You Shouldn't Be Here
This story has adult content. If it is illegal for you to be viewing this, then please don't. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy. The story and characters belong to me, Renaux. If you want to use them, just ask permission.
The young coyote confidently stepped into the brown and gray timber wolf's bright red Cadillac off the street, giving off an air of confidence as if he belonged there. He didn't even turn to the dilapidated graveyard of the old mill district from whence he came. It was a disgustingly humid summer night, with little promise of reprieve, so the Cadillac's luxurious conditioned air was a welcome change for the sweaty canine. He could close off the outside world by simply pulling the door shut. The coyote saw the envious glances of a few of his best friends that were left behind, and he gave them a wink and a wave, almost teasing them of their misfortune. Then, the Cadillac engine went into gear and left the friends behind.
The coyote, Brian, turned to his driver and tried to exude a pleasant and happy feeling towards this wolf. The old wolf's paws gripped the steering wheel tightly, the skin of his knuckles white, and popping out of the fur that usually covered them. He stared intently at the road as he turned out of the old mill district towards the old mansions that the mill owners used to live in. While the mills were run down and decaying, the mansions were well kept, housing many generations of wealthy inhabitants. The swift river that ran through the town was the vein for the delivery of all the wealth in the town, but milling days were over. All money now went to high tech firms, and to the corporate tycoons.
"Hey gramps," Brian broke the uneasy silence, placing a paw on his shoulder comfortingly. The wolf growled and cringed at the contact, but checked himself and relaxed his hackles slowly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong," the old canine muttered under his breath. "I just wish I didn't have to venture out to this side of town to pick you up, is all." Brian knew he was lying, but it wasn't his job to be the old wolf's shrink. The coyote hadn't even graduated high school, much less gone to school to deal with the troubles of the mind. It was hard for him to feel for the old coot, but it was his job to make sure he was happy and content. He'd have to bury the problems so that they would only surface after tonight was over. It was the only way to get out of this ahead.
"Kid?" the wolf inquired. He was curious about the slim youth that sat beside him and this curiosity could successfully defer the conversation away from his own troubles. They would solve themselves in time. That was the reason he brought the coyote into his life to begin with. "Shouldn't you be getting to bed for school soon? Do your parent's know you were out by the canal locks?"
"Fuck school," the coyote sternly said. "I quit that once my granddad died. More time for me. My parents don't give a shit about me, only their drugs and their prison gangs. They've been locked up for offing some police sergeant or some shit like that. If I ever see their fucking faces again it will be too soon."
"Comes with the territory," the wolf muttered to himself, inaudible to his passenger. He decided the parents were too sore a topic to continue so he latched onto the other piece of information Brian offered up. "Your granddfather died?" The wolf used one paw to push his glasses, which had fallen to the end of his long, narrow snout, up towards his eyes so he could see the road.
"Yup, and good riddance," Brian scoffed. "He was tellin' me to always buckle down, study hard. Said it would get me something in life. But, I was in the business for ages before he kicked the bucket. More money in it than being sold into the slavery called college. Fucking can't pay for it. Sides," the coyote gave the wolf a shit eating grin. "Besides, I like the business. It pays well, a lot of fun, and no alphas telling you what to do, how to do it, and that shit."
"Oh," the wolf sighed and looked out the window at his neighbors homes. None of the homes on his street could sell for under seven figures, and the owners usually paid other people to keep them looking nice. With their busy lives, they sometimes didn't even have time for children. He knew he had the good life where he was, but he never expected that the coyote could actually enjoy what he did. Guess you learn something new everyday. "You didn't like your grandfather did you?"
"I know he was looking out for me and all," the youth stated, less confidently than before. "But it's just not worth the trouble. They're burying him today, actually." The coyote sighed, and pushed his snout to the passenger's side window, watching the rich mansions pass by. "This gig pays more than sitting while some fucked up, child-molesting preacher talks about some old as shit coyote which is just attracting flies." Brian went silent and looked down at his paws. They started fidgeting, and the wolf realized the coyote's grandfather was not a pleasant topic of discussion, either, but not for the same reasons. The ruffian youth seemed to deceive himself that he knew where was going in life and what he wanted. If only social mobility were a real dream instead of an ideal. The wolf really felt bad for him. The coyote and the wolf were from different births, and followed different lives.
The wolf pulled into his gated driveway and drove the powerful vehicle into the garage. He hit the button clipped to his sun visor and the door closed off the outside world. He silently got out of the car and walked around to the passenger's side door to help the younger male out of the seat. The coyote didn't leave the garage without complimenting him on his vehicle, and the wolf thanked him for the kind words. Brian followed him into the kitchen and took a seat as he rummaged through the fridge.
"Want anything to drink?" the coyote was asked.
"Got a beer?"
