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Coyote Cuckold

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah."

Pete did not sound sure. Then again, nothing in this rotting world was sure any more. Except for Pete: the dog's loyalty was never in doubt. And he had done his best to keep her safe. They kept each other safe.

"Because, you know, we could head back to the town..."

"And get ambushed? Donna, anyone could be hiding in those buildings. At least here, we'll know if someone's approaching. Plus it's off the main path, so even if someone did walk past, they probably wouldn't even know we're here."

The German Shepherdess took a step closer to the building. Heat and desert winds had baked and weathered the old timbers. A short way off, the desert trail stretched through the arid lands under the rapidly sinking sun.

"I guess you're right. Why is this one building here by itself, anyway?"

"I dunno, it's probably been here since the gold rush days. Life back then was kind of a free-for-all. You'd claim your pitch, try your luck... and anyone could be friend or foe."

"Guess we've come full-circle, then."

"I guess we kind of have."

Peter was closing in on the building's only door, ears perked... as much as a golden retriever could perk them. In his paw he held a crowbar, the hooked end hanging low, ready to swing up if any enemies were to pounce. Though he hoped it wouldn't come to that. Three days on, the image of that lifeless rat was still stained on the dog's mind: skull cracked open, brain matter visible through the wound, and blood (so much blood) flowing over the desert sands. To say nothing of that chisel-toothed snarl of pain, etched forever on the rodent's face.

Donna had joined him, rubbed his paw. Pete shook his head - zoning out again. Thank goodness for his Shepherdess.

"So..." asked Donna, "we're checking it out?"

Pete closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, let's do this."

The male canine tightened his paw around his crowbar. Then, he pushed the door open.

Silence. Not even a creak from the hinges. Inside, the building was small, comprising a single storey and a single room. Overall, it was about half the size of their old home. The two canines had hoped to stay there forever, maybe raise some pups there too. However those plans, like the plans of all other animals, had evaporated like smoke.

The canines stepped inside, glancing around at every hidden corner. Donna felt for her weapon, a crowbar just like Pete's, and she sighed as she touched that cool solid metal. Dust swirled in the air, stirred by the opening door and the dry desert air, illuminated by the sunlight filtering through the rough wooden slats. Wooden pillars supported the roof, and the ground was bare and cool.

"So what do you think, hun?"

The German Shepherd looked back, through the doorway to the arid desert. The air was cooling over this dusty, rocky place with its sparse grasses and rocky cliffs. There were no animals in sight, but who knew what might emerge once the heat had eased? Inside however, it was just the two of them.

"Yeah. This'll do."

The canines spent that evening outside, sat on a rock-ledge, snacking on their supplies and watching the desert sunset. The golden light was disappearing behind the distant hills, bathing the scrubland and the lower sky in its golden hues, while high in the atmosphere, the gold transitioned to a deep inky purple. Pete leaned his head on Donna's shoulder, and both animals sighed. However, despite wanting to indulge their romantic sides, they decided against lighting a fire. Though the area seemed peaceful, they couldn't let their guards down. Their dual weapons lay by their feet, a testament to that fact.

When the sun dipped below the western hills, Pete turned to his partner.

"You look tired, hun. You want me to take first watch?"

There he was again. That sweet, sappy, devoted little puppy. His head was tilted in, making his ears flop in that adorably carefree way. Donna had made it clear many times that they were equals on this journey, but still he wanted to play the gentleman. Then again, she was tired... and so this time, rather than protest, she nodded her head, and followed up with a well-timed yawn.

Peter kissed his wife goodnight. He picked up his crowbar and rested it on his lap. There he stayed, watching over the scrubland. The Shepherdess gathered her gear and went inside the shack. For a moment she watched her husband through the barn door crack, before she closed herself in. Poor Peter. He really did care for her. And in this uncertain new world, all they had was each other. At the far wall, she unpacked her bag and laid out her camping mat. She bedded straight down, lying on her side with her backpack for a pillow - far too warm for any covers. She stayed awake for a few minutes, taking stock of her surroundings. Her crowbar and water bottle, both within easy reach. The rusted tools against the wooden walls. And through the wooden slats, the slow footsteps of her husband, boots on rocky ground, pacing back and forth. The sound of his patrol was reassuring, and sleep then came much easier to the bitch.

*

"Hey. Hey Donna," the canine whispered. "Wake up."

The German Shepherd grumbled, her movements slow and groggy. Light trickled through the slats, inky and indigo.

"Mmm, is it time for my watch?"

"No. Got another job for you tonight."

"Huh? Peter, I don't... I don't understand..."

She opened her eyes and rubbed them, waiting for the shapes to drift into focus in the half-light. There, silhouetted against the gloom of this shelter, was the canine shape of her husband Peter. His fur was askew, but there he was. Although he looked a little... rangy. And the way he held his body, there was a certain unusual poise to it. A lean and a loom. Protective... or predatory?

Wait.

That wasn't Peter.

The Shepherdess shot upright, but the strange male dog pounced on her in an instant, gripping a powerful paw to her nose until it fizzed. The pressure built, so tight around her nose that she felt the cartilage yield. She whined in wide-eyed submission, her ears dropped beside her head, and her eyes locked with the male. He wasn't a dog. He was a coyote.

