Iri bobbed his head in time to the music while he stepped down the hallway, one hand already reaching out for the door. Normally he would have knocked but it stood a good few inches open, and from here he couldn’t hear any noises or see anything that would make him think it was occupied, so instead of worry about it the dragon just pressed against the painted wood, head still over his shoulder to pick out the last few words that one of his friends was saying to him, then stepped on in with his other hand already at his pants fly – and froze.

Stark against the shimmering white of the porcelain stood an apparently well-trained Zorua, little legs spread far apart to keep herself propped up on either side of the bowl. One of her ears hung down under the weight of multiple silver ring piercings, which jingled in the air as soon as she heard her unexpected visitor. Bright eyes flashed up to him, though it took Iri a moment to notice.

He swallowed, still watching the spraying stream of pale yellow as she emptied herself down into the bowl and slightly alongside it, the plump, piss-wet flesh of her fresh pink spade catching some of the dribbles and focusing them downwards. Those lower muscles twitched and tightened with faint surprise, but the Pokémon made no move to slow her progress.

“W-whoa,” Iri stammered, hand waving blindly back towards the door. “Sorry, uh – the door was open, and I didn’t know that... uh…”

The small Pokémon rolled her eyes and shook her head, piercings jingling again, but still didn’t stop. Instead she adjusted her stance, first standing up and then turning around while still she poured out, plush tail hiking up at the base and tugging at the puckered skin of her tailhole. Now her protruding spade jiggled with the movement, casting stray drops across the obsidian fur of her lower legs and widening the slight mess over the seat.

Over at his job the dragon had dealt with a handful of Zorua before – and always were they a handful, usually with his fingers cupped together – and they all behaved like this, little mischievous tricksters. She had likely left the door open on purpose, not only expecting but wanting someone to come in, and lucky her: Iri was more than glad to fill the role. Without looking, without checking, he reached back, tapped at the door with his fingers, then nudged it shut and threw the lock before he continued forward towards the toilet.

The Pokémon's frame subtly adjusted again as he came closer, legs spreading further, head coming up, tail swishing. Each movement pulled gently at the skin of her tailhole and spade, now loosely dripping rather than emptying out in that full, spraying stream: again and again she clenched her muscles to finish up, ring of puckered skin pursing ready for a kiss with her sex twitching as well, each one pouring out another few of those little drips.

“So, uh…” Slowly Iri dropped to his knees right there before the bowl, not even noticing the chill of the tile against his fur and scales. “I’m Iri. I guess you belong to one of the others here, or-?”

Again the Zorua rolled her eyes, a little growl rumbling in her throat, and pushed her hindquarters backwards. Iri blinked, startled, under a splash of warmth catching along the side of his snout; reflexively his tongue flicked out to lap it off and tasted that familiar richness, bright and dry, salty, musky, with the distinct vulpine touch that wrinkled his nose and pushed at the back of his throat. He swallowed and then did so again, succeeding in only spreading that taste further through his senses – and then before he could stop himself he reached forward, took each of her legs in his hands, and sealed his lips right there around the base of that hanging meat, letting it drape over his tongue and soaking in its wet, simmering heat.

For a moment he just held himself there, eyes already rolling back with heavy, indulgent lids obscuring his vision, while she continued to dribble loosely into his maw. Rich, sharp heat trickled down across his tongue and into the back of his throat, assisted by a few extra little squirts and spurts; then Iri swallowed, flicked his tongue forward, and drew it up, dragging it in between the thick, plump lips of her vulpine sex, spreading through and digging into the warmth inside. She shuddered against him, her growl melding instead into a rumble of appreciation, and pushed herself back down against him.

The dragon swallowed again and pursed his lips along hers, sucking freely as he drew himself back until just the pointed nub of her spade remained in his mouth. Then he dove down again, now meeting her fully with the flat of his tongue; another suckle and swallow and he felt her clench yet again, sleek muscles hidden beneath wet, sticky skin tugging together, pulling up, mushing against his lips to reciprocate the sloppy kiss.

Gradually he let his hands wander up the Pokémon’s backside, one fixing itself in place along her thigh while the other went up further, spreading across soft fur and hooking under the base of her tail. The dragon opened his eyes, head swimming with the full, dizzying musk of fresh vulpine piss, and took a moment to focus himself on the lovely sight there. Thick, dense overlaps of wrinkles centered in towards the middle of her tailhole, smears of scent and grime caught in between and faintly coloring the rim where black fur gave way to pink skin underneath, pursing and twitching, flexing, winking each time her body reflexively clenched under his attention. He swallowed again, popped his mouth open around her spade, took in a breath through his open mouth and around that fat wad of flesh, then nuzzled up a little bit further until it mashed back in against his tongue – and so that his nose pushed up into that center pucker. It squeezed around him, pinching gently and working him into place right there at that slightly sticky center.

Now he moved his hands in towards her puckered tailhole, thumbs coming close to the rim to grip, squeeze, spread open and invite himself deeper… and he pulled back again, lips dripping with fresh piss and liquid arousal, nose twitching with the new smears and stains, and swallowed again. Then again, and again, and again through the clinging vulpine stickiness.

