On the Fly by Eightane

On the Fly

Eightane, Ageplay, Anal, Double teamed, Fat, Heat, Inexperienced, M/M, Mature, Oral, Porcupine, Puma, REDNECKS, Stock car, Stop me before I sproings again, Summer, Virgin, Wolf, Young, assplay, dirty, older, orangutan, race, thin, twink

Thumb (and the according full verzh) are by Tokeki, a right-swell guy, tally ho.http://www.furaffinity.net/user/tokeki

I thought to borrow off a rich well of Southern charm.

I.E. here's your redneck fuckin'. Take as you'd like.

?_?

_ On the Fly _ by Eightane ******************************************************************************************************************* "You first." The orangutan's hand curled over the iron fencegate, threading digits through diamonds. He stood like a butler, slim and prim, albeit in shorts and a white high-tail tank, extending an invite through the doorway. His company accepted; the porcupine in grey jumpsuit strolled past, chuckling at his new co-worker, not with him.

"Great, if there's moonshine, I git caught in the guard fire."

The day was mild, for June in lower Kentucky... Could also be the breeze on the primate's exposed navel, made from the other in passing. He followed the porcupine, feet-in-time, his bare, nimble plods behind the spiny male's Nikes. The shoe'd recruit may've dropped a joke as icebreaker, but he hid no reluctance; they were on the oval now, close enough to smell the asphalt. First day of my job, Ivan thought, too far along to quit.

"Ivan, eh?" The porcupine spoke, sensing and combating a bad silence.

"That's me." The orangutan pitched high; though his voice was hardly virile, a shy sort of fear enhanced the 'willow'. He fought his own legs, shifting their stride to something smoother, like his peer in front of him and less like his gingerly gait. "I like it, don't care what anyone says." Impulsive defense.

The porcupine's laugh was rich and hick as you please. "I do too, was gonna compliment it. Now I don't haveta." He swung a hand back, and checked Ivan softly on his chest. The primate first reeled, then 'felt out' the strength. A smile wound his tan-orange chops.

One sneaker touched the asphalt, as did a bare sole in two more seconds. They stood side-to-side; the trees, even the sky looked smaller, backseated to this racetrack and its three-mile extent. Porcupine's hands filled his pockets; Ivan's were open, limp and forgotten to himself. His jaw sagged; the words he trilled were lazily made, and never brought his mouth to shut. "It's huge... Ain't it, S-... Sssssshit..." He'd devolved to a whisper, furious with himself.

"Shiga." The porcupine came close to frustration, but cooled. "That's strike two. Fuck, it's THAT hard to remember?"

"No, no, it's just... Other stuff..." Ivan's eyes flew down the infield, absorbed in how long it would take just to walk the distance.

All frustration was gone in Shiga's laugh. "I get it, man. First time here's just like that, if you're five or fifty. Guess your Dad didn't bring you here weekends as a tot..." He dipped his chin to the side; a glimmer crossed his eyes, with a smirk. "An' here I thought I's too young for reminiscin'..."

Ivan pursed lips and breathed a long whistle. He thought of speeding hulks of metal, faster than anything alive; somehow he still heard Shiga, and replied to the almost-stranger. "I wasn't looped in 'til maybe 3 years back. Near my turning 15... I wrapped my brain around shop... It's really fun, a lot more than I... Used to think..."

Shiga leaned in; the orangutan was backslapped. "Better get'chou inside, man, you're head's run away with you. Wanna last, you'll need it."

Ivan's eyes tittered, slamming focus back into him. He skipped, for a short moment, cartoonishly. It got him to relax, and Shiga to laugh, another time it helped that he didn't know just why.

The remaining walk was just thirty yards down pit-lane, neither talkative. Ivan kept on himself to concentrate, but still led his head to swivel, to stargaze. The course streaked with black tarmarks, where tires and the sun conspired to melt and stain the path that served their bosses. The press box stood over them; couldn't be less than ninety feet above ground, headlining the stands, a perch for those with deeper, lusher output than his own. He saw also the price of that prestige; bleachers, rows of seats whose metal shine was done-in by stains of every shape and sticky size. Ten feet from an open, wide garage - their destination, HQ for the crew who'd given hire - they stepped over shards of a beerbottle, and a weathered pile of... Latex? Ivan's nose crinkled.

In looking down, he was unawares of the puma stepping out from the garage. Stocky, dumpy, a six-foot feline poured into red shirt and denim; his rust-hue fur was tacked with stray hairs of grey, though less than in his dense, greasy moustache. Holding a cloth, dabbing oil and water off his ear, he was headed to pass them. Ivan looked up in time to startle himself, and blink at a smoggy stench; the puma missed both, fixed instead to Shiga, whose swag more blended in. "Turn around 'n' forget it, he's in jackhole-mode today."

The porcupine flicked his own nose. "Good, y'can learn from another guy's anger."

The big cat walked by, his head shaking, voice jolly. "Boy, you want'chur head took off, go'ohn with it. I'm on smoke-break 'til he's fixed that damn valve."

Ivan watched the puma's hand, scarred and huge, thrust into his jeans and come out with Mavericks. Against any judgement, he leaned into Shiga's ear, rather close. "I thought I caught the breath o' hell."

Shiga cut eyes to him, frowned slightly at the lack of space between them, but didn't act on it. "In a day you won't notice. And keep y'self loose, who knows what he'll think if you go in like a pansy..."

They stepped on the crack, what cut off pit lane from the garage floor. Grand central for T.G. Racing Inc., the main bay. No leaving, no cancelling, not now.

The view, as they passed a rolling door, was predictable; tool chests of metal, air nozzles suspended from the ceiling, a stack of tires so new the rubber shined in beamlights. All of it would pale, in the face of what hooked their attention. The lurch in gait was mutual; Shiga's face shined, a wide smile, as Ivan's was more just gaping awe, his long arms going limp at the shoulder. Half the wolf's body - half their new boss - lay hidden, on a rolling tray, beneath the marvel. Porcupine's tongue formed words; they escaped him a whisper. "Lyla... In th' welded flesh..."

A flattering handle for a gorgeous steel machine. Mustang, fully-tuned, all the air-diffusing curves one expects, bathed in Kelly green. Beyond that, and the collage of sponsor logos, three white stripes flowed up from the chassis; one split the car lengthwise, two more started either corner, rising diagonally to meet the first on the hood. The league's only car to get more than solid colours... As 'her' record stood, for she and her driver, there's excuses for showmanship.

And wolves, as Shiga learned, have able hearing. Tray's wheels squeaked, rolling greasy denim out from the undercarriage. They saw the gist of their superior; long, lean and less wrinkles than a thirty-year-old, or those more than twenty years below him. It looked just as the cameras always captured him, after buzzing the track, weaving through the group to jockey for position. Oil stood out on his white facial fur, far worse than his black hands and ears... A dot smudged his wide, soft nose, over top of the famous slice-scar, remembrance of a wreck and glass shards. His instincts served mighty on the track; he even seemed to know who'd spoken, giving Shiga the friendliest of 'I-could-spend-my-time-better' glares. "More gawkahs. Go on, eyeball 'erh. S'why you took this job, right?"

Shiga chuckled; reliving every post-race interview, or the gaggle he'd seen. Ivan, on the other hand, raised eyebrows a tad; it wasn't every day you'd meet a stock car pro with a New England accent, skipping 'R's, nasal-but-deep. Fortunate for him, Shiga spoke over his long-lived curiosity. "Y' don't know that. Maybe I wanna shake hands with the man who broke Daytona." It fed the ego; wolf's legs stamped down either side of the cart, and his sleek build launched up. Thin stripes made his 6-foot-4 overclear, and ran below the patch with his name. Terry, head driver for the sweethearts of southern asphalt. He seemed to dive for Shiga, just to shake his hand; all moves were loose and lanky, but far outside of goofy. He had a boxer's control; it occurred most to the orangutan, who was happy to stand back and let his cohort have a moment...

... One the porcupine ate up, eyes bulging like a kid in a candy shop. "Real pleasure, man, I watched you tear it up since I was knee-high to a stump. Can't believe I get to work with THE Terry McGruder."

"For me, but I'm flatteh'd, son." He looked on their hands' connection, just prior to releasing Shiga's tan palm. "I like a man with strength in his shake, tells me a lot and it's all-up's." His posture shaifted, standing back on his heels, as if scanning more details on his new 'go-fer'. "You read the headline, I'd guess? Know what's expected of yah?"

"And then some. M' pa runs a go-kart shop, ain't lived a day where I didn't tinker with so'm wheeled."

The wolf turned his head half-right, and spat brown through his teeth. It dinged an empty paint bucket. "Sounds like you'll be fine adds to our-..."

He trailed off; he hadn't done much scrutiny of the second newbie, to that very moment. All it took was to see the midspiked hair, the spotless shorts and half-shirt, the flash of silver by the primate's "innie"-stud. He blinked twice, for effect. "... Son, are you sure ya not lookin' for the Jamba Juice in town?"

Ivan's cheeks flushed; he'd have killed to be anywhere else, but he swallowed the slight, no different than any other time it was sent his way. He spoke flat, with a welling bravery. "I made A's in automotive study, I was sort-of channeled to try this. I want a foot in the door to learn."

Terry blew air out one side of his chops. The scent of chaw and bacon hit Shiga; he barely cared, but knew to be glad it wasn't Ivan in his general location. The wolf sized up his second hire with some tangent, a connector for indifference and instruction. "Good, you can staht with how we dress here an' why. I don't judge, except when a rod snaps loose and cleaves yah. You don't boil water naked, do yah?"

Ivan shook his head, relaxing and relieved the problem was functional.

"Same idea." The wolf reached in one pocket and dug, but took some time to grin and study the skimpy attire; suffice to say it struck him funny. "They really do make that for lean beans like you. God help me, I just thought o' Burt fitting intah that."

"Who?" Ivan and Shiga, in unison.

