FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This is part of an anthology series I'm adding and working on, inspired by a lot of great works I've read by my new friend Inja

Please go and check out their works and their page, HERE(Linked)

*They have a massive collection of stories and varied content, You will find something that you like I assure you. *

This anthology will include certain story-lines which will be connected to each other, but other random and unrelated stories as well. All characters here-in belong to me, if you would like to use them, include them or reference them, let me know and I will be happy to get back to you. These stories are mine less otherwise collaborated on, and So peal do not repot or use them without permission;

*(Heh, the fact i think people would is a warning flag about my ego isn't it?) *

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:Warning:

The following story contains adult material and depiction's of sexual and Kink based activity. If you are under 18 or whatever age of consent in your Province, Municipality, State, Country, Nation etc. then do not read further.

You have been warned and told, and should you ignore or choose to look anyway even if you're not of age may your God (or gods, whatever) pour hot acid down your throat and dissolve your testicles into snakes (And if you're female, then your insides, since you don't have testicals, which may be a bummer for some of you or a blessing for the rest).

If you do not care for sexual or kink material then you can close the window or go elsewhere, and if you don't mind then enjoy, the options are free for everyone.

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The golden brown African hills loomed far and high under the midday sun. Hot and dry with only a light breeze to cool the heated landscape. The sounds of birds chirping and insects buzzing mixing together through the air was the only companion to the rolling plain of golden grass, grey rock, and brown dirt that composed the essence of the hill-lands.

For Ekin, it was a familiar sense of home, and filled him with a feeling of comfort. The Young painted dog had been born and raised in hills like these.The canine's tribe had also made their way through these hills many times before on nomadic tours around the region. He even recognized some of the rock croppings up ahead on the path. When they were in sight you knew you were on the right way home. Back to his tribe. They were camped far out in the eastern plains, on the edge of the African rainforest.

Ekin had without realizing it, been slowly picking up his pace as he walked. He was antsy to regroup with the rest of his forager party. They had been separated a few days ago, and he was hoping to have seen at least one of them before arriving home on his own. His worry over their safety gnawed at him from the back of his mind. So the painted dog slowed down a bit hoping to give them some time to catch up.

The sun however, was boiling today with the sky clear and cloud free, and Ekin found himself getting hot. He was a young warrior, almost twenty-one seasons. Bright furred with flashy green eyes and a narrow but sensitive nose. He could smell better than most of the experienced warriors and hunters in his tribe with that. Didn't help him too much when it was nearing bath day and the smell of the unwashed got too much to bear, but out here, it was a godsend.

He wasn't too tall, an average height of five-foot nine. His body was young and tested, showcasing lithe, limber and spry, which helped him run fast when he needed to do so. He wore an antelope furred kilt-cloth about his waist, with a tanned cow leather belt. A cowhide tanned vest laid over his chest and shoulders. The vest was open now showing off his bare and sweat covered chest.

Ekin was a bit of jewelers fiend among his tribe and as such wore a silver bracelet on his right wrist with a leather bracer on his left. A ruby embedded gold and silver band ring laid over his left hands middle finger, representing his families signet ring. The silver pendant around his neck gleamed in the sunlight, with its flashy finish, it was the most noticeable piece of jewelry about his body.

His love for trinkets had been one of many reasons that he had lagged behind the rest of the foraging party. He had fallen to temptation, seeing if he could pick up a new addition to his collection of artistic jewels. He hadn't found anything that stood out to him though. This time.

Ekin suddenly stumbled a bit as he hit a rather innocuous boulder and rock, recoiling from the smarting pain in his foot. As he had stumbled, it jostled and impacted the gold earring in his right ear, the two long eagle feathers attached to the earring shifting and blowing back and forth with the movements.

Looking down at his feet and legs, Ekin wondered if it made sense to keep them bare and looked to see if he had caught the rock because of the several gold toe rings he wore. The rings seemed to be fine, fish against is fur and flesh. So next he checked to see if it had been the set of furred lined cloth coverings that wrapped around his feet, to protect them from the harsh terrain. These too remained intact, so it must have been a simple trip. Usually the coverings were enough to protect his feet, but some rocks just felt more determined to hurt him than others it seemed.

The painted dog continued on, hefting his antelope skinned-satchel higher up his shoulder, bopping the leather skinned flask of water tied to it. Ignoring the water flask pummeling softly into his side for the moment, Ekin quickly checked over the several pouches dangling from his belt to ensure he hadn't dropped anything from his stumble. As always, he was careful of the pair of knives hanging there. One was a warriors dirk, the other was a hunters blade. Both were sharp and he would love to not cut himself...Again.

As he made his way up the hill, a sense of fear and caution slowly spread through him. A sixth sense of worry as he been to feel the openness of his surroundings. He was out in the open and on his own. This made him a very intriguing target. These back paths were usually less traveled during this time of day. That said, it was not uncommon for robbers or brigands to hide in the rocky outcroppings to waylay or ambush travelers. And of course there was him. His would be follower.

Aside from the blades at is belt, Ekin's only other weapons that he carried on his person was wrapped around his shoulder and arm. It was a sling. Mixed from leather and cloth, fattened around a bone carved handle. An accompanying bag of small polished black stones, lay around his belt. Self defense was only for when running and hiding didn't work, basically a backup plan. Even then, it was one Ekin planned to be prepared for when he needed it.

It was one of the few weapons that he carried on him other than his blades. This level of weaponry was the best available to him, as his tribe still feared and distrusted the use of the colonials guns. Weapons that belched out flame and thunder were seen by many to be demonic in nature. Ekin himself didn't buy such talk however. For demons could not bleed so easily, nor whine as much as the colonials often did out in the wilderness.

For longer range encounters, he even carried an atlatl launcher in his satchel bag, with several long darts. These weapons were efficient for a warrior of his size and stature, and carried with them a greater sense of protection than a sword or spear. Their long rang ability was comforting given the limited range of his sling.

The painted male began to pant hotly as he could feel the sun bearing down on his back and neck. He paused and knelt down as it was getting too tiring to keep going at the same pace. If there were highwaymen in the rocks, they could wait. Or come find him, cause he was going to take a breather.

Hopping upside a large rock outcropping that was sticking out like a sore thumb from the hills side, Ekin sat and dangled his foot paws over the edge of the rock. Leaning against the hot rock surface, he unslung his water flask and took a deep sip. The water was not as cool as he would have preferred, but it was cooler then the temperature of his dried out throat and body. Ekin had to be content with what he had. Of course he did appreciate how it slated his thirst.

Suddenly a loud clang like thunder echoed throughout the hills and responding area. Ekin jumped but not from the thunder. Instead it was from the loud hiss and explosion of gravel, dust, and shrapnel from the rock face he was leaning on. The impact occurred almost right beside his head, which caused his ears too curl in pain from the sound.

Ekin's first instinct was too drop to the ground, his keen green eyes immediately scanning the upper hills behind him. There on top of the upper hill he had only crossed less than twenty-minutes ago, was a lone dark figure. The figure themselves were clear, despite shielded by the sun behind them. It made their position hard to spot, but Ekin's keen eyes could make out his silhouette on the hill above. It was HIM again.

'The hunter is back.'

Ekin spat on the ground and cursed the gods. His spine sending a chilling response reverberating through his body. This hunter had been dogging him for a few days now, and he had believed he'd given the pursuer the slip an hour ago. It seemed the colonial foreigner was harder to shake then the average clods of his countrymen that spluttered off the large boats at Cape Horn, or came across land from the Zuurveld.

