Furs For the Road
AUTHOR'S NOTE -- This episode is part three of a series ...
"I was, um ... I was surprised to find that note," said Welly.
"Were you?" Lumba was standing several feet away. Opening the door to the refrigerator (and ice-box). Her trailer was on the move. Being driven to the next location. Next week's race was in Texas. A night race in Texas. So, the trailer being driven, Lumba and Welly were alone in the actual living quarters of the trailer ... until they arrived at their destination.
Would take a day or two.
"Yes," the skunk whispered.
And the otter handed him a glass of ice. Just a glass of ice. "I have a wide selection of drinks," she told him.
"Um ... really, I just, uh ... water's fine."
"Water?"
"Yes. I just ... I like water. Water's fine."
A slight smile. "I like water, too."
A head-tilt, and a returned smile. "I would imagine you do. Mm ... but you grew up around saltwater, didn't you?"
"Somewhat, yes." She fished around in the fridge. "I'm afraid I only have bottled. No tap or anything."
"That's fine."
"I feel that bottled water ... is a 'rip-off,' is that what they say? How you say it?"
"Well, I guess it is."
"Every little thing about your culture, it is ... sometimes, puzzles me."
"How so?" was the skunk's whisper.
The otter shrugged her shoulders. She was wearing very pretty attire. A dress, actually. A simple, summer-like dress. With straps on the shoulders. Simple and low-key. But still pretty. Still revealing her strength and grace.
While the skunk himself wore a button-up, short sleeve shirt ... a white one. And khaki shorts.
"It is just different, is all," was her eventual reply. "But, then, I expected it to be so. I tell you, it's ... sometimes, overwhelming."
"I could imagine," Welly responded.
"Could you?" she countered.
"Well, I don't know. It just ... it seemed the right thing to say."
The otter nodded, pouring water into his glass. And then pouring a glass for herself.
"The trailer rides pretty smoothly. You'd hardly know we were on the highway already."
"Yes, it is comfortable," she responded, shutting the fridge. And then sitting next to him on the couch. The blinds were shut. The lights were all on in here, though.
Welly sipped carefully at his water. Trying to occupy his mind. Trying to think of all the right things to say.
She sipped from her own water. And said, "Did your story about the race do well?"
"Do well?"
"Did it get done?"
"Yeah." A nod. Another nod. "Yeah, I sent it to them ... via e-mail, and ... then they sent it back, with any edits that needed to take place. And then I sent it BACK to them again, and ... it'll be in the paper tomorrow." It was, right now, nearing ten-o'clock at night. They had been driving for an hour. Would drive for two more hours, before they would find a rest-stop, perhaps, to park for the night. The driver would sleep in the cab. There was a little bed in there, up behind the seats.
There was a momentary quiet. Outside, they passed a car ... the headlights illuminated the blinds on the windows.
Welly looked about. "You're very ... organized."
"Yes."
"Some of the drivers are a bit messier. From what I've seen of their trailers. But I've never really gotten this good a look at one."
"During the season, it is my home. I spend my off-time here."
A quiet nod. And sipping from his water again. "Um ... Lumba ... "
"Why did I ask you here?"
The skunk said nothing. His tail fidgeted a bit.
"I would have thought that was obvious."
"Well, I just ... I guess so," Welly whispered. "I just never figured you liked me, you know, like that."
"Did I give an indication that I didn't?"
"No, but ... well, as I said before, you can be rather enigmatic."
"A habit. Not meant to be a bad one."
"I didn't say it was bad," the skunk assured.
The otter sipped of her water.
The skunk's eyes scanned around. And he nodded at an empty shelf on the other side of the "room," as it were. "What's that for?"
"What?"
"That empty shelf."
"It is for my trophies."
"You have trophies?"
"I will," she assured. And smiled.
The skunk chuckled a bit. "Mm ... I hope so," he whispered earnestly. Honestly. Meeting her eyes. And his smile started to slip away. Into a serious, eye-locking gaze. And he blinked and started to look away.
