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Beachcomber the otter woke up with his cock down a cheetah's throat.

That is a pretty good way to wake up. He purred his pleasure and put a webby hand on his girlfriend's shoulder, gently urging her on.

Had he been lying on a bed, or on the beach sand under the pier, he'd have motioned for her to sit on his face while she sucked. It was only fair to return the favor, after all, and he knew the taste of cheetah pussy very well. But he was in a hammock hung between two pier pilings and she was standing next to it.

They'd fucked in a hammock before but it was the sort of thing you have to approach with great care. You can get tangled up in the thing or capsize and fall out at the most inopportune moment. With plenty of other places to make love they agreed a hammock was for sleeping, not fucking.

The exception was something like what was happening now. Callie the cheetah swallowed, kneading Beachcomber's cock with powerful and well practiced throat muscles. His girlfriend was far more predatory than he was and besides milking the cum out of the occasional orca cock the squeeze of her gullet often sent entire humans sliding into her stomach. It treated a nearly foot-long otter cock very well.

There was no need to hold back when it was a one-sided affair. He tugged at her shoulder until her chin was against his furry balls, let out a long churr and shivered. The otter tail hanging out of the hammock twitched and his clawed feet kicked as he came.

He'd licked strings of otter goo off her whiskers but not this time. With his whole cock down her throat she swallowed, purred, and disgorged a clean, wet otter cock.

"Thanks babe." Beachcomber yawned and scratched his belly as his cock slid back into its sheath. An otter's sheath is what was locally known as an "innie" as it lies under the fur. Most aquatic mammals are like that for streamlining reasons. A dog's sheath on the other hand is an "outie". A dog's dick appears when the sheath retracts but for an otter it takes a combination of that and internal muscles to bring it out to play.

Dolphins and other cetaceans used a still different method, he remembered. It involved something called a sigmoid flexure. There were many types of dicks, but they all shared the same eventual functionality.

"You," Beachcomber said as he rolled up the hammock, "Smell like walrus."

"One-tusk is back in town," Callie purred.

"Did you ever find out where he came from?" They were far south of what should be walrus territory, but there were a couple who stopped by from time to time. Sea life center escapees, hitched a ride on a cargo ship, no one knew.

They made their way out from under the pier and Beachcomber opened a keypad-locked locker. The lockers were free and were often used by beachgoers to store valuables people didn't want destroyed by seawater...or by digestive juices, this beach being what it was. Since he was more or less homeless, being a beach bum who slept under the pier or in whatever bed he was invited to, he used them a lot.

"He's not a big talker," the cheetah purred.

"Neither is the other one," Beachcomber agreed. He put the hammock in the locker and got a tight-fitting set of shorts out since he slept in the nude. If anyone saw him on his trip to or from the pier he just dropped down on all fours and pretended to be an actual otter. One of the benefits of being a semi-feral. "She just wanted to have fun. I didn't impress her, though I tried."

Callie giggled. "Well, I've felt One-tusk's penis bone through the flesh and just the bone is bigger than your whole dick. He weighs a ton and a half, dear. A female walrus is going to expect something on that scale."

Beachcomber pulled on the shorts, which flattened out his fur and made the long ridge of his sheath stand out. (It didn't hurt to advertise.) Callie was right. His cock was impressive by human standards but he couldn't compete with the big sea mammals. Luckily not all of them were size queens and he'd fucked his share of them, big and small.

"I appreciate the wakeup," he churred. "What do I owe you?"

"I've got a new girl just about talked into a threesome," Callie purred. "If there's some evening where you'd not busy the next morning..."

When Callie said "threesome", she didn't mean "Three people fucking." She meant "She ends up in a stomach with someone and then swallows her companion." It was a complicated thing they'd done a few times and the end result was Beachcomber being almost too full to move for a while. Callie plus another woman together weighed as much as he did. Digesting that much meat was a whole day's work even for a fast digestive system like his.

"You got it, babe, I'll let you know." He nibbled on her ear and she giggled before pushing him away. Callie ate people a lot. Even with all the volleyball she played, she'd be a very fat cheetah if she didn't get larger preds to digest most of her meals for her. That meant she took frequent trips through digestive tracks. Luckily she was as into that as she was into eating people. She'd been through his guts at least a dozen times.

"Now go take a shower," he purred. "You're all sticky."