Wolf nodded out the doorway; they read it as intended, the fatass puma. Shiga played-up a cringe; Ivan was too busy not taking it in a choice direction. McGruder's hand shot out with a thin white tube, tipped on one end with blue light. "You mustah passed on the way. He's paid to work the radio, bring me chow and bitch about football. Dickhole's got it made." He lifted the tube to his mouth; it lit up, and he saw Ivan assess the electric endglow, and its pure-white fog. One puff, and he lowered to talk on it. "No, I'm not tryin' to quit. Darlington, twenty-o'-nine, we lost the whole garage and part of the stands, a dumbass with Salems cashed one on the floor. Shit won't happen again."

He took a second 'puff', and their eyes were behind him, on-machine. He knew, and returned the device to his jumpsuit. "Fuck history, right? Let's get crackin', show off the bells and whistles." His body swung around to the car; he flashed a grin to Shiga before stooping down. "You want inside Lyla, you take care of her."

He ducked by the lip of the underside, where paint met bare metal. His face passed the axle, while two recruits edged in on both sides. Three rumps faced up and out from the driver's side; he drew a hand out to point for them. "See this crack?" Shiga hummed a yes... Ivan first nodded, then thought better and made confirmation vocal as well. Terry grunted, crawling deeper to run his claw by the flaw on the valve. "If I didn't catch this now - if yerr'on maintenance, and overlook this type of shit, then best-case scenario's I'm in traction 'til fuck-knows-when." He strained, rotating his head to Ivan, whose eyes were close enough for streaks of green to leap out from their largely-blue. "You tell me what it is?"

The ape had limited awareness, of the question, of his blush. He somehow forced out the answer, expelling a scent of Terry's breath he'd come to take in. "... It's... Rear injectors?" A smile found Terry's chops, subtle in the white fur flanks. "Not bad. Shoddy grammer, but a good guess." He rolled his face around to Shiga. "A'ight, now you tell me-"

The porcupine found irritation in a hurry. "Y' just ask him one thing? I wouldn't trust any dick in two seconds-"

"-He told me correct." Terry shot him down; cool, steady, but quick to end the disorder. "Now, you worry about naming the fix." The wolf reached down, fumbling a bit, but laid a palm on his left cheek to scratch. Ivan heard the scrunched denim; suddenly, the floor on his fly felt tighter.

Shiga, remembering himself, dropped the righteousness. "... I'd run a bead of 2-1 polymer, scrape it smooth, give it a twelve-hour dry and go over with another coat."

Terry continued staring on him. No return of words, just stonefaced.

It dawned on the porcupine his boss expected more. "... I'd yank it out, replace it... And, eh, search the system for other leaks, and bleed the lines for air." This would bring speech from the driver. "Almost got'cha, big nuts. Sorry for that, trick questions are Grade-A tools." As Shiga feigned a nod, and hid his anger, Terry swung his head once more to Ivan. "A man should know how to use his best tool, right?"

Orangutan caught onto his meaning. "His noggin." He'd been focused; if only to lessen the push in his shorts.

Terry retreated from the car, carefully crawling; his juniors followed, until his abrupt halt and the gaze up to Shiga's chin. "Do me a solid. Burt's out there burning one and prob'ly jackin' his jaw on the phone. I need him here to show you guys some more."

Shiga's hero-worship had lost a bit of luster... But knowing who's the boss, he "Sure"'d, and slid out from the undercarriage. In a flash, he was up and half-jogging out the door, to chase down the elusive puma.

Terry crawled out far slower. Ivan himself barely lost the mini-'race' to clear the side, though it left him with a fine half-second view; Terry stood, and with the primate looking up the legs of a legend, he courted notions that not all his supe's trophies would rest on a mantle. He stood, just a mite of wobble in his thin legs, having filed his mental snapshot. Best to say something, and rid his mind of the bulge, that which lay tucked in jeans not two feet from his shorts. "You... Have anything else I should see while we wait? In the car?..." His mouth dried; to extend the sentence thusly was nothing short of stupid.

The wolf smirked; it came off as innocent, and hit Ivan with surety that it couldn't be known what he'd thought. He nearly sighed, to shed the load from his mind as Terry spoke. "Yuh do got the hunger to learn. Good man." He gestured for the car; near the front, of all places, to the driver's seat. "Step over... I'll call out hypothetical's, you tell me which guage would indicate."

The ape's pulse ramped up; though not a formal welcome to the prime seat, even peering inside at this 'stage' felt like honour. In the sense of having enviable access, but also in the knowledge that somehow he'd impressed the wolf, or shown measurable promise. His mind went wild; he tried funneling the slideshow, the glee, into something relevant. "I like the paintjob on the hood", he pulled from nowhere. "Reminds me of Atari."

It might've sobered him as a dense slip of the tongue, had Terry not laughed and proved him onto something. "Nice, kid, you know the past that matters!" Ivan had crossed the concrete floor, to the front-left of 'Lyla'... Terry fell in behind him, putting friendly hand to his shoulder. "My one demand when they renewed my contract. That and Micro Machines fuckin' raised me." The fondness, the warmth only charmed.

Primate's hands cupped the window; his back stooped level, bent from the waist. His shoulder still felt the wolf's hand; he fell in Terry's shadow, smelled his clothes. His eyes were on the dash meters, but they may as well be blank for the attention he could pay. An older male, mighty-close, worldly, an instructor. And not helping was the dulcet tone of voice... As it went, overtly drifting lower. "Let's staht it simple... I coast into pit lane with the blower goin' hard. Car's hot as hell on the inside. What's the 411, and where to find out?"

Ivan braced himself, his lips taut and his knuckles on steel, guerilla-focusing. "... You overheated. You have the air open wide to protect the engine." He pointed to the thermostat; he knew it must be his imagination, the tickle on the seat of his pants, sized roughly like a claw. "I'd look at... This, and see how tall it... Sits..."

Terry's voice kept its flow. The tickle on Ivan wouldn't leave, but moved to his cheek, closer into the crevice. "Good... That's a pass. Now, say I swing in with a busted tire..." The shadow fell further, more darkness on the steel beyond orangutan. The bearer stood closer; the size of the 'track' down Ivan's rump filled out to a full finger. "... It's tread-whipping the road. Just banging it... Two times every second..."

Ivan knew; he'd come wise to the creaking rub of denim. If he turned to look, he'd see the wolf's left hand, cupping the bulge that only grew. Terry skipped no beats; the teaching went on, a cover with his palm on himself, rubbing; by feeding his throb, feeding Ivan's, the slender twink dick held horizontal in his stooping. "... Alright, boy. How quick would'ja wrench it off... Get it handled..."

A sweet growl rose from the primate. Why couldn't he say something; what restricted his defense from the wolf's finger tracing down his crack. His lips pouted; his navel stud swung in with a tightening stomach. Terry's fingers, all four in his east mitt, slid in Ivan's hind like a slow-mo' credit card. Ivan's jaw opened; his legs turned to jelly. Not from thought, but from a force woven into him, he reacted: whispering, holding out his rear. Peaceible, while screaming inside. "Please... Don't, I... I just want a job..." Half of him was honest; it was the other half that put begging to a whimper, and euphemism.

"Ya got one... Fuckin' A... " Two fingers, in turn, gave the twink's inner crack a light scratch. "But answer, boy..." The tickle was made a massage. "Tell how rubbeh moves with you..."

Ivan winced; it was too much, an attack of raw pleasure. Good sense told him to scream, to stop his advantage being taken... From the gut, his very words denied this. "I'd... Have it as... Timed as you please... Do you proud..."

He gushed a warm breeze at the sound of Terry's groan. The wolf, his superior, bent palm over the cheek and squeezed. Clenching hard as hell, like the ape should deal with pain... Or be immune, like a simple, mere object. "Nice, boy... Yeeah, alluvit..." The words sent a wave of chawsmell; a scent swept in Ivan's nose. It twitched, and joining that were the two fat spheres at his taint. As if something switched them 'on', they jerked; at just the moment a furry, large hand sank to feel them. Terry stood tall... Below the sneer, just under the hill in his crotch that made all pleas to be released, one hand loved on his dick, the other lay coddling ape's balls. "... Done up like a faggot... You ask for it... Other chiefs'd walk you right out... Yah' not dealin' with them..."

Rhetorical; but the primate wasn't moded to analyze, leaned over with legs half-spread, Terry's hand petting his bag. The moan wobbled; a thread of drool escaped his lower lip, running down the star seat's leather. In his eyes were guages, spedometer, thermostat. They meant nothing, like visions, there to ignore.

Terry's palm ran all sides of the boy's sack. "On the heavy side... Been a while, has it? " As he spoke, his fingers curled in; down the seam betwixt balls, he swept and tickled. Ivan's knees nearly beat the door with their buckling. "Hell, I knew..." The hand, its torturous fondling, skimmed back up Ivan's taint. The second time in his crack, it pushed deeper; treated the warm hole like a button. "... You're tight as plush on the seatback..."

Ivan's mouth spasmed; if able, he'd yell, but even then how would it come without the flutters of pleasure. It was wrong, and felt so right. The wolf baited him, harrassed him where none could see... Almost rape, once Terry's thumb popped in the succulent pucker, lending it some 'give'. The sound from Ivan's throat rode its limit; a high whine, pitiful and pining. Not for help, as his brain would have, but for closure. Up in and hard, whatever Terry packed into that wearworn jumpsuit.

He could hear Terry's grin, its sly liprise, in the breathing. More would follow. "Yeeahh, you want me in. Always loved you high school boys... Fuckin' cockwarmers..." His thumb pumped; the other seemed to hold his bulge back more than the denim, at the same time it stroked and encouraged pressure. "... More than any thick stud, or bear..."

Ivan's thought capped his whine. Epiphany entered him, fierce as Terry's hand. Burt... The remarks on his purpose... What, exactly, did he serve...

The muse spawned more, being clear in Ivan's head, truly vivid. '... Oh shit, why... Am I here... And Shiga's my age, why is he..."

