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lomidepuzlo

Mira groaned and shifted where she knelt, unaccustomed to the strange posture enforced by the walls of the bathtub on either side of her, the slick surface of the material itself, the general feeling of being here, doing this, away from the toilet. The breath repeatedly puffing out between her thighs, wafting up through the short mat of pubic hair coating her, coaxed her on further and drew that nervousness out into something more resembling arousal, but still the hesitation and shyness remained.

“I just-” She swallowed and squirmed again, careful not to squish Lolo underneath her. Not that he’ll mind, probably… “I’m not so sure about this…”

“Oh, come on. Would it be easier if we do this in the shower?”

“I don’t know – maybe? But we’re already here now, and…” She reached down with her other hand, stroking his head, and made the move to pull him in closer. He took the opportunity to brush his lips across hers, then flick his tongue out across soft, sensitive flesh already slickened with natural wetness, a few stray dribbles of piss having worked their way out from before, yet never quite making it to the full stream yet. “And I do have to – to go.”

“So then go,” he murmured against her, words tickling through that short hair. Mira swallowed, sighed, and tilted her head back. “Close your eyes. Pretend I’m not here. This is why I had you practice on your own, remember? You said you wanted to…”

She had, and she still did. Just the thought of it sent that electric jolt of sweet interest through her lower body, and the more she tightened down and squeezed the closer the need came… but still it never quite got there.

“…And you know I really do, too. So then just sit back, relax… do whatever it is you need to do…”

It was a little bit cheesy, but Mira swallowed again, slid back into her thoughts, and brought up memories of the river down in the park, the little waterfall cresting by the ridge… the burbling of jets out in the public pool. She had done this at each of those places without any issue, nervousness and excitement jolting in at her, arousal swelling further so that she had to sit there and cool off for minutes afterwards, but here… here she bit her lip, flared her nostrils, squeezed in a bit, bore down, pushed… tightened, felt the urgency simmer, grow, crest… and then peak, and-

-and with another jerk and spray she finally began emptying her bladder right across Lolo’s face before and underneath him, his head jerking with surprise before he lifted up into it. With a sweet sigh Mira settled into the sensation of the flow, one hand gripping his head and the other squeezing on the wall of the bathtub, listening to the sound of her own piss trickling down across the bottom and flowing towards the drain.

Before long, though, the sound of it changed, shifted, and adjusted, altering from a noise similar to going straight into the toilet to instead as if she were pissing into a smaller, enclosed space – and, certainly, she was. When Mira opened her eyes next and looked down underneath herself, mouth hanging open, chest heaving in slow, steady breaths of relief, she saw that Lolo had craned his head back and parted his jaws open as far as he could, the warm pale yellow filling his open mouth until it spilled freely from his cheeks.

Stunned and surprised, her arousal only continuing to grow, Mira slid her hand away from his head, ran it down her belly, and spread herself between two fingers, briefly spattering her stream across his nose cheek. Lolo jumped again, his eyes closed, then closed his mouth, sloshed his treasure around, and pushed it out between his lips, then took a moment to catch his breath – Mira imagined that she could see the thick wisps of steam curling up from his opened mouth, her high, dry scent wafting up within the close space of this corner of the bathroom – and dove right back into her aim.

The longer it went on the more her confidence grew. She straightened up further, scooted forward on her knees, and now moved her other hand away from the tub wall to take the place of the other on his head. With that one there and still keeping herself spread, her stream now sharper, tighter, cleaner, she drained directly across his tongue, against the roof of his mouth, into the back of his throat… and pulled him down until he closed his mouth around her, piss-warmed tongue flicking forward between her lips, dancing across her sensitive clit, spraying and spattering her stream where it emptied right into his mouth.

She felt his hungry breaths drawing up through her pubic hair and then steaming right back out, in between little moans and half-swallows against her, tongue digging deep, spreading her own scent right back across her, drawing this urgent need out of her and replacing it instead with a sweet, simmering pleasure. At some point along the way Mira knew that she ended up trickling to a finish, bladder emptied for now regardless of how she had prepared for this afternoon indulgence, but still that bright, sparkling tingle remained.

Lolo now breathed heavily between her legs, lips still sealed around hers, suckling, lapping within his mouth, thick sticky slickness dribbling down his chin. Again and again he swallowed, his fur dampened with small streams from where he had spilled; with effort he managed to pull himself away and panted openly, eyes half-lidded in deep, indulgent delight. Shakily he laughed, and looked up at Mira above him.

