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LomiDePuzlo

Sarah sighed and leaned forward, arms draped comfortably around Lolo's shoulders while both of them took the time to catch their breath. The usual day of teasing, rubbing, grinding, and touching had taken its usual course, leading first to her sitting atop the desk with her legs spread, one leg reflexively kicking while the rest of her body twitched and strained around the Locus's careful, deliberate attention; then she had wrapped tightly around him, holding his head in place between her thighs while she rode his face and tongue; then he had jumped and jerked when the caribou gave him an impromptu shower, thoroughly soaking his shoulders and chest; and then, still not fully satisfied, she had come forward, batted his legs open to make room for her, and sank down into his lap.

Lolo had been involved in another one of his competitive games online, though the match had ended some fifteen minutes ago at this point with his team having of course lost. Beneath her panting, her moaning, her grunts and sighs, Sarah's ears had swished to the sound of multiple messages pinging in, the contents of which she imagined she already knew. That was alright, though: she got what she wanted, and Lolo certainly hadn't minded the brief little distraction from his night.

Speaking of distraction, though...

She sat back a little further, trying to resist the deep, sweet shiver that resulted from the movement. Lolo had sunk completely forward against her body, short muzzle wedged in between the caribou's heavy breasts, his breath hot and humid as it puffed rhythmically up her neck; still Sarah could feel the residual throbs and twitches through his half-hard length, still buried to the base inside of her. The relative silence in the room save for the quiet idle noises from his video game - the monitor had since dimmed after the lack of input - after the chair's fervent squeaking, her own gasping moans, and Lolo's barely-suppressed grunts of exertion and enjoyment, felt so much heavier once her breathing had stilled somewhat. She glanced down, waited for him to notice, tilted her head... and still nothing.

It wasn't that he had fallen asleep, of course. Never that: every time she shifted her hips atop his she could feel him strain and lurch in response, either by giving another twitch or simply by pressing himself up against her again. Muzzle between her breasts rocking gently back and forth, eyes closed, one hand resting along the small of her back while the other played alternately at the base of her short tail and with her plush rump itself, fingers sinking into soft fur and softer flesh, gripping, spreading, then releasing again, or giving a little pat and bump, or just pressing in, never quite sliding deeper than that.

"Lolo..." she murmured, and reached forward to rub behind one of his ears. He was still a bit sticky from her first finish, the evidence of which had dripped down off the front of the desk as well as painted the back of the chair itself. Then a second across his hips and thighs, much to his chagrin even while he had dug his fingers into her thighs and squeezed tight, rocking and jerking with the force of his own finish... but now she could barely get more than a whisper out of him, lost as he was in the afterglow.

Sarah sat there a moment longer, still idly grinding herself forward and back along his semi-soft length, then came to a decision. She smirked, straightened up, draped her arms back around his shoulders again, focused... and then sighed with sweet, tense relief. Beneath her, Lolo stirred a little bit, lifted his head - and then jumped as the sheer liquid heat started to seep along his legs and trickle down into his seat, the caribou shivering gently with the unmatched sensation of her post-sex release.

"Aah..." she sighed, more for effect than anything, and tilted her head back. How good it felt to release with him still buried inside of her, and the more she leaned into it, squeezing along her lower abdomen and pushing a little bit more firmly, the better it felt - especially as Lolo, though he grumbled and whined, twitched and continued to grow inside of her again, her mark flowing down his body and painting him in her scent just working him right back up again. "Now that's what I'm talking about..."

He grunted and shifted, though each little movement resulted only in him hilting deeper inside of the caribou again, his hips naturally moving in response to the stimulation. Frustration and exacerbation warred on his face with arousal and embarrassment, Lolo simply unable to resist grinding up into the source of the heat as she continued to drain herself across and against him, the proximity and force causing it to splash up along his belly and chest as well as a little bit of her own.

When he sat back in disbelief, Sarah took the opportunity to lean back as well, one hand dropping from his shoulder to reach and spread herself around him. A soft, wet schlk as she settled back into his lap, a shudder from both of them when she pushed once more, and then a continued, pattering trickle as she messily aimed her stream up against the middle of his belly.

"Sarah! What are you - God, I was just... going to..."

"What?" She smirked, shrugged, and slid that hand up her own belly, causing her stream to spray apart again. The way it trickled smoothly down his now fully hard shaft still buried inside of her made him squirm. "I just figured, I've already got a start, so I might as well go ahead and finish up emptying the tank... y'know?"