Terry's thumb pulled out of him; its noise was wet, and left a bare hole red as Ivan's face. He felt air between he and Terry; hearing light footpats, he deduced they were returning. Light brays, the kind for joking or B.S., said they were just far enough not to see in. The wolf, his hand, closed in once more, to pat the twink's rear. It sent both lechery and threat. "Y'voice is timid. Good for stayin' hushed, right? "

As it sounded to the ape, there was danger if no comply. He swallowed hard; straightened his back, where it had dipped in submission; hoped neither Burt nor his equal would have a chance to see his tool before it shrank from the aching, blue-base rod Terry'd made it.

They crossed into the garage, cutting-up about Lost and Top Gear, trading laughs and one or two chest swats. Burt's arm was up; in its hand was a white paper bag, while he faced to Terry. "Cheese slammer? Had these in my truck, forgot 'em."

Terry spoke what both he and Ivan thought. "Since when? "

"... Uhhhh......"

Orangutan's nose scrunched; it was a handy solution for his wood. That state, and fear of discovery, fled him.

"Wut'ev'r." Puma tossed down the bag; strength in his arm ensured it slung a light spot, grease-to-concrete. "Got the boy on a tour, ah see?"

Terry smiled. Ivan's brow didn't quite avoid peaking, nor his throat dryly-swallowing. Much no longer went with innocence.

The puma's same arm went to point by the doorframe. "Y' tell him we just painted last night?"

"It's dry." He never came off unconfident, stepping up, leaning next to Ivan. The primate, for an instant, peered over; a flash of tingles told him sweat pores had opened, all down his lithe anatomy. Through it all, he still noticed Terry edging him out; clearly, the wolf meant to be where he was. They traded spots, the driver down and studying the wheel, with orangutan standing behind, thinking only on how to look nonchalant.

He fidgeted, adjusted his hair, but soon settled. All was well, up to Shiga's comment. "You really are into this." He looked up, barely non-jolted; it took Shiga's gaze to make him realize how he'd been smiling. It was fixed, however, by the surprise and dialogue. "I won't say what I thought, then."

Ivan tamped down any confusion, to himself. 'Just another jab at my looks... Doesn't mean any more..." What couldn't be dismissed, was if Shiga did know... Or if against logic, he shared Terry's agenda... No, it was foolish. A puerile hick like him, young or old, wasn't bent.

Maybe worse, though... As Ivan never looked back to the car, but watched instead the smooth porcupine. There was deviance, alright.... Just while he dug into a waist pocket, smoothly under Burt's nose. Ivan caught his smirk; they both knew it was only them who saw the hand fish out a box, small and peeking tiny tails from one side. Ivan knew its identity, once a tail was in Shiga's hand: Snap 'n' Pops. He gestured an order for secrecy; the time it took Ivan to decide if he should blab, was more than for Terry to have the ideal distraction.

Spiny wrist flung the firework. It smacked the floor and worked as designed. Terry's head lurched up; it couldn't bang Lyla's roof any harder.

Shiga got in three good guffaws; Burt's hand grabbed his arm, and so quickly his voice was all to be heard. "You pull that again and you'll EAT those. And we'll switch off sockin' your gut." The box was sequestered back in-pocket. His thin, startled lips showed the prank to be his last.

McGruder pushed on, not even rubbing his head. He sought Ivan's attention, by reaching to tug his leg; the primate jumped three times worse than Terry's pranking. He settled - glad they ignored it - and saw where Terry pointed. "There, the tachometer. C'mon, I want you in here."

Ivan stepped like he approached a bomb. Terry did no more than move over; soon the orangutan's head, chest and lower lay next to their older, larger contemporaries. Shiga, meantime, was all-but guided to the hood by a stern puma. The wolf's sidequest was to reach and pop the latch; as the outer pair delved into the engine, Ivan hunkered down, forgetting his nerves by observing Terry's form; scanning spine and limbs, guessing at how much was pure muscle. Not the best idea, and he quickly fixed himself back to task. He put all into watching Terry's hand, as it led the lesson. Every word from the driver, all the jargon and tips would miss Ivan's ears. Nodding along hid his conflict, what boiled and battled inward... Violation, or flattery. Disgust, or more credibly, promise.

Had he listened more to Terry, he'd still be deaf to the cue. The shift in tone, known well to Burt. "If the RPM's funky, check the wheels. They should fill the housing... They're not all equal... Some are better fits."

Above, in-earshot, cat and porcupine leaned elbows on the painted lip, staring through the pipemaze. Shiga's nose flared for the chub male's sweat; Burt's stayed put, though his lip upturned at one side. "The valve, that'n right there." His head swung to the lines of Shiga's face; sleek, attentive. Fresh in his youth. "Could be a crack, y' don't know 'til you can take it out an' flush it."

The spineback junior looked studious. "That's wut got'im riled? One part on the top, cant be more'n a quick in-and-out."

"Yeah... Well-said..."

In a single breath, Shiga felt the uninvited on his rump, five fat, hairy digits; as Terry's nose made a course for Ivan, leaning in to acquiant itself with the neck, smooth and damp, less from heat than the fear which would now be due.

Shiga's impulse was to lurch, back off from the car in straight order. He had less talent in this than did Burt in catching; the puma latched both hands, one on either pit. Shiga's strength paled against the stout elder's; he was spun back, restrained below the hood; his legs and ass hit chrome. The rest, above the waist, was taught the force of Burt's arms; taken by his armbends, he was fixed, where Burt could push down. A wide, moist gut enclosed the high schooler's shallow navel; Burt's hands made salty canals with the dripshed of Shiga's pits. Two yards away, Ivan was frozen, having Terry's hands run over him again, more completely, from chest down the flat plain of his midriff. Shiga was more active, spit and cuss in his struggle. "WUT'TH'FUCK, GET OFF, Y'... Yuh can't... lemme GO, I ain't... Ain't..."

The porcupine's pupils flit; quills at his spine stood on end. They erected, as did the push behind two large, seasoned bulges. Ivan, for all intents and histories, knew why he lay still and harmless, having Terry steal whiffs of his skin, the wolf's hips moving back, locking over his buncrease, its flesh and tightness. Shiga, though, dreaded the puma's touch; less for how easy he'd been 'cornered', than for how his own feet refused action. They didn't run, didn't kick, but held him on the concrete more than Burt's thick forearms ever could. Whether now was good timing or horrid, his body wouldn't take him away.

Terry's fly, poked out to an extreme only blessings could make, set firm on Ivan's crack; the twink's eyelids faltered, half-shut by when his moan-sigh was heard. Burt's hand - its grease, sweat and age-won ridges of skin - glided up to Shiga's nape, between the wider parts of spinefield. It didn't stroke, but clamped down; Shiga's terror fed into shock, as the tall, dingy cat leaned up, and shoved his tongue in a nervous mouth. Barbs on Burt's tongue made it as a sleeve of sandpaper; the lean-muscled junior quit thinking on fear, on escape, on all else but the stiff, lush scrape of his aggressor.

It made no difference that the hood was a screen for them; Terry chuckled, knowing all of what went on, laying his grody hands on Ivan's waistband, feeding digits inside to smear the heat under shorts. "Easy to arrange yeh. Fuckin' cakewalk, right to who we picked." The mitts that steered a speed machine sank down to Ivan's button; there was no kindness or love in how he ripped it from its anchor, then peeled off what it held. The shorts fell, and as fast as he would buzz the racetrack, he dropped the boy's bottoms past his knees. He stared on Ivan's best side: smooth, round and bare, as the button he now went to was his.

Burt's jeans would open no later; though the puma chose to unzip but leave them buttoned, so his huge, floppy chub would fall out. Shiga saw all of it; his gasp made a positive squeak when its sheer length and weight was brought to light; fat, uncut, the hood of skin dangling low as the base of his denim's legsplit. It backed him up on the engine; unawares, he was crawling back on the radiator, until Burt's hand pulled him back in. They didn't sequel a kiss; but nose-to-nose, the big cat's breath was strong on his lips. "You ain't screwin' up our meal ticket, son. Th' car's worth more than six o' you..." His massive cock had been rising; it stood level, stiff as a foot-long wrench, throbbing in dull blue veins. His right hand met Shiga's crotch, rubbing, squeezing... Fond, but openly primal. "... Maybe two o' this."

Ivan was blind to the puma, but looked his way, directing his snickers - and the start of breathy, porcupine's sighs - to either ear. He was taken aback; far too busy marvelling how easy Shiga broke and threw down his inhibitions to think of Terry's jumpsuit flaps. This changed, when they opened and whisked his fold, the flawless curve of skin outside his hole. Terry's stance grew closer; feet planted, but hips leaning in. His clothes lumped above the legs, mounded long and straight; laying so close to the full-body zipper, only stiffening, it found the force to slide out; falling hard, slapping Ivan's crack, fueling hearty groans from the apeboy, spinning his mind on luscious tangents.

'They knew... I'm obvious, but Shiga, he... Even I didn't pick up on him... But... Are they that filthy, or we alluring, or... This was so planned...'

The wolf's cock worked his upper crack, hotdogging, a slither in his crevice. Inside his shoes, his toes were flipping out.

'Ohhh God, he's BIG... Must be... Eight or nine... I just... Fuuuuck I want him inside... No more tease, I can't take it...'

Though none were spoken, every thought enabled sighs split with pitiful whining. Terry's cock sped through the buns, loving every wail but having no success in pushing it deeper. He huffed a breath, his chest expelled it, thick-furred and bare by the neck-high fly. "How can you be such a cockflask and still be this tight?" He complained, though his quick shove up the primate's crest would wound the thought of frustration.

The car's front end dipped; Burt's weight had met Shiga's, the younger male laid up on the mount, spellbound while the big cat just pulled his suit off him, arms, core, then careful down the quilled thighs. So came the gruff notes of Terry's second-in-crime. "You're kiddin'... 'Pointy' here's so loose in the drawers, I'll pop 'im fast..." He ended on a groan. The car dipped lower, Shiga sent them a yelp. Terry's face was awe and enthusiasm, knowing twelve fat inches just sailed in a hole like it was nothing.

