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Stripped Off Tonight

Miles went through the evening streets of Langford with heightened caution. He used all of his military training, and a few tips from his father regarding being tailed. The baffling part was he applied it in his own city. The pavements were mostly empty; he made sure to stay at the edge of the light from the lamp posts; that no two figures looked alike when going from one alley to another. All of that military expertise paid off as no one seemed to have followed him, or had been aware of who he was under the raised hoodie nor would anyone be too concerned with the backpack he brought with him.

Miles was a war hero. The 'Halifax Reaper' they called him. For a while he couldn't walk the streets of Langford without being harrassed by the paparazzi and other well-meaning fans. And there were times he had speculated that among them would be some vengeful assassins for what he had done in Halifax. Though he was more worried that someone might know his other nickname.

He turned into the alleyway that led to the only place that called him such: 'The Sexy Studs'. It was a door that led to a brick wall that held its pink neon sign. There were two lines, one for the regulars that had almost reached his corner on the left, and the VIP/Employees on the right which had no traction to the point that it had served as the exit too. He went for the VIP entrance, tugging his hoodie forward to cover any more of his muzzle and looking away from the long line of people envying his quick entry. There were two bouncers, both rhinos, guarding the front doors checking ID's. Large men, intimidating, yet could pass off as strippers if they did. Maybe they were and there was a staff rotation in place.

He readied two cards from his sleeve pocket; a picture-less ID card that was his military-sponsored library card, and a VIP card that had a reflective glow under the neon sign. The only information on the latter card was the name and its expiration date. He presented it to the right rhino, reading both cards for a moment and only taking the VIP one after.

The rhino lifted it up under the neon light, which Miles heard the murmurs of those waiting on the regulars' line. They were either envious, speculative of who he was, or wondered how much one had to spend getting such a privilege. It wasn't too much to say the least: $350 CAD a year which his salary was more than enough to provide. And being a soldier had its perks too. However, there was an aspect of the VIP privilege he had to adhere to.

Miles got his card back from the rhino who gestured him in with a shrug. The Sexy Studs' entrance had a strong smell of lavender, and a faint pink light similar to the neon sign outside. Those who got to enter from the regular line would glamor over the sought-for club interior, taking selfies and pics of this place. He shielded his own face whenever their phone would point his direction as he hurried into the rightmost room with the label of VIP.

He was the only one to enter but there were a handful of people already inside who were changing into their special uniforms in this thematic locker room. A joke had crossed his head how it was akin to the military; strong men in uniforms with special privileges due to their service, and they offered their bodies for someone's 'greater good'. The room also had the same smell of lavender outside mixed with the musk of eager men, and the sweat and semen of those who finished. They didn't bother showering and he wasn't complaining. The light here was a bright white instead, given the complaints before of VIP members not finding their colorful keys to fuzzy handcuffs.

The wolf moved between lockers, trying not to make eye contact with strangers. There would be no doubt he could take them all on but the damage to his reputation would be total if word got out of his nightside hobby. He found his locker at the edge of the room; locker number seventy, beside sixty nine. Nice. He wasn't familiar with who owned that locker though the rumor was he had spent a thousand CAD just to get it.

Miles placed his bag on the nearby bench and opened his locker. His process of putting on his uniform started with retrieving his pup mask from the bag and putting it on around his head. The black neoprene mask with its accented gold-colored jaw hid his bright white fur underneath. He had to measure it himself and had to order it under a pseudonym so that nobody, especially his father, would know. It doesn't help with the fact that his father, Dexter Fennix, was his superior; a Major in the army. His reputation may be on the line too.

After tightening the mask around his head, given that he'd be doing a lot of motions with his special guest tonight, it was time to move on to the other parts of his uniform. His hoodie went into the locker, shirt, jeans, and shoes too. He was down to his military camouflage speedo and he couldn't help but strike a pose at his locker mirror, flexing those hard-earned abs. There was a scar along his side where his fur stopped growing and he ought to flex it more than his muscles. Nothing could be manlier than that after all. He turned around, those thick glutes of his being clung onto by his underwear. The outline of his ball was plumpy and full of his wolf seed. He wiggled it, and his sack underneath jiggled with the nylon.

