FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Hey everyone!

Sorry for being so silent lately, I have been so busy lately with work and life, sorry. The idea of this story is quite old, I think I imagined the premise a year and a half ago, more or less. I managed to develop it just recently, and this was born. I hope you will enjoy this story, and that you will show me with a fave, a comment or a vote!

Thank you Gritou, for being in my life *hug*

The great open space of the office was quiet, night had fallen already, the cubicles remaining unmanned and dark after the departure of their inhabitants, only the feeble security lights glowing. Or so it should have been, since a faint light was coming from a solitary cubicle, the distinctive sound of fingers typing a keyboard resonating loudly in the room.

There it sat Christian, eyes fixed on the screen, looking at the opened tabs while he wrote in another, his posture conveying the tiredness that he was feeling. The table light was just enough to prevent restraining his eyes, but still his lids felt like they had weights attached to them, his whole will focused on not letting them down.

"Fuck you boss." The sheepdog softly cursed, and he didn't mean it in a good way. The damn badger deserved to be fucked roughly and without lube for assigning him this task! Not that white canine avoided doing his work, just that his boss could have asked him to write this report, due the morning after, a bit earlier than 5 p.m.

He had stayed at work after the usual hours, when he should have been at home, in comfortable clothes, watching something on TV while nursing a cool beer. Instead the dog was calculating possible profits and trying to elaborate the results in a good way, so to convince the possible client.

Well, not it was a quarter to seven and he was finally reaching the end of it. The Maremma sheepdog wished he could feel satisfaction for finishing this rapport, but the tiredness and the knowledge that he wouldn't be paid for the extra hours crushed any good feeling.

Adding his name at the end and attaching all the files to an email, he sent the damn thing to his boss, waiting just enough for the confirmation to log off from his computer. The massive dog stretched, arms held high over his head, a big yawn parting his jaws; after hours being crouched in a tiny space made all his muscles ache badly.

Standing up, Christian fetched his jacket, the one item of his suit that he had been able to discharge, along with his tie; no need to keep up dressing codes when there was no one else around. Waling to the elevator, he didn't peer in his coworkers' cubicles, preferring to cut the chase and just go home as quickly as possible.

The entrance desk was, of course, empty, the ever-smiling attendant not present at the moment, lucky her. Pressing the "Down" button, the dog prepared himself for the waiting and got a surprise once one of the elevator blipped, its doors opening and washing the entrance with stark light.

Not wanting to stay any second longer, the white canine dashed inside, almost crushing against the single occupant of the wide cabin. His reflexes were slower after a full day of work, but he managed to avoid complete defeat and stopped himself just in time.

"Good evening." He saluted, years of corporate life giving full control of his ears movement, radiating only control and composure. And tiredness, but that was to be expected at such hour.

"Good evening." The suited-up Rottweiler answered back, one brown eyebrow raised. Christian recognized the guy as a worker for another of the companies stationed in the building, and he had met him a few times in the elevator or in the food court. For the rest, he was a complete stranger, so that meant no chitchat, which was just fine.

Turning away and facing the doors, he patiently waited for them to close, a glance to the button grid showing that the other dog was headed to the same parking level as his. Relaxing, he listened to the music broadcasted by the audio system, luckily not the infamous Girl of Ipanema, thank goodness, but some recent hit.

The sheepdog refrained from singing out loud the chorus; after all he didn't want to advertise himself as gay to the other occupant of the elevator. He was out to some colleagues, sure, but that canine wasn't his friend, not even a co-worker, and he had adopted a policy, over the years, not to reveal his sexuality to furs he didn't trusted.

Then, it happened. The elevator roughly stopped, making them wobble on their legs, lights and music going out before the former came back in the form of a red emergency light. The terrible truth of being stuck in that relatively tiny space was immediately apparent to both dogs.

"Fuck, not this..." Christian groaned, paw rubbing his forehead. This was the perfect ending to a fucking terrible day, which didn't really want to end.

"Hold on, no need to despair." The rottie calmly stated, his paw already opening the panel and revealing an aged-looking red phone. The sheepdog didn't trust such a device, so he went to collect the number of the maintenance company, displayed over the buttons just for this kind of things.