But the wolf's hand didn't share his diversion, shunting hard in his pocket. He spoke down to Ivan, still absorbed in the boy's whines and how his head would dip to better-take his torment, wanting and waiting to be entered. "Packin' too much to loosen yuh... I'll give somet'in else the job." What he brought out was long, thin, black metal, angled two-thirds down its six-sided shaft... The dingiest of Alan wrenches, no give or forgiveness in its alloy. The rustle when it was produced, meant Ivan's head turned to see... And brows instantly went up, at-once scared and still desiring. The wolf was full-smooth in lowering, taking wrench's short end to the boy' prime, tight ledge. He halfway crouched; his loins never far from Ivan's, but leaning in his face to truly appreciate the work.

The tip first touched; then poked, and by Terry's hand, squirmed into the fleshy pit.

"OOOoohh..."

Ivan grieved, wishing to object, but to no more avail than when the wolf first laid a paw on him. A point the size of a BB, cold, agonizing; not by rough edges, but by Terry's jabbing it, working it around, just as he had to. Just as the ape hoped for with bigger, longer, what he'd already had raking up his bare flesh.

"Ohhhgod... F-fuuu-u-uck-"

"Hurtin' ya, boy? "

His care was sarcastic; the part was screwed in harder, whirled thorough, nudging all sides of the twinkhole. Ivan's hand was white on the window panel; he wobbled at the calves; his jaw clenched; it cast each cry like a victim's light simper, crunched between pleading for a stop and for more. Terry wielded with skill, more than in a trade's capacity; it went as surrogate, a prefix to lend the tight young male the room to take him.

'Tight' was underspoken. The wolf's paw worked wonders, but his mouth slacked in how the sight took him aback. "Fuckin' rookie heah."

Burt's target lay acquired, yelping, his bare ass on the carburator... Unable to run, and unwilling. Shiga's thick six inches took the puma's hand; fat fingers slid on the base, circling, tugging while it pulsed. Burt's tool was nearly double his size; and hitting his pucker, easily in by the tip, Shiga felt it. "Can't say that for this'n..." Burt called, over groans of his uke. Inch by inch, he claimed the porcupine, never so much as binding in the smooth anal sleeve. "... Unngh... Blows my mind..." He pushed fast; Shiga's legs shook and lifted with his gasping, eyes shut and angled to the ceiling.

Moments on-end, as the cat daddy set into rhythm, deep and strong use of Shiga's hole; all with his hand on the junk, stroking tight, tending the junior male's package and throb as if his own. So much moaning, riding hard, taking sheer bliss, then Shiga chanced to look down; seeing the portly face, its expectant grin, he knew his 'access' had fascinated. No truth would save his dignity... He picked a buyable tale. "When I... Drink, I... I black out."

"You're a liar."

Eyes were wide-to-the-pupils; Burt's answer was quick as thought, and like it fueled him, the stocky feline rammed in, taking full-profit of his giant length to pound the veteran sub. Twelve inches out, just to thrust back in and beat his young guts. Shiga's whine was steady; rippling, but unbroken, never shrill. He could take it; clenching lean, naked muscle, he looked through slitted eyelids on the heavy dom, shown for the secret slut he was, free to lust and drift on pleasure to his heart's content.

Terry's wrench had been ample; The primate quivered, air entering his hole from the gap a pen's width. New, sore, but so arousing, and there to heighten it was Terry's other hand, rubbing his chest while the wrench was lobbed away. A *tink* bounced from the wall; harmless, but feeding back a dent to the plaster; not so removed from how Terry's fingers found the boy's nipples and clenched. Ivan shouted, just to take his first squeeze and play with one bud; when the other slid up his stomach, latched on his other side and doubled it, zilch kept his teeth coming out in a yell, loud and servile as the grinning wolf could hope for.

Orders were a given. "Up here, boy. On my chest, lean." Terry's wish was vocal, needlessly; Ivan shot upwards, dizzy with crave and eager to meet demands, but the wolf still pulled him in, out the windowwell and into the chest fur of a cunning, swift master. He was prey, and his predator's mode stuck by design, right down to the boy's rump pushing on him like its cheeks hugged the bone with an avarice.

Terry's cheek sidled his; the man's stubble raked his skin, in itself making mincemeat of his modesty. Had Terry been silent, he'd have poured out the hunger that harnessed him, but the wolf's status - like his hand's position - changed. As a palm sped down his slender core, the words hit from next to his ear, so close his mouth warmly watered. "Like that, eh?... You'll be nuts for step two."

Air rushed through ape nostrils, in and out; he had no frame by which to judge what came next. He finally guessed, in the last fleeting moment when Terry's hand cruised past his right cheek, wedged between his crack and the wolf's phallus, and in the time of one breath, two fingers sank to digging and molesting his hole.

His teeth froze, neck scooped the air, wrists locked their pose. His vent was a howl, and his hole drew in around Terry's brutal handpump. None of them could hear the wolf's chuckle, though strong, as he indulged the boy's breakin. Ivan cried out like it would temper the roughness; he quickly found it wouldn't, and wails commenced to rattling the room, oscillating tools on their shelves. Shiga was heard over the rookie, purposefully. "Man, you're fightin' it... Don't seize up, let it be..."

The ape heard, and by either the advice or the interest, he relaxed. The effect was tremendous; that his back should raise, his airways open, while the sound became a floating moan, surrendered.

Insight continued from the porcupine, shaky as he moved by the ass up Lyla's hood, and back down. "You sit 'n'... Play loose... Watch it happen..."

Ivan knew before it was heard, the new reward he took for it. And Terry, feeling it unclenched, put those fingers to the root and jammed him with pressure. Ivan's moan redoubled; a surged jump slapped his balls by the action. But he shunned clenching; in truth, the very limit of what he could do.

Terry's chuckle hadn't gone dormant. "Your pal's wise. Surprised he never popped ya' cork..." Terry's hand moved like it would carve the boy's ass for himself; in his other hand, hot blood filled the seven-inch bone, tugged so slowly. He could even see the seam, the young ape's ballfence, splitting off the full tank of juice.

Ivan answered, ignoring the bounce in the car. "I don't... Know him..." He made a push-up from one exceedingly low bounce; Burt gave test to the suspension, pleasing and stroking and driving up the ass of his gapejawed, silent bottom.

"Then you just fell into luck, didn'tcha..."

His hand was far kinder on his dick than Ivan's hole... The steady, smooth crank of a man who'd anticipated. The palm wrapped it, rotating, feeding unmarred stiffness. He knew what Ivan only guessed; how much he'd fought himself not to just drag the boy inside from step-one, rob his black cherry ruthlessly. The time it took, the control, paid dividends on every knuckle-plunging strike. His chortle cruised quiet below Ivan's bellowing; musing how age and expertise wrought patience, with its sweet returns.

He put some to words. "Tough it out, boy, it's nothin' next to my tool."

Ivan forced a nod; gulped down the building drool, and bent to hardening himself with body-rolls; rocking back, pushing into Terry like his hole meant to swallow those fingers. It started painful; but in seconds, a few strong rep's, he'd constructed a tolerance.

Burt sent a question through the open hood, low and slimy. "Z'he close t' pink? " No sooner did moans fly from Shiga; his young, turgid staff was worked as hard as his ass; the puma's true colours were as submissive, as dominant, as sync'ed.

And the 'pink' was what he'd look for, same as Terry; a sub who came in tight, but with dirty work, that hole would open to the smooth, light hue of an unspoiled fuckglove. The champion's ride. "Damn-fact..."

Burt wouldn't have it with Shiga, his uncovered, closeted past; but Terry, his paw's thick mid- and index-branch, paved his way so clear that when he wrenched out and popped them free, nature was for Ivan to wince, writhe and arch it, presenting the tender walls.

Terry craned his neck in the way of a true lech; putting one finger's tip to Ivan's anus, tracing its circle. "Shit are you zoned..." He pulled the finger to his lips, but parted them and brought his tongue to the tasting. Musk, strong and earthy, hit his buds. He stepped forward; took hand off his dick, lay both on Ivan's cheeks, at their softest. To the boy, moments were hours: how the older male squeezed him, kept alive the burn in his hole, brutalized yet untaken. Then a mass lay itself in his crack; long, throbbing to a depth he felt in his prostate, more than his own swelling wood.

Terry could've hotdogged it more; neither would less-than-love it. But he chose to lay a hand atop his wood; push it in, 'til his dick's entire shape was shown to Ivan through the nerves in his crack. The boy pushed back into it hungrily... This was the sign, the clue that all was ready. Terry's hips pulled back; lining up with Ivan's 'eye', he met it to the lips of his dickhole. "... Yeh' fuckin' mine."

With the link, the smooth, mid-range thrust, both males lifted voice to the sky. Terry's pleasure was total; he was hard as days at Ivan's age, buried in the teen and striking gold with that first-time pressure. The orangutan throbbed, both in ache and in the length of his erection. It didn't take long to fill out his five inches; stiff as a board, more than ever he'd recall, they waggled in the pace of his pulse. The driver - the idol of fans nationwide - bucked him like a bronc, every inch jabbing 'til the boy's pink was hot and reddening.

Terry's hand flew up the boy's back, loving coldly the bones of his laterals. All the wails, joy and agony, wouldn't soften him. "Unnghyehh, that's...That's why it ain't loose... Fag like you... Too wussy..."

"Damn raht, It's wrote all over 'im..." Burt chimed in, as he filled a stronger ass with monstrous veined meat, shanking Shiga while he webbed the ensign's pre, trailing it to shine the spiny male's own meat, down to his nuts. He delighted in his doubling with Terry; though running fat, greasy hand up the porcupine's lean muscle, worshipping the swimmer's build like he did his uke's package, he minded what would most help his boss. "Cain't even man-up to take it like a queer."

Terry's "Fuck-in'-A... " Lilted in mumble... The facts, what Burt said accurately, drove him even more to not let up, and take his prey for all he wanted. In his grin, each fang was clear to the root... Ivan's hair was in his peripheral, tossing with its head in the flails, but they stayed above his sightline; where he watched his long member halfway-leave the boy, just to jam back in, punish the tightness and reward himself.

