FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A Father's Praise

© 2023 Bruno Hirschkoff

*

##

Stillwater Cove, 1420AD

_ _

Kristian Hirschkoff gave a vocal sigh of frustration, suppressing the upwelling of revulsion that rose in his chest. A complex and seemingly unfathomable mix of envy, jealousy and resentment with no clear target or purpose clouded his thoughts, polluting what was usually a very positive relationship he had with his body. Why was he so conflicted lately? Specifically over one part of his body, more than any other? The elk tried to force his mind elsewhere, anywhere but the organ between his thighs that both demanded his attention and had been causing such conflicted emotions recently. But the moment of disgust had been enough, and he had wilted.

As young adults, Kristian and his twin brother Dieter were handsome young Cervid men. They were as inseparable as they had been as fawns growing up in the charming coastal Rhocarnian town of Stillwater Cove, but as adults had developed unmistakeably different personalities. Where Dieter was a quietly spoken, somewhat aloof character with an acid wit, Kristian was typically far more exuberant and unashamedly forward, particularly with his sexuality.

But for a time, Kristian had been increasingly troubled. He found himself feeling repulsed by his intimate anatomy, a feeling that was equal parts unfamiliar and confusing. An almost visceral repulsion at times, which had come about from little more than an innocuous comment by a friend, and seemed determined to stay with him.

*

Some years previously, both he and Dieter had required a visit to the Medicars' College at Sparrowforge Abbey, a full day's travel from home, and halfway to the Rhocarnian capital Fràwic. The Stillwater Cove medicar had recommended the visit, to correct the 'intimate affliction,' the brothers both had, as he had described it - while the word for 'phimosis' did not exist in the Rhocarni lexicon, that had been what the medicar was referring to. The journey had been an adventure for the twin brothers, the furthest from home they had ever been at the time. The journey home had been less so. Various forms of genital modification were fairly common across southern and eastern Doregal, and the southern continents of Valasea and Ambriel, varying from piercings and minor tattoos, to culturally traditional forms of scarring and circumcision, depending on the individual's anatomy. Circumcision was usually a religious practice in western Doregal, and in the form it occurred for Dieter and Kristian, and was performed by medicars at Sparrowforge Abbey who were also Arahanic monks.

For the years of his adolescence, Kristian had been perfectly happy with the outcome of that visit to the College. But as a young adult, the thought that circumcision had permanently altered him entered his consciousness and began to plague him. And as a young man who indulged his sexual urges with substantial frequency, both alone and in company, those thoughts began to take root and grow in the deepest recesses of his mind.

Most of Kristian's friends - those who had penises, that is - were not circumcised. In his youth, the only one other than his own that Kristian ever saw was his brother's, which was of course near identical. He remembered what they'd been like before the operation, of course, and it wasn't a particularly positive memory. It wasn't until several years later that Kristian came across his first uncircumcised penis that functioned as it should, and it gave him mixed feelings. Curiosity, jealousy even. Sammael was a Scordomnan whitetail Cervid, with whom Kristian had first crossed paths while sneaking about in the alleyways adjacent the Hairy Fig. The Fig was a well-known tavern and bawdyhouse that straddled the Artisans' Guild Canal through the centre of Stillwater Cove. The town's youths would often creep about at night for a vantage point in the darkness of the streets outside to peep through the Fig's windows into the den of hedonistic delights within, until the day came when they would be allowed inside. Sammael had been so well-hidden that Kristian didn't even see him at first, until the whitetail had bleated at him to get out of the way, that he was blocking his view.

Kris had been shocked at first, terrified that he'd been caught doing something deeply wrong. But Sammael had had no compunctions whatsoever about continuing precisely as he had been, gazing through the window of the Hairy Fig with one hand stuffed down the front of his drawers. Kristian had been fascinated, as much by the whitetail's lack of inhibitions as by the view through the window into the Fig's harem room.

Sammael had grinned cheekily at the elk and offered that same hand in greeting, which Kris had hesitantly grasped. Words to the effect of "same time, same place, tomorrow night?" had been exchanged, and Kris could think of nothing else for the intervening hours. It had been an unexpected awakening for the elk.

