“O-Oh, Zeke,” Quorol suddenly groaned. “Oh stop, I-I think I’m about to blow.”

His balls were churning, ready to explode as the raccoon thankfully removed his hands. A spurt of shimmering precum erupted, spraying up to splatter Zeke’s lower belly as the raccoon sat back, bracing his palms on the couch. 

“You’re supposed to be relieving me, remember,” laughed Zeke. 

Quorol’s hands fell to the raccoon’s hips, his thumbs slipping deftly into the elastic waistband of Zeke’s panties. “What can I say? You’ve just got those perfect hands.”

“Really?” The heat blossomed in Zeke’s cheeks, twin roses blooming as the raccoon smiled. Heaving his gravid bulk upright, he fell on top of the cat, his arms quick to wrap around Quorol’s neck. His belly pressed into the feline’s stomach, rousing his unborn to lash out, pummeling his kidneys. Ignoring the pain, he pressed further, his lips coming so close to the mouth of the cat. “Tell me about my perfect hands.”

His breath billowed hot and wet, making Quorol’s heart leap into his throat. His quivering mouth was so very close, his lips were brushing the black, glistening flesh as he spoke. “T-They’re very soft and gentle.” 

His breath smelled faintly of coffee, bitter and strong. Slowly, Quorol was tugging at the raccoon’s panties, slipping the pink garment from his dimpled rump to slide down to his knees. The aroma of raw lust hung thick in the air, the honey of Zeke’s desire running freely down his slick inner thighs. His slender cock throbbed, gleaming with the bright jewel that was his precum. Zeke swallowed back the tightness in his throat, his sole want to place his lips to Quorol’s mouth. 

“I think,” whispered the raccoon, gulping at the cool air. “I think that we’ve maybe gotten into the mood enough already.”

Fingers digging into jiggling buttocks, Quorol said, “I think so.”

On the television, the screen had faded to black, white text bearing the names of the actors scrolling to the tinny thrum of an orchestral score. 

“Looks like the movie is over.” Zeke pulled his muzzle away from Quorol’s mouth, leaving the cat to numbly smack his lips as he turned his attention to the screen. “We might as well move to the bedroom.”

“Mine or yours?” asked Quorol. 

“Your bed is bigger,” the raccoon offered. “Why not to your room?”

He clambered up from Quorol’s lap, seeing the throbbing pink rod that was the cat’s manhood. Biting down on his lower lip, Zeke then rached down, peeling his underwear from his legs. Holding the sodden panties aloft with one finger, he then said, “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Quorol still lay on the couch, unsure if he could even get up. A pair of pink panties suddenly flopped onto his chest, giving the feline a start. 

“You can have those, since you seem to like them so much.” The raccoon gave a thin giggle, placing a hand on the edge of the doorway leading into the hall. “I won’t wait long, better hurry.”

Blowing a kiss, he retreated into the darkened corridor, leaving the speechless Quorol still on the couch. 

“I can’t believe I did that,” he tittered, clapping his black paws together. “Oh, this is going to be great.”

On his toes, the giddy procyonid scampered down the hall as fast as his swollen belly allowed him. Left clutching Zeke’s discarded panties, Quorol slowly brought the damp material to his muzzle. The scent of the raccoon’s musky odor was overwhelming. His head swam as if he had imbibed a fine wine, a pleasing sort of drunken dizziness that left him craving more. His cock throbbed, demanding that he claim this naughty raccoon for his own. Bringing those damp panties once more to his snout, he inhaled deeply and then stood. Not bothering to zip up, he clenched his fist around that pink garment and stepped from the couch. 

He stopped, remembering to turn off the television and then made for the hall. He would get his mug later, much later. His erect shaft leading the way, Quorol stumbled down the hall, his destination the dark portal which yawned on the left. His towering frame filled the doorway, his keen eyes spying the movement on his bed. A slender thread of silver moonlight spilled across the floor, leaping onto the sheets to reveal the gravid racoon lying with his hips titled just enough to show the globes of his wobbling ass. His pregnant belly was a vast swell which spread over the drab, brown comforter, his breasts slumping atop one another. His shirt, Zeke had not pulled down, instead allowing Quorol to gaze upon his curvaceous form. He had taken one of the pillows, hugging it to his chest, his glittering eyes peering up from the stuffed cushion, his muzzle buried into the cover. 

