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I know it doesn't do a damn bit of good, but I check my phone anyway. Nothing in the last two minutes. In cell phone terms, that can be a pretty long time, but not unusual. For Eagan, though, it is, especially with how excited he's been about today.

I'm excited too, for my part in his plan, but I also can't help feeling awkward. Honored, for sure, but you can't deny there aren't a load of other ways to do what Eagan wants done. I guess that's a testament to his reputation as a perpetual hornball.

I'd say that maybe it was a horse thing, but I know far too many canids (and not just foxes either) to limit it to just one species.

Of course, as soon as I put my eyes back on the road, the phone beeps. I'm close enough to my exit that I don't want the distraction, but I pick it up anyway. It's a habit, it drives me crazy knowing I'm addicted to technology, but when you write video game reviews for a living you kind of need to be tuned in. I never said it was healthy.

Judging by my looks, I can't blame people. I'm the fat panda hipster you see in the corner of the coffee shop, with an iPhone in one paw and a full-fat mocha in the other. At least I use soap. That's what the PAUSE button is for.

I look at the screen: ROOM 214, AROUND THE REAR SIDE. SEE YOU IN A FEW. :3 Right on time. From his timing, I'd swear Eagan could see my car from his window.

After hanging a left over the freeway, I pull up to the intersection and flip my signal on, waiting for the turn that'll take me into the parking lot of the A-1 Motel, where Eagan and Shako, his new boyfriend, are waiting for me. I want to reach over and type out a quick confirmation to Eagan's text, but I stop myself and wait for the green arrow. It's two minutes, and it won't matter anyway.

I get all the way to a parking spot before the nerves hit me, right in the pit of my stomach, like I knew they would. They get like this every time I hang out with Eagan. Not because I'm nervous, exactly, more like anticipation of something very fulfilling for both of us. More like emptying on his part and filling on mine.

We met at a house party at BYU and hit it off, mostly thanks to copious amounts of alcohol. Because we were poor college students, we pooled our money and got a cab back to my single apartment on the edge of campus. Even wasted, he was embarrassed to come home to his frat brothers for fear someone might notify one Dean or another. It was a good thing, too, since we ended up sinning all night long after we slurred our secrets to one another. He was a flared peg to my round hole, so to speak, and grateful to find a bottom willing and able to take a horse without complaint. I still made a fair bit of noise, though.

That was four years ago. We did the hooking-up thing until he graduated and moved back to help his old man at the mechanic shop in Idaho Falls. I walked a year later and moved to Boise as soon as my tassel hit the left side of my mortarboard. I missed him like a buddy instead of a boyfriend, which is to say I missed his cock more than his company. What can I say, I'm pretty much a dedicated bottom. Which is why Eagan surprised me when he called one day and asked me to help him.

I look up through the windshield and see Eagan on the second floor, waving to me through the window. I can't see his eyes, just his white hands and blaze. A dusty-colored muzzle appears near his ear and its lips move, making it flick. No sense in making them come down to me; I turn the car off and grab my phone, resisting the temptation to flick through Twitter one last time. I want to say that's a waste as well, but I've gotten laid way too much to give it up.

The A-1 is a leftover from the sixties, when color TV was a luxury and every room came with three ashtrays and complimentary matches. Nowadays, the matches are gone and barely a quarter of the rooms are smoke-friendly, but I quit last year so it's no difference to me. I was a bitch for a few months, though.

By the time I get out of my car and to the door, Eagan's there holding it open. He nuzzles my cheek as I brush past him, grabbing half my waist from behind in a gentle hug. His breath is warm and tickles one of my stubby little ears. "Thanks for coming, Newsie," he purrs, grasping rolls on either side of my hips. My real name's Nikai, but ever since someone made a joke relating my fur to newsprint, it stuck.

He leads me up a set of stairs, taking them two at a time but stopping at the top to wait for me and my bum knee. "I asked if there was an elevator and they said no," Eagan says apologetically. "I'm gonna Yelp the hell out of them after we check out."

"I didn't know that was legal," I say, trying to mask my panting.

"It's not, as far as I know. You know I'm going to look up the law when we're done." I trust him to do as much. When he sees something he doesn't think is right, he goes after it and doesn't let it go. You can imagine the drama on his Twitter feed.

I take his offered hand when I reach the landing, clearly winded. Not as much because I'm out of shape but because I have to twist my body in weird ways to avoid pinching nerves in my spine. It's busted because I'm knock-kneed, but I'm sure the extra weight doesn't help.

