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"Bobby, are you listening to me?"

The nervous gazelle's attention snapped back to his older brother, Don. He nodded quickly.

They were standing in Don's kitchen, which was fairly normal as far as size and features, but absolutely spotless at the moment. The situation was anything but normal, however. The door to Don's big living room was closed, and trance electronica was being played to drown out what could only be described as 'carnal' noises.

The big brother murmured, "OK. We'll go over the rules one more time. If you're still sure, I'll call Jean over and we'll lead you in." Jean was a tall, full bodied coyote. She was also Don's wife.

"Rule number 1: Nobody gets in without a clean STD screening dated this week."

Bobby dug into his pocket and handed over the readout from his local clinic. His big brother read it carefully, making sure that the gazelle had been given a clean bill of health.

"Good. Rule number 2: This is a blindfold party, and the sex is anonymous. No talking. Clearly there are ways you can narrow things down, from hooves to big bushy tails... but don't play detective in there. It's about plausible deniability. A blue blindfold means you're after straight encounters. A pink blindfold means you're in for gay encounters. A black blindfold means you'll take all comers. Once it goes on, it doesn't come off until you're out of the room."

After a little hesitation, Bobby picked a black blindfold out of the box. Don quirked an eyebrow, but didn't comment aloud.

"Rule number 3: Paws and maws only. We don't need anyone waddling out of here unable to sit for a week, nobody asking for paternity tests down the line, no complications. Don't worry about the mess. It's all leather and tile in there. We'll mop up. So suck, lick, paw, frot... just no penetrating holes below the belly button."

The little brother blushed at the graphic description, his gazelline ears burning as they flicked nervously.

"Rule number 4: Jean and I are your sighted assistants. Put your right hand up if you need assistance... that includes towels, navigation or orientation help, and the like. Put your left hand up if you're ready for a new partner. That could be because you're both finished, or it's just not happening between the two of you, whatever. There's no hard feelings here, sex can be a funny thing. Put up both hands to leave the room. It may take a minute, only one person can be in the kitchen or bathroom at a time, to preserve anonymity."

Bobby nodded slowly. "OK. W-what if I get scared? I mean I've n-never done this before. I don't want to make a fool of myself. Maybe I should just..."

The gazelle found himself wrapped in a tight hug from his big brother. He heard the older gazelle chuckle. "If you get scared, put both hands up. Jean and I will take you out here and give you a big cuddle. OK? Then you can tell us what you wanna do. There's less than a dozen people in there. These are people Jean and I know, and trust, and in some cases, love. You're in good hands."

The younger brother took a deep breath, then nodded, horns clacking up against his brother's. "Yeah. OK."

Don let him go. "I'll grab Jean, she's the better matchmaker. You get ready buddy." Bobby was handed a sturdy bin bag, then his brother slipped into the other room and slid the door shut behind him.

Left to his own devices, Bobby stripped down. His 6 foot frame wasn't muscular, but not many would call him unattractive. He had just a slight belly from soft living, but otherwise kept himself in good shape. After putting his stuff in the bag and sliding it under the kitchen table, the young man took stock of himself. His fur was patterned after a Grant's gazelle: Tan along the back and the back of his arms and legs, white along his belly including groin and rump, with black streaks over his tail and flanks. But he quickly came to the realisation: None of that mattered. Nobody would see his fur pattern. Nobody would see his deep brown eyes, which even now were being covered by the black blindfold.

Sight gone now, Bobby did another self assessment. He ran his fingers over his body, and noticed that his fur was still soft from this morning's shower and shampoo. The very slight curve of his belly didn't seem like a big deal now; in fact it provided an interesting textural difference from the hardness of his ribs and hips. He reached back and discovered that his rump had more of a curve to it than he expected. And his tail was more whippy, more wiry than he might have expected it to feel like.

He raised his arm and sniffed. Immediately a hot flush came to his ears. Though he had used a little deodorant this morning, it was already wearing off. There was a spicy, masculine hint to the young hoofy's armpits. It wasn't bad, but it was unexpected. With shaking digits, the gazelle reached down to rub his thighs and ballsac. He brought them up to his nose for a sniff, and was relieved to mostly smell a dash of talcum powder. There was certainly a hint of his own very male scent, but nothing that he would consider overpowering or unattractive. He was brushing his fingers off on a fuzzy flank when he heard a voice.

"Well then. Little brother is all grown up."

Bobby jumped a little bit, gazelline hooves scrabbling briefly on the kitchen floor. "H-hi Jean." he murmured. Suddenly he didn't know what to do with his hands. He had no idea what the protocol was. Bobby settled on tucking them behind his back, just above his tailbase. He felt a little kiss on his cheek, which was at first startling, but then comforting when his mind processed the innocent gesture.

