Day Tripper
Author's Note: The following is a work of furry fiction derived from events in real life. This story contains mature subject matter, including yiffery between a human (yucky!) and a fur/morph/what have you. If this offends you in any way, you don't have to be here. Otherwise, sit back, relax, and leave the driving to me. I would like to thank Blue Heeler SunFire for letting me get to know him in the short time we spent together, and for being the inspiration for this story. Real life always seems to be the best inspiration, it seems.
Feedback always welcome to [email protected]
Day Tripper ©MMIV Whyte Yoté
I just sat and stared into my computer screen.
**Joel says: I would love to have you over sometime, if you want to.**
I thought of the old line that goes I'd love to have you for dinner. The double meaning made my heart triphammer, but I told myself I was silly to even think a thing like that. A morph had just invited me over to his house...a morph who lived close to me, for once...and who was I to judge someone over the modem lines before I had even met him?
My fingers danced over the keyboard: **I have a couple days off this weekend.**
**Sounds good. I work until 5, but I have the evening free. We can watch a movie, have dinner, talk and stuff.**
**And stuff...**
**Yeah...I'll email you directions to my place.**
I swallowed hard. **Cool. I'll see you around 5:30 on Sunday, then?**
**Sounds good. Later!**
The morph I knew only as Joel signed out. I surfed to my email and retrieved the promised directions. They were printed, stapled, and set on my desk for the end of the week, when I would drive four hours to see someone I'd never met before or seen a picture of. I didn't even know what species he was. All I knew was that I had waited and hoped for something like this, and I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers like so much sand in the wind.
I had met Joel when I joined an online group, called Furry USA, about a month ago. Liking other males and living in South Dakota is hard enough to take; liking male morphs is nearly impossible. They are few and far between in this part of the country, tending to stick to large urban areas where they'll be less noticed. Sounds familiar, doesn't it? So how did it come to this?
One day, while on a school trip to Denver, I had broken off from the rest of my group to go downtown and take in the atmosphere. I was walking down the middle of a large outdoor mall when I heard a mellifluous saxophone from around a corner. I turned and there was the first morph I had seen in real life. An old, regal black panther, easily a foot taller than me, leaned casually against the locked door of a ritzy clothing store and poured his heart and soul into his instrument, the sound echoing off the walls and into the night sky.
I stood, entranced, for twenty minutes. First I stared at him for awhile, but as he played my attention turned to his music. So plaintive, so soothing, each note a story of his life. I turned my head to the sky and closed my eyes, feeling the first snowflakes of winter on my skin.
The panther finished his song, and the street fell eerily silent. It wasn't until I looked at him that I realized there were tears at the corners of my eyes. I pulled out my wallet, found a five-dollar bill, and threw it into his saxophone case. I raised my fingers in a thank you gesture, and continued on my way, still moved by his playing. He raised a furry paw to my shoulder and gave it a slight grip.
"Gettin cold out here, boy. Go home and heat up awhile. Thank y'much for the Lincoln." He patted my shoulder, and I shuddered violently, but not in a bad way. I muttered something, but I can't remember what it was. I avoided his eyes, which seemed to glow yellow in the dark. He left quite an impression on me, and for the first time I realized I was attracted to morphs.
So, in that roundabout way, I decided to search for groups of morphs around me. Furry USA was the largest and most comprehensive listing of morphs in the country, so I couldn't go wrong. The upper Midwest is truly a rare spot for morphs to go, since there are no cities as big as on the coasts. Then again, I had this perception that morphs wanted to stay out of the public eye, which I would find later to be completely wrong.
I signed on to the group and wrote a short introduction of myself, nothing special. The next day I had an email from Joel in my Inbox. He introduced himself, and since he was the only one to respond to me I decided to set up a correspondence. It was just one of those things that developed over time; he was intelligent, fun, and didn't fit the negative image that had been put into my head by the media and other not-so-truthful sources. Naïve as I was, I thought he was an exception to the rule.
