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Self-Control

I should stop this. Now.

It hasn't gone too far, yet. I should just go home. All I have to do is press the brake, hit my blinker, and make a quick U-turn. There aren't even any cars out this late at night. No one's in my way, and a U-turn is easy. I can't even use that as an excuse. So why haven't I turned around? Why am I still driving?

I know why I left the house. I know what's about to happen. This tingling in my gut? This tightening in my pants? I can tell myself it won't really happen. But it will. I know it will. The second I left the house that was decided. But I could still stop it. I could still change things if I could just turn around!

But I'm not turning...

...and I won't.

I'm not a cheater. I never have been. I've always been the monogamous romantic. I've always aspired to the homonormative ideal: an emulation of one-on-one, heteronormative coupling, but in a gay relationship. It's what I've wanted since I was a kid. A man. A boy. Someone to hold at night and wake up next to in the morning. A proposal. A wedding. Someone who's always there. Even when I was younger and 'sewing my oats' -- as people used to say -- that's all I was really after. And whenever I found someone who I could latch onto for more than a single night? I always did. I never strayed.

But I'll stray tonight.

I wanna' blame the mutt for moving out. I wanna' blame this lion boy for being such a sexy little tease. But maybe I'm just not who I thought I was. Maybe now that I have what I always wanted, it's not enough. Maybe I have no self-control. Maybe the fact that this is so very much NOT me -- doing something I know is wrong -- just turns me on. Maybe. Or maybe I'm just a bad person.

Every stop light I pass. Every time I make the choice to not turn back. My stomach quivers just a little more. I flex in my sheath. And I thank God that I had the foresight to bring a bottle of water. I'm almost there. But how? How did I get here?

A few months back, my boyfriend left me.

He didn't break up with me. He's still mine, and I'm still his. He just...left. Money was getting tight -- I live off of school loans, like a good college student -- but my mutt needs to work, and he couldn't find a job. I begged him not to leave. I told him we could make it work here. But he left anyway: moved in with his parents, hours away, where I wouldn't have to pay to keep him fed, and where he hoped he could find work. I know why he did it. But my bed is still empty, now...and I hate him for it. I begged him not to go. I cried, and I begged, and clung to his shirt, but he still left. He visits from time to time, but it's not the same. I'm still alone. And it's his fault.

Tonight? This is all his fault.

His, of course, and the lion's. That sexy little lion. We met him online through a video game: a lucky, random interaction with someone who just so happened to only live a city away. And was gay. And when we first met him in person, the mutt immediately felt threatened. And why shouldn't he? The lion is entirely my type.

Tiny, lithe little thing. Almost no mane to speak of: just a dark little wisp, really. He looks so young, in fact, that at first I thought we'd been lied to. I thought he was secretly a high school or even middle school student. But he was used to the assumption, and he had his ID ready. Technically an adult, albeit not quite old enough to drink. And my mutt could see how I eyed him. Could see exactly where my mind went.

I'm not a cheater. I never have been. But that doesn't stop my eyes from wandering. Doesn't stop me fantasizing. And even the most loving and monogamous relationship has room for the occasional threesome. I'd tossed around the idea with the mutt before we'd ever even met the lion. And the moment I saw the little cat, my pup knew it was the only thing on my mind.

But he was threatened. He was worried. And he never let it happen.

God. He should've let it happen! He should've let me see what was under the kitten's clothes. Should have just given me ONE night with the boy! I could have gotten it out of my system, and done it with my stupid, scruffy mutt right there...with him included and involved...

If so, maybe I wouldn't need it so much, now! Maybe my curiosity would have been sated. Maybe I'd have the strength, tonight, to turn around. Or maybe I would've never even left the apartment at all. But instead, here I am: driving across town with nothing but that little lion boy on my mind.

