FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

--1

Vitch kicked the tire and dented the rim with his hoof, but that didn't matter. It was already crooked, the tire on it shredded. Worst of all, it was his spare. He knew he should have replaced it with a real tire six months ago. Now he was stranded halfway between home and work. A cascade of bullshit turned him into a prime example of Murphy's Law: his cell phone was dead, he didn't keep a cigarette lighter charger in the glove box, and the evening sky was clouding up for rain. Vitch brayed in anger and kicked the rim again. The center caved in under his hoof.

The highway was never busy. Most of the work had dried up and what little remained was self-contained in the city. Vitch never saw other cars, and when he did, they were driven by the kinds of people he wasn't sure he wanted to converse with anyway.

He sat on the hood of the car and made it sag. He was heavy, but it had nothing to do with body fat. His weight came from raw muscles cut like diamonds, bulging out of a tank top. When he went to the bar, lose whores loved to hang off of his guns. They fawned over his expertly-pruned rack and handsome, sneering face. It was very easy for an elk stag like Vitch to get any woman he so desired. But sometimes, he had boys instead.

A rumble of thunder shook the earth. Lighting parted the sky miles away and the sound rolled across the lonely highway. Vitch was not pleased. "Fucking get me, then! It'd be a goddamn relief right now!" he screamed back.

The rain started to fall, just a sprinkling. Vitch likened it to a warning shot. Opaque sheets of rain fell in the distance, coming his way. He shook his head and swung his leg back, putting a hoof-shaped dent in the bumper. "You piece of crap," he hissed. "I was supposed to be getting some pussy tonight."

Working the ranch was backbreaking work. Vitch was built for toiling in the heat of the day and it left him dreadfully sweaty, and his beater stuck to him like a membrane. His briefs were wedged awkwardly in his swampy ass crack and his balls smelled like the interior of a gym bag. He had showered that morning and used a generous spritzing of deodorant ("Heavy-duty anti-musk formula!" it boasted), but despite those measures, he smelled like a buck in rut. Vitch rather liked to smell like a real man; but the sweat and stink only added to his woes then and there.

Lighting ripped across the sky in purple wrinkles. Vitch flinched at the suddenness of the crack. "Too close! Too fucking close, I was joking!" he moaned, walking around the car. The rain was picking up and he grabbed the door handle - then saw the headlights coming up the highway. Even if it was a serial killer, he was inclined to take his chances.

--2

Ryan was high on life. Thunderstorms were fun to drive in; he had just gotten paid; and when he dropped off his latest load, the client's pony son sneaked him aside for a quick hump in the back alley. So when Ryan caught sight of the stranded motorist waving his arms and looking despondent in the rain, he rolled to a stop and lowered the window. He stayed wary of the .357 stashed under his seat.

"You need a jump, or a lift?" he amicably asked.

"A lift!" Vitch said. "Fucking spare tire's trashed. Phone's dead. I gotta get home. You're already heading that way, looks like."

The old wolf nodded. "Come around and hop in, bud. I got you."

As he clambered into the passenger seat, Vitch was stricken by both relief from his wet predicament and the smell of his savior. The nasal appraisal went both ways.

Ryan smiled contritely at Vitch, shifting the truck up on his way down the road. "You smell like a jockstrap after the Superbowl, buddy. Maybe I shoulda tossed you a bar of soap while you were out in that rain."

"You don't smell so good yourself, old man. Smells like farts and McDonald's in here," Vitch said with the breezy crudeness of an old friend.

"Actually, the farts are because of the McDonald's," Ryan sweetly corrected. Vitch laughed. "What's your name, kid?"

"Kid!" Vitch spat.

"That's your name?" Ryan grinned and blew him a smooch. "I'm old enough to be your daddy, so I'm calling you kid whether you like it or not. So what's your name, kid?"

"Vitch," he answered. "You, old man?"

"Ryan," he replied. "What's a handy-looking dude like you doing with a busted tire?"

"It was the spare," Vitch said. "I, uh, had just stuck it on there. Didn't make it ten miles."

"You changed it a year ago and just didn't bother to buy a real tire." Ryan's voice was flat, the tones of a disappointed father.

"Ah, yeah," Vitch admitted, rubbing his knees.

Ryan patted the back of the elk's hand. Vitch chose not to reach much into the intimate gesture. "Happens to the best of us, kiddo! Christ, this weather's something else. God's raving up there or something."