"Well... yeah, but my... my..." His head thumped back against the chair's built-in pillow, with a low, shivering sigh trickling from his parted lips a moment later. Once more his fingers dug into her sides. "My... chair..."

Sarah gave one last push, fully emptying out the rest of what she had, then squeezed back around him again. Piss was by no means the best of lube, but when she pulled up and then pressed back down again, its pleasant heat washed through both of them. She smirked again, once more resting her arms on his shoulders while he picked up the rhythm. Lolo did have a plastic sheet for his chair that he used for this specific purpose, but neither of them had thought to go fetch it.

Maybe next time. But now, she mused, gently biting her lip, we've already soaked it, so might as well keep on going...

_ _

Peegus

The huntress had lost herself in the rhythm of ritual, fur soaked through with the pleasant cool weight of the river's water, the sun shining warmly down through the entwined trees far overhead, the faint breeze running its fingers along her body, herself completely lost within the maze of her thoughts and memories as she went through the motions. Sprawled out sideways along a soft mat of earth and leaf and young, flexible branch, the leopard drew her tongue up through her fur again and again, working her way steadily down her outstretched leg towards the joint there along her hip.

Honey-colored fur splashed with rosettes of tawny ocher melded into a lighter, softer cream tone, the texture of her pelt at once softening and thickening the closer it came to the center of her body. She adjusted her posture, emptied her lungs, took in another slow, steady breath against the odd angle and stretch, then dove in a little further... and proceeded to flatten down the little tufts of rebellious fur normally hidden beneath the spread of her loincloth, now hanging from one of the low-lying branches nearby. It was rare indeed that she could get a chance to sit back and relax like this, and now that the time was finally hers, there was nothing else she wanted to do.

One leg up in the air, one arm down at her side, the other reaching in to help with the fur, in the leopardess worked, nose tingling with the spice of her own scent even freshly muted as it was by her bath. Being a cat she didn't enjoy the deep, languid simmering and soaking that some other species preferred, choosing instead to get most of the kinks and knots, so to say, out herself. So now as she rolled a little further over herself, eyes halfway closed, body not quite straining with the stretch, she brought her other paw up as well, ran a pair of fingers between her thighs, touched, shivered, spread... and from there each little lick sent a warm, lightning-sharp shudder up her extended leg.

Her mouth filled with her own taste as she dug in there, extra careful with her sandpaper tongue over hypersensitive flesh. It took only a slight exertion to press herself down lips to lips, warm skin and flesh of her sex spreading against her muzzle as she dug into place there, jaw still working with the maintained rhythm of grooming herself. Soft, moist fur gave way to softer, wet flesh, this slimy slickness clinging to her lips and tongue each time she dove in, strengthening with the warm that built in her loins and chest.

Still, though, she couldn't let herself get too distracted. After some effort spent trying to swallow down the taste and slickness of her own growing arousal, the task made that much harder by being doubled so far over herself, the leopardess continued down a bit, breath tinted with her own scent. For a moment she remained there, legs now stretched comically out to either side of her body, paws grasping tightly along her rounded rump to keep herself folded over like this and watched, natural curiosity prickling at the way her muscles visibly tensed and shifted beneath sensitive skin and thin fur, how the wrinkled pucker of her tailhole clenched up, relaxed, clenched again, pursed out... and then she leaned in, putting in that slight extra stretch to drag her tongue across those overlapping wrinkles.

This part took effort, and strain, and a little bit of force, and - as the leopardess drew her tongue along those ridges, again and again, she could feel the sensitive skin tug and part beneath the attention, all of the pressure of her chest doubled over her abdomen pushing and squeezing and stretching until, just barely, that ring of muscle parted open. She paused, holding herself still in place there, able to feel the slick, humid heat oozing out from inside of her.

Down here, all scrunched up like this, she could barely pull in enough breath to halfway fill her lungs, and each squeeze and tightening of her muscles caused her partially-opened tailhole to twitch and stretch a little bit further. Warm, pale pink skin, ridged wrinkles stretching apart and smoothing out and giving way to sleek, slick, bulbous red meat inside, glistening with natural internal wetness... the leopardess swallowed again, took in the largest breath she could, felt her entire body swell and strain with the effort, and then - she started to push.

Before her eyes, contrasted against the rich green and earthy tan of the natural cushion she had chosen, leaves speckled with drips of water, drool, and now her own growing arousal, that interior pocket of red flesh pulsed, swelled, and started to roll out, seeming to unfurl from inside like a bag inflating. She gritted her teeth, swallowed again, took another shallow breath, and pushed even harder, nearly-lidded eyes watching the way the muscled rim of her tailhole pulled up and out, knobby and twisted with thick veins pushing their way to the surface under the strain, only to give way to that mess of slimy meat inside.

