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This story was written for Shakal as part of my Patreon Request Days for September. It contains M/M and M/Solo sexual acts between consenting adults in public spaces, and Mind Control based fun. :3

Keep It Clean

Max only had one job to do. Keep it clean.

It sounded so simple. Don't think about sex. Sure, the skunk liked sex. He really liked it, particularly when his boyfriend was involved. But, it wasn't like an obsession or anything. It wasn't like he normally thought about what he and Shakal might do to one another while he was out getting groceries or hitting up the bank, or indeed, like right now, on his way to the laundromat to collect some dry cleaning. And yet, now that he had been told not to by the panther... now that he knew the consequences for doing so, Max found himself worried that at any moment he might suddenly find himself thinking about sex. About times like the night before, when Shakal had grabbed him by the tail, bent him over the side of the couch, and...

"O-ohh fuck..."

The skunk slapped a paw across his muzzle as right in the middle of the sidewalk he uttered a deep, passionate grunt of pleasure. His back arched, and the skunk's thick, bushy tail whipped outward as his mind was suddenly filled with not just memories, but the sensations of having Shakal's thick member ploughing him from behind. It was so real. So intense. He felt like right here, despite knowing full well he was out in the middle of a public street, he was being bent over and fucked senseless.

Somehow, stumbling and grasping onto a nearby street lamp for support, Max managed to drag his mind out of the gutter. As soon as he thought of something else, dinner... sushi, the sensations ceased. He caught his breath, and looked around at the various other furs walking along in either direction. No-one looked at him, and whether that was out of unconcern or simple embarrassment at seeing a buff stud like him suddenly double-over with apparent pleasure, it didn't really matter. All that mattered was keeping his mind away from thoughts like that. No matter how good it had felt... how wonderfully, viscerally, pleasurably real.

Thinking about food, wondering whether to go for some gyoza or the tempura squid with his first plate at the sushi place that coming night, Max made it perhaps another two hundred metres. He stepped out onto the main shopping street of the town, the dry cleaners still some distance away and down another side-street. It may have only been ten thirty AM, but the street was already pretty packed with shoppers. The pre-pre-pre-Christmas rush was in full swing. Max rolled his eyes, and began to dodge and weave in between the countless others intent on rushing to their own destinations with a minimum of social interaction. Goddamn it was busy. He'd been to orgies less crowded, and at least then when you moved you ended up with your cock in something and a muzzle eating out your asshole.

The thought had only been a passing one, meant playfully and not the slightest bit sexual. And yet apparently, according to the hypnotic trigger which Shakal had implanted in the skunk earlier that morning, it counted. Max's eyes bulged, and with people all around him, nowhere to lean against for support or to in any way conceal what was happening to him, he could only try with all his might not to let it show that suddenly he was feeling the urge to buck his hips and howl in pleasure. His mind was utterly and genuinely convinced that there was a tight, warm, squeezing ass wrapped around his cock, and that an eager tongue was rimming him to perfection. He could feel the tongue flicking and teasing at his pucker before striking deeper, and the ass wrapped around his aching cock belonged to an apparently equally eager owner, the buttocks pressed against his thighs wiggling and the warm passage itself clutching and milking him.

By the time Max fought his way into the doorway of the nearest store-front, turning his body against the wall beside the doors and planting his hands against the stonework, he was panting breathlessly. His cock was rock hard inside his jeans, throbbing and oozing pre-cum as he tore himself free from that highly sensory fantasy. He dared not close his eyes, terrified that fantasy would return. Terrified that if he thought about it any longer, he'd... no. No. He couldn't even think about what he might do. That would be thinking about it, and if he thought about it...

The skunk groaned in anguish, wondering how the hell he was supposed to free himself from this cycle. Once more he stepped out onto the street, relying on the busy focus of those around him to keep them from noticing the still straining front of his trousers. At the same time though, he couldn't help thinking about how much fun it could be if someone did notice. A twinky rabbit perhaps, pink nose twitching and cheeks flushed red beneath snowy white fur. Eyes bulging as they caught sight of the throbbing lump. It would be so easy for Max to take him by the hand, lead him into one of the nearby shopping centres, find a bathroom, and...

Stumbling again, whining and cursing to himself under his breath as for just a few moments his mind and body were filled with the sensations of a wet maw slurping and suckling greedily at his cock, Max fought his way loose from that latest fantasy. He had to get to the dry cleaners, then home again. Fast. He thought of the laundry place, focusing not just on how far away it was, but on the building itself. He obsessed himself with the mundanity of picking out the colours of the paintwork. The font with which the logo and name of the place were represented. Then, when that well was tapped dry, he thought about the dry cleaning process itself. Fuck, it was boring. But right now boredom was exactly what the skunk needed to be feeling, given that apparently any excitement in his mind was currently geared towards the intensely adult variety.

To his surprise, Max actually found himself rather absorbed as he thought about how one might dry clean a suit like the one Shakal had sent in for cleaning. How they always left the garments looking brand new, crisply folded and beautifully pressed, never faded by whatever chemicals they used in the process. He strolled more and more casually as his cock began to soften, the skunk's hefty balls still aching with their lack of release but for now forgotten as he wondered if it would be the dumbest thing in the world for him to ask the staff how they made every last stain just disappear. Of course, maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea in this particular case, if not overall. After all, it would be a bit embarrassing to have to ask about the particular stains that had coated the front and shoulders of Shakal's suit jacket, and the other stains coating the insides of his trousers.

