Chapter 14: Nature’s Butt-Dial

Their sex life mostly continued as normal, though Gila occasionally demonstrated the predatory eye-dilation of a housecat staring down an unattended tuna steak or an unaware mouse. Good to his wishes, Gila did top George a couple times. His prick barely made it in past George’s plump, muscular buttcheeks, but once inside the cool, intimate ring of his husband he fucked him as if he was trying to stuff his balls in, too.

George deeply enjoyed the occasional bouts of proactiveness from his husband. If Gila had a wild hair up his ass, the gecko would smirkingly follow. Most of it was Vanilla+, such as a no-pants rule in the house. Usually this was just undies, but George decided to turn it up a notch. Gila wore a jockstrap, and George a thong, and this lasted about an hour before the gecko was laying on the couch, eating his husband’s hole while the cat tried to swallow nine thick inches. George jacked Gila off into his jock while he spasmed and spurted cool, viscous spunk down the cat’s gullet. Then George sucked Gila’s salty, sticky bulge while he stretched him with fat fingers.

But then one time, Gila noticed the neighbors packing up their truck to go on vacation. Gila and George had a very good privacy fence, but this was the perfect opportunity. Gila brought out George’s crotchless jeans and a tank top, and a white pair of Bulge’s bikini briefs, and told him to mow the lawn in that.

“No, no; the push mower,” Gila said with a purr.

“Babe, that takes longer.”

“I’ll take you to dinner. You like the exercise, doncha?”

So George mowed the lawn with his round, thick bulge wiggling between his legs. Gila set up a lawn chair and reclined in just his underwear, touching himself until he was teasing his hard tent. Halfway through, George cut the mower and started walking toward the house.

“Hey, what’s up?” asked Gila. “You going to the drive mower?”

“Nah, gotta piss,” said George, which made Gila spring up in his seat.

“Hey hey hey!” he called out. “Piss on me!” His voice echoed a bit more than he wanted to. They had neighbors on the other side, too, but only one second-story window faced their yard and they’d always seen its blinds drawn.

George paused, and he knew his bulge was already growing. “You know I still got another forty-five minutes. Front yard’s still waiting. So you’re gonna sit in it and watch me.”

Gila wriggled in his chair, his underwear already stretched. “I had no other plans!”

The gecko had already pulled himself out, tucking his waistband behind his hefty balls. He stood in front of Gila as if waiting at a urinal, eyes flicking around to watch the wall. “You …” he started, which scared away his pee-tingle. But he had to chase the momentum. “You don’t gotta go yourself, do you?”

Gila was laying on the waterproof lounger, gripping the sides so he didn’t stroke himself to completion. “Oh, like I can pee all over myself, too?”

A lump formed in George’s throat, but his dick was growing n his hand, spreading his grasp. “N-not only that, but…”

“Oh!” the cat grinned, his tail thrashing. He got up on his hands and knees, feeling his belly. “And I can just watch your kinky deliciousness while sitting with a load in my … oh no.”

“Oh what?” George asked.

Gila frowned, clearly squeezing. He barely managed a whisper of a poot. “I went this morning.”

George had to fight the queerest of angers, as if Gila had broken a promise. “What?! You serious? But your time at the mall, you went twice.”

“I had a big meal,” he whined.

The gecko paced with his hands on his hips, his nudity swinging from side to side. “All this work and we …” he tossed a paw in the air, rolling his eyes. “Ah well. I can still pee on you.”

“Oh, please do!”

“All right,” he said, then got back into his urinal position. He looked up at the sky, distracting himself with various thoughts, then his bladder tingled and his cradle relaxed. A light golden stream, sparkling in the afternoon sun, sprang from his member and hit Gila’s chest with a splatter.

