FSE

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Over twenty-odd years and dozens, maybe a hundred plus successful fucks, Ryan had settled into some habits when it came to his boy-hungry tastes. The old tricks worked the best, and though the chubby gray-faced wolf was happy to prove wrong that he could learn a new trick, he was never shy about sticking to whatever worked best.

Sometimes, Ryan noticed, the truck had an allure of its own. Hitchhiking malcontents eager to get away from mom and pop were all too happy to climb up into the cab of an eighteen wheeler with a wolf they didn't know, and the truck had been Ryan's base of dirty operations for years. Sentimentality was why he did not replace it, but merely fixed it up. He left it with the mechanic overnight and took the grease monkey's recommendation for a cheap motel. The location was stated with a wink and a smile. Did the mechanic know? Ryan wondered if his hungry eyes were obvious.

The night was chilly. Ryan's breath made fog and his blubbery body only did so much to keep him warm. He wore a tacky flannel over his greasy tee and realized only when he neared the clubs that the flannel made him resemble the hipsters. Blending in helped him get inside, and once there, he took off the flannel after finding it warm enough in the club. He did not mean to misplace it, but he cared little when it disappeared during his rest on one of the grubby couches.

Most men Ryan's age loved younger girls. There were plenty to choose from of many shapes and sizes, most pleasant on the eyes and none too prudish to refuse a couple of drinks for a bathroom quickie. But Ryan played the same team as the girls, and the boys he was after were easier than the girls by a significant margin. It was simple, and it was a fact Ryan himself embodied: Men are sluts, more so than even the easiest women.

Ryan had an ace up his sleeve beyond knowing how to play off of young male whores, for the wolf's middle age was something most young men found sickening in public. A twenty-something raver twink would sooner make out with his sister than fuck a papa wolf. But as soon as privacy was introduced into the equation, Ryan was a venerable stallion to the boys. They craved his rich musk, wiry gray snout, bold tongue and soulful eyes. Boys longed for his calloused working paws and the smooth talk he could belt out, but only behind closed doors.

The sleazy papa wolf tilted back the bill of his hat and looked up into the rigging on the lights which occasionally shot flickering colors across him. Lighting in raves always gave him a headache, but the hunting possibilities were unmatched.

He stood up and stretched out. This was a subtle display of his physical stature as a tall, bearish fellow, and more than a few eyes latched onto him. The wolf knew he need not seek out the good time; it would come to him. Planting some seeds was all it took. With that in mind and a tight smile, Ryan walked to the bar counter.

Sissy boys outnumbered the girls three to one at the bar. Ryan eyed two lads in particular whom he would learn were named Desmond and Jeffrey. Jeffrey was perhaps four feet tall, with overlarge ears and the colors of the desert on his body: a fennec fox. Desmond was something different and more exotic. That he was larger than the fennec was a given. Desmond was blonde-haired and green eyed, with a big bushy tail staggered with black bands. A foxcoon; Ryan had never had one of those. He licked his lips, but thirstily. Beer called to him.

Yet before papa wolf could get his life-giving pisswater, he bore witness to an evil trick he knew all too well: Desmond dropped a tablet into Jeffrey's drink as the fennec faced away. He did it so boldly that it was evidently a commonplace trick for him.

Ryan would fuck a boy raw with only drool as lube. He had stolen twinks from other young men and grumpy bears alike and had no qualms about fucking something that might not have been over eighteen. Ryan was, however, a sexual demon with some nobility. Thumping music masked the heavy claps of his boots on the floor. He knew the fennec could feel his approach on the air, but so many bodies moving at once made too much chaff for even the most tender ears. Ryan snapped up Jeffrey's glass by the stem and slung it over his shoulder, then clapped it down sharply on the counter. Both Desmond and Jeffrey moved their eyes to the sound and then the wolf, both appearing bewildered, and the former just a bit irritated too.

"Sorry, kiddo, but I was just about to keel over from thirst," he laughed, patting Jeffrey's shoulder. "Whose was that?"

"His," said Desmond with a huff. "Thanks a lot, asshole."

The trucker wolf smiled deviously at Desmond. "Well, kid, I don't think he much needed it."