And he finished it with a smack on his right cheek that echoed throughout the room. Some of the other guys giggled, one of them shouting, "Hey, no fucking in the locker room rember?!"

Miles shrank in embarrassment and answered, "That was just me smacking my ass!" His voice was slightly light and extremely clear given all the shouting he did during service.

And a different person commented, "Dayum bro, you must be hella thick."

Their little back and forth ended with laughter, and Miles was relieved that none of them knew his voice too. His speedos went down after, letting his junk sway in the warm stripclub locker room air. Other guys have seen it and have wolf whistled at him, to his delight. He felt that urge of sexy confidence coursing through his body, with his dick twitching and bouncing as he checked himself on the mirror again. After another minute of ogling himself, he put on the next component: a chest leather harness.

It looked small when it wasn't wrapped around his impressive body. He put it on, the cold leather warming up to his body with its sensation sending tingles down his spine. His dick was now half erect but was large enough for his entire hand to almost wrap around it completely. Yet he had to calm himself down otherwise he'd be swinging his dick around in the open, and he'd rather reserve it behind closed doors. He took a deep breath and he eventually calmed down. The harness had two metal rings encircling his erect nipples, its silver shine nearly blended itself with his white fur, but the black leather contrasted it. There was a metallic u-shaped ring between the aforementioned ones but he had never used it yet. This was BDSM territory that he would explore eventually since he had seen a few harnesses that had a lot of rings on both sides of the body, and some even leaving people suspended from the ceiling thanks to them..

And his favorite part: the jockstrap. From the bottom of the bag, and encased in the same little box it came in when he ordered it, the front part had the face of a ferocious werewolf while the hem of it was a dark yellow, matching the accent of his pup mask. His favorite part about it was the snarling muzzle it showed whenever he stretched it forward with his erection. Or how it 'bubbled' with rabies when he'd cum through it. He urged himself to calm down again because he wanted it to fit properly this time.

When it did, he twirled around and posed in front of the mirror again. He was sexy, tail wagging behind him and even his ass shaking side to side too. Looking at himself, he couldn't even recognize that he was Miles Fennix. After stowing the backpack in the locker, he almost forgot an extra component that served as his pocket too: the collar with its leash.

This was the latest addition to his uniform that he felt drawn to by nature. It's as if canines like himself were supposed to wear collars. The outer texture was leather while the inner ring was something like nylon, gentle to his skin so it wouldn't chafe. It was similar to a belt, multiple metal hooks that clung itself into holes pierced through the leather so he could adjust its tightness. There was a small pocket slip behind it where he placed his ID and VIP cards just in case. The latter of which he held once more, this time looking at his name when he assumed his persona inside the heart of Sexy Studs. He was The White Wolf of Wonderland.

The White Wolf of Wonderland was a nickname he came up with himself. It was simple, and the few who he had conversed with saw the appeal. He was a white wolf in a sexual wonderland. One that was filled with expensive perfumes, exquisite alcohol, and lustful crowds. The Sexy Stud's main lobby was a series of stages, where most of the stripper poles were. Some of these had cages, while others had harnesses that bound the stripper to the pole. The middle, however, was large, almost like a runway with a stripper pole in the middle. There was a massive crowd of horny people gathering around it as they cheered the dragon performing.

The dragon, he had come to know as Aurthur, was very large; nine foot tall yet was light on the stage and very gracious with his movement. He twirled around the pole to match the electronic song playing overhead. There were glowsticks around his jockstraps, and even one peeking out where his slit would be. His admirers were tossing bills of money as the percussion of the futuristic beat had him lose some of the metal hooks from his own harness. There were more than a handful compared to the White Wolf's.

He gave him a wolf whistle as the dragon teased with yanking down those jockstraps. There was a glowstick up his slit, thrusting in and out as he toyed with the hem, and the crowd loved it.

