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Thrill of the Hunt

Pt.1 of “Cougar vs Horse”

By. H. A. Kirsch

—

Andrew looked down at his hooves as he sat in the back of the rideshare. Specifically, down at his brand-new black leather hoof boots, with polished black resin hooves, metal standing splints under the soles, and metal horseshoes. The white stallion, like most other hybrids, had people feet.

He looked up at the driver, who was a coyote with a tired-and-caffeinated expression, one earbud in which he was using to very rapidly talk in a language probably written in cyrillic, and two smartphones for both rideshare networks. The driver hardly gave him a look in the mirror, and was more interested in his long-distance social call than the cursory few welcome statements when Andrew had gotten in.

Whew, well, I guess he drives people around all day. A leather-clad horse isn’t going to cause any concern. And he’s just a coyote.

The ride pulled up to a small row of retail stores with overtop apartments, a reasonable pretend destination. Andrew got out and quickly answered the prompt for a tip on his phone, then dropped it into a zip pocket in his equally-brand-new and equally-black-leather motorcycle jacket vest. The storefronts were closed except for a grimy convenience shop, and they all had metal grates over their windows. The horse quickly took a look at himself - shit I didn’t leave any tags on me anywhere did I? - and immediately snorted as he realized that his ass-hugging leather pants featured a zipper on both sides. Oh fuck. Too late to go back home, he just drove off…

Andrew was not going to the convenience store, nor was he going to an apartment. Instead, he started off towards his real destination a couple of blocks away: Rickford Park. While there were a few people on the street, most of them looked either like they were on their way to do their own business, or punky enough that they could have possibly maybe been on his side of things. On the other hand, his hoof boots made a tremendous metal-enhanced clop and his leathers squeaked if he just flicked his tail.

One block away from the park, the area seemed to change slightly. Apartments gave way to urban shotgun houses and brownstone walkups; pedestrians gave way to some wall-sitting men in cutoff shorts and army boots; and he counted four condom wrappers and one actual condom in street trash while keeping his eyes down down down.

Andrew actually missed the entrance to the park, because he was busy looking at his reflection in a street-parked car and realizing how completely silly his super-short fingerless gloves looked. The park was at the edge of a hilly area of town and the entrance was merely a wooden sign with carved and painted lettering, a half-block of trees, and a footpath that seemed to punch right into them. No way, there’s no way this is a cruising park. This is either a magical entrance to another land, or there’s a murder shed inside there or something.

The horse lingered and looked at his phone, rotating a map around and around with his white-furred fingers. He looked up and immediately stepped behind a lamp post as a pair of wolves walked towards the park entrance, very obviously into each other with one holding a hand on the other’s rump, and with the lean of people who had been drinking or something. Andrew kept fiddling with the map so he didn’t have to pay attention to the predators - the park definitely had two entrances and this was the side one, and his note he’d written down was a quote from a website: “side entrance - way less people wandering around, shorter walk to the bathrooms”.

Way less people, huh. He gave it a couple of minutes, saw no one else coming or going, and followed where the wolves had gone. After a short footpath, he walked out onto a multipurpose path that was much wider and clearly meant for bikes and strollers. The park was larger than he expected, though overgrown with rarely-trimmed trees, and only lit by the pale blue glows of emergency call boxes. At least a couple of call boxes; a third of them were destroyed, vandalized by some bored miscreant who tagged them “TZ”. I wonder what TZ’s mom thinks of them.

He finally reached the pavilion area where there were supposedly bathrooms. The building looked surprisingly architectural, though it was overgrown with ivy, and sat at the bottom of one of the small but sharp urban hills. A map indicated numerous nature trails through the rolling hills, as well as, “FUCK EVERYONE”, with ONE scratched out and replaced by THING, and that scratched out and replaced with PETER’S ASS CUNT.

Even though the park was technically closed after sundown, the pavilion and the bathroom both had garish copper lights illuminating them. Probably to keep people from congregating. Despite the lights, someone was standing over at the pavilion. Andrew saw that they were a cougar, male, and smoking a cigarette. He then palmed his mane over to one side, the side where the predator was, and he quickly looked away and instinctively pushed his knees together. Oof, I have to go to the bathroom. Oh, there’s a bathroom right here! How convenient! He then hurried towards the restroom in his most I actually need to go look, pulled open the metal door, and stopped dead with a clop-clop-scrape of metal against damp concrete.

