Wrong Turn
(C) 2005, Corey Alambar. All rights reserved, do not reproduce without the author's express permission.
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I usedta laugh at fellas who'd go on 'bout how this one magic moment changed their lives forever. Findin' God, a first fuck, wreckin' their car, or a song on the radio at just the right time. Bullshit. I mean, I ain't old, but I been 'round the block a lot, and nothin' even close to that ever happened ta me. "Time makes fools of us all." In fuckin' spades.
Y'see, I usedta be one o'them swaggerin' top boys, fancied myself a young alpha sort. Too young ta be a daddywolf, but definitely top o'the pack. Yeah, I'm gay, always knew I liked boys better'n girls, and no pups to worry about. I'd taken it up the tail a couple times when I was a pup, feelin' my way out, but by the time I was out in the real world, my dick was what did the talkin', and there weren't no shortage of boys climbin' all over 'emselves to get a ride. No real relationships, but then again a lot o' those boys just want a cock, don't care 'bout who's behind it. The day they come out with a fuckin' machine that can growl in their ears and cum up their butts, it's gonna be slim pickins for most wannabe tops out there.
But I'm wanderin'. Basically, I was out fer a drive, I'd just moved to the city from outta town, and I was out cruisin'... fer a beer. Truth be told, I'd tapped a nice piece that afternoon through a net hookup, so I was just lookin' fer a place I could hang with some guys, drink a beer, watch the game on the TV, and just generally chill out. Simple rule: Don't mix sex with relaxin'. After a while you stop relaxin', and ya stop havin' sex.
A friend o'mine who'd lived in the city for a while told me about this nice waterin' hole out off 22, gave me directions and everythin'. Figured I'd go check it out. I found the place eventually, called Shooters, and trust me, with a generic name like that, it ain't gonna be all that. And it wasn't, but that's a story fer another time.
Nah. I can usually find my way 'round a place pretty good, but every so often I get lost. And when I get lost, I get REAL fuckin' lost. Like that "Left turn at Albuquerque" stuff in the old cartoons. And that's what happened. I'd been all happy to get that piece of... fox, that's what it was... earlier, n' I wasn't thinkin' too much 'bout the road. Turns out that 22 and 86 split off from each other, n'I went left when I shoulda gone right. And I kept drivin', figurin' I'd only have like 10, 15 more minutes before I got where I was goin'. After 'bout thirty, I gave up, and figured I'd jsut duck into whatever bar I could find. It was startin' ta get out in the sticks, anyway, and while I ain't a flamer, there's always a chance fer trouble out in them country places.
Just when I was gettin' ready to turn around, there was this small old town, usedta be a place to go a long while back. Close enough to the highway to go from crown of industry to convenient rest stop, with cheap hotels, cheap bars, and pricey gas. I ducked into the lot of one that looked promisin' - the Red Comet. Nice place, even had their own microbrew on tap. Nice, kinda folksy atmosphere, decent kitchen, not too much smoke, couplea pool tables; this was my kinda place, really. Nice music, 80s, 90s stuff, and not so loud you can't hear yerself think. They even had tables, out in the open, and I decided I'd sit there and grab a bite. So a sandwich and a couplea beers later, I was just enjoyin' the game, the music, the atmosphere. things were gettin' busy, bein' a Saturday night, and soon most o'the tables were gettin' full.
So I wasn't surprised when I looked up and saw this young dobie, couldn'ta been legal for a year, maybe two. Little bit of a swagger, tight body, a bit heavier-muscled than his kind usually are. He had some t-shirt clingin' to him, showin' off his chest and arms, and a pair of baggy shorts, the kind skaters always seem ta wear, but he didn't give off that skater vibe. "Dude, this seat taken?" he asked, though I didn't even get a chance to answer as he sat down, beer in hand. I shrugged and grinned a bit.
"Nah, just in ta wet my throat and watch the game. Nice place here." I was tryin' ta be casual, smooth. A couplea people have told me that if they didn't know I was all about the cock, they'd never guess it. Might be the look - I'm a tall, black wolf, decently built, though not quite as ripped as my new drinkin' buddy, and my regular "chill out" clothes are a pair of somewhat tight jeans, sneakers, a wifebeater with a short-sleeved button down shirt open over it. This was no different, and frankly, I looked just like one o'the guys. Makes it easier to look at the meat in places where they might not take too kindly to bein' sized up by another guy.
