"Yo! Pizza's here. Get your butts down here already."


From the upper floor came the patter of paws, and two teenage boys circled the bannisters of the upper landing, making their way downstairs as they idly chatted and talked about the FurTube video they'd been watching upstairs. They reached the lower hallway and turned to face a fox 6 years their senior, and the brother of one of the boys. Of the trio, there was one notable outlier; an otter boy, known as Dalton by his friends and family. Where he was unique, the other two were related-- brothers, to be exact.


"Did they do the stuffed crust?" The younger fox asked, his ears twisting to listen in on the sounds coming from the living room before he scooted past his older brother and into the kitchen, where two boxes lay spread on the island counter, the tops already folded open. The delicious aroma of melted cheese and cooked meat spread throughout the room and it made their mouths water.


"When have they ever fucked up a pizza?" The 20-year-old fox grinned and grabbed a slice from one of the boxes, the toppings full to the brim with a mixture of different meats. For a moment, the teenage otter stared at the older fox, his gaze lingering longer than necessary, before he too took a slice, awkwardly brushing a hand through his spiky black hair. For a moment they ate in silence, chewing on their respective pizza, before the eldest male turned and headed towards the back doors, sliding it open with a hand and rummaging in his pocket for something.


The young otter, Dalton, had known the similarly-aged teenage fox for years, and had lived across from each other for longer. They shared almost every class together, and the fox, Jeremy's, outgoing attitude-- hell, he even had the spiky orange hair to boot-- was perfectly contrasting Dalton's own shy, yet eager demeanour, which made it difficult to make friends and worst still to stand out. Yet, despite how close they were, There was one thing Dalton could never share; he had a crush on Jeremy's brother, Cheyenne. Even at that moment, as the 20-year-old vulpine lounged at the patio door and door a huge hit from a small, narrow vape, he found him strikingly attractive. It was his angular jaw, his loose clothes that hid a slim physique, his charming personality and lazy bravado that made him mellow and easy to get to know that drew Dalton in so much. Hell, no one even knew he was gay...that was a secret he'd kept all to himself too. Well, maybe Jeremy had an inkling. There was that one time Dalton got caught looking at things on his phone...


"Are you smoking weed again?" Jeremy complained mid-chew, his expression twisting into a grimace. "It stinks."


"Calm down, it's a vape this time. I switched to it since you guys complained..." Cheyenne grumbled, puffing a waft of smoke from the end of his muzzle.


"Can I smoke some?" Jeremy asked bluntly, causing even Cheyenne's eyes to widen.


Dalton, too, stiffened on the spot, swallowing the mouthful of pizza before glancing at Jeremy. Cheyenne doing weed wasn't a particularly uncommon occurrence, and Dalton knew Jeremy had smoked once or twice before, though he was never really sold on it and complained a lot about the smell, blaming it on his sensitive nose...but Dalton himself had never really touched the stuff. To be fair, up until that night, when both their parents were out of town together, he hadn't done anything particularly scandalous...but all that was about to change.


"...Yeah. Alright." Cheyenne rubbed the vape against his chest and then held it out to his younger brother, a quizzical expression on his face. Jeremy didn't even hesitate, taking the vape from his brother and taking in a deep breath through the end, blowing a puff of smoke. Cheyenne pulled his brother closer so that he breathed it out the back door, before gesturing Dalton to join them. The otter nervously approached and Jeremy put the vape in his hands, grinning from cheek to cheek.


"Just take a deep breath. It's easy." Jeremy instructed, and Cheyenne tilted his head to the side, curious. The otter hesitated and glanced at both of them, before he brought it to his lips-- he didn't want to disappoint either of them. He took a large breath, and felt the acidity of the vape mixture burn the back of his throat. He instinctively coughed, withdrawing it from his mouth, and Cheyenne chuckled in amusement, brushing his long dyed black hair over his shoulder, a single lock of it highlighted a bright red, before patting the teen on the back.