“What are you doing?” Quorol asked. 

“Trying to be cute,” said Zeke. The corners of his eyes crinkled, his bushy, ringed tail swishing in the air. “Is it working?”

Quorol could only shake his head, for he did not have the courage to admit that, yes, it was working quite well, indeed. The cat stepped nobly into his room, his hand opening to deposit Zeke’s panties onto the floor as he so boldly strode to that great bed which squatted in the center. The cat’s room was much like himself. The floor was covered with the same cream carpet as the hall, the walls painted white. Beside his bed was a single nightstand of dark wood. A brass lamp sat atop the flat surface, beneath that a digital alarm clock blazed with neon green numerals. A wide dresser took up position on the far wall, a small closet completing the arrangement. A few posters, mostly of old movies, were framed and hung with care on the walls. These were the sole decorations of Quorol’s room, simple, manly. Zeke found a tingle of pleasure as he had scanned the room when first laid down on the cat’s bed. Quorol came to a stop beside his bed, one hand now spreading over the brown comforter as he leaned towards the giggling raccoon. 

“You seem to be enjoying my pillow.”

A musical chuckle escaped from Zeke’s lips. “I’m rubbing my scent all over it. That way, when you fall asleep, you’ll only be able to dream about me.”

“Is that so?” Quorol placed a knee on the bed, the springs squealing beneath his weight. “Maybe I don’t want to dream about you.” 

“You don’t?” Zeke lowered the pillow from his muzzle, his lips curling down into a frown.

“Maybe,” said Quorol, seizing the raccoon with both hands. “I want to enjoy you while I’m awake.”

Zeke let out a triumphant squeal, falling into the arms of his friend. His muzzle came to rest in the hollow of the cat’s collarbone, his breath hot against Quorol’s neck. Slowly, he turned his black-masked face up, daring to look into the eyes of the feline, drinking in the green depths, like pools of limpid jade. Such eyes he could get lost in forever, wandering those emerald halls, never finding the way out and never wishing to leave. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth and Zeke found that he could not form the words which were on his lips. Ripe petals of shimmering ebony inched closer to the pink mouth of the cat who held him so firmly in arms of rigid steel. The muscles of Quorol’s biceps swelled beneath his fur, like cables of raw iron, hard with their masculine strength. Zeke’s body was aflame with the need to be taken by this powerful male, to submit to the throbbing rod of shivering flesh which still leapt so proudly from the cat’s unzipped jeans. 

Closer, he but had to move a hair’s breadth and his lips would meet that honeyed mouth. But what was he thinking? Zeke blinked, shaking his head as the spell would suddenly disperse, leaving him dizzy and reeling from the heady aroma of the cat’s natural scent. 

“O-Oh,” Zeke stammered. “Oh, what was I saying?”

“You were saying nothing,” snickered Quorol. “You were just sitting there, staring at me. I was beginning to get a little worried.”

Zeke shook his head once more and wriggled out of the cat’s clutches. Setting the soiled pillow aside, he then slid to the edge of the bed and placed his padded feet on the carpet. His gravid belly ballooned over his lap, a vast orb of steely grey which wobbled with each breath. Bushy tail swaying behind him, the raccoon then pushed himself upright with a strained grunt. He had come so close to doing something very foolish, Zeke thought to himself. Too close. He needed to find relief before he exploded or worse. Taking hold of his shirt, the raccoon peeled the last vestige of clothing from his maternal frame, letting it tumble from his black fingers to lie discarded on the floor.

“Ah, but we need some more light to savor this moment,” said Zeke. His lips curled into a slight smile as he made his way to the window. 

“I could turn on the lamp,” offered Quorol, but he was ignored by the raccoon. 