"Good, this thing doesn't work." The other canine revealed, only his not so delicate hanging of the phone showing his annoyance. The immaculate-furred male just snorted, having typed the phone number while his companion wasted time, raising his iPhone; the technological device didn't give out the hoped sound of a succeeded calling, but the disembodied voice who apologized for the lack of signal.

"My phone is busted. Can you try yours?" He asked, turning to the other male and discovering that he was already doing that. The look on his black and brown face was enough to tell him that he got the same result.

"Not even the 911 works... We must be stuck in the underground floor." The rottie said sorrowfully, his triangular ears dropping. The revelation elicited a sigh from the fluffy dog, finding no use to curse or get angry if you couldn't do a thing about it.

"The guards won't hear us calling, and they might not discover the malfunction until tomorrow morning." The unnamed fur continued, stating facts that were quite obvious. "Since we are going to wait for a long time, better to sit down, no?"

Christian just nodded his big head, slowly letting gravity drag him on the ground and resting his massive rump on the pretty bare floor. He didn't care if it was dirty or not, his mind was just filled with the immense realization that he was stuck there, not getting any of his well-earned rest. He leaned on the wall, the bumping of the skull muffled by his gorgeous head fur.

The sheepdog caught the other dog doing the same, but he was too focused on staring the red emergency. The white canine was now wondering if he could manage to sleep in such a place, he sure felt tired enough for that; any hope of slumber was put aside when the mysterious stranger opened his muzzle again.

"It is pretty clear we are employed by different companies, but you look familiar... I certainly remember to have seen you from time to time." The Rottweiler started, with a tone that would have been fit in a bar, in front of cold beers, and not in a stinky elevator.

"We must have met passing... sorta." The short answer was muttered by the tired suited dog. He didn't feel like chatting, but it would have been bad for their forced co-habitation if he growled at the rottie just a few minutes in it.

"So, this is actually the first time we met! I'm Caleb Sanders, nice to meet you!" The dark canine exclaimed, all too cheerfully for his tastes. But he was offering his paw, and it would have been rude and counterproductive to just ignore him... Plus, he was kinda cute.

"I'm Christian Ianni." He curtly presented himself, grabbing the offered paw. Black and white smashed, big hand meeting big hand in the universally greeting. As they did that, the sheepdog noticed the other's triangular ears flicking in what he recognized as surprise, even if mild one.

"Is my name funny?" The massive white dog grunted, guessing that the cause of Caleb's puzzlement was that. He knew that it wasn't such a common surname, but still there was no need to show that.

"Your name? No, not at all." The rottie grinned wildly, denying the obvious.

"Spit it out, I know what that flicker means." Christian insisted, putting up a nice, friendly face, or so he thought. The grin of the other canine was actually quite infectious, to tell the truth.

"Well, I expected a Spanish name, or French, actually. Not Italian! Is it Italian?" Caleb exposed his thoughts to him, furrowing his eyebrows while trying to figure out the origin of that surname.

"It is Italian. But now, why did you think that?" The sheepdog asked, intrigued. Sure, they never guessed he was of Italian origins, but still, it was nice to hear the theories.

"Well, you look like a Great Pyrenees, the Pyrenees are between France and Spain, if my geography isn't failing me... Which I am suspecting it is." The Rottweiler dropped his ears a bit, but the smile that followed indicated that he was just joking around.

"Oh yeah, that." Christian snorted loudly, not being happy of discovering the source of the other's puzzlement. "Everyone assumes that I am a Great Pyrenees because I am big, white and fluffy."

"You are big, white and fluffy." The dark canine pointed out, winking at him. "So, what are you exactly? If I can ask, of course."

"I'm a Maremma sheepdog." The tired fur answered without pleasantries. "You can find us in Tuscany and in Abruzzi. Mostly."

"You come from Tuscany?" The rottie exclaimed, eyes wide open, almost clapping his paws in happiness. Despite knowing this guy for just, what, fifteen minutes, his cheerfulness was growing on him, so Christian didn't stop the good-hearted chuckle.

"Ain't so fancy. My great-greatparents came from a little town in the mountains of L'Aquila." The dog corrected the wrong idea, and then added more once he saw the confused expression on the elevator-mate's face. "That's in Abruzzi."

"Oh. So, no fancy wines and hills..." The Rottweiler sniffed, looking disappointed by the revelation.

