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Unusual Toys

Eros

A clerical error. That's what it was. That's what it had_to be. Inanna tried to tug against the bonds keeping her in place, but found them stiff and unyielding to her strength. Of course they would be reliable; they _were her own design, after all, and if there was anything she excelled at, it was everything she ever did. This only rarely worked against her favor, and without a doubt, this case was one of those times.

Embarrassment, humiliation, rage at herself for letting this happen all lanced through her, but at this point there was nothing she could do. The feral tilted her head up and to the side and looked at the screen again, displaying the very same view that was broadcast out to everyone in attendance at this seminar, and those who had stayed at home for the study. Her own private line of implements and tools, reduced to nothing more than "toys" as stated on the lips of her attendants... and, worst of all, demonstrated on her instead of one of her many servants.

All due to a clerical error. Hindlegs spread around a stiff yet comfortable bar, forelegs bound to the soft cushioned table underneath her, the feline tried to swallow but found the ring-gag stuffed into her mouth to serve its specific purpose of keeping her from doing so easily, forcing another glob of saliva to roll down her already soaked cheek. Another sensation down between her legs rippled through her, and the cat tried her best not to respond - but instead her entire body lurched, and a hideous moan leaked out from her forcibly parted lips.

The camera zoomed in. It felt like someone had wrapped their mouth around her entire tailhole and was sucking, sucking hard, trying to pull her bowels out from the inside. Altogether not an unfamiliar feeling to her, but also not one she would admit openly... and certainly not something she would air like this. The cat turned her head to the screen again, her humiliation and rage spiking at the sight there, the wide, plastic tube vacuum-sealed in place around the rim of her tailhole, steady suction pulling the wrinkled rim up and out, forcing it to grow and swell with the tension. Sleek wrinkles of pinkish-brown flesh tinted grey and purple bloated out to press against the walls of the unit, the thicker rod on the inside plunging up inside of her. The closer the camera zoomed, the more she could see the worst parts of the display, how the inner portions of her innards had started to slip out from inside her rim, dense glistening wrinkles of glossy red bunching up along the length of that rod as it pulled and sucked and slurped, and then the amount of foggy, discolored juice that had gathered in the back of the device... the fact there was any at all was embarrassing, but how there was so much of it just made things even worse. It left greasy streaks on the interior of the plastic as it jostled, and even as Inanna tried to clench her muscles and pull herself off, the tube just continued sucking away at her tailhole and bowels inside, slowly pulling them further out.

There wasn't much she could do in the way of movement, though. Every little thing reignited some sharp, annoying sensation in her body, which made her buck and squirm and gasp and moan again, which made everything else compound all over again. The camera flicked up just a hair, briefly passing over the now matted, sticky white fur of her groin between her hind legs, then over the plump, thick lips of the cat's canine spade, and straight on deep inside of her: the metal speculum held tight at her inner walls, like a pair of hands having dived up inside and pried her apart. Warm, wet walls stretched around those arms, swelling and pulsing as though they were breathing with each of her muscle movements, strung through with ropes of sticky slickness that she refused to recognize as the evidence of her arousal. Far within her revealed depths opened to the world, pushing its way up every time she adjusted, those walls wrinkled together and suddenly pinched in towards one another.

Her cervix. Her cervix. Until this day, until the speculum had tightened into place and felt like it was trying to pry her pelvis apart from the inside, Inanna hadn't even seen her own cervix, and yet here it was, on display for anyone to see. Someone could literally reach out with a finger and poke it. The thought sent a shiver up her back, which made her muscles clench down on all of these devices, which reignited the fires of sensation where they touched her - and shifted the tube of the catheter along the upper lip of her spade, that little movement enough to make her shudder and tighten all over again.

The insertion of that thing had been... something, that was for certain. She had expected it to burn and scrape and itch, but first the attendant had slickened up a metal rod with one of the thick, goopy lubricants that Inanna certainly had not formulated, then slowly circled that around and let it sink into her. Mixed pain and discomfort flowing into a surprising sensation of enjoyment, muscles instinctively squeezing up around it - and then the rod had given way to a tube, and she felt it slip deeper and deeper into herself, further and further, until the pressure that she hadn't known was building up inside of her suddenly release and trickled through the tube in a flow of pale yellow.