The painted dog saw the flash of the gun's muzzle and the puff of smoke from the second shot before he heard the clapping thunder. The moment he had seen the guns shot, he threw himself into the bushes beside the path. As he did so, another puff of rock, dust, and gravel exploded from the ground. Ekin looked and gulped when he realized that had he not moved so quickly, the shot may have gone right through him. He needed to get off this hill or else he's be at the hunters mercy.

The wild dog used the bushes to his advantage and made his way under them, crawling on belly and forelimbs. Eking his way slowly up the hill, using the bush and thickets for cover. He only needed to get far enough to be able to give a sprint over the top path. Then he would be heading downhill into the plains. Though that too was risky. The plains essentially formed an open field, with very little cover. Especially from a Mzungu with a long rifle.

Ekin didn't feel like he had much choice else however. He couldn't allow himself to be pinned down on the hill, nor could he wait for the hunter to make his way down here. The rifle may not help the foreigner in close combat, but chances are he also carried a shorter gun. A sidearm as they called it. They all now carried sidearms when they came into the wild lands. Ekin had no desire to risk the chance that this Mzungu might be the exception to the rule. So he made his way further up, holding his bag and flask close to avoid them being caught on the branches or thicket spikes.

Another thunder clapping belch echoed through the hills as the hunter fired once again. Ekin froze where he lay, wondering if he had somehow revealed his position. He waited and braced to feel a shot or for another near escape, but nothing happened. The hunter had no idea where he was. They had only fired hoping to scare Ekin into making a rash move and betray his whereabouts. Or to present a ripe target for the shooter.

'Smart,' thought Ekin. This hunter was certainly going through a lot of trouble to come after him. The painted dog had been leading this one for the last day and a half all around the territory. He had wondered why he was such a focus of the hunters ire?

So what if Ekin and his tribe mates had been raiding the colonials mining camp for the last two weeks? So what if Ekin and his friends had particularly been focussed on relieving the mine of its main two supplies; Food and digging equipment?

Of course he had thought that he'd given the hunter the slip a while ago. Their forager party had separated to prevent capture or being followed by the miners or others. This particular hunter had zeroed in on him in the last two days. Trailing him since Ekin had stopped to indulge his trinket obsession.

One reason the painted dog had entered the hills at midday was to make it harder to be tracked and more easier for him to hide and shirk the other. Up till this point it had actually proven to be a good decision.

The painted dog finally was nearing the end of the bushes and thicket covering, and held his ground at the edge. Taking another quick swig from the water flask, Ekin stretched his limbs and prepared for a direct sprint. He would need to be quick to avoid the hunters bullets. Waiting for his courage to take hold, he closed is eyes and breathed gently and directly.

Ekin had no fear of death, or at least the death part. His soul was well protected and would join his ancestors with welcoming arms. It was the dying part he had a fear of. He'd seen what gunshots could do to someone. What was worse was the idea that the hunter may even skin his body, to use his pelt as a trophy and warning to others. Many of them did that now a days, regardless if the prey was feral or evolved.

That thought made him not even hesitate before he launched from under the bushes and went from trotting into a fierce run up the hillock. The bang of the rifle shattered the peaceful silence, but Ekin could not stop, all he could do was zig zag himself back and forth as he made his way up. The painted dog making himself as hard a target as he could. Another shot rang out, and this time Ekin felt the splash of something across his thigh and legs, but he felt no pain. He didn't know if he was shot, though his body acted like it had no idea either, so he didn't stop.

His speed and his determination paid off as he finally made it. He crossed over the hill and summersaulted with the momentum, landing out of range of the hunters rifle on the hills backside (and on his own as well). He was safe for now and had put some distance between him and the hunter. It would take the foreigner some time to safely make his way down and then up the hills after him.

Ekin used the time and freedom to catch his breath first off. Then he checked over his body to see if he was bleeding anywhere. There was no exit wound, and no smell of blood in his nose. He looked down at his thighs and saw that they were soaked and drenched. The first thought the painted dog had was that he had lost control due to the fear and adrenaline and had leaked over himself. Yet there was no smell of that either. Fingering around his belt and pouches, he finally found what had been responsible for dousing his legs.

The last bullet had missed Ekin's side by inches and instead had pierced his water flask, dumping the contents upon himself in his flight. The dog found himself laughing as he realized how close it had almost been.

In fact that had been too close to call, and Ekin realized with a start that he could not get into the open with someone this eagle eyed behind him. Not with his sight and ability with a gun. Ekin needed to turn the tables on the hunter and make a stand on his terms. So he began scanning the area around him. He grinned as he saw something of great potential use to him, if he could just bait it right.

Keenan Talbot paused at the top of the hill as he watched his quarry sprint like a gazelle out of the bushes he had been hiding in. Raising the Mauser 98-sportier, Talbot took aim through the brass scope attached to the top of the gun. The painted dog thief was quick. Keenan fired and watched aimlessly as the shot missed by a long mark. Issuing a grunt of annoyance he pulled the lever bolt back and ejected the used round, sliding it back forward to load the next, and followed the blur of the painted dog in his scope. This time he could make out and keep up with his quarry's movement and fired again. The second shot was as unsuccessful as the first, the dog below being far too quick. The painted dogs speed was paying off as he finally managed to clear the top of the hill below and disappeared right from Keenan's sight.

Keenan cursed and almost howled in anger. He had been so close, so very close. After the painted dog had slipped him an hour and more ago, he had been looking to get the drop on the little Kaffir.

Spotting him right there down the hill after the hound finally had made it to the top of the larger one behind. Talbot had been unable to believe his luck. If not for that damn sun, he would have been right on target with his first shot. But the sun was hot and his foreheads creeping sweat had eloped into his eye at the wrong moment. The shot had thus arched, and missed. Though just barely.

His prey was smart however, and once alerted to danger he had taken defensive maneuvers. Keenan groaned and leaned back to wipe fresh sweat from his brow, hefting the gun as he readied to reload the now empty rifle magazine.

He was a tall Irish wolfhound, lanky and grey furred. A shaggy mane about his neck which did him no favors with the current heat. His was a lanky and powerfully built body for a twenty-three year old from Kilkenny. He had a splash of white across his muzzle and chest, a broad nose and brown syrupy eyes. His nose was so impressive that he could even now, smell the painted dogs sweat. Wile his keen ears had picked out the dogs laugh from overside the hill.

The mockery aside, Keenan groaned and shook his fur. A patient hunter took time to prepare himself first before his quarry. Such care prevented a lot of other further hardships when you actually caught up to them too. He was also just plastered in sweat, and it was growing uncomfortable.

The wolf-hound wore a tight grey fitted waistcoat overtop a dark stripped shirt, and a pair of leather suspenders. A leather satchel hung off his shoulder and back, tied to a large fur lined sheath to store his riffle. He wore a long bowie knife about his waist as well as a series of pouches, and an engraved and polished nickel-plated Trantor revolver conversion.

A set of bandoliers was strapped along his chest and middle. The upper carrying the rifles 9.3 x 62mm-rifle ammo, and his waist belt carrying the .38-rounds for the revolver. His only other attire were cotton based pants and a set of British military issue boots.

The wolfhounds own round water canteen lay pinned to his belt from the back, which he fished from behind him. Swigging the water, he carefully unloaded five rounds from the top bandolier. Relieving his rifle of its magazine, the wolfhound began to refill the rounds. He wore a set of fingerless leather shooting gloves to help him hold his weapon better.

As he sat reloading the rounds, the wolfhound glanced at the gold signet ring on his pinkie and the other on his middle finger. Hs families rings, one from his father, the other from his mother. He hoped their protection would see him through this hunt.