His shy eyes, darting away from mine. The gentle, timid touch of his paws. His soft voice. His wisp of a mane. His flat, trembling stomach. The trail of fur there -- the same color as his mane -- that disappears behind the elastic band of his underwear. And, of course, the waist band of his shorts. God, those shorts! Always loose. I've never understood how they could always be so loose but never fall down. But every time he lifts his shirt, or leans back, or lays out across my couch? I can see it all. Right there, in the space between his rising shirt and his falling waist. The trail of fur. The bright colored briefs. The little bulge...

And that's where it all began.

Two weeks ago, he paid me a visit. It was just us: me and him together on my couch. An old sci-fi show was on TV, and he leaned against me while we watched. It wasn't unusual, the cuddling. Not among our group of friends, anyway. I'd watched one of my mutt's old friends, a wolf, give him a massage, once. And time or two, we'd had other friends sleep between us, in a bed that was only built for two. Maybe it was different because the lion and I were alone...but really, his head against my chest was nothing unusual. Neither was my arm draped around his shoulders.

What WAS unusual, were his paws in my lap.

They were innocent enough, boundaries notwithstanding. They weren't in my pants. They weren't even touching my package, with layers of cloth in between. It was just my thigh and my knee. One arm lay on my thigh, while the far paw touched my knee.

But they were still so close to a place they'd never been. And I was very aware. Aware, especially, of that gentle, timid, little paw. All of my attention was focused on those fingers. I felt them lying on my knee. I felt them begin to play, absentmindedly, with the fabric of my pants. I felt them squeeze. I felt them pet. I felt them trail down 'til they were nearly off my knee, and then slide back up along my thigh. Only inches. Still so far from anything inappropriate.

But I stirred. And I wondered if he could smell it as I did. I wondered if my swelling had shifted my pants. If he could see it. If he could feel it. My mutt had been gone for so long. I hadn't been touched by anyone but myself. And now this beautiful boy was stroking my knee. I wanted his paw to rise higher, but it was something I would never ask for. Something I told myself that I would stop him from doing, if he actually did it. But I wanted it. And I swelled.

And all the while, he was just stroking my knee. It was only a tiny bit of affection, but it was something I felt I should return, so I allowed my own paw to stroke his shoulder. And there we sat, him stroking my knee and me stroking his shoulder, while decades' old sci-fi played on the TV.

Words like 'positronic' filled the room, as a story of time travel, space ships, and a novelist from the 1800s was deftly woven over the course of a two-part episode from a show I used to love. But I was blind and deaf to it all. All my senses were focused on him.

I listened to him purr. I felt the vibrations against my chest and under my fingertips. My stroking paw lifted the sleeve of his T-shirt and I felt his soft, young fur. I smelled myself in the air, and I stopped wondering if he could too. Instead, I wondered why he hadn't said anything, yet. Was he just being polite? Was he waiting for ME to say something? Did he like the smell? Was he worried the moment would end if he brought it to my attention? Or was he just as frozen in thought and indecision as I was?

My paw lowered. It slid down his arm. Beneath it. To his side. His stomach trembled when my fingers touched it. I closed my eyes and breathed it all in. I told myself we were still innocent. It was just his stomach. The stomach that I'd wanted to touch like this for so long. The stomach that was only inches from something I wanted to touch far more...

But it was innocent. We were clothed. No one was touching anyone anywhere inappropriate. It was just affection. I knew I was lying to myself. Just like tonight. I knew what I wanted. I knew where it could go. I even began calculating it out: how many times could I stroke his stomach, before I could slip my paw lower? How low could I go each time? A half-inch further? A whole inch? No. Too fast. I had to make it seem like it wasn't deliberate.

His stomach trembled. My fingers gripped his shirt as I rubbed. And the fabric lifted with my stroking paw. I could see his soft, yellow stomach. I could feel the heat and the fur. I ran a finger through that trail of dark, mane-colored hair. I looked into the shadows of his waist band. Always loose. Always open. I saw the blue of his briefs. I saw his bulge.

And he was just as hard as me.

But I had a boyfriend. It didn't matter how hard we were. It didn't matter if the lion wanted it. It didn't matter if I wanted it. It wasn't about consent. It was about a mutt, sitting alone at his parent's house miles away. About how he would feel if he knew that his boyfriend's fingers were touching the elastic waistband of someone else's underwear.

