Addiction
Addiction
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Addiction by Sophie Bell is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. It contains scenes of a sexual nature not intended for readers under the age of consent. Feel free to e-mail me or comment below!!
Edited 10.06.2009 to update the CC License. 
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"Hoy! I see you beat me to it, Ray."
That was Chet, the large, russet-colored puma that Ray had grown to hate over the years. He was behind Ray, at the moment, out of sight. Ray could see him in his mind's eye -- ragged blue jeans, white t-shirt, and probably a red or blue shirt over that, stained around the collar. He didn't turn to look though, just kept on doing what he had been -- specifically, scrubbing bright stains of red from the dingy brown carpet that dominated this crummy apartment.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Chet?" He said, still not bothering to look over his shoulder. His lower back ached -- he'd been here for nearly an hour and a half, obsessing over the fresh stains. "I thought I told you to quit following me around. It's disgusting. And it makes me sloppy, which means you're closer to dead now than you were before you started stalking me." Chet, still behind him, snorted with laughter. Or, what passed for laughter anyhow. Nothing that came out of Chet was ever real humor.
"But you're so cute, darling. I couldn't help myself." Ray rolled his eyes at the ceiling briefly, and then bent back to his painstaking work. Chet had been following him around for weeks now, and it was beginning to get on his nerves. The arrogant little fuck actually thought he was helping Ray. In reality, he was only making it that much easier for the cops to find him, if they ever managed to do so. Ray didn't think it was going to happen. Half the department was dirty, and the other half were too old, fat, or stupid to do anything all that useful. That was how it had always been, in this city. At least, since Ray had moved here, nearly a decade ago.
"Well, don't just stand there you idiotic fuck. Help me. This shit takes forever, and it's not like I have all the time in the world." Ray said, even knowing that the puma wouldn't bother to help. He never did. He just stood in the background, holding his dick and making commentary. That was Chet for you. Useless and perpetually horny.
"I'd rather stare at your hot little ass, kitten." Chet said, and Ray sighed. Useless and perpetually horny. As per usual. Sighing again, Ray returned his mind to the task at hand, wishing he could get the fuck out of here so he wouldn't be around that smell much longer. The smell of death, that was. The tangy, coppery smell of blood didn't bother him in the least -- that, he was used to. It was that cloying smell of death that bothered him. It always took days of scalding-hot showers for him to get the smell out of his fur.
Several minutes later, Ray stood up, wincing at the ache in his back and lower legs. "I think that'll do it." He said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. Finally, he turned around to look at Chet, wiping his hands absently on his jeans. "Guess we can get out of here now." He said, reaching out and grabbing his brown suede jacket from where he'd draped it across a chair. Chet was staring at him bemusedly, making no effort to hide the fact that his paw was stuffed down the front of his own blue jeans.
"Yeah, guess we ought to." He said, and Ray stifled a sigh. The guy would never change. Tugging the coat on over his shirt, which was damp in some places with sweat -- scrubbing was hard work -- he pulled on the zipper until it was snug against his chin, and then stuffed his hands into his pockets, taking several steps towards the door. Chet, as he had expected, didn't move a hair.
"Move, you asshole. I want to get home and take a shower." He snapped, pulling one paw from his coat pocket, and reaching out to shove at the big puma's chest. Chet topped him by nearly a head, and probably could have broken him in half if he'd taken the time to let go of his dick, but he moved at Ray's little shove, stepping aside. There was just enough room for Ray to squeeze past, if he turned sideways and either mashed his crotch or his ass against Chet's obvious arousal. "C'mon," He said, glaring. "Just go ahead of me, damn you." Chet grinned widely, obviously translating Ray's words into something less abrasive and more sexual, and finally moved out of the doorframe completely.
"I guess I'll let you get behind me, just this once." He drawled, and stepped out into the hallway. Ray, for his part, ignored the commentary and scooted out of the death-impregnated room, shutting the door behind himself before Chet had a chance to do something stupid -- like push him back inside. "How about a quickie here in the hall?" Chet said, glancing over one broad shoulder and winking. "Bet no one'd notice a thing."
