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Night found the city dead in the wee hours of Sunday morning. Every shop was closed and what faces he did see were on their way home with few exceptions. Night himself was not afraid of the dark, but neither was he looking for trouble. Being six feet tall on hooves with gray fur and athletic muscles was a good deterrent for trouble, something which he had never heard of in the city to begin with. Night almost exclusively resembled a lean stallion, but a gryphon's face entailed a beak and lent him an exotic, fetching quality, as did the blonde locks of hair on his head and tail.

In quiet hoof percussion he walked the dimly-lit sidewalk with his hands tucked in his hip pockets. He enjoyed the clement air of the Spring night and had no plans or directions to distract his wandering. Among colorful but sleeping storefronts sat one building, boarded over and dilapidated. Night paid it only a cursory glance because it broke up the pattern the rest of the buildings set, and on the poorly-lit stoop sat a skunk. Fully aware of Night and bearing the coyest of coy smirks he asked, "Hey mate, you lookin' for somethin'?"

Night came to a full stop and his violet eyes better picked out the source of the voice. A smile upturned the corners of his beak when he saw what an endearing little street urchin the skunk was. Patched tan slacks, suspenders over a shirtless torso, brown boots and a matching newsie hat made Night think of a newspaper-slinging paperboy out of the 30s or 40s. The skunk's eyes caught the errant glow of the street lamps and Night saw their purple glow with what he suspected was a lewd intent.

"What are you offering?" Night asked with an easy smile. He left his hands in his pockets but his arms were subtly bent outwards, a gesture of harmlessness.

The skunk stayed on his stoop and all that really moved was the dense brush of his tail. It was so well-groomed that Night rethought his appraisal of the skunk being a vagrant. "Name's Kicks," he said without flair. "I shine shoes, yeah?"

Here Night smiled apologetically. "No shoes," he said and gestured down to his hooves, devoid of even horseshoes.

"Hooves polish up right nice," said Kicks with cute English or Aussie inflection. Night couldn't tell which and the uncertainty added to his charm. "Somethin' tells me you're not properly busy at such a dull hour, hm?"

"Got me there," the bird admitted. He stepped closer to Kicks and sized up the skunk more carefully. A lean body like a swimmer's build, cute face, young but not jail bait. "How much?"

"Since I wasn't expectin' any business at this hour, let's call it three hundred," Kicks said. "Payment after satisfaction, eh?" Lewdly his eyebrows bobbed and Night chuckled coyly.

Night agreed, and he switched places with Kicks who was quick to kneel down. From his pockets Kicks produced a white towel and a jar of wax and he went straight to work on Night's equine hooves. At this careful attention the bird sighed and grinned but did his best to keep still for the skunk. Despite a lack of toes and the overall dullness of feeling in his hooves, Night found any and all foot attention to be pleasant and even arousing if the administrator was skilled enough.

Kicks proved his talent as a shoeshine with suspicious generosity. Ill content to use only the towel, he sometimes rubbed the horse-bird's hooves with his bare fingers to smear the wax on. Where the hoof gave over to fur, he was nothing but meticulous in wiping the excess away. He looked up not long after he'd finished the first hoof and begun on the second, but not into Night's eyes. The male gaze that came with such a loving attention to feet put his view squarely on Night's groin where a massive lump pulsated and ached under snug denim.

The gryphon was endearingly bashful when he huffed, "Getting my hooves rubbed does it for me. Sorry about that."

"No trouble, no trouble at all mate," said Kicks coolly with his eyes back on his work. A moment came and went in careful work, then without taking his eyes off of his task he said, "Suppose you'd want a spitshine on top of the hoof polishin', chum?"

Giving Kicks the benefit of the doubt, Night warily asked, "Wouldn't that just take the wax off?"

Kicks looked up into the bird's eyes and merely held the half-polished hoof in the towel. His grin practically split his face and showed the needle points of his mustelid teeth. "We's both grown men, am I right? So let me put it properly simple and hope you don't decide to bust my teeth with these hooves," he chuckled. "It's wot, two or three in the morning? Here we are in the empty city street, I'm rubbin' your feet and you're ready to cream your shorts from it." Night was blushing and grinning, even more so when Kicks winked and bluntly added, "So I'm offering to take care of that problem for you. Think about that, huh?"

Promptly Kicks returned to his work and Night decided in all of two seconds what he'd tell the skunk, but for the sake of suspense he waited until the striped shoeshine declared his work concluded, and quite spectacularly. Night's hooves had a nearly mirror sheen.

Yet on his knees, Kicks asked as he toyed with his greasy towel, "So wot's it gonna be, chum?"

"Hm," Night muttered as half-heartedly as he could, "let's try that spitshine."

Kicks' smile was sly and toothy in an instant. He settled up closer to Night a few steps down, dropped his towel nearby and went for the bird's groin with grabby paws. Night's fly opened easily to the skunk's eager fingers to reveal maroon boxers with a king-sized lump bulging them. With haste befitting a blowjob in plain view, Kicks yanked down Night's boxers and jeans to the bird's knees and bared the colossal equine cock. It was obvious that Night's hooves had tipped him off when his expression didn't change. Soon he revealed to Night that his pink-padded fingers were soft despite an apparent vagrant life when he took hold of the swollen, blunt flesh for a thorough kneading. Softer than those pads were his lips when he kissed the blunt flare capping off the solid black meat.