Burt's hand went crazy; so rubbing and massaging Shiga's dick, its sack moved like a hammock, when the greedy, filthy fingers weren't cupping and imbibing their heat. Shiga, for all he wasn't willing to tell, still had never known a man like this; hung like hell and mercilessly fucking it into him, while lusting on his pole like a cuckold, pleasing and exploring it; all wrapped in the form of this dirty, tubby, aged, putrid pile of man. The smell of grease preceded him, but an air of oil, burgers and unwashed skin flew from his chins on every thrust.

His jowls leaned into Shiga; The porcupine coo'ed moans, breathing his miasma. "Fuuuuck yerr ass'z bomb..." Shiga's neck lolled and bobbled; the fatcat's shaft ripped into him, so huge but so easy. "... Ungh... YEHH... SHIT, young'un..."

His uke just sighed, unleashed air in deep huffs, taking inch one-to-grody-twelve, the puma's sweat and flecks of smegma screwed into him. His insides ached and tingled, like that cock was a stick of hot peppers, burning and beating in his hole, so hard and amazing. To feel it, was almost to ignore what he heard; Ivan echoed in the cab, wails on the rise. He'd withstood the fingers, rode them out, but real action was a level that broke him. His hands on the seat, shirt dampening, goosebumps down his spine and sylphlike arms.

None of this cut down Terry's rhythm... His tail wagged, its bushy fur put dander to the air, as the other side's protrusion sank in the ape harder every minute. Burt and Shiga knew, without sight, his joy in the ape's misery. "Take, yah... Fuckin' wimp... I ain't... Lettin' off... Your privilege..."

He rammed with all his strength, the lot he'd built, years on the grind. He thought just as he'd spoken; for him to lay Ivan out, bent over, legs wide, the boy was favoured. Each whimper was delight for his ears, a clue he had too much for the untempered twink. Ego, and indulgence, fed his orders. "Talkt'me... Boy, make that... Bitch mouth... Sing..."

As Ivan did; though to an effect removed from what his dominator wanted. "OHHFucksssstop... Pleaseit'sso... Godithurts..."

"Ch-channel-it..." Shiga warmly advised, through full-body shakes of bliss. "Know-wh-what-it-is-and-give-in..."

Terry sneered, positive and cloying, working his meat in the boy. "Good call... If a... Li'l shit like you... Could manage..." His hips flowed into the plunges. "UNNRGG... FUCK... Yeah..."

Ivan's breath waffled; his hole was beaten red. The limit was upon him. "AHHHPLEASE... Pleaseno... Nomore..."

The first mourning was ignored... This time, Terry knew a problem when it sounded. He slowed, pinched each cheek in his hand and pulled with grudge out of Ivan. every inch was glazed clear; the pre that had begun, a trickle made to stop. Terry's head bounced; incredulous, but plotting, and bent to make his mount pay. "Boy, I'd have pity if I wasn't boned and thinkin' what you'll do." The primate's lips were as his body, full-stiff. His dick had started down; it didn't enter his mind, not with a questioning turn. "Wh-what I'll do?..."

Terry's hand drew up, and spanked the fire out his ass; the car shook like he jumped a mile. "Ya were loaned a break..." Wolf's hand reached under his neck; he was yanked back, out of the car, half-violent. Spun around, parted from senses, they came back with his face directly under Terry's chin, nosing the fur, feeling ire just ooze from every pore. There was no way out; his heart fluttered, and either dreaded or awaited his task; for its first, all the sudden, it could go either way. Terry's hands left him, took each side of his unzipped jumpsuit and tight-caped the boy. "You hide that face, all I want's the goddamn tongue. Down my chest, bathe it."

In the dark, the smell, the feel had him speechless. Coarse, curly tufts swept his nose, down his cleft, crunched into his lips. Pain lingered, arced up from his ass, but it escaped him; thought itself had left. In its place, a drive, opening his mouth and forcing his gob to the older male. He swept the first hairs lightly; from there, it overtook him. Standing, leaning in, wiping his tongue up and down the wolf's chestpatch.

Terry's chin lifted, eyes reclined at half-open; air emanated from his jawline, having Ivan's worship on his chest, the tongue's roll by his ribcage. The boy, despite his setbacks, showed a will... And his wolf boss profited. "Yeeahh... Look up here, faggot..." The ending word caught Ivan's focus; Terry stared down to a gasping servant, moist with his own spit, stuck by some of the looser hairs. "... Tastes like what, boy. Say it."

His hand, an older, bigger paw, pressed Ivan's nape... The primate's spine tingled, like bodily Christmas lights atwinkle. If pain still ran up his hole, he'd be the last to know. "Like... A real... A ripe man..."

"Mmmmm, good speech..." More than just that, Terry dwelled on the intent; what he knew was on Ivan's mind, licking and nosing his chest, even nibbling the well-adorned manfur. His hand crawled up Ivan's head; past the neck, over the scalp, pushing down. Ivan's path, the tongue's course, wicked down a trail of rich, salty fuzz; straight through Terry's abs, loose and shallow but very-much-there. It glided less than smooth; they had bouncing to contend with, the car underneath them, as Burt hiked up the action. Ivan's mouth loved on the wolf's body, the highway down from chest to something better, while Burt's animal lust had him pinned...

... Shiga's pain was extraordinary. He'd been pushed so far and hard, his scalp blackened from rubbing the underhood. His feet touched either headlight; his legs rose and fell like tides. Twelve inches of puma lay into him; even Burt himself didn't know when last he'd fucked a young ass so hard. One that deep; one that open, from how many before him. Sweat, within grease, bunched on his pulsing base; like layers of Vaseline, and working as well. Shiga's muzzle tilted left and right; the coo's, the howling pleasure never let up, never quit expanding. Burt held sway on every muscle, his and the porcupine's... All he couldn't control were his hands' dandling the boy's thick meat and balls, and the rising thirst in his voice. "UNNGH... Giveitupkid, gimme'dat... FUCKyeah, Ohh-hh-h..."

"Ohhhshit... Unn-gh-Christ-man..." Shiga's words held the tiniest of whines... More thoroughly, they hummed, came forth as the tonal, cultivated bliss they exposited. His head came down, fixing lazily to Burt; the stare, the admiration of the fat dom, his body, his work front and back, was worth him knowing. "God-damn... Fat... Stud... Hoss..." He managed a smirk, through his hole's beatdown, his nuts being pulled and loved harshly. So clearly, deeply in his element, blowing sighs on a wide-eyed guru. "Rancid... Fuck... Stoked on'is... Teenage tail? "

"SHIIIT ahwant'chou..."

Burt somehow pounced even closer on him; to be lauded for the filthy rake he was, his jowls, his beadier eyes, unhinged their hunger for young dick and ass. Shiga's dick was flushing, tugged so well and close in a giant palm, his nuts gripped and juggled in another; they accepted the same growing sheen as Burt's monster; nothing but grease, unclean and welcome to make it all glide so divine. Neither man was clear 'dom', despite one's being used... They each held a piece of that, and chased the other's want.

Their bounce, telegraphed through the car, led Ivan ever-lower on Terry... On his stomach, the trail fanned to a field, still coarse, salt on his tongue. Even seeing from above, Terry knew the change that came over. His pride, more than having one more notch in his 'belt', was the fact he'd brought out the boy's nature. Shrinking the shyness, leaving baggage in the dust, just pulling him to what his skinny ass was made for: Bowing, alms for the better, gruffer bastard who pulverized his innocence and stood now partaking. The wolf's grin went wider; his uncut bone closed on Ivan's chin, and pushed up with the force of his throb. Nothing would best the rattle in ape's throat; a rasping break, made so by how near he was to having it sucked. Tongue ran all down his pubes; rushing through, plowing their bush as if to steal away the taste from every strand. Ivan's heart skipped beats, when first he'd laid mouth on Terry's front; but down so low, the hair thickened, tasted stronger, hinted what he'd find just inches lower. His patience equaled Terry's... Threatened, running out, a liability for them. The wolf's hand whipped down his cheek; it was held tightly, condescendingly. He spoke, and Ivan listened. "Reach in the car. On the floorboard, hand it here."

A docile nod moved the orange head. Ivan didn't turn, he leaned, his back on the edge of the driver's-side-doorwell. He worked by subconscious, fishing for whatever lay under the seat; his eyes were ever-forward, on the open-suited, well-seasoned body. Terry even swayed a bit, forwardly, undulating... His length, moist with Ivan's holemusk, danced in his pivots. The boy's drool rained on the concrete; he felt something in the car, wide and thin, and pulled it out lethargically in trance.

Once it was in his hand, the shape and weight snapped him back to focus. He took his other hand to it; suspended it between them; breathed a wanton sigh for the steel and worn leather. Buckles brushed each other and 'clang'-ed... It tipped off Burt, whose low guffaw said he was wise to the menu. "Hahaah... Kid, you're in for it now."

Ivan's face split a smile, gaping awe and arousal. The latter magnified, when Terry's hands lunged down - with his exposed, hairy form - and seized the leather from his hands. "I know your class had tow straps." He held it up to Ivan's nose, stretching a length; the smell of tannin burrowed in. "You tie 'em tight. Not a thing slips or moves."

He wrapped its end on a willowy left wrist; two rolls around the slender joint, and he grabbed the boy's right one. His strength, his confident motion, saw to it the twink's endowment was aching-firm, tipped with damp bead. Ivan gazed level with wolf's hands; they were fuzzy with his focusing past, on the seven-long pipe that never so much as drooped, but jiggled with the wolf gyring arms, whirling fists to thread the flat band through itself, around his limbs, down his chest and skinny gut, under his ass like supporting it. The final twirl - the last restriction before winding it back to the wrist and tieing off - put his thighs together, making legs as helpless as the rest of him.

Indulgence, Terry's milk-'n'-honey, to stand high and give three seconds to admire it, grinning and disposing of his jumpsuit. Ivan stared his first on the full, scorching picture, McGruder from his jet-black scalp, the stank, jungly pits, down the barrel of a sumptuous cumshooter. One that encroached on him, nudged into his lip, while even the tongue lay frozen in earnest sensual overload, restricting as the strap did the rest of him.

