Shooting Over Par
This story is a work of furry fiction and may very well contain sexual acts between two males of differing species. If such things are not your cup of tea, then I'd suggest Irish Breakfast. Or if such things are illegal in your area or you are under age, please feel free to leave now, otherwise don't get caught. Now then, as always this work is copyright by me. Comments and suggestions always welcomed: [email protected]
Shooting Over Par
Jonathon "CJ" Ford
A light south easterly breeze blew in from the ocean on what was a typical sunny Saturday afternoon in Southeast Queensland. Summer had just ended and the temperature and humidity was returning back to tolerable levels. And as normal Brian, a small clawed otter was warming up on the Twin Waters practice range before the Saturday competition. He tipped the bucket of floating practice balls over, letting them spill out into a small group. Stepping back and securing the clove onto his left paw, he pulls his seven iron from his bag, which rests on the stand behind him. He steps into the practice area, bounded by a thick rope that runs the width of the practice tee. He flips the shaft of the club across his shoulders, grabbing it with both paws. Planting his golf spikes firmly in the turf he rotates his upper body around his waist, slowly working up the length of the rotation, until he's twisting almost completely around. After slowly winding back down to a stop, so as not to pull a muscle anywhere, he flips the club from his shoulders, griping it firmly.
Smoothly he takes a few short practice swings before winding up and taking a full swing. The club head slides through the grass with a gentle whooshing sound, removing the tops of the taller blades as it passes. Satisfied that he's reasonably loose, Brain reaches back with the head of the club and drags a ball out of the pile to between his feet. He places both paws firmly on the grip, adjusting there position until he's happy with the feel. Briskly, he takes the club head back twisting nearly 180 degrees and pointing the head straight at his left heel. Then after a brief pause he begins to unwind, the club head making a whooshing sound as it parts the air, his downswing is just as fast and smooth as his takeaway had been. The club head descends upon the ball contacting it with tremendous force. There is a loud crack as the head meets the ball. The ball shoots of the clubface with enormous energy, rocketing into the air. Brian's paws and the grip of the club bounce off his left shoulder before coming to rest in front of him. He holds the pose waiting for the ball to land downrange. The ball falls back to earth, splashing into the large rectangular lake about 180 yards away. A satisfied smile creeps across his muzzle, and he pulls another ball from the pile to repeat the exercise. After several more shots Brian returns the iron to his bag and pulls his driver from its resting place. He peals the head cover from the club before looking at the large head. The raised image of a crowned, hooded cobra looks back at him standing out in stark relief to the polished black of the head. Reaching down he pulls a long tee from his bag and lifts a ball from the pile. He strides back into the practice box, placing the ball atop the tee firmly into the ground. He stands upright, the head of the club resting on the ground behind the small white orb. He takes his stance and again, as with the iron, coils and uncoils his upper body releasing power that belies his rather small stature upon the ball. The ball leaves the tee with a sharp "PING" as the head makes contact. Brian lowers his paws and the shaft of the club, resting his paws on the end of the grip as he waited for the ball to land. The ball dropped to the ground with a soft thud, landing 20 yards past the end of the lake, some 290 yards away. Brian smiled it was going to be a good day on the course.
Brian was so wrapped up in his practice routine that he didn't notice one of the other golfers had stopped to watch him swing. A silver furred fox lent on the shaft of his five wood to watch the flexible otter swing away. The dark sunglasses he wore hid his eyes and the brim of his black and red Tayormade cap kept the sun from his face. A wide grin seemed to be tattooed across the fox's muzzle as he watched Brian warm-up. Greg was the fox's name and although he didn't know it at the time, he was going to get a much better view of the otter's swing style during the day, as they were to be partnered together for the competition. It wasn't until Brian paused to change clubs the he noticed the fox watching him. Greg made a quick move to act as if he was just changing clubs, but Brian's sharp eyes had spied him looking, and smiling, from behind his sunglasses and under his Cobra hat. He slipped the cover back over the head of his driver and replaced it in his bag. Greg realized he'd been caught, when Brian just placed a paw on the stand that held his bag and looked straight at him. He blushed, his face turning red, and showing through his silver white fur. His tail twitched nervously behind him as he quickly tried to find something intelligent to say. "You sure can hit the ball a long way with that swing of yours." He blurted out as it entered his mind.
