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The lead jock of the entire college strutted the halls like a peacock. The night before, he'd won a game for his team, just like he did at every game. Like a regular celebrity, he shook hands and signed autographs, always an example of charm and friendliness. It was foolish to assume he didn't enjoy all of the attention; of course he did. A few years of playing football as a near-prodigy left him with an inflated ego, but it was one he expertly kept in check. Only a handful of people really knew how self-centered and controlling he could be, but only one in particular felt the full weight of it.

Stripes strode into the cafeteria, smoothly putting one foot in front of the other, not even slightly betraying the fact that he was on a booty call. He saw the pretty, blonde hair from behind, that distinctive braid, the way it all shimmered in the overbearing fluorescent lights. He had to fight not to smirk when something occurred to him; he was more familiar with that sissy from behind. What was a problem, however, was seated just beside his target, leaning fondly against the fox-raccoon he not-so-affectionately called bitch. The fox dated a fat raccoon, a cute thing who majored in English, and though Stripes didn't like the chubby boys, he had to admit that the fuzzy burglar had a pretty face. The raccoon (whom the zebra learned was named Adam) knew the public side of the jock; the friendly, charming quarterback that the whole campus loved, a far cry from the domineering and oversexed monster his boyfriend was familiar with. In fact, the entire relationship was a mystery to the raccoon, a filthy affair imposed by the jock, but it was the tod's own fault for pursuing that chubby 'coon after he became Stripes' part-time sex toy.

As much as Stripes imposed his will on the twink of a fox, he had agreed to a caveat in their loosely-defined relationship; it stayed private, especially from the fox's boyfriend, but it didn't stop him from buddying up to the raccoon, and from teasing the vulpine on a whim. Now was one such occasion, and like a big brother, Stripes stood behind the two lovers, clutching a handful of shoulder on each. "Hey Adam, Desmond. What're you two lovebirds up to, eh?" He talked with a wide grin, leaning on the fox when he spoke, putting almost all of his weight on the foxcoon's shoulder, just one of the little ways he asserted himself. "Eating dinner," Desmond said curtly, turning to look at the zebra. In just one moment of eye contact, Stripes assured the bitch that his presence was desired, but as soon as Adam turned to smile, the jock looked absolutely friendly, with no traces of malice or sexuality on his features.

"Aw, eating dinner, being all cute and romantic?" Stripes teased, ruffling up the foxcoon's meticulously groomed hair, which he knew for a fact the fox spent hours brushing and washing. "Yep, we're spending time together," Adam purred, nuzzling against Desmond. The twink genuinely smiled, and he gave the fat raccoon a kiss on the nose. "Mmhm... So, uh, what did you need, Stripes...?" Desmond asked, looking at the jock with an expression that, to Adam, simply looked timid, common for a nerd, but Stripes knew what it meant: please, don't do this right now. Too bad, foxy.

"Oh, just checking up on my favorite nerd and his boyfriend, that's all. Come on, you know I make my rounds on all my really close friends. I gotta know if someone's been stuffin' you in lockers or something, Dez," he said, shooting the tod a devious grin. Desmond was a sharp creature, though, and with a morose tone, he said "I really doubt it's just that." Adam was oblivious to the politics at hand, or just extraordinarily naive. "You always see right through me, foxy," Stripes said in a different inflection, choosing one that was low, almost turning his words into a warning. Then, cheerful and friendly, "I kinda hoped you'd be my study buddy tonight. Let's face it, you're a lot smarter than a big, dumb jock like me. What do you say?"

Nice loaded question, Desmond thought, glancing at Adam, who had gone back to eating his meal, maintaining that pudgy, jiggly butt the fox liked fucking, good boy. Turning back to the zebra, he spoke carefully and evenly, taking great care in choosing his words. "Stripes, Adam and I were going to catch a movie tonight. Can't I help you tomorrow?" No longer needing to hide his true expressions from the raccoon, Stripes put on that malicious grin of his; it was the one he wore when Desmond first came to the locker room, the encounter their whole affair snowballed from. His eyes were intense and lewd, gazing into the fox's own eyes, drilling holes through them, all the way out the back of his skull; it made Desmond shudder. Adam didn't notice.

"Dezzy," Stripes started, still sounding cheerful and friendly, "I really need to pass the tests I've got coming up. You don't wanna let me down, do you, buddy?" He squeezed down tightly on the twink's shoulder, just enough to cause him pain, and he knew the sissy fox loved those roundabout games of cat and mouse as much as he did. Much smarter than he looked, Stripes even had a theory that Desmond dated Adam just for an extra element of excitement, but who was he to judge if the fox got off on going behind some sweet boy's back?

Adam sighed, answering before Desmond could. "Desmond," he started, and from the tone, Desmond was just sure the raccoon knew what was going on. "Our date can wait. Movies don't just run for one night, you know? But if you can help someone keep from failing a class, do it. Besides..." Adam trailed off, smiling at the vulpine, nosing up under his chin. "I think it's really attractive that you sacrifice so much to go help him whenever he asks. You're a true friend." Desmond looked away and grunted, and it took every ounce of control Stripes had not to laugh. Adam just took the fox's reaction as modesty, and he pulled him back, squeezing him tight, smooching him on the lips. "You go help your friend, sweetheart. I'll find something to do, don't worry."

