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A mutual love for body modification is what brought Tristan and Desmond together. It was a nostalgic thought that crossed the vixen's mind as she navigated the town, through alleys and past twitching junkies, across busy streets, occasionally forced to tolerate a menagerie of cat calls and wolf whistles, a simple reality for a girl as pretty as she was, even if "girl" was only half-right. It was on this dull, long journey, however, that she thought back fondly on the day she'd met Desmond. It was her eighteenth birthday, at the tattoo and piercing shop; she was in for a pair of nipple rings, a shiny silver that looked attractive in her neon-green flesh, while Desmond got himself a tongue stud. They spoke in the lobby and became fast friends with the subjects of trippy music and classic Nintendo to share. Their friendship was set in stone when he sat by her side and held her hand through the painful procedure, being the veteran that he was, with his rainbow ladder swishing its' way up his left ear. At the thought of him sitting close by while she winced and whined, squeezing her paw and kissing her cheek, she smiled warmly, feeling a little flutter in her chest at the notion of seeing him again. They both grew up in middle-class families, but Desmond lived on what could have been called the bad side of town; more prevalent drug use, higher crime, gangs, everything that was gritty movie drama. With an inappropriate sense of jealousy, Tristan wished she lived in that environment, but in another way, she worried every day that her older, smaller friend was in danger.

Even though the two foxes had been friends for several years, Tristan was still thrilled every time she saw that foxcoon. As she neared the door to his apartment and knocked, she relived that giddy happiness, an uncharacteristically bubbly reaction from the ordinarily hardcore-scene vixen, but it was a side she willingly showed to him. No tough-girl shows, no bullshit, she just opened up like a book for him. As the door swung open, her face split wide with a grin. "Dezzy!" she nearly squealed, grabbing the todd up in a bearhug, lifting him with unaware ease thanks to her toned muscles and greater stature. Desmond squeaked, then laughed, wrapping his arms around her neck, planting an immediately countered kiss on her lips. "Hey, Trissy... It's really nice to see you, baby." He even had a voice she would've probably mocked from anybody else - a southern-swish syrupy accent, a contradiction in dialects - but it was simply adorable coming from him.

She carried the smaller fox inside and set him down, shoving the door shut behind her, looking down at him with that grin, one that looked evil if you didn't know the vixen better; it was two parts happy, one part mischief. Desmond, as good a friend and confidant as he was, happened to be the not-quite-vixen's preferred fuckfriend, and that naughty grin was her own little warning sign for the twink. The foxcoon took a moment to take in his tall friend's outfit; blue jeans that had been dyed black, a black, loose-fitting hoodie with an indie band's name scrawled on it in indecipherable imagery and twisted typeface, and tightly-laced, dirty combat boots, also black. It made for an outfit that was attractively punk, and while Desmond couldn't pull the look off himself, he appreciated it on Tristan. That all-black outfit blended well with her equally-dark fur, but she was almost a neon billboard with her green tail tip and highlighted hair. Those colors weren't the result of dyes, but simply a genetic oddity that leant itself well to delicious punk outfits. "You look good there, baby," Desmond purred, and though Tristan took the comment with a smug chuckle, she snapped back: "I look like I always do." Licking his lips, the foxcoon winked. "My point exactly."

Tristan happened to enjoy the way Desmond dressed, too. Though he almost never wore the same outfit twice, as a gay, fashion-inclined fox forbade himself to do, he always had some well-coordinated and snug-fitting number on. Today was no different, and she took a good, long look at his toned legs wrapped up in jeans that were tight like saran wrap on his hips. Along with that, he had on a buttoned-up, modestly collared, vertically-striped blue shirt. "You look pretty rad yourself, you know. Nobody else in this town comes close to dressing as well as you." She nodded in agreement with herself, then sat down upon the todd's sofa, patting beside herself in invitation, one he took with a smile. "So, I can't say I mind this little surprise, Trissy." She smiled back, and in a gesture of fond affection, she wrapped an arm around him, pulling the smaller fox close until his head came to rest on her swollen, round, hoodie-clad chest. The fake-gay foxcoon closed his eyes and purred in relaxation, and though ordinarily either of them would've gladly cuddled in benign affection for hours, Tristan's libido was at a peak not seen since puberty; as a creature that was female aside from her genitals, she was prone to estrus, or heat - and that plus testosterone made for a hormone cocktail that turned her into a ravenously sexual creature every few months. In a sweet, almost sing-song tone, she spoke into his ear, stroking down his back. "Dezzzzzyyyyyy... You cute twink, you... You in the mood for something?" A smirk graced Desmond's muzzle, and as he nuzzled more firmly into the rounded warmth of her breasts, he growled to her: "Damn right I am..."