"Now before we begin, a few ground rules." The coyote's voice was low, undercut with a growl. Jagged, bone-chipped teeth glinted in his maw. "First of all, no screaming. You're miles from anywhere, and no-one would hear you, so you'd only be wasting your breath. Understand?"

She nodded, panting. The coyote released his grip and she backed away, just out of striking distance, purely on instinct. Her heart raced, and her breath was little more than a shallow pant.

"Second, I have your weapon. I know that isn't a rule, but still, one crowbar to the skull per lifetime is enough, thank you. Third, don't run from me. Don't even try to run. Well, I mean, you could try and make a break for the door." The 'yote could barely conceal his snicker. He weighted those key verbs, accenting them with a heavy, dripping snarl. "After all... that latch is pretty rickety. It probably wouldn't stand up to you barging into it. Then it's a straight sprint across the desert, city-bitch against wild coyote."

Wild coyote. There was no denying that. In the glow of the moonlight, Donna could see just how fit, and powerful, and big the male canine was. There was a tension to his body, an unspoken threat that he could pounce at any moment. Best not to provoke him.

"And then you've got to find a hiding-hole, and hope I don't sniff you out. So yep, you could_try and run. But I will hunt you. I will chase you until I catch you. Or maybe I'll play with you. Maybe I'll let you run, let you set the pace. You feel how hard your heart is beating right now? Do you feel that little vein, throbbing in your neck, driving the blood to your brain while it races with thoughts? 'How do I escape? How do I get out of this?' That's nothing. If I chased you, your whole body would flood with adrenaline, and your heart would race, three, four beats every second. _Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum. But the thing is, your heart can only beat so fast. And once I push you, little dog, it's only a matter of time before your heart gives out, and you collapse on the ground in cardiac arrest. But it won't be the chase that kills you. So the last thing you'll feel are my teeth, tearing off your flesh, while I eat you alive."

She panted, heartbeat quickened. She glanced up and down the coyote. Lean, rangy, but with a powerful athletic build, like a wolf but leaner, how she imagined feral wolves used to look. Built like a runner. And built to hunt.

"So, what do you think? You think you stand a chance?"

Her answer was honest. "No."

The coyote growled, his whiskery grin cracking just a tiny bit open. He probably didn't need the ego trip, but he enjoyed it anyway.

"By the way, you stink of fear. Any canine could scent that. Especially this close."

He gave an unnerving show of teeth - teeth that just moments ago were within snapping distance of her neck. She gulped, hoping the coyote wouldn't notice. Of course he did. He grinned wider.

"Now I suspect you've got a few questions. Feel free to ask them."

Like she had a choice. "Where's my husband?"

"An obvious question, and an easy one. See for yourself."

The coyote jerked a thumb-claw towards the far wall. There stood a third canine, who she could now clearly see was her husband.

Pete was standing in the corner of the barn, behind the coyote. His front paws were clenched together, his hind legs slightly spread, and his tail tucked between them. The dog looked uninjured, not tied up or anything, but he just... stood there, watching this ragged-furred mutt corner his wife. Cowed. Useless. She opened her mouth to call to him, but the coyote was quicker and lifted her upper jaw, forcing her mouth shut.

"Remember, no shouting."

Coyote and Shepherd locked into a stare. The male's yellow eyes gleamed down in the near-darkness. Hungry, like he was deciding which part of the Shepherdess was the choice cut. He released her muzzle.

"What have you done to him?" she spat at the coyote. He yipped in her face, making her jump, taming her aggression as soon as it surfaced.

"A logical follow-up. Physically he's alright. Only 'alright', as you very well know."

"Quit fucking around. I swear, if you've hurt him..."

"Bitch." The word trailed into a hiss, laced with the barest hint of growl and fang. "It's really sweet to see you defending your man. But you're picking a fight over nothing. I haven't hurt him, and he won't hurt me. You see, what's his name over there, Peter? Yeah. Peter and I have got something of an agreement. Male to male, so to speak. Dog to dog. You see, not every dog is equal. And some dogs are, mmm, better equipped for this whole survival game. I know, I know, It's a raw deal, this whole apocalypse. But if we're going to survive as canines, we have to be selective. After all, we can't all be top dog. Some dogs belong on the bottom, and the bigger, fitter dogs belong on top."

The coyote was topless. Rangy, corded muscle packed his upper body, his strength evident under that scraggly fur. Some well-scuffed trousers preserved the canine's decency, while the outline of his sheath cancelled that out.

She glanced at his crotch, maybe a half-second longer, hoping he wouldn't notice.

Of course he noticed. He twitched in his trousers, full and virile, while leering at the bitch.

"And it looks like you're catchin' my drift. Now of course, you can't know for certain if I'll uphold my end of the bargain. After all, we coyotes are sharp and predatory and full of tricks. So you're just going to have to trust me. But hey, I might just let you go when I'm done with you both."

"What... what are you talking about?"

The coyote rolled his yellow eyes. "And playing innocent ain't gonna save you. Right, foreplay over."

The coyote stalked over to a post, in view of both dogs. He rose to his hind paws, and kicked back. He moved with such confidence, sleek and feral.

"Get over here and get on your knees."

