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Lance was not one of Nature Calls' famous strippers, though he had the body for it, and he used his position as a bouncer to score handies and blowjobs from eager girls and fags just dying to get inside. Even if they didn't meet his scrutiny, he still came out ahead.

A blacktip shark with a suitably menacing grin, Lance Cooper stood out in front of the popular club and did his duties with a small amount of flair. His species and military background did not detract from a wry sense of humor, and thus, those who came to him with obviously fake IDs were spurned politely. "Sorry, honey," he told a pretty, sixteen-year-old stoat, "but you definitely oughta come back in a couple years, and I'll get you in pro-boner."

"Um, but, can I have the ID back?" she timidly asked, holding out her fleshy hand.

Lance pursed his lips into a thin smile. He snapped the ID card in two, then quarters, and handed it back to her. "There you go."

"Dick," the stoat hissed, storming away and tossing the useless chunks of laminated paper on the ground. Lance shrugged and beckoned up the next in line.

Not much time passed before an athletic young orca approached whom Lance found simply irresistible. It turned out he was in the service himself, specifically the Air Force. Lance was a former Navy SEAL, yet they developed a fast-moving rapport which culminated in a sly offer for a quick lay.

"Gimme just a second - stand aside here," said Lance. He called for relief on his radio and kept checking IDs while the orca fondled his ass and package through his very snug, black jock. Lance rumbled approvingly and shot his young new friend infrequent smirks.

Before too long, Lance's ostensible relief, an exotic creature known as a Guilmon, emerged from the club. He and Lance had never spoken, merely seen each other at work, and that made it more awkward when the shark gestured to the alley and said, "I'll be right back. Cover me for a few minutes, thanks."

But when Lance started on his way with the orca, the Guilmon - one Corey Iannotti, a terrifically hard-assed former sniper for the Marine Corps. - snatched Lance by the tailfin and dragged him back. Their heights and dimensions were similar, but Corey was simply older and meaner. He grinned in what seemed like anger as Lance turned around to look at him. Five words grumbled out of his mouth: "I don't fuckin' think so." He looked at the orca and softened his expression only slightly. "Get lost or get inside."

"Hey--! Hey!" Lance grunted, watching as the orca headed in without him. "Come on, man. Everybody's here to have a little fun."

"You're on duty, and I'm gonna show you what that means, soldier," Corey said in his gravelly voice. He barked into his radio, "Logan, get your ass out to the front entrance, double-time. You're takin' over for now."

"Logan? The T-rex?" Lance absently asked before Corey muscled him around to the back alley. The shark went along for a short time before he thrust off the Guilmon's guiding arm and grunted, "All right, enough of this bullshit now. If you want to fight, let's do it right here."

Corey's hard face did not soften, but he showed obvious humor. "Fight? No. I got enough scar tissue on my knuckles. See, I find a good, hard dick up the ass straightens out a lot more little shits like you than a fist across the teeth."

The shark laughed. "You gotta be fucking kidding me. You're gonna fuck me? You serious?"

Choosing to demonstrate instead of speak, Corey gripped the waistband of his jock which was dented with an incredible set of bulges. He peeled it down and exposed his flaccid, uncircumcised cock and the huge, low-hanging balls underneath it, covered in soft white hide. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out one of the condoms which all Nature Calls staff were obliged to carry. "Put it on me, kid."

"Kid?" Lance spat. "Fuck yourself," he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

The age gap meant nothing. Corey was meaner and tougher, and he and Lance both knew it. He took sudden hold of the shark's shoulders and kneed him in the crotch, shocking Lance and sending waves of pain up through his body. The shark crumpled on his knees and fell against Corey, thus smearing his snout against the Guilmon's cock. The pain washed up to the height of his torso then settled sharply down in his gut, like a wave lapping up one side of a lake and settling at the other.

"That was just a tap, buddy. I coulda hit 'em so hard you'd be singing fuckin' choir in church again." He offered the condom again. "Put it on me."

The pain from the knee was fading. Lance was more shocked by the attack than anything else. "Yeah... All right, all right," he grunted. He opened the condom and gripped the Guilmon's dense cock. It was not at all erect yet. Lance seemed not to mind fluffing it, and when Corey's cock was fully engorged and beginning to drool pre, he rolled the condom down its length, garbing it in canary yellow latex.

Lance looked up at Corey petulantly. A smirk spread across the Guilmon's face. "Give it a kiss. Right where the cock ends and the ballsack begins."

"You're a son of a bitch," Lance murmured, but he pushed his short snout into the older male's crotch and gave him a firm kiss exactly where he demanded one. Flavors of musk and sweat greeted him. He huffed through his nostrils and pulled back, wiping his lips on the back of his forearm. "You happy now? Your little power trip all done?"

"Not at all," Corey flatly said. He grabbed the top of Lance's head and pushed him back. Lance toppled with a grunt, landing ass-first and then on his elbows. The Guilmon stood over him and nudged his hip with a foot. "Up on your all-fours, now. Up like your momma was when I saw her last, boy."

"Next time you're walking out to your car and it's dark--," Lance hissed, moving up on his hands and knees.

