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| PHOTO SHOOT |

- Part one of two. Two oversexed male underwear models get their freak on in the middle of a photo shoot. This work is 18+ and contains explicit M/M sex. Falcon McCooper and Shawn Howard © me, Falcon McCooper.

===

After I filled out my application, I was shown to a small, chair-filled room and told to wait until my interview came. A few of the seats in the room were already taken; I sized up the competition automatically, with a conciliatory, pleasant expression on my beaked face in case any of the strangers took my roving gaze to be a challenge, and almost immediately I felt a sinking feeling of premature disappointment. Excluding myself, there were four other males, two of which were of an avian breed, and all with a better body build than mine. As I sat down in the nearest chair, I could tell that I had the narrowest pair of shoulders in the room and the slimmest figure; there was a smooth-scaled lizardman beside me who possessed the natural slender power of his species, coming nearest to my build, but from the looks of what was visible to me he had condensed the power of his muscles, defining rather than compounding. Every detail of his body was toned to perfection. It made me feel positively flabby in comparison, and I'm not in bad shape, either. I wondered: could I compete with this one guy, let alone four of similar or better caliber?

The lizard was gesturing to me, and I blinked, my feathery ears perking. When he saw that he had my attention, he leaned across the empty chair between us and spoke with a soft hiss: "Are you. . . a gryphon? Mammal?"

I nodded yes. He leaned back with a good-natured "Fuck!" that I did not take personally. His slitted pupils spasmed. "I heard they were looking for a beak. And - you know - " he reached between his legs and pantomimed cupping an external scrotum and penis, then threw up his hands. "I have not a fucking clue why I'm here. I got neither, and they're gonna want a bulge there, man."

"Stuff?" I suggested. "There are reptiles who get by, I'm sure."

He grinned, showing impressive teeth, and pulled a large, floppy dildo, complete with balls, out of his coat. "Oh, definitely."

Interviews went by swiftly. About fifteen minutes later, the lizardman stood up when his name was called. He swayed his tail confidently. "Good luck, man," he said as he passed me.

"Yeah," I replied. His easygoing attitude had brightened my spirits, at least briefly. "You too."

My turn came only a few minutes afterward, and I wondered if that boded well or ill for me. I was led into a well-lit studio that had occlusion lights, cameras, and a dark blue background in one corner with a table in front of it. A man and a woman, canine and avian, respectively, were sitting at the table, each with a clipboard. My escort, a short, wide-eyed kid, seventeen or eighteen, some mix of dolphin, immediately began fussing with the cameras.

"Falcon McCooper?" That was the canid speaking. He was fat and sounded uninterested.

"Yes," I replied. I nervously brushed my long hair behind my ears.

He met my eyes tiredly. "There's a sample of our product on the table. Please take off your clothes and put it on."

I picked the "product" up and gave it a glance, then a closer look. It was a pair of standard underwear briefs, with one notable difference: the sides of the outer legs were entirely mesh. I looked at the product label. "GayWear," I muttered, hefting the briefs uncertainly. I hadn't expected to be modeling for gay men's underthings.

"Is there a problem?" It was the woman who spoke so sharply.

I looked up at her, startled.

"No, there isn't a problem."

I put the briefs back down and began to undress, removing shoes, shirt, jeans, and putting the articles in a neat pile. Standing naked, I was about to put on the underwear when the canid interrupted: "Before that, we would like to measure your dimensions." He nodded to the bird woman, and she came around the desk with a measuring tape as I stood there. I awkwardly did as she instructed, letting her measure my waist, chest, hips, thighs, arms, and even my penis and scrotum. The feeling of her hand on my manhood was not erotic; it felt like a doctor's examination. "Eight and a half inches flaccid," she remarked aloud, making a note of the facts. "That's an imposing piece of equipment you have, Mr. McCooper. How long at full mast?"

"Twelve and a half, thirteen inches," I muttered. "Why do you need to know?"

She smiled. "Just curious."

Feeling a little violated, I tugged on the briefs, turning modestly to the side to adjust my package in the cup. The briefs rode a little low, just under my tail, but that was by design. The mesh sides pretty much revealed the entire outside of my thigh, and the whole affair was pretty curve-molding. It was tight but not uncomfortable, in a perverse sort of way. The front bulged more than I thought it was supposed to, pulling the waistband further down into my pubic region, but that was pretty typical for me and underpants - one of the many curses of having an extra-large junk.

"Stand in front of the screen," ordered the canid behind me. "We're going to take a few test shots to go with your file."

Dutifully, I stood blinking in front of a phalanx of bright lights, and the dolphin hybrid took many shots of my body from many angles. I stumbled off behind the cameras, light-dazed, stripped, and redressed in my original clothes.

The canid spoke: "One more minute, Mr. McCooper. The company which will be employing you specializes in - erm, male fashion and accessories. In the course of your employment, you may be required to participate in homoerotic actions and wear articles of a homoerotic nature. If you understand this and still wish to be considered, sign here."

After a moment's hesitation, I took the pen he pushed at me. "Will I be required to actually engage in a male-male sex act?" I asked, hovering over the dotted line.

The canid looked faintly horrified. "No. Sexuality will only be implied. This isn't a porn business."

I signed the paper.

* * *

A few weeks later, I got a call. The guy on the other end of the line was chipper, effeminant, and just a little too talkative, but he told me what I wanted to hear: that I had a job.

"I'm Hortha, the director of GayWear's commercial and photography advertisement division," he continued, "and, miiister McCooper, you are exactly the person we'd like to - well! Show off our products, of course! In fact, there are other divisions - naturally, I can't speak for them, you understand - but there are other divisions which I'm absolutely sure would love to see you involved! If you have an interest in that sort of thing, I'd be happy to recommend you to them!"