While not the newest motel, or the most accessible, the A-1 is surprisingly clean. The avocado-colored walls look as if there were a storeroom full of carefully-preserved paint somewhere, waiting to mask every scuff or faded surface. The crew of Mad Men would need only their cameras and lights to shoot a scene. Even the wrought-iron grates over the windows at the end of the hallways reek of austere Kennedy-era style.

Room 214 comes up on the right, its number engraved in a polished brass plate on the door. My heart does that leapy thing in my chest when Eagan swipes the key card and the little light turns green. I don't know why; I should be half-hard by now but all I am is nervous.

Shako's sprawled out on the king bed in a pair of cargo shorts that are baggy but flattering on his lean frame. His tail pounds the bed more anxiously than seductively, that little added twitch betraying his nerves. I was plenty nervous my first time, too, except my tail doesn't do much but sit on top of my ass.

"Shako, this is Nikai. Duh." The coyote scoots off the bed and reaches his paw out for mine before going in for a hug. I feel like I could crush him with little more than a deep breath. Eagan's voice once more graces my ear: "He turned eighteen three months ago." When I pull back, Shako's ears are up but powerfully pink.

"How'd you keep your hands off him for the first month?" I ask, turning to the horse. Shako's paw goes under the shelf of my ass and sits there.

"It was a struggle, believe you me, but cooler heads prevailed. Doesn't mean I wasn't tempted to take him over to Montana for a weekend."

Shako squeezes his pawful of chub. "That was Eagan's decision, not mine. I didn't care."

"That's how you get in trouble," I say, wiggling back against him. That was the quickest ice-breaking ever. I've never known Eagan to mince words, so he either has a knack for defusing awkward situations or making regular situations awkward. When it comes to sex, though, he pulls no punches. That's part of the reason I like him fucking me so much.

Pushing his lower lip into an exaggerated pout, Shako says, "Aww, I wouldn'ta told."

"Well, that's all over and done with. Now we're here, and we can get this fuck fest started." This time both the coyote and I blush. I did say subtlety wasn't Eagan's strong suit. He's not a subtle person in general. Whether that's an equine thing or just him, there's something about it that gets me hot. Maybe it's the way he peels off his shirt and drops his shorts in the space of ten seconds, revealing a jock strap that's doing a piss-poor job of hiding anything. My mouth waters from the good memories.

Eagan cups his junk lewdly. "Speaking of beer cans, you want one, Newsie?" Before I can answer Shako manages to pull me back on top of him by my belt. He groans in a good way, getting his fingers inside my shirt to run claws over my belly.

"Anything good, or just PBR like you always do?"

"What do you think?" he replies, tossing me a silver can. Same old shit beer from college, but I like it. Eagan pulls a clear bottle and chucks it over my head so it bounces off the pillows.

"Thank youuuu," says Shako from underneath me. I take the hint and move away to crack open my can, just in time to shiver as the coyote opens the bottle with his teeth.

He shrugs. "It's just what I do."

"Was that from the teeth, or from the fact he's drinking Zima?" Eagan asks, using his palm to twist off his cap.

"Probably both," I admit. "But mostly the teeth." Must be a canine thing, with their sharper equipment. No way could I do that with my blunt mouth.

Eagan comes over and sits opposite the coyote, sandwiching me between them in a pleasant panda sandwich. We shoot the shit, about what we've been doing since leaving Utah ("Having fun" is a standard answer), where we're working and the normal base-covering expected of friends with benefits who don't much care about the minutiae of the other's life but who don't want to seem like they're there purely for sex. I care about Eagan, sure, but more in a checking-Facebook way than a call-once-a-week way.

I do admit that I was jealous when I heard that Eagan had found someone. It's natural--at least it seems that way to me--that after spending numerous afternoons full of horse cock, you would miss it when it's gone, and envy the new ass that comes along that's not yours. We had our share of intimate moments too, but we both knew that ultimately it would be over after graduation.

Doesn't make it any easier, no matter how many times you tell yourself. You're still pawing off thinking about the same thing.

And now he's back here, on my left side, stroking my belly while his coyoboytoy nuzzles the side of my face. I can't help breaking into a stupid big grin. It's awkward, but I'm a hell of a lucky guy.