Brian's smile widened, "Thanks. It's just the fact that we otters are so flexible, we can get a lot of power out of that big rotation." Brian replied, pulling his five wood from his bag and pealing the cover from it. He rolled another ball out from the now diminished pile before sending it to a watery grave some 230 yards distant.
Greg continued to watch the lithe otter practice, since he obviously didn't mind someone watching. Greg looked up and down the otter's slim body as he swung the club, the dark blue trousers that he wore didn't give much away when he stood still, but during the follow through of his swing, Greg could tell that under them where a set of powerful legs. Brian's black shirt was tucked tightly at his waist, giving away his slim figure and powerfully slender upper body. His tail even flowed perfectly in time with his swing. Greg could just make out the outline of Brian's firm rear under his pants and the thought of what that little otter must look like under those clothes, with his dark brown fur glossy and shining, was making him harder by the minute. Fortunately his own pants fit well enough to hide his stiffening maleness.
Greg was brought back to reality when the loudspeaker on the clubhouse crackled to life. The voice of the gray wolf from the pro shop boomed over the speakers. "Welcome to today's competition everyone. Can we please have Brian Read and Greg Stanley to the first tee. To be followed by..."
Greg didn't hear anything afterwards. He couldn't believe his luck as he put his club back into his bag and hefted it from the rest. He was paired with the cutest otter he'd ever laid eyes on and now he had at least four hours to talk to and stare at him. As he packed his bag over to the buggy he was riding in for the day, he noticed Brian walking across the grass between the trees that separated the practice area from the first tee. "This is even better then I'd hoped." Greg thought to himself as he slid behind the wheel of the golf buggy. Now he'd get the chance to ask Brian if he wanted to ride with him. Greg put the cart into gear and drove off, following the cart path around the trees and pulling up beside Brian at the first tee. Brian had set his bag down on its self-contained stand in the longer grass beside the tee box and had pulled his driver out. He was just placing the head cover back on the bag when Greg pulled up and slid out from behind the wheel of his buggy. Greg pulled his driver from his bag as he walked past. The pealed the cover from it and tossed it into the tray behind the seat. He stepped up the rise on the grass from the path and made his way over to the tee. As he approached Brian lent on his driver extending a paw toward Greg as he approached. "Well I guess it's about time we introduced ourselves." Brian said his voice bubbly but clear and precise. "I'm Brian Read."
Greg took the paw that Brian offered to him, "My name's Greg Stanley. It's a pleasure to meet you Brian."
"Likewise." Brian replied shaking Greg's paw firmly, "So do you want to tee of first?" He added letting go of Greg's paw and pointing his paw down the fairway.
"Alright then." Greg said, adjusting the glove on his paw and striding up to place his ball down in line with the blue markers. He stepped back and lined his clubface up with the ball. He settled into his stance and wiggled his wrists a couple times to ensure everything was set. He took his swing, only rotating about half of what Brian was capable of doing, but nonetheless there was a fair amount of power in his movements. The club impacted the ball with a hollow thud, which was typical for a well hit Tayormade. Brian took a quick glance at the ball's flight path and knew were it would end up. Then his eyes settled onto the fox that, at present, had his back to him. He took in the bushy, full tail, the strong legs, well shaped waist, and strong shoulders, before Greg turned to pick up his tee from the ground just behind him.
Now Brian stepped up the line and placed his ball on the tee. He set himself up, holding his club head slightly above the ground. He wound himself up and uncoiled sending the ball on its way. This time it was Greg's turn to once again admire the lithe form of the otter he was luck enough to be playing with today. Brian's ball landed about the same area where Greg's had stopped and right in the middle of the fairway. Brain turned and lifted his tee from the ground. He was just sliding his driver back into his bag when Greg called to him form the side of the cart. "Umm, hey Brian, why don't you ride with me. It'll save you walking and it'll make the game a bit faster." Not that Greg was in any hurry to see the game over at this point.
Brian hoisted his bag onto one shoulder and thought about it for a second, "Ok sure. I don't really need to walk today. Thanks Greg."
Greg just nodded happily as Brain strapped his bag onto the back of the buggy next to his. Then they both slid onto the bench seat and drove off.
"So," Brian said as they made their way down the fairway to their two balls, "you want to swap cards? I'll mark yours and you do mine."
"Ok then." Greg said unclipping his scorecard from the center of the steering wheel and handing it to Brian. Brian took his from his back pocket and handed it to Greg, who placed it under the clip on the wheel. As they pulled up to Greg's ball, Greg looked at the yardage on the card, then at his ball and the green. "What would you say is left Brian?"