Lifting his paw he wiped a stream of sweat from his forehead, brushing along the emerald stud in his right ear. Laughing at the sudden memory of getting the stud on a dare back home. Now he was far from there and doing something equally as stupid and dangerous. The places he went may change, but circumstances seemed to remain constant in his life.

Keenan reloaded the magazine and placed it back in the Mauser. Cocking the bolt action lever he readied the gun and got on the move. The dog was too big and too laden down to run as fast as he normally could, so he trotted briskly down the path. Following the painted dog.

The Painted dogs had been robbing the Quinton-Dickens mining company blind for months. They creeped in during the night and raided the supply and equipment sheds. Stealing food, shovels and pick axes by the armful, always taking as much as they could carry (and get away clean with). The foreman had been getting so much flak from the miners and owners for the constant need to resupply, that he had had well enough. His orders to Keenan had been precise and direct. "Make it stop." The only way the dog knew how to do that, was with a good example for others. So he needed a pelt. Or a head.

Now Keenan was on the hunt. Four years as a scout and tracker for the British had paid its way to this point. Having to put up with the pompous and pigheaded red-coated gentry who made up the officer class, and the posh full of themselves gits that made up British regulars. Then there was the Irish like him; Who had to fight to be seen, be even louder to be heard, and had to manage to to keep their heads down so they didn't get lobbed off by the rest of them. Now it was all paying off, for he was entrusted with this mission alone. The company had known his background when they hired him to protect their interests and guard the mine. The wild dogs weren't usually a big threat to the mine directly, (rival miners or robber gangs were the primary threat), but the supply lines were taking a hit, and the company couldn't allow that.

Keenan had picked up this painted dogs trail sometime in the morning a day and so ago, and had been dogging him since. Now he was closing in, and both him and the painted dog knew it was nearing the end of the chase. Whose end it would be was still to be decided however.

The wolfhound wasn't a fool. He had been in Africa long enough to know the fighting spirit of the indigenous peoples here. He also knew the power and danger of a desperate beast when panicked. Evolved or feral, a cornered prey was a cornered prey, and would react like one. As he thought on what lay ahead, he palmed gently the silver and wooden beaded rosary and cross hanging from his neck. He hoped the mother would be on his side today and protect her wayward son.

As Keenan made his way down the path slow to trot in case of ambush, he rested his hand over the butt of his revolver to reassure him. The gun had been a gift inherited from his father. It was an old piece, but a well cared for one. His father had carried it back when he was stationed in India, during the mutiny. It had seen his father through that ordeal, and was considered good luck among his family.

Originally from back in the time they used ball and shot, though his father had paid for it to be outfitted for cartridge conversion. Thirty-eight round configuration to be exact. It was nickel plated with ivory grip handles, and heavy decoration and etching marks engraved along the butt and muzzle. It had been his fathers only parting gift to him aside from the golden pocket watch which was currently in his vests inner pocket. The presence of the weapon made make him feel safer out here in the wild.

A trained painted warrior was fair enough with just a knife, and could cut his throat in the dark if he wasn't careful. He also had to watch his step, otherwise he might lose the trail. The painted dogs were powerfully adept at fading into the wilderness and hiding their tracks. This particular one had dragged him half way through this entanglement of hill and rock for an entire day. Setting false trails, faint trails, burying some of his trails. He was almost a fox from back home with his cunning.

Keenan was now even feeling more than just apprehension. It was being mixed with the excitement of the chase and hunt. It was feeling the tinge of arousal. The excitement worked him up, for he hadn't managed to take care of himself for over a week now. Too busy and to alone for his liking, or for much other use. Even his paw didn't cut it anymore.

Keenan made his way to the top of the hill where he'd seen the painted dog scurry over the side and down the other. He hefted his rifle from his shoulder into his grip and heaved himself forward over the hump, crouching at the top of the hill. There was no need to present himself as a giant target right off the bat.

Only silence greeted him. The path on the other side of the hill was totally deserted and bare. With not but a winding dirt path that led downhill past a series of thicket bushes and a large rock hill outcropping that opened into a cave mouth. Just beyond that was the start of the golden plains, the tall grasslands stretching as far as one could see.

Keenan's eyes scanned the flatland beyond to see if he could see the lone figure of the painted dog making his way overland. There was nothing to be seen. The land was flat and the grass didn't grow taller until you reached further towards the heavier set of jungle to the east and south. A cold chill of wind blew across his face then, carrying with it a heap of scents, but none of which smelt like the painted dog. The wind was coming from the direction of the plains, the gusts carrying it up the hill with a billow of dust. That meant the other had either stopped giving off a smell, or he wasn't down that way.

That left only one clear place for his quarry to be hiding. The cave mouth. Keenan lifted up the Mauser and used the scope to peak at the cave. He then spotted it there, hanging right off the side of the jagged rock opening. A discarded water flask hanging from a pointed outcropping at the mouths edge. Spread alongside it on full display and acting as confirmation, was a tuff of painted fur. It was enough to convince the hound that he had finally cornered his prey.

Shouldering his rifle, Keenan drew his Trantor revolver and cocked it. Holding it close to his side he approached the cave mouth with caution. Crouching down low he approached from the mouths right side. Keeping the revolver trained on the open-way, he slowly maneuvered himself until he was leaning along the outside of the cave. Taking a deep breath, he took the plunge and leaped into the opening and fired. The shot echoed throughout the cavern, as did the sound of the shot ricocheting off the rock wall inside.

As he heard the ongoing evidence of the caves emptiness, his hound senses and ears flickered as his eyes looked up. Right directly above the cave mouth, and looking down from on top, was a grinning painted dog muzzle. The cur had perched and laid down on top of the outcropping and baited the hound below inside. Now he was above the wolfhound, twirling a leather and cloth sling, eyes narrowing in on the Irish's face.

Keenan growled as he finally realized it was he who was caught, but still not dead yet. With a whine of frustration mixed with desperation, the Irish wolfhound drew back and lifted the revolver in one action, cocking it once again as he did so. The painted dog gave a gulp as he saw the hound meant still to fight, taking quick aim before letting loose the sling and stone inside.

Just as the revolver sputtered more fire and smoke for a second time, the black polished stone thwacked into the wolfhounds head and he was out instantly. Only the greeting of internal darkness met him, as he knew no more of the world around him. Or the world within.

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Keenan groggily shook his head as he slowly came back to. His vision was blurry and seeing double before it began to clear up as he shook it off. The first thing he felt was the cold of the wind upon him. The first thing he heard however, was a slight chuckle. followed by the sound of paws moving over dirt. A sot paw stroked along his chest and that's where he realized he was not wearing a shirt, or his vest. He was bare chested. His dark grey fur on display.

He also realized that he wasn't wearing his boots either, or the silk socks, he was in fact bare-pawed. Thank the maker he still had his pants on, but his bandoliers and belt were missing. As were his weapons. To top it all off as he tried to piece together why he was half naked, he had to contend with a smarting headache.

When the wolfhound tried to rub the aching spot on his head, he found that both his arms were tied by a set of weaved grass ropes about his wrists. Keenan groaned as his eyesight slowly returned and he looked about to see he was tied below the cave mouth, with the woven rope anchored around the top of the cave's opening.

Standing in front of him, equally as loosely dressed was the painted dog, giving him that same wide toothed grin he had shared before bonking the wolfhound with a stone.

Keenan growled but it came out less impressively as it soon devolved into a pained whine from the pounding ache of his head. The painted dog laughed then, and flicked his eyes toward the struggling captured hound.