"Maybe," I said.

"Well, I just thought I'd mention that, as a little aside - just something to think about if you'd like to continue to work with us or with our affiliates once this commercial run is over. Mm. Now, let's get down to it, shall we?"

* * *

Two days later, I was on the job. I had no trouble finding the studio that GayWear was currently renting, though parking was a little more difficult; the small lot in the front was full. I circled around the back and parked in a place that I desperately hoped was okay, then walked around to the entrance.

Director Hortha was waiting just inside. He was a short, stoutly-build raven, dressed entirely in black except for a pink scarf around his neck. He looked over the tops of his round sunglasses at me, amber eyes half-lidded in a way that I think he thought was very becoming.

"Oh, yes, miiister McCooper, come right this way," Hortha said in a soft voice. He twirled his pink scarf over his shoulder and led me into the main studio, tail switching back and forth. We went to a corner of the room where a privacy drape had been hastily set up, and Hortha took a pair of the same briefs that I had been told to wear at the interview, and the raven handed them to me.

"Come up to the front after you've put these on," he said, and with a spritely motion he left for the front. I changed behind the privacy screen and piled my clothes carefully in a corner, ran my fingers through my hair and pushed it behind my ears, then smoothed the feathers on my arms and chest. I tugged at the waistline of the briefs, wishing that they would ride higher, like they were supposed to, then took a deep breath.

About ten people were at the front of the studio; all of them turned as I approached, except Hortha and the other model, a large feline male who was entirely bare-skinned and rippling with muscles. Hortha was standing beside the other model, gesturing and speaking loudly, but I couldn't hear what; the model was looking down at the little bird from his greater height and nodding. The hairless cat was wearing the same thing as I was, and from the looks of the swell at his crotch, his maleness was also extremely large.

Hortha looked at me as I stopped beside him. "Oh, yes, yes, very good, very nice," he said, eyes traveling up and down my body. "A perfect pair, both of you. Okay, here's what's going on: GayWear is establishing a new line of commercials that feature a gay couple - Anthony and Tristin - that's you two." He broke off suddenly. "Oh, let's get introduced first, I mean, before I start changing your names around. Shawn, this is mister - can I call you Falcon? Yes? - Falcon McCooper, this is his first time working with us."

The muscular cat extended his hand. He was a little over eye-level with me, with a much stronger build and intimidating eyes. "Falcon," he acknowledged in an unhurried baritone. "I'm Shawn Howard."

I shook his hand, careful not to scratch his furless skin with my sharp nails. "You've worked here for awhile?" I asked Shawn. He shook his head, slowly.

"No, I was just picked up. Never done anything like this before," he said.

I tend to be a little more open when I'm jittery. "Yeah, same here. I feel like a - " I was going to finish queer in this outfit, but somehow the comment seemed inappropriate with Hortha standing there, watching us closely. I cleared my throat and changed tracks hurriedly: " - bit nervous as to what's, uh, expected of me."

Hortha broke in, his head bobbing. "Certainly, I understand, I was just about to explain, before - " he gestured from Shawn to me, then bobbed his head again and continued, "But as I was saying: GayWear is promoting Anthony and Tristin for a few - ah, products, including, but not exclusively, the, ah - " Hortha looked briefly at my underwear, " - garments you are wearing now. Your contracts both extend for a few months, which should be long enough for us to know if our launch is a success, in which case those contracts will be renewed. So. Enough talk, let's get to work."

Instantly, the stagehands who had been sitting around all leapt into action. Hortha posed Shawn and I on the stage ("Something simple, ah, non-provocative to start with," he told us), each of us standing next to each other in a casual stance. The lights were pretty hot, and I was trying not to look at them. I couldn't see much, only the glare in front of me and Shawn on my right; in the background, I heard Hortha muttering and the clicking of the cameras. Finally he said, "We're doing below the neck shots only, you can relax a bit."

I dropped my smile and puffed out my cheeks to relieve the ache. Shawn heard it and he asked quietly, "Done much modeling?"

My armpits were sweating. "Uh, this is a first, actually. Professionally, I mean - I've done it before, but all for life drawing classes."

"Really?" I heard genuine surprise in Shawn's voice. "You have such a good figure, I thought you've been in the game for a bit."

I was pleased. "No - I do a lot of regular running and swimming. Not so much gyms. I have a few pieces at home to keep me toned. You?"

Before Shawn could reply Hortha came over. The raven seemed flustered; the feathers on his brows were standing up. "Okay, good, next position. Hips against hips, now." He pushed me over towards Shawn, and told me to lean forward just a bit so Shawn's arm could go across my shoulders. Our legs rubbed together, and the tight briefs didn't mask the feeling of Shawn's hip against mine. It was a bizarre sensation for me, because I suppose that I associate prolonged skin-on-feather contact with sex, but the feeling subsided until I felt the heavy arm of the cat rest against my shoulders. Now I was in an blatantly submissive posture, possessively pressed against the body of another male, and nearly naked. I felt a few twinges of arousal and damped them, attributing them to the oversexed mind of a typical twenty-year-old. I wasn't gay, it was just a little - exciting - to be like this in front of other people.

Hortha moved back to take his photos, and I started to relax a little when I saw I wasn't going to get an erection. Shawn's bicep lay against my neck like a huge, limp beefsteak, though he wasn't putting any weight on me, and he started to stroke my left shoulder where his hand lay, running his fingers through the feathers. He then started to sway, using his hips to push at mine gently, and I went along with it, a little startled.

