FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

--1

Ryan rolled over in bed with a big, jaw-popping yawn and a content grumble. He had a bed; a real bed, not the wallowed-out, jizz-stained cot he spent every other night in. Granted, it was a motel bed, and so it was probably just as filthy, crusty, and flea-ridden as the mattress in his truck, but he had room to sprawl without knocking his elbows on the walls.

Naked and unkempt, tangled in the sheets, he languidly stretched across the mattress. Off to the side, the flag of his tail thumped in contentment.

Fat, better than twice the legal drinking age, and smelling vaguely of ball sweat even after a quick shower, Ryan was close to what the average person thought of when they heard words like slob or bachelor. In no way was he a fruity and well-coordinated homosexual.

Despite his appearance, Ryan was a voracious lover of the male form, as the myriad boys to pass through his truck found out. Pussy was okay; boys were better.

To him, there was something inherently wrong about sleeping with girls half his age - and so he never had. Boys were another story. Unsavory as it was to lay out, he loved their inoffensive lines, energy, and tight bodies. Thanks to what Ryan was packing, they tended to love him back, and so all the boys in his life walked away happy (and with an uneasy, wide stance; a fist-sized knot wasn't something to take lightly).

Turning his head, Ryan looked toward the window. The orange light filtering in around the dark curtains meant it was either sunrise or sunset, and he really wasn't sure. Looking at the basic digital clock (so cheap he didn't even want to steal it, which was probably the point), he saw that it was 6:00, no AM or PM - it was just that cryptic. Whatever, he thought; he was awake, and (as punctuated by a deep, resonant growl in his gut) he was hungry.

Rolling out of bed, Ryan slipped into his boxers, which fit snugly, making an alluring outline out of his crotch. Said outline almost disappeared when he pulled his jeans up and fastened the fly, but the cylindrical shape of his sheath wasn't too hard to spot if you knew what you were looking for; fortunately for Ryan, the boys always knew.

Adding to his down-home appearance, he slid on a beater with no fewer than six oil and two ketchup stains on it, and then he put his hat on, covering up the uncombed (but somehow cute) mop of his hair.

When he stepped into the restroom for a morning or late-night leak, he grinned at his reflection in the scummy mirror. "Let's see what kinda trouble a guy like me can get into for a couple days."

--2

Walking down the street, Ryan quickly realized that it was nighttime, and he was glad for that; the kind of fun he was looking for was more easily acquired when the sun went down. Fun could wait a little while, though; he was hungry, and he had a fast-food dinner in a McDonalds.

While he sat eating his burger and sipping his drink, he - as a thoughtful man was apt to do - idly perused the other customers and listened. There was no purpose behind this, and he wasn't maliciously eavesdropping on anyone; people were just interesting to observe when there was nothing else to do.

But, as it turned out, it was fortunate that Ryan was paying attention. Over the idle chatter in the restaurant, he heard something juicy a few tables away.

"You ought to come," one voice was saying; Ryan glanced that way and got a look at a group of boys. Among them: a foxcoon, a gray wolf, a zebra, and a skunk. They were all beautiful twinks, and from then on, Ryan was eavesdropping as maliciously as he could.

The zebra chuckled. "I dunno. That place is kinda..."

"Lame," the skunk decisively finished, smacking his paws down on the table. "They charge you twenty-five dollars, and for what? Eight-dollar drinks, crappy music, and no public displays. What's the point of even going to a club?"

Ryan quirked his lips into a smile.

"You got something better in mind?" the first voice scoffed; it was the wolf.

The foxcoon sat silently, looking from one speaker to the next, as if watching a game of tennis.

There was a pause, an exchange of poker faces, and then the skunk said, "Nah."

The foxcoon and the wolf glanced at each other, and the latter shrugged and stood, leaving his empty wrapper where it was. "Whatever, we're going."

"Um, actually," the foxcoon said, speaking for the first time, as far as Ryan knew, "I... Wanna go with them."

"Oh, what_ever,_" the wolf grunted, and he stormed out.

Just as Ryan was finishing off his burger, the zebra asked his friend, "So, usual place, then?"

"Yeah," the skunk answered. "Uh - so, you're coming with us. I guess you have the right looks for it," he smirked. "What's your name, anyway?" he asked, glancing at the foxcoon.

With a small, almost coy smile, the fox said, "Desmond."

"Never heard that name before... Well, anyway, you seem cooler than your friend was. Let's hope you're more fun than him, too." Huffing, he looked at the zebra. Incidentally, he looked past the zebra at Ryan, and they shared eye contact before the wolf looked away. Thinking nothing of it, he pinned his gaze on the horse and urged, "Well, c'mon, let's go."

As the three twinks stood up (and the zebra quickly cleared their table), Ryan similarly rounded up his garbage. After they tossed theirs in the trash and headed out the door, Ryan did the very same.

After some brief self-coaxing (nothing but a formality, since he would have followed the boys no matter what), he walked after the two monochrome twinks and their new recruit from a safe distance.

--3

Unaware of Ryan's casual tailing, the three twinks made their way across town.

Brash and big-talking, the skunk made himself clear as the leader of the pack, but it seemed to be out of deference; the zebra was just quieter. He wasn't necessarily shy, but neither was he in-your-face like the skunk.

Desmond, were he not worried about fitting in, would have nicely filled the personality gap between his new friends. With a brash swagger the skunk could appreciate, but a coy thoughtfulness that the zebra would identify with, he had all the makings of a fine twink.

"So, uh," the blonde-haired foxcoon asked, "what are your names?"

"Saul," the skunk answered.

"Stripes, cutie," the zebra grinned; Desmond blushed and grinned back.

"Where are we going?" the tod asked, instinctively putting his gaze on the back of the skunk's head.

"We playing twenty questions or something?" Saul asked as he turned, seamlessly backpedaling then, smirking at Desmond.

"I'm sorry, I just--"

"Don't apologize. Never apologize," Saul grinned, turning on his heel, walking forwards once again with an enviable smoothness. "Girls get away with never apologizing for being hot - and I know we're way fucking hotter than girls are."

"Yuck, girls," Stripes chuckled, and then he said, glancing back at Desmond, "We're going to a club. You like sweaty, half-naked guys and liquor, right?"

Desmond just nodded, smiling unevenly.

"Then you're gonna like this place!" Stripes said, skipping back a step and squeezing Desmond in for a reassuring squeeze, while keeping up their walking pace.

Blushing in a sweet way, Desmond squeezed the zebra back.

It came as a surprise when Saul joined in on the other side, throwing off their rhythm but not halting them by making it a three-way hug. Rather, Saul was ever lewd, and he contrasted Stripes' affection by stroking over the foxcoon's chest, giving his ass a condescending pat; Desmond's lack of protest that made the skunk smirk.

A comfortable distance behind, Ryan calmly moseyed along, his paws in his hip pockets, his boots making a quiet scrape on the sidewalk. With his sharp, orange eyes, he perused the boys, undressing them with his gaze - but all the while, he kept himself unaroused. As endowed as he was, he doubted that his ragged jeans could survive a tentpole.

