FSE

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Fynn didn't really see much of anything going by on either side of the trail while he walked, gravel crunching beneath his footpaws and wind rustling gently through his fur and sweat-soaked clothing. Or, rather, he saw_the fields of tall grasses and grain dancing gently where he stood, he _saw_the custom scarecrows decked out in old T-shirts and junky hats picked up from the sides of the roads, he _saw the barbed-wire fences in various states of maintenance, but he didn't perceive any of this.

Instead his mind kept the events and "activities" of the day locked solidly in the forefront of his awareness, flashing into stark clarity each time he blinked. There was Asha beside him gesturing him into the stables where he expected he'd spend the next few hours sweeping hay and "road apples", as she referred to them - and instead receiving another in-depth tutorial on just what to do with the feral horses, and how, including a detailed demonstration from Ash herself. Then overalls and fur slightly stained, she left him to do the real work that he had expected there while she went off to work with the cows, and the sun had risen high into the sky before the two hyenas saw each other again, her cookies-and-cream stripes already dusted and smeared with tags of hay and clods of dirt and who knows what all else, and Fynn's spots inseparable from similar stains some of which smelled a bit worse.

Then from there it was on to working in the fields, a task automated on most commercial ranches and farms but still done by hand on smaller independent ranges like Asha's. Head still full of horse ass - how could it not be, with two and a half hours spent sweeping back and forth between them, pausing to look every time one swished its tail or stamped its hindlegs - it had taken him a while to notice the hell that the stalks were wreaking on his bared handpaws, and then in the middle of the afternoon she had had to take him back into the house to pick out a thousand little needles and get him some gloves, during which she, naturally, unbuttoned the top of her overalls and let everything just air out.

And then for some reason that had filled his thoughts for the rest of the afternoon, spotted hyena never straying far from striped, looking over her sleek yet muscled, weathered form a short distance away, watching the way her puffy mane blew in the breeze, how her clothing shifted each time she reached up to wipe at her forehead, how her lips pursed and sharp, broad fangs glittered when she turned her head and spat onto the ground -

-how her plump sheath and full, hefty balls bounced and sagged in the heat of the day when she whipped it out to take a piss right there in the field, all of her short, thick fur glistening through with the gathered wetness of a full day's sweat; how the lip of her sheath stuck against her tapered canine head inside, folds of supple, succulent flesh essentially glued in place for a moment before pulling free, coaxed along by the swelling burst of rich yellow so hot it shimmered in the heat of the day, and how she kept her balls cupped in her other paw, bouncing and swinging them until beads of sweat jumped free. How she shook herself off, rolled her sheath skin forward and back and forward again, bunching it all up into a sticky mess of overlapping wrinkles and folds still dribbling; how she wiped herself off on the fur of her bare forearm, then scooped everything back into her overalls, sniffed at her paw, reached down, adjusted herself again, zipped back up-

_ _

-And now Fynn blinked again, swallowed, and reached into his own pockets to adjust an insistent, stirring pressure, twitching and throbbing trapped within damp denim and sweat-soaked boxers underneath. As he had done so many times already on the walk back to the house, the spotted hyena glanced over at Asha beside him, her ragged tail swaying behind her in rhythm with her steps; she looked off in the other direction with one of the shovels resting over her shoulder, spinning it idly this way and that as she went, the tune of one of her current favorite songs whistling out into the breeze from between pursed lips.

Head up, shoulders back, mane arched, hips swishing, swaying, bouncing... overalls swelling just slightly enough between her thighs to give a hint at what hung and swung there, brushing up against the sweat-soaked fur of her inner thighs, smearing everything in the rich scent that Fynn already knew so well, and had tasted on the back of his throat so many times before. Then sliding up from there her smooth, tight belly, similarly hidden beneath the ragged, stained denim; little brass buttons and well-used pockets reaching up, then suddenly overshadowed by hefty breasts, firm and full, quite reasonably sized.

Or - so the spotted hyena assumed. He had never so much as looked_at someone else's, much less ever even touched one, or thought he would be in the same room as someone with them just... hanging out. Today definitely had not been the first time Asha had done so, the striped hyena already so comfortably casual with Fynn after the two had met online and shared some quickly escalating chats several months ago. In fact, he hadn't even considered what doing things like that with a _girl - woman? he thought, gently touching at himself through the fabric of his pocket. Female? - since he just simply hadn't been interested. And then there was Asha, and he thought he wasn't interested in her either, and then quickly discovered how wrong that assumption had been. And it wasn't just because he could barely fit both of her balls into his mouth at the same time, and that when she docked him in her sheath his dick smelled like hers for two days after.

Usually the day's work and everything it entailed kept him distracted from these somewhat frightening, nervous thoughts. But then every day on the walk back to the house side by side, close enough that each inhalation brought the smooth, cool aroma of growing corn layered over the methane acridity of livestock waste, then all wrapped together within the thick, rich, heavy odor of striped hyena, familiar and pleasant, often all that he think about was her, and them, and all the ways she had helped him learn new things about himself and explore those things in a safe, comfortable environment.

So then, he thought, heart thumping, maybe...

"Hey, uh - Ash?"

The striped hyena's tall ears flicked, standing upright and then angling over towards him. Her head followed a second later, brushy mane swaying in the breeze as she did so. From what Fynn had seen on TV and in video games and the like, he expected to be able to see her breasts swinging and bouncing even from the slow, steady step she kept along the gravel road, though instead saw that they held relatively still against her chest wrapped beneath the snug layers of sports bra, thin t-shirt, and then overalls on top.

She looked over at him, raised her eyebrows, then flicked her tongue out from underneath her lip where it had been poking at a tooth. In that flash of half a second he got a great view of the inside of her mouth, sharp fangs and broad tongue, velvet lips and wet inner cheeks, firm gums, dripping dribbling saliva... all of which he had also felt so many times before across various parts and sections of his body.

I guess we've already done plenty together, he thought, so then where's the boundary? Why am I suddenly so nervous about...

The other hyena cast him a quick wink, as though sensing the direction of his thoughts. "'Sup, mate?" One thumb hooked underneath the strap of her overalls, lifting it along that shoulder - and, of course, cupping the breast from underneath like a gentle yet firm paw hefting it up. "Still thinkin' 'bout Crash-and-Scrabble?"

Crash was the first progeny of some old racing horse owned by a family member of Asha's, and the brown-and-white speckled stallion certainly exhibited the stamina and strength of his lineage. Fynn swallowed again, unconsciously reaching up to wipe at a sticky spot on his cheek that he had already washed off some hours.

"No - well, yes, but-"

"Hah. Same. You get used to it."

"No, I was just... wondering if..." Up in the distance over the gentle curve of the path, the roof of the house started to push its way into view. Fynn bit his lip, took in a breath, and swallowed, deciding to just push through the question like every other one he had asked: "If I could touch your boob? I mean, I've never really done anything like that, and I figured that since we've - you know, since it's, you and me, and maybe I was wondering I... if I could, since, you know, we..."