I guess he felt my tension. "Small movement is good," his deep voice whispered by my ear. "It makes for better pictures, because the position becomes more natural."

Hortha muttered something. I think it was, "Good, good."

Shawn drew me up and a little closer as we continued to gently sway. I started to feel hot and uncomfortable as his nipple pressed against the side of my triceps, and I arched a little, trying to move away unobtrusively. I could feel my heartbeat in my penis, which was swelling dangerously.

"Excellent!" Hortha said, walking in front of the cameras with a big grin on his bird face. "So good! Next, back-to-front, side view." He took my wrist and lead me to the middle of the set, and positioned me so I stood perpendicular to the backdrop. My posture was simple: a straight ramrod stance, tail up. Hortha lead Shawn up behind me, and I shuffled a bit uneasily as I felt him standing extremely close. His breath stirred my hair and tickled the tips of my ears, and I gave a twitch when Shawn's hands were laid on either sides of my waist. With the tip of my tail resting against his upper abdominal, I could only imagine how close the model's crotch was to my ass. The dirty part of my mind was half inclined to push back and see if I would bump something, but the sane part wasn't sure what would entail if I did.

"Hokay, lights, we need some more lights here. . . " Hortha snapped his fingers repeatedly in annoyance as a technician struggled to bring over an eight-point lamp.

Shawn began to move his fingers against my side, not in a very sensual manner, but more probing. He fingered my feathers. "You've got such interesting colors - royal purple, orange, red. Are they real?"

I squirmed a bit as Shawn's caressing hands went higher, his hairless palms smoothing the feathers down against my ribs and the thumb pads kneading my muscles. "Yes," I replied, "I spend a lot of time taking care of them." He made an interested grunt and started to slide his hands across to my stomach, and I inhaled a little at the sensation, unsure if I was enjoying it or not. I couldn't tell if Shawn was feeling me up or what, but it was turning me on despite my resistance. I'd never dreamed of a guy doing this to me before, and I decided that I kind of liked it.

"Okay, move back," snapped Hortha, and Shawn slid his hands back down onto my waist.

The rest of the shoot passed uneventfully.

* * *

The pictures shot on that first day were meant for general advertisements - "public viewing," as Hortha would say with a sneer in his voice. I was interested in seeing the raws, but Hortha told me that they would take a few days to develop, and he seemed amused when I asked for my own copies. "For my modeling portfolio and resumé," I explained, which was true, and yet not the whole truth. When I agreed to pay for my own smaller copies of the raws, Hortha consented, though he warned me that the pictures would be restricted to nonprofit, private use by the agreement I had signed with GayWear. That was perfectly fine with me.

Several weeks passed. We were shooting three or four times a week, only a few hours at a time, and I was working another job. Hortha told us that me and Shawn that we wouldn't have a guarantee of a steady job until the ads had begun to run, to a reasonable degree of success. If that was the case, he was fond of saying, then all sorts of venues with GayWear would open up, and the pair of us would be making real money. There might even be TV commercials to be done, etc.

I was ambivalent towards the job itself. I disliked modeling, but there was a fascination on my part, even an attraction, towards Shawn. I realized after a few days that his body was becoming an object of my sexual feelings, and I enjoyed him touching me, especially as the poses we modeled became more provocative; his more dominant, mine the more feminine, submissive role.

There was one session in particular that caused my lust to spike. We'd been modeling in other clothes, but that day we were back in another version of the briefs, except the legs of these were entirely mesh with only a cup for the groin and a wider section that covered the buttocks.

Hortha had Shawn and me stand chest-to-chest and embrace. One of Shawn's hands rested on my midback and another was lower, at the top of my tail. I was a little aroused and embarrassed, and I couldn't see Shawn's eyes with my beak against his neck.

Suddenly I felt his fingers teasing the line of my briefs, out of view of the cameras, and when I didn't squirm or object, Shawn slid his hand underneath and across my right rump and just held it there. I let out a slow breath.

"Is this okay?" he murmured, lips barely moving, so low I doubt if anybody but I could have heard him.

I had to restart my stalled brain. "Sure," I whispered, and was rewarded by a light squeeze.

Shawn began a very slow massage of my bottom, pulling me closer so that the front of my briefs (a bit more distended than usual) rubbed against his, guiding me until we were flush together. Although I'd never been in a situation like this before, my instinct was to grind against him, and with a great will (and consciousness of my job) I managed not to. I could feel Shawn's heartbeat speeding up, and I smiled as he wordlessly withdrew his hand from under my briefs. He was enjoying himself too.

When the workday was finished, Shawn and I went behind the changing curtain at the same time, both of us being quite casual, as if nothing was unusual about that. Shawn didn't instigate a make-out session as I had half-expected, but looked me up and down unabashedly. I was doing the same with him when he spoke:

"So I guess you're bi." His tone was tentative, hinting at a question.

"I guess," I said, startled at the thought. "I mean - I've never - been touched by a guy before. But I didn't mind it." That was an understatement.

Shawn grunted. He sucked air through his teeth. "I've never touched a guy before." He was silent for awhile, big arms crossed. A thoughtful expression remained on his face.

And that was the end of our first real conversation.

We undressed together, got into casual clothes, and left, each going his separate way.

* * *

Shawn called me later that evening. I don't know how he knew my number; perhaps Hortha gave it to him.

"Hello, this is Shawn. Falcon?" His deep voice didn't carry over the telephone.

"Shawn?" I was surprised. "Hi. What's up?"

"Hortha gave me a folder of photographs from our early shoots. He said that they were for you. I thought that I could just drop them off at your place."

"What? Today?"

"Sure."

"Oh. Uh, well, yeah, that'd be okay."