It was impossible to decide which young piece he liked best. That skunk was clearly head of the operation. Ballsy and mouthy, high on testosterone despite all clues pointing elsewhere, enthralled with the raw sex appeal of his body. It was that raw energy and noisiness that let Ryan get a bead on him at all; he couldn't tell what the other two were like, but they were definitely submissive to the skunk.

The skunk's outfit matched his personality; chaotic at a glance, but rather sophisticated and clever after a deeper look. Crisp, black cargo shorts left his fine legs exposed after the knee, baggy enough that if one wanted to know the undoubtedly-fine shape of that black and white ass, they'd have to get in close to do it.

On his upper body was a hoodie, light in both material and shade (a sandy tan), with a cuff of white faux fur around the neck, and it was buttoned, save for the top three.

Saul's outfits always gave the first impression that he had simply grabbed the first couple of things available in his wardrobe, but it was all part of his posturing.

A far cry from Saul, the foxcoon and zebra were more practical about their dress. Both wore sinfully short-legged Daisy Dukes; the zebra's were frayed, but Desmond's were hemmed properly. Keeping the foxcoon's upper body covered was a skin-tight wife beater in dark, moody indigo. The zebra had on a fishnet top, one cut to bare his midriff, covering him in only the lightest sense of the word.

All in all, Ryan couldn't decide which one he liked best. Owing greatly to an imagination developed over countless hours spent driving, he began to fantasize about all three of them - and not separately, but at once.

Ryan could half-ass things like a professional, but when it came to the art of sexual fantasy, he was always caught up in the details. Those slender bodies, the sinew of lean muscle under soft flesh, beads of sweat clinging to them just waiting to be licked

off, and their wide eyes and wider grins at the sight of his naked crotch - he could picture and feel it all so easily.

--4

As the city around them grew more run-down and dark, the black-and-white twinks stepped off the sidewalk, and they walked into an alleyway, their new friend awkwardly following - with Ryan doing his best to keep up while also staying hidden.

When the old wolf emerged from the alley, he just saw the banded tail of the straggling foxcoon disappear through a doorway, and he hastily followed, first peeking just his head through, peering into the run-down building. What came to be was that Ryan heard heavy, rumbling music, and his keen ears led him to a stairwell, going down. Carefully, he descended the poorly-lit stairs, and the music grew stronger and clearer all the time.

At the bottom, another door about to fall out of its' frame led into a long hallway, lit with lanterns fed by extension cables; the twinks were nowhere to be seen. Above, the paneling of the ceiling was missing in spots, and many entrails of cables dangled out of the black void.

It was exciting to Ryan, almost like an adventure; there was no telling what exactly he'd see, but if the music he heard and the boys he was tailing were any indication, it would probably be worth his time.

Pushing through the heavy swinging doors at the end of the hall (whose windows had long since been replaced with plywood), Ryan emerged into a subterranean den of music, sweat, and sexuality. Literally every direction he looked yielded grinding bodies in various stages of undress. Almost everybody had a beer in hand, and those who didn't were usually giving a blowjob or a handjob with casual exhibitionism.

The sight of the place made Ryan blush. For a time, he forgot about the skunk, zebra, and foxcoon, and he just watched the writhing mass of bodies with the coyest of grins. It didn't surprise him that, when he began to wander, he got strange looks; an educated guess told him that he was the oldest person there, but it came to a head when he stepped up to the bar.

The bar, of course, wasn't originally that - just like how the entire basement wasn't originally a club - but it served its' purpose well enough. Regarding the clearly-underage tiger teen on the other side of the counter politely, Ryan asked, "What's a beer cost, sweetheart?"

Ignoring the inquiry, the tiger leaned over the counter, sneering, and said, "Aren't you a little old to be out past your bedtime, gramps?"

Ryan smiled in poorly-contained mischief. "Gimme a beer and don't make me spank you, kid. I'm itching to blister some ass cheeks."

The tiger could have taken that with indignity or anger, but instead, he grinned. Though understandably wary of such an old man, he at least thought the gray-muzzle seemed cool.

"Hah! All right," he said, pushing off the counter. He spun on his heel and bent over (and much more than he actually needed to, making a painfully obvious show of his denim-clad ass for Ryan), then he grabbed the wolf a bottle of beer from an ice chest on the floor.

As he was handed the bottle, Ryan glanced at the label (illegibly covered in frost), and he asked, "How much?"

The tiger winked and smiled. "First one's free," he said over a purr.

Ryan twisted off the cap, and he wet his lips with a small drink. "And then how much?"

"Three bucks a bottle," the tiger mused, "might get a couple more pro-boner if you actually blister my ass, though."

Bearing his teeth in a grin, Ryan clapped one of his weathered paws on the tiger's neck, meeting the shoulder, and he squeezed. "It's pro-bo_no,_" he gently corrected.

Purring at Ryan's squeezing and kneading, the tiger leaned into the touch and tightly quipped, "I know what I said."

Ryan kept kneading the feline, making concessions for the big cat to serve others, but invariably, he came right back.

When the wolf finally set down his bottle, empty, the tiger (cutely draped over the bar) peered at him from the tops of his eyes, while his tail swished hypnotically. "Want another?"

Half-closing his eyes and reeling his toothy grin in to just a smile, Ryan patted the tiger's head. "Raincheck, kid. I'm gonna see what kinda trouble an old fart like me can get into around here."

As the wolf stood up, the tiger did the same, bearing a cute smile of his own. "If you go around promising spankings, I'd imagine you'll get into a lot of it," he laughed.

--5

"So what do you guys usually do here?" Desmond asked, standing in a cluster with Stripes and Saul. Even with this closeness, he had to speak up to be heard over the music.

Saul turned to look at the fox, and he grinned. Leaning closer, putting himself face-to-face and almost bumping noses with Desmond, he asked, "You like guys, don't you?"

Desmond nodded. He was blushing.

The skunk tickled up under the foxcoon's chin, lifting it up as he did; mid-way through, Desmond grumbled an annoyed rrf, and he pulled away. Nonplussed, Saul said, "Then what we're doing here shouldn't be any kind of mystery to you."

Saul started to turn away, presumably to browse the selection, but Desmond pawed at his arm and drew his attention back. While the skunk shot him a questioning gaze, the tod smiled impishly and said, "What if I find a guy I want?"

Saul wasn't sure he had a reaction for that; just looking at Desmond set off his gaydar in the worst way, but the foxcoon was so cute and seemingly naive. Giving the fox the benefit of the doubt, he patiently said, "Get his attention. Give him a pat on the ass. You new at this?"

Once more, Saul had almost turned away, but he felt a soft paw on his ass, and another on his slender stomach. He gave Desmond his full attention again; they were both grinning, and the foxcoon smooched him on the cheek. "Me, huh? Of course it's me."

Stripes, who had been watching the exchange with a coy smile, laughed sweetly and hugged his arms to his chest. "He's not bad for a not-so-secret admirer, is he?"

Not looking away from the fox, Saul chuckled and brushed an errant lock of hair from the twink tod's face. "Nah... He's pretty good."

Desmond leaned in for another kiss, undoubtedly a deeper one, but the skunk pulled back after only a shallow meeting of lips.

"Hold on," Saul grinned, "I'm a lot easier with a buzz." He tossed his head back, nodding to the little bar. "Get us some brews, they're free here," he lied.

Stripes rolled his eyes.