We stay in that lazy, easy pile for I don't know how long, forgetting the booze and instead drinking each other's scents and getting silently familiar without having to talk it over. I used to say one of the reasons I chose to be gay was because you couldn't fuck a girl just to fuck her. You had to talk and explain things, share things. Then I grew up a little and just said I decided I liked dick too much to settle for pussy.

Now I just bend over and that seems to work just fine.

"You okay?" Eagan asks with his breath full of barley, bittersweet and nostalgic over my muzzle. After a couple seconds I realize he was asking me, not Shako.

"Mmm, yeah."

"Good," the coyote says, shifting to put an arm over my chest; he gets his fingers as far as a nipple, and that's good enough. Just having them close gets me thinking of what they could do, and my dick likes those thoughts.

"Very good," the horse agrees, sliding his hand underneath Shako's arm to the opposite nipple. I'm beginning to think they've orchestrated it from the start, but Eagan was always better off the cuff than by the numbers. Things just happened to lead this way, and damned if I don't like it.

And oh, my God, they start making out in front of my face. And there goes the jealousy again, up from that place I try to keep it squashed down in. I still have a boner, sure, but what're you gonna do?

Normally you would think that a horse muzzle and a coyote muzzle--or any equid/canid combination, really--wouldn't fit together that well. But you forget how long a dog tongue is, and how thick a horse's can be. I don't think I can ever forget making out with Eagan, his face surrounding mine and his tongue practically asphyxiating me. Which was awesome, because breath play. But I don't think I ever told him that.

But their lips are touching, almost closed around each other's muzzle, and would be if my torso weren't in the way. They don't mind me lying back and watching while they go at it, and neither do I, because their hands and paws are wandering places south of my navel, both of them landing between my legs, feeling their way around each other and the tent of my dick. It would seem conspiratorial if they weren't so caught up in each other.

I want to say seeing two guys in love, willing to express that love in front of me, is what's working me up, but really it's just those fingers. I'm reminded that my paws remain useless at my sides, so I fix that quick. A convenient bulge in each paw, one considerably larger than the other, and it's a fair game again. Just this, I could do for hours.

So much for awkward. You can't really make excuses in my position. Flare to the left of me, knot to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle of a very good time.

So much for jealousy, too. Yeah, Eagan's got a boyfriend while I sit at home shooting loads under my desk between Guild Wars 2 and DayZ, but they're both here, paying more attention to me than I've had in years, and I didn't have to give them a single linden to do it. Eagan likes me, Shako likes me, and I'm an important part of their relationship. At least, for now. I'm not looking to be anyone's third, but hell, if they're okay with this, maybe it's not a onetime thing.

A little string of saliva dangles between them when they separate. Before it can break I snatch it up with my tongue, getting it all over my nose. Eagan looks at me with a queer smile.

"You dirty boy," he says. "I remember when you wouldn't even let me kiss you on the lips, closed even." An ear flickers sideways, and I'm pretty sure I was in love with him once, whether I knew it or not.

"Yeah, but I got over it." As if to prove it to himself, the horse leans in and licks the moisture off my snout, and of course it ends up with his tongue down my throat. I can taste Shako on him, and that's pretty hot, because it's fresh, and Shako's watching us while his paw works my fly open and he spreads his fingers around the base of my sheath. Suddenly I'm out in the open and down his throat, hunching up to meet him. Which doesn't take much effort. The coyote manages to turn around without my paw leaving his shorts, his tail dusting our heads at one end of its travel.

For a mostly-virgin, Shako's got good control of his muzzle. When I'm not focused on making sure my tongue isn't occupying the same space as Eagan's, the coyote is making sure his tongue is occupying every square inch of my cock. He's likely had a nice time trying to deal with Eagan's monster, and if he's any good he's lost his gag reflex by now. Even a bulldog with asthma couldn't gag on my stubby member, so I can't present much of a challenge. Maybe that's why he's practically breathing in my balls when he bottoms out.

I have to remind myself several times that I have a job to do, otherwise I would have no trouble giving the coyote my load. It'd only be my first today, but I need that stamina for the hole Eagan needs me to loosen up. I wonder again why they haven't just used toys by now, but it's the principle of the thing. They wanted to include me. And that's dandy.

"You want a go at this, Shako?" Eagan wipes his mouth with his arm while I lick my nose clean, again. My paw travels back behind the kid's balls to the cleft of his ass, pressing in as much as the shorts will let me. His tail goes up a notch and stills.

After slurping his way off my dick, he pants, "I'm having too much fun down here."