Tristan giggled, then nibbled playfully on the foxcoon's ear, growling into it a moment later. Desmond shivered, able to smell the vixen's lust as clear as the day, not to mention the rank smell of body odor, being the natural type of girl she was; of course the vixen bathed, but deodorant was an afterthought. Closing her eyes halfway, Tristan slowly pulled down the zipper that bisected the front of her hoodie, and then she pulled open the two halves, exposing a dark gray sports bra beneath, worn purely for comfort, though she did find it useful for teasing her favorite faggot fox from time to time. Now was not one of those occasions, and she pulled the fabric cups upwards, exposing her large, swollen, pierced tits to Desmond. The foxcoon licked his lips in arousal, then planted a soft kiss on one of the ringed nipples, easing a sweet shiver from the vixen. "You're always so gentle, so sweet. You're the best, Dez..."

Desmond slowly dragged his tongue across that nipple, repeating the gentle gesture of affection a few times, and Tristan moaned with every lick, a subtle sound of pleasure, but one that Desmond easily heard. She gently caressed the back of the sweet foxcoon's head, stroking through his silky hair with her masculine fingers, taking a moment to drag her claws over the deliciously tender flesh at the base of one of his ears. "For such a gay fox, you sure do like my boobs, eh?" Tristan teased, and Desmond stuck out his tongue, a tongue that Tristan quickly gave a quick, playful lick to. "You have nice tits, what can I say?" The vixen shrugged, then squeezed the foxcoon close, kissing his cheek. "That works for me, honestly. Hell, I don't even go for... You know, sissies, all that much." She disarmed the playful and fake indignity on his face with a cute smile and a kiss on the nose. "But you, see, you look like a totally hot twink faggot, but you're not all ohmigawd! like some dumbass teenage girl." Then, a kiss on his cheek. "You're actually deep. I can talk to you about shit nobody else would ever listen to. I really love you, dude." The foxcoon couldn't help but blush, as he was apt to do when Tristan laid compliments on him, and with no idea of what to say, he simply purred and nuzzled her cheek. With Desmond so close, Tristan eased him into a deep French kiss, sliding her long, broad tongue into the foxcoon's mouth, and he took it with a passive, relaxed purr, sucking softly on the invading tongue as it licked across his own, teasing over his smooth gums and sharp teeth, exploring a mouth it already knew intimately. As she kissed the foxcoon, she slid her paws down his smooth, fluffy body, letting them come to rest on his hips, ironically more feminine than her own. There, she squeezed and kneaded his tender body before rubbing around to his taut, clothed rear, caressing his nicely-shaped ass cheeks. Desmond moaned from her touch, and in return, he began grinding his swelling erection into the vixen's own.

With a small grin crossing her just parted lips, Tristan slid one of her paws down the back of the foxcoon's jeans, stroking over the furred flesh of his bottom beneath, but her goal rested safely between those smooth cheeks. With little in the way of teasing or foreplay, the vixen wiggled her fingers into the foxcoon's crack and rubbed over his tight little pucker with her soft, padded fingertips, working such a deep moan out of the fox that he pulled back, breaking the kiss. "Ooh, damn... Little aggressive today, baby?" Tristan just giggled, planting a kiss on her todd's lips, before bumping noses with him. "Not like I hear any complaints," she growled with glaringly obvious sexuality, rubbing harder and harder on the snug pucker of his behind. The vixen didn't waste much time at all in sinking a single digit, but between the uncooperative, tight fabric of his jeans and the angle, she didn't get it in more than halfway. It was still enough to send a blissful shiver up the todd's spine, one which coaxed a gratified moan from his lips. "Rrr, yeah, babe..." Purred the twink foxcoon, licking benignly across the curving top of one of Tristan's breasts and up her neck, whereupon he nibbled afterwards. "I want you to fuck me good and hard, Trissy-baby..."

