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peegus

Sanya shifted how she lay on the sea of pillows and blankets beneath her, warm evening sun filtering in through the slats in the window across the bed. It was still enough today that every noise from here in the room in front of and around her came forth with delicious clarity and richness. The rustling of silken sheets beneath her own body as well as the lion in front of her; the flicking of his long tail back against the wall and supports of the bed; the way his breathing came and went in gradual, slightly unsteady bursts, shivering and shaking at the ends; his little gasps and moans and grunts... and then, of course, the soft, wet sucking and slurping of his hard shaft protruding from within his sheath, and the sleek metal rod that she held down close to the base from inside, two fingerpads resting along the tapered tip.

Each time he twitched and throbbed vibrated up and through the length of the sound, and though the muscles shifted like that, the presence of the rod meant that his shaft did not move. It could not. At first it had been easy, with a generous dollop of the clear lube from the nightstand along the tip of his cock, around inside the rim of his sheath, and then coated the lower half of the rod, and then all the caracal had needed to do was line it up, angle it forward, and let gravity do the rest of the work for her.

And what a show it had been, watching its smooth surface sink slowly further and further down into his length just as it grew and flexed up around it, its progress faintly visible through his underside. The lion thumped his head back against the headrest and squirmed against the bindings keeping his paws bound behind his back; Sanya reached forward and tilted the rod back and forth, back and forth. She knew not to put too much pressure behind it against actually injuring the poor boy, but like this... his mouth twitched and lips pulled back in half-suppressed grunts and groans, body rebelling against the intrusion so deep inside of him.

Sanya shifted her weight to her other elbow and ran a finger down along the lion's hard length, pressing in to feel the soft give of flesh surrounding the strong, solid line of the rod inside, then smirked once she made it down to the end. A little pressure there made him jump and twitch, and also tilted the other end of it where it protruded out from the end of his length, the rim of it thick and glistening with mixed lube, pre, and whatever else its presence might have drawn out of him. The queen purred softly in her throat and slid her fingers down beneath his plump sack, leaving her thumb to swirl and rub right around the base of it there.

"Don't you go and make a mess, now," she cooed, "alright? You know what'll happen if you misbehave."

The lion swallowed and nodded. He knew not to speak while in her presence, but as for the noises he made... she rubbed and tugged there a little more firmly, then drew her paw back up to squeeze at the base of his shaft, pushing his sheath gently back against his body, while the other came up towards the revealed end of the rod. No resistance there, smooth and slick and easy, as though she were simply drawing it out of air; she watched as it came up and out of him, the length still glistening wet with the lube and his own internal slickness. Relief and pleasure flashed across the lion's face, and for a moment he even thrust gently up to follow the rod as it went.

Then, though, Sanya licked her lips, gave it another twist, and went to let it sink back into him, slipping her other paw along his hard length as she did so. Immediately his head thumped against the headrest again, and his entire lower body thrummed in a jolting shiver. Gentle, careful pressure against and around it, slipping its way down through tight muscles and interior walls swollen with arousal and need. Back and forth she rubbed it, holding the device by the lip near the tapered end while she stroked him in turn, each time pushing his sheath back and letting it back up.

"Ah..." the lion breathed, mouth hanging open. His tongue flicked out and over his lips; he swallowed, gritted his teeth, thumped his head again, tightened up all over. "Ah - hah-"

And then his lower body tensed even further, legs bouncing a bit, abs tightening and hips pumping. On and on it dragged, tense shivers vibrating back and forth through him, this pressure and need growing further and further. For a moment Sanya thought he was going to buck forward, that he might force himself up and along the rod she still held in place - but a moment later, voice pinched at a tight, urgent growl at the back of his throat, he tossed his head, gasped, and then shook all over, jerking beneath both of her paws.

