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greener12 – Lactation

Julan straightened up and wiped the back of his paw across his forehead. This helped somewhat, but of course did nothing for the sheen of sweat that had begun to roll down along his back – and he had already taken his shirt off, too. Not much to be done there with thick, ink-black fur, extra fluffy for how he went out of his way in his daily routine for that – and by God am I looking forward to getting home today, the skunk thought as he looked over his work, to get all of this out of my fur. But it’s worth it. Because it’s all for-

“All done out here, then?”

His ears perked to the familiar voice, warm and a little husky, sweet, inviting, relaxing. He rolled back onto his ankles and looked up towards where the lovely older goat leaned against the threshold of her backdoor, her summer sundress hanging loosely about her body.

“Yes, ma’am,” Julan replied, and pushed himself up to his full height. “Anything else?”

“Well, only if you’d like.” The goat looked him up and down, one hand on her thigh. “Come on inside for a nice glass of milk?”

“Oh, thank you, ma’am, but I-”

“Fresh squeezed,” she said, already with her back to him. “Fresher n’ you’ve ever had it. Promise.”

Something in the way she said that caught his attention. The younger skunk blinked, wiped his paws off on each other, then shrugged and followed into the cool house; usually he came over to work through Miss Violet’s garden – at least he thought she was a miss; she had mentioned a husband a few times before, but always in the past tense, and he noticed she wore the ring around her neck instead of on a finger – every now and then in the summer for a crisp twenty and maybe some of her homemade fudge, and while milk wasn’t necessarily his favorite refreshment, he-

-froze at the entry to the kitchen, mouth falling open and what he saw. The old goat still wore her dress, just… about half as much as she had before: soft black pelt weather to grey and silver with age coursed down over her now bared shoulders. She leaned over the table from behind, one hand braced against the surface for balance, the other hefting up underneath one of her very sizable, saggy breasts, also bared to the air: that silver-black prickled back around her full, plump nipple, rosy pink, luscious, succulent.

You look fantastic for your age was the first thought in Julan’s mind, soon wiped out by the neurons firing that wait, she’s showing herself off to me. To me. She said something about milk, right? I-

“Ready for you,” she drawled, in that very same sweet, enticing voice. The goat rolled her head to the side, small horns leading the angle; she flicked her tongue out across lips painted in cool, deep metallic purple. “I’ve seen you eyeballing me, son. I thought to myself, there’s no way a strapping young man like you would want to come over to work in my garden, week after week, summer after summer, without wanting something a little more for your trouble.”

Julan cleared his throat. “Um. What if I’m in – high school, and need the volunteer work?”

“Then I’d say a growing boy needs his milk.” She tilted her head back now and peered down at him along her snout. “Besides. You’re in your mid-twenties. That would mean there’s something else going on.”

“Well, what if I’m a criminal and I’m doing community service, and-”

“Lonely old ladies like myself do need servicing,” she purred, giving herself another heft and jiggle. That palm came in over her nipple, squeezed, rubbed… “Husband’s gone, all my kids are grown up and moved out. Just me, all by my lonesome, and then you coming along…” ...and as Julan watched, a firmer squeeze, a more steady, measure tug along the extended pink of her protruding nipple – and a few small but tight squirts of liquid white jetted out to spatter across the table, then dribbled down her fingers.

Miss Violet licked her lips. Julan licked his. Then he reached down, pulled first one glove off and then the other, folded them together, rested them on the table… and then he stepped around and sank down into the offered chair pulled out with one hoof.

“There you go,” the older goat murmured as she leaned in. She smelled of gardenia perfume and soft sweat, and then that distinct, heady upper middle-aged woman scent, and… and Julan closed his eyes and brushed his tongue out across her, feeling the humid warmth of the offered nipple, the simmering heat of the milk.

Sweet, tangy richness spread across his tongue just from that first taste, and he swallowed again – then nuzzled in further, though he had no need to what with the goat’s other hand coming in along the back of his head. Soft, pliable flesh squished in around his lips and against his nose; he swallowed once more, drew his teeth forward across the luscious, bumpy skin surrounding her nipple; he nipped gently, gently, then swirled his tongue around, sucked, sucked again, tightened his lips… and this time the squirting spray emptied directly into his mouth, followed by a second when he dove back in, and a third, and a fourth.

