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Scat

LomiDePuzlo

Melody swallowed and sighed as she looked down at her little setup: the towel spread out across the tile floor, the small tarp set out on top of that, the camera standing propped up on a few books with the cable linking it around to her laptop. Even just the sight of it was enough to put a stir into her loins, and as the hare stepped forward, looked around once more to make sure she had enough space, then lowered herself down into position, she deliberately took a few moments to just run her fingers back and forth between her legs, coating them in slick heat and working herself up further.

She was still nervous, sure, but the arousal helped to combat that. Ever since Sarah had mentioned her little experiment to her, and had then even sent her the video evidence, the thought had simmered in the hare's mind until she caught herself late at night imagining it, wondering what it would feel like, what it would look like. She had already prepared an account on the site she planned to upload it to, and Sarah had lent her the camera setup she had used, and now... now Melody swallowed, crouched down a little bit further, and looked back over her shoulder to make sure she was angling her backside towards the lens.

Then a glance forward, and - she reached her paws back, licked her lips, and felt another pulse of arousal spread through her at the sight of her own tailhole stretching and puckering beneath the spread, brought up on the screen in full, luscious definition. Would she want to squat down, or go to all fours...? She tried the second of these, found it more comfortable, and used the opportunity to go ahead and hit the record button.

As soon as she did so the stage fright started to set in. That was alright, though: while watching herself through the camera feed, Melody ran her paw down between her legs again and took in what it looked like to play with herself, fingers slipping back and forth, sinking into her, coming out and spreading her lips. Then she reached down further - or up, on the screen - and spread her fingers around her tailhole, pressing lightly in on the soft yet firm flesh there... until she could feel the weight that lurked just inside, just through her rim.

That was what Sarah had done, and what this hare had spent her afternoon preparing for. She had felt the first throes of urgency back around dinner, and in the time since that pressure had only grown until she could feel the mass of a load pinching and pushing at her innards with every movement. It took deliberate, concerted effort to keep herself from emptying out right then and there, and she noticed with delight that this effort was visible on the screen: fingers spread around her puckered rim, she could put sight to the feeling of her muscles twitching and tensing, then relaxing for a half-second only to clench back again, working their hardest to keep everything inside. She swallowed again, slid her paw out so she could go in from above and beside her tail, then circled a pair of fingers around her puckered rim, protruding very slightly under the tension.

Around and around, touch light enough that it sent a shiver through her, firm enough that it further increased the pressure of urgency. Every time she prepared herself to finally go through with that push and relaxation, her nervousness spiked and she clenched back again, and again... which admittedly made for great content on the screen, but it wasn't what she was here for. The hare pulled in a breath, lowering the front of her body down a bit - while careful not to show her face on the feed - then brought her paw back up, to hold her tail up and out of the way, and closed her eyes... and then just let herself relax.

As soon as she felt her rim start to part open, though, she opened them right back up and looked to the feed, not wanting to miss a single second of it. And what a sight it was, watching her own tailhole slip gradually further apart. Silently she thanked Sarah for having such a high quality camera, as even on the screen she could still see the thin strands of sticky mucus that pulled apart from within her rim, then draping over the thick, lumpy girth that started to push its way out of her, rich brown, glistening with natural bodily wetness.

Only then did the hare start pushing, moving her paw to spread her rump further open and afford a better view. Its movement slowed, stopped, then picked up again, starting to hang down beneath its own weight as it slid further out of her, then finally breaking off and plopping wetly against the tarp she had set out. On reflex Melody clenched back around it then kept on going, slick interior flesh puckering out to spit forth another lumpy log, followed by another, and another, each one causing her to pause, pull in a breath, grunt, and then push again.

The little flashes of her inner bowels, the flexing and movement of her rim, how she could actually see the muscles working and straining to empty herself out, paired with the sucking and slurping of her mess pulling itself free from her... the hare shivered and bumped her upper chest against the floor, already working at herself with her other paw again while still keeping an eye on the screen. Little bits and chunks clung to her pucker after she had pinched off the last one again, swinging and moving as she squeezed, relaxed, then pushed again. This time she had nothing more to give, though, and her tailhole pulsed, stretched, and blossomed, showing that glistening wet warmth inside with thick strands of discolored mucus hanging down, before she squeezed shut again. Panting softly, a thin trickle of piss running down her inner thigh and across her fingers from the exertion of squeezing and pushing, the hare took a few moments to catch her breath... then moved to fill her recently-emptied tailhole with a pair of fingers, already pushing out in preparation again.

