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Standard disclaimer:

This is a furry adult story containing gay males in sexual situations as well as explicit language and descriptions. No kids are allowed so this story is only for those who are 18/21 or whatever the age is at your legislation. If you are not of the legal age, you shouldn't view this story because you might lose your innocence. Also, by browsing this story you have done so by your own consent and wish to view such material. if you do not wish to view such material you should leave this site immediately.

*

Hello everyone, and welcome to reading Bent Over Behind the Barracks series! Whether you're a regular or just catching this story up from this installment, all ahoy with the latest installment!

Now, this was meant to be just a single chapter, but all juicy detail just kept coming, so yes, I've envisioned YET another new chapter to go with the current storyline. I do hope it delivers.

If you like the story, why not to take a moment to fav, vote or comment? It will help me to become a better writer.

Happy readings!

*

The water was damn cold.

Seriously, it was the kind of that made your balls and sheath shrink a few sizes from mere compassion at the idea of being immersed in it. I wasn't feeling too bad now that we were walking back through the forest path, and I had my shirt and pants back on. Still, the drift blowing through the quiet forest was more than enough to make me feel chilly. I tried to keep it at bay by taking good, long strides while keeping behind Brock.

The broad-shouldered Dobie walked right ahead of me. His gait was stiff, and there was none of the usual strut he put up to show of his ass and his buff body for anyone who might want to catch a glimpse. My ears kept perking and flicking towards the direction of every noise, but Brock's were simply flat against his skull. His fur still glistened a bit in places as he walked friskily along the winding path through the forest, his paws stuffed in his stretched pants pockets. His bare footpaws sent small twigs and rocks flying along, but he didn't seem to even notice as he strode onwards.

It smelled of pine needles and soil and wet doggies.

Brock's ears had been flat ever since he sat down and spilled It all about his father. Even now my belly got this uneasy feeling as I tried to push the images made by his tale away. I couldn't help but imagine Brock's dad as a sort of a bigger and a bit older version of Brock, with the same big eyes and stubby tail and the shoulders that seemed too big to be real.

I wondered if the dad Stahlman had that same kind of wide smile when he was happy or feeling mischievous, the same one that spread over Brock's lips and said: "either you wanna mess with me or fuck with me, bring it on!"

I wanted to ask him if he was alright.

One look at his hunched shoulders, or the sound of his huffing, growling breaths, was enough to tell me that I as right to fear the answer.

We made our way back along the path and I finally got a chance to look at it a little bit as we went on. The forest seemed dense and rather dark, and I was sure that young Brock had loved playing here, when he wasn't helping out in the farm. There were rocks and big trees and all sorts of things I supposed were fun for cubs.

Brock didn't pay any mind to the sights as he instead opted to keep his eyes trained straight ahead of him, but I wasn't too surprised of that. It was his forest, anyway, this was where he had spent his young years, he probably knew every tree by its feel. Perhaps he had climbed into just that very large pine that stood there at a bend of the path, or hidden behind those rocks. Maybe he had chased neighborhood kids along this path playing cowboys and Indians...

The finally made for the edge of the forest, and I could see the house and the dairy and the old Dodge out there in the distance on the other side of the sea of the swaying fields. The sun was higher now and hit us both again properly. It made Brock's shoulders glow a little with the mixture of water and sweat that had gathered there. His ears flicked as he felt the warmth hit him again, and I too stretched my arms a little as I started to feel more warm and comfortable after the cold stint.

Brock didn't stop to enjoy it but simply continued along the tractor trail that split the fields in two.

"You want some coffee?" I called out after him, feeling I had to break the silence somehow as we tread along towards his home.

"Whatever," Brock grunted, and that was it.

We reached the fence and heaved ourselves over it before heading for the back door of the house. Our footclaws made scratching sounds on the old concrete and the mesh door squeaked familiarly while we entered the musty, cool space of the kitchen.

Brock immediately took onto his seat by the small table and collapsed down heavily, and laid his paws against the tabletop. I closed the door behind me and turned to look at him for a while, but didn't find his eyes in return.

I picked up the singular pot we possessed and drew some cold water into it from the tap before setting it onto the stove and turning the old electric cooker on.

I shivered a little bit as the warmth of the sun had finally disappeared from my furs and I was left in the cool silence of the kitchen once more. I felt Brock's eyes upon me by instinct as I adjusted the stove up to full power. Then I went to rummage through the brown shopping bag for the jar of Folger's instant coffee which we had brought from the supermarket earlier on. I put it down to the table next to the two mismatched cups I had managed to find abandoned on the cabinets, and an old spoon which we could use to stir our coffees.