The skunk grinned, thinking back with pride to what had led him here. To why in the first place they had been forced to take Shakal's suit to be dry cleaned. His buff, gorgeous panther stud of a lover kneeling before him, just home from work to find Max sprawled out on the couch, jerking his rock hard cock. His face reddened, and he shuddered as he felt the pleasure of his own masturbation surging through his body. He was so close to the dry cleaners now. Off the main street, and thus away from the larger crowds. There were still people around, but far fewer in number and proximity. So much so that Max was willing to indulge himself a little. To feel his hand rubbing up and down his cock while the other groped at his swollen balls, and hear the sound of the front door swinging open, bringing the promise of even greater pleasure along with it.

He should have stopped there. Stopped thinking, stopped fantasising so willingly. Indeed, it was the willingness that proved his undoing. At least the last few times the fantasies had come on through unexpected means, and thus he had been able to quell them as one would any rogue thought which crossed one's mind. But to let it happen... to actively encourage and engage with the fantasy, Max should have known better. He ground to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk, standing and staring off into space as his breathing grew heavier and his eyes widened, glazing over with pleasure. A soft moan escaped his lips, drawing a raised eyebrow from the nearest passer by. Then a louder one.

"In here. I'm... a-ahh..."

That was what he'd called out to his lover when he heard Shakal curiously calling to him. What he'd said to get the panther's attention. It hadn't been long before the panther had been on his knees before the couch, with Max grunting and holding tenderly onto his lover's head as Shakal began to suckle upon his needy cock. At the same time Max's footpaws had found themselves in the big cat's lap, rubbing, teasing, just eager to share how good he was feeling with the man he loved.

A goofy grin spread over Max's face where he stood, arms limp by his sides but fingers twitching as though stroking soft black fur, hips thrusting gently as though pumping in and out of a hot, eager maw. His toes curled, and his feet shuffled against the ground beneath him, able to feel the length of Shakal's member rising beneath them. Throbbing, begging for release.

The dry cleaning bill was going to be a big one. When Max had cum, he'd done so across the growling, panting maw of his feline lover's face. The first streak had marked Shakal from muzzle to forehead, and the seven or eight which followed, every one as potent and voluminous as the last, had painted not just his face but the front and shoulders of the suit-jacket which he hadn't been given the time to remove. At the same time, feeling Max's cum painting him had triggered the panther's peak, and he had stained and soaked through the front of his trousers' crotch with a heavy flood of his very own rich cum.

Thinking of the orgasms they'd shared, Max grunted loudly. The skunk's tail swept through the air behind him as his hips jerked sharply several times, and his eyes rolled back as the crotch of his jeans twitched with the visible and urgent motion of his straining cock. A small dark spot appeared in the blue fabric as the skunk gave a long, lingering moan of bliss. A wet patch that grew and spread rapidly as his large and swollen balls emptied themselves just as he was imagining them doing. He might as well have been there all over again, just him and Shakal together in their living room. Just the two of them, cumming together, staining the panther's suit in a manner that would most certainly require dry cleaning to clean.

Dry cleaning... that he was meant to pick up. Dry cleaning that he was picking up.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck!

Max's eyes cleared. He looked around, red faced, huffing and shuddering as his ongoing orgasm continued; not just fuelled by the fantasy but made real by the sheer volume of pleasure his mind had told him he was experiencing. The skunk stared down at the front of his jeans, swollen and obviously stained by a large and still growing wet spot of dark, glistening denim, then back up again. At the small group of eight or nine people just standing, watching him, a couple with their phones out and recording what they couldn't believe they were seeing.

"W-what are you... ahh... looking at?"

The skunk waved a dismissive paw at them, but the onlookers just smirked. They all knew exactly what they were looking at. Not how or why it had happened, but the what was obvious. Max whined bashfully, the buff male turning away from those with their phones out, but not able to avoid giving a couple of the other onlookers an even better view.

"C'mon. Stop. Just... go on with your days... don't..."

He saw a mouse watching from inside his parked car. The mouse's face was red, his eyes wide, and though his arms were out of view the motion of his shoulder suggested only one thing. Max's eyes bulged, and he moaned in anguished excitement as he pictured the sight of the mouse jerking furiously at his cock. It didn't matter that he had just cum, the pleasure of that fantasy surged through him nonetheless. He tried to stop, tried to shut it down, but it was right there in front of him. So close to being real that the fantasy was inescapable. The only thing he could think of doing was to stop the mouse. To keep the mouse from masturbating and thus keep the fantasy from even possibly being a reality.

Surging forward, stumbling, moaning, gasping for air, the skunk bolted towards the parked car and the adorably horny mouse within. He might have failed in keeping his thoughts clean, but he wouldn't let himself fail in that regard a second time in succession. Either he'd stop the mouse from masturbating... or... well, if he was actually there with the mouse, the two of them jerking off together, the mouse bouncing up and down on his aching member with the car creaking and its window's steaming up around them... it wouldn't be a fantasy. The skunk wailed in pleasure as he imagined all those things, but kept moving towards the other man even as his cock began to pulse and quiver with impending orgasmic bliss all over again.

If he was really able to fuck the mouse, then he'd escape from the blissful torment of his own imagination by turning his wildest fantasies into reality. And perhaps by doing so, he might not only sate himself for long enough to actually pick up his lover's dry cleaning, but possibly even earn himself a ride home too.

By Jeeves

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