"I'm not serving you beer," the wolf indignantly said. "You couldn't even be eighteen, much less twenty-one." The wolf pulled out a bottle of red wine, expensive vintage, for himself, and a can of coke for his guest. While the coyote had really wanted that beer, the coke was welcome. The coyote showed his gratitude by gulping the can in four large gulps, and delivering a belch that rattled the old wolf's eardrums. Brain, purposefully, did not excuse himself for such an outburst.
After a few glasses of wine, and one more coke, which Brian enjoyed much more slowly, the old wolf seemed to loosen up and relax a bit. All the tension he had before was hazed away behind liquor, and Brian started to become more at ease now that his host was relaxing. If the liquor would do his job for him, Brian knew it would be quicker and easier to earn his keep, and leave.
Without a word, Brian's host took his paw and led him up two flights of stairs to his bedroom. Brian was still new in the business, contrary to his earlier confidence, so he was getting butterflies in his stomach about the whole ordeal. This host was older than any before. He was also excited at the same time, because the mysterious old man that had picked him up was another unknown in his life. Why was he upset, tense, and was this his first time? His thoughts occupied him so much that he was startled when he heard a door shut behind him.
When Brain's paw was let go he felt a shiver run down his spine, but the room was pleasantly warm. It was time. He reached down to the hem of his red t-shirt and pulled it off in a wink, tossing it to the floor. When he reached for his pant's button, the wolf's paw stopped his wrist. Brian stared up into the wolf's ocean blue eyes and saw his alcohol induced warm smile.
"There's no need to do that, kid," Brian was told. "I'm going to quickly get changed, you may watch if you wish, and then we can get started." The coyote was going to ask why he was changing into new clothes for this, but the wolf's finger to the end of his muzzle silenced him. Then, the wolf walked over to the closet and started unbuttoning his collared shirt. For an older man, the wolf was distinguished, with sharp groomed features, and only a small gut. He looked as healthy as someone half his age did, and the coyote thanked the gods for that. He had had his share of ugly clients, but to get a rich, neatly groomed client was a welcome change. They usually tipped well, too.
The wolf bent down and pulled off his pants, showing a nicely trimmed rear and tail, and the coyote was relieved to see it did not sag as many older men's derrieres did. The coyote wouldn't give it much of a look among his younger friends because of the wrinkles he could still see underneath the wolf's thick fur coat. Nevertheless, this wolf would probably have been a knock-out in his prime years, most likely a half a century ago.
Brian watched as the wolf donned a white shirt, red tie, black two-button suit jacket, and a pair of black slacks to match. Brian guessed that this man must have a formal dress fetish, and it would be his job to take it off the man, slowly and enticingly. That was fine with Brian, because disrobing the clients was half the fun. When the wolf walked over toward the bed and lied down on his back, the coyote knew his part had come. Brian walked up to the side of the bed and climbed in between the wolf's spread legs, and smiled a seductive smile at the wolf. Now was the time to put on the charm, and make sure the wolf knew that Brian wanted, no needed, him.
"You look so handsome," the coyote stated formally, in the older wolf's dialect instead of his own. It was customary to compliment the customer, and make him feel like he is the epitome of what it is to be male, but Brian actually meant it with this older wolf. He started to rubs his paws over the wolf's hips, using his claw tips to lightly scratch through the thick fur coat, and prick the wolf's skin. He was careful not to mar the nice clothing, but he wanted to see the wolf shiver as his core was teased. "I am going to enjoy slowing unwrapping all you have to offer." He cupped one of his paws underneath the bulge in the wolf's slacks, lifting the wolf's large furry orbs slightly. He noticed the wolf was still not aroused. "It feels to me like you have a lot."
The wolf simply closed his eyes in response and laid his paws at his side. He seemed oddly detached and cold to the experience, and it was starting to worry the coyote. It was as if his tip were fluttering further out of his reach, the longer the wolf remained uninterested. Brian used his slender digits to pull down the zipper of the slacks, which probably cost more than the coyote would ever make in a year. He reached into the open slacks and fished the wolf's sheath and balls out of the piss hole in the soft silk boxers. Try as the coyote could, he could not smell the aroma of the wolf until his muzzle bumped the opening of the sheath. These rich snobs always cover their natural smell, as if it were a demonic presence, the coyote thought to himself. He normally enjoyed being hit by the scent of an aroused male when he fished their endowment out for the first time. It always sent a thrill through him which instinctively drove him to continue.
Brian knew what to do for the less anxious customers, though, and he chalked up the wolf's almost comatose state to nerves. Brian snaked his tongue into the sheath opening, and brushed the back of his palm, where the fur was the thickest and softest, over the wolf's low hanging sack. His tongue was assaulted with the taste of the male. It was not unlike most of his other customers, but this wolf had an underlying spice that drive Brian into a lust induced haze. Brian did not hear a sound of pleasure from the wolf, but when he sneaked a glace at the wolf's muzzle, the wolf had his brow furrowed in deep concentration. When Brian turned his paw around and cupped the low hangers, though, the wolf audibly gasped.