Rolling his eyes, Ray didn't bother responding. Chet seemed to think that there was nothing more important than sex. Ray, on the other hand, knew there were more important things. Like making sure there was no blood on your paws after you bashed someone's head in with a hammer, for example. Or making sure there were no stains on the carpet after you'd dropped the body down the incineration chute. Those handy little inventions had spared Ray a great deal of effort over the years. Some time back, an enterprising mayor had made sure there was an incineration chute in every building and every home. Cut back on waste, he said. Was clean and efficient, he said. All Ray knew was that the things were especially wonderful when your job required the ability to get rid of evidence, and fast.
Ray and Chet stepped outside nearly at the same time, pushing through the glass double-doors that kept most of the cold out and most of the heat in. The seals weren't perfect -- hell, nothing fucking worked the way it was supposed to in this city -- but they did the job, as long as you didn't mind the occasional chilly breeze. In the summer, though, those doors didn't do much at all except trap the heat. Summers in these sorts of apartment buildings were synonymous with the fires of hell.
"So now what, Ray?" The puma said, even as he puff-sucked on a tiny silver inhaler in one paw. Ray, looking up at the skies, was unsurprised to see that most of the falling white flakes were, in actuality, ash and not snow. It was still bitterly cold, though. Stepping out into the dirt-grimed streets, he glanced at the watch on his wrist, ears flickering about as he thought. "Got about ten minutes until the next train. Then I'm going home to take a shower and you're going on your merry fucking way." He said, turning left and heading for the corner of First and Seventy-Third, which held one of the city's many train stations. It was little more than a set of stairs burrowing into the earth, leading down to the underground tracks that crisscrossed the city. There were probably thousands of such places, spread out all over the city -- hell, all over the world.
"Ah, that's no fun." The puma said, seeming to be disappointed. He wasn't a very good actor, though, and Ray already knew that Chet would probably hop on the train that took him home at the last minute, blathering some excuse. If he was lucky. If not, Chet would simply be more blatant about the fact that he was following Ray home, and spend the twenty minute train ride describing what he'd like to do to Ray's ass. Not that Ray wasn't used to this -- despite their differing species (Ray was not a 'kitten', but in fact a Doberman) -- Chet had no qualms regarding the sex. Ray was pretty sure that Chet would have stuck his dick into a vacuum hose -- and did, when he couldn't find anything else to stick it in.
It was the former that Chet attempted, today. Shaking his paw from the mild bruise he'd got from sticking into the quick-closing doors in order to jump on train G-47, which would take Ray back to his moderately nice apartment, he muttered something about needing to stop at a store in that neighborhood anyhow. Ray, nodding, balanced himself easily against one of the aluminum walls of the train, and watched the brick-and-concrete walls of the tunnel slide by. He still smelled like death, of course. A few of the other passengers had probably picked it up from him, and so were sitting or standing as far away from the Doberman as possible. Ray didn't mind -- in fact, he wished fairly often that Chet had possessed such a reaction. The puma, however great his sense of smell, had never seemed to mind.
Throughout the duration of the journey, Chet jabbered on -- a bit too loudly -- about his plans for the night. Most of which had to do with sex, beer, and pretzels. And the majority of that somehow ended up at Ray's house, which was also unsurprising. When the train shuddered and screeched to a halt, below the corner of Fourth and Eighty-Sixth, Ray glanced at Chet, pushing through the throng of furs that rushed towards the sliding aluminum doors. "You're not coming over tonight, Chet. I've got work to do, and I don't want you around to fuck up my concentration." Chet, oblivious to the hostility in Ray's voice, nodded and grinned.
"Sure, whatever you say, bro." He said, and Ray sighed. That sort of response meant that Chet would not be following him home -- a small blessing -- but that he would show up pounding on the door in a few hours. Which meant that Ray had to figure out a reason to be gone long before Chet showed up. With any luck, the puma wouldn't be lounging around outside the apartment building biding his time. He'd done that a few times, and Ray thought it was only so Chet could make sure that he was around to keep the Doberman from sneaking off.
It was still ash-snowing out when they ascended aboveground, Chet drawing on that little inhaler of his one more time as they moved, shoulder-to-shoulder, for the sidewalk. Once there, Ray moved deliberately away from Chet, glaring at him briefly. "Fuck off, already." He snapped, and traversed up the three steps that led to his apartment building's outer doors. Chet might have said something, but Ray wasn't listening. He was jiggling his keys in the lock, pushing on the handle, and gone, securely inside the building.