Keenan resented that laugh at first, not because it was taunting him, but because part of him couldn't help but find it cute. Scowling at his own foolishness, the wolfhound turned his head away from that smile and laugh and grumbled to himself.

"Awake are we?" Said the painted dog in well versed english. He was a bouncy and cocky little sod, always moving about eyeing the hound before him. He waved at the dog, watching as the hounds eyes followed the movement of his hand. "Good, it seems your vision is okay," reassured the painted.

"You sound almost glad of that." The wolfhound muttered.

"I am actually. When I found that my sling had only wounded you, not killed you...I was thankful. Causing others harm is not something I take any pride in...Unlike some."

"Strange given you are the one who tried to stone me to death!" Snarled the wolfhound angrily. He spat the last bit towards the painted dog. Keenan gave a further pull on the ropes, but the material had been woven quite well, and wouldn't budge. Every-time he pulled on it, the rope tightened along his wrists.

"As I recall, it was you shooting at me mutt!" Growled the painted dog. It was the first time since Keenan had seen him, that he had shown any direct aggression...Other than bonking him with a sling. "You begrudge me for defending myself?" Te painted dog looked almost art by the last statement.

"You are a thief, you and your kind. Robbing my company blind. Did you think we would just let you keep stealing from us?" Glowered the male hound. "How does your tribe handle thieves dog?" He muttered dejectedly.

"I can safely say we do not go on a shooting spree like you. Though you were closer than you think," gloated the painted dog eagerly. His painted toes curling as he glanced over the hounds rippling muscles. Turning his painted head to the right, the African dog showed off a leaf and grass poultice plastered to the side of his head just under his ear. "That last shot you fired. Any more spaces to the left and that would've been my head, and not a simple graze wound." Reassured the painted mutt.

"Expecting me to care for a thief and rogue's health and safety doesn't seem to be a good interrogation strategy," mocked the wolfhound smugly.

"No, but I thought your ego could use some assistance," shot back the other dog. Ekin had to admit that while the hulking wolfhound was a foreigner and had recently been hunting him, he was rather handsome. The painted dog also loved the way he could get the big dog flustered by playing coy with him.

"My ego has nothing to do with this thief!" Growled back the wolfhound, awkwardly trying to hide the blush on his cheeks from the painted dog's play.

"Yes, we steal from your mining camp," continued Te wild dog, snoring the hounds last words. "Your tools make good trading material, and we need your food. The Wazungu have taken too much of our farm lands, and your mining and settlements drive away the prey. We're starving in the hills and plains." The painted dog frowned as he sat in front of the captured hound.

Now that the wild dog was sitting on his knees, Keenan could see more detail about his body. His bare chest and stomach were now more defined and visible. From the new view Keenan could now see that the painted dog was quite thin. Much thinner than a capable male of his age should be.

"That's not my problem," whispered the hound. His eyes lowering as he looked away.

"Maybe not, but it's the cause of our problem, and ironically now yours, Mzungu," replied the painted dog confidently.

"Say that to my face, Kaffir!" Growled the hound dog. That name had been what the miners and old guard at the mine had used to describe the painted dogs, and other African indigenous. It seemed fitting to use it in response to the painted canine's own slur. It paid off as the name seemed to have an effect, as the painted dog growled and looked angry. He scowled towards the hound and bared his fangs and teeth aggressively.

"My name is Ekin of the Feathered Ears, not...THAT!" The painted dog hissed. His signs of initial anger started to settle down quickly though. His eyes publicly sized up the struggling and glaring hound with a quick glance. Keenan could see from the look on the other's face, it was clear that he was pondering on something.

"I can tell by your accent hound, that you are no Afrikaner," began the painted dog calmly. "No, you came to us from across the large water with the rest of the red coated kind," he emphasized. "That means I know that you were taught that word by someone else....Someone who was more ignorant than a newcomer like yourself. I for one wouldn't want to keep such company, and especially not if I was as handsome as you." Finishing with a flick of his tail, Ekin gave the tall hound a wink.

Keanan's face went sickly pale as he nearly had a heart attack. He had not been expecting that. Gazing over at the painted dog, the hound realized that Ekin couldn't be more than a year or two younger than him. With a strong bare chest just like his, and a set of dazzling green eyes that seemed to see more than they let on. Shaking his head the hound tried to dislodge any notions of finding the other male attractive. He was tied up, with barely any clothes on, freezing among this wind shorn rock opening. The painted dog before him was his captor, and he had no idea if he was set to be fried, or boiled yet. The last thing Keenan needed was his dick thinking for him. What did it actually matter how long he had been alone and unfulfilled?

"Though, I do agree that respect needs to be mutual," replied Ekin gently. "Therefore I can't keep calling you Mzungu either. So, what would you like me to call you?" Asked the other dog honestly.

Keenan was taken back once again, but recovered from his shock quicker this time. He grumbled, but the young canine was being fair. So he should be too.

"My names...Keenan. Keenan Talbot."

"A strong name," answered Ekin gently. He pulled a small cloth from a pouch around his belt and started dabbing it around the Hounds chest and head. He must have noticed the confused look the hound was giving him because he gave a reassuring smile. "When my stone hit you, you bled quite a lot. I had to clean your wound...And fur." Reassured the painted dog with another wink. The painted could see behind the other dogs wide brown eyes, and caught the willful glance in them every time Ekin winked at him.

"And this?" Mocked the wolfhound, indicating the ropes around his wrists.

"Those are...For my protection and yours," answered Ekin. "Be honest Keenan, you didn't just plan to kill me did you?"

The accusatory tone in the painted dogs voice made Keenan look away with a shred of shame. No, he had intended far worse than that.

"Bad enough to kill me, but to defile my body, and for what, a trophy?"Accused Ekin again. "A sign of your capability as a hunter? I would hope my pelt would be of far more use than bragging rights, even for one like you." Ekin paused dabbing away the sweat and blood from his prisoner's fur. Gently working his fingers over the taught hound muscles in those arms and shoulders. "It's a shame to keep such strong limbs in bondage, but as stated. I like my fur where it is."

Keenan growled but there was little to it. Ekin was more clever than he looked and had laid it out well. He was right, the painted had every right to want to protect his skin. Quite literally. The Irish wolfhound couldn't blame him for taking precautions.

Those skilled fingers along his body also felt really really good, stroking across his arms. Every now and then the African dog would be extra bold and run a brush of his fingers around the hounds neck and chest. They were lingering touches that both felt ripple through them.

Ekin admired the wolfhounds body. He was strong, maybe even stronger than Ekin if he wanted to be. He had tight muscles, so tight the painted dog could feel their bulge when he wiped his fingers over their top. He also loved the way the hounds body shivered whenever he was touched.

In his tribe such behavior between males was not uncommon. It was something that was allowed if not directly advertised in the public day to day of tribe life. Ekin himself had always found himself attracted to other males. Females were fine, but they didn't get him as worked up as men did. Now he was alone with another man, close to his age. All tied up and at his direct mercy. Ekin growled as he felt the tip of his dick begin to quiver and stretch from arousal. A waft of musk emanated from the visibly growing and aroused painted sheath.

Keenan gasped as he both smelled and saw the other male getting hard for him. Both their faces now shared the same shade of blush. Keenan couldn't take it and turned away, only for Ekin's paws to grip his chin and force him to look back at the painted dog.

