1/16/2021 
4:23am 
~ 
 	Another year older as of the fourteenth, one bong hit too many and yet another journal entry to add to the vast collection.  
~ 
 	Ah hell! It isn't that huge, I guess! At least I'm well-nigh aware of my tendency to jostle the tarot cards of sexual orientation: A gay three-way, an undead homoerotic encounter, becoming a voodoo witch priestess' sex-slave and having a blast with her deer-wolf accomplice, a succulent slice of blue-haired foxcoon loverboi passion and the very best; being fucked in the ass by a bat-wolf assassin while flying through the late-night Seattle sky. It was this hybrid's sperm that granted me the powers I now bestow, believe it or freaking not. 
~ 
 	As I write this down, I can see a small surge of yellow and pink vapors wisp and twirl from my eye socket. My left one, mind you. Even with an orange cloth patch strapped on tight over my slender shep-coon head, rivulets of glowing vapor still find a way to make an avid appearance. I often wonder if they aren't just hallucinatory visions... then I have an angry spasm and vibrant red contrails appear, heat shimmering visibly like tiny fibrous tentacles, apt to burn a goddam hole through my skull, starting within my left socket. Judging by the stares, I suppose I'm not as loony as I often imagine and the small vaporous mist trails can be seen by others. So much red... 
~ 
 	But not this time. Yellow and pink, that'd signify joy and lust. Oh gee whiz, I wonder why? I suppose, as with any other journal I've written thus far, it'd only be proper courtesy to share my experience. 
Hell yes, I need to process exactly what just happened to me and Maile. 
Her dog too, I guess. Freaking Sammy, that little shit. Thank GOD Bradley wasn't there, or Gus either. Maile was enough for comfort, despite the embarrassment and humiliation adhered from a single evening.
~ 
 	Okay... 
 	So I regularly attend this cute mid-sized nightclub called the Sassafrass McSapphire (true story, honestly where'd they come up with that insanity for a name?!) and it is located in the midst of a dense Northern Californian forest smothered with eucalyptus, pine and oak trees galore. The sun shines through huge branches and vines in vertically angular rays, producing clouds of dust motes, ocean mist and insects which occupy its void incarnate. Spruce and cypress trees also pop up in random intervals, cropping smudgy patches cresting a large overhung ridge in front of the Sass, but the club is also barricaded from all directions by a vast wall of petrified redwood trees, like an outer rim to the small sanctuary of oceanic Pacific Northwestern nightclubbing. It makes for a very enchanting atmosphere, especially late at night when things really pick up the pace and the booze flows like water from a natural wellspring. Bonfires are lit and placed outside, complementing the stunning glow of the evening carving a path through dense tree canopy, further illuminated by stark moonlight. If you were to travel far enough to the edge of the property, just where the largest redwoods begin to grow and close your eyes, you'd be able to hear the sound of the ocean. The big Pacific herself, so blue and shimmery, cold as ice and twice as deep as hell. 
~ 
 	But for real, I love Sassafrass McSapphire. Many of my fondest memories were had inside its walls. Grayson, a good German shepherd anthro friend of mine who I met through a reliable saluki contact and ideal fellow creative accomplice (ah hell, my guitarist's girlfriend Calli), gave me the grand suggestion over a heated phone conversation to attend Sassy McSapph's for my birthday. He also provided pointers for keeping my cider from spoiling in the fridge and routine advice for washing... uh, certain places. Apparently, smegma is a thing that needs to be cleaned frequently. Who'd've thunk it? He promised me that in return, he'd bring a real dear friend of his to be introduced, one who I'd really get along with well. I wondered if the young strapping shepherd lad didn't happen to mean another lean, hunky shep or even a raccoon to cover fellatio tactics while he himself went to town knotting me from behind. Nope, he said. She was apt to blow my mind. Then he hung up, not before departing with a coy snicker. 
~ 
 	..."She"? Just how blown would my mind apt to be by this "She"? 
What if she's a flake, or a prude? Perhaps the stunning blonde-haired bombshell shepgirl of my dreams? Hell, maybe ol'Gray-boy is playing a fast card on me and it's Cassidy herself, in heat and ready to give me a soul-obtaining orgasm for my birthday? 
 	I wondered. 
