The door of the small restaurant opened with a bell ringing. A young traveler entered the place, carrying a bag in his left hand and a cell phone in his right hand. The young man was a German shepherd with some raccoon-like features, dreadlocks of somewhat grimy blond hair, and a burn on the left side of his body. The traveler was dressed in a black muscle shirt with a gold horseshoe on the left breastplate, brown cargo pants, and white sneakers with red lines.

A scaly blue hand rose at the end of the room drawing the canine's attention. The young man smiled and hurried to catch up with the waiting dragon.

"Max! I thought you got lost," exclaimed the blue dragon, without getting up from his chair.

The German shepherd left his bag by the table, bumped a friendly fist with his buddy, and took a seat, "Man, the address you gave me was three blocks from here!" complained Max.

The dragon stared wide-eyed, hurriedly pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and reviewed the previous conversation with his friend, "Oops... I think I touched the map wrong before I sent you the address," he said laughing a little nervously.

"I'm glad this place has such a big sign outside," sighed the shepherd.

At that moment, a waitress approached the table where both men were sitting, pulled out a small notebook and asked, "What are you having for lunch?"

Max looked at the waitress and then at his friend.

"Order whatever you want, dude, it's my treat," the dragon clarified.

The dog's eyes lit up and he looked at the waitress," I'll have an omelet and a tray of fries."

The young girl nodded, noted, and then looked at the dragon, "And you, sir?"

"I'll have the biggest hamburger you have," the reptile ordered.

"And to drink?" the girl asked again.

"Two beers," replied the dragon.

The waitress nodded again and left for the kitchen.

"Well tell me, where are you stopping?" asked the blue reptile.

"I've been on a farm outside of Barktown for a while now," Max explained.

"In Barktown?" said the dragon, putting a disgruntled expression on his snout.

"Yes, it's a quiet place. And besides, it's near the site of our next concert," the canine clarified.

"Dude, don't waste your time in those sleazy places. Come play here, there's over a hundred thousand people, it sells a lot of tickets, and the nights are a lot crazier," the dragon offered.

Max waved his hand in rejection, "I'll pass, Greg, the city is all very well, but nothing beats the country fairs."

"I don't understand, here you can get everything there is at the fairs but with better quality and quantity, except for cows to fuck," Greg scoffed.

"Don't worry, if I miss country animals I'm sure some city dragon can disguise himself as a cow," replied the canine.

Greg let out a laugh and tapped the table a couple of times, "Anytime, you know I love all those treats."

"Pussy lizard," said Max, mockingly.

"Faggy dog," Greg replied, smiling.
 
The waitress approached again, now carrying a tray with three plates and two beers. In front of Max she set down two plates, one with a large cheese-filled omelet, the other with a medium-sized cardboard box full of greasy fries. For Greg, the waitress left a huge burger 30 centimeters high that dripped several sauces down the sides. Finally, the girl uncorked the two bottles of beer, filled her customers' glasses and said goodbye.

The friends took their glasses and toasted. Then they began to eat in silence, until Greg picked up his big burger, opened his snout and before taking a bite, "No need to open your mouth so wide, I still haven't pulled my pants down," Max said, making the dragon laugh and having to put down his food.

"Fuck you, I can't eat if you start with your gay shit!" protested the dragon.

"It's not gay shit! Look," replied the canine, grabbing some potatoes, bending them over, and running his tongue between them as if he were sucking on a vagina.

Greg grimace in disgust, sticking his tongue out, ignored his friend, and continued eating his burger.

When they finished lunch, both ordered ice cream, then the dragon paid for everything, as promised. The two musicians gathered their things and left the restaurant, the city street was crowded, the summer sun simmered the masses and cement, the absence of trees and wild land choked the lungs unaccustomed to the urban setting.

Greg pointed in the direction with his index finger and the hybrid followed close behind, both of them walking through the tidal wave of various furs that flooded the streets of the huge city.

** 

Arriving at the recording studio, the two friends encountered a Spanish greyhound, with white fur, long fingers, a black mane that fell between his shoulders reaching down to his chest, and a funeral look. The canine held an acoustic guitar in his hands, and was playing a soft, slow melody that stopped the moment he saw the two men approach.

"This skeleton here is Paul, our acoustic guitar, I rescued him from a Christian folk group," Greg said, introducing the canine to his friend.

The sheepcoon leaned over and shook hands with the other boy, "Nice to meet you, my name is Max."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Paul," the guitarist replied, accepting the handshake.

"Paul, Max is the friend I told you about the other day. He'll be playing with us tonight," the dragon clarified.

"Those notes you were playing sounded great," said the sheepcoon, offering a friendly compliment to the musician he had just met.