Asha waited for him to trail off, eyes open yet absent of judgment. Her nostrils flared a little bit each time she inhaled, likely still tasting every single spike and drop of scent and stink hovering around the farm as well as herself, still able to smell everything just as strongly yet after long exposure able to ignore it - or, as Fynn had seen, even take pleasure in some of it. Each time he turned to her his eyes watered a little bit, as did the back of his mouth, like when he slid his muzzle into the steam column of a hot, spicy soup... but then without a word, the striped hyena reached up with one paw, undid first one and then the second button of her overalls to let the denim fabric flop open along her waist, then ran her fingers in underneath the hem of her shirt and bra.

Her sweat of the day had soaked through both of these, leaving a sharp, dark valley in between the two mounds that had so captured Fynn's attention during the latter half of the day. Now they bounced and shifted like he was used to seeing in video games, as the other hyena's fingers ran in along their lower...

Rim? Edge? Boundary? I guess they're like... I don't know. What do hills have? Borders? I suppose they could-

Then his mind went blank, the other hyena rolling her shirt and bra up and off of her chest. Those breasts hefted up with the movement, pulled a little bit, and then bounced back down into place, soft pink nipples glistening among cream-colored fur, the very edges of her dark-chocolate stripes all seeming to point in towards the centers there. Or - not _quite_centered, Fynn noticed, as the two slowed to a stop and turned to face each other: her nipples pointed slightly out and down from her body, or maybe it was just one of them. From this angle he couldn't quite tell.

Asha held her bra and shirt up out of the way with both paws, at the same time pushing her chest up and forward to bring her breasts closer to his muzzle. "Sure," she answered, looking down over himself. "Knock yourself out, mate. Surprised you didn't ask earlier."

"Well, I was..." He half-extended a paw, paused, brought it back. "I mean, since it's like..."

"I know you were. Take your time. They ain't goin' anywhere."

That was reassuring. He reached forward again, gulped, shifted his body a bit, spread his fingers... and then pressed his palm forward against one of her breasts, squishing into soft yet firm flesh. Her fur was indeed wet with sweat, and while not quite clammy yet it had definitely cooled in the short time since she had flashed him; there was weight and warmth there simmering within, and when he squeezed her skin and flesh gently pushed into the spaces between his fingers, not quite rubbery but certainly not bowling-ball firm.

_I almost expected it to feel like... well, like a nutsack,_he thought to himself, amused. For a moment arousal drizzled away into pure curiosity, the spotted hyena poking and prodding, feeling his way back and forth, careful not to devote too much attention to the little pink nub of her nipple there, soft yet surprisingly bumpy skin poking its way out of the field of soft fur around it. He leaned in a little bit closer, nostrils wide as he drew in the sharp scent wafting off the other hyena: acrid sweat tinted with shampoo and perfume underneath, the same "flavor", so to say, that he had come to identify as Asha stirring pleasant familiarity in the back of his throat as well as in his loins.

He licked his lips, swallowed, moved to bring his other paw up as well, hesitated, and then jumped as the striped hyena let out a little huff, tossed her mane with a jerk of the head, and then seized both wrists in her paws. For a moment the two stared at each other, the classic energetic amusement burning in Asha's eyes against startled nervousness in Fynn's.

"Come on, mate," she rumbled, and tugged him firmly forward against her. A little gasp puffed out of both of them. "Y'ain't gonna break 'em. How dainty d'ya think I am?"

"W-well, I just - so I can..." With one in each paw for some reason they felt much heavier, much bigger, much more... solid¸ though they still mushed and mashed fairly easily under his touch. When he squeezed against them, they pushed back like balloons full of - of something thick and soft and warm, easily malleable yet still retaining its shape. Before long he felt his fingerpads smeared with greasy sweat, little strands of loose fur sticking between his fingers and along his claws.

"Yeah. I know. So fuckin' do it." Asha shifted the shovel to her other shoulder, nearly clocking her friend across the side of the head as she did so. "I know so many blokes who'd kill to be in your position right now, yet here you are, looking like you're surprised you even got this far."

"Well..." One thing that he had seen in the few (yet still more than he'd like to admit) videos he'd looked up was where they did a thing where... he shifted his paws to the edges of her breasts and then squished them together, flattening out the surfaces where they met in between. Asha's nipples angled gently with the stretch and squeeze, and she pushed her chest out closer to him. In those videos they'd do this, and then the guy would usually straddle her chest and slide himself right up in between, and then by rocking his hips forward and back... he tried to angle his thumbs up and towards the center of her cleavage, then slipped them easily in between the sweat-slickened space.

For a moment he imagined that same warm, wet tightness clamping down around his shaft, now pulsing halfway hard in his pants. He imagined resting his head right there along the underside - a bead of sweat had gathered there in the dying sunlight of the afternoon; he broke the surface tension with his thumb, watched as it spread out across already-slick skin, then wiped that off across her fur - and then pushing forward, so that the sleek, supple flesh and fur of her breasts pulled gently at the rim of his foreskin, coaxing it to stay in place while he thrust forward and rolled free from it, then back, and forth, and...

Before long he realized that he had started to lean forward, nose and short whiskers twitching in the imminence of her scent. Sheer humid _heat_wafted off of her as well, again like steam curling up from a pot of soup: the closer he came the stronger it swirled around him, until the sensitive skin of his lips brushed up against smooth, soft fur there along the upper side of one of her breasts. He felt her twitch faintly with the contact, and for a little while just gently bounced himself back and forth there, pursing his lips against her skin in something resembling a kiss and then coming free, again and again, smearing himself ever further in her presence. His nose tingled, the tent in his pants twitched, his tail swayed behind him; Fynn swallowed again and now massaged and worked at her breasts with both paws, trying to pay attention to the little responses echoing through her body based on what he did.

Circling his thumbs around the edges of her nipples made her do this, while pressing them in along the now firm points of flesh made her shiver and catch her breath; when he dragged his lips and nose in towards her cleavage she lifted her shoulders up and back, pushing her chest closer to him; when he parted his lips and let his tongue flick out just for a moment, just for a taste, Asha actually gasped again and settled her paw on his head between his ears.

He expected her to push him down with the same force and urgency that she had done so many times before - between her own legs, underneath the base of her tail, underneath a horse's tail, between the hind legs of any of the various livestock - but this time her fingers just splayed out through his thick fur and rested there, coaxing him forward without pushing him. It was up to Fynn to then drag his tongue across the top of her breast, bringing in the sharp saltiness of her sweat and scent; he wandered across the smooth, soft curve and then down towards the rim of her nipple, feeling and touching at that surface and texture before drawing it entirely in between his lips. He suckled softly there, felt the surprising resistance of now-firm skin still warm, still with that distinct plush softness; and he took in another breath, swallowed, and continued up and to the side from there, following the invisible line of sweat trickling out from underneath her arm.