So here I sat, planning to visit this morph in four days, my mind racing with a million questions. It seemed as if I knew nothing about him and wanted to know everything at the same time. There was nothing I could do about it now, at least.
The week seemed to drag by and race by simultaneously, depending upon whether or not I was anxious or dreading the upcoming trip. On Sunday morning I packed a book bag with a change of clothes and some toiletries, because I would be spending the night. The drive was uneventful, besides seeing a couple of radar detector-laden speeders get busted by the Minnesota Highway Patrol.
I made a test run with the directions Joel had given me to make sure I could get to his place all right. It was just as he described: a plain white trailer in an ordinary trailer park, no creepy neighborhood, no drive-by shootings. My confidence having been strengthened, I drove away in search of a coffeehouse to bide my time by catching up on my reading.
So much for reading.
I am still embarrassed to admit that I was almost too nervous to read. In the two hours before I was to meet up with Joel, my brain must have come up with every horrific image in the book involving morphs. I kept telling myself it was all a bunch of nonsense, that the things that had happened in the past were isolated incidents having nothing to do with my trip.
Morphs have always generally had a bad reputation among the media and politics. Like virtually every other minority group on the planet, they have had to fight for every right given to them, not the least of which is their status as equals among the human population. Still, a very few of them seem to keep peoples' opinions of morphs fairly biased. A few years ago a pack of wolf morphs took it upon themselves to go on a "hunting expedition" in suburban Chicago and terrorized a quiet neighborhood, killing twelve people before they were caught and brought to justice. The prosecuting attorney was brutal, equating the plaintiffs to dogs and "no better than feral beasts." The resulting circus had a heyday over the evidence and trial, so you can see why most people think negatively of morphs.
Every once in a while there is a story of a morph supposedly coming out of the dark undergrowth of society and raping an innocent young girl, or running an illegitimate escort service, or any number of stupid crimes. The thing is, it's in exact proportion to the human scum who do the same things. Only here, because the perpetrators look different, they become poster children for the entire race. With six billion humans on the planet, we can afford to look the other way when one of our own screws up. As a species, however, we still have a long way to go.
I'm sure the double shot of espresso in my coffee did little to calm me down as I ticked off the minutes until I had to leave. I did manage to read some, after images of headlines saying Man found dead from claw wounds were swept from my head. It was five o'clock, and time for me to pack up and head over.
The drive took all of seven minutes and soon I was parked behind Joel's little red compact in the driveway of his trailer. I could feel my pulse in my throat. Once again I reassured myself I had nothing to fear, took a deep breath, and exited my car. The door came into view as I rounded the corner. I reached up to the doorbell to push it, but I noticed through the glass that Joel was already standing up to meet me.
I smiled but couldn't see him in the dark interior of the trailer. He came to the door and pushed it open for me.
"Come on in," he said in a perfectly normal tone of voice. Half of the weight was lifted off my shoulders immediately, and I felt a tremendous relief wash over me. Stupid! I chastised myself. "You must be the shy human?"
"And you must be the lonely morph," I replied, already feeling at home. Without warning, Joel wrapped his arms around me (he was taller than me by about three inches) in a tight, fuzzy hug. I returned the gesture, not used to having my personal space invaded so unabashedly. He was warm beneath his T-shirt, and I could feel the slight pressure from his sheathed claws on my back. I shuddered like that night with the panther, but he didn't seem to notice.
The morph smiled and looked me over quickly. "Welcome to my home," he said unenthusiastically. "It may be crowded, but I'm a packrat with a vengeance."
I sat my book bag (which had been putting quite a strain on my back) down and sat on...or rather, into...the couch in the living room/dining room/kitchen. For the first time I was able to take in the sight of Joel. Right away I knew that he was a canine when he opened the door, but until now I was too preoccupied with relief to do much more than flow with the situation.
Joel milled about the trailer, moving from his computer to another room, coming back in and doing assorted small tasks. Taller than myself, and lanky. Scanning the room, my eyes landed on a set of swimming certificates sitting on a shelf. Now I knew why he had a swimmer's build. I tried not to stare, but I got an eyeful anyway. Joel was a Blue Heeler, which surprised me because they are native to Australia and certainly rare in North America, let alone Minnesota.