Maybe she could split this video into a few parts.

Unusual toys

ottersmell

The otter lying on the examination table squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position with his haunches hoisted up into the stirrups. Something told him this wasn't exactly how a procedure like this should go, but on the one hand he knew he didn't know enough to say otherwise, and on the other hand... he swallowed and turned to look at the monitor again, swiveled so that both he and the doctor - if doctor he really was - could see it. Right now it displayed a foggy, angled view of the far well, the little light along the underside of the endoscope as of yet turned off.

Near the table facing the monitor sat the coyote in the white coat, still smearing the lubricant over his fingers as he watched. His _bare_fingers, that was: the greasy material slicked back over tan fur, spreading over his knuckles all the way down to the heel of his wrist. Iso, the otter lying here on full display with his own gown spread uselessly down about his chest, swallowed.

The other hand to this whole matter was that Raul, this coyote who very probably was not a doctor, had been working and teasing his other thumb at the mustelid's revealed tailhole, every now and then bringing that digit to his maw to coat it in sleek saliva before pushing it down into place. Gentle prodding had turned to a more determined pushing, and now Iso sighed, squirmed, and leaned his head back as that thumb pressed slowly past his rim, sinking into warm wet flesh. Reflexively he clenched around it, to which Raul wiggled it inside of him, turned it up, pressed there, then scooped it back out, and then he reached to pick up the endoscope.

The camera feed jostled wildly as he adjusted it, running it briefly between his slickened fingers before lining it up with Iso's "prepared" target. A soft _click_and the light flashed on - Raul blinked against it, leaned back, and swiveled in his chair - and he brought it in, spreading two of his lubricated fingers around the otter's tailhole to gently tug him open.

"Ready?"

Iso didn't really have much of a choice. At least the stirrups held his body so that he could throw his gown to hide his twitching half-erection... "Y-yeah. Well, I mean, listen, I - kind of-"

A second later his breath caught in his throat, the camera feed on the screen bursting into the rich, smooth pink of his puckered tailhole in full, crisp view, soft wrinkles overlapping one another, pulsing and tensing against the coyote's gentle tugging. The moisture of his saliva glistened across that smooth flesh, and Iso thought he could hear the soft wet _pop_as his rim parted open, a thicker strand of internal mucus hanging down for a moment before the camera rolled forward, pressed against him... and then sank in, making him gasp.

Smaller than the other male's thumb, quite a bit so, but still he could feel it snaking its way up into his bowels, slipping right through the thick, velvet-plush walls of wet meat. Abashed, embarrassed, _riveted,_Iso looked up at the screen to see those inner wrinkles slipping past, warm red innards illuminated beneath the camera's light.

So slick, so slimy, so wet... on and on the endoscope plowed deeper into him, the occasional slightly discolored rope of anal mucus flopping against the lens and then pulling free, his soft, bulbous inner walls streaked with the stuff, thickening the deeper it went. He felt Raul's eyes on him - and his fingers against his rump - and swallowed.

"Okay so far?"

"Yeah, but..."

And then there it was. Nestled within the wrinkles in the walls, little bits and flecks of thick, muddy brown, discolored and muddy, then blossoming into bigger chunks and lumps until... until the space inside of him swelled out and around a larger portion of the mess, walls of meat wrapped snugly around its girth. Iso brought his paws up, for the moment not caring that his gown fell away to show his now fully hard shaft twitching against his belly, and covered his face.

"Look," he stammered, "I'm sorry, I can just - go and, uh..."

"Hmm?" And Raul continued forward, now pressing his fingerpads a little more firmly against his rim as well. Iso gasped, swallowed, and turned his head to the side, then just as quickly looked back again even as those fingers began to dig up inside of him as well, parting his apparently full tailhole around them and the camera. The next time he looked the feed had gone dark again, with just the slightest hints of that mashed, mushy brown clinging to the edges - and Raul started to draw it back, eventually pulling the lens free of the mass that he had pressed into.

With each tug the otter squirmed and shivered, unsure whether he should squeeze around it or push instead. Back, back the camera slid inside of him, lumpy overlapping walls of reddish-pink bowels slurping along the lens, the attached audio feed doing nothing to stem his embarrassment with those wet squelches and sticky pops. When it did finally come free Iso wouldn't have noticed but for the visual, as Raul took the opportunity to slip his two fingers together and then press them inside of him to the knuckle, turning and wiggling them up as though trying to find the mess that he had mashed into.