"Figured you'd take it bad. Happens to everyone," Cheyenne assured him. "Bet it'll hit hard real soon, though."


He wasn't wrong; for both Jeremy and Dalton, the hit was close to instantaneous, and came on hard. If one could picture it like a roller-coaster, then one should imagine themselves already halfway to the top and ascending more and more...and god knows when it'll end. Dalton couldn't even remember moving into the living room, but when his senses started to come back to him, he was sitting next to Jeremy, with Cheyenne crudely laid out on the floor. On the coffee table in front of them were the two pizza boxes, presumably moved there at some point, and across the room was one of the two family dogs-- a light grey and cream Australian Cattle Dog, which Dalton remembered being called Vegas.


Cheyenne had put something on the TV and was lounged on the armchair next to them, and for a while they sat there, stoned out of their minds. Jeremy mumbled some things, and Cheyenne was surprisingly sober to contrast, mostly on account of the fact he was so tolerant of what he was smoking, unlike them. Cheyenne had talked to them a bit about the weed and, over time, moved from the armchair to the couch, next to Dalton, when the otter began to feel queasy. It passed quickly, thankfully, but Cheyenne mumbled something about the weed being an 'indica', and that he wanted to keep an eye on him. Dalton didn't realise he'd taken such a big hit. His vision swam, if only slightly, but his head was all fuzzy and easy to sidetrack. He stared blankly at the movie playing on screen, which had some surprisingly trippy visuals...he would have realised it was deliberate, were it not for how much his mind his mind swam.


"You're gonna feel it for a while," Cheyenne assured him, putting an arm around the otter and giving him a squeeze. "Don't worry, I'm right here. My first trip was pretty crazy, so I know what a bad one looks like."


Dalton slowly turned his head to the left to see his best friend, Jeremy, already passed out on the couch, lying on his side. He wasn't snoring just yet, but he would be soon, from what Dalton remembered of his friend's sleeping habits from all the sleepovers. At that moment, the otter turned instead to Cheyenne, looking up at his beaming muzzle and twinkling eyes. The older male tilted his head to the side, his orange and black ears twitching and twisting with curiosity as the otter's blank stare.


"I like you." Dalton mumbled, instinctively leaning in a little closer, bumping shoulder to shoulder. He turned his head away as he felt the colour rise to his cheeks, and he tilted his head to the side so that he could put it on Cheyenne's shoulder.


"Like, huh?" Cheyenne scoffed. "Something tells me you mean more than that."


"Mmhm," Dalton hummed his agreement, shifting nervously in his seat, his brain strangely foggy. "I've had a, um, a crush..."


He couldn't finish what he wanted to say, squirming uncomfortably from how it made him feel. Cheyenne didn't say anything, and that just made the otter more anxious. He wished he would say something, or give some kind of indication that he liked him back, or that it was okay. In the end, Cheyenne did give him that...by way of putting a hand on the otter's bare leg, where his shorts didn't reach.


"I...kind of knew already," Cheyenne admittedly quietly, trying to keep it down so that his brother didn't wake up from their talking. "Listen, this is kind of a big thing to talk about...do you want to take it somewhere private?"


Dalton didn't really need much convincing, but he probably needed a hand...at least, he thought so at first. When Cheyenne rose, he tried to do so, and his body was surprisingly willing. He barely stumbled much and his vision remained steady as he followed the adult from the room, heading into the hallway. Cheyenne was eager to ascend, but he didn't pull the otter up the stairs, and waited patiently as the teen ascended. Dalton's heart was pounding in his chest, all too aware of where they were going, but he didn't know what was going to happen-- part of his inhibitions were lowered, and he was doing things he wouldn't have even considered before. Fur brushed with his leg, and he looked down to see both of the fox's family dogs, Vegas and their German Shepherd, Scout.