"I figured as much, dude," she grinned, kissing him on the nose. "Help me out, get out of these skinny jeans for me, would you?" said Tristan, sliding her paw free of the tight denim. "Yeah, honey. Sure." Desmond stood from the vixen's lap and, with almost comical effort, he got his jeans down and off, exposing his swollen sheath and modest balls to his tall vixen friend, but as much as she enjoyed the sight and feel of his cute, pink, knotted dick, she was considerably more interested in his taut bottom. "Rrr, yeah, strip, you fuckin' slut," growled Tristan with a broad grin, though her eyes betrayed a fondness for Desmond. As she was quite happy to find out, Desmond had one hell of a submissive streak in him, but for fear of turning into complete monsters with one another, they kept it tame. On most occasions, Tristan hardly asserted any real dominance on the twink besides lust-laden insults and cruel remarks, but she had gone further than that now and again... Not that Desmond ever complained. Licking his lips, wearing a crimson blush, Desmond stepped out of his jeans and padded up to Tristan, standing just inches from her. Looking down into her lap, he saw a swollen, aching erection struggling against the baggy, black denim of her jeans, and his fake fear, simply for playful show, was interrupted by a naughty grin, one he did his best to shoo away. "See something you like, bitch-boy?" Tristan asked with a domineering grin, folding her arms behind her head. It left her chest completely bare, but nicely framed by the unzipped hoodie and the sports bra pulled up over the swollen curve of her breasts, though Desmond's gaze was on the tent of her erection. "I do... Mmhm..."

Sometimes Tristan thought about asking if the fox would want more of a formal relationship, as much as they got off on the master-and-slave elements of their sex life, but the more she thought about it, the less she wanted it. They were friends first, deviants second. And besides... Overstating it made her dominance on him that much less arousing. "Well, Dez, my slutty fag, I get the feeling you want it up under your tail, yeah?" she purred lewdly to him, reaching out to grab his hips. She turned him around, rubbing the fine cheeks of his ass, kneading and spreading them playfully. Pulling them wide apart, Tristan exposed the pink pucker of his tail hole; leaning in close, she tentatively sniffed it, simply as a matter of instinct, then drew her tongue along the quivering flesh, closing her eyes and perking her ears at the sound of Desmond's drawn-out moan. "Oh, baby... You treat me so good," Desmond cooed to the vixen, draping his tail over her head. Tristan smiled; not a grin charged with sex or dominance, but just a happy, lazy smile. "I give what I get, Dezzy," she said, speaking up to compensate for having her snout between his rump cheeks, "you make me feel sexy, you make me feel really good, so I return the favor, man."

Tristan dragged her tongue across Desmond's tail hole again and again, leaving his taint and pucker covered in her hot slobber, but the twink wasn't exactly lubricated; not yet. So, holding his hips tightly, the punk vixen forced her tongue inside of him, working against the clenching, pulsating walls of his asshole to slurp and lap at his depths, getting his behind full of her slippery, hot saliva, preparing him for what would be, as always, one hell of a rough fuck. Tristan never felt remorse for plowing Desmond with all of her strength; the harder she nailed him, the more he moaned and squealed, so everyone got what they wanted. "Ah, goddamn... I love getting rimmed like this..." The fox panted, absently pushing his fuzzy behind back against her. Though she grunted, she took the todd's unconscious hint and forced her tongue deeper into him, more firmly against his walls, dragging it along the sweet spot that she knew his tender prostate rested behind. When she located that particular spot, he nearly doubled over and shook with a gratified moan. Hanging between his legs was his canine member, seven inches long including its' knot, dripping with precum and waiting to be stroked off, but he ignored it. By no means was his pleasure forbidden, except when Tristan was at her most dominant; he just had other plans for it.

Tristan slowly pulled her muzzle back, slipping her tongue free with an audible slurp. Prying the twink's ass cheeks apart again, she eyed his moistened tail hole critically, then grinned in appreciation of her work. "Alright, Dezzy," she said, leaning back on the couch, once more fully exposing her chest and presenting her erection. "You wanna suck on me, or just sit in my lap and start bouncing?" She punctuated the query with a grin, one Desmond returned. "Oh, I get a choice this time? I remember last time you called me bitch-boy," the foxcoon began, kneeling, grinding his long, feminine snout into the vixen's throbbing package, "you just bent me over my kitchen counter and fucked me stupid." Tristan giggled, but sighed with pleasure as he kept nuzzling into her. "Yeah, I just couldn't help myself. I dunno, though, you seemed to like it... And afterwards, I let you play with my boobs for like two hours, so don't act like it was all about me," she sneered. Desmond shrugged, then tugged the zipper of her jeans down quickly, foregoing the usual spectacle he made out of the act. Then, popping the button, he freed the vixen's throbbing, neon-green penis, the knot already full, the tip oozing with slippery, musky slime. He purred and rubbed his muzzle on the flesh, and he couldn't hide the involuntary grin that spread across his lips, especially as the punk's pre smeared into his fur. Smiling fondly, Tristan ran a paw through Desmond's long, silky hair, blowing a kiss down at him. "Your fur's always so soft. You gotta remind me what shampoo you use on it."