It wasn't just one way, though. Back and forth it went, spilling out into a clear reservoir now turned cloudy and pale from what had originally been in her bladder, the device filling up until some pressure switch inside of it reversed the motion, siphoning the combination of piss and distilled water then back up inside of her, inflating her bladder like a balloon within her belly. On and on the pressure grew, forcing her to wriggle and squirm with ever increasing urgency, until the pressure flipped again and she felt herself start to drain back out, body rebelling against her with the embarrassment that came with losing control in front of such a large audience... and down through the tube it flowed again, spraying out into the reservoir near the foot of the table.

The camera zoomed in again, now making its way up her chest to show the clamps that had been affixed to each of the nipples along her belly, and the collar cinched rather tight around her neck which forced each breath to come as a tight hiss.

Just a clerical error, she told herself, repeating the words in her head like a mantra - while the rest of her body sizzled, tingled, burned with overwhelming arousal and humiliation. At least the camera hadn't panned back down to the puddle along the foot of the table, steadily growing in spurts from her repeated half-choked orgasms. A clerical error.

Scat

Iridiumx

Iri truly tried his best to look busy, but there wasn't much he could do here suspiciously close to a cow's backside, with his fur and scales halfway up to his elbows sticky and discolored with the sticky, sludgy slime that he had scooped out from inside of her tailhole just a few moments earlier. Still his heart pounded with the shock and nervousness of _almost_getting caught, and since it had already just about happened it was all he could think about, even as he glanced up and down the other side of the fence again and again, confirming time after time that everybody else on the ranch was busy doing their own thing.

The thought hit him, maybe I should save this for later; maybe I oughtta do the usual of finishing up my day, pretending to go home, and then sneaking back out after dark, and - but another flash of movement from the edge of his vision made him jump and gasp again. This time, though, the movement came from the cow behind which he stood, and he noticed that it was, indeed, a movement.

Or it was about to be. The beast shifted her stance and spread her hindlegs a big, her thick paintbrush tail swinging side to side and then lifting up. Heart leaping right back into his throat the dragon moved without thinking, immediately positioning himself right there behind her, still-sticky hands sliding up along the thick wrinkles of her tailhole as it started to part open, skin still wet and sticky with his own saliva. His nose curled with the burgeoning stink of fresh cow shit - or maybe that was just what he had gotten in his mouth from sucking and slurping across her backside a few moments ago; he turned his fingers in, easily worked them into the outer ring of her tailhole, and pulled along with her natural parting.

It was like cleaning one of the gutters that hung down from any of the buildings throughout the ranch, or that one time he had had to empty out the drain in the middle of the horse stables. The cow's wide tailhole parted and pulled open, and deep inside Iri could see the thick, slimy mass inside, halfway liquid, thick and creamy like overhydrated mud as it piped its way towards her rim opened around its girth. Once more the dragon looked behind himself, though at this point he knew there was nothing he would be able to do. A quick thought hit his mind - where's the nearest hose? - and then her mess started to hit him as well.

The sleek, supple flesh of her tailhole swelled and protruded out, snaking a good two inches out alongside the mass as it slipped its way free from her bowels. Iri pulled himself forward, moving his hands out to brace himself against the wide space of her rump and to brace his chest up against her, the sticky, swampy heat of her sex quickly soaking through his shirt and wiping off against his scales underneath. His nose reflexively curled with the bright, rich stink of that fresh mess; he turned his head to the side, gritted his teeth, and sighed with mixed disgust and pleasure as the first wad of it plopped out against his chest, soon followed by another, and another, each one breaking apart and piling up, flowing down through the space between his arms and his chest.

As the hot, humid weight held in his arms and against his body deepened and thickened, Iri turned his head to watch its process - and received several little sprays and splutters of the stuff straight from the cow's parted tailhole, hot interior air puttering out as she pushed her bowels beyond their limit against him. The dragon licked his lips, tasted a fresh burst of that foul bitterness that had caught along his mouth, shuddered, jerked his hips forward, then dropped an arm as well as about half the load he had caught so he could frantically toss his belt and pants open.