"Don't have too too much fun, or we'll never get you loose enough." One more peck on the cheek and the horse rolls off the bed, somehow shedding the jock without really making an effort. Seeing the wrinkly brown skin unroll itself down, down, down, brings back even more memories. My mouth waters at the thought of getting my lips around that mottled shaft again. My hole twitches in nostalgic response.

As my fingers search around for Shako's tail flap, I marvel at the speed with which we arrived at this point. I shouldn't give it a second thought, though; it's nothing out of the ordinary, and I can't fault Eagan for being consistent after all these years. By the time I start trying to overanalyze it I've got Shako's shorts and briefs pulled down to his knees and my thumb pressed up under his tail, making him moan in a way that raises the horse's eyebrows.

"He's never done that with me," Eagan says, mildly disappointed. "And I'm the one who rims him all the time." I shrug and press in a bit more, causing a shudder. Quickly getting over this mild speed bump, the horse crawls onto the bed straddling my left arm and aims his straw at my cheek. "Well?"

Just like a bicycle.

Who would have thought that, after all these years, I'd be able to take him as easily as I ever could? Obviously, since my head's turned, I can't go nearly as hard, but even his unflared tip is a jawbreaker. Once I get enough saliva going it's no trouble getting the first third in, barely leaving room for my tongue to move around. Which is fine, because Eagan moves it around for me, and he kind of paves the way with how much he leaks. I hope he finds an opportunity to get that thing inside me before we're through doing whatever it is we're doing. I've missed it.

I want to ask if Shako's managed to open his throat without gagging, but I can hardly breathe, let alone talk. Eagan fills my muzzle with his meat and his musk, his fingers gently holding my cheek at just the right angle for the both of us. When he's looking down at me his eyes are soft but full of predatory lust, if you can ever call a stallion predatory. Those blunt teeth of his can hurt when he bites down and means it.

His tail fluffing my head at intervals, Shako presses back needfully against my thumb, and I can feel how tight he really is. I wonder if he's ever had anything up there other than Eagan's tongue. It wouldn't surprise me if the answer was no; the coyote bucks and arches his back like some teenager experiencing it for the first time. Because that's exactly what he is. At least he's limber enough to be able to arch his back. My belly does a good job of that already.

"Fuck," Shako pants as my claw spreads his hole, followed by the first portion of my thumb. He's hot and unbelievably tight, and for a moment I imagine it's that hole around my cock instead of his muzzle, but much looser. A little voice in my head says It's never gonna work before I remind it that it'll work for me, maybe not Eagan. I'll do my best, because my best means fucking my best friend's boyfriend while he watches, and that's awesome.

Eagan pets the coyote with the hand that's not steering my chin and gives him a doting look. "Look at him," he says, "practically begging for it." Shako only flattens his ears and gives my shaft a few distracted licks. My entire thumb is surrounded by soft, pulsating warmth.

Pulling off the horse's dick, I exchange a knowing look with Eagan. I wiggle my thumb and Shako makes the cutest little puppy noises.

"Get him on his belly," he knickers. "I want that ass."

"What?" gasps the coyote. My heart sinks.

"Sooner you warm him up, the sooner I can take his cherry ass," the horse explains, slapping one of the cheeks in question. Shako yips, his tail poofing out. "Be right back." He slips off the bed, cupping the end of his dick to avoid staining the sheets or carpet, and into the bathroom.

Shako turns around, plastering his lips against mine and disengaging himself from my paw. He drives his tongue between my lips, straddling my belly and nestling my length where my thumb used to be. It fits nicely between his soft cheeks. He makes out with me almost too passionately. You would think that would be reserved for one's significant other, and though I can't complain I'm not sure how appropriate it is. I'm not sure what appropriate means, anymore. Not in this room.

"You're so hot," he says in a line straight out of a porno. My tip slides against his hole in a fashion that suggests that, were there lube down there, I would slip right in. The tease is almost as good.

"Glad you think so," I say. Then, thinking better of it: "You're pretty cute."

And he blushes, the fucker. Has he done anything with Eagan yet?

We hear the bathroom door click open and we pull apart, leaving our respective whiskers coated in saliva.

"Bad," says Eagan around the foil of a condom wrapper. Shako wiggles his ass against my crotch while the horse feels down between my legs, and up towards the coyote's hole. "Good."

I give him my best grin while trying to avoid looking at the square in the horse's teeth. "It's not going in without lube, that's for sure."

