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Julan took another deep, indulgent breath through nostrils glazed over with the sticky sheen of sweat and drool, his lungs filling with the rich, acrid spice of thorough sweat, every inch of the interior of his mouth coated with the same clinging slime. Again and again he dragged his tongue out across the tailhole settled between his lips, the skunk’s eyes halfway shut in pure, sheer bliss; he could taste the football player’s sweat as well as he could smell it – this is the running back? he thought, vaguely, distantly; doesn’t matter to me, as long as he keeps on… running straight back into my fucking mouth – with that stinging salt, the bright allium acridity, the deeper, fuller, rounder bitterness that lurked here beneath the bull’s raised paintbrush tail.

“There you – go,” the big, beefy male rumbled. He shifted where he held himself bent over the locker room bench, big arms bent underneath him, powerful thighs spread, strong hooves splayed on either side of Julan’s knees where he knelt behind him. “Fucking – suck on it, boy. Can’t reach back there myself in the shower, so. That’s all you, and doing a good job today will make it easier tomorrow…”

What if I don’t want it to be easy, though? Julan’s eyelids fluttered and he drew down so he could inspect his focus as he worked. Big, broad tailbase lifted up across his snout, velvet-leather skin darkened with sweat and saliva both; the skunk pulled back, felt those thick, sticky ropes of slime hanging from lips to tailhole, and then turned his head so he could drag his tongue up across the base of the bull’s tail. This earned a surprise gasp from the running back accompanied by a reflexive clench of his sleek, tight tailhole – I’m probably the first tongue to get under here, Julan reminded himself, the thought sending yet another sweet shudder down through his chest and his loins, and I’ll likely be the last, too… or, I suppose, the only – which guided the skunk right back down to do as told. He wet his lips first with sticky, sweat-tainted saliva, then pursed them in around the puckered rim, pushed himself in with that muscular rump framing either side of his face, sealed himself in place… and sucked.

Slow at first, the flat of his tongue pressing up against the center and then drawing back, and then more, deeper, hungrier. He suckled at the football player’s sticky tailhole as though it were his last and only source of life, hungry breaths drawing in through nostrils flared against the underside of his tail, sighing out between parted lips so that his breath dribbled down through the fabric of his similarly sweat-soaked jockstrap. Soon the skunk had to swallow twice to be able to work down the growing sticky sliminess, angling his head so that his nose brushed against the now saliva-slickened rim twitching and flexing and pulsing, dropping his tongue out to cup the firm girth of the bull’s taint as he caught his breath, before then diving right back in.

Can’t believe… He swallowed again, throat salty. That this actually… worked out… always hear this dumb shit about… college hazing rituals, and lost bets, and stupid dares, and… Once more his eyes drifted shut, the skunk’s head turning to bring his focus across that taint. The bull lifted up and pushed back, pressing his tailhole in against his nose as he worked, lips squeezing across the pulsing muscle. But then I go and actually find myself in one of those bets. Loser has to serve as the team’s sweat rag for a week…

His first day had, of course, been fraught with the expected anxiety and nervousness that came with such a thing. Julan paid attention to his studies, but when his scheduled classes finished each day, he was one of the first to head back to his dorm; he had never been inside the gymnasium or any of the associated buildings for the sports, and in fact had never even seen the field itself. On his way through the halls, filled with the scent of sneaker rubber and metal equipment, he had hoped that each and every other student he asked would turn out to be a member of the team, and that they would already know why he was there so that he could avoid the awkward situation of explaining, but this hope fell flat by the time he made it to the locker room.

Which was, when he had arrived then on that afternoon, completely and totally empty. So the skunk had picked himself a corner back in the bank of lockers and just waited there, kneeling down until his knees went sore, checking his phone time and time again, wondering if the bet itself had been a joke. So what if I lost the bet on purpose? he remembered thinking; could they have known that, and the real punishment is seeing me get all excited for nothing? But then right as he was preparing himself to get up and go home, there was the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, and the unfamiliar noise of the teem jeering among themselves, and then – nothing, as the big, beefy, sweaty boys filed into the locker room and began dressing down, as though Julan were not even there.

