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The GreenMount Chronicles, Chapter 15 "Sleep Over"

Despite Mike's love for the Jacuzzi tub, his favorite room in his home was actually below it: the basement. Over the years, Mike's father had remodeled it, turning it from a dusty storage area, into a beautiful activity room. None of Mike's friends had seen it before. Not even Calvin and Roger had been down there since it had been finished.

Mike had the house to himself for the evening, and he decided to call some of his friends over. He called Roger first, but the tiger declined. Lately Roger seemed oddly distant. They'd always been best friends, and they shared everything, but it didn't seem to be that way anymore. On the phone he sounded quiet and evasive.

His next try was Calvin. The dalmatian accepted with his typical mildly passive nature. Then he called Victor, the rabbit, and received another affirmative response. Lately he seemed to be drifting closer to them, which was perhaps because they had gotten physical. Victor didn't know about his jerk-off sessions with Calvin, and Calvin had no idea about his paw play experiences with Vic. He wasn't afraid of them finding out -- it had merely never come up in conversation.

He put down the phone after his calls and got dressed. He pulled on a soft flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off. Said sleeves had been tight on his shoulders, so he'd cut them off himself. It felt nice on his large rottweiler body, very unrestricted; it let his round shoulders and muscular arms free. Simple jean shorts worked well enough to cover his pleasure zone, and he stepped into his favorite rubber sandals, the ones that were too small, which let his toes hang over the end.

He tried to think of other people he could call. He didn't have Leon's number, and Scott hadn't been interested in talking to him recently. He didn't particularly miss Scott; they were never that close.

Then he remembered Lance. On the last day of school, when everyone was signing yearbooks and exchanging phone numbers to keep in touch, Lance the cat had approached him.

"Big Mike," said the small cat, in his usual tight clothing. "Did you have a good year?"

Mike had nodded. "Sure," he'd said.

"You know, I never got to tell you this," Lance said quietly, "but you're one of the most gorgeous guys I've ever seen."

Well of course, Mike always liked compliments! He'd smiled. "Thanks!"

"If you ever want to... play around... let me know," said the cat. He had handed him a piece of paper with a phone number on it. "If you get restless, and you want someone to... take care of you... then you give me a call."

In the middle of summer, Mike still had that piece of paper. He held it in his hand as he called Lance. After all, he was definitely restless, and he did want to play around! He loved to play, whether it was football or basketball or hockey or wrestling in the pool. It may have been slightly different interpretation of Lance's invitation, but Mike didn't know that.

He called Lance.

"Hello?"

"Is Lance there?" Mike asked.

"That's me."

"It's Mike. From school."

"Oh," Lance said, surprise in his voice. "I didn't think I'd hear from you!"

"Wanna come over and spend the night?"

There was a brief pause. "...what?" the cat asked softly.

"Remember back in school, you said if I ever wanted to play, to give you a call?"

"I remember."

"Well, how about now? We can play all night, if you want."

"Damn, you're serious aren't you?" the cat asked him, enthusiasm filling up his voice.

"Of course, buddy."

"I'm there! Let me just get -- ouch!" there was some rumbling, as Lance stumbled over something in his house, "--dressed, and I'll be over in no time. Where do you live?"

Mike gave directions and Lance said he would be right over.

It wasn't long before the doorbell rang. Victor and Calvin arrived at about the same time, rabbit following dalmatian. Calvin was dressed conservatively, as he usually was, in a simple gray T-shirt, jean shorts, white socks and his small sneakers.

Victor, on the other hand, had on a tank top, the kind that accentuates both the very large and the very slim. He was, of course, the latter. Mike noticed was that the rabbit wasn't wearing shoes of any kind. His big, fluffy footpaws were nestled in the thick living room carpet as he walked in. Around his right ankle was a small anklet. Most times it seemed the opposite -- he would usually go to great lengths not to draw attention to them. But today was different.

Lance arrived shortly afterward. He was the only guy in GreenMount High who was openly gay. Or, at least the only one in the senior class. He never tried to hide his sexuality. He was a friendly guy, and was usually willing to help someone out if he was needed. Though, more often than not, his mind was centrally focused on sex, so he was more apt to help an attractive guy.