The bathroom was already occupied. Three open stalls, three urinals, and-

The wolves.

Frozen in place for a moment, Andrew felt his heart hammer in his chest with two distinct sensations: the genetic-history terror of being not just a stallion but a First stallion in a room with two predators; and the uncontrollable sexual thrill of those wolves could both eat me for sure, they have sharp teeth and all I have is a few hundred dollars of fancy leather in the way and they could peel it right off-

He looked in the mirrors above the sinks.. I look like a complete fag! Then he looked at the wolves. They were definitely the two from outside the park side entrance, both generic gray wolves, both wearing jeans and fancy shoes and club shirts, one wearing a bandana around his neck and the other with a rainbow ladder-ring piercing in his left ear. Despite the ruckus of banging the bathroom door open, they were oblivious to Andrew.

“I thought it’d make me pee!” “That’s ‘cuz you’re hard.” “You’re hard too. I thought it’d make me soft!” “Mmm. You have something right there.” “Right where?” Slurp. Lick. “Mmm-hmm. You should see the look on your face.” “Wow, your fucking eyes are like saucers.” “Mmm. Lick me like I’m a saucer.” “What!?” Then they started licking each other, like each one was practicing kissing in the mirror, except there was a real wolf on the other side. After another couple of horse-heartbeats, one of them flicked his tail and started to haltingly piss into the urinal. Neither stopped openly wolf-kissing the other.

Andrew turned and headed for an open stall, then quickly shut the door. Okay, okay, they’re totally rolling or something, they’re not going to do anything to me. He squirmed in place, held his leatherclad knees, then stayed as silent as possible. He could hear the wolves still making out, now with mumbles and the clack of teeth on teeth. The piss spattering took on a slight stereo sound, punctuated with a- “Careful! Mmf!” and then more wet slurps.

The white horse squeezed his knees together with a squeak of leather. What the hell are they doing, are they going to just fuck in front of the urinals or something? Is that what happens in these places? He looked around his stall. While the floor was wet, it smelled just wet with condensation. The stall was graffitied inside, with marker-tags and knife scratches, names and phone numbers and arrows and jokes. The toilet paper dispenser was functional but ramshackle, and had been moved on the stall wall at some point. Someone had then turned one of the old mounting holes into a much larger hole, allowing a clear view into the other stall. A glory hole, huh. This really is a nasty place.

The bathroom door banged open again and someone walked in, then let it close with a clunk behind them. Andrew immediately grabbed his legs and hunched forward, and tried to stay silent again. He would have picked up onto his toes, had the hoof boots not already forced him to do that just by way of him wearing them.

To his horror, he realized that the stall door, although latched, had a gap large enough to fit a finger through that lined up easily with the eye of whomever was in the stall. He could see who had just walked in: the tawny cougar from outside. Tall, burly, big pecs, barreled ribs and an abdomen that sloped down and in instead of bulging out. Black stretch muscle-tank shirt; tight black jeans with a black pyramid-studded black belt and a completely obvious hard-on bulge; black harness boots tucked up under the pants cuffs; black leather bicep straps, also studded; black leather wrist cuffs; black open-back driving gloves; a choker necklace with an upside down brass cross; and a mean feline scowl on his muzzle. Gay or rockstar? Andrew thought, then answered the question with a quiver in his gut: predator.

The cougar still had his cigarette, and took a drag from it that made the ash crackle.

“Hey, is that weed?” It was one of the wolves. As he said it, the other one giggled as much as a wolf could.

“No,” the cougar said, dropped the cigarette butt with a sizzle, then ground it out with the foresole of his boot. Then, he walked around in the bathroom, slowly, pacing in a circle that first took him past the wolves. “You two puppies just have fun and mind your own fucking business, alright?” Then, he turned and passed empty stall number 1, clomp, clomp. Empty stall number two, clomp, clomp, bang! He threw the door open and then latched it with a frustrated clatter of malfunctioning latch metal. He dropped the seat and sat down.