 	I even suspected he'd contacted Ome and Rin, prepping me for a seriously hardcore homoerotic foursome, jizz and rimjobs and all kinds of pelvic-thrusting, plenty of anal knotting. Knowing my luck, Grayson's "She" is just a scurvy little flamboyant party-girl more interested in snorting ketamine off John C. Lilly's written observations and singing pop-diva karaoke to distract handsome horny drunken anthro males her way, only to drag them to bed and suck their cocks and lick their asses and let them have their fun with her, all before she decides enough is enough and departs with hardly a word spoken, not a chance to prepare ahead of time, no farewell or thanks or fuck you. There one day, gone the next. Another greedy two-faced back-stabbing calico-bluejay hybrid bitch to add to the shitlist of flawed relationships gone stale, which there's been very few and far in-between. 
 	'Oh and by the way shepcoon, we're never ever having sex again, so you can just pull your head out of those clouds and free from the gutter because the truth, Maxwell, is that we're done and always will be. 
Nothing personal.' 
 	That's what she said, her last words to me. 
 	"Nothing personal." 
 	Well excuse the living fuck out of me, but forget that shit. Moving on. Next stud dick, please. Screw that shepcoon asshat and his fancy ways. Well, fuck her too!!! 
 	Ahem. 
 	My Apologies. 
~ 
 	Moving back to subject: 
When I'd arrived at Sassy McSapph's, the place was SWARMED with nightclubbers! Lots of anthros, very few humans. It was a livewire go-to place to be, despite its seemingly nonexistent location. Fortunately, there was plenty of room for parking amidst the trees and shrubbery. The front of the building held lots of bicycles. Behind it, cars and trucks and vans were parked in a semi-circle surrounding the squat rectangular shaped building. The acoustics and subtle vibrations from sound system within boomed and shot outward into nature's boast, driving the vibrations back to man-made architecture and technology and the acoustics were enough to drive even the fondest audiophile bat-shit crazy with ecstatic audible bliss. I was guided along by Grayson, hand-paw gripping mine tightly, pulled through a swarm of wasted anthros. Many of whom I'd recognized both from local excursions and from past experiences. Or maybe that was just my mind playing tricks on me? I'll admit, I was actually pretty zonked out on ganja. 
~  
 	I was pulled from the parking lot through a large handsome pair of swinging red-rimmed doors, given an ID check and a wristband. I thanked the usher, a very cute young dragon girl with cat-slit yellow pupils and a pair of glowing purple irises. She winked at me and her lips parted, revealing a forked tongue that dashed out with every Sss-syllable spoken, so very fetching. I smiled and winked back, then proceeded onward. Grayson guided me along by the shoulders, rubbing at my neck casually, as we shuffled our way through the packed nightclub. The sound system was cranked, rumbling with deep bass and high-end cymbals, techno-dub funk, echoing from my ear canals into the seemingly huge room within. The scent of musk and damp fur was sweltering, so many anthros. The rank stench of their sweaty foot paws clamoring against the dancing floor and their dampened furry bodies smacking against each other like wet mophead jostling gone haywire sent droves of nausea coursing through my guts. I wasn't prepared for that unsavory acrid smell.
		Grayson pointed towards the direction of a spiral staircase that led up to a second story alcove in one corner of the interior, right above the DJ's sound booth, which was set up in a cubicle-sized room within the lower-level of this structure. Grayson insisted upon us heading towards the small gated area up top. Velvet laced indigo curtains and lacy twirls of hemp rope hung suspended all around the enclosed space, secluding it significantly. I nodded my head, leaned in to his cheek and gave it a companionable lick and kiss, wagging my ringed tail and feeling my blush heating up in my cheeks and a sudden rushing lapse in my heart, one that spoke of love and affection.
 	Mirrors were hung all along the ceiling spaces of the A-shaped hi-rise building, further amplifying the sense of depth and perception in the place. Two sparkly glass-reflective disco balls were set adjacent to one another, hung beside large gothic candelabras twirling and dazzling with a million sparkles of bright, vividly colorful candlelights, reflective and dazzling. Subtle green lasers burst through the surface of smoke generated by machines located in hidden-away corners and vents throughout the rectangular-shaped building, painting stark patterns and angles from all four corners. It reminded me of a freaking Pink Floyd concert set in the Royal Albert Hall. 