He wasn't joking. A walrus's penis is a genuinely dangerous thing when you're a twentieth the size of the beast. Not only is it long and thick but there is a police-baton-sized bone in there rendering it stiff as an iron bar. Much as she'd like to take that walrus cock up her ass or partway into her pussy the safe approach was the same one she'd used on him a little while ago. His cum she'd swallowed, but one-tusk's ended up all over her.

They split up when she got back from the shower. Callie headed off to the volleyball nets, where people were extremely happy to pay a cheetah girl to hang out with them. Anthros are very rare and she was cute and athletic. She taught volleyball, did guided beach tours, modeling, and more. Callie made friends easily and picked up a lot of new lovers - and meals - at the volleyball nets.

One of his own money-makers was beach tours too, just on the ocean side. He had his own rebreather mask kept in the locker and he spent some whole days in the water introducing people to various aquatic animals and showing them the sights.

Today he was doing his other job. Well, one of his other jobs. Private surfing instructor. Tourists would show up and he'd teach them the basics for a couple of hours, then move onto the next group. Sometimes it was a whole family and sometimes it was just one.

That was how he met Freddie.

"You're kidding, right?" Freddie was a clumsy blond college student a head shorter than Beachcomber. Most people were. Even with short ottery legs he was six and a half feet tall, a long tube of brown and gold fur over muscle. His abundant whiskers stood out as wide as Freddie's shoulders and his tail was the size of a man's leg.

"Not kidding, dude," Beachcomber purred. They were in chest deep water and Freddie kept falling off his board no matter how he steadied it. "If you can't stay on the board you can stand on my back in the water. I tutor people that way all the time. I can stay under you in the water until you get your balance."

"I don't believe it. How does that even work?"

"Dude, you paid for a lesson. I'll show you."

And he did. The weight of a man standing on his back pushed him underwater but that was what the mask was for. With four webby paws and a rudder tail to balance him he moved underneath Freddie as he swayed and in half an hour the man only fell off once. By the time the lesson was over Freddie had his sea legs and could at least manage to stand on a board without toppling over. It was a start.

Back on the beach and waiting for his next customer, Beachcomber grabbed a fish out of a water-filled bucket. It was bolted to one of the lifeguard towers to keep opportunistic sea lions or whatnot from snarfing up all the fish and was there so the beach patrol could bribe stubborn animals to get out of the way of the beachgoers.

Freddie watched with great interest as Beachcomber turned first one set of sharp side teeth and then the other onto the fish. In a matter of moments he snipped it into bites and swallowed them down. He was licking fish juice and blood off his chops when Freddie spoke up.

"Is it true, what they say about this beach?"

Beachcomber blinked down at him. "They say a lotta things about this beach, dude."

"I mean, uh, people and animals."

"Oh sure, dude. That's why they call it a friendly beach. The animals are -real- friendly. Come by after my lessons and I'll introduce you to some. There's some real friendly sea lions who sleep under the pier and there's always dolphins out there if you rent a mask. At night there's even more, that's when most of the critters are awake."

"And people get...eaten, too?"

It wasn't the first awkwardly interested person Beachcomber dealt with. This sort of curiosity kept the local preds well fed.

"Sure. Look." Beachcomber reached into the bucket and pulled out the largest fish, the size of a man's forearm.

"Hey," said the lifeguard at the top of the tower. "No mooching."

"I'm good for it dude, I catch half of these fish."

"Fine," said the lifeguard, and went back to watching the waves for people in trouble.

The fish was still alive and Freddie watched with rapt interest as the big otter lifted it. There was a flash of fangs as Beachcomber yawned and suddenly half the fish was down his throat. He swallowed, just once, and a twitching fish tail slipped beneath his whiskery chops and was gone. Five pounds of immature striped bass disappeared as easily as a letter slides into a mailbox. Beachcomber licked his chops and grinned.

"See dude," he said, and put a webby hand on his belly, where the fur was twitching. "A lot of the local critters can yawn like that. You wanna -" he paused, waiting for a mother and her kids to get out of earshot.

"Don't freak the mundanes," he muttered to Freddy. "Keep the weird stuff under the pier. Rules, man."

"If you wanna visit with the animals," he went on, "Plenty of them will eat you if you want. People come here just for that, because it's the only place where you can do it and come back. You saw the lockers, right? People put their stuff in there so it'll be there when they reform."

