Corn
Corn.
Lots of it. That what I'd been seeing for about the last two weeks, ever since leaving New York City. I'd probably walked a couple hundred miles, myself, and I'd gotten picked up by a few truckers and other city folk, and skipped over a few counties.
Honestly, I don't really have any way of telling just how far I've gone, though. No map, and I don't have a timetable. I talked to Paul, the guy who owned that little corner store near my old place in Queens, told him I'd planned on heading out to California, to the coast, just to see what it was like. Asked him what things were gonna look like on the way. Corn, he said. Corn, grass, hills, and flatlands. The old bear had also chuckled, shook his head, and told me he wished he could've done the same thing. Just picked up, left what I had behind, and go wherever I liked.
I hadn't really thought of it that way before, but it was true. There were advantages to having no money, no possessions, just a one bedroom craphole I was renting from an older couple. Sure, I didn't eat too often, but that helped me keep my girlish figure. Didn't own a car, but are they really necessary, anyway? Walking's good exercise. Man, have I been finding that out lately.
So that's what I was musing about, as I strolled casually down interstate 80. Why I was doing it. What was on the way. How hot that big bull farmer was, down in the cornfield, riding along in his tractor. God damn, I'd like to walk right over there, climb on with him, and start licking ...
Well, what can I do? Walking all by yourself like this, it can get pretty boring. There's lots of time to think. Not to mention lots of time to get horny.
Back home, jerking off was sort of a nightly ritual. I actually didn't sleep right if I didn't do it. New York had never really gotten along with me, anyway. It stunk, it was loud, and the Yankees played there. No redeeming features. Out here, I hadn't been getting worked up quite so much. But walking around in all this nothing made me think about how low the chances were of anyone either seeing or caring. I could probably walk around naked.
I'm a coyote. Scott Raymond's my name. I'm twenty seven, not quite six feet tall, and kinda svelte, if I do say so myself. The ladies all like my blue eyes, but I'm not too interested in what the ladies think. Y'know, unless they have a hot boyfriend. I've got a backpack with some clothes and other stuff in it, the hiking shoes on my feet, and, well... that's about it. Just the way I like it. Out of the bag and on my body is a real comfy pair of bluejeans, a well lived-in wife beater, and some red flannel to top off the torso. There's also the Red Sox hat turned backwards on my head, with two ears poking out the top. Another reason New York and me didn't get along.
So, yeah. Out in the middle of nowhere, who's gonna see what you're doing? Farmers are all busy, what traffic there is is going way too fast to pay attention to passer-bys, and the cows, well. They've got better things to pay attention to, like grass. So I reach down between my legs, and give the crotch of my dusty jeans a squeeze.
I probably shouldn't, regardless. I might not have been thinking about what I was doing that much, but just that one little touch is enough to get my tapered, knotted dick pushing from its holder and leaking into my jeans. I glance away from the grass beside the interstate, (pavement gets hot, and it's safer here, anyway) and down at what I'm doing. Drip, drip. Sometimes there are disadvantages to being a canine. One being, when I get hard, I start soaking whatever I'm wearing. Oh well. Again, who's really gonna notice?
They say timing's everything. I squint my eyes as a passing truck displaces enough air to ruffle my fur. Then I notice, he's pulling over into the breakdown lane. Did he break down? Probably not, I notice, no one's coming out of the driver's door as I stroll up along side. Transport America, the logo says on the side. So, I lean up on the passenger door, get up onto the step, and peek in as the window's rolling down.
Stallion. Holy fucking stallion. This guy's stacked, and I realize I'm staring after a second. He's tall, probably seven feet. Got the chair leaned back so that I get a good view of that solid, hairy stomach, a little on the big side from eating too much fast food on the road, and biceps that look like cannonballs. Not sure what breed, exactly -- I've never been smart about things like that -- but he's brown, with a little white on the forehead. It'd be cute if he was smaller. It's just sexy when he's this size. It's about then I realized he'd said something while I'd been getting my eyeful.
"Need a lift, ah said?"
I jostle my brain out of the gutter and grin at him, while trying to keep my tongue in my mouth.
"Sorry, man, yeah, I could use one. Thanks a lot."