That had quickly blossomed into a realisation for Kris; he was very interested in other males. Far more so than in females. Sammael was the same way, as it turned out. The two Cervids had explored each other extensively, at first with furtive glances in the alleyway, then with open exhibitionism, then with a growing mutuality. There was no romance between them. It was purely sensation-seeking; Sammael was intrigued by the differences between them. The whitetail had never seen one like Kristian's before. But he had bleated in discomfort when Kristian had first touched him the way the elk touched himself. The difference in their sensitivity had been clear, and Sammael seemed fascinated by it.

*

The memories whirled around the elk's mind with greater intensity than they usually did that morning. Kristian eventually managed to coax a climax out of himself by focusing his thoughts on Sammael's foreskinned member, imagining that it was his own. He cleaned his emissions out of his fur using an undergarment that was destined to be washed, tied up his fresher undergarments after his morning routine, and lay awake staring at the roof beams overhead. Beside him, his twin brother snored quietly, apparently undisturbed by Kristian's activities. It wasn't something either of them were ever particularly shy about. But the notion that he was _incomplete, _that there was a part of him missing, had a far greater effect on Kristian than he'd ever considered possible, a shot in the dark that had unexpectedly found a target.

Sammael had made a comment to that effect only a month or so ago, that Kristian's cock was 'numb' compared to his own, and it had stuck in the elk's mind like a barb.

To distract himself, Kris rose from his mattress and dressed. He pulled a linen undershirt on over his antlers, carefully manoeuvring it around his tines, and then stepped into his trousers, which he fastened above his tail and with a drawstring at the front. Then a tunic went around his shoulders, belted at the waist, and he stepped out of the room he shared with Dieter to make his way downstairs and start a cooking fire in the oven.

He knew he'd been increasingly snappy lately, withdrawn and not his usual bubbly self. He knew his brother and father had noticed, too, although they had no inkling as to why.

*

Bruno awakened after Kristian. At the age of forty-five, he was feeling his age. He wasn't an old man by the standards of the region, but his knees ached before rain and his eyesight wasn't what it used to be. He rose from his bed with a sturdy yawn, and fumbled for the very expensive, very delicate spectacles that he wore to correct his vision. They were held to his muzzle with an ingenious spring-clasp, and gave him an air of intellectual aloofness when he peered down his nose through them at someone. So he was told, anyway. And he enjoyed that thought.

Once dressed, Bruno made his way down the narrow, steep stairs to where he could smell oats boiling on the stove. Kristian had been awake for some time, it seemed. Long enough to have dressed, started the fire, waited for the stove to heat, and begin preparing breakfast.

Bruno's enormous, callused hand landed with a soft whump on Kristian's shoulder. "Good morning, dear son," the elder elk intoned, enfolding Kristian in a half-embrace from behind him.

Kris tensed briefly, and half-heartedly leaned back into the embrace. Bruno kissed Kristian's hair, then pulled back with a look of concern on his face.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, Dad," Kris said flatly.

Bruno grunted. "If you say so. Here, let me help. Pass me that knife."

Kristian obliged, and Bruno began to slice pears he'd bought at the marketplace the previous day, to eat with their oats.

Kristian stirred the oats listlessly. Bruno watched him closely for a period of time.

"My hoof it's nothing," Bruno said eventually. "I shan't force you, but whatever is on your mind, I am here to listen, yes?"

Kristian swallowed heavily and busied himself with the pot. Bruno lingered for a long moment, then gave Kristian's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. Kristian shrugged him off.

"It's nothing, Dad," he snapped, then added; "It's... it's silly, that's all, I don't really know..."

"Mm. In my experience, things that seem silly for how much they upset you, rarely are."

"I'm quite certain this is," Kris insisted.

"Alright. Well, if you want to talk about anything, however silly, I'm here."

"I know."

Dieter joined them shortly thereafter, and because he was the last one to awaken, was also the last of them to leave the house, after washing the breakfast utensils and pot, and smothering the fire.

Bruno was a carpenter. A 9th-level Artisan in the Doregallian Carpenters' Guild. His skills were sought after around the region, and at any given time Bruno found himself as the master carpenter on a number of building sites around Stillwater Cove. While that meant that the days of hard labour were largely behind him, for which Bruno was grateful, nor was he an idle supervisor. Dieter was his apprentice, although currently they were working on opposite sides of the town.