"Thank you very much, it's a song I'm composing, it's called: The Burning Tear of Your Passion," replied the greyhound.

"Paul, have the others arrived yet?" asked Greg.

"Yes, Ronnie is with Monica in the waiting room, and Pamela is adjusting the controls before practice," said the canine, pointing to the hallway that led inside the studio.

"Thanks! Let's go, Max."

"I'll catch you in ten minutes!" yelled Paul.

As they walked, the sheepcoon matched his friend's stride and asked, " Are you five? I thought you were just four."

"There are four of us, Pamela is a groupie who is helping us with the studio consoles, she works here," explained the dragon.

The two friends went through a door to the left and came into a large, comfortable room, where there were several armchairs, a couple of tables, a refrigerator, a coffee pot, and a lioness kneeling in front of a raccoon, sucking his cock.

The raccoon was standing with his pants down to his knees, his butt in the air and two huge hairy balls hanging between his legs, the man was wearing a black leather jacket, iron studded bracelets, and in the middle of his head rose a row of green spikes forming a crest.

The lioness was dressed in long urban camouflage pants, a white sleeveless T-shirt with red spots simulating bullet wounds, a pair of uneven earrings with a skull in the left ear and the rest of the skeleton in the right, her hair was dyed dark blue and a tuft covering her left eye. The woman's bare arms revealed exceptional and terrifying musculature.

Max covered his mouth and blushed, while Greg put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer to his chest, and made an obscene gesture with his hand and muzzle, mimicking fellatio, one of the activities the dragon most enjoyed with the hybrid.

Greg coughed a couple of times to get the couple's attention but only got the raccoon to turn his head slightly and gesture to him with the middle finger of his right hand, while holding the woman's head with his left, "Don't bother now, Greg, my girlfriend is giving me the lucky blowjob so we'll do well at tonight's performance," the man explained.

"Well, the one with the balls out is named Ronnie, he's our singer and electric guitar," said the dragon.

"Nice to meet you!" said Max from a distance.

"Fuck you, I don't talk to faggots from other bands," replied the raccoon.

"Sorry, I'm Ronnie's gay quota," scoffed Greg.

"But I'm not gay!" protested the sheepcoon.

"Don't lie, your blonde gay dreadlocks say quite clearly: I suck dick Monday through Friday and on the weekend I give my ass away," countered Ronniee.

"I've fucked three times as many girls as you, mononeuronal rat!" barked Max.

The lioness pulled the raccoon's penis out of her mouth and stood up showing her imposing height, wiped her muzzle with her wrist and let out a laugh," Ha ha! Mononeuronal rat! I love it," said the woman, and approached the hybrid to offer her hand.

The sheepcoon smiled and accepted the woman's greeting, "I'm Max, nice to meet you," the hybrid said, having to look up to look straight into the feline's eyes.

"I'm Monica, drummer and girlfriend of the mononeuron guy," the lioness replied, smiling and squeezing the man's hand tightly.

"Hey, I wasn't finished yet!" growled the raccoon, turning back to where the others were, revealing his long, slender penis from which he was dripping pre-cum.

"Sorry, honey, I've been sucking you off for half an hour, my knees were already tired," Monica replied.

"But what about our cabal before every recital?" claimed Ronnie.

" Greg takes care of you afterwards, I've heard he's very good at sucking cock and has a lot more patience than me," replied the lioness.

"But he's a man!" moaned the raccoon, as he pulled up his pants and buckled his belt which had a buckle shaped like a skull.

" Well, it better be, honey, what better than a man to know how to satisfy a cock?" explained Monica, laughing.

"I'm not gay!" cried Ronnie.

"Those cries sound really gay, bro," said Greg, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

"You know...I read in a magazine that according to a university study rock band singers tend to be quite penis-loving," added Max.

At that instant, the door to the waiting room opened and Paul's long snout peeked out, "We're all set, Pamela's waiting for us," the greyhound announced and stepped back.

Greg nodded to the guitarist, walked over to a corner of the room, opened a long suitcase, pulled out a blue shark-shaped bass, called Max over and offered him the instrument, "This was my previous bass, I call it The Big Fish," the dragon explained.

The hybrid took the instrument with both hands and slung it over his shoulder, he grabbed the neck with his left hand and brought his right hand fingers close to the four strings, "How nice it feels, it's very light and you've got it pretty neat," the sheepcoon muttered.

"Whew, that bass is pure love, brother," exclaimed Greg, patting his friend on the back.

"Another bass?" grunted the raccoon, "I should have figured, that's why you' re friends," added Ronnie as he poured himself some water in a small disposable cup.

"You take it easy, champ, play whatever note you want, we'll take care of the rest," replied Max without taking his eyes off his friend's bass, running his hands all over The Big Fish's body.