Still it wouldn't stop: she felt the forceful throbs as they bounced through his lower body, every nerve in him firing off and squeezing him in that intense, hot pleasure. The caracal grinned - then hid it just as quickly - and slid her paw away from the rod to squeeze and tug at his sack, other paw still working him through his finish. Throb, throb, throb - and then the metal rod spurted up and out from inside of him, tumbling back across his bellyfur with a few lazy dribbles of milky white. Still shaking, still shuddering, his head rolled over onto his other shoulder, and the lion gave a few more languid, exhausted bucks, hard shaft bouncing atop his belly and the rod where it rested there. He swallowed again, licked his lips, let out a shivering sigh, and opened his eyes to look at his queen - then averted his gaze again.

She smirked, continued squeezing his sack in her paw, and reached forward for the rod where it lay. Then, making sure he was watching, she drew the sleek length of it down across her tongue, and readied to slip it right back in.

iridium

Iri took a few fervid glances around himself before focusing again on the current target of his interest, standing right here in front of and a little beneath him, brushy tail swaying idyllically against his neck and chest. He licked his lips, swallowed, let out a slow sigh slightly shaking from natural nervousness, then let his eyes graze down and across the smooth, rounded grey rump of the beast before him. The dragon ran his hands back and forth over that smooth, sleek hide, feeling the texture of the hair and then the warm of the skin and flesh beneath, muscles tight and resilient yet still forgiving... and then slowly, gently, he hooked his thumb around the base of the tail and held it up and to the side.

The donkey shifted as though in subtle embarrassment when he did this, though Iri knew that this was not the case. A small huff and quiet bray from in front accompanied by a brief stamping at the stable floor, but then it - he; down between those powerful legs hung the full, heavy sack and, in front of that, the plump and wrinkled sheath, slick and supple - relaxed and looked over its shoulder at the dragon where he stood. Then, if anything, the donkey seemed almost to widen its stance and keep its tail hiked at the base for him as though inviting him in, daring him to come closer.

So, naturally, he did. Iri swallowed again, licked his lips, and then nuzzled down beneath the base of that hiked tail, eyes coming in to stare at what his nose soon would touch. The thick, densely-wrinkled ring of muscle of the beast's tailhole, protruding slightly out from here along its rump, invited him in; Iri sighed again, watched the way that the flesh and muscle flexed and pulled up in response to the tickle of his breath, and then closed the distance to trace his nose up and over all of these overlapping wrinkles and folds, his lips pursed to follow soon after. It felt like smooth, slick velvet or silk, soft and pliable, supple as he circled his muzzle over and around its rim, right along the spot where it stuck out from the flesh underneath, then up over the rim and in towards the center.

Another little noise from the donkey before him, and this time Iri braced his hands along the wide, rounded rump - and felt the beast actually push back against him, squishing its supple tailhole up against and around his adventurous nose. The dragon closed his eyes and dug deeper into place there, pushing and wiggling his way in until smooth exterior skin started to give way to sleek, wet internal flesh, little flecks and flakes of dried filth crusting around his muzzle.

He dug in until humid wet heat closed around him and started to press its way up into his nose and lungs, and only then did the dragon start to pull his way back out. The donkey's swollen tailhole sucked and squeezed back at him as he retreated, internal pressure pulling at his muzzle until he came free with a wet pop - then swirled his tongue out across his lips, lapping off the thin layer of slime that had gathered there. The donkey's protruding ring bounced and jiggled with the leftover movement, and before it stopped Iri dove right back in and caught it along his tongue, cupping it up towards his open mouth.

Just like this he could feel the beast's humid internal heat wafting out from inside, strengthening gradually as he came forward, closed his eyes against the brushy hiked tail where it rested over his muzzle, and then finally closed his lips around the width of its tailhole. He had to stretch his jaw a little bit to fit the thing inside, and even then it still filled his mouth and pressed out on his lips.