"Don't look away," pleaded the other longingly. Leaning forward Ekin brushed his muzzle alongside Keenans. The two sets of eyes were now fully glued to the other. Cemented by an equal share of lust and slight fear. Enemies were not supposed to be looking at each other like this. And the feelings that the stares--and touches--were bringing up, made both young men excited...And afraid.

"Do you wish to continue further...Keenan?" Asked the painted dog gently. Keenan's response--almost instinctual--was too gently press his muzzle to the other canines.

What started as touching soon became pushing, sticking a tongue into the other man's mouth. The painted dog gave a purr and whine of surprise and pleasure and pushed forward even harder himself. The intimate embrace held both muzzles together fiercely. Their bodies sagging from the heat and touch from one another. Until they both had slipped to their knees, bodies pressed firmly into each other.

The wolfhound had been alone for a long time. He was tired of being alone. He was tired of being cold at night, he was just plain tired. He needed sexual relief desperately. Forgetting everything else, he simply wanted this painted dog, and he wanted him in every way he could manage it.

Keenan shuddered as he felt the almost possessive ferocity of Ekin's body as it was kissing him. The painted paws cupping his chest and face, holding him in place. The wild dogs mouth was equally hot and tasty. Neither canines could get over the feel of their tongues wrestling with one another as they shared spit and breath. It was a feeling of possession that made the Irish wolfhound shiver once more. His own sheathe plumping and bulging out as his hefty grey furred balls jiggled with their increasing arousal.

Ekin pulled away from their shared kiss with a gasp of breath, panting heavily as he stared back at the wolfhound. "S-S-Stand u-up," ordered the painted dog possessively. Flicking a lustful gaze over the hounds trapped body.

Keenan obeyed and pried himself off his knees with a grunt of effort. He couldn't use his hands and so he lifted with only his leg muscles. Surprisingly it was an exertion. Standing now displayed against the rock face, he stared back at Ekin with a slight look of trepidation. All the while panting in heavy arousal.

Keenan was not new to this kind of thing. He had long found himself attracted to both females and males, and had so from a young age. His experience sexually had been mostly with females, until he had joined the British army. One night in a bathhouse with a group of horny drunken officers and soldiers later, he had some experience with male bonding play.

Outside those secret and non publicized moments however, in his society, such male bonding was highly disproved of and socially despised. If it was not totally illegal. It was further social sucide and possibly a death sentence to engage openly in such behavior. Here in Africa it seemed that it was not as entirely considered taboo or secretive.

Ekin's body made Keenan's blood boil and his lungs want to howl. The handsome painted dog was cute, and forceful when he wanted to be. He was more than a simple dog, he was quick. The type of wit and cunning that was worthy of any rival of Keenan's from back home.

It could be the lack of sexual activity talking, but Keenan was ready to let the other dog do anything he wanted to him. His gaze flickering over the painted sheath, now fully unsheathed, with a thick red length. Ekin's knot was visible but small. The painted's cock however, was broad and beautiful in shape and size. A dark red spire of handsome dog dick, with a conical like tip. The dusty and white and black furred balls hanging below his flesh spear were massive and hefty. Their size made them bulge out from between his legs and they were impossible to miss when you looked directly down at his crotch.

The lustful sight of the other male made Keenan's own dick finally part fully from his sheath. His was tall and as conical, with a rough knot at its base. The wolfhounds arousal proudly prodded forward and tented through his pants. The strain and feel of his sensitive tip pressing against the sweat soaked material made the mutt growl and grown.

Ekin brushed a paw across his brow wiping off a sheen of sweat that had been formed by both his arousal and recent exertion. He admired the size of the tent in the other males pants and reached forward with his paws, taking the rim of the material in his firm grasp.

"Do you trust me?" Asked the painted dog coyly, winking at his captured prey with a fanged grin. He saw the wolfhounds brown eyes widen but his head nod slightly. Permission effectively granted, Ekin pulled the hounds pants down, releasing that straining dog cock to the open air.

Kicking the pants away, Keenan was now fully naked and presenting for his fellow lover. He blushed hard and turned his head. The intimacy and strange feeling in his gut was making him want to turn away. He didn't know exactly why.

The painted dog appreciated the look of the hounds dick. Keenan was big, but not obscenely so. At least seven and a half inches of firm hound cock, with a combination of red and pink coloring. His knot was all quite taught and very noticeable. The hound seemed to be so embarrassed about his dick being seen that he turned his had away once more.

Ekin however, could smell Keenan's musky sweat and arousal from his dripping unsheathed rod, deep in his nose. These foreigners seemed to be rather shy and embarrassed about engaging in such intimate arts. Perhaps it was some form of sexual play, but to what end, the painted dog had no clue. That aroused scent though, it betrayed the others bodies desire. If only he could be made to see it too. With a flash of brilliance, Ekin finally realized what was needed to make the hound accept that fact.

Keenan's distanced attention was suddenly drawn back to the handsome painted dog who suddenly lowered himself onto his knees. He was now crouching before the standing wolfhound, with his muzzle right alongside the hounds ample sized prick.

Ekin smiled up at Keenan and winked once more before leaning in to breathe a lusty breath across the Irish's proud standing cock. Recoiling slightly as the thick length bobbed and bopped his nose, while above a wistful whine sounded from the grey canines clenched muzzle. The painted dog now had the smell of the hounds arousal embedded in his nose, as a dash of pre-cum landed on it from that big dick bopping it. The moment the painted inhaled he got a full dose of the scent of Keenan's liquid lust. It made Ekin growl. He was now hooked on that scent and desperately wanted further tastes. Without further hesitation he dove forward and pulled that throbbing length straight into his warm tight muzzle.

Keenan moaned as he felt himself suddenly sheathed inside the painted canines dripping mouth. A soft and firm tongue gently prodded and lapped around the thick length and sensitive head of his dick. Trapped as he was inside the warm confines of his lovers maw. The wolfhound groaned as the tongue glided over and under his length, teasing and twisting the most pleasurable parts of his cock's head. The painted dogs actions were rivaling some of the most expensive prostitutes in Dublin with his passionate methods.

"Fuck! That's--eugh--good!" Moaned the hound briskly. His bound arms instinctively pulled at the grass ropes which still held firm. His body felt desperate to grasp and hold onto the painted dog's head and guide him. Just being able to touch the other would be more than enough.

Ekin's talented muzzle paraded itself over the other dogs dick. His tongue pressing along the firm shaft, feeling the blood pumping along the bulging veins. Passing over the pulsating beat that corresponded to the hounds heartbeat. The painted could feel it all, never mind the salted but creamed taste of Keenan's pre which was a unique find. The wild dog's tongue flickered around the hounds cock head, loving the way his lovers overly tensed body shuddered and shivered every time he did so.

Keenan rolled his head back and gazed up longingly to the sky. The sun had began to set. The swirls of pink, orange and red were spilling together, like someone had speared the sky and made it bleed across the horizon. He tried to lose himself in that bleeding skyline. Desperate to try and shake off the pleasure and shivering anticipation the young painted dog was bringing him with that working muzzle. It was all for nothing though, as Keenan's eyes suddenly crossed as he felt a rather generous flick of that tongue down his cock slit. The feeling was as alien as it was pleasurable and he howled like the wolfhound he was.

Ekin gulped as a splash of hot dog cream pummeled the back of his throat. A furious climax to go with that furious howl, as pump after pump of sizzling hound cum painted the Painted's mouth white. The wild dog gulped and swallowed rhythmically, placing a paw on the hounds firm nuts and squeezing gently to feel the depleting contents spilling into his gullet. His own arousal was rock hard and dripping as he tasted the foreigner's spunk. His free paw began to gently jack himself off, slow and steady.

