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"Hey, can I borrow a quarter?" Bruce asked. When the short female raccoon he'd spoken to turned around, breaking off conversation with her friend, a vixen with rather large breasts, he finished. "Because my mom told me to call home when I fell in love."

At six-foot-five, Bruce was imposing enough. His bodybuilder's physique was his pride and joy, with pecs the size of most people's fists; a set of chiseled abs; and arms and legs that possessed taut muscles with not an ounce of fat. His dark gray/pearly white skin shone perfectly in almost any light. To grab some attention (and because it was a great contrast to his skin), he picked out a shiny orange bikini, custom-made with a half-back and pouched front to help sport his terrific ass and delicious bulge. The toothy grin he sported only helped to seal the deal.

Or, at least, that's what he expected others to take away from his flirtations.

"Creep," the raccoon spat, tossing her drink in his face. Her vulpine friend had a scowl to match, glaring daggers at Bruce before the pair marched off in a huff.

As he watched them completely leave the bar and walk along the beach, his shoulders slumped and he decided to retire yet another line. Every day for two weeks, he'd come to his favorite beachside bar, trying to pick up easy dates and failing miserably. He wasn't a creep or a moron, and he knew his pickup lines were likely to charm someone incredible right into his arms...but damn if it wasn't depressing to go through the scathing rejections.

"Another dead end, huh?" the bartender, Oliver, asked knowingly, sliding a glass of lightly-spiked Coke into the white's hands as the latter took a stool. "Aw, she was just a floozy. Her ugly friend, too."

"Yeah," Bruce said weakly, and began to nurse his drink.

"Oh stop it, already," the pelican chided, snapping his beak. "You're not one to give up so easily, are you? Coming here every day for two weeks is a sign of confidence and persistence, not doubt and surrender. Tell you what: you give me a good one and I'll point out the right lady to use it on. Can't fail."

Figuring what the hell, Bruce leaned in and whispered into the pelican's earhole. The avian nodded and then scouted around, his eyes finally settling on a spunky-looking husky. She was currently reading a paperback novel, taking the occasional sip from her smoothie.

"That one," Oliver said. "She'll think your line a little clever, and your luck will change. Trust me on this."

A glimmer of hope sparkling inside, Bruce got up and left the middle-aged bird. The husky didn't notice his approach, nor did she look up when he reached her table: her eyes were glued to the book.

"You look like the type of girl that's heard every line in the book," he said.

Without shifting her gaze, she replied, "I have." She turned the page.

"So what's one more?" Bruce finished, and he couldn't help but perk up a bit. Perhaps Oliver was right; he felt like he would really accomplish it this time.

The husky picked up her drink and took a sip. "I'm guessing you know quite a few."

Chuckling nervously, almost embarrassed by the amount he knew, Bruce nodded. "Sure do."

"Did you hear the one about the irritated customer who had the pestering douchebag kicked out for harassment?"

Bang. His hopes took a bullet to the chest.

His head hanging, his shoulders almost falling off him completely, he turned and shuffled away. When he reached the bar, he pulled a bill from his wallet (held to the inside of a bicep with a special strap) and gave it to Oliver, ignoring his friend's insistence to give it another chance. He shuffled out of the bar and down the sidewalk, intent on going back to his townhouse and getting some rest, and perhaps then he'd have something worth saying.

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The next day, he returned to the bar, this time around noon. He'd had a good night's rest, and had polished his wit via a viewing of his all-time favorite flick, Spaceballs. No matter how down he got, that bit of cinematic wizardry always got him feeling like himself again.

"Good to see you aren't drowning in your bathtub!" Oliver laughed as Bruce came up to the bar. "Usual?"

The answer almost came, but something inside stopped him from giving it. With a shake of his head, Bruce responded, "No, I think I'll try something a bit zestier. Got anything light on alcohol and high on flavor for me?"

Oliver blinked, surprised at the decision. Slowly, he nodded, and concocted a breezy, blue-colored mixture for his piscine buddy. He topped off the glass with a tiny pink umbrella.

Thanking him, Bruce kept his drink in hand as he steadily made his way around, trying to discern just the right female to hit on. He'd come up with a real winner this time, he just knew it: it was about wanting her almost as much as he wanted world peace. Chicks dig world peace.

Finally spotting a spicy young gazelle (in a sinfully arousing sling bikini, no less), he started towards her, feeling more confident with every step.

Before he'd gotten halfway though, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Shaken out of his focus on the gazelle, the great white turned to see who wanted his attention.

"Hey there," said a smiling otter.

He was shorter than Bruce, at only five-eight, and less built, possessing only a modestly-muscled form. His cream-colored front complimented his chestnut backing. For clothing, he had the same idea as the large predator, wearing only some provocative swimwear, though the otter's was a purple thong that left nothing to the imagination, not even in the front; as the river dweller shifted his hips, the light caused the fabric to faintly glitter.