Maybe, maybe he’s just going to take a shit or something, I mean this is a bathroom-

The cougar’s boot toe appeared under the stall, and tapped.

What. “Uhh,” Andrew said, despite the fact that he was now speaking to a predator. “Isn’t that for like, senators and stuff?” He felt his mouth run dry and worked his lips. “There’s a hole.”

An unzipping sound came from the next stall over. “It’s not gonna fit in that hole, horsey.”

Andrew leaned slowly, trying to be silent, and yet only making a punctuated racket from his tight leather pants squeaking against each other and the hem of his vest. He couldn’t see much of the cougar, but he could see gray-skinned balls and a pile-driver of a ruddy, uncut cock. Shit, he’s not just talking it up, that thing would plug a culvert. “Oh.”

“I don’t wanna stick it in that hole anyway. Stop flicking flies with your tail and come over here. Let me get my hands on you.” Andrew could not see what the cougar was doing, but whatever it was, it sounded an awful lot like him wringing his gloved hands.

The horse tried to think straight, except all he could think about was the predator who wants to claw me and bite me and-

The wolves started making more of a racket. First, profound but unintelligible whispering. “Oh, you’re full of shit.” “Do it! Do it! We’re just big dogs!” “Alright. Alright.” A grunt, a shuffle of clothing, then wet slurping, and not sexual. The exact sound of a domestic pet messily lapping at its water bowl. “Oh god, it tastes like piss!” “No fucking shit, hah! Look at you!” “I’m a filthy dog. I’m a filthy dog. Fuck me like this, just do it right here! That guy’s busy with that other guy!”

The cougar’s nosepad appeared in the hole and his nostril flared as he sniffed. “Come on. You smell great. All freshly leathered up, swishing your fucking horsey tail around over your tight ass…”

No no no no, I can’t fucking do this, Andrew thought, and in a panic, rummaged through his pockets. Phone, no. Wallet, no. Keys, jangle, no. Big pack of breath mints: “Unngh,” he grunted, and then turned and dropped it into the toilet. “I’m not here to do fuck stuff, I h-had to go to the bathroom,” he said, then mashed the - shit there’s no handle! It’s one of those stupid battery ones! He waved frantically at the dull red window on the flush unit, pressed the button on it, banged on it, and several seconds after he snorted and gave up, the toilet flushed noisily.

Andrew immediately got up and yanked the latch nearly off the stall door, and stomped outside. He looked like he was prancing about on his toes, although the hooves made for a complete racket on pavement. He looked one way: the pavilion, where a couple of other people were now lingering and showing each other something on a phone, no not that way. The other way, around the building: he’ll catch you, people probably fuck behind the dumpsters anyway! Then a little further ahead, the trail sign and its rude invectives, and the start of the nature trails. He quickly clopped that way, turned onto the trail, and went right up into the woods.

He just had cleared the top when he tripped and landed with a dull thud and whuff into the woodchips. He rolled to the side and found himself behind some wildflowers and weeds. He could still see the bathroom; no one was coming after him. You’re completely nuts. It’s just some big-dicked big-mouthed jerk. You were in a bathroom you found on a cruising website. He got his phone out; it was still showing the map. He looked around, to see how he could get out without going the way he’d come. That meant navigating a bunch of trails that switched around in the hilly area, around a pond, and then to the normal entrance to the park. That also explained why there were two club-rolling wolves in the bathroom; it was only a stone’s throw from the main entrance to the bars and clubs in the sweaty gay district. I should have just gone there. That one bartender at that place said he really liked white horses-

The restroom door opened and the cougar walked out. Not fast, not running, with the same determined movement as when he’d stomped in. He paused, sniffed at the air, then started walking away from the restroom and towards where Andrew had gone up the hill.

Oh shit! The horse froze and watched, quivering and helpless, as the cougar approached the map, looked it over, then was about to step past it and keep going. He then turned and started up the hill. Oh shit oh SHIT! Andrew scrambled along under cover of some of the shrubbery, then got up to his hooves and started moving again. Any faster than a walk and he had to literally trot, and soon his calves and quadriceps were burning underneath his leather pants. Sweat ran down his forehead, his neck. He brushed his flowing mane aside and it was already damp. Even though his arms were bare, trying to make his way around uneven ground up a hill in hoof boots was a workout.