Her fur became warmer, damper as he went, and that odd tingling pressure within his nose grew as well like searing heat, only scent instead. The further he pushed himself in this direction the more Fynn wanted to, guiding himself over to something long since established as cozy, comfortable terrain between the two of them: he found his relaxation dribbling away like the beads of sweat upon his lips as Asha lifted that arm up further, other paw still settled on the back of his head. By now the spotted hyena was twitching and throbbing fully hard in his pants, and he knew that _she_knew it, with the greatest evidence for this being the way she breathed a little chuckle, sighed, and then yanked his muzzle into its proper place there nestled beneath her arm, thick tuft of slightly coarser, wiry fur tickling at his nose and smearing more high wetness across his muzzle like a paintbrush dipped in salt water.

Just as quickly as she had pressed him in there, though, grinding his muzzle back and forth to more fully wipe her scent across on him - now his eyes were watering, too, and it almost felt like he had inhaled a mouthful of smoke for the way it tickled and tingled at the back of his throat - she pulled him back out, fingers coiling within his short fur. He knew he looked like a fool there, eyes dazed, mouth open, nose smeared in someone else's sweat, but the spotted hyena hardly had the presence of mind to object when both paws settled on his shoulders and then guided him down to the rough gravel of the road.

"God," he heard Asha scoff, "on ya' fuckin' knees, mate. Hang on a sec."

There was more rustling of clothing. Fynn blinked, wrinkled his lips up towards his nose since he didn't want to use his paws to wipe the wetness off, then licked at his chops; the striped hyena had squirmed to shift further out of her overalls, now dropping the thick, rugged denim halfway down to her knees. Fynn had never been able to follow the pattern of whether or not she wore underwear while out on the job, almost always boxers, but today was one of the yes days: with some effort she peeled darkened, dampened fabric away from the fur of her loins and then brought into view the same hefty balls and dense sheath that had so occupied his mind since they had wrapped up for the day, short fur matted down further with the same layers of sweat and grime that shimmered across the rest of her body.

Asha cupped her balls in one paw and then slid the other back along her sheath, forefinger and thumb clutching gently at the tapered lip there at the end. With a slow tug she started to pull the supple skin back, then a little bit further... and it stuck against the tacky, moist flesh underneath for a second before rolling free, showing the glistening reddish-pink tip of her canine shaft inside. It poked out for a moment between slick folds of skin and fur, then jiggled back into place hidden within. Still she kept her paws there, though.

"C'mon, mate," she purred, and wiggled her hips side to side. Her sack, the lowermost point hanging an easy five inches away from her body in the heat of the day, swung first against one thigh and then the other, balls bumping together, rolling forward, leaving a mark of rimmed wetness where loose skin mushed against soft fur. Her fingers curled down underneath, quite easily slipping up between the two and weighing them in her palm, then gave a few more bounces and jiggles with her thumb now hooked around the base of her sheath. When she squeezed there her balls pulled up towards her body and her sheath rolled back again, just far enough to show that tip once more. "Gimme a kiss."

The wet warmth here was at once so similar to yet so different from what had gathered underneath her arm and smeared across his face, the sting and spice still there each time he breathed in. Fynn glanced up at her, licked his lips, and then leaned forward to press his nose into the soft sag of flesh between sheath and sack. There he felt a similar coating of slick, slimy sweat, palpable beads having gathered along the skin and fur there; he nosed upwards yet nuzzled himself down with each one, gradually trailing himself further and further down until that loose skin draped across his nose like a curtain, and one hefty weight rested down on either side of his snout. He scooped up from there, drawing in the scent from behind and underneath her sack until it rolled free from his muzzle, then straightened up a bit, braced his paws against the gravel between his knees, and ran his nose along the rim of her sheath, smearing off some of the gathered sweat and natural wetness.

And then, of course, he did as told and gave her a kiss. Just a small, quick one at first, all lips, completely dry; then a second, and a third, and on the fourth he pushed her sheath back with his lips, and on the fifth he slipped his tongue in underneath for a much deeper, wetter kiss. Immediately the salty, sharper, headier taste of her natural wetness there flooded into his maw, smearing across hit tongue and lips wherever he touched; Fynn swallowed, tilted his head, and wrapped a paw around her sheath to hold her in place while he dove deeper and deeper, that single kiss turning into him making out with it yet again. Up above he heard her sigh, felt her relax, noticed the shift in her muscles; he half-opened his eyes, swallowed down the slight greasiness that had started to coat his tongue and interior of his mouth, then tilted his head so he could swirl his tongue further into the space between inner sheath and her shaft - but Asha reached down and scrunched the supple skin up against his lips before he could do so, forefinger and thumb squeezing along her length as she went.

The thick, plump skin bunched up into soft, pliable folds against him, further beads of sweat and now drool oozing out from the carpeting of fur all around her. "Hang on a sec," the striped hyena said, and now pulled herself back out of his maw. A thin strand of saliva hung between the underside of her sheath and his lips; he let it hang there until it broke on its own, then flicked his tongue out to slurp it up. "Gotta piss real quick."

Fynn's ears flicked. For anyone else that might have been weird, but Asha had stepped to the side in the fields or on their walks with those precise words far too many times for it to be anything other than another comfortable, casual occurrence between them. A little chagrined at the interruption of his indulgence, the spotted hyena sat back where he knelt, paws between his legs, and looked out towards the fields alongside the path. Sure, he had inspected every inch of her up and down with his eyes, nose, tongue, lips, and fingers, just name to a few, but it still seemed a little bit rude to try to go out of his way to watch her take a piss. He pressed his lips together, took in another breath through flared nostrils, briefly lost himself in the still-present spike of underarm sweat and now sheath musk soaked into the fur there -

-and then jumped at the sudden spray of wet heat across his chest, soaking straight through his shirt and into his fur. Surprised, he straightened up and glanced forward, and then froze in a moment of disbelief as Asha had rolled her sheath back just far enough to reveal her tip and now drained her bladder right there across him, something that she had only done once before, to one of his footpaws in the shower. She had her head tilted back, eyes closed, and mouth open as she went, footpaws spreading out along the path with gravel crunching underfoot; Fynn could do nothing but just _stare,_nose starting to curl with the high, rich, sharp scent of fresh piss as it sprayed out across him, heating his chest, his shoulders, his belly where it flowed down, through the fabric of his pants where it dribbled down across his still-twitching arousal.

