FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves above, casting dancing patterns onto the grass below. The breeze was fresh and clean, with the slightest hint of sea-salt and apples. Butterflies, gnats, and even a few dragonflies darted through the air, and the buzzing and chittering of beetles could be heard in the cool shade under the trees.

For a lover of the outdoors, it was the perfect time to grab a bug net and see what insectile wonders could be found; and on any other day, Flick would be waving his tail in delight at the opportunity. However, as he wandered the paths--and kept his eyes peeled for a different kind of no-less-pleasurable prize--the chameleon felt a different itch of need within him.

The need for a warm body pressed against his own. The need for rich and masculine musk tingling in his lungs and upon his tongue. The need for throbbing, pulsing, dribbling cocks in his mouth and backside, filling him with all the cum his lithe body could hold and then coating him head to toe in ever more.

Heat bloomed upon his cheeks and roiled in his gut; then, as the wind shifted and he caught a whiff of the pungent scent still clinging to his shirt, it dropped down to twinge deep in the humid depth of his still-sore slit. The sweat and cum-stains from his earlier activities had dried on the dark fabric, leaving no doubt about the source of that spicy-bitter smell. And of course his pants had long been discarded, folded up and stored in a locker at town hall along with his other personal effects, leaving his lower body bared and open to the gaze of any errant passerby.

Anyone could see at a glance what he'd done. What he was. What he needed. He should have felt embarrassed shame at the thought of being seen like that, but instead it sent a thrill down his spine straight to the tip of his perked-up tail; and besides, what better advertisement for the kind of services he was offering on that sunny afternoon?

Now to find more 'clients'.

He continued to follow the path around a bend, pausing to take in the sight of butterflies fluttering around a bed of various flowers. He glanced at a sign, and turned to the right at its indication. He followed the quiet rumbling of a waterfall, and made his way into what looked like a large park area. And it was there that Flick found the reason why he hadn't run into any other residents of Isla Del B on his afternoon stroll.

A group of five wolves--well, four and one suspiciously-hyena-looking-fellow--were enjoying the fresh afternoon air and sunlight as well in that park. Three of them were sitting on a pair of benches, chatting and watching the other two fiddle with the hyena-wolf's electric guitar. "If it's not one thing, it's another..." The purple wolf sitting with his legs crossed--and his thighs splayed to show off the plump sheath and ballsack hanging between, Flick couldn't help noticing--glanced to his companions on the bench next to him and huffed.

"No worries, alpha!" The hyena-looking canine--and apparent youngest of the group--glanced over with a wide and toothy grin. His own package swayed and swung between his legs as he squatted down, his instrument laid over his knees so he could tune it. "Gimme a sec, and your ears'll be hearing the best tunes on the island."

"Snarrf. Not that that's saying much, Kyle." The blue-furred wolf nestled between the purple and grey ones rolled his eyes and let out a huff of his own. "You two really gotta practice right here?"

"Harrumph. What better place?" The orange-furred wolf standing next to 'Kyle' flicked his styled headfur out of his eyes. His own bare crotch was right at the younger wolf's eye level, though neither of them seemed concerned with how close he was to smacking his sheath right on the hyena-wolf's snout. "You got anything better to do today, Wolfgang?"

"Could think of a few things..."

Flick gulped. On the one hand, he didn't exactly want to interrupt a pack of wolves when they were in the middle of something; it was one thing to have approached Vic when the bull was all on his own, but not even organizing and hosting the Bug-Offs had completely rid the chameleon of his more reticent demeanor. On the other hand, he had five prospective clients--five large, handsome males--right in front of him; and as 'Wolfgang' had said, he could think of quite a few things that wolfpack could do to him. The reptile hesitated between stepping forward and shying back, pressing his thighs together around the wet heat in his crotch and flicking his tail behind him.

Fortune, it seemed, decided to make the decision for him. The breeze picked up again, and Flick quickly realized that he was standing upwind of the five wolves. Their chatting ceased. All five canines blinked and sniffed at the air. And then they all looked his way.

A swallow. One last shift from one foot to the other. A beatific smile forced onto his face, and then the chameleon moved to greet the pack. "Hi- uh, ahem... greetings, residents of this plane. Pardon the interruption."

"Don't worry about it." The grey wolf stood, and stretched, and looked Flick up and down before giving the reptile a smile of his own. "It's good to see you, Flick."

"Oh, that's Flick?" Kyle hopped up to his feet, wagging his tail with a grin. "Yo! Good to meet'cha!"