All of those little breaths rushed out of her in a wave, and the huntress took a moment to still the dizziness clouding her head before trying again. This time she leaned in a little closer, felt the humid heat emanating up off of her insides, now protruding a good half-inch _outside_of her; she squeezed and clenched her body, felt that strange, subtle shift and lurch inside of her bowels, again watched as the sleek red coiled slowly out - and this time she dove down again, wet her lips, swallowed, and drew her soft sandpaper tongue out across that revealed interior flesh. It pulled and tugged against her, slimy and slick just as she expected though much softer and more malleable; she turned her head, lapped at it again, turned back, panted, swallowed, opened her mouth, stretched down further... then finally managed to wrap her lips around that protruding portion of her interior bowels and sucked gently along it.

For a while she managed to forget about the discomfort of the stretch and squeeze, and about the shallow breaths that she was forced to draw in through her flared nostrils, each one tinted heavily with her own scent. There was warmth against her lips, slick wetness on her tongue, little ropy tendrils of sticky slime drawing out and filling her mouth each time she sucked and swallowed, with that smooth internal flesh slowly slipping further out.

Then, just as abruptly as she had clamped her lips around it, she pulled free, unfolded, and flopped back across the ground, chest shifting in unsteady panting, lower back aching, entire lower body tingling with curiosity and arousal. It felt as though she might have to get up and go squat behind a bush in a moment, but every time she pushed it just increased that sensation without ever relieving it - and when she reversed and clenched back instead, the leopardess could actually feel that little length of meat, now slickened with saliva as well as natural wetness, slip back inside of her when her tailhole squelched shut.

Once more she swallowed. She would have to work on her flexibility.

Prescott

The white-furred ermine brought her paws up close to her face in an attempt to hide the warm blush that she knew simmered there. It wasn't that she was shy or embarrassed - quite the opposite, in fact: this had been her idea in the first place - but rather excited, enticed, and certainly aroused. The marten straddling her bare body, pale periwinkle-blue fur looking much darker in the dim light of the room, rocked himself gently back and forth in place there. This in turn made her squirm as well, for even though they were both naked and so, so close together, he simply sat atop her body instead of pressed down into her, yet still the contact and sensation made her shiver.

Cordelia, the ermine, wet her lips and nodded up at Prescott on top of her. "Did you take it?"

He nodded, quirked his mouth, and tilted his head. "Yeah," he answered. "I think I can start feeling it..."

Cordelia squirmed a little bit more, paws running up his thighs. "So do you wanna, like..."

"Yeah, let me just... oh, I - oh..."

And there it was. Such a small thing, a little bright violet capsule purchased from an unmarked shop off the side of the road in the next city over, taken with a glass of water. Sure, they hadn't tried it out before, but already its effects made themselves known throughout Prescott's body, the marten first shivering, straightening up, then sliding his paws forward across Cordelia's chest, fingers running through thick, soft fur, sinking in, and then - and then sinking in.

What a strange sensation that was, feeling the parting of fur, skin, and flesh, the slow, gentle melding of bodies, sweet and pleasant, electrifying. Wonder and curiosity flashed on the male's muzzle, and he made no attempt to free himself: again he straightened his back and closed his eyes, hips rocking on top of her smaller form as though drawing some deeper pleasure out of the sensation.

Hell, maybe he was. Cordelia couldn't help but grin as she reached up and slid her paws along his thighs, his legs starting to seep into and connect with her body as well - though where her fingerpads brushed along his fur remained separate. Prescott swallowed, sighed, let out a little noise somewhere between tension and enjoyment, and gave another thrust, his own arousal quite clearly evident between his legs as he continued to rock in place.

"God," he panted, "it feels like..."

Cordelia grinded her hips up underneath him and found this much easier to do than she had expected, as though the marten's body really had become part of her own. Even here in the dimness of the room she could see the way his fur had started to thin and dissipate, pale blue giving way to the warm pink skin underneath, which itself molded and shifted, smoothing out, becoming sleek and slick. There he gritted his teeth, twitched, angled his head - and there it stayed as his body continued to morph and change with the effects of the pill, shoulders tugging in towards his body, arms remaining where they were while still shifting, moving, adjusting.