"I can survive with that. So, what are your origins?" The bulky sheepdog asked, feeling that he could do that now.

"Nothing special. Usual American mix: a bit of German, a bit of English, and so on." Caleb dismissed, his paws rising to undo his tie and open a bit his shirt, a bit of chestfur poking. "Is just me, or it is getting hotter?"

"We are two big furs in a small place, no wonder it is." The white furred male replied, feeling the hear growing in their metal trap.

"Fuck, I can't stand that." The rottie muttered, taking off his jacket in few, smooth moves. Christian did just the same, reasoning that there was no use to keep proper decorum when you risk sweating yourself dead.

The conversation died after that, the two of them resting and leaning to the walls, facing each other. Now that he had achieved silent, the white dog found out he couldn't sleep as he desired: the temperatures, while not unbearable, just kept him wake, some sweat coating his blue shirt. Dark stains marked the shirt of the fellow canine too, and they were both slightly panting now.

"Fuck with this." The big Italo-american thought, deciding that he didn't wanted to suffer too much just to keep appearances. After all, they were trapped, and alone, and both male, so no need to be prudish. He stood up, carefully starting to unbutton his shirt, revealing more and more of his fur while doing so, the dark-colored dog staring at it, ears flicking.

"Oh, that is a good idea!" Caleb said, discharging his white shirt in a rush and without the carefulness of his companion. They were shirtless and sitting again, and now the sheepdog could see that the other had a very nice muscle guy and toned pecs, the tan patches just showing that even more, if that was possible.

Thinking that it wasn't good to leer on the stranger, Christian averted his eyes, leaning his head on the metallic surface behind him as an excuse for that. He still felt the eyes of the rottie on him, or so he recognized from the tickling sensation running through his spine; straightening his neck, he got his confirmation when he met a pair of brown eyes.

"What?" He asked, curious to know the reason why he was subject to such an eye inspection. The Rottweiler didn't shy away, still looking at him almost with impertinence.

"Have you ever been mistaken for another species? Without shirt you look almost like-"

"Like a polar bear? Yeah, lots of times." The Maremma dog interrupted him, cutting straight to the point. The irony was that a few guys had asked him that when he went to gay bars, and not referring to the gay slang term. That he was a bear by homo standards, of that there was no doubt.

"Actually, no. It is obvious that you aren't." Caleb shook his head at the foolishness of some people.

"So? What do I look like?" The sheepdog persisted, curious now. There was another option, a very flattering one, but there was no way a stranger straight would tell him that!

"If it wasn't for the muzzle, you almost look like an albino lion. You have a leonine air about you..." The rottie answered, moving his paws as if tracing said air.

"Well, maybe. Thanks man." The big canine muttered, hoping that the dim light was hiding his blush.

"No need to thank me, it is the truth." The other replied, smiling happily at his companion of misfortune. Another lull in the conversation hit them, both just trying not to pant too much and ignore the discomfort of the situation. A quick glance to his watch told Christian that it was already past eight, past time for him to get rest and, more importantly, something to eat.

"Do... do you have something to eat?" He asked unsurely, hating himself for sounding somewhat bashful; he didn't want to bother the other because he felt a little hungry... Luckily, any growl from his stomach would be covered by the buzz of the tiny lights.

"Uh? No, I never have snacks on me, too tempting. I need to scale down my weight." The rottie asserted, patting his not so big belly, getting out a loud and pervily satisfying smack. "You?"

"Yes... Ten floor over our heads, in the drawer of my desk." The Maremma dog lamented, his ears slouching a bit for the sadness.

"Seems like we will skip a meal then." The daddy canine said, groaning as if in pain. "Gosh, why is it so fucking HOT in here?"

"We give out a lot of heat, it seems..." Christian mused, perking his ears a bit so to hear if the fans weren't working. They were, luckily, so that meant they would be hot but not out of oxygen.

"Well, just like this isn't enough. I need to take off my pants too!" The darker fur decided, already busy with his shoes and not waiting for the reaction of his roommate. "You should do the same."

"O-okay, as long as I can do that and keep my boxers on, sure." He agreed, thinking that there was no risk in doing so. He would have his underwear on, plus it was all obviously non-sexual, no way he would get a boner out of it, no?

