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Lars was with Desmond for a simple reason. Having met at a bar, they commented on the fact that their patterns and tails were similar. Desmond as a foxcoon had a big, lush tail with black bands, and so did Lars whom was a red panda rarely seen without a beer in hand. They knew nothing about each other excepting names and what could be picked out from a quick once-over.

What Lars liked about Desmond based on his limited data was the slender girliness of the foxcoon. The big, fluffy tail earned him much favor too, and the boy had a very sweet laugh. In turn, Desmond loved the apparent athleticism of Lars' upper body, yet the panda featured a very fat ass looking nearly out-of-place. The foxcoon stole no shortage of gropes on the pliable cheeks.

The red panda was just sipping his fifth beer when he asked Desmond in a sudden epiphany, "Would you like to head to the restroom with me?"

Desmond smiled and batted his eyelashes. "A frenzied handjob, crouched over the toilet while a vagrant cries for Jesus and shits himself to death two stalls down. So romantic."

"Well, romance is," Lars belched but hardly missed a beat, "my middle name, cutie."

The fox threw his arms around Lars and graced him with a kiss on his boozy lips. "How's about my place, just up the road? A quick walk--, or a stagger, in your case, and we'll be all by our lonesome for as long as we need, sugar."

Lars dragged his tongue across Desmond's lips then softly burped in the twink's face. To his credit, Desmond winced only slightly. "M'kay," he agreed.

It became clear to Desmond that Lars held his liquor better than anticipated along the walk, but from the first moment they were within Desmond's apartment, the abrasive smooches began. Desmond moaned into Lars' maw. Tongues soaked with beer and salty from pretzels swabbed and tangled. The red panda broke the kiss off very quickly but gnawed along Desmond's neck with needle-pointed teeth.

"You're very pretty," Lars murmured into the delicate flesh of Desmond's throat. "I love your hair."

"Thanks, I brush it for hours every night," Desmond chirped, trailing his fingers down the seams of Lars' shirt. He ignored the buttons on it and instead cupped the panda's fly. "Lars, honey, how's about you sit down and let little old me take good care of you?" he purred, letting slip a sweet southern-fried cadence which oddly titillated Lars.

"Sure, yeah," Lars chuckled. He pecked Desmond's cheek and eased away in spite of the twink's gentle grasp on his swelling groin. He seated himself on the couch and comfortably reclined into it.

Smiling most sweetly, Desmond approached Lars and bent over before the panda. He stole a lip lock from the handsome creature at the same time as he opened his fly. Beneath the flaps of denim were moody blue boxers which he tugged down to reveal a dense black shaft and proportionately fat balls.

"My goodness," crooned Desmond as he wrapped a needy paw around the panda's meat. "Hung like a bull."

Lars tittered quite unlike himself. Flattery made him insufferable, especially with liquor in his veins. "Nothing a pretty boy like you hasn't dealt with, I bet."

Desmond engulfed Lars' uncut penis in the humid confines of his maw. The red panda was half-flaccid, but that changed for the better within a few moments. Desmond's suckles drew the dark flesh taut and coaxed its veins to bulge. Pre jetted from the tip and nourished the fox ever so slightly. Lars moaned and rested his paws on the back of the twink's head.

In a pleasant response to Lars' touch, Desmond began a firm and steady bob of his head. The seal of his suckling broke off many times, permitting drool to run down the shaft.

Through a playful chuckle, Lars cooed, "You sure love that dick in your mouth, cutie. You wanna hike that tail up and take it like a real fox?"

Desmond continued as if he had not heard the suggestion only to pull off a full minute later. He knelt and dragged his tongue from balls to glans then cooed, "You don't wanna stick it up my butt, do you, baby?" he chuckled. "But hey, how's about you get these pants off and I'll give that big, jiggly hind-end of yours a good licking."

"As long as you keep it up with that cute accent," Lars grinned, wiggling out of his bottoms, "you can do whatever you want."