Brock still sat stiffly, with his legs wide and planted widely on the floor. His paws were splayed and his arms bulged with tension. In any other situation it would've looked pretty hot on him, but right now, it was a worry. The light was still low, and as such Brock remained as a dark lump in the general dimness of the air of the kitchen. His eyes stared straight ahead of him, towards the dirty window opposite to him. I doubt he could see much.

I leaned against the sideboard, folded my arms over my chest for warmth, and watched him for a while.

"There's no sugar or milk," I noted just to have something to say.

He didn't answer or turn his eyes towards me.

I turned to check the water briefly but it wasn't showing any signs of boiling yet, so all I could was to return to watching the Dobie.

The worry still made my belly clench.

I really didn't know what to make out of it.

Brock was pretty much as talkative as the butt of a carbide rifle and about as safe to go dealing with from the business end. I didn't want to cause another attack of unexplained violence from him nor an incident of...strangeness, such as the one that caused him to run into the forests and left me standing there like a fool.

The pot on the stove hissed a little, but a quick glance told me that it wasn't ready.

A quick glance at the Brock sitting on the table told me that he wasn't ready.

"We got any more beer?" he asked, suddenly.

I scratched the side of my muzzle.

"I guess there's some left," I answered him, "You want some after coffee or...?"

"Never mind. Tastes like piss anyway."

I flicked an ear. He met my eyes briefly and squinted before going to stare at the empty wall again.

The water finally decided to start boiling, and when the first puff of steam rose, I used a piece of folded newspaper as protection as I poured the hot water into the waiting cups. I put the pot away and then unscrewed the jar of Folger's and measured us double doses of coffee, because I certainly was feeling like I was in the mood for something stiff at the moment. It smelled really good and made me lick my lips wetly as I stirred the brown powder into the water.

Once I was happy with my work, I put the cups down and sat opposite Brock on the table. I gave him the best smile I could muster, almost as if to assure that the coffee indeed was good enough to drink. He simply glared at me and snorted so that his whiskers shook.

I just flicked my ears and took my own cup into my big paw and nursed the steaming brew close to my nose, enjoying the pungent aroma of strong coffee. I took a careful lap because I didn't want to risk burning my tongue, and rumbled as the nice taste filled my maw.

I watched Brock over my fingers, and his impassive gaze seemed to be fixed on his own unattended cup.

"You want to drink it fresh" I spoke to him as I put my cup down and scratched my belly.

"Thanks, missus," Brock snuffled.

Brock picked the cup with almost suspicious air about him, and he took a deep gulp which probably burned his tongue some, and he certainly wasn't taking his time to enjoy the twang.

I let his jibe go without as much as a snuffle and just sat there, trying to relax and feel normal again. The coffee helped a little bit to take my mind off momentarily from wondering on what the hell was going on at Brock Stahlman's mind. He sat there as stiffly as he did before, holding the coffee and staring listlessly at the ceiling.

"Anything you'd like to eat?"

"Nahh, not really."

"I could make sandwiches," I offered.

Brock shrugged and drank his coffee again.

"I'm not hungry."

I frowned.

"I could cook some bacon, if you'd prefer something more salty, and there's the salami - "

"For fuck's sake, Griggs!" Brock grunted as he punched his paws down to the table again, making some of his coffee splash over the surface.

I flinched and my ears flattened at the sudden clatter and the viciousness of his face as he yelled at me. I felt my tail twitch with nerves and danger.

"What?" I hissed.

Brock snorted and rubbed the side of his muzzle with his knuckles. His breaths were coming as dark huffs, and his eyes had that dangerous look that didn't remind me of much of anything I had seen on his face before. His arms bulged in his too small a shirt with the tension coursing through his body.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Brock snarled.

"I was talking about lunch. I'm hungry."

"I'm not."

"We hardly ate breakfast."

"Suit yourself. I'm not hungry," Brock grunted again.

I took a sip of my coffee and flicked an ear as the taste hit my tongue once more. At least that was a little bit soothing on my nerves, unlike Brock's continuously worrying behavior. I shook my head briefly.

"I'll make enough for both of us, alright?"

The Dobie shrugged and didn't even look at me.

*

Post-coffee dishwashing didn't yield any results, nor me cooking the bacon and serving it all greasy and hot for both of us. Brock did steal a couple of strips from my portion and chugged down a beer, but once we were done, he didn't seem to be in any better mood. Another round of dishwashing later he still sat uncharacteristically quietly on his seat while I was drying my paws on a slip of old newspaper. I watched him for a while, my head tilted, and then shrugged.