~ 
 	The bar was active and busy as hell, bartenders rushing with great haste to take drink orders from thirsty patrons, exchanging currency bills and credit cards with ninja-like dexterity. Tonight's gathering was a rather gullible one, bound to hand over all their earnings. The bartenders, a pair of tigresses, one orange and the other white in fur, were kicking ass and taking tips like thieves in overdrive. Their flamboyant nature and correspondent working chemistry provoked lots of whoops and cheers from the bar patrons, some flinging tens onto the counter as tips of appreciation. Highball glasses twirled and slammed down on the large cedar wood bar counter, polished to a fine shine. Tall, lanky saluki gentlefurs and llamas donning hoodie vests and afros passed along h'or dourves in the form of peanuts in bowls. Glasses clinked with toasts offered and at the bar, the rhinos and bears sat, pint glasses before their hooves and hand-paws stood tall, filled to the brim with ale. Drink glasses were left upon the counter, placed on cardboard coasters, cool-rimmed edges perspiring with moisture. Rum and colas on the rocks, vodka martinis, long island ice teas and all the adios motherfuckers anyone could handle in their own right mind and capacity. It was a gorgeous sight to behold, all that commerce. So busy, so inclusive and direct. I was beside myself and I haven't felt this lively in a goddam dog's age. I was more than ready to embrace whatever my sexy young shepherd friend had in store for me. 
 	Sheeeeeit... or so I thought. 
~ 
 	We sifted through the last of the budding anthro raver crowd and proceeded to walk up an iron grating staircase from the freaking Titanic era. It was decrepit, ancient and Venetian in style, maybe hundreds of years old. Rickety and swathed in rust, it creaked with each step we took. I was jittery with nerves, a little anxiety-ridden but excited as hell, unsure of what to expect once we reached the top. Grayson, bless his heart, clenched both my shoulders with his big shepherd's hand-paws and rubbed out some excess tension built up in my nape. It's amazing how a simple shoulder and neck massage can help alleviate such prominent anxiety! But he did, and by the Gods he helped me feel loads better. 
~ 
 	While ascending the old-ass spiral staircase, I caught a brief glimpse into the DJ's sound booth beneath the large corner-bound enclosure, through a sliding-glass window. Mixing boards and flashing interfaces peppered one half of the small cubicle-sized room and a leather futon couch adorned the other half. An ivory-furred husky-anthro girl (from the looks of it) sat in a rolling office chair, turning dials and knobs, adjusting tabs and flipping levers, offering announcements and general fanfare through a wireless portable microphone, which was held on a mini-stand rig beside all the audio equipment. 
 	A bright fluorescent lamp flickered from within, illuminating her face. I saw her almond-crescent blue eyes and ivory-blonde hair with streaks of black and grey running through long-ended tips and my heart skipped a beat. Her ears, stubby and pierced with black rods which glittered in the fluorescent dim glow of the motherboard equipment, complimented the rest of her features, cute as hell. When her tail wagged, I could see subtle reflections of rainbow colors, neon and intrinsic, forming an afterimage in conjunction with every nuance of movement her tail made. She was extremely pretty and, I won't lie, my shep-coon penis took a hankering, growing outlandishly erect at the very brief sight, such a blessing in disguise for this place, since they often get shafted with ugly or arrogant bastard DJs. Not tonight! 
 	I noticed her talking and smiling with lively vibrancy, conversing with someone else in the room. Being led upstairs by Grayson, I leaned down low and tilted my head at just the right angle to sneak a peek inside, trying to maintain my posture in walking despite the humongous and slightly-knotted boner that now resided between my thighs. A familiar-looking red panda-girl was sat down on the couch, holding an equally-familiar-looking German shepherd dog on a leash at heel beside her. The feral and its anthro owner gave me a solemn sense of Deja-Vu. 
I've seen this before, haven't I? This image... If not in a telekinetic spasm burst, then in a random fleeting daydream; just there and gone again. Almost reminds me of Katherina Manchego, that awful succubus. 
~ 
 	The truth is, quite simply, that I wasn't ready for a thing. 
When we'd reached the top of the squat little square add-on, Grayson gave me a crafty smirk, bent his eyebrow funny and pulled aside the strands of beads, clearing the path for me to enter the Sassafrass McSapphire's exclusive VIP tent and get dogged up rough by my sexy raccoon brother and adorable foxcoon lover and vibrant healthy shepherd girl tour guide-
  	"Oh! Greetings, fellas. I hope y'all don't mind, I got a bit of an early start. What took you two so long to arrive, anyways?" 