The ermine underneath him, if there was still a him, let out a shuddering breath of pleasure as his enjoyment and arousal suddenly radiated out into her as well, a new, unfamiliar feeling. Each time she tensed her body she could feel it bouncing up and out through this length of firm flesh rising from between her legs, still shrinking down and taking shape: Prescott looked up at her through barely visible eyes, half-lidded, before those closed as well. Then Cordelia had to run her own paws up and down her body, as he no longer had the ability to do so: one came up her chest and pushed through soft fur, while the other drifted down, touched and brushed over warm, sensitive flesh that hadn't been there a few moments ago, twitching, throbbing, still shivering with the ongoing transformation.

So this was what that felt like. She smirked, then immediately gasped and arched her back at the sensation of wrapping her paw around her new, half-formed shaft, still vaguely misshapen, molded like what it had once been. Little whispers of Prescott swirled around in the back of her head, impressions that felt like something from a recent horny dream; she turned her head, nipped at the side of her finger, squeezed her other paw down towards the base of what was now her cock, shivered again. These lumps here had originally been his bent legs, and if she spread her fingers out, cupped them around, and scooped them up, she could gather them up into her grip, a full, plump sack pulling up against her body each time she throbbed; this ridge right here would have been his chest, this little bump here one of his shoulders...

And each time she pumped at herself, length slick with dripping fluids, she felt him slip into her a little bit more firmly than before. Those lumps and bumps receded into her, becoming the smooth, tapered length that she had seen borne on so many other of her species; she turned her head to the side, shuddered, felt the irresistible pleasure of the strokes as she continued further, fingers wrapping more and more comfortably around herself as it finally settled down into its proper length and size.

Part of it was simply the physical, biological sensation of this new part of her, the full set of equipment rooted as firmly in her flesh as though she had been born with it - and then another part was what remained of Prescott hidden down there beneath the layers of muscle, within each little oozing drop and trickle of pre. At one point Cordelia shifted, switched paws, and brought this one to her muzzle, and when she placed nose to matted fur and took a deep breath, all she could smell was his rich, familiar musk, overlaid as it was now with her own.

Hers. Hers. Both of them. His pleasure as well as her own, wrapped so tightly together that they were nearly inextricable; his thoughts and hers, his musk and hers... she owed it to him to steep them both as deep in that pleasure as she could, didn't she? So, lips parting so that she could flick her tongue out over the remnants of his musk on her paw, Cordelia shifted on the bed, pressed her muzzle against the pillow, and thrust up into her grip, learning the motions and sensation, becoming accustomed to it while she could.

Sweet, intoxicating warmth sizzled up inside of her, either from him, or her, or both of them. So, so close now; she owed it to him.Is this going to be permanent? she thought.

Well, I guess we're gonna find out.

Daet Wolfuar

"W-wait a second, I'm - ah - hang on, it's... oh, there it... oh..."

_ _

Matt couldn't help but grin as he watched the sharp, sweet shiver shock up through his boyfriend's spine and out along his limbs. The squirrel's long, bushy tail flicked and lashed behind him, mirroring the tension that rippled through his body again and again: he said here on the fox's bed again, completely naked with a towel laid out between the two of them, and had his legs spread, back straight, head back... and one paw gingerly holding his soft shaft, the pad of a finger resting along the upper side of the head.

The fox smirked, though concern still made its way through on his voice. "Wait - you had it in at school?"

Arin nodded, a little breathless, and then clenched his jaw again. His paw shook with effort and sensation; thick, slightly discolored slime oozed from the end of his half-soft shaft, staining the towel underneath him. When he angled himself up a bit, squeezed, and started to slide his forefinger and thumb up towards his tip, a noticeable lump shifted inside, quite clearly visible pushing out along the bulge of his urethra. As Matt watched, and as Arin continued to squeeze along himself like a tube of toothpaste, that lump visibly squirmed, twisted, turned around, and jiggled again, emptying out another thick dollop of ooze into the already-stained fur of his paw.

"Yeah," he managed as an answer, then paused to catch his breath. "Not - not all day, but I... went to the bathroom at lunch, and put it in there, and..." He shuddered again and lifted himself up, bracing his knees on the mattress and leaning forward. Matt put his arm out; Arin smiled warmly and reached to support himself on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Almost - ended up pawing off right in there, but I didn't want to... ah-"

And there it was, a thick, brownish slug-like thing, the rounded head first pushing its way free from the tip of Arin's cock with the rest soon to follow, slipping along another wave of slime. Matt felt his own arousal surge at watching that happen, at seeing the way the lips of his tip parted around its girth and pushed it forth, then remained gaped apart for a moment afterwards - but then there was a second soon after, brought up along his paw as he squeezed from base to tip. The squirrel's half-hard shaft hung in the air in front of him there, dripping thick slime mixed with cloudy pre and natural slickness in one long, sticky rope. He gave a throb, then another, and that rope pinched free and fell atop the slugs where they now lay on the towel, soaking in a puddle of their own slime.