Lars was prepared to roll over onto his belly, and doing so would have made the effect of his tubby ass more dramatic, but Desmond coaxed him to stay seated. The twink boy first held apart Lars' thighs then slopped his tongue up beneath the panda's full scrotum. Anal musk and a prevalent coating of sweat assaulted Desmond's senses and left him shivering. His slippery tongue found the clenching pucker of Lars' anus, and then the fun started.

The foxcoon's large, wet tongue played wonderfully across the red panda's asshole. It was such a thorough lashing that Lars felt as if every wrinkle and crease in the pucker were being doted upon. His smile twisted up big and dumb and the flesh of his cock throbbed. "Oh, oh yeah," sighed Lars, letting his toes curl however they liked. "That's awesome."

Desmond giggled. His tail swished and diffused his own musk through the air. It bore a peculiar scent, but Lars had not noticed it. "Glad for you, darling," he crooned, ending with a smooch on the panda's taint. Then he dove back into the pucker, suckled the rim and dug his tongue into it. The orifice was too snug to yield to such a penetration, but Lars moaned deeply at this feeling.

Feeling pleasure mounting, Lars looked down at the foxcoon with hungry eyes. Eye contact was made, and in it, Desmond could see that the red panda wanted something more. He reached up and took hold of that thick, black phallus still wet with drool but completed only a few strokes when Lars grabbed his wrist and forced him to stop.

"Nuh-uh, not a handy," Lars firmly said.

Slowly and with a slight crease of a smile, Desmond withdrew his muzzle. The unease in his eyes was not apparent to drunken Lars. "All right, sugar," he calmly purred, "how's about I suck you off good and hard?"

Lars chuckled and leaned down. He stroked Desmond's pretty muzzle. "Quit being all coy, I want to fuck you. Your ass is perfect. Well, almost. Mine is perfect. Yours is a close second," he noted.

The fox forced a polite laugh. He stood up and clasped his paws behind his back, looming so close as to preclude Lars from standing. "Aren't you just too kind," he murmured, "but I'm not comfortable taking off my pants, you get what I mean?"

Suddenly Lars stood anyway, muscling Desmond back. When the twink grunted, Lars pulled him close and they shared a one-sided kiss. "Don't be modest. Come on, let's see some cheeks."

"Lars," Desmond puffed, wriggling out of the red panda's grasp, "please."

"Come o-o-on, it can't be that little. Trust me, they're always smaller than mine, so it's not like I have high standards," Lars badgered, grabbing Desmond's fly.

The twink eased back again, then smiled sadly at Lars. "All right. All right, fine. But you're not gonna like it."

Desmond never liked this part of sex. So many men were startled and disturbed that he did his best to keep them happy without full nudity. But with Lars, he unzipped and unbuttoned with authority. He shoved his pants down defiantly. And when he tugged his pretty purple panties down, he did so not teasingly, but in a harsh jerk.

Lars stared for many seconds at the spongy black vulva resting between Desmond's legs. His penis drooped slightly. He grabbed and fluffed it. "You're a girl?"

"Not exactly," Desmond sighed. "Now, see? You were happy with my mouth, sugar. Shoulda kept it at that."

But when the fox bent down to pull up panties and jeans, Lars acted. First the panda grabbed Desmond's shoulder and straightened him up, then he captured the twink's muff in a firm grip. Desmond gasped, as his vulva was excruciatingly tender at times, but tears welled in his eyes in an instant from the indignity alone. He choked them back. Difficult school years had toughened him up.

"No, no, trust me, no," the foxcoon puffed, trying to push away Lars' paw. The panda kissed him and he instinctively returned it. "I'll let you--, you can fuck me in the butt like you wanted, yeah? But not in the cooter, honey."

"Cooter!" Lars laughed. "That's adorable. C'mon, I wanna eat you out," he urged, pulling Desmond toward the couch.

Desmond whimpered. "I'm really not comfortable," he moaned.

Lars pushed Desmond onto the couch. He landed with a bump and pressed his thighs together but not fast enough to stop Lars from cramming his head between them. "Relax, I'll make you comfortable. You just need the right guy," he winked before burying his snout in the velvet flesh.