"It is good to make your acquaintance as well." Flick cleared his throat. "And it is good to cross your path once more, Fang. I am grateful for the many chitinous gifts you've bestowed upon me on my previous visits."

Fang nodded. "Cha-chomp, you're welcome, of course. Though Sly tells me you're here for a different reason this time..."

Why was he still blushing after everything he'd already done with Vic, Roscoe, and Sly? He swallowed, and gave the apparent leader of the pack a nod of his own. "The alligator spoke true. Though I usually descend upon these isles in search of my one true soul bug, today I am offering a trade of-"

"Snarrrf, just say it." Wolfgang rolled his eyes. "You wanna get fucked. We can all smell it on you."

Again, that should have sent a punch of shame and embarrassment right into the chameleon's gut; but again, Flick could only turn his burning face to the ground and squirm as the heat in his crotch roiled. "Ahem, yes. I... wish to offer an exchange of carnal pleasures. Or to put it vulgarly, 'get fucked'..."

"Well, you came to the right place." Kyle's grin split his muzzle open even wider. "These old farts could probably handle you between 'em, but if you want a real good time, you just bend on over and let l'il Kyle here rock your world." Completely shameless, the hyena-wolf reached down to give his--considerably-sized--sheath a squeeze.

"Harrumph." With a roll of his eyes, the orange-furred wolf ruffled the fur between Kyle's ears; the younger canine yipped at both the gesture and how rough his elder was being. "Don't talk like you aren't the one bending over for us four 'old farts' every chance you get."

"Ch-Chief..." Kyle grunted, the insides of his ears flushing along with the bridge of his snout. They grew almost as red as the fleshy tip which poked out of the opening of his sheath, and slid into the open air with a slow throb while the older canine continued rubbing the crown of his head. Meanwhile, the purple wolf sitting next to Wolfgang laughed and elbowed the blue-furred wolf's side.

"Well, you did say you could think of better things to do, eh?"

"Yeah. Meant you, Lobo, but this Flick fella'd work, too."

'Lobo' huffed and uncrossed his legs, splaying them to finally put his package on full display. And then, as Wolfgang--and Flick, his tongue darting out of his mouth and across his lips--watched with open interest, the purple-furred wolf reached down to massage his own sheath and sack. Rubbing. Fondling. Coaxing out the angry-red tip of his own growing erection.

Flick trembled, his legs ready to collapse underneath him; ready to send him to his knees--or rolling over onto his back--to offer his mouth and ass to the big bad wolves before him. "Ahem, ah... I am sure that I can... uh... commune with all five of you in due time." Another pulse under his tail and between his legs; his passage clenching in anticipation of being filled, and his own cocks stirring within the confines of his slit. "Perhaps... all at once?"

"Well now, there's an idea." Fang hummed, his own hand moving to idly pump his plumping sheath. Kneading it, rolling his pawpads across the opening, and teasing out his own cocktip. He looked to Kyle, who'd reached over to cup and fondle Chief's balls as the older wolf panted. He looked to Wolfgang and Lobo, who were pressing their shoulders together and stroking each other's emerging erections. He looked to Flick, smiled with a flirtatious wink, and gestured for the chameleon to approach. "Think you can handle this big of a commission?"

As Flick made his way over, he could feel the raw alpha presence exuding from Fang. The wolf looked slim, but up close the lizard could see that every inch under that sweater of his was rippling with lithe, compact musculature. He stood tall and proud, with a glint in his heavy-lidded eyes which made the weakness in Flick's knees all the more intense. And as the canine's cock rose from its hiding place, the chameleon watched it grow to its full length in reverent awe.

Long; not as long as Roscoe's had been, but still quite the impressive sight. Thick; about as thick as Vic's had been, and the thought of choking on that girthy pillar had Flick's mouth watering already. And as he breathed in slow and deep, he could both smell and feel it tingling in his nostrils and on his wagging tongue: the rich, pungent, overwhelmingly-masculine scent of musk.

"Ahem." Flick gulped, and panted, and peeked upward to meet Fang's gaze with a demure hum. "It will likely take all my concentration to... channel the necessary... uh, concentration. But like a drone working ceaselessly for the hive, I will give it my all."

"Go on, then." A husky half-growl rumbled in Fang's chest. "Get down there and show me what you can do."