"Heh, no problem," Desmond muttered, moving to kiss the pointed tip of her length. "Y'know, I've dated a lot of guys, and women... And in-betweens," he grinned, bumping his nose to the tip of Tristan's penis; she returned the grin and snickered. "But you know what? You're probably my favorite. You're... Nice to me. Kinda silly, I know, but you never, hm... Take me for granted, I guess, that's what I'm trying to say." Then, casually and smoothly, the todd went down on her, engulfing the entirety of her impressive cock, sans knot, in his warm, velvety maw, wrapping his studded tongue around the neon flesh in a loving squeeze. Tristan closed her eyes, arching her back and pouting out her swollen boobs with a deep, loving moan before relaxing against the sofa, resting a paw on the back of Desmond's head. She did nothing to assert her will; she just let it lie there, idly rubbing back and forth, savoring the sensation of his silky blonde locks against her smooth, green pads. Her sweet little Desmond was, without any doubt, the most skilled cocksucking fox she'd ever had the pleasure to get blown by; her lips curled into an involuntary, lazy, and deeply satisfied smile, and she fed the older fox a steady dribble of her bitter-salty pre. "You're so good at this, dude..." She off-handedly remarked, letting out a content, pleased sigh. Desmond reached up with his smooth paws, rewarding the compliment by clutching the vixen's throbbing ballsack, squeezing it now and again, but the true treat was the way he rolled and otherwise kneaded it.

"Mmmh, god, Dez," Tristan growled, biting her lip after the fact. At this rate, she wouldn't even need to fuck him; though she'd have to return the favor somehow. "Do you, uh... Still wanna get fucked, bitch-boy?" she asked, looking down at him with a naughty, contrived smile, but his eyes were closed. From around her shaft, she heard and felt: "Mmhm." Tristan licked her lips at the thought of it; his muzzle was wonderful, yes, but his behind was a tight, hot fuck unlike anybody else. "Then climb up here... Do as you're told and I'll let you have my knot, too," the vixen grunted, scooting down more into the comfortable, soft sofa. Desmond quickly pulled up and off of her member, and just as efficiently, he straddled her lap, his arms wrapped around the back of her neck loosely. They bumped noses and shared a long, intimate gaze into each other's eyes, and then Tristan kissed him on the lips, shedding the master persona. "Come on, Dez," she whispered, licking over his lips, "ride me, dude... I wanna feel you close to me." Desmond nodded in sagely understanding, and then he reached back, clutching the vixen's cock as he lowered himself down. Slowly and carefully, the foxcoon impaled himself on Tristan's meat, grunting only from a brief twinge of pain as her impressive, green shaft forced open the snug, quivering muscle of his tail hole, but between her very in-depth rimming and his own messy muzzlejob, there was enough lubrication for him to easily slide down to her knot - which he did. "Oooh yeah," growled the sultry southern creature, closing his eyes and arching his back in a manner almost feline, offering his sinfully flexible form to Tristan. The punk couldn't help it, and she grinned wide; the sight of Desmond bending his faggoty, slender body like a living slinky always turned her on for one reason or another.

Whispering intimately into the todd's decorated ear, Tristan encouraged him to start bouncing, but that was hardly all. As he started to ride upon her throbbing penis, she told him just how much she really loved him, and what a fine creature he was; all things she'd told him before, but by no means just asinine pillow talk to goad the twink into being an even better fuck. "Oh, god, Tristan... I love you too, baby," purred Desmond right back, bouncing smoothly and satisfyingly with his deceptively strong legs, legs that were actually rather athletic - all for the end result of having an even tighter, more gropable and fuckable behind. "Dez, you have no idea how much it means to me when we just fuck like this... You're the only person I talk to. I mean, stuff besides dirty-talk..." Tristan said with a sheepish tone, trying to shoo away any awkwardness with a kiss on the bouncing twink's neck. Desmond giggled bashfully and shook his head, noting her blush, kissing her between the eyes on the apex of a bounce. "Tris, honey... Don't mention it. You're close to me. You're like a sister or something... Incest and other felonies aside." He disarmed her with a cheeky, playful grin, and she giggle-snorted. "Sister? Yeah, let's just stick with friends, Dez..."