He wore a plain solid T-shirt over black shorts, the kind you like to lounge around in. I thought of the polo shirt and denim cargo shorts I had picked special for this occasion, and realized I didn't have to dress up for something like this. If Joel was comfortable enough to be in clothes like that, I didn't have to worry about impressing him. That was a relief. Why do you need to impress him, anyway? I thought, but I couldn't come up with an answer.
His fur was medium-length, about the same as a German shepherd's. It was an interesting bluish color on his head, arms, legs, and tail, while a yellow-beige covered the underside of his muzzle, under his tail, and probably his chest. He walked and turned in front of me, his mouth moving expressively as he talked, whiskers twitching. I must admit I didn't hear much of what he said, so entranced was I by his bright, smart blue eyes. I knew I was attracted to him; whether it was because he was a male or a morph, or both, I still can't figure out.
"Do you want to watch it here or in the other room? I've got bean bag chairs," Joel was saying when I snapped out of my reverie. That's right! He had said something about that movie, hadn't he?
More weight disappeared from my shoulders. Confidently, I said, "I haven't seen a bean bag chair in years. Let's go in the other room." I stood up and Joel led me to a small room adjacent to the main room which served as a makeshift entertainment center, as well as a repository for quite a few books. I plopped down on the chair and it whooshed in protest under my weight. I suddenly felt very tired, and very glad I had made this trip.
The canine inserted a DVD into the player, pressed a few buttons on the remote, and flopped down right next to me. I thought, no human would ever do something like that. No sooner than that had occurred to me, Joel reached over and scritched my shoulder.
Whoa. That was new. I had been propping myself up on my elbows, but my arms gave out when I felt that scritch on my shoulder. It was like all the tension, fear and stiffness just leaked out of my left arm. I looked over at Joel, still marveling at his rugged yet fresh features, and exhaled.
"How come no one's ever done that to me before?"
"Probably because it's a morph thing, and probably because most people consider it too forward. I apologize if you took offense; I just thought you would like it."
I rolled my eyes and remembered something I had read on his profile at Furry USA. "If you give massages half as good as that, I will be one happy puppy."
Joel snickered affectionately at my use of that word and lay beside me on his side. "We'll get to that after dinner. I don't want you falling asleep on me," he said, poking my chest. With that, he proceeded to play the DVD. A few days prior, he had asked me what movies I liked. I said I pretty much liked anything except westerns and chick flicks. He asked me if I liked "The Lord of the Rings," and he nearly had a heart attack when I told him I had neither read the books nor seen the movies. I have to admit it's pretty sad, but I just hadn't had the time. Needless to say, the movie was chosen.
During the opening minutes, Joel explained the intricacies of "LOTR" and its author, fans, and debut onscreen. It was actually interesting, and I found myself thoroughly engrossed in the film. My eyelids grew heavy, but with the kind of blissful fatigue with which you can afford to live. After having explained the movie to me, Joel grew silent and we watched together quietly.
Again, I found myself trapped in a way. What now? Do I make conversation, or just sit back and relax? Being new to getting close to people, and totally unused to morphs, I was having trouble deciding what would be normal to do. Was there anything normal about this, anyway?
My question was answered, thankfully, when Joel shifted closer to me and put a paw on my chest. Involuntarily I closed my eyes and sighed, somehow completely comfortable despite my earlier anxieties. For the first time it crossed my mind that there could be something more to the touch. I wondered if that was the case, and I waited to see what Joel would do. What he did was start scritching all over my chest and arms, tickling me and forcing me to laugh out loud. It was a playful act; one, I realized, that was meant to enforce a bond, and it kept my mind off of heavier matters.
Joel certainly had a charm about him. Maybe that's why I liked him right from the start. Morphs aren't hampered as much by human concepts of personal space and the fear of rejection. Most of the time, friends are made almost instantly, but the strongest relationships are those in which you must earn the friend's trust.