And with a breathless moan, Flick followed the alpha wolf's order. He dropped down to his knees, hands moving to clutch at Fang's hips with barely-contained eagerness, and pushed his face right into the crook between the canine's sheath, ballsack, and thigh. Huffing. Sniffing. Letting his tongue out to cup the silky sack and then delve into the musky nooks at the base of Fang's package. He heard a groan of approval from above at every lick and slurp, and felt hands--massive and heavy and insistent--land on the crown of his head to keep him in his place. He smelled the cloying aroma of a virile alpha, and tasted the slight brine of sweat and bitter spice of malehood. He looked up as he kissed those heavy orbs, dug his tongue into the crannies of Fang's sheath, and lapped his way along that pulsing length to latch onto the tip. And as he worshipped, he felt a thrill at the sight of pleasure fluttering across the wolf's face.

As good as when he'd suck CJ off. As good as when he'd serviced Vic and Roscoe. As good as--better than--the thrill of netting a new bug on his journey towards infestational enlightenment. Flick hummed, feeling the pulsing pillar of flesh sliding over his tongue and into his nursing maw, and lost himself to lustful nirvana.

Back and forth, bobbing and turning his head to take ever more of the wolf's leaking erection. Back and forth, lashing his tongue up and down and around its girthy length. Back and forth, gulping down every spurt of precum it offered to him; and then gulping down that cock itself, letting it sink into the needy passageway of his throat. Flick pushed himself down, down, and finally wrapped his lips around the canine's puffy sheath while burying his horned nose into Fang's pubic fur.

"Man, he's going alpha on the alpha, isn't he?" Kyle, moving in on his left.

"Harrumph. He's pretty good, I'll give him that." Chief, moving up beside the youngest of the pack.

"Snarrrf... look at him go."

"Hungry little cuss, ah-rooooo..." Wolfgang and Lobo padding over together on his right.

And all around the chameleon, surrounding him in a mire of lust and musk, cock. Big, throbbing, dribbling cocks, eager to be serviced once he was done with the pack alpha. Cocks which were being stroked and pumped, bobbing heavily in the air as they were pushed towards him. Offered to him.

And who was Flick to refuse such an offering?

His hands moved up to grasp one of the erections on either side of his face--Chief's and Wolfgang's--and he took over stroking them in time with his bobbing. Back and forth, hilting Fang's shaft in his throat while kneading at the pair's growing knots. Back and forth, swirling his tongue around the tip of the alpha's malehood while smearing the pair's precum between his pinching and kneading fingers. Back and forth, servicing all three males at once; just like he and CJ would always fantasize about, one or the other offering their erection alongside a few of their shared dildos to be licked and sucked and pleasured by their eager partner.

Of course, there were still two more to handle. Kyle seemed content to grind his cock on Flick's burning cheek, rubbing and humping and grinding his full package--his swinging balls and plump sheath and pulsing, sloppily-drooling erection--onto the reptile's snout; and Flick in turn was eager to offer the side of his snout to be humped. Turning his face towards it. Closing his eye. Bringing his tail up and over his back to wrap its coiled tip around the shaft, giving the youngest pack-member a tight 'hole' to fuck.

Lobo, on the other already-occupied hand, was another matter; Flick heard an impatient grunt from his right, and felt the smack of a heavy shaft batting against his other cheek. Rough. Insistent, like a buzzing bee eager to get at a flower's pollen. Coating his face--much like said bee would coat itself--in slick smears of musky precum and sheath grease. The chameleon huffed out through his nose, mind floundering through the haze to find some way to serve this last client. Offer his ass? Perhaps his slit? Would the wolf be contented with one of his--cushy and 'soft as a cephalopod', or so CJ would say whenever they'd get kinky and experimental--feet? But then, as it often did while he was allowing his passions to flow through him, a bolt of inspiration struck the reptile.

He grunted. He opened wide. He unwrapped his tongue from around Fang's cock, letting it wriggle into the open air--like a worm from the soaked earth after a day of rain--to ensnare Lobo's in its surprisingly-dexterous grip. CJ had always praised Flick's proficiency with his tongue, whether the chameleon was sucking the beaver's member or sliding it deep into his ass or using it to clean every musky little cranny of his slim-chubby body. Together, the pair of partners had fantasized about all the different uses such a long, deft, slick and silky oral muscle could have. And right then, as it slid all over the wolf's malehood to take in its--far more pungent and maybe a little sweaty, but no less pleasing to the senses for it--flavor, Flick used that oral muscle to pull Lobo's erection into his maw right alongside Fang's.

He wrapped his lips around both shafts, gulped, and began to work them over together.

"Ah-rooooo...!" A gasping cry of mingled surprise and bliss.

"Ohh... Well now, guess he really is a 'hungry little cuss', huh?" A murmur of approval, accompanied by more tender petting between the horns which crowned his brow.