He finally crested what felt like the main hill area, and hurried around behind a large tree. I can’t believe it. He’s coming after me. He’s going to do something bad, I fucking swear. He looked out around the tree, and could see down to another trail below. Then, he waited. It felt like a very long time, although a look at his phone screen had it barely three minutes before the cougar walked out into sight. At least the moon is out, so I won’t trip and break my neck. Wait, why am I just waiting here? Despite the instinctual fear and need to flee, the idea that some cougar was chasing him continued to be arousing. He wants to come after me. He wants me_._

_ _

The cougar stopped at one of the junctions, then looked around. He sniffed, then walked over to the path Andrew had taken up, several yards away. Whatever his intentions, the cougar certainly was a meaty piece of work. If Andrew was aroused, so was the big cat; his cock looked like a big sausage crammed into his jeans, pushed over to the side so it wouldn’t come up and out from under the belt. The cougar turned and sniffed at a plant, then dropped his jaw open and looked like he was panting without lolling his tongue out. He flexed his hands into fists, splayed them out, lifted his shoulder, and his tail curled around and the tip twitched. He twisted his face into a bit of a snarl, and - what the hell? Andrew watched as the cougar looked pained for a moment, and when he straightened up, the end of his cock bulge glistened with a very obvious creamy mess. Did he just fucking cum in his pants while sniffing around for me?!

Despite the severely premature orgasm, the cougar moved on undeterred, towards where Andrew was hiding, but nearly ten feet below him. The horse tried to stay quiet, though he could feel some sweat trickling down his face, then onto his muzzle. As soon as it reached his nostril, it itched. Despite every trick he could think of in ten seconds, he compulsively sneezed.

The cougar’s attention snapped up towards where he was hiding. “Who’s there?”

Andrew did not answer.

The cougar growled. “I knew it,” he chuffed, and then instead of going up the very obvious shortcut pathway about fifteen feet away, he merely clambered right up the hillside. “Gonna make me work for my dinner, huh.”

MY DINNER! The stallion bolted from behind the tree and took off down another trail. Running with hoof boots was even harder than trot-jogging, and was only helped by the fact that the trail was a footpath through the woods. Instead of bashing into trees, he used them to grab and steady himself. Gotta get away gotta get away cougar’s gonna eat me cougar’s gonna eat me!

Andrew felt like he was gaining the upper hand until he tripped on a tree root and tumbled. And kept tumbling; he was headed downhill. Someone grabbed him and he was face to face with the cougar and pinned flat. “Aaah fuck off!” He yelled, grabbed at the ground, and flung dirt into the cougar’s face. He squirmed out and went to take a step, and found out why he’d been tackled: he was about to fall into the pond off a short dirt cliff. He reared away and the cougar grabbed him; he whinnied and punched at his arm and took off in another direction.

This time, he headed down into a dark clearing, past a few nature education signs, and took a turn to run behind some shrubs. Something grabbed his arm and when he turned to see what it was and yank away, the cougar knocked him down flat on his stomach. “Hah, gotcha, horsey.”

“Nnhhh!” Andrew scrabbled at the ground, and instead of pulling himself anywhere, just made trails in evergreen needles and leaves and loose top dirt.

He looked over his shoulder only to see the cougar bring something glinting and metal up off one of his belt loops. That’s what was so loud about him stomping around! Those are handcuffs! The cougar moved and put a boot on the horse’s lower back, then grabbed one of Andrew’s wrists and cuffed it with a metallic snap. “Too bad I’m not a cop cat. I could take you to a nice clean jail and fuck you there. But no, you made me run you down in the fucking woods.” He grabbed the other wrist: snap!

Then, instead of groping further, the cougar leaned his head down and nuzzled at the back of Andrew’s head, while growling and purring at the same time. The stallion struggled and felt something hard, unyielding touch him down through his flowing white mane. That’s a tooth he’s rubbing his teeth on me fuck fuck fuck.

“Please don’t kill me please don’t kill me,” Andrew mumbled, and could barely hear himself over his heart hammering in his ears. The cougar moved his boot away and leaned down to pin him with his hips, with his cock bulge grinding against the back of the horse’s leather pants.