Monica covered her muzzle to hide a chuckle, as she opened a small case from which she pulled out a pair of drumsticks that looked like carved bones, put them in her pocket and left the room.

Ronnie gargled with the water left in the glass, spit in the sink and hurried after his girlfriend, "Too many fags in one room," he said before leaving.

As the raccoon came out of the waiting room, Greg yelled, "Now there's less of us!"

Max bumped fists with his friend and laughed, "What about you bass?" asked the hybrid.

"Already in the studio, plugged in and ready," replied the dragon.

The two friends walked to the soundproof room where the others were waiting. Max plugged in his bass guitar cables while Greg took his place and hung up his instrument, a beautiful black bass guitar that was shaped like a medieval axe. Behind the glass in the room was a young, beautiful white vixen who looked to be in her early twenties, the girl twiddled a couple of knobs on the control table, put on huge headphones, and gave a thumbs up.

Practice began, the drums hit their first notes and within seconds the rest of the band joined in, Ronnie's voice was full of power and seemed completely different from what the hybrid had heard during the time they had spent in the break room, Paul's acoustic guitar music was sweet as honey, and Monica's percussion sounded clear and steady like the well-planned structure of a skyscraper. But the rest of the band was slightly distracted when they diverted their attention to the sound of the bass, Max and Greg were perfectly coordinated, they seemed like one instrument, a hive mind that only showed differences every few seconds in which they had agreed to add a few personal details that quickly dissolved and merged back into the rhythm of the song.

Two hours later, the band finished their practice very satisfied, they had time to practice almost five times their six original songs, the five musicians had a perfect command of their instruments and the melodies they would use that same night, something that filled the band with confidence.

When the five exited the soundproof room, Pamela was in the studio hallway, jumping for joy, "Boy, that was great! Tonight's performance is going to be brutal," the vixen assured.

Max blushed as he watched the groupie jump, the young canine's snowy fur was very attractive, producing a tingle between his legs, forcing the hybrid to swallow saliva as the vixen blew him a kiss and winked.

As the others put away their instruments, the sheepcoon approached Greg and asked, "What time do we play?"

"Well...we go in at 9 p.m. but we have to be at the stadium by 7 to get ready," the dragon explained as he put away the basses.

The raccoon and the lioness said their goodbyes, and walked out of the studio, where a cab was waiting for them. 

"But it's three o'clock in the afternoon, what will we do in the meantime?" asked Max.

"We'll rest in my apartment, Pamela is coming with us, she told me she wants to meet you," said the dragon, leaning over his friend and winking at him.

"Bye guys, see you tonight," Paul said, walking past the two bass players, his guitar slung on his back.

"I'm ready now, come on guys," exclaimed the white vixen to the two men waiting in the corridor, making eyes at the hybrid.

Max blushed and responded with a smile to the young canine.

The three exited the building, and walked a few blocks to a bus stop.

**

The blue dragon's apartment was spacious and cool, its distance from the main streets of the city allowed it to have some peace from the noise of the engines, and the air conditioning kept the place with an ideal environment to relax and sleep dressed or to watch TV without a shirt.

Greg walked to his living room and left his bass next to the sofa, "I'm going to take a nap, there's beer and snacks in the fridge, the bathroom is at the back on the right," indicated the dragon and then disappeared into the second door of the corridor.

Pamela nodded, said goodbye to the bassist and sat down on the couch. Meanwhile Max closed the front door, walked to the living room, observing everything around him, left his bass next to the dragon's, and sat down next to the girl.

"Greg told me you wanted to meet me," Max said, smiling.

The white vixen smiled and bit her lips, "Yeah, last week, Greg showed me a picture of you, and I thought you look really cute," the woman dared to say, her face blushing.

"Thanks, you look great too, how did you meet Greg?" asked the hybrid.

"Well...I've been following him for three years, and a couple of months ago I took my brother to one of his shows, that night I went home alone," the groupie laughingly recounted.

"So your brother..."

"Yeah, he's Greg's boyfriend, I never would have guessed," exclaimed the vixen.

"I'm not surprised, the dragon always liked canines, I tell you from experience," said Max, with a mischievous grin.

"I thought it had been because he liked boys shorter than him," admitted Pamela.

"Have you seen the size of that blue scaly? The rest of the world is short for him!" the sheepcoon teased.

"You know...I like canines too," whispered the sheepcoon, biting her lips.

Max put his hands on the vulpine's shoulders, "I'm half raccoon and half German shepherd, so I have a fair amount of canine to share."

"I wouldn't mind getting to know you in depth while we're hanging out," the girl admitted, resting one of her hands on the sheepcoon's crotch.