Before he could stop himself Julan had reached over to run his paw up along the back of Miss Violet’s dress towards her waist, where he quickly discovered that she wore nothing underneath. That was usually the case, as she often liked to stand in the path of the sun when coming out to check on his garden progress, so he figured it was just one of the quirks of growing older and making it over the hill; he had already seen everything she had underneath her dress, and admittedly, he did like it.

This much was likely clear in the way the skunk paused to catch his breath – her fresh milk carried that rich, heady caprine note, the slickness that seemed to coat his throat and swell within his belly – and then worked a paw down into his lap, to relieve a little bit of the growing, twitching pressure there. Above him Miss Violet chuckled softly and leaned in closer, pressing her supple chest more firmly against his muzzle as he sucked, then brushed his paw away so she could squeeze and rub him through his pants herself.

Then she lifted up and away, her breast remaining between his lips a moment longer before coming free with a soft pop and a loose spray of milk. Panting gently, Julan reached up, wiped at his mouth, looked up at her.

She winked. “There is one more thing you could do for me…”

greener12 – Marking

Renesco shivered, swallowed, and rested against the threshold out of the enclosure’s maintenance halls, halfway bringing one hand up to shield his eyes from the late afternoon sun. The day had finished, the zoo had closed, all of the visitors had gone home, and now the last three or so hours of the day belonged to the other part-timers like himself and then to the animals in their enclosures, and… and the sheep reached up to rub at an aching, tingling spot on his neck.

And I, too, belong to the animals, he thought, another sweet shudder vibrating through his body. His entire abdomen still sizzled with the remnant pleasure mixed with discomfort: something about a feral’s knot just hit so much harder and tightened so much firmer than any other he had had, and even though this would make the fifth or so time – he had to pause and think about that, going through the season he had been working here – he had gone that far, it still tended to fuck him up for at least the entire following day, so he made sure to only do it right before he could go home for the weekend, and-

-and he jumped and then just as quickly tried to play it off when another coworker turned the corner, also jumped upon seeing him, and froze. At first the lynx opened his mouth to say something to the sheep, but then paused, frowned, leaned in… sniffed at the air, tilted his head. Tall, tufted ears flicked back, then forward again; long whiskers twitched inwards. The lynx reached up as if to scratch at his muzzle. Renesco noted the way he surreptitiously wafted across his nose instead.

“Busy, uh… busy day in there, Ren?”

“Oh. Yeah. Um…” The sheep raised his arm also as if to scratch at his muzzle, and in the same movement tried to lift the collar of his uniform shirt further up. “You know how they are. Rex and – Jerky and… Flank, and them, and…”

“Did you – leave the enclosure door open? Or something?” The lynx leaned in around him, little nose sniffing at the air. “I can smell them, like… really strongly.”

“Huh? No, I…” Renesco’s heart skipped a beat, and for effect, he made sure to glance back over his shoulder – but the other way, so as not to show the still slowly oozing mating bite that Rex had left along one side. He had been here for some four months now, and after visiting with some regularity up to that point, he had imagined that the wolves in his favorite exhibit had started to recognize him at least somewhat, which had only turned out to be true as the weeks continued to pass. From standoffish caution, to careful concern, to curious interest, and now to something just short of open welcoming, every time he stepped into the wolf enclosure for their “cleaning” he was greeted with a little more energy and interest, and now he barely even had to persuade them to roll over so he could attend to their more carnal needs.

The first few times he had done so had been quick and short, little grasps and gropes stolen in the course of his other duties, right after which the sheep bustled over to the other side of the enclosure and went about his work, the whole time sniffing and huffing at the sheen of greasy musk left along his hand. Then, as they always said, one thing led to another, and when he was kept late one evening and Jerky had been hanging around him a bit more than usual, Renesco just hadn’t been able to help himself from dropping to all fours, lifting that brushy tail at the base, then leaning in, and really getting him clean, and-

“No, it’s-” He cleared his throat, swallowed, and gave the door a tug for good measure. “It’s closed. And locked. Ain’t nobody getting in or out without the key, and-” And then the other side of his neck twinged enough for him to reach up and rub at it, a low curse hissing out on his breath.

The lynx tilted his head again. “You okay? Something getcha?”

“Yeah, it’s… I mean, I think, a mosquito or something. Probably.” He glanced down at his fingers: a little bit of blood, a little bit of drool…

...and the lynx saw it, too. “Whoa. Shit, Ren. You’re bleeding. One of the wolves didn’t do that to you, did they?”