He paused in his current focus and drew back again, paws coming up to spread the bull’s rump, inspecting his handiwork. By this point the football player had shifted to work one arm underneath himself, jockstrap pulled just far enough back to free his similarly impressive, beefy length; Julan could smell it from here, rich pubic musk mixing with the sharper, brighter tone of the unwashed meat itself. He so, so wanted to dive down further, to bat the bull’s hand away and take it in his own, to feel that sticky, tacky wetness smearing across his fingerpads and draw in the scent from its source, but he held himself back, as he simply had not been told to do so.

“You’re here for OUR use,” the team captain had told him, near the end of that first day. Right as he had prepared to leave even among the team milling around him, a well-worn jockstrap had been tossed across his snout, and then a sweat-damp pair of shorts over his shoulders, and then suddenly his nothing had turned into everything at once, making up for all of that time wasted on his own. “And that means you won’t be doing anything without our say. Understand? We say suck, you don’t ask ‘how hard’ – you do it. You don’t touch yourself without us telling you. You don’t lick without us saying where. Got that?”

And it had been difficult across those first few days, waiting eagerly, impatiently for whichever team member would step forward to make their first use of the skunk, knowing that while he would get the satisfaction of serving his purpose, he would not be able to actually enjoy that satisfaction unless one of them instructed him to do so. Dragging his tongue in between sour pawpads, sucking the sweat out of swampy armpit fur until his eyes watered and nose ran, once or twice even just allowing his entire muzzle to be used as a rag, dragged along thighs, balls, sheaths, rears… twitching hard the entire time, leaking, dribbling so that his underwear would be soaked by the time he finished up and headed back to his dorm.

Eyes flashing open again, Julan lifted up, turned his head the other way, and nestled himself back in his proper position beneath the bull’s lifted tail. This time as soon as his lips made contact along the exterior of that rim, the running back took in a breath, tensed up, then grunted out – and the ring of puckered muscle began to lift out between his lips, pressing back to meet and reciprocate that kiss as the bull pushed from inside. He wanted so, so bad to reach down and stroke at himself, his clothes long since tossed into a forgotten pile in the back corner of the locker room, likely hidden underneath the jocks’ sweaty refuse from their practice session today, but still held himself back and instead tightened his grip on the bull’s rump.

One breath in through his nose, swirling around within his chest, and then he sighed back out, a low moan vibrating along the bull’s tailhole pushing out within his maw. The running back grunted, relaxed for a moment, and then deeply pushed out again, one side of his body lurching with the slow, steady pace of his stroking; Julan swirled his tongue around the exterior of that protruding rim, then in along the peak of those wrinkled lips, and then right in to the squelching, mushy mass of interior meat reveald inside, pressed outwards underneath the exertion of muscle.

Some part of him wondered what would happen if he were to disobey the team’s orders – and some part usually meant most of him, especially once he considered the obvious idea that going against what one of them said would result in the extension of his punishment. Oh no, Julan thought, nose pressing up underneath sweaty, sticky masculine bull tail, lips sealed around a tailhole protruding a good half-inch into his mouth, tongue digging, diving, slurping, squelching within lower bowels squishing together with the push, I might end up stuck here for an additional week… such a terrible, awful, horrible punishment, especially considering my one week actually finished last Wednesday, and yet I’m still here…

Upon the direction of one of the other players, the quarterback, he thought, after the second day Julan had been made to keep a spare change of clothes here in the locker room. Every day he would go about his regular day of classes in a fresh change from home, so that nobody around the campus would suspect what had suddenly begun to occupy so much of his free time; then as soon as his classes finished, he would come over here to the locker rooms, strip down naked, and serve his time, during which that second spare change would sit in the corner marinating beneath dirty uniforms and sweat-stained underwear; and afterwards, after their practice and their clean-up session riding his tongue and muzzle and their showers, he would change into that sopping, stinking, greasy, crusty change of clothes and wear that across the campus to his dorm, and remain in them until it was time to start the day anew.

The one chair he had in his dorm had begun to reek of sweaty football player; the miasma had penetrated his dorm room so thoroughly that he could smell it even through the closed door; and even though he tried to put off showering himself as long as he could, it still clung to his thick fur even after a thorough scrub.