Brian looked at the flag, waving gently in the breeze, then at the location of his partner's ball. "I'd say it's about 290 left to the pin, but you've got a slight tailwind so it'll play to about 285."
Greg nodded and pulled a five wood from his bag. Carefully he lined up his shot before letting rip at the ball, which ended up stopping about 20 yards short of the green.
"Very nice shot sir." Brian commented as Greg slid his club back into the bag. Greg nodded as he got in and they drove up to Brian's ball, some 30 yards further down the fairway. "Very nice drive." Greg said looking at where the ball had finished up. Brian smiled as he slid off the seat. He looked at the lie of his ball and then to the flag, sitting some 255 yards away. He too pulled the five wood from his bag and stepped up to the ball. Very carefully he lined up his shot, before smoothly taking the club head back and swinging away. The ball bounced once in front of the green then onto it stopping about 15 feet from the flagstick. Brian wiped the face of his club with a gloved paw before sliding it back into the bag. He got into the cart and Greg just looked at him with his muzzle hanging open. "I can't believe that you made this green in two. This is a par five. What do you play off?" Greg said looking at the card clipped to the wheel. In the space where Brian's handicap should have been there was nothing. "Are you telling me you play off zero?!" He stammered. Brian just looked at him nodded and shrugged. Greg shook his head and planted his foot on the accelerator.
After arriving at Greg's ball, he got out and pitched the ball onto the green, leaving it about 10 feet from the hole. At the green Brian slid out from his side of the cart and pulled his glove off his paw, before pulling his putter from his bag. Since he had the longest putt, he would play first. He walked over to his ball and stood behind it, looking at the break in the green. After a minute of pondering what line to use he moved over the ball lined up his shot and smoothly rapped the ball. The ball rolled down towards the hole and Greg had no sooner removed the flagstick then the ball fell off the lip of the hole and into the cup. Brian smiled from ear to ear as he walked the distance to the hole. He reached in and retrieved his ball form the cup and took the flag from Greg. Greg walked back to his ball and lined up his own putt. He struck the ball squarely, but just a fraction to hard and as a result it did not break when expected and rolled to a stop a mere foot from the hole. Greg walked up at tapped the ball into the hole happy to walk off with a par, but to watch that lithe little otter make an eagle on the first hole was unreal.
The rest of the round Greg was continually impressed with Brian's skill with a golf club. And up until the 18th hole his worst score had been the twelve holes that he'd pared. On the 18th however an unfortunate bounce had seen Brian's ball wind up in a greenside bunker and with the sand rather firm from the recent rain, he'd been unable to get it out as well as he would have liked. Now he sat looking at a 20 foot putt to keep a clean round. He put a good stroke on it and the ball rolled towards the hole until right at the end it hit a grain of sand and jumped offline missing the edge of the cup by a few inches. Brian's face registered abject disappointment as he walked up and silently tapped the offending ball into the cup for is only over par hole. He took the flag from Greg to allow him to put his ball. Greg made on of his few one putts and happily picked up his ball and a final par. Brian replaced the flag into the hole and reached out a paw to his playing partner. "That was a good game Greg. You played really well." He said shaking the fox's paw. "As did you," Greg said, "You only had that one hole over par and shoot a 66, that's almost a course record."
"Yes," Brian said as they left the green headed for the buggy, "but the course was playing very easy today."
"Well anyway you up for a drink?" Greg asked as they slid into the golf buggy.
Brian thought for a moment, he didn't have anything else going on this afternoon, "Why not." He replied.
Greg nodded happily and they drove off, heading the short distance back to the clubhouse. Greg parked the buggy and they both got out. Brian opened the door into the bar for Greg who nodded as he walked through. They both settled into the sofa like chairs that adorned the clubhouse bar. A young mouse, in about her mid twenties, came over to them, "Welcome gentlemen. What can I get you this afternoon?" she said. She was dressed in a mid-length brown skirt and a light tan blouse. Brian smiled up at her, "Well I'll have a Hahn light thanks. Greg, what do you want?"
Greg looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, "I think I'll have a XXXX Gold thanks."
The young mouse nodded and quickly ducked back to the bar to get their drinks. "She's kinda cute." Brian said looking at the mouse's retreating tail.