When the coyote's tongue met with the comatose member of the wolf, Brian was pleased that it finally responded to his touch. Inside, Brian felt unadulterated elation as the hardening member slipped over his tongue and out of the wolf's sheath. He was Brian's toughest customer to arouse, most were aroused from the sight of the slender, slightly under-aged coyote alone, and that success tasted sweet. In reality, success tasted a bit salty, like the wolf's pre that had just started leaking onto his skilled tongue, but it didn't matter.
Brian accepted the lengthening member into his muzzle, skillfully opening it wide enough so the wolf would not feel his teeth. Almost on instinct alone, one of the client's paws reached out and pushed Brian's muzzle down to his sheath's opening. Brian was prepared for the action, but not for the size. It slid down Brian's throat with ease, but the coyote was not experienced with that size. He gagged and pulled back against the wolf's paw a bit.
"Oh honey," the wolf moaned out, feeling the warm confines of a muzzle for the first time in awhile. "Oh baby, I've missed you so badly." Brian assumed that the old wolf was imagining someone else doing this to him, but that wasn't uncommon either. When the member reached its full size, Brian slipped the last of his tongue out of the wolf's sheath, and started to graze his tongue lightly along the sensitive underside of the flesh. Now, the wolf was growling his speech, so it was unintelligible. Like most canines Brian was with, the wolf let out a steady stream of pre; the wolf's was more watered down than usual. Brian just assumed that was because of age.
The coyote pulled off for a moment and looked at the pleasure the wolf was rapt up in. He reached to unbutton the wolf's suit jacket, and start the road towards having this male nude before him, but his paw was stopped again.
"I'd like to keep fully clothed," the wolf stated, calmly.
"It is a gorgeous suit. I understand. Would you like to fuck me, instead, handsome" the coyote asked, with more vulgarity than the wolf was used to. Brian fluttered his tail over the wolf's legs as he asked. The wolf pondered the questions for a few moments, then shook his head.
"No," he replied. "What you were doing before was fine. I haven't taken a male in that fashion since my University days, so I'm a little nervous. I know I paid for the 'whole' deal, but I am sure you would appreciate less work for more pay." A damned charity case, the coyote thought. He hid his rage very well, because he was still counting on a tip, so he smirked and started to rub the sheath up and down the wolf's slick member to keep it stimulated.
The coyote returned to his task, and accepted the wolf's cock into his muzzle once more. He used many of the tricks he had learned, applying suction, lightly fluttering the tip of his tongue over the more sensitive areas, and the like. However, it still took a long while, perhaps thirty minutes, before he noticed signs of life in the wolf's knot. The longer he took with this wolf, the fewer customers he could take that night, so he was conscious of the time. When the knot started to inflate, though, he heard a gurgle-like sound from the wolf as his paw shot to his chest and held onto it for dear life. Brian was about to pause and ask what was wrong when the wolf gasped out.
"Angina," the wolf stated. "Happens to me all the time, it'll pass, don't worry." The coyote hadn't started moving on the wolf's member for a few moments so the wolf continued. "I know what I'm talking about; I'm taking medication for it. These things happen when you're my age. Now, please, I'm so close." The wolf was practically begging Brian. Brian didn't want to have to spend a lot of time building the wolf up again to climax, so he decided to continue moving his muzzle up and down on the wolf, puckering his lips around the cock to tightly grip it. One of his paws tickled the wolf's taint and the other grasped tightly around the wolf's knot, simulating a tie. His muzzle was too tiny to wrap around the wolf's monstrous knot, so he improvised.
The wolf grimaced as if he was in real pain, but he was still humping the coyote's muzzle, so with the urgings the wolf gave him in mind, he continued. Brian could feel the wolf's member throb in his muzzle, and the pre stopped for a moment. At the next moment, the wolf's pent up seed released into the coyote's muzzle, and the wolf growled out loud. The coyote swallowed all the wolf had to offer, and halfway through his climax, the wolf let out a strangled yelp, before going silent. Brian was lost in the moment and simply kept licking at the tip of the wolf's member until he could taste no more seed. It was less salty and more sweet than what he usually tasted so he wanted to enjoy it. He slowly detached himself from the wolf's member and stared into the wolf's closed eyes.
"You were fucking hot, gramps," the coyote cooed to the other male. His drained patience showed through his childish vulgarity creeping back into his speech. His paws were now stroking over the wolf's inner thighs to strengthen the afterglow for the old man, after all he was still servicing him, chasing that ever growing tip. After receiving no reply, the coyote shrugged. "Must have tired the old fucker out." He paused and grinned. This was every hooker's dream. A passed out customer was a perfect chance to help himself to a bit more than the price of the service. Most people didn't trust hustlers anymore, with good reason, so this was the first time Brian could go looting.