The sheepdog went through the familiar motions of undressing himself from his lower garments, trying as much as he could to fold them and piling them in a neat heap. He got his socks off too, his bare paws stretching on the reddish carpet covering the floor.

Done with that, he turned to face his companion again, just noticing now that he was just one cloth shy from being naked, as he was himself. And that particular piece of cloth wasn't leaving anything to the imagination, since it was that weird hybrid of a boxer and a slip, hugging the flesh tightly.

Despite his earlier reassurances, the immaculate furred dog couldn't help himself but stare at such a display of masculinity. Caleb's doghood was sure hefty, even when dormant, his sheath and balls creating a sizeable bulge in his underpants; and maybe it was just a mental trick, but the fact that only the crotch was covered changed the shirtlessness of the rottie from innocent to titillating.

The dark and tan furred male was really eye candy, for Christian: he had noticed already the muscle gut, the thin layer of fat over the muscles only making him even more appealing to the leering dog. The Rottweiler was built like a brickhouse, so solid, a bit stouter than him, but with that kind of beauty that was real, something to size and measure and be comfortable with.

By that point, the white dog couldn't fool himself any longer, not with his cock steadily reaching its eight inches of maximum length. He sited hastily, pulling his legs so to cover his arousal, hoping that the other dog wouldn't have a good sense of smell; any canine couldn't mistake the musky scent that his nether regions were putting out.

Looking up, the Maremman dog witnessed the sign of his doom, the snout of his still standing companion wrinkling and moving to sample the air, his head almost swishing around to find the source. Those brown eyes finally settled on him after exploring the small space, and they were unreadable.

"You're getting horned up?" The muscled male asked, his voice low and deep, looking the sheepdog from above. The direct question was unexpected and closed Christian's throat, no sound coming from his muzzle even if he wanted to deny the truth. Suddenly, the other fur kneeled in front of him, his big paws on the wall beside the white dog's head, their faces mere inches away from each others.

His ears moved in a subdued position, rotating to the back, but the canine from Maremma didn't manage to avert his eyes from those brown pools belonging to his companion. The sudden vicinity had practically frozen him there, unable to react.

"I can see... I can smell that you are." His hot breath washed on him, making his nose twitch, his ears moving at the low ruble. "Are you a fag, Christian?"

That tone... that voice compelled him not to lie and to come clean about it, and face the situation of being trapped in an enclosed space with a possible homophobe... Preparing himself to fight for his life, fist clenched, he answered him. "Yes."

The rottie examined him for a good minutes before a grin split his muzzle. "Then, we will both enjoy this past time."

The white dog opened his mouth, wanting an explanation, but his words were caught by the sudden appearance of a muzzle; a broad tongue taking advantage of the opening to plunge in the moist depths, the fleshy ribbon moved round and about, exploring the offered muzzle, trying to engage its homologous.

Eyes wide open by the shock, he could see the deep sparkle of lust in the other's, the rottie's tongue slowly getting him out of his states, giving warmth to his frozen flesh and heating up the passion in him. With a growl, Christian wrapped his arms around the kneeling dog and dragged him nearer, responding to the tongue attack, moving his own to meet the invading appendence, engaging it and struggling to get the upper hand.

The Rottweiler moaned at the reactions of the sheepdog, nestling his hefty butt on his folded legs, keeping kissing the other male and enjoying the roughness of the exchanging. Or so the white dog thought, since he was just feeling like that; his cock now was at its fullest, tenting his boxers and coating it with the pre that was flooding from his pointed tip.

Just as it started, the kiss was interrupted without notice, Caleb raising his head, a rope of saliva still connecting their muzzle before it broke, falling and mixing with the sweat on their furs. They were both panting, but not for the increased heat. They looked at each other, and it was clear what they both wanted.

"So, I guess you are...." Christian breathed, still holding the other dog close to him. Thanks to the kiss, all his previous tiredness had evaporated away, replaced by lust.

"Well, for a hunk like you, I turn gay." The rottie winked, grinning toothily. "Now, I want to admire you closer..."

The daddy doggy pulled out of the embrace, shifting his paws from the wall to white furred knees, gently spreading them. Christian let him do that, wanting to see what the confessed bisexual dog wanted to do with him, leaning his head and back to the wall.