"Hey Mister Gethin!" That was Anne, the too-chipper squirrel who sat behind the desk just inside the apartment lobby, prepared to buzz residents in if they'd forgot their keys. Regrettably, she also buzzed in furs that she thought might give her a good shagging if she flirted enough, and that included the muscle-bound Chet. In Anne's words, Chet was "Big enough to be big in other places." If you knew what she meant, of course. Which Ray did, regrettably.
"Hey Anne." He said, waving at her absently as he headed towards the elevator. Just as the door slid open, he glanced back at her, clearing his throat. "Hey Anne?" She turned, flashing a bright smile, her pink-dyed hair sticking up in every direction possible. Maybe I'll get her on my list some day. Ray thought, absently, but didn't say as much. "For fuck's sake, don't let Chet in this time. I know it's you who has been, so..." He trailed off, glaring at her. She, of course, was all innocence.
"What are you talking about, Mister Gethin? You know I can't let anyone but residents in. You look tired, maybe you should go take a rest." She said, obviously blaming his mood on his apparent weariness. Anne was like that. Ray knew for a fact that the squirrel had selective hearing -- and was pretty sure she only had random moments of lucidity in her drug-hazed life. A lost cause, insofar as he was concerned.
"Just don't let him in, alright?" He said, and slipped into the elevator before the doors closed, pressing his thumb against the fourth-floor button, watching it light up as the doors sealed themselves. Ray waited until the elevator spit him out on his apartment floor, sighing as he made his way down the hall. The somber theme evoked a vaguely funereal atmosphere, but Ray had never noticed the high irony. He unlocked his door -- number 437 --- and pushed his way inside, breathing deeply of the vague cinnamon smell that permeated his apartment. Much better than the apartment he'd recently visited -- here, the only thing that smelled like death was him, which would shortly be taken care of, if temporarily.
Peeling off the standardized latex gloves that he wore habitually, Ray dropped them into the black trash bin just inside his door. Later, that too would go down the incineration chute, producing another handful of ash to mix into the winter snowfall. The thick, utilitarian boots went next, muddy snowmelt trickling down incline and towards the drain. That led into the sewer system, which provided yet another way for the government to leech money off of people. In precise sequence, the Doberman removed his clothing; coat, shirt, pants, socks. All but the coat and socks went into the trash bin, to be destroyed later. Ray went through more clothes than most supermodels, but they were all replaceable.
While mulling over his choice of scented soaps, Ray listened to his messages. First was Kaitlyn, his 'secretary', rattling off a list of future appointments, all of which had probably been made in the past six hours. Second was Mickey, his raspy voice informing Ray that the check for all his utilities had been sent out on time that day. Finally, and to Ray's great annoyance, Chet's voice crackled through the machine. He had called Ray in the space of time between the ground floor and his apartment, leaving the same sort of lewd commentary that he did nearly every time he called.
A lavender-scented soap was Ray's choice, and as Chet's voice rambled on into oblivion, he slipped into the shower, increasing the water temperature until it was a hair beneath scalding. With the rush of water drowning out everything on the planet, Ray attempted to scrub the smell of death from his fur, rubbing the scented soap into his fur and down to the skin harshly. Suds, dirt, blood and the remnants of the ash-snow outside sluiced down the drain, taking with it the clinging smell of death. For twenty full minutes, Ray soaked himself in the shower, drowning his thoughts in the steam. The glass rattling around him was what brought him out of his reverie. Distantly, he heard a thumping, and muffled shouting. Fuck, that's Chet. He thought, and briefly entertained a vision of skinning Anne alive while she was giving her tectonic plate puma a blowjob before bashing them both in the head with a hammer. Just battering away until their thick skulls cracked and the pink-gray mass of their brains splattered all over the well-tended marble tiles of the lobby floor.
Sighing, Ray stepped out of his shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. "Alright, you stupid fuck, I'm coming." He shouted, knowing that Chet probably wouldn't hear him, and not particularly caring. Dripping, he made his way down the short hall and through the den, listening for a break in the incessant pounding before he yanked the door open.