	No Ome or Rin, No Seren or Rayen either for that matter. A part of me even suggested Cassidy, maybe even ol' Maddy-coon herself. But this doggirl was different, unfamiliar, and unbeknownst to me. Sharp and concise, lips pierced and green eyes gazing freely, quite fetching. Her gaze met mine and she smiled. The sight pierced my soul, for she was completely attractive in every sense of being.
~ 
 	Grayson stepped in behind me, emptying his pockets upon a nearby dresser. He cleared his throat and flung a tiny pouch of herb upon the bed, beside the crimson-haired black-furred beauty. I identified her as a blue bay shepherd dog, a freaking beaucoup-sexy dog girl with a few wolfish features, a voluptuous figure and ivory sharp teeth. 
 	"Sorry about the holdup, Rougie-baby, but there's lots of fools downstairs rocking out! We had to literally mosh-pit our way through a ton of furries to get here, didn't we, Max?" Grayson said, curling his pudgy brow and smirking wide. 
 	I nodded in agreement, nibbling at one corner of my lips. I was too enamored with Rougie-baby, sat in front of me. Her green eyes glittered with a jaded intensity above a spotty-red nose graced with smudges of merle. Her hair was long and rich with a subtle color shift, same tones as the rest of her fur and huggable fluffy tail. This sight before me had my tongue tied. Holy crap, I was incapable of even providing a suitable response for Grayson, just far too busy resisting the urge to completely dominate her.
	I was still reeling from seeing the DJ's ample curves and succulent lips and now this?! Grayson kicked off a pair of Crocs he'd been wearing on his foot paws for safety reasons. I stared in deadpan silence at the curvaceous anthro dog-woman as she multitasked on a round, circular bed thrown with a purple-striped quilt cover. The throbbing bulge in my pants wouldn't stay hidden for long, I knew it. This shep would completely pin me down and make me her femdom-reliable bitch, all while Grayson points and laughs at the old grey-muzzled fuck getting his ass reamed hardcore by his young sexy dog-girl buddy. I could see it all now, and I knew it wouldn't be altogether very fucking pretty.
~ 
 	By multitasking, I'd meant that she was toking from a large bubbler bong and fingering herself off simultaneously without missing a beat, perfectly calm, casual and nonchalant as ever. She had the pipe propped at the edge of the mattress while she toked to save from holding onto the large glass beaker with her other hand-paw. She was sat at the edge of the bed with her digitigrade saucy legs spread out wide, toe-paws splayed and crooked, hunched over to take in as much smoke as possible in a single toke. She held a Bic lighter in her balancing hand-paw, hovering it over a small glass bowl, freshly packed with a lethal Sativa-Indica hybrid strain she'd acquired from a flirtatious ass of a foxcoon named Darrel Mendoza, my douchebag celebrity cousin. How'd I find out he was her supplier? 
	Simple. I SAW IT.
	I witnessed the exchange. I watched as this excessively attractive dog-girl approached Darrel's parked Pinto in a local Park-N-Ride, share a saucy word or two and slipped him a Benjamin for a small dime-bag of potent top-grade marijuana, the finest herb to be had in over forty states of this great union. They exchanged a tiny handshake, Darrel collected his currency, she rolled a tiny joint for good measure while walking back along the trail she'd traveled upon and Darrel retired to his Pinto's passenger seat after a while to slap himself off to the sight of her exposed cleavage leaned in close to his face to collect the goods.
 	But I digress. 
 	All it took for me to see her drug exchange first-hand was to brush my hand-paw against her tail, which she did for me anyways. It startled me out of my staring paralysis. Another reason to silently curse my sporadic telekinetic abilities. But there she was, relaxed and yet still stirring with arousal, jilling herself off silently while whimpering and inhaling that sweet blue wacky tobaccy that makes lungs blacken and minds expand. Grayson rubbed my shoulders, practically leaning up against me. I was wondering if he wasn't staring at her as lasciviously as I was.