He was relatively short and unimposing, a slim, lithe little cat with white fur, mottled with gray patches, and big blue eyes. And he looked young -- no more than sixteen years, perhaps because he was just a small cat -- not a leopard, or a tiger. This worked both for him and against him. He got carded at R-rated movies. And people didn't take him seriously because of his looks, despite the fact that he'd been eighteen for quite some time.

He didn't really play any sports, though it was clear he would've been happy to have a private wrestling session with any of the more attractive guys in the class. He was attracted to taller, larger males, and in this way his small size worked for him. Most people, after all, were taller and larger than him.

He had sent Calvin and Victor downstairs already, so he and Lance were alone in the living room.

"This place is beautiful," Lance said in wonder as he walked through the living room. He was wearing only a pair of very tight shorts, and small shoes. He looked at Mike. "So are you," he said.

The rottweiler smiled. He unfastened the buttons of his flannel shirt and spread it open, baring the slabs of his pecs, over the eight furry rocks of his abs. "Thanks, I work out a lot to keep in shape," he said. The 'V' shape of his upper torso was so pronounced that his shirt hardly touched his body below his chest.

Lance's eyes widened as he looked at Mike's bare torso. "Incredible," he murmured. Like everyone else at school, he'd seen Mike's body in the locker room showers, but he had never gotten such a close look.

Loving the attention, as always, the big dog flexed his chest. "Wanna feel my pecs? I've been working 'em extra hard this month."

Lance reached for Mike's chest, running his hands over the big mounds of muscle, feeling their firmness, and the sleek fur. His fingers traced a line down the convex swell of sinew, and he was about to touch the dark nipple which poked out a little through the fur, but he didn't get the chance.

"So, you wanna go do stuff now?" Mike asked. "You can play with my muscles some more later, if you want."

Lance nodded numbly, mouth agape.

"Come on, the guys are downstairs," the rottie said, waving a big hand.

"Wait..." Lance said, trying to grasp it all. "This is going to be a group thing?"

Mike nodded. "Calvin and Victor are on their way down there, so I figured we could all play."

"This is my lucky day," Lance said to himself. Of course, his idea of 'play' was very different from Mike's.

He and Lance started down the stairs to the basement, and the air became cooler almost immediately, which was a welcome change from the hot weather of summer. They were less than half way down when Victor cried out, "You've got a pinball machine? Amazing!"

Mike called down to him, "Yeah. Dad fixed it so it don't need quarters."

"Sweet!" the bunny exclaimed, jogging across the tile floor to get a closer look.

Calvin looked left and right at all of the toys, and then quietly sat on the couch in front of the television. Mike noticed how unobtrusively he always did things. If he walked, he did so quietly. If he sat down, he sat with his knees together, making as little noise as possible.

"Can I play one of these games," Calvin asked him. As he turned to look at Mike, one of his dark floppy ears hit him in the eye. He didn't seem to notice.

Mike grinned at him. "Be my guest, little buddy. Remote's on the table."

The coffee table in front of the couch was glass, held up by two plaster dolphins underneath. Calvin picked up the large remote. His eyes widened as he picked it up, noticing a myriad of buttons of various colors and shapes.

"Hello Calvin," Lance said the moment he reached the bottom of the stairs. "It's been a long time."

Calvin glanced away from the remote control for a moment, and when his eyes met Lance's he jumped a little. "Umm... Hi Lance. How's it going?"

The cat climbed onto a smaller sofa, perpendicular to the one the guys were sitting on. He sat delicately on it, with his legs tucked beneath him. "It's going fine," he said. "But it wants some attention."

Calvin half-smiled, then went back to his game.

Mike sat down heavily next to Lance on the couch, causing him to bounce slightly, the same way Calvin had. The cat seemed to take no notice.

"I've seen you around," Victor said, glancing away from his game.

Lance smiled. "You're Victor, the fastest thing on two legs. I've seen you play basketball."

Victor smiled a little. Uneasily. He seemed less comfortable with the idea of a gay cat than Calvin and Mike. This was perhaps understandable, though, since the others seemed to have no qualms about it.

