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7.

Guadalupe and Maxwell retired to the warehouse’s only restroom.

Max led Guadalupe, guiding the path with dominant steering actions. The human boy made no conscious efforts to retaliate or fight against the shep-coon. They burst through a pair of swinging double-doors into a urine-scented porcelain-tiled restroom. Smudges of dirt and old dried blood lay caked upon the tiling, the corners clumped with mounds of dust, mold, mildew and aged soapy grime. The left side of the bathroom held a long-stretching urinal bowl with scented pucks and ice inside of it. Fresh scotch-scented vomit lay in a coagulated heap upon one mound of ice inside the large communal urinary. To the right of the restroom sat two rusted sinks with dirt-smeared mirrors towering above them, one cracked in the center and spread out in spider’s web branches. All three enclosed stalls were light beige in color. Neither one of them were occupied. A flood of graffiti coated each square inch of the cubicle’s surfaces, both inside and out: gang signs, crudely drawn penises and vaginas, phone numbers of common prostitutes and pushers, even a duct-taped glory hole crusted with a multitude of dry flaky aftermaths. Many men endured many sloppy ejaculations through this small arm-width hole, pried diligently through the stall’s metallic surface. Max had wondered if any guys may have lost their junk in the past due to an overexcited cocksucker with epilepsy or a treacherously vengeful ex-wife donning a filet blade or a small hatchet. Max cringed in reviled disgust at the thought and dropped it entirely.

Maxwell guided Lupe into the farthest stall while hugging the boy close between his hybrid arms and swirling his long canine tongue in figures of eight inside Lupe's mouth, flicking and jerking. Lupe kept his hands cupped firm around Max’s buttocks, tugging upward, caressing intimately within his grasp, while he gasped and groaned with erotic stupor. They entered the stall in the dimly-lit corner and Max closed the door, locking the dead-bolt behind him. Lupe slid the jacket off his new-found anthro lover’s slender shoulders, causing the large denim article to fall to the ground in a ragged clump (along with the balloon of scag) and Lupe licked at Max’s fur-thickened neck, remaining attached solidly to his body like a fly to shit. Lupe’s brown-tanned hand slid from Max’s bulge and slowly maneuvered up his groin, traveling beneath his shirt, lifting it up as he rubbed his fingers across Max’s washboard abs. Lupe knelt down and kissed at Max’s chest, rubbing and embracing the anthro with unrepentant lust. Max was worried about him noticing the gun harness strapped upon his belt, but luckily the little prick narrowly avoided its presence, instead paying attention to unbuttoning and unzipping Max’s denim jeans.

This little homo-slut simply won’t wait for another minute longer. My god, he’s wooing me over! I’ll have to show him his money’s worth – in more ways than one. First things first, however…

Lupe yanked down Max’s denim jeans and plaid boxers, jangling minuscule chain-links upon his belt, to expose a fresh musky erection, slightly drippy with pre-cum. Lupe licked his chapped lips and looked up lovingly at Max, smiling and cocking an eyebrow with generous desire. Max bit down upon his lower lip and nodded, affirming permission to carry on, to commence with the oral pleasure. As Max spread his thighs apart a bit more for comfort and negotiable access, Lupe took all nine and a half inches of Max’s thick baculum-knotted cock into his mouth with incredible persistence. Max rolled his single eye back into his head and moaned enticingly as he clenched his grip down upon the head of this prick of a dope pusher, grabbing hold of his short chestnut-brown hair as Lupe's lips wrapped tight around Max’s veined shaft, dampening it with warm sticky vodka-drenched saliva. Quick lashings of Lupe’s bristly human tongue against his canine cock tip and those maddening flurries of sheer illicit pleasure drove Max gut-wrenching insane with lust, twitching and panting with each sliding bob up and down, face burying deeper into his exceptionally musky crotch. Max endured a swift squirting orgasm after a good ten-minute suck, heavily ejaculating down Lupe’s throat, rubbing the head of his penis against the roof of Lupe's mouth, feeling a slight presence of teeth scraping against his meaty knot. Lupe practically choked while swallowing the spunk shot down his throat. This clenching sensation enticed Max with a magnificent rebuttal, causing seminal fluid to protrude in small trickling globs down Lupe’s chin, dribbling slowly along his neck with hand-soap texture, possessing a cloying scent of oysters and pineapple.

Max knelt down to French-kiss Lupe and engage in a scrumptious sultry snowballing while he cautiously reached for his pistol, fastened securely to the belt buckle harness. With one hand-paw, Max gripped Lupe’s hair in his grasp and locked muzzle to mouth, lapping up his own trickling jizz from Lupe's trembling lips, while his other free hand-paw grabbed hold of the pistol, disengaging the safety and blindly cocking back the hammer. Lupe heard this tiny sound and peered over to his side. His eyes grew wide with unbelieving shock and dismayed alarm. He reared his head back, eyelids frozen in place. His jaw dropped down wide open and his face flushed pale with fright. A small rope of Max’s semen trailed from the prick’s lip, dangling and swinging like a thin liquid string of ivory jump rope as he stared expressionlessly at the pistol’s barrel, a threatening and incredibly definitive black hollowed circle of doom and destruction pointed directly at his shivering face, loaded, armed and ready to fire if the need called for it. Max wanted to settle the entire absurdly stupid fucking botched exchange once and for all. If the middle-man (boy) died in the process, oh fucking well.

Maxwell remained ever-patient and relieved, holding his gun up to Guadalupe's cheek. But not for long, he imagined.