FSE

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It was a cool afternoon, and the kind where the sky was always some shade of grey in promising an imminent storm (or at least a little shower or mist or something), and then always going back on its promise with just stiff humidity. Whenever this happened, it seemed the clouds gathered sometime before sunrise and dispersed sometime after sunset, restricting access to blue sky and instead showing, again, shades of grey from concrete to graphite to wet paper.

Needless to say, it was the perfect sort of day to stay inside, and that was exactly what Breezier intended to do. Today was Saturday, and he had awoken at some time between nine and eleven AM - he checked the clock, but then promptly forgot the exact numbers - and so far had only stood up three times: once to pee, once to go get something to eat, and once to leave the table at which he had sat down for that snack. This was exactly the sort of life he had desired when he finished school, and though he could only enjoy it on the weekends, it was enough.

Headphones around his neck (because, being an otter with headphones that had ovular rather than circular cups, they didn't really fit on his ears right without mashing them down and making them sore) and laptop pulled up about halfway up his chest, he was still doing the same thing he had done after the first time he'd stood up, and again, fully intended to do this until it was bedtime, which was dictated by whenever he felt he could no longer keep his eyes open. So, normal Saturday. Although, if a storm did roll by and knock out the power and internet...

On the bed beside him, his phone vibrated. He searched for it amid thick fluffy covers for a moment, cursed at seeing the repercussions in the game he was playing of taking his paw away from the mouse and moved it back, then resumed searching a moment later. It was a text from Selva, a cat: "I just woke up and I'm bored, you wanna come over?"

Breezier had made the joke about how cats sleep a lot more than several times to Selva, and if he still laughed, it was probably only because he liked him - because honestly, even he was growing tired of saying it. While sitting here with the warmth of his laptop warding off the cold was perfectly acceptable, the thought of that being a kitty's warmth in his lap appealed to him quite a bit more ... even though he'd have to get up and go somewhere. Oh well, he figured; it's usually worth it. And, really, the only reason that 'usually' was not an 'always' was because, again, he didn't want to get up, but for Selva...

"Sure," he sent back, and started to exit the game and shut down his laptop. "I'll be right over." He wobbled a bit on standing up from his bed, having not eaten anything past that morning snack - so after getting dressed, which consisted of just pulling on whichever shirt and pair of pants that lay closest in reach, which turned out to be a pair of swimming trunks, he grabbed a bag of chips from the kitchen on his way out. Outside, a cold breeze floated through the trees and his fur, which pretty much always hinted at a coming storm. If it turned out to be bad enough, that'd give him an excuse for staying the night at the cat's (which he very well might do anyway). He shivered in the wind on the way to his car.

The two were just friends, which other friends seemed to have a hard time believing - and with admittedly good reason, as no 'just friend' Breezier had had in school went down on him a few minutes after their first meeting. But, such thoughts were not the best for driving, especially as he found himself falling deeper into the more detailed parts of the memory. The otter, stopping at the sign at the end of his street, moved a paw down to adjust his pants before continuing.

Though, now that he thought about it, there was one 'friend' his senior year who had done a certain thing after gym class. That year, gym was Breezier's final period in the day, and he shared it with this other guy, a German shepherd. Breezier generally tried to avoid showering at school, for obvious reasons, but this day, he just figured, fuck it - whatever, right? and went ahead. This decision came, conveniently, at just about the time when everyone else was finishing their shower, or getting bored of towel-whipping the other boys, so he found himself with a whole wall of the shower room to himself - for a while, at least, before that shepherd came along. Breezier had had suspicions about him for a while based on certain things he'd heard him say and certain other things he had seen him do, as well as certain other other things that he'd heard that he had done, so he was only somewhat surprised when the shepherd took the shower about two down from him.

Being a boy, and a teenager, and more than slightly gay, Breezier's eyes wandered over every now and then, eventually to the point where he had to turn his own body away to avoid suspicions surrounding himself about his current predicament. Everybody knew that he was gay, and nobody really cared, so long as his interests didn't fall on them, it seemed. This shepherd, though - this shepherd must have known that he was peeking at him every now and then, and he must have enjoyed it. With that peeking of eyes came a bit of peeking of reddish-pink flesh from a cinnamon sheath, usually the first part of his body to receive the gaze of the otter whenever he looked over. I'll just wait until he's finished, Breezier remembered thinking, and made as if to soap up his fur again. Shouldn't take too long - and, it didn't.