Just like, he thought hazily, feeling the bull’s tailhole clench around the midsection of his tongue again, the taste of bovine ass is going to stick to the back of my throat for days… well, I suppose it’s not exactly an unfamiliar flavor… He drew his tongue back, swallowed, swallowed again, swallowed again, and then once more began his routine swirl around the puckered center, only to then feel the same movement as the bull began to push once more, this time with a tight, tense grunt of exertion.

My grades have started slipping, even in just the – week and a half I’ve been here. When I’m at home I can’t think of anything other than getting off. I’ll jerk off at least three times, sometimes even four, right onto the same clothes, and through heavy lids he looked across the bull’s hunched body, and the enticing, irresistible muscular forms of the other players as they stripped down and washed up, over towards the pile of damp, darkened, crusty closed in the corner, that they have soaking in their sweat. Cumming into them, shoving them in my mouth, sucking so hard that my jaw aches, cumming again…

I just… He swallowed again, pursed his lips, dug into the opened center of the bull’s tailhole, only for it to flex shut again. Need to remember to… actually head out when they’re done today… I have a final exam… in about fifteen minutes… Yet again his eyes rolled up and back beneath half-closed lids, heart pounding, lungs and nose stinging, hard cock twitching, bouncing, dripping underneath him. These past few days he had barely been able to get his pants back on without painting the inside of his underwear, and the longer he spent on his knees here in the locker room, the more Julan had started to wonder whether it really would be possible to cum without ever touching himself, and – and underneath him the bull’s tailhole suddenly wrenched shut again, and his wide shoulders hunched, and his back arched, and he pressed himself against the bench, grunting, shivering, huffing…

And then suddenly the ring of muscle around and against his tongue flexed, pushed out, flexed again, and again – and even over the noise of the rest of the team undressing and talking about their practice, even over the hiss of the showers as they started to turn on, the skunk could still hear the thick, sticky slopping of the bull’s finish as it spurted directly out against the floor.

“There ya… fuckin’ go…” the bovine moaned, grinding his rump back against the skunk’s muzzle, squeezing those last few drops out of himself along the edge of the bench. Chest heaving, he relaxed forward, rested his head on his arms – Julan continued licking and slurping at his now relaxed tailhole, scooping up the dribbles of drool he had left – and then a moment later moved to pull himself up. “You’re getting better at this. I actually enjoyed that, a little bit.”

Seeing that his work for now was done, Julan finally drew back and wiped the stickiness from his mouth. No, he thought with a hidden smirk, I fuckin’ rule at eating ass. You’re just finally LETTING yourself enjoy it, and I-

With a great, heaving huff the bull turned around to face Julan, sat up, and then pointed straight down between his spread legs, though not quite at his gradually softening length. “You heard the coach, though,” he said, and then from there stood up. “Can’t have any messes on the tile. So make sure you get that cleaned up.”

Julan looked down at the squirts of milky white congealing across the floor. Some part of him indeed recoiled at the thought… but the rest of him still scooted back so he could reach, rump going back, head coming down, one arm spreading out across the cold floor for balance. It smelled like, simply, cool stone, wet metal, and a little bit of stinking mildew from whatever that discoloration was in between the tiles. The skunk swallowed, licked his lips – still his throat and nose and lungs all burned with the rich presence of bovine hind end – then let his tongue flop out… and dragged it right across the tile floor.

Gritty dirt, loose strands of dry grass from the field, bits of lint, stuck to his tongue first. He brought those in, grimaced, swallowed… felt them stick between his teeth and tickle at the interior of his mouth, swallowed again. Then another lick, this time dragging across where the bull had shot his load and pushing it around rather than slurping it up, the warmth having already sapped out of the mess to leave it as a gooey, congealed mass jiggling between tile and tongue.

Julan swallowed again, focus shifting downwards, knowing that he was still here within the locker room with the entire school football team around him, yet by this point long past caring. He drew back, licked his lips again, then came in and pursed his lips directly against the tiling of the floor; he closed his eyes, swallowed again, and sucked, drawing in the cold, chunky seed, catching more dust and grit and dirt along his tongue, tasting the remnant stink of boot rubber and floor cleaner and whatever else the janitor had missed in their last pass.