"It's not going in without one of these either." Eagan takes the condom and twirls it between his fingers. I can't help but be disappointed, but I can't show it. He's my friend, and honestly, I should have seen it coming. It's not the first time a playmate has gone safe on me.

It's one of those inelegant liabilities that come with open relationships, and one of those things you just accept without really talking about it. A fuck buddy gets a boyfriend and suddenly it's bareback only between them, that's natural, and you respect it without questioning. An unattached friend suddenly rubbers up and you're concerned, sure, but at the same time you know he's got a good reason and he respects you enough to protect you. Maybe he just doesn't want the cleanup that time.

But do you ever just ask, "Hey, why the sudden protection?" Talk about a buzz kill.

So I play the mellow card like I always do. "Aww, I thought we were friends," I lilt half-jokingly, humping up under Shako's tail.

Eagan brings out a bottle of that super-messy lube that already looks like cum and applies a bit to me and the rest to the coyote. I watch him rip the foil with his teeth and spit that portion off to the side. His fingers are eager and unceremonious as he rolls the latex down my shaft, and it still feels good, if unnecessary.

"Nik, we're still good. I just don't trust you." He's still smiling.

"What?" I ask, trying not to sound incredulous. Even Shako looks mildly annoyed.

The horse grabs my length and pumps it a few times in that quick-jerk way that always gets me off in no time. "You're a hair trigger, panda. You'll get in that hole and blast off before I can claim it. You can do whatever you want after, I don't care. We good." He bro-fists me and pushes down on Shako's rump. Heat spreads open around my cockhead.

For having just my thumb in him thus far, the coyote slides down easily and makes little noise, his length leaving dabs of pre here and there on my lower belly. I know what that lube can do; if it's good enough in the doctor's office, it's good enough anywhere. Plus, I'm not the biggest guy in the dick department.

Shako balances himself on top of me, which doesn't require much in the way of talent. He just needs to lean forward and grab some fat, using his hips to control the action. Eagan can't see the look he's giving me, though, a combination of abandon and craftiness. Not quite sure what to make of it, I give him my best sultry look and grip his hips while I push up a few times.

"That was easier than I thought," Eagan muses, one of his ears flickering perpendicular to the other, as if irritated by an invisible fly. I can see the jealousy on his face even though he tries to hide it. I've seen that look before, and it's the look a guy gets when he's too big for his own good. Even I, with my seemingly endless rump capacity, had trouble with it once upon a time. Before we knew I was able to take it, Eagan looked like this.

And then I opened up, and that problem went out the window.

Besides, with the rubber in the way the coyote will still be nice and virgin and untouched for the main event. I've always considered myself kind of a "gateway cock": easy to handle, but leaving you wanting more.

Shako seems to be enjoying his first fuck ever. I still find it hard to believe he's never done anything, especially at his age and with his personality. I've known him less than an hour but he's a natural. None of that "Be gentle" stuff. Even if he is lying we'll never know. Eventually the coyote leans forward and hunkers down, supporting himself on his knees and spreading further. Eagan lets out an appreciative gasp and bends down to watch, and I oblige by going hard at the hole. Now would be a good time to start filming for XTube, but I'm not about to spoil the moment by asking Eagan to hold my phone under us for the next half hour.

"You can go faster if you want," pants the coyote into my ear, his breath a mixture of spearmint and alcohol. My hips are already burning from the strain, so I hold him up while I pull out.

"I have a better idea."

Eagan grins while I get myself to a sitting position. "Tired already? I don't remember you being such a puss in college." He's kneeling on the bed, stroking himself about his medial ring, and a shudder runs down my spine. I want to ask for it, but that would seem desperate. Even if I am, I don't want to seem it.

"Since when did you ever see me top in college?" I ask while pushing Shako's head down into the pillows and pulling his willing rump up to meet my groin. His tail arches over his back and stays there, stiffly, awaiting my reentry. I cup his balls, rolling each one in my fingers, their swollen heft noticeable. That's what they like to say in the stories, though in practice you'd be hard pressed to tell a full ballsac from an empty one. Still, the coyote moans all the same.

"You found the spot now," says the horse. "And no, I never saw you top in college. I just always thought those tree trunks you call legs wouldn't tire out so easy."