With a wary glint in his eye, Desmond nodded, unlatched himself from the skunk, and headed off toward the bar.

When Desmond was out of earshot (which didn't take much distance in the noisy club), Stripes nipped Saul's ear and chuckled. "You're a dick sometimes."

"Hey, he came on to me. He's gotta work for it," the skunk flatly said.

--6

When Desmond stepped up to the bar, he saw a wide, imposing figure resting on it. Faded denim jeans, an off-white beater, and work-worn boots - that was what he saw on this big, black body, and whoever it was, they were making quite a spectacle out of hitting on the bartender.

Desmond saw the burly creature straighten up, and after an exchange he couldn't hear over the club, the imposing man turned. In this instant, queer recognition took place; he had seen that gray-muzzled face before, and recently, but he couldn't think of where. Similarly, he saw the gears turning in the wolf's expression.

Smiling easily at the foxcoon, pleasantly surprised to see the boy after having lost him in the crowd (though he was more interested in that sassy skunk, he had to admit), Ryan said, "Hey, pretty-boy. Doing all right?"

"Um," Desmond mumbled, "yeah."

Ryan's expression became harder, more serious, and he folded his arms just above his thick belly. "Something the matter?"

At McDonalds, that's where I saw him, Desmond remembered. "Did you follow us here?" he tactlessly blurted.

Ryan always fancied himself to be an honest man. He never stole anything. If there was a payment error in a contract (even in his favor), he reported it, and he never took more than eight or nine sugar packets when he bought coffee. A little white lie was acceptable, though - nothing malicious, just a fabrication to maintain the status quo. "Hey, as inclined as I might be to follow that pretty little can of yours around," he grinned, "I headed here on my own. I like the gay night life, what can I say?"

Desmond shrugged, while blushing at the wolf's playful remark. "Sorry, it's just - you don't look like the kinda guy who, you know, likes cock," he said with a mild grin.

"Shit, tell me about it," Ryan snickered. "I all but gotta shove a finger up a guy's ass to convince 'em."

The foxcoon laughed, and then, so did Ryan. After the moment died down, Desmond asked, "What's your name?"

"It's Ryan, kid," the wolf smiled. "Yours?"

"Dez. Well, Desmond."

Ryan's smile took on a coy quality, exacerbated by the bedroom gaze in his eyes. "Cute name, kid... I've never heard it."

Desmond was about to give in to some latent daddy issues when he remembered that Saul and Stripes were still waiting. Somewhat forwardly, he lay a paw on Ryan's belly, and the wolf murred appreciatively. "It's been nice talking to you, Ryan, but my friends are waiting on me."

Oh yeah, Ryan thought, the skunk and the zebra... As Desmond made to step around him, Ryan politely stood aside, but patiently waited for his opportunity; when Desmond was told he needed to cough up nine dollars, Ryan reached over the twink fox and put a ten down on the bar.

"Uh, thanks?" the fox uncertainly said, turning sharply to look at Ryan.

The wolf smiled back, as the tiger grabbed out the beers. "Don't sweat it, cutie." After the tiger pocketed the money (offering no change) and Desmond somewhat awkwardly picked up the three bottles of beer, he asked the fox, "Say, you need anyone to help drink one of those?"

The

fox smiled coyly. "Party of three, sorry. But, if you wanna get a fourth..." Though Desmond really wasn't sure what Saul or Stripes would think of this gray-muzzled thing, he had taken a liking to the wolf. Supposing they did shun him, he would've been happy to leave with Ryan instead of them.

Ryan glanced at the tiger - who smiled jauntily and bounced his eyebrows - and then put down two singles. Later, baby, he mouthed to the tiger, who (smirking all the while) heavily set down a fourth beer.

Keeping close to Desmond so as to not lose the twink, Ryan followed the fox back to his friends.

--7

"I don't think your gopher is coming back," Stripes grinned.

Though obviously annoyed at being apparently snubbed, Saul shrugged it off. "His loss. I got carte blanche of all the guys I want."

Saul was prematurely bitching. Desmond came into view, three clinking bottles clutched carefully in his fingers. What neither of the monochrome twinks expected, however, was the daddy he'd brought along.

"Here you go, guys," the foxcoon urged, offering the drinks to Stripes and Saul, who, despite almost gaping at Ryan, took their beers.

"Uh, brought a friend?" Saul asked, turning his eyes on Desmond, his gaze intense, as if to say what the fuck is this?

"Yyyeah, you could say that," Desmond grinned, blushing.

Ryan grinned, too, as he sipped his beer. He had looked right at Saul; they'd made eye contact. He knew the skunk recognized him, and he nipped a potential scene in the bud just as he had with Desmond. "Saw you earlier, right? Eating the same fast food crap I was, I think," he chuckled. "Sure as hell didn't expect to find you again here."

Saul was sizing the wolf up (in particular, the cylindrical outline of his sheath) when he coldly said, "Yeah. You don't look the type to wind up here."

"Heard it before," Ryan sweetly said. "I like boys. Dunno what to tell you."

A lot less bossy and brash than Saul, the zebra sidled up to Ryan and smiled in a friendly way. "Well, nice to meet you. I'm Stripes."

Smiling back, expertly stifling the urge to lick his lips at the sight of the twinkish equine, Ryan answered, "Likewise, cute thing. I'm Ryan." Then, taking a little chance, he lay his heavy, unoccupied paw on the small of the zebra's back.

Stripes took the old wolf's touch well, and he leaned against the trucker's fluffy, warm body with a content rumble.

Saul's expression soured a little bit when he saw Stripes leaning into the wolf. Somewhat possessively, he wrapped his arm around Desmond and squeezed the tod close; Desmond, of course, didn't mind this, and he happily pressed against the skunk.

"What about you?" Ryan asked, with a friendly nod toward the skunk.

"It's Saul," he tightly answered.

"Do you come to places like this often?" Stripes asked, wrapping both arms loosely around Ryan, still clutching his opened beer.

"When I have free time," Ryan mused, afterward sipping his beer. "I drive a truck, so I'm never in the same place for more than a day or three."

"You're a trucker, huh," Saul asked, with a small smirk. "Never would've guessed."

"Fuck a lot of hot boys in your travels?" Stripes asked, shooting a wan smile up at the wolf.

Ryan returned that smile, with just a hint of teeth, and then he wet his tongue with a sip of beer. (At that moment, Saul felt especially thirsty, and he opened and sipped his.) "Y'know," he chuckled jovially, blushing, "I'd be a lying sack of shit if I said no. I can't keep my pecker to myself."

All the twinks, even Saul, enjoyed a naughty chuckle.

Desmond gave Saul a soft squeeze that the skunk reciprocated, and his vulpine body rumbled with a soft murr from it. As he coiled his tail about the skunk's own, he coyly remarked, "So I guess we know where you stand on gas, grass, or ass, huh?"

The wolf chuckled mischievously, as did Saul, but Stripes just grinned and gave the plump wolf a tight squeeze. Absently, Ryan scratched around the zebra's back, and he absently cooed "Hey, babe," down to the striped twink. "Diesel's cheap and I don't smoke," he then sneered at Desmond, and just because he was in the same direction, at Saul too.