"OK kiddo. You know the rules. I'm going to take you in and set you up with someone. Just relax. Have fun." The coyote's melodic voice was quite comforting. "Oh, remember you have about 9 inches of lead, try not to bump into anything too hard." Bobby had no idea what she was talking about. His confused expression must have been enough for Jean to elaborate. The gazelle yelped a little as a soft paw stroked his member from root to base, just once.

Oh.

"Yeah, exactly. So feel things out."

Bobby hadn't even realised that his self examination, or perhaps the situation itself, had excited him so much. Either way, he was grateful to Jean for the warning. She murmured, "OK, no more talking. Remember your hand signals." He heard the slide of the door, and the soft electronica was suddenly much louder. His hooves clipped against the tile floor as they moved, but his keen ears picked up at least one other set of hooves, if not more. There was also an undertone of grunts, growls, and groans that couldn't quite be washed away by the mood music.

The nervous young man felt a hand on his chest, slowing his forward progress to a stop. An additional paw on his hip slowly guided him back until he felt the lip of a leather seat. He started to sit, but a firm guiding touch to his shoulders and then behind his knees got the gazelle lying on his back. He felt something against his horns, maybe the arm of a couch. Then the guiding touch of his coyote handler was gone. He laid there, feeling suddenly exposed and helpless. What was surely only a dozen seconds of isolation felt like minutes of silent anticipation. He felt his fur sliding over the leather of the couch, and an air current from either a fan or an A/C unit washing over his still-hard member.

Then, there was a paw on his thigh. Bobby tried not to tense up too much, willing himself to breathe deep. Another paw on his belly, slowly exploring, crawling up the height of his body. Tentatively he reached down and found a fuzzy shoulder. He squeezed gently, and a paw situated under his armpit squeezed back. Soon the creature was on top of the gazelle. His erection was trapped between their bellies, and he felt something pressing against his chest. Almost shyly, he reached up to get a nice paw full of tawny breast. The rumbling and purring that followed told the gazelle that he has a feline on his hands.

A shiver went up the hoofy's spine. This definitely felt like a predator / prey moment.

The furry form atop of Bobby never seemed to stop moving, her hips swaying, paws exploring. The rub of fur and muscle against the young man's hardon was driving him crazy! He wrapped his arms around the female perched atop his body and squeezed her tightly. Her response was to stroke up the sides of his muzzle and grab his horns firmly. She leaned in and nipped his thin lips until he granted her tongue entry. Muzzles locked, Bobby melted into the couch as he was overpowered by the predator's hungry kiss. He blindly stroked her back and flanks, receiving her tongue passively and suckling on that insistent length of flesh.

His partner broke off the kiss with a snarl. There was a few confusing moments where the gazelle dare not move at all. It was like the feline was crawling all over him. He felt paws, knees, footpaws... sometimes missing more delicate areas by inches. Then the scent hit him: Female. Needy and ready female, an inch from his nose. Even as Bobby craned his neck up to lap at his partner's dripping cunny, he felt his own sex being peeled off of the now-sticky fur of his belly. She snarled her approval and pressed her hips down and back, smothering the male's lips and nose in her sex. He yelped, the sound muffled. Arms once again reaching up to embrace the cat (or hold on for dear life, it was hard to say at that moment), the gazelle went to work. Only when he started rolling his smooth tongue over the feline's puffy clitoral hood did she start to reward him in kind.

Rather than suck on the hoofy's thick nine inches, the cat dragged her slightly raspy tongue over every nerve ending, root to tip. If Bobby didn't have a face full of kitty vagina, his cry would have been far too loud. His entire body was shaking. Each torturous lick from the cat threatened to push the gazelle over the edge. He redoubled his efforts, getting his nose involved to stroke the folds of the predator's sex, as his tongue washed over her hood. Her flanks stiffened suddenly and the feline's scent flooded over Bobby's face. If anything, the orgasm made the hoofy's mystery lover even more hungry. She insistently ground her sex over his maw before returning to licking the gazelline flesh-lollipop in her paws.

The male wished he had some way to warn his lover how close he was. The heavy throbbing and copious precum might have been a sign, but it didn't change the cat's steady, heavy licking one iota. Perhaps she didn't care because of how close she was to her second peak. The predator dropped her hips roughly against Bobby's questing tongue, and with a little snarl the feline came in his face yet again. The scent was overpowering this time, and one more ragged lick over Bobby's cockhead was all it took for him to join his partner in bliss. The sound of his own thundering heartbeat didn't quite drown out the little giggle of delight that his panting, squirming partner couldn't hold back. She directed his veiny shaft slightly downward, quickly milking the bottom half of his throbbing member with a delicate paw. He felt himself spraying into the open air, and a moment later he felt the sticky impact on his legs and hooves.