"You're a little weird, ain't you, Ryan?"

"Weirdness is subjective," Ryan shrugged. "The other hitchhikers all said I was really nice and even promised not to tell anybody!"

Vitch smiled uneasily, showing his flat teeth. "Funny."

"Most people seem to think so," Ryan snickered. "I ain't no killer, kid, I'm a lover. You a lover? I bet you are, you're built like a brick shithouse! Bet you can get laid with a mean look."

The deer licked his lips briskly. "Just about, Ryan. Just about." A pause, then he said, "How about you, old man? You look like you were something back when Kennedy's brains got blown out. You used to chase the ladies?"

"Used to," Ryan truthfully said. "I was one hell of a pussy hound when I was, eh, sixteen to about," he paused and licked his jowls, "late twenties?"

"Most guys usually don't stop liking pussy," Vitch said, bewildered. "Hell, my dad, Christ almighty. Even though his dick quit working, he still loves him some women."

Ryan patched together that Vitch didn't have the same feelings for the boys that he did. It wasn't often that the wolf was outright wrong about somebody. He knew his own track record, lived and died by it, so when his intuition said Vitch was purely straight, he believed it.

"Just haven't had much interest in the ol' beef curtains, y'know?" Ryan cackled. "Guess I just like the simpler things in life now - getting shithammered and jerking off."

"Amen to that, sometimes just getting fucking plowed is the best," Vitch laughed. Ryan glanced at him and smiled coyly.

"You bet, kid. Getting plowed is just the tops."

"Hey, Ryan! You seem pretty cool," Vitch said, "and I didn't see a trailer on the cab, so you wanna stop into my place with me?"

Ryan scratched his chin and watched the lighting streak across the sky. "I don't have any loads to pick up right now. Sure. We could, what, drink some beer, watch some TV?"

"Sure, sure," Vitch nodded. "I wanna hear about all that pussy you used to get!"

"Oh, yeah," Ryan chuckled. "Day doesn't go by where I don't think about that..."

--3

Getting to Vitch's apartment was easy. Parking a semi truck in a lot made for sedans was not so simple, but Ryan managed it without trading paint. The rain was still coming down in sheets, the sky often splitting open with hellacious lightning. In spite of the quick walk to the door, both males ended up drenched. Ryan narrowly resisted the urge to doggishly shake dry in the lobby.

"I'll get you a towel when we get to my place," the elk apologetically said.

Vitch made good on the promise. As soon as they were inside the deer's quaint apartment, he disappeared into the restroom and came back with two towels, one of which was already slung over his shoulders.

"Thanks, kid," Ryan said, wiping himself dry.

Vitch did the same after pulling off his beater and dropping it on the floor. It landed with a damp pat. Ryan covertly looked at his stunning musculature. Beefy young men weren't usually his thing. Vitch's heady elk musk was one part of the attraction. That Ryan assumed him to be off-limits made up the rest of it.

"Christ, that fucking rain, dude," Vitch laughed. "You hungry? Thirsty?"

"Little bit of both." Ryan tossed the towel back to Vitch.

As he slung the towels and his wet clothes over the shower curtain rod, Vitch called out, "Let's order a fuckin' pizza just as soon as I call a tow truck. I got another call to make too." He walked out of the bathroom with no clothes whatsoever, exhibiting a lack of self-consciousness. "Lemme just find the phone charger, yeah?"

Ryan enjoyed a blatant look at Vitch's package. As was typical of an elk stag, his balls were enormous. A huge, flaccid, and notably uncut penis hung over them like a lazy cobra.

"Jesus, kid, you a nudist or something?" Ryan joked, hiding behind forced humor.

Vitch turned his back on Ryan and dug through one of the kitchen drawers. The wolf took the opportunity to study his hard ass. He bit his lip and snorted through his nostrils.

"I'll slap some clothes on in a minute, I just can't keep wearing that wet shit. Here it is! Fucking phone chargers, I can never keep track of these fuckers."

"I don't even have a phone," Ryan admitted, smiling placidly. "I just use payphones. Prolly the only guy who still does."

Vitch looked back at Ryan and smiled hugely. "Payphones? Fuck, man, wouldn't telegrams be more familiar to you? Bet you were a star courier for the Pony Express, am I right?"