"Hey bro." Chet said, pushing past Ray and into his apartment. The mud from his boots grimed into Ray's carpet, creating an ugly set of footprints that followed the puma into the den. A smear of ash spread out beneath Chet's arm, as he leaned against Ray's marble counter top. The fur showing on his arms was matted with ash and water, dripping onto the already-stained carpet. For a moment, Ray wondered if the puma would fit down his incinerator whole, and then tossed the idea aside. Chet was too big, for one thing. On the other paw, he was the closest thing Ray had to a friend -- not that he had friends. They had been assigned together, probably because one of the boys upstairs had a sadistic flare. So, he couldn't kill the bastard. Yet.
"What the fuck do you want, Chet?" He snapped, pinching the towel more securely about his waist. Chet blinked at him, twice, and then offered up that dumb-as-a-rock grin of his, shrugging. Ray stared at him, waiting, and began to count in his head -- in Latin. English had stopped working years ago.
"You're making this too easy, kitten." The puma said, flashing his teeth. Ray shook his head, tightening his paw around the towel.
"Fuck you. Tell me what you want and get the hell out. I have work to do." He said, absently wondering if he could leave Chet alone long enough to find some pants. Not likely, unless he wanted his house to be destroyed even further.
What Chet wanted, of course, was the same thing he always wanted: somewhere to stuff his dick. Ray realized this an instant too late -- Why the fuck did I even ask? -- too worried about keeping the towel around his waist to properly fend off the puma's speedy advance. For a ball of muscle and sinew, Chet could move quickly enough when he wanted to. "This." The puma hissed, one overlarge paw wrapping firmly around the bulge behind Ray's towel. "And this." The other paw, sliding under the towel to grab Ray's naked rear-end.
Ray, annoyed, pulled away from Chet, shaking his head sharply. "Not tonight, Chet." He said, tugging at his towel again. Maybe he really should go grab some pants. He even started to turn, intending to do just that, but was halted by a set of very sharp claws wiggling over the edge of his towel, right against his spine. With a jerk that might have sent him sprawling had it not been for the puma behind him, ready and willing to lend his 'support', Ray flew back. The towel slid from his tight grasp, and before he could do much more than utter a sharp bark of surprise, Chet had resumed his former position, wrapping his paw around Ray's package once again.
"It'll be quick, kitten." The puma said, directly into Ray's ear. Ray, scowling, attempted to pull away from Chet, which wasn't successful -- it never was -- and only made the bulge pressing into his back side even more evident. Chet's other arm, which had briefly been free, wrapped itself securely around the Doberman's waist. Ray, who had nothing of the strength that the great, idiotic puma did, sighed.
It always began this way -- and both of the furs knew it. Their convoluted relationship had begun when they'd gone on their first assignment together. Chet had used one of his enormous paws to stun the target -- a rather greasy-looking young fox -- and Ray had shot the fur in the head at point-blank range. That had been his first kill, as well. Since then, Ray had learned how to do his job in a quieter fashion. The thunderous snap of the bullet had produced a mess that both Ray and Chet had been severely reprimanded for. Technology hadn't gone so far that the boys upstairs knew how to wipe memory.
After the fact, Chet had shoved Ray up against the blood-spattered wall and practically raped him, the scent of blood and death as thick and cloying as that of sex. Ray had been young then, as had Chet, and they had both assumed it was the heady excitement of the moment that had caused the puma's sudden arousal. Ray had forgiven him, and throughout the years Chet had become addicted to the rush of endorphins. Ray, on the other paw, had quickly tired of it, but by the time he'd realized he didn't really want Chet -- at least not on a mental level -- the addiction had taken it's hold on his body.
As if to illustrate this, the Doberman, less than a minute after he had tried to avoid having his dick toyed with, was rock-hard.
"See?" Chet purred, squeezing Ray's cock a hair before he began to stroke it, urging the Doberman towards the sex they both knew was coming. "You wanted to anyway, bro." And Ray, eyes half-lidded with pleasure, didn't even sigh this time. He was clean, didn't smell like death anymore, and was having his dick jerked by a very capable fur. For now, Chet was correct --- for now, it would do.