Despite himself, each flex of those fingers inside of him made the otter gasp and throb again, and left him slightly breathless when Raul finally did pull them back out. More than just the slightly yellowish lubricant clung to his fur afterwards, and as Iso looked up at the coyote he saw those fingers come in towards his shaft, to grip his base, angle him up, hold him in place there... and then the other paw came in with the endoscope, small and thin and definitely bearing some muddy, fibrous flecks of that mess at the end. Across the lens, back along the light, then a good few inches down along the shaft of the thing as well... and Raul turned it so that it came close to the little point of Iso's urethra there at the tip of his arousal.

Green eyes flashed up to him alongside a smirk. The coyote reached up and scratched at an itch on his cheek with that same paw, perhaps unwittingly smearing some of that brown into the fur there.

"I can get some more of the lubricant if you'd like," he offered. His paw returned to Iso's arousal and angled it down. "But in _my_opinion, you've already got that all covered."

Smegma

Matteh

Matteh waited where he knelt, paws resting on his knees, eyes directed towards the space under the bottom of the bathroom door. Whatever the coyote was doing in there, it certainly wasn't cleaning up; that was, after all, the entire purpose for all of this. The fox on the floor squirmed again as those thoughts just streamed through his head, all of the pictures and videos that Raul had sent to him over the past two weeks coming back into full focus; his stomach churned and his throat tightened, yet all the same, his underwear still stirred, his own sheath pulsing and shifting with burgeoning arousal.

Day 1, a picture sent with Raul pinching his sheath back with a forefinger and thumb. Day 3, a short video showing the smooth, sleek back and forth movement of that supple skin over the glistening flesh underneath. Day 4, now with him squeezing his finger and thumb from the base of his sheath up to the tip... and extruding out a thick, almost chunky yellowish sludge from deep within, at once moist yet dry, slimy yet tacky. Matteh's stomach turned again and he swallowed against the bile that built in the back of his throat, but still he shifted and brought his knees closer together, trying to hide the arousal that pressed up against the interior of his underwear.

Day 7, another short video with Raul slipping his boxer briefs down and giving his sheath just the slightest of tugs, showing how flakes and chunks of that yellow grime coated his length and sucked up against his sheath when he tried to pull it back. Day 10, where he didn't even need to slide it back to show the buildup; day 12, where he simply swirled a finger tip down within the lip and brought it up, fur caked and matted with the stuff, which he just wiped back off along his tip. Then no more pictures of videos sent until today, when the fox had shown up at his door and Raul had answered it, wearing those gym shorts and nothing else.

Matteh's nose has tingled then, but he thought it might have just been his imagination...

His ears suddenly perked at the sound of the knob on the door shifting, popping, opening. Out stepped the coyote again, still clad in nothing but those gym shorts; the light that filtered in from the window nearby verified the fox's thoughts that he indeed had nothing else on, not even underneath. Each step he took, Matteh could see the bounce and jiggle of plump, succulent sheath and sack beneath, folding the wrinkles of the material around it. He straightened up as the coyote approached, paws at his sides, then glanced up into Raul's green eyes far above.

The coyote grinned. Matteh let his tail stir, trying not to show his anxious trepidation - but then the scent hit him, soft yet pungent. And Raul hadn't even taken his shorts off, still standing there with his heavy bulge palpably hanging out in the front of his shorts, still swaying slowly with residual momentum. That grin widened as the fox explored, nose twitching again and again the closer he came; he looked up for permission, received it, and then dug his muzzle gently up into the space between Raul's sack and his inner thigh through his shorts, drawing him the concentrated aroma of rich musk there.

That part of the scent put another stir between his own thighs, his underwear tenting up in front of him. Matteh closed his eyes, swallowed, and opened his mouth, now trailing up along the firm outline there beneath the fabric; the scent shifted and changed, tightening in towards something like stale piss mixed with hot ammonia, all wrapped together in something heavy, pungent, acrid. His nose wrinkled and lips curled, and from above he heard the coyote breathe a little chuckle.

"What?" Raul said. Matteh opened his eyes again to see him hooking both thumbs beneath his waistband. "Second thoughts already? Come on, it's really not that bad. I've been living with it for two weeks; before long, you really start to... enjoy it..."