Donna's eyes went wide. "Wh... what? No!"

"Come on, girl. I know what caught your eye."

"But... my husband..."

"Can't compare. So think about what you want. And sate your curiosity."

This couldn't be happening. Cornered by a wild animal, coerced into... pleasuring him. And all while her husband watched! Of course she didn't want this. But then... what choice did she have? And who knew, maybe a stroke of paw or tongue would be enough? Yeah, just a stroke. Clinging to that possibility, the Shepherdess stood, eyes to the floor, and closed the distance to the coyote. Avoiding his stare and that maddening grin, she dropped to her knees. The coyote simply waited, every breath slow and steady, while the Shepherd bitch lifted an uncertain paw to his trousers, and took her first touch of the coyote. Hefty. Firm. And full of promise. She made short work of his belt, before unfastening his first trouser button, starting to free him from his confines. His musk multiplied tenfold, right there and then, and he leered down at her and uttered a soft filthy growl. How had things turned so quickly? She hooked her paws around his waistband (of course he was going commando), and she tried to imagine Peter in front of her, the familiar contours of his body and sheath. But the two males just looked too different. Peter had some pudge around his belly, which she'd always found cute. But this coyote... there was barely an ounce of fat on him. Lean, muscular, a fitter animal... maybe even a better animal. Slowly, Donna lowered his trousers, and she caught her first sight of the coyote's sheath, a couple of inches of canine meat already emerged, dark pink and thickly veined.

Thicker than her husband. More filling.

A drop of nectar pooled in her sex.

She was careful to lift his trousers over his manhood - dogs were sensitive down there, even the big ones. Her eyes went wide and her muzzle drooped at the sight before her.

The coyote was big. There was no other way to describe him. Even half-emerged from his sheath, that was apparent. Donna glanced down the animal that glistened in the half-light. He tapered at the tip, but immediately swelled out to an impressive veiny girth. Perfect for sneaking inside even the stubbornest of subs... then carving them open anyway. His furry sheath strained with the promise of more, and a pair of hefty coyote balls hung low, divided by a patch of thick, dark fur. He stepped out of his trousers and kicked them aside, standing fully naked before the kneeling bitch. His arms were crossed - he didn't even need to touch himself to stay hard. And that scent. And that twitch...

"A fair bit more than your husband's packing."

Wait, how did he know?

"Um... did... did you..."

"No, I didn't fuck him. Just copped a feel. Oh, but I did give the poor, whipped puppy a good feel of how male I am." She tilted her head, and the coyote shrugged. "Remember, we had to establish who's top dog. You remember that, Pete? How it felt having my hard coyote cock grinding you from behind. How you gasped."

Peter swallowed hard. While his fur and the gloom obscured it, Donna was sure he was blushing.

"I'd even say your husband wouldn't be averse to it. Isn't that right, Petey Pup? You've raised tail before."

Now Pete looked stunned. He tried to change his expression to denial, maybe even defiance, but the sharp coyote was having none of it.

"I could smell it," he snickered. "But that's nothing compared to the scent of your wife here. It's risky business, you know, taking a bitch across country while she's in heat. I'm sure you've got a good reason, though. Maybe your home was ransacked, maybe your pack cast you out. I don't care about the details. You were here tonight, you crossed my path, so now I have to show you city pooches how the world works."

How animals behaved when all veneer of civility was gone.

"Oh, and I bet your puppy doesn't pre like me, either."

Pete did not. The coyote was dripping with pre-lube, a long thick string of the fluid hanging almost to the floor. Donna couldn't help but stare. She licked her muzzle, and a dark chuckle made her collapse her ears.

"Looks like I've caught myself a thirsty bitch. Well go on, then, get a taste."

"I... I don't want to...?"

A slithering coyote laugh. "Who are you asking? Look. Bitch. There are three of us here, and we all know what you're going to do next. So open that muzzle, and wrap your wet doggy tongue around my coyote meat."

He throbbed, before her eyes, harder than Peter when he hit his climax. A bead of coyote precum trickled down that thick string. Donna couldn't tell for certain in the half-light, but she swore there was a cloudiness to that wild canine fluid.

