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Closed Exhibit

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Off Limits to the Public

The security guard glared up at the large clock hanging in the museum lobby. It was rigged up like an enormous Grandfather clock, complete with a full story pendulum, and it had a clock face ten feet in diameter, the hands of which ticked slowly into the position that read: 3:15. The skunk theorized that perhaps the reason time was moving so achingly slow was due to the ponderous size of the colossal chronometer. Maybe it was so big that its own tremendous weight impeded its ability to pass the time. His next best guess was that the masons who had erected the building had performed some sort of weird rite to purposefully arrest the 4th dimension within these walls. It was a museum of history after all, so it would make sense that some people would want to preserve the products of the ages for as long as possible.

Really though, the reason it was only 3:15 at this point was because it was a fucking Monday, and the skunk was bored beyond belief waiting for the end of his afternoon shift. He paced around the lobby wearing the accepted uniform of his profession, a steel grey shirt and black slacks, and a belt equipped with the usual amenities: truncheon, handcuffs, radio, flashlight, the works. Everything he would need to subdue a would-be perpetrator. A shiny-looking badge with the Museum insignia and some other meaningless stuff was pinned to his shirt on his left breast pocket. The guard wasn't doing this job because he had any great passion for the protection of history. He was doing it because it had steady pay and that was it. Guarding the museum was relatively easy compared to anything else, and it was a hell of a lot easier than finding some other job.

Days like this were when he entertained the thought of doing something else though just because of the mind-numbing boredom. The idea of museum heists was so far out of vogue these days that the skunk thought the very concept might have been invented by Hollywood so that weasels like Ben Stiller could star in silly kids movies. Needless to say, he had never stopped a master thief from stealing any priceless works of art. Besides, all the security was automated at night. There were only a few guys on duty during the graveyard shift to watch the cameras. His job mainly consisted of monitoring the sheeple as they passed through the exhibits, making sure kids kept their grubby paws off of all the old shit and such.

The skunk posted up by the hall leading to the exhibits, hooking his fingers into his belt and letting his fluffy, striped tail swish idly along the floor. There was a group walking his way, one of the museum's tour guides leading them, the attractive tabby's position made evident by the royal blue blazer she was wearing. But the guard paid no mind to the cat who was already getting into her script, pointing out to her herd the stupidly large clock that ticked too slow.

What caught the skunk's immediate attention was the pastel-clad deer sauntering along near the rear of the group. The six-point buck was trim in appearance and prim in attitude, obvious by the way he carried himself. He wore a lime green, v-neck shirt and a pair of pale blue, form-fitting, shorts that had no chance of passing the middle finger rule of a high school dress code, but the obscenity of their length was nothing compared to the sizeable bulge between the deer's legs, stretching the fabric of the shorts to their limit.

The skunk's gaze fixated on the deer's groin and followed it until it turned the corner, disappearing with the rest of the tour. He kept staring at the point where that bulge had vanished, vaguely aware of the stirring in his own pants. He shook his head to clear it and looked back up at the giant clock. 3:19.

That settled it. Keying his radio, the guard spoke into it, "Hey Jack, saw something suspicious in the 3:15 tour group, gonna go check it out. Send someone to cover the lobby." Without waiting for a response, he set off in the direction the group had gone.

They hadn't made it very far. The skunk pursued from a safe distance while the tour guide led them through the 1491 Exhibit, reciting some random facts about American culture prior to Columbian Exchange. His eyes were locked on to the deer the entire time, now presented with a rear view. The deer all but floated across the marble floor, his hips lilting from side to side. His shorts clung tightly to his pert cheeks, and the guard was sure he could see a hint of lace cropping up at his quarry's waistline. Realizing that he had gotten closer than he meant to, the skunk stopped while the group and the buck kept walking, that white-tipped tail raised like a white flag, as if to say he was surrendering his supple ass to whomever would claim it. That would have been fine if the skunk hadn't seen him from the front first. He knew exactly what he needed to get through this shift, and he wasn't going to change his mind, no matter how persuasive those bouncing buns were.