“Ah!” Gila moaned, bracing himself against the lounger. “Get it all over, baby,” he praised, and George did as instructed. The gecko angled it up, and Gila opened his mouth, letting it fill like a birdbath before gulping it down. When his lips closed, it sprayed all over his whiskers, and he coughed as a little went up his nose. “Okay, down there!” he said with a wet face, spreading his legs. George gradually aimed his stream downwards, drawing a parted trail down Gila’s stomach until he got to his tented, spread crotch. Urine poured all over the front of the cat’s undies, soaking in and darkening them, then he went lower still, drilling his spray right into the crack of Gila’s rump. George flexed to intensify the stream, and the cat moaned through a purr as the gecko’s piss tickled his tailhole through the fabric.

Their lounger positively dribbled with George’s bountiful gift, and the gecko tightened his undercarriage one more time to ensure the stream finished strong. The flex also inspired a rumble in the gecko’s lower abdomen, and he cleared his throat as his inside passages gurgled. His pee spring dribbled off, and before he could shake it off Gila crawled forward and took the tip into his mouth, suckling and licking it clean.

Maybe it was the late coffee or the manual labor, but George could feel a caravan of mass traveling through him. Gila’s lips were warm and insistent, feathering and stroking the head of his penis. “Ahem, babe,” he started. His tail started to twitch as a familiar thickness gathered at the pit of his loins. “If you’re gonna … if we’re gonna … you might want to make it quick because I gotta go. Big meal or something.”

Suction increased on him, making his thighs shake, and then Gila let go with a wet pop. “I think you should go, baby,” the cat said, stroking George’s leg, “Push a healthy, relaxing load right into your undies. Then I’ll finish up the lawn with a belly full of your magic. You can even then go inside for a shower; it’s really okay.” Gila reattached himself to the gecko’s cock and sucked in earnest, rolling his balls in one paw while the other stroked the base.

George’s bowels grumbled and his ring pulsed with weight, a thick mass prodding his back door. His mind toyed with the naughtiness, of letting it all go in front of his husband and emptying his balls into the cat’s mouth, or even his ass: Gila would be quick to turn around and take the deep fucking.

But then the thought of sticky rump cheeks; a teasing clump; a prominent, persistent odor whispered into his mind and George roiled. Gila’s wet suction and firm grip kept him in place, but his heart was fluttering like a bird with the cage door open.

“B-baby, no,” George said, gently pushing on his mate’s cheek to detach. His hefty penis was three-quarters hard, sticking out into the fresh air. “I’m not quite there yet.”

Gila’s own cock was half out of his soaked underwear, the hard skin making a window between his first and second fly. “Love, if you’ll humor me,” he said, tugging the gecko by his member and using his other paw to tickle between his cheeks. “Just a little hormone courage: I’ll pleasure you while you get that sweet relief. I won’t even complain about any odor. I’ve showered while you were taking a poop. It really wasn’t bad. I accept you and everything your body does.”

George gulped as his ring trembled: he didn’t know whether a finger was going in, or something was coming out. “No, baby,” he said, backing away. “We don’t rush these things.”

Gila disengaged with a hanging head and laid back on his lawn chair. “I understand, love. Go do what you need to do.”

George started toward the house, his buttocks clenched and his steps tiny. Every shift of his legs made the pressure under his tail swell. His shoes swished across the soft grass and he looked down at the fertile foliate. His bowels rumbled and his back stiffened as they came into alignment.

“Hey,” he said, turning sideways to his husband. “Maybe I won’t load my briefs, but I don’t think I’ll make it to the house.”

Gila sprang from the lounger and ran over to George, holding his shoulder as he looked down into the gecko’s eyes. “Right here in the grass?” he asked, his smile beaming.

George grinned. “Just like the pioneers,” he said, undoing the tail-catch. With his crotchless jeans, he managed to slip his underwear a third of the way down his thighs, just enough to clear his intimate parts. Holding onto Gila’s paw for support, the gecko squat down in the grass and lifted his tail. The cat stroked his husband’s head, and he felt George’s arms tense up as he hung from Gila’s arm. He grunted and a rasp hissed from his private vent.

“There ya go,” his husband purred, “just relax and let nature take its course.”