It felt like time was slowing down as they walked closer and closer to the fox's bedroom, and when the door swung open and he was ushered inside, Dalton felt pressure in his stomach, and uneasiness spread across his body. He wanted to turn tail and run, but part of that was down to the anxiety of what they might do. The unknown of it scared him, but also excited him too. He only got a handful of moments to look around the room and take in the decor-- Cheyenne liked the punk aesthetic of black and red, and had posters of several bands, even though the fox didn't exactly always wear heavy chains or have any piercings- before the otter was whirled around on the spot, and any anxious complaints were silenced with a sealing kiss.


Dalton had never really kissed anyone before. His mother on the cheek, once, but never with a friend, and certainly not with a crush. It would have been nice if his first kiss had been more romantic, but honestly, being kissed by your crush in their bedroom after just telling them you liked them was already far exceeding the otter's standards. As their muzzles touched, Dalton melted into Cheyenne's touch, and the 20-year-old had to hold him by his upper arms to stop him from just collapsing on the spot. It unfortunately had the adverse reaction of causing the fox to withdraw, just to check on him, but when the adult caught the teen's giddy expression and lidded gaze, he grinned and came in for another kiss.


Their hands touched and roamed, or rather Cheyenne's did-- Dalton merely held to the other's hips and lost himself in the sensations as the fox attempted to grope down his sides and tug him along, trying to lead him across the room. It would have been a foolproof plan, had the older male kept his room relatively clean...but as it was, Dalton's paw tripped over some clothes on the floor, causing him to stumble. That, in turn, made Cheyenne stagger and fall as well, and with a loud thud the two fell into a heap on the floor, the family dogs surrounding them, sniffing around as the two giggled.


"Sorry..." Cheyenne began with a grin. "I wasn't really expecting company in my room today."


"I, um, I-I don't mind." Dalton sheepishly replied, almost too quickly, but Cheyenne seemed to like his eagerness. The otter crawled further towards the male, already situated between his legs, eager to sneak in another kiss, his tail wiggling as a giggle escaped his lips, spurred on by how high he felt...he wanted nothing more than to sink into the warmth of the man's chest.


What he didn't expect, however, was a sudden mass to press right onto his back. Cheyenne tilted his head to the side and his eyes widened for a moment as the otter turned his head to see what was going on, but the fox didn't stay shocked for long; his surprise quickly evolved into amusement, and Dalton could eventually see why-- behind him, with their stomach pressed to his back, was one of his friend's dogs, Vegas. He was already 'locked in', as it were, with both front paws curled and hooked against the teen's hips, the feral canine's hips already wildly bucking to push and press against the otter's clothed behind. Dalton stammered, unsure what to think or say; part of him wanted to laugh, whilst the other felt like the mood had been soured by the dog's antics. When he turned his head back to Cheyenne, however, he spotted that sly grin.


"Cheyenne, what..." Dalton began awkwardly, struggling to formulate a coherent thought. The older male leaned forward, brushing a hand against Dalton's cheek and coaxing the otter into nestling his head against his palm, before he slipped his hand further down, trailing it across the otter's back. Dalton blew a quick sigh of relief, hoping it meant he might be encouraging the dog to get off, but he stiffened when he felt the fox's hands plucking at the waistband of his shorts, sneaking them further down towards the curve of his rump.


"They do this a lot," Cheyenne murmured quietly, his other hand moving to brush under the otter's chin, which was already close to burying itself in the fox's clothed chest. "Let's indulge him a bit, yeah? It'll be fun."


"I'm not..." Dalton wanted to say no, but the shorts, and by extension his underwear, were already slipping down past his hips, and he could feel the soft fur of the canine's underbelly rubbing up against the small of his back. A squeak escaped him, one of a mixed protest and pleasure-- he couldn't help it, when Cheyenne's fingers were more or less groping his ass-- and that only encouraged the fox to push the shorts down even further, until they passed the majority of his behind and gave the humping dog access to what they beneath. For a while the fox's hand remained there, roaming and groping around the teen's ass, spreading his cheeks with his fingers and threatening to delve between, before he lifted his hand up and twisted it around, touching and feeling up Vegas's wildly pumping sheath. The narrow length of the growing canine member brushed and rubbed eagerly against his palm before Cheyenne guided it downwards, helping the pointy-eared dog to find its mark.