Never in danger of laying it on too thin, Stripes squeezed the raccoon and even went so far as to kiss his cheek. "Aw, that's adorable! Thanks for letting me borrow him, Adam. I'll pay you guys back for this, trust me. Hey! How's about dinner this weekend? My treat!" Stripes spoke with a broad smile, one that Desmond knew was fabricated, but Adam giggled shyly, speaking for the two of them. "I don't know..." Stripes prodded him verbally, patting his shoulder. "I'd be offended if you didn't. C'mon." The fox and raccoon looked at one another, and Desmond gave in with a shrug. As much reason as he had to believe Stripes just wanted to spend an entire evening mortifying him and trying to talk him into a blowjob in the mens' room, he couldn't find even a flimsy excuse Adam would believe. "Great! I'll let you guys know. Now, uh, Dez. C'mon."

Desmond turned to Adam and kissed him on the lips, then mumbled "I love you." Adam smiled, returning the gesture and the affection. "I love you too, Desmond. Alright, Stripes, he's all yours! Don't be afraid to get rough, you know how stubborn he is," Adam playfully remarked, and the fox just groaned to himself at the painfully appropriate choice of words, and like a condemned man, he walked with the zebra. Turning back to his plate, Adam thought for just a moment, wondering if, just maybe... No... Desmond wouldn't lie about that; they were just really close friends.

"You're a monster," Desmond mumbled, walking alongside the zebra. In a confidential voice, Stripes said "And you're a cheating, lying slut. I can call names too, foxy. Besides," he said, jabbing the fox in the side with a finger, "is that any way to treat your true friend, Dezzy?" Desmond hissed venomously in response, but Stripes never put much faith in the twink's threats and warnings. For what would soon be exactly a year, Desmond had been protesting and bitching, but he always gave in no matter what; as far as Stripes was concerned, it was part of the act, part of the game they played. "Here's my room. Get in there and start studying your clothes off, foxbitch," Stripes sneered, muscling him past the threshold.

As the foxcoon unbuttoned his shirt, Stripes shut and locked the door. Sliding the shirt down his shoulders and off his body, Desmond said "You know, maybe I wanted to spend my night with Adam instead of underneath you, Stripes," he growled, looking over his shoulder at the zebra. Stripes pressed up against the twink, dry humping him, huffing into one of those perked, purple ears, grabbing his glasses, tossing them harmlessly on the bed. He didn't even acknowledge the bitching, and the more he rubbed and groped on the shirtless fox, the less he protested. All bitching and half-hearted squirming ended, and he closed his eyes, pressing back into the zebra. Stripes couldn't stop himself from grinning while lazily half-closing his eyes, and his fingertips traced the subtle lines and creases of the slender, inoffensive, nearly female body against his own.

"See... You bitch and complain, you piss and moan, and yet I start feeling you up, and you just give right in... Stuff the act, Dez... You're my bitch, and you wanna stay that way." Desmond was incriminatingly silent, making no attempt to defend himself, because he knew every word hit the nail on the head. "Just shut up," Desmond growled, and Stripes rested his long muzzle between the tod's ears, which reflexively flattened out. He could tell the zebra had a smart reply coming, but didn't give him time for it; "...And fuck me. Hurry up."

The zebra snickered and clicked his teeth, threatening to nip one of those submissive ears, but he did just that before the threat even sank in, loving the surprised squeak his foxbitch made. "Now that's cute, you're trying to make it sound like you want me to just get it over with, like you don't enjoy it when you're squirming around and you can't even figure out how to get words to come out of your pretty face, when all you want is me, deeper, harder..." Stripes hissed the last word, his voice so quiet that Desmond only heard it because the jock's lips were actually pushed into his ear. Desmond opened his eyes, looking at the adjacent closet door, with a body mirror taking up almost the entirety of its' surface. All he could see in it was his own feminine body, totally eclipsed by the jock's comparatively enormous frame, while those huge, striped arms covered much of his chest. You cheap slut, you. Give it up.

In utter agitation and arousal, Desmond made a drawn-out, desperate noise, a very feline mrowl that concisely summed up how he felt. "Fuck, I hate you," he grunted afterwards, and Stripes responded in kind. "But you love my big, black horsey dick, foxbitch. In your mouth... Up your ass... Rubbing all over your face and in that blonde bimbo bitch hair of yours." Desmond blushed brighter with every word, and Stripes looked him in the eyes through the mirror, which led the fox to hide his face in a far too late display of bashful shame. Stripes held a dominion over Desmond unlike any he held over the other men he fucked; Desmond was the only one who fought back and made an almost theatrical affair out of the resistance, and it was stimulating for both the predator and the prey. Stripes was no psychologist, but he was fairly sure that Desmond had a need to be commanded and abused, though he never asked if it was true, and he didn't intend to. Getting involved in that was a slope he didn't want to slide down, but being emotionally cruel and callous for his bitch's enjoyment was family-friendly fun.