I pull open the door, slide into the passenger seat, and let my backpack rest down between the two chairs. The stallion slides the truck into gear, checks for traffic, and then pulls us back out onto the highway. I buckle up the seatbelt, and try not to squirm too much. I was dripping a little before. Now I'm struggling to keep the damp spot in my pants from turning into a puddle.
"Name's Randy. Where ya headed, pup?"
I glance back over at him. Guy looks about late thirties, so I don't mind him calling me that. In fact, I don't think I'd mind him calling me just about anything.
"Oh, California. No particular reason. Just seein' the country, y'know?"
The conversation stays kind of like that for about an hour. On and off, I'm watching the scenery when I think I can't get away with staring at him. He never bothers to ask if I want him to wear a shirt. Old jeans with more than a few holes around the thighs and knees are all that cover those muscular legs. One is almost, ALMOST close enough to his crotch that I can pick out a few more details than just the sizable bulge in the denim going down his right leg. I end up pulling my backpack up into my lap so that he won't see the growing stain in my own pants.
Randy chuckles, and I glance over his way. He nods over towards an exit that's coming up, and I notice that we're passing a big sign for a gas station called Kum and Go. I snicker, he looks over, and does the same thing.
"Those're all through the Midwest," he rumbles. "Makes the mind wander certain ways, after you've been on the road a while, eh?"
I feel my stomach tighten up a little bit, and I swallow. I could either be in for trouble, or a lot of fun. He tips that long muzzle over towards me, and nods again down towards my legs, before turning his eyes back out to the road.
"You dogs, all the same. When ya get all riled up, ya start drippin' like a faucet. Did ya really think I wouldn't notice?"
There's a big old grin on his face, now. I glance back over, and lick my nose. It's not like it was that hard to smell, but what else can I do? At least he doesn't sound like he's upset. I decide to take what seems like it's becoming an increasingly good chance.
"Sorry, man. Couldn't help it, sittin' next to a stud like you."
I see him shifting in his seat, and reaching down to adjust the fat bulge in his pants. Definitely looks like it's getting bigger. I can feel my heart thudding in my chest, and my own half-erection starts swelling right up into something full. I grit my teeth, and let the knapsack slide off. I'm soaked down to my thighs.
"How's about you an' me stop this rig at the next rest area, boy, and you help me take care o'this? It's been a good month since I had anythin' but my own ten fingers."
I swallow again. This guy's really pushing my buttons. I'm not a total bottom like most of those cheetahs and foxes around, but something about getting bent down by a bigger guy like this has always really done it for me.
"You don't have to ask twice, man."
I lick my lips, reach over, and slide my paw across one of his thighs to grip and squeeze the thick flesh underneath his well worn denim. It's hot, hard, and really big. That's enough to get him dripping too, I notice. I see him grinning over at me as I pull my hand back and lick slowly at my fingers. He spares an eye from the road long enough to watch. It's delicious, salty and rich, and really strong. Some guys might find it too strong, but I'm loving it. Sweet pre would just taste wrong, coming from a guy like this.
It's about another half hour before we see those blue road signs signaling a rest area, and I tell you, it's a long half hour. Every so often, I reach over for another feel of the horse cock I'd get to see before long, and by the time we pull up, he's sporting a wet spot about as big as mine. Every time I touch, I lick my hand, and it's like honey to me. Anticipation makes everything better.
The truck pulls in, and he finds a secluded area in the parking lot to leave it. Not that it was really necessary, because he reaches forward, and unties a curtain that slides right around the windshield. Pretty handy for privacy.
"Get outta those clothes, boy," he growls as he's pushing out of his seat, and working his bulky frame out back to the sleeping area. There's two bunks there, with the top one folded up to give Randy extra head space. He slumps down onto the bunk, and starts peeling off those jeans. I unbuckle my belt and stand up. Plenty of room for a short guy like me to move around.
The equine grunts, and I see that huge hose of flesh being pulled out into the open. I feel my breathing quicken, and my own cock twitch in my pants. Damn, he's huge, probably nine or ten inches. Mostly black, with a little pink mottled in towards the middle, and with one of those flared ends horses tend to have. And the whole thing's glistening with pre, like his groin and the inside of his thighs. He's watching me, watching the way I almost start whimpering like a puppy as he grips it in both hands and starts to stroke. Fuck.