His tone didn't betray anything. "Be there in a bit. Later."

"Bye." I hung up.

This late in the day, I hadn't been expecting to leave my apartment for the night, and so I was shirtless and barefoot, clad only in a saggy grey pair of sweatpants. Normally I would have thrown on a shirt if I was having a male friend over, but Shawn might be. . . a little more than a friend. I tried not to think about it, since sweatpants wouldn't cover much, and I went into the bathroom to look at myself. I combed my shoulder-length hair back neatly behind my ears and washed my face, then wandered back to my computer.

Bzzz! I looked up in surprise. Someone was buzzing the intercom. If it was Shawn, he must have already been in the apartment complex when he'd made the call; if it wasn't, this was a hell of a time to be interrupted.

I got up and spoke into the panel: "Hello?"

"Hey."

Yes, it was Shawn. My stomach fluttered suddenly, but it was an eager feeling. I unlocked the door and opened it.

The big cat was standing there, as cool as you please, his impressive build a bit subdued beneath the casual shirt and jacket that he wore but still quite noticeable. He cut an extremely good-looking figure, and it was obvious that he had paid attention to his clothing and appearance. There was a pleasant smell about him, too - some sort of cologne or scented lotion.

I think I gaped a second longer than I should have, but Shawn didn't notice. When I looked at his face, I saw that he was looking at me in an unusual way, and it took me a time to place his expression: it was the intense blend of half-desire, half-uncertainty in a male who sees before him a sexually attractive woman!

This mutual appreciation only lasted for a moment, of course, before old social graces intervened.

"Hey Shawn, come in," I said, part of me going through the proper motions and the other part still admiring him.

"Thanks," he said stiffly, and looked about as I closed the door. He looked even bigger inside my apartment. "You're alone? This is a pretty clean nest for a single fellow."

"Yeah, I'm alone, sadly." My thoughts flashed back briefly to my last girlfriend, who I had cared about too much to let her make the mistake of shacking up with a hand-to-mouth bird like myself. We had just drifted apart. "I guess I don't make enough to justify a girlfriend for myself."

Shawn grunted. He brought a bulky envelope from under his arm, and offered it to me. "Here're the pictures."

"Excellent." I took them and sat down on the couch, then looked at Shawn. "You want to see?" It would be a shame not to prolong this encounter.

Shawn looked relieved. He took off his coat and tossed it on the couch, then came and sat next to me. I saw that despite two undone top buttons, the third button of his shirt still strained to contain his chest when he inhaled. It made for a great view, but I reluctantly turned away and opened the envelope. As I slid the pile of 9 x 12 glossies out onto my lap and the first picture on top came into view, I felt a heady surge of astonishment and glee. Shawn whistled through his teeth.

It was almost impossible to believe that I was the person in these photos. Shawn, of course, I was used to seeing, albeit from a more personal perspective, but I -

• I was gorgeous!

"Wow," Shawn said as I flipped through some more of the increasingly erotic photos.

Why had I ever had any doubts? My body looked spectacular, every curve highlighted by my feather's natural iridescence, the splash of orange between my thighs drawing the eye swiftly towards my hefty package. I had no idea I could look so sexy.

"That's hot," Shawn said, stopping my hand suddenly. I refocused on the picture of us, chest against chest in a lusty embrace. In the photo the front of our underwear was rubbing, and I realized this was a photo from today's shoot, when Shawn had his hand inside my briefs!

My hot gryphonhood stirred inside my sweatpants, threatening a severe hardon. The photo trembled a little as I felt Shawn lean closer to me, sliding his arm behind my back, reaching down along my spine with teasing fingers and then curling around my hips. "You're fucking sex, you know that?" Shawn said, so close his minty breath tickled my eyelashes, slipping his fingers into my pants. My penis throbbed as he cupped my right rump, drawing his palm across my feathery ass in slow, deliberate circles. Photos spilled from my lap as my crotch tented. Shawn rubbed me harder.

"I saw you today, Falcon. When you were naked. Your cock is bigger than mine, and you're what? - five inches shorter than me, fifty, sixty pounds less?" Shawn's hand moved out of my pants, across my shoulders, stroking me. He stood up and looked down from his great height at me where I sat, wide-eyed, chest heaving, hypnotized by his confidence, and he began to unbutton his shirt as he spoke: "But you're not really a dominating type, are you? You don't flaunt your body or show off your whale of a penis, even though most guys would die to have one like yours. You're submissive. You're modest. And - you're the sexiest person I've ever seen."

Shawn's breath had become faster, and his sea-blue eyes were becoming feverishly bright as he stripped off his shirt and threw it down, muscles in his shoulders and chest bunching and straining at his hairless skin, washboard stomach rippling. I saw rings in his nipples glint as he thew himself down on the couch beside me, oblivious to my shock at this aggressive courtship.

Shawn looked at me. He wore a confident, yearning expression, half-snarling, half-smiling, which I would see often in the intimate time we spent together. His eyes were feral with excitement. "How 'bout you take those pants off? I want to see you again."

I was uncertain but highly aroused. The thought of stripping in front of Shawn appealed to me greatly. I was going to do it.

I pushed the pictures off my lap and got up, tail high and my ears perked. My erection made a giant tent in my pants that I no longer could hide, but I didn't care.

"Do it," said Shawn, his own crotch distended. I yanked down my pants and stepped out of them, revealing my swelling penis, which was at about half-mast at ten inches. I took a wide stance and swayed my hips so that my equally oversized scrotum slapped the insides of both thighs. I was panting, too, and I could feel seminal fluid slowly being squeezed down the length of my cock. I grasped it by the base and gave a few pumps to encourage it, turning to the side and showing off for Shawn. As my gryphonhood engorged to my full thirteen inches, I felt hot liquid break from the tip, and I throttled down, shuddering as a few weak shots of precum dribbled in front of me.