And they were. God help me. They were.

My stroking paw had finally delved that low, and the lion hadn't stopped me. Hadn't said a word. Instead, he just shifted. He leaned deeper and deeper. Lower and lower. Until he was lying on his side on my couch. His loose pants hung open even more, his head weighed down on my thigh, his wisp of a mane hid my bulge, his paw gripped my knee...

...and my fingers slid over and past his elastic waistband. Their tips touched tight, strained cotton. And something wet.

He gasped, and I held my breath. I still hadn't gone too far. I could stop it whenever I needed to. I tried to remember that distant, scruffy mutt. I closed my eyes and tried to picture him. I imagined how hurt he would be, even as my fingers began to stroke that leaking tent. I rubbed his pre-cum into the cotton. Spread it up and down the shaft beneath. I Felt my fingers and my palm grow sticky.

And I told myself to stop, but I didn't. I said my mutt's name in my head, while I gripped a trembling lion's little bulge. I pictured how my lover's heart would break, even as I watched a foreign paw graze my bulge. I imagined my boyfriend's anger, and tried my best to feel -- in that moment -- how it would feel to be alone, if he really left me. But all I could feel was my friend, silently kneading my groin as he twitched in my palm.

To that point, it had all happened so slowly. Nothing was quick or unexpected. Long moments had passed with my paw first on his shoulder, and then on his stomach. I'd had so much time to end it, and I hadn't. But then, in that moment, when each of us had only fabric separating our dicks from one another's paws...

...everything became a blur.

I unzipped my pants. My fingers returned to his stomach. His paw slipped inside my open fly. He sucked in his stomach, so that a tiny gap could open between elastic and fur. He unbuttoned my boxers. My paw slid into his briefs. And then our fists were wrapped right around one another's dicks. Squeezing. Pumping. Stroking.

But it hadn't gone too far, yet. It wasn't cheating until someone came. Was that a real rule? Could I make it one? Did I have the strength to stop it before it went that far? Or would I let him turn his head over and suck my dick? Would I bring him to the bed my loyal mutt and I had shared for two years? Would I fuck him?

"Can I taste it?"

And that's where it ended. I hadn't noticed I was growling...not until his soft little voice hit my ear, and caused that growling to catch in my throat. But that was what it took. He spoke. He asked. He made it real. And I stopped it, right then...

"No," I said. "No. We can't do this."

My paw slipped from his briefs, and his from my boxers. He didn't argue. I didn't change my mind. But neither of us forgot. Neither of us forgot how close we came to my dick being in his muzzle...or how easy it would have been to bury it under his tail. He didn't say another word that night. He sat up. We finished the show. And he went home.

But that...

...that only made everything so much worse. In person, there was a social contract. There was a reason to be shy and timid. But then we were a city away, behind the safety of monitors and keyboards. Where there was no need for fear. Where we could say whatever we pleased. Where we could turn that very real night...into a fantasy. Where we could use it to masturbate. Build upon it. And even script sequels...

And that's exactly what we did. Talking through IM, we discussed everything we could have done that night. How much he wanted to lift his tail for me. And how disappointed I was that I had only touched, but still never seen what lie beneath his clothes. He speculated how I must taste. I speculated how hot a lion's insides might feel.

And then we began planning a second night that we both swore could never really happen. What would I do if he showed up at my door? Would I greet him nude? Would I put him on his knees before I even closed it? Would I use him to demonstrate my favorite bondage position? It was all playful. Fiction. After all, it's difficult for him to visit me, because he still lives with his parents. He has to borrow their car to go anywhere. And no matter how hot the idea of a sudden, impromptu visit was, he never really had the means to just jump into a car and come to my house. So our fantasies were safe.

Were.

Until tonight.

Until it was finally me, not him, who asked, "What if I drove over? Right now?"

