That Makes Us...
The frat party had been over for about an hour now, mostly due to the curfew that Hale University imposed on its students. This one had been legendary. The swim team took first at Regionals on the same weekend that the football team beat their biggest rivals: the Ferndale Kings. Needless to say, the seven bedroom five bath house was packed for hours, and the event featured a fair amount of drunken debauchery.
Sadly, it fell to just a handful of frat brothers to bring some order to the house before their compatriots got back at around 2 AM to crash. It was a ritual that Farley knew well enough, and he wasn't going to get pissy about it. The Saint Bernard was a sophomore and he had to pay his dues amongst the older guys. Truth be told, the tall, rugged halfback kind of wanted to be alone right now. He had struck out with a couple of fine bitches, and didn't want to talk about _that_ experience with the older guys.
The only sounds in the house were the stacking of glasses and the crumpling of chip-bags. That is, until Farley heard the eager patter of a certain lion coming down the main stairway. Without looking up from his trash collection, the canine said, "Yo Brian, what's up?"
Breathless, the six foot tall wide receiver needed a second to collect his thoughts. Brian wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack, but he was a loyal friend, so the canine put up with him. The whisper finally came, "D-dude. Couple of swim team guys are upstairs and they... they're just finishing up."
Trying not to sound annoyed, "Finishing up with what, twinkle toes?" is what Farley shot back. He was quickly shushed for using a normal tone of voice. Conspiratorially, Brian murmured, "With the swingers. We... you know. We can be next. They want more, apparently."
Farley looked up sharply, letting a couple of plastic cups slip from his paws. Both of the friends were clearly buzzing, but the Saint Bernard wasn't that far gone. In low tones, he asked, "What the fuck are you talking about man? Swingers, what, upstairs?" He had his answer as the well built lion tugged him by the shoulder. Farley allowed himself to be led as the situation was laid out for him.
"Yeah. Y-ya see, they apparently are getting married or something. But the wanted to do something wild, one last fling you know? So like, all night long, they've been fucking. Whoever went into the room, they got them off. Right now, couple of swim team dudes are f-fucking them. And, like, we're next!"
At this point, the guys were standing outside the door, and they could hear reserved moans and growls coming from the other side. The dog slapped Brian's shoulder, almost hissing, "Man are you fuckin' crazy? What if they're off their rockers or something, you don't know these people! I mean, is it safe?" Despite his admonishment, it was apparent that both young men were rigid under their shorts with the mere thought of scoring, after such a dry night. The loin snorted, false bravado rather than confidence, "It's fine man, just be-"
Whatever the big cat was about to say was cut off by the bedroom door opening up. The scent of sex wafted out to meet them, heralding the arrival of a couple of otters in their gray hoodies and long swim trunks. They smelled awful, like condoms and One of them panted, simply, "You guys are up." They half walked, half limped down the stairs, walking out of the house and into the cool night air.
The two horny guys were inside the room in a fraction of a second. Farley had the presence of mind to close the door behind them. Both furs were staring helplessly at the sight before their eyes, illuminated by a single 40 watt bulb from the old floor lamp. After half a minute, the feline whispered, "Y-you can't get her pregnant, you gotta take him." The Bernard responded with a soft whine, but he nodded. Not another word was spoken between the friends, as they were too busy fumbling to get their shorts off so that their heavily preing shafts could bob freely in the air. They twitched and glistened as the boys stalked up to their chosen prey.
On each of the single-sized beds, there was a naked, sweaty dalmatian. If it weren't for their slightly different builds and their exposed sexes, the two dogs could have been twins. Each of them was spread eagled with pillows under their hips, every limb fastened tightly to a bedpost by padded cuffs. Each of the horny canines was moaning through a bright red ballgag, their sexes and tailstars glistening with a light sheen of lube. The female that Brian was rapidly moving to cover had sexy little B-cups on her heaving chest. The male had a thick ebony spike drooling all over soft abs. Truth be told, it wasn't a huge sacrifice for Farley to avoid the female; he certainly didn't need to knock the bitch up, and the way that the dalmatian male was offering himself pushed all the right buttons within the Saint Bernard.