"Yeah." Grunting, panting, and then a spurt of precum against his cheek. "Hey, alpha..." Kyle grinned, turned from nuzzling into the crook of Chief's neck, and licked at Fang's snout with a playful bark. "Think there's room for a couple more in there?"

"Well, we won't know until we try, right?" The hand on the top of Flick's head pushed him into the pack-alpha's crotch a little more insistently.

"Mm, little slut does have that choker on. Like he's begging us to try and snap it..."

"Snarrrf, I was thinking the exact same thing."

"Open wide, boy." Chief's erection was tugged out of the chameleon's hand, and joined Kyle's in grinding against his snout. Against his pursed lip. Begging--no, demanding--entrance as well. "Come on, show us how well you can handle this 'commission'."

Flick obeyed with an eager moan, a thrill running down his spine straight to the base of his perked-up tail. As he continued to gaze up at the five wolves, eyes heavy-lidded and filled with lust, he opened as wide as he could to accept five cocks at once. He lashed his tongue wildly, licking and lapping at them. Winding it tight around Chief's and Kyle's shafts to let them grind together in its slick embrace, then teasing behind Fang's knot and into the taut and pungent pouch of his sheath, then flicking it against Lobo's and Wolfgang's tips in turn. The chameleon allowed one wolf, then another, and then another to shove themselves forward into the open, eager passage of his throat, gulping and swallowing around each of their lengths in turn; taking just one of those canines malehoods was a challenge, but one Flick was eager to undertake. He closed and opened his lips, bobbed and turned his head, and panted out humid breaths over their packages.

In and out. Back and forth. Again and again as the erections were crammed into his eager maw, pulsing and throbbing and growing closer to orgasm. Stretching his gullet. Straining the tender opening of his craw. Two, and then four, and then all five managing at last to squeeze into that tight passage together.

And as Flick gagged and choked around them, his mind reeling and darkening and sinking into the abyss of bitter-spicy musk which engulfed his every thought, he felt it; the leather band of his choker snapped around his distended larynx.

He whined at the sensations which surged through him, starting to grow lightheaded. It was so much. It was almost too much. And just when he felt himself teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, they pulled back to give the chameleon's abused throat a rest while the wolves lost themselves to their pleasure.

It was Kyle who erupted first, pressing his shaft against Chief's own as he shot spurt after spurt of seed all over Flick's tongue. Then, whether it was the sight or the stimulation or even just happenstance, the orange-furred wolf went over the edge next. That caused a chain reaction in the pair across from them, Wolfgang and Lobo thrusting in tandem with each other until they too blew their loads. And last but certainly not least was Fang, whose cock gushed out thick ropes of virile seed which put the rest of his pack to shame; even combined, their output was easily outdone by their alpha.

Flick gurgled. Flick groaned and huffed through his nose. Flick gulped down the viscous cum filling his maw as it threatened to spill down his chin and neck. But as the wolves watched, panting and murmuring out their approval, the chameleon made sure not to spill a single drop.

"Good boy. That's a good boy, cha-chomp."

"Snarrrf... can't believe you took it all."

"You gonna be sticking around, alpha? Would love a repeat performance from you when these puppies start filling back up."

Flick swallowed again, running his tongue against his gums to make sure he'd gotten every bit of the canines' combined loads. Heat, thick and sticky, pooled in his gut as his own erections--neglected, but no less aroused by what had just happened--pulsed between his thighs. He looked up, a smile curving his lips, and flicked his tail. "I'm off to the next island tomorrow at 5 AM... if you'd like to experience enlightenment with me again before then, simply-"

The chameleon was cut off by a grumbling sigh, and a splash of hot, acrid-smelling liquid on his shoulder; Chief was holding his softening shaft and pissing on him.

"Alpha, what the fuck?!" Kyle elbowed Chief's side, and the orange furred wolf flushed and huffed in response.

"Harrumph, don't blame me. It's instinct to wanna mark after blowing a load." He looked to the hyena-wolf and arced an eyebrow. "Never heard you complaining about it."

Kyle's ears ducked against his head to hide how hot and red they were growing. "Well, but... I mean, you can't just-!"

"It's alright." Flick, his own face burning as he reached to take hold of the canine's urinating cock, cleared his throat. "If this be part of your, uh, contract, then by duty am I bound..." With that, the chameleon latched on to the tip. His eyes closed as his mouth filled with the wolf's liquid waste, the flavor of it tingling on his tongue; sharp, salty, and with an undertone of bitter meatiness. And then he began to swallow, letting it burn its way down his throat to join the warmth which already filled his belly.