Only after a few seconds did Asha look down at him, see the shock on his face, and grin her satisfaction. With a twist of her paw she aimed herself back and forth across his chest to soak the rest of his shirt, then aimed down along his belly, deliberately focused at the tent in his pants, then went down one leg, back up, down the other, up again, then over his chest again. The fabric of his shirt plastered to his body like a searing warm, sopping towel there, and as Fynn tried to unstick it from itself it just pulled against his fur, tugged away, then smacked wetly back into place, refreshing the waft of fresh piss filling his nostrils. He squirmed, swallowed, turned his head, pursed his lips again... and then lifted up into it, welcoming the warmth and scent as she continued to mark him.

"There y'go, mate," Asha purred. She rolled the skin of her sheath forward, briefly pinched herself shut so that the supple skin started to swell out into a balloon, and then released it again, blasting a messy spray out across the other hyena. "Figured you'd like this. Every single other fuckin' time I've gone an' wasted it, when I could've just used _you_as a urinal instead..."

Admittedly the thought made him shiver and throb all over again. Fynn leaned back where he knelt, footpaws splaying back underneath him, and tried to lift himself up into her stream once she let herself go and just dribbled out wherever her sheath happened to point. Panting gently, heart thumping, the spotted hyena fervently popped free the button of his pants fly, then his zipper as well - and with a shaky paw fished through the similar soaked material of his underwear to bring his erection out into the air and directly into that stream. Seeing his enjoyment, Asha scoffed again, returned her paw to the base of her sheath, and now aimed herself down toward him, the spotted hyena slowly stroking himself into the warm wetness.

It tickled as it sprayed across his head, soaking his paws, trickling down the backs of his fingers and knuckles; he straightened his back and fished around inside his underwear with his other paw, mashing and mushing his now sopping wet fur around himself, smearing himself further in her_scent and _her mark. Before long, though, Asha drew herself away again, stream quickly climbing his belly and chest again; while Fynn continued to stroke himself with that lingering wetness, fingerpads and palm making small, wet slurping sounds of suction against himself, he opened his eyes and looked up at her with a question on his tongue - and instead received the first inch and a half of her shaft there instead, still twitching as she emptied out the last of her piss.

Both paws settled back on his head again and now held him in place, lips gliding around her sheath, intensely hot mark jetting out into the back of his throat directly from the source. Surprised again, Fynn just let it fill his maw and then dribble out of the edges of his mouth, but after another second he closed his lips around her, let her fill him up, closed his eyes, braced himself... and swallowed, the intense, salty bite of her mark stinging at his throat, the back of his nose, his eyes. Then he did so again, and again, and yet again, though this last time there was little more than a few final dribbles and drops leaking out across the back of his tongue. He remained in placed for a little while longer, sucking, slurping, swallowing, then finally pulled himself free, paws on his soaked knees, fresh piss dripping from his lips, tongue out.

He wasn't quite sure where she wanted to go from here, but in the silence that followed his eagerness only continued to grow. As her mark dribbled down off his body it started to cool, sharp scent billowing around him; he nuzzled up at the root of her sheath, stretched the soft skin along as he shifted his nose, felt it tug back again when he pulled free of the rim, then flicked his tongue out, swirled it around again, once more took her into his mouth, and then dove right back down, this time far and firmly enough to push that ring of skin back across her length.

The striped hyena took in a little shivering sigh and thrust her hips forward, coaxing her length a little bit further out into his mouth. Soon Fynn yet again worked at a familiar rhythm, bobbing his head up and down along her length as it grew steadily harder between his lips, one paw slurping and sucking back and forth across his own piss-smeared arousal as he went. Each time he inhaled through his nose all he could smell was her musk dancing with the bite of her piss - and how much of it there had been, too; when he shifted his footpaws underneath himself he felt the remnants of the puddle there, still soaking into the gravel, still dripping off from his sopping wet clothing and fur. His other paw he ran down across his chest, then in along his belly to press at wet pubic fur there at the base of his shaft, then back up again to smear her scent more fully into himself as he went.

Just like with so many of the other times alongside her, Fynn somewhat lost himself in the pleasure of the moment. The shape of her shaft on his tongue and between his lips, the presence of her scent in his nose; he closed his eyes, suckled, swirled his tongue, swallowed; he drew back towards her tapered tip and focused there, teasing out the repeated little jets of salty pre, letting them fill his mouth until he felt it start to subsume the root of his tongue, then swallowed again; he drew back, watched the way her impressive length slowly twitch, twitch, twitched its way upright, then leaned in to bury his nose between the base of her sheath and her hanging sack. Again he pursed his lips against her balls, sucked at the sweat-soaked skin there, drew it in between his lips; still pawing at himself, thumb now circling around the rim of his wet foreskin, Fynn tilted his head, leaned forward, and then drew one of her balls all the way into his mouth. He cupped his tongue around it and sucked like he was trying to draw the juice out of a slice of fruit, dancing back and forth, squeezing gently with his tongue - then letting it slip free, though still he clutched the skin and fur of her sack in his maw.

And there he remained, still sucking and slurping, though now he returned his other paw to her length to stroke at her as well, rhythm faster and harder than he served himself. Eyes halfway lidded and nose right in place, he had a front row seat to everything he wanted to experience: those same little spurts of pre now spraying across his paw and spurting over his shoulder; the grip and tug of succulent wet sheath skin pulling back and forth, first along her unswollen knot, then back across it, and finally settling behind it, where the thick folds piled up and overlapped one another strung through with dribbles of piss, smears of pre, foggy ropes of the day's built-up sweat and slime and who knows what all else.

Fynn swallowed, shifted his posture, and now nuzzled up towards those overlapping wrinkles, dragging his tongue back and forth between all of them, scraping off the gathered gunk and slickness until his lips stuck together and his throat felt like he had tried to glue it shut. Still he pawed at both of them, one arm working up and back behind his shoulder for Asha's length, the other with his thumb pinching in towards the side of his forefinger, rolling his piss-slickened foreskin forward over his head as he brought himself closer and closer to his peak. The deep, growing heat of that approaching finish sent shivers up through his shoulders: at once he wanted to dive down on the striped hyena's cock all over again and hold her there, wanted to see if he could get her far enough that she'd spurt her load down into his belly without him having to swallow, and at the same time he thought about pinching the end of his foreskin shut around his head and filling it out with his own, just as she had briefly done with her piss within her sheath a few moments ago.

Not wanting it to end quite yet, with quite a show of willpower he slipped his piss-smeared paw away from himself, popped Asha's sheath wrinkles back out from between his lips, then moved to drag his tongue up along the twitching underside of her hard cock, fully intending to draw her back into his throat and tug behind her knot in the way she liked - but a paw firmly on his forehead kept him back just out of range. Still close enough to smell her, close enough to receive those jets of pre across his nose and lips, too far away to lick.

The striped hyena's fully hard cock bounced and twitched there in front of him, wafting its musk across him each time it did so, as Asha apparently put in deliberate effort to keep herself from blasting him right then and there. After what felt like far too long she finally released his head, then turned to the side so as not to tempt him further - but then ended up doing just this as she crouched down to tug her overalls the rest of the way off her legs.