In time with each rough stroke, the puma was grinding his own cock against Ray's ass, rolling his hips in tight, circular motions. Through the denim, Ray could feel Chet slowly becoming aroused, though it came as something of a surprise that he hadn't already been. Habitually, Ray pressed back against the puma's encased sheath, rubbing his naked fur against the denim, luxuriating in the grainy, rough texture.
Ray, unlike Chet, tended towards silence -- at least before the actual sex. Chet was a noisemaker, always had been. Already, he was grunting and panting into Ray's ear, in between the sharp nips he was laying along the sensitive edge of it. Ray, for his part, was breathing raggedly, but shallowly. Chet, unsurprisingly, was also a talker. Even as he slid his paw up and down along Ray's engorged cock, he was muttering into the Doberman's ear, speech thickened by lust, and muffled by the nearly-constant purr. "Mm. That's right, kitten." He was saying, and Ray shuddered lightly as Chet licked his ear, dragging it slowly.
Chet was something of a sadist. Over the years, Ray had learned this. He expected it, now. It might have explained why he always referred to the Doberman as 'kitten' when speaking about sex -- or in the middle of sex. By the time Ray got to the point of arousal that he was whimpering with need, there was no surprise at all when the puma abruptly removed his paw from around Ray's cock.
Ray, who was so hard that it bordered on pain, winced slightly as the puma dug his claws in, almost forcibly rotating the Doberman around. Facing Chet now, Ray looked down, absorbing the sight of the puma's cock straining against the fabric of his blue jeans. His paws were shaking, but he managed to flick open the snap without too much trouble, and the weight and stiffness of Chet's cock forced the zipper down of it's own accord.
He had seen it before, but Ray still couldn't help but to admire the sheer size of Chet's gleaming pink cock, escaped from the sand-colored sheath, fully erect. It was dripping, oozing pre-cum from the very tip. For a few moments, Chet stood there, obviously basking in his own pride and ego. Then, as expected, he gripped the back of the Doberman's neck in one massive paw, and shoved Ray to his knees.
Ray, cock aching, cracked open his muzzle and swallowed up the puma's meat greedily. The sweet-and-salty tang of Chet's precum washed over his tongue almost immediately. Another fur might have eased up on Ray's neck, now that his cock was being serviced, but not Chet. Something of a sadist, remember? So that grip stayed firm, needle-claws digging in through Ray's chocolate fur. After only a few moments of Ray's eager sucking and lapping, he felt the pressure shift on his neck, and an instant later felt the back of his throat stretch, accommodating the remainder of Chet's cock as it was forcibly stuffed down his throat. He'd been doing this for years, though, and did not gag. Instead, Ray moaned around the intrusion, gobbling at it eagerly.
Chet was also making noise, purring and uttering a series of deep-throated, guttural moans. For what seemed an eternity, Ray's muzzle was stretched and abused by the mountain cat's large cock. Drool and pre-cum were dripping down his chin, staining his fur. He smelled like sex now, the lavender soap washed out completely by musk. However, it couldn't have been more than five minutes before the puma eased his grip on Ray's neck, and then slid his cock out of the Doberman's muzzle.
"Not here, kitten." Chet said, and Ray could barely understand him through the purring, but nodded nevertheless. He stood up, the muscles in his back and legs screaming in protest, easing the cramps out as he went. He had barely straightened out completely before Chet reached out, pawing greedily at Ray's cock, which elicited a sharp bark of surprise. "Mm. Not here." Chet muttered, again, and leaned in, grinding his body up against Ray's as he practically shoved his tongue down the Doberman's throat. Ray first tasted whatever Chet had eaten for breakfast, and then tasted the pre-cum from his own mouth, mixing with their saliva.
Being picked up as if he weighed no more than a feather had always been a bit disturbing to Ray, but he paid it little mind. Within the nearly monstrous embrace of Chet's arms, he was carried back into his own room -- down the hall and beyond the shower -- and dumped rather unceremoniously onto his bed. His muzzle was pushed into the maroon comforter, and for a second he lay there, panting heavily, breathing in his own scent.
"Mm. Glad you had that tail clipped last year, kitten." Chet rumbled, tugging at the tip of it sharply. "Make this a lot easier than before." Ray heard the distinct sound of his nightstand drawer being pulled open, and shifted his gaze, following Chet's paw as he lifted a bottle of lube from it's confines. The label had been torn off, and the outside gleamed faintly. As Chet's paw moved out of sight, Ray's ears pricked, distinguishing first the sound of the lid being snapped open, and then the sound of the puma smearing his cock with the stuff.