...And his scent! Never had she scented an animal so raw, spicy, meaty and musky and male. She licked her lips again and, tenderly, she cupped one of the coyote's balls in her paw. Using her fingertips, she rubbed the short fur of his scrotum, then out of curiosity, she stroked the thicker fur between his balls. Soft, fine fur. The coyote uttered a breathy murr: approval. Okay, you can do this, you can do this... She poised her tongue, dropped down low, caught the end of the coyote's pre-string... and lapped it up, right up to the prairie wolf's tip. She licked, tasting smoke and spice... then lick-licked his tip. He twitched in response and sprayed precum all over her muzzle before she could pull away. She knelt for a moment, feeling his mark trickle down her muzzle. And that was a single shot of precum. Just how virile was this animal? She glanced up at the yellow-eyed canine, but he pointed to his crotch, and she focused on the job at paw... and specifically what she held in her paw. She swore there was a dampness to that scrotal fur-trail, and slowly, carefully as she dared, she brought her nose to the coyote's balls. The wetness of her Shepherd nose mingled with the musk of those furry 'yote balls. She breathed in... and the scent almost knocked her senseless. She huffed, open-mawed, panting like a parched dog, deprived for so long. Moving her paw to the hunter's strong thigh, she rubbed her muzzle over his nuts, feeling them press and roll, heavy and potent. Her muzzle was still wet, and she marked the animal with his own precum. She even managed to nudge the coyote's taint with her nose-tip before she pulled back slightly and rubbed her muzzle on the animal's cock. He was roasting warm, and as she teased him, his sheath slipped back, bringing an extra inch or two of his dog length into the open. However, not all contact was the same, and she knew that this male canine would need more. And so, with her free paw, she took an unsteady hold of the hard coyote shaft, about halfway down where he was thickest. He was so hard, remarkably hard. The entire animal length was slick with precum, which made it easier to pleasure the canine. She ran her paw up and down the dark pink meat, stroking and teasing every ridge of the purple-veined cock, up to the very tip to stroke and coax out a generous amount of precum (how much could one desert dog drool?), before taking her paws right down to tease the coyote's sheath. Carefully, she worked yet more of the animal's huge erection into the open. He narrowed slightly towards the base, and Donna even managed to slip a finger into his cock holster, resulting in a surprised and satisfied murr. Maybe she could bring the coyote to climax with just paws? She pulled his sheath back further, enough to catch sight of a bulge of flesh within, but the coyote uttered a snarl and tapped twice behind her ear.

"Plenty of time for that. Why don't you warm me up a little maw?"

Donna's eyes went wide. Yet she nodded all the same. She reaffirmed her hold - one paw on his balls, the other mid-shaft. Then, she brought her muzzle-point into place. She looked at the dog erection, which bobbed in time to the coyote's measured heartbeat. Down the barrel she stared, down to his sheath and back up to his dripping hole. Maybe paws and maw together would be enough? She licked her muzzle, opened wide, and engulfed the coyote's cock.

At least, she engulfed as much as possible. Even with her long muzzle, there was a good proportion of the coyote she just couldn't swallow. Still, she blew the big animal, twisting her maw and pleasuring him with her canine tongue. Pete had called it 'silky', and judging by the fearsome throb, this coyote was a fan too. With the paw on his shaft, she squeezed lightly, but mainly held his erection in place. With the paw on his balls, she began a lazy stroke, right side, then left, before she reached behind to the underside of his sheathed knot, which she teased with a firm press. He stiffened in her muzzle, barking, and Donna gulped, puffing her cheeks in surprise, before dragging muzzle and tongue back, and hacking out a cough when she finally got air.

"That's my girl. Getting nicely acquainted with the father of your pups."

The German Shepherd blinked. Canine saliva and coyote precum covered her muzzle and dripped down her throat. Logically, she knew that one breeding could be enough to leave her pregnant. A dog didn't even need to tie his bitch. Heck, he didn't even need to hit climax. But... to be so confident in his own potency, in his own virility? Some dogs tried every night of the heat, and still didn't manage it. Mind you, all that thick, stringy precum tipped the odds in his favour.

"Oh sure, it's a lottery. But I'm a tricky coyote, and I'm playing a billion times. So yep, I fancy my chances."

Of course, there were several possibilities for how this night would progress. But it would take some miracle for it not to end with a coyote on the Shepherd's back, and that grotesque, swollen, delicious cock buried inside her.

"Camping mat good for you?"

She tilted her head. "What... what do you mean?"

He grasped her lower jaw and turned her head around. "Your camping mat. I thought you'd appreciate something under your knees while I mount you."

"M... mount me?"

The coyote leaned in, all grin and meaty breath.

"Rut you. Fuck you. Go at you like a dog."

She turned her eyes sideways towards her husband. "I... I don't think we want that..."

"Forget what Pete wants. Pete doesn't get a say in this. As for what you and I want, well..."

The wild animal jerked forward, grinding his length on the Shepherd's face. She shuddered on the spot, unable to move away thanks to the firm grip on her jaw.

"No please, I really don't." Donna was barely whispering now, her breath catching short. "I... I'll suck you off better. I promise."

"Oh I don't need any more prep, nice though you are to offer. However, you may want to undress. Or I could just tear your clothes off. Your call."

He released her muzzle. Letting her make the first move. With a sigh, the shepherd rose to her feet, and took a step back. She slipped off her light top, followed by her boots and her combat trousers. When she reached the clasp of her sports bra, she hesitated. The coyote simply waited by his post, chest rising and falling with his breath. Of course he was going to watch. With another sigh, she snapped open the clasp, letting her bra fall away and so exposing herself. Finally, she reached the waistband of her underwear. This time, she didn't hesitate as long. A thin layer of fabric would hardly protect against a clawed fanged coyote. And so, down came her underwear too. Now, both canines stood naked before one another. Silence fell over the barn. Either she could break it, or the coyote would break something. With head bowed, she crossed over to her makeshift bed. There, she dropped to her paws and knees.

"No. Face this way. You're going to look your husband in the eye while I rut you."

Still on the ground, she turned around to face the males, breath quivering.

"That's a good girl."

The coyote began his stalk, smirking and hard. Try as she may, she couldn't help but look at the coyote's erect cock. He was stroking it, and she trembled at the thought of how it would feel. As he passed, he scraped his claws through her back fur, making her shudder. Damn those claws were sharp. He might have even left marks under her pelt.