Freddie watched as the struggle in Beachcomber's middle weakened. The otter had been active all day and the fish wouldn't last long in a belly that hungry. Beachcomber burped and Freddie's eyes snapped back up as the otter's mouth opened.

"People really come back here?"

"Sure dude. I'd show you where it happens but it's real rude to watch. People come back naked, you know. The beach patrol has to chase away guys with cameras. Sometimes they get arrested. There are assholes everywhere, man, but we try to make it real friendly here."

Freddie looked at the fur on Beachcomber's belly, then up at the otter's whiskery chops. And he was blushing. The loose shorts he wore weren't enough to conceal his erection.

Beachcomber had seen it all before. He always taught surfing hungry, because if he ate beforehand he got sleepy or had to hit the outhouse. Hours into the day he was very hungry indeed, even with a five pound fish in his stomach. And here was someone who couldn't look away from his mouth.

He wasn't half as predatory as Callie, but..."Dude, if you're super interested I could show you now. Looks like there's no one waiting for a lesson, anyway."

Freddie nodded and followed him into the shadows under the pier. Beachcomber knew every rock, from the ones covered with mussels to the smooth ones you could sit on. He knew every tide pool, every patch of soft sand when you could fuck without getting a sea urchin up the ass. He pointed out several sleeping sea lions and a sea otter bigger than he was curled up between some rocks.

"Any one of them would fuck a human and most of them can and have swallowed people," Beachcomber said. "It's all consensual, man. Friendly beach, no one gets forced. Not everyone likes it though, a lot of people come here once and then leave. I hear them talk sometimes, 'I can't believe I did that'." Beachcomber chuckled.

He showed Freddie the paths leading to the lockers and pointed at the box full of thrift store clothing.

"In case people don't think to put something in the lockers," he purred. "They can grab a pair of shorts or whatever from there. People reform right there in that gap in the rocks, where it's hard to see from the boardwalk. No one knows why it happens. It just does, and only if they are eaten. Drowning, heart attack, they stay dead. Some sick people tried it. You only come back if you're swallowed, and you come back just as healthy or sick as you were."

Then he led Freddie to one of his favorite nooks, a spot among the rocks you'd never find if you didn't know the paths. He sat on a nice smooth rock and let things happen.

Freddie was awkward, clumsy, inexperienced...but very interested. When the college student reached out and put his hand on the long bulge in his shorts Beachcomber just smiled.

"You don't mind? I heard you have a girlfriend."

"Dude, if I minded guys I'd have to turn down a lot of blowjobs. Callie and I are together, but we have lots of other friends. Some of them we fuck."

Freddie nodded, fascinated by the shape under his fingers. Beachcomber pulled his shorts down around his knees and Freddie's fingers moved to the furry balls at the bottom of the ridge. Beachcomber leaned back against the rocks and purred.

"Christ." Freddie discovered that Beachcomber's pelt was loose enough that he could slide the sheath up and down the otter's shaft. It didn't take much of that before the sheath drew back and out slid an otter cock as thick as a man's wrist. It was probably twice as long as his own, a slick pink shaft that even had a bit of a taper before the bulge of a spade-shaped head. Not human at all, but from a certain angle vaguely so.

"This fits in people?" Freddie gripped it with one hand. His other hand was elsewhere as he pulled down his own shorts.

"Depends on who it is," Beachcomber purred. "Human women or my girlfriend, I have to be careful. Though my girl can take the whole thing up her ass. Some guys too. With animals, it depends. I fit in dolphins just fine, lots of other critters. Sometimes, I'm too big. But I fucked a walrus yesterday and she didn't have much fun at all. I was small compared to her. Depends, man."

Freddie nodded, having seen the wrinkly bulk of a walrus under the pier. It was the size of a Volkswagen. This wasn't like college where every Tab A was properly sized for every Slot B.

He looked down at Beachcomber's hard-on and opened his mouth for the tip.

Beachcomber was very good at sucking dicks. He got plenty of practice sucking his own when no one was interested in doing it for him. It was another benefit of being a bendy semi-feral.

Freddie on the other hand wasn't very skillful at all. Beachcomber put his hand on the college kid's shoulder and tried to guide him but there was only so much he could do. This wasn't Callie, who could deep throat an entire human and whose maw found a foot-long otter cock no challenge.