Kristian, meanwhile, had found seasonal work at the Stillwater docks repairing the rigging on ships that limped into safe harbour after being caught in the notoriously harsh storms that swept down from Cefnfor Ceflym, the narrow ocean passage to the north that separated Doregal from the islands of Emerald. It was hard work, but it paid relatively well and was as reliable as the storms that created it were unpredictable. And it could always be worse, Kris reasoned; he could be a caulker or a hull-scraper. Ropework was more intellectual, and he appreciated that. Not to mention the strength he built clambering up and down the masts of the vessels that he worked on, and the satisfaction he got from seeing his work pay off when the ships left port under full glittering sail, the light of the rising suns reflecting off their canvas like beacons.

He found an unexpected degree of kinship among the other dock workers and the sailors who came ashore. Their rowdiness appealed to Kristian, and his to them. Some of the sailors were even teaching him to play the flute and pipes, and Kris was, it turned out, a natural. His work allowed him to forget his personal thoughts, but equally it made those personal thoughts seem petty, self-interested and inconsequential. Truly, he had nothing to be upset about, surely? Life went on, and there were plenty of men with the same body modification as he, who never found cause to complain about it.

As the twin suns began to sink towards the glittering Mare Viridium, Kris took a moment while at the pinnacle of a merchant khebec's mainmast to gaze northward along the gently curving coastline of Stillwater Cove. At the northern end of the town, a low range of hills which halfway-encircled it extended out into the ocean in a narrow spit, with a steep bluff at its seaward end. Following from that, a chain of reefs, rocks and islets further surrounded an ancient caldera, mostly submerged, which was how the town got its name: the waters within the caldera were glassy-smooth most of the time, sheltered from the untamed wilderness of the Mare Viridium beyond by the barrier of reefs and islets. It wasn't without its drawbacks, though. The wrecks of no fewer than eight ships littered the Cove, their shattered hulls protruding from the water like carcasses of great sea monsters and, in their own way, demarcating the 'safe' navigation channel that ran southward from the docks.

Inland, the jumble of shingle, thatch and tiled roofs of Stillwater Cove seemed to tumble from the eastern hills across the narrow coastal plain into the ocean. Kristian could see the Hairy Fig from here, rising higher than almost any other building in town, with the exception of the watchtower and the cathedral - although the latter had the distinct advantage of being built atop the eastern hills, at the head of the Market Square. Its white stone seemed to burn with an intense inner light of its own in the golden sunset. It must have been visible for miles out to sea, Kristian realised. Just what the Arahanic priesthood seemed to like; they always had to be bigger, taller, brighter, than temples to any of the old gods.

Kristian remained up the mast until both suns, Kesh and Aror, had sunk below the surface of the Viridium, setting the sky afire with reds, greens and purples. Then he carefully descended, sliding down ropes he'd spent the day rigging, and went ashore to collect his pay.

*

Sammael reclined luxuriantly across a pile of velvet cushions. It had been a long day, and the whitetail was spending the evening at the Hairy Fig, in his favourite part of the place; Dytaea's Harem. The goddess of, among other things, Achillean love and desire, Dytaea's Harem was a space reserved for male or male-identifying people whose desires resided with the same. The space reeked of sweat, masculine musk and sex, and Sammael was in his element. Equally, it was a space where men came simply to exist in a shared space with few inhibitions; nudity and arousal were everywhere, even in the absence of active sexual activity, and it was that very casualness that appealed to Sam more than anything else.

When Kristian entered, he lingered by the curtained doorway. Sammael's eye found him and observed the elk for a moment. He looked uncharacteristically out of place. He and Kris had come here the very day they'd both been allowed to enter, and had returned every chance they got, meeting each other and exploring the various pleasures the Fig had to offer, as an open house with few limitations as to what could occur within. But lately Kristian had been increasingly distant. Their excitable mutual explorations had slowed to the point where Sammael had not so much as seen his friend nude in weeks. Tonight, he was determined to get Kris comfortable again, if he could.

Sam rose from his cushions and approached Kris. The whitetail was nude aside from a sheer sash of gauze draped over his shoulder, which only nominally covered his manhood. Given what he'd been watching occurring around him, he was predictably erect.