Calvin was still fiddling with the remote, to no avail. "This thing has more buttons than a... umm... a... what has a lot of buttons besides a remote?"

"Mike's shirt?" Lance offered.

"Yeah, definitely one of your shirts," Cal said, hitting buttons at random.

Victor called over, "Don't hit the red button or you'll nuke a small country."

He was standing in front of the pinball machine with his back to them, racking up millions of points. He was barefoot, and this in itself was unusual. Most times he wore some kind of sneakers to cover up his huge paws. Ever since he'd started hanging out with Mike, though, he felt more comfortable showing them off. He stood with one foot flat on the floor, and one up, so the pink pads along the bottom faced his friends.

"Umm... thanks," Calvin said. He wasn't usually the type to come back with a witty retort.

"How many buttons does my shirt have," Mike asked himself. He started pull it off to look at it. "One... two..."

Without turning around, Victor called, "Keep your shirt on, Mike." He brushed his lop ear out of his eye.

Mike dropped his hands right away, and grinned. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. He had already pulled it open, so he didn't mind.

Lance, who looked even smaller than usual in comparison to the impressive rottweiler, looked up at Mike and asked quietly, "You really meant 'playing', didn't you? Like, pinball, or pool. Playing _games_."

Mike nodded, not pausing as he made his way down the stairs. "Of course! What did you think I meant?"

Lance smirked, realizing his misunderstanding. Then he shrugged. Could have been worse. "Nothing, big fella. Nothing at all."

Calvin hit the right button on the remote control, and finally the television blinked to life. He messed around with the video game system, and got it working. The theme song of some game flowed through the tall speakers.

Victor turned around slowly, abandoning his pinball game. He was obviously trying to contain his excitement. "No...way... Is that... UltraFighter 9000? I didn't know they'd released it yet."

"Dad's got friends who can get stuff," Mike said proudly. He kicked off his sandals and flopped down on the left couch cushion, causing Calvin, on the right side, to bounce up several inches. Kind of like a see-saw.

Calvin nearly fell on the floor. "Geez Mike," he said, "are you trying to catapult me across the room? How much do you weigh, anyway?"

Victor ran over and jumped onto the couch between the two of them. "Who cares!" he cried. "Give me a controller! I wanna play! Now! Gimmie! Now! NOW!"

Calvin and Mike both just stared at him.

"What?" Vic asked, suddenly calm and amiable. "Don't you wanna play?"

They stared.

"Well?!"

Calvin started laughing. Then Mike joined in. Lance smiled.

* * *

It all started when Lance noticed a candle collection behind the bar.

"These candles are beautiful," the cat said, running a finger over them admiringly. "Can I light one?"

Mike told him he could. It was nighttime. The day had been filled with video games and pool and pinball and laughter. It was the kind of day that causes distant friends to become close friends. They had played video games, gone outside, spent some time listening to music, and even ordered pizza. It was the typical kind of get-together that young guys had. Their activities had come to a lull. None of them wanted it to end yet, but it was too late for any more games.

Victor was finishing up a video game, while Mike and Calvin were tossing a football back and forth. The basement was utterly quiet, secluded from the sounds of the house and outside, and other than the soft music coming from the television, the only sounds were those made by the guys.

Lance lit four large candles and set them in the center of the tile floor. Then he turned off the lights. The room fell into a soft orange glow.

"Hey," Mike protested.

"What's going on?" Victor asked.

"Everybody come on over. Sit down," Lance urged, waving them over.

The firelight was beautiful -- orange light that seemed somehow alive. They all sat down on the floor, on the pile of sleeping bags, which were laid out on the tile. It was quite soft, in comparison to the floor itself. Mike, Calvin, Lance and Victor all sat in a circle, facing the center. The candle was flickering quietly, casting an orange glow over them all.

"This is so perfect," Lance said softly, reverently.

"I think it is, too," Calvin offered.

"I've had a really good time today," Victor told them. "You guys are great."

"Thanks," Mike said. "You're welcome anytime, buddy. All of you."

"I enjoyed myself, too. I don't usually hang out with groups like this," Lance told them. "At least... not to just hang out."

Victor and Calvin wouldn't look at him. There was a pause.