And with these last few words the coyote pulled his shorts forward and down, bringing into view the source of that stink. Matteh's nose stung and his eyes nearly watered: Raul was already part of the way there, rich pinkish-red tip poking out from a corona of chunky, slimy grime gathered there at the lip of his sheath, portions of it matting down his fur like a liquid while dried flecks and flakes hung between the hairs. Once more his stomach rebelled against him, roiling and rumbling, and he hadn't even tasted it yet.

The thought of doing so made him turn his muzzle to the side, but still... Raul slowly rolled the supple skin back and forth over his tip, the lip of his sheath repeatedly caught and dragging along those half-hidden chunks and flecks pasted against his shaft. Between those bits his flesh had taken on a persistent greasy sheen underneath, as though coated in a thin layer of resilient oil.

Once more Raul pushed his sheath back, his shaft continuing to grow out from the depths of hot, swampy skin and flesh even after his paw had stopped. Matteh now held his muzzle to the side, lips curled back in disgust and nostrils flared... and nothing happened for a few seconds. Each knew what was wanted and expected, just as each knew that the fox would do it.

What was the point in putting it off, then? Matteh swallowed again, mouth watering as though he were about to vomit, and turned his head to face the yellowish-streaked shaft again. Raul gave it a few shakes, most of that grime clinging tight to his contours; the fox grimaced, grunted, sniffed at it, regretted it immediately as the blast of old ammonia, stale musk, and that last deeper, bitter tang pierced up into his nose. Still, though, he held himself there, pursed his lips up against Raul's tip, felt the layer of grease smear across his lips... and then started to drag his tongue up along that streaked underside.

He had a lot of work to do. Raul leaned back and let a little sigh trickle out from his lips, his cock giving a gentle throb atop the fox's tongue and bumping against his nose again. The harder he became, the bigger the mess was, still curling out along the rim of his sheath - and Matteh could feel it on his tongue, spongy, soft yet firm, sticky yet slimy.

His stomach pulsed again and he swallowed. Before long his breath would reek of the coyote's sheath.

"I bet..." Raul rumbled, reaching down to tap his shaft against Matteh's muzzle, "I could go for a month just as easily..."

Sounding

RussetPotato

"Oh. Oh. Whoa. That's - ah, God, I'm..."

Lukas grinned up at the cat above him, Shen's legs spread before him and muzzle tilted back across the top of the chair. The feline's chest rose and fell in steady yet raucous breaths, somewhat in rhythm with the reflexive grinding and thrusting of his hips while the otter worked in front of him, his own legs crossed and his arousal twitching fully hard against his belly. This was a position he quite enjoyed, yet only rarely had the chance to experience.

Careful not to jostle his paws too much, he kept one at the base of the cat's similarly hard shaft and reached up with the other to scratch at a spot at his cheek, using the heel of his palm for the way his fingers were slicked and soaked in goopy lube. "All good?"

"Y-yeah, it's just..." Shen swallowed and gritted his teeth, then brushed periwinkle-dyed hair out of his eyes with a paw. "Never felt anything like that before."

"It doesn't sting, does it?"

"A - a little bit. Is that okay?"

"Usually does. Just let me know if it gets too much, okay?" The otter leaned forward and ran that paw up along the cat's arousal, rolling his sleek, lubricated foreskin up along his head - until it puckered and pinched up around the shaft of the silicone-coated rod that descended down _into_him, a thicker gathering of that clear lube piling up in liquid chunks near his tip.

Surgical lube, it was; it helped much better, and was also safer, than the other options. When Shen had messaged him with his little inquiries and curiosities Lukas had immediately broken out his sounding kit and equipment to refamiliarize himself with the process and sensations... then ended up pushing himself through an intense, powerful finish, body shaking and tingling, breath catching in his throat, heart pounding. Of course he had gone through the proper steps to clean and disinfect everything afterwards, then another two times for Shen's first exposure to the play, and now he worked with paws as still and confident as he could, always watching for signs of discomfort or hesitation.

So far, at least, it had gone wonderfully. The feline had come over, bright and bubbly as usual, and had no issue in stripping down naked and getting into position, here in the otter's desk chair with pillows pushed up against the back so he could sit at the edge, sack and shaft hanging off the front. It had been so tempting to lean forward and draw all of that into his mouth, as he had done so many times before, but Lukas knew from experience it was important that Shen remain soft, at least for the rod to go in.