At least pleased with the wolf's sense of humor, Saul relinquished Desmond (who, with both paws free, finally got to open his drink) and then padded a step closer to the gray-muzzle. "So you talk the talk - do you walk the walk?" he asked, smiling tightly; there was judgment in his intelligent eyes, and Ryan saw it.

"Elaborate, please," Ryan enunciated, with a smile on his face.

"Simple," Saul said, and then he sipped his beer. "You imply that you can keep up with boys who are - I'm guessing - half your age." Letting his smile turn into more of a smirk, he continued, "That's the talk; can you back it up, or are you just full of shit?"

Allowing a deadly seriousness to overtake his handsome face, Ryan leaned down. Glistening in his orange eyes was a fierce intelligence to easily match what a cunning little thing Saul could be, and the skunk could see it. It didn't shake him - nothing did - but he acknowledged the wolf as an respectable adversary.

"Kid," growled the trucker, "don't let the gray fool you. My dick's thicker than your arm is and I got a knot the size of my fist. I can fuck all three of you boys," a quick glance around to the whole trio, and then back to Saul, "like a stallion sniffing a stable full of pussy. Got it?"

Saul found himself chuckling impishly, even blushing a small amount, though this slight hue was obscured under his fur. Reaching up, rubbing under the wolf's chin with a soft paw, he said, "All right - if you're that serious, well, I think I can give you the benefit of the doubt... Better not disappoint me, though."

"You're not gonna regret it, kid," Ryan murred with a wink and a grin.

Unceremoniously laying a hand on the wolf's wide, prostrate ass, Stripes rubbed in a small circle, to which Ryan murred appreciatively.

Casually, given the fact that overt, gay sexuality was the norm there, Saul lay his free paw on Ryan's crotch, and he groped tightly on that sheath-shaped outline. "Like a stallion sniffing pussy," he snickered. "Where'd you get that one?"

Pushing his crotch into the skunk's paw and pulling Desmond in for a squeeze when the twink foxcoon crept in closer, Ryan chuckled and answered, "Sitting on your ass, driving and driving and_driving,_ you tend to think shit up."

"Well, let's see you think up how to satisfy three boys at once," said Stripes, who stopped palming the wolf's ass in favor of hugging him from the other side.

"Yeah," Desmond answered, grinning lewdly enough to match his new friends.

Ryan shook his head, closed his eyes, and chuckled. "Impatient kids, sheesh... Well, hey, I'm not really opposed to letting people see my fat ass bouncing up and down, but what do you boys think about finding some privacy?"

Saul nodded toward a single door, off on the other side of the writhing dance floor. "Come on. Lots of little places to get laid around here."

--8

Little was certainly the best descriptor for the dull cell they entered. It was a larger-than-average closet, lined with alternately busted and well-tagged drywall. Bare rafters passed for a ceiling and cement for a floor, but there was a well-loved mattress surrounded by whatever pillows and sheets the patrons of the club saw fit to donate.

Undoubtedly, prissy Desmond thought, they would all come away from the encounter with fleas - but given the hot sex at hand, he didn't care, and he doubted if the others would, either.

Ryan had walked with Stripes under one arm, Desmond under the other, and he had mack daddy swagger in full force, but he unhanded the boys to let them through the door. Entering last, he closed it behind them; with the latch and lock long since gutted from the knob, he snatched a folding chair from the corner - there was a stack of better than a dozen of them - and butted it up under the knob. Nobody would be interrupting his chance with three smoking hot boys.

There was no forethought into just what the four of them would do; Ryan had a few wants and ideas, as did all of them, but there was no discussion, no pre-fucking huddle to choose who would do what. They just began to settle into what felt right.

Chugging the last of his beer and tossing the bottle into a corner seemingly reserved for party trash (among it cigarette butts, used condoms, a cracked bong, and dozens of assorted booze bottles), Saul relished the sudden and sharp buzz he gained and took it out on Desmond, who was yet timidly nudging the pillows with a foot. As well as a boyish skunk could growl, Saul did, and he captured the foxcoon in a kiss, tongues very much included.

After only a few swabs over the blonde twink's palate, Saul had Desmond shivering and melting. The foxcoon tossed his drink into the trash heap (only foam remained in the bottle) and returned the kiss as hotly as it was given. Dominating Saul in a way the skunk hadn't expected, the foxcoon put his long, strong tongue to work and coiled it around the shorter length of Saul's own, and with it, he squeezed.

Saul huffed and closed his eyes, but he was hardly submitting to the foxcoon, merely enjoying what the vulpine had to offer. And as he enjoyed just that, he took inventory of the rest of that slender body, his grabby paws roaming down the foxcoon's sides and ending up on his hips. Like the steps in a lewd dance, one paw slid around to cup a taut ass cheek while the other went for the tod's front, where it took hold of the bulging sheath underneath that denim fly.

Feeling Desmond shudder and hearing his groan made the skunk grin, and the balance of power - though always in Saul's favor, with some concessions made to spur the fox on - was again tilted fully to the skunk. Breaking off the kiss, he nipped Desmond's cheek,

then his chin, and finally (for the proverbial kill), on his throat. That made the tod gasp, and for all intents, he melted for the brash skunk.

"Heh," Saul chuckled, "I can feel you getting hard." In emphasis, he squeezed on Desmond's hidden cock, and he loved the cooing moan it elicited. "Now, what about me?"

--9

Ryan and Stripes watched Saul have his way sucking Desmond's face for exactly ten seconds. It was Stripes who turned away first, and he interrupted Ryan's concentration by placing a gentle hand on the wolf's inner thigh.

Smiling warmly, but ever with a lewd glint in his eye, Ryan brushed an errant lock of of Stripes' two-toned mane from his face and then stole a kiss. "You're a cute kid," he murred, and then he finished off his beer, adding his bottle to the pile. "What do you say we get more comfy, babe?"

"I think I'd like that very much," Stripes grinned, and like Ryan, he finished his beer (though only a small drink remained of it anyway) and tossed the bottle away.

At Ryan's lead, the pair stepped over to the mattress. Ryan first sat upon it, testing its' tired but passable springs with his heavy weight. Softly and invitingly, he patted his lap, and Stripes lowered himself into it, sitting on Ryan's legs side-saddle.

With a little effort from Stripes to twist his body and press himself to the trucker, they had a kiss of their own, but compared to the tongue-wrestling Saul and Desmond were practicing, this was brief and sweet.

What sweetness there was, however, didn't last. No matter how calm he was, Stripes had a sex drive to match Saul's, and Ryan was no less horny. Thus, growling lewdly and smiling with a hint of his teeth, Ryan groped the zebra's package.

Despite his inoffensively slender form, Stripes was still equine, and his member was obvious through his shorts. The bulge that grew under Ryan's paw was so impressive, in fact, that the wolf had to ask, "Kid... How can you wear shorts like that when you're this hung?"

Stripes rewarded Ryan's curiosity with a kiss on the cheek and a visual answer; he unzipped and unbuttoned his shorts, and then he tugged open his fly. Beneath was a dark blue g-string, and curled with deliberate care in the groin was the twink's big, black horse cock. "You're a trucker," he said with an enigmatic smile, "so you ought to know it's all about how you pack."