"Fuck off, kid," Ryan grinned back. "Put your ass away or I'm shoving a finger up it. Or we'll go prison-style - that ten years in the clink left me a'mighty hungry for some man-ass!"

"Hey, you're really funny," Vitch dryly noted, plugging in his phone. It chirped to life. "Too bad you had to dismember that hooker."

"She wanted fifty bucks, I figure it was just cheaper to--," Ryan promptly burst out laughing. "Jesus, we got some fucking problems."

Ryan had not been soaked like Vitch. He sat clothed on the couch and flipped through a magazine on the coffee table as Vitch attended to his business. The magazine was about all things bodybuilding; rippling studs chiefly of equine and large feline species leered in speedos, while the articles in the margins offered recipes for protein shakes and the best ways to bench press without developing a hernia.

Vitch made his calls, first for a tow straight to his friend's auto shop, then to said friend, and finally the local pizza place. Done with the phone, he slipped on some gym shorts, grabbed two beers out of the fridge and plopped down next to the wolf.

"Cheers, thanks for the lift," Vitch said, handing Ryan a beer.

"No problem," Ryan smiled. "Thanks for putting your junk away."

Vitch sneered. "Figured you were enjoying lookin' at me, you being allergic to pussy. And reading that shit," he said, nodding at the magazine in Ryan's lap.

The new friends bullshitted, had a few beers each and watched TV. When the pizza showed up, they devoured the entire thing slice for slice and killed off the rest of Vitch's beer supply. With twenty-four beers put away between them and a fantastic mutual buzz, Vitch got up and grabbed his phone again. Ryan followed him, stumbling. He leaned on the nub of a wall partitioning the kitchenette from the den.

"Who you callin' now?" the trucker burped.

"Friends!" Vitch proudly blurted. "Friends you're gonna love, man." Vitch thumbed through his contact list. He was unable to stand still, often swaying side to side.

"What kinda friends?" Ryan chuckled. "Maybe I'm cool just hanging out with you."

The elk shot Ryan a suspicious look, then said, "Girls. Just some local bitches I know. They ain't got any STDs or anything, but they like if you wear rubbers anyway. Not hookers, they don't charge, just love the dick."

Ryan bit his lip and leaned back on the wall.

"Hey, here she is. Found Ginger's number. Lemme just..."

"No, kid, hey," Ryan interrupted.

"Huh? What is it?" Vitch asked, aggravated.

"I don't do girls, kid. I told you that," Ryan firmly said, without looking Vitch in the eye.

"Why not? You, uh, you gay or something?" Vitch seemed uncertain.

Ryan was drunk enough to be forthcoming. "Yeah. I'm totally gay."

"Oh." Vitch paused, then set his phone aside. "That's cool. I'm bi. Personally, couldn't imagine doing without the pussy, but I get you."

A smile creased Ryan's sticky jowls. "So that strutting around naked, was that you trying to get me to notice?"

Vitch appeared truly confused. "Nnno, that was a locker room thing. I'm used to being naked around other dudes, nothing homo about it." Then his lips suddenly split into a toothy smile, and he inched closer to the wolf.

Unlike most of the young men Ryan encountered, Vitch was taller than him even without his large antlers. "But I'm sure as fuck gonna walk around naked now," he slyly remarked, slipping down the gym shorts. He left them right there in the kitchenette and leaned on the cabinets, putting him just two feet away from the wolf.

Ryan turned to face Vitch, putting his shoulder against the wall. His scruffy tail wagged. "You want to get frisky with a smelly old wolf like me?" he chuckled, trailing his lazy orange eyes down the elk's body. "Nice pecker, kid."

Always appreciative of attention and praise, Vitch straightened out and folded his arms behind his head. His muscular body was taut and his penis just slightly hard in spite of the beer. He looked like a pinup come to life with his lagging bedroom eyes. "You seem like a pretty all right guy," Vitch said, "picking me up and all."

The chubby wolf started for Vitch but stumbled over his own boots and fell against him gracelessly. Vitch laughed and caught him easily. Neither male was very stable, but Vitch forced himself to be more competent out of male pride alone. "C'mon, you fuckin' alcoholic, you're gonna sit down before you fall down," he chided, walking Ryan to the couch.

"I'll fall down," Ryan challengingly said, "ass-first on your face, buddy."