"Well, I'm going out for a leak," I snorted as I crunched the piece of paper into a ball and tossed it away to the side.

Brock's staring eyes remained fixed on the roof. I shook my head at the hopelessness of trying to reach him and headed out of the creaking door to get the coffee out of my system. I felt a little bit better, if only for the physical comfort of not feeling like I was bursting into my pants, and as I shook my dick and pulled my sheath back and buttoned up, I decided that I would try to talk to him again.

Brock was nowhere to be seen in the kitchen as I re-entered. I went out to the living room and still didn't see the Dobie, so I checked the bedroom, and still did not spot a Brock in sight. The stairs to the second floor beckoned for me immediately. I took the steps up slowly, listening for any clues to Brock's whereabouts, but there was nothing to be heard as I got up to the second floor and spied along the small corridor that yielded entry into the two upstairs rooms.

The door to Brock's old room was a little bit open.

I took a deep breath, stepped over, and pushed the door fully open and looked inside.

Brock stood by the small window, his paws stuffed in his pockets again, and his knee resting against the window sill. He leaned against the wall, one heavy shoulder slung down, the other pushed up, while his eyes were fixed on the view through the dirty panes of glass. He was quiet except for the sound of his breathing, and his ears were flat and expressionless and didn't even flick to react to the sound of me entering the room.

I stopped next to the doorway and just stood there, watching him. Brock's breathing sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of the room, and I was not sure what to say, or to do, or whether I should even try anything at all.

Brock's breaths were fogging up the window, painting it with grayness that was as dull as the look in his eyes had been earlier, when he had been trying his best not to look at me. I couldn't see them now, not even in a reflection, and I felt like there was nothing I could tell about him as I watched his profile now, still. His muscle tension was filling the whole room with a strange feeling of expectation that I could almost feel with my whiskers if nothing else.

I cleared my throat. It made a gruff sound that seemed oddly too loud again, but the words that might have come died in my maw before ever reaching either of us' ears. Brock's ears and tail twitched from the sound, however.

I tried again, after a pause.

"Can I stay here?"

Brock's head twitched from side to side, the broad curve of his muzzle displayed for me briefly, and a couple of teeth. He didn't growl, though.

"And don't say whatever. Just say something," I pleaded.

"Something."

I snorted.

"That's not funny, Brock."

"It's not like it's your business, Griggs."

I shook my head.

"I'm here, it kinda is my business when you're being all crappy."

Brock looked at me now over his shoulder, giving me a dark, clear eye.

"What does it matter? You can go out if it ain't fitting for you to mind your manners in my home."

I couldn't believe what he was saying. The growl rose from my chest faster than I could control it. Brock's ears twitched, but he didn't move.

"It's your manners that I'm worried about," I replied. "You're being miserable."

The huge Dobie drew a ragged breath and expelled in it a loud huff that painted rest of the window grey again as he made it go all cloudy with the warmth of his breath.

"You blame me?"

"I don't blame you about anything, Brock, but - "

"So cut the crap."

"You're the one talking and ACTING crap!" I yelped, taking a step closer and pushing my shoulders back.

My instincts were screaming at me, and my body was reacting accordingly, broadening almost automatically as I closed on him, two, three steps, and I was about six feet away from him, watching him carefully.

Brock didn't budge.

"Still sore over losing the hide and seek?" he snuffled, his eyes dangerous and his lips without a smile.

"That wasn't hide and seek! That was you being a DICK!"

Brock growled loudly, almost enough to make the window rattle in its frame. His body flexed even if he still stood just like he was a moment ago, unmoving, broad-shouldered and dangerously tense.

I licked my lips that felt dry all sudden and felt my paws flex into fists momentarily as I glared at him, breathing heavily. I hadn't noticed I was getting so riled up until now, and for once I didn't like the feeling of my heart beating strongly in my chest. The situation felt all too wrong for it to feel normal at all, like during practice, or...things.

"What the hell does it matter what it was?" Brock snuffled.

"It does when you're hurting not only me but yourself!"

Brock shrugged.

"You don't know anything about it."

"No?" I snorted. "So why did you spent the better part of half an hour telling me about your dad? Does that count as not knowing anything? I know pretty damn much now!"

Brock stood up to his full height and width and stood there, one of his balled fists raised up now as he glared.

"Yeah?" he growled between clenched, bared teeth.