And that was just the main attraction. There were several more strippers, one of which was a deer who twirled around his spot surrounded by tiger businessmen. There were waiters in skimpy clothing, walking around serving drinks from horsecock-shaped tankards. Miles thought they were funny, especially as its tip was beer foam which almost looked like cum. And there were a few side rooms where anyone with cash to spare could rent a stripper of their choosing. He could make out the loud noises coming from one of them; an old raspy voice chuckling to someone much younger and with a seductive tone. They moaned together, and Miles tried not to get any more ideas as he would save himself for his biggest fan.

That was what the VIP rooms were for. It was a separate doorway from the main lobby, and there were guards posted by them and they were just as skimpy. Tonight it was a griffin and a crocodile.

The griffin had a rather chubby body, wearing a very small loincloth that barely hid his junk. His body was also covered in body painting that glowed in the relative dark; light green markings resembling tribal insignia across his body, swirling around his nipples and subtle arrows all pointing down to his crotch. And he could see his erect shaft covered in spirals from the base and all the way to its pre-leaking tip.

His crocodile companion was much more risque with a latex bodysuit that didn't cover his nipples or genital slit. The White Wolf couldn't help but stare at the dildo lodged into it, tied down with some string and when he got closer he could see and hear a subtle vibration. The crocodile spread his legs as he approached, inviting him as he tore through the rubber to reveal his tight hole.

The griffin behind him smirked, "Aren't you the White Wolf of Wonderland?" He asked, his voice rasped and deep.

The White Wolf froze for a moment as he instinctively reached for his card hidden in his collar. He was a VIP, and the griffin was asking for confirmation. "Yes, I am." The card reflected a special light under the neon VIP sign further authenticating it.

The griffin waved it off, already certain. "Just needed to see the card." He opened the door between him and the crocodile. His partner was disappointed, hoping for some action, scalie fingers going around his hole. "Hun," he reminded him, "I already told you I'll screw you when the shift is over."

The crocodile whimpered, looking at the griffin with puppy eyes.

He wanted to tease the crocodile, flicking his scaly hole as he walked by. The crocodile let out a moan that the griffin felt embarrassed about just before closing the door behind them. It was funny to him, chuckling under his breath as he headed for his reserved room. Scoring a reservation was extremely easy if you were a VIP. And they catered to way too many kinks he would've thought of. Trying to think of it would send a shiver down his spine because of how gross it could be, and no way he would touch it with his nine inch dick.

Anywho, the VIPs who reserve often would have their room unchanged, and he would always come back to the scent of his own musk from previous sessions. The last one though had been quite plentiful and overwhelming that he had requested a cleaning this time. After all, the best for his biggest fan.

There were several doors in this room on both sides of the wall. Unlike the public lobby, he couldn't hear the goings on in these rooms. Very sound proof which meant he could moan as loud as he wanted. There were names on the doors he passed by. Those prominent had special effects on them too, like the 'Deer in Headlights' where all the letters were carved antlers, and the first and last were designed like antlers. Another one was 'Wolf of Darkness', halfway through the hall; the letter 'o' on it had a wolf drawn around it as if it were howling. Or perhaps sucking dick?

He giggled as he went past. His door was close to the end, in front of a normal sign with the name 'Biggus Dickus' that always made him giggle. No idea who that person was behind the door, but it must be really huge if it was larger than nine inches. He swayed his bulge around before standing in front of his door. The VIP keycard was his lock and key, and for some others it would be for their chastity belts too. He'd only seen a few out in the public lobby just to showcase it and he thought it was cool.

The White Wolf's door bore his own name. His custom lettering was that they all shone silver and reflected the person in front of the door. He could see his red eyes through the mask, making him smile. The door unlocked with the tap of his card, and he opened it to revel in his personal den.

There were two stripper poles; one in the middle just in front of the large couch, and a special one in the jacuzzi at the corner of the room. To his left was a nifty bar with glasses in various phallus shapes that Sexy Studs have patented as a dildo substitute, and there was a shelf full of exquisite alcohol of his liking, which was by far the most expensive component in the room. The large wall mirror that reflected the entire place was much cheaper, and it was the aspect he loved the most.