Shawn undid his belt and unzipped his pants, giving a groan of relief as his ballooning member thrust up into the air, veined and thick, the fat glans flushing red. It pushed up against his stomach, leaving a wet spot. "Sit on my lap," he said.

"You're big, too," I said nervously, but I complied, turning in front of him.

"Twelve to your thirteen," Shawn said. He guided my butt with his hands until was sitting on his thighs; I moaned and he growled as I inadvertently rubbed his erection with my feathered rump, and he forced it between my legs so that its hot girth pushed aside my testicles and poked out of my groin, under my own larger gryphonhood. As my butt settled snugly against his crotch, he grabbed my arms and began to roll his hips, thrusting his cock under my legs, and I ground against him, relishing the girth of his massive phallus as it rubbed me. My scrotum rested comfortably just behind Shawn's cockhead, twin feathered balls bouncing up and down against it as he ran his dick repeatedly against the raised crest between my junk and anus, as if he was searching for a woman's cunt. The feathers there soon became wet and sticky.

We were both inarticulate, panting and groaning, trying to calm down. The couch creaked a little as Shawn finally stopped his frenzied humping motion, holding my back tightly against his chest. His fast breathing was loud and heavy in my ear as I leaned back against him, my own chest heaving, waiting impatiently for whatever he wanted to do next. My hard cock stood out from my body, quivering, refusing to go down, and Shawn's erection still pressed hard against me.

"Okay," Shawn said. He put both hands on my chest, one on either breast, and started to knead them, caressing my nipples with the base of his hand, pinching and squeezing the soft slabs of muscle. "You got HIV or any other shit?" he breathed into my neck as he started nibbling it.

I was so overstimulated, only a few delicate strokes on my maleness would have caused me to ejaculate. "No," I squawked, sounding like an adolescent. My penis was drooling precum all over the couch and Shawn's leg. Still I managed to ask, "What about you?"

Shawn purred, and I felt his voice's vibration come through my back as he replied, "No HIV. Probably no STDs either, ninety-nine percent sure." His fondling was becoming rougher; he rolled both my nipples between the thumb and forefinger of either hand, erecting them. "Your body is so beautiful, I love it - I love it - I wanna fuck it. You wanna fuck me?"

Not exactly love-me-tender sex talk, right?

But I didn't care. I wanted some sex, he wanted sex - I knew I could never love Shawn as a soulmate or whatever, but I was damn sure appreciative of his body. All I was wondering about was the mechanics of it all, physically, because I'm sure no male of my size can take a twelve-inch penis without receiving some kind of internal injury. Even in my hormone daze, I was sure of that fact, and not eager to hurt myself.

So I said to Shawn, "You can fuck me. But - " I grabbed his hands, so I knew he would listen. " - I won't be able to take the whole thing."

"Pussy," Shawn said, but I heard a smile in his voice. He licked my neck. "Ooh, this bird seems just about ready. I guess I'll have to . . . stick in my meat thermometer and find out!"

I laughed. It was more from nervousness than at Shawn's lame attempt at a sex joke. "So, how does this, um, work?" I asked, the fires of my lust a bit dampened at the prospect of actual penetration.

Shawn clasped both my hands in his, and crossed both our arms over my chest. He brought his head close to mine, tickled my ear with his tongue, then whispered, "Relax, birdy. I spent allll afternoon finding out how to love you right. Reach into my coat pocket, will you?"

He let go and I leaned far over to rummage through his coat. My questing fingers found a tube and a flat packet in the chest pocket, which turned out to be lubricant and a set a condoms. This set my blood burning again, and my cock, which had been thinking of relaxing, jumped back to full attention.

"Good boy," Shawn whispered in my ear when he saw I had them. He placed his hands on either side of my hips and scooted me up, so that his penis stuck out further from under my balls. "Put one of those condoms on me."

I set the lube aside and extracted a condom. My fingers were trembling such that I had difficulty removing the plastic front, but soon enough I had the thing ready.

"I don't think this is the right size," I said hesitantly.

Shawn made his cock twitch, and it bumped against mine. "Yeah, sure, but I bet you know that it's impossible to get one big enough. When was the last time you used a condom that was the right size?"

He had a point. I grasped his penis gingerly where it protruded from between my legs, marveling distantly at the sensation of handling another guy's penis for the first time in my life, then began unrolling the condom over it to the sound of Shawn's moans behind me. I smiled at the sensation of control, lifting up my balls with one hand to finish the job, reaching between my legs. The condom stopped at just under nine inches.

"That's fine," Shawn said. "Stand up."

I stood up, penis bobbing, and turned to gaze at him. He got up and pulled his pants all the way down, showing me a fine specimen of male pride. Even at twelve inches, Shawn's dick still had a lot of girth and heft, being thick and well-formed with an enormous head. His ballsack was just plain intimidating, larger than any I'd ever seen on an animal his size, including mine. Obviously this guy was a stud in the full sense of the word.

Now just imagine all this equipment on the most perfectly formed male body you can imagine, and you'll have a pretty decent idea of what I was staring at.

The condom looked small and silly on him, stretched transparent, barely able to hold Shawn in check. White liquid was dribbling out over the edge of the condom and down three naked inches of the massive member, running down across his scrotum, running through the groove that separated the two pendulous bulges of his testes. I didn't need to look at the needy expression on his face to know the guy was ready to go.