Kristian's eyes dipped, then rose to meet Sammael's as the stag stepped with sensual elegance towards him. The whitetail's eyes were half-lidded and a characteristic smirk was on his muzzle. A few inches shorter than Kristian, he slid his arm around the elk's waist and pressed his muzzle to Kristian's dense mane, pushing his hips against his thigh with clear intent.

"Where have you been?" he lilted. "I have missed you... Gods, you smell so good."

Kristian felt himself swelling in his drawers, and a familiar flutter of excitement bloomed in his chest. He turned in to Sammael, and felt the whitetail's hand drop to his groin, squeezing him firmly over his clothing. It was such a simple gesture that had always made Kristian forget whatever was on his mind. It was nice to feel himself hardening in his friend's hand, and although he hesitated, he allowed Sammael to lead him deeper into what was effectively a voluptuously decorated orgy room.

All around were male and male-identifying people. They were drinking, talking, almost universally nude or nearly so, and many were actively engaging in a variety of sexual activities. Kristian made eye contact with a slender, delicately-featured Felid who was being railed by a Caprin. The Caprin's prosthetic horns, tightly bound chest and clearly prosthetic penis, judging from the straps around his waist, piqued Kristian's interest. The Felid made a lewd gesture to the elk and raised his upper body with lithe sensuality, exposing himself to Kristian's gaze. The Caprin grasped his throat and erotically slid his tongue down the feline's ear. _Uncircumcised, _Kristian noted silently.

"I love this place," Sammael grinned, lacing his fingers through Kristian's.

A few paces further on, as if the Caprin and Felid weren't there, a trio were entwined in each other's arms, coated with the results of what had clearly been a very recent and very productive dalliance of their own.

"Should've seen how hard the Heladian came. I was right beside him, it went off like an explosion." Sam grinned and came face to face with Kristian. "Not as hard as I want to see you go off tonight, though..."

His hands slid inside Kristian's tunic, then inside his chemise, pushing through dense fur.

"Sammel, I..."

"What?"

"I don't know if I can..."

Sam looked shocked, then grinned cockily. "Oh! Did you discharge yourself before you came here?"

"No, I..."

"Did you hurt yourself? You know you should always use oil or something soft, since you don't have a foreskin!"

Kristian's ears flattened and he glowered at Sammael. "Yes, that's a problem, isn't it?" he snapped.

Sam took a step back and reclaimed his hands from inside Kristian's clothing. "No, no it isn't, I did not mean..."

"I... I'm sorry, Sam, I should just go... I'm not feeling myself lately."

Sam watched him go with confusion.

"What did you say to him?" asked a tall, slender Lupa man, sidling up alongside Sammael and sliding an arm around his hips.

"I am not entirely sure, Lukyan. He hasn't been his usual self for a few weeks now. I... I made a comment about his cock once, that I think hurt his feelings and he's never quite forgiven me for."

"Amel's tits, what did you _say?" _Lukyan said.

"It was in jest! He does not have a foreskin, I simply made a comment that his is a lot less sensitive than mine, and... that's the only time I ever said it, but it seems to be growing in his mind like a storm. He always used to be fine with me talking about how we're different. I've always loved it. I didn't know he'd that particular thing so personally, it's not like he can change it."

"Oh, he is circumcised?" The wolf's ears perked forward. "I do not see that often here, perhaps we ought to compare..."

"Aye, but quite differently than you are, Luk," Sam smirked. "His cock is more like mine than yours, he's just had the skin taken back. It's exposed his head permanently."

"Not so different to mine, in a way," Lukyan ventured.

"Not quite," Sam said, reaching down to grip the wolf's member.

Lukyan, who had canine morphology, had had his sheath mostly removed. It left almost the entirety of his cock exposed, knot and all. It pulsed steadily upward in Sam's hand, and the whitetail teasingly ground his palm roughly around Lukyan's blunt tip. It was dry and felt rough in his palm, and Sam was able to treat it with substantial roughness without Lukyan gasping in discomfort or pulling away. On a level, he enjoyed that.