Stripes slid his molesting paws down the vulpine's chest and across his smooth stomach, absently dipping a fingertip into his navel as he passed it. When his strong hands were near Desmond's fly, he tugged the zipper down, then undid the button, and he let those pants fall to the floor. It left the fox wearing only underwear, if you could call it that. He was wearing a thong that had just enough material to be classified as clothing, but the purpose of such a tiny article was clear after Stripes realized just how thick and pronounced the twink's sheath and balls looked in it. He sneered as he trailed a fingertip along the outline of Desmond's genitals, whispering into his ear again, putting to use the tone he reserved only for his best teasing and derision. "Cute underwear, bitch... Trying to make it look like you actually have a dick, huh? That's pretty smart even for a nerd like you, Dez," he said in a backhanded compliment, sliding his fingers between the thin, green material and the twink's fur. Desmond was stoic as the zebra possessively undressed him, looking not at the mirror, but a nondescript wall of the room. No matter how mysterious and uninterested he tried to look, however, he couldn't keep from groaning when the jock firmly took hold of his furry, warm scrotum and squeezed on it, coming to the edge of pain, but he knew exactly where the line was, taking great care not to cross it.

Desmond trembled with a low moan, and as he closed his eyes, he forced his hips back against the jock's. Stripes hadn't yet shed a single piece of clothing, and so he just slowly teased the fox called bitch, coaxing out the twink's pink doggy dick. As he slid his large paw up from the foxcoon's balls and clutched that bulging sheath, the tod was silent, but he tensed, his breathing quickened; Stripes knew. He felt it and heard it, and he was more familiar with the fox's erotic nuances than anybody on campus, even Adam. The zebra rudely snuffled one of the fox's ears, and then he whispered into it again, his voice more sinister than ever before: "You're getting hard; I'm turning you on, bitch... But you're still trying to act like you don't want it... I may never understand why you act so difficult, but damned if I don't like it."

Desmond's pink shaft slid from one warmth into another, exiting the warm, humid confines of its' sheath just to be enveloped in the zebra's paw. Stripes groped idly upon the stiffened flesh, letting the musky pre soak into his fur. Behind him, Desmond felt the stallion's erecting shaft as it pushed against and easily stretched the lycra gym shorts he was wearing. The way it so effortlessly defied the fabric, Desmond knew there was no jock strap there, no musky underwear he'd wind up sucking on that night.

Stripes' paws slid off the tod's body and came to rest on his own shorts. Still pressing himself tight to the fox, he slid them down, letting Desmond feel the fabric drag along his body, slowly revealing an enormous equestrian cock. With those flexible, breathable shorts clinging to his knees, the jock eased his swollen dick against his bitch's ass, hotdogging that warm, furry crack, his shaft just long enough that his balls kissed up to Desmond's own, and the flared, dripping tip of his manhood rubbed against the underside of the sissy fox's tail base. Desmond shivered as though he'd been dipped in a tub of icewater, squeezing his taut cheeks around the zebra's endowment, and Stripes, ever the domineering asshole, snuffled and gnawed in and on one of the fox's tender ears. "Heh, there... A nice footlong for your buns, eh bitch?"

Desmond groaned not from any physical sensation, but the jock's horrible joke. Somehow, Stripes knew that's what it was; "Yeah, yeah, I'm no comedian," he grunted, and as if to shift the fox's attention, he started to slowly grind into the vulpine's ass crack, resting his muzzle between the fox's ears again. Both of his big, powerful paws clutched the tod's chest arbitrarily, gripping him under his armpits. "Tell me something, foxy," Stripes growled, squeezing the twink's body. Desmond squeaked, then laid his paws over the jock's. "Yeah?" Closing his eyes, pushing his flare intently against Desmond's puckered, quivering tail hole, he asked: "You ever think of tellin' your boyfriend about us?"

Desmond cringed, both from the question and the feel of the jock's cock against his snug tail hole, an orifice that, no matter how much Stripes fucked it, never seemed to loosen. "Um... No, not really," Desmond mumbled, looking intently at the mirror, at the zebra's yet impassive face. His straight expression started to split into an involuntary grin as he pushed his hips forward, spreading that tight, unyielding asshole open, slowly burying his swollen, oozing manhood in that deep, snug warmth he occasionally referred to as Desmond's pussy, if he felt particularly mean. "Yeah, didn't think so... It makes your cock extra fucking hard if you know he's totally unaware of the shit we do. Fuck, that time he called me while you were sucking my dick, I could've sworn you started sucking harder..."