The wolf's tone began deeper, lusher than Ivan yet heard. "Damn that's a good look for you, sissy..." By its quake, Ivan knew they both set on the brink, the outer rim of restraint. Terry's cock, potent as the air guns above them, jabbed his mouth ever-harder. "... Can't run, can't even tug yahself. Only way out's through this pecker. An' what's flavoured it... Your own fuckin' assmeat!! "

Neither lost control before the other; they shared the blame, Ivan's maw flying open and thrusting itself on Terry's cock, the well-sized tool thrusting right back. Ivan's lips sank in over it, tighter than his hole on that morning. He had little more experience with tasting meat... None would guess, by how he edged forward, defied his body's bind in leather to dive forward, feast on those inches, the hum sending just as many tingles up his spine as up Terry's. This, with Terry's roar - ferocious paradise - had puma cheering like a man in the stands, one who'd never know the debasement that went on ten yards below his feet. It so caught the overweight male, Shiga's back was wrenched up and off the manifold.

Burt's blubbered folds hid the might of an ox; Shiga was carried, with ease enough to lift and drop him on the monster, every step, seatless fucking. Ivan sat just clear of the car door's radius; its wind caught his fur, slamming hard when porcupine was dropped and half-spun... His hands by his back, inside two larger ones, taking foot-length shaft from behind. Ivan's mouth, Shiga's bare, valve-marked ass, and two superior cocks lay so close, swapping heat and sound, most directly to the thinnest, least-trained male, whose tongue swam euphoric on the wolf's pipeline-bulge for the taste of his own hole. Its burn had passed on to his wrists and legs, tied snug and durably.

Terry made a ditch of that tongue; he rushed on every thrust, racing to fuck that mouth, squint and clack fangs for how fine the shape and work of Ivan's. The boy's hum would fluctuate, pained in his tongue and the tab adhering it to lower jaw, as if the wolf's wood sanded it. Shiga's groans were mellow, tiny blasts of breath, his ass parted and thrumming for the monumental size he took in; still, he turned his head, to be Ivan's audience; watch in a sensuous gaze the ape's mouth getting used and abused. Studying the boy's lips, Terry's action, guaging a performance hard to buy from such an unpracticed second.

He muttered at first, Burt's invasion knocking his chest to the car; but the respect, the promotion, gained pitch to waft in Ivan's ears. "Daaamn... Hide it, man... You got it, go deep...FU-U-UCK-..." His break was being thrown up on the windowglass; his burly top was listening, and grew rougher. Not meant to make him stop, and it didn't. "... Clamp hard, lip it... Yeeeahh, like'n inside kiss... Shit, you're doin' so good..."

Terry's hands fell forward, planting on the door just down from Shiga, steaming their borders like those spiny, flat pecs. His leaning in made every thrust simpler, quicker, tougher. He stared down, appraising just like Shiga the primate whose mouth loved and funneled him, defying the straps to lean as far and adept as gravity permitted. If the rigid meat was Ivan's bread, its wielder's voice was his butter. "Yeeahh, fuck... Wimp's ON this-s-u-ungh... Got me... Forgivin' his hole debt..." Devoid of warning, he pushed hard; Ivan's weight toppled, his head whacked the car; the service hardly slowed, and in no time returned to its height. Behind him lay the cold painted metal; in front, and edged into both sides, Terry's crotch and chassis shoved like they meant to unite the bodies. Burt snarled, drool down his many chins, while Shiga lusted sidewise on the wolf and his anxious toy. Terry's mouth turned up at a corner; things were stewing upstairs. "Who'm I kiddin'... All you do is buy time... 'Til second blitz..."

Ivan, bound at the wrists, twitched many fingers... His brow bent less for the plunges than the fear soon-relit.

Terry took note with cruel zest. "Yeah, squirm all ya want... Won't protect you, boy... RRRnghyeah... You're mine, and that ass'z part o' you..."

Even clamped on Terry's dick, Ivan sent a clear whine. He wanted the taste, but only dreaded the wolf in his hole again. And he knew that bastard driver got off on it. His body swung, arms fanning by the elbows, all he could move of them. Even sucking Terry down, he madly shook his head.

A spiteful laugh met him. "Heheh, resist... Gets ya somethin', alright... I'll just... NN-n-rgh... Fuck it harder... Make you a... Pile o' used flesh... Bawling my name..."

Ivan thrashed like he fought the sheer notion. His arms wrenched at it, a short ten seconds... His legs bulged in shapes of calf muscle, but exhausted themselves without gain. He was no match for the leather, and his high, begging tone just bathed the nerves in Terry's cock, wobbling his knees. He hated how they spliced pleasure with suffering... While even further within, he'd never wanted anything in life like he wanted Terry, right then and there. He tuned himself to what endured of his pain below; it was less each time Terry's thick head scoured his throat, pulled in by thick, cozy lips. It was now halfway-familiar... Even surging again, it couldn't wreck him like the first time...

Terry's ears pricked, with Burt emboldening. "Gawdamn them's som' DSL..." He wrapped Shiga's hips in his palms; their pins made little more than pressure benches, his dick buried far past their height. Terry met his beady, antsy eyes. "... Could damn-well... Finish... If he... Wa-nts..." Harder, he smashed Shiga's asshole... The porcupine winced at Ivan, not sure if to curse or thank him for the ride going drastic.

"I don't care if he needs..." Terry's answer was dead-level; he put a hand on Ivan's chin, cupping in thumb and fingers, squeezing just enough around his jawline to buy the boy's listening. "... He won't have it 'til that ass is a crater."

Just one more thrust was pushed in; when it relented, past Ivan's lips, the air pulled along with it a starving moan. No longer did it have any link with oral, either skin-to-skin or in what he'd switched on in the soul of that twink. He was priveleged to see the very instant; when the monkeyface looked up at him, mouth wide-slack in his gasps, and the short, inviting mewls that said Ivan only wanted. All the driver would have of him, anything.

Terry's hips shoved forward; he rubbed up Ivan's lip, by his nose, every inch getting sniffed, licked, kissed with the utmost linger. A few rep's of this had Ivan's dick on the edge, by the thought, the feel. He saw Terry's foot lift, and the shoe slip off from fake laces, unsocked and strong with man-grime. He struggled with bonds again, to meet it, to nose and lick before the wolf even mandated.

He looked up, leisurely, admiring the teeth in Terry's grin. They moved to cathartic words. "Prepared. Heheh... Kid like you ruts, he wants it all, to the sweat on my toes." Ivan's tongue swiped his sole; soon, the pouty lips sucked and nibbled each nub. "Gutter shit, you fuckin' want it."

Burt's face flew up to Shiga's... Menacing like only a perv'd old man could. "Hear that, son? " He dove in, invading Shiga's mouth with huge tongue; sending only greed, subjugation. The kiss ended by him throwing his dick out Shiga's hole, doubling him over, while a hand shot down to meet his dick-level scalp. The meat stood free, level, enormous... Burt swung his body left, it smacked the corner of Shiga's lips. Coming back, it sequeled on the other side; porcupine cussed warmly, broken in-rhythm for the cockslapping. "Shii-iit... Yeah-hhh-hhh, hi'mme, huuuge-suuhmm'-biiitch..."

The puma flung a chuckle, his fat rolls sloshed and undulated. Eight slaps on his sub's muzzle; he squeezed his hand on the base, holding it out while inertia laboured to slow its sway. Shiga's lips had only to hug it, close around the tip, and he was down gobbing inch after inch. He thought how Ivan was shown to the wonder in this; but even a grizzled male like Terry had leagues more in hygiene. Flakes of dander, old cum, a paste of mancheese, stuck more to his gums as Burt went deeper, testing his jaw, inciting pain his sucker fed on. Shiga's strength was marginally more than Ivan's... His pull on Burt's member had the big cat panting, though a man with that much would have premium feedback to-boot.

Burt spoke again to his longtime crony; this time, he'd look instead at Shiga, edging up to that maw as size allowed. "When's... Last time... We had a tastetrade? "

Terry sniggered for remembering, and Ivan's tongue tickling his toepits. "Too fuckin' long, for sure." He wagged each toe; it had Ivan giggle, more positive output from the ape, the body and mind he'd snared.

"Just what ah's thinkin'... Mmmm, shit..." His eyes were back and forth: on Shiga's nomming, then on Ivan's nose and lips, youthful, tender, in the shade of Terry's heel.

The wolf cut him a smug gaze. "Well bring 'im here then." He tacked on a quiet mutter. "Tease them, not me..." Ivan's mouth cloaked his larger toes; so swiftly he'd gone back to a grin. The boy was choosing for size...

... His ape eyes saw Burt approach, and dilated. Shiga moved like a sock he dragged along, shuffling, never leaving his grip on the monster. Terry spoke warmly; Ivan missed every word, his jaw frothing for how much of Burt's girth he'd started to see, and the instant Shiga looked his way. The porcupine - sucking Burt right next to him, so deep his nose pressed in the belly rolls - said twice as much to Ivan, void of words. 'Welcome home, man. They showed'jou a role, it's yours to take. Give it up to 'em."

Ivan's feet scraped themselves, tapping the concrete, so aroused. The next ache would be his cheek, where Terry's hand struck him, stern and steering. "I said show my help that gullet, boy." He smiled, even nodding up to a pegboard with a ball-peen hammer hanging off. "Or THAT goes up your ass, then my dick."

The threat was half-idle, Ivan knew, as the wolf's foot lowered down. But not to be fulfilled... He breathed, and air cooled the skin of two cocks... One long and perfect, the other dirty, overveined and titanic. So hard for him to process that a man could be hung like Burt, curving down in the face of its firmness, oozing through the pinhead-hole of a thick foreskin. He stared up, and the stank male just mugged pride and ego right back. Next he knew, Shiga's forehead swept his chin; he crossed under, leaned up past the primate and held Terry's cockhead in wet kiss.