Dalton felt the slippery mass of that dick pretty quickly, and it was enough to make him stiffen in his knelt position, his head nuzzling and pressing against Cheyenne's chest for some kind of comfort. His heart threatened to burst right out of his chest from how fast it was pounding, but beneath all the unease and anxiety of it there was a degree of curiosity-- he'd never really done this sort of things before, and didn't really know if it was his thing either...he was so deep in everything, and so high from the weed, that he didn't even realise he might lose his virginity to an animal at that moment. The narrow cock, despite Cheyenne's aid in guiding it between those teen cheeks, struggled for a little while to find that taut button, smearing up and down and spreading sticky pre-cum all around the otter's hole before the tapering end eventually managed to touch squarely with Dalton's entrance-- all it took was a little nudge from the dog's hips to slip it inside, and in response, all Dalton could do was let out a sharp gasp.


It was warm, and wet, and it hurt a little...but it also felt strangely good. Of course, that's because Dalton didn't know what was to come, but he'd soon find out; when the canine's body recognised the delicate heat of a tight hole, Vegas started to push, more or less forcing Cheyenne's hand to withdraw as the canine found purchase and started to hump more frantically, his tongue lolling from his feral muzzle. Dalton squeaked a complaint as a stab of discomfort shot through him, but it was quickly followed by the growing pressure of the canine's now rapidly swelling length, which pulsed to life and became turgid and thick within him. Dalton trembled, his legs wobbling slightly as he felt a tingle spread across his loins, his body reacting to the pleasure he occasionally felt as the dog abused his hole. The sound of their sex quickly filled the air as the slippery pre-cum coated the animal's thrusting length, spreading it across the otter's tight canal. Cheyenne leant back, masking the satisfaction that spread across his face, before he looked down at the otter and delighted in his mixed expression of discomfort and pleasure.


"Does that feel good?" The fox asked slyly, and all Dalton could do was nod. It was a bit of a lie, it did hurt a little bit, but if Cheyenne thought it was okay then he'd keep taking it-- hell, he might have jumped off a cliff if the fox asked him to, that's just how smitten he was. He cast a gaze up at the 20-year-old, who in turn put a hand between the otter's ears, his fingers brushing delicate through the dark fur-like hair atop the boy's head, before he lightly pushed and encouraged him down. Dalton didn't understand why at first, but it became clear when his intoxicated muzzle pressed and met with the fox's crotch, through his baggy jeans. 


"Dalton? Cheyenne?"


The last thing either of them expected to hear was the third person in the house calling for them, or rather dumbfoundedly getting their attention. Jeremy stood in the doorway of the bedroom, his expression a mixture of shock and anger, his ears and tail raised high. Cheyenne looked unfazed, but Dalton immediately swept his head to the side to avoid looking at his friend. Vegas didn't stop at Jeremy's arrival, and as the silence between them filled the air, the only noises that cut it were the wet, eager slaps and squelches of an animal desperate to cum, using the otter's ass as Jeremy did his best to just understand the situation.


"Yo, Jer," Cheyenne tilted his head to the side. "Wanna join us?"


"J-Join?! You..." Jeremy could barely formulate a sentence, which made Dalton's humiliation all the more pronounced. "Are you fucking kidding me?"


"What? We're just having fun," Cheyenne frowned. "You're not a buzzkill, are you, Jer?"