As the movie progressed, I thought on these and other things as Joel's paw settled down into a slow, constant scritching motion on my chest through my shirt. It was intensely relaxing. The morph must have liked me right off, because otherwise he would not have been so forward. His sense of smell must have told him that; this is the reason I have so much envy toward morphs.
Joel had to get up and leave several times to check on dinner, which was grilling outside on the front porch. Each time, I shifted positions on the beanbag chair, and each time Joel came back and moved a little closer to me. He still maintained the scritching of my chest. Eventually, I built up my courage and lifted my hand up, resting it on his knee, which wasn't as much a gesture of affection as it was the closest point to my hand. His legs spread a little at the touch, and my heart jumped. I, too, scritched his leg, although I didn't hold a candle to his deft movements. It was just like having my very own life-sized plushie.
About halfway through the movie, Joel called out from the porch, "Dinner's ready!" I stood, shook off the laze about me, and joined him in the kitchen, which had begun to smell wonderful. We sat and ate: seasoned and grilled pork chops, sweet corn on the cob, and a garden salad.
The Blue Heeler didn't talk much, which was good because it gave me more opportunity to study him. I wanted to know as much about him as I could. I stole glances while we ate. My mind was asking question after question, mainly: how can he act so normal? Then I realized that I was the one making such a big deal out of this whole trip. I had treated it like some exotic getaway to a dark jungle with wild animals and surprises around every corner. The truth was, I was just visiting a friend for the night, and that friend just happened to be of a different species than myself. Boy, did I feel dumb. This was all my fault.
Instead of feeling like a complete idiot, I actually felt just fine. There was no more reason to be nervous, or to second-guess Joel's every move. I smiled to myself and cleaned my plate, glad to have the opportunity to make a new friend.
"I haven't had corn on the cob in a long time," I said, complimenting Joel on his cooking.
"I buy it on sale when I can."
"Thanks a lot for dinner. Next time, it's on me."
"Well, you were the guest. You're welcome."
We stacked the dishes in the sink and returned to the "entertainment room" to finish the movie. Joel pushed PLAY again and said, "Do you want to finish it on the beanbag chairs, or do you want the bed?" He motioned to the spare bed against the far wall of the room.
I thought of the chairs, and my back reminded me that I would have to prop myself up against a cabinet for the rest of the film. My neck already hurt, and Joel did owe me a massage. "I think I'll take the bed this time," I replied, jumping onto the loose blankets.
The morph threw a few pillows at me, and I did my best to fluff them into submission. He jumped up next to me, crossing his legs and leaning his head on my shoulder. His long, fuzzy ear tickled the back of my neck, but I didn't move. I was getting used to the feeling. In fact, I was glad just to have anyone who liked me enough to use my shoulder as a pillow. We relaxed, legs crossed, and watched the movie.
I don't know how long it was before I lost track of the movie, but it was sometime during the massage. Joel moved behind me and put his paws on my back, pushing so I leaned forward. Then he began to feel around, looking for knots and spots of tension in my muscles. Thinking about the stress level I carry from day to day, I'm sure he found plenty. Sure enough, he balled his paws into fists and went to work fervently, kneading my shoulders and grinding my uncooperative muscles into mush. I made a valiant effort to pay attention to the television screen, but soon I gave into Joel's ministrations. My head sank to my chest, and I fell into a kind of blissful stupor, feeling my back finally give way after so many hard days of work.
"Is that better?" he asked after he had finished by running his clawtips over my back.
I struggled to form a coherent sentence. "Uh-huh." I lay back onto his chest, almost drunk with relaxation, and looked up the length of his muzzle.
He nuzzled me and I squirmed, feeling like a pet. Closing my eyes, the television merely a sound in the back of my mind, I reached to scritch his leg again, this time finding the inside of his thigh the closest thing to me. His legs spread wider and he gave an audible sigh, tinged with a low rumble from deep within his body. I gripped the fur and squeezed, not at all afraid of being forward now. Not after what he had already done.
