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As he threaded his way to the bar, Max wondered silently why he had bothered to come to Club Tail tonight. After all, he could be spending a quiet evening curled up with a delicious, white-furred bunny tonight, but for some reason, when she asked if he had plans for tonight, he had told her to go ahead without him. Raising a paw to get the bartender's attention, Max even chuckled at himself. Felicia had just gotten off the phone with some friends, and it was obvious that she had wanted to go out with them, but, in her usual sweet style, was essentially asking permission. Who was he to deny her a night on the town? He wasn't made of stone!

Of course, now he was wondering why he hadn't gone with her. If he had just thought this through a little more and gone clubbing WITH her, he could be inside her by now, or maybe even her curvy friend Melody. Ahh, now that would be worth the trip.

Max had admired Melody since the two met, and it was obvious that the attraction was mutual. Melody was the opposite of his bunny friend: voluptuous, outgoing, oversexed, and highly promiscuous, Max wasn't sure why he hadn't managed to bed the small mouse yet. She certainly seemed interested. Every chance she got, she would either bend forward, her ample breasts nearly spilling out of whatever shockingly low cut shirt she happened to be wearing, or bend down, giving a delightful glimpse of her full rump underneath her scandalously short skirts. Ahh, well, maybe next time, he thought to himself.

The bartender slid Max's usual to him, and he turned to observe the inside of the club in detail. The bar area was never very busy, for some reason; furres just didn't come here to drink. Off to one side, a darkened area with tables and booths was always filled with furres chattering away in the darkness, sipping drinks or just talking on the phone. Smiling to himself, Max mentally noted that there was another reason furres used the "dark side" of the club. The excited atmosphere, combined with alcohol and darkness, often caused furres to lose what inhibitions they may have come in with, having predictable results.

The main attraction, and the best place to find a partner, was the massive, lighted dance floor in the middle of the club. In some ways, it was exceedingly tacky: colored disco lights and spotlights flashed and stuttered, blinking floor tiles made it feel like one was dancing on some kind of beeping video game, and the bone-numbing beats of trance music made conversation, even shouted, impossible. Still, the semi-retro décor attracted a sizable number of regulars, and the safe, friendly atmosphere brought in plenty of first-timers.

Max wasn't exactly a dancer. Never had been. He was more of a wallflower, the kind of person who would sit and sip his drink at the bar and let others go and dance. Maybe he was shy, maybe he didn't like the crowd, or maybe he was just a bad dancer, it didn't matter. He was perfectly content to watch others shuck and jive out on the dance floor, while he sat by and watched. He had plenty of fun that way.

Some of the regulars were better dancers than others, of course, and one of the best happened to be here tonight. Max couldn't stifle a grin when he saw him: the slight, blue skunk, clad only in an old t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, eyes closed, tail waving softly behind him and he swirled and twirled through the crowd with an amazing agility, never bumping anyone, yet moving as if he were the only furre on the floor. Sometimes he danced slowly, gracefully, other times it was a harder beat, an almost angry rhythm, but either way, the skunk's moves were phenomenal. He looked almost as if he had no bones at all in his body, so liquid were his movements, and it never failed that some newcomer would end up spilling out his admiration by the time the night was over. It was like watching a blue flame shake and twist in a draft, thought Max.

There was usually a small circle around the skunk that was totally empty, as the other furres liked to give him some room to watch him dance, but he also loved having some company. Finishing his drink, Max decided to give him some.

Not having the same kind of agility as the skunk, Max had a difficult time getting through the throng of dancers to reach the center of the floor, but after several minutes of pushing, prodding, and squeezing through cracks between sweaty bodies, he managed to reach his goal. Stepping into the small clearing where the skunk danced, Max lifted his head to shout a greeting, but before he could, he realized it was unnecessary.

The skunk danced with his eyes closed, preferring to concentrate only on the joy of movement, but somehow he seemed to know exactly what was going on around him at all times. Before the tiger could say a word, the male had back up, hips swinging from side to side with the beat, until he had bumped into Max, the tiger's crotch resting firmly against his rump. Without saying a word, or even opening his eyes, he reached behind him and grabbed the tiger's paws, pulling them around his mid-section, and lifted his own arms above his head.