They had started slow and simple, Lukas spreading the lube back and forth along Shen's tip and the length of the rod, the gentle touches stirring the cat into a semi. Once the otter had lined up the tapered metal tip, though, that had receded, and the two went through a long series of confirmations - "are you sure?", "yeah", "let me know if you want to stop", "go ahead, I'm ready", "I'll go slow" - as he angled it forward, slid it down... and then there came the hardest part, waiting for the right angle, watching Shen's muzzle to see which spot worked best. His jaw had clenched, his nose wrinkled, his eyes squeezed shut - and then suddenly all of that relaxed and he had sunk back in his chair, a sleek shiver rippling through his body.

So Lukas had looked down to see the length of the rod slowly, steadily sinking down into his length, the size marker halfway up dragging closer and closer to the cat's tip. "Wow," Shen had breathed, "now that is a... a hell of a feeling, I..." And Lukas had been able to see the stiff shaft of the thing pushing out against the underside of his cock, a thin but noticeable bulge beneath skin and flesh. When he reached forward to press his thumb against it, too, he felt its resistance inside, the rod of metal straightening him up, keeping him firm, and providing a boundary around which the cat grew steadily harder.

Even now, the new, silicone-coated rod buried deep, Lukas smiled and twitched with his own memory. There was just something about the sensation of that cool weight sinking down inside that apparently had the same effect on Shen as it did for him, where the rod went in while he was soft and then, by the time it rested against the "base" of his inner tubing, squeezed tight within full arousal. The two had worked with that one for a while, Lukas slowly, carefully slipping it back and forth, before he drew it out, double-checked to make sure Shen was still alright, then flipped it around for the larger side; then one, two steps higher... and then he had switched to this new toy of his.

The reason for the silicone was it encased a small, gentle vibrator within a little bulb at the end, enough to make the cat grit his teeth and gasp again when it poked in, but now he squeezed and clenched around it, the end held right down into the base of his shaft. Lukas adjusted his paws again, forefinger and thumb pinching the portion sticking out of his tip while the other held his foreskin back just far enough, thumb rubbing right at that spot along the underside while he slid the rod around and around, careful not to brush or press too hard, and... then he felt Shen start to shiver and tighten up, claws poking out and pricking into the cushion of his seat, teeth gritting, head going back again.

"Oh," he panted, and swallowed, "oh, man, I - ah - hah-"

Then that was a hell of a feeling, too. Lukas grinned and pushed it down, poking right up against the cat's prostate through_his body, where he felt the stiffening, tightening resistance as it knotted up, Shen tumbling right over his peak. Having a rod in, though, stretched everything out: the cat tossed his head back and rumbled, hips grinding up, entire body tight and tense even though nothing was yet coming out of him. He bucked, gasped, bucked again, growled, tossed his head from one side to the other, that pressure and urgency visible on his muzzle growing, strengthening, intensifying, until he doubled forward, gasped - and only _then did the otter feel the loose, milky spurts jet up and around the rod, streaking along its length and then pooling right there at the tip.

Breathless, Shen fell back again, his body still twitching and shaking. Lukas slid his paw down and carefully drew the rod back out of his length, the entire process making the feline shiver.

"All good?"

It took him a moment to respond. "Yeah," he said, then swallowed and opened. "I - feel like I have to pee, though. Is _that_normal?"

Prolapse

GaboThe5th

The wolf grunted, gritted his teeth, sucked in a gasp, wrenched his eyes shut, as the much larger male gripped around his waist and buried inside of him again, and again, and again. Skin stinging with the slight chill of evening air beneath fur soaked through after his dip in the pool, still his body burned with so many different feelings - fear and anxiousness mixing with arousal and enticement, like a dream come true turned nightmare turned something somewhere in between. Even down to the collar around his neck, a single thick, sharp-clawed finger wrapped around it, yanking down, holding him in place even if the beast had no idea what its purpose actually was.

It had been just another regular night for Gabe, slipping into the pool out back after he had wrapped up his schoolwork and everything else. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon to give way to the moon, and the clear sky shone down upon everything in cool bluish-white; then from beyond the fence came the sound of heavy footsteps and heavier breathing, the noises of some wild beast pushing dangerously close.

So, heart set to pounding, the wolf had pulled himself out and hurried towards the sliding door, only to have the wind pressed out of him from above and behind. Vicious sharp claws had pulled at his sides and shredded his trunks, hot breath puffed out and clouded around his muzzle, and before he could make a noise he felt the tapered tip of the beast's shaft poking up beneath his tail. One thrust, a second, a third - Gabe had gasped, and squirmed, and gritted his teeth against the discomfort mixed with pleasure of that impressive girth forcing its way into him, squeezing him down against the tile floor.