I think we started talkin' about the game, but we got talkin' about other stuff. School, work, me bein' new in town, and then off to my truck. I was proud of that beast, still take real good care of her, big red Ford, and I'd only had her six months then, so I was _really_ proud. And there was somethin' else. I could just feel a charge in the air. Let's face it, he was fuckin' hot. If I hadn't had a nice piece of foxbitch earlier, I'da been anglin' ta get him alone. As it was, I think he was doin' the same. All I knew is I was gettin' hot for this guy, and he seemed ta be gettin' hot fer me, too. Nothin' major, but it was buildin' up. And then...
"So, I wanna see this truck you've been goin' on about." If someone who didn't do the bar scene had been listenin' in, they woulda thought it just part of the convo. Two guys talkin' trucks, then the one asks to see what the other guy's got. That works, but they wouldn'ta seen what else was goin' on. He might as well've asked me if we could go out back and fuck like bunnies. I was still worried he mighta been leadin' me on, but when he stood up and smirked down at me, adjusting his shorts a little so I could get a look at the bulge he was packin' in there, I knew it wasn't a game. I don't care how much they wanna bash ya, they ain't gonna get hard when settin' ya up.
It actually took me a minute to get a handle on my waggin' tail, woulda been totally obvious to everyone what was really up if I was waggin' like a puppy on the way out in the company of a kid a decade younger'n me. Kid was lucky he had his bobbed, and 'sides, he was the one gettin' to look at my truck, so he was allowed ta be a li'l excited. I don't remember why, but I said "I'm parked 'round the side" and we headed for the entry by the end of the bar, really just a fire door.
I remember it was cold, surprisin' for mid-July, I remember that much, and I was gettin' all nipple-pokey through my shirt, something that dobie noticed right off, as a pair of fingers grabbed and twisted one of 'em and pulled me into a kiss, shoving me to the wall right next to the door, his muzzle coverin' mine. I didn't know what happened, I was gonna wait until we were around the back, but obviously he couldn't, and he made the first move. Bein' on the defensive, 'specially if you're usedta bein' in the driver's seat, can be pretty fuckin' scary, but also really fuckin' hot.
The hand on my chest, working my nipple, eventually worked around to slidin' my shirt off my shoulders, and I could feel the cool brick exterior grinding into my shoulders some, his shorts-clad crotch grinding to mine. Any moans were soaked up by the wet slurping sounds of our liplock, tongues fightin' back and forth, though eventually it was his tongue in my mouth, and I liked it. He was strong, almost strong as I was, and that felt nice. No girly puppy, this one, that chest ground to mine, panting heavily, his hips thrusting against mine until I was flowin' and damp in my jeans.
He finally broke the kiss and grinned that cocky li'l smirk he'd shown when he walked up to the table, and then with a thud of fabric his shorts were on the asphalt, kicked out of the way, that monster cock o'his bobbin' in the breeze, slick and gleaming under the streetlight that gave us what little we could see. I licked my lips, tastin' his breath still, my mouth goin' dry. My head was spinnin' - I didn't know what was goin' on. Just that he was makin' the rules here, and realizin' that made me even hotter still. He reached his fingers down and played with my cock, tracing his blunt clawtips across the denim and makin' me squirm against the brick. He had me, and this proved it.
"Does a puppy wanna suck on my cock?" he asked, on the edge of laughin' at me, exaggeratin' like he was talkin' to a real puppy. I growled, ears foldin' back - he'd just insulted me, and he knew it. 'Course, I shouldn'ta done that.
He lashed his paw out and grabbed one o'my ears, twisting suddenly, making my head turn and my knees bend as I tried to keep him from pullin' the fuckin' thing right off. "I ain't no puppy... Oh FUCK!" I yelped as he kicked behind my bent knee, forcing me down hard on the asphalt. He let go of my ear finally, but I was on my knees in fronta this stud, and his bobbin' cock slapped right on the bridge of my muzzle, splattering pre into the fur.