As the group was leaving through another access hall, the skunk, following again, decided to make his move. He waited until most of the others had turned the corner before saying, "Excuse me, sir. I'd like a word with you."

The deer turned, slightly taken aback to see who was addressing him. "I'm sorry, have I done something wrong, Officer?" He quivered slightly. The young buck had a few inches on the skunk, and counting the rack on his head he was a full foot taller. Even so, the skunk's presence had an immediate influence on him, though he wasn't sure if it was because of the uniform or the air of supreme confidence he seemed to project.

"Our... scanners detected something questionable when you entered the museum," the skunk said, grinning. "If you'll just come with me, we should be able to sort this out."

The deer's eyes widened in shock. "B-but, I'm just here for a tour. I swear I don't have anything I shouldn't."

The skunk sensed he needed to be a little more assertive, so adopting his best security guard tone, he said, "Well we'll see about that. There's just something I want to take a look at." With that, he grabbed the deer by the arm and marched him off in the opposite direction the tour had gone.

The deer kept babbling the whole walk about how he wasn't doing anything wrong and how he was just a student visiting as part of an extra credit assignment and that he didn't even remember walking through a scanner on the way in after all it wasn't like this was the Smithsonian or something was it? and was he being taken to an interrogation room? and did they even have those in museums? and did the skunk actually have any kind of law enforcement authority or was he really just a punch-clock cop?

The guard told the deer to be quiet. The buck was still very confused when they reached a set of velvet ropes from which a sign hung that read "Exhibit Closed: Museum Staff Only." The skunk unclipped one end of the rope from the accompanying pylon and gestured for the deer to enter.

"But-" the deer began, but the skunk grabbed his arm again and pulled him in, clipping the rope back behind them.

This was the gallery used for special exhibits, the collections that traveled around the country and usually brought researchers in droves, sometimes with a convention or something like that. The security guard really wasn't much into the business of history himself, but he knew that they were still setting up the exhibit; it wouldn't be ready until the weekend. The hall itself was spacious, located in the front left corner of the museum. Arched windows lined the walls that almost reached the cieling, allowing ample sunlight to stream in while providing an open view of the street outside and the surrounding buildings. The theme for the incoming exhibit had something to do with Napoleon, so there were a bunch of relics from early 19th century France in the room already.

The skunk dragged the deer over to a display platform bearing a low, plastic-covered piece of furniture. He yanked the plastic sheet off with a flourish to reveal an ornate chaise longue, complete with a plush, red satin cushion and trimmed with gold leaf. "Exquisite," the skunk whispered to himself. Rounding on his detainee, he then shoved the buck down so that he was reclining on the centuries-old long chair.

"Now then," the skunk began while unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants, "I must say, I've seen some hot pieces of ass strut through this place since I started working here, and I've found reason to take plenty of them aside for a little bit of questioning too." His pants fell to the floor and he stepped out of them and towards the stunned deer, continuing, "But I have never, and I mean never, seen a package like the one you're trying to smuggle past me." He turned and bent over, raising his tail while he pulled his briefs down, giving the deer good reason to cooperate. The skunk turned back around, stiffening dick in one hand, lightly stroking himself as he unbuttoned his uniform with the other, exposing the snowy white fur covering his chest and extending down the length of his underside. Whether the skunk cared about his job or not, it was obvious that he cared a great deal about maintaining his body. "So I would appreciate your full cooperation while I carry out this... investigation," he chuckled.

The buck could do nothing but gape at the authoritative skunk, barely managing a brief inclination of his head.

"That's what I thought. So let's have a look at what you're packing." With no further preamble, the skunk grabbed the deer's shorts and jerked them down, pulling the deer's hips too so that he was reclining even more and revealing the buck's choice of underwear. "My, my," remarked the guard. "You really were trying to sell that ass of yours, weren't you?"