The squatting position lined George’s internal passage better than he expected, and the gecko gasped as his precious slit spread around a thick, tubular mass. The slick, natural, crackling sound of his excretion tickled both their ears. George’s thighs shook as he pushed: his cock and balls were scrunched upwards, between his stomach and undies, as his rear end undulated against a long, firm cable pouring out of him. The smell hit their noses, and George nuzzled Gila’s wet groin as his ring pinched off the first length, then dilated around a second. The meaty rope coiled on the ground between George’s shoes, and welcomed a log laid right on top of it.

“Hnngh,” George grunted as he pushed out onto the lawn. He blushed as much as his reptile skin would allow, but nestled against Gila’s pee-soaked crotch, he felt relieved. It was more natural than naughty. The final turd slid out of him with a quiet, slick poot, and the gecko sighed as he finally emptied out.

“Great job,” Gila purred, gently tugging to get him to stand.

George didn’t want to look down, but his curious eyes still caught the prominent brown pile he’d left on the lawn. He shivered, but with his mate having watched the whole thing, he didn’t feel as bad. He actually felt kind of great, having … pushed … through the adversity. “Wait, I gotta wipe,” George said, then started reaching back under him.

“Hold on!” Gila said, and this time he did pull George up. The gecko stumbled and the cat walked him forward, away from his moist, fragrant mound. Without asking or telling, the cat slipped off his underwear and leaned George forward.

“Actually, on your knees, love,” said Gila, and George chuckled as the male twenty years his junior suddenly became his daddy.

“Well, all right,” George said, then knelt down in the grass, hands and knees. He felt his tail raised by Gila then felt a warm, wet bundle of fabric nestle between his buttocks. The moist kiss on his slit made him shiver, but the temperature difference between his and Gila’s body was a luxurious gift. He didn’t feel submissive, but nakedly, liberatingly vulnerable as the cat cleaned him, wiping his private area like no one else had done in forty-five years. “Hoo, boy,” he said as Gila flipped the cloth around and ran it down the crevices of his crotch. “Not too bad, is it?”

“Enough that it feels like I’m doing something,” Gila coyly purred. “You’re doing great.”

“Now hold up; you ain’t putting me in booties and a bib,” said George.

The cat patted his meaty rump. “Not unless you want to, and even then you’ll be my marvelous monitor lizard.”

“Wrong species.”

“I needed the alliteration,” said Gila, then bundled up his undies and tossed them on the grass, standing up completely naked.

George stood with a grunt, slipping his own underwear up over his rump and the bundle of his genitals. He looked back at the mound he’d made, and then over at the white-brown pile Gila had set aside.

“Well, at least we got your briefs messy.”

“Mission accomplished,” giggled Gila. He slinked up to his husband and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “So what are we gonna do about your … present?” he asked. The cat was stiff, his modest prick poking against the side of George’s stomach. His paw was rubbing the gecko’s exposed bulge, which was having a pleasant effect.

“Ehm,” George grunted, feeling himself harden and stretch his pouch. “Probably shouldn’t run it over with the lawnmower, not until it dries.”

“I’ll bury it,” said Gila with a wag. He started walking away, but his paw was still on George’s crotch, turning a pod into a cone. “Do you wanna…”

“The, uh, shovel’s in the toolshed; let’s do that real quick and we can have sex afterwards,” George said.

“But you’re so relieved right now,” said Gila, grinning as he rolled the gecko’s waistband down and knelt in front of him, “You unloaded yourself, pushing out all your druthers, and you rained down upon me. How about you finish the set and empty those beautiful balls?”

“Goddamn,” George whispered, bucking his hips as Gila’s mouth engulfed him, slathering his shaft from head to root. The scent of his urine wafted upward from the cat, and with the lingering knowledge of his unhidden, exposed defecation, he felt himself being deconstructed to base instincts, and rebuilding from there.

Gila was quick and skilled in getting him back to full hardness, and then George couldn’t fit back in his undies. The briefs had been an experience; there would be semi-erections during the day that would occasionally leave his re-softened member poking out one of the leg cuffs. The underwear fit perfectly fine, elsewise, but even the enhanced pouches of Bulge’s couldn’t perfectly contain him.