"No one's saying anything," Lance said. "So I guess you know what I mean."

"I think I do," Victor said softly. "I heard... you're... well..."

"I'm gay. It's alright; everyone knows it," he said gently. Not unfriendly, just informative.

There was another pause, and this one was a bit awkward. But something was changing in the air around them. They were still friends, still hanging out, but it was late, it was dark, and the flickering candlelight was changing the atmosphere around them.

"So am I. I mean, maybe," Calvin murmured.

Victor looked at him, obviously surprised.

"You don't sound too sure," Lance said.

"Sometimes I am sure. Sometimes I like what I do, but sometimes it makes me feel bad."

Lance rested a hand on Calvin's back. Early on in Calvin's sexual explorations, they had been together once. It was a single encounter, but it had been nice. He looked into the dalmatian's eyes.

"Tell me what you mean, Cal," he coaxed.

"Yeah," Mike chimed in.

"I'm sure you've heard, I do... favors... for guys," Cal said quietly. "Most times they come to me. They wanna hang out, and they seem like they wanna be my friends, but there's always this... little problem they need taken care of. They never force me, but I feel obligated, I guess. So I do it, and I keep hoping it's really about friendship."

"I'm your friend, Cal," Mike said. His eyes were very large, and they glistened in the candlelight. "You know I like you."

The dalmatian smiled at him, and it was perhaps the loneliest smile any of them had ever seen. "I know," he whispered. "I wouldn't usually bring it up, but... well I've been with--"

"I didn't know you were... into that kind of stuff," Victor said softly, talking over him. He was not speaking low out of tenderness, but rather he seemed afraid someone might hear them. "Don't you date girls? Like, at all?"

"Not really."

Another pause. This one contemplative.

"You should," said the rabbit finally. "I would, if I looked like you do."

"Like me?"

"Yeah. I've always felt small," Victor said. "I am small in some ways, I know. I'm thin. Sort of short. But... mostly I just look like a girl."

Calvin spoke then, "You don't look like a girl." But he did, a little.

Victor waved a hand, dismissing this. "Maybe not to you. But to some people. I have the big doe eyes, the floppy ear, and a girl's hips. But my paws..." He smiled, just a little. "My paws are big. I can hold mine up to Mike's feet, and mine are bigger. It's something I have that makes me feel more like... I guess... like I matter."

There was another pause.

Mike held up his feet. "Yeah, you got big paws. You wanna show 'em off?"

"Why do you do that?" Victor asked.

"Do what?"

"You always show off," the rabbit said, with a delicate frown, though not with any real anger. "You're a big guy, and it seems like you always want people to look at you, and touch you. It's like you have to draw attention to yourself."

The rottweiler chuckled a little. "What else am I gonna do with big muscles? Yeah, I'm a big guy, and people like to look at me. And they like to touch me. It feels good. I mean, I work out five days a week. Am I gonna do all that work and then cover it up?"

Mike continued, "You're not wearing shoes today. You're showing off your feet, right?"

"Well..."

"You should, you've got great paws! You don't wanna hide them, and I don't wanna hide my muscles. It's like buying a ton of video games, and not letting anybody play them."

He paused, and his smile faded. The rottweiler hunched over slightly, tensing his abs, making them six hard bricks in his fur. "This is the one thing my parents can't buy for me. It's the one thing that I've really earned, myself."

"You've earned things," Lance said, trying to reassure him. "You got into a private school."

Mike looked down at the floor. "You think I got in 'cause of good grades?" He paused. He looked at Lance right in the eyes. "Do you think somebody like me gets anywhere from his grades?"

No one wanted to answer that.

"My parents' money is what gets me places. My older sister went off to law school. They already got their bright kid. I'm the one they can treat like a baby. They buy me everything they think I need, because I can't get it myself. But they can't buy me a good body. This is mine. Not theirs."

They were quiet for a while then, and it no longer felt awkward. Although they were having a truth session, none had expected Mike to expose anything so deep about himself. It was commonly thought Mike didn't go that deep.

The rabbit sighed. He put a hand on Mike's shoulder. White on dark. It surprised the rest of them, since he wasn't the type to do much touching.