He half-expected Chet to simply pounce forwards and take him, even if he was in a rather odd position, skewed on his bed. The puma didn't, though. Instead, to Ray's surprise, he felt a warm, slick digit pressing against the tight bud beneath his tail. Pressing, and coating it with the lubricant. After drawing a deep, shuddering breath through his nostrils, Ray rearranged his limbs, creeping up onto all fours, his ass raised high into the air, an offering. Chet's paw found that puckered bud again, continuing it's semi-rough caress. The puma was purring, that deep sound rumbling audibly in the room.
The bed shifted, and Ray fully expected that Chet would surge forward now, even if he hadn't before. Instead, though he did feel the puma's weight against him, the expected sex didn't occur. Instead, Ray was subjected once again to Chet's paw, wrapping itself securely around his aching, dripping erection, stroking it roughly. The digit which had been rubbing lubricant around Ray's anus finally nudged it's way inside, claw retracted. Finally, the Doberman let out a soft grunting moan of pleasure, torn between humping the paw that was wrapped around his cock and surging back against that invasive digit.
Chet must have been hard, but for what seemed like an age, he did nothing but swirl the tip of his finger around inside of Ray's anus, and paw furiously at the Doberman's engorged cock. Before too long Ray was whimpering, having finally made a decision, and was humping madly at Chet's paw. "Easy now, kitten." The puma half-growled, sounding amused. With those words, he released Ray's cock, and stuffed his rough-padded digit all the way inside of the Doberman's anus, with barely a pause before another was stuffed in alongside it, stretching out the orifice abruptly. A shock of pain slithered into Ray's belly, but he ignored it, grinding his ass against Chet's paw.
For as long as he had let Ray hump his paw, now Chet finger-fucked his anus, sliding his lubricated digits in and out, pumping rapidly. Now and again, the puma would wriggle his fingers within Ray, provoking a series of whimpering moans. Chet's free paw, which had abandoned Ray's cock, had obviously gone back to attending his own -- Ray could distinctly hear Chet jerking his meat, slopping it with pre-cum and lubrication. Finally, when he thought he might start begging instead of just moaning and whimpering, Chet withdrew his invasive digits, leaning forwards slightly.
"Alright, kitten." He rumbled into Ray's ear. He continued to speak, describing in great detail what he was about to do to the Doberman, during which he re-wrapped his paw around Ray's cock, and began to paw him off yet again. In the middle of a sentence, Ray felt the puma's cock finally push up against his well-lubricated bud, felt his abdomen tighten in anticipation.
For a long, excruciating moment, Ray believed that Chet was going to leave him like this. Poised on the verge of getting his tail-hole stuffed, he shuddered, whimpering. Chet was still jerking at his cock, and instead of driving himself inside of the Doberman, he was humping him. Humping and rubbing, making Ray shudder and writhe in anticipation. Finally, though, Chet did something that Ray knew, and settled his free paw on Ray's flank, pressing down.
Ray nearly collapsed in pleasure when Chet finally pushed the head of his cock inside, so overwhelmed by sensation that he had to force himself to calm down before he made a mess. His balls tightened briefly, and Ray suffered a moment of horror, before he willed them back to relaxation. "Mm. You like that, eh, kitten?" Chet murmured, directly into his ear. The puma's claws were nipping into Ray's fur, biting into the skin beneath it. By the end, Chet would have drawn blood, as Ray knew oh, so well. At this point, though, he didn't care. He just wanted Chet to get it over with.
Finally, Chet began to thrust, albeit slowly. Ray, shuddering and trembling, relaxed his muscles as best he could, knowing it would hurt -- and mayhap tear -- if he didn't. "Mm." Chet muttered, apparently lost for words. The puma's paw was as languid as his organ, having slowed down quite a bit since he'd penetrated Ray's tail-hole. Ray, for his part, had degenerated into panting and whimpering, squirming beneath Chet's paw, a pool of pre-cum staining his comforter.