Trying to keep his focus on the road instead of his memory (but failing), he looked around at the surroundings. He knew the way to Selva's about as well as he knew the way to his house from the end of his driveway, but... in the half-light of overcast mid-afternoon, that one house's new fenceboards appeared to be the same sandy-brown color as the shepherd's fur, especially when water held down that of his lower chest and belly and brought out the sleek muscles of a soccer dog...

A little bit later, the shepherd turned off his shower and began to leave the shower room, so Breezier turned back to his own shower and his soap, as if he didn't care. There came no sound from the next room of a tower being pulled off the rack or of a locker opening, so when he turned to look, he saw the shepherd leaning back against the wall a little while away, still fully nude and dripping water, still with that little peak beneath his belly button. 'I don't think we've met,' the shepherd said, and started to come forward. Breezier, nervous and half-excited, stuttered a quiet 'N-no, we haven't,', blushed, and tried to keep his back to him, which... in hindsight, wasn't the best idea.

Well... depending on how he looked at it, it was either a bad idea or a great one. In response to this, the shepherd purred 'then why don't we get acquainted?' - and Breezier felt warm, wet paws wrap around his chest, felt a canine muzzle against his shoulder, felt the hot end of a cock and its surrounding sheath under his tail. At this point in time he certainly wasn't a virgin, but that didn't necessarily mean he was totally comfortable all the time with a guy pushing into him - especially one as thick as he soon learned this shepherd to be... 'I like you,' the dog went on, churning his hips against Breezier's rump and urging his length further out of his sheath. 'I saw you looking at me, and I know how you are... so what d'you say?...' The feeling of his tapered cock kissing his tailhole then was... God.

Another stop sign. Nobody was behind him, so he could stay here for a moment... Breezier moved that paw back down and again adjusted his trunks, pulling them away from his body and looking down to see his cock throbbing against his lower belly. Damn shepherds. All those years ago, and he still elicited such a reaction in him... he considered taking care of this right here, but decided against it with a bit of effort and continued on his way. Not that much farther to Selva's.

Back then, Breezier had a bit of a problem with telling people 'no', especially people he liked. With this situation, a part of his mind told him that he should probably deny the invitation, but... well, every single other part of him told him he should say yes. However, he gave no spoken reply, and instead just pressed back against the shepherd, squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed, and nodded. It was a bit of a rough time, what with no lube other than water being used and with water being a terrible lube, but they made it happen; Breezier remembered bracing himself against the tile wall, first with both paws while his muzzle faced the floor and then later with both paws, his upper chest, and the side of his muzzle, while the shepherd pounded into him again and again, one paw digging into the otter's chest and the other around his cock...

Selva's house came into view down the street a bit. Breezier shivered, sighed, pulled up, turned off the car, and just sat there for a moment, waiting for the little electric pulses of arousal to disperse and forcing his mind to think about other things. Think about what I'll do in my game when I get home, think about what's gonna be for dinner, think about movies and warmth and snuggles - actually, no, don't think about snuggles...

Ah, Saturday. Breezier thought he felt a drop of rain on his nose on the way up to the door, above which was a little decorative overhang to keep any more off of him, but felt nothing when he went to wipe it off. He rang the doorbell, crossed his arms in front of him, looked to see if it was evident that he'd just had a raging boner - thank God, it wasn't - and then smiled when the door opened, showing him Selva's familiar face and form. The cat had said he'd just woken up, and he certainly looked the part, too: ruffled fur, sleepy eyes, wearing boxers and nothing else. His tail flicked idly behind him.

"When you said you'd be right over," said the cat, "I didn't expect it to be so quick..."

Sure, he sounded a little miffed, but that just came with being a cat. Breezier held his arms out. "Hug?"

"Yes, please." Just as he thought, Selva was happy to see him; he nuzzled into the fur of his neck and held on for a little after the hug. Either that, or the day's chill had just gotten into that soft fur of his. "Now, come in, please. I don't like it outside. It's cold."

The house was cool and still, and smelled faintly of cinnamon or cookies or something. Selva led Breezier around and into the kitchen, where a pot of coffee bubbled quietly - and the scent brought the otter back to another pleasant memory.

"Coffee?" Selva asked. Breezier nodded and then sat down at the table, just as he had at the coffee shop where he had first met the cat all that time ago; it had been one of the few times where he'd gone into town of his own accord, and now, he couldn't even remember why. He was infinitely glad that he had chosen to, though. Selva had been there first, and sat in a booth near the back corner; Breezier noticed him when he'd walked in but didn't pay him much mind, even though there was something about him that caught his attention. Now, he knew it to be his eyes, mismatched malachite green and azurite blue; then, he had no real clue, and as such stole a glance over at the cat whenever he could.