Seizing the curtains, Zeke parted the heavy fabric, laying open the window. Outside, the darkened skyline of the city rose up into the night sky, like jagged fingers reaching for the twinkling diamonds that were the stars. Spread like jewels upon the black velvet of the sky, those precious gems winked as the silver moonlight streamed into the room, filling Quorol’s vision with a beauty wreathed in liquid radiance. His back still to the cat, Zeke stood framed in the window, the rays of the moon enveloping his gravid body, swaddling his maternal form in gossamer threads of purest silver. His arms came to enfold themselves beneath his milky breasts, crossing just over the swollen hump of his distended belly. Moonlight glazed his fur, making a shimmering corona which slid so deliciously along the curves of his wide, round hips, highlighting the ripeness of his soft, full thighs. Quorol, his fingers digging into the covers, gulped back the tightness in his throat as Zeke slowly began to turn. The cat’s heart thudded in his chest, his manhood weeping its shimmering tears to patter onto the bed like the warm summer rain. 

Zeke, his best friend and roommate, had seemingly disappeared before his eyes. Instead of the silly raccoon, his eyes bright and his smile full of mischief, there stood before him a goddess wrapped in moonlight. The raccoon was turning, his belly thrusting itself out in a profile that nearly saw the cat losing himself right there on the bed. The swell of Zeke’s pregnant belly was a vision of beauty that Quorol had never known could exist. The miniscule hump that was the distended navel poked out from the vast pearl of the raccoon’s middle, drawing the cat’s eyes to the erect nubs of Zeke’s nipples. Each a lotus blossom emerging from the tepid waters of the grey fur, each glimmering with their pearly beads of fresh milk. Quorol’s gaze ran up the slope of Zeke’s belly, finding the slender arms which supported the milky globes of the raccoon’s breasts. He could still remember Zeke before his pregnancy. The raccoon was skinny to the point of being bony, his chest flat and somewhat sunken. How motherhood had changed him, thought Quorol. Those slumping orbs swayed pendulously above Zeke’s arms, each a world unto themselves which the cat’s itchy palms longed to explore. Still farther, he quested, rising up the raccoon’s supple throat, the delicate chin to those perfect lips. Glistening wetly, plush as rose blossoms, such lips begged to be kissed. He knew that he should not be thinking such things about his friend, but Quorol could not tear himself from the parting blooms, seeing the faint flutter of a pink tongue, just emerging from its slippery confinement. Licking his own lips, Quorol then gazed up into the black mask, seeing the brown eyes that looked back at him as the raccoon faced him. 

“Quorol,” the goddess spoke. “Are you there?”

The cat gave a start, seeing Zeke standing now at the edge of the bed. His raw scent hung thick in the air, a musky perfume of bitter sweat and the sweetly cloying aroma of lavender. The raccoon was fond of a particular soap, the smell was unmistakable. Such odors flowed into Quorol’s nostrils, playing about his brain like a heady fragrance as Zeke leaned over the mattress. One hand still around his body, he placed a palm on the bed, spreading his fingers. His swaying breasts hung like overripe fruits, ready to burst with their sweet juice. Even now, white droplets were falling onto the covers, leaving tiny stains behind. Lifting a grey knee, Zeke clambered onto the bed, the springs groaning in agony as his gravid weight came down. His belly, that vastly swollen globe, sagged nearly to the bed. Quorol felt his heart leap into his throat, seeing the navel gliding along the smooth fabric as Zeke came to rest on hands and knees. The raccoon’s snout hovered before his face and the cat clutched at the covers, fingers digging into the fabric lest he find himself plunging, lips colliding with that inquisitive mouth. 

“Quorol?” said the goddess. “You’re suddenly being quiet?”

“Zeke?” Quorol stammered. The cat blinked, his words sounding hollow, as if spoken by someone else. “U-Uh, sorry, I guess I zoned out.”

The raccoon smiled. Averting his eyes from his friend, Zeke then said, “I see. Um, do you like how I look? I-I mean, I’m not too ugly am I? You aren’t repulsed by me?”

Repulsed? How could Zeke ever say such a thing, the cat thought. His numbed fingers let go of the covers and Quorol grasped the raccoon’s black paws. Zeke sat back on his knees, his pregnant belly sitting in his lap. 

“I think you’re beautiful,” said Quorol. “You’re the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.”

The raccoon’s eyes were growing wide. Brown gems glimmered in the gloom, their crystalline tears flowing down sodden grey cheeks like sparkling wine to softly dribble onto Zeke’s swollen belly, which began to clench and heave as the raccoon’s face twisted. His shoulders quaking, Zeke’s lips parted into a crooked grimace, revealing his straight, white fangs. 