“Thanks,” he breathed, and reached to wipe at his mouth. “I really… needed that…”

“I did too, apparently…” she replied, looking down underneath herself. Still the rivers of pale yellow made their way down to the bathtub drain. “Do you wanna – um – take this to the bed?”

Lolo looked up at her, thought about it, and then nuzzled in along her thigh again, his breath making her shudder. “I’m good right here if you are,” he purred. “And, besides, I’m soaked.”

“Keep going like that and that’s just gonna get worse…”

SoraCasus

“Hanging in there alright? Everything still good?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Aeon rolled his head across the pillow and sighed out, body unsure if it wanted to stretch his legs out, spread them apart, or pull them completely up towards his chest. The hyena-fox hung halfway off the edge of the mattress, his own weight pulling him further down against the huge, strong paw cupped underneath him, his well-attended balls – still he felt the clinging, sticky slickness of gathered saliva, and the faint remnant tingle leftover from how thoroughly Fyra had polished them with her tongue and lips – resting in her palm, her thumb hooked around the base of his sheath. Each pulse of her fingers inside of him sent a sweet, delicious jolt through that entire portion of his body. “I’m good. I’m good.”

“Never felt this before?”

Truthfully it was a bit hard to focus, hard to keep himself grounded here. He swallowed again, mouth open, and lifted his head up; the hyena kneeling between his spread legs glanced up at him, brows raised, then looked back to her work, appreciation and interest coating her muzzle just like her saliva coated most of his loins. He ran his paws over his head, flipped his ears forward, bit his lip, and lifted himself up onto his elbows, fully aware of the way his chest seemed to heave of its own accord under steady, labored breathing.

“N-no, it’s… I’ve done this, a few times, and it always… feels…” One of his footpaws kicked, then pushed against the edge of the mattress. He lifted himself up on her fingers, the forefinger and middle pressing up inside him, holding there, just stretching and wiggling as though she were literally trying to scratch an itch on the inside of his body. “D…different…”

“Yeah. That’s since this time it’s targeted. This is what makes bottoming feel good. If I could…” Fyra turned her head to the side as though in thought, shifted her body a bit, pressed up a little bit further inside of him – Aeon almost thought he could see the shape of her fingers pressing out from the interior of his belly – and then curled her fingers in again, once again revitalizing that smooth, electric zap. He squirmed, clenched down around her, felt his shaft bounce against his belly, and then settled back down again, back arched upwards. “…There it is. Feel that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I… oh, yeah. Hard – not to…”

“You can do this yourself, you know. With a toy, or your fingers, or… there’s a particular model of vibe plug that boys tend to like; maybe it’ll work for you. But this little… this?” She squeezed again, poking up inside of him. Aeon gasped with the natural resistance of his own body, felt his sheath pulse again, and then when he relaxed noticed the thick trickle of sticky pre oozing down along the curve of his belly. “That right there? That’s the spot. Fewer folks know about it than you’d think. And like with everything else – like with the stretching I showed you, with the sounding, everything – you take it slow at first, find out what works for you… and then indulge.”

Aeon swallowed again and sank back down to the bed, one paw coming up to spread loosely across his muzzle. “Feels good,” he rumbled, eyes fluttering shut. “I could… take this all day…”

“Yeah. I bet you could.” Between his legs Fyra shifted and drew herself up, until the lower edge of the mattress squished inward beneath her weight. Aeon opened his eyes, looked up, saw her now halfway kneeling over him, leg next to his, one arm still between his spread thighs, the other now coming in to keep herself propped up over him. She poked at one of his legs with her thumb, fingers twisting inside of him. “Lift this for me?”

He did so. The change in pressure and sensation was slight but noticeable, and he sighed sweetly with the feeling. What had started out with gentle, inquisitive tonguing across his tailhole blossomed soon into eager, hungry attention, the hyena’s lips and tongue working around, against, and inside of him, until just like every other time she got beneath his tail he worried for a moment if she was actually trying to suck his guts right out of him; then she had paused, slipped three of her fingers into her mouth, got them nice and wet as well, and slid first one and then a second up inside of him. Now and again throughout the attention she had leaned over to spit another glob down across him, but Aeon was surprised to find that so far he hadn’t wished for the actual lube yet.