Caleb didn't wait time, lowering his head between the spread legs, pressing his snout against the bulge and inhaling deeply.

"Uhhhmmm.... so intoxicating." The Rottweiler rumbled, his tongue actually lapping at the trapped cock through the cloth, going up and down it, eliciting moans from the Italian canine. Those vocalizations just grow louder when the tongue was replaced by a mouth, which took as much of the musky length as the boxers let him, the moist heat wetting the underwear.

Christian wondered if he had to act and make the other canine start some serious cock-sucking, taking a more active role in the affair, when the rottie took again the initiative and, after bobbing his head a bit, used his teeth to unbutton the boxers. He managed in his first attempt, like he had practiced such a move many times, avoiding to be hit by the springing dark cock that surged from its cotton restrains.

The eight inches of meaty goodness slapped against the fluffy-haired belly, the stains that left virtually invisible in that sea of white. The sheepdog took the decision to leave complete control to the horn-dog between his tights; something deep inside him telling that he would like what the rottie was planning for him, no matter what.

He expected some remark from the servicing dog, but nothing came, except for a muzzle nuzzling his erection, a wet nose pressing under its base to breathe in the musk of his balls. Caleb sure knew the timing, how much to wait and when to act, because the white canine was starting to ache for the wet embrace of a mouth, the craving only enhanced by pressing snout and the tingling of the breathing.

Then, the situation changed, with the Rottweiler raising his chin and opening his mouth, moving his wide and slippery tongue over the offered cock, from the balls up to the tip, polishing the underside. Having reached the top, he needed only a small movement to plant his lips on the pointed tip, and then another smaller one to plunge the first inches of cock deep in his hungry mouth.

Christian expected things to go slower now, for his partner to take his time; he knew that his black cock was pretty big, and must furs didn't go all the way at the first try, especially the short muzzled ones. Not this dog: the sucker just went on, steadily swallowing the dick, the member disappearing at an impressive pace.

And he didn't stop at the natural point, the fleshy knot that was almost dishearteningly too big for most furs to take in their mouth also went in. Caleb sure wasn't a sissy, because the warmth that was his muzzle kept going down, and stopped only when most of the knot was in. The sheepdog didn't spare any sympathetic thought for the other's jaws, he just felt pleasure all over his must erogenous spots of his cock, and he liked it.

After managing that incredible fit, with only a small gag of adjustment, the rottie rested just enough for both to enjoy the feelings, him of having something so big and thick in his mouth, the white canine for having his cock enveloped by such a hot wetness. The stalemate lasted just a few wonderful seconds, after which the bobbing started, the black head raising up and letting the juicy bone out of his mouth.

Adding movement to the equation meant increasing the pleasure, and moans flew freely from Christian's mouth while the Rottweiler worked his magic. Relatively colder air replaced the muzzle, the change of temperatures quite a pleasurable shock for his cock; only the tip remained and, after a good tonguing of the slit, the wetness came down again, surrounding the doghood. The canine doing the job knew what to do, because he moved his tongue as he returned to kiss the immaculate pubes of the other male, massaging and caressing the throbbing organ.

Caleb entered in a cycle, where he bobbed his head up and down the thick shaft, taking all of it in its muzzle, the tip scrapping his throat, while sucking and using his tongue with the enthusiasm of a true cocksucker. His paws weren't idle too, one caressing the huge orbs through the fabric of the underwear, the other groping and teasing his partner's pecs and nipples.

The Maremma sheepdog was lost in such pleasure, multiples places of his body quivering with the sensations he was experiencing. Deciding to add one more pleasure input, the canine tilted his head down to look at the rottie's work, and he met the brown eyes belonging to the other fur; they had such a lustful light, one that made clear that the dog was enjoying going to town on him, not breaking contact while he bobbed up and down, making obscene slurps.

Such a vision almost made him blew his load. For sure it made his cock throb much more, something that the Rottweiler surely couldn't miss since he had his muzzle practically glued to it. With one more, extra strong suck, he let out the member, the thick rod slapping against the white belly, the sound not being muffled by the hair; he gave it some more licks, tracing it out with his tongue up and down, before leaving it for good, after kissing the tip.