After this, the skunk reminded himself, I can probably help… one more of them out, and I’ll have to head out. Dumbass fucking… final exams, scheduled outside of the regular class routine… having to stay up late tonight, and then got another early tomorrow morning, and…

Another player cleared his throat. Julan’s ears perked; the skunk sucked at the floor again, licked some of the dust from his lips, and then looked up – and reared back a little bit at the proximity of the footpaw braced on the edge of the bench. Tail bristling, the skunk looked up further and took in the domineering presence of one of the wolves still wearing his uniform, paws on his hips, one leg lifted where he stood along the bench.

Upon recognizing he had Julan’s attention, then, he lifted that footpaw and gave it a wiggle, toes visible beneath the damp, grime-darkened, sweat-soaked fabric of the sock that he had worn throughout the day’s practice. Even with the two feet of open air between his muzzle and the underside of that greasy fabric, even with the thick coating of sour-bitter bovine musk in his throat, his nose still wrinkled with the odor wafting off of the underside of that clothed footpaw.

“While you’re down there.” The wolf turned his head, cleared his throat, spat a sticky, frothy glob off to the side. Julan’s gaze followed it, already expecting to have to suck that up, too. “Do me a flava’ and take this off. With your mouth. I forgot to wash it last week and I don’t really wanna touch it.”

Again Julan’s heart fluttered. He swallowed again, came forward still on all fours, lifted up a little bit… angled his muzzle up underneath the offered footpaw, the wolf lifting it for his access. His nose curled with the sour acridity dripping through the smeared, crusty fabric; he wrenched his eyes shut, poked his lips open, let his tongue curl out, and could taste it even without actually touching the material. The wolf wobbled a little bit, leaning back and then forward – and of course grinding his footpaw directly against Julan’s waiting face, matting down his fur with the grease of his sweat, smearing some of that half-dried, congealed crust against his tongue.

Sour bitterness flooded into his maw. The skunk suppressed a shudder of distaste, just at the same time as his cock throbbed again; he swallowed, pushed his tongue forward, dragged it across the presented underside of that footpaw, and then moved up towards where the toes lurked within the end. This crust soaked into the underside had built up in a pattern roughly similar to the shape of the thick, calloused pawpads inside; as he moved he could trace where the individual fibers had stuck together and angled away, poking at the surface of his tongue, flaking off in crunchy little globs which gradually liquefied the longer they soaked in his saliva.

Throat burning, nose sizzling with the stink of built-up sweat, finally the skunk pinched his lips around the wolf’s toes – the lupine wiggled them for good measure, blunted claws poking against the material – and pulled. “Ah,” the wolf barked, a little chuckle on his voice, “don’t think that’s gonna work. You might have to really… suck it off of me.”

A low, whimpering moan vibrated within Julan’s chest. He swallowed, tasted spice and slime and sour vinegar, closed his eyes again… swirled his tongue around those toes, pulled again, sucked as he did so. Slowly at first and then growing in strength, saliva frothing and bubbling through the tainted fabric, stretching out across his tongue and teeth in grimy rivers; he sucked until his jaw ached and the back of his throat pulsed, old sweat coating his teeth and his gums, roiling within his belly every time he swallowed.

Finally he felt that sock start to slide free from the footpaw underneath. There was a gentle clatter as the wolf reached out to the nearby bank of lockers for support; he wiggled his toes again, pressing up against the roof of Julan’s mouth, pushing down against his tongue. Knowing what to expect if he were to spit the sock back out, the skunk pulled the gunky fabric further back into his maw and then dove down for more, squeezing, sucking, pulling, making no headway on actually removing it from the sweaty footpaw until the overlap along the wolf’s calf unfurled-

And then he jumped at the sudden, unexpected sensation of a paw settling against his rump, soon followed by a second on the other side. Julan swung his head around but could not quite see, his desire to satisfy his curiosity losing out under his desire to do as told; in front of him the wolf chuffed, flicked an ear, and then shook his head.