"Not yet," she purred, then stepped to the side. Out popped one leg and then the other, then she spent another moment tugging her shirt and bra off as well - and then there she stood out here in the middle of the pathway with all of her stripes bared to the sky, fluffy mane matted down against her back from the sweat and restriction of the clothing she no longer wore. She gave herself a full-body shake, heavy shaft and heavier balls bouncing in front of her as she did so, then reached a paw down to where Fynn still knelt. "Best hold onto that 'til we get back in."

"But-" He looked down at himself, hard cock throbbing of its own accord between his legs and occasionally flicking off a stray drop of yellow. The closer he held his muzzle to his own body the stronger he could smell himself - "himself" meaning, naturally, Asha. The spotted hyena briefly wondered how quickly he'd be able to get himself off here, then sighed, rolled his head on his shoulders, and reached up to take her paw, deliberately putting forth the more soaked of the two.

She grimaced as she took it, shook it off to the side, reached to wipe it off on him, then thought better of it and wiped it on her bundle of clothes held beneath her other arm instead. "Go on, pup," she said, standing off to the side a bit. As Fynn passed by she swung her arm down and smacked his rump in a well-cupped paw, urging him forward along the trail. "Move it."

"Wait - but I'm-" Under no other circumstances, with literally nobody else, would he even consider stripping down naked, but- "Soaking wet, and I'm-"

"You're gonna stay in that clothing 'til we get back to the house. Look, you can see it from here. Well? Go on. Put that thing away. Someone might see."

With another sigh he did as told, trying not to let the lukewarm, wet weight of clothing pleasure him too much. He wanted to call her out for doing the same yet to an even greater degree but held his tongue, silently simmering in embarrassment mixed with frustration mixed further with arousal that just wouldn't go away. If anything, the no longer fresh piss drying into his fur, the scent changing from sharp mark to stale ammonia and something a bit more bitter, just swirled back in on him and distracted him further so that by the time the two began padding up the wooden steps of the house's front deck, Fynn's no longer leaving little moist pawprints, he was still half hard within his moistened jeans.

Asha, meanwhile, had retracted entirely into her sheath though the evidence of their distraction on the trail still showed itself in the form of a few rivers of dribbled drool dried into her pubic fur and along the front of her sack. If anything her balls seemed like they now hung down further after their time in the open sun; as she fiddled with the door Fynn idly wondered if she ever bruised her thighs with those things, seeing how they swung and hefted and bounced.

After another moment she opened the door and stepped in, the air conditioning inside reaching its fingers out to wrap first pleasantly, then a little shockingly around Fynn's wet form. Nervously he followed, though stopped on the welcome mat there just inside the door; he had been inside Asha's place a couple of times before, but most often when he came to visit it was just to help out around the farm, or more often, to "help out". He looked over across the visible kitchen, then down the hall straight ahead to the stairs leading to the bedrooms, then out the other way where a modestly-sized TV hung against the wall... and where Asha herself stood, still_naked, _still hot as all hell, stretching her arms up over her head.

After the walk back along the trail without the confinement of clothing around her, her mane had puffed back up to its initial volume - and stretching like that, the voluminous tufts of whitish underarm fur poked out away from her body, ruffled up from the day's work, still visibly bearing little beads of glistening sweat. Then her jaws popped with a wide yawn showing the full range of sharp teeth inside, far thicker and broader compared to the canines and lupines that Fynn usually saw; then she turned her head to one side, folding her arm down to rub at the base of her neck; and then the other went down as well, though scritched and shook at the base of her sheath a bit. Each time she drew her fingers back in towards her palm, the supple lip tugged back and revealed the tapered pink tip of her shaft buried inside.

Fynn cleared his throat to be polite. "Should I, uh...?"

And Asha glanced up at him, tall ears perking as though she'd forgotten his presence. "Ah, yeah, right. Lemme help you with that." She crossed over to him, a cloud of scent and sweat brushing across Fynn's waiting muzzle a moment later, and then moved to help him peel his shirt off from where it had plastered against his body. In doing so he felt himself get smeared all over again with her piss, which in turn just got him halfway there as well - which became all the way when she draped the soggy shirt over his shoulder to start in at the fly of his pants as well.

Her wrist brushed against his arousal through the fabric of his pants. Brown eyes flashed up to him, amusement glittering; Fynn coughed and looked away, but couldn't suppress the shiver and throb as the other hyena very deliberately ran the back of her paw along his shaft through his underwear when she pulled his zipper down, then again when she yanked his pants and underwear down his thighs. "Here," she said, halfway bending over; for a brief flash Fynn thought she was going to take him into her maw, but instead she just continued to peel his pants away from his dripping legs. "This'll be a lil' difficult. That was everything I'd had since lunch, y'know."

"O-oh, yeah." Fynn reached out, braced a paw on her lowered shoulder for support, pulled it away for fear of smearing her in her own piss, placed it back when he wobbled where he stood. Up came one footpaw, the striped hyena struggling with wet fabric around the bend of his ankle... and then the other, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "I could, uh, tell."

"That's right." Again those eyes flashed up to him. His ears perked as Asha just tossed his clothes into a soggy pile along the tile near the front door. "'Cause you've watched me piss before, haven't ya, mate. I've sent you quite a few videos before."

And I've saved each and every one of them. He swallowed, the thought sending another twitch down to his loins. Got 'em there in my secret folder alongside all the ones of the horses... his favorite, in fact, was the one where she had set the camera up a short distance away and stood next to Crash-and-Scrabble, and then recorded which of the two could piss for longer. Halfway through the video the horse had made a scoffing noise and tossed his head as though he knew he was involved in some kind of competition, and actually bore down a little bit with the strength of his stream increasing - and quickly overflowing the bucket that the striped hyena had placed underneath his broad body.

So in terms of sheer volume, the feral stallion had won. Big surprise there. But Asha was still going for a good seven seconds after Crash's arm-sized length slithered back up into his sheath to dump out the last few squirts, the striped hyena uncaring of the puddle of steaming yellow that had started to soak into the fur of her footpaws.

Paws gripping his forearms surprised him out of his memory, and for a moment Fynn almost expected her to push him right back down to his knees then and there to give him a second shower. Instead, though, she guided him over into the next room and then unceremoniously plopped him down onto the couch, where he felt his still damp fur quickly adhere to the pleather. He took a moment to readjust himself, tried to minimize his skin contact with her nice furniture, and ended up sitting far forward with his sack hanging off the front of the cushion while the other hyena disappeared through the doorway at the other end of the room.