“Kill you? Try again. And don’t say please don’t fuck you, because this faggy ass-zip says you want to get your donut hole punched out.”

Oh my god this guy is a crass monster. Andrew looked over his shoulder again, right through his mane. The cougar grabbed it and Andrew whinnied; the cat just tossed it aside so it wasn’t in the way. Oh my god, he is completely stacked. If he flexed he’d rip his pants.

“I, I wandered into the wrong place! I needed to go to the bathroom! I s-still do!”

“I’ll make it real easy then,” the cougar chuffed, then reached down and displaced his grinding wet denim bulge with his own hand, and started to unzip Andrew’s leather pants. “You look real tough in this leather stuff, horsey. You look like you could take an entire leather bar of big men one after another. Well, I’m big, so you’ll be nice and stretched out when I’m done. Not like horses even need that.”

Andrew heard and felt every single tooth of the zipper coming undone, and then the rush of comparably cool air on his sweaty ass cleft. He did not have any kind of underwear on. It was too exciting letting his sheath and cock move around against bare leather to spoil it with just another trendy jockstrap.

Then, another zip, this one much faster, followed by a grunt of release from the cougar who still had him pinned by the legs. Andrew took the moment of distraction and hunched up hard, then dug a hoof-boot into the dirt and intended to kick it in the cougar’s face. Instead, he lurched himself forward and thumped his head on something. What the hell is this? Is this a bench?

The cougar had the same reaction. “What the,” he growled, then chuckled, then grabbed Andrew by his upper arms and picked him up, bent at the knees. Then he pushed him down forward onto a log whose top had been cut flat and then sanded and varnished. “There you go. You won’t get so dirty squirming aroundas in the fucking dirt.”

Andrew looked around; there were other benches, and even some sort of sign placard that faced away. It was some sort of small gathering spot tucked away in the already deep small valley. There was no one else around to gather. In between his own breathing, his heartbeat in his ears, and the sounds of the cougar moving and grunting and breathing… there was nothing else in the woods except the sound of breeze through the trees and muted city sounds of traffic and vehicles.

“Here it comes,” the cougar said, and that cold breezy sensation was replaced by something firm and warm. Despite his attitude, he didn’t shove, and instead just slowly leaned forward. Andrew clenched his hole, then squirmed. “Come on. Push back a little bit. You know how to get fucked. You don’t have fucking panties on under your rockstar pants.”

Andrew unclenched just by accident, and could feel that warm pressure starting to dent him inside. “P-please don’t…”

“Please don’t what?” The cougar growled. Then, he leaned down, and instead of holding Andrew by the arms, slid his gloved hands up from the cuffed wrists, over the stallion’s bare white fur, then down his jacket-vested sides.

“Please don’t… please don’t…”

“Come on, you’re holding back on me,” the cougar purred, and reached around as he sank down even closer. He rubbed his muzzle against the back of Andrew’s head, then down along his long snout, bared a fang and grazed the edge down the sweaty cheek pelt and the side of the horse’s pink lips. He continued not shoving in, just grinding forward. He purred louder, opened his muzzle slightly, and grasped over most of the side of Andrew’s mouth with his jaws.

“Pleasedonteatme!” Andrew then tucked himself down further, and started moving back, intending to push the cougar away with his rump. The motion loosened him just enough that he felt that worrying denting feeling became the momentary flash of discomfort of big cock pushing through his ring. It was way easier than he imagined it would be, and came with a crude wet squelch as the entire slimy glans pushed inside.

“Mmmrrr, cat cum makes for real good fuck lube, doesn’t it,” the cougar huffed, then pulled right out and groaned again. Andrew could feel wet, hot spatters against his freshly punched hole. Then, before they were even done, the cougar pushed back inside. He went even further this time, swore under his breath, and squeezed at Andrew’s chest. “That’s it, horsey. I’m gonna fuck you until you get off. I can cum all fucking night like this.”

What the hell what the hell what the hell he’s fucking shot twice since seeing me in the bathroom already? Andrew dropped his head down and his white mane flopped around his ears and over his face. The cougar repositioned his grip again and grabbed onto the horse’s hips, tugging at his belt as he started to drag back and forth. The first few actual thrusts burned and made him clench and grimace, and then in order to try and stop the sensation, he pressed out and got the opposite effect. A huge thrill of swollen glans plunging in and then out of his cum-slippery passage, with a stomach-quivering rush of strange pleasure when it pushed past his prostate.