Keeping his eyes glued to the stallion's unfurling member, Ryan smiled tightly, perhaps absently, and tugged the g-string downward; lazily, Stripes' half-flaccid member flopped out over Ryan's paw. Grinning at the feel of that cock's weight, Ryan wrapped his paw around it, giving it a soft squeeze that his cute equine friend moaned from. "Last time I had a black dick this big in my paw," Ryan mused, "I was jerking off."

Stripes chuckled, briefly biting his lip in pleasure. Cutely, he asked, "Ooh, yours is black, too?"

"Black as pitch, sweetheart," Ryan murred, rubbing on the flared tip of Stripes' meat with a thumb; those calloused pads of his made Stripes shudder and moan, his shaft quickly reaching its' full length, drooling with musky, warm pre. Smiling lopsidedly at the zebra's soft noises of pleasure, Ryan began seriously jerking the cute horse off, and as he did so, he nipped and gnawed upon the twink's prostrate throat like a predator.

--10

As soon as his knees touched the floor, Desmond urgently grabbed for Saul's fly. Despite the slack material of the skunk's cargo shorts, the foxcoon found the bulge of his cock quickly and easily, and it was an impressive lump.

When the foxcoon squeezed on it, Saul, for all his coolness, grunted and curled his toes - but while tugging down the zipper and opening up the fly, Desmond looked up to catch sight of the knowing grin that seemed to be a constant part of the skunk's expression.

With the flaps of the fly pulled apart, Saul's shorts fell to the floor. Underneath was a g-string like what Stripes was wearing, but Saul's was yellow, an eye-catching color against the black and white of his coat. It bulged outward under the influence of the throbbing flesh inside.

The spectacle made Desmond's tail swish. Leaning in close, he sniffed through the material, and then he snuffled into it, pressing his nose into the nook between the skunk's cock balls. There, the subtle mustelid musk was most potent, and Desmond sucked it into his lungs with deep huffs, exhaling out of his mouth on the twink's crotch each time afterward. Saul's scent was a subtle one, but he smelled like a man where it mattered.

"That's right," Saul grinned, threading the fingers of both paws through Desmond's silky hair. Employing a fair grip on the foxcoon's head, he held him close, abusing the control to grind his junk into the other twink's snout, which he was correct in assuming wasn't minded. "You like the smell of my dick?"

"Mhm," Desmond grunted in reply, blushing beet red.

By that point, Saul's cock was fully engorged, and at a length just a glance would put past eight inches. Clearly, the thick, pink flesh was getting uncomfortable in captivity. Fixing that problem quickly and easily, he unhanded Desmond's head (the foxcoon stayed right where he was; he even wrapped his arms around the skunk's legs), and then he simultaneously pulled the g-string out and lifted his member upwards, freeing it.

Though he carefully let out the slack in his g-string so as to not snap himself, Saul carelessly dropped his cock, and it smacked between Desmond's eyes hard enough to make the tod flinch.

Going cross-eyed briefly as he tried to gaze on Saul's cock, Desmond finally pulled back, and - mere inches from the drooling, blunt tip of the skunk's dick - he purred and licked his lips.

After taking a moment to slip his underwear down to the floor, Saul grasped his shaft in one paw, resting the other on his hip. "If you like the smell," Saul grinned, wagging his meat teasingly, "you're gonna love the taste."

Desmond thought so, too, just as he parted his lips and took Saul's healthy endowment in. After sucking his way down to the base, he coiled his tongue around the shaft itself like a corkscrew, twisting and squeezing on it in ways that took the worldly Saul by surprise.

Huffing and laying both paws on the back of the fox's head, wearing a wide grin, he lowly said, "That's the stuff, suck me good and hard..." While his cock got that nearly divine attention from the vulpine cocksucker, Saul glanced over to Ryan.

--11

Pawing Stripes off didn't last for too long, but the act left the zebra squirming, shuddering, and grinning. Easing off from his stroking, Ryan reached down, and he cupped the horse's plump balls, feeling over their smooth flesh with a low, lewd rumble in his chest.

Matching Ryan's touch, Stripes first put a hand on the wolf's chest, feeling over his pudgy form through the dirty beater he wore. Quickly, he moved his hand south, over that round belly, and even lower than that. Shifting in the wolf's lap, he grabbed hungrily for the outline of the gray-muzzle's cock, and he squeezed tightly on it.

Ryan groaned and chuckled, Stripes' grope scaring out a particularly thick wad of pre, adding to the already-saturated material of his boxers. "Shit, kid," he sighed, palming the zebra's thigh, "these pants are gonna kill me if they get any tighter. Help me out."

So Stripes did. After squirming out of the wolf's lap, he knelt before him on the concrete floor, not seeming to mind this. Smiling, but with obvious lewd intent in his eyes, the twink stallion opened up Ryan's fly with no flair, only function, and he pulled the flaps of denim apart.

In relief, Ryan sighed heavily, and he parted his legs with a big, toothy grin on his muzzle. Underneath his fly, in off-blue, were his boxer shorts; even in their slack material, the bulge of his cock was astonishingly visible.

Wasting no time at all, Stripes pulled down the boxers (rather than unbuttoning their fly), getting the waistband beneath Ryan's balls, exposing everything that mattered for the moment.

Alone, Ryan's cock was impressive, a black rocket ship which - as the wolf had promised - was as thick as the zebra's forearm, and that wasn't mentioning the knot. Nestled behind the knot was his sheath, black to match the flesh it disgorged, and hanging below that, plump as oranges and slightly asymmetrical in their dangle, were the wolf's heavy balls.

The tip of that huge cock (which Stripes tentatively rubbed over with his fingertips) alternately drooled and spat pre, the latter coming whenever his member flexed, and the entire package smelled strongly of male musk. Stripes, Saul, and Desmond combined didn't have the potency Ryan did in that regard, and it was a distinctly different smell from body odor; to a straight male nose, it would have probably been offensive anyway, but to Stripes, it was intoxicating.

Sniffing the tip of Ryan's member, savoring that overwhelming scent, Stripes closed his eyes and did what came naturally. Opening his mouth just enough to permit the slanting tip of that lupine member, he pushed downward, letting Ryan's meat penetrate his lips and grind softly across his flat teeth. Though it was a pleasure for the wolf (obviously, from the way he groaned and curled his toes in his boots), it was arguably just as pleasant for the horse.

Tasting the trucker's cock and smelling his mature, male musk had Stripes incredibly horny. Clutching the wolf's meat at the knot, he sucked hard, though not very noisily; he seemed to be more about function than form for the time being. His long, finely-groomed tail lashed over his tight ass, something he found himself longing to have brutalized by the hard flesh in his mouth.

"Aw, yeah," Ryan sighed, his grin big and toothy, but his eyes rolled back and then closed. Getting his dick sucked by such a hot little twink was already heaven; getting to fuck one or more

them was going to be even better.

--12

Gripping Desmond's ears like handlebars, Saul pushed aside the foxcoon's natural skill and instead fucked him in the face. Despite being as comfortable on his back as any twink, the skunk was a natural top, and the way he rutted that slender vulpine muzzle drilled home more than just that fact.