I was so engrossed in this that I hardly noticed that Joel's paw had resumed its scritching, but now it traced a line from my chest down to my leg and back up in a petting motion. Not a word was spoken between us. The only sounds (besides the TV, which was pretty much tuned out by now) were my slow breathing and Joel's ever-present rumble. The canine moved his paw farther and farther up my leg each time he completed a circuit of my left side, ruling out any doubt I had had before. I knew what he wanted, and although my level of anxiety had crept up again, I had no problem complying. It was a literal dream come true.
My hand squeezed tighter and moved further up Joel's leg, urging him to continue. His claws now centered close to my groin, playing lightly over the denim of my shorts, my belt, but narrowly missing my fly. I spread my legs as wide as I could and snuggled even closer to his warm body. He nuzzled against my neck, nibbling and licking my right ear.
Do it do it do it! I screamed in my head. Joel got the message, breaking the ice by placing his paw on my crotch and squeezing tentatively. I grunted, pressing my rock-hard erection up to meet him. His internal rumble jumped a notch, and he repeated the gesture much harder. I gave myself up to him, and decided to reciprocate. I moved up his leg, brushing the bulge that was poorly hidden by his loose shorts, and he let out a sound that was something like a chittering whine. It sounded like Joel hadn't had relief in a while, at least from another person. I wanted to give him that.
I squeezed his balls through the shorts, and felt the odd upward tilt of his sheath above them, filling out quickly. I had never seen a morph naked, and I wanted to find out what he looked like. That would have to wait, as Joel made himself busy undoing my belt and pulling my fly down. My trembling fingers dove under the shorts and the canine's briefs, pulling them to the side and exposing the beige-colored fur covering his scrotum.
Joel succeeded in opening my fly, not hesitating to reach into my briefs and pull out my cock and balls below the elastic. His fingers grasped it, stroked it, squeezed it. I reveled in the heat and smoothness of his pawpads, and the care he took in his motions. Thrusting slightly into his paw, I turned my attention back to his groin. Sensing I wanted better access, the canine obliged by quickly stripping off his shorts and briefs. I did the same.
It was something I'd always wanted to see and experience, and now it had come to pass: Joel's cock lay before me, throbbing under beige fur and begging to be released. I stroked it up and down a few times, once again hearing an increase in that animalistic rumblegrowl, and pulled it down over his growing knot. It wasn't what I expected, but actually I was relieved. He was about half an inch longer than me, and much wider (I have a narrow cock). I had half-expected a monster doggy-cock, but it turned out to be just plain average. Yet another myth trampled. It sure didn't stop me from taking it in my hand and stroking away.
Joel's paw was like fire and ice on me. He would stroke it from base to tip, then massage the tip between two fingers, run the claws down the underside, and then jack it with his whole palm. I felt myself coming close numerous times, and it amazed me how quickly this was happening without my own hand. Then again, I had never done this with a morph before.
I turned my body as best I could and watched Joel's reaction as I sped my hand up on him. He was still looking at my groin, but his eyes were half-lidded. His upper lip was in a kind of sneer of pleasure, showing his upper and lower fangs. He bucked twice into my hand, and then surprised me by shoving my hand away.
Before I could ask why, he moved so that I had no support on which to lean. I fell into his lap, my back propped up on one leg while my head rested on the other. I got the hint, and gave in as he proceeded to paw me off. I felt the heat of his sheath on the back of my neck, the intense friction on my member, and Joel's sweet breath as he sealed his lips around mine. I've been kissed a few times, but nothing like this. Joel's cold nose touched my cheek, and his incredibly long tongue guided me into the kiss. He never stopped pawing me.
My eyes were closed, my hands gripping the sheets, as I humped lewdly into his paw. I whimpered into Joel's muzzle as I was overwhelmed. My chest was sprayed with cum, copious and hot. My hips clawed at the air, thrusting into some nonexistent passage. I had been holding my breath, and I released it into Joel's mouth, collapsing at the same time.
At last I felt his paw slow, then stop. He pulled away from me, smiling, his eyes bright and satisfied. He turned his left shoulder to me, showing where the fur was stained and matted. I had shot clear up to his shoulder! I couldn't help but feel some pride, but I blushed just the same.