~ 
 	Upon exhaling her latest toke, filling the air in her vicinity with runnels of thick bluish-white smoke, hovering in wavelengths and spiraling wisps, just like the vapor from my corrupted eye socket, which was fuming pink by then (if I recall correctly, anyways!), she glanced up and smiled at me again, a little more coherent than before. That smile gave me an instant pre-cumming spurt, even while she still jilled herself off. Very sensual and inviting. It was weird and kinky and altogether added to the experience somehow. I was already getting high off her second-hand smoke fumes. To add her feminine pheromones to the mix? Fuck... what was a poor shep-coon to do?
	"Aaah... good shit, man. Care for a fresh toke?" She asked me, shaking off excess filmy moisture from her paw-padded fingertips. I was on the verge of asking her if she needed help cleaning those paws off, apt to lick her spunk clean for her, but decided against such a sporadic surprise advance. We'd just fucking met, after all.
	"Uh, sure thing. Thanks, Rougie-baby." I said to her, briefly caressing her hand-paw while grabbing the pipe from her grasp. She laughed herself into wheezing hysterics, tail flicking awkwardly all around her head, flipping her hair in all directions. I noticed a tiny spherical orb that trailed off the tip of her tail, hovering deftly as if in orbit with her vertebrae. The sight alarmed me at first but I settled into it, figuring her orb acted much like my eye socket - a glorified visual mood translator.
	"My name is Rogue, but you can call me... whatever suits your fancy, really." She said, shrugging her shoulder, giving me bedroom eyes. Oh, this was such a weird and freaking super-kinky experience. Grayson seemed totally nonplussed by it all, stripping down to catch up with her since she was stark naked already, not even a sock or stocking or freaking hairtie in sight. I wondered how she wasn't shivering from the chill, but then I remembered we were in an elevated, enclosed area. Plenty of body heat to be produced between the three of us. Plus the 'Sass has reasonable, dependable central heating. We were practically basking in a sauna of ganja smoke and primal raging pheromones.
~ 
 	Her clothing was neatly folded, placed upon a straw-woven basket hamper in one corner of the small enclosed VIP space. Velvet curtains hung suspended in all four sides, providing a fancy veil of privacy and protection from prying eyes. The stark-naked blue-bay dog-girl licked her masturbatory hand-paw clean and held it out to me, eyes twinkling while casting a companionable smile my way. I grabbed it and we exchanged a shake while I held the pipe in my other hand-paw, despite the slight hint of warm moisture evident upon her fingertips.
	She introduced herself to me as Rogue. I felt as if I'd never wash my fluid-tainted hand-paw ever the fuck again for a little while.
	I found out through the mere touch of her hand-paw that some of her friends gave her the nickname Zyn, though I doubt that's apropos. I know a Zyn already, she's a true raver-girl and a bad-ass. I'd never engage in anything with her though, out of respect for her mate. Rogue seemed to be equally down for a fun time though, not pinned down by any significant others or jealous exes, no male friends other than Grayson and by then, he had developed a formidably knotty history with me already.
	I reminded myself that the night was young, and we were still too early to determine for sure, so I'd ride it out smooth as snakeskin. Though if what I'd walked into proved anything, I knew Grayson wouldn't deprive me of a little pleasure, otherwise I may have to kick his ass over it later.
~ 
 	"Very nice to meet you, Rogue." I said to her, licking a small hint of feminine nectar from my thumb-paw, a bit she'd forgotten to clean off. She chuckled low, sultry in tone, then watched as I took the hit, removed the bowl, cleaned the shaft of all smoke and found myself sat down upon the bed, attempting to maintain a sense of stability. When I finally let myself exhale, smoke poured like a vaporous punctured sieve from my lips and both nostrils. Dammit, my lungs! I'd been betrayed into a massive coughing spasm that damn-near winded me down into a slump. Grayson and Rogue laughed a little amongst themselves, delighted at how hard I could party. I nodded and shook my head, rubbing at my ear, my head, maintaining myself as well as I was capable.
 	When my bong hit was wrapped up and the coughing fit had at last subsided, I was approached by Grayson. He clung against me, rubbing at my chest and back. I held my arms to my side, loose and suspended, allowing him to take me however he saw fit. In a flash of roughly twenty seconds, I went from fully clothed to damn-near naked. Grayson wasted no time, nor spared any expense! Can't say I don't blame him, though. If my senses weren't so muddled down by the weed, I would've been stripped down way faster by then. He flooded my neck with kisses, causing my limbs to ripple with gooseflesh beneath my shepcoon fur. I felt his tongue intrude behind my ears a couple times and he'd already had me stiff from the get-go.