The sheepcoon licked the vixen's lips, lowered his muzzle to her shoulder and sniffed deeply at the girl's shoulder, while his left hand sank between the vulpine's shorts, quickly finding her vagina, stroking her clit lightly before forcing two of his fingers inside her.

Pamela moaned, stretching her neck back, lifting her arms up and holding onto the man's arms, wriggling her legs from the bassist's long awaited intrusion into her body.

Max withdrew his fingers from the vixen's genitals, taking them to his snout and sniffing them, the young woman was dripping with the need to be penetrated, and the sheepcoon knew it, giving himself the luxury of exercising a certain dominance over the beautiful groupie that allowed him to grab and squeeze her small breasts with his right hand.

The vulpine laughed as the hybrid played with her, taking advantage of the brief moments when the male changed targets to undress. As the man squeezed her breasts, she reached down to unbutton her pants and unzip them, while the sheepcoon plunged his fingers back into her vagina, she reached up to remove her sleeveless t-shirt and unbutton her bra, freeing her young, pink, erect tits.

The hybrid licked his lips as he watched the girl undress in front of him, the sheepcoon taking advantage of the spectacle to pull down his pants and his black, bone-patterned boxers, letting his hard, willing member breathe, which was already inflating an obscene knot at the base, above his testicles, which were hanging unevenly every time the male stood up.

Pamela finished removing her clothes, presenting her snowy, delicate body, wet between her legs. The girl leaned against the bassist and kissed him, closing her eyes as she slowly ran her hand down the burned part of Maxwell's chest, descending to encircle the sheepcoon's erect phallus, which was frantically spitting streams of pre-cum, wetting the girl's stomach, bathing her clitoris with the canine's juices.

Max ended the kiss with the vulpine and smiled, "Turn around," the male ordered.

The girl licked her lips, collecting the hybrid's saliva and swallowing it, then obeying, turning around and bending over, leaving her anus and vagina within the sheepcoon's reach, like a tribute to a possessive canine god.

The bassist gripped the vulpine's hips, resting his canine penis between the willing girl's buttocks, slowly lowering it as the hybrid bent his knees.

When the dripping tip of Max's phallus touched Pamela's anus, she moaned, tensed and begged, "Not up the ass, please."

The hybrid bit his lips and continued down his penis until he connected with the other entrance where he did not hesitate to penetrate with a powerful thrust that, if it weren't for the sheepcoon's strong hands, the vulpine would have jumped in addition to her shriek.

Pamela clenched her legs, writhing and moaning as she felt the male's hot, thick penis inside her. Greg's groupie gasped as the fur between her legs became moist with the juices of both lovers.

Max enjoyed the warm embrace of the girl's vagina for a moment, sighed, and began to ram her only as a canine might hump his female, making quick hip movements, resting his full weight on the vulpine's back, and ramming his swollen nub against the vixen's tiny hole.

Pamela's tits bounced each time the two lovers' bodies collided with intimate need, causing the vulpine's vagina to slowly open to accept the sheepcoon's full manhood inside her.

Finally, the vixen's swollen vagina gave way and allowed the other canine to possess her completely, causing Max to grit his teeth as he ejaculated, filling the willing girl with cum whose vagina clenched with a natural need for the ever thickening nub.

The vixen let out a scream as she was knotted by her lover, feeling the viscous, sweeping warmth flooding her vaginal canal with the bassist's fertile seed. When the hybrid's knot reached his full size, the two young lovers lay back on the couch, resting, and enjoying the refreshing embrace of the A/C.

About half an hour later, Pamela gathered her clothes and went all the way to the bathroom, while Max was left catching his breath on the couch, completely naked, with his legs and arms stretched out, his tongue hanging out the side of his snout, and his deflated penis, still outside its sheath, completely wet and dripping.

Greg came out of his room to face his friend, the dragon was wearing only a pair of black boxers, "Now that's an image I missed."

Max shook his head in the direction of his friend's voice, "Your fans are pretty hot, that girl sure knew what she was doing."

"You should see her brother, that little guy is like an industrial sewing machine, " said the dragon, as he knelt between his friend's legs, cupping Max's spent phallus with his scaly blue hands, "Although...it's not as big as my favorite sheepcoon," admitted the bassist, giving him a slow lick from the base of his penis to the tip of his glans.

"Fuck...I'm going to look like a corpse for tonight," the hybrid sighed, but then rested his hand on his friend's head.

The huge blue dragon grinned, revealing all of his teeth and Max's penis resting on his tongue, spitting small streams of pre-cum into the back of his mouth, quickly trickling down his throat. After swallowing a good amount of canine juice, Greg withdrew his mouth, licking his friend's penis as he pulled back to give the tip of Max's glans a little kiss.