"Get me good and wet, puppy, and it'll go easier on ya," he said, his voice soft, like he actually gave a shit - if you could ignore the mockin' tone right under it. He was gettin' off on this, knew I was a top, and a wolf, too, on my knees in front of a fuckin DOG. I wasn't gonna stand for this, and I opened my mouth to tell 'im so.
Didja know there's this place right behind the jaw where you can push, and not only do you haveta open your jaw but it hurts like fuck? Well, I didn't until right then. I was so shocked I couldn't even yelp until after he had his cock slapped across my tongue, thrustin' away slowly. He grabbed my scruff with his other hand, startin' ta pull me in, finally lettin' go of that spot on my jaw, leavin' my face numb.
"Now, if I so much as feel a fang, you're gonna lose 'em all, got me?" I nodded a little and whimpered in my throat, ears tucked down closeta my head. He had me dead ta rights, and fuck, was I hot. He was just about rapin' me right there behind a bar I'd never been to before, and I was gettin' off on that shit.
The stupid things you remember - he tasted a little like soap, laundry detergent, really, and the heavy musk of a kid who'd been trapped all day and hard most of it. His pre was sweet and slick, thicker'n most dogs, and I can still taste the sweat and that cock if I think 'bout it too hard. Man...
I hadn't sucked a cock in a while, and he was pretty big. Soon I was droolin' and gettin' his pre and my spit all over my 'beater, and I could feel the dampness against the fur on my chest. He noticed it too and smirked down at me. "Does the puppy need a bib?" he jibed, then thrust into my throat, makin' me gag again.
I dunno how long this went on, but I was feelin' pretty full o' just his pre, and my cock had been juicin' inta my jeans pretty thick. Apparently it wasn't enough for him, though, and a yank on my scruff told me it was time ta get up.
"Both hands on the wall, puppy. I got somethin' special for ya." I froze, whining under my breath. I hadn't been fucked in years, and not by anythin' that big. He coulda passed for a small stallion, and he wanted under my tail. No fuckin' way.
Well, actually, yes fuckin' way. The moment I started protestin', he just spun me around and slammed me right to the wall, pinnin' me there with his body pressed against my back, his teeth workin along my ear. Lemme tell ya, there ain't nothin' gets me goin' faster'n the feel of teeth and tongue on my ear, and he figured this out quickly enough.
"Tsk, tsk, puppy. You need to learn how to behave better..." and he ground his cock against my ass, through my jeans, smearing them with his musky pre. I reeked like a "love pillow" already from all his pre, and now everything I wore, except the shirt soaking in some random foul fluid next to a dumpster, was marked with his smell. A paw reached around and grabbed my cock, then worked up higher, undoin' my belt and the button of my jeans.
"No.. no fuckin' way... I ain't a fuckin' puppy, and you ain't..." That's as far as I got. There was a jingle as my keys fell out of my pocket and he yanked my jeans down, tanglin' 'em up around my knees, but that wasn't what did it.
Nah, it was the sudden hot breath, wet tongue, and fangs tangled up in my scruff. A good solid mating bite, and I almost fell to my knees again right there. If you ain't a wolf or a dog, you just won't get it. Even cats don't react this way. You feel fangs in your scruff, it's all over, like an off switch for yer brain. Between that, the rubbing of that really slicked cockhead on my tailhole, and a firm grip on the base o'my cock, right behind the knot, and I woulda sold my soul if ya told me it was a good idea.
He stepped back, pullin' my hips back with that grip on my cock, and I followed with only a whimper, moving down far enough that I could cross my arms on the brick wall and rest my forehead on 'em. 'Course, this meant my ass was out like a bitch in heat, and that's jsut what he wanted. One of his paws reached under my 'beater, stretchin' it out and tuggin' on a nipple again.
One thing ya learn as ya get older - faster ain't always better, 'specially when it comes ta fuckin'. Well, no one'd taught this kid that yet, and in one thrust he'd buried that monster at least halfway under my tail, and I tell ya, it felt like I was gonna explode! I yelped, I whined, I whimpered, and he eventually pulle dhis hand free to grab my muzzle and keep it shut, the other hand workin' my cock back adn forth slowly, makin' me spray pre out over his hand, the wall and my 'beater. Poor thing was gettin' real wet and real musky, but I didn't care. Nah, not at all.