"It's gorgeous," I breathe, already starting to pant. My tongue's hanging out the side of my mouth as I get out of the flannel, and open up my jeans to get my boxers down over my thighs. If my jeans were wet, my underwear's a sopping mess. Dammit. I've got a pair in my backpack that smells a little salty, too. He stops me with a look when I'm down to my tank top.
"Don't worry about that. C'mon already, boy. Payment's due." Those two calloused hands work their way down to the base of his thick erection, squeeze, and angle it downwards, so his glistening flare is pointed right at me. I drop down onto my knees in the floor of the cramped cab, push my muzzle down between his thighs, and bury my nose under his balls. I'm still a canine, and getting a strong, rich scent like that all over my face is intoxicating. Sue me.
Randy lets out a guttural groan. God, even his voice is sexy. My tongue curls out of my mouth, and I start to slurp over the stallion's huge balls. Because of how much the guy's been dripping, everything's slick and wet down here, and each lick coats my tongue in his flavor. I could probably do this all day, and Randy lets me keep at it for a good minute or two before I feel that strong hand closing down on the back of my neck, and pulling me up a few inches.
"Fuckin' A, kid, you're desperate for it, ain'tcha? Don't you worry, I got plenty for ya." I grin up at him past the thick spire of his dripping cock, and slide one of my paws up to cup a palm over the top of his shaft. Makes it convenient to pull the horse's veiny dick firmly down against my mouth while I'm lapping over it, too. Fuck, I thought his balls were soaked, but there's this river of wet just dripping down his cock. Reminds me of me, again. Anyway, I slurp and nuzzle my way up to his flare, and that's when I feel the grip on my head get tight enough to ache. Any other guy, I'd tell him to cut the shit, but he's making me feel good to be a little bitch dog, and I'm not gonna stop for anything.
He slips two sweaty fingers into my mouth, pries it open, and then just shoves his cock right in, deep. I'm not ashamed to admit I gag on it. You try sucking something that's ten inches and see how you do, and I mean, REALLY ten inches. And I'm sitting here trying to figure out how I'm gonna give this stud a blow job and not bite him when he solves it for me. Randy inches forward on the bunk so that his ass is hanging off the edge, and that lets him lean forward enough that if he hauls my head up a little more, he can get down my throat. I've always had an easier time not nipping when guys do the work for me, and Randy seems happy enough to use my mouth and throat for a warm hole to fuck. And lemme tell you, I ain't been this happy to be used any other time in my whole life.
That doesn't mean it's easy. Like I said, the guy's huge, and he's not all that inclined to be nice about it. His hips slam back and forth, jamming that huge dick past my lips, past my tongue, and into my throat before he pulls back. There's slime squirting into my mouth fast enough that I can't swallow it all, and my chin and neck are getting soaked in that and my own spit. In a few seconds, I've got tears in my eyes, and my head's swimming from a lack of air. But it's all good, so long as that huge dick of his keeps spreading my mouth and sliding over my tongue. The guy's sweating now too, and I mean a lot. He has this short pelt on him that shows off the moisture really well, and I can even feel drops of it falling down on my head. I notice that I've been digging my blunt claws into his legs, but he doesn't seem to care.
Randy gets up onto his feet all of a sudden, and lurches forward hard enough to bang my head up against the back of the driver's seat.
"Yeah, ya fuckin' love this, don'tcha... keep at it, boy, you're gonna get a mouthful real fuckin' soon...."
Holy shit, this stud's gonna cum in my mouth. I've been thinking about that ever since I climbed in here with him, and I'm gonna get it. I can't believe my luck. Not that my skill don't have something to do with it. The huge horse is heaving like a steam engine over me, letting out these ragged gasps for breath that make it sound like he's about to have a heart attack. I'm having kind of a rough time of it myself, even just keeping my mouth nice and tight for him, and making sure I breathe enough not to pass out. I've just barely noticed that my own dick's knotted up and swollen, and I'd probably cum just by touching myself. Fuck that, more important stuff to concentrate on now.
And, and... and here it is. He bangs my head back against that seat one more time, and fuck, he's cumming, and fuck, I'm choking. He lifts up that big head of his and lets out a whinny that probably anyone standing near the truck could hear, and then I'm drowning on this flood of semen that's ten times anything he was dripping before. I feel like I'm gonna pass out, so I push hard on his thighs to try and get him to pull back just a little, and I'm surprised when he actually does it.