Another shudder racked through the dragon's body where he stood, arms reaching forward to wrap around the feral's haunches and hold himself in place there. He swallowed, felt that same slime and slickness dripping along his tongue, and then began eagerly working at the beast's tailhole, tongue tracing and following over all of these lines of wrinkles and ridges, swirling in towards the center. As he moved and lapped he could feel the flesh mashing and shifting beneath him, soft yet firm, elastic and pliable yet still stiff and resilient; the skin shifted under his tongue, the muscles inside tensed and tightened, and as he dug in along the center pucker, pushing deeper, Iri found that he had to swallow again and again, mouth and throat coated with rich equine scent.

Yet again he pulled himself back, still sucking as he went, until his mouth came free from the donkey's tailhole, a thick strand of saliva mixed with natural musk hanging down from his chin. Iri sighed, swallowed, swallowed again - he had to do so multiple times to get it all down, and even then could still feel in the back of his throat and atop his lips - and dove right back in, this time to drag his tongue across the donkey's protruding rim from bottom to top. He loved the way it jiggled in the wake of the movement, bouncing back down against his chin and lips, then shifting when he came down to do it all over again. Every lick followed with a freshening of the donkey's sweat and scent and musk on his breath and in his lungs, to the point where even when Iri drew back to wipe at his mouth the only thing he could smell and taste was this donkey.

Still, though, he wasn't done. Yet again he swallowed a few times, then dug up beneath that raised tail, pursed his lips against the donkey's puckered tailhole in a gentle kiss... then gradually opened his mouth, drew it in along his tongue, and suckled gently, again dancing back and forth over ridges and wrinkles. With each suck he flicked his tongue up and over and around, intentionally catching it along the interior rim of the donkey's tailhole, wanting it to open around him so he could dig in deeper and taste that slick internal slime.

Once more the dragon drew back, panting gently, and reached up to wipe at the edges of his mouth dripping with thick, slightly discolored ooze. It still felt like he had his muzzle pressed right up underneath the donkey's tail with the way his breath smelled - and when he looked ahead he saw the beast had turned its head to look back at him again.

It still kept its tail raised, even though Iri had since released it. As if it still wanted, or expected, more.

LomiDePuzlo

Melody leaned against the wall of the shower, one paw forward so as not to press her chest to the cold tile, and gently bit in along her lower lip. Her entire body tingled with this tension and pleasure that kept one leg half-lifted and her muscles tense and tight - but that was part of the fun of beads like this, suitably sized that if she relaxed in the slightest, if she gave a little push or slip, she could feel them start to try to pull their way naturally out of her, only for her reflexes to snap back around them and keep them buried inside of her.

It had been quite a bit of fun slipping in those in while the shower was warming up, the lapine sitting back across the toilet - with the lid closed and the decorative plush cover in place, of course - and using the end of the beads to rub the thick, slick lube up against herself. She'd had to bite her lip as each one pressed its way in, pulling at her rim, stretching it open, and sinking into place, adding to the little sensation of pressure and pleasure inside of her until just the last one and the handle remained poking out from beneath her cotton-ball tail. By then the bathroom had filled with sweet, swirling steam, so Melody had stood up, wobbled on her legs a little bit, and stepped in, then used the time getting accustomed to the water temperature to work and wriggle that last bead in, slick with oozed lube and now with a bit of the added shower water as well, warm and pleasant and tight.

A little tug, a twitch, a gasp - and she reflexively clenched back around the toy again, the sensation of it coming partially free sending a little jolt up through her abdomen. Melody licked her lips and swallowed, leaning in against the wall a little more closely with both paws there now, so that she could squat down, lift her tail, and peer down along her back a bit. She gritted her teeth again, swallowed, pushed out another of the beads handsfree, then reached back so that she could spread her palm against the base and push again... and this time felt the pressure and movement from inside, her ring of muscle pursing and blooming around the toy in trying to press it out into her waiting paw yet unable to, all of those muscles instead just working and straining in place.