"Tastes like pussy," the dragon complained, before returning to give the other bassist's phallus a lick.

"It's not my fault, I wanted to stick it up her ass but she wouldn't," the hybrid explained.

"Ooh, poor Max, you come from the farm, tired of fucking cows, and here in the city nobody offers you a good ass to stick all that sheepcoon meat in," the blue dragon mocked, as he kept licking his friend's penis, and wagging his long tail like a snake in the air.

"Give me a break, I don't think I can get it in you right now..." pleaded Max, biting his lips.

The dragon released his friend, stood up, and pulled down his boxers, exposing his long draconic penis to the air, a very thin-tipped one that grew wider as it got closer to the base and was adorned with two thick rows of spikes on either side.

"You're going to fuck me?" the hybrid teased, resting one of his hands on his snout, turning his hips slightly to the side and putting one of his legs over the other to expose his anus.

"I could... But I have a better idea, sit properly," Greg ordered his friend, as he waited standing up, his long penis already dripping thick clear liquid from it.

Max let out a laugh, settled back on the couch, and watched as the tall dragon sat on his legs, thinking his friend was going to ride his tired penis. But Greg settled himself so that his penis and the hybrid's were facing each other, producing a gentle contact between the two men.

The dragon grabbed both phalluses with his hand, began to masturbate them, smiled, and looked his friend straight in his good eye, "Remember this?"

Max moaned as he felt his friend's warm, slimy member, wetting his penis with the other man's juices. Then the hybrid let out a nervous laugh as Greg's scaly hand made contact, slowly bringing his manhood back to life, "That hippie party..." muttered the sheepcoon.

"Yeah! Remember that lemur?" asked the blue dragon as he continued to masturbate them.

"That crazy guy who could suck his own penis?" inquired the hybrid, trying to remember that wild event he had shared with his friend a couple of years ago.

"Exactly! When you went to the bathroom, he let me suck him off...I almost choked on that load! I swear that little fucker handled the same amounts as a horse," Greg stated, as he laughed.

Max laughed too, and covered his face, enjoying the treatment his friend was giving him. "I don't know how much a horse cums, I've never fucked one, faggot, "admitted the sheepcoon, smiling at his friend.

"Do you remember Margarita?" the dragon asked again, adding to the movement of his hand, the swaying of his hips.

Max groaned, answered and asked, "The zebra...was that her name?"

"I don't think so, we just called her that because of the necklace and flower crown she was wearing," Greg explained.

"Those brownies were really good..." muttered the sheepcoon.

"You spent the whole afternoon chasing her and asking for more!" exclaimed the dragon, panting, his hand completely drenched in the pre-cum of both males.

" Then I fucked her in her truck..." added Max, panting with his tongue hanging out the side of his snout.

"When you disappeared, I had a date with the lemur and his mate...I remember my ass burning for two weeks," the blue dragon admitted.

A moment later, Greg grunted and ejaculated onto his friend's penis and stomach, showering him with draconic semen. Feeling his friend's warm gift, Max sighed and ejaculated as well, adding three spurts of viscous, whitish, warm canine juice to the pool of sperm that had formed on his abdomen, slowly dripping down his testicles.

Greg ran his hand down his friend's body, collecting the abundant mixed seed, and brought it to his muzzle, tasting the combined flavor and then swallowing the pungent liquid.

A flash lit up both men's faces, and made him turn his attention to the white vixen standing a few feet away, focusing on them with his cell phone and snapping several pictures. "Now that's really gay, guys!" exclaimed Pamela.

"H-Hey!" gasped Max, raising his hand in the direction of the camera in an attempt to block the image.

But Greg laughed and, with his own hand, lowered his friend's, "Relax, she's very discreet, besides...my boyfriend loves to share me with other guys," confessed the blue dragon.

"A kiss between both bass players for the audience!" requested the groupie with a wild shout.

Both friends looked at each other for a moment, smiled, and kissed, making their tongues play with each other, allowing Max to taste his and the dragon's sperm, still present on his friend's tongue.

After a couple of photos, the vulpine thanked the musicians and sent the photos to her brother. Greg got up from between his friend's legs and went to get a beer from his fridge. Max lounged on the couch for a moment, then went to take a shower to cool down and wash off the smell that would betray the fun they'd had.

A few minutes before seven in the evening, the three young adults were ready, waiting outside the dragon's apartment, when a van, driven by a beautiful white fox, pulled up next to them.

Greg's boyfriend opened the passenger seat door and waved to them, "Get in quick, we have to hurry to get parking!"

**

When the group arrived at the stadium, there were already several cars in the parking lot, the cement was radiating the summer heat making even the people in the shade perspire. Arrivals either rushed inside or stood waiting inside their vehicles, hugged by the A/C.