But she leaned in and kissed his cheek. Drawing his eyes (in their warm, surprised state) back to her.
"We, uh ... "
"Yes?" she whispered.
"Um ... I don't know," Welly admitted, at a loss for words. His heart was hammering. "I, uh ... "
" ... are a very bashful skunk. I can feel the heat of you," she told him. "From your blushing."
He bit his lip, and then smiled. "Well ... "
She kissed his cheek again. "You are very sweet."
"Am I?"
"From what I know of you. Yes."
"Are you sure?" he teased, smiling.
"There is only one way to find out." She nosed his neck, own eyes closed. It had been a long time. A very long time. Months ... a year. How long had it been since she'd had anyone to touch? To hold? Leaving home hadn't been easy for her, but this opportunity was too much to pass up. Was too valuable. But, in turn, she'd left behind many things familiar. Many otters. Many places. And, in the midst of a foreign land, in the midst of all this competition ... all this speed ... to be in the presence of a fur who so innocently wanted her ...
The skunk's head tilted as he took her lip-aimed kiss.
The otter put her paws on his arms. Quietly. Just putting them there. She was the same height as the skunk. And, to be honest, stronger. She was an athlete. He wasn't. And she pushed him to his back on the couch. Both of them still fully clothed.
Until paws fumbled for buttons.
Until paws fumbled for straps.
Until ...
... " ... oh ... " The first gasp came from her. Tiny, soft. An exhale. The skunk's muzzle was at her belly. Mouthing, breathing out on her belly-fur. And nosing. And softly breathing in. Until his whiskers were brushing her waist. Until ...
... " ... um, uh ... "
"Now, who's the one being bashful?" was the skunk's playful, whispered accusal.
The otter flushed. Had to smile back. And nodded at him ... to proceed.
Which he did. Delicately at first. The airiest kiss and lick to her pussy-lips. Where the soft, thick, and brown fur of her ... gave way to the shortest, softest fuzz of fur. Which gave way to the pink of the muscle that it hid. The organ. Soft, soft licks. And sharper ones. Worming and weaving his tongue up the line ... and to her clitoris. Pushing at it with his tongue-tip (as best he could). And then, puffing for breath, moving back down a few inches.
Lumba swallowed, licking her dry lips. And with eyes closed, she tried to just ... let it happen. Relax, relax ...
... and let him do it. He wanted to. He was good at it.
"Oh ... ohh," was her sporadic voicing. The sensitivity, and the heat of tongue and muzzle on her femininity. And he ... making a meal of her. But not being ravenous about it. No, he was minding his manners ...
... as well as drawing her closer and closer to her eventual release.
The otter's paws went out and reached for his limbs. And clutched at his silky, night-black fur. And then straying to the snow-white stripe of him. The white patches. And simply roving all over. Running through his fur. Settling on his head, and scritching gently behind his ears as he went about his business. "Oh ... "
"Mm ... mmm ... " His skunk-hood was, of course, erect by now. Beading a few drops of pre from the tip. Stringing them like strands of a spider-web to the couch. But he wasn't focused on his own release. He just wanted hers. She came first. She deserved to be first. She was so pretty, and so ... well, he loved her. Maybe that was absurd. Maybe it was insane. After all, they didn't really KNOW each other all that well.
But she had invited him here. So, she MUST'VE wanted this, too.
Don't worry, Welly. Don't think about it.
Just keep doin' it ...
He sighed happily, eyes closed, not thinking. No more thinking. Just breathe. Out and in. And lick and suck and nibble, and ... FEEL her. Her warmth. Her scent. Her spasms. Her pleasure.
"Uh, uhh ... ahh! Ah," she suddenly went. Almost barking it. And swallowing, clearing her throat, resorting to a huffing and puffing. She shivered with heat.
And the squirt of the release dribbled down the skunk's chin. He breathed in deep, licked her a few more times, and then crawled back up, up ... until he was lying atop of her.