"I'm new in town," the otter told him. His friendly smile took on a more intimate nature. "Could I have directions to your place?"

For a moment, Bruce couldn't respond. He could feel somewhere in his mind that the line was familiar, and he was left only with the ability to blink.

"Did it hurt?" the otter asked. "When you fell from Heaven?" He even went so far as to shift his hips into a provocative pose, making his hand into a gun and winking at the muscled fish. "You look great, but you'll look even better with me on you."

Finally, Bruce's mouth got its act together, and he managed to force out, "Those are my lines!" pathetically.

The otter blinked. "Sorry?"

"All those pickup lines! I used them to try and get dates here!"

The other male laughed. "Really? I've got this worn-out pocket book that is loaded with them, and they all seemed so great that I just couldn't stop myself from using them." His face fell. "But every time I try to use them on hot guys, they give me funny looks, like I'm a crackpot or something. I mean, I'm really kinda smart and I know I'm good looking, so I don't understand why I'm not winning at this."

Bruce's face brightened up, and for the first time in ages, he felt absolutely, one hundred percent sure of the path ahead. "Hey, do you want to grab a drink? Just chill and talk at the bar? Oliver's a good friend of mine."

That put the flirtatious one at ease. "I'd love to."

********************************************************************************************

As it turned out, the otter's name was Steve. He was an online security consultant for a major corporation, and he surprised Bruce by revealing that a large amount of trouble comes from employees violating company rules on accessing outside networks, almost always for social media and porn.

"You don't worry about hackers from rival companies?" the shark asked.

"They really don't come by very often, no," Steve told him. "Half the time, I have to check network activity and if it's flagged--which it usually is--then I call a supervisor and tell them, 'Hey, I'm looking at my monitor and you've got User So-and-So looking at Brazilian Butt Buddies' latest hit.' You can almost see them facepalm."

The big shark chuckled, trying to imagine the excuses those caught no doubt gave.

"Oh, oh! A little while ago, I made that kind of call, and the supervisor forgot to hang up on me. I could hear him march down to the guy's office, throw open the door, and start yelling at him at the top of his lungs. Apparently, the dude had a private office himself, and was using a projector to display the porn super-sized on his entire wall."

The white burst into a fit of laughter, doubling over onto the bar and nearly knocking his drink over. "Oh god, that's hilarious!"

"That isn't the best I've had happen on my watch, though," Steve confessed, sounding wistful.

"What was that?" Bruce all but begged, his curiosity demanding the tale.

Snickering, the furred fellow began, "Well, a company I was contracted to had a pair of employees, a communications manager and a security officer like myself. The officer knew the manager was looking at porn on company time, but couldn't prove it since the data files didn't show anything out of the ordinary. He ended up illegally spying on the dude with a hidden camera in his office and found out that the manager was bringing in a thumb drive loaded with porn and plugging it into his computer. It was a pretty clever maneuver, since I can't tell that sort of this is going on."

"So what happened?"

"Both got fired, and since he broke real laws, the officer is probably just now getting out of jail and enjoying probation." He took a gulp of his orange-red drink. "Sometimes I feel like all I do is work in porn, the amount of it I have to deal with. I should have just become an AV star or something."

"If it's any consolation, I think you'd be great."

The otter laughed. "Oh yeah? You'd buy porn of me?"

Returning the smile, Bruce nodded. "I'd buy the gayest porn of you. Dicks everywhere."

They fell into a fit of laughter, holding onto each other so they wouldn't tip over onto the floor.

"Would you," Steve wheezed between laughs, "would you meet me on the set of my latest shot, telling me how pretty I look with a pearl necklace?"

"Yeah, I would!" Bruce guffawed. "I'd ask you out to dinner and then propose!"

"We could get gay married! Right in the butt!"

They caught themselves as they nearly fell over this time, and decided to seek more stable seating. Paying the bill, the pair wandered out into the evening.

"So, where to?" Steve asked. "It isn't even seven, and we've got the whole night to hang out. Did you want to get a meal or what?"

Bruce hesitated to answer. He really wasn't sure what he wanted, aside from spending more time with the fascinating (and frankly attractive) mammal. After a moment's thought, he answered, "I think.." He took a deep breath. "I think I'd like to, you know, go back to my place. With you. I'd like to go back to my place with you."

There. He'd said it. The burning snakes in his belly writhed nonstop, but he'd gotten out what he'd been feeling more and more.

For a long moment, Steve could only stare at his new friend. When he shifted his gaze away, the fish felt suddenly cold, and became worried that he'd say maybe next time. As irrational as his fear was, it still gripped him.

But then the handsome otter smiled, and the fear was wiped away.

"Sounds like a plan," he told Bruce. "But I'm warning you: I snore like a beast."

