be the first thing our readers see when they pick the mag up, right on front with you and your brick wall of a body as the focus. We'll have to sell this issue in another one of those black plastic pouches for sure."
"Again?" I sigh.
Still grinning, Max replies, "At this point our readers have started to identify the plastic pouch as a sign of a particularly dirty issue, so I think we'll do fine on sales. Now get your dick out of him, get down from there, and get cracking on this. Money now, fucking later."
Heh, he'll see to that personally. Talk about incentive.
Looking down at Walt, I smile, kiss his gooey forehead, and muse, "Whaddya say? Wanna be on the cover with me... again?"
"Why the Hell not?" Answers Walt, the first actual thing he's said the entire time. "What've I got to lose, my marriage?"
And the whole room joins in one big laugh. Good times, good fucking times.
Ta-da, The End!