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Bump, bump, bump, bump. The consistency of the cracks in the rural road was uncanny. Each one gave my little car a slight jolt, and between that and the thumping sound it was almost hypnotic in a way. Any fear of dozing off though was allayed by the fantastic view of the countryside awash in the warm hues of early morning sunshine. For the most part it was the same scene repeated over and over with minor variations. There'd be a house­, usually a few farm buildings, fields, and a few wooded patches.

"In two miles the destination will be on the right," the GPS monotonously stated. I reached down and popped open the tin of breath mints that was nestled in the cup-holder and placed a pair of them on my tongue--something I tended to do when nervous.

Indeed, 'nervous' was exactly why a little city wolf like me was making this trek out to the countryside, yet the trip itself evoked that very same emotion. I reminded myself that there wasn't anything to be apprehensive about. After all, the reviews on this guy were glowing. Most of them read like something resembling my own situation, spoke of that very same nervousness and how much more at ease they were with this particular instructor. Indeed, Curtis Beane had quite the resume of positive reviews.

You're probably wondering what the whole situation I'm speaking of is. It's complicated, and I don't even know I could explain all the nuance to even myself, let alone someone else. Basically, some things had popped up in my life where I wondered if it wouldn't be a bad idea to at least learn how to shoot and handle a gun. I'd never really been into the things, and most "gun people" I met, well, didn't exactly impress me. Still, I mustered up the resolve to stop in a local gun store and it left quite an impression from the Hillary for Prison poster on the front door to the scare tactic flyers all over the place. I wasn't welcome there. They didn't have to spell it out, but it was quite clear a queer liberal type wasn't wanted in their establishment. Months went by before I thought about it again, and that's when I looked up individual instructors. Surely they couldn't all be loons, right?

When the GPS informed me that we'd arrived I have to admit I was mildly perplexed. There was a mailbox with the correct address on it at the side of the road and a narrow gravel driveway that vanished into a deep lot of trees. Yep, it was the right street number. Everything was right, but not being able to see the house from the road seemed slightly strange to me compared to most of the other houses out there. Maybe this guy just liked his privacy. That was probably it; nothing to freak out over. I started down the driveway to the sound of rocks crunching against the tires.

After a few twists and turns the woods opened up into a big clearing centered around a cozy looking blue house. There was a small shed, but no barn or other farm equipment. Off behind the house was a large dirt berm and then more trees. I pulled all the way up and parked behind the truck that was already there. After a quick check in the rearview and a few fingers through my grey headfur to smooth down a few ruffled up spots I was on my way. The brick path towards the house had a few simple touches of personality in the way of metal lawn art, flowery bushes, and what looked to be a Koi pond. The art and bushes were surprisingly good, and seemed well laid out. The pond, though, man, I really wanted to meander over and take a look, but figured it was probably bad form to be gazing at some stranger's fish without even saying hello first.

As I stepped up onto the wooden deck that was the front porch faint smells of burnt tobacco hit my nose. On the little round table was the remains of a cigar in an ash tray next to a book. Huh, wasn't long since someone was out having a relaxing morning read. Must be nice to be able to do that without worrying about bothering neighbors or, hell, even seeing or hearing anyone else.

I took a few controlled breaths before tapping the door. Meeting new people was awkward for me, though not quite as awkward as talking to strangers on the phone. There was nothing quite as bad as having to call customer service for anything, even if every time I'd had to do that it wasn't really so bad. If you haven't figured it out by now I'll make it plain: I'm an anxious person. Now, mind you, I think if you live in this world today and don't have some anxiety and stress then you're probably not paying much attention, but I suspect I'd be this way in any circumstance.

As soon as I heard footsteps coming towards the door from the inside of the house I put on my best friendly face. When it swung open I was surprised to see what looked to be thirty-something well-groomed raccoon with a simple blue polo shirt and jeans. It probably wasn't fair of me, but I have to admit I kinda expected him to look more stereotypical for a firearm instructor. You know, some combination of khaki vest, ugly hat adored with either some NRA or manufacturer logo, cheap sunglasses, scraggly facial fur, or god forbid some offensive right wing T-shirt. Nope, this fellow looked completely ordinary. I guess the only thing about him that would stand out was that aside from the dark 'mask' around his eyes his fur was distinctly more brown than grey. Even that wasn't exactly rare, though.