Vitch dropped Ryan onto the sofa. The metal springs and wooden frame wheezed underneath the sudden weight. Vitch loomed over the wolf leering and sporting a half-chub. "As if. You're gonna be my fat fucking buttbitch tonight, old man." Just so perfectly, thunder crashed outside, lighting flashing through the window. The lights dimmed and raised again. "Start sucking!"

"Bossy little shit," Ryan snickered. But he obeyed Vitch. It came as a surprise to the elk to feel such rough, sticky jowls on his meat. Ryan began suckling and bobbing, blowing the well-hung deer with eager skill Vitch would never have suspected from a trucker.

"Mmm, hey," Vitch cooed, "you really suck a mean dick..."

Ryan suckled back and popped his lips off the tip. By then Vitch was hard as a rock. Pre drooled from his tip, which had been bared as his erection retracted the foreskin. "Kid, I been teachin' boys your age how to suck their daddies off for twentysome years, you're not telling me shit."

"Quit acting all indignant and get back to it," Vitch said with a laugh. As Ryan went down again, Vitch brushed the hat off of his head and stroked through his scruffy black hair and then across his pert ears. "Old men, I swear to god. Always got something to prove."

Despite the submission implied by his cocksucking, Ryan reached around and gripped Vitch's hard ass. He dug his fingers into the cheeks, just slightly into the sweaty crack, then peeled them apart, exposing the elk's pucker to the cool air.

Vitch shuddered and braced both hands on the back of Ryan's head. "Hell, nobody ever goes for my ass like that. Oughta put that tongue to work on it."

Abruptly enough that he couldn't convincingly hide his enthusiasm, Ryan pulled back and mildly asked, "Think so?"

"Yeah," Vitch sneered, "I do think so." He twisted around on a hoof and put his hard ass in Ryan's face. Anal musk and sweat funk was very much apparent on his fine hind end. "Don't be shy with it, old man, you can fuckin' eat me."

"Well, sure, if I have to," Ryan moaned. He bumped his nose into Vitch's ass crack and gave it a shallow sniff. His jeans were already bulging. He pulled apart the cheeks and immediately crushed his nose in against the pink pucker between them. His young friend brayed in pleasure and ground back, smearing his musky asshole against the pad of Ryan's nose. The slutty trucker expressed delight through his moans as he snuffled and sniffed.

As he received his fill of cervine musk, Ryan shuddered out a moan and started to lap. His tongue was long, thick, and slobbery; ideal for eating such a good ass. He slathered Vitch's asshole and the flesh and fur surrounding it. Then he broadened his affections, attacking Vitch's taint and the back of his fabulously swollen stag balls. "Jesus Christ, kiddo, papa's lovin' this fuckin' ass of yours," he snarled into Vitch's ass crack, which caught and muffled his words.

"You goddamn better be," Vitch cackled, pressing back with all his strength.

Ryan was hungry like a wolf and stubborn as a mule. He pushed against Vitch just as powerfully and his nose wedged open the deer's pucker. This did not last, but Ryan then greedily pushed his lips against the ring and suckled it like nursing from the teat. Vitch quaked in pleasure and squirted precum onto his table and across the homoerotic magazine Ryan had been thumbing through.

"Fuck's sake, you don't fuck around when it comes to slobbering ass, do you?"

The answer was implicit in Ryan's eager eating. The drunk wolf was getting even drunker on musk. He swallowed Vitch's sweat and squeezed his meaty thighs needfully. Over and over he slurped and sucked the pucker, abusing it so much with his lips and tongue along that the rim began to swell as though it had been freshly fucked. Vitch doubled over and braced his hands on his knees.

"Christ, Ryan. Fucked-up like this, with you eating my ass out, I think I'm gonna pass out," he lamely said.

Ryan opened up his zipper and button not for Vitch's sake, but because his penis was sore under the fly. He yanked down his sweat-crusted boxers and tucked them under his big, damp ballsack. Much like Vitch with his great uncut meat, Ryan too was uncircumcised. His flesh was solid black. "Damn, kid," he blurted into Vitch's ass, "you got one fine asshole here. I could huff it like a can of gasoline all day."

"Yeah, heh," Vitch chuckled, pulling away from the eager wolf. His pucker was completely caked in drool. There was no finer moment than then for him to plop down in Ryan's lap, and when he turned and saw the papa wolf's big, black cock, he considered it. Ultimately, he decided he wanted that fat, round ass instead, and he stated as much: "I bet your ass moves like goddamn Jell-O when you're getting fucked. Bend over."