"YEAH!"

I held my paws up defensively and watched the Dobie stand there, huffing and coiled with energy just waiting to be unleashed. He looked more dangerous than I had ever seen him, and the scowl on that muzzle could not be made rightful justice with simple words.

For the first time ever I was scared at the sight of Brock.

Brock's head twitched from side to side as he watched me, his eyes squinted and his ears flicking nervously. They weren't even flat anymore, that's how agitated he was. Or so it seemed to me, but I was simply looking out for myself now, for I wasn't sure whether I had gone past some limit I didn't know to exist.

"You don't." the Dobie grunted.

"Then tell me!"

"There's nothing to tell!"

I had had enough of it. I tipped my head to the side and flicked an ear, letting out a deep breath.

"Fine, fuck all," I snorted, clenching my paws so hard that veins popped in my arms and my skin feel stretched.

"Right!"

"Right!"

I turned around and headed for the door, my steps heavy and my breaths even more so.

The loud, deep growl rose from him even before he was moving, so it served as an alarm as much as the creaking of the floorboard when the 160 or so pounds of grunt was put into motion. I only had the time to spin myself about before that same mass of Dobie collided with my, full force.

I was shamed against the wall and it made it sound like the whole house might be shaking itself apart from the force of the impact. My breath left my lungs in a loud snarl while a hot shard of pain pushed itself through my shoulder. My chest ached too from the collision of Brock's forearm against it as he had piledriven himself against me and showed me to the wall.

He was right there, mere inches away.

We snapped our jaws and drooled and grunted and my paws clawed on his sides, trying to make him relent his pressure on me.

I tried to kick him, but his knee parried my move and instead left me with a bruised knee cap.

Brock's spittle splashed against my face as he practically barked at me and snapped his teeth together with bone-crushing force. It was a wonder he didn't get any of his canines chipped at that rate.

I was returning it pretty well, though, with my own vicious snarls. I pushed against his ribs with all my force and struggled with sharp, defined movements. I would not give him the pleasure of catching me unaware, I would not let him do this to me, I would not...

I kept my head tilted down to protect my neck from him and growled deeply as I tensed my whole body and tried to upset Brock's balance. His stance was too wide, and all I gained was a grunt from him and a hissed "nhhhhhgggggghhhh!" of anger as we grappled.

Our paws were everywhere, and our knees crashed together when he pushed his body firmly against mine as he held me immobilized against the wall of his old room.

I hated to admit that he was stronger than I was.

Perhaps he was fuelled by his anger, perhaps I was hampered down by the same feeling, but he managed to distract me by nipping on my flat ear and making me raise my head to retaliate the action.

Perhaps it was the sharp pain from that relatively minor bite, or the push of his knee to mine, or the smell of his agitated, angry breaths, or the sudden feeling of hotness against my skin when I felt his teeth press against it and he was practically holding my throat in between his lethal jaws.

I felt each pulse of my heart acutely as blood surged through half-constricted veins on my neck. My paws were still gripping on Brock's sides, but I simply had to stop struggling for the fear of getting my windpipe torn away. I still breathed heavily and his paws were heavy, and my body felt heavy.

A pressure throbbed behind my eyes, like a headache on the way.

I held my breath as his hold on my throat tightened.

My body went rigid from the feeling.

My claws dug against his skin and probably left marks there as we were caught in this standoff, Brock holding me, and I held him. He had won me, and he stood there, motionless.

For the briefest of moments I wondered if he'd bite me and mark me, or even hurt me, but he remained still and unmoving, and I don't think he was breathing either, for the hot huff from his nostrils was nowhere to be felt.

"Brock," I gasped between my tightly held lips, hoping he'd hear the lack of breath and release me.

He still held me.

"Brrrook...!"

The pressure on my throat lessened, but his teeth remained pressed against my flesh heavily, and his paws on me were as steady as ever, holding me down.

I drew a gasped breath, feeling the air flow into my lungs unobstructedly, and sighed as I breathed out. My paws on his sides were planted as they were, making sure he could not escape from me again.

Brock must have breathed, too, for the heat returned to my neck, as he breathed in strong, rapid huffs. His scent washed over my skin and my nose and left a hot glow there while his muzzle remained pressed over my neck.

I still couldn't move, or look down to him. My chin was pressed against the top of his muzzle, and his eyes were closed, so there was nothing I could tell about him by them.

The heat became wet all sudden, and Brock's breaths became muffled in quality again, and my ears actually flicked as I heard them ease.