“What? No. No. Never! They like me. And you know you’d be the first one to hear about it if, um…”

If I went into that nice, shaded spot under the shelter we gave them, out of view of everyone who’s not also in the enclosure, and stripped down naked and worked Flank’s slimy sheath and fat balls ‘til he was spurting and spraying across the ground? Fucking – ‘wet dog smell’ concentrated into juice, that, and… and I spread my legs and let him chow down, and I was so fucking worried about his teeth, but, goddamn, I had no idea that feral tongue felt so fucking good, and I came like four times across his muzzle, and then…

And then I turned around to get underneath him, and just let him spurt and spray and rain down on me and my chest while I was huffing his knot still in his sheath, and then Rex found us, and he started licking at me too, and I don’t know what happened but then I was on all fours again with a hundred twenty pounds of feral male grey wolf railing away at me, and he came inside and fucking tied me, and he bit my shoulder and-

The lynx coughed gently. “Renesco?”

The sheep blinked, suddenly coming back to the present. He could still feel Rex’s load inside of him, simmering and stirring, hot and loose and watery – to say nothing about the marking that the big feral had given him upon untying, the sheep sprawled out in the enclosure with his chest and muzzle on the ground and his rump hiked into the air. Rex had pulled out, lapped up his mess a little bit, then took two and a half steps forward, hiked his leg, and-

“Did you, um…” The lynx waved a paw his way, now making no effort to hide pinching his nose with the other. “Fall? Into, y’know, a puddle?”

“What? Why?”

“Your wool is looking a bit… yellow.”

CJTheOtter – Rimming

Zac sighed and leaned forward into his paws, shifting just a little bit where he lay belly-down atop the bed, brushy tail hoisted up at the base, legs spread, eyes closed in sweet, indulgent delight as the otter continued his work back there. The striped hyena couldn’t help but twitch and clench with each drag of the small, deft tongue across his tailhole, revealed in a firm spread with both lutrine paws pressing against and parting his rump: he could feel the sleek, velvety webbings in between each finger, and then the well-maintained little claws squishing into fur and flesh, and then of course the hot, fervent breath repeatedly puffing out beneath his tailbase, now from the otter’s nose when he wrapped his lips around his tailhole, now from his opened mouth when he drew back to inspect his work.

His meal, more like, Zac thought, and managed to look back over his shoulder. CJ sprawled across one of the hyena’s legs, his own arousal twitching across the cinnamon-cream fur of his belly, for now untended in his single-minded focus: even when the smaller otter dragged his tongue across the hyena’s tailhole, and drew up from beneath his lifted tail, he still kept his eyes shut and his mouth open and looked overall as though he were at the very peaks of heaven. And, knowing him…

“You hanging on back there, hon?”

While he waited for the answer, Zac felt CJ’s thumbs dig in close to his rim again, pressing into soft, succulent skin and flesh to spread him more fully from the center. Then the otter dove in again, lips pursed, to meet him in a deep, indulgent kiss – so the hyena gave him exactly what he wanted and pushed back, deliberately pressing out from inside, so that the ring of muscle pushed out and squeezed against his lips, and so that his tongue could easily slip forward and plunge into the wet warmth of luscious inner meat.

Another puff of breath simmered out beneath his tail, and CJ shoved his tongue in as far as he could and then rocked his head forward and back, digging up inside of the hyena, swirling around, then drawing back out – and then gave him one more taint-to-tailbase full drag of the flat of his tongue afterwards, just for good measure. He was out of breath when he spoke.

“Yeah,” he managed, and cleared his throat, licked his chops, swallowed, swallowed again. “Yeah, I’m good. How are… how’re you?”

Satisfied – more than satisfied – Zac turned forward again, rested his chin over his arms, and closed his eyes. “Havin’ the time of my life. Just checking in to make sure you’re remembering to breathe.”

“Yeah, don’t, uh…” For a moment the otter’s little paws drew away from his rump, but then came right back in only to readjust and find a new angle of approach. Zac felt CJ shift behind him, then nudge one of his legs further out of the way, and then lean in… and couldn’t help but twitch with the impact of a thick wad of sticky saliva plopping down against the center of his tailhole. It tickled as it rolled down along his rim, following the lines of taut wrinkles, trickling along the back of his sack… “Don’t worry about me…”

...and then he sighed with that same indulgent delight when the otter’s tongue came in to scoop it right back up, first pressing between his balls, then dragging up, up across the textured, wrinkled rim, over the puckered center, then up along the other side of the rim. But of course CJ made sure to keep on going: with his broad nose braced against the underside of Zac’s tail, the otter then curled his tongue back around and swirled it along the spot where thin, soft fur gave way to smooth, wrinkled skin, again, and again, and again, each time drawing closer to the puckered, twitching center. Zac rumbled deep in his throat and shifted how he lay so that he could hoist his hind end up into the air a bit, making an easier target for the other male.