"Kids these days, no respect for their elders," Ryan tittered, getting up with a little effort. He ditched his boots and jeans but left the boxers for Vitch to deal with. As he draped himself over the side of the couch, brushing his exposed junk on the armrest, he laughed. "Take it easy on me, kiddo, I haven't had my ass stuffed in a good couple of years. Maybe you oughta," he grinned and bobbed his eyebrows, "have a little taste first?"

"Nah," Vitch flatly refused, pressing up against Ryan's thick, upended rear. He ground into the crack through the boxers. "But don't you worry, old man, I'll give your butthole a nice kiss to make it all better once I'm done fuckin' reaming it."

Ryan shivered as Vitch peeled down his boxers, exposing the wide surface of his ass cheeks. Down between them was graying, nearly whitish fur like that on his snout and breast. "Well, go on, buddy," he growled, wagging his butt side to side until Vitch snatched it in meaty palms. Ryan gasped at the feeling but said with all his conviction, "Fuck the shit outta me if that's what you gotta do."

The elk dug his fingers into Ryan's fatty cheeks and dimpled them hard. Pulling them apart revealed the snug black pucker between them, the very center of which transitioned to a more inviting pink. Grinning in his big, toothy way, Vitch butted his blunt cocktip to the wolf's asshole and pushed forward, opening Ryan's anal ring.

A cry escaped Ryan. It was a weak and plaintive noise which Ryan hadn't made in years. He felt strangely freed in making it. "Mmh, god," he growled, clenching his eyelids closed, "you're way too big."

"Deal with it," Vitch said sternly, grinding it home. Ryan's thick slobber made for decent lubrication. When the going got dry, Vitch eased it back a few inches, hawked crudely, and spat on his meat. He smeared it around into a decent coating, and he started up again. "You fat old queen," he snickered. "Bet you bend over for all the young bucks! Don't you?"

"Get fucked, kid," Ryan sneered, glancing back at Vitch. His eyes were shiny with tears but he refused to slough them and show any more weakness to Vitch. His toes curled into the carpeting, and his anal walls involuntarily wrenched down. "Come o-o-on, quit with that slow pansy shit."

"You told me to be gentle!" Not one to waste an opportunity for pleasure, however, Vitch smashed his hips flush to Ryan's pillowy, musky butt in one go.

The trucker yowled in pain and clenched down. "Ah, fuck! Jesus Christ, I take it back, take it easy on me!"

Vitch draped himself over Ryan and started pulling it back. It was too late. Ryan couldn't put the pin back in the grenade; Vitch started to buck, and as he nailed the handsome old wolf, the heady smell of rut filled the room. Vitch's body emanated sickening amounts of musk as the pleasure rose and his member was loved. His balls, fat and solid as they were, swung against Ryan's old dangling nuts at the end of every thrust. Each droplet of sweat leaving Vitch's pores carried a payload of musk, tiny in measurement but additive. The stink of the stag's need to breed soaked through Ryan's shirt and into his fur. As he realized just how well-marked he was to be, Ryan shuddered and lowered his head.

"Yeah, put that fucking head down, you tubby ol' bitch," Vitch snapped. He nipped one of Ryan's splayed ears and pinched the corner with his flat, foliage-crushing teeth. Ryan's yelp left Vitch grinning viciously. "Moan for me, you had to have it! You're goddamned lucky I like tubby fags like you, Ryan!"

"Christ, kid, Chri-i-ist," Ryan yowled, digging his fingers into the cushions , doubling over on the couch. Now the tears flowed freely. His cock, frotting against the armrest, shot countless wads of sticky pre. His rectal walls massaged Vitch with reverence he could not find for his voice. "God, fuck me, kid! Fuck the hell out of me!" he outright whimpered.

Vitch squeezed around Ryan's middle with all his terrible strength. The wolf felt crushed in the stag's bearhug. He gasped and wheezed but shoved his fat rear back against the deer. The pucker of his anus was swollen and raw. Vitch's endowment would leave him horridly gaped and he knew it; the pain was going to make driving a bitch, and he knew that too. It meant nothing in the heat of the moment. Enveloped in Vitch's scent and enthralled by his youthful dominion, Ryan fully submitted to the young stud. He solidified his place when he whined, "Dump your fucking nuts in me, baby - papa wolf's fuckin' dyin' for it!"