“What the hell, dude?” That paw clanged against the locker again, though gently. Julan chewed at the sticky, slimy, gooey sock. “You’re not really gonna-?”

“Well-” A grunt of exertion, a brief pressure of weight against his backside as this other football player lowered himself down to his knees, and then broad thumbs ran in underneath the skunk’s tail and spread him open. “Why the hell not? Ass is ass is ass, and you gotta admit, this is – a nice fuckin’ ass. God damn.”

“Well, sure...” A strong lupine paw gripped Julan’s hair and yanked him down fur, jamming those toes right into the back of his throat behind the wadded ball of the now saliva-soaked sock as well. His shoulders hitched, his chest heaved, his eyes squinched shut and he lurched with a barely suppressed gag, then finally pulled back far enough with the opening of the sock dangling from his mouth. “But I’m just saying, whether or not it’s a nice ass, this is still a fuckin’ dude who-”

“It’s a fuckin’ dude who – ah, shut the hell up,” and then Julan jumped again with the impact of a thick wad of saliva spat out directly against his pucker, to be worked in on the pad of a thumb. He shivered, moaned around the sock, pushed back a little bit, flexed for the sake of whoever it was back there. “I look like I give a shit? Ass is ass. Besides, girlfriend ain’t puttin’ out, so like – I mean-”

Then the familiar hot, wet pressure of a hard cock lining up against his rim, rubbing back and forth, angling down… pressing against him, sinking in. Julan let another low, shivering moan dribble out through the soaked fabric of the sock, eyes rolling up and back, his own arousal once more twitching underneath him.

I hope they… see how much I’m leaking and… make me clean up my own mess. He swallowed, sucked at the fabric, swallowed again – then followed after it as the wolf reached down to pull it out from between his teeth. Pound me while I’m licking the floor. Cum inside, leave it there, let the next guy use it as a lube. Well, they probably wouldn’t do that. That’s a little bit… gay, and…

“Ugh. He’s enjoying it.” With a grimace the wolf appraised the now saliva-soaked sock, sniffed at it, grimaced again, then tossed it to the floor with a wet smack. He shifted how he stood, braced the ball of his footpaw on the edge of the bench, and then fully pushed his toes down around the end of Julan’s muzzle to forcibly dig the skunk’s nose right up into the musty crevice between pads, gunky with wet lint, gooey bits of old skin, fragments of sweat-glued fur. “You’ve done half your job. Clean my footpaw, too, so I – don’t have to hear your… gross little moans…”

Too bad for you – Julan thought, maw parting open around the offered toes, right as whoever it was behind him drew back, sighed, and then sank in again, all the way to the base. A hot, shivering moan dribble out across sweaty, sour toes and pads, the skunk’s broad tongue flapping out to provide a bed for them; he swallowed open-mouthed, dragged up across those calloused pads, felt his mouth water in response to the salt, then dove down again, this time wrapping his lips around the joints. They wiggled within his mouth, pushed up against his teeth, smeared this way and that as the wolf deliberately tried to wipe himself off across his tongue.

Julan clutched on to the edge of the bench for dear life, body already rocking, lurching, bouncing forward and back beneath the aggressive pace of the football player behind him. He wanted to reach back and spread himself, wanted to invite those thrusts even deeper as his hard cock bounced underneath him, but again, he had not been instructed to do so; instead he let his eyes flutter shut again, swallowed once more, and then resumed his work at the footpaw now braced here against his tongue and lower jaw. Suckling, swallowing, slurping; dragging his tongue across sweat-slick pads, folding it up in between each individual toe so that the caught bits of fur and fabric and who knows what all else rolled off and pasted across his teeth; drawing in breath after breath through foggy nostrils, eyes watering with that scent of unwashed footpaw, throat still tingling with the taste of the bull’s tailhole from earlier.