Still the cow was dumping out against him, her mess squeezing out as a thick, grassy conglomeration of muddy sludge that held its shape for only about a second and a half before it spread out against him, smearing down across his neck, his shoulders, his chest... and slopping up _inside_his pants and underwear when he tugged them open, hand already working quickly, urgently along his twitching hard shaft. The sheer humid heat bearing down around him, the sticky weight as it mushed and mashed along his sensitive skin... the dragon dropped his other arm, let the rest of the mass flop free to roll wetly down his body, then pulled back just far enough so that he could lift his shaft up and stroke himself into the piles as they plopped out of her, her wide tailhole repeatedly parting open, slurping shut, then opening again around the next one.

Before long Iri had rolled his hand back to the base of his shaft and just held himself there, each additional chunk pouring down around his tip, spreading along his length, and then dropping free, repeatedly coating him in another thick, sticky layer of foul-smelling gunk. Every time he stroked he could still feel the little half-digested chunks and bits and particles, little flecks of grass and thicker stems that had worked their way completely through her system, rubbing and scraping against him, sticking to his scales, poking at his palms.

He swallowed again, able to taste her shit in the back of his throat as richly as if he had sealed his mouth around her tailhole... which, the temptation was there, but as soon as he started to lean his head in, snout curled with the reflexive response to the awful scent, that ring of flexing, supple flesh slurped back in against itself, clenched, puckered, squeezed out another ribbon of muddy shit, then clenched again, and she was done. Iri leaned forward and planted his forehead right beside the base of her tail, hungrily dragging his tongue along her freshly stained skin as he worked at himself, spreading that shit across his desperate arousal, bringing himself so close, so quick.

Not yet, though. Right as he felt that pressure start to build up he released himself, shivered at the sensation of sticky shit trying to keep his hand there, and then lifted up, dripping bovine anal juices from his fur and clothing, smeared shoulder to knees in her waste, and looked frantically around for something on which to stand.

He'd have to do this fast.

Feral

Iridiumx

The dragon could barely hold himself back, he was already so far along. Shaking from head to toe, panting, hard cock throbbing and bouncing against his shit-smeared belly and flinging more of the mess away from himself each time it did so, for a moment he thought that he might tumble right over the edge anyway. The thick, sticky heat of the stuff coating him from tip to base, the awful stink that wrapped around him, the damp, humid heat of the pile that rested across his feet and still rolled down across the feral cow's backside, her tail still half-lifted at the base with the end of her load.

So he stood there for a moment feebly holding his soaked, smeared, and already slightly crusty work shirt up and out of the way, as if that would contain the mess that already dripped down his body and stained his white scales to a muddy yellow-brown. Left and right he looked, nervousness growing with each passing second, arousal still pumping and throbbing. Just a bucket, or a hay bale, or anything that he could -

There it was, the stepstool close to the gate in the fence a bit of a ways away. Iri swallowed, looked over again, tugged his pants just far up enough to hide his twitching shaft - though this did nothing to eliminate the mess that coated him shoulder to waist, a good portion of it having plopped_inside_ his pants so it now squished up against his groin and wormed itself into his slit around the base of his cock - so he could hobble over, grab it, and then bring it back, nearly throwing it into place against the back of the cow's hindlegs in his excitement.

He didn't even look to make sure he was pushing into the right hole, then, when he returned to his proper place behind her. The feet of the stepstool squished messily into the pile that she had dropped down beneath herself, and as Iri climbed up onto it it slid and skidded for a moment, but then found purchase in the grass below. He swallowed, smeared a shit-stained hand over her rump to lift her tail, angled himself forward with the other - and then pushed himself right up into that wrinkled pucker, stretched and loose as it was already from the sheer volume of waste that she had already extruded.

An intense shiver lanced through his body, carrying him from tip to base right there inside of her. Whether that was just warm, wet bowel flesh or the last bit of her messy load caught within her lower bowels he couldn't tell at first, the slick, humid overlapping squishiness squeezing and wrapping around him, molding easily to the shape of his hard shaft at his first thrust. He tugged back and pumped forward again, then again; the beast lifted her head and looked back at him once more, still chewing a mouthful of grass, then made the same move as she had before: she widened her stance, lifted her tail against his body, angled her hind end down just a little bit, and then - she pushed.

First it felt as though Iri were actually attending to her other end, and she had pursed her heavy, wet, sloppy lips against his groin and the base of his cock, slurping and sucking even as the muscles pushed out. Moaning aloud, each thrust bringing with it a guttural grunt, the dragon straightened up and leaned back so he could watch her wide, thick-fleshed tailhole pucker and purse out around, pulling along with his cock the further back he drew himself. Sleek, supple flesh molded and deformed around him, then he pushed forward again - this time plunging deep into the same thick, sticky sludge that bubbled underneath the stool, freshly processed shit sleeving out around his hard cock, pushing against his lower body and plopping free from there.