Ryan knew that Vitch wouldn't have done anything else with his spunk, but he had to say it. For the lay to be truly complete, Ryan needed to state his place. In doing so, he found a kind of peace which coincided with his sudden orgasm. Vitch's dick reamed him so horribly, but so did it batter his tender old prostate. That plus grinding constantly on the arm of the couch led him to weakly howl and blow his load. He ruined the couch, splattering across the cushion, but it mattered not. Vitch evidently did not care that Ryan was enjoying himself. In fact, he was beyond words and couldn't have scolded the wolf even if he cared.

Vitch rolled back his eyes and clenched them shut. He humped like mad. The wet smack and suck of Ryan's snug asshole filled the air and narrowly beat out the pouring of rain and the rumbles of thunder, long forgotten in the brisk pace of Ryan's debasement. The elk stag's nuts pulsated with microscopic life; little slugs of DNA waiting to be unloaded into a doe. Ryan's hot ass would be a severe disappointment to them.

The deer tossed back his head and brayed, trumping Ryan's pathetic howl from moments before. He smashed his hips in without cessation, keeping Ryan's butt in a state of perpetual jiggle. But eventually, he drove it in to the limit just one more time and came. Spunk saved up over a long, tiresome, and stressful work week blasted into Ryan's wrecked behind. The wolf winced, then whined, and finally groaned as he felt so much sticky jism filling him. It overfilled his abused ass and escaped around the elk's meat in a high-pressure jet before tapering off into a sad drizzle down both scrotums and sets of thighs.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Vitch growled into Ryan's nape. "Ah... Goddammit, that was a fucking orgasm, buddy," he gloated. "I ain't nutted like that in three years."

Slowly Vitch pulled back. He had no taste for intimacy. Ryan hissed at the final exit, then gasped when Vitch's glans popped free. Salty, heated cum washed across his stretched anus, deftly locating unnoticeably tiny rips in the flesh. As the burn gradually subsided, Ryan straightened his arched back but kept himself bent over nevertheless. "Hey, kid," he said with a bit of his usual confidence, "how's about that smooch?"

Vitch didn't hesitate, but he grinned self-consciously. Again he pulled apart the wolf's fat and sweaty cheeks. The black pucker between them noticeably throbbed. Vitch dragged his tongue up the wolf's sticky taint and across his asshole then gave the ring itself a very wet and loving kiss replete with tongue swabs and fond suckles. The semen was still a terrible mess, but now Ryan felt nominally soothed. He sagged and fell onto the floor, then lay on his belly.

"Mmf, kid," he yawned, "can I snooze here tonight? I gotta sleep off this beer... And I need to drag a washcloth through my ass crack."

"Yeah, sure," Vitch shrugged. "But, hey," he grinned, "you gotta make it up to me."

"Kid, ain't we even yet?" Ryan moaned with no humor or irony.

Instead of pushing Ryan further, Vitch just went for the jugular. He knelt down by the wolf whom shifted onto his side to meet him. "Yeah?" the trucker sighed.

"Open your mouth," Vitch firmly said.

Ryan did as commanded. The pup-like mindset given by such a harsh fuck was not immediately shaken, lingering as strongly as afterglow.

Vitch took advantage of Ryan's open maw by stuffing his sticky penis deep inside. At first Ryan blushed and balked, but then he began sucking and lapping. It was his belief that Vitch wanted to be cleaned up. But the deer had another surprise, one more deviancy for papa wolf. He held the back of the chubby trucker's head and started to piss. It tasted like stale beer and garlic. Ryan's eyes popped open again with a veneer of tears on them. He closed them sharply and simply drank.

True to his size and species, Vitch pissed for what seemed like an ice age. On and on it went, an acrid drink of liquid musk tainted with cheap beer and cheaper pizza. Ryan began to falter and the runoff dripped from the corner of his maw. But Vitch appreciated the effort, and he was not about to stop. Come the time his stream tapered off, a large wet spot had been left in the carpet. When Vitch freed his meat, Ryan unceremoniously plopped his cheek into the piss.

"Nasty old fucker," Vitch growled, disgusted as he was reverent.

"Fuck you, kid," Ryan grinned and winked.