The horse sputtered as he felt a hand grope around front, not to squeeze his bulge but to open the fly, the cougar grunting and growling a few times as he had to struggle with the opening and then struggle again to pull Andrew’s cock out into the air. Instead of a reach around, the cougar then just moved his grip up to hold Andrew by the chest again, leaving the horse’s ribs and abdomen to support him on the ‘bench’. Within half a minute, the cougar was thrusting hard enough that it made a constant sound and a dull smack now and then as his balls swung forward and hit the bottom of the ‘back fly’. Then he ground to a halt and groaned, before leaning down to rub his whiskers against the back of Andrew’s head while purring wetly and very noticeably spunking inside.

With his arms pulled back into a V by the handcuffs, without needing to hold himself up, Andrew was surprised to feel everything focus down into the sensation of being completely pounded. Every few moments, he started to feel the sexual panic of near orgasm welling up, only to wither away. He clenched and shifted and flicked his tail and it just wasn’t enough. The cougar’s erratic thrusting didn’t help - whenever the horse tightened up, it was just a handful of hole-punching thrusts before the cat growled and shot again. Fuck he’s going to get dehydrated or something, Andrew thought, and the idea of being hammered with cougar spunk all night filled him with unbridled First horse panic as well as arousal. He whinnied and pushed back at the cougar’s stomach, only to find the muscle tense and flexing as the cat heaved and breathed.

The cougar kept moving his hands, stroking leather on leather, then leather on white fur, then squeezing at Andrew’s chest muscles, then practically tickling the horse’s ribs. His gloved fingers brushed over the stallion’s nipples and oh no oh no oh no - the sensation was twin electric bolts right down his spine and into his cock. The cougar then pinched and rolled, and Andrew squeezed his eyes shut as he tipped over the edge of climax. The brawny cat’s reaction was to lunge forward and gnaw hard on the back of his neck, prompting the horse to plainly yell: “NOOO!”

He started to clench again, then whinnied again and this time his cock bucked upwards and spat a wet gout of seed right against the side of the log bench he was propped against. And again, and again, while his muscles clenched and milked at the cougar’s shaft. “Ungh, get out, get out!” He coughed, and actually managed to push the cougar back with a hoof and a fist, and his muscles then collapsed in on themselves and he sputtered and groaned as a fresh wave of orgasm hit him, more and more seed squirting out.

Then, everything rushed back into his senses. The darkness, the moonlight, the sound of breeze in the trees, the city sounds, the creaking of his leather, an audible drip - is that the guy’s dick? - the spasming afterglow aftershocks, the heavy breathing of the cougar behind him.

“Shit, shit shit shit,” the cougar huffed, and grabbed at Andrew’s wrists. He squeezed hard at the cuffs and they sprung open; they weren’t even keyed, just quick-release bedroom playtime gear. “Sorry,” he said curtly, and leaned back.

Andrew groaned and flicked his tail, pushed a hoof edge around in the dirt, then rolled to the side as he got up. Instead of standing, he moved to sit, knees together, cock flopped over one side of his leather-clad thigh, creamy spunk oozing out of his cockhead and down onto the leather. He took a deep breath to relax and felt the unpleasant sensation of loose hole seeming to dip down to touch the - ungh, he squirmed and tramped his hoof boots. Then he looked up. The cougar was crouching where he’d been while fucking, looking excessively concerned, eyes wide and dark-pooled thanks to the lack of light, tail curled over and just hanging that way. “Uhh. Did… something… happen?”

The cougar shot him a frantic look, lurched back, and froze again like he was about to bolt away and then reconsidered. “What do you mean, did something happen? I just, we just, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Are you sure? Because you kind of fucked me pretty good, like how do you do that by accident?” Andrew sighed, and managed a chuckle that made his abs hurt as he clenched and aftershook again.

The cougar squinted and gave him a ‘not sure if serious’ look.

“I mean, I went to a sex bathroom, it’s dark and we’re in a park, why would I just be there to actually go to the bathroom?” Andrew laughed.