Placing a paw on his flat stomach, I retort. "You wanna try to carry around my weight, be my guest." I'm serious, but I'm chuckling by the end of the sentence, realizing as I turn back to Shako that I've lost most of my hard-on despite the hotness of it all. The condom sits on it, wrinkled like a molted skin. It wasn't even that tight to begin with. I grab the base and start flogging myself, hoping I haven't lost it for good. When that doesn't work, I sidle up behind Shako and slap it on his hole. It's not that I'm not horny, it's that I'm thinking about the damn rubber.

It's not too long before Eagan catches on. "Need more lube?" I turn to him, sheepishly holding my two flaccid inches between my fingers. I can't even look at his eleven, I'm so embarrassed. Pumping some into his hand, he gives me the lube and spreads it on himself while I reapply, hoping for the best. Not even thinking about pounding that tight hole is enough to elicit even a twitch. Suddenly I'm more self-conscious than I've been in years, and I don't know why.

After a few awkward minutes (it's pretty rare when one doesn't come up during sex) I give up and run my clean paw over my muzzle. I don't want to look as exasperated as I feel, but I've never been good at covering my expressions. Eagan catches on right away, coming up behind me and putting his hand between my legs. It feels damn good after all this time. I mean, a cock in my mouth is one thing, but I forgot the simple touches he used to use.

Shako waits patiently, wiggling his ass, ostensibly to coax my dick to hardness. But it's nowhere near as effective as the stallion's hard body up against mine. It brings back memories, all of them nice, and his hardness up against my tail is a promise I hope he means to keep.

"Let's get you going again," he says, his voice all rumble, and his fingers encircle me, sloughing off the condom. I'm amazed he can even reach halfway around my waist, but there he is, his thick nails smooth and cool and his grip strong enough to jerk me back to life. Pressing his massive head against my hole doesn't hurt, either. He spreads me open, but not enough to pop in, just enough to make me whine back at him.

"Shh." He slides the condom--now a snug fit--back on, pushing me forward while lining me up with Shako's hole. Absolutely no resistance later, I'm buried. A few moments more, after some struggling, Eagan breaches me and most of his length follows. I'm home. I'd honestly forgotten how good that felt. I briefly wonder if I'll wake up tomorrow pining for Eagan, but I can't worry about that now.

This sandwich would be impossible if not for Eagan, who has inches to spare. It allows me the freedom to hump the coyote using the horse's motion drive to us all forward and back in one big man-pile.

"Feeling good?" he asks. We both nod. "Good." The burn under my tail settles into a dull ache now that the only texture back there is the subtle bump of his ring sliding past my hole. I grasp each of the coyote's hips and let Eagan push me into Shako, willing filling that I am.

Though I can't feel much aside from Shako's grip, the sliding at least keeps me hard. I don't expect to come, even with the horse behind me, but the coyote sounds like he's pleased. His right paw disappears below his belly and then his balls are bouncing against mine. Definitely gay. Eagan's are so large that he doesn't even need to try. He goes for a couple more inches, whinnying softly, pinning me down against his new boyfriend. I think I will miss him tomorrow.

Shako twitches around me, his fingers finding my sac and pulling it against his. I enjoy the soft creamy fur and loose skin rolling around against my own, and his claws on either side of my shaft, right at the base, pulling me in whenever Eagan thrusts behind us. I don't have to do anything but ride the waves and listen to the stereo sounds of sex all around me.

I allow myself to get lost in the sensation, to try and get in the moment of what's actually happening rather than think about the mechanics of it all. I'm in between two hot guys, one a virgin and the other a fucking horse, who consider me cool enough to warrant joining in on their fun. And I'm not complaining one bit. At the moment I can't even talk.

It doesn't dawn on me that something's off until I feel Shako's fingers halfway up my shaft. Which feels good, but it shouldn't feel that good. But whatever he's doing, he's more than welcome to keep it up. I can't do much aside from keep myself inside him and keep Eagan inside me--one definitely less of a challenge than the other.

Maybe I might come after all.

Shako shifts and makes a ring around my cock, his pads slick from the condom and lube. The thing must be bunching up in the middle, making folds and ridges that add sensation. It wouldn't be new to a stub-dick like me. But the coyote's grip isn't around a barrier, I can tell that much. I'm barely inside him, but he makes up for it by pawing the rest of me as it withdraws. If he keeps it up, I'll pop out and ruin the moment with my awkward fumbling.

Which is exactly what I do on the next thrust, with Shako pushing hard against my belly for some reason. I groan, and I don't mean to act like a child, but it was difficult enough just getting in there.

"You fall out?" Eagan asks, bending over for some short jabs of his hips. I must be leaking like a fountain from the prostate massage.