Shawn gave me a snarling grin and posed with his hands on his hips. "Do you want this dry, or you want that lube?"

I looked at the lube, and Shawn picked it up. He uncapped it and squirted some into his palm, then spread it across his fingers. He looked at me again. "Come here."

I came up close to him, and Shawn pulled me closer. We were chest to chest now, and I could feel his nipple rings between us.

"Do you kiss, birdy?" he growled, eyes half-lidded but intent.

"Yeah, sure - " I began, but then his snout was on my beak, his tongue probing for an opening, and I twisted my head and opened my beak so that we could lock. Kissing's not uncomfortable for me, just for my partner, but Shawn didn't seem to care. He kissed savagely, holding my beak in his teeth while his tongue invaded my mouth, one hand snaking up to hold the back of my head while the lubed hand went behind my back. Our penises were trapped between our bellies, and dimly I could feel mine was running like a faucet, rubbing across the slick rubber of Shawn's condom.

Shawn's fingers probed under my tail, and I tensed up, but he wouldn't let me pull away and instead kissed me harder than before. His middle finger entered my backside, stretching and testing the pliable muscles, and I clenched and relaxed around the invader, more aroused than ever. Another finger came in, slick and warm, and I welcomed it. Shawn was in up to his knuckles, wiggling inside me, and it was delightfully strange and intimate to be penetrated.

I groaned and broke the kiss as he pulled back, then pushed in with three fingers, but with my passage so slick I hardly could feel the difference until he spread his fingers out.

"Ungh - !" I exclaimed, unable to speak as he continued to flex his fingers inside me. I loved it. " - eah, uhhhh. . ." I melted against Shawn, clutching his muscular shoulders hard.

"Like that?" Shawn purred. There was a slurp as his fingers came out of my backside, and I shuddered. "You're good. It's time for the real deal."

He held my shoulders to keep me standing there, and walked behind me. I breathed slowly. Is this how a girl feels before she has sex? I thought to myself, then Shawn's hands gripped my hips and my tail came up. He muttered, "Relax, birdy, and you'll enjoy this too." He patted me possessively.

I stood on my toes as I felt the wet latex head of his condom-covered penis press between my buttocks. He had been liberal with the lubricant; I felt a good deal rub off as he scraped across my pucker, then the faintest stretch as he pushed harder.

Shawn was shuddering. "Oh, God," he said, and then he pushed forward and pulled my hips back, not too gently, and suddenly HE WAS IN ME! FUUUUCK!!!

I shouted and almost lost my balance, but he was strong enough to keep us both upright. I felt quite sore back there, and quite full too - I didn't have a good idea of how much of him was in me, but it must not have been a lot because he pushed AGAIN and what felt like a whole salami slid into my ass.

"GOD!!!" I shouted, tears pricking my eyes, and he shouted something back that I couldn't hear because of the blood rushing through my ears. I panted, and I even cried a little, or at least a few tears went down my beak, but I managed not to yell this time as he pushed AGAIN and suddenly his hands were under my armpits and I realized my feet were in the air and I was sitting ENTIRELY on his cock! He was holding me off the damn floor!

"Ohhh, FUCK yes!" Shawn bellowed, and he put me down as soon as I'd taken as much of him as I could. Immediately his hands went to my hips to hold me to him, because I wanted OFF. My guts were burning and I was sure that something had tore inside me, and so I fought against him. We lurched around for a few steps before he threw me down on the couch and lay on top of me, effectively pinning my 150-pound body with his 200 pounds of solid muscle. I continued to writhe for a couple seconds with my head hanging over the edge of the cushions, my yell dying off into a whimpering moan, but it was hopeless and I gave up struggling.

Finally, the world started to come back into focus, and the burning ache in my backside no longer took all of my attention. I still felt my rapid heartbeat, but now I could hear Shawn's heavy panting as he lay over and inside me, and I felt his tongue caressing the nape of my neck in slow circles. He was sweating, and his musky scent intermingled with my own. I could feel him, buried in my body, a flesh hot and alien.

"That's it, birdy," my big lover whispered. "Nice and easy, now. Calm down. Just calm down. . ." He kept licking my neck and shoulders.

My breathing steadied, and I blinked water out of my eyes, staring at the floor a few feet from my face as I adjusted to the feeling of being penetrated so deeply. I became aware of my own penis, hot and still firm beneath my abdomen. It grew harder when I thought about the situation that I was in - hot sex with another male, who currently had me impaled on his own meat. This was it. I was doing it.

"God. . . you're so good," Shawn said, his voice muffled by my hair. "Bit rough on ya, was I?"

"A little," I croaked, then cleared my throat. I raised my head and tried to look over my shoulder, but all I could see was Shawn's muscular deltoid. "How. . . how far in are you?"

I felt him come up a little to look. "A clean ten inches," he purred, laying back over me. "As good as any woman, birdy." He started to massage my shoulders.

Just then someone knocked on my door. It was a series of short, irritated raps, and if Shawn hadn't been so tightly buried, I think he would have leapt to his feet. I grunted as he gave a start.

"Keep it DOWN in there, dammit!" a hoarse voice shouted from outside.

"Who is that?" Shawn asked me in a low voice.

"Neighbor," I whispered. "Real prick."

I was about to add more, but Shawn raised himself up and roared at the door in a voice that made the windows vibrate, " SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!"

There was a stunned silence from outside, and then footsteps scurrying away. Shawn laughed quietly along with me, then he got back to business.

"That turns me on," he growled, and pushed at me harder. I yelped a little as I sank into the cushions, and there was a squishy sound from the lube. "I think this is your limit, birdy." He began to withdraw, and I clenched my hands into fists and moaned at the sensation of it sliding out of my warm guts.