"You... have an amazing body," he said, with the tone of a consoling friend. His large eyes glistened, and for once his ear wasn't obstructing his view. "I envy you, too."

Mike looked genuinely surprised that Victor had touched him, and very grateful. "You can touch me," Mike coaxed him. "It's okay. Always has been."

They were all quiet as Victor's small hand rested on the slabs of Mike's rock hard tummy. There was tension in the air, in his slow caution. His fingertips touched the firm abs and slid between them. He traced them, cupped the ridges with his supple hands.

"I spend a lot of time on these," the dog said softly, his square muzzle working softly as he spoke.

"It shows," Lance said, just as quietly. "I could work out for months and not get those. Can I..."

Mike patted Lance on the shoulder and looked into his eyes. "I said you could play with my muscles later... I guess now is later."

The small cat smiled at him. His hand slid up and down Mike's thick arm, tracing the triceps, the intricate line of the brachialus, cupping the round bicep.

Calvin, who was sitting on his other side, leaned closer, and he cupped one of his hands against the swell of the rottweiler's left pec.

There were hands all over him then, gliding over his body. Smaller hands than his own cupped and smoothed over his muscles. Six hands, in all places from his thighs, to his back, until he was immersed in their movement, their patterns, their affection of his body. It made him tingle and feel so exposed to them.

While they were touching, no one said a word. None of them really knew exactly why it was happening, but it felt good.

Time passed by like this, and in it all of their curiosities about his body (save one) were satisfied, every curve and bulge, every muscle, every perfectly sculpted line. Their hands wandered all over, and gradually with more boldness, lower on his stomach, and higher on his thighs, toward his jeans.

Finally Lance made the first move toward something more intimate -- his gentle feline hands ran down Mike's stomach, and one rested on the large, firm bulge in his shorts. "This is something else that can't be bought," he said.

Mike whimpered softly. "Ohhhh... wow," he whispered. The length of the hard bulge jumped visibly at the touch. He leaned back on his hands, giving the cat plenty of room.

"You've got to feel this," Lance suggested, looking at Calvin. "It's huge."

"He already did," Mike told him. "He jerked me off a couple of times."

"Really," said the cat, clearly surprised. "When was this?"

"Once was back during school in the shower."

Lance looked at Victor. "Did you know about this? Or... have you..."

The rabbit looked down.

"He used his paws on it," Mike said.

"His paws?"

"Yeah," the rottie said with a grin. "Put some oil on his toes and it feels amazing."

Calvin muttered softly, "That explains a lot." Victor still wouldn't look up.

Lance smirked. "Well, it looks like I'm the one left out here. If I'd known you weren't shy about it, I'd have done this a long time ago." He slid one small hand under the soft cotton of Mike's boxer-briefs, along his thick, muscular thigh. He eased his fingers inside until he cupped the rottweiler's thick cock.

"There," he said softly. "Now we've all touched it."

Mike let out a soft murmuring whimper. "Wow," he whispered softly.

Lance's smile faded. "Wow yourself... it's very nice." The cat squeezed it gently, the hard meaty length, and then he looked into Mike's eyes. "May I see it?"

"Sure," Mike said softly. Always enthusiastic about being naked and now excited about the prospect of possibly being touched some more, he got to his feet.

He stood in his flannel shirt, his jean shorts and his and boxer briefs, which clung to his body. With a shrug, he let his shirt fall to the floor. Then, with a similar fluid motion he slid his shorts down to his feet. He wore only his boxer briefs now. They were black, but the waistband was white. Everyone took notice of the way the brown and black fur of his body blended into the fabric. Calvin and Lance gazed up at him with a kind of wonder. Victor even looked up at him. Mike stood there for a minute, scratching behind his ears, obviously oblivious to his own beauty.

In that pose, and that attire, he was beautiful. They could all see this. There was something amazing about the essence of Mike then, from the curve of his round calves, to his ridged stomach, and the innocent look in his eyes, above a square, masculine jaw. It was a quiet moment when they all felt a kind of love for him.

He slowly pulled his underwear down, away from his groin. His big cock flopped out, fully erect and hot. Once the cotton boxer briefs passed his knees, they fell down to his feet, in a puddle around his ankles.