The hyena’s broad, muscled body came in over him, blocking out the light from the ceiling fan overhead. Aeon swallowed again, rumbled in his throat, smiled, and squirmed where he lay, loving this sight every time he saw it.

Fyra leaned in to nuzzle at his neck. “Deep breath.”

“Huh?” Her fingers began to draw back. “Oh. Yeah…” So he did, expecting her to replace those two digits instead with the full, firm length of her similarly hard pseudo…

…but instead those two fingers just pressed back into him, or rather slammed into place, palm smacking against the tight, firm ridge between the back of his sack and his tailhole. Aeon gasped, clenched down around her, squirmed again, and tried to say something, only for her to do the same thing again – and again – and again, fast and hard, vicious, urgent.

And it was like nothing he had ever felt before. Each pulse sent that same sparkling heat through his lower body, the sensation similar to when he wrapped a paw around himself and stroked except this time bubbling up from inside. Fyra lifted Aeon’s lower body partially away from the mattress, so that his balls sagged down across his sheath from underneath and his cock swung against his belly, no longer fully hard yet still feeling all the pleasure, all the sensation as if he were: squirts and sprays of pre dribbled out across his belly and chest, and every time he clenched he felt that urgency grow, boiling up inside of him.

“O-hoh,” he panted, eyes wrenched. “Oh, man, I’m – I think I-”

And then he did, nearly without noticing at first. Thick spurts of wet heat squirted out across his chest and caught his muzzle, then again, and again – and his legs tingled, his toes curled, his footpaws flexed, and tightened, and flexed again. Above him Fyra purred softly, “good boy, good boy… there, feel that? That same spot? God, you tightened up…” and gently lowered him back down, fingers slipping free so smoothly that he nearly failed to notice that, too. “Good, right? And you wanna know the best part?”

Breathless but still energized, Aeon nodded. He looked down across himself, at the streaks of white, his pulsing sheath… his unswollen knot just barely bulging out the supple skin, his shaft halfway retracted. Fyra leaned in over him, planted a kiss to the side of his muzzle, then slid back down off the edge of the mattress – and yanked the hyena-fox in against herself, paws gripping his legs, until her muzzle squished in at the root of his sheath. She lapped at him there, then dragged her tongue up along his shaft, and he braced for the hypersensitivity… but instead felt the warm tingle of sweet delight instead.

“Done like that, the orgasm doesn’t really count,” she purred, and mouthed gently at his tapered tip. He shivered. “You can go for a second by the usual methods immediately after… want me to show you?”

Thewonderingcanine

Smack squirmed in his desk chair, tail swishing through the hole in the back of the seat as he adjusted to this new, enticing sensation. A package had come in for Monty the previous afternoon, and after a hell of a night setting the thing up, figuring out how it worked, and then taking advantage of it, the two had decided to send Smack off to work the following morning with it as a little bit of… extra motivation.

And he could feel it nestled there underneath the base of his tail, the smooth, molded surface sucking right up against the pucker of his tailhole, buzzing with that faint, distant warmth that showed that the device was turned on. Whenever his mind wandered in between tasks it was infuriating, as all he needed to do was scoot side to side, sit back, and close his eyes, and then he could pretend that it was instead Monty’s lips pursed there against his rim, nudging in without moving, without licking…

Until, suddenly, there was a lick. Then another, and another, and Smack squirmed and gripped the edge of his work desk, reflexively hiking his tail at the base and arching his back down against the miniature portal device there underneath him. One end of it right here under his tail and then the other back home, resting along the nightstand affixed to the tubelike handle that held it; he could imagine the wolf holding it up to his muzzle, brushing his lips across the wrinkled pucker sitting in the center of the strange material, and now lapping away at it. Smack groaned and shivered at the sensation of that deft tongue curling up and across him, following the little lines of wrinkles, drawing back and forth, flipping all the way across in one smooth, deliberate drag; then Monty adjusted his technique and pursed his lips forward to again feel like the mouth of the device itself, though each time he drew back out of the kiss, Smack felt another thick glob of warm saliva deposited there.

It was such a strange sensation, feeling the wetness dripping there and as a result clenching down and squeezing his rump together to avoid spilling it out into the seat of his pants, though he knew that, logically, it would just trickle right back out of the portal to ooze miles away across Monty’s waiting tongue. And so it did, again and again, only to get spat right back into place; the wolf pressed his lips up against his tailhole, sucked gently, and spat against him, then into him, teasing him further open.