“Quorol,” he sniffled. “Please, don’t say something you don’t really mean. I-I can’t take it.”

The cat’s hands closed tighter around the raccoon’s slender paws. “I do mean it,” said Quorol. “Zeke, you are a vision of the divine.”

He let go of the sniffling raccoon’s hands to fold his burly arms around the whimpering creature. Zeke offered no resistance, instead falling helplessly into Quorol’s arms, his head resting on the feline’s shoulder. His pregnant belly trembled against Quorol’s stomach, the life within him stirring as the cat bore him down to the bed. Together, they laid on the wide bed, letting the moonlight envelop them. Zeke’s head fell atop Quorol’s arm, the cat coming to run his clawed fingers through the shimmering grey fur, tracing the sloping curve of Zeke’s ribs, rising up his bloated middle to come to crest the hill that was the wide hip. Fingers splaying on that jiggling mountain, Quorol would take in the sight of his dearest friend. 

At last, having satisfied himself, the cat whispered, “I think it’s time we finally did this.” He gave Zeke’s hip a playful squeeze. “The night is not getting any younger and you need to finally rest.”

“Thank you,” replied Zeke. “You don’t know how much this means to me, Quorol.” More than he dared to say. Lifting himself onto one elbow, the raccoon then said, “Shall we get started?”

His hand still upon the raccoon’s wide hip, Quorol would gently lay Zeke onto his back. His pregnant belly swelled above him, a looming mountain of bloated flesh, shifting and squirming with the flutter of kicks as his unborn would seek to move. His milky breasts, their black peaks frosted with fresh white, glimmered silver in the streaming moonlight. The cat then rose onto his hands and knees. With one swift movement, he slipped his shirt over his head, depositing it onto the floor. Zeke clapped his black paws to his muzzle, trying not to squeal as he took in the sight of his friend’s bare chest. Quorol was built like an adonis. Perhaps it was the hormones boiling in his fevered brain, but the raccoon could not hold back the hot desire in his belly. Next, came the jeans, sliding away from the cat’s lean, strong legs. Then, the underwear, discarded with its brethren on the floor. 

Naked, Quorol placed a hand on Zeke’s shoulder, the raccoon shuddering visibly with delight. With his other hand, Quorol would let his fingers trace their way along the rising slope of the raccoon’s lower belly. Curved claws rustled through the soft steely grey, disappearing into the scruff of Zeke’s lower belly. The cat’s hand would ascend, cresting that swollen mountain, coming to circle the distended navel. Zeke shuddered, his black fingers digging into the covers as Quorol would lean close. The bitter odor of coffee billowed hot and wet in Zeke’s flaring nostrils, mingling with the odor of the feline’s natural scent. Brown eyes closing, he would drink in that heady aroma, letting the essence of his friend fill his lungs, making his belly swell even greater against the cat’s palm. 

His white muzzle hovered so dangerously close now, the cat’s lips practically grazing Zeke’s glistening mouth. The raccoon’s body quivered, ready to burst in expectation. If only those precious pink petals would at last light upon his mouth, the raccoon lamented. But never could he say it. Did he dare? The hormones were a boiling soup which bubbled in his brain, making him feverish with such wild thoughts. After all, this was Quorol, his best friend. Surely, he felt nothing more than the closeness of two buddies. Two buddies who were about to make sweaty love, he realized. Zeke’s eyes opened, seeing the cat so close now. His black fingers worried at the covers while Quorol would descend, lowering his muzzle to the raccoon’s throat. 

“Oh, Quorol,” sighed Zeke. The pinch of bright fangs closed around his supple throat. “Y-You don’t have to do that. I said that we didn’t need to kiss.”

“It’s just a little nibble,” replied the cat. 