The stadium was modest in size, with facilities to hold around fifteen thousand people, although Greg had heard from the festival organizers that on the first night they were expecting around eight thousand souls, a very good number for the upstart bands performing.

"Do you want me to bring your instrument?" asked Pamela to the hybrid.

Max awoke from the trance induced by the small male fox, just as white as his sister though smaller in size, shook his head and continued to watch the energetic vulpine. Jules was a white fox of twenty-seven years old, almost five feet, several piercings in his ears and one in his lips, despite his size his green eyes had an intense gaze, and the confidence with which the vulpine moved awakened a strange sensation in the sheepcoon.

Inside the stadium, the stage was already set up, the sound team was checking for the fifth time all the connections, the lights were walking around the stage and the field where the spectators would be, the smoke machines were already installed, and the huge subwoofers were rising at the sides like black towers at the gates of a castle.

The dressing rooms were prefabricated rooms, marked with a sheet of paper taped to the door on which you could read the name of each band printed in seventy-two Arial font, surrounded by fence posts that could easily be avoided by lifting your leg and, in case they failed, there was also a ferret in a black t-shirt that said 'security' inside a small guard house where he was sniffing cocaine in a very thinly disguised way whenever he thought it was necessary, regularly necessary.

The door Greg opened read: 'Burning eyes skulls' a cool name Ronnie had come up with the second time they got together to play. Max walked in at the end, pausing for a moment to compare Pamela's ass with Jules', and came upon a peculiar scene: Paul was sitting in an armchair trying out every note on his guitar very carefully, Ronnie was sipping herbal tea with honey while choosing which guitar pick to use for his guitar from a bunch he had stashed in a pencil case, Monica was sitting on the end of an old couch checking her cell phone oblivious to the rest and with her tits exposed, Jules had sat down next to the lioness and after saying hello he had started to check his social networks, Greg was checking a dresser they had left inside the dressing room in which there were strange coats and several wigs, Pamela attended a call she had received on her cell phone and left the place again with a small notepad and a pen.

The sheepcoon raised his hand in a general salute and went to sit on the same couch where the fox and lioness were sitting, scratched his leg, looked carefully at Monica's huge tits, shifted his gaze to find Paul stroking his guitar, and then returned his focus to the little white fox next to him.

"Did you miss something?" asked Jules, not taking his eyes off his cell phone.

"H-Hello, we haven't been introduced yet, you must be Greg's boyfriend, right?" asked Max in a friendly way, flashing his smile.

"And you must be the one who jerked off with my boyfriend after fucking my sister, nice to meet you," replied the vulpine acidly.

The hybrid was a little concerned by this reaction, "I'm sorry...I didn't think it was a problem."

"It's not, my sister does whatever she wants of her life, and with Greg we are in an open relationship, " explained Jules, still without taking his eyes off his social networks and with the same tone with which he had made the previous comment.

At that same instant Greg came over to the couch, wearing a multicolored afro wig, patted Max on the back and said, "Don't worry about Jules, he loves to scare off guys he finds attractive with those kinds of comments."

" Of course I do, what's more attractive than a guy your boyfriend invites to lunch and then gets his dick sucked?" the fox added.

Max raised an eyebrow, considering his position right between his friend and that white devil with the stature of a teenager who had just started high school.

"Honey..." said Greg in a somewhat serious tone.

"What?" asked the fox.

"Say something nice to Max or you don't get dessert," threatened the blue dragon.

Hearing this, Paul and Monica stifled a laugh, Ronnie spit out his tea, and Max's eyes widened. Jules put his cell phone away and looked at the sheepcoon, his face completely flushed.

"I really like your dreadlocks, they add a nice touch to your style," the vulpine muttered, sketching a goofy grin, the kind that can't be avoided when confronted with someone you like.

Max, surprised to hear that comment, which didn't seem something artificial and elaborate all of a sudden, took his hair and brought it closer to the fox, "Thanks, it took me a long time to leave it the way it is now," the hybrid explained.

Jules dared to touch it delicately with his hand, enjoying the feel of those fluffy golden tubes, "They feel great...my idiot boyfriend just has blue scales and a nice ass," the little fox affirmed.

"And now I have this beautiful clown wig," Greg added, pointing to his head.

"Don't tell me you're going on stage with that thing on?" asked the raccoon, aghast.

"I wasn't going to, but now I think I will," said the dragon, crossing his arms and smiling at his companion.

"That's ridiculous!" cried Ronnie.

"I'm really sorry I don't share your straight boy, small penis insecurities, but I'll go out with the wig," asserted Greg.

"But...don't talk nonsense! My penis is not small!" protested the raccoon.