"Now... you gonna do as you're told."

She nodded, quick and sharp.

"Gonna show your man what a good breeding bitch you are."

Nod nod.

"Bark, bitch."

At first she blinked, but not wanting to provoke the 'yote further, she uttered a soft little bark.

"Heh. Look at that, Petey. Your wife can follow orders."

He knelt behind the shepherd, while fixing the speechless retriever with a yellow-eyed stare.

"What an obedient little slut."

Then Donna yelped. The coyote had two fingers in her treasure...

He pumped the fingers in and out, twisting them within the bitch. She trembled on her paws and knees, trying in vain to suppress the pleasure of this first violation, a precursor to something much harder. But those fingers rubbed along her inner walls, just roughly enough. An experienced touch... and when he added a little claw, the German shepherd yipped, her body jerking and her pussy twitching around his fingers. For a few moments he stroked, waiting for her breath to still, and suddenly he pulled his fingers from the shepherd. She gasped at the sudden emptiness, shuddering as she contracted around nothing.

"Hey Pete. Look at my paw. Look how much your girl wants this."

Donna shook her head, hoping this would catch Pete's attention. But the retriever was looking higher... at the coyote's paw, no doubt, which had to be glistening with the same feminine lube that coated her lower lips. Whatever she said, however much she protested... she was wet. Her body was yielding to the coyote. And he could scent it. And he loved it.

Paws gripped her flanks, and the animal mounted her. Strong paws, sure paws... and something firm pressed at her rear. Insistent, and warm, almost invitingly warm. He lowered his weight onto her back - a lean, powerful mass of coyote. And with his size, the coyote found her slick entrance with ease. He murred low and deep, his tapered tip nestled against her sex, dripping with precum. He twitched: Donna felt his whole erection twitch (such a hard dog...), and with a slow steady thrust, he parted the shepherd's folds.

At first, she could only gasp at the building fullness. Endorphins started to flow, rewarding her for accepting this male, irregardless of her horrified thoughts. Suddenly the coyote bucked, shunting a hard painful inch or two into her, stretching her wide and making her bark.

"Ow! Please... stop..."

But still the coyote sunk in, smooth and sure, deepening his claim. He stretched the shepherd wide, gouging her open with his fearsomely hard erection. When the resistance grew too much, he gave some short shallow bucks, loosening up his bitch ready for the next deep penetrating thrust. Donna cried out, her muzzle locked open in pain and disbelief.

"H... how are you still... getting deeper... there's no way you're gonna... Ah!"

"I'll fit. I'll tear you open if I must, but I'll fit. Just like you want me to."

"No!"

"Just... like you've been wanting. Ever since you saw me. Ever since that first twitch."

"I didn't... that wasn't..."

"You're getting exactly what you want."

Some more steady thrusts, working an inch or two into the German shepherd's sex. And then the coyote started to fuck, rough and hard and feral.

"Oh fuck... please you've gotta... you're too big!"

The coyote laughed. "What, too big for a shepherd like you? You're by no means the smallest bitch I've ever fucked. Oh sure, those ones I did tear open. But if I were you, I'd be more worried about your hip dislocating. That's a problem with you shepherds, ain't it? You've been inbred so much, your hindquarters are ruined. Shorter legs, weak sloping hips, and every generation runs slower and slower."

"Oh fuck you. That's hardly my fault."

"No wonder you want a wild canine to inseminate you."

That sounded close to semen. Cum. Her fur crawled at the thought of ejaculation.

"I don't... want... your puppies..."

"Wrong." The coyote pounded his haunches into the shepherd. Her hip joints ached. "This is exactly what you want. The strongest pups you can get."

She tried to imagine it was Pete mounting her, but it all felt so... wrong? No, different. The animal at her back was strong, ragged... untameable. And while Pete could be eager with his humping, it was never with this sense of wildness that infused the coyote's every word, every breath, every thrust.

Oh please Peter, now's your chance. Grab the crowbar. Brain him in. Quickly, while he's still...

"I see you staring at him. Pleading with your eyes. But he still won't attack me. He had his chance when he first saw me. You weren't quite quick enough with that crowbar, were you, puppy?"

The dog stood there, dumbfounded, trying to mutter some kind of response.

"Hey!" The coyote snapped his claws. "Be a good dog and answer me. You thought you could fend me off, but you're just a dumb little puppy, who's way out of depth for this world. Aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Louder, boy."

"Yes, er, Mister Coyote."

"What are you?"

"Just... just a dumb little... pleasedon'thurtmywife..."

The coyote bucked his hindquarters into Peter's wife, several audible smacks of coyote muscle on supple bitch, each one drawing an open-mawed moan from the female underneath.

"Oh I won't hurt anything vital," the coyote continued, without relenting his pace at all. "Maybe a few bites and scratches here and there, maybe I'll pull out a claw or two if she gives me lip. But she has an important few months ahead of her. Remember, we all have an interest in our species thriving. And if a canine is strong and healthy, it's only right he inject himself into the gene pool."

And from the feels of things, the coyote was doing fearsomely well at injecting himself, spearing into the shepherd beneath him. Though that hard plunging violating cock was hidden from sight, both could feel how hard the coyote was... and all three could hear the rhythmic slap of coyote muscle on tanned rear.