"Kris needed it, apparently, though I don't know why," Sam continued, staring at the wolf's erect penis and turning into him to bring his own alongside it. "He and his twin brother didn't have it done until seven years ago, he said. You can tell, too, yours is all dry and leathery and looks like it was hacked off with a scythe, but Kristian has a scar halfway back along his shaft which is tight and straight, and still bright pink above the scar. It's actually very pretty, but he won't believe me when I tell him so."

Lukyan snorted and nipped playfully at Sammael's ear, knowing which of the stag's buttons to push. "You should come and oil up my numb, dried out cock then, little stag... I can hardly feel your hand, except when you treat my knot as if you're trying to uncork a bottle..."

"Don't tempt me..."

"I make no promises..." Lukyan grinned, curling his fingers around Sammael's cock in retaliation as it rose to erection again, sliding his supple foreskin back and allowing his fingertips to dance over the intensely sensitive, tender flesh beneath.

Sammael gasped and bit back a wince. Lukyan spat into his palm and returned it to Sammael's cock, wetly polishing the stag's glans.

"Oh fuck... Luk... Alright alright, come on..."

*

Kristian sat on the edge of the Artisans' Guild Canal a few hundred paces from the Hairy Fig. Even from such a distance, he could hear the raucous laughter, lively music and susurration of the patrons' conversations. A loud splash and a cheer indicated that someone had been involuntarily removed from the establishment and given an undesired bath in the canal. Kristian watched as a drunk and bedraggled figure dragged itself out of the water onto the far embankment, shouted slurred abuse at the Fig, and stormed off into an alleyway.

Why had he reacted the way he did to Sammael? Kristian was conflicted. He'd never felt this way, before. He'd always been _proud _of his circumcised member. Indeed Sam's interest in it had always been a confidence-booster for him. The obvious two-tone effect of his shaft and the permanent exposure of his glans seemed erotic to Sammael, and to many others, as well. Yet here he was, pushing his friends away and being aggressive, defensive and impenetrably tied up in... in what? Did he hate his equipment? Kristian wasn't sure. He was certainly sensitive, that much was obvious; walking around normally, he was always subliminally aware of the soft friction of his clothing on his glans, and erections in his clothing had the potential of being intensely pleasurable. Sammael's comment had been objectively false.

But on a level, he felt as if something was missing that had suddenly been brought into focus.

And that felt wrong. Self-interested. Petty. He knew that he'd been cut for a good reason. It wasn't punitive, it wasn't even for some arbitrary cultural or religious purpose, as most were. He wanted to return to the same sort of cheeky hedonism he'd become used to, to forget... whatever it was that had triggered this frame of mind, lately.

Slowly, the elk rose to his hooves and dusted off the seat of his trousers. The streets of Stillwater Cove were lit by lanterns at regular intervals, maintained by the Lightkeepers' Guild. By their faintly greenish, golden glow, Kristian walked home, along familiar streets to the row-house near the coast that he shared with his twin brother and father.

*

Firelight flickered in the lattice windows of the Hirschkoff house, and from within Kristian could hear the sound of his father playing the bellowpipes, and his brother's voice raised in song to the rhythm of a bodhrán he played. Music was an important form of entertainment for families and friends, and many people played an instrument of some kind. Kristian ducked his antlers beneath the threshold and closed the door behind him. Dieter and Bruno sat in the downstairs room at the sturdy table and chairs built by Bruno. The remnants of the day's bread, a bowl of roasted vegetables, a hunk of hard cheese and a jug of ale with three cups sat on the table. As he entered, Dieter finished his song and sat down, and Bruno cleared the bellows of his pipes with a discordant wheeze.

"Kristian!" Bruno exclaimed. "Come on, we were wondering if you'd come home! We haven't begun to eat yet."

"Aye, I was going to eat at the `Fig, but I uh... decided against it," Kris hedged.

"Shoot your shot too early and got embarrassed?" Dieter posited, with characteristic bluntness.

Kristian snorted. "Quite the opposite, thank you!"

Kris sat at the table and allowed his father to pour him a cup of ale. It was a dark, foamy brew from an alehouse a short walk towards the docks, and Kristian drank deeply. Dieter allowed his cup to be refilled, evidently not for the first time given his mildly slurred speech.