A bit confused, Fynn just sat there rolling his fingers over the material, thinking about pawing himself off back to being fully hard before she came back, then wondered if that would be too presumptuous. Then he wriggled a little closer to himself as the chill of the AC sank its fingers into damp fur. He swallowed, tasted her piss still there on the back of his throat, tilted his head back - swung it forward again as Asha bustled back in from that same doorway, and followed her across the room.

Fynn cleared his throat, which somehow just strengthened the taste of piss. "Uh, hey," he said, "can I go shower?"

Her ears perked as though she had forgotten he was there. Of course he noticed that in the relative chill of the house her balls no longer hung down quite so far. "No," she said, without stopping. "You stay right there."

And she was gone again. A moment later Fynn heard something_back in the kitchen but couldn't tell what, but over time he felt his arousal start to dwindle away under the nervousness, the waiting, and the damn cold. It only ever _started dwindling, though: each time the other hyena came back through the room his eyes immediately locked on her bare chest, or her firm, flat belly, or her plump sheath and balls underneath, and then she passed by and he followed the lines of her stripes pointing in towards her voluminous mane, and her tail swung side to side to balance her walk and showed the similarly tight, plump rump underneath.

It was obvious that she was deliberately dragging out the whole thing, though, so after another cycle in and out of the room Fynn built up the courage to show the same kind of brash confidence that she held so close, and turned to lie down on the couch. He rested his still-wet head along the slightly uncomfortable arm behind him, crossed one leg over the other, felt the stale piss dribble out from his fur and pool on the material underneath. He reached one arm up over his head and slid the other down his body, idly touching, poking, playing at his now mostly-soft shaft; he rolled his sopping wet balls over his fingers, gave the underside of his foreskin a tug, wiggled a fingertip into the end, swirled it around using the wetness of piss caught in there as lube, felt that stir start all over again - then bounced as a sudden weight dropped onto the couch above him, the familiar scent of striped hyena wafting down shortly after.

Fynn opened his eyes and looked straight up into Asha's, each of her paws on either side of his shoulders, one leg pushing into the couch between his thighs with the other still braced on the floor. She grinned her bright, sharp-toothed grin, tossed her head to flick her mane to the other side, then made a show of licking her chops.

"Alright," she purred, "I'm ready for you now."

And immediately that arousal flooded back into him. Asha tilted her head to the side, pressed one paw right in against his shoulder to hold him in place, and then to his surprise ran the other down his chest, claws cutting little valleys in his dampened fur where she went. Like squeezing a sponge, trickles of pale yellow welled up and oozed down his sides and similarly stained the cream-colored fur around her fingers. Fynn couldn't help but shiver and lift up a bit, scooting his leg to the side around where she knelt.

He cleared his throat again before he spoke. "The hell were you doing?"

"Getting ready." Asha pressed against his chest, straightened up - again making him very aware of her stark nudity - then scooted a little further down the couch, still with one footpaw on the floor. Now she turned a paw and rested it underneath one of his thighs, spreading him a little wider. "But also dragging it out a bit."

"Yeah. I figured. Getting ready for what?"

"I wanted to see if you'd go completely soft while we're both naked. Never seen it happen before, and..." With one finger she lifted his cock, let it hang in the air, and then let it go. It thumped against his belly. "First time for everything, but that first time isn't today. Are _you_ready?"

A thousand different things flashed through his mind, each one warming his blush a little bit hotter than the last. "Well I mean, that depends on what - you're..."

Then he put it together almost before she started. Up came the other paw as well, lifting up and pushing against his other thigh from underneath; the spotted hyena tried to grasp onto the couch for balance without poking his claws through the surface, felt and saw his lower body lifted up into the air, gasped as Asha leaned in against him, blinked as a few spatters of stray piss splashed off from within his pubes when his shaft and sack flopped in the air, lower body hoisted up - then reflexively kicked a footpaw, shivered, and pulled a sweet, low breath in as soon as Asha pursed her lips against his bared tailhole.

Bit by bit her breath puffed out against the underside of his sack where she held herself nestled there under his tail, striped hyena halfway kneeling on the cushion while he had folded up over himself. Just lips first, firm yet soft, warm, holding still; then they parted and out came her breath first, a thick, humid waft that tickled up under the base of his tail and down through his fur, enough that he thought she had drooled onto him. Then the tongue came next, Asha looking down at him over the curve of his hanging sack through half-lidded eyes, head bobbing gently up as she licked, then down, then up again, and again, and again.

Each time she did so he felt himself twitch and tighten around her. One leg naturally draped down over her shoulder while the other hung off to the side over the back of the couch, and he kept that one arm up over his head with the other now resting on his chest, heaving with slightly unsteady breaths going in and out of his open mouth. Asha closed her eyes, swallowed, licked her lips - and therefore his tailhole too - then pursed again and pressed herself down, now suckling gently at the center there.

Fynn couldn't help it. His other footpaw came down and hooked about her shoulders as well, tugging the other hyena in against him: she shifted her paws up to his rump to spread him further against her maw, jaw churning with each little suckle, tongue slurping into the space in between. Her breaths came and went in irregular puffs across the back of his hanging sack, at times pausing entirely while she dug deep with her tongue slipping in between the wrinkles and folds, teasing just past the tight ring of muscle, coaxing him open again whenever he reflexively clenched back - and then with a wet pop and a thick strand of saliva linking her maw to his rump she pulled free, panting gently, saliva smeared across her lips.

And she winked. But still the striped hyena wasn't quite done: still keeping him elevated with her chest against his lower body and one paw on his thigh, she leaned down a bit, spat into the other paw, and dropped it briefly out of view. Dazed, also panting, fully hard yet again, Fynn wet his lips - despite everything, his throat was dry - and tried to crane his head to look.

"What..." He shivered and clenched again at another puff of breath across his tender tailhole. "What're you doing?"

For her answer she lowered him back down towards the couch, never letting him drop completely, and brought into view her own arousal back near its peak again, rich reddish-pink flesh glistening with natural wetness as well as saliva. Her sheath folded up over the half-swollen bulge of her knot, and her shaft twitched in eager arousal.

Then she turned that still-wet paw and smeared it up where her tongue had just been, middle two fingertips quite easily slipping up inside of him. Fynn gasped again and squeezed around them, then relaxed as they plunged deeper into wet, malleable meat - then moaned out when suddenly she tugged them back out. Of course this wouldn't be the first time the two had done this, as Asha positioned herself above him and held the tapered tip of her canine shaft up against his saliva-slickened tailhole, but for some reason something about this time felt... different.

Maybe it was the fact that he still reeked head to toe of her mark. Maybe it was that they had never before done it while _completely_naked, Fynn able to feel Asha's breath tickling at his bellyfur as she repositioned herself above him, and her thighs pushing up against his from behind, and the tingle and tickle from her fur on his own. Maybe it was that certain look in her eyes, quiet concern hidden behind the indulgent arousal and careless energy. She rolled her fingers along his thighs once she had angled herself into place, tapered tip nosing up within the ring of his tailhole, poking gently, waiting for permission yet never asking for it.