He sunk to the start of his knot under my tail in a long slow motion, his thick pre smoothin' things out a lot. He was on maybe the second or third thrust when things started to get feelin' nice, steada like tryin' ta sit on a hydrant. And it felt good - it felt real fuckin' good. And he started hammerin' away, and I started pushin' back at him as he jacked my cock. I couldn't do anythin' else, not with his fangs sunk inta my scruff, deep enough ta draw blood, turns out.
Finally he let go, though, but only to drive home just what was goin' on. "Y'know, you're right. You ain't a puppy. You're a fuckin' bitch. A wolf bitch, to a punk dog. Whatcha think of that, huh?" I started to stammer, to whine, but he switched hands, his one paw, soaked in my pre, was now rubbin' along my muzzle, spikin' up the fur and makin' me reek, the other one workin' fresh over my cock, enough ta make me almost shoot right there, a low whimper all I could do.
I'd like ta say we went all night. I'd like ta say I held out, and we kept at it. But that'd be lyin'. He slammed hard inta me, maybe five, ten more thrusts before bitin' my scruff again, stiflin' a howl as he crammed his knot agaisnt my ring, though I knew he decided early he didn't wanna tie, or he woulda by now. I felt his hot seed spurtin' deep inside, and I knew that was it - I'd been bitched by a dog 2/3rds my age, and I was gonna cum at the thought, though the death grip he had on the base o'my cock kept that from bein' a reality.
He held in there like that, the only sound his breath hissin' through my spit-soaked scruff, my own pantin' and the poundin' of my heart in my ears. Then suddenly he let me go, yankin' his cock free suddenly and lettin' me slide to the ground with a whimper. I knelt there, so close to the edge, but I couldn't cum. No... I turned around and looked up ta him, on my knees, and I whined. A low, puppy whimper, begging for something, anything, and he looked in my eyes and laughed.
"Such a fuckin' puppybitch you are! Well, tell ya what. You can jack yourself off - IF you lick my cock clean first." I couldn't say no. I lapped at that musky, cum-soaked cock, lapping and licking it clean, sucking on it as I fisted my cock, one hand locked behind the knot, and when I came I sunk down to the root on his cock, to keep from howlin' so loud it coulda been heard inside. I hadn't cum that hard since I was a teen, and I rocked back, sliding off his cock and gasping for breath, my head spinnin'.
I blinked a couple times, and by then he'd already grabbed his shorts and pulled 'em up, turnin' his back on me. I was dripping in my own cum, his runnin' down my leg, and I knew just what I looked like. I'd done this ta a coupla pups myself, after all. "Wait," I begged, ears down, pleading from a part of my heart I didn't know I had.
He turned to look at me, and I could see the coldness in his eyes then. I already knew what he'd say, but I had ta ask anyway. "Will... will I seeya again?"
He shrugged, smiling a humorless smile. "Nah, I don't think so. I got what I wanted, you got what you wanted. Don't complicate it." And he turned and walked away, leaving me soaked in his juices and mine, cooling in the night.
I left the shirt there, but I still got the 'beater. I went back to the Red Comet every weekend, and some weeknights, for the next few months, hopin' that kid'd show up again. Never did. Mighta been hitchin', mighta been out for a bit o' fun. I wish I could ask 'im, I really do. I still wake up, some nights, sheets soaked and a howl on my lips, rememberin' that night and that dog, fuckin' me like his bitch. I wanna see 'im again. I'd do it all over again if I could. But really, I wanna thank 'im.
See, if it weren't fer him, I would never'a met my bear. He'd been workin' the tables, and got promoted to bartender not long after. He'd seen me there, night after night, sittin' where I could see the doors, and one night on his break he came over ta sit and talk ta me. He knew I'd been lookin' fer someone, and he remembered that night me and the pup walked out. He hadn't quite put all the pieces together yet, but he picked up quick when I started the story. And soon, I was comin' back, not to look for the puppy, but to see my bear. And we've been together six years now. And every so often, I'll come home and instead o'my bear at home, there'll be a dog waitin' fer me. And I'll be a good bitch, 'cause that's what my bear knows I wanna be.