The two moved into the center of the clearing like this, the skunk's smoothly swiveling hips drawing his less talented partner's along with his. The pair moved and twirled and pivoted on the dance floor, and though Max couldn't see much past the huge, billowing tail in his face, he did see a number of furres cheering them on as they themselves danced. It was always fun when the skunk had a partner.

Suddenly, at a downbeat, the skunk's paws latched onto Max's wrists, and at the upbeat, he flung the tiger's arms open, allowing him escape. He didn't go far, though, as he effortlessly twirled around behind his friend and clasped Max in his arms, reversing their positions. Now, however, the skunk was firmly in control of the other furre's movements, and as he ground his crotch against the tiger's rump, Max could feel a hard lump between his legs pressing against him.

Max spent the next few songs a virtual prisoner of his friend, forced to dance along with the skunk's luxurious movements, the bulge against him never subsiding, always reminding him of what he had offered by joining the furre in dance. Periodic nips of sharp little teeth to his neck and ears had the effect of driving him a little batty; after several minutes of this teasing he realized that he was sporting a healthy erection as well.

The song ended and the DJ announced a fifteen-minute break, to give everyone a chance to get re-hydrated and catch their breath. As the assorted furres filtered back to the bar or towards the restrooms, the skunk pivoted without releasing his "prey" and guided Max in the direction of dark side. It wasn't until the both collapsed into a booth that they finally broke their silence.

"I haven't seen you in ages! Where've you been?" The skunk was effusive in his greeting, throwing his arms around Max's torso and squeezing the (slightly) taller furre in a gesture of obvious affection.

"I've just been busy, Pete," was the reply. "I've been spending time with Felicia..."

"Ohh, so that's it." The skunk nodded somberly. "You've been too busy giving the bunny spankings to come visit me, hmm?"

Max had to laugh out loud. "Not exactly. She's a good girl, she doesn't earn many spankings."

"Give 'em to her anyway." Pete busily rummaged through the backpack sitting next to him at the booth until he produced two bottles of water, thirstily opening one and throwing his head back, throat bulging as he drank nearly half the thing at once. With a loud grunt of satisfaction, and a wet smacking of his lips, he handed the other one to Max, who was a little more reserved in his enjoyment of the beverage. "So what brings you here tonight, then? 'Licia not feeling well?"

"Felicia went out with some friends. I decided to go have some fun on my own for once."

"Well, it's a good thing you did," Pete laughed, settling into a comfortable position with one arm around his friend's shoulders. "I've been missing ya."

The next few minutes were spent in casual conversation, though because of the noise, they had to huddle a bit, leaning close to one another to be heard. Not surprisingly, Pete leaned closer and closer, until he landed a soft kiss on Max's lips. What was surprising, to Max at least, was the gusto with which he returned it.

If anyone had been looking in their direction, and been able to pierce the darkness, they would have seen two furres soon engaged in a spirited make-out session, one that quickly became aggressive. They leaned back and forth, first one seemingly dominating the other, then the submissive one pushing back, his own fiery instincts kicking in. Within moments, however, this became hidden, as Pete used his huge tail, large even for a skunk, to screen the two from observation, fanning it out behind him.

If there wasn't much foreplay involved, it was probably because the half hour of dirty dancing and gotten both males worked up pretty well, and now that they were (sort of) alone, neither was willing to waste very much time. As Max pressed against his partner, hungry mouth devouring his lips and tongue, he felt a pair of warm paws at his fly, tugging at the jeans until they came open. Max sat up a little, Pete following, and momentarily he felt his aching cock wrapped in the skunk's paw.

"Ohh, fuck," Max breathed. A pawjob was always nice, of course, but it had been months since a male had held his member, and as intensely horny as he was, he was afraid he was going to lose it right there. Fortunately, Pete seemed feel this, almost instinctively, and held still for moment, letting his partner get used to the sensation. Only a moment, though.

Max's eyes closed and his mouth hung open, and he put both paws on Pete's shoulders to hold himself up. Up on his knees, he gently thrust his hips forward, panting as he did, his rock-hard cock sliding back and forth in the skunk's loose grip, his balls bouncing and swaying in time.

"You want me to jerk you off, Maxie?" The question was a tease; the answer, a nod. "Then you have to do something for me."