Before I can answer, Shako raises his head and offers a curt, "Yeah, I got it." He has it, all right, stroking me like a pro with his entire fist, the condom a loose, useless sleeve by this point. We're gonna have to separate and fumble around again.

"Gimme a sec." I expect him to let go of me and search, but I can't tell what the hell he's doing. Eagan holds my hips, languidly sloshing four inches of himself back and forth under my tail, which is fine, since I couldn't go soft with all that attention on my button.

Shako smoothes the condom down to my sheath like a used balloon. I want to tell him it'll never stay on, but not while his ears are flat like that. Claws on my shaft make me jump, one sliding forward where I feel a pull and a snap. Looking around, I don't spot any more rubbers within reaching distance. At this point giving up and just disengaging for a minute or two would be less trouble than the coyote's rigmarole.

He just pulls on my dick, though, guiding it back up between his cheeks so I can feel the short fuzz there. Finally, we're back to it, somehow. Eagan pushes from behind and I slip through shako's fingers and back into the warmth. Halfway in, a wave of sensation rolls down my length like a second sheath, and realization lights up my senses like a Christmas tree. Looking over his shoulder, the coyote gives me a look that tells me he knows I know. My ears catch fire, my claws threatening to tear holes in his hips.

Oh, shit.

I look for his left paw to move, to find another wrapper somewhere. I wait for him to let me go, expect to surf that awkward pause, but it never comes. I feel Eagan's teeth on my neck, blunt but gentle, and I stare at the back of Shako's head while the stallion unwittingly helps fuck my bare cock into his boyfriend.

I had no idea how worked up I was. From the cry I make, you'd think I was a virgin too. Shako's fingers make sure I'm in and I stay in and I can't believe what he just did.

"Ready?" asks Eagan.

I can't say a damn thing.

"Go for it." Shako pushes back, clamps down near my balls. He didn't make a mistake. He didn't have an accident. He's not going to let go. This isn't even some hot role play we all agreed upon before I showed up. This is the real deal, and stopping it would only end up spoiling it for all of us.

Eagan won't mind, because he's never going to find out.

"You about ready to blow?" the stallion asks, warm oaty breath on my cheek. Shako clenches and it's over for me. My balls draw up and begin to tingle, and I whimper like a little girl.

"Come on..." The coyote trembles under my weight, adding to the sensation. Vaguely, the thought of just pushing back and painting his rump enters my mind, but the other brain won't let my arms move. What it does is keep me prone so Eagan can flare up just at the right spot, just like he used to at college. He's playing me like a drum, like he always did. I'd be touched that he remembered, if I weren't growling while my cum filled Shako's tight ass instead of the tip of a condom.

Stars dance in my vision and I let the stallion do the humping for both of us. I'm dimly aware of my own seed sloshing around my length, hot and slick and unmistakable.

"Puppy wanted that, did he?" Eagan asks the coyote, to which Shako nods.

"Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh!"

"Good boy. It's been fun, Newsie, but it's about that time, now that you've warmed him up."

"So warm," says the coyote, wiggling his rear and dislodging me while the horse withdraws from behind. My arms and legs ache from the strain, but I'm oddly invigorated, if slightly horrified when I see a thick streamer of white run from Shako's hole down along the seam of his sac. He reaches back and swipes his finger over it, putting the evidence to his muzzle and licking it off. Jesus Christ, the kid's a slut.

I palm the dead rubber off, sneaking it behind the hip out of Eagan's sight as the horse rolls Shako onto his back, kneeing his legs open while slapping that floppy phallus to and fro. He doesn't even look over to confirm my shot load, but the coyote's yellow eyes never seem to leave me. Neither does his lazy grin, not even when Eagan sinks in with some difficulty and no dearth of moaning.

"Aw, God, that was easier than I thought." Pushing Shako's knees to his chest, the stallion watches the instant porno between his legs. "You sure my dick didn't go right through you and into him?" What a retarded thing to say, but it's so him.

I should feel guilty, lying there watching my friend fucking my cum as deep into his boyfriend as he can get. But when Eagan closes his eyes the coyote's paw finds my side and he runs his claws along the border between my white and black fur. His face is contorted into an expression that doesn't translate as pleasure. He seems to be having trouble breathing, like I first did when all Eagan's cock did was make me bleed. I take his paw when he grasps for mine, and though Shako loosens up and even ends up pawing himself by the end, I feel every tense moment through his fingers. I get half-hard watching them, though, which should make me feel worse but somehow I don't.