The deer flushed, nearly matching the shade of his pink, striped panties, which were struggling to contain the ludicrous bulge between his legs. There was already a damp spot forming around the clearly-defined point of his tent.

"Don't get me wrong, it's a wonderful ass," said the skunk, grabbing at the top edge of the frilly undergarment, "but I'm not going to let something like this go to waste." He pulled the fabric up and towards himself, releasing what had been held captive.

The deer's dick flopped up and slapped against his belly, bouncing back to stand straight and stiff as a ramrod. To say it was impressive would have been insulting. This cock was a work of art; an entire exhibit could have been devoted to it. The buck's tool appeared sculpted, rendered in loving detail from the already-moist tip to the single subtle vein traveling down its improbable length. A drop of pre perched at the peak of his prick lost its grip and slid down the underside of his shaft.

Reaching out, the skunk grabbed ahold of the cervine's cock at its base, causing the deer to moan and more pre to dribble down his dick and over the skunk's fingers. The buck's package felt hot and heavy in the guard's grasp, and he was able to appreciate the thickness of the throbbing member. "Well," said the pleased polecat, licking his digits clean, "I think we both know where this is going" - he gave the dick in his paw a squeeze - "so, I hope you don't mind if we multitask." The skunk clambered up onto the chaise and straddled the deer with his back to the buck's face. Leaning forward and leveling out, he raised his tail and pressed his rear against the flustered deer's snout while wrapping his own lips around the object of his desire.

Immediately, the deer was overwhelmed with the richness of the skunk's scent. Shocked as he was to have been led astray by the guard in the first place, he could scarcely believe that his nose was now buried between the skunk's cheeks, his musk as overpowering as his demeanor. Whatever resistance he had was threadbare, his mind struggling to process the only two sensory inputs he was receiving at the moment: the skunk's warm maw engulfing his cockhead and the white-furred cleft of the skunk's ass shoved against his face. A final non-verbal command from the guard shattered his resolve, a simple roll of the skunk's hips dragging his sack over the deer's nares. The combination of musk and sweat raised the hairs on the back of the deer's neck as his dick pulsed, giving the skunk a mouthful of pre. Totally complicit now, the buck extended his tongue and gave the skunk a wet lick from taint to tailhole, and there is where it stayed.

"I'm glad we've reached an understanding," grunted the skunk quickly returning his attention to the cock before him. He wrapped his tongue every which way, up, down, and around the deer's prick, slobbering all over it. His paw still clasped tightly around the bottom of the shaft, he licked it from the top of his palm all the way up the tip, swirling his tongue around and over the leaking slit. Taking the head of the deer's dick into his mouth, the skunk suckled and lapped up free-flowing pre, and then worked his muzzle down the cervine length, taking more into his gullet with each successive bob of his head. Yet throughout, the skunk's true intentions remained clear as his free paw, the one not clutching the deer's cock, never strayed to the buck's nuts, preferring to leave the sizeable orbs contained within the striped panties. This was all about preparation, not pleasure. Not yet.

The deer swept his tongue in circles around the skunk's savory entrance before pressing his appendage in past the muscular ring, delving deep and wriggling within. He plied the fuzzy cheeks apart for ease of access, relishing the task wholeheartedly, excess spittle dripping down his chin. His hands groped the muscular globes, appraising what he realized on some level would eventually be splitting around his cock.

The skunk was drooling too, leaving a thick coat of pre and saliva coating the massive member. Every now and then he would indulge the deer with an extra curl of his tongue, and in return he would feel a hot gust of breath against his rear as the deer gasped and moaned. The skunk would then keep bobbing his head as if nodding in agreement.