She looked into his eyes from such a close distance. "I think this is ... where you get your turn," she said, her accent evident. Her breath still wobbly.
The skunk flushed.
"Unless you have any objections," she teased, poking and prodding him.
He weakly shook his head, watching helplessly as she went down on him, muzzle hot and wanting. Oh, no. He had no objections.
Sweaty bunny boys bumped. Hips to rump.
Dusky swallowed, on his back. Penis hard. And the other rabbit's penis a full six inches into Dusky's tight tail-hole.
"Oh ... "
"Th-thanks ... D-dover, for ... uh ... uh ... " He couldn't finish the sentence. The other rabbit had angled his drilling ... so as to rest his cock-head on Dusky's prostate.
A huff from Dover, who was twenty-seven ... and had plain-brown fur. "No prob, mate ... hmm ... mm ... " A sigh. "We're both bunnies. No prob ... "
Dusky swallowed again, breath shaking a tiny bit. He'd needed yiff. Just ... needed it. He would've asked Bell-Bell to join him for the trailer trip, but ... he'd asked his left-rear tire-changer instead.
Most rabbits, in practice ... were bi. Neither Dusky or Dover considered themselves even slightly gay. And neither was in love with the other.
They just ... NEEDED it.
"Dover, I ... " A tiny squeal.
Dover chuckled. "Heh ... cute ... do it again."
Dusky's cheeks burned. "No ... "
An angled hump.
Dusky squealed like a baby.
"Prostate," Dover chuckled. "Awesome, huh?" he panted.
Dusky's fur was matted with sweat. "Uh ... huh ... "
Dover sighed heavily. "Ohhh ... huh ... " The pink, puckered tail-hole of the younger rabbit was in a tight, clenching ring around his member. As he rutted softly.
Dusky closed his eyes. Breathed through the nose. His nose sniffing a bit. Why was he doing this? This was a mistake. A mistake. He was making (yet) another mistake. And was this any better than what he'd done the other day?
No ... no, it couldn't be, but did he care?
Right now?
The touch. The caresses ... the ... breeding. To be a rabbit. Like this. Like THIS!
Right now, he didn't care.
It was a weakness. But ... and what about Bell-Bell? How could he possibly be hoping to start anything with her when he kept doing things like this (on a near-daily basis)? She was right. He was in pain. And he was gonna get hurt.
But maybe not today. Maybe not right now.
Cause this didn't feel like hurt ...
Dover slowed down his pace. Savoring his fellow bunny. "Mm ... didn't expect this invitation, y'know ... "
"Yeah ... "
"It's nice," Dover said, offering a smile. At a hilt in Dusky's rump. In a missionary-like position.
"Well, it's ... don't think anything of it," Dusky insisted. His buttery-colored chest-fur matted a bit with sweat. He swallowed, huffing a bit. His pulse racing.
"Heh ... well, I'm not gonna ask to be mates, if that's what you're advising me against. Just saying, you know, it's ... this is nice. I'm glad you asked me to stay with you. Normally, these trips can be kind of dull ... "
"Yeah ... "
Dover pulled his hips back. Halfway. And ... pushed back in. Pulled. Pushed. Started back into a gentle motion. And then a faster, quicker motion. "Mm ... mmm ... " A puff of hot air. "Oh ... Dusky ... n-nice. Really n-nice ... "
"Uh ... uh-huh," Dusky moaned. Dover's paw fumbling at Dusky's rabbit-hood. Squeezing. Using his own pre to lubricate it. To stroke and tug it. Dusky's breath quivering. His bob-tail twitching a bit beneath him. And his tall, waggling ears starting to bend a bit. "Oh ... "
Dover bucked once, twice. A few more times. Growing erratic. And losing it with a rabbit-bark, and a huff. And slump. "Ooh ... oh. Oh, that's, uh ... uh ... yeah," he huffed quietly, swallowing, heart hammering. And his seed starting to dribble from Dusky's tail-hole. Dover weakly humped a few more times. Just for good measure. Just for the sensitivity. Just to hear the sound of it.