A hiss escaped Desmond through clenched teeth. Lars' attention was sudden and crude; he wrenched apart the twink's triangular folds and devoured the pink hidden inside the black mound. "Tuh--, too rough, too rough," Desmond yowled, gripping the edge of a couch cushion and a fistful of his own tail.

"Maybe you're just too sensitive," Lars matter-of-factly stated.

"That's exactly it!" Desmond groaned.

"Well," Lars tutted, "I'm helping you out, you'll be more used to it after this." He belched into Desmond's pussy yet otherwise continued normally, merely lapping the inner walls, though he occasionally wrapped his mouth at large around the protruding vulva. This was as close as it came to pleasure for Desmond who was easily overstimulated.

Even as Lars showed him mild pleasure, Desmond wept. The tears were slight and he did his best to prevent the crack in his voice. "Stop. Please, Lars, stop it."

Desmond's voice still had a sweet southern twang to it, but his desperate tone undermined the cuteness. Lars was slightly disappointed, but the musky flavor and scent of the muff he ate was a pleasure to make up for it.

"Okay, okay, no more of the cunnilingus. I try not to do sex acts I can't spell anyway," Lars admitted, pulling back his head.

"Thank you," Desmond dourly said, leaning back against the couch.

It should have come as no surprise to Desmond that Lars hunkered down over him and ground against his muff, but he was so genuinely shocked at the appalling boldness that he said nothing at all and instead stared wide-eyed at Lars. The red panda entered him with some difficulty, and the foxcoon's silence was interrupted with a shriek.

"Shh! Shush," Lars ordered, pecking Desmond on the lips. "You sound like you're getting raped or killed or something, your neighbors might come bug us if you make any more sounds like that."

Then began the humping, sharp and vigorous bucks which reamed out Desmond's mostly unused box. The foxcoon was evidently no virgin, but neither was he experienced. For all the snugness he noted, Lars didn't even think the fox owned a dildo.

"Mmm, nice pussy," Lars cooed. "Really nice. Can I cum in you? Are you fertile?"

Desmond was still fighting back his sobs. The physical pain was waning, but other agonies persisted. "No. No, I'm not--, I can't breed."

"Call me sugar or darling, I like that," Lars rumbled into Desmond's neck. Still he humped, plowing away, burying his dense penis inside of the cuntboy over and over again.

Sourly and stiffly, Desmond said, "All right, sugar."

"Perfect, just like that, it's so adorable," Lars sighed. He licked Desmond's neck, nibbled his throat, and then kissed his lips. "You're wet. See? I told you you'd like it."

"Uh-huh," said Desmond with no enthusiasm. He looked away from Lars but kept his eyes clenched anyway.

Sensing that Desmond wanted no conversation, but still too insensitive to make another, much more vital observation, Lars continued his dirty work. Each smash of his hips against Desmond's and the accompanying retreats caused Desmond's pronounced box to suckle. The wet noises came easily, and Lars' meat glistened with the cuntboy's moisture.

Inner textures like damp silk and pussylips reminiscent of a warm sponge coaxed Lars into his drunk orgasm quickly. He hunched over the foxcoon and grunted. In he went balls-deep a final time, and the cum shot in a few thick ropes. It was an unremarkable orgasm, but Desmond allowed a sniffle.

"Are you Japanese? Crying during sex?" Lars earnestly asked. "I thought you sounded like you were from Texas."

"Keh--, Kentucky," Desmond stiffly replied. "Are you done?"

"Yeah, couldn't you tell?" Lars chuckled. He pulled out slowly and stepped off the couch. "You might wanna sit up," he said, cupping his drooling penis to catch its mess, "or my jizz is gonna stain your couch."

But Desmond only laid still, and Lars went off in search of the restroom.

After he returned refreshed, Lars pulled up his bottoms. "I hate to run like this, but I've got to pick my boyfriend up from work in like an hour. Call me."

Desmond did not get up until Lars was gone.