"Oh," he observed. "Couldn't get it up? That's unlike you, dear brother."

Kristian was silent, but glowered at his brother over the rim of his cup.

"Well, whatever the reason, please, eat," Bruno said, glancing back and forth between his sons. "I hardly need to imagine the nature of your exploits, Kristian, you're usually quite forthcoming about them!"

Kristian grunted. His father was right, of course; until quite recently Kris had made no secret whatsoever of his proclivities or the realisation of them.

The twins and their father ate until the food was gone, and drank until the ale jug was empty, refilled from the barrel in the larder, and emptied again. Dieter had consumed substantially more than his brother, and while Kris quietly played a tune on a flute Bruno had carved for him, Dieter's head sank to the table. Between them, Bruno and Kristian hauled him upright and carried him upstairs to bed.

"I didn't think he drank that much," Bruno observed guiltily.

"Not... dunk. Jus' ...tired..." Dieter slurred.

"If you say so," Bruno chuckled.

Back downstairs, there was silence between father and son as Kristian and Bruno stared into the fire together. Kristian played a few listless notes, and Bruno gazed at the younger elk with a knowing glint in his eye.

"Have you had enough ale to tell me what's been on your mind, yet?" he ventured.

Kristian took a breath, held it, then let it out in a grunt. "Maybe. It's... I don't know, it seems so petty, I shouldn't be upset about it in the slightest."

"Try me. I've had enough ale that I may forget by tomorrow."

He hadn't, Kristian knew that.

"How would you react if I told you it's an _intimate _concern?"

Bruno's eyebrow rose. "Not the pox?" he said in a loud whisper.

Kristian couldn't help but laugh. "No! Nothing like that, thank Dytaea."

"I am reasonably sure it's Ysion you should be thanking, there!"

"Aye, but Dytaea is the patron goddess of men who love men," Kris retorted with a little smile.

"But Ysion is the god of healing and medicine...?"

"Which I do not need, thank Dytaea! Besides, Ysion is a judgemental old fart with a lyre and a fetish for being a complete know-all."

Bruno laughed, then. "Aye, alright, I'll hand you that one. Thank Dytaea my son does not have the pox! So what _is _the problem, then?"

Kristian began speaking several times, and Bruno waited patiently.

"Alright. I really don't know why this is troubling me, but it is. It's about not having a foreskin. It just... feels like something is... different, about it. From other people."

"Well, it is different. I presume that most of the other men you encounter have not had it cut, and that's making you feel insecure?" Bruno suggested.

"I suppose so," Kristian shrugged.

"But it's more than that. Because I know you've been 'encountering' other men for longer than you've been obviously troubled by this."

"Yes... I... I know it was necessary. I remember that. And I know you wouldn't have let those medicars near us unless they needed to be there. But..."

"Take your time."

Kristian stood and went to the larder, where the ale barrel was, and poured himself another cup of ale, and one for his father. Their cups clinked. Kristian drained his cup in one go, refilled it, then sat down at the table again. Then the floodgates opened.

"I just... I'm repulsed by it lately. I resent it. I feel like something's been taken from me, although I _know _it wasn't for the wrong reasons. It feels as though something's missing; the skin hardly moves and I have to really _work _it to feel good, compared to someone with more skin, and I'm _noticing _that. All it took was for that dumb slut Sammael to comment that my cock is numb compared to his, and that did it. It's been months, and I can hardly even look at myself without feeling... just... I don't even know what I feel! Like it's ugly and disfigured. It never even occurred to me that I was less sensitive until that moment, but it's been on my mind ever since."

Bruno listened attentively, his face carefully expressionless, although his eyes flicked downward occasionally in thought.

"You feel anger, but there is no one to be angry at, because it wasn't done against your will or for no particular reason. You feel loss, but your loss cannot be articulated because what you had to begin with was troublesome, and if you hadn't had your foreskin cut, it would likely have needed to occur later after a masturbation-induced injury. You feel insecure because almost everyone around you has a foreskin or a prepuce of some kind, even if modified. But you have something else, and someone has drawn attention to it in a new and unexpected way. And some people probably wrongly assume, because you've had a complete circumcision, that we're all Arahan's ass-kissers and slice off each other's dicks because some puritanical lunatic five centuries ago had a fetish for it."