"Sh-shut up! Shut the fuck up, I mean it!" Desmond snapped, his eyes wide and agitated, his expression pulled tight not from anger, but absolute rage. "You shut the fuck up, bitch, you're just hostile 'cause I'm right," Stripes hissed, "punishing" the bitch with a sharp buck of his hips, forcing in four and a half inches in one agonizing second. Though the tod howled with pain, Stripes could see the fox's cock in the mirror, harder than ever before, squirting literal wads of precum. Grinning at this observation, Stripes reached down and clutched the twink's shaft, pumping it in his grip while he pounded home the last few inches of his own dick, shoving it into the fox like hammering a nail, forcing in great lengths of it in just three more thrusts of his hips. Stripes licked his lips, looking upon the huffing, whimpering, but deeply aroused fox, taking in his prostrate body in the mirror. His eyes were shut, and though his face still looked angry, he wasn't talking. If there was one constant in the universe, Stripes sometimes pondered, it was Desmond's submission.

Neither the jock nor the nerd had anything else to say that wasn't an animalistic throwback. Stripes started to nail the twink with ferocity that was uncommon even for him, the kind of vicious pace he usually didn't match until he was about to get his rocks off, but he had a good reason; Desmond had been bad, and there was that unspoken master-pet relationship again. Desmond took his ruthless assfucking exactly the way Stripes expected him to; he whimpered, groaned, and panted like an absolute buttbitch, trying his damndest to make it sound like he didn't enjoy it, but he was living the vulpine dream. The only thing that would've made it better was a dick in his mouth, and one in each hand; at least, that's what Stripes visualized, and the more he visualized it, the more he wanted to see it... But he filed that little idea away for later.

Stripes pumped the fox's cock as hard as he could, abusing that pretty pink pecker in his powerful grip, at the same time trying to shove the fist-sized flare of his horse cock up and out of the twink's mouth. He knew it was physically impossible, but that didn't stop the zebra from slamming up into the fox with every ounce of his strength. It was a miracle that the zebra wasn't bruising his bitch's ass or cock, but it wasn't for a lack of trying. Still without words, Stripes felt his climax sneaking up on him, the price to pay for so savagely fucking the fox; without warning for Desmond, Stripes hunkered down on the sissy, squeezing him painfully tight with one arm, doing the same to the tod's cock, and his enormous, throbbing dick twitched and spasmed inside the twink as it shot rope after rope of heavy horse semen, easily a few pints of it, filling his bitch with hundreds of thousands of his little would-be Stripes Juniors.

The fox bit his lip, clenching with great involuntary force as the zebra's seed filled his snug, warm ass, coating his walls like a sloppy form of expressionist painting. "Ah, god, god_damn_ it...! Fuck... Mmm...!" Stripes couldn't keep the grin off his face while he listened to the fox moan, whine, and coo to him, but he wasn't quite done. Firmly, he pushed Desmond to lie face-down in the carpet, and that's when he slid his manhood free of the foxcoon, a sensation that made the bitch squirm and grunt. Like a corked bottle of champagne, the zebra's spent semen gushed out the moment that thick, flared fist popped free, absolutely saturating the vulpine's ass and balls, and it even soaked into the carpet beneath. Desmond shivered, and despite his aching, knotted cock, he closed his eyes and relaxed against the carpet. "Good bitch, Dez... Real good," Stripes growled, smacking the tod's ass, licking his lips at the sight of his handiwork, his slut's gaping, broken asshole, dripping with discarded jism. "Now get the fuck out of here. I'll see you Saturday. Don't be late."

Desmond and Adam slipped into the backseat of Stripes' car, a handsome, only lightly used sedan, a modest vehicle, not at all the kind of thing a future megamillionare sports star would be expected to drive. Desmond was silent, but Adam was friendlier, as he often was. "Hey, Stripes," he beamed, looking at the jock's eyes in the rear-view mirror. They hadn't yet left, and with the car idling, Stripes leaned around the seat, looking at the couple. His smile was reserved; Desmond thought the zebra realized he'd look evil with a bigger smile. "Hey there, Adam. You look good tonight. What's wrong with you, Dez? Huh? Figured you'd be glad," he said, reaching back to give him a jab in the shoulder. "Your studying really helped me out." Hanging on to his title of Most Naive Person on Campus, Adam mistook Desmond's blush and cringe as yet more modesty, and he giggled wildly, hugging the fox, squeezing him tightly, during which the zebra started to drive. "Aw, Desmond... You're such a sweet, helpful person, I'm so lucky to have you," the fat raccoon purred.

In the slow stop and go of town, Stripes could easily keep an eye on the two of them in the mirror, which he did, while wearing a grin reserved for watching dirty movies. "Please don't say that, Adam," Desmond whined, but the raccoon was adamant. He kissed the foxcoon, then closed his eyes, nuzzling against his skinny boyfriend. "You're so modest, you know that? I've never met anyone else quite like you... What about you, Stripes?" He asked, still squeezing the tod close, but he turned his head so he at least looked towards the zebra. Stripes didn't look back as he answered. "I gotta agree with you there, Desmond's a real catch, I tell you that. Yeah, it's too bad I didn't make a move on him when I had the chance, you know?" Adam grinned, and Stripes managed to catch it; he'd never seen an expression like that on him. Desmond had, however, and it was one of his favorites; it was the raccoon's I'm about to suck your cock face. "Yeah," Adam started, nibbling the twink's neck, "he's all mine..."