~ 
 	"I see you staring, you dirty boy." 
	I was shocked by the raw vibrations of lust I heard in Rogue's voice when she pointed my dumb overly-curious ass out. I was sat on the bed, sharing a mutual stroke-session with Grayson, squeezing at his fat vein-smothered shepherd's dick, knot beginning to form into a bulge. He had my cock in his hand-paw, stroking me with assured delight, squeezing at my bulging knot occasionally for good pleasure. I had a finger-paw in his tailhole to help provoke some serious orgasmic action and we were both wallowing in each other's lust, and by then I was giving his big knotted shepherd dick some much-needed attention with my tongue and muzzle, when I let my one good eye wander aimlessly towards Rogue's attention... and stay there longer than expected. 
 	Rogue, the sexy bluebay-shep-doggo friend of Grayson, had removed the bowl-piece from her pipe and was now using the stem-end of it to masturbate, shoving the glass paraphernalia in her pretty snatch with repetitive penetrating motions. She moaned and panted aloud, shivering and twitching in reaction to orgasmic sensations quivering through her. Rogue caught me staring up at her, Grayson's cock rammed down my throat and I took his dick, knotted with a dog's deep-throat. Rogue squeezed one of her breasts and licked her pierced lips, beckoning me to her side, forget Grayson for a moment. I heeded her call and gave Grayson one last suck, let his cock slip free from my mouth and crawled slowly towards Rogue, my own shep-coon erection prodded and dangling between my legs, glistening with Grayson's saliva. I must've looked like a damn homoerotic sex fiend. She giggled and spread the flesh of her vagina, exposing cute pink labia folds, slickened with feminine nectar. My finger-paw pulled out of Grayson's tailhole, our last connection, and I wiped it against a small patch of tail-fur and licked my shep-coon lips, gazing hungrily at her vulva, the curvaceous creases of her vaginal lips and the small thin scrim of discharge that leaked freely to the bedsheets beneath.
	"Okay, that does it, enough formality. Rogue, darling, you are actually cool as fuck and I'm honored to have been introduced to you by Grayson here, but let's be real." Maxwell knelt down in front of Rogue, positioning himself to penetrate her vagina. He craned his head out and licked her cheek with rich robust passion, savoring her flavorful fur. "I can't fucking wait to drive you straight to pound-town." 
 	"Come at me, then." Rogue said, wagging her tail, wiggling her butt, flexing her paw-padded toes and giggling shyly, tongue perked out from between her teeth in a cute sneering wince. She was playing with me, something I certainly wasn't expecting! I was fucking crazy-erect.
 	"Gonna fuck your brains out, so hard, come here." I growled aloud, making her eyes widen and her teeth glisten in the glow of candlelight and flashing glowing raving lights in a wide smile. I slid my wrist against one of her thighs, warm and fur-covered, then dragged my hand-paw down her leg, against her kneecap, along her ankle and reached her footpaw. I clenched both her dog-feet in my own hand-paws and began to rub them mercilessly. She must've mistook this as ticklish, for she began to laugh and spasm, trying to kick free. I rubbed and rubbed deeper and harder, kneeling down in front of the bed where she sat. I focused heavily on the pipe and it slowly gravitated from the bed's edge to a headboard beside the bed itself, for safekeeping. God bless this telekinesis, it had its pros as well as its many cons.
 ~
	I brought her feet to my muzzle and lapped at Rogue's soles, so musky and corn-chip-scented and my God, her toes were like tiny sweaty beans that demanded licking and I wanted more. I slathered her paws with my tongue and lips and she moaned and rubbed herself out harder, leaking down a trail along the ridge of her tailhole. She was getting off like crazy to this paw-worshipping business and I was feeling a humongous erection just dying to get acquainted with this amazing new friend's hungry wanton vaginal flesh. 
 	The scent of her endorphins, her natural feminine musk, drove me beyond the point of reason and sanity. I developed a one-track mind. 
Lick, lick and lick. My natural functions had been compromised by her illicit beauty and the only thing I could see fit to do then was eat her out. I let my tongue slide up the ridge of her foot, her ankle, her shin, her knee and then I sprung up and my primal instinctual urges took over. 