The White Wolf, in his Wonderland, stepped in and closed the door before any more of the lavender scent seeped out. With the door behind him locked, his biggest fan had been waiting beside him all along. He stood in front of him with those gorgeous red eyes, that fancy-looking pup mask that matched his harness with those two rings. And his fan wore a very funny yet alluring jockstrap that had a wolf print at his bulge. His biggest fan had a large dick that they both couldn't help but approach each other closely. The only thing he wished in this place was this invisible barrier that stopped himself from being with himself.

"I love you," he told him with his hands stretched out and holding his fan's, cold and glass-like. One could imagine the warmth and the closeness he would've felt when he could intertwine his fingers with him. Feeling him throb and twitch as their stiffening bulges pressed against each other.

"I love you too," his voice was a tad different, somewhat deeper. But he leaned forward so their noses touched through their masks. Their lips followed, and their tongues too. Yet his imagination took him beyond where their mouths would've connected as their tongues tied while embracing each other. He'd be rubbing his back while his biggest fan would grope his plump and well-toned ass that made him moan.

The White Wolf enjoyed his fan's firm touch, squeezing his rump in sync with their bulges grinding against each other. Their shafts throbbed and twitched together, almost ready to burst out of the nylon seams. It would be too soon though, he reeled back taking a few steps along. He and his fan knew that they had a long night ahead of them, and he stood beside the door where there was a panel that dictated the room. The mood lighting was set to low, enough to darken the surroundings but for his white fur to stand out. His choice of music would be jazz.

"Good choice," his fan told him, swaying his body with the white wolf. The tune was slow at first, but he was already familiar with the soundtrack. His hands slid down his sides to the slow decrescendo of the saxophone. Hips swaying left and right at every beat of the drums. He spun slow throughout the music and made certain it ends with their eyes locking. The crescendo came as he flexed his arms, and with the aggressive drum beat his body waved towards him.

"You're mine tonight," he told his equally attractive fan. Still yearned for the dream he could touch him, hold him, worship him. The song empowered their desire for each other with the White Wolf stretching his arms forward, fingers pointing at him as his abs swayed. Their heads looked towards the stripper pole in the middle of the room, knowing what to do with it. The strut played along the trumpet solo, his tail wagging in the direction his ass shook.

"Shake that ass," his fan yelled out.

He stopped in place as the other instruments joined in, and shook his bottom with much fervor as the brass instruments played. And he grabbed the pole and stood on the mini stage, pausing for a moment as the song ended. It was a fun start, and he pretended to pant as if he were exhausted. His sweat glistened under the light but by no means was he tired. The day job that he did pushed him further, and his kinky hobby was his personal way of having fun with his gains.

A lone trumpet played first, and he knew it was the start of his routine. His fingers tapped to the beat, the next moment to come was when he would make his move. More trumpets joined in with a subtle tapping of the cymbal, and that was his cue. He walked around the pole with those hips clinging onto it as the brass played. Then the beat stopped, and he paused his movement. A solo trumpet again and he climbed onto the pole in a spin as slow as the trumpet played.

His fan was quite the looker, sexy as he spun around his pole too. His muscled leg clung around with its inner knee, showing around his large bulge. The print of the wolf on his jockstrap looked menacing, and the tip of its muzzle was slightly damp. And a piano riff cut through the trumpet and was joined by another saxophone playing a high note.

The White Wolf raised himself in the pole with relative ease, spinning as he embraced the metal bar. A sudden second saxophone challenged the first, playing louder, and he would change his position with the bar now behind and showing off his muscles and packaged wolf as he spun in a descent. And the first saxophone countered, switching his position to show off his ass, spreading his cheeks and raising his tail to show his tight pink hole. The second saxophone came back stronger, stealing the show and he would, turning around once more. He leaned back against the pole and relied on his arm strength to keep himself up while spreading his legs for his personal fan to see.