"Curtis" he stated his name as he held out an open hand. I was expecting some overtly 'manly' handshake but it was completely courteous and brief. "You must be Alex, right?"

"That's me."

"Well, come on in."

I got to say that at first glance his house looked to be as charming on the inside as it was on the outside. As far as I could see from the living room the floors looked all hardwood. The living room itself had a dark wood coffee table and burgundy sofa that tied it very nicely with the floors. There were a framed old-school movie posters and a really cool WWII propaganda poster telling people to collect scrap metal. It didn't take a canine nose to smell the bacon, eggs, and coffee wafting in strong from the kitchen. I sort of wanted to ask if there was any of that coffee left. Maybe later, or sooner if he offered, of course.

Curtis took us down a hallway, pointing out the bathroom in case I needed to use it at some point. There were only two other rooms down the hall if you didn't count the closet, the one we were entering and another one behind a closed door that I could only assume was the bedroom. Speaking of that, it didn't seem as though there was another bedroom in the house. It wasn't a big place and I'd already seen a good chunk of it in the big living room, surmised the location of the kitchen, and the other three rooms were down this hallway.

The classroom, if it could be called that. No, no no, more like an office? Well, whatever it was it was quite impressive. Instead of movie posters the walls there were adorned with exploded-diagram posters of various firearms. The far wall was taken up by a massive sliding closet that was wide open, revealing a pair of large safes and several big trunks. The best part though was the big wooden desk that looked like it belonged in a principals office.

"Right-o, take a seat and we'll get the mundane shit like waivers and all that out of the way." There was something subtle in the way raccoons walked. Whether they had-like Curtis-the stereotypical chubbiness or not, they all seemed to waddle just a little bit and he was no exception. Couldn't help but smile at that as I sat down opposite my instructor. He shuffled through a stack of papers, fishing out a couple and sliding them across the desk. He was right: standard legalese liability stuff, a list of rules I had to initial, all that jazz. I started working on signing and dating the stuff without really reading it, even if I made a minimal effort of showing that I was. "Any questions just lemme' know. It's pretty basic stuff. You won't sue me if you don't pay attention and trip over a rock and drown in the fish pond, ya know."

He was going to be fun, I could damn sure tell that much. Ya know, it didn't take much effort to be more approachable than the total asshats at that shop I went to. A calm demeanor so far, not wearing offensive slogans, levity and humor? Was that so much to ask? I returned the forms and, well, sorta had a little moment.

While I had been scribbling my signature half a dozen times Curtis had donned a pair of square-lensed reading glasses that just, hm, how should I say it...worked for him. Can't tell you what it is about glasses on some guys but ho-boy, he was one of 'em. I'm pretty sure I was discreet with the way I was looking him over, but if I gave myself away he either didn't mind or didn't indicate it. Yeah, I described him just a bit ago, but now I was actually _looking_at him as his eyes darted to and fro across the papers. The glasses definitely solidified that sort of "dad" look that suddenly seemed in for whatever reason certain looks come and go. Between you and I it was absolutely a fad I was a fan of. The edges of his "mask" had quite a few white furs sticking out without any discernable pattern and whether those were simply natural colorations or incriminating evidence of middle age I couldn't tell. Truth be told I had absolutely no idea how to gauge Curtis Beane's age, and I supposed it didn't matter. Guess that slight chubbiness I referred to with the waddle-walk could use a second look, too. His arms didn't seem flabby at all, but rather stout. Maybe he had a bit of a muscle gut going? That would be fun to find out.

Great, here I was. Five minutes into knowing a guy and already starting to fantasize about completely improbable scenarios. For as shy as I am in life the one thing I wasn't skittish about was dudes. I'd never been one to be scared of a random bar or party hookup, or even using a bootycall app or two. I'm sure there's something a therapist could say about that dichotomy.