"Sorry."
"Don't be. That was fun." The morph pulled a towel from behind him, and cleaned me off. I turned to him, grabbing the pinkish-red flesh that still pulsed away, leaking pre into his navel.
I grinned like a fox. "Now it's your turn." I pushed him against the wall, half-leaning, and lay my head on his chest as I resumed stroking his member. First, I used his sheath, pausing at intervals to massage his balls.
"Ungh..." came the reply. He was closer than I thought.
I moved to his knot, turning it in my hand and squeezing it like a piece of fruit. Joel's entire body was tensed, concentrated. Enough foreplay: I grabbed hold of the canine cock and jacked it quickly, using the loose skin of his sheath some to lessen the friction. I watched the tapered head as it throbbed and little droplets of precum leaked out and onto my fingers. I used it to lubricate my motions.
Without warning, the first shots rocketed underneath my fingers and out onto his chest, still half-covered by his shirt. They didn't go far, but there were many of them. My fingers were coated with his seed, as well as the majority of his chestfur. Joel growled and whined above me as he came hard, and I knew it had been a long time since he had had release of any kind. I smiled to myself, thankful for the privilege.
Joel came down out of the afterglow as I handed him the towel. He wiped himself dry and I watched, laying my head on his upper chest and stroking his side. Again, nothing was said; nothing needed to be said. We stayed that way for about ten minutes, just lying against each other's warm, spent bodies.
One of us had to move sooner or later. It was Joel, who finally noticed that the DVD had stopped playing quite a while ago. He put in another one and pushed the PLAY button.
I felt like a newlywed lover, sitting on that bed with nothing on below my shirt but a pair of socks. "Is that the second one?" I asked, referring to the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy.
Joel shook his head and laid his ears back. "No, it's just a change of pace."
He was right. What came on the TV was a classic (and funny) cartoon from the 60's, one I hadn't seen in years. Joel hopped back up and climbed to the wall, behind me, and put an arm over my side and over my chest, hugging me tight. I rested my head on my right arm and held his paw in my hand. Once again, try as I might, the show was forgotten. I felt at ease, exposed, and loved all at the same time.
Joel ran his paw slowly over my chest and hip again, and pushed himself into my back. I responded by pushing behind to meet his thrusts, and soon we were spooning heavily. The canine was insatiable, biting and licking my neck, my ear, and hooking a fang into my left earring and pulling seductively. All the while, his rumbling came back and wafted over his breath as it fell over my ear and hair between licks. He moved his paw down to my cock, which had never actually gotten soft, and pulled on it gently.
I spooned back at him. His cock pressed into the cleft of my ass, growing hard quickly and leaving little spots of wet on me. I became lost in the intimacy of the act, my eyes closed, just feeling. His right arm was underneath me, stroking my right side from below.
Joel bit my neck and climbed on top of me. I lay flat and he lowered himself, exhaling raggedly as our members touched. I was too caught up to be tense, choosing to merely let him have his way with me. The morph placed his paws underneath my armpits and ground his hips into mine. I uttered a muffled groan at the combination of his weight and the pleasure of it all.
This went on for what seemed like forever, until Joel shifted position. He got onto his knees, arching his back and gaining a more direct thrust against my balls and thigh. His thrusts increased in frequency and he bent down to kiss me again. This time I was prepared, and more than happy to help. I met him halfway and bit his lower lip, dragging him onto me. My tongue dove between his powerful jaws, exploring the inside of his muzzle. I shuddered a bit at the feeling of his medium-length fur on my bare skin.
Meanwhile, my left hand ran up and down his back and side, feeling his ribs, tense muscles, and the base of his tail, which I scritched and pressed with my fingertips. I had found a sweet spot; the canine yipped around my mouth and resumed kissing me with gusto. My right hand found his cock and helped him by giving him something to thrust into. I grasped the loose skin, remaining stationary while he humped into my fingers.