He sucked as though it were the only thing allowing him to breathe, each exhalation punctuated with another quick, tense moan every time the other player slammed forward into him. His girlfriend doesn’t – want – this-? he thought, distantly, and halfway turned his head so this footpaw pulled at the edge of his mouth; one paw gripped the base of his tail to yank it upwards and the other held his hip, tugging him back every time the player thrust forward, his movements quick, deliberate, vicious. He might… make me… piss. I can – feel it inside of me, pumping forward, and… and…

“Ugh – God,” the wolf grumbled, and kicked his footpaw a little bit deeper into Julan’s maw. Blunted claws scraped across the roof of his mouth; the skunk gagged, then swallowed everything back down again. “Don’t tell me you’re liking this too, you – disgusting fuckin’ – little-”

Julan squeezed, throbbed, clenched again and again, tail remaining lifted even without the assistance of that other paw, his own rim slurping and sucking around this unexpected visit. His ears angled backwards towards the urgent huffing, little moans working their way in between the noises of exertion; a shiver racked his body, he swirled his tongue in between all of those toes again, he followed after that footpaw as the wolf drew it back and out of his mouth, then flicked his tongue across his lips to soak up the rest of the sour saltiness.

“You made a – fuckin’ mess of me,” the lupine growled. “Clean it up. I’ve gotta-” He reached out to balance himself against the lockers again, the clang quickly swallowed up in the locker room underneath all the rest of the noise. Julan took the opportunity to look around, and saw to his enjoyment that while most of the team had accepted him as part of the furniture here, they still glanced over his way and watched in between dressing or showering. Then, though, that footpaw suddenly came back in across his muzzle, the now saliva-soaked fur sticky and squishing in against him, filling his nostrils with the scent of sweat mixed with his own foul breath-

And something about that just ignited the sweet, hot simmering inside of him. Julan nuzzled up in between those toes, entire lower body trembling with the pressure building since he had first knelt down here; he took in a deep breath, swallowed, swallowed again through the grease coating his throat, rolled his head over to use the other side of his face as a towel, took in another breath-

Wait – wait wait wait, am – I-

And the waves of pleasure just continued to build up and reverberate inside of him, tension drawing taut like a pulled spring, urgency mounting… and then his jaw fell open, his body bucked, and then did so again, and again – and he felt his hard shaft slap up against his belly, and again, and as his hips rocked forward and back into the thrusting of the other football player behind him, the skunk squirmed, gasped, bucked again… and felt the wet, sticky heat of his unexpected finish spurting out within his foreskin, briefly ballooning out the sticky hood before dribbling free.

“Oh – oh, fuck,” moaned the player behind him, both paws sliding down to his waist. “He’s – squeezing so hard, I’m-”

And then a few more thrusts, pounding deep and fast and hard. Julan looked over his shoulder, still wiping his face across the wet footpaw, every muscle in his body slowly relaxing on the downhill of his forced orgasm; good boy, he wanted to say, one eye wrenched closed the wolf finished wiping his footpaw off across his face, that’s, right, cum deep inside.. we’ll both know it was a guy who made you do this, and – okay, yeah, if you’re finishing up already, then… maybe I can see why your girlfriend… doesn’t…

But then the other player remained buried deep, Julan able to feel the twitching and throbbing of his hard cock as he pumped out the last of his load inside the skunk, and tilted his head back. Those paws tightened on his waist, fingers digging in; he drew back, pressed forward again, took in a breath, held it… and then slowly sighed it back out. And it took a few seconds, but then something deep inside of Julan’s bowels twinged; his heart skipped a beat, he swallowed, and shifted – and slick, silky heat swelled out inside of him, sloshing and swirling around as the player’s fresh piss emptied out into the curves and coils of his bowels, filling him up from inside to both gush further up into his system as well as swell down towards that point of entry.

“What in the-”

Julan’s ears flicked forward again. He had thought the wolf had stepped away to finally go hit the shower, but when he looked up it was instead a plump, hefty uncut shaft that hung down right in front of his muzzle, thickening the air with the weight of sweat scent dripping off of it.