CJ dove in again, this time pinning his chin against the back of the hyena’s sack, and dug his tongue forward, deeper, further. As he did so he drew in a deep, slow breath, humid warmth sizzling along the sensitive fur of Zac’s rump, and then again he closed the distance. This time, though, he sank in where he placed himself, lips squeezing in against the hyena’s tailhole and then spreading out from there to encompass his rim, tongue still dancing, swirling, digging… then curling up from inside, hooking around the ring of muscle, teasing him to push outwards.

And so he obliged again, nostrils flaring as he sighed with the slight shift in tension and focus. Zac bit his lip, wiggled his hind end from one side to the other, and worked his way more firmly back against – around – the otter’s muzzle, burying him deeper within himself. He closed his eyes, let his mouth fall open, and floated back along the sensation of deft, experienced tongue working both around and inside of him, swirling and scooping, slurping… sucking when CJ again sealed his lips and focused there, then paused to lick across his lips and continue his work.

One webbed paw scooped up underneath to massage his balls in his palm, forefinger and thumb wrapping around for a gentle tug, which in turn helped to spread him further. CJ resumed those long, slow, indulgent licks from one edge of his rim to the other, pulling all the way across and making sure to let himself fold in partway through. Before long he instead focused at just working his tongue against him, pushing in, nudging, slurping, then once more digging inside of him, pushing past his clenching rim into the slick, supple folds of flesh inside-

-and then the otter drew back with a great, deep inhalation of breath. He swallowed, panted a bit, reached up to wipe at his mouth, then leaned in to plant another kiss right against Zac’s winking tailhole. The hyena glanced back at him again. CJ grinned, coughed a little bit, then chuckled nervously.

“I, uh…” He swallowed once more. “I may have forgotten to breathe, there.”

Nematious – Canine puss

Nem squirmed where she lay, thankful again for the pillow she had slid underneath her rump, and then breathed out a low, shivering sigh into the close air. Her heart thumped in her chest and her slightly stretched belly shifted with this position, but it was simply the best for her intended purposes; the fox propped herself up on her elbows and pulled further upright, making sure to spread her legs as she went, and clamped her footpaws around the frame of the full-length mirror resting in against the wall… and hoisted her hind end up into view so that she could fit one paw underneath herself again.

And then her tall ears perked with the sound of supple, succulent full lips parting open at that gentle tug, fingerpads first dancing across the smooth, sweet pucker of her tailhole, then coming up from underneath to brace around the base of her plump spade. Luscious wet pink glistened inside, catching the light from overhead and reflecting in the mirror; the fox let out a little moan of effort and then circled a fingerpad around the revealed flesh, her toes curling, her legs kicking with the small but noticeable sensation this brought.

She swallowed again, scooted a bit closer, released herself – those plump lips smacked together and jiggled with the remnant force, swinging briefly from side to side with a thick glob of arousal dribbling from where they met – and now shifted to turn herself over. As she did so Nem noticed that her arms trembled a little bit, the constant electric pleasure vibrating back and forth, drawn out as it was by her self-investigation; she panted as she turned herself over, footpaws coming in underneath her to keep her backside hiked, chest squishing down against the carpeted floor, muzzle sideways.

Then a little further sideways so that she could still see the mirror, and then unsatisfied with this view, she lifted herself back up again, spread her legs a little bit further, looked down underneath herself… and for a moment just continued looking. Spade hanging slightly down beneath its own dense weight, sagging yet still firm, she swung her hips slowly from one side to the other until she felt the wet warmth squish in along her thigh. Then when she swung the other way, the slick, velvety flesh sucked in against soft fur, held there, and pulled free only after a moment of the tug, so that it could then again swing a little bit and hang. After a few motions of this the fox’s inner thighs had become streaked with dribbling wetness with heavier strands hanging between flesh and fur, similarly glistening in the light.

Breathing slowed a bit where she held herself against the ground, now Nem reached underneath herself with one arm, far more comfortably at this angle, and gave herself that same spread with fingers pushing down to the base, pulling from the skin surrounding her sex rather than the full flesh itself. And yet again there was that slick, wet pop, and the glimmering pink in the mirror, and the folds and wrinkles and inner rings of muscle parting open, so luscious, so inviting.