Joel's whiskers tickled and scratched my face. I grabbed his tail and pulled it over his back, stroking it just like I was stroking his member, with the grain. His movements didn't change this time; he just kept his muzzle clamped to my lips, but all of a sudden my hip became warm. I knew what was happening and tightened my hand, making sure to milk every drop from the morph's balls. The kiss continued throughout his climax, and he never missed a beat.
Finally, he withdrew from my mouth and sat up. His cock left a sticky trail on my hand. I let go of him reluctantly, dragging my fingers through the puddle of canine cum on my thigh.
"Did you get wet?" Joel sarcastically and grinned wolfishly at me.
"Yeah, I guess I did." I took the towel and wiped myself off. "That was the longest kiss ever! I think I have whisker burns on my lips."
Joel laughed and nuzzled my nose. "I've had practice."
That reminded me of something I had meant to ask before, but hadn't had the time yet. "Do you mind if I ask a personal question?"
"Shoot."
"I never asked you how old you were."
"You can't tell?"
"Actually...not really."
"I'm thirty-four."
I was floored. There was no way this guy could be over thirty! Online he had acted like he had the energy of a high-schooler. In real life he had acted like he was in his early twenties, at most. But thirty-four? I had no idea someone so...well, so old...could be so energetic and cool. I only use the term because Joel had a good eleven years on me, except between us I couldn't tell much of a difference. Especially since he was a morph, it was difficult to tell his age. By this time I was getting used to surprises.
"I can't believe it," I said, and it was true. It was the final blow to my misconceptions about morphs. Joel had taught me that you don't have to conform to any status quo to be happy and accepted for who you are. I blamed myself for falling victim to other peoples' opinions and not forming my own, especially since I had nothing on which to base them.
I looked at Joel. He was smiling humbly, his eyes smart and happy and content. This was not the haunted, repressed being I had thought to encounter; instead I met a canine who had a lot going for him and who didn't care about species or anything like that. It just didn't matter to him. I was happy for him too, and I showed it by hugging him tightly about the waist.
"What's that for?" he asked. I didn't take notice that the both of us were still naked below the waist.
"Just because," I murmured, and yawned hugely.
"You look tired, and I have to go to work in the morning." Joel spoke as if pointing out a fact. I frowned at him, not knowing he was so short on time. I had been looking forward to doing some more stuff with him, but it looked as if my trip was going to be cut short. "Oh, don't be that way," he consoled me with a paw on my shoulder. "You're still staying the night, right?"
"Yeah, you bet."
"I'm going to go get ready for bed. You can sleep in here if you want to." The morph turned to leave the room, but I stopped him.
"Joel?"
"Huh."
"If you don't mind, uh...I'd like to sleep with you. I don't snore, and I won't toss and turn."
The canine looked as if someone had just written him a blank check. Clearly he hadn't expected me to want to share a bed with him, and I was glad to surprise him otherwise. "I think I'd like that. Come on, let's get to sleep."
We traveled the short distance to Joel's bathroom, did some before-bed preparations, and soon we were in the main bedroom. He turned on a fan for circulation, and his fur ruffled in the light breeze. His tail wagged lazily behind him, an indication of the fatigue slowly overcoming us.
"You ready?" I nodded, quickly stripping to my briefs without hesitation. Normally, I'm a little self-conscious about my bigger-than-average build, but with all the stuff that had gone on between us I didn't think it mattered much anymore.
"I can't sleep with clothes on. I tend to move around too much."
"That's funny. I do the same thing if I don't have enough clothes on." The morph had taken off his shorts and briefs, and was now dressed in boxers and a light T-shirt. Come to think of it, I never got to see his chest. Everything below it, maybe, but never his chest.
Once free of clothing, I bounded onto the mattresses stacked in the corner like a restless puppy and pulled back a corner for Joel to crawl in. As familiar as I felt with him, I didn't make a move to snuggle. I could see he was tired, and it would have more than likely prevented him from falling asleep. I was satisfied just to be in bed with him. Before I came to rely on others for support, I never would have thought about it, but there is truly nothing more intimate and special than sharing a bed with someone else. It is a show of trust, affection, and selflessness.