She shivered a little bit, then, as she slid the beads one by one right back into herself, her straining, parted tailhole allowing them easily in all the way to the base. She busied herself with this for a while, pushing them smoothly out and then mashing the beads right back in, one paw braced underneath her tail while the other worked a pair of fingers along herself as she went, adding little electric shocks and pleasure to the sensation until she could feel herself coming close to her peak.

Once she reached this point, the shower streaming down around her and filling her head with steam tinted with the mixed scent of soap and her own musk and arousal, Melody leaned back again, braced her paws against the tile, and this time made a slower, steadier push. It took will and concentration, and she could feel the pressure build and bubble inside of her as she did so, but - trying to push the beads out one by one, her muscles reflexively clenching shut around the string after each new one popped right out... again and again Melody jumped and twitched, eyes shut and breath caught in her throat, halfway between pleasure and relief.

Until, suddenly, it all went at once, her muscles shivering and shaking from enjoyment and strain, the ring of her tailhole refusing to cooperate for just one moment. That next little push turned into something much more, her teased muscles slipping and giving way; Melody gasped, reached back to catch the beads at just the last movement, slid them one by one back into herself, then bent over, spread her rump with both paws, licked her lips... and this time intentionally pushed like that, loving the way that each one pulled at her ring and skin as it popped free.

The squeezing and pressure did a bit more to her, though, and as she pushed harder, as she closed her eyes and shuddered and sighed, her legs shook - and with the last of the beads popping free from beneath her tail, she felt herself lose control. Legs shaking, gasping for air between the hot, thick steam, Melody tossed her head back, bumped her knees together, and jerked as her bladder forcefully emptied itself out along her legs and the tile in front of her, warm pale yellow stirring among the pools of water already trickling in towards the drain; she leaned forward yet again, pressed a paw to the wall, and slid the other down beneath the base of her tail, first two, then three, and then four fingers slipping up into her still-parted tailhole, digging into warm wet internal meat, squeezing, tugging, pressing. Each time she tugged at herself she felt her stream jump and spray again, bouncing from between her footpaws along the floor, up over her thighs, and then against the wall in front of her, leaping in strength and pressure and then dying back down, until finally she leaned sideways against the wall dribbling down her own leg, panting gently with the exertion and arousal.

When her fingers finally slid free from her own tailhole they were slick and sticky with lube; Melody glanced around, saw the beads resting along the shower floor by the drain, and gave a dejected sigh, knowing she wouldn't be able to remain upright if she were to reach for it. Looking at it like this, it seemed a lot more than it had felt inside of her, at least half the length of her forearm, each bead in sequence picking up in diameter.

The hot water poured down across her head and shoulders, chest heaving with effort and relief. For a while Melody thought about reaching down, picking the beads back up, and slipping them one by one right back into herself, to see how long she could spend with them in. But, then, she still needed to catch her breath first.

Daet Wolfuar

Hal shivered and squirmed in place, then immediately ceased this movement as he felt something inside of him shift and tug in response. Distant discomfort mixed with sweet, deep pleasure, combined with a vague kind of nausea that always happened when he did something like this - but still above all of this, it set his tail to a wag and put a moan rumbling deep in his throat and chest, with shivering enjoyment vibrating up through his body until he tugged and wriggled and gasped all over again.

The position they had ended up in was a little bit odd, as it had to be with the size difference between the two, but at least it was reasonably comfortable for the maned wolf here as well as the large direwolf taur splayed out underneath him. The two met eyes again, Raka's mouth hanging halfway open with his lower half's forepaws hanging down across his chest and his upper half bracing itself with an outstretched arm to the floor, chest rising and falling in deliberate steady breaths.

"You okay?" the direwolf rumbled. This whole time he had been careful not to move too much, as with each shift in position, no matter how slight, Hal could intimate feel the taur's full length buried inside him, massive knot tied beyond his stretched, abused tailhole, holding him tight in place.