When Dalton thought back on this moment in the months thereafter, he hadn't thought much of it; he assumed Cheyenne was diffusing the situation, or trying to get his brother to calm down...but when he became older and wiser, he understood that it was a classic manipulation tactic. Jeremy had a competitive streak-- it was just built into his energetic DNA-- so to goad that he might not be 'good at something', or 'uncool' or 'bad' in some way, only encouraged him to prove people wrong. He was an emotional teen, and no amount of shock value or taboo subjects was going to make him back down from what was a stubborn trait. At Cheyenne's words, Jeremy practically inflated on the spot, puffing out his chest, and though Dalton couldn't see, the younger fox faltered. After a handful of moments, the otter could hear him padding across the floor, paws against carpet before, with a thud, he dropped to his knees beside Cheyenne, close to Dalton's head but by his side, ish.


Slowly, the otter turned his head, his eyes widening at the sight of Jeremy already working on the front of his shorts-- he could see that the fox looked nervous, but his tail was swishing to and fro behind him, and he squirmed in his knelt position, fingers fumbling over the button of his shorts. To Dalton, that gave an air of interest...was he actually into this? The otter's eyes widened further, if that were even possible, when the shorts were finally undone and they slipped down, the underwear skirting down soon after, revealing a small cream-coloured pouch, and a little cylinder of a fuzzy sheath just atop it. Dalton dared to look up at Jeremy's face, and the fox's eyes were wide, as if he couldn't even fathom what he was doing, before he scrunched them shut and moved forwards, drifting a hand down his front to cup around his teen balls. It didn't take much to coax a little pinkish tip from slipping out of the top, and he leant forwards, putting a hand somewhere around Dalton's shoulder, beneath Vegas's humping form, to try and get his crotch closer.


Dalton didn't need to be told or encouraged what to do, but it was hard to focus on three things at once. Even as Jeremy moved forwards and made it clear he stubbornly wanted attention, the humping dog behind him made it difficult to even know where to start; each eager, rapid pound of that feral animal's hips into his young, deflowered ass made his entire body jiggle and tense with every thrust, his own uncut teen dick bouncing up and down between his legs, half-hard yet oozing ever so slightly with pre-cum. At the same time, Cheyenne evidently wanted some attention too; he had already worked the button of his shorts undone, and was slowly slipping his shorts down and around his behind to expose himself, stretching his legs out either side of the otter before him. To have to pay attention to both Jeremy and Cheyenne, whilst enduring his virginity being taken by a dog, seemed impossible. Thankfully, someone came to his rescue.


Jeremy slid forwards enough for the tapering end of his vulpine member to prod and poke at Dalton's cheek and around to his muzzle, before he abruptly shoved forwards, hard enough for his cock to slide to the side at an awkward angle. From the cry that escaped the teen fox's muzzle, it was clear it wasn't down to him, and as Dalton raised his head he understood why; the other dog, the eager German Shepherd Scout, had suddenly launched him up and onto the fox's back, causing him to stumble. Instinctively, Jeremy fell to all fours, trying to find balance amongst the chaos, but that only served to allow Scout to find better purchase around his boyish hips. Just like what Vegas did to Dalton, the dog quickly hooked his front paws around Jeremy's thighs and started to wildly hump the air, his feral sheath and balls jiggling and bouncing as they attempted to find their mark.


"B-Bad boy! Bad Scout! Stop it!" Jeremy cried out, trying to lift himself up whilst at the same time moving his body to the side, away from Dalton and Cheyenne, so that he didn't end up practically laying on top of them. He ended up close to a near-parallel stance to Dalton, though he was slightly skewed, and unlike the otter he was more or less propping himself up with his hands. The otter wasn't afforded the same luxury; Cheyenne was quick to direct his attention down, and as the adult fox coaxed him into bowing his head, he was in turn forced to lower his upper torso, leaving him in a prime position to be bred and fucked by the jackhammering canine behind him. His taut little ring felt like it was on fire, his teen muscles reflexively spasming and clenching with each pounding thrust. At some point during their sex, the squelches of the dog's pre-cum-slick length had become more like wet, audible slaps, and Dalton could only assume it was from the sudden arrival of a thick, bulbous mass that mashed and rammed against his hole, trying to force its way inside. He was naive and inexperienced; he had no idea it was a knot, and that his fate would be sealed the moment it tied him.