Conversation was light before Joel eventually slipped off into slumber. I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, recalling the events of the evening and all that I had learned and felt. I leaned over to Joel, feeling his tail on my knees, and mouthed in his ear: "Thank you." I know he didn't hear it, but I felt I owed it to him. Soon enough, I rolled over and sleep overtook me as well.
The alarm went off at seven o'clock the next morning. Despite not getting much sleep (it was after one when we went to bed), the night was restful. Sleeping next to another warm body seems to have that effect. Joel got up, and I pretended to be asleep while he got ready for work. Each time he would come into the room I would close my eyes, but as soon as he turned away I would steal another glance at his back and tail, watching it swing easily behind him. I drifted off again and didn't hear him leave for work.
I awoke again at eleven, refreshed and already regretting that I hadn't said goodbye to Joel in person. It seemed like such a short time since I had met him. I remembered last night, and marveled at how close I had become to my canine friend, and a contented warmth pervaded me. The sheets felt cool on my bare skin, and I realized I had a morning erection pressing against my briefs.
Pulling them down and exposing myself, I felt right at home alone in Joel's room. I slowly took in his piles of clothes on the floor, various certificates on the wall, and a small collection of stuffed animals. I was in someone else's life. My hand traveled to my groin, and I began jacking off slowly. Images flooded my mind: last night's tryst, the thought of being with a furry friend like Joel, and all the things we didn't do that I wanted so much to try, if we only had the time...
It didn't take long for me to lift my hips off the bed and coat my chest with pent-up arousal. The sexual high wore off as quickly as the semen on me cooled. Thankfully, none stained the bed sheets. The last thing I wanted to do was leave Joel with a load of laundry to do.
I dressed and wandered into the living room, where I found a note set on my book bag. It read:
"I wanted to thank you for last night, and
for coming to visit me. I had lots of fun
and I hope you did too. I can't wait until
next time, if there is a next time. We'll be
able to work it out so there's more time
for doing things together...and stuff. Help
yourself to anything in the fridge, and you
are welcome to stay as long as you want.
By the way, this morning was the first
time I've woken up after sleeping with
someone without a severe backache.
Thanks again for taking a chance on
being my friend. Sincerely yours, Joel."
I was impressed. Not only did he trust me to show up on his doorstep out of the blue, he trusted me to be in his house alone, for however long I wished! I truly wanted to be there when he came home for work, just so I could embrace him once more and thank him. Instead, I sat down and wrote a response letter just below his on the same sheet of paper, setting it on his computer keyboard and placing one of my business cards right on top. As a final gesture of kindness, I returned to the bedroom and made his bed as best I could. Oddly, I could find no fur on the sheets anywhere.
Clean, dressed, and ready to go, I made one final sweep of the trailer to make sure I hadn't left anything behind. I paused at the door and looked back regrettably. To some, it would seem like a road trip by a sad and lonely person bent on satisfying his sexual needs. Not me. Yes, I can be sad sometimes, and I find myself lonely quite often, but that is the human condition. People need people, and I need lots of people. The yiffery was not nearly as important as the opportunity to get close with someone for a little while, not caring what the world thinks but just living for myself, in the moment. The mental need was as strong, if not more so, than the physical.
The lock clicked on the front door, and I pulled it shut. I walked to my car, got in, and started it. As I backed into the street, I went through the list of things I had planned to get done before I had to leave the Twin Cities. Once I knew my schedule, my mind turned to other plans. I found myself thinking of the next time, if there would be a next time, that I would visit Joel the Blue Heeler. Possible dates swirled in my mind, as did a list of all the fun stuff we could do with more time off.
Joel's trailer finally disappeared from my rearview mirror, and I had to wipe a small tear from the corner of my eye. A tear of happiness, because I was smiling and looking forward to being with the canine again. My newfound friendship with him was one I very much intended to keep, and there's nothing quite like a day trip to be with those who are the most important in your life.
FIN
7/8-7/20/04