My car is mine. I can drive it whenever I please. And the second I asked the question, we both knew it was different. But we played along. We pretended it was just another fantasy. And he laid it all out. He can't let me inside at this time of night, but there's a park near his house. A dark and deserted residential playground. He walks around there sometimes late at night, so he knows it'll be empty. He lives in a good neighborhood, too, so the cops don't even need to patrol. He told me how we can stop there, in any parking space we like. How I can have him. And how my mutt will never find out.

I typed, "I could, you know?" to let him know that it could be real. And I waited for him to respond. Would he tell me to come over? Would he tease? Would he turn me down?

And he answered with: "I'm wearing the blue underwear you like."

So, I warned him: "I have my keys in my paw."

And he dared me: "You know my address."

So now, here I am: a bottle of water in my cup holder, a bottle of lube in my center console, and a nervous tingle running from the tip of my rock-hard dick, all the way to my drumming heart and through every inch of my stomach in between. I can see his house just down the block. I know it. I've been here before. But it's THIS image I think I'll remember best of all.

I can feel the car lurching forward as it slows to a stop. It's too late at night to honk the horn. Should I text? Or call? No. The door's already opening. He was waiting for me. Watching. And now he's walking toward my car. Uncontrollable smile. No eye contact. Paws in his pockets.

But this still hasn't gone too far! I'll call his bluff. Or he'll call mine. Or something. Someone's gotta' be bluffing. This hasn't happened yet, and it doesn't have to. It'll be easy. He's really shy. There's no way he'll make the first move. Just like on the couch, he'll wait for me to do it. So, if I never do? Nothing will happen.

That's it! I just won't make the first move. But then...what if he doesn't make it, either? Then I'll have come all this way for nothing. And gotten his hopes up, too! So, it's only fair that I should give him a CHANCE to make a move, right? Only fair. I just need to give him a signal that it's okay. Let him know that he CAN make a move.

I've got it! I'll unzip. Unbutton. Pull myself out. It's really dark, tonight. So, maybe he won't see. But if he does, he'll know it's an invite. Then I don't have to make the first move. I'll leave it all up to him. That's a good middle ground, right? Easy. 50/50 chance nothing will happen. Hmmm...maybe that's too low of a chance. No. I mean: it's too high! Definitely too high. I should put myself back up. He'll definitely see it. He'll definitely grab it.

But it's too late. He's opening the door. He's getting in. Can he see it? Can he smell it? Will he touch it? Will I touch him? Did I say hello, yet? He's already giving me directions to the park. Did I ask? Did I not notice I asked? But we're going. I'm driving. And-

Oh, Yes. God. Yes!

Small soft fingers on the tip of my dick. He saw it. He made the first move. And the directions were easy. I know the way without him guiding me. So will he keep talking? Or will he lean down? Maybe if I put my arm on the back of his seat, he'll-

He's leaning. He's leaning! Oh God. It's happening! He's sucking my dick. He's really doing it! His mouth is so warm. His tongue. Nimble. And it's happened. This is it: I'm cheating. I've finally gone too far. No turning back, now. Tonight, one of us is gonna' cum. Just gotta' control myself. Don't explode in his muzzle. Don't let this end too soon. Oh God, baby, you're so much better at this than the mutt. My poor, scruffy mutt could never make me cum with a blow job. But you could. You can. And you will!

No! I gotta' stop it. Can't cum yet. Gotta' make the most of tonight. Look! There! The park! We're here.

"We're here."

Finally. Jesus! He's sitting back up. I can breath, again. Deep. Slow. Clensing. Flex my dick just a bit...and relax. I gotta' make this last...

"It's, uhm...kind of cold outside. Should we...?" He's moving us along. He's not wasting time either. We're past the point of no return.

Just gotta' get the lube out of the center console, and then- "Get in the back seat."

He can see the lube in my paw. He's nodding. He's agreeing to the plan. There's plenty of room in the back seat for him to lay down. He's more than small enough. So, this is it. It's finally happening. I have never edged myself this long in my entire life. Sure, I've pawed off more times than I can count these past two weeks, but this orgasm...THIS one is different! I've been waiting for this since the moment my fingers grazed his stomach. And I'll have it. The mutt doesn't have to know. He never will. But I need this. The lion needs it. And we...will have it.