Cheyenne wordlessly cupped around the cub's cheek, guiding him further down, and for a moment Dalton's attention waned, focused entirely on what was in front of him. Like his younger brother, the man had a lump sheath and fuzzy balls, but what Dalton was more interested in was what came out of that housing; sliding from the stretch flesh of the sheath was an amply-sized, already fully hard cock, complete with a thick knot that pulsed with clear and obvious need. Dalton instinctively lifted his head to brush his muzzle with the underside of it, and his rounded ears twisted and listened to the sounds of Cheyenne's hums of approval, as well as the gasps of surprise from Jeremy, and the panting of both dogs eager to fuck. He didn't look, but he could tell from Jeremy's sounds that Scout must have penetrated him, but he sounded like he was handling it much better than Dalton...he didn't have time to wonder why that was.


The otter slowly raised his head up, mostly thanks to Cheyenne's guiding hand, and his muzzle drew towards the tip of that tapering cock, where he stuck his tongue out and swirled it around the tip, circling like he'd seen in some of the porn he'd watched online. He listened intently to Cheyenne's noises of appreciation, though a lot of it was hard to hear thanks to the other sounds going on around him, and it was hard to focus his concentration due to the spikes of discomfort and pleasure that shot up his spine and made his loins tingle and burn with feelings he hadn't felt with such intensity since his very first orgasm. As he opened his muzzle against the end of that cock, he felt Cheyenne's hand curl upwards between his ears, coaxing him into taking that cock into his muzzle. The underside of it slid along his tongue until the narrow tip prodded with the roof of his mouth, pushing all the way to the back of his throat, nudging back and threatening to plunge further down, where Dalton wouldn't be able to breathe. When he instinctively started to pull back, Cheyenne relented and loosened his grip, letting him rise back up, only to coax him down again. Dalton understood subconsciously what he was doing, and in response matched the movements of his own volition, whilst all the way he felt his hole becoming more and more stretched.


Beside him, Jeremy started to whimper with a greater fervency, his breath coming out in hot, heavy pants, but Dalton didn't get much chance to look over and see what was happening; instead, he bobbed and bowed his head, wincing briefly and trying to keep his teeth away from the spit-slick cock as Cheyenne started to groan and roll his hips up and against the cub's mouth, gently thrusting into him and nudging the back of his throat with the tapering tip. Somewhere within the otter, he could feel a pressure growing, and the more that the dog thrust into his ass, the more the feral canine abused his hole, the heavier that feeling became. Even without entirely understanding, he could sense something was coming, and the pleasure he felt was starting to significantly outweigh the pain from his stretched ring, enough to make him let out tiny squeaks around the fox's length.


A sudden stab of pain got his attention and he tensed every muscle, pulling back off of Cheyenne's cock a little as colour rose to his cheeks. Above him, Vegas had abruptly slowed his thrusts for a moment before quickening them again, but the dog moved with resistance, like he was stuck. Dalton quickly realised why; that thick, unknown mass around the base of the animal's cock had forced its way into him, and the clenching of his ring and inner walls kept it snugly inside. Each tug back of the dog's hips yanked on that mass, and each push forward nudged it just a little bit further, stimulating Vegas in a way that Dalton didn't even realise he was doing. Cheyenne pushed upwards with a sudden growl of what Dalton assumed to either be lust or frustration, and the teen trembled, his tail wiggling left and right, his face scrunched up. After a handful of moments, Vegas halted and shifted his position on the otter's back, adjusting his hind paws and panting loudly, almost happily. A flood of warmth spread across Dalton's stomach, but he barely had much time to register it, a guiding hand and a grunt of pleasure turned his attention back to Cheyenne.