Jeffrey chimed up, "Actually, I was pretty thirsty myself."

Moving suavely but pushing like a football player, Ryan muscled Desmond off of his stool and took the seat next to Jeffrey. He slapped a five dollar bill down on the counter and whistled for the bartender. "Lemme cover this one for you, kid. I'm real sorry about that."

The fennec sipped gingerly on his new drink. Desmond stalked away from the overwhelming trucker. "Mmm, that's good," Jeffrey tittered. "Where'd Dez go?"

"Dez?" Ryan muttered. "Dunno. His loss," he smiled, wrapping an arm around the very small fox.

Two drinks later and Ryan had learned Jeffrey's name and had him alone in the bathroom. The wolf's fat, greasy meat barely fit in the scrawny twink's jaws, but the arrangement was serviceable. Ryan finished Jeffrey off with two fingers up his sweet ass and his tongue down the throat he had just fucked. For a fennec, the boy came hard.

Ryan never told Jeffrey what he had saved him from. It hardly seemed like polite conversation, and he knew he foxcoon wouldn't try again as long as Ryan was there. He most definitely would never touch Jeffrey again.

Knowing the security goons would be more loquacious than the boys and girls, Ryan hit them up under the guise of bullshitting and by luck found a gay one. Politely he rebuffed the burly bull's advances, but he asked slyly if the bovine had seen any fine-hipped blonde boys in fishnet.

"Well," the bull said, reminiscing as though speaking from a years-old memory, "I did see this fine little slice pout past out the back doors, into the smoker's alley. Goddamn, but he looked like he was gonna cut someone's nuts off."

Ryan laughed. "Ah, I love them feisty ones. How long ago was that?"

"Not too long ago. Maybe ten minutes?"

The wolf cracked a terrible grin. "Thanks, bud," said Ryan with a clap on the bull's shoulder. "Oh, and if you see a little fox with big ears, tell him Ryan said hi."

The back alley was a dumping ground for used rubbers and smashed beer bottles. Ryan was therefore surprised to see that his culprit, a barefoot thing who walked on his toes like a throwback, was out there chain-smoking cigarettes. He groused to other twinks about his failed date rape.

Apparently the other boys did not approve of Desmond's ways, for when Ryan grabbed his arm and made him shriek like murder, they chuckled and milled away to watch from afar.

"Um, uh, ummm, shit," Desmond squeaked in Ryan's grip. "I should explain what happened earlier. That was, you see--, that drink..."

Ryan smiled widely but did not show his teeth. "Why don't you press up close? You're shivering, that fishnet's real thin."

"Thanks," Desmond awkwardly murmured, pressing uneasily against Ryan's sweaty, smelly bulk. He tossed his cigarette onto the pavement and Ryan stomped it. "That drink was, you know, mine."

"Oh, I'm sure it was," Ryan nodded, stroking down Desmond's body. He unabashedly went for the ass and squeezed his cheeks.

Though arching into Ryan's body, Desmond was skittish. "See, I take vitamins. For good joints. Like, wow, bad joints really run in my family, my dad--, anyway," he mumbled, "it was my drink."

"Yeah? How 'bout that. That Jeffrey was a lil' shit then, rearing up to steal your drink like that," Ryan nodded.

"Tell me about it!" Desmond grinned, biting right down on the bait. "He was just so bossy, trying to take my drinks. He wanted to get me home, I think."

Ryan licked his lips and squeezed down on Desmond's ass cheeks. "Grr, you're one hot tamale. I bet your asshole's snug as a motherfucker."

Desmond moaned and licked the trucker's chin. Ryan's bristling fur tickled the surface of Desmond's tongue. "Fuck yeah, it is," he said in a sultry croon. "Fuck that pussy fennec, I want a daddy like you."

"Okay," Ryan chuckled, suddenly too amused for his own good, "lemme get one thing straight."

"Uh huh?"

"I thought you foxes were good liars," Ryan grinned. As Desmond's expression soured out, Ryan dug his fingers into the cheeks. The boy's booty shorts offered no protection. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson, you little date-rapin' bastard."