Before Stripes could start any truly mortifying conversations, they pulled up outside of a steakhouse, one that advertised, among other things, an all-you-can-eat buffet and drinks. Good, booze will help me survive this, Desmond thought, first out of the car. He and Adam went to the doors holding hands, and neither of them were ashamed or afraid. Even as much of a bastard as he was, Desmond knew the wall-of-muscle jock wouldn't let anybody lay a hand on them. Inside, they got a table for three, and they all started with the same dish; a steak with mushrooms and a baked potato. Beers for Desmond and Stripes, and a Coke for the raccoon.

Desmond was content to spend the evening drinking in silence, and once Adam got started on his steak, he knew the raccoon probably wouldn't acknowledge anything besides food. And so the art of conversation fell on Stripes' broad shoulders, but he actually disappointed the fox; his choice of subjects was very much benign. All small talk, impersonal things better suited to strangers in an elevator, and not at all the kind of things he expected from Stripes in such a situation. However, wish and you shall receive. "So Adam," he asked in between bites of his steak, "how did you meet Dez?" The raccoon looked up from his steak, and, in what was not at all a coincidence, Desmond chugged the rest of his beer. "It's kinda silly..." He mumbled, smiling meekly as he wiped sauce from his muzzle. Stripes grinned playfully, leaning closer. "I'll tell you if you tell me," he said, completely ignoring the daggers Desmond was glaring at him.

"Well, we were both swimming, and I suddenly realized I lost my shorts somewhere. I'm at the edge of the pool near all the jets, because the bubbles kind of... Obscure it," Adam said, glancing around while a bright blush covered his cheeks. "Desmond swims over and talks to me, and asks if I'm okay, because I'm not swimming around... I tell him what happened, and since I'm so self-conscious about being naked, he slides his shorts off and gives me his, since they're kinda one size fits all, that really cool sports elastic stuff. I found out he's not really ashamed of running around naked." Adam looked at the fox and grinned lewdly, but Desmond was hiding his face, not for the reason Adam thought. "I thanked him when we bumped into each other later, then he just... Really bluntly says I'm all cute and chubby, and asks me out on a date," Adam finished, covering his muzzle to stifle a bashful, effeminate giggle. "Okay, your turn!"

Stripes genuinely found the story cute, and perhaps under different circumstances, he could've been the mutual friend he played the role of, but he didn't dwell on the thought. Taking a sip of his beer, he started off from the beginning. "Well, one night about... Uh, a year ago, right, Dez?" he asked, looking at the fox. Desmond paid rapt attention, nodding slowly, and Stripes had the feeling that if he could see the tod's skin, it would be bleached pale. "Yeah, so, about a year ago. And captain nerd here," Stripes said, shooting Desmond a playful grin, "was updating the campus servers. And I need my notes, my research, but it's on the servers, so while they're offline, I gotta go see him so he can get 'em for me." The jock took another sip of his drink, and he glanced from Adam to Desmond, who was still mortified. Good. "He's playing a game or something on his computer, because he got all kinds of impatient when I asked him if he could get my papers for me." Adam butted in during the jock's pause, chuckling. "Yeah, that sounds right. When Desmond starts playing that silly Death or Boom or whatever it's called, he won't pay attention to anything else."

Stripes snickered, enjoying a quick bite of his steak. "Nerds, huh?" He washed it down with a gulp of beer, and as he set the mug down, he continued, now in a far less playful and easygoing voice. "When he's got the computer looking for my files, he comes over to me and tells me I have really pretty eyes, nice muscles, stuff like that, and I wasn't sure what to think," Stripes said, keeping his expression even. The more he talked, Adam's own face started to sour, but he didn't say anything. As for Desmond, if looks could kill! "I tried to keep kinda neutral, since, hey, I was seeing somebody at the time," he lied, biting his lip as he paused. "Desmond didn't let up, and eventually we wound up having a quick thing in the locker room." Adam's lips quivered, and he saw something in the raccoon's eyes that looked like anger, but it was nothing compared to what Desmond was giving him. Before a scene erupted, Stripes reached across the table and took Adam's paws, forcing him to pay close attention. "I'm really sorry. I felt like I needed to get that off my chest... Desmond's been wanting to tell you, he said, but he couldn't. The thing is, listen... He had just gotten out of a crappy relationship with some guy who abused him. I wanted to go beat the hell out of him but Dez wouldn't tell me who it was, you know how stubborn he gets. Anyway... I think he rebounded off of me," Stripes falsely hypothesized, offering Adam's paws a squeeze. "But we wound up becoming best friends from it. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing, then, but I don't know. We promised never to talk about it, but you, of all people, should know."