Once more the stink curled up and assailed his nostrils. Disgust mixed with an even deeper arousal, and Iri could only pound his hips forward into her again and again, mashing that mess between her already filthy tailhole and his own body, pulping and slapping away until she had finally given him all that her voluminous bowels had churned up. This time the wet warmth that kissed around him really was her squeezing walls, pushing out for a moment longer before blossoming against him, bright glistening red blooming out from within the wrinkles of her outer rim, before squeezing and sucking right back in.

At this point there was nothing else he could do. The dragon threw himself forward over her body, running his hands down along her haunches until he found some kind of handhold along her width, held there, and forcefully pounded himself forward against her, again and again. That heat and pressure built up in his loins, simmered, boiled - and his panting turned to open-mouthed groaning and moaning right up to the edge of his peak, until it hit him with a force so hard that if not for the stool, he would have tumbled off of her right then and there.

He gritted his teeth so hard that he gave himself a headache, hips shocking forward, again, again with each forceful spurt deep inside her freshly emptied bowels. Whether that was the beast's heartbeat or his own pulsing around his base, he couldn't tell, and whether he was still pumping into her, he also couldn't tell: there was only the wet smacking as she continued to eat, and then the occasional high, sloppy patter of caught internal air sputtering out around his buried length, warming his groin.

The weight and intensity of the afterglow washing over him, Iri would have stayed hilted there had the cow not shifted and started pushing again, effectively emptying his still hard cock back out of her bowels just like the rest, wet flesh squishing and spluttering with remnant anal juices and his own cum. He gritted his teeth and shivered again, the nervousness already starting to dig its claws back in: he would have to find his way to a hose fast, and probably locate a change of clothes as well. Shaky, legs barely able to support his weight, Iri reached down to tug his pants back up, felt the extra wet weight soaking into the seat, shivered as he pressed still-warm cow shit against himself when he lifted them, and - then jumped at the sound of padded footsteps across the grass.

"Well, well," said an unfamiliar voice. The dragon's heart nearly stopped, but then leapt into his throat again when that voice continued: "Sure does look like you're gonna neat some help cleaning her, and yourself, up."

Shit-smeared paws still working at his pants, Iri looked over his shoulder and right into the cool green eyes of a slim coyote, another worker he had seen about the ranch but hadn't yet met. Those eyes appraised him for a moment, and then the coyote's slim muzzle split into an indulgent grin. "Luckily," he went on, "my task for the morning is to clean up after the cows."

Drowning

Rhexxy

Fear lanced through Nick's body, just as cold and potent as the pressure that squeezed at each and every inch of his skin through his fur. It was strange what that kind of tension did to his perception, and to each sensation pounding through him: suddenly he found himself hyperaware of the blood rushing through his body, pulsing out from his chest and along his extremities, roaring in his ears, swelling through him, then diving back towards its source; he felt all the little wisps and fingers of disturbed water brushing through his fur, tickling at his skin, caressing between his fingers and toes, the insides of his ears, his nose, under his tail; and then, of course, the worst part was the pressure that felt as though it were building from inside of him.

He shouldn't have agreed to this. He should have listened to his instincts and declined the offer, though the money had been so hard to refuse. They had probably known that, choosing to make the pitch to the fox directly; some conversation, a little bit of booze, a taste of what would come after, and he was stuck like a wolf at his honeymoon. Nick swallowed, then regretted it instantly as the inverse pressure caused another spurt of water to rush up into his nose, stinging there and making his eyes water.

Despite the situation, or maybe because of it, that thought shocked a kind of desperate amusement through him, and he forced himself to focus on the feeling and sensation. Anything to take his mind off the situation, of this vat of water enclosed around him, keeping him suspended in its slowly tightening grasp. It felt as though a hundred huge hands were wrapped around every part of him, gradually pulling tighter and tighter: his muscles felt heavy and his chest seemed as though it contained a balloon of lead inflating from within.