It was like his little escapade in the school shower with the German shepherd all over again: he hoped that each glance went undetected, but before his final one, he knew that the person admired knew. So, blushing and nervous again, Breezier stumbled over his order and went to sit down, on the other side of the shop with his back to the cat.

Here, back in the present, Selva came to the table and sat down across from him, a ghost of a smile on his muzzle. That was how it went in the coffee shop, as well: upon hearing his order - 'Breeze' - he stood and went over to get it, and when he came back, this same cat had slid into the seat across from him, wearing that same interested half-smile. Breezier came back, sat down, sipped his coffee, sputtered because it was too hot, and generally tried to avoid those eyes...

He couldn't remember exactly what it was they had spoken about, but had a feeling he was too shy to say much of anything past one- or two-word responses. He did remember, however, that Selva had asked a few rather... intrusive questions by the end of the conversation, and that he'd answered them too... and he remembered being walked to his car, and then being pushed inside, and then being bent over the seat with that cat thrusting under his tail...

Breezier didn't even notice Selva now as he stood up to get the coffee from the pot, which had beeped a while back. "Something on your mind?" asked the cat, pouring one cup and then another. Breezier flicked his ears.

"Huh?" His mind became even more muddled when the cup was placed under his nose and breathed its aroma up over his muzzle. His ears flicked again. "Oh - I - uh, yeah. I mean, no, I'm fine. Just..." He shifted. "Uh. Sleepy."

"Yeah, I know the feeling. Think I'm gonna nap after this..."

"After drinking a cup of coffee?"

Selva peered up over the edge of his cup, swallowed, and shrugged. "After a while, you build up a resistance to it, y'know..."

The two continued speaking and watching each other for a while, until Selva abruptly stood and went over into the adjacent room. Breezier shortly followed; he found him lounging back on the couch, feet propped up on the table and one controller to the video game console in his lap with the other beside him, which he raised and held out to the otter.

"This is what you wanted to do today?" Breezier took it as he settled down next to him. Selva shifted a little so that he could lean on his shoulder, and began navigating through the menus on the screen. "Play video games?"

"Among other things. But, yes. Why? You act as if you had other plans."

"...Well..." Clearly, their relationship was not entirely sex - there was also hugs, and cuddling, and kisses, and video games, and a movie every now and then- and past being an adorable little fuckwad, Selva was excellent at making quesadillas. "Yeah, whatever. What are we playing?"

It was a simple game, one of those ones where solo play just doesn't work out right. Breezier found himself to enjoy the game, as usual, even though Selva was clearly doing better than him, also as usual. After about ten minutes of button-mashing, cursing, and gentle pushing, a bright flash of color across the screen changed the view from the gameplay to a simple "Player 1 Wins!"; the otter dropped his controller in his lap, leaned back, and aimed a playful glare at Selva.

"You should - I don't know - let me win sometime."

"You should suck my dick."

"That'll just make it harder for me!"

Selva lifted himself up and tugged his boxers down his legs, revealing a sheath the same tint of off-white as his bellyfur, and soft sack beneath that. "To be fair..." he began, gently pulling his sheath down with a finger and thumb, "I'll have a bit of trouble concentrating as well..."

So there it was. Breezier had known that this was going to happen since he first got the message, and yet, he'd pretended like it wouldn't. He swallowed, he licked his lips, he - tried to take his eyes away but couldn't. "Yeah, but..."

Selva just continued the movements of his paw, stroking slowly up and down and urging more of his shaft out of his sheath, his eyes focused on the otter's. "It's not like you have to be facing the TV to play, right?"

"Well..." Breezier slowly shifted to the ground, then slid over a bit; Selva hooked one leg over his shoulder and lowered himself on the couch, so that his shaft was a few inches beneath the otter's muzzle. He knew how much Breezier loved being in this position, and - hell, Breezier knew that he knew. He leaned down and pressed his nose into the soft fur of his sack, keeping his eyes on the barbed pink flesh in front of his eyes. "You know..."

"Yeah?"

The pressure of a paw on the back of his head wiped from his mind whatever he was going to finish that sentence with. Instead, he nuzzled against Selva a bit more firmly before moving up his body a little - and stopped when his nose rested right below his belly button and his lips on the end of his cock, touching but doing nothing more. "Mrrhmh..."