They continued like this until the guard judged both ends of the initial investigation complete, rising up and turning around. As the skunk's ass receded from the buck's face, a trail of spit connected the deer's lower lip to the sodden taint, and the deer leaned forward wanting one last taste, his tongue still outstretched and undulating. The skunk had left evidence of his appreciation for the deer's diligence in the form of a large damp spot on the green v-neck. "Damn, hot stuff, you really know what you're doing." He was sitting just in front of the cervine's cock, the thick slab of meat resting against the cleft of his ass. "Now... tell me how much you want me to ride your cock."

The deer, suddenly tongue tied again, only managed a meek nod, so the skunk started grinding his hips backwards, massaging the meat between his buns. "I need to hear you say it."

Squirming beneath the security guard, his face burning with shame, the deer bleated, "I need it so bad! Ride me! Ride my cock!"

Grinning, the skunk put a finger to his lips. "Shhhh, you don't want anyone to hear the noises you're making, do you? Think of how embarrassing it would be if you were discovered like this." He was poised over the buck's cock now, close enough to feel the heat radiating from the deer's erection.

Another desperate cry caught in his throat as he understood what was just about to happen. He had come here to get extra credit and now he was about to fuck in the middle of an exhibit hall, in a public museum, during the day. There were people strolling through the halls. Hell, he could see people walking on the street outside through the windows. The buck considered all of this, his eyes screwed shut. When he opened them again, he looked at the skunk crouching over him, sneering down at him, the pert ass he had held not moments before astride his cock, a rump that put his own to shame.

"Please," the deer whispered, a look of longing in his eyes. "Please."

Good manners will get you far in this world, especially when addressing figures of authority. Upon hearing the dear utter the magic words, the skunk relaxed. He relaxed the muscles in his legs holding him up so that he was balancing on the tip of the cervine's cock for mere moments before relaxing his tailhole too. After that, he let gravity do the work. His ring expanded around the buck's knob, the pillar of flesh slowly invading him. The skunk kept a hand on the deer's dick, steadying the shaft while he sank down onto it, a burgeoning sensation of warmth entering him confluently. It came to a point where the skunk couldn't help but gasp, he felt so full and yet there were a few inches left. The deer just lay there, face screwed up while the tighter-than-expected skunk impaled himself.

Then, like water threatening to spill over the edge of a glass that's too full, something gave, and the skunk plopped down, his rump flush with the deer's hips, the buck's full girth contained within him. The guard let out a low moan as pre oozed from his own stout cock, pooling in the deer's navel and overflowing. The deer was panting as if he had been the one exerting himself, and he was forced to tense up again as the skunk began grinding, rocking back and forth, working his rear in measured circles around the shaft inside of it.

The guard paused, and took a deep breath. "Yeah, this is really gonna hit the spot," he murmured, and then winked at the deer. "You know the one I'm talkin' about." He rose up halfway before easing back down, then lifted himself up again, a bit higher before sliding down once more. He was patient, deliberate in the way he maneuvered his hips up and down the deer's dick, which continued to spew pre all the while, so that every rise and fall of the skunk's ass was that much smoother.

The deer bit his lower lip, taking the skunk's earlier warning to heart and trying to suppress a moan. Every time the skunk's ass touched down on his pelvis, each time the guard's weighty sack bounced off his abs, the way he rolled his rear onto and off of the cock inside him, how he knew when and where to clench around it, the raw heat encasing his shaft from all sides - all of it pressed against the lump in his throat, forcing it upwards until the deer couldn't hold it in anymore. His cheeks burned crimson as his moans echoed throughout the gallery.

Coming to a stop, the skunk waited for the deer to fall silent. "Oh, forgive me, hot stuff. I promised I would ride you didn't, I?" He gave the deer another quick grind, which made the buck grit his teeth and whimper. "Well I'm ready now. Sit up."

Tentatively, the deer propped himself up using his arms. Beaming, the skunk seized the buck's antlers and pulled himself up, leaving only the tip of the deer's prick throbbing within him before slamming his butt down again. All he had needed to give the deer the riding of his life was a good set of handlebars. Now his ass was bouncing along just like a jockey's. The red cushioning of the chaise absorbed the downward momentum and returned it, aiding the skunk while on the rise. The age old furniture creaked beneath the onslaught, not constructed to undergo such rigor, but the pair in the chair didn't notice.