Above, Keenan sagged along the rock face, his arms still held by the ropes. His legs were ready to give out from the strain of the thumping orgasm he just achieved. His dick was still slightly flickering inside the warm mouth of the other dog. His eyes desperately looked everywhere but below him, knowing fully well that he'd see a winking and cheerful gaze. He couldn't deal with that right now.

Ekin pulled off the spent dick and gave a few more loving licks to the head and sheath before he leaned back on his haunches. Slurping at still caked remnants of the hounds orgasm, he savored the salty creamy texture and feel. His paw still jacked his own throbbing prick slow and hard. Eyeing the gasping and shivering hounds body, the painted allowed a small smirk as he realized that the other dog was as physically drained as much as he was sexually.

Keenan however, couldn't pull his eyes away from the painted dogs large cock. The sight of the firm spotted paw pumping it in and out of its grasp, was a heavy turn on. Despite having just fired a few pent up weeks worth of canine jizz inside the other's mouth and stomach, his trooper cock began to refill once more. The sight of the slowly jacking canine making him get hard again.

"C-Cut these ropes...Now!" Demanded the hound keenly. His eyes glared at the painted dog who now found that he couldn't look away from the hound either. Rising to his legs, Ekin slowly made is way over to where both their clothes lay piled neatly. He pulled out his hunting knife from the pile, and gently made way over to where keenan stood panting heavily.

Keenan's eyes never left the bulging painted sheath and cock. Not even bothering to look at the knife in the painted dog's paw. As Ekin made his way over to the hound, they found themselves pressed against one another once again. He stared into the hounds eyes and shivered at the need and dominance he saw there.

Keenan growled as he pushed himself up against the painted's throbbing dick, and buried his muzzle in the young males neck.

"Cut these ropes and I swear that I'll return the kindness you've given me," promised the hound. Lapping with a soft tongue gently at the painted dogs soft neck fur.

Ekin gulped and looked as if he may reconsider, but then brought the knife up and began cutting the threads of the grass ropes. The blade was sharp and worked quick, and with a few slashes the ropes fell from the hounds arms.

Keenan stood still for one second, gently caressing over his arms as he ripped the last dredges of the grass ropes from his wrists. He then eyed the Painted dog with his hungry gaze. Finally flickering attention to the knife in the painted's paw.

Reaching forward quickly Keenan gripped Ekin's wrist and twisted, causing the knife to fall from is grip. Leaning into the painted dog, the hound brought his other paw to cup the males back and pressed him forward. Ekin was now pressed against the hounds chest, with their muzzles resting right beside the other.

Keenan looked at first as if he was going to bite the painted's throat, Ekin's eyes watering in slight fright as he thought maybe this was how he'd die.

Instead the hound softened his look, and brought their muzzles together in another firm kiss. Ekin instinctively pressed willingly now into the hounds bare chest, as the pair officially embraced. One free paw fell to Keenan's shoulder and gripped it hard. Holding on as both their legs and bodies wobbled from their growing heated passion. The hound even switched his grip on the others wrist in order to clasp their hands together.

Keenan blushed into the kiss, not realizing until now exactly how intimate he was getting with the other male. While across from him Ekin laughed into the other's muzzle. He found the wolfhounds actions quite amusing, and caring.

They broke apart reluctantly (if not for their lungs needing air desperately) and stared into each others eyes. Keenan gazed over the well endowed male in front of him and appreciated the athletic and trim body of the African dog. Across from him he saw looks just as generous as his own of his figure. The tension and desire had become too much to ignore for the hound any longer.

"Turn around. Now!" Growled the wolfhound. It was not a request or a command but a statement of being, which was how Ekin took it. Turning around as asked with a slight uneasy smile as he pressed himself against the cold stone of the rock hill. The moment he pressed his chest to the rough rock, a pair of large and tough hound paws clasped across his firm ass cheeks powerfully. They seized the flesh under their presence and kneaded like dough, making the African dog shiver and flex out of instinct.

A growl of appreciation signaled from the wolfhound as he felt and admired the African dog's butt, like he was inspecting livestock or a horse's haunches before racing.

"I like your ass," teased Keenan possessively, stroking a paw along the tense painted back and trialing it off at the split ravine between the pair of dusty and colored cheeks. The dog below him growled and shook his butt teasingly himself.

"If you like it so much, then prove it!" Moaned Ekin hotly, his hard erection curled below and pressed along his stomach.

Keenan grinned and reached underneath the panting wild dog and began gently to stroke along the young aching erection. Ekin's growl was quite fierce and sharp as he felt the tough paw close around his throbbing meat. He hadn't had a lover with paws this big in quite a while. The slicked wolfhound paw stroked up and down, with a firm grip. Up and down, up and down, stroke after stroke.

Ekin could feel his testicles throbbing at the steady masturbation from the wolfhound male. The actions and feelings they inspired, drew his sperm sacks to overflow as his blood boiled slowly along with the rhythmic pumping. He grit his teeth and shook as a second paw joined the one holding his dick and began to tease and play with his balls.

One large paw cupped the bulging heavy sack, as Keenan hefted the painted's balls and awed at their weight and size. They were hard to keep hold of in a single paw, and they rubbed and jiggled as any set of hefty breasts. Keenan admired them. So much so that he spent a long time feeling and mapping out every inch of the painted dog's dick, sheathe, and balls with his paws till he had memorized every contour and feel of their shape.

"You...You're very, g-good at t-this," mumbled Ekin.

"I can be even better," grinned Keenan, pressing his muzzle to the back of Ekin's neck and giving a lick from the base of his throat to the tip of his ear. Ekin positively shivered and gasped. Keenan followed his lick with trailing a paw from the firm painted ass cheeks, to stroking a thumb and forefinger between the soft parted crack. His finger etching along the tight little rose of the other males ass.

Ekin almost screamed. He had never had someone play with his ring before like this. Usually it was a matter of simple straightforward stuffing and pumping, but this hound was taking his time. He was feeling out the base of the painted dogs anal ring, hoping to drive his ecstasy firmly upwards. He was also succeeding.

Keenan gently ventured both his ring and trigger finger alongside the small rose shaped opening. Prying it open before sliding his fingers gently inside. The feel of the hot insides, and the painted males squeal as he was finger banged, excited the hound. It wouldn't take long to get Keenan's dick ready for a second feat.

Ekin pushed back against the inquisitive fingers, trembling at the way the small digits pressed their way alongside the inside of his ass walls. The forefinger tickling along his anal cavity, while the ring finger sought out the soft little bud of his cum button. The painted's body heaved and shivered, trying to dislodge himself from the hounds hold. This proved impossible as the hound had one of his hands shoved up the other dogs butt, while the other paw held the dog firmly in place by his dick. There was no pulling away.

Suddenly, Ekin stiffened his entire body and rolled his eyes up inside his head. A fierce howl echoed out of his mouth before it suddenly trailed off into a feminine whine. The hounds fingers had seemingly found his prostate.

Pinching the little bundle of nerves between his fingers, Keenan rubbed and fondled heartedly. This made Ekin finally lose it as his thick dog cock shook inside the hounds grip, before finally spurting all over the ground and paw.

Ekin painted the dirt and grass white, the globs of his concentrated spunk splattering all over the ground, around Keenan's thighs, and even all over the hounds own balls. Everything was completely drenched among surrounding area with painted dog seed.

Gasping for breath, the painted dog fell forward on his elbows, now presenting his trembling ass like an invitation to mount. An invitation that Keenan was ready to indulge.