"Pete... I'm so sorry."

Pete was frozen in place. And worse than that, his trousers were tenting. The coyote scoffed, and pounded on.

"You really love that whelp, don't you?" he growled into the shepherd's ear.

She nodded. Maybe this animal would have a little mercy if she admitted that. She could hope at least. Hope was one of the few scraps she could grip on. As for her dignity, that was slipping away with every powerful thrust of the coyote's haunches.

"Least, that's what you tell yourself. Heh, I know this story." How could the animal fuck so hard and still have enough breath to talk? "Best of a small pool in a small town. A little dim-witted, and desperately lacking downstairs, but decent enough father material. Bet he even comes when he's called. Isn't that right, Peter? You wish you could plough into your wife like this! You wish you could fill her pussy like me, stretch her, maybe even make her bleed around you."

It was the faintest of scents, but the coyote's nose picked up on it. He withdrew his entire animal length from the gasping bitch, rose up, and Pete saw it: a trace of crimson, glistening on the coyote's cock, bright as the day he tore her hymen. The coyote showed himself off for a few pregnant seconds, grinning at the whipped retriever, before he lowered himself back into position, feeling for Donna's snatch by thrust alone. He saw the retriever mumble, maybe to call out a no or a stop. The coyote penetrated his bitch anyway, ramping straight up to a feral pace. He was too rough, he needed to stop! But try as he may, Peter could not muster his usual disgust. The male was pistoning into his bitch, heedless of the chorus of gasps and wails he wrung from the bitch.

And despite it all, Pete was still hard.

And he knew why. He was bested. Out-competed by a fitter, hungrier, fucking handsome coyote!

Peter gave in. His paws fell to his crotch. The sound of his zipper gave way to a laugh of pure coyote amusement.

"There you go, puppy. Now you're starting to relax. Hell, you may as well enjoy this. Your wife and I certainly are."

The coyote shifted angle and shifted up a gear, bucking sharp, making the shepherd croon and grab at the camping mat. Jabbing his cock into the folds and ripples of the mated dog's vagina. Maybe even reaching further than any animal before? The thought thrilled the coyote, who mantled over his bitch like a vulture, driving them both to their little death. His eyes, however, were locked on the retriever.

"There's a good dog. Go on. Whip it out."

One final squirm, a small shimmy of trousers and underwear, and Peter took hold of his doggy sheath. He stroked his cock, slipping his sheath right back to pop his knot into the open. The male dog gripped behind the knot, uttering wordless breaths while his knees shook.

"See, this is your place in the world. Sidelined, watching on, while the big dogs take their fill. Oh sure, you'll fuck your shepherd again. She may even scream for you, if she's feeling charitable. But you won't ever compare to me."

The coyote was right. There was no way he could compare. Whether it was that thick canine shaft, or the animal's wild nature, he was outmatched. Pete whimpered. He loved his wife. She deserved a healthy litter of puppies. And damn all his friends and family who told him that surely he wanted a good, honest retriever or lab for his wife? Snobs, the lot of 'em. The little ones would be mongrels anyway.

The coyote himself was now a growling, bucking mongrel. And neither Pete nor Donna wanted to stop him. Certainly not the shepherd, who moaned and mewled almost like a cat - a cat! But not even Peter, who stared mesmerised as he pawed, an unstoppable urge trickling up his modest length at the sight before him. He tried to hold back, tried to grit his teeth and stymie his pleasure, but the sight of the copulating dogs was too wild, too real. A breathless whine whistled from the retriever's nose, and a trickle of cloudy canine cum dripped from his tip. He blushed, breathed heavily, and splayed his ears when he heard the coyote's mocking yip.

"Oh, poor, poor little Peter... just couldn't hold back, could you? I tell you know, bitch, if that's the size of load you're used to, you're in for a shock."

The coyote was shameless. Each twitch of that massive cock had to be deliberate. And each one sent a shot of precum straight into the bitch's quivering tunnel.

"You feel that, girl? The way we lock together so perfectly? The way I twitch inside you."

"Yes..."

"Louder. Let your puppy hear it."

"Oh yes coyote, I feel you! In... inside me! So deep..."

"And with every twitch, I'm firing a shot of precum inside you. Aren't I?"

A frantic flopping-eared nod. "Yes. Yes you are."

"And every one of those shots is more than a match for Pete's whole load... his whole pathetic little load. And what's more, now Pete's out of the race, there's only one male left to claim this cunt."

He humped her like a wild dog. No - he was a wild dog, penetrating the very core of her being with that monstrous erection. And Pete was still staring, despite his orgasm, despite everything. The fury of watching this coyote rape his wife (and there was no word for it, other than 'rape')... it stood in full conflict with the sound and the warm musky scent of animal rut, leaving the retriever standing still and impotent.

"Look at that needy puppy. Well? Everything you have is yours to share. Tell your husband what he's missing out on."

The shepherd tried to resist, one last time, but a familiar swelling of flesh punched at her folds, threatening to slip in, and making her breath catch.

"Oh Pete... this coyote... you should feel how big he is."

"Has he ever taken you this deep before?"