Quorol’s teeth played at the raccoon’s throat. Zeke, with a moan on his lips, would tilt his head back, offering his neck to the cat who so gleefully closed his mouth around the supple, grey fur and the tender flesh beneath. His hot lips came to meet the yielding flesh and Zeke let out a bellyaching groan, his back arching so painfully, that his flabby rump nearly lifted from the mattress. His hand on Zeke’s belly, Quorol continued to suckle, drawing his mouth down towards the hollow of the raccoon’s collarbone. His rough tongue slithered from between his jaws to lap the grey fur, sliding along the curve of Zeke’s throat, rising up the scruffy chin, leaving the raccoon’s neck shiny with this saliva. Down, he plunged once more, coming to fill that empty cup with his kisses. Zeke thrashed on the bed like a creature possessed, his toes curling as he kicked out in tortured ecstasy. The cat’s feverish love poured over the rim of that chalice, spilling down the raccoon’s chest, carrying Quorol’s lips into the wobbling valley which shuddered between Zeke’s pendulous breasts. There, he would take in the rich scent of his lover, inhaling the intoxicating perfume that was Zeke’s bitter sweat, the sweet smell of lavender and a musky hint of the raccoon’s pent up lust. 

Such a bouquet would drive Quorol into a frenzy. His cock throbbed, the veins swelling against his pink flesh, blue serpents which pumped their hot blood. From his velvet tip there wept the shimmering tears of his lust, the opalescent glimmering of precum which dribbled across the covers as he would raise his face up to meet the first ebon bud. His hand moved to Zeke’s hip, his other came now to seize the jiggling breast with its erect nipple, glinting with the white bead of fresh milk. Zeke’s chest rose and fell with the rapid breathing of the raccoon, causing that delicate bead to trickle down his breast, carving an albin trail through the black flesh, seeping into the grey fur which surrounded that black bud. Quorol’s eager fingers sank deep into the soft tissue, making Zeke give a sudden gasp as the cat squeezed. 

“Oh, yes,” he sighed. “Mmm, harder. Please, I need it.”

Kneeling above his friend, Quorol would give that jiggling mound another squeeze, his fingers closing hard, sending a ripple of pain and exquisite joy to burst like fireworks in Zeke’s brain. The raccoon arched his back, through his shoulders against the bed to lift his swaying bosom up, thrusting himself into Quorol’s grasping hand. Milk streamed from his erect nipple, pouring down the cat’s hand in white threads which would patter in soft droplets from Quorol’s wrist. 

“I hear that cat’s love milk,” said Zeke with a crooked grin. 

“I wonder what you taste like?” Quorol’s tongue slipped from between his lips, descending towards the leaking bud. 

That rough member slid along the bumpy areola, circling, lapping, driving Zeke into a frenzy. Scouring the ebon flesh, Quorol rose up the erect nub, licking the sweet nectar from that weeping stem. Zeke’s nipples began to ache, his breasts growing so full, tingling with the gushing of fresh milk which flowed at the coaxing of the cat. 

“Ungh… Uh…” Zeke whimpered. 

Quorol ignored his friend’s pathetic mewling, his lips meeting the ripe flesh. The sweetness on his tongue was unlike anything he had ever tasted. More rich than the finest cream, it rolled across his tongue, pouring down his throat as he gulped back another mouthful. His pink lips spread across that weeping mound, closing over the black nipple. His tongue lashed the flowing stem, stirring the fresh elixir to gush forth. His hand, placed on Zeke’s hip, would slide around his fat rump, clasping the dimpled cheek, fingers sinking into the yielding flesh as the raccoon would push off the bed with both feet. His leg hooked around Quorol’s lower back, his calf resting in the indent of the cat’s spine while his own hands would rise from the bed, throwing themselves around Quorol’s shoulders. Through eyes bleary with the tears of jubilation that ran down his furry cheeks, Zeke turned his gaze to the feline. 

“Quorol,” he moaned. “Quorol you are making me crazy, you know that.”

The cat’s slender tail curled, but he would say no more. His cheeks were bloated with fresh milk, a thin trickle of white ran from the corner of his mouth, dampening his chin as he would tear himself from that precious fount. Milk wept freely from the raccoon’s abused nipple, running down into the grey fur to soak into Quorol’s hard fingers. The cat squeezed, sliding his hand up Zeke’s breast, causing the raccoon’s milk to spray up into the air. White droplets dribbled across his chest, the raccoon throwing his head back with a wail as Quorol’s questing mouth would come to ascend the raccoon’s belly. His lips were so hot, so tender to Zeke’s flesh and the raccoon could no longer hold back. Tears flowed down his cheeks, his heart pounding so wildly that he feared it would burst from his chest. Never had he felt so alive. What use was the massager on his nightstand, the misshapen rubber phalluses which offered him no relief?