The cougar then turned his ears back. “You were… you were scared. I could smell it.”

“I mean I’m still scared! I just, you know, I just got the nut fucked out of me and I feel like if I don’t clench I’ll get a splinter in my prostate. Where even are we? What the hell is this?” The horse then looked around. “I’ve never been here before.” He got his phone out, dropped it right onto the splatter of cum on his thigh, swore, wiped it off on his bare pec beneath his jacket-vest, then turned on the flashlight and pointed it around. “Is this like where people do rituals?” He then got up and poked around more. Stop acting like this is no big deal! He read the sign: “Alfred Cummings Poetry Circle. Hahaha!”

He looked back at the cougar, who was now standing, cock hanging out of his fly, and looking like he had just eaten something disgusting with his black lip curled back. The cat grabbed his own forearm with the other hand and squeezed. “Fuck, I got carried away. I just, I just saw you and I couldn’t really, I couldn’t stop the thing, you know? You probably don’t know. That’s not an excuse. It’s just, I kinda have to hunt stuff sometimes. And I can’t actually hunt stuff, I mean like a cat, that’s just… you just don’t do that. And I still feel like it. And it turns me on. So I, so I come out here and prowl around and fuck people in the bathroom.”

Andrew pinched his face up and flared his nostrils, then rearranged his mane so it was fully brushed back over and down his shoulders. “Oh. Oh, are you a First? Wow. I mean, I get freaked out by predators sometimes, if I let myself, which is kind of a problem.”

“I bit you and you came,” the cougar said, and looked down and to the left of Andrew’s hoof boots.

Andrew rubbed at his neck, then looked at his fingers. I don’t hurt, but they’re wet… He sniffed. Oh. That’s spit. It smells like menthol tobacco. “I think it was the nipple thing. I can actually cum from that sometimes. But yeah, you bit me. I’m not hurt, I don’t think.” He brushed through his mane again, more to look like someone playing with their hair than to adjust it. “This is kind of awkward. I thought if you were going to run me down and fuck me, you’d just run off.”

“I know, it’s more like, I just thought you were, I had to follow you. Are you seriously a First too? There are First horses? Shit, I didn’t know that.”

Andrew’s hole quivered again, and he reached back to squeeze at his rump. “Do… ungh,” he sighed, and pulled the zip back up. “I guess I’m just a mess tonight.” He pursed his lips, then made a sour face. His mouth felt tacky inside. “And I’m thirsty. And I’ve gotta piss.” He turned and watered a shrub, which sent a final splat of horse cum all over the branches. Then, he tucked his cock into his pants and zipped that up as well. I’m definitely a mess.

The cougar put his cock away into his jeans and continued to look sheepish and angrily dejected, like a housecat discovered treading with all four feet on a blanket. “Uh. I know where uh, we could get a drink.”

“I’m sure you do, isn’t this place near the bars?” Andrew looked around, then down at his phone as he pulled up a map. “I don’t think I wanna drink alcohol.”

The cougar turned. “I just mean hydration. Come on. You probably shouldn’t walk around here by yourself.” His moment of embarrassed shame seemed to evaporate, and his pinched but still gruff voice had dropped back to a growl.

Andrew followed, with his phone open to the map. He could see them walking out onto one of the main park trails, and then towards the main entrance. He then did a web search for how to activate the emergency mode on his phone, just in case.

The cougar didn’t seem too talkative. He didn’t walk fast, although he was tall enough that he had a long gait, and Andrew had his hoof boots to contend with. After a few minutes, the horse was huffing. The cougar stopped. “You alright?”

“Hoof, boots,” Andrew wheezed.

“Those have to be hard to walk in,” the cat said, then turned and looked him up and down. “They look pretty awesome, though. You’re a pretty good piece of work in that leather stuff. Are you sure you really want to go around trying to get fucked in bathrooms?”

Andrew quickly caught his breath. “Not really,” he shrugged. “You, uh, you’re really hot. And scary. And it’s not just because you’re a predator.”

“Predator!” The cougar spat, then made a thinking face that squished up the left side more than the right. “Well, I guess that makes sense. I like the tough look. I’m a tough guy.”