Brian quietly crept to the wolf's armoire, and peeked inside. It was half filled with feminine clothing and half filled with masculine clothing. There was also an ornately decorated jewelry box inside so he quickly opened that and took everything with a gold color to it or anything that had something diamond-like attached. He could sort out what was what later. Brian knew he had to work quickly before the wolf woke up. He also found a wad of cash in the wolf's underwear drawer, and didn't bother to count it and snatched it up too. When clothing was the only thing left in the armoire, and Brian's pockets were full to the brim, he closed it and walked back to the wolf.
"Tough luck old man," he sinisterly chuckled at his unfortunate customer. "But I did have fun, if its any consolation." Brian leaned down, kissed the wolf on the lips, and patted his still knotted up cock, almost teasingly. He reached down and slipped a simple gold band off the wolf's left index finger. Before he turned to walk away, he noticed a picture on the side of the bed opposite the wolf. It was of an old female wolf, about the age of his client being embraced from behind by his client. They were grinning at the invisible person who held the camera with a large beautiful waterfall behind them. He saw the accompanying inscription:
"Mary-Ann
July 17, 1933 -
November 5, 2009.
I will be with you shortly.
TLA,
Frank"
Brian looked down at the simple gold band he looted from the sleeping wolf, apparently named Frank, and immediately his heart sunk to his feet. His client's wife had died not even a month ago and he was hiring prostitutes to sate his needs. Not even normal prostitutes but male ones! He couldn't imagine someone that smitten by love would do such a thing. Brian stared at the picture for a few more moments and felt terrible about adding to this old wolf's strife by robbing him blind. His grandpa didn't raise him that way. The coyote made a snap decision, and dumped his stash on the bed beside the wolf and didn't even take his fee from the wolf's cash. He couldn't bring himself to steal from the morose man who only wanted physical relief. Frank reminded Brian of his own grandfather, who pined for over a decade after his deceased love. Brian remembered when he was just in first grade, how his grandfather would cry himself to sleep every night. Now, he also was gone. The coyote brushed away a tear of regret as it finally sunk in that he was missing his grandfather's funeral to go out and service many strangers' sexual needs.
"Old man," the wolf stated, lightly slapping him on the muzzle trying to wake him and tell him the blowjob was on the house. Frank did not respond. The coyote put his paw in front of the wolf's muzzle and felt nothing. He felt the wolf's chest and again he felt nothing. He quickly put his sensitive ear to the wolf's chest, and it was silent. The coyote stood up straight, eyes wide, and ears perked in alarm. He frantically looked around the room, not knowing what to do. His eyes settled on a couple pill bottles on the nightstand on Frank's side of the bed. He picked it up and looked at the label. He could not tell what they were for based on the name but one of them stated not to take with nitrates, as it could cause an unsafe drop in blood pressure. The coyote investigated a bit further and saw that they were filled about a month ago, but never used. He purposefully didn't take his blood pressure and heart medications for the past month. Then, instead of taking it easy, he hired a prostitute for a hummer. The rise in heart rate, nervousness, and excitement did him in!
Brian numbly dropped the bottle and staggered back as if he had seen a ghost. It all made sense to him now. It is silly for a hustler to feel used, but he never felt so used in his life. He felt downright miserable and he couldn't turn off the tears as they streaked down his cheeks. He quickly turned and left the wolf in his bed. He took the steps three or four at a time as he bolted from the mansion. He shoulder checked the front door, turning the knob as his weight crashed into it. Luckily it wasn't dead bolted, and the coyote continued to run into the streets. He didn't stop until his lungs burned, and his legs were almost mush, tripping over each other from exhaustion. He made it a couple miles from the home, before leaning against a fencepost to catch his breath.
His mind kept playing the last few moments of Frank's life repeatedly for him, but half the time he has blowing his grandfather in his twisted imagination. His guilt over missing the funeral and over not realizing Frank's intentions caused him to start wailing into the night like a crying child. He was gasping for breath between the sobs and he fell into the mud by the street. His paws went to his muzzle and eyes trying to wipe away all of the moisture, but he couldn't stop wailing. He succeeded only in wiping mud all over his face.
"Pops," he cried into the night. "I'm so sorry," he sniffled and wiped his face again. "You were right. I am throwing my life away. Please, I'm sorry."
He loved his grandfather with all of his heart, and he even felt a warm attachment to Frank in the short time he was with him, because the old wolf and his grandfather were so much alike. He was done hiding his feelings, now. It was all too much for the lost child, and he didn't move from the side of the road that night. The coyote's wails, howling, and tears gave way to whimpering, shaking, and fitful snores as he cried himself to sleep on the side of the street. He wasn't found until the morning joggers started their rounds around the wealthy suburban neighborhood.