"Alright, let's get to it with the most difficult simple question of the day," he paused and, unfortunately, took the glasses off. "What brings you here today? Why go for a one on one lesson. Don't get me wrong, it's a good idea though I may be biased."

Welp, he wasn't wrong. That should have been a damn easy question to answer, but how was I supposed to phrase it? Curtis seemed pretty chill, but I wasn't sure I ought to tell him every thing. Surely I couldn't be the only person he's had that didn't want to deal with the knuckledragger types at the gun store, right? A few gentle taps of claw on hard wood voiced my instructor's impatience.

"So," I fidgeted.

"Yes?"

"I dunno, I suppose there've been a few things recently that made me consider having a gun around for protection, but I didn't grow up with them or anything so I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't even know if I really want or need one, just figured I'd like to dip my toes in the water and find out. Tried going to a local shop a few weeks ago."

That last bit got one of his brows to perk up. "Let me guess, they were jerks? Didn't act interested in you at all? Were rude, obnoxious, otherwise unwelcoming?" I didn't have to say anything; whatever look I offered in response was enough to affirm all of that.

"I didn't grow up around guns, either" he smiled. "Wasn't so different the first time I ventured into a shop, and it's a damn shame the disservice places like that do. I'll give you a couple recommendations on places that aren't up their own ass before ya leave, okay? In the meantime though, let's keep it simple and fun today. Just relax, be yourself, and don't hesitate to ask questions."

He reached across and gave the back of my hand a friendly pat that paired perfectly with what could only be described as a twinkle in his eyes. He was genuinely excited to introduce me to something he enjoyed, and I knew right then that whether I ended up more interested in firearms or not I'd at least have a good experience.

"First things first: the four rules. They seem a little goofy at times but it's the foundation of safely shooting, and I start off with them even when I have a more experienced shooter here." He held up 4 digits and counted down with them. "Treat the gun as if it's always loaded. Keep your finger off the trigger until your sights are on the target. Never let the muzzle point at anything you're not willing to destroy. Lastly, be sure of your target and what's behind it." Yeah, they seemed simple enough. "Biggest ones people flub up on are finger on the trigger and not watching where the muzzle is. Keep em in mind. I'll let ya know if I see you doing something unsafe."

Curtis stood up and hoisted a duffel bag up that was on the floor behind his desk. "I'm going to go get a few pistols from the safe and you're going to find a set of earmuffs that fit you." He beckoned me to follow, pointing out one of the floor trunks. "Most of the ones in there are canine, so try some out and let me know when you're ready to head outside."

"Any more teaching before we start shooting?" I was a little worried about the brevity of that lesson.

He nodded to himself as he punched in the combination to his safe. "Oh yeah. It's a nice day out, though so I figured we'd do the hands-on stuff out there. How to load, unload, check if it is loaded, controls, grip, stance, whatever other whimsical stuff I come up with."

*

It had been going pretty damn good. Once we'd actually got to the shooting part of my shooting lesson things got quite fun. It started off somewhat frustrating seeing how bad of a shot I was. I mean, I didn't think I'd be any good, but I didn't expect to miss as wildly as I was. Curtis was good, though. He kept pointing out little things I was doing wrong when it was the right time. Other times he let me go through a magazine or two without saying much. I got better, too. The little holes on paper went from all over the place to something resembling a grouping to paper plate size groups. That might not be super impressive to an observer but I was pretty happy with the quick improvements.

The last shot of the .22 I was using landed a little high. I set the gun down on the table, and then right next to it Curtis set down a revolver that to me was an imposing looking hunk of steel. He was just grinning and nodding as he saw the look on my face.

"I think you're ready to step up to something a little heartier." The raccoon gave me a pat on the back. "Don't let the size scare you. I know you're more poof than wolf but we're going to put some pretty mild loads in this."

"Pf, I never complain about size." Oops. I don't know what happened there. Maybe my brain was just so hard-wired to hear what he said as one of the corny back and forth types of flirting I did on a daily basis that I automatically fired back with a response. Maybe I would have stayed on script if he hadn't thrown in the quip about my small frame­-something guys that actually were flirting with me often used.

