Life by the Drop
I have a real religious family; you know the kind, the ones that say sex is for marriage and if you're gay you'll roast in hell. With that in mind, my brother seems to have made it his goal in life to set me up with girl after girl. My salvation is his prerogative.
So that's how I find myself here, at the bar of a three-star hotel in my hometown LA.
"Can I get you another?" the barkeep asks, referencing my empty glass. He's a big Husky, and rather cute. But I'm here to meet a girl, I have to remind myself.
"Please, Maker's Mark and Sprite this time."
He's generous with the whisky, and leans close as he sets the drink in front of me. "You waiting for someone; it's generally not a good idea to be plastered when she gets here."
"Ah, I'm just getting' tuned up. She should have been here by now anyway." Well, dear brother, I tried. Seems I'll be the gay wolf in the family after all. I'm finishing my drink, and getting ready to go, and I feel something brush against my tail. As I look over, I see the most beautiful fox I think I've ever laid eyes on. He takes a seat next to me at the bar; I swallow hard.
"Hello," he says, while ordering vodka and Redbull. He has an accent; I'm almost sure it's Welsh. Someone just turned the temperature up by a full twenty degrees.
"Evening," I finally manage to regurgitate as my brain switches back on, "first time in LA?"
"Matter of fact it is. You?"
I tell him no, I live here. He's from Cardiff, in town while his sister gets married. We spend the next two hours talking and drinking, and laughing. The girl I'm supposed to meet never shows up. Maybe it's because I'm on my sixth or seventh drink, but I swear he keeps moving closer to me.
"Listen, I'm drunk," he says, "and I hate to be presumptuous, but you should come up to my room, I have a room here, and crash."
"Good idea, I can't drive now," I say. I hope we do more than just crash, I think. And we stumble up to his room, a very nice suite with a big bed and a walk-out balcony.
Like I said, we're drunk, but there's been a bottle of champagne delivered, and it's sitting in the center of the room, chilling on a cart, like he's been expecting someone, hopefully me? I tell him as much.
"Well, not exactly, but I was hoping I wouldn't come home alone." I sit down on the bed, and beckon him to do the same. As he sits, he swats me with his tail, playfully, erotically, and I notice just how tightly his slacks fit his well-muscled ass.
He finally sat down, and without restraint I launched myself at him and pinned him under me on the bed. We kissed for what seemed like ages, our tongues doing a dance both inside our muzzles and out; he tasted like cinnamon and vodka. It was he who broke the kiss; he looked up at me with piercing blue-grey eyes rimmed by orange fur and a head of red hair.
"I want you," he said, "in me and under me, preferably right now."
Of course I wasted no time undressing, neither did he. My head was swimming from liquor and euphoria as I stared at my soon-to-be lover, naked as the day he was born. He was mostly orange, just like a good fox should be, with a patch of mottle white running from his throat to the base of his now engorged cock. He was toned without being too ripped, just like I was; but he had a smaller physique, I guess it's just the difference in species.
His cock was bright red and large, culminating in a fantastic knot the size of my fist. Overall, he was a big boy; probably at least nine inches of vulpine meat invited me to grab hold for a fun ride. I did just that, as he did mine, and we locked in another embrace before he finally shoved me down onto the bed.
My own endowment was none too shabby; I say with only an honest amount of wolfish bragging. I was thicker that he was, and longer by a good inch. It was so red as to almost be purple; my own knot strained the end of my sheath. Every heartbeat sent my cock throbbing; each throb leaked an ever-increasing amount of pre-cum onto my shaft.
"Do you want to see what you're getting yourself into, or do you prefer to face the firing squad blind-folded?" he asked; drunk as I am it made no sense. I just wanted to fuck him.
"I wanna see it coming; and cum it shall," I replied, in spite of myself.
He turned around, and lifted his tail to reveal a tight, pink asshole which he winked for my benefit. He proceeded by lowering himself onto my throbbing cock, but didn't let me inside. Instead, he rubbed his tailhole up and down the length of my shaft, stopping at the knot, and slicking enough of my own pre around us to wet the near-by fur.
He stopped, I whimpered; he turned around and straddled me on the bed, and sunk my entire dick, knot and all, into his warm and tight tailhole.
I pumped into him; he rode me like an expert. I reached up fro his dick. I squeezed his knot and enough pre dribbled out for a good and thorough pawing-off. I pumped his shaft in rhythm with his hips, and more pre squirted through my fingers.
I moaned; he moaned.
He bent over and bit my ear; I stroked him faster, as even more pre came, wetting my fur and his. He continued to pump my dick as waves of euphoria rushed over me; I was about to cum, and I let him and the people next door know it.
I felt hot, as my orgasm hit in waves, each one releasing more of my hot wolf cum into his ass.
"My turn," he breathed into my ear, and I felt a tidal wave burst through my fingers, hitting me in the chest, chin, and muzzle.
It was a while before either of us could move. We just laid there and held each other, enjoying the moment. It had been by far the best sex of my life, and it seemed a shame to break out tie so quickly.
When we finally did move, it was to the shower, where I let him take me. I came twice before he finally unloaded in my tailhole.
I woke early the next morning, curled around him in his bed. My head was spinning and I felt dizzy from booze and sex. Despite this, I did my best to get up without waking him. Apparently he had more to drink than I did; he didn't move an eyelid. I dressed, washed my face, and left. The bottle of champagne still sat in the middle of the room.