Adam huffed, gently pulling away from the zebra's grip. He turned to Desmond, whose face had shifted from rage to anxiety. "Desmond... I told you everybody I slept with before we had sex. I wish you'd told me about this," he said in a quaking voice, but his eyes were admirably strong. "I understand why you didn't, but... It was a weak thing you did. At least you can call him a friend now. I just... Wish you'd have told me before." Desmond just looked at Stripes, giving him eyes that screamed what the fuck is the matter with you? Stripes shrugged.

Desmond was surprised that the night went on so smoothly; they each ate another steak without drama or even foul looks, but on the ride home, Adam asked to be dropped off outside of his parents' house, leaving the car without even a goodbye kiss to Desmond. At the zebra's urging, the fox moved to the passenger seat, and they took a detour away from the college, heading instead to the route around the quarry, one which led to a popular make-out spot that overlooked New Desaint. After Stripes parked and shut off the car, Desmond turned to him. As much as he just wanted to scream his lungs out at the zebra, he was quiet, and his tone, however broken, was gentle. "Why, Stripes? What did I do to deserve that?"

The zebra rolled down the windows while he contemplated his response, but he finally gave Desmond his answer: "Your boyfriend's been getting suspicious, if you hadn't noticed. You know what I did? I threw him off the trail," Stripes said in that confident tone of his, the one he used to command his teammates. Desmond looked at the zebra with eyes the size of dinner plates, magnified through his glasses. "What the fuck is wrong with you!? Now he knows!" Desmond screeched, but Stripes didn't change his tone a bit. Before he spoke, he slid the tod's glasses off and set them on the dashboard, then brushed a hand through his hair, licking his lips, eyeing that pretty muzzle. "Adam started to think we were fucking around, and I could see it in his eyes. It's because of the tension. Without context, it looks exactly like what it is; the fact that you're uncomfortable about lying to him. Now he just thinks it's guilt because we fucked once."

Desmond's expression practically slid off his face, going from wide-eyed psychosis to dull acceptance. "I..." He started, looking down, suddenly finding the gear shifter incredibly interesting. "You frighten me, Stripes. I think you're a fucking sociopath," Desmond hissed, but Stripes grinned, lifting the foxcoon's muzzle, and then he slid a finger into the sissy's mouth, depressing his tongue, stimulating it, leaving the twink blushing. "I'm not a sociopath. I don't get off on lying to people and manipulating their feelings," Stripes said with a surprisingly reassuring tone; unable to talk, Desmond absently sucked on that thick finger and tilted his head, asking the zebra you're not? with his expression alone. Stripes shook his head slowly, just as absently massaging the fox's tongue. "No, Desmond; but it gets you off. Let me be honest with you. You're a sick puppy who likes a lot of weird shit I don't, and I understand that, but I still like you. I do consider you my friend, and god help anybody who lays a finger on you. Most importantly, I like making you happy. So I play head games with you, I lie in front of your boyfriend. You give me pleasure just the way I like it, so I give you yours. We're different kinds of sluts, I guess."

Desmond wasn't sure if he was hearing the truth, or if the zebra really was fucked up. Maybe they both were. The more he thought about what Stripes just said, the more valid it seemed; closing his eyes, he pulled away from the jock's finger, and Stripes took the hint, pulling it back, absently wiping the slobber on his pantleg. "Alright, Stripes. Believing you is better than the alternative, anyway... I just hope Adam doesn't hate me now," the fox said in a worried tone, leaning against the seat, opening his eyes to look out at the night lights of the town. Stripes patted his shoulder reassuringly. "That 'coon loves you, Desmond. He'll love you even more now that you've come clean, once he gets over the pain." The fox half-closed his eyes, then turned his head just enough to look at the jock. "You're smart," he admitted. "You're the computer programmer, so you're the smart one. I just have a knack for people. Maybe I ought to be a psychologist," Stripes mused, sliding his paw down, rubbing Desmond's thigh. The fox shook his head, grinning. "Nah. You'd have to take notes. I've seen your chicken-scratch."

Stripes unbuckled his seatbelt and unzipped his jeans, smirking from the fox's remark. "Yeah, yeah, me dumb football jock, me stick to hurting people," he grunted in his best caveman voice. "Now suck my dick, foxy." As Desmond leaned over the gear shifter, Stripes was just undoing the button and pulling his cock out, still flaccid, but nothing Desmond couldn't take care of. Suddenly aware that it was all just a game, Desmond was far more interested in playing; he took that almost humorously floppy horse dick in his paws while awkwardly laying on the shifter, and he slid the flared tip of that cock past his lips. The twink closed his eyes and lowered his ears, and he sucked on the zebra in that skilled, familiar way of his. Stripes leaned back in his seat, petting down the back of the vulpine's head, absently wondering why he didn't feel dizzy when his foot of horse cock started to swell with blood, filling out and bulging Desmond's muzzle and throat, leaving a fist-sized lump in the latter, bulging out the sides on the former. "I never get tired of that look, bitch," Stripes sneered, rubbing behind an ear.