The other just-as-handsome-and-sexy white wolf in the room showed off his tight hole too. Both saxophones played together afterwards, and they both spun down slowly, their bodies shifting position to the louder instrument. Very seamless and well rehearsed, and the rest of the instruments joined in to the finish. They both finished off their dance by holding onto the pole as they leaned back. Sweat glistened their arbs, and his tongue lolled out and panted for real this time.

"That was..." he caught his breath. Muscles burning in excitement with their jockstraps's massive tent. Its hem was tugged outwards, his white bush peeked out over, while his large nuts flopped out on both sides of his undergarment. "...very hot." The next tune played but he had to reserve his energy for tonight. A calm guitar tune joined by a more seductive saxophone tone, he still slid down against the pole to the strumming. He adjusted his jockstrap, shifting his large schlong around so that it was out of its fabric cage, which in turn became his ball pouch.

And there was the White Wolf he fell in love with. All nine inches of hard dark wolf meat covered in sweat and aroma of musk. He inhaled it all in, imagining more fans of himself worshiping around his stage in the same outfit he wore. His own wonderland. "There's the White Wolf." He grasped his dick, feeling as if another hand grabbed it. A fun technique he had been practicing where he conditioned his mind to believe that his hands were of another person so that his cock felt more sensitive and needy. The White Wolf was his biggest fan, and no one else should satisfy him other than himself.

"You like that?" His tone was light and seductive. Firm hands worked on his tool below, oozing pre from its tip and smearing it all around it. The room was private enough he moaned out in a heavier tone, "I love it, oh White Wolf."

His fan growled, pointing its still-leaking tip at him. "If only you could please me more, oh great White Wolf."

"If only I could indeed," he answered. The White Wolf looked at himself, gazing at those red eyes that winked back at him. Could he do it? His back muscles tensed as his cheeks heated at the thought. This would be the first time he'd suck himself off. What would his own dick taste like? How different would it be from fooling around with his friends? Each question made his dick harder in anticipation. He sat down, legs spread as he looked at himself with those eager eyes. He and his fan wanted it badly with their cocks twitching at the same time.

They looked at each other's shafts before their own. He tried to lower his body down, lifting his legs to ease his dick to stand up. But all he could do in this position was lick his tip. He returned to his seating position and stretched his body. The music being played was still low jazz in anticipation. And that's when he saw the pole glisten because of his sweat from his earlier performance. "Great minds think alike, eh?" His fan told him.

He waited until he knew the beat would pick up, standing in tandem and spun around the pole. At the trumpet solo, he flipped himself on the pole and lowered himself as the brass did. Both he and his fan looked very inviting with their shafts pointing straight down to their lips while their tails tied themselves against the pole. This unfamiliar position was not too bad for his muscles, in fact, his dick felt more intense from pointing down against his mouth. He spread his legs in a similar manner, and it was then he learned that his shaft was too large for his own muzzle as it bumped against his cheek. The musk permeated into his nose, sniffing it as it throbbed in response. He gave it a lick, sending a sudden pleasured sensation throughout his curved body.

"Maybe you should be the Great White Pussy Cat instead, because you love to take in dick." His fan remarked, nuzzling his own nuts. He had noticed his own bright pink hole again, tempting to model a dildo after his nine-inch shaft, and perhaps with more detail as he was about to taste it.

The desire rushed into his head, both eyes on the prize as pre leaked on the tip of his nose. He unclasped the velcro between the lips of his mask as he opened his mouth, recalling the first time he had sucked off Adrian, and when he had done it to him. Both experiences couldn't match what he had felt, tasting something that was undoubtedly salty but felt more in-control to what he wanted. He bobbed his head, both lips reaching only two thirds of his entire cock that throbbed with need. He licked as it did, and leaned back to bob his head back in.

His tip was much more sensitive with the blood rush while his jaw ached by the size of his girth and length. More of his mask was undone as he tried to hilt his own dick, triggering his gag reflex. His tail gripped the pole tighter as he paused with his shaft still in his mouth. He took a breather, only inhaling his essence and licked his tip as he looked back to his fan who winked back at him.