In his more feral state, George automatically followed Gila to the ground. As soon as the cat’s legs spread, he knelt between them and nestled his snout into the crevice of his husband’s rump. In pure, carnal appetite, George’s tongue not only pressed into Gila’s wrinkled, rear hole, but dove deep, probing his caverns of musk until they hit the rear of his rectum. His lips tasted his urine in Gila’s soaked fur, and the cat’s hot, velvety passage promised guttural, gratified breeding. At the depths of Gila’s canal, George paused when his tongue brushed a bitter tip; he retracted and spit, then dragged his tongue over his tank top.

Gila, supine and exposed, his pink slit standing out against his dark fur, his balls and small erection jutting out in the valley between his thighs, meekly asked, “Oh, I’m sorry; I thought I was clean.”

George wiped his lips. “Can you hold it for five minutes?” he asked.

“W-well yeah, if I can’t feel it—”

“Then hold still,” the gecko growled, then spat on his hand to re-wet his member and pressed the wide, round head against Gila’s sphincter. “I got some emptying to do.”

George was not rough, but his momentum was absolute. Like a glacier, he rolled over Gila, pushing in his massive member and pausing, not receding, when the cat let out a gasp. The inevitability excited Gila, and his own cock wiggled and squirted with pre as he felt his ass stretch around his husband. To become a vessel of lovemaking and a tool for George’s pleasure: it made the cat’s urine-soaked fur stand on end. He felt his guts gurgle as the gecko plunged in deep, but a lot of this was surely just displacement as his mate’s prominent shaft spread and occupied his body. The cool mass was heavy and dominant, anchoring the cat’s lower body to the gecko’s hips.

George was fluid and steady with his thrusts, his face as fixed as an ancient dinosaur as he bred Gila’s warm rump. The slurps of George’s slick rod filled Gila’s ears as it slid in and out, and the cat’s passage grasped at the girthy rod as it stretched and filled him. The cat’s prick jumped as George bottomed out in him, pushing both against his prostate and his bladder. Gila gasped as a clear stream leapt from his erection, then moaned as another stream joined it and he realized what was happening.

George’s cock had pressed the right button, flinging open Gila’s levees.

“Oh, God, I’m pissing,” the cat whispered. He looked down himself, spread-legged with his pelvic cradle locked to his husband’s hips, and his own private part was nakedly fountaining between them.

“Keep it coming,” George growled, and he lightly rocked back and forth to aim the stream all over. Gila bucked as his prick poured hot urine onto his stomach and chest, blushing madly as he’d not planned on pissing himself, especially not during breeding. George leaned forward and lapped at the shimmering arc as if it was a water fountain, then when satisfied he resumed his normal, long and heavy thrusts.

“Ah!” Gila gasped, because his bladder was still wide open. His dick wobbled with every hump, spraying all over. Gila caught himself in the eyes twice when George raised his hips, and yowled in surprise when the gecko pushed deep, making his stream stutter. The cat bit his lip as his abdomen burbled, but so far it was the sensation of things coming in, not going out. George was in a meditative paradise, loving the sights, scents, and sensations of pure carnal bliss. He had one job and one job only: to breed his husband. He was a simple, loving lizard with harmonious, if sometimes inglorious bodily functions: sometimes he pissed on his mate to mark his property, and similarly sometimes he took distinct, big dumps on his back lawn.

Gila saw his stream start to taper off. He rubbed his urine-soaked body up and down, then grasped his modest prick. “H-honey, I’m getting close,” he said. With the hard mass driving inside him and sliding like a glacier over his love-stone, Gila felt a distinct electric tingle sizzle up his spire.