And so Fynn gave it, in the form of an open-mouthed swallow, a flutter of the eyelids, and a wriggle of his hips down against her, though nervousness thrummed through him and he looked away. That pressure remained yet did not increase, and in waiting for it he turned back to her, looked, felt his heart pump, glanced up at her, looked away again.

Asha tilted her head. "What's up?"

"It's just... I've never..." But he had. It was just something about being here with her, each completely naked, wrapped together in this space on the couch. There was no sounds of wildlife and nature around them, no smell of the barn, no taste of horse in his mouth. This time it was just_them, and for some reason, that almost _terrified him. Embarrassed, he swallowed again, reached out for her, stopped, and then turned his head away...

...and jumped when her forefinger, surprisingly gentle, teased underneath his chin to angle him forward again. Expectation and concern glittered in her eyes and she tilted her head again, slowly grinding herself forward against him. Seeing no complaint there, then, the striped hyena took in a breath, held it, swallowed, and then started to sink in, ensuring that he _watched_it happen.

And just as he had felt so many times before, that pressure sharpened and grew, and expanded out inside of him, searing away most of the nervousness as it came; he closed his eyes and sighed, he felt his fully hard cock bounce atop his belly, he felt his legs kick and his toes curl. He didn't have to look to know Asha's pleasure from the union: he could imagine her head going back, her mane fluffing out, her upper lip curling back in that way it did. He imagined her arching her back, and felt it too as her paws remained static on his thighs while her girth continued to sink deeper into him, footpaw pushing against the floor, imagined her shirt straining against her breasts as she lifted her body - only, there was no shirt this time. So he opened his eyes, and he looked up at her.

There she was on top of him, strong fingers clutching his leg against her body, firm yet careful. From here he could see the faint ghosts of where sweat had dried into her fur, combined with a slightly lighter portion across one breast and up towards her armpit that could be nothing but his own saliva; the thought of it sent another shiver and throb through him, strong enough that the striped hyena briefly paused in her motion and shuddered as well. From here he could still see the thick tufts of slightly coarser fur there, an off-tan color between the cream of her main body and the chocolate of her stripes, dark enough to look black in most lighting; his eyes lingered there as she continued to press into him, upper body holding still, lower body angling carefully forward. Warmth and pressure filled him, squeezing in through his tailhole, shifting around inside - and then both of them paused there, panting, shivering.

She looked down at him again, tongue briefly coming out to flick over her sharp teeth. "All good, mate?"

"Yeah," he answered, nodding before he had found the ability to speak. Fynn glanced down across his lower body, legs spread around her, rump resting at an angle atop one of her thighs, her other paw gripping his waist to hold him in place. Rhythmically his cock twitched across his belly, a little sticky puddle of pre having already oozed out into the dark fur. Idly he wondered that, if he were to lean back a little further, if he would be able to_see_ her shifting inside of him, pressing out against his belly from inside as she thrust... that was another thing the two had learned within the first handful of his visits: while he could fit about three-quarters of his length inside of her sheath, they could barely fit her tip past the taper point into his foreskin.

But they were practicing regularly.

"Yeah, I'm - I'm good. Are you-?"

She grinned, tilted her head, and gave another thrust from her hips, lips of her sheath stretched around her half-swollen knot mashing against his tailhole. Fynn gasped.

"How's that for an answer? Hang on, I want to..."

The other hyena spent another moment shifting above him, bringing her other leg up to the couch, readjusting his legs so that one hung over her shoulder and the other rested at her hip - and then to seal everything in place she drew back halfway, held there, and then sank back in, slowly yet firmly so that Fynn bounced against the arm of the couch and moaned. And then she did so again, and again, and again, each time a little bit further, a little bit faster, a little bit harder.

Bit by bit her posture above him continued to shift until the next time he opened his eyes he found that he was looking straight up into hers, half-lidded beneath the indulgence and pleasure. It took her a moment to realize he was watching her, and then she blinked, opened them further, looked back down at him, briefly slowed in her pace... and then redoubled it again, one paw near his shoulder and the other pushing into the arm of the couch at his head.

Fynn turned his head to the side, mouth hanging open to let out each heavy pulse of breath and oozing moan that the striped hyena pounded out of him. He lifted up, squeezed around her, swallowed, felt her adjust again, then a moment later jerked as her fingers wrapped in around his cock, pumping slowly and smoothly, but enough. By now she knew quite well _how_to touch him - most of the grip at her finger and thumb, more slipping the supple foreskin forward and back instead of tugging at the rest of him, letting him simmer and slide around within the slickness of his own pre caught underneath sensitive skin - and within a few strokes he was riding himself into her lap, lifting up each time she pulled out, pressing back down when she shoved in again.

And again, and again. He reached one arm up and out to rest it around her shoulder, fingers knotting into the thick, coarse fur of her mane; his other shifted above his head, brushed against hers, jerked away, reached out again, and then with a flutter of his heart, wormed its way underneath to entwine his fingers with hers. The surprisingly intimate contact sent a pulse throughout his body, mirrored in her own; Asha tossed her head atop him again, swallowed, let another sigh out across his muzzle, and then resumed her pace, pounding away at his rump deeply, firmly, _passionately._The sensation of having her buried so deep inside him, her hefty balls grinding against the base of his tail each time she hilted to the knot; the strength in her paw squeezing around his own, the mass of her presence chiseled into a fierce bastion over her time working the farm; the care with which she pumped away at him, rolling his foreskin back and forth, squeezing in all the right spots he had shown her over the months; the weight of her scent wrapping around him, at once arousing and comforting, the one thing on all these acres of land that remained unchanging and that he knew would always be there hardly more than a few minutes' walk away...

It felt so, so good. So much better than anything else he had ever had before. His paw hooked in her mane turned and twisted, fingers spreading across the thick muscle of her neck; Asha's eyes fluttered open again and looked down at him, her lips curled back in a half-snarl, sharp fangs glistening with saliva, dense gums glittering. For a moment there was the thought of her cupping his jaw in her fingers, forcing his mouth open, and dumping a glob of that drool straight down his throat - and that thought gave him another twitch and throb. But then there was another thought, as his own paw tightened there at the base of her neck near her shoulder, and there in the heat of the moment, Fynn did something he had never done before.

Sure, he had sucked Asha's cum out of a feral horse's tailhole at least five times now. He had dug the gunk and grime and dried, crusted flakes from around and within a stallion's sheath using nothing but his tongue; he had delved elbow-deep inside not one but two of the cows on camera for Asha's personal collection, with the animals looking back at him with amusement in their eyes as though they could feel him trapped so tenuously there between nervousness, anxiety, guilt, and deep, indulgent arousal. He had rested back on a bench underneath that same stallion while Asha plied its full length over him, thoroughly dousing him in equine seed that probably would have been much better off sold to a breeder.