Meanwhile the foxwolf struggled to focus on his work. He dug his claws into the wood of his desk, pressed his chin down into his other palm, gritted his teeth, swallowed… still reflexively angled his rump and lifted up as though Monty were sliding up here beside him, as though he were sitting in the wolf’s lap instead of the desk chair. And then the sensation of lips and tongue and hot, hungry breath drew away, leaving him wet and chill for a moment… before a different, firmer heat took its proper place there, nudging and nosing up, poking at his already slightly-stretched tailhole.

He looked forward at his work scrawling across the screen yet saw none of it. Again and again Smack tapped his finger against his desk, teasing back against the end of his friend’s cock reaching across the space in between, pushing up against him, playing at pushing into him. There was nothing he could do, really: if he moved back, the portal device nestled under his tail would just move with his body, changing nothing about his position relative to the other end of the portal. This all depended on Monty back at home, likely lying back on the bed with the sheets thrown back and his legs spread, one paw cupping his impressive balls, the other gripping the shaft of the portal-turned-toy and holding it against himself, the pressure enough to keep his hard shaft upright.

Again and again that pressure grew, sizzled, and then eased back again, the wolf gently teasing himself forward, poking in at Smack’s rim, going just far enough for him to pull in his breath and grit his teeth at the beginning of the stretch… and then releasing again, driving him mad. The foxwolf twitched, already hard in his own pants, wanting that sensation yet unable to do anything about it. But then, he knew Monty, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to take it, either.

And within seconds Smack was proven right. There was a slight jiggle from the portal device as though the wolf back at home shifted it to his other paw, then another nudge, and another push, and this time it just kept on going. Smack arched his back and sat back in his seat as the wolf’s shaft finally sank up into him, stretching his tailhole, pressing inside of him and filling him with that slick, delicious warmth; he shivered and squirmed around his similarly impressive girth as it pressed further up into him.

Every time he closed his eyes Smack imagined what it would look like back home, Monty there pulling the toy – his rump – further down into himself. Maybe he had it in both paws and was lifting up from the hips, as though Smack really were back there sitting down onto him; occasionally he drew back, offering a small amount of relief, and then pushed up again, each time pressing deeper, further – until the movement abruptly stopped, the lack of actual connection between the two of them meaning that Smack had simply reached the end of his length, rather than felt his hips nudging up against his rear.

It was an odd feeling, tantalizing, and left him wanting more, which Monty was sure to provide: he remained there a moment longer and then began pulling out, only to stop along the rim of his head and sink right back in, the feeling pushing a low, breathy moan out of Smack. He swallowed again, gritted his teeth again, and bent forward over his desk, legs crossing under his chair, tail flicking… anxiously he glanced at the clock in the corner of the screen.

Maybe I can run to the bathroom, he thought. Maybe I’ll be able to make it. But – God, I don’t think I could walk straight… And he had this thing in for the whole day. Monty had just woken up; there would be no way for him to be satisfied with just one round.

Strapping in for the long haul…

Kefl

“So then you’ll wanna bounce around this spot here and head up the side wall there, and…”

Kieran pushed himself back against the headrest of his desk chair, the hinges creaking as it shifted with his weight. Again and again one of his footpaws kicked, toes curling in and out; he swallowed, gritted his teeth, squeezed his paw along the mouse, and then forced his eyes back open to look at the screen again. On the other monitor he kept the call open – thankfully without video, this time – and he was one of five in attendance, four currently in the same game.

And he had heard none of the explanation for this portion of the fight. Strafing back and forth in-game, the were-hyena squirmed in his seat again, scooted forward towards the edge of his chair… and felt his full, sizeable balls roll off the edge and sag down, only to be gingerly cupped within warm, attentive palms scooping up from underneath. Again he tilted his head to the side and peered down, just in time to see Lukas down there slopping his snout free from within Kieran’s sheath, the dank, supple skin of his equine arousal smearing across the otter’s already-soaked fur. Turquoise eyes glittered up at him, mischievousness mixed with musk-drunk indulgence, and again he dug himself down between his friend’s legs, nosing downwards to purse his lips between those balls, curl his tongue out…

“You got all that, Kieran?”

“Huh?” The were-hyena blinked and sat up, for a moment forgetting he wasn’t on cam this time. “What? Oh. Uh, yeah.”

“C’mon, man. We need you here for this.”