It only took me a few seconds to realize that Brock was licking my neck, his broad, wide tongue making hot swipes over the flesh he had held only moments before.

The feeling made my fur prickle on the back of my neck, and I gasped.

Brock's body pressed firmly against me, and I realized that we were pushed strongly together, with barely enough room to breath properly as we held onto each other with all of our bourgeoning strength.

Something else was emerging, too, no matter how I had felt only a moment ago.

Brock was growing hard against my belly. His sheath was trapped between out heaving bodies, and I felt it become hot and heavy. My paws on his sides clenched briefly as I felt my body jump at the feeling.

"Brock!"

He did answer this time, but it came as an incoherent mumbling rumble against my neck which he was still licking, slowly going up and down with his perpetually wet tongue that smeared his saliva thickly over my smooth furs. It felt hot and it felt slick and it felt wrong, considering how riled up I was. My body was still screaming from the alarm, from the prospect of the fight, from our brief if intense struggle for control.

I didn't want to relent yet.

I didn't want to succumb to him, not this easily, not when he hurt me. My shoulder throbbed with pain, and my chest felt like I had pulled something doing pushups or pumping iron. I felt Brock's cock pulsing against my belly, and those hot breaths and wet licking and the beat of our hearts was strong in my ears.

I could feel my sheath already straining as the heat slowly grew and spread under my skin and collected in the pit of my belly as the dark Dobie held me pinned against he wall and ravaged me. He was oddly quiet, even when I snorted and huffed at the feeling of his hot licking over my throat. I didn't complain when he pushed our hips together and caused our hard cocks to press against each other firmly, which only served to fuel the myriad of feelings I was feeling.

Brock licked and kissed along my neck roughly, nipping me in places as he straightened his head and finally let me tilt my head down to look at him on the near eye level. His eyes were fierce, as I knew them to be, and there was something else there, too, that I could not really name very well. I could definitely see that it was there as much as I could tell that his pants felt like they might explode at any moment from the very presence of his massive Dobie cock wanting to break free.

We stared at each other for a moment before I felt his paw go behind my neck and pull our muzzled together in a lip-crushing kiss. I relented easily now, opening my maw and letting his tongue attack mine in a wrestling match that went on and on while our bodies strained and pushed and thrust on another as we sought each other with fierce need. My paws had moved over to his shoulders and I kneaded the massive, strong muscles there while his musky saliva leaked and mixed with mine within the confines of my own maw. Our growling kiss continued uninterrupted and powerful while our paws began to wander well known grounds more broadly.

His free paw fell down and gripped my rump firmly while his lips were practically biting mine. They were already feeling bruised and swollen from the firmness of our kiss, but Brock didn't seem to notice, not even when I ran my own paws down over his back and squeezed both sides of his hefty Dobie ass. His tail twitched at the new feeling but he didn't push me away, so I kept up the stroke down there while we made out messily and hungrily, and let out bodies rock to each other in the heat of the rut. The air already reeked of sex as a result of our straining cocks leaking hotly inside out inconvenient pants, and my maw was full of Brock, and my skin felt Brock wherever I could have it bare.

Brock seemed to share the sentiment, for before I knew what was happening, his paw had slipped over me and between our bodies and he was groping my cock through my pants. I growled into the kiss and tried to suckle on his invading tongue, but that slick muscle escaped from me as I huffed my breath and tried to pull him closer by his hips. My tail wagged with the combined feeling of his pawing of me and the kiss, and my head swam with the musk of our straining bodies.

I knew I needed him bad, and Brock wasn't anywhere far away.

His paw was already fumbling with my buttons while my own paws reached his back again and tried to slip under his shirt at the hem which I was tugging as well as I could while having so many distractions upon me happening at the same time. I was far beyond complaining when he finished with the front of my pants and tugged on the waistline to release me fully of them. My wet cock slapped against my belly and sent a few drops of newly leaked pre splashing between us.

I watched down and saw Brock finger the front of his own pants briefly to expose himself, too, and I looked as his hefty cock popped into view, angry red and pulsing and the knot fully formed, while Brock's paws pushed along his sides to push his pants down over his thick hips. I squeezed his sides again and panted and breathed hotly at the sight and feel and smell of him.

Brock's paws found my shoulders next and turned me over, and I knew without speaking to push my paws flat against the wall. Brock pushed himself against me almost immediately, his nose pressed against the back of my neck while his hips pressed flush to mine, his straining cock jammed between my still somewhat battered rump cheeks. The slick rod nestled into the crevice of my ass and felt hot and throbbing and dangerous with its hot presence there, as much as his breath over my neck, or his chest, or the arm broadly held over my chest possessively.