Then his ears twitched back again: “Well, we’re…” The other player swallowed, sighed, pushed again. Julan actually felt the resultant increase in pace inside of him. “No longer allowed to do it in the shower. And you… remember what happened the last time one of us whipped it out and… went straight down the drain there, so…”

“You mean-” The wolf gave himself a few thick, heavy flops, rolled his foreskin back – Julan’s nose tingled with the richness of bold, heady aroma – and then forward again, and pinched at the rim to tug the skin all the way forward into its wrinkled overhang. “-the last time you pissed down the drain-”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve got a… much better drain right here…”

With every one of Julan’s muscles tingling underneath the unexpected release, he could feel the ongoing rush of fresh mark flowing inside of him and across every turn, every coil, every wrinkle within his bowels, filling him up, swelling out his belly from inside. He moaned again, eyes fluttering shut – then snapped them open again as the wolf tapped his length right against his nose, the loose, limp overhang plopping noisily.

“He’s right, y’know,” the lupine rumbled, then drew back and pressed himself against Julan’s lips. Loose folds of supple skin mashed up against one another. “Open up. But not too much. Get your lips-” A big paw reached down, seized the side of his sweat-slick face, drew him forward. “-right there, and… close. No, back a bit. You’re not blowing me. You’re sucking my piss out of it like a straw. Hold it there… and…”

And with his lips pinched around that hanging protrusion, the greasy, slimy skin nestled in place, it took all of Julan’s willpower not to flick his tongue forward into that hood, and swirl it around, and peel the skin away from the meat underneath, and – hold his lips in place as the wolf’s overhang began to balloon out with his release, building up, growing wider. Julan swallowed again, felt the player behind him thrust forward, draw back, then push in again with the last dribbles of his bladder empty, and then the skunk released the tension of his jaw just a little bit, and jumped with the sudden rush of slick, salty heat rushing into his maw.

Well-hydrated, he thought, eyes rolling back, lids fluttering shut. Lips still held there, careful not to release the lupine’s overhang, he did as told and swallowed, and again, and again, tongue coming forward to cup the flow and guide it into the back of his throat. I just… want to… He flicked his tongue back and forth around the loose, limp nub of greasy foreskin held between his lips, teasing it back and forth, spraying the spice of the wolf’s mark all across the interior of his maw. Roll this back, and… sleeve it up across my tongue, and…

He swallowed again, belly now filling from the other end as well. Behind him the other football player, grunted, pulled back, wiped himself off on the skunk’s fur, and rose to finally go hit the shower; Julan had to deliberately squeeze his tailhole to keep everything in.

...and… Another gulp. ...I guess Lukas was right… you really CAN taste when someone drinks a lot of stuff with artificial sweeteners…

Bit by bit as he continued to piss, the wolf drew himself back, soft cock pulling forward, foreskin stretching to its limit, until Julan had to clamp his lips tightly down around the smoothed, straightened skin to keep it between his lips. His throat tingled with the salt, his head swam with scent, and still he twitched fully hard and dripping between his own legs, the slimy stickiness of his cum worked well through the folds of his own hood from his repeated throbbing. He drank, barely able to keep up, throat working, nostrils flaring in struggling to breathe between gulps, and then eventually, the wolf’s stream similarly tapered off.

“Haah…” With a great sigh the wolf finally yanked himself back, gave his cock a few more wet slaps against Julan’s muzzle, and then finally rolled his skin all the way back to tap himself straight against the skunk’s nose. He drank in the scent as eagerly as he had his piss, the faint ammonia bite layered beneath a much brighter, fuller, rounder note; right as he leaned in to run his nose across the supple, slick pink meat, though, the wolf swung his leg up from the other side of the bench and rose to his full height. “God. Yeah, okay. I get it now. Y’all were right about this fucker here…”

And Julan watched his shapely backside as he approached the showers, his heart pounding, his belly sloshing, his bowels full. He wiped at his mouth, sighed softly, then suppressed a belch, at the tail end of which he could still taste wolf and bull both.

Now that… that’s done…

With effort he lifted himself up, pointedly avoiding the glances of the others still milling about the locker room, and went over to the pile of discarded clothing beneath which his own things were buried. Once there he dropped to his knees, leaned in to drag in the scent of musty, sticky, crusty old clothes, then began shuffling through until he found his pants, and then the pocket, and then his phone inside, and-

And his heart dropped: late - but then thumped back into motion:

But that means there’s no harm in staying here for a while longer...