"No!" Conviction in her voice. "He doesn't even come close!"

"Damn right. We both know how much of a pup he is." He spoke the word with venom, his gnarled muzzle and the bared fangs and the growling breath of the copulating coyote making the bitch quiver.

"More to come. Isn't there?"

"Yes," she gasped.

"So beg for my puppies."

And even if the shepherdess were thinking clearly, her white-hot body would betray her anyway. She closed her eyes and breathed in.

"Please, you... big animal..."

"Yot. Just call me Yot."

She clutched at the ground, arched back into his coarse fur, doing anything she could to match this growling drooling bucking coyote, fighting her hardest to squirm and grind her haunches back into him, hungry to drive that swelling knot of coyote flesh where it belonged. And the squelch that rung out around the entire barn when they achieved their tie made both animals yowl in heartfelt, genuine, mutual pleasure. Donna slipped and collapsed onto her side, and still the prairie wolf kept thrusting, short and sharp and nudging his tip at the entrance to her very womb, while her swollen sex did its biological best to keep the massive coyote inside, to keep him stretching and filling her with more cock and more dog-knot than she'd ever taken in her life, more canine than she thought she could ever fit, this coyote and his damn fine perfect massive cock...

"Ohh Yot... please... yes!"

Donna was lost, her entire body shuddering in orgasmic pleasure. Just a few more seconds. Then her life would change forever. The coyote held strong, drove on, muscles quivering as he uttered a drooling snarl which rose and rose until he threw his maw to the rafters with an unearthly coyote howl, making Pete jump, physically jump backwards. The coyote held tense, riding on the crest of his orgasm, before his whole body shuddered and relaxed. And he didn't just twitch, he shot inside her, rope after rope firing straight into her fertile womb. And out of his shots, she felt every, single, one. So wild. So much better than Peter.

Speaking of her partner, his paws returned to his knotted cock. There was no way he could recharge that quickly, but still he tried rubbing his small and sensitive cock, eking out whatever trace of pleasure he still could from his spent shaft, even as the coyote continued to inseminate the bitch who once was his. His predicament did not escape Yot's sharp yellow gaze.

"Tell him," he growled.

Her mind was foggy from that shuddering orgasm. "H... huh?"

"Tell your mate. Describe what you can feel."

"Oh Peter, you should feel this... there's so much cum... so warm too... and he does not stop pumping... I can't stop him... such an animal."

"Whose puppies do you want, mine or Peter's?"

"Yours!" she exclaimed without hesitation. "Oh god, Yot... give me every last one."

"As you wish, my princess," he replied, delivering a few quick sharp bucks which rocked her whole body, breasts and all. He leered at her topmost two breasts, the largest of the set, with the richest of milk. Yot imagined which pup would latch there, drink the most nutrients, and grow up to be the strongest of the litter. He wished he could see them establish their little hierarchy. It reminded Yot of his whelp-days. He loved taking his place at the top and he loved to defend it. Because, if there was a place for altruism, it wasn't at the teat. A quick bite or kick was enough to ward off his weaker siblings, before he drank down deep, suckling his mother dry of her rich fertile milk.

Survival of the fittest. That was the way of the world.

While Yot caught his breath in short order, Donna was still panting, rut-drunk.

"Wow," she whispered. "You did it then."

"Yip. Claimed a bitch, right under her husband's nose."

Donna managed a smile. "You yoties... you sure are tricksy."

Yot chuckled and licked his bitch's cheek. "Oh there were no tricks about it. Unlike my namesake, I'm no trickster. Just a horny coyot' who loves giving bitches what they crave."

He joined the shepherdess on the mat, wrapping his arm across her. They lay together, their breaths stilling, but that hot life-giving connection oh so pleasurable.

"Hey. Bitch."

"Yeah?" she mumbled.

"We fucked on your camping mat. My scent is gonna be all over it. Fur-musk... and coyote cum."

She breathed it in. He was right.

"Now every night, when you fall asleep, you will be smelling me. That should tide you over until your belly starts to swell."

He drove forward, screwing his whole knotted dog-cock into the gasping bitch, and maintaining his tie.

"How many dogs have you... um..."

"Impregnated? Over thirty."

She beamed, feeling all aglow. Having felt how productive the coyote was, now she shared his confidence. She felt her abdomen, full of coyote, and surely, already, definitely, full of his puppies.

They lost track of time. The shepherdess would twitch, and the coyote would twitch right back. Whether she did that involuntarily, or on purpose, Yot didn't really care. It just added a little extra reward. He raised his head and cocked a glance at Peter. The retriever had sat down, slumped back against the wall, disbelief and horror written all across the poor puppy's face.

But not even a coyote his size could stay engorged all night. He felt himself slip, and decided not to fight it. The coyote knot squelched free of her vagina, making both dogs moan. His shaft was still inside: she fluttered her tunnel, and the coyote shuddered and murred. She was almost gripping him, almost like she didn't want that canine to withdraw his glorious thick cock. So he pulled out quick, leaving her to gasp and to gape. Donna didn't know which was worse: the two or three seconds of rising, rising pain, or the sharpness when it finally struck. She winced, bore her teeth, and hoped he hadn't torn her vulva.

"Fucking mongrel," she hissed through her teeth.