His body trembled in the arms of his lover, his best friend. Hot fur and flesh clove together, slapping with the wet clap of raw meat in the gleam of the watching moon. His bushy tail lashed out upon the bed, thumping in time to the beating of his heart. Quorol’s lips crested the slope of Zeke’s pregnant belly. The fluttering of the raccoon’s unborn pushed up against him, bubbling and shifting to make Zeke’s belly writhe like something from his old movies. Some beast of primordial horror which boiled in its torment as he sought to claim the distended navel. His rough tongue slid along the grey fur, rustling the fine hairs to leave a wet, glistening trail in its wake. Like that of a snail, he would mark his path, circling that tender mound, the emerald glimmer of his eyes shining brightly from the shadows as he looked upon the raccoon. 

His deft fingers played along the swell of Zeke’s belly, claws raking the bustling fur, stirring the raccoon into a boiling froth of wanton lust. 

“Ugh, Quorol,” whined Zeke. “I-I can’t take it. You’re driving me crazy.”

His hand scrabbled for his throbbing shaft, that slender black member which had grown so painfully erect. His fingers groped beneath his belly, finding only the steel hard abdominals of the cat. Letting out a frustrated whimper, Zeke resigned to wrap his arms around Quorol’s neck, his body becoming a living flame as the feline stirred him to dizzying elation. 

“Your belly is just so incredible,” whispered Quorol. His lips glided down the lower stomach of the raccoon, rising once more with the languid slither of his rough tongue. “I’d never known anything like it.” 

“Um, if it helps,” said Zeke. “You can pretend it’s yours.”

The cat stopped, his tongue still lapping at Zeke’s distended belly. Slowly, he raised his eyes, meeting the brown stare of his friend.

“I mean, if it helps,” Zeke stammered. Beneath his fur, his cheeks bloomed scarlet. Did he really just say that? 

Drawing his tongue back into his mouth, the cat would gulp back what he wanted to say, instead lowering himself down between those wobbling thighs. Made so soft and full by his pregnancy, Zeke’s legs had grown into the shapely curves of maternity. Such thighs would set the cat’s mouth to water, his desires a furnace in his belly, the flames rushing up his throat as he placed both hands on the raccoon’s legs. Carefully, he parted those grey thighs, laying bear the throbbing black rod that was Zeke’s erect cock. A trickle of shimmering precum oozed from the velvet tip, glittering with the reflected moonlight to resemble that of liquid mercury. The tangled weave of Zeke’s pubic fur stood up from his pelvis, a fragrant jungle that beckoned the cat to explore and to imbibe of the sweet perfume of his lover. Zeke let out a thin whine as Quorol’s muzzle nestled itself into the tangle of his fur, drinking in the pungent aroma of the raccoon. 

“Quorol,” moaned Zeke. Throwing his arms over his head, he grasped the wooden headboard, his back arching to thrust his gravid belly up into the air. His shuddering thighs closed around the cat’s head, holding him in place. “The way you make me feel. If I had known sooner.”

If he had known sooner? What, thought Zeke, would he have done? His mind was racing, overwhelmed by the caress of the cat’s hand which had risen to his swollen belly. The feline’s lips were on his thigh, their potent kisses traveling down towards his quivering manhood. Between his flabby cheeks, his blossom had opened, gushing its slick nectar which had spread beneath him in a warm, dark stain, plastering his fur to his rump. Hot breath blew softly on the velvet tip of his cock, making Zeke suddenly shiver. 

“Quorol, no,” he shrieked. Oh, don’t do that. It’s… It’s dirty.” His hands flew to his face, the raccoon burying his snout into his palms. “Y-You mustn't do that, please.”