Desmond's eyes widened. Fear shook his voice. "Dude, wh-what? That wasn't anything bad enough to--, it would've just made him kinda dozy! He was gonna sleep with me anyway!" Desmond cried.

Ryan whipped his small prey around and smashed his crotch up against the ass he had just squeezed. He yanked down Desmond's shorts and ground him up against the cold brick wall. With a smirk and a laugh, he noticed the graffiti just above them. "Slut goes here!" Ryan cackled. "Man, this must be a popular spot for bitches like you, eh?"

In spite of how wily foxes could be, Ryan trivially pinned Desmond with his paw on the back of the boy's neck and opened his fly with the other. The button hole was wallowed out enough to make a one-handed job easy. "Pull your cheeks apart for me, kiddo," he grinned.

"Fuck you, you old bastard!" Desmond barked.

"The lame response to that," Ryan grinned, "is that I'm about to fuck you, but I don't like cliches too much. So instead of that," he snickered, shoving his big, black, uncut meat between the twink's ass cheeks, "I'm just gonna say shut the fuck up, you evil little prick."

Desmond whimpered. It was hard to tell if this was a sound of weakness or crocodile tears, but Ryan was unmoved. Justice only partially motivated him; the rest of it was a noted interest in bad boys. He ground perpendicular to Desmond's asshole and hotdogged him ruthlessly, gnawing his neck all the while. Desmond puffed and grumbled against the grimy wall. "You're a real fucking dick, ruining what I had going with Jeff."

The trucker nipped Desmond's scruff and the boy squeaked. "How's about," he mused, notching his tip against Desmond's anus with trial-and-error and his sense of touch, "I just call the cops and you can tell 'em what this altercation's about?"

"Aw, go to hell," Desmond whined.

"Or," said Ryan boisterously as he pressed in a few sweaty inches, "you take your lumps from daddy like a big boy, and maybe next time you gear up to slip a knockout pill in someone's drink, you'll think twice!"

"Are you--, are you seriously acting like you're my fucking dad!?" Desmond groaned.

Ryan couldn't hold it in. He laughed and laughed. In one ruthless buck, he mashed his cock home. Desmond squealed and Ryan's dangling balls smacked lewdly against Desmond's demure coin purse. "Fuckin' A! You rotten boys need to be taken over the knee sometimes," he snarled, and he started to buck. Desmond gasped and clawed the wall. Anal stimulation hardened his small penis and made it throb.

"God damn you," Desmond hissed through clenched teeth. "Fucking horny old man, just looking for an excuse to fuck someone half your age, that's all!"

"Boy, I don't need excuses," Ryan cackled. "I saw that goddamn look in your eye," he growled as he smashed his hips against Desmond. Each thrust reamed the foxcoon's rectal passage just a bit more. "Before you knew your fuckin' game was up, you were all over me, kiddo."

An incriminating blush glowed on Desmond's cheeks, but his eyes displayed simmering fury. He elbowed Ryan's gut to no avail. "Son of a bitch," he impotently whimpered.

"I sure as fuck am, kid," Ryan grunted back. "And you, you little shit, are a goddamn tight hole to fuck, lemme tell you."

Desmond bit on his lip and dared not look at the other boys. They were watching, grinning, smoking their cigarettes. Some were making out. Justice for the date rapist was sexy.

"You think you're fucking clever, huh?" Desmond said, forcing a big, toothy smirk. "Gonna put me in my place like you're my father. He couldn't tame me, so you sure as fuck ain't gonna swing it."

Ryan's reply was to laugh and it shook Desmond. "Them's fightin' words," the trucker dangerously said with no jolly laughter. He yanked his cock right out of the twink and pressed him to the wall by the back of the neck again. Ryan's erection stood tirelessly in the cold air, kept stiff by the notion of finishing up in that tight ass. "Your daddy ever spank you, kiddo?"

"Don't you even!" Desmond snapped, sounding as embarrassed as he did angry.

"Guess not - or just not enough!" Ryan laughed. Suddenly he smacked his palm into Desmond's ass. His calloused pads crashed into the boy like sandpaper and made him shriek. One good smack deserved another, but Ryan went past that and chained them. He wasn't even consistent in doing one cheek and then the other. He just smacked them however he saw fit, but always with the full extent of his brutal strength.