~ 
 	My muzzle slid against splotches of dampened inner-thigh fur as I let my tongue slide deep into her pussy, snout pressed against the surface of her sweet canine clit, whiskers tickling at every surface of her labia folds, chin prodding at her sweaty tailhole. I spread her thighs wide with my hand-paws placed against the inner-crooks of her knees. Her finger-paws trembled and tickled my snout as I licked her out with amazing persistence, tongue sliding and grinding hard against her vulva, producing outstanding sexual friction. Her clitoris pushed against my lips like a tiny cyst. 
 	"Oh, yes! M-Max, fuck! So good! Unf, lick me, good boy, right there...mmm, yes!!" Rogue exclaimed, digging my muzzle deeper into her groin. My tail wagged and I began to stroke myself off relentlessly while she spread her legs out as wide as possible, clenching hold of the back of my head, pulling my dreadlocks, squeezing my ears, tugging at my hair, my dreads, anything she possibly could. When she was ready to endure her own orgasm, her legs wrapped tightly around my head, pinning me in place, toes burying into my fur at the nape. I felt a sudden warm dampness press against my own tailhole and melted into the absolute bliss of it all - Grayson decided to rim me just as Rogue was ready to endure her female ejaculation against my tongue, just as I was ready to drink her climax. 
~ 
 	So I was licking Rogue's pussy into a headspin frenzy while Grayson licked my asshole into complete succulent bliss and all the angels and devils and party-goers in Hell and Heaven alike rejoiced and admonished in our ability to persist, to be fruitful and expand our pleasure unto each other to be shared amongst three as one. I'd never even met Rogue before this fateful night but there I was, licking her into a spasm of pure orgasm, apt to drown in the fluids she'd be squirting down my throat soon the fuck enough. Grayson's chin rested on my balls and he twirled his tongue against my ringlets, hand-paw clenched at the base of my tail, keeping it conveniently raised while he feasted on my ass lovingly.  
 	When Rogue reached her breaking point climax, I felt the muscles within her groin tighten around my tongue, cutting off the tip's circulation a bit. I inhaled her scent super-deep through my nostrils as she arched her back and fired off upon my tongue. My saliva and her fluids mixed and interspersed in my maw and I swallowed as much as possible before losing the will to inhale and take a breath. I jerked my head back, shocked at how fast she came and how much she'd produced. I coughed, got a grip on my breath and dove back in, spread her folds with my thumb-paws and, like a dog in heat, licked her clean as she continued to cum hard, swollen and leaking from her shep-coon-violated pussy. She whimpered and trembled, eyes rolling wildly, as she rode hard through her own orgasmic journey.
 	Grayson's tongue popped loose from my tailhole and he repositioned himself behind me, getting on top of the bed, kneeling down and fixing for a rough ride with me, apt to force me to cum for hours, the duration of a pig in a sty. He leaned close and placed his chin upon my neck, whispering into my ear. 
 	"Happy Birthday Maxwell, I hope this threeway takes your mind off things. You are loved, man. Here, let me and my friend prove it to you." 
~ 
At one point, I heard Maile cry out. It was oddly faint, as if from a long distance away. I heard her moaning and shrieking aloud. Perhaps she'd decided to get frisky with her dog again? I hoped that's all I was hearing at the time, since I couldn't exactly move around a lot. Whether that was in my mind or not, I couldn't determine at the time. My mind was fixated on other endeavors. 
 	I eventually let my tongue travel from Rogue's swollen red heated vaginal lips, up her fuzzy mons, along her slender navel, between her voluptuously ample and wholeheartedly desirable tits (which had large fleshy nipples that tasted like heavenly cream bestowed by the milk Gods), against her neck and earlobe and eventually into her wide-open maw. We made out and kissed with intense passion, wrestling tongues, locking teeth, breathing heavily through our nostrils, even while I let my dick slide straight into her cum-slickened tailhole to give her ass a proper pounding. Rogue yelped and barked, hand-paw reaching down to finger herself off. I grabbed her hand-paw and helped out a bit, engaging in mutual masturbation with her, shoving my finger-paws into her snatch, right down to the first knuckles. She clenched hold of my wrist and reached back to pull me closer to her, hand-paw grabbing at my hip.  
 	"Oh God yes, fuck my ass! Max, fuck me! I love it so deep!" 
 	"Sure thing. Bite a pillow or something."