Brock stroked his upper teeth against my neck briefly and licked there, leaving a wet drop of saliva to fall down my spine while he stood before me, pushing his hips ever so firmly against the rump be needed. He was dripping pre against my tailbase as well as my own stub of a tail that stood up rigidly and unflicking as I submitted willingly to him.

The big Dobie soldier humped me for a few moments as he kissed and licked the back of my neck and felt me up, holding me close to his broad chest with his arm while his paw rubbed all over my side before slipping over against my belly and then down. He caught my jutting cock into his paw and fisted over it slowly, as if he was milking me or something, and I growled as I felt my much used flesh become squeezed in his firm grip. Brock was rewarded by a spurt of pre all over his knuckles and I hissed loudly, only to be muffled my that very same paw being pushed against my lips.

"Yours," the Dobie behind me snorted.

There was no way I could disobey him at this point, so I opened my maw and let my tongue slip over my own fingers, tasting myself in the process. The slick, tangy substance stuck onto my tongue and made it feel odd in my maw even when Brock's paw departed to grope my humped and probably soon to be speared ass. He also stroked over the small of my back just above the flare of my rump, and since he wasn't licking my neck I was sure he was watching himself taking my body any way he wanted.

My ass cheeks smarted a little bit from the force of his thrusts, and he gave me a few more before he took a step back. I heard him hack a spit up from his throat but didn't feel a splash anywhere upon myself, so at least he hadn't deiced to try to mark me with his saliva, somehow. I learned the target of his spitting sooner rather than later when I felt his paw stroke wetly over my back and then slip between my ass cheeks. His wet fingers prodded against the muscles usually hidden under the base of my tail. I hissed between my teeth as I felt the contact of rough pads against my flesh, both parties slick, Brock from spit, me from him reaming my tail throughout only a couple of hours earlier.

Brock grunted as he jammed those fingers against my pucker and felt the muscle give a little, being stretched as I was, and I felt the same muscles tense instinctually as I stood there, my body tense and broad and thrumming with arousal and tension that had perhaps changed in nature in the space of few minutes, but that was still as true as it was before.

The lustful soldier stroked his fingertips around my muscle, pressing in broad, firm circles about the slick flesh he knew so well and had taken possession of in numerous times. I knew he wanted to push into my rump again and spear me with his cock and breed me and push his huge knot in there too and claim me as his whatever he wanted me to be, and I knew I would let him do it.

I wanted him to do it.

I pushed my footpaws a bit wider apart so that I could steady myself a bit better while Brock's paw played with my tailhole and the crack of my ass, spreading slickness and teasing taunt flesh. The presence of his arm clinging over my chest was as powerful as it was before, too, and he didn't show any signs of willingness to let go of me either.

I grunted only half-heartedly when two of Brock's broad fingers pushed firmly against my tailhole and passed into me, stretching me out with their very bulk. It was not much compared to the size of the Dobie's massive and proud cock, but it was a familiar feeling, such an invasion coming from Brock, so all I could do was stand there and take it like a man. Brock seemed to find special pleasure in this act too, for he started to mirror my own grunts when he began to slip those fingers in and out of me and in the process bumping against that unnamed place inside me that sent those odd feeling through my cock and my balls and the pit of my belly.

I groaned his name, and Brock rewarded me with a quick jab of his fingers inside me. I almost saw stars.

"Ughhhhhhhh!"

Brock repeated that move a few times before he withdrew from me and slapped his paw heavily over my ass. I grumbled, but was distracted from it soon enough by the feeling of his cock pushing again between my pre-fluid-sticky rump cheeks. That blunt tip of his big cock pressed right against my tailhole, and I kept my tail rigid as I felt his new presence there. My body jittered.

"Easy now..." Brock growled.

I turned my head just enough to see him, to keep that little bit of extra contact with the one who was taking my body as his, and saw him standing there, his paw splaying my poor and battered ass cheeks wide open while his eyes were fixed on the spot where his flesh pressed firmly against mine. I only saw lust there, and need ,and his tongue was practically hanging out of his maw as he drooled. A few hot drops splashed against my back and my ass as he watched himself preparing to skewer my rump into a hot roast over his spike of a doggie cock.