Exhausted already, Arin lifted his head and met Matt's gaze, tired but satisfied. Matt grinned as well, breathed a soft little laugh, then leaned in, closed his eyes, turned his head... and met the squirrel in a slow, gentle kiss.

"Two of them?" he mused in between smooches. "Someone's been practicing."

"I wanna get up to - three..."

Matt sat back a bit. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just..." Arin nodded, chuckled breathlessly, and poked one of the slugs with an extended finger. It squirmed and wriggled around, trying to latch onto his pad in response. "Can still feel 'em. Y'know? Like there's one still in there..."

"Yeah, I - know what you're talking about. Here, will you... help me..."

Matt sat back and spread his legs as well, pushing his hips forward towards the squirrel across from him. Arin grinned, giggled, and leaned in for one more kiss, then moved to squirt the bottle of surgical lube first onto his fingerpad and then onto the fox's presented tip. At this point it had become almost ritual for the two of them, messing around with any number of the rods from the sounding kits they had both ordered online, then making the bold, adventurous step up after hearing from a friend of a friend of a friend, to _these_little wriggling things.

"Are they safe?" Arin had asked as, to Matt's surprise, the squirrel had been the one to reach out about them. He hadn't honestly expected him to get as far into it as that. "To, y'know..."

_ _

"I mean..." The gal across the counter in the shop had shrugged, amusement on her sleek muzzle. "No more dangerous than shoving anything else down your pisshole. As long as you're careful it'll be fine. Hey, uh... are you two old enough to be in here?" They would be graduating high school in about two months now, and already had plans to move into an apartment together near their prospective college.

Matt shivered - and sighed as the familiar cool touch of the lube spread out across him, bringing him back to the present. These things were soft, squishy, malleable, and he knew already from experience that the natural constriction of arousal wouldn't impede their progress inside of him _too_terribly much, but still he reached for Arin's paw as the squirrel moved to pick up one of the slugs.

"Do you mind if I-?"

The squirrel breathed a little sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I'm fine putting them in myself but didn't want to hurt you, and..."

"Yeah. I understand." Carefully he pinched it between a forefinger and thumb, rolled it into his palm, twisted and shifted and adjusted to get the blunted head angled just right...

"And, besides, I really wanted to - to watch..."

Matt smiled, though it soon dissipated beneath focused concentration. He leaned back a bit, spread his legs further, and lifted his hips, careful not to upset his balance while he held his cock straight upright and tilted the slug down. A little bit of coaxing, some pressure along its top and backside, and - he gasped, tensed up, gritted his teeth, and dug his fingers into his thigh. Then throb, throb, thob, the slight spark of pain and discomfort at the sudden stretch along the tip of his urethra and tube inside, and then... an odd yet intoxicating sensation of pressure and weight oozing down inside of him, pushing deeper, clogging him up in all the right ways.

The fox sat back, sighed, and let his half-hard shaft thump against his belly, both of them watching the lump as it crawled steadily deeper inside of him. Sweet, electrifying pleasure rippled through him at each little pulse - he couldn't believe that Arin had had not one but two of these inside of him for the last two classes of the day. Even now, worked up as he was from watching his boyfriend and now feeling the thing scrabbling deeper inside of him, Matt could feel the beginnings of that growing arousal and pleasure...

He reached forward and grabbed onto Arin's paw, hips reflexively churning. This was another weekend where his parents would be out, and the two had already decided to see just how long they could keep the slugs in. Matt's timer had just started, and seeing how Arin now reached for the lube as well, his was about to do the same.

Iridiumx

---

"My, oh my. Aren't _you_a lovely thing?"

The Pokémon's ears perked as Iri stepped into the room, shifting a footpaw to close the door behind him as he did so. He hid his reaching over to turn the latch of the lock beneath lifting his clipboard up a bit, eyes scanning over the details that the Trainer had outlined for their companion's grooming appointment today. Suicune. Female. Height, 6'0. Name, Su. Full body trim + full conditioning treatment + manicure.