There was a slick pop as Shawn's penis slid out of me, and then his weight was gone as he got up. I sat up, feeling a wetness and looseness about my pucker, not caring if I made a mark on the couch. Shawn stood in front of me, his huge member still encased in that ridiculously small condom, looking very randy and ready for a release. I felt my own penis surge in response, and looked down dumbly as a teaspoon of precum squirted out and onto the floor.

Shawn was half-smiling, half-snarling again as he demanded, "Against the wall or over the couch?"

In reply I placed my palms against the nearest wall and raised my tail, quivering with expectation.

There were no games this time. Shawn was behind me and in me before five seconds had passed, and I grunted as I felt him slide roughly all the way in, bracing myself for what would probably be a very rough fuck.

Muscles bulged along my arms as I took his first punishing thrust and withdrawal, squawking with a mixture of pain and desire. I spread my legs further apart and planted my stance more firmly just in time for the second round, followed by the third, the fourth, the fifth - I quickly lost count.

Once we had established that I could take it, Shawn grasped my pelvis firmly and began to rut. His penetrations were deep and his thrusts were powerful - he was going fast now, and sparks were flying at the edge of my vision and the blood was pounding in my head again as I felt him sliding IN and OUT, IN and OUT, IN and OUT. I heard him snarling as he climaxed, and the thrusts he made during his peak took my feet off the floor and nearly drove my head into the wall. He kept going with short, strong jerks, a long time, as he poured out his seed. I was so wild, and aroused beyond belief, that I had a mini-orgasm of my own, spraying a small quantity of semen across the floor and the wall.

I would have brought myself to climax, but suddenly I felt a big pair of hands wrap around my penis, and I thrust blindly into them, grateful.

"Come on, let's see if that big toy is just for show," Shawn whispered to me. "Let's see what you're packin'."

I would have warned him, but I was beyond speech at that point. After only a few seconds, I gasped, and my glans swelled, heralding the oncoming rush, and I moaned loudly. Translucent prefluids bubbled from the head of my cock, and then exploded outward in a thousand droplets as I shot white streamers of cum onto the wall in front of me. I came so hard I could actually hear the squirting sound of my ejaculation, and I realized after a few seconds that I was about to break a volume record for my past orgasms.

I shuddered and squirmed in Shawn's grip, each copious blast of my semen striking the wall with a juicy sound - splat, splat, splat, splat - excess fluid boiling and dripping from my cock in long strings, soaking Shawn's hand, which squished and squelched as he milked me. Shawn turned my penis upward, and I flinched as I quickly coated my chest and upper stomach with ropes of jizz. The ejaculations began to slow down at last, but not in time to save everything within range of my cock from being doused.

My penis still bubbling weakly, I pressed my hot cheek against the cool wall and breathed a sigh of relief as my hormone-charged body began to relax, despite the hand still on my cock and Shawn still in my ass. I could hear him breathing hard, even over my own exhalations.

"God damn," he said. "You sure can cum. Any more left in there?"

I winced as he gave my penis a tug. "No, I think I just spent it all."

"Let's see how I did, birdy," he said, and I closed my eyes and grunted as he pulled out with a sloppy noise. I turned around on unsteady feet, clenching my sore butt. It would probably hurt worse tomorrow, I thought ruefully.

Shawn peeled the condom off and showed it to me. It bulged loosely with a pretty sizeable quantity of male fluids, almost like a little water balloon. It was also a lot less dirty than I expected.

"I guess it almost worked," Shawn said, grinning, and he pointed down to his crotch. Glistening semen coated his softening penis and was smeared all across his groin, balls, and thighs. "I squeezed out a lot. Your backside is a real mess."

I put a hand back there, and sure enough, all the feathers across my rump, thighs, and under my tail were thick with the stuff. "Gross."

"Let's get this washed off," Shawn said, and he kissed me again, grinding his sticky front against mine. I wasn't ready for more sex, and fortunately he wasn't either, just a little gentle stimulation.

"Shower's down the hall," I said when we broke it up.

He lead me there, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Sweaty, sticky and exhausted from the best sex I'd ever had, I was a little surprised to see how good I looked. Shawn was erect again as he turned on the water and pulled me into the shower with him; I was amazed at his stamina.

"I'm a two-shot tom," Shawn purred as he fondled me under the hot water, pulling me into an embrace and rubbing my back. "You can take care of that, can't you?"

"Oh, god, I can't handle you twice," I said, eyeing his maleness with trepidation.

Shawn positioned my back towards the spray of water, and began to wash me with a cloth. He moved to the drying semen under my tail, and I crooned with delight as he scrubbed my rump and between my legs. "Well, just get me off, then," Shawn said after a grunt of disappointment, pushing his cock into my hands. He slapped another cloth across my shoulders. "And wash it good."

I took the cloth and began to clean his genitals, paying very good attention to his swollen glans. Shawn moaned his approval as I masturbated him, and I was rewarded with a teasing finger in my pucker that alternated with his hand on my balls as he continued cleaning me up. After a few minutes of this Shawn pushed me down to my knees and put a commanding hand on the back of my head.

"Come on," he snarled, his wet penis bumping against my beak. "Give me some tongue."

He looked even more enormous from this perspective, but I took him as best I could, opening my beak and sliding his tool into my mouth. It was hot and odd-tasting, and I slid my tongue around it, feeling Shawn's reaction to my ministrations as I lapped at the glans. He pushed me down further until I began to gag, then let up a bit.