The football players mounted the spotty dogs eagerly. The first sound of someone finding the right spot was a muffled cry from the bitch. She screamed into her gag, breath catching soon after as her body shuddered. Brian snarled as his five and a half slightly curved inches were enveloped by his partner's sex. He panted, "Oh god man, she's still tight." His paws found the dalmatian's cute little boobs, kneading them to reward her efforts. A feline tongue slowly licked along her breastbone, tasting the salt of her sweaty body. She strained at her bonds, muscles rippling under her matted fur.
The Bernard could only gasp, "Mine is too." as his tapered pink dick finally found the other dog's hole and pushed in. Farley wasn't a small guy, eight inches and change not including the fist-sized knot, thick and throbbing as it slowly sunk into his...omega. That thought sent a shiver through the bigger dog, that this male was his willing bitch tonight, submitting to him in every way. He ground his knot lewdly between those spread, spotty rumpcheeks, making the dalmatian whimper loudly through his flared nose and bite down on the rubber ball between his teeth. Not wanting to seem as intimate as his buddy was being with the girl, Farley just grabbed the other male's hips and squeezed. The bottoming dog squeezed his eyes shut tightly, hardly able to breath.
Minutes passed, the friends each rolling their hips against spread and straining thighs. They were snarling and growling softly all the while. They were watching each other perform more than their own partner's reactions, truth be told. It wasn't uncommon for them to do sexual things in front of each other, and they would be lying if they said it didn't turn them on. In fact, if the frat boys hadn't been so tipsy, they probably wouldn't have held out for as long as they did! But eventually the squirming fem's feverishly hot body and spasming nether lips were too much for the feline who was riding her. He grunted, tan rumpcheeks tightening in time with his swinging balls. With Brian's heart rate so high from the frenzied mating, his seed flooded into the bitch like stuttering pressure hose. He shivered and rested his full weight on her, needing some recovery time.
Farley wasn't far behind. He managed to keep his snarling to a minimum volume, afraid of being caught south of the border by a teammate that might be less understanding than his good buddy over in the next bed. The last thrust into the subby man's twitching tailstar was just too much for the buff football player. He gasped and came hard in the dalmatian's hind end, legs sliding along the bedclothes as the dog looked like he was trying to crawl all the way inside of his captive. His swollen red knot throbbed with every gush of thin canine sperm. Farley slapped the other canid's hip once, hard.
Both of the boys stayed balls-deep inside of their very own dalmatian for a minute, just trying to recover. Then the lion, ever thoughtful, purred, "Wonder if they w-want anything. Yours didn't get off either, may wanna find out, you know. If h-he needs a paw." Farley frowned at the thought. But fair was fair, so the top dog unhooked his 'bitch's' ball gag and asked, "What about it bud, you need some help?" But all that came forth was a sudden gasp and the unmistakable sound of sobbing.
From the other bed, a hoarse voice screeched, "Get offa me, get _off_ of me! Oh god..." And then a higher pitched crying joined the male's. Brian looked over at his friend, stupefied by this turn of events. "Dude, what the hell is..."
The door _crashed_ open with cries of: "Police! Get on the ground, NOW! Get down NOW! You fucking perverts!"
Farley experienced a sudden moment of clarity. There had been a smell of latex in the room when the frat boys walked into the room, but now that his face was at floor-level, he didn't see a single used condom in the room. The cries and writhing of the dalmatians could have meant anything. Both of the dogs had been tight as a drum, even though they supposedly were at the tail end of an all night orgy. As he was dragged to his feet, the football player answered Brian's unfinished question.
"It was a fucking setup Brian. We're rapists."
A billy club fell heavily on the back of the dog's head. He blacked out to the sound of a dullard lion's whimpering.