Resolve failing, the fully naked fox - at the last scrap of air hissing out of the tube beneath the constant flow of water, he had abandoned modesty - swamp up towards one side of the tank and pounded his fist against the glass, trying to get the attention of someone, anyone out there while they watched. His cheeks sizzled and tingled with exertion from holding his last desperate mouthful of air, little bubbles trickling occasionally from his nose. They tickled as they curled up around his fur and wisped up towards the top of the tank. Nick wondered, for a moment, if he would be able to angle himself to suck those little bubbles back down and in... but, then, as soon as he loosened the tension in his chest, that pressure redoubled and felt like it squeezed half of his remaining air right out of him.

If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine the jaws of the vice as they squeezed around him, exterior force warring with interior urgency, lungs nearly empty yet feeling as though they were still full to burst. Part of him deep down wanted to release this tension and try to pull in another breath, knowing that he would take in nothing but this same water in which he struggled - but, then, would that be too much different? Self-control against hysterical desperation, he floated around to the other side, pounded at the glass again, tried to dig his claws into the surface; he wobbled, and kicked, and struggled, and ended up pumping out another half-mouthful of his vital prize, the pounding of his heart gradually slowing from the fierce rhythm it had set before.

Slower, but to his perception it thumped much, much_more powerfully, each pulse vibrating through the inside of his skull, clouding his vision, muddling the sounds in his ears. He could tell that the patrons could see and hear him, and knew that they were watching: they each sat at their tables, chatting among themselves and occasionally turning up at him, watching,_enjoying the show.

Before long he couldn't tell whether it was the weight of the water against him or just the life and response oozing out of his limbs, as they felt slow and sluggish when he tried to move them. His fingers and toes tingled, his arms shook, his belly ached with the strain of holding his breath so long; he swung again, pressed a paw to his mouth, blinked through the water, blinked again, blinked again, trying to banish the cloudy darkness that had started to creep in at the edges of his vision, sparkling with flashes of indiscernible light and color.

Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself to the floor of the tank, trying to find some semblance of balance... and yet the world still swirled and swam around him, everything moving and twisting in slight, unsteady patterns, yet straightened out when he tried to focus on them. Still clutching his mouth, the desperate fox reached up and pinched at his nose as well, and clamped down with his other muscles just the same: despite the urgency and desperation, he wanted to keep some modicum of dignity and worth, and with his body pushed right to its edge, it had started to prepare to-

~ ~ ~

"Oh!" The panther lounging back in one of the chairs nearest the tank straightened up and pointed, amusement on his face. "Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"Look." With an extended claw he traced the line of small, faint bubbles trickling their way up. "That didn't come from his mouth or nose."

"Oh?" The weasel across from him tilted his head. "_Oh._Ha! He must be getting desperate."

"He's been desperate. He-" Then it happened again, the fox's entire body lurching as though the little accident sent a wave of force through his body. Just as those bubbles bounced up from beneath his tail, the waterlogged fur swinging with surprise, so too did more squeeze out from between his paw clamped across his mouth. "Ah! There he goes again. Boy, _look_at him."

Eyes bulging and bloodshot, ears flattened back, chest convulsing with the urgent need to draw breath against the desperate desire to keep those muscles tight, the fox used what seemed like the last of his energy to swim up to the surface, to find some little reserve of air... and then all of the rest of the air rushed out of him, four great streams of bubbles in varying sizes spraying out. Two from his nose, one from his mouth as his paw went away, and another from beneath the base of his tail.

Delighted, the panther watched for a few seconds longer, then went back to his meal.

Smegma

RuariYeen

Riley swallowed again. This certainly wasn't a situation in which he had expected to find himself, and while the surprise still worked through his system, his enjoyment of it worked its magic as well. He squirmed and shifted where he lay across the edge of the bed, wrists bound over his chest, eyes wide open as he counted the stripes of the hyena who stood before him.

He pretty much couldn't believe it. He had mentioned as much when Mora had sent the wolf to open the door: "I'm sorry, I'm expecting... uh..." but then he had paused, looked at her eyes, her grin. Nothing else seemed too terribly familiar, and even then, even knowing who he was to expect, he still had to really search to find that similarity.

"Hey," Ruari had said, and strode in past him. Even the confidence and strength of will had changed. "I've got a lot to show you. Where's Mora?"