The White Wolf imagined the couch where he and his fan had each other in sixty-nine. Their fingers walked along their inner thighs and over their rears, swirling around his hole as he did outside his fantasy. His inner thought said, "You need this dick, don't you?" He teased, one, or three fingers were not enough to compensate. His mind raced at the thought of riding himself on the couch while fingers pushed themselves down till the knuckles in his reality. He whined and moaned, pleasured yet still needing more. Hot breath escaped him, warming his already-hot shaft and tingling balls.

He thrusted down to his muzzle as he bobbed back up against his shaft while he held himself in place as three fingers massaged his loosening hole covered in sweat. His entire head was on fire, muscles burning from his erotic aerobics that he felt himself getting close. But he wanted to see himself when he did, looking back to his fan with a wild imagination, seeing him getting fucked by himself while being fingered. Both of them glanced as they did each other, winking at him fully knowing that this won't certainly be the last. They both whispered to him, "Next time White Wolf (Miles)." He heard one of them say his name.

And he felt his liquid essence spraying against his tongue. Wolf milk trailed down it, while the rest shot in spurts against the back of his throat. The pleasure of cumming from his dick reached him as his orgasm continued halfway through. He didn't dare waste his precious seed while he firmed his grip against the pole and had stopped fingering himself. Instead, he fondled his nuts causing him to shoot more of his milk in him.

The intensity, however, was too much for his first try. His tail unwrapped itself from the pole as he let go of it too, sliding down the stage while his shaft left his mouth. More of his seed spilled down his chest, blending with the whiteness of his fur except for the black leather. With one more gulp, the facade of the White Wolf had gone for the evening.

Miles looked at the mirror, seeing his reflection laying down exhausted and stained. He smiled at him who smiled back too because their entire being was burning from his first attempt of sucking himself off and tasting so much of himself. His body trembled on the realization of how good it felt while he licked around his mouth still tasting his personal salty treat. And he had to admit, he looked good when he did. Almost inviting to do an encore of his little stage performance. "Round two?" He asked himself, and chuckled which turned to an exhausted sigh. There were also cumstains against the top of his mask, and he noticed it on the leather too. It was quite fortunate that this place had a service that cleaned his toys, because licking leather and neoprene was not exactly pleasing.

The jazz music was more upbeat, normally a few minutes before the aftermath. He'd have to change his playlist if autofellatio was more pleasurable than frotting with the mirror. He had to do this again, and with that toy in mind too. If only there was a place that could model his own dick and prioritized anonymity above all.

He sat back up and fixed his mask but his own scent was too overwhelming so he took it off. The VIP room air was a bit better, plus the lavender helped. You can't have too much of something, not even his manliest scent. Miles stood up and went to the jacuzzi. He felt his sore hole tingling with excitement, knowing that he would destroy it eventually. His cock twitched at the idea. But enough of that, as he turned on the jacuzzi and climbed into its bubbly water.

The heat helped remove the stain from his fur and the leather with a special filtration system that removes any of his spunk. He dunked the mask into the water as he lowered himself just before his chin.

"That was good," he turned to the mirror.

"This is also good." His reflection said to him.

"You're good." They both pointed at each other.

Miles put his mask back on and he stared back at his reflection again. He reached out and touched his hand against the reflection, twisting and turning in the hopes that he could intertwine their fingers together. His mind could only imagine but never feel it. There wouldn't be anyone else who'd treat him the way he wanted to in his little wonderland. And a fine drink was the only way to emulate the experience.

The hot tub was good to his exhausted body though, relaxing in it for the next half hour and enjoying calming jazz. Normally, he wouldn't gloat about being compensated for all the hard work he'd done. This was the best way of going about it and having to gloat to himself and only to himself. After his little rest, he got up and got a towel from the little compartments under the jacuzzi. After drying himself and wrapping the white cloth that had blended with his fur, he went over to his personal bar. Most of the drinks were whiskey from an assortment of brands, and a select few of gin, vodka, and bourbon that Sexy Studs had recommended before. The one he wanted, that only had a quarter left, sat behind the bar itself which he then placed on the top next to a simple drinking glass.