Nem moaned softly again, lip gently clamped in between her teeth, and then gave the smallest of pushes. In the mirror she saw all of that luxurious slick meat pulse and swell, shifting with the extra pressure; she drew in a breath, swallowed, and slid her fingers further up towards her tailhole to more effectively pin back the lips of her spade, the rounded contours of the interior of her sex swelling briefly out and then slurping back in when she relaxed. Then a clench followed, those circles of muscle tugging in, lips pulling against her pads, everything shifting deeper inside… and then she pushed again, but this time worked her other paw up from underneath to allow her inner walls to sleeve themselves around two fingers held together.

Again she swallowed, the sensation of this plunge washing up her body like a tidal wave of sweet heat. The fox arched her back, sank those fingers in a bit deeper, felt the plush squish of plump, full flesh spread against her knuckles and smear her fur in the clinging wetness of her arousal, then finally relaxed back down again, and this time felt everything slurp back around those buried fingers. Malleable warm wet meat, slimy slickness of arousal, her thumping pulse, the smooth squeeze and tug of folds and muscles and silken, velvety wrinkles slurping around her fingers… Nem shivered again, grunted, and pulled those fingers back out, soaked to the base in her own scent.

One paw still keeping her spade spread, she moved down again, dug in a little deeper – twitched, jerked, oozed out a shuddering sigh with fingers spread around the half-buried nub of her clit, firm with this simmering arousal. Every time she rubbed a slickened fingerpad over the sensitive bead of flesh Nem felt a paw kick and tightened down again, folds of flesh tugging, lips pulling, inner walls straining. She swallowed again, rested her head across the floor, closed her eyes, and continued there for a while, finally releasing herself so that she could just plunge her fingers in to the base and then pull them back out, two to three, to then tease in with a fourth.

Now her spade sucked in around the girth of her paw, tugging gently out each time she moved, squishing inwards when she pressed back in. The faster she went, the stronger she could feel the jiggling reverberation, the louder the slurps and slops puttered out, the more wet warmth dribbled down her wrist and along her arm. The fox gritted her teeth, tightened, bore down – and then jerked up and back, once more shoving her head underneath herself to watch in mirror, paws pulling free to desperately brace against the floor underneath her, as her hiked hind end juddered and bucked and trembled.

Then, panting, she finally relaxed down again, swallowed, and with effort managed to lift herself back up. That trembling ricocheted down her legs as she tried to stand, though, so instead the fox just flopped over onto her side, legs bent, tail still raised, plump wet spade still in full view in the mirror.

At least, she thought, reaching for where she had tossed her phone, I’ve got a good view while catching my breath…

Kefl – Hyper

Lukas pumped with both paws just the way he had been shown, one clutching right around the semi-firm softness of the medial ring, the other reaching back to cup around the full width of the unflared head, his fingers splayed and curved to reach around to the rim. At this position he had to rest the thing over his shoulder: though the otter couldn’t hope to tear his eyes away from the luscious folds of leathery skin wrinkled and piling over themselves here in front of him on the edge of the chair, balls stirring and shifting and tugging back up towards the hyena’s unfolded equine sheath with each pulse and throb and clench, most of his attention still remained along the equally sizeable shaft that pushed out alongside his muzzle and seeped constant, delicious heat out across him.

Each breath came sizzling with thick, damp, dank scent, tingling up across his sensitive nose, spreading over his tongue hanging out between parted lips. He swallowed again, turned his head just a bit, and nuzzled up along the side of Kieran’s hard cock draped over his shoulder; even with his eyes closed he could follow the curve of the impressive girth, and the way a thick but soft vein curled beneath the skin, pumping, pumping. Love feeling that, he thought; he pursed his lips and traced them back and forth, dragging across the slight greasy-tacky sheen of musk clinging to silken-velvet skin, and once again squeezed at the equine head.

Above him Kieran gasped, squirmed, groaned, and throbbed, everything within the otter’s paws and against his muzzle swelling out after a second’s delay. Lukas’s fingers wrapped around the bumpy rim of the flare pulled and widened, then squeezed in again.