I'm too busy wishing I was the one getting bred to think about it. The double explosions of musk from their side of the bed make me dizzy, and jealous, and horny.

"How's it feel to finally get bred? Worth the wait?" Eagan asks, touching snouts.

"Mmm, yeah," purrs Shako, reaching over to caress my cheek. "Glad he went first."

"Told you it was the way to go." A wet schlock accompanies his withdrawal. "Newsie's a great starter dick." Then Eagan clops off to the bathroom, his flagging erection leading the way. Conflict sets in almost as soon as the door closes.

It gets worse when Shako rolls over and starts making out with me again. As nice as it is having his thin body pressed against mine, his sticky sheath up against my navel, his eager tongue all up in my whiskers, I have to cut him off.

"We shouldn't be doing this." God, I feel old.

"Thanks," says Shako while rubbing my belly. Just like Eagan used to do after we fucked.

"You shouldn't even have done that. What you did." I can't even bring myself to say it, but he understands plenty.

He laces his fingers behind his head and leans back against the pillow, smelling strongly of horse. "All I wanted was for the first time to feel good." He smiles; it would be wistful if it didn't look so crafty.

"You didn't have to do what you did. That's not fair to Eagan."

Throwing me a petulant look, he says, "I don't think he'd care." Remembering how Eagan didn't even kiss him before showering, I can't really judge one way or the other. He takes my non-answer as a tacit yes. "I just wanted the first one to be good. If I hadn't done it, it wouldn't have been the first. It's okay if you don't understand."

But I do understand. I watched his face while Eagan had a field day on his ass. I watched him struggle to keep his ears forward. And I realize that he's not as much a slut as he might just be deprived of something the horse thinks he's giving in spades.

Eagan hasn't changed a bit. I can't tell whom I pity more.

It's partly out of pity that I don't protest when Shako leans back over to snuggle against me. Or when he lowers his head to my sheath and coaxes me out again. Or when he hilts me between his molars, and nurses. I don't encourage him by holding his head, but I certainly don't move.

He takes his time and enjoys a leisurely pace, the arc of his grey tail high and slow above us. It's a slow desperation with which he curls his tongue around my shaft and over the tip, reading my hips and breaths as instructions for honing his technique. How many times has he succeeded in getting past Eagan's flare? Not even my fat muzzle is that good for long, and I've hooked up with pachyderms before.

We're past the point of justification and into futile territory. And Shako's really good at sucking dick; so good, in fact, that he reads my balls and starts edging me until I'm silently begging for Eagan to get out of the shower. As soon as the water stops the coyote tugs on my sac and shoves me over the edge and into a shuddering, gasping second round that leaves me trembling and with a pawful of his ass, which I didn't know I'd been holding.

Was it the danger of being caught that got me off so quick? Not really. Shako's miracle muzzle? Partly. As the horse comes back out into the room surrounded by a cloud of steam, it all goes back to pity. I just can't decide for whom. I can't even tell if any of it was wrong. Am I a bad person?

Is any of us a good person?

"Fuckin' hot water," Eagan says while toweling off the end of his mane, bent over at the foot of the bed. "Better than my apartment, and that shit burns. Who's next?"

"I can go with him," Shako says.

"That's okay," I defer right away. "Not enough room with me in there." I'm sure there's plenty of room, but I don't think I can take any more attention right now.

"Aww, poor panda." Eagan gives me a noogie, making me giggle in spite of myself. More memories. Shako trots off to the shower, licking his lips while throwing me a glance, to which the horse is oblivious. I paid more attention when we were fuck buddies. I'm more convinced than ever they won't last. "You hungry?" he shouts to the bathroom.

"Not really. I could nibble, though," Shako shouts back over the spray.

Eagan pulls his jock back on, threading his tail through. "I know you could eat, right?"

"You know me too well." I let out a post-coital yawn of Zen-like proportions.

I feel his hand on my shoulder and open my eyes. He's smiling down at me.

"Thanks for helping me out. I knew I could count on you in a pinch." And if this had been a baseball game instead of a threesome, that would mean something. Whatever tender moment he'd been going for never arrived. "What're you hungry for?"

"Anything, really. I have no scruples." I find it way too easy to dismiss whatever my conscience has to say about that. The little panda inside my head is pretty quiet as it is.

8/27/12-3/3/13