Once more the Pokémon glanced back to him, expectation showing beneath her amusement. Iri coughed and started to lean right back in, now tilting his muzzle up just slightly so that his pursed lips brushed over the ridged wrinkles of her tailhole. Immediately the small Pokémon shivered, tightened, and then pushed back against him, the drier outer rim of muscle parting open to give way to the humid, slightly sticky center. Iri swallowed yet again, throat tingling with the soft spice of vulpine mark, then finally let his tongue dance out to poke at the center there, then swirl around, making its way out towards the rim where skin once more shifted to dense, somewhat coarse fur.

The dragon sank down a bit while he worked, eyes now fluttering shut in deep pleasure. Each time he swallowed now he could taste the richer, lower flavor of the Zorua’s rump, bittersweet, a little bit tangy, a little bit… something. His hand at her tail soon fell away, letting the wide brush drop down across his muzzle and dock his nose there at its base. Already he was straining in his pants, the button of his fly opened from when he had wrongly assumed the bathroom was empty: all it took was a tug and nudge, and then a little shift to bring his twitching arousal out into the air.

Iri drew back, thick strands of saliva linking his lips and her tailhole, then flicked his tongue around and swallowed once more. Then he came in again, now with a thumb tugging at the tight rim to pull it open, smoothing out those wrinkles so that they gave way to smooth, sleek transitional flesh – into which he pushed, pressed, sank… and then curled around, the ring of muscle squeezing around his tongue as it explored, tightening in place. Dried bits and flakes crusted between those wrinkles and drifted off as he plied himself there, catching in the fur of his muzzle, scraping across his lips, and tickling at the back of his throat.

If he ever brought his teeth together he could feel it there as well, thick and squishy with a bit of firmness inside, a bit dry, a bit tacky… now he pursed his lips right there against her, deliberately squeezing down until he felt the buried ring of muscle tighten and squeeze back, nearly pushing his tongue back out of her. Iri curled it up again, swirled around within the dense, loose wrinkles of her lower bowels, then cupped it so that he could slowly, firmly suck some of the sticky juices out from inside of her, pouring along his tongue and into his throat.

Bit by bit he adjusted how he knelt behind her, now dragging the flat of his tongue over her tailhole, now plunging back in again, pushing his lips forward, trying to wedge her open around his muzzle. The small Pokémon shivered and chirped in front of him, fat spade jiggling with her movements and occasionally smooching against his chin, where it left a sticky wet impression; he blinked, licked his lips again, then moved down to suckle along there for a moment longer, once more filling his maw with the brighter, richer sensation of vulpine arousal.

Then back up again, now with his tongue curled and cupped to scoop up the sticky mess he had left around her. Iri closed his eyes, tilted his muzzle, pressed himself in, and now worked at trying to get inside the Zorua’s tailhole, tongue easily slipping into the space he had mushed for himself and now pressing out at the rim, resisting her clenching and squeezing, coaxing her into a slow, steady push inside. Small, sticky bubbles sputtered against his lips and mouth, and every time he closed his mouth on her he felt another thick glob of something ooze out and liquefy beneath his tongue, but still he kept on slurping, and swallowing, and nuzzling, and breathing deep of nothing but her humid scent, all the while he pumped at himself with his other paw, freely letting loose dribbles of drool and whatever else drip down. 

After what felt like ages the dragon pulled himself back again, heavy panting dribbling from his saliva-smeared lips. Eyes halfway lidded, he looked down at the mess he had made before himself: the Zorua’s tailhole flexed and puckered in the sudden lack of attention, thick slimy drool coating the hole, the rim, the wrinkles, and then oozing down along the base of her spade underneath, Iri’s spit tinted a faint yellowish-brown in places from the dutiful cleaning he had given her. Here in front of him, still managing to stand shakily atop the toilet seat, the Zorua bore down, closed her eyes, angled her rump back with her tail lifted, and then pushed.

There from within the spit-smeared, slightly stretched pucker of her tailhole, the ring of muscle pulled and blossomed outward, spreading open with that distinct wet smacking sound, silken walls separating from one another and yawning apart. Shaky, unsteady, coming dangerously close to his peak, the dragon scrambled halfway up to his feet, braced his hands on the small Pokémon’s haunches, kept her spread open with his thumbs – though still she continued to push – and then plunged right up into that blossoming spread of wet, wrinkled meat… and then felt himself shudder, shake, jerk, and buck almost before he had sunk in to the base against her, the lips of her tailhole and rings of muscles squeezing and sucking the rest out of him.

Panting, Iri remained there for a moment longer and then drew himself back out along another push from the Zorua, enough so that his hastily emptied load burbled right back out of her, milky white streaked with faint brown and green bubbling out, trickling down the side of her spade, splashing into the toilet underneath. Sprawled out on the tile floor, legs spread and hard, slightly stained and smeared shaft twitching against his shirt, Iri reached up and wiped at his mouth.

“It’s about time I – get back to the party,” he managed. The Zorua gave another push, all the muscles of her lower body tensing up, then curled everything back up into herself again. A thick glob of discolored white beaded out along the center of her pucker. “But I’ll be seeing you again, I hope?”

The Zorua stood there a moment longer, then looked down, judged the distance, hopped to the floor, and strode on past him, tails raised. Iri watched as she left – then caught a quick glance over her shoulder, bright eyes sparkling.