Ivan's mouth flooded for the feast laid out for him. Still, he gulped the spitriver, denied his cool prickles of sweat, opened wide and sailed over the peach-sized head.

Burt hit him with an 'Ooooh '... The cheese was bitter, musty, grit, yet so savory. What of it Shiga hadn't taken he lifted from every thick side, piling on the warm, wet tongue he slid down Burt's cathood. They clung together; in his eating a pool of spit and pre, the bunch'ed shreds of mansex flowed along with them, half a mouthful of a daddy's piquant leavings.

His moan was a whore's, piercing all their eardrums. He, and the others, knew he'd never be the same.

"Attaboy..." Terry came off sympathetic; a rarity, but to watch him guide down Burt's mass, straining to pass its girth, he was hip to what a boy like that would face with lips stretched to their extreme. But from there, the wolf's verve poured right back into him... Shiga, building on a past, did what Ivan hadn't: clenched his teeth gently on the wolf's tight foreskin, and pulled.

Ivan's nose dug into a mass of pubes. Thick as Terry's, but coarse, oily, fat spindles that plowed the tiny lines of his snoutskin. His moan was muffled, but exhuberant... Somehow, not even trying, he'd put it all behind his chops... All he felt of discomfort was a shape in his throat, one his body accepted. His eyes flew wide on Burt's yell. "Shiiiiit, th' shrimp don't gag! "

Terry laughed in honest shock; it became a shudder when Shiga went on pulling, nibbling and tending his foreskin, fueling sensory overload. The wolf seized, his forearms bulged as if weightlifting... Burt pulled himself out Ivan's mouth, hung an arm on Terry's shoulder and smacked the fire out of the wolf's cock with his own.

It incited just what he foresaw; Ivan whined, taken off his new toy, and Terry's core twitched like hell, with the meatpunch yanking him out from Shiga's teeth. The wolf's groan was a rising explosion. "OoohhhhugHFUUUUCK!! "

The uke's whispered their own steamy curses. Burt had bought the time just to prod his colleague. "No pain, no gain, y' always said-YEAHhh-" He was taken off-guard, Ivan's mouth closing back on him, faster and with ease unlike before. He looked down to a primate who took him like dribbling a ball, up in swift jumps and down with ravenous bobs; the crane in puma's neck was near-fatherly. "Guh'head, s-son, play with yerr food..."

Every crumb of smega now swam in Ivan's stomach; Burt's monster would shine, but stink and taste just as it always had; even the best of cocksuckers can't erase the trait of such a foul man. One who gaze down, admiring the work that had his sighs so pleasurably unstable. But his eyes would wander... Shiga's lips, his wavy teeth, played their own way with Terry's hood, It dragged up the wolf's rigid glans, retreated when released, before regrabbed in the gentle nib. He went for a while, then chanced to gaze up, and see Burt eyeing in approval... He let go, Terry's skin all but snapped back on his dickhead, a hit to wrack it with bliss in such a wave. The porcupine moved his head to Ivan's... Just a moment, watching the chimp from close enough that he could French the twinkish male astride Burt's shaft. Instead, he leaned up; nosed Ivan, and through nothing more, communicated.

The ape switched off; pulling back to let his cohort on, and taking the dick he'd left behind, the manageable wolf's. He'd heard and known what Shiga did for Terry; now, plunging to love on that throb, he tried the nibble... Terry's response was to pivot, and fuck the living daylights out his mouth. Beginner's luck, for a boy who learned quick, and their superiors unleashed all the praise of a smashing job.

"Goooodboah... Eat that dick... Gawd-DAAAMN-yeah..."

"Fuu-uck... Hungry, are yah... Shit-kid-mynutsah'-gonnasendit-..."

"Yeeeah... Slurp that bigass line, y'... Y' hot bitch..."

Wolf and puma would edge their bodies in; two different builds, accents and sizes, come together to frot on each other and the pair of busy maws. So long it was this way, the boy's heads dipping, rising, then dodging each other to trade place on the elder men's pipes.

"Shiiit, they got me... Closer'n close... B-Burt..."

"Y-... Fuuuuck, ye-eah-hh?... Yeeahh, buddah? "

"... He ain't... Gettin' me... Now. I want... Yah know what I... Iiiii-fuuuuck, get 'im off..."

Burt, for all his bulk, could move like a falcon. Otherwise, he'd never have swooped down, clutched Ivan's chin in time to force him off, fighting the rush in his own weapon. Shiga drowsily caught onto the moment, the redneck bear-cat's save. Ivan fell back; his back rolled loosely on the concrete, a light jar of his mental state, insufficient to reduce the animal need. He rolled back smoothly, a haste with full control, like limbs and tendons paired up to fling his mouth back on the driver's wolfhood.

Terry recompensed by snatching up his arm; held by the pit, he was tossed to the floor, landing chest-down. The same moment, heat grew above him; Terry sprawled his seasoned form over the boy, pinning him. The open jumpsuit billowed, a tent for the bottomless uke and his lean, hairy boss. "Get the sledge."

Burt knew when he was addressed; standing tall, he rubbed safely down the back of Shiga's headquills, petting who sucked him. "What'll we do about... Spiny, here... Sure he gets it, but I'm wantin'-"

"-I saw. Then we'll use it the other way, just grab it." The words were impatient, but the tone hotly-mean, Ivan face-down below him. They'd both threatened to climax; now, lying over his monkeyslut, he would grin his widest, as the boy's asshole found his steel-hard length and pushed toward it.

Burt talked down to his sub', the tone lushly rough. "Put'churr... Legs.. Past mine... Walk w' me, or else." He had Shiga obedient, and the younger perv crooked his legs to behind a fat pair of calves. Burt stepped backwards, talented to shuffle with his musky heft in balance, Shiga's mouth still on and busy. His feet and the sub's would sync; they spiderwalked, and on ten yards' travel - with Burt's hand raising for the ball-peen, fanning his bush of pit hair and the wee drips of sweat - his gut moved like jelly, over the minion who licked, throated, made a salty, pungeant meal of his giant cock. Working it with such zeal, he could barely walk back, and only cough up moans...

... But for Terry, bearing witness to the steps and each mouthdunk, there was much to say, his bone rubbing Ivan's most tender of ends. "You wanna hurt. You live to take a real man. Have 'im fuck you raw. Have his cum flood your asshole. S'why you're tight, boy." He stroked Ivan's cheek, as one would tend to their pet, a weak, subordinate mutt for their gratifying. "You make 'em shoot hard. Bring 'em in like revolving doors. No hole's better than your kind... Built for pounding." He nursed his critical stiffy on the button; Ivan garbled phrases of want, blurring humble pleas with begging. Pre' was a trail, unbroken from Terry's dickhole, down his thick fren, to every crease and nook in Ivan's pucker. Its second coming would smoothen, if the ape even needed that aid. As Terry's jumpsuit blanketed the heat, the manstench, left no air around their naked unity, he thought on Terry's voice, his rule, the air blown up his neck and by his jawline, from a man who would see they were joined.

The 'tent' flew up on one side; Terry reached for the hammer Burt handed him. Ivan saw no more than concrete; he concentrated, hearing squeaks like something unscrewed. He then flinched, with the hammer's top banging concrete, rolling a short lone stint. It came to rest by his temple; he could see nothing attached to it. So the handle...

.... No time for thought, the jumpsuit seemed to blow away. Ivan's mind betrayed him, so aroused it mixed and fragmented all oncoming changes. Terry's arm thrust under him, the wolf reverse-pouncing, carrying, slamming him on a cold, smooth shelf, the bodies and words and motion thereabout him. A slackjawed squeal signaled his return to coherence... Shiga stood next to him, leaned forth on elbows, same as he. The 'shelf' was Lyla's trunk... the tailpipe lay under him, and behind, edging up to his backside, Terry's member was guilty for his squeal. It poked, toyed with his tautness... A hair's breadth of pain came back to him, that by now he respected, relished, sought with more rearward jabs.

His help was noticed... And he himself observed the huge cat between Shiga and he. At the same time he saw the big cat's furred arm - wrapped down Shiga's haunch, kneading hard, younger inches - Terry glorified the ape's willing turn. "Accepted it, eh... Good cumflute... I don't claim goin' easy on yah..." He poked his firmest, straightest, pushed it; with hands on Ivan's ribcage, pulling in. The sub's head raised, straightened his throat in a cry; beneath, Terry's point was brought-plain. "'Cause we... UNNGH... Neitheh... One... Want that..."

Ivan's breath ran away with him, fractured, sputtering... Terry's huffed harder, livening, his dick bore down in the boyhole's resistance. What neither could see, on Burt's far side, his right arm... Though Terry knew what it held, and where it'd go. Chins of a big cat spread on Shiga's neck; the hammer handle clasped in his palm, below the flabby limb that guided, positioned its nub for a passage. Terry's rod sank to the base, plying his primate... Shiga faced a new friend-in-submitting, gleaning Ivan's bliss in a world opened up, until the cold oak handle met his crevasse.

"O-OHHH-HH-"

Ivan's ears perked, for Shiga's wailing higher than he. The faux-swimmer's build of that porcupine dipped over the trunk, Burt's drool making spots up his spinequills, collecting in their canyons. The ass gave right around it, and the mind elevated: 'Damned if I don't feel... Every side o' that wood... ' A chill marked his mewls, the heat of his asspit tempered by the puma, the oaken beam in his plump fingers.

The primate, thinnest, lightest, most novice of them, took Terry with grace, and just listened. Shiga's dick slid up the trunk's rounded curve; his hips helped themselves down the handle, putting heat to the wood. Near as loud as Shiga's grief were the belittling whispers to his ear, Burt's reducing him to a young, nubile trinket; they leaned on each other, flowing together. Their bodies did the same. Terry's pressure ensured the ape to know his ass was filled, deeper, harder each count to ten. None of them would be long; but Ivan saw past the gloried moment, to pay back a friend. "Yeah... Bear down... Straight-up in there... Like your ass eats..."

Most all the porcupine knew was that his head slowly turned, until he stared right on the skinny monkey, the least likely to cast what he'd just heard. He came to know he was smirking; he was un-alone in that. He groaned out a rebuttal. "... It do-oe-esss... Fuuuck it IS..."