That grip on my head loosens just enough that I can get the stallion out of my throat, just barely. No wonder I was choking, that flare of his is fuckin' huge! All that spongy cock flesh is still filling my mouth, and even while I'm struggling to swallow down all the thick slime he shot down my throat, more of it's making my cheeks bulge. I manage to gulp down one more mouthful of semen before it starts running down over my chin and getting my cheeks all wet. Jesus, with balls that big I figured he'd be a cannon, but this is ridiculous.
Randy lets out this chortle that sounds amused even though he's still gasping like a bellows, and then I feel him popping his dick out of my mouth. I get this half second or so to admire how absolutely fucking hot his dick looks like that, all swollen up in the middle of orgasm before I see his urethra flare again, and remember to close my eyes. Then, he's spraying down my face. I think probably a half dozen more shots get me soaked to the skin. I feel myself jerking just a little when each one splashes over me, partly because I can't see when they're coming or where they're coming from.
Once he's pretty much done with his orgasm, as far as I can tell, anyway, I feel one of those big hands press down against my soaked muzzle, and smear over it slowly, working those ropes of horse cum into this thick froth all over my face. I chuckle.
"You fucker," I pant. Wow, my voice is all scratchy. I haven't had my throat fucked like that in ages. Still, I hope he can hear the humor I'm trying to inject into those words, and since he chortles again, I guess he does. I reach up and wipe my paw over my eyes, then blink them open. Goddamn, all I can smell is cum. I don't mind all that much. Then, that hand he just slicked up my face with is curling around one of my arms.
"That's me," he replies, with a big, warm grin. "And if you think you're done, boy, you got another thing coming."
I felt my ears perking. He knew I was interested. But first things first, he pulled my head back into his crotch again. Fuck, he came like that and he's still rock hard? I think I'm gonna have to hike on this road more often. Gingerly, I curl my fingers around the base of that thick meat, and start licking him clean. Not that I didn't already get about a dozen mouthfuls of it, but that semen is delicious. Salty, thick, and there's so much of it. Maybe the guy just wanted me to get a taste of it, since he yanks my head right back again. Now I'm getting embarrassed. Never in my life have I ever liked being treated this way, and he's making me love it.
"Don't lick up too much, pup. You know where it's goin', right? You're gonna need as much lube as you can get, you better believe it."
That grip on my arm gets tighter, and he pulls me up to my feet. All on my own, I lean over towards the bunk, and stretch out on my back, with him watching the whole time. Awright, being a bitch like that was fun, but I'm gonna have some say in how this second round happens.
"C'mon, stud," I growl up at him, letting my tail hang off the side of the bunk, spreading my legs, and pulling my knees up against my chest. It's gonna be cramped for Randy, but I'm pretty sure he'll deal with it.
"Aww, what a pretty puppy you are," the stallion grunts. Bracing one of his huge hands against the top bunk, which I can hear creaking because of the big guy's weight, he works the other under my ass, and lifts it up just enough so that he can brace his still dripping cock up against my asshole. I lick my nose. I'm gonna taste like his cum for weeks.
He makes a few experimental thrusts with his dick, smearing a lot of the cum that's still slicking his erection through the cleft of my ass. I'm gonna need it, that's for sure, and besides that, it feels incredible, having a huge, wet erection grinding against you there. And then, just like that, he presses his cock head against my ass and pushes in.
It's not all that easy, really. There's a lot of force involved, and it gets him groaning and me whimpering - but only a little! But then, fuck, that huge horse dick is in my ass, sliding in deeper, inch after inch. My body is burning up with arousal, and there's this weird buzzing in my head. Probably because of how hard my heart is beating. I can't believe how turned on I am, being fucked in the back of a big truck by a virtual stranger.
My head thumps down against the thin padding of the bunk, and I grunt quietly as the huge horse gets the last of his dick buried inside me. I'm staring up at him through my half lidded eyes. Goddamn is he beautiful. If you think masculine men are hot, Randy's the epitome. Fucking me for the second time in ten minutes, dripping raindrops of sweat down onto my canine body, grunting with each grind of his huge dick into me, I can't get over it. I feel this little patter against my chin, and glance down towards my cock.