As much a whore as the next fox, Desmond didn't care what Saul was doing as long as he had that thick cock inside of him; he slathered the flesh and suckled when he could - which was a woefully uncommon occurrence - all the while savoring the constant dribble of pre. Saul's balls spanked into his chin, the crotch fur pressing against his nose, teasing him with its' light, mustelid scent.

With the figurative reigns turned completely over to Saul, Desmond reached down and opened up his own fly, revealing that he didn't wear underwear. Feeling the insatiable lust that Saul inflicted on all the men he fucked, the fox grabbed his pink, knotted cock, and he started to pump it. At a loss for something useful to do with his free paw, he squeezed one of the skunk's shapely thighs.

Saul knew the foxcoon was jerking off, but he didn't care. What mattered the most was fucking that pretty face, and he never relented. If anything, he started to fuck the vulpine twink's mouth even harder, all the while sneering down at the tod with a calm, complacent expression; his face said he was a long ways from cumming, and that was just fine for Desmond.

Causing a little interruption in his rhythm, Saul caught a deep moan from Ryan, and he glanced over to see the gray-muzzled wolf putting a paw on the back of Stripes' head.

Unlike the domineering squeeze that Saul imposed on Desmond, Ryan was gentle with the zebra, and his reward was a cock-sucking he'd never forget; Saul knew from experience that Stripes could give a fantastic blowjob for the right guy, and based on how that night had turned out, Ryan was right for all of them.

The skunk turned his attention back to Desmond, with hope to look into those pleading eyes and tease the tod a little bit more, but Desmond had his eyes closed, and he was lost in his self-abuse.

Sighing and biting his lip, feeling some exciting twinges but ultimately knowing his climax was yet a ways off, Saul glanced back over to Ryan.

While Stripes worked, the old wolf shifted on the bed, lying back. Squirming here, scooting there, he was getting himself comfortable, and as the pudgy lupine moved and slightly jiggled around, Saul really couldn't help himself - he was ogling Ryan. Chubby guys were never his thing; either they were hot twinks like Desmond, or masculine studs. Ryan was... Ryan, and yet he was thinking about the wolf while he facefucked the foxcoon.

With a what the hell attitude, Saul looked back to Desmond, and he swiftly pulled his cock out of that reverent maw, so quickly that Desmond's mouth was still wide-open for a second. When the long-haired foxcoon finally opened his eyes and looked up, the skunk - smirking, of course - swatted his member against the side of that long muzzle, earning a little flinch from the tod.

Still holding onto Desmond's head otherwise, Saul glanced over to Stripes (by then, he had his head buried in Ryan's lap, his nose up to the wolf's massive knot), and he called, "Hey, Stripey - I want a turn with the old man."

--13

Ryan liked all of the boys, but he would've been a terrible liar to say that Saul wasn't the most alluring of them all. Just thinking about getting to fuck that sassy twink had his tail thumping on the mattress, more and more so when the boy padded closer.

Stripes sat elsewhere on the mattress (it was easily large enough to accommodate all of them), and he did away with what remained of his clothing.

Desmond, by then hot, bothered, and denied, sought comfort from Stripes, and after shedding his clothes like the zebra had, he sat with the equine twink.

Holding each other close, the zebra and the foxcoon kissed and nosed, letting their mitts explore freely, making voyeurs out of themselves with frequent glances to Saul and the papa wolf.

"Hey, kid," Ryan grinned at Saul, licking over his lips, and then his nose, his tail_thump-thump-thump_ing excitedly on the mattress.

"Hi," said the skunk. Naked from the waist down, he straddled Ryan's legs, looming over the trucker as he'd done to Desmond. Grasping his cock, which glistened with vulpine slobber, he prodded it to the wolf's nose.

Blinking, blushing, and going cross-eyed to look at Saul's member, Ryan chuckled and remarked, "You got a damn nice dick on you, kid, but sucking cock isn't my thing."

Saul cracked a wry grin. "Hey, you're the one who said you can keep up with the boys." Tapping the blunt, drooling tip of his cock on Ryan's nose (which cutely wrinkled as the pre drooled over it), he then coldly said, "So prove it. Suck or bend over."

That brought back Ryan's grin, with a blush undermining it. "Shit, kid," he snickered, "that one's a no-brainer."

--14

Though holding each other and idly snugging, Desmond and Stripes watched with undivided attention and a little disbelief as Ryan kicked off his pants and boxers, but left the wife-beater and hat, before finally getting down to his paws and knees.

Ryan's tail wagged until Saul knelt and lay his small paws on the wide curves of those lupine ass cheeks. Then, his tail flagged up, inviting the young mustelid.

Gotta admit, didn't think I'd be fucking a guy twice my age - and three times my weight... Got a hot ass, though, Saul thought. Pulling the cheeks apart, the skunk just exposed the tight, black pucker hidden down in-between, surrounded by telltale gray fur. Despite the wolf's age, that asshole looked just as snug and inviting as any the skunk had roughed up on men his own age - so what the hell, indeed.

Sucking on two fingers, and making no attempt at subterfuge, Saul earned a coy grin from Ryan (who peered back, around his own thick ass), as well as chuckles and blushes from the other two twinks, who still couldn't keep their eyes off the show.

Pressing those moistened digits to Ryan's pucker, Saul let his tail languidly sway as he shoved them right in, eliciting a deep, pleasurable groan from the handsome old wolf. Those smoother-than-silk anal walls clenched around the skunk's digits, which had already found their way in up to the knuckles. By then, there was absolutely no denying what a good lay Ryan was; feeling that fine ass writhing around his fingers, Saul abolished any notion that age was an object here.

"Ah, damn," Ryan chuckled, and then he let loose with a cute whine. When Saul begin to pump, the old wolf buried his face in the flearidden mattress, bumping the bill of his hat and dislodging it. Then, the skunk started to twist and bend his fingers, ruthlessly assaulting the lupine's prostate (well aware of where to find it from much experience), and he let out a genuine whimper, but with a blissful expression.

Absently, Ryan brushed his hat off of his head, exposing the thick, but graying tufts underneath. "Shi-i-it," he grunted, his tail wagging, brushing across Saul's face unintentionally, and fanning his musk through the room.

"Heh," Saul chuckled, giving his own cock a few pumps before reaching around under the wolf, clutching the swollen meat between his legs. Its' black, saliva-coated flesh drooled copiously with pre, and the knot was of astonishing size; Saul liked what the gray-muzzle was packing, but that was for the other twinks - he wanted that round ass.

Gripping the bare mattress, clawing a few ruts into its' already-ruined material, Ryan gasped, "C'mon, kid, enough teasing!" Then, growling lewdly, "Fuck me like you mean it, I ain't gonna break."

Glancing absently at Stripes and Desmond (who were still watching, but in peeks - they were sucking on each other's tongues again), Saul made a hmm sound, and then he slid his fingers free, afterward patting the wolf's thick, jiggly behind. "Fine, since you're so eager to prove you can keep up, old man," he grinned.

While Saul parked his impressive, blunt endowment against Ryan's entrance, the wolf glanced back, blushing but grinning. "It's hard to take you seriously when you're about to buttfuck a guy old enough to be your daddy," he said, ending with a wink.

Nonplussed, Saul pushed forward, penetrating Ryan - it wasn't necessarily easy, since the wolf was very snug, but he pushed in hard to compensate. Ryan's resultant gasp made him smirk, but not in any sadistic way; he didn't like to see anybody in pain, but watching the wolf's composure falter? Too much fun.