Desmond blushed, of course; having such a supremely large cock buried in his talk-hole was apt to cause such a reaction, but it was cute no matter what. The twink's paws moved to clutch the jock's plump scrotum, kneading and rolling those enormous, smooth balls in his skilled, tender mitts. It was hard to tell who got off more; Stripes squirmed and snorted, but Desmond shivered and purred, clearly loving the feel of that cock deep down in his throat and those throbbing balls against his smooth pads. "Rrf, y'know, teasing aside, I believe you when you tell me you're the top with Adam, but I get the feeling you give him blowjobs, too... That's the only way I can explain him smiling so much."

Desmond grinned, but by and large, he took it as a compliment. Such a skilled, smooth slut in his element knew just how to suck a dick; as graceful as a ballet dancer, he bobbed and twisted his muzzle, performing admirably with an oblong gear shifter handle jammed between his ribs. Stripes closed his eyes and sighed, grinning from ear to ear, idly stroking through locks of that blonde hair, but on a rare occasion, he let his hand slide down the twink's back. Just as Desmond expected, the jock's paw came to rest on his taut ass, and then he squeezed down, tighter and tighter, matching the vulpine's sucking. Every time Stripes squeezed, the twink gave the jock's heavy, black balls the same treatment, but the tough horse didn't care how rough his bitch got, not as long as he was bobbing his head and sucking.

Desmond stroked and tickled across every inch of the jock's balls, and his tongue took inventory of that long, pulsating dick; the parts that were in his mouth, anyway. Like a faucet, his cock squirted an endless supply of thick, gooey precum down the tod's throat, a drip-feeding that Desmond was used to. "Yeah... That's a good bitch... Good bitch..." Stripes huffed, starting to clench his thick, square jaw. Desmond knew from the jock's whispered words just how close he was; just like Stripes knew the fox inside and out, Desmond also had a very intimate knowledge of just how the stallion got ready to blow a load. But in a rare instance of assertion, Desmond pulled back, taking a moment to lap across the flared, dripping tip of the stallion's cock as it left his throat. "Heh... I'm gonna stuff the tough guy shit and just assume you got something better in mind, you creative little skank, you..."

"I do. I think you're gonna like it, Stripey," Desmond purred, sitting up to kiss the zebra's nose. Stripes grinned and smooched the twink's cheek, but his expression turned blank when Desmond squirmed back into his seat, then opened the door and stepped out, leaving the door ajar. Not bothering to stow his erection, Stripes climbed out too, walking around the front of the car, putting himself right in front of the fox. Desmond was just stepping out of his jeans and underwear, and he met the jock as he stepped up, putting his black paws on the zebra's chest. He slid his padded fingers beneath the stallion's shirt, trailing his blunt claws across the creases of muscle and the jock's stiffened, black nipples. The zebra reached out, brushing a lock of hair from the bitch's eyes, looking impassively on his face. "Stripes..." Desmond started, looking up into the tall quarterback's eyes. "Thanks."

Desmond took him by the hand and led him to the edge of the overlook, bending over, putting his paws on the waist-high guardrail. For just a moment, he looked out over the town's lights, but he was snapped away from that view when he heard the jock's jeans hit the ground, followed silently by his strap. "Good idea, Dez... A fuck with a view. Wonder how many people got telescopes down there?" he wondered aloud, pressing up against the twink. It was dark, but the moon was just bright enough for the two liars to see all they needed to. Desmond kept both paws tight on the steel guardrail, and Stripes clutched those fine, feminine hips he'd squeezed a thousand times.

Licking his lips in idle concentration, Stripes guided his shaft to the twink's asshole with no help from his hands, but even in the dark, he knew just where the bullseye was. As soon as Stripes felt his wet, throbbing flare kiss up to Desmond's quivering pucker, he pushed forward with all his strength, grunting in exertion. Even after gouging the fox out just two days before, he was tight; nobody else he fucked was even comparable to that kind of elasticity. Desmond was far more vocal than the jock as he moaned and huffed, digging his feet into the grassy dirt beneath, keeping his jaws clenched but his teeth bared while the stud worked him open. He figured with a lot more lube and a little more patience, the zebra could've fucked him painlessly, but where was the fun in that? "Fuck... Fuck, jeez, that hurts..." He whined, putting his head down, flattening out his ears. Stripes still pushed in, past the three-quarters mark, and with a victorious snort, he finally hilted, letting his paws slide up the vulpine's back and rub his shoulders. "Goddamn right it does," Stripes whispered, "just the way you want it to. Do I ever disappoint my bitch?"

Stripes pushed his nose into the fox's scruff and hair, sniffing up his scent, though he had to look for it over the smell of the twink's shampoo. Then, like a ravenous predator, he nibbled and gnawed on the vulpine's neck, starting to rock those powerful hips of his, pumping Desmond with long, smooth motions; all the way out to the tip, and all the way back in, a slow, unstoppable force that drove his meaty dick in again and again. With his sharp teeth still gritted against the cool air of the night, Desmond shoved his ass back into the stud's punishing pistoning. It was a cock he risked love and reputation for, and Stripes drove it home without ever missing a beat. Every buck of his hips was a perfectly tuned motion, a repetitive gesture of dominance, possessiveness, sexual brutality, and deep down, loving affection for a nerdy fox close to his heart, but Desmond was every bit a fuckbuddy to the jock; they had no illusions of romance, just sex. Cold, callous, pumping sex. "Gah, yeah... Fuck! You're the hottest fox I've ever fucked, bitch, no lie..."