With no small measure of dexterity, the feline swung herself off of her prey. He felt a light pat on the shoulder, and then nothing. Dizzy in his afterglow, he wasn't sure how long it was before his anonymous lover was led away. Soon after, there was a clopping of hooves on the tile floor. A wet sponge was pressed into his hand, and the flushed gazelle started to clean his face. He felt his legs and hooves being towelled down, and then another towel being draped over his midsection. With the help of his handler, the 'abused' prey was quickly cleaned up, as was the couch itself. Bobby wasn't recovered yet, so he just laid there and listened to the music, reflecting on the brief but intense encounter that he managed to navigate.

As a typical male, it wasn't much of a surprise that Bobby drifted off for a quick post-orgasmic nap. When he awoke there was a moment of panic at his apparent blindness. But upon reaching up to run his eyes and instead feeling the blindfold, the gazelle remembered where he was. The scents and the sounds of carnal pairing inspired the young man once again. After a moment of consideration, he slowly put his left hand up in the air.

A minute later, the soft paw of a familiar coyote took his hand. The other fur helped him navigate across the room. The temperature rose a bit, further away from the flow of air, almost certainly closer to the window where the sun could shine down. The leather loveseat had been warmed almost to the point of discomfort, but the heat diffused nicely over the fur of the gazelle's rump when he was made to sit. His guide's grip shifted to his wrist, and moved Bobby's paw to the other side of the loveseat. He touched warm, soft scales. There was the faintest sound, like a 'chirrup'. Then his guide was gone, leaving the young man to explore.

Bobby ran his fuzzy fingers up and down, finding first a shoulder, and then a flat chest that was breathing quickly, almost panting. The gazelle shifted his rump along the warm leather, sliding closer to the apparently nervous creature. He reached out with his other paw to find the curve of a reptilian hip. He gave it a squeeze, and was pleased when that made his new acquaintance's ass shift. Still the saurian creature kept his hands to himself, content for the moment to submissively receive the gazelle's blind exploration of his body.

The ungulate tucked his legs underneath himself, kneeling on the loveseat facing the other male. He gave a couple of suggestive tugs, until the lizard caught on and mirrored his position. Bobby started a full, slow mapping of the reptile's body. His fingers spared not a single inch of his new partner's form. Of particular interest, and worthy of repeated and intense exploration, was the lizard's thighs, rump, and undertail. The little churrs and moans that Bobby's friend made just spurred him on. He boldly rubbed a finger under the other lad's uplifted tail, playing over that warm, clean tailstar. Mindful of the rules, that was as far as the gazelle went, but it was more than enough to cause the lizard to cling to him fiercely. Now that their bodies were pressed flush to one another, both males felt a throbbing cock pressing, rubbing against their own. Precum mixed and frothed between them to ease the frottage.

The gazelle's lover rested his chin on that fuzzy shoulder. Taking this as a sign of acceptance, one of Bobby's paws squeezed and supported his new lover's rump cheek, while the other continued to explore in the valley of those finely scaled crescent moons, playing over the twitching, needy hole mercilessly. He locked his squared teeth on the resilient but sensitive shoulder of his new lover. With a trembling little moan, the lizard thrust his leaking tool against Bobby's engorged manhood. Nearly silently, the hoofy followed suit, thrilling in every rub and grind against his hot flesh.

With the frantic pace that the two males were setting, neither of them were going to last. Their bodies were sealed together in a lover's embrace. The continued massage of the lizard's tight little backdoor spurred on his spirited bucking. All Bobby had to do was keep their shafts aligned and let the now-eager saurian push them to an explosive finish. He gnawed gently on his lover's shoulder to somewhat mute his own gasping and moaning. This left his lover to trill and whimper like a slut.

Then Bobby felt it: That tight little pucker started to twitch and dance against the probe of his fingertip. His lover gasped as his hips thrust raggedly. A moment later his fevered shaft was awash in thick saurian seed. As the scent of undeniable maleness struck his nostrils, and the slick/sticky mess started to soak into the fur of his belly, Bobby made three rough and passionate thrusts against the lizard's still-cumming prick. Then it was the hoofy's turn to twitch and spray his gazelline semen all the way up the scales of his lover's scaled chest.

They held each other throughout the extended afterglow, baptised in the foreign scent of a strange male. It wasn't much of a surprise when his previously-shy partner reverted to old habits. After a mortified little nuzzle to the side of the gazelle's neck, he felt both of the lizard's arms leave his furry back. The hoofy trailed his digits over those saurian hips, up his sides, and to his softly scaled armpits. As he suspected, both of his partner's hands were up in the air, signalling for a quick rescue. The gazelle chuckled and leaned back. After they led the lizard off to clean up, it would be Bobby's turn to exit.

...though perhaps he would take up Don's offer before he left. How often do you get a no-strings-attached cuddle with your brother's hot wife?