"Indeed she is, for a lass." Greg said, he slipped up and started to blush slightly, hoping that Brian hadn't noticed. Brian just looked at him sideways for a second but then shrugged his shoulders as if he thought nothing of it or that he was just hearing things. Greg breathed a sigh of relief that either Brian hadn't noticed or he didn't care. After a minute or so the mouse returned with their drinks and the two of them just sat and talked for a while. Greg bought the second set of drinks as they chatted and it turned out that the two of them had more then just a love of golf in common. After finishing his second beer Brian decided that he'd better be getting on his way. He farewelled Greg, who decided to stay and watch a rerun of an old golf tournament on the TV that was on in the bar, Brian slipped out and took his clubs off of Greg's buggy before walking back to his car.
After about another twenty or so minutes Greg decided that he'd better be off as well and headed out to his buggy. When he slid in behind the wheel he noticed a small business card under the clip on the steering wheel. Printed on it were Brian's name and the company that he worked for. He turned the card over to discover a handwritten message on the back. "You know, your swing and that waitress weren't the only good looking things I noticed today. Call me and come over for dinner." His number was written across the bottom of the card. Greg just about fell out of the buggy in surprise and delight, it would seem that Brian had noticed his slip of the tongue. "That cute little devil." Greg thought to himself as he drove around the clubhouse to the parking lot to unload his gear before returning his buggy to its shed. Greg finished putting his buggy away and getting it plugged in so that the batteries would recharge, and all the way back to his house he kept thinking about having dinner with that lithe otter, Brian. His sheath was starting to swell just thinking about him. Fortunately that trip home didn't take very long and just as soon as he'd taken off his shoes and put the kettle on, Greg was on the phone dialing the number that Brian had left him. The phone clicked on, "Read residence." Brian's voice sounded on the other end.
"Hello again Brian, it's Greg Stanley here." He managed to say in one long breath.
"Oh hello Greg, you got my card I see." Brian said his voice softening noticeably.
"Yes I did, and thanks for the invite to dinner. I was just wondering where and what time."
"Well," Brian said, "Why don't we make it my place at say 7:30."
"That sounds great, I can't wait. Oh should I bring anything?"
"Umm just a bottle of wine I guess, but I'll take care of everything else."
"Ok, umm now how do I get to your place?"
Brian laughed, "Well it's pretty easy to find..." and he went on to give Greg very detailed directions to ensure that he couldn't get lost on his way over.
After hanging up the phone Greg began to rush around madly to get everything organized for his date tonight. He went through his clothes to find a nice outfit, in the end he settled on a nice pair of diesel pants and a patterned black short sleeved silk shirt. He carefully laid them out on the foot of his bed before stepping into the bathroom to turn on the shower and get it warmed up. He quickly striped off his clothes from golf and tossed them into the hamper. His white, glossy fur reflected the light from outside and the lights in the ceiling. He stepped into the shower and let the warm water soak through his thick fur to his skin underneath. He murred as he turned around to let the water run on his back and shoulders, realizing the tension held in them from this morning's golf. After a few minutes of just letting the water rain down on him, Greg grabbed a bottle of fur shampoo from the shelf in the wall and began to work it through his fur into a rich lather. After letting it sit for a minute he started to rinse it out, leaving him with a faint sweet smell of jasmine in his fur. After letting the water cascade over him for a few more minutes he turned off the shower and stepped out through the door, grabbing a towel from the rack on the wall. He set about drying his thick fur, rubbing it briskly making sure not to miss anywhere. After getting his fur dry Greg sat down in front of the mirror and began to brush out his fur. He took care not to tear any of the tangles that inevitably formed as a result of his drying efforts, but he managed to slowly, and slightly painfully work them all out. And finally after nearly a half hour of brushing his fur was smooth and glossy once more. He put on a touch of his favorite cologne before heading back into his bedroom to get dressed.
Greg figured that it would take him about twenty five minutes to drive to Brian's house, but he still had to pick up a bottle of wine for dinner, since he'd used the last bottle he had at a party a few weeks back. Finally, right on 7:30, Greg pulled up in front of a very impressive looking house. He mounted the steps of the pillared doorway and rang the bell. It took a minute for the light overhead to come on and the lock on the door clicked off before the door slowly opened. Brian stood in the doorway, his brown slacks seeming to blend with his fur and his only slightly lighter brown shirt seemed to set off his eyes beautifully. Greg seemed at a loss for words so Brian smiled, "Please come in Greg." Greg snapped firmly back to reality and nodded before walking through the entry. He stood in the entry for a moment looking around at the spacious interior of the house. "Glad you could make it." Brian said drawing Greg's attention back.