I'm obscenely engorged, and that red, tapered, knotted length is staring me right in the face. I hadn't noticed until I looked that my whole chest is matted down with precum I've been squirting, and I'd just gotten myself right under the muzzle. That's it. No more ignoring business. This is where being flexible comes in handy. While my stud's pulling his huge dick back for another rough grind into me, I crane my neck forward, and shift my arms so I can keep both legs pinned against my chest with just one of them. I squeeze down on my knot with my newly freed hand, and then slip my cock down into my mouth, and start slurping. My dick tastes almost stronger than the stallion's did. Walking twenty miles a day and sweating the whole time will do that to a guy. I notice Randy's eyes getting wide.
"Mmm, look'it this. You keep doin' that, boy, you're squeezin' real nice around my cock now." His voice is taking on that now-familiar tone. He's gonna cum again. And by now, nothing could stop me from shooting either.
All it takes is those few seconds of suction and tongue action on my own swollen dick, a few nice squeezes on my knot, and I start feeling that fire spread through my body, the one that you can only get when you have an orgasm when there's a big dick shoved up in your ass. I forgot how incredible it feels. No toy can simulate it, and trust me, I've tried plenty of toys. I feel my breath getting short, since it's not all that easy to breathe when you're all curled up like this, and I slump back against the bed, letting my shaft slide out of my mouth. No way am I letting go of my knot, though.
Even just having myself in my muzzle for those few seconds, I have to gulp down almost a full mouthful of my own pre, and then those clear, watery jets get a lot thicker and whiter.
"Aah, ahhh, FUCK!" I exclaim, and I cum so hard that the first couple of jets actually splash up against the ceiling. When Randy sees what's going on, he hunches right over and lets out a snarl that I'd never expect from a horse, not that I really know what's going on now, anyway. He starts pounding the hell out of my ass, slamming that near-foot of horsedick so hard up into me that I know I'm gonna be feeling it later. One thing I do know, as I angle my cock forward so that some of my cum hits him on the torso, is that I'm clenching really tight around his dick.
I cum for a long time. I'm a coyote, after all. Usually it's about a minute before my flow tapers off. After about thirty seconds of soaking us both in my load, the stallion shoves his big face down against my neck and bites down on my throat with those flat teeth of his, and then he's cumming. Oh hell, is he cumming. I'd never have guessed he'd shot so recently if I didn't still have the evidence smeared all over my face. Having a guy flood my ass like this drives my own orgasm on for almost two minutes, well after his own has finished and he's slumped over me, pinning me to the bunk.
His cum is dripping out of my ass, and it's all over my face. I'm covered in his sweat, and I can barely breathe because of how strong everything smells, and how hot and heavy he is after exertion like that. But I'm not in a hurry to move. Once my own jets fade to a dribble, I slide my wet hands up over his sides, and he finally uses those big arms to push himself up. I can feel our fur sticking together, then peeling apart. What a mess.
"Get ready," he grunts, and I hold my breath as he slowly straightens up, reeling his huge dick out of my ass. I let go of my legs once he's off of me, and they thump down onto the old carpeting the horse has draped under the bunk. There's a river of hot slime drooling out of my ass and running down my tail, pooling on the floor.
What an awesome end to the day. We both spend probably another ten minutes panting before we decide it's worth it to start cleaning up. He loans me a towel, and we manage to make it to the truck stop's shower without too many guys realizing we stink of sex and we're soaked in each other's cum. We even have a little discreet fun washing each other off.
By the time that's all done, we have a nice, casual meal together, chatting about the things guys chat about, and he even lets me sleep the night in his bunk. Been a long time since I slept that well.
The next morning, he's on his way, and so am I. Randy asks me if I want to stick with him until he hits Denver. That's where he's dropping his cargo, then turning back around for North Carolina. I tell him no, but thanks. With a grin and a nod, Randy's on his way, and so am I. We both got what we wanted. We sure as hell ain't gonna be mates forever now that we had sex. But as I hit the road, squint in the early morning sun, turn my Sox hat backwards on my head and start trudging along the interstate, nothing but corn to my left and to my right, I start thinking.
Better keep an eye out for any Transport America trucks.