"Behind... Your dick.. So close... When it's inside..." Expert he may not've been in dirty chat, but they all caught the heart put into it. Terry trumped them all in response; jacking it up, and forward, for his long tool to fuck the tightest ass from above.

Pre flowed in rills down Ivan's taint; it faintly distended on Terry's every shove. He wished so hard his neck could swivel far enough to see down that stripped driver... The moans, gusting accented nothings, all too much. "Tell 'im boy... All yah gonna say... Not easy... To talk... Shiiit, boy..." The ape smiled; even a veteran like Terry was losing it. He realized the power, the treasure of an ass like his. Paying what filled it, over and over, bowled into putty by the unfamiliar bliss on his prostate. Watching Shiga's pleasure, and in his peripheral, Burt's arm muscles bulging under stiff flab to shank that hammer in, and his loins, creeping up on this uke with heavy shuffling.

The bulbous gut scraped his left haunch, its grime slick on bare skin, while the handle pushed on. His core went stiffer than the oak; it hit the end, and was pulled steady back, just to ram as deep, faster. Now as hot as Shiga's ass, unto which it pounded, crushed his hole with a strength given singly from the puma. Hard and thick was the handle, but his meat would shame it, hanging lowest at the tip for unfathomable length. His tongue sworled spit, randy breath, through the strands of his moustache... He handfucked Shiga ever-harder, stepped even closer; the porcupine, through wails and spasmic flinching, felt a huge, sticky glans slide in with his own... Burt's left hand had made friends of his giant cock and Shiga's sub' tool. Ivan pined to see more, what he couldn't past the big cat's beer belly... Though his ears hoarded the slide, the sound of Burt's hand spreading their pre, combining it, coating down their rods, then sinking to the balls, where a rambunctous snicker spoke pleasure's rise.

Ivan threw more of his impulse on the table, even honing it where Shiga'd most appreciate. "Ohh he's into you... Strokin' those nuts, fi-fingerjuggling... Wants that load... Nice and churned when it comes..."

He knew Shiga would croon, his mind put more on the puma's rough, greedy fondling. Terry's input was divine: grabbing hard on his chest, wrenching back to point his twinkdick straight up and his ass down over wolf inches. McGruder held zero back; what he could do, more now than in his physical prime, coursed in every pump, every spoiling of Ivan's tight-issue. Ape felt his hips picked up... Terry had him in the air, like his weight mattered even less than his canyon's resistance. Gravity sank him on the stick, Terry helped it. Clear goo streaked out from his crack. Thrusting sent droplets to the concrete, below Lyla's tailpipe... Burt's, his shapely uke's, stuck like glue on their cocks and ballbags, the porcupine's much closer to Burt's size than their rods for how it backed up with waiting loads. The more Burt teased him, molested his sack, rubbed that huge filthy monster on his young dick, the less time it would idle.

To the cat, he was an object, no less than the ape to Terry. Burt's skin dirtied his; the breath hit his nose, curdling, shipping crude praise. "Fuuuuckthemtenderbits... Wut a pair on yew..." Shiga met him with moans; the huge palm pulled his scrote like hell, a defiling affection. Burt's cock slid hard on his, so massive yet barely moving his tool. It was too hard... While his neck craned, his lips cast out wail after wail, he felt the tingle's first reach. Burt came aware of this by the spiny male's stomach, newly-petrified... Shiga shrieked, the orgasm growing as Burt stepped in, quarter-spun him and stood their wood together, beating throbs to each other's ureter. Burt's glans was all to reach past his stomach... Shiga's dick had no air, touching only skin, that of his vile, studly senior, pulse-on-pulse.

Quick as Shiga could wail, Burt joined him with bass. The first rope shot up, left Shiga's dick with the deepest throb he'd known, but Burt's gut was an awning to capture it. The pot belly, quaking in sloshes, took hot icing from navel-down... As he bellowed, leaned in and took the male's tongue in his, Shiga's jizz was ribboned with feline loads... Same in speed, but heavier, spraying like each of those twelve inches catapulted. Cream hit their chests like a waterfall; Shiga's pecs and Burt's hairy moobs, flooded with cat seed, drenched above while Shiga's cum exploded on his dick, on the base of Burt's, working through the flawed seal, the creases between them. Ivan screamed a coo; all of that pair - the bodies, the meat, their peaking shouts and push in their hips to frot wildly - so differed, but met as a marvel, pushing his ape dick to the edge. He learned Terry's power; one arm stayed around him, holding him alone, with the other down on his twink piece, jerking and pulling even closer to the goal. The wolf had patience, but its need was gone, the monkey's legs in the air. Ivan knew the count wouldn't hit ten before he'd cum, and Terry with him, first-blood in that relenting cherry.

For his buildup, he watched. Burt fucked Shiga's cumming rod with his own, squinted, shoved tongue into the spiky junior, rumble-and-gasp while showering their upper halves, mancream that didn't want to end. He had his uke more than controlled, more than conquered... United. They moved as two, but thought, felt, exploited each other as one. Last Ivan saw, forcing his mind to process, was the hammer dropped to the ground, to be dripped on, Shiga's spunk between their feet, up their ankles, in the fuzz of Burt's inner thighs... Must be a solid sheet of globs on his dick, down their balls, where it hosed out in a cone of projectiles...

"OhhHHHHHH-HH, GOD!!!... "

Ivan's head could've bashed Terry's, had it recoiled more speedily. The cum fired just a few short inches, more of it simply slowed... But to him, it was lava, mantle fleeing his core in eruptive peak that shook him to the bone.

"FUUUCK I'M CU'H-...SHIIT, OHH-H-H!!... FUUCK!!..."

"Shoot, boy! Give that jizz some AIR! "

Shock therapy to his prostate, which gave without pause, like Terry's cock up his hole. Cumming tightened it; the ride intensified, for his poor hind and Terry's throbbing stick. His neck whisked Terry's collar like a cuddle; the whines, the high, pleading sounds of his climax surged in time with leaks from five inches.

Rug burn swelled from Terry's chesthair, and the salt-'n'-pepper fur underpinning it... All was heat, all would scorch him ass-to-cheek as he emptied his milky gush. He could no longer hear cat or porcupine; his ears shut off, with ass beaten rougher and rougher. Terry's dick stabbed to crippling depths... Above them, Burt's voice went to his boss-made-accomplice, trailing off his own gutteral peakyowls. "Yeahh, fuck it out'im... Y'took'im hooome, T', give'im a gift... Up in there..." He was taxed, breathless; his peak, and Shiga's, melted down to an end made warm with more tongue, lips hard-locked and sending Shiga the acrid stench of an unabashed manwhore. Their hands wrapped each other, Burt's more clinically-wanting... Semen covered every frontward patch of skin, and spewed out from their chests butting mutually.

Terry's thrusts became longer, drawn-out but lunging harder, jumping up Ivan's craw. A few less-gentle tugs on Ivan's dick... A groan that was born to escalate...

"FUUHH-HCK-K, YOU FAGGOT!! "

The term's fond appearance was icebreaker, the first anal shot Ivan took. The ape's whines had only dipped, but outdid themselves; with his last cumsprings weeping, Terry started ropes, snarling yells, injecting. Ivan's toes snapped air bubbles, so quick did their joints go to bend; each thrust, each's shot felt like a mugful.

"TIGHT-FAHKKIN'-FAIRY-ASS!!... GAHDDAAMN!!...

"Ohhh-hh... Ohhhshii-i-it!!-"

"FILL'DAT... WUSSY HOLE... FLAMIN' BITCH..." Seven ropes, the wolf's shouting rasped in his ear. Eight, then nine, and the stubble sanded ape's cheek. Ten, eleven, he squealed with pressure; Too tight below to let any out, he was a resorvoir, taking Terry's jizz and damming in the liquid heat.

Burt and Shiga had settled; their mouths left each other. Puma's fingers drug their fat stubs over his chest... Fresh-webbed with cum, he lifted to Shiga's open mouth, smearing from hand to a hungry gob. Their difference in size, the position, meant every drop he licked and swallowed was Burt's... While his matted, covered all of his still-chubbed pecker, its nerves still in hum for enduring peak. Burt's monster, as it would 'pull' a bounce and fill at the head, also clung to its 'moment', tipped with cum the breadth of a marble. It was their turn to watch... Though a tad late, they swung to watch Terry fuck the last of full-force shots in a primate's cave.

Terry's groans breezed through his teeth, leveled off. The boy's aching cries grew weaker, lower, found a range close to that of his speech. Few words could make it out of him; he chose valiantly. "That... Was a... Godsend... So much... S-...S-sir..."

The wolf's final pushes rocked his ass; they'd shifted closer, gravity's role when thrusts abated... It brought Ivan to feel his ass was hugged, an oddly-sentimental take on what was done. Terry meant to let him down; before he could, there was a hand, what had been on his dick. What had stroked out his sperm, now finding his cheekfur and rolling it, teasing with no care for the mess he brought. "You'll go far, kid. Stick with me... No, I'll stick with you..." He leaned lower, putting mouth to Ivan's neck; the orange, young hide was nibbled, all-but crossing ape's eyes in bolstered afterglow. His bod was lowered; Terry's hand swapped a stomachhold for a lean, firm swipe down Ivan's crack. He nearly yelped for it to come back so clean. "Gahd-damn... Stole it ALL, ya cumbag..."

The ape, on next-breath, felt more confident than ever. His grin was picturesque. "Gotta have a memento, don't I? "

He and Shiga were close enough for contact; theirs was to bring a hand together, not even shaking, just holding. The smirks they traded weren't just for the sights, Ivan's face streaked with cum like warpaint, or Shiga's chest white as a Yeti. The porcupine squeezed; Ivan reciprocated, act and message.

Burt, his round shape, shoved inbetween them, giant chub swinging. "How 'bout jehs' a round two? "

The ape, as he near-leaped into thick arms, took just fine to that. The year would be a muggy one.

- End.

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