_ _

"And," the attendant went on, now resting the clipboard down along the counter, "looks like we've got a full session ahead of us. Could've been a little more creative with your name, but... what can you do there, right?"

The Suicune looked back at him through bright, richly colored eyes, making no move whatsoever to ease the process for him. She lounged atop the table - at six feet at the shoulder she really should be on the ground - with her legs folded, ribbonlike tails draped off the back, footpaws sticking out along the front... Iri continued around her, drawing in the sight as he went, putting on his usual guise of getting a good look at his work to come.

Naturally, though, his eyes focused in a few places in particular - mainly, the lovely, tight pucker of wrinkled flesh nestled there along her backside, visible in the space where thick, plush fur gave way to soft skin instead; and then of course, just beneath that where the plump, succulent mound of her spade protruded out, its own weight where she lay sideways causing it to hang slightly open and show the sleek, glistening silky flesh inside.

"Let's see..." Iri rumbled, positioning himself behind her, "what we've got today..." and without waiting for her to turn her head to watch him, he half-squatted down, sank his thumbs into the plush fur of her rump, and used that leverage to draw himself forward, immediately pressing his nose right up into the center of her tailhole. Immediately the contact sent a shiver through her body, putting her on edge as all of her muscles tightened up, but she made no move to push him away. All he got was a slight twitch from one of her hindlegs, resting atop the other here in front of him.

She certainly had a different smell to her than some of the other patrons Iri had served. As he turned his muzzle back and forth, lips pursed forward just like the wrinkled pucker that tugged and pulled and squished along his nose and snout, he felt that short, thick fur around it brush up against his cheeks and chin; he took in a slow, steady breath, tasted the cool, almost anise-like spice of her natural musk, and dug in just a little bit deeper, until the natural greasy slickness slid back along his nose and matted his fur.

With some effort he pulled himself away, each breath already carrying that distinct weight on it - though he did turn and reach up with a hand just to squeeze her spade in on itself, rubbing from base to protruding lips to coax out a viscous glob of natural wetness, to be mopped up along his own lips and chin. As the dragon straightened up, adjusted the fit of his smock around the front of his body, and stepped back over to the other side of the table, the Suicune lifted her head and leveled a slightly embarrassed, slightly befuddled scowl at him. He chuckled, shook his head, and stared her right in the eyes, a move that certainly the legendary Pokémon would be unaccustomed to - especially as he swung his smock around and moved to unbutton his pants beneath, his arousal already stirred by her scent and warmth.

Another glance up to the door confirmed that he had locked it. Iri reached up, smeared her slickness around along his mouth and nose, pursed his lips again to draw as deep from that scent as though he still had his muzzle pressed up against its source, then gave himself a few slow strokes, right there in front of her muzzle. She lifted her head and looked down at his hard length, confusion and slight distaste visible on her lovely face; the dragon scoffed, reached in with one hand, gently caressed the side of her head - she closed an eye but didn't pull away - and then gently, softly, tapped himself against her cheek and lips. Then again, and again, and he pushed forward and rubbed along her lips, and...

...and with a glance up she opened her mouth and let him in, tongue and lips soft, smooth, wet. Iri tilted his head back and shuddered, hand falling away so that he could immediately sink up to the base inside her muzzle. There he held for a moment, enjoying the sensation of her working her tongue around him, swallowing down that slickness, learning his taste and shape and size, and then he drew back. Back towards his tip, then in again, slowly back and forth; the Suicune lifted herself up along the table a bit, shifting her weight as she did so, and Iri reached forward to hold her head in both hands now, at once holding her in place even as he thrust up into her.

Every time he pushed up against the roof of her mouth, he felt her shift and lift her tongue against his underside in turn; when he widened his stance and thrust forward into the back of her throat the Suicune swallowed around him, sleek velvety muscles tensing up and wrapping him in delicious, warm wetness. The scent of her rump and spade heavy on his own breath, his musk quickly overtaking her breath, the dragon angled his head, straightened his back, gritted his teeth, grunted - and then on shuddering legs pounded forward into the legendary Pokémon's muzzle, then again, and again.

The Suicune wrenched her eyes shut at the first spurt of his load into the back of her throat, then swallowed at the second and third; Iri tugged himself out, shakily took himself in his hand, and stroked out the remaining two and a half right across her muzzle, the thick, dripping spurts matting down her short fur. Her tails by now had lifted up and started to swing and sway around, belying her slight agitation and, perhaps, interest.

Panting softly, still dripping, Iri reached up and wiped at his mouth again. Technically he still had another seven minutes until her appointment officially began.