He was no stranger at all to watersports; again, he and CJ would often get experimental with each other, and the water-loving beaver would occasionally ask him to indulge. His partner's piss was always light in both color and taste, however, whereas the older wolf's urine was dark and full-bodied. Regardless, as he had many times with his blushing, panting, moaning roommate, Flick nursed on Chief's cock and drank down everything he was given. And as he reached down to palm his own twin malehoods, the lizard shuddered and shivered at the sheer thrill of debasing himself so thoroughly for another male.

"Well, now... seems he don't mind at all." Wolfgang and Lobo shared a glance and a pair of toothy grins.

"I, uh... guess not." Kyle's blush grew hotter as he looked from the chameleon to Chief, and then to Fang. "What'cha think, alpha?"

"I think if the boy's so thirsty, we should let him have his fill." The pack alpha nodded, and all four other wolves began to knead their sheaths. "Open wide, boy."

Once more, Flick obeyed; he opened his mouth wide, and allowed his clients to watch him gargle the last of Chief's urine as it drained into his gullet; then he swallowed, looked to them with begging eyes, and waited as they aimed their cocktips at the opening of his throat. Four more acrid streams arced out to splatter and splash on his tongue, and the chameleon guzzled and gurgled and drank his fill; this time, he couldn't stop a few dribbles from running out of the corners of his mouth to soak his shirt, marking his scales and clothing with the pungent smell of wolf piss.

More, and more, and more. Until the pack had drained their bladders. Until the lizard gulped down the last of their liquid waste and thanked them for it. Until they allowed their shafts to slip back into their sheaths, and stepped back to let Flick grab his broken choker and totter to his feet. "I am grateful for this pact we have struck..." He grunted, ignoring the way his erections still bobbed and throbbed between his legs, and gave the pack a low bow. "If you wouldn't mind spreading the word about my search for enlightenment, I would be forever grateful."

"Sure." Fang nodded to Flick in return. "And of course, we all look forward to partaking of your... services... again real soon."

"Hell yeah, alpha!"

"Harrumph. It was pretty good, I'll give you that..."

"Ah-rooooo, you come find me and Wolfgang, and we'll give you all the 'enlightenment' you could ask for."

Flick smiled. He gave them another bow and a short wave. As they began to wander away from the park--Kyle and Chief returning to the latter's electric guitar while Fang, Lobo, and Wolfgang strolled off in the direction of the island's main plaza--the chameleon turned to continue his own wanderings. Once more, the flavor of cum--and piss--lingered in his mouth as satisfying soreness settled into his jaw; and once more, as the breeze shifted, he caught a whiff of the telltale aroma of sex clinging to him. Marking him. Advertising exactly what he was, and exactly what he was looking for.

He'd probably need to wash both his shirt and himself once more before finding another prospective client.

---

In the end, his t-shirt proved to be a lost cause; no matter how he scrubbed at it, the scent and stains in the fabric remained. It and his snapped choker joined his pants in the rented locker at town hall, and Flick ended up wandering the island nude as a freshly-molted cicada.

Down the pathways. Through the orchards. Following the sound of crashing waves to the beach.

The sun was making its way down towards the distant horizon, turning the sky over the open water into a blaze of oranges and pinks. Flick breathed in the sea air, taking it into his lungs and letting it out in a long, contented sigh. His pilgrimage to the various islands in search of his one true soul bug was indeed deeply fulfilling, and he was indeed enjoying this new and far lewder journey of enlightenment he'd undertaken, but in between it was nice to just appreciate the world around him. The various landscapes. The various people. The various sights, like the one before him.

"Real pretty, huh?"

Flick jerked in surprise at the sound of that deep, bassy voice, and then felt a brief stab of embarrassment at being seen like he was; completely naked, his slim body and puffy slit on full and shameless display. However, a spark of familiarity bloomed in his scrambled thoughts, and he cleared his throat before turning to address the other male enjoying the sunset on the beach. "Wilbur, my apologies. I didn't... see... you..."

The large, portly, and very muscular--now that Flick was getting a very good look at him--Dodo was laying on a beach chair nearby, under a large umbrella and with an ironwood table holding a colorful drink by his side. The bird himself was wearing only his dark aviators and the smile on his face; much like the chameleon, he'd discarded his clothing in favor of putting his entire blue-feathered body on display. And what a body it was: a firm chest above his round gut, well-built and defined, and similarly-firm thighs splayed to reveal the delicate lips of his own genital slit.

He was large. He was solid. He was turning Flick on hard.