But like so many times before, Quorol would not heed the protests of his friend. His lips slid down the raccoon’s thigh, tasting of the finely quivering flesh, his teeth biting down ever so slightly. His hips rose, his back arching to allow his muzzle to at last come to that holiest of holies. Zeke’s slender black manhood shivered before his nose, the scent of sweat and the aroma of precum wafting from the tender flesh as Quorol’s lips hovered so close as to be touching that hot flesh. Dare he place his mouth to such a protuberance? Surely, if it meant the wellbeing of his dearest friend, he had too, right? This was all to bring his poor, gravid companion the relief he so desperately needed. Nothing more, Quorol convinced himself. There most certainly was not any hint of feelings behind what he was about to do. His eyes closing, he leaned forward. The shrieks of Zeke became a shrill aria which was ripped from the blasted lungs of the raccoon. His fingers dug into the headboard, leaving behind jagged white furrows in their wake as Zeke howled at the top of his lungs. So great were his cries that he feared the neighbors would wake to his screams. 

The bitter tang of sweat and the saltiness of precum danced on his lips. Quorol slid up the raccoon’s cock, coming to plant his mouth to the spongy tip. Damp and hot, the flesh squirmed in his hands, pulsating against his hungering mouth like a living thing, eager to leap free. His tail curled behind him as he slid down the plump shaft, coming to the crinkled scrotum, crowned with its fine tuft of grey fur. His fingers slid up the raccoon’s cock, gingerly coming to caress the velvet tip. Never before had Quorol ever done such a thing, to place his mouth to another male’s genitals and yet, it felt so right. The cat held his lips there at the base of Zeke’s manhood, savoring the quickening pulse which pumped through the black flesh, swelling the throbbing veins that bulged out from that shivering obelisk like ivy slithering up a granite tower. The raccoon’s balls, swollen within their confines of wrinkled skin, were as two fragile eggs, desiring to be squeezed and held. The cat’s fingers trembled as he gingerly took hold of those precious orbs, rolling them in his hand to make the raccoon shiver. 

With his other hand, Quorol would take hold of that quivering pillar, stroking gently as Zeke had done to him. Down, he fell, sliding effortlessly along the smooth flesh, his fingers growing sticky and wet with the raccoon’s shimmering precum. His fingers coming to the base of that shaft, he then rose, sliding up Zeke’s cock, his thumb circling the weeping glans. Zeke had brought both paws to his muzzle, his face buried into his palms. His body trembled, burning with the desire which boiled so hot in his gravid belly. His bushy tail would thump upon the bed, his flower gushing, spreading its fragrant dew beneath his flabby rump. 

“Quorol,” he whimpered through his fingers. “Mmm, have you done this before?”

The cat paused, one eye opening to gaze up between the shuddering thighs, though he could see nothing beyond the swell of Zeke’s pregnant belly. “Um, no? I can’t say that I have.”

“You’re awfully good at it for an amateur,” Zeke giggled. “Makes me think there’s been some lucky fellas you never introduced me to.”

His ears parting, Quorol huffed. “Don’t even get started. I’m just doing what you did on the couch.”

“That’s more than what I did,” Zeke dared to say. “But, don’t let me stop you.”

Quorol’s clawed fingers slipped behind Zeke’s fattened balls, caressing his perineum, seeking the wet warmth which oozed so deliciously between the raccoon’s bare cheeks. His fur was soaked, smelling of the sweet nectar of his lust as those exploring claws would dive between the damp globes of Zeke’s rump. The raccoon let out a sharp gasp, feeling the questing hand of Quorol sliding so effortlessly into his ass. His cock twitched, letting out a spurt of shimmering precum, sparkling in the silvery glow of the moonlight. The cat still clung to that ebon rod, his fingers closing around the quivering shaft, sliding down the raccoon’s cock, loosening his hold as he slid back up. 

“Zeke,” said Quorol. “I’m going to try something.” The cat took a deep breath, steeling himself as he brought his pink lips to the weeping tip of the raccoon’s manhood. “Um, don’t tell anyone.”