There were no words to warn him, this time. Instead of his usual preamble, the puma simply stuffed the entire length of his throbbing, seemingly enormous cock into Ray's tail-hole, driving a shocked gasp of pain and pleasure from the Doberman. The paw on his cock shifted, tightening, and a moment later Ray found himself yet again forcing the urge to climax down. Chet was sliding his cock in and out of the Doberman's greedy tail-hole with increasing speed, his paw moving to match that speed.
For several excruciating moments, this pattern ensued, and Ray found that, between moans and yips, he was having a very difficult time avoiding spraying his bed with a fresh load of cum. The puma must have sensed this, somehow, for his paw, wrapped so tightly around Ray's cock, abruptly let go. Ray felt it slap against his other flank, claws digging into stabilize his hips as Chet grunted, once, and began to fuck the Doberman in earnest.
Dimly, Ray heard the wet slapping sound of Chet's balls against his furry behind. Dimly, he realized he was counting in Latin out loud, muttering the foreign language so rapidly that it was incoherent. Trying hard not to climax, desperately clinging to the thought, in fact. Chet, eventually, slowed. His purring had turned to panting, moaning and grunting, and Ray could feel the puma trembling behind him. He must be close as well, to have slowed down so abruptly.
With a hiss and a grunt, Chet yanked his cock out of Ray, claws digging in, drawing blood. A few spatters of it added to the mess already smearing Ray's comforter, but no one was paying attention. With a light slap, Chet urged Ray to move, and he did, practically choking on his own need. "Here." Chet growled, as soon as Ray had turned completely around. Roughly, the puma gripped Ray's neck, claws bunching into the fur as he quite literally shoved the Doberman down onto his dripping cock. Ray eagerly gobbled it up, barely noticing when the back of his throat was once again stretched out to house Chet's catmeat. As soon as the puma had begun to yet again rape Ray's muzzle, he resumed pawing at the Doberman's cock, stroking the thick, heavy meat almost viciously. "Hurry up." Chet grunted, and Ray, shuddering, did as he was told.
He felt, against his tongue, the instant before Chet proceeded to climax. A series of abrupt, hot pulses were the trigger, and in the next instant Jay felt and tasted the thick stream of cum falling against his tongue, sliding down his throat, burning into his stomach. He guzzled it, greedily, eyes half-lidded. After that first swallow, the Doberman realized he could no longer restrain himself. He lunged against Chet's paw, humping it madly, fucking it as Chet had fucked his mouth. Oh, how he wished to be stuffed inside a tight tail-hole. But this would do. This would do nicely.
Three swallows, thick with salt and sugar, and Jay felt his balls tighten, felt that coil of heat in his abdomen release with a nearly visceral snap. The first surge was the most painful, his cock throbbing and pulsing into Chet's paw even as Chet's cock was pulsing against his throat. Sticky and hot, Ray climaxed, knees buckling. It was only Chet's grip on the back of his neck that kept him from falling completely, that kept his muzzle trapped around the puma's cock.
"Aah." Chet grunted, and Ray felt his muzzle being torn away from that cock, felt the hand leave his own, felt Chet shoving him around again, pushing him down against the mattress. What the...? He began to think, but that was all. Chet was stuffing his still-erect cock back into Jay's tail hole, ramming it in mid-orgasm, soaking the Doberman's ass with cum and saliva.
Jay was already stretched, so there was no pain this time, even if he had tightened up a bit since Chet had rotated him around. Dimly, he realized that the back of his throat was burning, and that his flanks, scored by Chet's clawing, were a mass of pain. He stopped caring at the first thrust, and failed to remember at the third. For the second time in less than fifteen minutes, the Doberman was completely overwhelmed by sensation. Chet, behind him, was grunting and snarling, and it was not until Ray felt the puma's cock go soft that he pulled out, panting.
Ray, shaking from exertion, rolled over and onto his back, oblivious to the damp puddles on his comforter. Chet hovered above him, a satisfied look on his face, obviously in the throes of afterglow. "Gimme a minute or two, kitten." He rumbled, and Ray watched in stupefied shock as Chet took hold of his own soft cock, beginning to stroke it once again. Watching it, Ray felt a tingle of heat in his loins, and groaned mentally. "Don't worry, kitten." Chet rumbled, and bent, dragging his tongue along the flaccid length of Ray's cock and balls, stirring that tingle even more. "We're not done yet."