Above the still trembling dog, the wolfhound grinned and took a look at the paw that had held the painted's cock. It was thickly drenched with white jizz, the thick globs stuck to his paw and firmly dripping. The smell made the hounds nose wrinkle as he made a face. Without further ado, he slapped that creamed paw into the crack of the other dogs ass. Rubbing the slick seed along the gaping pucker and then inside, flickering his seed soaked fingers to coat the dogs inner walls with slick puppy batter.

"I think that should be wet enough hmm?" Inquired Keenan, as he brought his still dripping paw to his own erection. Slicking his already slick length with a few strokes and rubs of the painted seed across his realigned cock. Keenan blushed a bit as he slathered another man's fluids all over his own dick, but that was needed to make his entry as easy as possible.

Lining his firm dick to the opening slicked pucker of painted dog crack, the hound hefted one paw to grip Ekin's balls, while the other gripped alongside his back ass cheek, just above the tail. Flexing hound muscles and leg joints, Keenan crouched over the other dogs presenting form, chest to back. Hunkering around the painted dog in a draped mounting position. Burying his muzzle into the males neck, the hound whispered into the twitching dogs ear.

"Just grin and bear it. Should be over soon," reassured the wolfhound gently.

Ekin turned his head so he could catch the hounds muzzle with a sweet lick and nodded. He had taken a dick before, but not one as thick as this hounds. His mouth had been barely able to swallow the whole thing, so he doubted his butt would fare much better. Still, they were both slick with the painted's fresh seed, and the hound seemed to be experienced himself.

The painted dog wasn't entirely prepared for the first push, or the way that thick rod penetrated inside him. The hound must have wanted to count on surprise to take way the initial pain, as he had speared himself inside with a speed that shocked Ekin. The painted dog's thighs shook and shivered as the hound encased his entire dick within that firm and heated ass.

Sheathing his entire dick inside had taken only one or two slick jabs, and a whole lot of open entry on Ekin's part. The hounds balls were now firmly pressed to the painted's tight cheeks. The wild dogs own set of huge balls were dangling and weighed down below, the top of his sack melding to the bottom of the wolfhounds own pair. With a growl and smile, Keenan held himself there as he felt the bulge of his knot french kiss the African dogs anal ring.

"That didn't take long, eh Ekin?" teased Keenan. He dropped his hold on Ekin's ass cheek and stroked a reassuring paw along the painted dogs sweat soaked back. The African dogs ears folded downwards and he pressed back as much as possible against the solid form of the hound.

Ekin's body was still spasming and shaking with after shocks from the hounds penetration. Keenan's actions however, had seemingly paid off. Ekin's body had recovered far quicker from being strikingly filled, then if the hound had gone slower and extended the sensations.

"Y-You-re, m-m-massive!" Squealed Ekin with short breath. Above him Keenan only shivered with tension and pride.

"And you're tight as shit, feels like I'm pushing my dick into a crevice," groaned the wolfhound. "I'm going to start humping in a few minutes alright?" He further warned. Hunkering his shoulders Keenan flexed his leg and ass muscles stiffly for the up coming exercise.

"Give me a second, then...Go," muttered Ekin, bracing his body and clenching with all of his paws.

Keenan abided by those wishes, loving the way the heated confines of the painted dogs ass flexed around his buried length. The extra squeezing from Ekin's clenching and stiffening of his muscles in preparation made the tight confines burn and tighten oh so very good.

As soon as he felt enough time had passed, the wolfhound pulled his hips back, drawing his tall broad cock out with a small gush of sweat. Pausing with just the conical tip pressed inside, he held himself still to gather the needed strength. With a grunt, the tall dog sheathed himself right back into the painted ass with gusto, his knots end now bumping right alongside the African dogs deeply puckered hole.

Ekin moaned as he felt the tight length push back inside him. The broad stiffened dog cock filling him deep and stretching him wide. He closed his eyes and grimaced as he felt that piercing tip reach his soft spot inside and flicker the little nub with his dick head. He could even feel the tall dogs humungous balls bracing and rubbing against his own. Aside from that, there was the feel of that tough bulging knot, tapping against his--as of now--clenching painted anal ring. It was threatening but intriguing.

Keenan had started a steady rhythm of pumping his length in and out of Ekin's hot butt, never fully pulling his dick tip out of the soft heated dog buns. Every time he would get out to his tip he would pump his hips, driving himself back in, over and over. He could feel the tightness of the inner walls stroking his rod on every pull and push of his hips. The pressure, heat, and sensation made his knees wobble, as the wolfhound clenched his toe claws into the dirt and grunted hard.

Below the tall sweaty dog, Ekin groaned and shook with the swell of pleasure he was receiving. Carried into a trance from the fierce pounding of the wolfhound now draping their body across his back. The painted dog smiled and began pushing back to meet Keenan's thrusts and take that hard hound dick like a champion.

Keenan reached with one hand and squeezed one of the painted dog's clenching paws in the grass. The other paw reached underneath and gently took Ekin's dick back into his hand. Fiercely pumping the slowly growing hard painted dick in time with his hips thrusts.

Ekin lowered his head and yowled as the hounds big dick touched him inside, stretching his anal walls harder and wider than he thought possible. Yet still the hound had not shoved his knot in. Keeping the little bundle of flesh taught, but safe outside the African dog's clenching ass cheeks. They were draped along each other, the hound and African painted dogs body sweat soaked and ragged as they mated beside the rock outcropping. Ignoring the nights wind billowing over them. The coolness of the evening air barley quenched the heated fire spiraling inside both dogs bodies as they humped and pressed into each other.

Nuzzling into the side of Ekin's draped neck, Keenan licked and bit possessively over the skin and fur there. The young wolfhound had been sexually deprived for a month now, feeling out of place with the miner's and hardened Afrikaners that made up the land. The boers also had little love for the redcoats, viewing them as barely equals who were trespassing and oppressing the so called Free state. It pissed Keenan off to hear the low muttered Boer language, able tp pick out obviously when they were insulting or mentioning him. As such he had not been comfortable enough or brave enough, to get off with anyone, or even on his own for ages.

Now he was here, butt-fucking a painted dog who was giving his body a run for its money. The fact he had previously been hunting this painted dog, didn't bother him anymore. It may be an unconventional way to meet and engage, but it was working well so far. As he pressed his tip back into the heated buns, trying to nudge that soft secret little pleasure spot inside, Keenan felt a sense of peace. He was surrounded by some of natures greatest creation, with a cool breeze on his back, and a firm tight ass and lithe lover bending for him, as he fucked the smaller dog silly. Life in this moment was good, and fuck everything else!

Ekin growled and pushed back harder to the thrusts and feel of the hound overtop of him. Among the feel of the pumping cock in his ass, and pumping hand over his dick, he was starting to peak once more to orgasm. Shivering as he let this foreigner mate him. To make him his personal toy. Part of the African dog felt shame at that. Knowing well, the evils that the hounds people had done to his own. Another part of him however, focussed on the feel of the pleasure the hound was giving him now. The gentle way Keenan sucked and licked across his neck. The way his body and hand was trying to make Ekin feel the most pleasure possible. As well, the fact that the hound had not yet forced his knot inside.

Ekin didn't know much about Keenan, but he took that action to show the kind of character the hound possessed. He was waiting for permission, not taking it by force. There was something to be said of that.

Keenan groaned as he felt Ekin suddenly lean upward, craning his painted and dusty neck so he could lick between the hounds eyes and press their cheeks together.

"Please...give me that knot," bestowed the painted dog gently.