"You sure have a nice cock, buddy: it would be a waste to get its load in my mouth." Caleb grinned, standing up after so long, moving his jaw as if to get rid of an ache. In doing so, Christian could finally see to which degree the other male was aroused, and by the fact that a bit of red cock had escaped the tight undies it was clear that it was very high.

"Sorry if your jaw aches, you could have not taken my knot in." The sheepdog spurted some random comments, not sure what to say. It didn't help that he wanted to reciprocate the favor, and to try that trapped cock too, but he had decided to let the other act and he stuck to that.

"Nah, I love to have all of a cock in my muzzle." The dog dismissed the issue, nonchalantly grabbing the hem of his underwear and pulling it down, revealing finally his cock. And it was just as advertised, red and thick, almost as big as his own, the Italian judged from the distance; surely, it made him droll for anticipation.

"You like licking butt?" The darker canine asked, and his words were lost for a moment, since Christian was too focused in admiring the beautiful apparition of manliness in front of him.

"Uhm, yeah, I do like rimming someone." He snapped out of it, answering truthfully. It wasn't his top favorite activity in bed, but it sure did tricks to him, and could stomach munching on a hole considering what it usually lead to.

"Good. With no lube, you have to relax me back there." Caleb rumbled, approaching the sited dog once again, turning around and showing a good bubble butt, dark giving in to tan in the inner parts, a stub barely covering the winking hole.

"What?" The sheepdog dumbly asked, but the answer didn't come in words, since the rottie just crunched and stuck out his butt, making clear what he wanted. Shifting his position a bit, Christian grabbed those full cheeks, groping them and feeling them up, eliciting some rumbled noises of appreciation.

Knitting the muscles there, the canine got the confirmation of what he already thought, that under the slim layer of fat there was some steel hidden; he liked that in a fur, it showed that it wasn't perfect, just real. He parted those cheeks, revealing the tailhole even more, breathing over the leathery muscle a bit while inspecting it; it looked clean, and giving out just normal musk, so he felt secure to do what asked without troubles.

He didn't sniff the hole, nor teased it, he wasn't his style: he just planted his lips against the tailstar, kissing it a bit before extending his tongue to lick at it. First, just the tip passed over the hole, exploring it a bit, getting the strange but not unpleasant taste on his tasting buds, seeing what the reaction from the rottie was before doing more.

Caleb moaned throatily, pushing back his hips to meet the tongue, leaving no doubt about his enjoyment of the tongue. With that proof, the Maremman dog gave himself to the rimming with all his heart, now using more of his tongue, passing it over and over again on the hole, matting the brown furs around it; he didn't forget that his paws were full with ass, so he kept groping and stretching it, enhancing the pleasure, or so he thought.

Soon, he tried to push a bit of tongue inside that ass, appreciating immensely the responses from the other canine, who vocalized his pleasure with growls and moans while moving his ass so to mimic real fucking. In a way, it was really fucking, since the hole didn't resist at all at the intrusion, admitting the tongue in easily, giving the opportunity to the sheepdog to leave a trail of saliva deep inside the crunching male.

Christian was growing more and more aroused by the second, it wasn't that often to find someone so eager and enthusiastic to be on the bottom end, and not ashamed to show it; the rottie's dominant demeanor just added to that, making his cock hard and throbbing, ready to get inside any time. He didn't dare stop, though, waiting for his partner to be ready and stretched, thinking that he might need some fingers for that purpose.

As of now, the hole was just filled with tongue, and the Rottweiler seemed content with that. He seemed to be in a frenzy, almost slapping his butt against the white dog's snout, until Christian wondered if his companion would just get off with that; after all, he might well be jacking his big cock right now, and getting nearer to the climax.

The prophecy seemed to come true when Caleb stopped rocking his hips, which he took as a sign to part his mouth from the smelly and now slippery hole. He looked up and saw that the rottie was regarding him from over his shoulder, a huge smile on his muzzle.

"Thank you buddy, now I can take that cock!" He announced while repositioning himself, aiming his butt for the thick and pre-dripping cock between the white-furred legs. "Now, buckle up and enjoy the ride!"

Christian had learned now not to try to reply and just did as told, spreading his legs a bit more to welcome the descending rottie and just waiting. That perfect ass came down, one black paw grabbing the almost equally black cock so to guide it in; even that contact made him moan, even though it was but an appetizer for what to come.

