I don't even know why I bother showering anymore. It's gotten to the point where I keep this fucking Costco-tier bottle of lube, don't ask me where I found such a thing, in the stall so I can at least prepare myself a little before I step out and get assaulted by a giant fucking panda. 

	Alright, alright, context. I have this Pangoro – Troy is his name – who's honestly one of the best fighters I've ever seen, at least in my limited experience. It's no surprise either; I raised that fucker practically from an egg and not once did I let him let anybody tell him what he could or couldn't do. Great decision that ended up. My point is that within maybe a week after his evolution, he learned how to put two and two together and realized that the battle money he makes is the only thing outside of my savings (hahahahaha) that keeps a roof over our heads. So now it's less like training a Pokemon and more like having a roommate who blasts workout music at least daily and doesn't do dishes or laundry. 

	Which of course brings us back to the fact that after a day of his weight training (because fuck, you know, learning or practicing moves), what I have living with me is not a clean Pangoro. No, Troy is a Pangoro whom I can only assume one could smell from a further distance away than the size of our house, and knows it. He has to. There's no other reason he would specifically choose to use the shower directly after I'm finished with it, and to do so only after he's had his way with me for the day. Yes, this happens virtually every day. I've been to Costco a lot more than once. 

	Recently Troy's picked up on a new hobby, though, and that is removing the lube and hiding it god knows where until after I've showered. Yesterday was one of those times. From the moment I stepped into the stall and couldn't find the bottle, I knew it was going to be a long one. Oh and it never does help when he walks into the bathroom while I'm showering and just sits there on the counter waiting for me. And every time I step out he's got the same fucking faggot grin on his face and his half-erect uncut dick in his hand. 

	Anyway, yesterday he was particularly quick to shove me onto my knees and headfirst into his groin with his free hand. Usually he has me go straight to work on his cock, optionally as foreplay before he fucks me, but today he just held my forehead back in place and rested his sack on my face. Fuck, that smells. My mouth isn't even open yet and I can practically taste his ball-sweat as he lets his shaft dangle over my head. My breath audibly and probably tangibly intensifies, which Troy of course takes as an invitation to shove me harder into his taint. By this point I've opened my mouth to make breathing easier and already resigned myself to letting my tongue cover whatever it can reach, and I lap up what feels like a combined pint of his sweat out of his fur. I'm almost physically wincing from how much of the tangy stuff is filling my mouth and nose when he suddenly jerks me away from his sack and leans his now-stiff cock on my cheek.

	I happen to glance up at his face – still smiling like the cocky bastard he is – before he rears back momentarily and pushes the tip of his dick to my mouth. I reflexively tense up and end up gripping the overhang of skin with my lips, but don't bother letting it go. With one hand I start working his shaft, which lightly tugs on the skin in my mouth with each tug. After not much of this he simply leans in and forces my lips apart with his cockhead, which leaves me playing around with his foreskin and catching a small taste of additional musk when I pull it towards my mouth. 

	At this point I barely notice my own left hand grasping at my dick, which was probably fully erect before I even left the stall, but Troy is more attentive. With a short growl he swiftly kicks my wrist away and takes the opportunity to thrust a little further into my mouth while I stifle a gasp from the light, if unexpected, pain. Just as I'm getting ready to start blowing him for real, though, he slides his cock back out entirely and pushes me away. But then he keeps pushing, until I'm on my back. 	Before I can properly react, he's on his knees, straddling my body in the sixty-nine position and spreading my legs. 

	Now, two things happen at once: Troy bucks his ass outward and sends his cock swinging directly at my face, landing in my open mouth, and he lifts my legs and buries his face between my ass cheeks. The near-immediate sensation of his tongue forcing itself into me causes me to take a long, wet drag of his cock, as if holding on for security. He's not letting up at all, either. Accompanying his tongue is a generous helping of slick, slightly viscous slobber that seems to coat my insides, and I'm suddenly very aware of what he has in mind for my asshole once he's done down there. Knowing it's only in my best interest, I comply and get to work lubing him up with my own saliva. I'm thorough, if a bit hesitant to choke trying to cover the base of his shaft and on the inside of his foreskin, and after some stray precum forces a couple coughs out of me Troy decides to proceed.

	He ungraciously slides his tongue out of my to-be fuckhole and lifts his mass off me, flinging a bit of my spit out of his overhang and onto my chin. Even if I didn't know what was coming next, he'd have forced me into the position as quickly as I willingly got on my hands and knees with my ass presented to him. He wastes no time in mounting me and leaning as far forward as possible, his sizable belly forcing me to arch my back a bit, sweat-matted fur dampening my skin, and cock braced eagerly against my entrance. Then he rears back and mercilessly thrusts inside me. Fuck, it hurts. It hurts when he pulls back out and it hurts when he jams his manhood all the way back in. It's certainly no kind of pain I'm not used to, though, the sensation as familiar as the smell of his breath that blasts one side of my face with every thrust. I can even predict about how long it'll take for me to get used to it, and on cue, my center of attention shifts to the abject pounding he's giving my prostate. It's actually pretty difficult holding myself back for as long as he wants to go, considering finishing without him would probably only serve to piss him off. 

	It doesn't matter, though; I know his climax is coming when he suddenly lifts his hands and pushes off my shoulders into an upright position. It's all I can do to hold myself back as both a loud moan from behind me and the burning sensation of his claws raking their way down my back signal his orgasm. His hips and ballsack slam against mine in rhythm with the loads of thick cum splashing my sensitive insides, and before I know it I'm spraying the floor beneath us with as close to equal force as my body can manage. As much as the world feels a blur at the moment, a sudden empty feeling grabs my attention and a satisfied grunt of Troy's precedes the last bit of his load landing on my ass and lower back. 

	Without so much as a minute's rest, he's back on his feet and stepping into the shower stall. A grin and a wink are the last I clearly see of him before he closes the blurred glass door. As I lie on the floor catching my breath and hear the water start to run, I wonder whether this would be so bad if the Wii U had any games.