But Freddie was enthusiastic, and that was enough. He pumped Beachcomber's shaft with one hand, his own with the other. The otter was pretty sure the college kid never sucked a dick before but he'd probably watched videos because he licked and sucked as best he could. He was gagging, trying and failing to swallow the tip when Beachcomber's tail began to twitch. Beachcomber took his hand off Freddie's shoulder because if he didn't the boy would swallow his cock like it or not. He always tensed up when he came and he was twice Freddie's size. One push and his balls would be on the college student's chin.

Freddie looked up at him, probably wondering why he pulled away, and then he was choking on otter cum. It was awkward, it was messy, but Beachcomber didn't complain. He purred, his webby hindpaws twitching on either side of the kneeling student, and turned his face white.

"Thanks dude," he purred afterward, and licked it off. He pulled Freddie close, careful with his claws, and licked the man's face, neck, shoulders, everywhere a drop may have gone and plenty of places where one hadn't.

Freddie looked down as a long gurgle arose from Beachcomber's middle. The fish was already gone, consumed by the otter's powerful digestive juices. With the hand not on his own dick he felt the fluffy fur there, and the muscle beneath. No sign of the subtle bulge he saw before. A broad wet tongue washed his forehead and he looked up just as Beachcomber's jaws gaped around his face.

There was a pause. Slowly the big otter shifted his hands where they gripped him, and there was the sense that if Beachcomber wanted, he was lunch. The otter was twice his size and very hungry. Freddie was staring down a gullet he could put his forearm into without touching the sides and the otter's canine fangs were hooked behind his ears. Beachcomber yawned and slipped his jaws forward until they engulfed Freddie's whole head. Ever so slowly, they advanced.

Freddie had a choice. He could say "No" and the otter would back off. If he said nothing it would be the same as saying "yes" and pretty soon he'd be in an otter's stomach.

The otter held him only gently. He could pull back, and then he could guide that whiskery muzzle down and get from the otter what he'd just given him. The otter would happily swallow his cock, or his entire body.

Another hungry gurgle bubbled up out of Beachcomber's hollow belly and Freddie leaned forward, sliding his chin down the salivating tongue until the tight space at the back expanded over his forehead and cheeks. Everything went dark and slimy as his face pushed into Beachcomber's throat and he felt the otter's gentle grip tighter. He'd made the offer. It was about to be accepted.

Beachcomber pulled him into his lap and the long bulge of retracted cock rubbed against his own hard-on. The otter's long neck bent and Freddie felt the loose jaws slip over his shoulders. Sharp fangs grazed his skin only slightly as the otter ever so carefully pushed its maw over his upper arms.

Gullet slithered by on all sides as he slipped deeper. It was hot and wet and slippery as with one long slide the otter slipped its jaws over him all the way to the waist. He felt the huge bulge move down into the otter's torso as with snakey ease it swallowed him alive. Beachcomber's webby hands cupped his rump and lifted him. Once he tilted far enough forward he'd slide down the otter's throat.

Then a muscular otter tongue, now able to reach his groin, unrolled and slid over his balls. Freddie had gagged on otter cum before he finished and erection had never gone down. The long wet tongue guided his tip past the otter's front teeth and Beachcomber grabbed his ankles and set his feet on a set of furry otter thighs.

Freddie knew what to do now, or his dick did anyway. With his feet on Beachcomber's thighs he had something to brace against and he began to thrust, driving his cock against the otter's tongue. Each thrust drove him a little deeper and soon he was humping the walls of Beachcomber's throat too. The jaws wrapped around his ass were full of sharp teeth and he felt them scrape as he moved but he was too horny to stop.

Far down the otter's gullet his face pressed against a rubbery obstruction. Each time he seemed about to push past it Beachcomber pulled him back by his ankles. The throat stretched around him made an imperfect seal and there was just enough air to get by. Freddie grabbed the otter's lower jaw with both hands, his wrists at the back of Beachcomber's jaws and his fingers just able to reach, and used that anchor to thrust even harder.

Four or five thrusts later it happened. Blind in the otter's gullet and fucking only by feel Freddie thrust, shuddered, and came all over the back of Beachcomber's tongue. He was still spurting when the otter tilted its head back, lifting his feet off the thighs and turning its throat into a steep slippery chute.