"Ooh, hey," Night grinned and shifted, finding the stoop comfortably chilly against his bare behind and smooth balls, "you give everybody such personal service, cute thing?"

"Only the nice ones, and only when nobody's lookin'," said Kicks succinctly, mere seconds before he engulfed Night's penis in his snug maw. There his tongue was depressed under the great girth of the stallion meat and rendered useless, but he suckled in compensation with lust backing his every move. Streamers of drool from his wedged-open maw drizzled down Night's cock and rendered the flesh shiny; Kicks steadily jerked off the bird and smeared this sheen all around for the promised spitshine.

Obligingly Night spread his toned legs and scraped his freshly-polished hooves on the stoop's lower steps. In the interest of secrecy he didn't moan or gasp but a lewd rumble emanated from his slender chest, and to give Kicks further encouragement, he brushed the skunk's cap off of his skull and petted lovingly through the white locks hidden beneath.

Kicks' brush of a tail swayed back and forth, catching Night's attention with its lazy wag. The bird thought about the skunk's behind and how undoubtedly taut and tight it was in those patchy little slacks. In the meantime the skunk deepened his blowjob and suckled his way down to the ring which marked the middle of Night's healthy endowment, which coincidentally put the flare near the skunk's throat. The moment of pause and gulping made it seem as though Kicks were going to willingly gag himself with that stallion cock, but he pulled back so promptly that the bird's smile faltered and his eyes became apologetic.

"Sorry, chum," Kicks said somewhat hoarsely as he wiped slobber from his lips. Still wryly grinning, he said, "Or'narily I'd be all for rammin' it down my throat but you're just a wee bit past my skill." Curiously for Night, the skunk scooted back until his behind was on the sidewalk itself. Still facing Night and unlacing his boots, he grinned, "But I got somethin' else in mind for you, mate."

Any confusion vanished from Night's face in favor of a lewd smile when Kicks pulled off one boot and wiggled the freed foot. Plantigrade and softly padded, cute but strong and soon joined by its twin. Kicks wiped his fore paws off on his chest and braced them behind himself for support, and not a second later he pushed his warm feet into Night's shaft. No fumbling precluded Kicks' work; he stroked and groped Night immediately. As he stroked that spit-shined cock, he looked up at the bird and grinned, "You don't spend every day polishin' shoes and groomin' feet without pickin' up a few tricks!"

"Do you see me complaining?" Night grinned while pre beaded and dribbled from the blunt tip of his shaft. Beneath Kicks' skilled feet his cock throbbed and swelled to greater girth, soon enough that its dark flesh bore subtle creases of veins. These were hard to discern when every stroke and squeeze from Kicks' paws bunched and puckered the flesh this way and that. With an expression of near-total bliss the bird leaned back on the stoop and huffed through his open beak while his eyes drifted shut. As skilled as Kicks was, Night found himself wondering just how many cocks those talented skunk feet molested every week.

Kicks bore a swollen erection of his own but he kept it in his trousers and ignored the lump it made. He was making it obvious to Night that his clients came first. Warmly he cooed, "How'sat doin' for you, mate?"

"Damn good," Night said with nearly a trill. The subtle quavering of his voice said what the skunk could already tell from that drooling, aching flesh by touch. Night's heavy round balls were drawing up taut to his loins and that could only mean his climax was close at hand.

Grinning, Kicks remarked, "Not exactly a spitshine, but I got the feelin' you're not gonna split hairs about that..." In tune with the urgency that precluded Night's release, Kicks worked more quickly on the bird's cock and never once did his paws slip off or cause harm despite his claws. He brought a few new tricks to bear, among them grinding his sole into the big, dribbling flare when the urge happened to strike him. These grinds were of special pleasure to Night, who once lightly held his beak shut to avoid attracting attention. He didn't stop himself from grinding into Kicks' eager and slutty feet, however. Kicks' feet found the bird's balls, too, but his attention there was at a premium. Once he lifted them off of the cold stoop and let them revel in the warmth of his padded feet but he soon returned his work to that needy cock. Very little else mattered with the bird so far-gone.

The moment of Night's release was well-earned by Kicks. Night huffed and shuddered and would have certainly bitten his lip if he had them. He settled for clenching his beak and his eyes shut while he squirted rope after rope of thick musky cream onto the dutiful skunk, splattering his briefly-flinching face and much of his chest with the sticky mess. True to his equine blood, he was remarkably virile and that was only exacerbated by Kicks' continuing molestation to his cock and balls. Kicks did everything he could to milk Night of every last drop, and though that milking was not quite complete, the many thick splatters on Kicks' half-naked body said otherwise.

When the gushes of equine seed ceased, Kicks rather dramatically planted his feet on the steps and smiled up at Night, "Three hundred Bells, chum."

Night sat up with some effort and grinned sheepishly. "Does that cover the spitshine, too?"

Kicks watched the bird reach into his pants pocket and he coyly remarked, "Tell you wot, mate," he smiled, "you come on back to me next weekend, you lemme find another place for that thing of yours, and we'll consider it all even."

Wearing a blush and a dirty smile, Night pressed the money into Kicks' paw and winked. "I'm sure I can scuff my hooves up between now and then."