Hours away, my mutt is alone, wondering why I'm not online. He has no idea that I'm parked by a playground, moments away from being balls deep in the ONE person that scares and threatens him more than anyone else!

But he shouldn't have left.

The lion's lying in the back seat, now. My pants are off: lying in the front. The night air is so cold on my dick that it stings as it slips out of the fly of my boxers. But I'm on top of him, now. The door is closed. The cold air is locked away, and my fingers are at his waist. No teasing this time. No foreplay. I'm doing this!

His pants are unbuttoned. Unzipped. Off. In the floorboard. Only those beautiful briefs to go.

But I'll nose them first. Smell him. Taste the fluids leaking through. Huh. The mutt tastes better. Smells better. But that's fine, because I'm not here to suck your dick. I'm here to fuck you. So, let's get these briefs out of the way, and-

And there it is. So small. So young. Tight contracted little sack. Short, skinny shaft, shining in the moonlight. Dark pubic fur just like his mane. Just a wisp. He looks so young. He weighs so little. And he's mine!

His hips feel wightless as I lift them up and rest them against my thighs. His sack shrinks up even more than is already was the second my dick touches it. I dwarf him. I'm not that big, but next to me he looks so small. So vulnerable. He's purring so hard it feels like the whole car is vibrating. And he sees the lube in my paw again. He winces as the cold liquid touches his tight, clenched, little hole. He closes his eyes as I press my tip against him. And he cries out as I sink inside!

But I can barely hear him. I imagined he was a screamer. I hoped he was a screamer! But I can barely hear it, now. All my faculties are lost. Lost in the vice-grip swallowing my shaft inch-by-inch. Hotter than I ever imagined. Searing. But I'm hurting him. I'm going too fast. I hear the words between his cries. But I'm not stopping. You can't bring me this far, can't make me betray everything my boyfriend and I have, and then expect me to stop!

But you didn't say no, did you? You're not pushing me away. Complaining isn't telling me to stop. And it's not rape, unless you do!

My balls are against his ass now. His hole is spasming around me. But he's not telling me to stop. It may hurt. But you'll take it, and you'll like it. After all, you're as guilty as me. You deserve to hurt! I'm slipping out. And I'm slamming back in. Homewrecker! Out. And in. Slut! Out. And in. Whore! You deserve every brutal strike. And you know it! But he's stopped complaining. He's gripping my shirt. His legs are around my waist. He's locking me in a forbidden kiss.

That's it, baby. You want wants this, don't you? You need to be punished!

From the front seat. From the pocket of my pants. I can hear a buzz as my phone vibrates. Only one person could be calling me this late. But he can wait. I have a lion to fuck. To hold down in the back seat of my car and ravage.

And you deserve it!

You deserve it.

Oh God. Oh fuck. It's coming. It's here. It's happening! I'm actually, finally about to cum inside someone other than my mutt. A fantasy come to life. A sin I never dreamed to live. Press in! Every muscle clenched! As hard and as deep as I can go! Yes. Yes! YES!

...

No...

No.

Oh God, no.

I'm still inside of him. But the tingling in my stomach is already gone. Replaced, instead, by a tightening knot. A sharp and unexpected pain. What have I done? I could have stopped this. It didn't have to happen. What's wrong with me? I'm not a cheater! I never have been! What if the mutt finds out? What if I lose him? What if...?

When did I slip out of him? My dick's so cold. I'm standing outside the car again. When did I get outside? I need to put my pants back on. Need to get the lion home. Need to get myself home. Home to my shower. Home to my bed...

Oh God. To our bed! The bed I share with my mutt. My mutt! MY MUTT!

My phone. He called. I have to check my phone!

It's locked. Right, of course. Just swipe. One missed call. It's him. His profile. His picture. His stupid smiling face. He called to talk to me...but I was so busy fucking somebody else I couldn't even answer! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

My mutt. My poor, precious, scruffy mutt.

You didn't deserve this...

~

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