Kristian gaped at his father.

"I mean," Bruno continued, "that's why _I _was circumcised, anyway. Puritanical lunatics. I was born in an abbey hospital outside Habury, and they just... did it there and then when I was two weeks old, no questions. Your grandmother was furious, I'm told."

"I can't... I mean... I knew you were circumcised too, but... not like that," Kris said quietly. "I'm so sorry, Dad."

"Shh, come here," Bruno said.

He stood and opened his arms and Kris stepped in, allowing his father to embrace him. "I don't mean to belittle your feelings at all. What happened to me was forty-five years and half a continent away. The point of me saying that was that I know how you feel. I had a period at around your age where I was deeply resentful of having been cut. That's how I found out how it happened, because I was directing my rage at my parents. I didn't know they didn't order it until they told me so. So believe me when I say I have _thought _of all of this. Extensively."

"I just feel... helpless. I can't change it and I don't even know that I'd want to, especially if the alternative was to have back exactly what was cut. There's no outlet for any of this negativity, but it feels so... selfish. All I want is to feel the way I used to about it. You... you're right, though. About the anger and resentment having no target. And the insecurity... that's the hardest part, because it's not me. It seems so petty and stupid to be so caught up in it though; the world is so vast and life is so much more than what your cock looks like, but..."

"Now _you're _belittling your own feelings. Stop it."

"Yes, Dad."

Bruno drew back from Kristian and held his son at arms' length. "Ahh, it's hard seeing you like this, Kris. Why, I remember when you and your brother first... uh... became young men, shall we say. I hardly saw you for days on end."

"Dytaea's tit's, Dad," Kris muttered, flattening his ears to his skull. "I'd forgotten that. Gods that's embarrassing."

"To most maybe. Don't forget I'm biologically not your father, though; that part of a father's brain which would be repulsed by that doesn't exist for me. I found it endearing, and still do. You were proud of yourself and had no particular reservations about enjoying your body whenever you were home. Most folks do that furtively in absolute secrecy, but between the three of us there's never really been that barrier, has there?"

"I definitely remember the phials of oil that suddenly started appearing in our bedroom. Fuck, I should _not _be getting an erection over this," Kristian muttered, then clapped a hand over his muzzle, his ears burning so hotly he thought they'd catch fire.

Bruno laughed heartily and made a point of looking at Kristian's crotch, at the ridge of firmness growing towards his hip.

"Dad!" Kristian bleated, covering his crotch with his other hand.

The elder elk drew Kristian in for another embrace, and this time held it for far longer.

"Now. Let us clear one thing up right this moment, Kristian," Bruno rumbled, directly into Kristian's ear.

Bruno took one of Kristian's hands and manipulated it until one finger stood straight and erect, a facsimile of a penis. Kristian's eyes went from his father's face, to his hand, then back up again.

"You are not 'missing' anything. You are not incomplete," Bruno continued. Then he delicately touched the tip of Kristian's extended finger. "The only part of you that was removed was the very tip of your foreskin, the part that was so painfully tight, and part of the outer skin, and your frenulum. That couldn't be avoided. But most of the parts that are the most sensitive for uncircumcised men remain, just in a different place, and now exposed. Yes? The main difference is... the difference in skin mobility, and the presence of a scar. But in all likelihood, you have sensitive spots that an uncircumcised man does not have."

Kristian squirmed slightly in his father's embrace, and from the subliminally erotic touch to his finger. He was returning the embrace with equal tightness. It felt nice to be held like that, by a man who he trusted so intimately. And hearing Bruno reassuring him about exactly the thing that had been plaguing his mind for months... it made him giddy. Or perhaps it was the ale.

No, it was definitely his father telling him there was nothing wrong with his penis by the flickering light of the fire. The ale was just the lubricant...

Kristian felt himself throb in his undergarments at the sudden thought of Bruno touching his penis instead of his finger. The subtle friction of the soft linen against his glans elicited a shaky sigh from him and he couldn't help but subtly roll his hips forward to tighten the fabric around his tip. That motion pressed it firmly to his father's thigh, and Bruno gave a soft hum of approval into his ear, one hand slipping down to the small of Kristian's back to subtly encourage him.