"Ahh," Saul sighed, feeling that hot flesh enveloping him, "I don't give a fuck how old you are, as long as you're a good lay."

--15

Letting his inner bottom bitch take control, Ryan folded his arms against the mattress, and he lay his head on them. The sloping angle of his body pushed the curve of his rear prominently out for Saul, whose slender hips quickly pressed up flush to it.

Roaming his soft paws all over Ryan's naked hips and thick ass cheeks, Saul made the trucker shiver and coo. Beneath the coarse fur, Ryan's flesh was soft and pliable - as any chubby creature was apt to feel - but deeper in, he could feel some hard muscle; the wolf wasn't nearly as flabby as he looked on the outside.

Saul had been modest in entering, but he made up for that in the first bucks of his hips. These were sharp pulls backwards, rough gyrations inward, grinding his big, pink cock against those tight walls in ways that made Ryan's toes curl up in his boots.

Adding to the stale mess on the abused mattress was Ryan's big, black cock, squirting potent wads of liquid musk. Even without the aid of a helping hand, it was throbbing with the quick pace of the wolf's heart, and its' pulsing and spitting wasn't going

unnoticed - Desmond and Stripes alike, watching from the side, couldn't help but ogle it.

"Mmh, man, I want some of that," Desmond lowly grunted; either Ryan and Saul didn't hear, or just didn't acknowledge it, but Stripes did.

"We could share it," the slim equine grinned, nipping playfully at Desmond's neck.

Squeaking cutely and baring his neck, Desmond - shivering - suggested to the zebra, "Take turns blowing him?"

"Nuh-uh," Stripes said, smiling and shaking his head. "I have a better idea."

--16

When Stripes nudged him, Ryan was at least right in guessing that the twink wanted to join in. Pushing himself up to a more traditional all-fours pose, he glanced at the young zebra with a toothy, coy smile. "What's up, sweet thing?"

Stripes kissed the wolf on the nose and rubbed the sides of it, smiling back, but sweetly. "I think that cock of yours needs some more loving."

Still bucking smoothly but quickly, Saul ground his blunt member against the wolf's prostate; though it wasn't intentional, he enjoyed the way it made the wolf shudder and clench, and so he more intently rubbed there, and there alone, for a few moments.

Biting his lip, Ryan grunted, and then nodded at the equine.

What the zebra had in mind was unusual, but he figured it would go over well. Grabbing Desmond's paw, he tugged at the foxcoon's arm and coaxed him in closer, and when he had the blonde twink next to Ryan with him, he smoothly slid in underneath the prone wolf, splaying his shapely legs around the trucker's planted and parted knees, leaving that thick, knotted cock close to his rear. "C'mere," he called to Desmond, beckoning with a finger.

"Where?" the foxcoon blurted, noting only the tight space between Stripes' and Ryan's chests - and that was when it occurred to him. Stripes hadn't even begun to coax him further when he slipped into that mere crevice, which Ryan obligingly opened up by arching his back. Squirming in with only a little difficulty, the twink fox settled face-to-face with Stripes, his modest foxcock grinding against the stallion's endowment - and more importantly, his rump was against the old wolf's cock.

"You're a couple of creative little things, I'll give you that," Ryan chuckled, relaxing his body, pleasantly sandwiching Desmond between his cuddly fluff and Stripes. With a little leeway from Saul, who had since returned to those full, gratifying thrusts of his cock, Ryan inched forward on his knees, and he prodded his shaft against young Desmond.

Bracing one arm on the mattress firmly, the wolf grabbed his drooling cock with his freed-up paw, and he guided it against the vulpine sissy. Leaning in, pressing the boy down more firmly under his weight, he sank his thick, canine cock up to the knot in mere seconds; the penetration was so fast that Desmond whined and nuzzled against Stripes, but it was gratifying. "Ah, yeah," Ryan grunted, but grinning through it. "You're a tight bitch, aren't you?"

"As if you have room to talk," Saul smirked, although his bucks were growing more eager; he wasn't about to cum, but the thrill of pounding that chubby butt was getting him there quicker than he would've guessed.

"Hey," Ryan fondly chuckled, starting to grind in and out of the foxcoon, though Saul didn't bother to adjust his own pace much, "I didn't say being tight was a bad thing. Then again, everything's tight to me."

Nibbling on Desmond's jawline, occasionally pecking it with kisses, Stripes gave the foxcoon comfort he didn't necessarily need - being affectionate to something so cute was still fun, though.

Nuzzling into the affection, even returning a little bit of it, Desmond quaked as he said, "Fuck, that's big... I think that knot's bigger than my fist is."

"It's bigger than my fist is," Ryan said with startling seriousness, finally planting his other paw back on the mattress. With each grind, he lifted the foxcoon, and to compensate for the wolf's increasingly-mobile behind, Saul drove his hips home harder and faster, making his thrusts more shallow.

Getting overzealous wasn't something Ryan usually did, but as obliging and fuckable as Desmond was, he couldn't help it. Each grind wedged his fat knot against the tod's pink pucker, forcing it open little by little. He would have kept up on that if not for pulling back so sharply; a combination of having shoved both twinks forward and pulling his hips back so quickly tugged his pre-drooling cock free of that then-loosened asshole prematurely, and its' exit was accompanied by a low gasp from the vulpine twink.

"Rrf, god dammit," Ryan mumbled, pushing back against Saul in what seemed like frustration - not that the skunk cared about the intention, only the result.

Grabbing his shaft again, Ryan was quickly able to prod Desmond's lovingly-worn tail hole, but then (when he jerked off to this memory later, he'd recall what a moment of brilliance this was), he aimed lower, and he bumped his tip into Stripes' exposed entrance.

Wincing and gasping, but not protesting, Stripes lashed the shock of his tail, brushing the long hairs against Ryan's dangling balls. He was going to urge the wolf to go ahead, but there was no need.

Pushing forward, entering Stripes' taut behind just as briskly as he'd entered Desmond's, Ryan pushed in to the knot quickly and easily, the slick sheen (and constant drool) of his lupine pre leaving his manhood so constantly-slicked that friction was nonexistent Once his knot butted up against the young stallion's body, he growled out in dominance, making his cavernous chest rumble against the two twinks.

As Stripes writhed and cooed, humping his shaft against Desmond's (who fervently humped back, while gnawing on the equine's neck), Ryan coolly asked, "That what you needed?"

"Ahh, sure is," the zebra said with a cooing inflection. One of his soft hands was wrapped around the back of Desmond's head, petting the silky locks there, but the other reached up to stroke and ruffle the coarse tufts on Ryan's crown.

Despite getting fucked ragged by Saul, Ryan still found it in him to start fucking Stripes, letting each grind slip every inch of his manhood in and out of that equine ass, with the knot pressing against, but not into the orifice each time.

Panting slowly, rationing his breaths and keeping his rear relaxed, and therefore in pleasure, Stripes made it clear that he was an experienced bottom.