Fangs scraped over his skin as his weight sent him sliding into Beachcomber's maw. Freddie discovered why the otter hadn't let him slide any deeper before. The rubbery obstruction turned out to be the sphincter separating throat from stomach and his face slipped into the folds of Beachcomber's stomach, where nothing remained of the otter's fishy meals but loose scales and a great quantity of digestive acid.

The sudden shocking pain of acid biting into his eyes made Freddie squeeze them shut. Unfortunately the acid was everywhere and stung his lips and skin almost as badly. An otter has a powerful and quick digestive system and the instant sting of powerful stomach acids caused Freddie to change his mind. He tensed in the otter's gullet and squirm his way out.

It was much too late for that. Gravity had sent his ass past the otter's back teeth into the slimy depths of gullet and his hands followed. There was nothing left to grab, no way to stop his slide. Beachcomber pointed his muzzle at the sky and swallowed, his powerful throat muscles rolling over Freddie and easing him deeper. By the time the college student decided he wasn't interested in becoming otter chow after all there was nothing left outside the otter's maw but a kicking set of feet.

Slipping and sliding into Beachcomber's belly, Freddie was forced to curl up. The soft folds of stomach expanded to accommodate him, spreading a thick layer of digestive slime over him as they did. With the caustic juices singing him everywhere Freddie opened his burning lips.

"Hey!" He had little air and little time. He used both to plead. "I've changed my mind!"

But Beachcomber hadn't. He shut his fanged jaws around Freddie's feet, guiding the toes in with his tongue so he wouldn't accidentally bite them off with his flesh-shearing side teeth. They were still kicking when he bunched his tongue up under Freddie's insteps, tilted his head back, and swallowed.

Freddie slid heavily into Beachcomber's stomach, the otter's webby hands pressing in from the other side of the wall of fur to get him situated for easiest digestion. It was unbearably hot and thick slime coated everything. The scales of recently digested fish stuck to his skin and got into every crevice of his body. Only a few inches away was the regular thump of Beachcomber's heart. He was deep inside the otter's body and even though there were only a couple of inches of muscle and fur between him and the cool sea air he knew there would be no escape.

Freddie kicked once, twice, but it was impossible to get any leverage curled up in a slimy belly. Even if he could, the otter's webby hands were right there on the other side of the fur, ready to stifle any struggle. He'd known Beachcomber was hungry. That's why he let it happen. Well, here he was. Otter food.

As the acid began to consume him - he would swear his skin was already softening - Freddie could only hope he'd been right to trust the otter. Beachcomber said people reformed here. He'd even shown him where it happened. Had he been telling the truth?

Beachcomber let out a long belch and acid came rushing in to replace what little air Freddie had left. He was about to find out.

Sweltering heat, burning skin and the utter dark of the otter's stomach suddenly gave way to cool air and blinding light. Freddie stumbled and sat down on the sand, covering his eyes from the glare. It took a panting minute to realize he was alive, naked, and sitting in the rocky nook Beachcomber pointed out earlier. The first thing he saw when his eyes adjusted was the wooden box with CLOTHES painted on the side.

Freddie rooted around in the box and came away with a set of shorts that fit fairly well, a shirt two sizes too big and a mismatched set of flip-flops. One of the flip-flops was oddly discolored and partly eaten away. He strongly suspected it had navigated some creature's intestinal tract before ending up back on the beach. Chances are someone was wearing it when it happened but people digest a lot more easily than plastic.

Speaking of digesting. Freddie paid attention when Beachcomber led him into the shadows earlier and remembered part of the route. There were a lot of paths between the rocks but not an infinite number and he tried one and then another until a familiar voice called out.

"Over here, dude. Turn at the piling with three starfish, then, oh there you are."

Beachcomber was sitting on the rock right where Freddie left him. The long furry noodle of otter looked just the same, except for the new, lumpy bulge in his middle. The curled up shape of his former body under the fur included the bulge of the skull, complete with a sunken-in eye and mouth hole where it was turned partway toward him.

"Here you go, dude." Beachcomber handed him his shorts, which last Freddie remembered had been around his knees. The otter must have stripped them the rest of the way off before swallowing. There was the comforting weight of his cell phone and wallet in the pockets.

"Next time use the locker, man. It's fine with me but if you feed yourself to an animal they won't know what to do with your stuff."

"There's not going to be a next time," Freddie snapped. "That hurt!"

