Scandalous Bastards!
#2 of Bandits
So. I've decided that I'll pretty much let the readers decide what happens next after this chapter, in any form: sexual acts, plot developments (I'm really more interested in these), etc., though both will happen. Comment your recommendations and I'll do my best to consider them! I'll only use my own devices if much time elapses and they're all I have.
Their ragged breaths were the only sounds in the woods. Grayson had disposed of the wolf's shirt already, leaving his muscled chest bare to the world. The older fox kneaded the bandit's chest, rubbing over the small nipples and flat abdomen. But the real prize lay under the waist of his pants, where Grayson's paw now ventured, finding a fist-full of the hard lupine sheath and a needy pant from the wolf's muzzle.
"It's about time," the fox said, paws running over every inch of the sheath. "You told me to come back."
The wolf's paws settled on his rear. "Didn't think you'd do it."
"After last time," the fox said, still groping under the wolf's pants, "I'd be foolish not to."
A few gropes later, those pants (and Grayson's too) came off, revealing a swelling sheath stretched to the limits of its capacity. By that time, the wolf's paw had found the fox's own sheath, stroking it vigorously. Grayson returned the favor, rolling the warmth in his paws, only pausing to ensure that the wolf's sac also received attention. Their pants and gasps were the only speech they needed. It wasn't long before the fox was gritting his teeth, trying to will himself to stay in his own sheath, and judging by the way the wolf cowered against him, the way his sheath expanded and hardened until the skin was stretched around the beginnings of his shaft, he was doing the same.
It was the bandit who emerged first, just a hint of red peeking out the tip of his sheath. But once it was out, the wolf grinned as if he'd been caught pleasuring himself, and the rest of his length sprouted out in seconds, though it was quickly covered by the fox's paws. And Grayson's shaft soon followed.
Soon they collapsed to the earth, laying so that each could take the other's shaft in his muzzle. The taste of the lupine shaft was salty yet sweet, and he couldn't get enough of either the shaft or its plentiful drippings. He loved everything about it: the feel of it in his paws, the nice balance of length and thickness, and even the color, a deep pinkish red. He surprised himself by being able to take the whole thing at once, and judging from the wolf's yip, he certainly wasn't complaining. And Grayson certainly didn't complain when he got a broad lick on his rump, and a tongue teasing at his entrance. After sniffing under the wolf's tail, he imitated the gesture, and got a mouthful of deep musk and sweat. But he lacked the confidence and knowledge of the bandit's preferences to do any more. Instead, he mouthed at the wolf's sac.
The fox licked the circumference of the sac, kissing each orb and circling it with his tongue. It wasn't long before the wolf was doing the same, though keeping a thick digit circling the fox's rim. Grayson was still a bit sore from last time, yet he longed to be penetrated again, and he trusted the wolf would tend to that eventually and did not let it distract him from his ministrations. When the wolf's sac was soaked in moisture, he took the shaft in his mouth again, receiving a burst of salty pre. He was confident that his muzzle was crusty with the fluid by now.
Truth be told, the wolf wasn't the best at this. Grayson knew his own shaft wasn't small, but neither was it large, yet the bandit sometimes struggled with it. There were no major flaws-a teeth-scrape here, a little jump there as if from the beginnings of a gag-but they were noticeable, and despite them, the wolf was always trying to take more of it in, always trying to adapt his technique, and his muzzle still felt divine. He was a quick learner.
What the wolf lacked in oral skill he made up for in finger skill. More than once he released the shaft and trailed a single clawtip up its length, forcing Grayson to release the wolf's erection and catch his breath, trying to calm his whimpers and ignore the wolf's chuckles. And there was the matter of the bandit's fingers, now penetrating the fox's rear. Feeling brave, Grayson licked a finger and placed it at the wolf's entrance. When the bandit didn't complain, he slipped it inside, and decided to finger the wolf like he would finger his wife. But he found that it was more difficult; combined with the tongue on his shaft and the fingers in his rear, it soon became too difficult to focus on both good oral and good fingerwork, and for the most part his finger remained stationary. By contrast, the wolf slipped extra fingers in and out, only pausing to lubricate them either via spit (a wet smooch under his tail) or Grayson's own drippings, of which he knew there were plenty. Grayson knew he should be lucky to lay with someone with such sexual finesse.