Lance, kneeling there, began to unbutton his jeans. No one objected as he untied his shoes and pulled them off. Then he slid his shorts down, along with his briefs, and tossed them aside. He knelt there in his lithe, boyish form, with his smallish cock standing out, hard as a nail.

Calvin and Victor both watched Lance with uneasiness in their eyes. But then Calvin got to his knees and began to pull his clothes off as well. No one touched anyone else. It was simply the thrill of bring there, completely naked, in full view of each other. They had bared their secrets with their words before, told stories of their lives. Emotionally they made themselves naked. Now they were simply doing the same with their bodies. They knew something was going to happen, that their actions were building to something, but this was the thrill of it, of not talking about it, merely kneeling there and looking at one another, and being looked at.

Victor was last, and the most hesitant. He looked into Calvin's eyes. And then Lance's.

Lance laid a hand on Victor's shoulder. "It's okay," he said softly.

Calvin, who was on the other side of him, smiled a little. "You're not going to look like a girl if you're naked."

Victor smiled back, wanly. He pulled off his shirt and let it fall to the floor. Then the rest of his clothes, shorts and boxers, he pulled down over his huge feet.

Mike sat down on the blankets, with his legs crossed. Then Lance did, and Calvin and Victor. In that position, with their knees out, there was no way to hide their erections from one another. There could be no modesty. It was like a physical sensation -- the weight of the stare of three other males. They were openly curious, as most males tend to be, but of course, there was more to it than simple curiosity.

Lance was staring at Mike's body, seemingly fixated on his rottweiler cock. Tentatively he reached for it, cupping the rod in his hand, at the base. It was thicker down there, and his fingers could not close around it. His grip was gentle but firm, feeling the hot blood pulse through it.

Calvin's hand wrapped around Mike's shaft as well, but nearer to the head, just above Lance's. He tugged on the furry foreskin, pulling the sheath up and down, and twisting it gently, to stimulate the big rottie.

Simultaneously Lance began moving his hand in a slow rhythm as well, independent of Calvin's. Mike leaned back on his elbows, his legs stretched out, watching this with some amazement. Never before had two people handled him at the same time. The dalmatian on his right, and the cat on his left.

His muzzle hung open, pink tongue glistening slightly in the candlelight, and he let out happy little whimpers of pleasure. His abs tensed up, offset bricks of fur. If a drop of water fell on his chin, it would roll down his neck, between his pecs and through the trail of his abs, so elegant was the curve of his torso, leaned back as he was.

"Cal," Mike whispered.

"Yes?"

"Remember the bathroom in the back behind the stairs? There's some massage oil in there."

They all heard Victor let out a trembling sigh as Mike said this.

Calvin looked at Lance, then at Victor, perhaps waiting for some kind of objection from either of them. None came. Then he said, "...okay."

It only took a minute before he returned. As he walked across the floor, his erect dalmatian dick bounced slightly. He knelt down in the candlelight darkness holding the bottle. Silently he poured some of the impossibly slippery oil into his hand.

"Give me some, too," Lance said, holding up his hands. Cal poured a thin trail of clear liquid across his fingers.

Mike held out one hand as well. "Gimmie some, buddy," he said. Calvin did so.

It was like some strange anointing for them.

Calvin felt almost dizzy with a mixture of fear and lust. Four of them, all with slippery hands, all obviously aroused, and open to anything. He had never done such a thing before. It had always been private, most often totally secret, done out of desperation. This was open and completely for recreation and intimacy. This was the kind of thing which was often whispered about but never actually seen. He wanted it, and he imagined Lance and Victor were thinking the same things. He noticed the rabbit hadn't received any oil yet, and wasn't holding out his hands.

"Vic? Do you want some?" Calvin asked.

The rabbit hesitated. "I... want to, but..." his voice trailed off.

"But what?" Lance asked him gently.

Mike, who usually believed actions spoke louder than words, reached out with one lubricated hand. He slid his fingers under the bunny's erect cock, feeling the slippery handpads on the shaft.

Victor moaned softly in surprise, his large expressive eyes half-lidded.