The Guilmon booted Lance's ass and almost pushed him down again. He cut the shark off mid-threat and knelt down behind him. "You'll come blow me before I head home from work - real thoughtful, son. Coulda used some relief like you when I was bakin' out in the sun, waiting for the mark to peep out of cover." He yanked down Lance's jockstrap almost as an afterthought, then hugged the shark's dense tailfin to his breast. Smiling thinly, he wedged his endowment into the shark's ass crack and started grinding, rubbing his cock between the sweaty, tight cheeks like a hotdog in a bun.

"Ugh, fu-u-uck," Lance grumbled. "Do you have to be such a fag about this? Get it over with, you old queen."

"Boy, I've been fuckin' asses since before your momma shit you out on the pavement," Corey warned. "Keep your lips zipped."

Lance looked back, showing teeth and gums in a massive, savage grin. "Go to hell."

Corey grinned back, but not to the extent Lance did. He reoriented his swollen meat and pressed its tip against the shark's pucker. Corey didn't leak pre as much as his fellow studs, and so the reservoir of his rubber hadn't bloated yet. But the uniform shape of the condom did nothing to ease the sudden, sharp pain Lance felt, and he duly bellowed in discomfort and hung his head.

Growling and swishing his tail, the dragon-like Guilmon forcefully mashed his hips against Lance's ass, spurring another pained groan from the aquatic predator. Tears welled in the corners of Lance's eyes. He wiped at them and shuddered, "Oh, I'm gonna fucking get you for this!"

"Welcome to try," Corey challenged, suddenly cracking a calloused hand down on Lance's ass. Lance shrieked in pain and clenched on the Guilmon. The distinct outline of Corey's thick fingers appeared in pinkish-red on his hide.

Gripping Lance's tailfin in one arm and swatting occasionally on the shark's hindquarters like a cowboy with his spurs, Corey started what was undoubtedly the roughest fuck Lance's dominant ass had ever known. He bucked so harshly and sharply that his balls never made complete arcs, instead snapping back and forth, but they always swatted against Lance's own dangling nuts at the end of every forward swing. He drew sharp, quick, and careful breaths indicative of an athlete, but his movements were machine-like in their precision and repetition. Even when it came to a back-alley rape, Corey was still a model sniper.

Over time, Lance's brusque facade began to break down. He ground his teeth and curled his toes, slowly lowering himself from his outstretched arms to his folded elbows. This popped out his muscular ass. Hanging beneath and painting the cracked pavement with precum was his great, cut cock, bigger than Corey's but dangling lamely.

"Tell me you're a bitch now," Corey calmly, but firmly commanded. He punctuated the command with another spank.

Lance grunted. Tellingly, instead of a bitchy comeback, he said nothing.

Knowing full well he was getting to the shark and feeling that his own climax was not far away, the Guilmon doubled down with a more vicious smack and ground his palm into the hide. Lance yowled from both shock and pain, then bellowed, "I'm a fucking bitch, all right!?"

"Whose fuckin' bitch, though?" Corey asked, allowing himself a shit-eating grin. The steady smack, smack, smack of his hips against Lance's behind cut through the air over and over, sometimes echoing back between the buildings like pops from a BB gun.

This time Lance needed no further adjustments: "Yours. Your fucking bitch, okay? All right!?"

"Okay," Corey sneered, "all right. Atta boy."

Switching arms in holding Lance's tailfin, Corey smacked the other hip. Lance gasped and clenched like the victim of a donkey punch, and thus hissed in pain from his new tightness as well. "And are you gonna do your goddamn job from now on, boy?" he darkly asked, speaking with none of his recent lewd playfulness.

"Yes," Lance shuddered, clenching his eyes shut.

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir!" Lance smartly barked.

Corey laughed. A true laugh with no malice was a rare thing from him. He doubled over on top of Corey and nipped the shark's neck. Lance grumbled yet tilted his head, offering his thick neck to the Guilmon, but it seemed Corey wanted it just that once, and his interests had moved elsewhere.

Now the smack, smack, smack was faster and sharper than ever. Corey panted and puffed, swaying his tail, bashing it on the pavement. He put his muscular weight on the shark and pinned him to the pavement; Lance winced as his naked meat scuffed against the ground but his legs drifted apart, at least to the extent that the jockstrap around his knees would allow.

Hands on either side of Lance, Corey fucked the shark with this new leverage for a few hot moments longer. Suddenly he grunted with sublime pleasure, and his features softened. His tongue briefly hung out of his maw when his ejaculation began. He bloated his rubber full of heated Guilmon spunk, and as it happened, Lance moaned lowly.

For a moment Corey lay atop Lance, but there was no affection in it. He was merely catching his breath. A few seconds later, he pushed himself up to a kneeling position, then slowly drew back his sheathed cock. The full reservoir of the condom dragged out of Lance's gaped, reddened anus not long after the glans of Corey's penis. With its exit, Lance grunted in pain before breathing a sigh of relief.

After tying off his condom like a water balloon, Corey startled Lance by hawking and spitting on the shark's wide and winking asshole. His spit landed in a near-bullseye, slithering down inside the puffy pucker. Lance shuddered. "The fuck was that for?"

"For fun," Corey sneered. He smacked Lance's handprint-branded ass, causing him to flinch, then stood up and tugged his jockstrap up and on. "Get back to work, boy. Better not catch you makin' excuses for booty calls again."

Lance was just getting up when Corey let himself in through the club's back door. He grumbled and rubbed his sore ass. As an act of defiance, he jerked off before he went back to work. It didn't take him two minutes.