His preferred choice was a sip of whiskey called 'Liquid Gold'. He wasn't alluding to anything as it was a truly fantastic and very expensive drink. All he needed was a small glass chilled with ice cubes imported from Japan's finest springs. It was, personally, best enjoyed with a certain jazz track that he had listened to in a cafe some time ago. With drink in hand, he went over to the panel and selected a track simply called 'The Cup of Joy', which he would enjoy on the couch.

The first tune was a simple tap against the cymbals, and the hooker was what followed; a gentle saxophone duetting with a trumpet in low volume. He sat in the middle of the couch, watching his reflection do the same. As he had always done, he raised the glass to him, and sipped as the saxophone solo played. The flavor was sweet and smooth going down, and intensified the taste of his own wolf milk. He felt a warm sensation hit the back of his head as he leaned back into the soft velvety touch. The rest of his body felt warm and relaxed, taking another sip as the trumpet solo followed. This time it was buttery and a tad bit sweet with a tangy aftertaste and scent that only occurred in succeeding drinks. His mind went into a bar, the first outside since the war and how the taste invigorated him, and he sought to live life to his own wants too.

"Oh Miiiiles," his inner thought called around him as the room turned to an encroachment of mirrors. In his drunken haze he saw his reflections speaking. There was no stripper pole in between them anymore, in fact the more he sipped the closer they were to each other, and only the reflection in front would remain. After putting aside his empty glass, they were both naked with his other self straddling around his waist. The just-as-drunk Miles rested on his flaccid dick. It throbbed in between those cheeks though, slowly erecting itself as their lips touched and tasted the same fancy alcohol with a hint of his own milk.

Miles felt himself ready for round two.

A few rooms down, in the 'Wolf of Darkness' VIP suite, another wolf had been enjoying himself. Literally and figuratively as a black-furred wolf twirled around the stripper pole, admiring himself in the mirror. He had larger muscles while not being too grotesque to look at, with white leather straps that contrasted his pelt while matching the white accent of his chest and stomach. But the main attraction was his package so large that his ten inch dong stuck out while his bountiful sack peeked out of the legs of his jockstrap.

There was an imaginary beat that played in his head. A cross between funky and electronic as he only learned that he could add custom songs to his playlist. Those available didn't suit his taste, and he had just the tune he'd play with next time.

"You've been a bad boy, Sexy Dexy," his reflection told him. Both their asses faced each other, plumpy yet muscular, and he gave it a powerful and loud smack. He'd be embarrassed if the next rooms would hear it, but that wasn't the case as he kept smacking them.

That sharp pain was more pleasurable, with each hit stiffening his cock to full mast. He twirled around the pole, noticing that his dick was twice as girthy. He leaned back against the cold metal pole with both paws above and behind holding onto it as he swayed his hips and swung his shaft for himself to see. "Like what you see, sexy me?" He told him. That pup mask of his hid the wry smile and those licking lips, but he could definitely see those red eyes following his log.

"Always," he answered back, reminiscing of that old waterfall adventure he had. A vivid memory of the jungle, a wide mirror from the waterfalls, and how liberating it felt being in the nude outside. Lately, however, he found the appeal of being binded strapped on by leather, while his handsome face was covered by a neoprene mask. It had been too long, and he had missed being able to get away with such risque activities. With the press bearing down on him, and his son in the military and being a war hero like himself, he hadn't found the time nor privacy to let loose.

Dexter went over to the panel and searched for a sound piece, wondering if this place had a waterfall soundtrack. To his relief, there was. In fact, seven different types depending on the ambience and intensity; he chose a medium waterfall with animal noises in the background. It wasn't like the jungles of East Asia but it was enough for him to imagine that it was. How his fur was moistened by the splashing waters, the smell of nature and fresh air. He took a big whiff of it but it was predominantly musk, and he exhaled with a growl. And a quick turn to the mirror where he saw those lustful eyes staring back at him.