“Like a smug tough guy or a real one?” Andrew said, as they started walking again.

“Does it matter,” the cougar said, voice plain, and not a question. He did curl his tail. They truly were approaching the main entrance to the park, which wasn’t much different than the rest pavilion. There was no bathroom, but there were several picnic tables, a posting board, and a small parking area. Across the street was a rough-looking commuter and light rail station whose previous train had gone by an hour earlier. After looking both ways, the cougar just walked across, then went up to the information stand and leaned on one of the vending machines.

“Oh, I don’t need to take the train. I mean I could, but-”

The cougar reached over and held his gloved hand in front of the machine, palm up, like he was presenting it as a prize on a game show. The machine had a metal diamond grate on the front to prevent damage and theft, and it was half-stocked. One of the sports drink bottles was leaning forward against the plexiglas inside, as if someone had bought one and the mechanism hadn’t pushed it all the way. “Behold,” he said, then grabbed the top of the machine and pushed it slightly back off its front feet, then yanked it forward about five inches. It made a terrific bang that echoed against the concrete in the station foyer, and the bottle toppled off its ledge and fell into the receptacle. Then he bent down and took it out, then handed it over.

Andrew took it like it was burning hot, covered in acid, or possibly just stolen. At the same time, someone set something down with a thwack in the information booth and an out of shape Norway rat in a high-vis security vest came out of the cubicle.

“Alright, don’t make me bust your ass for busting that machine up,” he said, and very lazily put a hand on what hopefully was a taser.

Andrew pranced in place, flicked his tail, and was unsure whether to say something, run away, or create some form of distraction. “Uhh, uh, I can pay-”

“Piece of shit doesn’t work right. Someone probably paid up, it got stuck, they paid again, got their drink, it was still stuck, who fucking cares,” the cougar said, and continued leaning on the machine like it was his and someone else would be stupid to get closer. “You sure you want to tase me?”

“Fuck no, I just don’t want trouble,” the rat shrugged.

“Then don’t make any,” the cougar said, let go of the machine, and walked away. This left Andrew holding the drink, and he sheepishly looked around and then hurried after the cat. His hoof boot horseshoes made him sound like a police horse on the concrete.

“Man, you’re really-”

The cougar cut him off. “You’re thirsty, huh? So drink.”

Andrew looked down at the bottle. Wild Cherry, huh. He opened it and guzzled some. It did indeed taste like cherry, with a side of salty electrolytes. He had a third of the bottle, then took it down after a little too much drizzled down his face. “This is the weirdest night I’ve had in a while,” he said, and looked over his shoulder to see if something bad was coming after him. The rat was getting something out of the snack machine, and then turned to head back into his station. He half expected to see the cougar having disappeared when he looked back, or perhaps walking away, but the cat stood there, looming, tail swaying slowly.

He stared at Andrew. “You uh, you made another mess.” He then swallowed, the throat-bobbing swallow of someone either excited or nervous.

The horse shrugged. “I rolled around in the dirt and you came in my ass. You better… I dunno, give me your number, or your WhatsApp or whatever.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up. Then he shook it a little. “You’re supposed to boop it. I saw on a news thing you can boop them together now.”

The cougar, still staring at him, took his phone out as well and bumped it against Andrew’s. Then, he flicked a picture of his contact towards the horse and Andrew’s popped up on his screen. He opened it and held his phone up a bit more like he needed signal, and then sent him a message. “Alright. Did you get that?”

Andrew opened the message. Apparently, the cougar’s name was Trent. The message was a photo of Andrew, looking like he had just drank someone’s blood. His snow white pelt was streaked with red down from his mouth and smeared back against one of his cheeks. The snow white against the black leather and the spilled soft drink made him snort immediately. “That’s great! Hah. That’s just, that’s this stuff, right?” He jostled the bottle, then he then felt a pang of worry and quickly scrubbed around his face and down his neck and took a selfie. The color was now just pinked into his fur. “Whew.”

Trent looked intense and had started purring. “If you were busted up, I’d have taken you to a clinic. Look, don’t do the bathroom stuff. You’re not some urinal-swilling wolf. You’re not a jackass like me.” Trent lashed his tail. “And if you want a jackass like me, just text me.”

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