No matter how close and open they were, not even Tristan and Desmond could keep talking when the foxcoon started to bear down, pumping himself with lewd ferocity upon the vixen's throbbing member. "Shit... Nngh, ah, yeah," the twink grunted, his eyes now shut tightly. Tristan couldn't even form involuntary swears and meaningless nothings; she just huffed and panted, biting her lip every now and again, and absently, she gripped the sissy fox's hips, lifting him higher and slamming him down harder. All she wanted now that her climax was in sight was to bury her knot, to pop it into Desmond's tight little asshole and spill her seed, and to that end, she started to get vicious. The foxcoon could always tell when it was coming, and sometimes, it was even a little scary - but Tristan was never a better fuck than those times. She grabbed Desmond's comparatively frail body and jerked him to the side, laying him on the couch, no longer satisfied with his skillful bouncing, even as hard as she was spurring him on. Grunting, snarling, the pretty vixen started to ruthlessly rape the todd, pounding her knot against his pucker again and again, using that hot gland to pretty much punch against it, bruising the twink's asshole, coaxing impassioned squeals and cries out of him - all noises that Tristan ate up. "Grrrh... Yeah...! Yes!" grunted the vixen, hunkering down over Desmond. She bit her lip, pounding the bitch-boy with every ounce of her strength. Her hair, styled into a cute, if not modest punk do when she arrived, had since become messy and dishelved, with errant bangs covering her face here and there. Her swollen, full breasts bobbed and jiggled while she rocked her toned body, throwing all her weight into her hips, and subsequently into Desmond's ass. Finally, with a mighty, happy cry of pleasure, Tristan buried her aching knot and tied with Desmond, shooting countless ropes of her sticky semen. "Oooh... Fuck yeah, Dezzy..."

"Agh... Shit..." Desmond grunted, panting hard, but not as hard as Tristan. Already, he was starting to calm down, and surprising even himself, the throbbing pain of the vixen's knot in his behind had begun to dull, even so soon. His shaft, however, was harder than ever, but before he could even compliment Tristan and start to cutely ask for some assistance with it, she was clumsily rolling him over. Now, her own back was on the sofa, and Desmond's knotted behind rested on her hips, leaving him sitting atop her, looking down at her swollen tits and exhausted face, covered haphazardly by her hair. She grinned toothily at Desmond, then clutched his throbbing, pink cock, growling in a cute manner. "That was a good fuck, bitch-boy," she teased, rubbing the pointed tip with a thumb, using her other paw to squeeze, grope, and otherwise molest the knot. Desmond hissed and whimpered, not in pain by any means, but blissful erotic pleasure. "Now... Let's get you off, I wanna see my kinky little bitch cum good and hard right on these tits, how's that sound?" She grinned up at him, already jerking upon his shaft, whacking him off with ruthless efficiency. Biting his lip, Desmond's only response was "Mmf, mmhm," but that was good enough for Tristan. "Yeah... Come on, Dezzy... Come on, bitch-boy, c'mon... Cum for me, dude," Tristan endlessly coaxed him with little nothings, some demeaning and cruel, some kind and loving, others still simply casual, but the todd enjoyed them all. "Oh, yeah... Trissy, rub my knot a little harder, baby," panted the southern-swish fox, looking into her eyes with a blush on his cheeks. Tristan giggled and quite happily obliged, groping yet tighter on the sissy's swollen gland, rubbing on it affectionately with her soft, padded paws. "Come ooooonnnn," she moaned impatiently, pausing her work to grab the twink's paws, which she then placed on her chest. Without a word, she went back to stroking her friend off, now with the added bonus of feeling his own smooth, warm mitts on her bosom. "Ooh, yeah... You grope and squeeze all you want, dude, pull on those rings... Pinch my nipples... Fuck, yeah..."

"Fuck... Ooh, fuck, Trissy..." Desmond whined, cupping Tristan's boobs from the sides, pressing them close together. "Here it...! Nngh, f-fuck!" That was the last fragmented sentence to sputter past Desmond's lips before he came, shooting a very respectable, thick load of his white baby batter upon Tristan's squeezed, compressed tits, and she watched with an appreciative murr as she felt and saw his sticky warmth splattering into the warm, black fluff of her breasts. "Goddamn, Dez... Nice load, man... Feel good?" she purred to him, looking up at his grimacing face with kind eyes. When his own finally opened, she smiled at him, and he smiled back through his blush. "Mmm... Sure does... I love you, Trissy-baby..." Sitting up, Tristan pulled Desmond down into a hug, not caring much, if at all that the twink's spent semen was smeared further into her cleavage and the todd's own fur; they had plenty of time to lick each other clean.

"I love you too, Dez," said Tristan with a fond smile, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. "I love you so much."