Hell, if he leaned forward a little bit - and he did - he felt the thing pressing up on the inside of his chest, squeezing some of the breath out of his lungs. The maned wolf swallowed, then had to do so again, and clenched his muscles throughout his entire body. Only a few of them responded: down in his abdomen he could feel the pulling, the tension, the _attempt,_yet nothing resulted. Hal had actually finished at least twice now - it could be hard to tell: the way Raka's length pressed up against him from inside meant that moving in a certain way made him shiver and shudder and gasp and squirm, and even when he bucked along the all-over convulsions and squeezed tight, the extra pressure squeezing in against him prevented anything of his load from actually coming out - and his body was really starting to feel the strain. The deep, resounding ache, the residual stretch... he swallowed once more and nodded, then shivered as the movement bounced through the rest of his body.

"Yeah," he answered, voice low. "I've - done something like this before. Feels... ah - great, and..."

"Well..." Raka squirmed again, which drew another gasp out of Hal on top of him. The maned wolf could feel the rim of the other male's wide sheath, thick and plump and wet, wrinkling up against his rump and the base of his tail, adding a second suction all its own. "I think I'm about to - come out, if you're..."

Hearing that reignited the flame in Hal's abdomen. He grinned, wagged his tail, and then slowly, carefully leaned forward over his friend's chest again, paws braced against the thick lines of muscle hidden beneath. A few slow, gentle tugs at that massive knot wrapped so tightly inside his tailhole, flesh and muscles stretching and pulling around it, wanting to come free yet completely unable to. A little bit more wriggling and stretching and he started to push, gently at first, and felt Raka beneath him shift to adjust... and then, as suddenly and forcibly as it had popped into him and made him shout out into the otherwise still air of the room, that bulge of firm flesh tugged at him, pulled from inside - and popped free.

There was a burst of pressure and pain, the maned wolf's tailhole reflexively clenching back as much as it could around Raka's still-buried length. One paw went to his chest just beneath his sternum where he physically felt the pressure of his friend's shaft coming free from inside of him, and then on shaky legs and unsteady breathing he lifted himself slowly up further, inch by inch. Raka thumped his head back against the wall where he sat, the sensation sending sweet ripples of pleasure all through him, while Hal had to keep himself from sinking right back down to the base.

Hot, wet slickness oozed out of him as well, sucked out with the motion as well as with his steady, fervent pushing, muscles seeking to expel everything that was inside him; for a moment fear and shock lanced through his body, only for him to glance down once he had finally pulled free from Raka's formidable length, and looked down between his legs to see the direwolf's thick white load pouring freely from his still-gaped tailhole, with his own much more diminutive finish finally oozing lazily free from his now halfway soft shaft, all of those interior tubes finally coming free from the pressure inside.

Both of them panting, Hal's entire body shaking, they met and locked eyes again. The maned wolf swallowed, straightened up a bit, nearly fell over, and brushed some of his fur out of his eyes, then reached back first to run his fingers along Raka's still-twitching length... and then up and over again. He looked back over his shoulder, licked his chops, brought his lower lip up between his teeth, and then smoothly, easily sank his paw up into himself. Fingertips first, then knuckles with his other paw keeping his rump spread, then in past the base of his fingers... thumb clutched in against his palm, a little bit of squeezing pressure... and with a brief clench and gasp, his tailhole clenched shut around his wrist, wrapping him not quite snugly in wet, slimy internal heat, pulsing flesh previously stretched around Raka's sizeable knot now mashing and mushing around his own fingers where he wiggled them in place there.

Then, still squeezing, he leaned forward, gritted his teeth, swallowed, and tugged himself free, paw coming loose with another wet pop- and another thick rope of oozing lube, cum, and natural internal slickness dropping out across the direwolf's shaft, where it gave another twitch and throb. Panting still, Hal brought his paw forward and spread his fingers, watching the way those thick strands dripped down and soaked through his fur.

Once more he met his friend's eyes. "Were you thinking of, ah - staying the night?"