Now the beast had wrapped its arms around his body and hoisted him up into the air facing the house so that he had no choice but to watch as it ravaged him. One of the werewolf's huge arms had come in to wrap around his legs, pinning them up towards his chest, so that it could heft him up and then let gravity yank him right back down, already-stretched tailhole pushing against its knot; again, and again, the slimy wetness of arousal rolling down its massive sack as it swung forward and back reflected in the glass, Gabe's own bouncing against his belly, leaving a little streak of pre forced out from the pressure. The smaller wolf tried to reach his own arms up and behind the werewolf's head, trying to find somewhere to hold on for balance, but every time the other pressed up inside of him, all thoughts left his head just as his breath escaped his body, and he was blinded by the intense pressure and pleasure until it drew back out again.

The werewolf's hips pumping against his rump sounded like the ripples in the pool slapping on the walls. Each time that length pushed up into him, filling his bowels and pressing out at his belly, Gabe's head rocked back and he squeezed his eyes shut, but now he could feel a different, deeper desire burning in the beast inside of him, as it tried to push up into him just as it pulled him down. He saw what it wanted, and squirmed in trying to adjust himself for it; he shifted his legs apart, pulled himself a little higher along its body, managed to grab a handful of tufted fur, lifted himself up just a little bit... and then in a flash his entire body seized up with the fierce sensation of that wide fist of muscle pressing up to his already-abused rim, pushing it inward, stretching, sinking - and then suddenly bursting into him, sensation and pain lancing up through him, throbbing, throbbing...

...throbbing, as he realized this was the werewolf grunting into his shoulder, emptying out sighs as huge and flowing as the load he pumped into the smaller male, rich heat blasting into him, swelling his belly even further around the huge length already inside of him. For a moment it felt as though Gabe was about to burst, every muscle in his body straining, his own hard shaft twitching and bouncing against his belly in enjoyment as well as complaint - and then, just as suddenly as the werewolf pushed into him did it yank back out, all of that pressure releasing in an instant, thick heavy sploshes dumping out across the tile. The beast's impressive shaft hung out beneath Gabe's legs, bouncing, twitching... and atop it rested a short section of thick, overlapping red wrinkles of flesh, jiggling and pulsing.

At first Gabe didn't know what he was looking at. Then he saw it in the mirror, and felt it, and realized: the werewolf pulling out of him had also pulled out part of him. As he tried to work the muscles of his tailhole, squeezing his rim together, that limp sock of pulped flesh squeezed and shifted as well, still drooling ropes of white over the same swollen knot that had pulled the lower two inches of his bowels out of him.

For a moment he felt a little dizzy, trying to focus on the foggy impression of that interior meat in the mirror surface of the door's glass, trying to work his mind around what a turn this night had taken. And then he felt actually dizzy, the werewolf's arms squeezing around his body, lifting him up, turning him around. He wobbled in place, those huge paws now rising from underneath his thighs, and just barely managed to find purchase along the back of the werewolf's head, fingers slipping into rough, coarse fur as it tilted itself back, angled its muzzle up, opened its mouth... and then Gabe's head went back, too, at the strange vacuum-suction sensation of the beast wrapping its lips around his limp, protruding tailhole, drawing that short length of outturned flesh into its maw.

It suckled surprisingly softly there, deft tongue easily folding its way into and between the overlapping walls, swirling and digging around within the loose flesh. Each time it sucked at him Gabe felt the sensation deep inside of himself just as he did right here outside of him. It tickled, and forced one of his legs to kick, and made his ear flick, and curled his lips back in deep, indulgent pleasure, something the likes of which he had never felt before. Still he felt a little dizzy, held here up above the werewolf's head probably a good eight feet of the ground, wobbling back and forth and held in place only by the paws under his thighs, his own on the beast's head, and its mouth wrapped snug around his insides, slurping away like Gabe and his friends sucking the broth off a wad of noodles at the local ramen shop.

Then with a wet shlup the werewolf drew itself free, fur of its muzzle sticky and stained with its own load as well as the slimy slickness of Gabe's insides. Once more it lowered the smaller wolf down, strong arms handling his weight with ease, to bring its muzzle close to his. Hot breath puffed out again, bearing all of those heavy, heady scents.

Heart still pounding, Gabe dropped his arms around its neck, tilted his head, and leaned in to open his own mouth as well, as that tongue unfolded out to meet him - and one of the werewolf's paws came up to tug at his collar again.