Kneeling again, the buff canine teased him, brushing the tip of the dick against the musky entrance a few times, maybe getting revenge for the lack of foreplay with the rimming. Christian responded by grabbing his partner's hips, just enough to show that he was done with that without actually pushing him down on his doghood; just a friendly reminder that he could act on his desires if pushed to.

Taking the message, Caleb angled the member against his hole, slowly putting weight on it until the tip popped in, the act accompanied with groaned moans from both sides. The rimming must have been enough, because the sheepdog found his rod being swallowed by the hungry ass without problems, and since the rottie was pushing himself down without much thought, the whole thing wasn't bad for him either.

Inch by inch, the marvelous hot tightness slipped around his cock, gripping on it and milking it as it went down, massaging it like only an ass could. He thought that the Rottweiler might replicate his previous fit and take the knot in one go, but butt needed more workout before managing that, only the buttcheeks enveloping the fleshy ball before the motion stopped.

They moaned, the pleasure of taking someone's ass being equal to that of being taken by a big cock. That rumbling bastard even grinding his ass, moving it in a circular motion, probably to stretch himself more and push on his prostate. The sheepdog didn't care, since that same movement was also bringing pleasure to him.

"Fuck... this feels great." The rottie muttered before moving himself up, extracting the cock from his bowels slowly, the friction of flesh against flesh just adding to the other pleasures for both dogs. As before, the cooler air stimulated his cock, but this time the clenching ass was much better than a muzzle, giving in its price with some protest.

The rottie didn't go up too much, sitting himself on the cock just when it was only half out, probably wanting to crush his own prostate against the thick tool. He did it hard and rough, moaning manly despite the fact he was the one being fucked, air being forced out of his lungs by the pressure in his ass. Again, he started to rise to just pull down after some inches, building up a nice pace, where his ass didn't leave the cock out for more than just a few seconds.

Christian's mind got fogged by the pleasure, his cock being rode by such an handsome fur, his paws just grabbing lightly on the working hips while his eyes were mesmerize by the tensing muscles in that big, black back in front of him. It was almost like he was being used for the rottie's own pleasure, and he could see that his tan paws were firmly pressed against his tights, meaning that he wasn't even jerking off himself.

The thought that his companion was getting off just by being fucked was a very hot one, that added to all the others while he could hear that big, unused pole slapping time and time again against his belly. The slapping increased along with the pace of the thrusting, the Rottweiler moving his hips faster and faster with every time, coming down at a different angle and in a different way each time.

The black cock of the sheepdog was getting the time of its life, being used like that by such a professional bottom; its flesh was squeezed in the tight ass, pressed, stimulated, shivers of pleasure running from it to the brain. Christian could feel his much needed climax coming closer and closer, his balls churning, and the need of tying building up in his loins.

As before, Caleb thought to that before he spoke up his need, as if he could sense such things. He slammed himself down with more and more force, trying to get the fat knot inside, his ass kissing it but not admitting it with every try. Growling, the rottie pushed all of his weight down, finally managing to pop the fleshy ball in, his hole giving in and welcoming all of the sheepdog's cock in its innards.

Being fully enveloped by tight hotness was almost what got him off, but it wasn't that caused his climax. Caleb's growl had morphed in a howl, his ass clenching and spamming around the pole embedded in it, the telltale signs that a bottom had cummed paws free; in his mind, the overexcited canine could picture rope after rope of white seed being shoot by the jumping cock, landing on the elevator's floor and filling the air with its scent.

The mental and physical stimuli were too much, all that he had needed, and he came with a loud moan that was lost in the howls of the rottie, his paws staying the hips and grinding the ass on his crotch while he delivered his load deep in the rottie.

Lights decided to come back just when they were at the apex of their pleasure, blinding them, the elevator moving again and opening on a floor. Sheltering their eyes from the sudden illumination, and once they adjusted they saw two security guards standing there, shock and embarrassment clear on their faces; they probably didn't expect finding the two canines engaged in the most private of rituals, their cocks marking their sex.

"Either join in or shut the door!" Caleb barked at them after a brief, awkward silence, breathless for the orgasm, then laughed, maybe because of the situation or maybe just because he did that after sex. Christian joined him, the afterglow taking away any concern of being caught performing wild buttsex in the elevator.