“So am I, baby,” George snarled, then hilted himself deep and groaned. Gila’s breath caught in his throat as the gecko throbbed inside him, then burst. George flooded his husband’s passage, his sex spurting voluminous, copious jets inside his bowels. Gila rubbed himself twice and lurched as his own groin pulsed and then spewed, throwing up high, ropey waves of his own essence. George caught one in his mouth and the two writhed as their bodies undulated with orgasm, Gila’s tunnel clenching the gecko as his member injected a generous, loving load.

“Oh baby, oh shit,” Gila gasped, and he leaned up far enough for George to lean down, and they shared a deep kiss. The cat’s body gurgled as he tasted his seed on the gecko’s lips, then as the kiss ended, Gila bit his lip: something was breaking loose.

The feeling of fullness inside him changed into one of urgency and pressure. Briefly a bladder of their lovemaking, Gila’s chambers were turning back into a more primitive state. The cat felt a solid mass shift inside him, and it wasn’t George.

“Honey,” he said, tempering his anxiousness.

The cat’s stomach bubbled loud enough for them both to hear. George understood in full, smirking in his fuzzy afterglow.

“Good thing we’re on the grass, eh baby?” he said. “How should I do this.”

Gila’s anus pulsed, still stretched around George’s girth. “S-slowly,” he said. The gecko did as he was told, with the cat attempting to contract his weary muscles as they relaxed in the mounting void. Gila felt a heavy, solid pressure slither inside. “O-okay.”

George paused with his tip at the threshold of Gila’s ring, then carefully pulled out with a pop. His cock came out clean, albeit smeared in white, and he watched Gila’s hole in quiet curiosity. The ring gently oozed with his musky cream as it closed, and the cat rested his paws at the top of his stomach. George looked to Gila with a quiet question, and Gila stared back at George. The gecko started to put the cat’s legs down, and the cat shook his head. George remained holding Gila’s ankles high.

Then Gila jolted, grunting as first a thick dollop of semen spurted out of his rump, then groaned as his slit stretched wide around a thick, brown mass slathered in George’s spunk. The cat hissed through his teeth as it slithered out, inch by inch, and as its warmth touched his tail and continued to slide, he wondered how long it was.

“There you go, baby; push it out,” George said, holding his nose. He’d never seen the direct action of it, no briefs or toilet to hide it, so that carnal knowledge was spread to him—quite literally—right before him. With a weighted sigh, Gila squeezed out the first one. George squared his feet as the heavy log cleared Gila’s sphincter and rolled onto the grass, then patted the cat’s knees as he saw his ring pulse and spread around a second. He stayed, watching Gila’s body stiffen as his intimate canal passed another stiff, fragrant mass, then smiled when it flopped next to the first, free of his husband’s slit.

“Feel better?” he asked with a smile.

“Oh gosh,” Gila sighed, “I didn’t know I had that in me.”

George winked. “Neither did I. Though, I’m not sure I have something to clean you with.”

“Is it bad?”

The gecko shrugged. “Mmh, couple streaks here and there. It’s mostly my stuff; not yours.”

“Ah, great,” Gila sarcastically sighed.

“You could rub your butt in the grass.”

“I’m not a dog,” the cat laughed.

“Sure pooped like one.”

“You too.”

George slapped his thighs and stood. “Welp, how about this,” he said, packing himself back into his exposed underwear. He was still not fully soft, so his bulge was both stretched and spotted with his sticky essence. “Since we’re both naughty animals picking up nature’s booty call, how ‘bout I’ll bury yours, and you bury mine. Then take a garden hose to the shovel. Grass will regrow real good, there.”

“Sounds nice,” Gila said, “Giving me the bigger job.”

“Dating a big man,” the gecko bragged, helping Gila up. The cat readily towered above him, and they shared a smirk. Then they kissed, and they got to their dirty work. As Gila was spraying down the shovel, trying to stand at an angle so he didn’t get a muddy splashback, he said, “Hey, how ‘bout I finish the lawn?”

“Do it wearing a diaper?” George asked.

“No!” Gila laughed, then paused. “Well, maybe. But you’re changing me.”

“Good deal to me. I get to touch your butt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said the cat, wagging his wedding ring. “In cleanliness and in filth.”