"Oh. Yeah well I wouldn't have missed it." He said. "This is a really nice house Brian, what do you do to get a place like this?" He added as Brian led the way into the lounge room. Brian blushed slightly, showing only on the insides of his ears. "Well it's actually my parents I have to thank for this." He said. "It's just their way of saying "We're sorry" I guess."
"Sorry about what, if I might ask."
"That's a long story, but I'll tell you about it some time. Now I'll take that wine and put it in the fridge. Dinner should be ready in a few minutes so just make yourself comfortable." Brian finished as he disappeared around a corner into the kitchen.
Greg wandered over to the TV cabinet and looked at the collection of DVD's that Brian had. He had a few of his favorites there and a few that he'd never heard of before. But also in amongst the movies there were four old tapes which had "US Amateur Championships 2001 Day 1, 2, 3, & 4" written on the ends of them. "Humm," Greg thought, "Brian really loves his golf." Then a twinkle caught his eye and he looked up to the top of the cabinet and on the top self there was a trophy with "Brian Read 2001 US Amateur Champion" engraved on it. Brian called out from the kitchen, "Dinner's ready. Grab a seat at the table Greg."
Greg took his eyes from the trophy, making a point to ask Brian about it later, and went around the corner and down a short hall to the dinning room.
Greg pulled out a chair at the dinning room table and slid into it. He looked at the table to see what Brian had made for dinner and was delighted to see some of his favorites. Brian, being an otter, was a bit of a seafood nut and so laid out on the table was pealed Tiger prawns, fresh grilled Barramundi, and a plate with two large crabs. "Well," Brian said taking his seat, "Help yourself. I hope you like seafood." He said with a rye smile.
Greg smiled back before reaching over and grabbing a pawful of prawns and then a piece of fish. Brian also grabbed a pawful of prawns but elected to take one of the crabs instead of the fish first up. "Darn." Brian said binging his paw down on the table. "I forgot to get the wine out. Hang on a second and I'll get it and a couple glasses." He pushed his chair back from the table and walked quickly back into the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with the uncorked bottle and a pair of glasses. He set one of the glasses down in front of his guest and poured Greg some wine, before he placed the other glass at his place and poured himself a glass. "Much better." He said sitting down again.
About halfway through the meal Greg decided that now was as good a time as any to bring up the trophy in the lounge room. "I noticed that trophy of yours out there in the lounge." He said in between bites of fish.
Brian stopped eating for a second and his ears flushed, "Oh," he stammered, "I was hoping that you wouldn't notice it."
"Oh come on now, you won the Amateur Championship. That's something to proud of. And it explains your golf this morning."
Brian started to giggle at his friends comment. And Greg looked at him with a "What is so funny" look.
"I'm sorry Greg, but I used to play much better then I did this morning. I've only come back to golfing this year."
"Why'd you take such a long break? I would have thought you'd have turned pro after winning that."
"Well..." Brian started, taking a deep breath, "That's part of that long story I mentioned earlier. I was going to turn pro the following week. But on Wednesday evening I was crossing the street back to my hotel and got hit by a drunk driver." Greg gasped in shock. "He only just clipped me, but it broke my left leg in three places and dislocated my right shoulder. So I couldn't play anymore. And well after I got out of the hospital in the States and flew back home my parents got me this place." He waved a paw around the room, "They were well off and thought that this would make up for my lost career in golf. And up until about seven months ago I just let my clubs sit in the garage and collect dust."
"Ouch," Greg said, "I'm sorry to hear about all that. But you're back in the game now."
Brian shrugged his shoulders, "No I'm not going to play golf for a living anymore. I've got other things to do and it would take up too much time to try and get back to where I was before." They both finished eating fairly quickly after finishing that conversation and despite Brian insisting that he could handle things Greg helped him clear the table and get things cleaned up in the kitchen. They finished the rest of the wine whilst they cleaned, and every now and then Greg would let a paw roam across Brian's tight rear, drawing a gasp from him the first few times. And Brian would let a paw come to rest on Greg's thigh for a moment longer then to just be an accident, getting a smile and a slight blush from the white furred fox.
"Well after finishing all this." Brian said looking around the clean kitchen. "I think we need to sit down for a minute and you can't drive home for a while yet after that wine." Greg nodded his agreement and Brain lead the way back into the lounge. "Hey I know." Greg chirped up after sinking onto the couch, "Why don't you show me how you used to play golf."