And now that the two had gotten him right where they wanted, bound on his back, sprawled naked across the bed with his girlfriend rubbing the slick, sticky lube over her favorite strap-on and the hyena just now undoing her pants fly near his muzzle, it all felt precise and proper. He hadn't expected to be in this situation, but now that he was here, he couldn't imagine it going any other way. Him on his back, fully hard and twitching from the anticipation, about to get wedged between two gals who each had a bigger dick than him.

Well, Mora's was silicone, but that still counted. Ruari breathed out a sigh of relief and shifted her jeans and panties down her waist. Any thought that stirred in the bound wolf's head immediately left, as his gaze found and focused on the plump, hefty shaft that flopped out and before his muzzle, thick foreskin rolling gently back amid the suddenly lessened pressure. Humid heat wafted down over his face, lightly stinging his nose, tickling his whiskers...

"It's been a little while," Ruari said. Riley blinked and looked up past that shaft; he still didn't really recognize her voice. "You don't mind, do you?"

It was Mora who answered for him, as usual. Riley yipped softly as one shaft poked up against his tailhole, while the other rested heavily across his lips. "Of course not. He's here to be used, you know."

"Good. Good... see, I'd let you do this for me, but you're a little - indisposed."

While she spoke the hyena held his head up to the right with one angle, while the other went down as well. A forefinger and thumb rested gently along the rim of her foreskin, pressing in enough that Riley could see the supple skin sink in and wrinkle slightly over itself, and then she started to slide it back. Though it really more rolled than slid, soft skin sticking to the softer head underneath, peeling gently away in spots where moisture had thickened in consistency, soon revealing little flecks and bits of gathered stuff; the wolf's nose wrinkled and he immediately felt the weight of her musk trickling down into his throat, but if anything, he just wanted more of it.

Further and further the hyena went, at one point having to adjust her grip, finger and thumb coming up a little more. She hefted herself up, tugged, and spread her paw out, and now Riley's eyes danced back and forth over the trails, specks, and smears of that built-up gunk, gathered into the little crannies and folds that normally wrinkled over one another, settled behind the rim of her head and along the underside, streaked along the portion of her shaft normally hidden beneath the supple skin. He swallowed and licked his lips again, then eagerly, dutifully opened his mouth, tongue held up and out.

Ruari smirked at that, her grin returning. "Oh," she purred to the wolfess across from her - Riley pulled in a little gasp at the sensation of that well-lubed toy starting to sink up inside of him, "you've got him well trained."

"He's had plenty of practice. Feel free to offer him more whenever."

"Don't mind if I do. Here, Riley, why don't I let you..."

For a moment the male closed his eyes, then just as soon halfway opened them back up. Even her scent was different, her originally familiar musk taking on a different, sharper note, at its core the same as he recalled but still distinct and unique on its own. _Definitely_an uncut musk, the kind that drew him in until his nose and lips touched against the slick, slightly wet underside of her shaft, some of that sliminess already working off against him. The hyena breathed another sigh and rolled forward a little bit, then back, and let him get to work.

So he started with his tongue, of course. Slipping forward, following the lines of those contours like cleaning a gutter, digging out the gathered gunk until it rolled and plopped and settled against his lips and tongue; the wolf drew back for a moment, felt it squish and mush between his teeth, swallowed, wasn't sure he had gotten it down. A little exhalation showed that already his breath stank of that heady ammonia weight, but still he had much more work to do so he dove right back in, now spreading his lips around her head, lifting up a bit, curling his tongue around to the rim just behind it - all the while Mora sank slowly forward into him, the familiar shape of the toy plunging wonderfully up underneath his tail, making his legs kick and toes curl.

Yet again he drew in a breath through flared nostrils, the hyena's still half-soft shaft resting between his lips, seeming to simmer and steam with a fetid warmth of its own that filled his mouth and plunged down into his lungs. It didn't quite make his eyes water, but still he felt his body respond when he wrapped his tongue around and drew it back and forth like a thick, idyllic slug, peeling off the little dried crusts and softer, moister chunks. It made him shudder, yet also caused him to squirm and throb and start dribbling against his lower belly, arousal coaxed on further as Mora finally pressed herself up to the hilt against him.

With a little gasp Riley came free again, fully aware that his breath stank of hyena. Ruari reached down to roll her skin forward and back, forward and back again while he was looking down at his partner - and then she tapped herself against his cheek, leaving little wet spots there.

"Hey." She rolled back again and smeared herself against his muzzle, now adding a few bits of discolored yellowish-white to those stains. "You missed a spot."