Each and every smack coaxed a yowl from Desmond. Tears borne of pain, anger, and humiliation rolled down the twink's cheeks. He sniffled then screeched, "I hate you, motherfucker!"

"Nope! Never! Didn't even stick the tip in her!" Ryan proudly declared before he laid into Desmond again. It was impossible to see but beneath the fur, Desmond's cheeks were red and raw, practically glowing from the beating.

"Stop it! Goddammit, you fat fucking faggot, stop that right now!" Desmond shrieked in a terrible, cracking voice.

Ryan couldn't stop laughing at the tantrum but he abruptly drilled his cock back into the fox. As Desmond cried and fussed, Ryan pounded against him, holding him by the hips and simply disregarding his feeble attempts to claw and bite.

The other boys were laughing too. Ryan had no doubt in his mind they'd stick up for him if a lawman came around. Confident in his lack of culpability, he kept on fucking the boy, ramming it deep inside of the foxcoon's fuckhole. It was the assfucking Jeffrey's little body couldn't have handled, but Desmond the sassy bitch took it just fine.

It was rare that Ryan exhibited any kind of sadism in his actions, but Desmond brought out the worst in him. Raping a rapist was a good cause, and Ryan made his pleasure abundantly clear with his every bellow and groan.

"Uhhhn, good god. I'm gonna dump my nuts inside of you, kiddo," Ryan grunted. He laughed raggedly. "So much for Jeffrey, I guess you're gonna have to fuck your fist tonight!"

"I hate you so much," Desmond snapped, resting his head on the wall. "My ass hurts, you cocksucker!"

"I sucked a cock only once, but people keep calling me that," Ryan sneered. His delivery was stilted, for his release was upon him. He shuddered as he draped his heavy body over Desmond. "Christ," he breathed when he came. Just as the spanking had been so relentless, so was Ryan's orgasm a seemingly never-ending affair. When it appeared his ejaculation might stop, another, smaller rope of jizz squirted into Desmond. By the time the wolf actually had finished, Desmond's tantrum had leveled off into sniveling moans and whimpers.

Driven to such cruelty, Ryan needed more satisfaction. He plucked his meat out of Desmond and the boy gasped. Then he bearhugged him with just one arm and wrapped his dominant paw about the twink's cock.

"What the fuck are you doing now?" Desmond demanded, sounding pissy yet oddly harmless.

"Shut the fuck up, you little shit," Ryan grumbled with more implied threat than Desmond could scream. He jerked the twink roughly using the same paw he had spanked with. "You're gonna cum for me, kid."

Pain and rage could not keep the fox from grimacing pleasurably. He felt his unwanted orgasm nearing already. "Ugh, the fuck I am," Desmond whined.

"The fuck you're not, you're my goddamn bitch tonight, you hear me!?" the trucker bellowed down into an ear. "Now call me daddy, boy!"

"Fuck you, daddy," Desmond spat.

"Yeah, maybe I'd let you if you weren't such a rotten kid," Ryan spat back. He tugged Desmond's penis hard enough to painfully yank back the foreskin, tugging the connective tissues. Every time Desmond spitefully pulled Ryan's fur, the trucker bore down harder. "Jizz for me! Cum for papa, boy!"

"I fucking ha-a-ate you-u-u," Desmond hissed through his clenched teeth. In spite of the tears in his eyes and maddeningly sore ass cheeks, Desmond shot his wad. He did so with no pleasurable noises. Ryan continued to jerk and tug well past the point of pleasure. It was not until Desmond began to writhe and sob, begging that he stop, that Ryan released his penis.

Acknowledging what he had done but feeling good for having saved Jeffrey, Ryan shoved Desmond away. Slut goes here, the graffiti declared, its arrow pointing down at the cowering bitch.

Ryan pulled up his zipper slowly. "Next time a sumbitch like me finds you trying to drug someone, they might do more than just blister your ass and gape your hole, boy. Consider that the warning your daddy never gave you."