Brian blushed again but Greg's face was too cute to refuse, so he put the tape for Day 1 into the VCR and pressed play before switching on the TV and setting it to the correct channel. The opening commentary came on as the players began to hit off. The tape had been edited to show pretty much only Brian's group as they moved around the course. Greg had no trouble recognizing the otter sitting next to him on the screen and he could see the same big arcing swing and massive rotation that he'd seen this morning, except that on the TV it was a bit faster, smoother, and longer then it had been this morning. And he could tell after watching a few holes what Brian had meant about playing much better before. As the match progressed Greg's paw migrated over onto Brian's knee and Brian shifted in towards him slightly in reply, placing his own paw just on the inside of Greg's thigh. Greg started to murr slightly at Brian's touch and Brian took t as a sign to continue. His paw migrated slowly up the inside of Greg's thigh until it rested squarely over his foxhood. Greg squeezed Brian's knee a bit tighter as Brian slowly began to rub his maleness through his pants. Under his soft touch it didn't take long before his sheath began to swell and he started to find his pants more and more restraining and uncomfortable. Greg decided that he should reciprocate and so his white paw moved up until it rested on Brian crotch. Greg could feel that Brian's maleness was already beginning to harden, so he just gently rubbed it. The feel of the fabric of his pants and boxers rubbing across his cock made Brian moan softly. His eyes were fixed on the TV screen, but they didn't see anything that was displayed on it, so entranced was he by the feelings that stirred in his loins.
It was only the faint metallic clicking of his pants zipper being undone, as Greg slowly pulled the tag down the tracks. Brian's member was yearning to be released, and as the restriction of his pants was removed it quickly popped up, tenting his boxers through the opening. Greg licked his lips as he moved his paws to undo the button on Brian's pants. With a quick, practiced flick of the fingers the button passed through the hole. As one of his paws rubbed Brian's member the other worked to remove the interfering pants. Brian lifted his hips slightly to aid in their removal. Greg smoothly slid the pants down Brian's legs, revealing more of his soft dark brown fur with every inch. Greg murred and his mouth watered as he looked at the trim yet muscular form of Brian's legs. After getting his pants down past his knees Greg let go of the waist and let them fold to the floor around Brian's ankles. Now Greg made an effort on Brian's boxers, hooking his thumbs into the waistline and tugging them down slowly. Again Brian gives him the help he needs, but this time his own paws roam up Greg's chest and begin to tug at his shirt. Greg stops working Brian's boxers just as they pass off of his swollen member. Brain gasps then moans as the cool air rushes over his cock. Brian tugs the shirt over Greg's head and down his arms, exposing the soft pure white fur underneath. No sooner does Brian get the shirt fully off his arms the Greg sets back to finishing what he started, letting Brian's boxers join his pants on the floor. Greg then takes Brian's member in his paw and slowly works up and down its length. Brian gasps and moans loudly in pleasure as his back tightens and he pins himself against the back of the couch.
Greg shuffles back away from Brian slightly, his paw never leaving Brian's rock hard meat. Then slowly he leans over, lying down on the couch, his head in Brian's lap and his muzzle inches from Brian's cock. Brian moans even more since he can feel Greg's warm breath on his hard prick. Greg again licks his lips, his nose taking in Brian's heady scent. Greg trails his tongue around the head of Brian's member, taking in the salty, yet pleasant taste. Brian's paws roam through the fur on the back of Greg's head as he begins to lap at his cock. Greg is shortly rewarded for his efforts as pre starts to dribble from the tip of Brian's cock. Greg, not wanting to waste a drop, opens his maw as wide as he can and takes in half of Brian's eight inches at one time. He starts sucking on it and bobbing his head up and down the shaft, each time taking in a little more. Brian's tongue lolled from his muzzle as Greg worked. Soon Greg was taking in all of him, his nose touching in the soft fur of his crotch. Pre flowed freely from Brian's tip now as Greg work him. Then just as Brian was reaching the edge of a powerful orgasm, Greg stopped and lifted his head from Brian's twitching cock causing Brian to whimper in dismay. Then Greg leaned in, rubbing one paw over Brian's now well lubed cock and kissed the otter on the muzzle. "I want you to take me." He whispered in Brian's ear. Brain really didn't need to be asked twice and he pounced, like a coiled spring when released, on top of Greg. The locked his muzzle tightly to Greg's in a deep kiss, each others tongue exploring the others mouth, and dancing around between them. Brian smoothly and quickly pulled Greg's pants from his hips. They were soon to be followed be his boxers. Once that was done Brian broke the kiss and looked down at the stunning white fox that lay beneath him.