	"You first, ya fuckin' pussy!" Rogue said, snorting and giggling.
	Oh, I liked this girl a whoooole lot already. 
 	I felt my own sphincter muscles expanding and shrinking with repetitive haste as Grayson humped away into me, panting and grunting from behind. He'd crouched down against my back and I could feel his chin resting against my shoulder and his warm breath permeating my neck and cheek. Grayson reached down to squeeze my shep-coon testicles with soft, courteous lust. He would've been stroking me off, had my knotted dog-cock not found its way balls-deep into Rogue's saucy puckering tailhole. He also twisted and pinched at one of my pierced nipples which helped me to ascertain a prominent level of pleasure beyond anything I ever could've felt with anyone alone. Threesomes are something else, man! 
~ 
 	When I'd finally reached orgasm, I was on my knees, hunched back with Rogue balanced upon my lap. She was sat down in a reverse-cowgirl position taking my knot up her sexy rump, hair swaying with repetitive motions behind her slender dog-girl head. Grayson was knelt down in front of me, licking Rogue's pussy like a crazed feral dog in heat, stroking himself off and caressing my balls in his firm shepherd's grip. His tongue lashed against the base of my knot and her warm pussy, slathering and lubricating our lovemaking with his shepherd drool. Rogue squirted seminal fluid down Grayson's throat and screamed with illustrious erotic fervor while I squeezed one of her breasts in my hand-paw and held onto her hip as tight as possible, pounding her tailhole into oblivion, knotting her mercilessly. I felt Grayson's whiskers tickling against my balls and the very base of my knot and the subtle sensations forced me into a dive-bombing blast of swift arousal. 
~ 
 	"OH FUCK YES!! Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum in you!" I hollered aloud against the intense blasting rage of the music playing overhead from large box speakers. I'd been busy sucking and licking at one of her breasts with hungry persistence. Rogue reached up and clenched my muzzle with her hand-paw, fingers slipping into my mouth, brushing against my lips. I moaned and rolled my one good eye back into my head, sucking at her thumb-paw, hugging her body close to mine, slapping my pelvis against hers with heated repetition, hearing the loud smacking wet sounds of our flesh intertwined, pelvic thrusting and penile insertion, her ass felt scrumptiously tight and I craved her clenching reactions, her moans and yelps and barks and cute girlish gasps.
	Rogue pressed herself against me with firm resistance and I humped against her thrusting motions, sodomizing her while her tail wrapped around my waist in a loving caress. Grayson's orgasm arrived and he ejaculated hard upon my thighs, covering my knees with his pearlescent jizz, chin drippy and soggy with Rogue's feminine spunk. I felt Rogue flinch on my lap and her tailhole snared shut tightly around the girth of my cock, forcing me to thrust faster into her. I watched her foot paws curl up from the corners of my peripheral vision as I came deep into Rogue's ass and felt years of upset, of regret and indecision and flawed relationships simply vanish, dissipate into thin air. Any transgressions I may have felt before have all left my body, along with whatever sperm I might have had jostling around from within. Rogue drained me dry and got positively butt-fucked by yours truly in the process. She turned her head back and licked my cheek, thanking me for proving her wrong. I inhaled the deepest sigh for air ever.
~ 
 	After a short moment of time, maybe a few minutes tops, I pulled my drippy cock free from Rogue's sexy wolfdog ass when not even a few seconds thereafter, a shrill high-pitched cry echoed throughout the interior of the building, cutting off the camaraderie. Even the music came to an abrupt end, cutting away to a series of thumps and booms then amplified groaning, perhaps in pleasure. I also heard the fast panting of a feral dog and a low, chuckling voice, demonic in nature. One I recognized immediately. Maile and Sammy had always been below me, haven't they? I thought I recognized her earlier, heading up the staircase. Now I needed no further proof, for I heard her call out to Sammy, praising him for being a good boy and putting the husky in her place. My God, I could only imagine what she wa- 
 	Another voice boomed out thereafter, one that made me cringe. One that called out my name exclusively. One I thought I'd been done with already. And I was. But she wasn't, evidently. 
 	Katherina Manchego, that calico-bluejay hybrid bitch who wronged me to the grave, tracked me down and was fully prepared to engage in a final showdown. 
 	But I wasn't. That is, not until Grayson and Rogue proved me dead wrong.  

END 