"No problem, Bellbottom Dragonfly." That handsome smile grew a little larger as he nodded in greeting to the chameleon. "I see you're getting your Romeo-and-Romeo on, too."

Flick blinked for a moment. "Oh. Uh, R&R, you mean." He let out a faint laugh, and flicked his tail, and ground his thighs together as he shifted from foot to foot in the sand. "Indeed I am. And I see you're doing the same."

"Been making the rounds for a while, so I'm taking the opportunity for a little downtime." The dodo reached over to grab his drink, and took a slow sip from the straw as he looked Flick up and down. "Heard from Sly that you've been making the rounds as well."

A bloom of heat on his face. A throb in the depths of his slit. An upward perk of his tail as he cleared his throat. "You have... heard correct." He looked the dodo up and down in return, finally letting Wilbur see his ogling; how many times had he cast surreptitious glances and longing stares at his mode of transport from the cabin of the plane, wondering what a bit of mile-high delight with the bird would be like? "Can I assume you'd be interested in an exchange of emissions? A, uh... a commission of... carnal pleasure?"

"You can." Wilbur set his drink aside once more, and then looked right at Flick from behind his sunglasses while reaching down to rub against his crotch. Slow. Inviting. Eager. "Why don't you come here so we can enjoy some real Romeo-and-Romeo, Bellbottom Dragonfly?"

"Yes sir, Stovetop Bugnet." The chameleon let out a little giggle as his tail flicked behind him. While the dodo continued to watch his every move, the slightest smirk curving his beak, Flick dropped down to his knees and began to crawl over on all fours. Pushing between the bird's splayed legs. Moving his nose up close to Wilbur's crotch as his hands kneaded those firm and supple thighs.

He took a slow, deep breath. He froze, eyes flying wide open as his body stiffened. He moaned, low and quiet, as he finally sampled what had been stewing in that pink-lipped slit he'd been dreaming of off and on since he began his island-hopping. Pungent. Cloying. Like a blow of sheer scent to the face, sending him reeling.

The dodo's hand landed on the crown of Flick's head, patting as he let out a rumbling chuckle. "Yeah, being in the air all day long doesn't give me much opportunity to freshen up. That okay with you?"

"Yes." A whimper, breathless as his eyelids fluttered. "It's very okay with me." Another sniff, and then another as he dove face-first into the bird's groin. "Mm... I don't mind at all..." The grinding of his snout into those pubic feathers and over those slick, greasy lips grew desperate as he filled his lungs with that very-male odor. Sweat, masculine musk, and even the faint sour tinge of smut ripened into an overwhelming aroma of virility. It tingled and burned in his nostrils, and he could practically taste it on his tongue. It roiled in his mind, smothering all thought but to get even more. It drew him even closer to smear itself on his lips and cheeks while he bathed himself in Wilbur's crotch funk.

"Mm... seems to me like you more than don't mind." A groan from above, deep enough to shake the chameleon's bones. "Seems like you love it, Dragonfly." More petting and stroking, that hand growing heavier as it kept Flick in his place. "Go on, get your fill." Bucking from below as that raunchy slit pressed back against him, inviting him to deepen his kissing.

And so, Flick did; his tongue moved out to caress the opening from end to end, and then slipped inside to wriggle around in its depths. He delved in and out, enjoying the flavor. In and out, teasing those hot and wet inner walls. In and out, drawing what lurked within that passage out into his suckling mouth.

Wilbur's erection. Longer and thicker than even Roscoe's or Vic's, tapering from a pointed tip to a fat and ample base. Pulsing and throbbing and drooling as the chameleon's tongue and lips wrapped around it. That massive pillar of masculinity was more than enough to satisfy Flick's ravenous hunger for cock, especially after the hearty meal the wolf pack had given him a few hours before; and so the lizard bobbed, and sucked, and swirled his writhing oral muscle around its length while Wilbur panted and grunted in pleasure above him.

"That's it. Slow and easy, just like that." He continued to stroke along the chameleon's brow and cheek, gentle and tender as he rocked his hips and ground his pubic feathers against Flick's nose. "Been a long while since I got a Bravo-Juliett like this." Wilbur grunted when the lizard's tongue ran along his shaft and teased against the lips of his slit. "Nng... and never had anyone who could do that..."

Flick hummed to himself. If Wilbur wanted to take it slow and easy, then he could certainly show the dodo exactly what he could do with his tongue.