"Yeah, that's it. . ." he growled as I grew bolder in my teasing. As I curled my tongue around his maleness, I reached up and put one hand on his hip and the other between his legs, gently stroking the raised underside of his huge cock. "Fuck yes. . ." A dollop of salty liquid splashed into my throat as Shawn approached his climax, and I licked him harder, then grabbed his ballsack and began to fondle it.

Shortly I saw the muscles of his thighs tense up, and felt his cockhead inflate a little further. I pulled back a little, but Shawn forced me down, and I braced myself to take the result of his orgasm. His balls clenched under my fingers, and a sudden burst of semen flooded my mouth.

"Fuck!" Shawn gasped, and began to gently hump into my face. I felt his second wave flood my cheeks, and I gagged a little, choking as his seed ran out of the corners of my beak. Shawn let me go and I let him slide out, sitting back with a beakful of cum as he used his hands to finish the job, shooting the remainder across my face and shoulders.

I leaned forward and spat a great wad of spooge onto the floor of the shower, then got to my feet, tasting the lingering traces of his virile gift on my tongue. My mate was panting hard, eyes half-closed as he relished his afterglow, and they opened wide in surprise as I began to wash his sticky penis with a cloth. He actually cringed, and I got a gorgeous view of his tense stomach muscles.

"Brr, you're going to make me come again," he groaned as I finished cleaning the hypersensitive organ, teasing him by running my fingers along the underside of the glans. Shawn looked me slyly. "Looks like I got you kind of dirty."

It could have turned sexy, but it didn't; he scrubbed his leavings from my body, then fondled my penis, which by now was erect again. I was too tired to want more, though, so Shawn turned off the shower and dried himself, then me. I watched him dry me in the mirror, and it was probably the sexiest thing I'd seen, this big, muscular feline rubbing me down with a towel as I stood there with a huge hardon, both of us naked.

After he was done, Shawn stood behind me and began to rub my shoulders, and we both gazed into the mirror.

"So," he purred, his voice content and possessive, "do I sleep here tonight?"

He grasped my penis, and I arched into his warm hand. Maybe I wasn't too tired after all, despite the ache in my balls. His limp, warm cock rubbed between my asscheeks as Shawn made a teasing grind, and I squawked, "Sure!" A feeble bead of precum trailed down my member as Shawn stroked me harder. I watched it all in the mirror, thinking to myself that Hortha would be so proud if he saw us together like this.

"Good," Shawn replied seductively, "because I don't want to leave you high and dry, if you know what I mean." He squeezed my throbbing cock, and a arc of pre pattered to the floor as I writhed in pleasure. "Let's finished this properly."

"Bedroom's down the hall," I gasped, still tired but happier than I'd been in awhile. Maybe another orgasm was what I needed. He went to the livingroom and switched off the lights, grabbing the pack of condoms before joining me again.

I looked at the clock as Shawn followed me into my bedroom, and wasn't surprised to see that it was after 10 already. "We'd better get some sleep," I said to Shawn, who stepped around me and laid his palms on my bed, as if testing the springs. He looked at me and smiled, tossing the condoms on my bedside table.

"Sure, birdy." The cat peeled back the covers and climbed into the bed. It wasn't a double, but maybe it would work for two people who were willing to sleep very, very close together. Shawn spread his legs, and invited me to sit between them with a hand gesture. I did so, sighing as I leaned back against the curve of his stomach and large chest, so glad that my mate was muscular and well-built. It felt cozy and safe to be against him.

Shawn turned on the bedside lamp and switched off the main, and immediately the atmosphere became even more comforting. He let his hands wander over my body, but it wasn't the lustful groping of earlier; this was a more controlled desire, a gentler need. His talk was just as dirty, though.

"You're fucking hot," he said with a growl in his chest, rubbing my nipples. "I'm going to have you again in the morning, right here, on your bed, before I go. Maybe a few times. We'll fuck like a couple of horny teenagers."

My cock was yearning for release, and I wanted him to jerk me off. "Well, don't keep me waiting forever," I snapped, grabbing myself.

Shawn sounded amused: "Ooh, I think you really do like it rough, after all, birdy." He pushed my hands aside, and I groaned in gratitude as he began to pleasure all thirteen inches of my male pride, which was growing wetter and wetter with every trickle of precum that I forced out. The sticky sounds that his hand made with every stroke were musical, and I opened my mouth to pant.

Shawn stopped as I neared climax. I protested loudly, but he said, "Now, we just got cleaned up. I don't think I'd like waking up to a big mess, okay? It ain't nice. So let's put one of these on ya."

He took a condom and unrolled it over me. On me, the condom strained even harder than its sibling had on Shawn, and I doubted that it could survive much abuse.

"Let's wrap this up," Shawn declared, then he began to pump me with rapid abandon. I squawked, eyes closed, my peak fast approaching. The masturbation was now very wet, and I held back, delaying as long as I could, and then suddenly - RELEASE!

The condom was empty one minute, then it bulged dangerously as I grunted loudly, doing my best to fill it. Shawn was nibbling on my neck again, his hands still pumping fast, and I fired off a few more shots before I couldn't sustain any more. This orgasm wasn't as impressive as my first, not even close; I was glad, for I surely would have burst the condom if I had gone on much longer.

I lay back against Shawn, limp and satisfied. Shawn grabbed the condom off of my softening penis before my cum rushed out, and he held up the bag.

"Just amazing," he said, and I felt proud.

Shawn took the condom to his mouth, and I heard him swallow a few times before I could turn around. "Did you just - ?" I sputtered, but the smile on his face and the empty condom told me the story.

"Goodnight," he said, dropping the stretched condom over the side of the bed and switching off the light.

Already I couldn't wait until morning.

===

- Yep, there'll be a sequel. You know. Whenever.