"Two out of two. Besides, better a healthy mongrel than an inbred pooch. Means healthier puppies, too."

She growled, as best she could anyway. Yot sprawled on the camping mat and kicked the shepherd aside.

"And such a gentleman, too."

"Don't worry, you'll get it back soon."

Yot rubbed his back on the mat, imprinting it with his scent. For a moment, he thought about cocking his leg, but... nah. That was scent enough. He rose to his feet and stood over the shepherdess.

"Well, I'd best be making my move soon."

"Might have guessed you wouldn't stay long."

"Stay?" _Yip!_There again was that shrill, unhinged laugh. Cutting through her skull, mirthful and mocking. If the shepherdess could have lowered her ears further, she would.

"Why would I stay? My job is done. It doesn't matter what else we do now. My puppies are inside you, shep. Right now, they're coursing their way through your body. Millions of my wild puppies. And given how heated you smell, they will catch."

And the scary thing was, Donna believed him. The confidence of his talk, and the way that he grinned... she believed he had raped all of those bitches. Pumped them full to the brim. Left them heavy with pups. And now, it was her turn.

Oh fuck... she was going to have this coyote's puppies!

"Now is it sinking in? This isn't over just because I pulled out. I'm still in you. Warm and liquid and animal. And no matter how much you squeeze down, how hard you work this smooth toned body of yours, you'll never get rid of all my coyote cum. The hunt is on. And I'm going to win."

Donna felt disgusted. But again, she believed him.

"Pete!"

She jumped as Yot barked her husband's name. It was a dangerous bark, and Pete knew better than to disobey.

"I've made quite the mess in your wife, and I still need to hunt for dinner tonight. Which I can't do in this state." The coyote's stomach growled. Pure hunger. "So come clean me off."

Despite the ferocity of his animal orgasm, the coyote had remained impressively erect. Even his knot was somewhat inflated. And he was dripping, cloudy puppy-rich cum drooling to the barn floor. To say nothing of what coated his shaft, his crotch, the thick fur that covered his scrotum. Yote cum, precum, and the squirts of his own wife's nectar, all over a more dominant canine. Peter bit his lip. Fuck.

"Hurry up, cuck. Or I'll eat you instead."

For all of his trickster heritage, this coyote wasn't joking. Pete knew it. What a choice: lick the coyote's... penis, or fill his belly. Who knew how hungry this animal was. How hard those fanged drooling jaws would bite. What if he went for the balls?

Yipe!

Pete stood and walked, trembling, over to the coyote. He stood next to the larger male, covering his balls with his tail. The coyote pointed a finger-claw, down, to his crotch. He was smirking, revelling in how well this evening had gone. Pete felt sick. He thought of payback, of kicking or stamping on the coyote, then snuffed out those thoughts in a second. Even if he landed one blow on this nimble coyote, the canine would probably maul him to within an inch of his life. He dropped to his paws and knees, on the bare stone floor. He leaned in, breathing in as he did so... and the scent of post-rut animals hit him like a sandstorm. He retched, a wave of nausea making his stomach roil.

"Come on Pete, be a champ."

The retriever's eyes were watering. He blinked, nodded, and held his breath as he leaned back in. The canine cock was twitching gently. So similar in shape to Pete's... but so much bigger, thicker... harder. Trying not to sniff, the retriever touched a tentative tongue to the coyote. His wife's scent was there, light and sweet and familiar. But it was a side-note to the taste of coyote cum. Rich, sweet in its own right, and laden with a spiciness which, in a way, befit the desert dog. Pete took the slightest taste of mixed coyote and German shepherd onto his tongue-tip. The coyote seemed content for Pete to take his time. He must have thought that the retriever was suffering enough. Small mercies. More boldly then, Pete lapped up a bigger drop of cloying animal fluid, and swallowed it down. The taste itself, though acquired, he could just about handle. Even though he was licking another male, swallowing another dog's semen, and now the coyote's sperm was inside him, living, violating, wriggling... again he lurched, his stomach threatening to heave. So he paused, trying to dislodge that thought. He gulped hard, and he continued the task. He even got some approving growls from the wild hunter.

When Pete had swallowed the worst of the semen, the coyote scritched his muzzle-top and gently pushed him back. Pete watched, crouching, while the coyote fondled himself a few times, enough to slip knot and cock mostly back into his sheath. Rising to his paws, he padded to his discarded trousers, and slipped them back on.

"Well, we all had fun tonight."

Donna and Pete both stared daggers at the coyote, who looked more amused than ever.

"Oh come on lovebirds, don't look at me like that. Donna, you've been aching for a big canine to satisfy you for ages. As for you, cuck, that is how you fuck a bitch."

Pete squirmed under the coyote's stare.

"And if you still got a problem with that, at least you finally got some healthy pups. De nada. Take care, Donna. Pete."

The coyote quirked a glance at the tame male, before he turned on his paws, slipped from the barn and slipped from their lives.

If only.

Pete held his wife tight, and managed one or two humps before Donna pushed him off. He apologised, and Donna said nothing. Way too late to assert yourself now.

And even at that moment, though Donna wouldn't suffer that telltale sickness for several weeks, she knew right then, deep on some instinctive level, that her body and her life would never be the same.