"Well of course it did, dude," the otter purred. "What did you think would happen when you got to the stomach? Its job is to digest things." He pulled at his belly with a webby hand and his midsection let out a long gurgle.

"Oh yeah, thanks a ton, man. I was super hungry."

Freddie's face twisted in a grimace of disgust but he couldn't take his eyes off Beachcomber's swollen belly. Suddenly he looked down at himself and felt himself with his hands. He turned one over and made sure he still had the scar on his knuckle.

"You're exactly the same, dude," the well-fed otter purred. "No one knows how it happens, but the new you is the same as the old one. My girlfriend's been eaten like a hundred times and she's the same now as she was before I ate her the first time."

Freddy's gaze returned to the otter's belly and as though drawn by a magnet his hand reached out. Fluffy fur over muscle over what used to be his face met his palm. He pushed, and the skull under the fur shifted unnaturally. Beachcomber's belly sloshed and the pressure broke loose a stray bubble of air. The otter burped and licked his chops.

Freddie pushed again and once more Beachcomber's guts sloshed. "Hey man, ease up," the otter complained. "I'm gonna have to shit soon enough without you stirring things up."

"How long has it been?" More gently now Freddie felt over the bulge. The bones were all mostly in place but it felt like the rest of him was turning to soup in there.

"People reform after about an hour, dude. Otters have really fast stomachs, in anybody else you wouldn't be so soft by now."

"You digested those fish in twenty minutes."

"You're a lot bigger than the fish. Your bones will take a whole day and they'll turn my poop white. The rest of you will be gone by morning."

Too shocked by it all to be angry any more, Freddie sat down next to the otter. "I can't believe I did that."

Beachcomber let out a bark of a laugh. "Told ya dude. Half the people who come here say that afterward. A lot of them come here, fuck on animal and try to pretend it never happened. The ones who get eaten are the same way. They try it out and then 'Never again'. I can't blame them, it's gotta hurt."

"It does." Freddy looked at the bulge that used to be him. "You say your girlfriend's been eaten a hundred times. How about you?"

"Not me, man," Beachcomber said solemnly. "I'm not sure I would come back. Humans do, but animals don't, and I'm half animal. My girlfriend's quarter animal and I told her not to risk it either when she stuck her head in my mouth the first time. She just laughed. Turned out she'd already been through two dolphins, an orca, a sea lion and two seals. She really likes being eaten, man."

"Why?" Freddie poked the softening bulge of himself. "It was okay right up until the acid hit."

Beachcomber shrugged, a strangely fluid, inhuman movement. He didn't have shoulders the way Freddie did. "I dunno, man. Some people like feet and I can't understand it. Most people don't want to talk about why they do it but it's that sort of thing. Getting eaten turns them on. Sure turns Callie on and you fucked my tongue, right?"

"I said I changed my mind," Freddie complained.

"Dude, one, if you said that in there I couldn't hear it. Two, once your head is in someone's throat it's too late to back out. You can't expect a pred to turn down a free meal at that point. Now, if you want to do it and not die I could swallow you feetfirst to the armpits and then spit you out. I do that sometimes when people want it."

"While they are sucking your dick I bet," Freddy snipped.

"Usually," the otter said levelly. "Depends on the person. I've done that with guys who wouldn't touch a dick if it were made of gold."

"You didn't mind me fucking your mouth."

"Dude, I'm not one of those guys. The first thing I ever fucked besides my mouth and hand was a friendly seal cow. Men and women aren't that different after you've fucked a feral. As long as it feels good I'll do it."

Freddie nodded. "What do you get out of it when you swallow them partway and they don't want to suck you off?"

"Sometimes they pay me. Sometimes someone else is sucking. Sometimes I owe them a favor for something. Eating people isn't really my thing, dude. I did it this time because I was really hungry and you seemed really into it right up to the end."

"Well, don't do it again."

"Sure dude. It's not for everyone."

Freddie sighed. "You're still hot, though. Friends?"

"Friends," the otter purred, and he used both hands to lift the bulge of Used-to-be-Freddy as Current Freddy reached for his sheath.

Beachcomber had a policy. He said it different ways at different times, but it amounted to "Never turn down a blowjob."

It was a policy that had gotten a lot of his cum swallowed that otherwise would have stayed in his balls, and that, he thought, meant it was a good one.