Lance reached across Mike's body and rested his hand on top of Victor's shaft. The bunny's maleness was sandwiched between Mike's big hand gliding along the bottom and Lance's across the top. Perhaps it was the movement, the good feeling of it, or even their initiative, but they had coaxed him enough. He held out his hands, and Calvin poured some oil onto them.

The air was then full of the sweet characteristic scent of the oil, mingled with their male scents.

Calvin and Lance returned their hands to Mike's ample shaft -- Lance holding the base of it, and Calvin gripping the top half. Together they formed a long, slippery tunnel for it, and they began to slide it up and down. They worked synchronously sometimes, gliding in their vertical rhythm at the same time, providing Mike with a feeling of penetration that he surely never received in reality, with such a large cock, and sometimes they lost their coordination and moved in opposite directions. This merely reminded Mike that the hands belonged to two different people.

"Oh yeeeeahhh," Mike whispered, "hold it like that... awwwhhh..."

Through his haze of pleasure, Mike looked at Victor, who was watching all of this in wonder. He continued gently pumping the rabbit's maleness. It only moderately sized, but it was hard, and Victor whimpered with delight as the rottweiler used his strong hand to massage it.

"That feels... good, Mike," Victor murmured. "Really good."

Calvin watched him do this even as he himself was pawing Mike, remembering how it felt when the rottweiler had jerked him off. He knew what Victor was feeling, having his cock encased in rottie paw. He knew why the rabbit's white-furred body was tense, and in a way he was jealous of this. But in the jealousy was a new kind of pleasure, of sharing something intimate.

Victor looked through slitted eyes at Calvin's naked form, perhaps understanding this. After all, he had played with Mike before, and now Calvin was doing it, unclothed, his spotted fur resting sleek on his lightly muscled body. He felt the pang of jealousy, but he was feeling pleasure as well. He cupped the dalmatian's cock in his hand -- a thing he had never done before to another male -- and began to stroke it. It was smooth and slippery, the way he knew his own must have felt, and he worked it in his paw the way he played with his own.

Calvin looked over at Lance, who was the only one not being touched. He remembered his time with Lance, something that none of the others knew about, and as they cat made eye contact with him, there was that understanding between them. There was that secret they shared. With one wet, glistening hand he began to tug on Lance's shaft. It was familiar to him, as he had sucked on it at one point, but that had been so long ago. He traced its shape with his fingers, watching the slender cat's body writhe slightly in delight.

"Mmm... that's nice Cal," whispered the cat.

Calvin remembered Lance had once told him he made the room spin. He looked down at his other hand which, along with Lance's, held Mike's cock, and he imagined the rottweiler was feeling that as well.

Mike was panting softly, his tongue hanging just beyond the tips of his teeth. "Yeeeeeahh," he whispered. "Amaaazing."

As each of them was sliding his lubed hands over someone else's member, and the room became filled with the sounds of soft moaning, and the slippery wet clicks of slick hands on skin. It was like music, the sounds of it, with their independent rhythms, their breathing. The soft clicks of the liquid punctuated the lust in the room.

Four males all pleasuring each other -- it was like a tangible feeling in the air. They were all working toward this goal, for themselves and for each other. It was like the ultimate act of male bonding, of friendship and expression of affection.

Victor looked at Lance and thought, 'He wants this.' And he looked at Calvin and thought the same. And with Mike. They all wanted it. It was not an accident, he realized. They were all doing this, sharing this on purpose, for the pleasure and intimacy of it. And it felt so _good_ to be sliding his cock into Mike's smooth hand, just as he watched how good it felt for Lance to be sliding into Calvin's hand.

He merely gave himself to this sensation, of being watched, of watching, and of being brought purposefully to orgasm. Yes, he thought. I want this, too.

Then all thoughts faded into a haze of ecstasy as felt his climax build and peak. He let his muzzle fall open and his cock spurted out hot, thick jets of his cum, which ran down Mike's fingers. Everyone was watching him intently now, and he gave himself to it, thrusting his hips, arching his chest out.

Calvin was breathing heavily, making no other noise, his muzzle hanging open. His hot doggie juice began as a light spray from his cocktip, landing in droplets on Mike and Victor.