Brian began to kiss his way down Greg's neck, nipping slightly at the nape, causing Greg to murr and moan softly. He could feel Greg's hard foxhood pressing against his chest as he worked lower and lower. Soon enough he arrived at Greg's waiting member. As Greg had done with him he started to lick up and down Greg's thick foxhood, rolling his tongue around the head. He then proceeded to take the entire thing into his muzzle at once, drawing an exited and shocked gasp from Greg. His body stiffened and his paws rubbed the fur between Brian's ears as he worked. Brian worked Greg's meat for a while keeping him right on the edge. Then with a slight shift in his weight he sent both of them tumbling to the floor. Brian then pressed his muzzle up underneath Greg's tail as it flopped to the side and out of the way. Greg again gasped and moaned much loader this time, as Brain licked at his tailhole. Greg's paws worked the carpet on the floor as Brian's tongue worked its way into his depths. When he was finally satisfied that Greg was lubed enough he pulled his muzzle away from Greg's pucker, drawing a whimper of disappointment from the fox. "Turn over." Brian said softly. And Greg wasted no time in complying with the request. Now on his paws and knees Brain slid over top of him.
Brian positioned the tip of his cock against Greg's tailhole and heard the fox whimper in anticipation underneath him. Slowly and gently he pushed forward, spreading the fox's tight hole. Greg let out a low moan at the slight twinge of pain as he felt his pucker being stretched. But this was soon replaced by a moan of pleasure as he felt Brian hilt inside him. Just as slowly Brian pulled all but the tip of his member from Greg's tight hole, only to thrust it back in again in one smooth stroke. Soon he had a nice rhythm set up and then he reached a free paw around underneath the moaning, gasping fox to grasp his maleness. He began pawing off Greg in time with his thrusting. Greg's tongue was lolling from his muzzle as he panted and moaned from the immense pleasure he was feeling. Brian slowly built up speed in his thrusting and also with his paw on Greg's fox cock. Greg was torn between thrusting into the warm paw around his foxhood, now made moist and slick with his pre or pressing back into the thrusts that pounded his insides. In the end pushing back into Brian's thrusts won out and he pushed back to meet the brown furred hips each time they thrust forward. Brian's cock was rubbing against his prostate with him thrusting back and coupled with the paw fairly flying over his own cock he was fast approaching orgasm. It didn't take long before his body went stiff and his muscles clamped down on the cock that invaded his tailhole. He came hard shooting rope after rope of hot fox cum onto his white chest fur and the carpet below him. Brian meanwhile just kept pounding away at Greg's tailhole. He too was nearing release and with one last hard thrust his cock pulsed and exploded deep inside Greg's bowels, covering his insides with thick otter spunk. Brian thrust a few more times into Greg's spasming tailhole, milking the last of his cum from his balls. At that point Greg's arms gave out, losing all their strength in afterglow. He collapsed to the floor pulling Brian down with him.
Brian lay quietly on top of him for a minute, recovering form the most powerful orgasm he'd had in years. Then slowly and gently he pulled his shrinking member from Greg's well used hole. It slid free with a slurping pop and otter sum began to leak slowly from the stretched hole. Brian rolled over next to Greg and gave him a warm kiss on the cheek. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time." He whispered in the white furred ear. "Umm, me either." Was all that Greg could muster in reply.
After a few minutes they had both recovered their strength, but neither of them felt any real need to move. So they lay on the floor in each others arms. Greg looked up at the TV screen, the tape had long since finished and now all that could be seen was static. "Well," he said to Brian, "I think you can count that as a hole in one." To which both of them giggled. Then Brian kissed Greg lightly on the nose, "Oh I don't know foxy. This is one hole that I certainly wouldn't mind shooting over par."
At that Greg wrapped his arms tightly around Brain and pulled him into a warm, loving hug. "I love you Brian." He said, pressing his muzzle tightly to Brian's. They kissed for a long minute before Brian pulled back slightly, gasping for air. "And I love you." He said after taking in a few deep breaths. So they both lay there hold the other close and drifted to sleep, warm in their new found love.
The End...