Max nodded again. He knew what his friend wanted, what he always wanted. As small and cheerful as the skunk was, somehow he always seemed to wind up in control. No one would ever guess, just from talking to him, that he was such a control freak, but he was most certainly the dominant one in any relationship. It was weird. Max had never seen him even look angry, much less do or say anything mean, but whenever he got involved with other furres, he was always in charge. There was no question. Male or female, Pete was in control, and if you argued, well, he could always find a new dance partner.

Of course, it's easier to control someone when they don't mind doing what you want them to do. In this case, Max was so horny that, had the skunk not suggested it, he would probably have done it himself. Max dropped to his hands and knees, wincing sadly as his dick slipped out of the soft paw, and began tugging at the fly to Pete's jeans with his teeth.

Biting someone's jeans unzipped is harder than it sounds (and it does sound tough, doesn't it), so Pete, in a rare act of charity, helped out. As soon as he fly was wide open, however, he was finished helping, and Max had to do the rest himself. Not one to waste time, he dove right in, pressing his face into the boxer-clad groin before him, feeling the bulge against his face. Using nose and mouth, he wrestled with the fly in his friend's shorts until, finally, he just bit down on the waistband and pulled the shorts down, freeing the big, pulsing cock that had been rubbing against him on the dance floor.

Neither furre was in any mood for hesitation, so there was no teasing, no gentle blowing or warm nuzzling. Max simply lifted his head, opened his mouth, and took the powerful tool into his maw.

The reaction was immediate and gratifying. Pete moaned happily, his body slumping forward a bit, his head thrown back. Pleased that his work was so thoroughly enjoyed, Max, closed his eyes and began sliding up and down the shaft, lips puckered tightly against the rod. As he bobbed up and down the hot cock, he felt a paw on the back of his head, and before he knew it his movements were no longer his own, but dictated by the skunk's insistent paw, fingers tightly clutching his hair.

It was hardly Max's first time, but he still didn't have the kind of experience Pete seemed to want. Or maybe he did, and the skunk was just rough. Either way, he gagged as his partner pushed his head down, down, down, almost to the base. Max just couldn't take the entire length in his mouth, and as he came up for air, coughing noisily, he felt a certain level of embarrassment. He had always prided himself on being able to provide whatever his lovers needed, but was that going to be impossible now?

Max resolved that it would not. Dropped his head lower, he gave a long, forceful lick to the underside of the steamy dick, which culminated in taking the member into his mouth once more. This time he was more intent on his goal, more devoted to giving the best damn blowjob he could give, and the skunk's groans of pleasure told him he was marvelously close to succeeding.

Up and down, up and down went the tiger's head, rough tongue snaking and twisting in circles around the skunk's pulsing malehood. He paused at the top, taking the time to wash the tip with numerous labored tongue-strokes, then dropped back down, taking as much as he could into his throat and holding it there as long as possible, enjoying the hot feeling of so much meat in his mouth.

As the skunk's breathing got faster, both paws suddenly gripped Max's hair firmly, holding the tiger still. As soon as Max stopped moving, the skunk's hips began rocking on their own, shoving his dick into Max's mouth, face-fucking the surprised furre. Max did his best to just hold still, eyes squeezed shut, gagging as the tip of the long rod stabbed into his maw repeatedly, thumping against the back of his throat, faster and faster. Max couldn't breathe, he couldn't talk, he couldn't move. All he could do was stretch his mouth open as wide as possible and hope it was over soon.

The skunk stiffened, and with a shout, a blast of cum struck Max fully in the back of the throat. Coughing and gagging, he lifted up, as Pete was no longer holding onto him firmly, but as he did, another blast bullseyed him straight in the face. The fingers in his hair clamped down, and Max was subjected to another, smaller shot of hot seed, that rebounded off his cheek and landed in a puddle on the floor. With this, Pete released him.

The two furres, stayed still, one panting, the other coughing and wiping at his face with a pawful of napkins. As the two cooled down, Max could hear the DJ announce that the break was over, and another song quickly started up.

Finally spitting out the last of the thick cum, Max looked up at his friend, who was gingerly putting his pants back on after their little adventure. "Well, looks like you owe me a pawjob," he grinned at the skunk. Sitting up on his knees, he held his rigid member out as an offer.

"Sorry kitty, the music's started up. I gotta go. See you soon, 'k?" And with that, the skinny blue skunk left Max in the booth, alone, with a raging hard-on and sticky fur. Settling down to jack off, Max grumbled to himself, "I don't know why I keep coming back here..."