Then he pushed with his strong hips, and poised like that, and as prepared and well-used as I was, it took him only a little bit of lip-biting effort to force the thick head of his cock through my gates and into me. My body clenched around him instantly, and my body went even more tense as it was before as it fought him for a while. Brock's paw on my hip and his arm around me anchored him to me as firmly as he cock trying to break way into my nethers, and I couldn't help but tilt my head down and breath hufflingly at the intensity of the feeling coursing through me from all around me as I felt that large presence shift within me.

Brock seemed to be much beyond patience after feeling my body close around his slick tool, for as soon as he felt he was firmly established and on familiar ground, he drove his hips into me with a few powerful, well-placed thrusts, and even as I clenched my teeth together from the twinge of pain from being spread so far, I felt our balls slap together between our bodies. Brock's hips nudged against mine and felt warm and heavy and possessive, as much as his paws upon me, or the length of cock deeply buried inside my rump.

His desire was completed and he was in me, his knot kissing the rim of my tailhole. It felt even bigger and hotter than before, but perhaps that was my horniness speaking. Our bodies heaved against each other firmly as he stayed still only for a moment, breathing heavily and probably again watching how his cock had disappeared inside my brown rump once more.

Brock seemed to be oddly keen to remove it too, at least based on the eagerness of the way how he began to pump his hips and drive himself back and forth. His movements soon became a real ball-slapping fuck as he began to take me hard and fast and with little regard for finesse in the act of rutting my ass silly.

I could do precious little expect splay my paws some more against the wall and push my shoulders back and my ass up and keep it on an angle that would make sure that he would not pound himself against any snags. The slam of hips against hips was causing my rump cheeks to press flat, only to bounce back to be again smashed by Brock's intent rutting motions. My body trembled with the tension coursing through me from all sides as I was humped by the horny Dobie and taken fully and surely. The motion of our bodies kept my heavy cock slapping against my belly, adding a strange extra sound to the slick slurping and the pound of Brock's lap over my bruised ass.

There was little thought in either of us to try to make it last, for very soon I felt Brock's nose press over my neck, and his breaths came as hot as ever as he ground our bodies together. That hot knot was firmly pushing against my tailhole with each thrust from the Dobie soldier, and I knew that it was only a matter of moments before he'd want to tie with me and finish up by shooting his hot cum inside me. That ball of throbbing flesh signaling its desire to break into my body was more than enough to put my own horniness into an overdrive.

I ground my body against Brock's, pushing myself and using all my leverage upon him, tilted my hips as I helped him to better breed my slick tail tunnel with his long, thick cock. He spread me wide with each of those pouding, ball-crashing thrusts against my rump, and our bodies made slick, wet noises that made my ears flick up and down with its intensity. The smell was stronger than the locker room after coming back from a long march and before hitting the showers, such a deep mix of musk and cum and hints of gun oil and sweat.

Brock gripped my body even harder than he did before, and I felt his thrust still for a moment and knew what was coming even before he slammed his hips against mine once or twice, really putting in all he had into his hips while he took me deeper than before, sealing our joining with the breathtaking plugging of his hot knot into my stretched tailhole.

My muscles complained and yes, I groaned, loudly, when I felt his knot push through my tailhole and into me, and lodging in insistently. It hurt, yes, but it also felt good, and It was Brock, deep within me, as deep as he could go, and he was there because he needed me.

I lifted my head up to let out a loud groan as I felt him take me fully, just before his hips moved again, making jackrabbit thrusts that pressed his knot against everything that was sensitive inside my ass.

I thought it could not get any more intense than that, but then Brock's paw gripped my throbbing cock and squeezed his fingerpads over my straining knot.

I pretty much howled out as I felt him give my sore rump a few more piledriving thrusts before he stood still and caught my neck scruff between his teeth again and growled hotly while I'm sure he began to explode inside me. At the same time my own cock erupted while it felt like my balls might be trying to squeeze themselves out of my body with the force of the spunk shooting out of my cock. I made a wet stain over the wall and Brock's paw and my chest while Brock's quivering hips rolled against my upturned rump while his own jerking cock filled me with his own musky offering.

My body danced around him, making sure that Brock would give me all he could while Brock's paw slowly moved up and down my member, taking a spurt after spurt of sticky Dobie cum from my balls and depositing it in hot globs over the floor and both of us.