"That's it, I'm almost there...you're doing so good, Dalt," Cheyenne used his characteristic nickname for the otter, which made the boy's cheeks flush as he pushed down further, desperate to please. "Damn, Jer, you're taking scout like a champ-- wait, did you cum?"


Dalton, out of curiosity, couldn't help but to cast his gaze to the side, and sure enough Cheyenne was right; Jeremy wobbled on all fours, the German Shepherd still pounding away with the telltale slaps and squelches that indicated the base of its cock, whatever that was, wasn't in yet-- but Jeremy, with a scrunched-up expression and an occasional whimper, looked spent. Between his legs, his turgid cock, complete with swollen knot, twitched madly up and down, but the carpet beneath him was stained with obvious damp drops that were occasionally pooled around small globs of off-white fluid, slowly soaking into the carpet.


"S-Shut up." Jeremy huffed between gritted teeth, unable to clap back to his usual degree. The sight of it made Dalton pause for a moment; he'd never seen Jeremy so flustered, and watching him get fucked by the dog was...well, hot. He knew how it felt himself, and he imagined how it might feel for Jeremy...perhaps even better than him. Cheyenne scratched gently between the otter's ears to get his attention and Dalton averted his gaze, just in time for the 20-year-old to push up, his hand forcing the otter's head down. A groan escaped Cheyenne's muzzle that was clearly laboured with desperation and need, and the otter tasted and felt the slick translucent pre-cum on his tongue and down towards his throat, forcing him to gulp. He could tell from the man's panting breaths that he was going to finish any second now.


"Fuck...!" It wasn't the first time Cheyenne had sworn, and wouldn't be the last, but for Dalton it felt like the most important word in the world at that moment, for soon after the thick, salty taste of cum shot straight to the back of his throat. He was pushed down and felt the tip of that thick length slide into his throat, stretching it out and causing his tunnel to wildly spasm and try to swallow it down, which only served to coax the splatters of cum further from Cheyenne's length, where it pumped and spurt straight down into the otter's stomach. Dalton tried to pull back, his eyes squeezed shut, but Cheyenne held him there for a handful of moments longer before he inevitably let him go.


Dalton swung upwards and coughed, bowing his head for a moment before he raised it back up, just in time for Cheyenne's member to rub against his nose, spreading the scent of it through the otter's system, before a heavy glob of cum splattered covered and landed between Dalton's eyes. He recoiled, taken by surprise, and Cheyenne grasped the thick base of his length to angle his member, stroking out the remaining few arcs and splatters of seed that landed in messy strings over the teen's face, where they trickled down his cheek and onto his muzzle, making him instinctively lick them up to taste the salt again. Dalton panting heavily, lidded his gaze as Cheyenne smeared and pressed his pulsing length against the otter's face to cover him in cum, and at the same time Vegas started to move, swinging a leg over Dalton's slim form and turning himself around, that cock remaining firmly inside. By the time both Cheyenne and Vegas were done, the young otter had cum covering his face, and Vegas had turned a full 180 away from him, his balls nestled atop his still-pumping doggy cock.


An awkward silence fell over the three as post-nut clarity kicked in. Dalton was a dizzy mess; he was exhausted, and the weed certainly didn't make it any better. It was hard to tell what Jeremy was thinking, for he hung his head and stared down at the floor as, like Vegas, Scout had turned away from him and was thoroughly tied. It was no surprise that Cheyenne was probably the most sober of the three of them, and in that moment he was as happy as can be. He leant back, placing his palms on the carpet, and turned his head towards his brother before looking back down at the otter, a smirk crossing his face.


"Since you guys're gonna be stuck for a while..." Cheyenne began. "Wanna hear the new song my band cooked up?"


"S...Sure." Dalton murmured awkwardly, glancing over at Jeremy, who didn't even respond or raise his head. Was he angry? Upset? Tired? It was hard to tell.


Dalton had a feeling, however, that things would never be the same again. There was no coming back from this...they'd remember it for the rest of their lives.