All of this, and more, and worse, and yet he had never before kissed her. Time seemed to stretch out for a moment there, his fingers spreading through her fur, her breath puffing against his nose, the short second before lips brushed against lips... and then they did, and they held there. Asha's surprise rippled through her and Fynn expected her to pull away, but instead she continued to hold in place: her pace thrusting into him slowed, distracted, and her grip on his paw loosened. His heart thumped in his chest, he wrenched his eyes closed so as not to see the look on her face, and he felt his stomach flip when she untwined her fingers with his.

But then that paw slipped up underneath his head, claws curling through his fur as well, and Asha pulled his muzzle more firmly up against her own. She picked her pace right back up and now drew in a breath from alongside his muzzle, sealing her lips to his, holding there, showing that she felt his desire, she knew it, she recognized it - and, most of all, that she mirrored it as well. One hyena swallowed, shortly followed by the other, and then the kiss broke and continued again, and broke and continued again, and again, Asha tilting her head one direction, Fynn the other. Their tongues each came forward, danced around each other, met... swirled, wrestled, tightened in place, pushing and exploring. Her paw continued down around his head and along his muzzle, gripping his jaw from underneath; he felt the breath start to get sucked from his lungs as she drew deep from the kiss, little hungry rumbles and growls vibrating from her mouth and into his own.

He breathed her breath out of his_nostrils, hot and humid, still somehow tasting like her. She swallowed against his lips, her tongue lifting up into the roof of his mouth for a moment, and then he felt her start to suckle away at him, drawing his into her own, swirling hers around it, holding it there. She pursed her lips, curled them away from his, and instead squeezed them around his tongue where he had poked it out of his mouth, as though she were actively trying to suck all of the saliva off of it, and he let her. And he _loved it.

Her nostrils flared and ears flicked, and once more Fynn pushed himself down against her. In fact, he just kept on pushing, working his muscles until they strained and squished and sucked all around her buried length, then clenched down again - and between her relentless pounding, her fervent attention to his muzzle, and the rhythm of her paw still working along his length, he realized only halfway into his orgasm that he had hit it, entire body jerking with the force of his peak and painting himself in yet another series of thick, sticky spurts, catching along the fur already matted from dried piss. Asha followed soon after, sucking at his tongue until her own pleasure arced inside of her: she pulled back with a pop, swirled her tongue over her lips, gritted her teeth, gasped, gasped again - and then Fynn thought she might headbutt him from how forcefully she doubled over him, knot pumping its way close, pressing in - popping in right at the last moment before it would have become unbearable, thick flesh pulsing, pulsing, pulsing with each spurt as it grew in its girth. That pressure shivered, shuddered, pulled into place, and then locked there behind his rim, holding him tight regardless of whether he tried to pull off or not.

Each time she shot into him he felt the pulsing of her muscles against him, and tried to reciprocate in turn. It went on for seconds that stretched into minutes, both of her paws pressing against his shoulders, one streaked with milky white; a strand of drool hung from her lips and jiggled in the air, and really could have belong to either of them. She flicked her tongue out again, broke it off, slurped it back up into her mouth, and then finally looked at him again.

Then, slowly, she approached. First she lowered herself down to one elbow and then the other, pressing her firm breasts against his still damp chest; she rested atop him, putting enough weight on that he definitely felt her presence without her crushing him, and gave a few more slow, gentle thrusts inside of him.

Asha tilted her head. "You kissed me."

"Well - I mean-"

"You kissed me. Like..." She leaned in, brushed her lips to his again, held there a moment, and then pulled back, with just the gentlest of smacks. "That."

Only then did the embarrassment start to settle in. He avoided her gaze and squirmed. "It was just - I was... curious, and I got caught up in the moment, and I... thought, I thought, well, I..."

"Hey. Fynn." This time it was a nuzzle that followed, lifting up from underneath his chin. Her breath on his neck tickled in a low, lovely, sweet way. "You know I'm always glad to help ya learn something new."

He shivered where he lay underneath her, for the first time actually looking at her. Fynn swallowed again, licked his lips - where he could still taste her - and returned her smile, feeling some of that nervousness start to trickle away. Then she wriggled her hips again, and his head lolled back with a sweet, shivering sigh bubbling out from between parted lips at the thick heat still buried under his tail.

"I - ah..." He clenched, felt his muscles resist against the intrusion, and relaxed again. "How about - that - shower?"

"What, you wanna get my mark off you that badly? You know I'll just douse you down again before you head home, right, mate? Besides-" She tugged at her waist, pulling at the strong tie and making each of them shiver. For a moment Fynn thought he felt another thick rope spurt out inside of him, and he could tell that Asha had to spend an extra moment gathering herself before continuing. "Now I've marked you and tied you. That makes you my bitch, doesn't it?"

The thought of it, and particularly the casual coolness with which she delivered it, made him throb again. Asha could tell, too: she lifted her body up a bit as he did so, her belly pressing down directly against his cock.

"Your-"

"You heard me, didn't ya?" The other hyena pressed against him again, then reached a paw to drag it through his sticky, matted fur. "It's like how if I ever run to town without having time for a shower. Yeah, yeah, I can tell that people look at me, since I smell like a fuckin' farm. But you? You'll go there, and from across the coffee shop you'll be turnin' heads, since you'll-" Here she jammed her nose in against the crook of his neck and took a deep, indulgent whiff, her tall ears flicking with the sensation. Fynn gasped and squirmed underneath her. "-reek of female stripes. So folks'll look, see you're not one, and then will come to the obvious conclusion." She lifted up a bit and cleared her throat. "'Ah. So then he must belong to one.' And they'll be right."

Those words rolled around in his head - and also his loins, funny enough. Fynn shivered again, the idea flashing through his head: coming over here to help out with work, stripping down naked as soon as he arrived, receiving Asha's morning piss across his entire body to keep her claim on him strong... he peeled one shoulder away from the couch. "Your furniture's gonna _stink_if I lie here much longer."

The striped hyena grinned, straightened up again, and then instead of pull out of him since both had felt the pressure of the tie when it happened, leaned in to wrap her arms around his upper body. The slight change in angle and position yanked a gasp from both of them, but then Fynn felt the world swing out from under him as she hoisted him up, the smaller male hardly an obstacle compared to what she usually dealt with during the day.

There was intense sensation, a searing, burning pleasure mixed with discomfort at the rim of his tailhole, then that deep, filling _weight_inside of him - and he struggled to wrap his legs around her waist, holding himself against her like a backpack worn the wrong way. Once more embarrassment flooded through him; Asha just nuzzled at the side of his face, drawing his eyes her way.

"Hey," she murmured, "let's go take that shower, and then after how about we make sure it stinks?"