When he was sure the wolf's knot had completely emerged, he gripped the base with his one free hand, squeezing, the other hand still softly pumping at the bandit's entrance. The wolf began thrusting, driving his shaft farther into the fox's mouth each time. The fox matched each thrust with a bob of his head, but when it became so that each time the wolf's shaft was completely exiting and reentering his mouth, the bandit's thrusts came shorter, keeping the majority of his length inside at all times. The thrusts matched the motion of three thick fingers deep in his rear, pushing into him and massaging his prostate each time. It was as if the wolf was taking him from both ends, and that, combined with the firm grip on his knot, and the now-heavenly tongue bathing his shaft in warmth, was enough to make it feel as if there were three wolves, each pleasuring a different orifice. Tongue, fingers, paw, and shaft combined to build a fire in his loins, sending him over the edge, making him moan around the shaft. He sucked in a breath, trying to suppress his climax, to draw it out as long as possible, but all it did was make him gag on the wolf's shaft. But he recovered quickly, redoubling his suction so that it wouldn't slack during his climax, and he felt the wolf tense against him.
As soon as Grayson felt his own climax die, thick globs of seed filled his muzzle. The first few shots hit his throat, forcing him to swallow, and as the spurts came less strongly, he stored it in his mouth and swirled it around before gulping. The wolf withdrew his fingers, giving his rear a pat. The bandit had taken the fox's seed on his muzzle, and now he caught the white on his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean.
Grayson shifted so they lay side by side. He watched the slickness of the wolf's shaft begin sliding back into its sheath, and he let a paw roam over the wolf's chest and arms, feeling the hard muscle beneath. He found that such intimate motions didn't feel awkward at all, this time.
"Good?" the bandit said.
Grayson answered by pressing his head into the wolf's chest. It wasn't as good as last time, when the wolf had hammered him, knot and all, for half an hour, and made them both climax twice. But still, it was much better than any intimacy he'd had with his wife. "You're good."
An arm encircled him, drawing him closer. "Your muzzle is good."
Grayson felt that he didn't need to point out that the bandit always brought him to climax first, even though by nature the younger wolf should come first. "How many bitches do you have?"
He shrugged. "Easier to count the ones I don't."
"Then why me?"
"Because you're not a bitch." Grayson sucked in a breath when the wolf's paw stroked his still-sensitive sheath.
"You've never been with a male before."
"Just pawing, with friends." The paw left left his sheath, and settled on the fox's rear, a finger sliding down the crack between his cheeks.
Grayson imagined a circle of hung young males, panting and whining from the strokes of the others. His sheath tingled, less from arousal and more as a note that he had discovered a wonderful fantasy that he might one day revisit when he was with his wife. "Invite me next time."
The wolf laughed. His finger found the fox's pucker, and he trailed a claw over it. "They have enough bitches that they aren't interested."
"Why are you a robber?"
He hesitated, as if considering if he could trust the fox. "I'm not good at anything else. Stealing's all I do."
"You've a gift." He squeezed the wolf's sheath, making the other grin. "Use it. You're amazing."
"I do when I can, but it's not enough to live on." The smile faded, and he sighed. "No males want want other males, and most of the young females nearby are wolfesses."
Grayson nodded, understanding that they didn't want a pregnancy. "It's not good for your business to give yourself freely to me."
"But I like you."
Grayson decided that he wouldn't complain. "Took me two weeks to find you," he said. "I don't know if I can wait that long again." He squeezed the wolf's sheath again, finding it hard and firm; the motion drew a gasp from the younger male. "I need this."
The wolf smiled. "Give me a quarter hour, and I'll give it to you right where you want it." To punctuate the sentence, he massaged the fox's entrance.
"Please."
And in fifteen minutes, the forest indeed rang with the sounds of their passion. Grayson yowled when the knot slipped in and locked them together, and yowled a different tone when the wolf's paws brought him to climax not two minutes later. In the aftermath, they lay panting in the grass, Grayson's back on the wolf's chest.
"You sure do like it under the tail," the wolf said.
Grayson's ears wilted. "Well..."
"I think it's cute. No worries. Besides, none of my bitches let me under theirs."
The fox massaged the wolf's neck with a paw. "It's because of my wife. She never touches me there."
"Huh." Grayson wished he could see the wolf's muzzle. "Married?"
He nodded. "This is... without her blessing."
"You scandalous bastard," the wolf said, but there was humor in his voice. "I guess we're both outlaws, then, huh?"
Unease gripped him. "I suppose so." He'd wanted to tell her, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. The guilt was enough to make him look around, but they were the only ones in the clearing, and probably in the forest at all. "I should probably be getting back to her.
"Oh." He didn't need to see the wolf to know that his ears were down. "Think of me, when you're in her?"
Grayson laughed. "I will. Next week?"
The wolf grinned. "Same time, same place." He placed his paws on Grayson's rump and pushed, and it didn't take long for the knot to pop out, making the fox wince. The wolf's seed ran out, a paw fondled his gaping entrance-and just that quickly, other than the ache and scent, it was as if they'd never been.
But it was never that simple.