_ _

“Yeah. Yeah, I got… hah…” His leg kicked again as Lukas managed to work his lips around soft, pliable skin, sucked up into his maw, and then managed to fit one of the hyena’s balls in atop his tongue, slurping and licking and suckling while still plying both paws along the impressive equine length hanging down across his shoulder. Already Kieran had felt himself tense and tighten and squirt little ropes of pre across the back of the otter’s shoulders; luckily Lukas had had the foresight to cover all the computer’s wiring with a towel first. “I got it.

“You sure? You sound like you’re running on your treadmill again.”

“No, no, I’m…” Then just as easily as he had worked it in Lukas let that one ball go, though followed through with dragging the flat of his tongue across Kieran’s sack, pulling up along his sheath, and once more swirling down into the depths of the thick, overlapping folds of skin swampy with sweat, with gathered musk, with pre, with drool. Lukas swallowed and sighed out, audible even through his headset. “I’m… a little preoccupied. But I’m here.”

“…Well, okay. But we’re relying on you.”

“I know, I know. I…” He slipped his paw away from the keyboard, reached down underneath the desk, and gave himself a good squeeze and stroke, then thumped his hard cock down across Lukas’s muzzle again. The otter made a little noise, huffed again, and began the long journey back up towards his blunted tip, tongue slipping out and dragging the soft skin as he went, following the lines of veins and little contours, bouncing across the bulge of the ring. “…ah… I got it. Don’t worry about me…”

And for a while he did indeed have it. Lukas busied himself with small, focused ministrations, likely indulging himself more than anything else: Kieran’s mouth twitched and his eyes threatened to roll up into his head whenever that deft tongue danced across his tip again, circling around the little bulging edge, sliding back to roll across the textured bumps behind his unflared rim… gripping with both paws and bunching the skin forward again, so that he had another mass of overlapping wrinkles into which he could bury his nose and mouth.

But then the otter began pumping away at him, one paw wrapped in front of the other, squeezing along the medial ring every time he reached it. Kieran felt his entire body tense up with the irresistible pleasure of the movement, hard cock throbbing up across Lukas’s shoulder, smacking against the underside of his desk, and then flopping back down again, hanging underneath its own weight; the attentive otter rumbled in his throat, swallowed, coughed, swallowed again, and then resumed his work, lips pursed against the blunted end of Kieran’s shaft, still pumping and stroking even as the squirts of pre picked up in pace and urgency.

Kieran felt himself drifting, struggling to split his focus between the game and what was going on between his legs. Again and again he twitched, scooted back, felt his balls drag up along the front of the seat, then scooted forward again so that they flumped down, dripping with drool. Lukas swallowed once more, wiped his wrist across his mouth, and dove down to attend to the were-hyena’s sheath once more, slurping his tongue in between the sticky, slimy wrinkles and sucking the loose give between his lips, all the while still working his paws along the equine length with enough force that the rest of his body lurched with the momentum.

“Kieran! Focus! We need you to flank, now!”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, I’m… ah, God, I’m – gonna-”

Then that mouth slipped back again, pushed against his head, parted open – and Kieran felt his swelling flare press against the otter’s nose when he finally came, the first spurt searing from deep inside of him and then pounding out through his pulsing shaft. Lukas jumped with the force of it, and Kieran didn’t need to look to know that his cheeks had ballooned out with the volume; then the second came a moment later, squirting back across himself and his full flare, throbbing, twitching, trembling; and the third, and the fourth, and the fifth, slapping against the otter’s chest, or the back of his desk, or the wall behind the desk, on and on and on…

And when he was finally able to open his eyes again and unclench his jaw, his neck aching from the immense tension, he looked up to see the dim failure popup spreading across the screen. Exhausted, he slumped back in his seat, drew his paws across his muzzle, held them there for a moment, and then looked down underneath his desk, where Lukas was busy lapping the stray ropes off of himself and the underside of the were-hyena’s still hard, still flared shaft, all the while pumping slowly at himself with one paw.

“Kieran…”

“Hey, um…” He swallowed. “Can we… save this for another time? Something came up, and I gotta, uh…”

As he was speaking Lukas looked up at him, smirked, then shifted where he knelt. One paw went down underneath the base of his thick rudder; he paused, concentrated, shuddered… and then his entire body jerked as he tugged the buried plug free from himself, the slick, blue silicone shimmering with the coating of lube.

Kieran’s eyes widened. “Yeah. I gotta go. Talk to y’all, uh – next time…”