*******************************************************************************

Their lips mashed together, their tongues dancing as their bodies squirmed breast-to-breast. Pressed up to the corridor wall, both males were sorely tempted to rut right then and there.

Breaking off the kiss, Bruce panted, "Maybe we should take this inside."

"Yeah," Steve gasped. "Bedroom. Now."

Keeping his grip firmly on Steve's tight ass, Bruce hefted his soon-to-be lover and managed to open his apartment door, the lusting males falling inwards as the wooden barrier gave way. They landed on the pile carpeting and Bruce almost took Steve again, his hunger burning more and more. He kicked the door shut and picked up the giggling otter again, speedily carrying him to the bedroom.

He tossed the thong-wearing male onto the mattress, and as Steve lay there, he teased Bruce with a spreading of his legs, the bulge of the purple swimsuit growing and growing as his cock tented the shimmering fabric. In response, the shark's own twin rods extended, stretching his bikini to the limit. If he didn't get it off, and quickly, he'd be buying a new one.

"Hey now, big boy," Steve said, his sultry tone enrapturing Bruce, "don't just stand there staring. I'm much more fun to play with than to look at." To spur his friend to action, the otter rolled over and lifted himself up onto his hands and knees, twisting his tail aside. The view was magnificent, the thin strip of purple obscuring his hole, his sack and cock sheathed in more of the lustrous material; it called to Bruce.

Hooking his thumbs into the hem of his own aquatic outfit, Bruce slid it down, his nine-inch, bright-pink hemipenes waving in the air and throbbing almost visibly. From each tapered tip, dollops of pre-cum dribbled out, landing on the carpet below.

"I am gonna ride you so hard," Bruce grinned hungrily.

"Less talk, more fucking," Steve playfully countered.

The great white moved onto the bed, yanking down his paramour's thong. He spread the otter's cheeks with the fingers of one hand while the other stroked both his massive boners, generating a copious amount of pre, which he then collected in his palm and smeared onto the sphincter for lubrication.

Lining up both tips, he warned the other male. "Brace yourself."

He penetrated, both meatsticks being forced into the tight orifice. Steve gasped and grew rigid, his own dick becoming rock-hard and loosing a good bit of pre onto the sheets. He'd played with toys before, but never something so huge and expansive as what Bruce was gifted with!

Behind him, the gray-and-ivory fish grunted from the effort of pushing all the way in. Steve's tailhole was so tight that it felt at first that he'd be crushed, but then his cocks both swelled back to their regular girth, stretching the smaller male's hole.

"Aaaahhh!" Steve cried out, his smaller, five-inch pole jumping and spitting out a large amount of pre. Yet even with all the phenomenal sensations, even as fantastic as he felt, he was nowhere near ready for climax.

Bruce began pounding his lover, his hips smashing into Steve's at a rapid clip. He managed to keep his dual cocks from exiting completely, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in to the bases. The longer this went on, the hotter they both became, Bruce feeling as though his hemipenes were melting, and Steve as if his tailhole was on fire. His dickhead itched, begging for release, and yet he couldn't cum.

Suddenly, Bruce pulled out entirely. Steve was snapped out of his haze, blinking and barely coherent. Before he could gather his wits, the larger male grabbed his thighs and lifted up, shifting the smaller one's body until he was on his shoulders and upper back, legs splayed in the air and Bruce standing over him.

"Let's try this," the predator grinned lustily.

He pushed his two dicks to a downward angle, easily sliding in this time. The sensations of fullness for Steve and incredible tightness for Bruce came again, this time doubled by their unusual positions. The shark took firm hold of the otter's ankles and began slamming up and down, his cocks releasing even more pre than before, the clear fluid starting to squirt out in small sprays from the thoroughly-abused tailhole.

Internally, Steve could feel something building up inside him, the pressure to cum racing higher and higher. Gasping for breath, forcing himself to stop groaning and moaning for one moment, he yelled, "I'm gonna cum!"

Fortunately, Bruce's own peak was hitting. He drove all the way into Steve's ass, letting out a deep, lengthy groan as his double cocks swelled, torrents of fresh, extra-hot seed flooding the anal cavity. Beneath him, pushed over the edge, the otter also cried out, his modest member splurting a generous helping of essence onto his face before coating his chest and stomach.

A few meager gushes from both males followed their primary bursts, their balls emptying every drop of seed. Exhausted, they collapsed onto the mattress, the springs all but shrieking in protest. As they lay there, panting, Steve managed to weakly ask, "So...wanna go for another round, once we get our wind back?"

Bruce faintly chuckled. "No, no I'm good. I think I want to just cuddle and get some rest."

Steve returned the chuckle. "Can't cuddle; too much work to crawl. Think I'll just skip to resting."

Bruce's snore let him know he'd been beaten to the punch.

The End