The slick, squirming length gently forced itself into the deepest crannies between the bird's cockflesh and inner walls, seeking out every nugget and pocket of spicy-bitter-acrid flavor. It wrapped around the thick shaft, forming a clinging hole into which Wilbur could thrust. It snaked around and around to engulf the entire member, squeezing it tight before letting it loose. At last Flick pulled off to nuzzle that twitching pillar, getting a good, long look at the erection rising like a proud monument of masculinity from the dodo's crotch.

"Ohh... fuck me, sir..."

Wilbur laughed and patted Flick between the horns. "Crawl on up here and I will, Dragonfly."

Once again, Flick found himself happy to obey. And as he did so, moving up to straddle the dodo's wide waist and press his own neglected erections into the soft and cushy rise of the bird's gut, he took in just how much larger Wilbur was. How muscular he was. How masculine he was.

How much his easy-but-firm attitude and crooning voice reminded the chameleon of a few other older males he knew well; and the many perverted, shameful, lusty fantasies he'd shared with his partner when they were getting very experimental.

While bucking his hips and rocking atop the other male, kneading Wilbur's broad shoulders in time with the throbbing of his shaft, Flick dipped down to press his face into the dodo's chest. He dragged his snout up and down the cleft between those pillowy mounds, over the wide expanse, and dipped his nose into the crook under one of the bird's arms. He sniffed, and moaned. Sniffed again, and humped down harder onto the other male's belly. Sniffed, and snuffled, and when Wilbur finally got the hint and bared his dank armpit to Flick's appreciative attentions the lizard soaked the dodo's feathers with his precum.

"Foxtrot, you really love it, don't you?"

"Mm, I do... I really do..." The other male's rich, bitter-spicy scent was finally roiling like a dense fog within Flick's chest and head, more of it huffed out with every humid breath than was being drawn in. His burning cheeks and slack lips ran all over that musky pit, his tongue drawing the flavor out of it with every languid lick. Then he moved over to the bird's other underarm, and got a fresh hit of that intoxicating aroma which made him whimper in need. "Fuck me, Da-"

He cut himself off. Wilbur's chest rose and fell beneath him with a slow breath in and then out. The dodo's hands grasped Flick's perked-up rump, kneading and rubbing and groping, and his deep voice murmured out in husky arousal. "What was that, Dragonfly?"

A gulp. A flutter of his eyelids. A nuzzle into Wilbur's pecs, and then a glance upward. "Fuck me, uh... D-Delta-Alpha-Delta..."

He remembered well the first time CJ had whispered about it to him, the pair sneaking into a shadowed closet and rifling through a full hamper for musky prizes. He remembered well the thoughts and images that had bloomed in his mind; and he remembered the furtive glances he'd taken with new eyes at an older, huskier beaver, and even at an older and very familiar chameleon. And there he was, indulging in that fantasy with the--probably a little older, at least, but definitely-way-more burly and masculine--dodo. When he saw the lust burning in his loins reflected in the peek he got of smiling eyes over those dark aviators, and when Wilbur's hands guided his hips down to let a slick, pulsing, firm cocktip slide with smooth grace through his itching rim, Flick gulped and panted and felt his erection jump at the bird's answering croon.

"Don't mind if I do, Sierra-Oscar-November."

Slow. Easy. The thick shaft of Wilbur's erection stretching him wide open, scratching that itch in him as it sunk into his hungry depths. The bird rocked his hips upward, and the chameleon bucked his own down until the feathers of the former's groin were pressed flush to the tender scales of the latter's rump. They both groaned out, grinding together chest to chest; and when Flick's arms went around the dodo's neck, Wilbur responded with a rumbling chuckle while enfolding the lizard in an almost-paternal embrace.

"Mm...phonetics might not work for this..." Wilbur's beak rubbed against Flick's blushing cheek, and then a humid puff of breath washed over the chameleon's earhole. "How's Little Sierra sound to you?"

"Nn..." The chameleon swallowed again, allowing the sensations surging through him to loosen his musk-stained tongue. The sparks from the friction of slick flesh against his inner walls. The firmness pushing up into his gut. The still-strong remnants of pungent scent and flavor in his nose and mouth. "Like... like Little Oscar, huh...?"

Wilbur hummed. His hands worked over Flick's rump from asscheek to tailbase. His beak perked upward in another smile; and from behind those sunglasses, the lizard could feel the heat of the bird's lustful gaze. "Just like Little Oscar, yeah."

Flick had heard a few rumors, of course. And he'd allowed himself a few indulgent thoughts while interacting with the hulking pilot and his earnest ground-control-cum-sibling in turn. But if he really was picking up what the dodo was putting down, then perhaps the business arrangement between the three of them would require a little tweaking.