At that instant, everyone in the room looked at Monica, she looked back, smiled innocently, and said, "Well...you have a great...charisma anyway."

"Traitor!" shouted Ronnie with a reddened face and raising his fist.

"Honey...don't make such a fuss, it's just a penis," admitted the lioness.

"Mine's six inches not counting my knot," Jules took the opportunity to say, being that her sister wasn't in the room.

"Best dick in town," Greg affirmed, leaned over and kissed his boyfriend's head.

"See!" exclaimed Monica.

"That's different, they're gay!" rebutted the raccoon.

Max patted the singer on the shoulder and advised, "Relax, bro, you can always buy a big expensive truck in the future."

Everyone laughed euphorically, except Ronnie who growled, picked up his electric guitar and left grumbling that everyone was against him. Before the door closed, Pamela came back in.

The vixen approached the others, not knowing what they were laughing about, but took advantage of the lioness being with her tits exposed and squeezed them a couple of times as if they were a pair of stress balls, "You look great, girl!"

"Thanks, you look good too!" affirmed Monica, laughing as the other woman continued to grope her breasts.

Max swallowed saliva as he enjoyed the spontaneous lesbian act unfolding in front of him.

The white vixen cleared her throat to get the attention of everyone in the room and checked her notepad, "Good, all the bands are ready, there are no absences, therefore our entrance will be at the agreed time, so make yourselves comfortable because there is still an hour and a half to go," Pamela explained, in detail, going over point by point what she had written herself.

After listening to the vixen, Paul got up, carrying his guitar and headed for the door, saying before leaving, "I'm going to practice with the guitarists of The Subway Delinquents."

"The Subway Delinquents?" asked Max, looking at his friend.

"Oh! They're a band we've shared the stage with before, they're a pretty cool group of girls," explained the blue dragon.

Monica got up from the couch, put on a t-shirt and went to find her grumpy boyfriend.

Pamela stared at the guys left in the dressing room, shifting her eyes between her brother, Max, and the dragon, who were also staring carefully at her, as if there was still more information to be heard. The vixen covered her muzzle with her notepad, hiding a mischievous giggle and said, "I...I'm going to go find the other fans, if you need anything I'll have my phone handy."

"What...was that?" asked Greg, raising an eyebrow as he watched his boyfriend's sister retreat from the dressing room.

"She must be thinking that since the three of us are gay, we need space so we can fuck quietly," Jules explained.

"I'm not gay," said the sheepcoon.

"In this context you are very gay," the dragon exclaimed, biting his lips and smiling at his friend.

"Yes, there are no vaginas left in this room," Jules added.

"And what could we do in this purely gay situation, with so much time left to start playing?" asked Max, with an innocent tone and sticking out his tongue.

"Well...you could suck my boy's dick, and I could do the same to you," offered Greg, smiling.

Max smiled and before he could say any words, the fox spoke up, "I've got a better idea, honey. Suck your friend's ass while he licks my dick, so I can fuck him."

"I like that idea," Greg said, and knelt down on the wooden floor.

The hybrid looked at the other two men and swallowed saliva, "I don't get a say in all this?" asked the sheepcoon.

Jules unzipped his pants, parted his legs and left the thick sheath of his penis on display for all to see, "Sure you do, drop your pants and share your opinions here with my microphone," the vulpine indicated, pointing to his genitals.

As Max leaned in, bringing his snout closer towards the fox's manhood, Greg spanked his friend hard and said, "Hurry up! You heard the boss, drop your pants, don't piss the little guy off or he'll bite your ankles."

Jules raised an eyebrow and looked his boyfriend in the eyes, as he fondled his balls, causing his cock to start getting hard and popping out of its sheath, "I'm going to kick your scaly, sorry ass when Max leaves."

"I'll be sure to hide all my stools," the dragon teased, as he pulled down the hybrid's pants.

Max let his friend do whatever he wanted, while he focused on the delicious vulpine penis in front of him. The sheepcoon grabbed the other male's penis from the base, and began to lick it, getting his first taste of that smooth tasty flavor that the vulpine's most intimate part had.

Jules stifled a moan and smiled, grabbing the sheepcoon's head with his hands and pushing it against his penis, feeling his skin and fur getting wet with the saliva left by that warm, wide tongue.

On the other hand, Greg squeezed his friend's buttocks and then spread them apart, gaining access to the hybrid's tight anus. The dragon enjoyed the view for a moment, then plunged his muzzle into Max's ass, licking slowly, exploring with his long tongue, down to his testicles and back up to meet his anus again.

The sheepcoon opened his eyes wide as he felt how the dragon's long tongue sank into his bowels, making him feel a tingling that he could hardly remember. It was not uncomfortable but quite strange, causing him to tense his legs and raise his tail. While on the hybrid's tongue, the first drops of fox pre were shot into his mouth, offering his palate a salty taste, moments before the bassist swallowed the masculine liquid.