"What are you waiting for?" Selva lifted his hips; in response, Breezier flicked his tongue out against the barbs, then brought his own paw up so he could angle the cat's cock toward his muzzle. "Surely you knew why I invited you over? I..."

He trailed off, guided by the otter's lips closing around his length and moving down. Breezier used to worry that he was bad at giving blowjob, but after finding a cat to practice on at least two or three times a week, that doubt had begun to fade - with about as much speed as his erection started to grow as soon as he saw Selva's paws move down toward his pants, or his underwear, or whatever he was wearing on that day, if anything. He had started to try different little tricks and things that he'd seen in videos and read in stories, and learned just what it was that his kitten liked.

"Good pup..." purred Selva above him, having moved his paw more to behind his ears. He moved his hips forward and back, into and back out of Breezier's muzzle while the otter bobbed on him. Breezier really enjoyed giving oral, and Selva didn't mind that - even now as he was just getting started, the otter had to wiggle a paw down his front and shift the fit of his trunks due to the boner that pressed through the fabric against Selva's leg. Often he would neglect working on himself just to satisfy whoever it was whose dick was in his throat so he could focus better on satisfying that person - as well as on remembering the details, the taste, the scent, their noises and movements, for when he would certainly reflect on the whole thing later. Besides, one time he'd ended up shooting his load all over against the front of this couch, a few inches to the left of where he knelt now, and Selva had gotten pissed and punished him... he gave his week's usual quota of blowjobs in that one day.

One guy he was with in high school had a cock that Breezier would swear could reach halfway down his throat, if he could open his jaw wide enough to accommodate it. Selva wasn't quite that well-endowed, but he still found that he enjoyed being held down in the cat's lap better than that other guy. They had met on somewhat equal circumstances, too: where Breezier had met Selva in a coffee shop, he had first actually spoken to this other guy when they were both assigned to the same history group for a project and he invited him over to his house. There was ten minutes of 'okay, what are we supposed to be doing' and 'did you remember to do the blah blah blah' and 'shit, I don't remember what the assignment was', and then somehow Breezier's paw fell to the other guy's thigh, and the other guy held it there before he could move it away, and - then there was, like, thirty or forty minutes of vigorous and various activities, leading to the otter's learning of these dimensions of his cock.

But, Selva... there was just something about him, something that kept him coming back, kept him returning his calls and answering his texts, kept him wondering about the next time they'd see each other or roll around on the couch or floor or bed or take a nap or sleep for the whole night together. Breezier shifted how he knelt so that he could easier take the cat into his throat - which he did without gagging for once, and held him there for a while. Selva's paw came down to caress the side of his muzzle, and the cat dragged a claw through the fur of his cheek when he started to come back up, only to dive right back down quickly after.

One paw still down between his legs, he shifted his trunks the rest of the way off and started to treat himself as well, but nothing too much - a squeeze at the base of his shaft, a couple of light strokes, a good fondling of the sack. The second time he and Selva had done anything, he was still (sensibly) nervous, and as such actually had trouble keeping a boner - but when the cat pushed him down onto his back, hiked his rump up into the air, got over him, and slowly started to sink into him... ah, just the memory was enough to make him continue bobbing on him now with renewed energy. Sometimes his tongue got tired, more often his lips or jaw started to hurt, but he just pushed through it, this time included; he had started to feel the cat's little humps upward and began to hear his various grunts and noises, and the taste of salty pre had gathered on his tongue a while back and lingered there. Unless Selva specifically asked or pulled him off so that he wore his cum on his muzzle, Breezier usually went down as far as he could and waited until the cat had finished unloading into his throat when he came...

This time, Selva settled back against the couch, gripped at the cushions with both of his paws - Breezier could hear the soft noises of his claws piercing into the fabric - and panted openly, his breathing interrupted every now and then by him swallowing, until he finally bucked upward once, twice into Breezier's muzzle, and would have done so a third and fourth time had the otter not done his usual and moved down onto him, almost choking on the rush of hot liquid being spurted out into the back of his throat.

He swallowed a few time, and then dragged his tongue along and around the cat's length when he came back up. After, he wiped his mouth across his lips and sat back on the balls of his feet, his own hard cock throbbing in front of him. "That alright?"

It took Selva a moment before he could say anything in response - or even open those mismatched eyes of his. When he could, he breathed a heavy sigh, licked his lips, lifted a paw, dropped it, looked down to his own length and the little puddle of cum that still drooled out into his fur after his orgasm... "I need a nap."

"May I join you?"