He looked down at that slender python, the gaping urethra which winked back at him like some glistening cyclopean eye. Precum trickled down the spongy tip, seeping into his furry fingers to make the brown hair crusty. Slowly, he lowered his mouth down until his lips grazed the quivering shaft. Above him, he heard the raccoon let out a sudden gasp. Zeke’s hands fell to his chest, trying to still the rapid beating of his heart which threatened to leap from his breast. His mouth hung open as the wet softness of the cat’s lips encircled his penis. His eyes snapped wide for an instead, ready to pop out of his head, but just as quickly, they would squeeze shut as his mouth contorted into a silent shriek of torturous ecstasy. Quorol held himself there, his tongue probing the leaking tip, tasting the bitter tang of precum, the salty taste of sweat which clung like a glaze to the black flesh. His rough tongue slithered, savoring the smoothness of Zeke’s flesh, getting a feel for his friend. 

He explored the gaping urethra, lapping the dew which bubbled from that opening, stabbing carefully with his tongue. Zeke’s belly swelled, the raccoon unable to exhale, such was his jubilation as the cat then fell, sliding down his throbbing member. Back up, Quorol would rise, his lips sucking the sticky gleam from the raccoon’s manhood, leaving the ebon skin slick and shiny with his saliva. His fingers came to the base of the raccoon’s cock and the cat slid back down, his lips meeting his fist. The spurting tip tickled at the back of his throat and Quorol suddenly gave a lurch, his throat bulging with the acidic bile that rushed up his esophagus. Just as quickly, he slid back up, popping from the raccoon’s cock to retch and cough. 

“I guess it’s not quite so easy,” the cat chuckled. 

“You just need practice.” Zeke closed his thighs around Quorol’s cheeks, drawing his face back down. “Mmm, show me what you can do.”

Carefully, Quorol would close his mouth around that member, this time, keeping his lips at the spongy tip. His rough tough circled the weeping glans, lapping the flowing precum, while his hand began to stroke. Meanwhile, his other hand was sliding upwards, seeking the bloom which gushed its fragrant nectar. Zeke pursed his lips, lifting his wet rump from the bed, allowing Quorol to find the slackening ring that was his anus. Two fingers pushed against the puckered doughnut, slipping into the raccoon with a wet squelch. Zeke let his head fall back with a moan as Quorol, his cock throbbing painfully with the need to claim this creature, would strike upwards, pushing deep into his friend’s hot core. His hand slid faster, stirring the pregnant raccoon’s desires, his fingers squirming, caressing the trembling gland that was Zeke’s prostate. The raccoon let out a cry, grabbing the pillow in order to stifle his screams as his belly clenched in glee. 

“Yes,” he sobbed. “O-Oh, Quorol. You’ve got me so stirred up. Oh, I can’t stand it any longer.”

Faster, his pace quickening, Quorol stroked. His nimble tongue would not cease to circle that weeping tip, his other hand probing deeper, bringing the raccoon into the throes of that giddy climax. 

“Q-Quorol,” Zeke howled from the depths of the pillow. “I-I can’t hold on. I’m going to…”

The cat plucked his lips free, his hand going to Zeke’s hip. The raccoon let out a cry as his world turned over. His belly struck the mattress just as he would release. Hot seed burst from his slender tip, spraying onto the covers in a thick white stream. His ass in the air, Quorol would continue to slide his fingers into his rump. Back and forth, the cat’s nimble fingers slid along the quivering walls of his rectum, punching into his prostate as Zeke would vent his fury into the blankets. His belly clenched, aching as he fought just to breathe. Milk streamed from his erect nipples, adding their darkening stains to the ruin beneath him. 

“Oh, I ruined your bed,” Zeke whimpered. His bushy tail fell to the side, his ears drooping. “Quorol, I-I’m sorry. I was so excited.”

“It’s fine,” said the cat. “I needed to change the sheets anyway.” Gently, he moved the racoon to a drive spot on the covers, spreading his thighs to open the fat buttocks to him. “So, are you ready?”

Burying his face into the pillow, Zeke nodded. The scents of Quorol rose from the stuffing and Zeke wound his arms tighter around the pillow, drinking in the aroma as those hard hands would come to grasp his jiggling rump. 

Quorol would part those cheeks, laying bare the wet, shimmering ring, opened to him as he tilted his hips. “Alright,” he said. “No going back now.” His throbbing cock fell between those cheeks with a wet plap, the raccoon shuddering beneath him.

“No going back,” whispered Zeke. “After tonight, there’s no going back.”