However, in huffing through his maw like so, he left himself open; Desmond captured him in a wet and slobbery kiss, a meeting of lips and clashing of tongues that caught the striped stallion by surprise, but also pleasured him greatly. Returning the foxcoon's eager suckles and yet more fervent pelvic grinds, Stripes lay both hands on the tod's head, and he gently dug into the scalp with his soft fingertips.

Back behind Ryan, Saul rutted away at the old wolf with those sharp and shallow thrusts of his, letting his long, pink shaft grind and bump wherever it so happened to inside of Ryan. His own balls, nowhere near as low-hanging or plump as Ryan's, still swatted into those of the trucker; the dominance it inferred, and the roughness it confirmed, greatly pleased both males.

"Mmh, hah," Saul huffed, grinning in pleasure, watching (and feeling) the wolf's cheeks jiggle with every bump, "you like guys to jizz in you, or you want it on your back, old man?"

Interrupting his fervent screwing of the zebra, Ryan pulled his cock out of the equine's loosened ass, and he pounded it into Desmond in a smooth, almost uninterrupted thrust. After the kiss-breaking gasps from both twinks subsided and he returned to his ruthless assfucking, Ryan grunted to Saul, with a grin, "I like it up my ass, of course - who the fuck pulls out?"

Mrowling with pleasure, nuzzling and gnawing fervently into and upon Stripes' neck, Desmond gasped, "Ooh, I agree!"

Although Ryan was easily strong enough to defy Saul, when the skunk really bore down and threw his whole weight into his thrusts, the wolf pressed in tightly to Desmond and stayed put, savoring the sassy skunk's fast, final bucks with submission.

Huffing and grunting, his disheveled locks hanging in his eyes, Saul gripped Ryan's chubby hips and ass hard enough to dimple the flesh. The constant slap of his firm hips on that fat ass was the only sound in the room for the time being; everybody was waiting for Saul's big finish, Ryan especially.

When the first tingles of pleasure shot through his loins, Saul's balls tightened, as did nearly every muscle in his slender form. Those last few thrusts came a little bit slower with each grind in, but before the pace withered too far, he just buried the entirety of his shaft in one last, triumphant slam that jiggled Ryan's ass enticingly.

Biting his lip, grinning through it, and closing his eyes tightly, Saul speared his massive wad into the old wolf, gripping and releasing that thick ass rhythmically in an involuntary massage.

"Oh-ho, yeah," Ryan cooed, with the skunk uttering nearly the same under his breath.

Patting Ryan's hip appreciatively, Saul fell back on his bent legs, the drop plucking his cock out of the wolf's well-worn asshole with a small, wet pop.

Grabbing those thick cheeks with a smirk, he pried them apart once again, and he admired his handiwork; that loosened, black pucker and his contrasting, white seed dribbling out, down the wolf's taint and the back of his balls. Relinquishing the cheeks, he patted the outside of one, and then he flopped onto the mattress with a content sigh.

--17

Sore, but no longer encumbered by Saul, Ryan gradually eased back into his pace with the boys, starting where he already was - in Desmond's ass. Able to more thoroughly fuck the foxcoon, the wolf was soon back at it in full force, throwing his wide hips into each buck, while the low-hanging fruit of his balls smacked into Stripes' ass.

Desmond

didn't get all of the attention; inarticulately growling down at the boys, more-or-less letting his cock do the talking, Ryan pulled out of the foxcoon twink (who didn't gasp nearly as sharply that time) and then stuffed it back into Stripes, who took the impalement silently, though he began to moan and coo like a true slut.

Pushing himself up from his all-fours, Ryan took advantage of the leverage he had; he grabbed Stripes' fine legs, splayed around Desmond, and he lifted them up high, holding onto the ankles. Pulling Stripes back against his knot, he began the laborious task of wedging that swollen gland inside of the equine.

"Ah, god, you boys are tight," he grinned, squeezing and pulling on Stripes' ankles, making the little equine squirm with his panting and groaning.

Easing off of Stripes somewhat, Desmond reached in between their slender bodies, and he grasped their lengths in a paw; given Stripes' species, it was difficult to grab just his cock alone, but he managed to hold onto both. Stroking up and down the shafts, but paying more attention to Stripes' than his own, he soon had the zebra cooing and huffing for a reason besides Ryan's cock.

Finding Desmond's work cute, but not remarkable, Ryan went back to grinding his fat knot against Stripes, parting that equine pucker more and more, the fist-sized bulge throbbing eagerly to get inside, to stretch open the tight, hot boy. He'd hoped to maybe knotfuck the both of them, to send the foxcoon home with a limp too, but the more he managed to work Stripes open, the less he expected to make it that far.

"Ah, shit, kid," Ryan grunted, losing his ever-present grin, his expression becoming labored and hard, "I'm gonna knot you like a rope, baby..."

A noise came from Stripes that fell somewhere between a groan and a whimper; it was mostly pleasant. Grinning and humping not only into Desmond's double-duty pawing, but also down into Ryan's grinding knot, he said, "Do it! Knot me, stud...!"

Ryan's grin returned only briefly, and then he bit his lip while his eyes glazed over. I fucking love the eager ones, he thought as that sweet, orgasmic bliss overtook him. Pounding his knot forward with no-nonsense bucks and holding on tightly to the zebra's ankles, Ryan bullied his big, black knot past the zebra's little, black pucker in the same instant he came, wedging his knot inside and soothing the equine's insides with his thick cream simultaneously.

Stripes groaned and arched his back, pouting out his slender chest and dislodging Desmond's paw from their members; it didn't matter. The painful but oh, so satisfying knotting, followed by the trucker's heavy release, pushed him over the edge. Squirming his legs in Ryan's paws, gripping at the bare mattress, Stripes came and shot a jagged, white line all over his slender chest and belly; a few droplets even made it to his neck.

"Ah, rrh," Ryan grumbled, stroking up and down the lengths of Stripes' fine legs, before releasing them. Wrapping his arms around Desmond, then, he kissed the foxcoon between the ears. "Shit... That was good."

"Tell me about it," Saul grinned.

"Heh, what do you think, kid?" Ryan asked, craning his neck to look back at Saul. "Did I keep up?"

The skunk eyed Ryan pensively, and then he cracked a smirk. "Yeah, I guess so."

Stripes just groaned in appreciation of the knot under his tail.

"Ah, what about me, though?" Desmond asked.

"You?" the wolf sweetly chuckled, gnawing just briefly on one of the tod's flitting ears.

Growling at the gnaw and pulling his head to the side, Desmond huffily replied, "Yeah, me."

"Well," Ryan grinned, "I'm gonna be awfully lonely at the fleabag motel room I rented. You wanna come back with me?"

"Heh, I will," Saul chimed in before Desmond had a chance to answer. "I'd like to see you take Stripes' dick next."

The wolf grunted and blushed, but he was smirking.

Desmond turned his head, and Ryan could just see that the twink fox was grinning wide. "I'd like to see that, too... And I can keep that knot of yours warm while you're doing it."

"Why do I get the feeling I don't have a lot of choice here?" Ryan sighed, shaking his head.

Sitting up and wrapping an arm around Ryan's thick middle, Saul cooed to him, "'Cause you don't wanna pass up hot boys like us. What's the matter, don't think you can keep up...?" he said, grinning evilly.

"Kid," Ryan scoffed, and he nipped the skunk on the nose, "I already told you I can keep up."