I felt my tail slink it's way between my thighs. My ears were so goddamn hot and I knew if I tried to say something it'd just come out as stuttering nonsense. For his part, Curtis simply held a single brow up before continuing.

"Anyway. This _gun_is quite hefty. It's a three-fifty-seven magnum so it packs quite a punch, but we'll be shooting some thirty-eights in it. Something you can do with most magnums is use the 'special' variant of the cartridge for much more pleasant shooting. It's gonna be a lot more than what you were shooting but it won't knock you around much."

Oh he was good. The way he basically repeated what he'd just said a minute ago but in a way to remove any flirtatious implications let me know he knew exactly what I had just said. He didn't have a weirded-out or offended tone though. If he was mad I woulda been able to tell.

"Pick it up. This one is going to be a different feel than the semi-auto." I did as he told. My blushy fit seemed to be fading as I got back to being focused. He was right, that thing felt very different and very heavy. "Move your grip up a little higher." Once he was satisfied that he told me to take aim at one of several large round metal targets. That concept seemed a little odd to me.

"Won't it ricochet?"

"It's fine. I'll explain all about shooting steel later if you want. You're going to want to double-check your sight alignment though. Only got one round in there, go ahead and shoot it when you're set."

Crap, he was right, I was aiming way, way low. I brought the sights up and starting squeezing the trigger. That one seemed to pull back and back for forever, and I was almost about to stop and ask if something was wrong when it reached the end of it's long travel. I glimpsed a orange blast from the muzzle for just an instant, felt the gun torque back, and heard a solid ringing sound as the target softly swayed from the bullet impact. Heh, okay, that was pretty awesome.

"Nice!" I felt Curtis give me a gentle pat on the back. "Go ahead and unload and reload that the way I showed you a bit ago."

I blanked for an instant, then remembered how to release the cylinder and eject the spent case-of course while keeping the muzzle aimed downrange lest I be scolded. The smell of the powder on that shot was different than the other. I kind liked it, actually. Sort of like the smell of fireworks but more "spicy"? I dunno.

Freshly loaded up with six more shots I began to take aim once again.

"Hold it a second, make sure the finger is off the trigger, gonna come in behind you and have to change your stance. You're doing that leaning back thing again."

Dammit. I froze as he stepped in close behind me-really close. Curtis placed a hand on the center of my back and another right above my tail and began gently pushing my back forwards. I wasn't sure what that other hand was doing down there since it really didn't seem needed but you won't hear me complain. He got me into whatever position he was going for and asked if I could feel the difference.

"Yeah, I think so." What I was really feeling was his breath tickling the fur on my neck and ear when he spoke. I was also feeling his hand on my lower back ever so slightly rubbing. When I say "slight" I mean it. It was barely perceptible to me and I'm not sure was even doing it on purpose, but he was doing it. Something I really hadn't noticed before that moment was how nice Curtis smelled. The spent gunpowder was nice but he had a really soft sort of campfire scent to him. Probably a little of that was remains of the cigar smoke from before I got there; most of it was natural. Trust me and my nose on that one. I can tell when a guy is artificially scenting it up.

"Uh, you can shoot when you're ready."

While he removed the hand from my upper back he didn't step back like he did earlier after showing me a grip or stance. Nope, Curtis stayed right behind me; letting the slight push of the recoil transfer right to where his other hand still was.

That wasn't part of his lesson. That was him pushing the envelope and it all went back to my accidental flirting a few minutes before. Don't get me wrong, I really liked these sorts of little games, but I felt this was an instance where I needed to address it head on. So with firm resolve I placed the gun on the table and turned to face a surprised looking raccoon.

"Look, I don't want to be distracted with this all day so let's put our cards on the table." Good, that was a good start. Ya know, sometimes I could be pretty assertive when the moment called for it. Curtis took a few steps back, dropped his hands to his side, and visibly sighed. "What's going on here, Curtis?"

"Shit, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." His round ears flattened against his head and he looked down at the dirt. "I guess I, I dunno. Guess I thought you were flirting with me back there and thought I saw you making eyes at me back in the house." He chanced a quick glance up to check my reaction and, satisfied with what he saw, locked eyes with me. "I've been unprofessional as hell. Let me get you refunded and out of here. Leave a bad review. I earned it."