As if this were a trigger, Lance was next, and he executed his orgasm with a kind of elegance, his eyes half closed, his slender, boyish physique straining with pleasure. He moaned quietly, keeping his eyes half-open to watch the scene before him, and needfully rode Calvin's hand, the tip of his shaft poking through with each stroke. His seed dripped out in small stream, with much less intensity than the others. Most likely because he'd already had more than one orgasm that day.

The three of them were recovering from the height of their pleasure, panting softly, while Calvin and Lance continued to stroke Mike, now with more concentration on him. Victor leaned close and slid his fingers under Mike's balls, tickling them lightly.

This sent the big rottweiler over the edge, and Mike suddenly let out a soft bark and his hips surged forward. A long jet of white cum fired from the tip, followed by another, arcing through the air, laying wet ropes over his pecs and his abs. Another spray of cum hit him in the chin, just below his open mouth. The rest was clear and thinner fluid, which fired out onto his tummy, not as far or with as much speed. His pleasure, however, extended for almost two full minutes, while he whimpered, eyes closed, tensed all over. Finally he relaxed and laid back onto the sleeping blanket.

"Wow Mike, you're really lucky to be able to cum for so long," Lance said to him.

It was done then, and no one said anything more for the rest of the night. Calvin retrieved some towels from the bathroom, and they cleaned themselves off as best they could. While Mike lay in an unmoving heap of fur on the floor, Lance slid the sleeping bags close together. The four them stretched out on them, closely snuggled together, the heat of their bodies, and the intimacy of what they had just shared. The silence in the air was rich with their thoughts and concerns of what they had just done. There was their breathing, the rustling of fur on fabric, and the beating of their hearts.

Calvin lay there in the dark of night, surrounded by them, by their warmth, their whispering breath, and by his own thoughts. Mike's arm was wrapped around him, hugging him tightly. Calvin was felt not only Mike's muscles, but Victor's foot against his own, as the rabbit lay in front of him, and Lance's hand on his thigh. The shared vulnerability was a new feeling for him, to exchange secrets the way they had. Besides that, he had never had any kind of sex with more than one person before. And finally, never before had he been cuddled like this, held by so many people who cared about him, even if he didn't know them very well... and he found himself intensely attracted to it, enjoying the sensation.

It felt so comfortable that it frightened him. After all, hadn't he planned to stop having sex like this? Before he let Scott use him in the back of his van, he had promised himself he would stop. And now it was escalating-- first one guy at a time, now three. Just as before, he had wanted to do it. He had followed his lust, and it opened up a door for him which he never intended to walk through.

Victor was glad the darkness was absolute. He was glad he faced away from them all, curled into a ball. No one would see that his eyes were wide open. He could still recall the sensation of the rottweiler's big meaty hand stroking him. If it hadn't felt so damn good, maybe he wouldn't be so uncomfortable. The thought which echoed in his mind at that moment was, "I have to get out of here."

Even though he and Mike had been experimenting for a while, he did not believe he was gay. No one had ever played with his paws before Mike. Indeed, he had no idea they were so sensitive. When the four of them had first messed around way back, with their feet, it had felt uncomfortable, but Scott had seemed so confident, so damn sure that he knew exactly what he was doing. It had just been experimenting as well. But their group masturbation this night was too much for him. Although he knew Lance was gay, he hadn't known Calvin liked guys, nor that Mike had been with him. Sure, it had felt good. He had enjoyed it, but he wanted a girlfriend, and he believed if he didn't look so damn feminine, he would have one.

Lance lay behind Mike, running his hands slowly up and down the big dog's muscular back. He was smiling in the dark, regretting only that there wouldn't be time to do it again in the morning. He would have to leave early to meet a younger friend of his who might want to play around. Then, in the afternoon, he would see Scott again. He hoped to see plenty more of Mike in the future, as well.

Meanwhile, in the playground of Mike's mind, the rottweiler was trying to decide whether he liked purple grapes or green grapes more. The green grapes were more tart, but the purple grapes looked neat and had their own distinct flavor. Neither were as nice as strawberries, though. Eventually he gave up trying to choose a favorite and fell asleep.