Jules sighed, his eyes closed, enjoying Max's tongue for a moment longer, then released the hybrid's head. His cock was fully erect, and his knot was slowly swelling at the base, still inside his sheath. "Get on all fours, I need to mount you right now," the fox demanded, panting.

Max pulled his snout off his friend's boyfriend's penis, nodded, waited for Greg to pull his tongue out from inside him, pulled off his pants, and knelt on the soft wood floor, resting his hands as well and raising his tail with raccoon-like features.

The dragon threw his back on the floor and crawled under the hybrid, as if he were a mechanic servicing a car, to take his friend's long, dripping penis, and thrust it into his mouth, curling it with his long reptilian tongue and sucking on it.

The little white fox bit his lips at the sight of his boyfriend servicing his friend and, without waiting a second longer, settled in behind the sheepcoon, spit out his anus, and mounted him in classic canine style, running his hands up the bassist's sides until he held him by the base of his thighs.

The first thrust made Max groan, the hybrid opened his eyes wide and the hairs on his back stood up as he felt his whole body lurch with each impact of the little vulpine's hips. Greg's boyfriend, despite his stature, was a passionate lover, and he was proving it by ramming the sheepcoon's ass with the same energy with which Monica played her drums.

A few minutes later, the hybrid's legs shook, and Greg's mouth swelled with a powerful spurt of his friend's viscous semen, forcing the dragon to swallow fast before his mouth overflowed.

Max's neck was pulled back against his arched back, quivering as a trickle of drool trickled down his panting muzzle. The little white demon had knotted him and, in his loins, the hybrid could feel that thick knot continuing to grow, making him confirm to the reddened walls of his anus that they would soon be stuck together.

Jules grunted and dug his nails lightly into the sheepcoon's skin, tensing his whole body for a moment, then let out a big sigh, relaxing and letting himself fall onto his boyfriend's friend's back.

As the three males enjoyed the grogginess generated after the climax, the dressing room door opened.

Ronnie peeked out his smiling face, it seemed that his girlfriend had improved his mood, but his facial gesture immediately transformed at the sight of the three men naked, sweaty, and with male juices soaking their fur, also coming to receive a potent aroma of sex that slapped his face. "Holy shit, why did I have to see this?" yelled the raccoon before closing the same door he just opened, not bothering to set foot in the dressing rooms.

The three males were stunned to see their partner's reaction and, after a few seconds, burst out laughing, remembering that they hadn't locked the door.

Twenty minutes later, Jules was able to pull himself off Max, producing an obscene, wet sound. From the hybrid's swollen anus, the white seed the vulpine had forced into his bowels dripped copiously, forming a small slimy puddle on the floor. Greg hurried to grab several paper napkins, which were next to the make-up kit in the dressing room, offering them to his friend and helping him to dry himself.

After they had cleaned up and dressed, Max and Greg lay down on the couch next to Jules, who had taken to looking at his social media again, still with his penis out. Just then, the door opened again, and Monica poked her snout into the room.

"Damn, what's that smell? I want some too," the lioness exclaimed.

The fox, without taking his eyes off his cell phone replied, "Sorry, buddy, it's for boys only."

The drummer shrugged and said, "Get ready, we start in five minutes."

The sheepcoon and dragon immediately jumped up and down upon hearing this, standing up and grabbing their instruments. The excitement of the event gripped their hearts tightly.

"Let's show the audience what good music is all about!" shouted Max.

"Let's destroy the fucking stage and the whole city!" shouted Greg, making a horn gesture with his right hand.

"I'll take care of buying beer and ice cream when we get back to the apartment. I definitely want a second and third round with that ass before you leave," said the white fox, glaring at the hybrid.

Max blushed at these words and only responded by giving a thumbs up. Then Greg wrapped his long, scaly blue arm around his friend, leading them outside.

On the stairs behind the stage, Monica anxiously played with her bone drumsticks, Ronnie breathed in and out, and Paul gripped his guitar tightly as if it would fly away from his hands. 

The deafening screams of the crowd covered every other sound, the name 'Burning eyes skull' reverberated against the stadium walls, shaking the entire structure, invoking a frenzied vortex of destruction that clamored to be satiated by the performance of their stars.

Max and Greg bumped fists, the dragon sighed, the hybrid gripped the neck of his bass guitar tightly, and both took the first step onto the stage at the same time. In front of the band, an ocean of people screaming and raising their fists lit a fire that quickly ignited the chests of the musicians, predicting an unforgettable performance. Ronnie took a deep breath and the drums began to play.