He could already see it: the pair looming over him, cocks twitching and leaking and batting against his face. One and then the other hilting in his throat, and then both at the same time. The overtly-masculine bird underneath him pounding his ass while he worshipped the more portly brother's erection; or perhaps vice-versa, or maybe even the pair sharing his hole together. Humid slits pressed against his ring as pulsing shafts rubbed together deep within him. The two birds embracing him together, his slim body sandwiched between them. Daddy Wilbur and Little--Uniform--Oscar nuzzling and kissing him; then the pair turning to each other to share a deep, passionate kiss of their own.

The chameleon was broken out of his fantasizing by a gentle bat of Wilbur's beak against his snout. He pressed back against it, squeezing down around the shaft which was buried to the hilt inside of him. "Mm... and I guess... that'd make you Big Delta?"

"Sounds good to me." Another rumble. A wink from behind those shades. A hand cupping his pert asscheek, and then giving the scaly mound a sharp, playful slap. "Now then... I'm ready for takeoff, Little Sierra, so why don't you start things up?"

"Yes sir, Big Delta."

Rocking. Bouncing. Humping his twitching malehoods into the feathers of the dodo's belly while his rump smacked against Wilbur's thighs and hips and crotch. The two worked themselves up into a steady rhythm, grunting and groaning and crooning to each other with every thrust of that musky erection into Flick's twitching, itching, needy hole. The chameleon ground his flushed snout into the dodos chest while his own hands played over his client's flexing shoulders and arms. Gripping and feeling the firm muscles under the feathers and flesh. Showing his appreciation for just how much larger, burlier, and more masculine the other male was. And when his lips and tongue found one of the firm, plump buds crowning a firm, plump pectoral, he latched on to suck it with a low, teasing hum.

"Oh, Foxtrot... yeah, that's good. Suck that nip, Little Sierra." The words were spoken in a quiet, rumbling, paternal voice which made the lizard's eyelids flutter and sent a throb through his groin. He laid atop the bird, nursing like a babe on one nipple and then the other, moving his hands to tweak and knead the one not in his mouth. And all the while Wilbur pumped into Flick's ass, giving the chameleon a slow and easy fucking.

In, and then out; the wide base stretched Flick's aching rim open with every slam home, and the tapered shaft was perfectly shaped to rub right against his prostate. In, and then out; every clench of those inner walls around his cock made Wilbur huff and murmur against the chameleon's temple, his arms wrapping around the slim male to hold him against his chest. In, and then out; scales and feathers and flesh ground and mashed and pressed together, the friction inside and out driving them to hump together over and over.

In and out. Again and again. Harder and faster as Wilbur grunted and Flick whined, the heat in their respective groins being fanned into an inferno of mutual pleasure.

They didn't kiss, which was the one thing that would have sent the chameleon over the edge into paroxysms of orgasmic delight as he squirmed and rocked in the dodo's arms. But Wilbur's embrace around Flick remained firm, gentle, and full of paternal warmth as the latter's crotch smacking and slapping and spanking the former's rump filled the air with the sound of their rutting.

"Fuck... Sir... B-big... D- Ungh...!" His reeling and lust-hazed mind could barely form the words. His slackened lips and lolling tongue could barely shape them. He keened in pure sexual bliss as that inferno burning in his loins threatened to consume his very being. "Daddy...!"

"Daddy's here. Daddy's got you. Daddy's gonna... guh..." A strained grunt. A low groan. A deep and rumbling croon. "Gonna fill you up, Son..."

"Do it, please!" Begging and pleading, whining and whimpering; Flick lost himself to the rhythm of being fucked by his Big Delta. "Please!"

At last, Wilber hilted in that clinging hole and flooded those welcoming depths with shot after gushing shot of his warm seed. He moaned long and low as he came, and then let out a quiet chuckle while stroking between Flick's horns when the lizard's--much smaller--twin erections spurted their--much smaller--load all over his soft-feathered gut. Flick, for his part, could only drool and gasp as the crashing tide overtook him. Breathless. Insensate.

And when the chameleon collapsed into a panting, whimpering, sated heap atop him, Wilbur held the smaller male in his arms even as his still-hard length continued pumping its thick, sticky, virile load into his Little Sierra.

They could get up to clean off in the ocean when the strength returned to their limbs and the embers in their groins sputtered out. When the warm haze of afterglow receded. When Flick blushed and murmured out his gratitude, and Wilbur returned it with a broad smirk and a wink behind his dark shades. Until then, however, the pair basked in the warmth of the sun, the sound of crashing waves, and the mingling aromas of sea-salt and sex.