Desmond wanted to play that game too, and as he wrapped his long, banded tail around the zebra's chest, he huffed and whined remarks of worship and dedication, both to the stallion and his monolithic, black cock. "You're the biggest, the strongest... You treat me like I'm a worthless bitch! It's always about you getting off! I fucking love you, Stripes, fuck me harder!" Desmond practically squealed it, so loud that afterwards, he blushed and wondered if someone could've heard him, but when the equine stud behind him ramped up that ruthless assfucking, it made his previous pace look like a slow, lame idle. Putting those long, strong back legs to work, Stripes planted his hooves in the dirt and fucked the fox like he owned him; it was pretty much true. In the low light that made it so hard to focus, the quarterback's motions were literally a blur, and every time he bucked, his hips pounded into the fox's ass so hard that he bruised that delicate flesh. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...! Fuck!" Desmond whimpered in frantic bliss, gripping the metal railing so hard he expected to leave indentations.

Stripes pulled his face into a grimace as he felt the climax approaching; he squeezed down on Desmond's shoulders hard, digging his fingertips into the nerd's soft flesh, and though he knew it was hurting the fox, he didn't make a peep about it. If anything, it only intensified the impassioned squeals that only vaguely resembled moans, but they were far more desperate than simple lust could provide. The zebra grunted and shuddered, reaching down to the twink's hips again, bending over the whimpering slut. He pushed his lips against one of the fox's ears, snorting into it. "Ah, ah yeah, here you go, bitch..." Stripes grunted, slamming his hips up into Desmond's ass, jerking the fox back for that little extra kick. Then, with a deep shudder, he spilled his thick wad, painting the foxbitch's insides, filling him up with that familiar, intimate warmth. The foxcoon huffed and whimpered endearingly as the jock sullied him, pressing his slender body flush to the sturdy zebra.

Melting into his afterglow, grumbling naughty things to the bitch, Stripes clutched the nerd's throbbing, aching penis and pumped it hard, letting his muscular paw glide smoothly along the damp flesh, bumping into the knot. Desmond whined in bliss, and the jock absently began nibbling and gnawing on one of the twink's purple ears, gently pinning it between his flat teeth over and over, leaving the fur soaked. "Awwrf, ah, jeez... Stripes..." Finally, the fox came, shooting his seed over the guardrail, pressing against the jock, seeking comfort and warmth, both things Stripes gave him with his lust satisfied. "Good bitch, cum nice and hard for me... Yeah..."

Stripes took the fox back to the campus, and they spent the rest of the night together, studying; no, really. During the next week, he saw Desmond and Adam make up; emotional scenes were never his thing, so he didn't play voyeur for long. The day after, he cornered the fox in the hallway, again playing that obnoxious big brother role; first, he bullied the twink up to the wall, then leaned on it, looming over the foxcoon, nearly touching noses. With his muzzle split into an enormous grin, he said: "Someone got make-up sex." Desmond huffed with indignity and planted both paws on the jock's chest, shoving with all his strength; the zebra budged half an inch. Giving up, Desmond folded his arms. "Yeah, maybe I did," he said curtly. Stripes let up, then looked down the hall both ways; at such a late hour, they had the halls practically to themselves. "Good. I'm glad you guys patched things up, but hey," he said, wrapping an arm around the tod's shoulders, tugging him close. "I got a present for you," he chuckled. "Come on."

Stripes ushered Desmond into the locker room; it was empty, but it eternally reeked of masculine musk. Being the slut that he was, Desmond identified dozens of smells, and he could've even pinpointed the species of each if he wanted to. Stripes stood near the door as the fox took a few steps in, looking around with a hint of nostalgia. "Wait a second... Oh, jeez, it's been, uh, exactly a year since you fucked me here," said the fox with a growing blush, turning to look at the jock, but where there was once just Stripes, he now saw six members of the football team, zebra included.

Desmond's cheeks went from a dull glow to almost neon, and the five unfamiliar jocks converged on him, forming a semi-circle, trapping the fox against a row of lockers. Stripes stood behind their line, grinning at the fox. "Hey boys, I got a new play I wanna try out. I'm thinking of naming it the Foxhole," he snickered, watching intently as Desmond pressed up to the cold lockers and the muscular football players closed in; from left to right, he saw a kangaroo, a German Shepherd, a brown bear, a shark, and a hyena, all in their uniforms. Stripes hung back, watching as his teammates took handfuls of the twink foxbitch, tearing off his clothes, groping here and rubbing there, grinding their sweaty bodies on him, shoving him to his knees, taking turns smearing their bulging junk on his muzzle. All the while, the zebra reached down into his gym shorts, fondling his own swelling cock.

"Happy anniversary, foxbitch..."