The wolfhound looked startled for a second, dropping the other dogs dick form his hand to take Ekin's chin in his paws. Directing the dogs muzzle so they could look into each others eyes. "You sure?" Inquired Keenan stoically. His knot was pretty big, and the painted dog was already taking more of him then he probably thought (or wanted).

A bright nod from a painted face gave him the final permission. With a grunt of effort Keenan reared up on the wild dog's back, remaining still inside while both paws cupped across the painted dog's ass.

Holding Ekin firmly in place, the wolfhound pressed forward thrusting the knotted bulb through the clenching muscles of the dog's pulled rose-ring. Ekin grimaced and a small moan of pain and pleasure echoed over the pair of coupling males.

The knot finally made this way through, sealing the two together fully and in every sense of the word. With a grunt and groan, the pair stabilized each other. The wolfhound laid on top of his wild dog mount, running a paw over the heaving back and clenching thighs. Every time he felt the males tight clench, that heated passage constricted over his heated prick. The feel of the heat and that squeeze of the painted dogs inner way, was heavenly.

Keenan bright himself into a rhythm now, pumping in and and out of the fit painted ass. Each time he thrust, he tugged and jostled the knot, adding to both lovers pleasure. Pants and groans erupted from both canines mouths as their bodies slapped and thrusted together. The knot added a shared sense of pain and ecstasy with every pump and sway of hips.

The painted dog made an undignified squeal when he felt that impressive hound cock knock on the soft and sensitive nub inside him. As if sensing his peak nearing, Keenan brought his paw back to work and stroke along the wild dog's hard dick, which had gone unattended for far too long. Returning to the same pump and glide actions he had been mastering before.

Ekin's paw left the ground and began searching until he had clasped paws with Keenan's hold on his rear. Clenching their fingers together, the wild dog brought the paw to his muzzle, where he kissed it and then gripped hard. Above him, Keenan blushed before hoarsely grunting in growing exhaustion. For better or worse he was coming to the end of his stamina.

Humping back and forth, the wolfhound increased the stroking of his paw over the painted dog's large cock. He recoiled quickly, biting back a howl of pleasure as he plunged and stroked that tight spongy part of his lovers inner sanctum. Ekin's body equally convulsing as the large dick pummeled his prostate, and the knot tugged and stroked his inner canal.

The complex series of sensations became too much too withstand for either canine. Both their bodies flushing tight to the other as they were carted off the mountain high they'd been building up together. A massive howl erupting from Keenan's muzzle to the night sky, while Ekin's barks of lust pelted the ground. With a massive heave and spurt, the painted dog fired off several large thick ropes of cum. The heavy seed splattering all over the dirt and and grass.

Keenan's hips were taught and flexed, as he too began pumping the bulk of his large balls into Ekin's rump. Wallowing in pleasure and slight pain as that tight painted butt clenched and squeezed, milking every drop it could. Both dogs groaned and grunted as they held still, pumping their pup-batter all over the ground or in the others rectum. The shared connection of their paws holding firm. They clenched and squeezed in solidarity with the other. Howls had long since died in their throats, now only trickling into moans and gasps.

The tall hound collapsed with a "oompth" onto the back of his lover, while the painted dog slowly lowered into the grass, careful to avoid the splattered mess he had spurted.

Ekin huffed, but bore the weight of the giant hound with pride. He preened with the affection the dominant dog was giving him, enjoying the way the hounds tongue licked and nibbled on his neck and ears. Followed shortly with soft whispers. They rolled onto their sides, spooned together. The warmth of each other's bodies comforted the other from the slight cool breeze. Paws held tight as the painted dog deviously would clench his anal muscles to tease the hounds still trapped knot.

Keenan moaned and swatted the painted dog's butt briskly, before stroking his chest fur and kissing the dog's eyelids. The wolfhounds chest was pounding, his heart beating, all the while his head became weary. His body was weakening from a desire for sleep combined with strenuous exhaustion form the intercourse. Alongside him, Ekin groaned and yawned as well. Both canines soon were asleep, all entwined together in the grass.

---

When Keenan awoke, the dark sky was trickling streams of orange and pink. Being flash flooded with the coming dawn. His arms were sore from so long bound the other day, and his legs and back ached from the massive level of sexual exertion. Still he felt good. Rested and cleansed at having the tensions and desires that had built in him for so long, finally released.

The grass felt cool on his back and there still was a nightly breeze that refreshed his sweaty brow. Reaching over beside him to pet the painted dog, he gave a start when he realized that the other canine was not there.

Keenan's eyes flickered around and finally caught the painted dog's unique fur coloring. He was sitting fully dressed just a few feet away. Leaning against the cave mouth, holding his shoulders as he gazed up to the sky.

"Something wrong?" Inquired the wolfhound, sliding his large body into a cross legged stance. He had to ignore the still dripping head of his arousal, which even placid was still impressive.

"Where do we go from here?" Inquired the painted dog sadly. "Can you go back without proof of a good hunt?"

No. He couldn't. There was the issue, no matter how much fun he had had with the African dog, they were still opposed as enemies. The real question was, would he be able to go ahead and kill Ekin now?

"I--I c-could say I never found you, any of you," offered the wolfhound. "They won't be happy, but it would be acceptable." It was true, no other hunter or hunting party had managed to capture a single painted dog so far. It wasn't like it would be that bad of an excuse.

"...Maybe you could use this?" Answered Ekin with his own offer. Unhooking the eagle feather and earring from behind his ear. The last feather he took and wove it into his fur, tying it using his hair. The earring and feather he offered to the tall wolfhound while smiling bashfully.

"My tribes eagle feathers are well known among those who dwell at the open pit. It could be proof enough yes?"

Keenan realized that the "open pit" must mean the mine. Nodding in thanks, he reached forward and accepted the feather.

"This...Could work, they wanted a pelt, or a head, but this would work." A trophy was a trophy.

Ekin's smile turned to a frown as he contemplated something. Those eyes puzzling over. Keenan found he like the look of the painted dogs green eyes. There was something about the way they sparkled when he seemed to be in thought.

"What?"

"...This means you'll be leaving?"

Keenan thought about that. He did have his trophy, which should be enough for the mining bosses. That said he was unsure if he should leave now. There was still one last issue. Or maybe two, though the second was one he wasn't ready to admit.

"Can't do that yet," he replied, laying a paw on Ekin's shoulder. The other canine looking up at him puzzled.

"Even if I take this feather back, if you keep stealing from the mine, they'll send me again. Next time they'll expect far more and if I can't deliver, tehn they will find and send those who can...And will." Warned the hound.

"Then how can we prevent that? We steal cause we need to live," whimpered the African dog.

"Perhaps we can find a way to negotiate some form of trade?" Contemplated Keenan brusquely. That might work, if both sides could trade and or negotiate too equally survive.

"You can do this?" Asked Ekin.

"...I can try."

Ekin placed his muzzle alongside the wolfhounds, having to stand on his toes to do so, and nuzzled gently.

"Then let's try. You'll have to meet my tribe to do so though."

"And where are they?"

Ekin pointed down towards the grassland plains and beyond. "They're that way. Several days that way."

"Then we best get a head start, especially before that sun returns and bakes us like worms," finalized Keenan.

It took a few minutes for the wolfhound to dress, and gather his weapons, shouldering the rifle, and his pack. Beside him Ekin had gotten his effects together as well. The two canines making a strange sight. Together looking down the trial to the grass plains.

They didn't exchange any further words, they didn't need to. Their path was set before them and they were both agreed upon it. Without any further provocation, they started walking. Making their way down the hill and into the wild.

Into Africa.