For his part, the deer could only sit there and take it. He clung to the skunk, his hands resting on top of the guard's thighs as they rose and fell. Any attempt to exert force, to try and help pull the skunk onto his shaft, was rebuffed. The skunk was running the show, as he had been from the beginning. Nothing would change that. He was using the rack on the deer's head in such a way that was sure to leave his neck sore later, but the buck didn't care. Between the previous attention of the skunk's tongue and the current pounding of his cheeks, the deer wasn't sure how much longer he would last, but he knew based on the aching orbs confined in his panties that it wouldn't take much more. His moans rang out, no longer stifled, broken only by the slapping of the skunk's rump against the deer's body.

The skunk was grunting and panting as a result of his effort; he was getting close too. His uniform barely hung onto his shoulders, seeming to hold on only because of the sweat soaking into it, the damp fabric clinging to his dark fur. The skunk's cock, thumping against the deer's belly on the downswing and the skunk's on the upswing, was spitting pre on both of them. The striped tail behind him was practically curling into knots behind him, a good indicator of his remaining resolve.

As if conceding to this reality, the skunk found the angle he needed and resumed riding the deer's rigid shaft, the hot rod striking him in the spot that made him see stars. Things happened faster after that. The skunk pulled himself all the way off of the cervine's meat and then screwed himself down again with finality. He held the deer close as he reached his climax, thick streams of skunk spunk hitting the buck in the chest, neck, and even face. In the same moment, the deer felt the walls close in on his prick, an overload of heat that surrounded his shaft and sent a prickling sensation up his back, the blush on his face only intensifying. He came hard inside the skunk, his cock pulsing enough to make the skunk gasp once more as the deer emptied his balls inside him. The skunk held on tight, ring still tensed around the gushing cock, but some of the deer's load still broke through the barrier, splattering against his cheeks and dripping down into the deer's underwear.

As the deer's orgasm subsided, he flopped back on the chaise panting while the skunk gave a satisfied sigh. He milked the last few drops of cum from his own dick and wiped it on the deer's shirt, the green cloth already ruined as it was. Gingerly, the skunk detached himself from the exhausted deer, careful to clench so that only a few drops of the deer's cum leaked out of him. Evidence like that had to be confiscated. He walked over to his briefs and pants and pulled each on, turning back to the deer while he buttoned up his shirt. "Would you mind putting the covering back on whenever you're ready to go? I doubt you'd want someone to come in here and find you've been vandalizing the artifacts or whatever."

There was no response from the heaving figure on the chaise.

The skunk waved over his shoulder as he walked towards the hallway. "Feel free to visit any time. There are plenty of other exhibits I'm sure you'd love to get a closer look at," he laughed.

Out in the hallway, he pressed the call button on his radio and said, "Hey Jack, d'you notice anything going on in the Special Exhibit Hall the last hour or so?"

There was silence on the frequency for a moment before it buzzed back and someone responded, "Y'know, you've really gotta stop doing this. I mean, what if you had messed up that fancy couch? How would you get out of that one?"

The skunk snickered. "Hey, come on, you know for a fact my aim is always spot on."

"You at least might have helped the guy out instead of just leaving him there." The other guard's voice was laden with exasperation. "Y'know what, nevermind. Whatever. I've, um... I've gotta clean up my own mess in here. You should get back to your rounds."

"Hmm..." The skunk considered returning to the lobby for a moment, but instead he keyed his radio once more and said, "No, that's ok Jack, I'm sure everything's under control. It sounds like you could use some help though, and I think I'd like to get a copy of those tapes for purposes of ongoing investigation anyway. I'll be right there." He then set off in the direction of the Camera Control Room.