“Oh, that’s…” The hyena slouched back, pressed a paw against the side of his muzzle, and closed his eyes while his mouth fell open. “You’re… ah…”

“Mhmm?” Lukas trailed up towards the head, then back down again. His favorite spot was right there behind the ring: to him it was just magical to have both of his paws working, kneading, rubbing at the soft sheath, squeezing at the spot just behind where the firmness of the contained shaft gave way to the smooth skin, and then watching that shaft as it grew slowly out; the way that the rim of the sheath eventually unfolded to become the ring, filling out as it went, wrinkles and folds stretching into salty, savory smoothness, the aroma similarly widening and deepening as it went, soft grassy touch quickly overtaken by the headier, richer bite of contained musk that had already smeared across his lips, dusted his nostrils, and now clung to the back of his throat. “Is that good?”

“That’s… oh, oh, Lukas, I might…”

The otter swallowed – then had to do so a second time; the first thing he had done after getting Kieran’s pants off was lean in and work his short snout as far as he could into the dense, leathery wrinkles of his sheath, opting to at first coax his length out into his mouth as far as he could – and leaned back. The thick, meaty weight across his shoulder shifted a bit with the movement, and with another throb Kieran’s shaft pulse from base to tip, swelled, and then hoisted itself forcefully upwards, everything going rigid… and then it sagged back down after another moment to resume its original spot, surely leaving a damp grease-stain through the otter’s shirt shoulder.

“Might what?”

Kieran dragged that paw down his muzzle, his teeth gritted. “You – know exactly what, I-”

“Well, sure, but what if I wanna hear it?” Lukas lifted up onto his knees to put himself somewhat more level with the hyena. That first paw remained rubbing at his head while the other now trailed up, each finger bumping across the ring and then squishing and sliding over supple skin, to bunch it all up behind his rim and then push right back. Then again, and again, each time rubbing his palm in against the rounded surface of his head, fighting against those intensely powerful throbs; the first time he had felt one of those from Kieran, he had been so unprepared for the force of the throb that it had yanked the hyena’s cock straight out of his mouth. “Can you tell me?”

“I – hah, God-”

This came with another forceful throb, hefty balls tugging up towards his body, sheath pulsing, shaft lifting. Lukas leaned further back so he could now ply both paws at the blunted head.

“C’mon, Kieran…” he murmured, and scooted back so he could nudge his lips to the protruding nub dribbling thick, sticky pre. “I know you’ve got it in you. Class and work this week, oh, I know you’re stressed. You told me you haven’t had any time to yourself.”

“Lukas…”

“And… I can feel you, getting closer and closer…” He wanted to lean in and once again moosh his face into the dense, dank wrinkles of the hyena’s equine sheath, to drag his lips back and forth, to dig deep with his nose and let his tongue flop out to swirl and suck at his huge dangling balls, but – he simply could not reach what with the sheer size of the shaft pulsing now against his mouth, lifting up again and again, flare teasing outwards. “So why don’t you cum for me?”

“I’m-” Another pulse, and another, and another. Kieran’s shaft swelled out, lifting up; the rim of his head pulled forward, nearly flattening out, and all of the veins and ridges pumped, grew, then seemed to tremble inwards against the approaching peak. “gonna – ah-”

“Good boy…” Lukas murmured – and managed to pull himself away at just the right moment. Above him the hyena gritted his teeth, jerked, dug his claws into the arm of the couch, then sucked in a gasp – and bucked, hard. Even above his gasping growl of relieved pleasure, the main thing Lukas heard was the forceful impact of that first rope smacking against the wall somewhere behind him, soon followed by the second, the third, the fourth. All of the veins along Kieran’s full shaft poked lifted out in full relief; Lukas’s fingers dragged back along the rise to his flare, semisoft flesh stiffening to thick, dense firmness, the huge length bouncing atop his shoulder as it continued to empty that. “That’s a good boy…”

“Ah – hah, fuck, Lukas, you – ah…”

“Keep going. Keep going.” The otter turned his body, then blinked upon seeing the mess that the hyena had made, and was still in the process of making. Each thick spurt of white arced out across the table behind him, the surface already bearing multiple ropes of milky heat; stray splatters and sprays had coursed out to either side as well. “Good boy. Good boy. Wow, you really needed this, didn’t you?”

For a moment Kieran couldn’t speak. His cock rested limp over Lukas’s shoulder again, where he could feel the remnant heat dribbling down across his back. Good thing I didn’t try blowing him, he thought with another backwards glance; that might’ve literally killed me. Jesus.

The otter lapped some of the wetness off his fingers. “You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I…” Kieran inhaled, swallowed, sighed back out. “...Just need a minute…”