We ended up panting and messy and tied by ass and cock and knot and Brock cussed and rested his brow against the back of my head while we tried to catch out breaths. My tail gave a weak wag that alone was enough to cause my cum-immersed tail tunnel to give an extra grunt-inducing squeeze over Brock's trapped length, and we both snorted as he pulled me closer with both of his arms now crossed over my chest. His cummy fingers splayed over my chest but I didn't care of the messy mark much. I was held by Brock, and that is what mattered. I didn't feel like punching his teeth out anymore, or kicking his ass. He was also acting more like the familiar shit-grinning Brock Stahlman that I had known for the past half a year than he had been during whole of the strange day, and I was happy of that fact. That was even if I knew that I would probably be too sore to sit down for a dinner tonight, but I was much beyond caring.

*

We managed to get disentangled without too much trouble after a while, and stood there, both sporting wilting cocks and one sore rump in my case, as well as a bit of bruised shoulder and a chest. Brock's sides had a few clawmarks on them too, but thankfully I could not see any blood stains over his furs. That made me feel a little bit better. His face still wouldn't reveal much of what was going inside his mind, but at least he was no longer scowling, nor completely impassive as before.

I stood there in my cum-soaked shirt and with my pants around my ankles and watched at the similarly conditioned Dobie in front of me, and then I tried to smile. Brock didn't smile back, but at least he flicked an ear.

"Sorry I clawed at you," I spoke after a moment.

Brock shrugged.

"Stuff happens while fucking."

I wanted to remind him that we weren't yet fucking when I was almost trying to gouge his ribs out, or so it had seemed, but the look he gave me was enough to make me keep those words back. It wasn't a hostile gaze, more like a warning, and perhaps he wanted to spare us both from any more trouble in regards to his bout of violence. He seemed better now, and I didn't feel like I would have to be running away from him. Maybe blowing his rocks off had mad him feel a bit more calm, or perhaps it was just the general release of the tension in his body through fucking.

Brock Stahlman, with his cock in me or not, still remained a mystery to me, as I watched him stuff his messy cock into the front of his slacks and button up.

"I'm hungry," the sweaty doggie spoke. "You want some salami?"

I scratched the back of my neck, about where Brock had gnawed on me in his mating fervor, and nodded.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Come on," he snuffled as he strutted past me towards the door, and even butted my shoulder with his own as he went past me on his way.

I stood there for a while, rubbing my sore shoulder and watching the open doorway while I listened to Brock's steps making the stairs sound like they might collapse on any moment soon.

*

We ate salami and bread and apples in relative silence, speaking only to offer each other something more to eat or to drink. Then we had a quick a wash over the hellishly cold water from the tap and also resorted to a change of clothes, considering that we were pretty much all soiled inside and out due to our carnal activities.

Brock suggested that we'd walk around the premises a little, and I agreed whole-heartedly, thinking that some fresh air would definitely do good for both of us. I could again watched him as he walked, perhaps not as strutting as usual, but still, at least his paws swung as he walked, and he even had the interest to look at the occasional bird or relate a few words about something that happened in his childhood on that particular spot.

I still wasn't sure where the day was going from that on, but as the afternoon winded on and the angle of the sun become steeper and the shadows drew long and we had vacated into the house to brew some more coffee, I was feeling at least a measure of better again. Brock was being peaceful, and while he never was a chatterbox, at least he had been talking about something not related to his odd feelings about being here. He had even sounded a little bit fond as he told how he and his sister had tied a rope to the branch of a tall pine tree and used it to swing around like Tarzan, and I smiled, and he smiled too, even, and it was encouraging.

Now the silence of the night was creeping over us and Brock's ears kept flicking as we sat over at the kitchen table - I admit, rather gingerly on the edge of my seat, and watched the time flow past. My coffee cup was empty and Brock simply played with his, rolling it over the table as he seemed to stare into nothingness again. At least his ears weren't flat.

"What're you thinking?" I finally took the risk and spoke up, watching him carefully.

Brock stopped his play and looked at me, head tilted a little bit as he regarded me.

"Just...this place," he spoke roughly, rubbing his prickly chin against the back of his big, broad paw, "just...many things coming to mind."

"I'd imagine so," I answered lamely.

Brock snuffled and stroked down his cheek and neck and scratched his chest and belly before he rested his paws over his knees and yawned.

"You tired?" I asked him, wondering if the ordeal of the day had taken all the juices out of him.

"Not really," the big Dobie told me, "just...thinking."

"What is it?"

I knew it was a risk to speak up, but he didn't seem as volatile as before, so it was my best bet to just talk, and gather the pieces later if necessarily.

Brock scratched and then just stroked his belly with his flat paw, still deep at thought, it seemed.

Then he gave me the Brock Stahlman Shit-Faced Grin, and my heart jumped.

"Djo'fancy going for a ride, wuff?" he spoke to me and leered.

*

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