"I'm going to fuck you up," he pointed at him as he went over behind the personal bar. His favorite toy sat at the bottom, which was his bottom complete with a cut version of his tail, and warm jiggling balls for his own to slap against. The entire fleshlight was almost his size but he was larger after all the experience of dancing on and around the stripper pole.

He sat down on the couch, visualizing a version of himself that was proportionate to the toy; lesser muscled but sexy nonetheless. His other self sat, hotdogging his shaft with a worried expression of the large package he had to take in. He, on the other hand, growled again as he licked his fangs, his copious amounts of pre already enough to lube the toy's entrance. And his jockstrap had to come off because he wanted his balls to slap against him with no nylon in between with the added pleasure of his nuts swinging freely when he did.

"Oh no," his other self quivered yet his cock twitched with want. "It's Sexy Dexy, the Wolf of Darkness." He panted under his breath as Dexter rubbed his shaft in between his thick wolf buns.

"Damn right I am," he answered with a gruff voice. With no intention of foreplay, he immediately buried his entire shaft into his toy.

"Ah!" His other self yipped, having taken in the entire rod in one go, to Dexter's pleasure and impression.

"Good boy," he lifts him by the waist with no difficulty before putting him down again. He moaned to himself, imagining it was his partner needily whimpering for his dick. It throbbed in its fleshy interior that was almost as good as the real deal. He pumped into it faster, panting under his breath as he did.

"Harder," his other self let out. "Fuck me harder, I can take it." He begged.

Emboldened, Dexter got onto the bed with the toy beneath him and started humping into it. He imagined his other self under him, tongue sticking out as he huffed and puffed in pleasure while swaying his body so that he pushed himself back against him as he thrusted forward. He growled more with want, imagining to have licked his neck and biting his shoulder afterwards as he fucked him as fast as he did push ups. His massive balls, thrice the size of the toy, were slapping louder than his rear smacking earlier.

His other self was letting out tears of pleasure, grasping and trembling as his entire rear took in all ten inches of his girthy wolf meat. If he were any other person, they would've cum halfway through. But Dexter knew that even his imaginary selves were stronger, and could resist the temptation far longer as the pounding went on.

"That's the spirit," he tells the wolf beneath him. "Tell me, who the fuck am I?" He was getting close himself and saying his name would mean his climax. Yet he will fuck him so hard he would have a hard time doing so.

"S-se-" but Dexter had been doing deep sudden thrusts; reeling himself back until his tip was almost out before shoving it back in.

"S-sexy, D-dex..." his other self tried but interrupted himself with his moan as the larger wolf's thighs smacked with his inner thighs.

Dexter himself was getting close and his partner too. If only he could reach around and hold his dick whenever he got close, prolong their little fun as the alpha always cums first. He huffed and puffed, letting out hot air over his partner's neck as he slowed down his motions, giving him breathing room as his own balls tensed up.

"Sexy..." he moaned at the last thrust before the big climax. He felt Dexter's shaft reeling in, ready for his name to be said. The other him gulped and exhaled, "Sexy Dexy!"

Dexter buried his shaft into him in a quick motion and let himself loose inside him. He shot load after load of his thick wolf cream into his partner, which leaked out of his rear. With enough strength in him, he kept thrusting slower while he came, almost passionate; licking the bite he made, and over the muzzle of his doppelganger beneath him.

His bountiful sack had let him spill his milk for almost two minutes, leaving a puddle of white sticky fluids under the toy and around his knees. He panted, almost as if his heart gave out from the intense exercise he had. That's when the smell kicked in, predominantly musk. He felt sorry for the person cleaning his room, but he paid the big VIP bucks for it so they had no choice. Dexter chuckled, getting the mask, and leather off to let his head cool.

He sat down on the side of the couch not stained with his spilled milk, and wiped his knees of it. In turn, that was a bad idea as his gunk found itself deep in his fur that only a shower could clean. Or maybe the jacuzzi would too since it was a miniature bathtub. He looked at his reflection in front of him, spreading his arms on the sofa's headrest as he showed his muscles. "I like what I see," they told each other.

"And I," with both arms raised, he pointed at him, "love you."

And he loved himself too, very very much.

****