And just to hear Dusky moan.
Dover put his paws on Dusky's chest. As the younger rabbit arched upward, cock flailing, spitting white seed. To his own chest. To the bed. "Uh, uhh ... uh," he huffed frantically, writhing, and then going still. "Oh ... " His tail-hole, upon the orgasm, clenched fiercely and involuntarily, and the FEEL of the cock still in him ... and how he was milking it ... made him shiver. He shivered. Feeling, amidst it all, a pang of guilt and doubt. That maybe he wasn't really liking this. This wasn't out of love. He didn't love Dover. But ... again, he pushed it aside. What did it matter?
"Heh ... Dusky, you're prime bunny, y'know?" Dover huffed and pulled out. And squeezed the younger rabbit's rump-cheeks. Swallowing. Eyes wide, asking, "Snuggle?"
Dusky nodded weakly. And nodded again.
Bell-Bell was riding down to Texas with some of Adelaide's crew-furs. Kyo, the coyote, and his mate Kimmi ... and a few others.
"Can you turn the radio down?" Bell-Bell asked, frowning.
"Mm?" went Kyo. He was driving.
"The radio. Turn it down."
"I can't hear you ... "
"Turn it down!" Bell-Bell said, sighing. Waiting. The coyote did so. The doe wasn't normally one to have a temper, but ... she wasn't one to be driving in a car being helmed by a predator, either. She didn't trust them. Never had. But, anyway, she got out her cell phone. Dialed a number.
Adelaide answered. "Um, uh ... yeah?"
"Hey. It's me."
"Oh, hey ... Bell-Bell."
"Yeah, I was just checkin' up on you. You okay?" A pause. And, "Is that the bed squeaking, or Field? Or both?"
"Hey," was the returned (and it was obvious the bat was smiling on the other end of the line) whisper. "You'd be doing the same thing ... "
" ... if I had a mate," the doe whispered back sadly. "Mm ... sorry I called. I just ... I knew you'd be busy. I just wanted to talk."
"Like, femme-to-femme?"
"Yeah," the doe admitted quietly. Looking to the front seat. Everyone else had gotten quiet as soon as she'd started talking on the phone. Sure, that was the polite thing to do, but it made the deer paranoid. Like they were all intently listening to everything she was saying. Then again, in such a tight space as this, how could you not?
"We'll have lunch together once we all get down there," Adelaide said. "Okay?"
The doe nodded. Then realized the action couldn't be seen. And said, "Yeah. You have fun, okay?"
"I already am," was the grinning reply. "But I'm a bat. A creature of the night. The night is young, and ... "
" ... yeah, yeah. Just ... you two be as furry as you can be."
A giggle on Adelaide's part. Field was obviously ... doing something to her. And a short pant, and a, "Bye ... " And the phone was hung up.
Bell-Bell held the phone for a while. But didn't close the flap. Instead, she dialed another number.
And Dusky picked up. "Hello?"
"It's me. Bell-Bell."
"Oh." A pause. "What do you want?"
"Just wanted to see if you were okay ... I don't know." It wasn't like they could talk about what she wanted to talk about with him ... on the phone right now. With all these other furs listening. But ... she'd just wanted to call, all the time. She was a publicist. She was addicted to cell phones. Even when she didn't NEED to be calling furs, she was calling them.
"Um, I ... I'm okay," the rabbit stammered, as if suddenly nervous.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, just ... I'm tired. I was about to go to bed."
"Oh. Okay." A pause. "I'll see you later, then."
"Yeah." Pause. "Yeah ... sure."
The doe sighed. "Bye."
The rabbit hung up.
There was a silence in the car.
"You done?" Kyo asked.
"Yes, I'm done," Bell-Bell said, with more than a bit of tone in her voice.
And the radio went back on. The furs all lightening up at the music. All except Bell-Bell. She despised rock music.