I had a decision to make right then and there. What I should have done was taken his offer. He _was_being unprofessional and quite frankly a little creepy with his act. Would have been different if we'd randomly met at a bar or something, but at his house while he was supposed to be tutoring me on a serious subject matter? I'm not always good at doing what's best, though, so I took it in a very different direction.

"Tell me, are you attracted to me?" I took a full step towards him, giving my tail an unnecessary flourish as I did so.

"Yes." I was surprised how quickly and shamelessly he answered that. "You look really good, Alex. I like the way you smile, your eyes are stunning, you being short does something I can't quite explain." I couldn't help but smile, even knowing he just said he liked the way I did it. Those were actually pretty sweet compliments. "Oh, love that ass, too." That wasn't quite as sweet, but did get a laugh out of me. He was taking this quite well. He knew I could smack him down at any instant, and that he would be better off playing it safe by trying to sidestep the entire question but he stood there and, as I requested, laid those cards out.

"So what do you want?" I scooted closer once again, while he stood his ground.

"Honestly?" he mused. "I think I'd like dinner, call it a date If you want. Don't think I do this thing often. Ninety five percent of my clients are women, and I'm just not into them that way. This is a first." Damn, he was going for it, wasn't he? I loved that idea but I couldn't just say it right away. Date wasn't the most common word for what I did with guys. I got fucked quite a bit. Actual nights out with romantic interest? Not so much. That broached the matter of whether I even saw him as potential dating-thus potential boyfriend-material. I thought I probably did, and a little time together would answer it regardless.

"Deal. I get to name the time and place, though." Another step closer, and this time it took me within contact distance of him.

"Okay," Curtis leaned his muzzle in just such a way to briefly press noses with me. I coulda kissed him right there; thought about it for a moment.

Time to spring my surprise. "Good. I say we have a date at the shooting range and head back to your place for dinner. I got a feeling a guy out here on his own can cook, so do that. How's today sound?"

Curtis's eyes went wide for a few seconds before narrowing to compliment his sly smirk. "I got a couple steaks. Let's go inside and get 'em rubbed up."

Bingo, there's the flirting one liner I oh-so-love. "Lucky steak, but what about me?" I asked as I slipped an arm part way around the raccoon.

"Maybe, but I really feel we need to work on your muzzle control, first." His masked face was inches from mine, giving me little whisker tickles as he spoke. "I'm an expert in that area, so if you'll let me demonstrate..."

I was glad I didn't go for the kiss before, cause the timing on the one we had at that moment was perfect. Long canine muzzles and short, flat raccoon ones weren't really made for it, but we figured it out well enough. There was just a little teasing of tongues to make it intimate but brief. And so without saying much more we gathered up the pistols, range bag, and targets that we'd brought outside and headed in with the addition of two tents.

*

"I'm pretty happy with how this all turned out," Curtis twirled a bit of steak on his fork, admiring it before packing it in his muzzle and leaning back into the living room sofa.

I was right: he could cook. The steaks were delectable and cooked to absolute perfection, but what I was really impressed with was his on-the-spot bread pudding. I'm not sure I'd ever had the stuff before so there's not much to say whether it was exceptionally good or just average, but I liked it. Moreover I liked the way he just threw what to me were random ingredients into a pan and came out with that. Even better was how he had the timing down so well that both the meat and side were done within a minute of each other.

"Yeah, dude, this food is fucking great." I would've taken a bit of the steak as he just had if there was any left.

Curtis chuckled, "I meant more than just the meal. This whole day has been interesting." I felt his hand on my leg, slowly working its way up and down. "I was one hundred percent sure I completely made an ass of myself and was being a total creep."

"You were, but I make awful decisions and you smell nice." His rubbing got a little bit higher as my pants got a little bit tighter as we shared a laugh at that. The talking while he cooked was refreshing as hell. It started off with the-now suspended-lesson and how he understood exactly how I felt about the whole guns thing. We'd agreed to continue on another date before the conversation veered into boys and dating/sexual adventures and mishaps.

At that moment though the house was quiet save for the heavy breaths escaping my nose as his hand brushed against-then cupped­-my rock hard cock though my pants. He didn't need to ask. His eyes were hungry; focused on my groin as I slipped off my slacks and boxers in one act. I leaned my head back against the top of the couch as dexterous fingers curled around my shaft.

I wanted to protest when the touching stopped, but it was only so that he could reciprocate. That gentle woodsy scent of his was completely washed away by the familiar smell of aroused male as that arousal was exposed. There was a lot to expose. I couldn't help but let a soft, playful growl out as I felt him up. He was _just_how I liked em: not super long, but thick; with a hefty set of balls too.

"Yeah, that needs to be in me." I gave it a firm squeeze, watching the raccoon shiver and coo.

"It will, but first," Curtis slid off the couch onto the floor, nuzzling my thighs and giving my own sac a gentle nudge with his nose "I believe I promised to demonstrate muzzle control."

I figured he was gonna blow me. I mean, wouldn't you? Once he tucked his arms under my legs and lifted 'em up though I realized he different ideas. I looked down at my white belly and thighs as his head half-disappeared out of view. Then I felt hot breath and a tongue tease at my hole. Teasing turned into licking, and his muzzle buried itself into my fur as that licking got adventurous.

"Ah, fuck, wow." I was going to have to be careful with my claws on his couch if I didn't want to tear it up. That tongue was driving me wild enough that I could feel little beads of pre sticking to my bellyfur. I hadn't been rimmed in fucking ages; forgot how awesome it felt. There was nothing dignified about the act. Lewd slurping noises from him, panting and whining from me, but each time that tongue pressed in some waves of ecstasy flooded my head.

When he stopped and pulled his face away the freshly wetted down spot felt cold and empty. I cracked an eye open just in time to see him licking his maw and motioning me to slide down just a bit. I wasn't going to be feeling that emptiness for very long.

Curtis gave himself a generous coating of lube, lifted my knees up onto his shoulder, and lined his thick head up against me. The air was thick with lusty smells and I could hear my own heart beating faster as the raccoon shifted just enough of his weight forwards for his cock to slip inside.

He held himself there while my insides adjusted, and not until I gave him a nod did he move. My legs pulled down and in his shoulders as he got deeper; hitting spots that only the real thing could satisfy. Didn't take him long to be hilted all the way, and not much after that for him to start thrusting.

I was glad for the absence of dirty talk. For me, hearing myself moan and whimper like a bitch and hearing the other guy grunt and pant was the perfect soundtrack. For a few minutes I forgot everything about where I was or how I'd ended up getting fucked on a couch. I even forgot about the deliciously cooked meal. My entire world right then was the sounds and motions of sex.

I yipped when I felt Curtis's fingers curl up under my knot. Shit, I wasn't going to make it very long if he was gonna push that button. He did; squeezing the base of my cock and tugging up against that bulb while his own humping got harder.

"Shit, shit." I panted between breaths "Curtis, I'm-" I didn't get to finish that thought. My head swam while my bouncing dick spurted ropes of jizz this way and that.

He wasn't long for that screw, either. Seeing my orgasm must have set him off. He leaned down hard against my legs, spreading me to the limit as he bucked fast and furiously. His breathing was interspersed with grunts and growls. He was trying to say something but it all came out as gibberish as he held his hips tight against me after his final thrust. I could feel him twitching inside me. I could feel his got breath on my whiskers and a drop of drool hitting my chest. I cold feel that I could get used to this.

We stayed like that for a few, coming down off our highs. Curtis leaned down and pecked my cheek before he pulled himself out. I returned the gesture, not failing to notice the feeling of cum trickling my well-used hole. Usually in these kinda scenarios, at least in my experience, after the deed is done there's a pretty quick exit. I was expecting some small talk and him saying he had stuff to do or whatnot. As we pulled apart and started to gather our clothes though he wagged a finger at me.

"C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up. I'll get the shower going. If you want to browse through the movies feel free. We can put something on in a bit." Curtis stopped himself. "Unless...you need to head out?"

"Naw," I smiled. "I'll find a flick."