"Thank you," Kris managed eventually, mumbled into his father's dense neck fur.

"Oh, I'm not done, Kris."

Kris' ears perked nervously.

"I can't properly help you unless I know exactly what you're struggling to deal with, can I?"

"Are you suggesting that I should get my cock out?"

"Yes."

The bluntness of Bruno's reply took the wind out of the sails of a pithy response. Kris stammered something incoherent and looked into Bruno's eyes. Those eyes, that face he was so familiar with... his father's eyes. No, _Kris reminded himself, _my uncle. My uncle, who IS my father. Shit, it's no wonder I'm confused by these feelings...

"...right now?" Kristian said quietly.

"Yes," Bruno confirmed without hesitation. He was still holding his son's finger, caressing it in a manner that, while it wasn't overtly vulgar, was far from clean.

There was no way out, it seemed.

But if there had been, Kristian thought, would he have taken it? He could simply say no and end it there and then.

He genuinely did not know.

His head swum slightly with the effects of the ale. It was a strong brew. His other head swum in a heady tingle of its own desires, reminding him that he had been very aroused, albeit briefly, by Sammael at the Hairy Fig. And lately, an orgasm had seemed a pale shadow of the full-body eruptions he was used to. He was pent up in a way he'd never felt. Bruno's thigh was firm and warm, and sandwiched his erection between it and his own thigh. He should pull away. Go to his bed and masturbate, and come back to his father tomorrow with a clear head. But he couldn't move. He felt safe in his father's arms in a way he never did anywhere else.

And then Bruno took the lead.

Slowly, with a quiet grunt, the elder elk sank to his knees on the Tyrecan rug that covered the stone floor. Kristian sucked in a sharp breath and covered his swelling with his hand. Bruno's eyes remained fixed to his, even as he gently took Kristian's wrist and guided his hand away from his groin. Momentarily unsure of where else to put it, Kristian rested his hand on Bruno's shoulder. Bruno's thick, hoof-tipped fingers began to work the drawstrings to loosen Kristian's trousers, first the front, then reaching behind him, fingertips caressing over his firm buttocks to release the catch above his tail. Bruno's muzzle was inches from his groin in that moment, and he inhaled deeply.

The cornflower-blue dyed trousers fell easily around Kristian's hooves, and he stepped out of them. Now the only thing preserving his modesty were his knee-length linen drawers, a single layer of thin, ivory-white fabric, distended by his arousal and bearing the subtle, crusted stains of the day's erections. Bruno's hands slid up Kristian's legs, coming perilously close to the outline of his son's member on their way to the lacings at the left hip of the drawers. A single tug of that string was all it would take to expose him.

"Mmh. You smell nice," he observed huskily, pressing his muzzle briefly into the crease at the top of his son's right thigh.

Then Bruno paused, maintaining eye contact with Kristian. A silent question of consent. Kristian nodded imperceptibly. Bruno's fingers pulled the string.

Kristian felt the waist of his drawers loosen beyond the ability to stay up, and the garment began to fall, exposing his buttocks and hanging on his erection as, released, it swung ponderously outward to tap on his father's cheek. He flexed instinctively, causing it to jump, and Bruno gave a hoarse chuckle. His hand moved towards it, and softly encircled fabric and flesh in his warm, wide palm. Fingers curled around Kristian's penis, just holding it against his face for a long moment, breathing deeply through his nose.

"Last chance to back out, Kris," Bruno said softly.

"Says the man who raised me, while on his knees in front of me nuzzling my stiff cock?" Kris retorted shakily.

"Aye."

"Don't stop, Dad..."

Bruno inhaled sharply through flared nostrils, and released the breath in a near-silent groan to wash warmly through Kristian's pubic fur. Was his father as turned on_ _by this as he was himself? It certainly seemed that he was. Kristian's heart hammered in his chest, its pace mirrored in the subtle pulsing of his member behind its ephemeral disguise of cloth. Very, very slowly, an inch at a time, Bruno used both his hands to lift Kristian's drawers clear of his penis, along its length.

Dark fur surrounded the younger elk's root, a thickening of the narrow trail of the same that ran down his abdomen, and a stark contrast to the near-white, velvety fur that covered his chest, stomach, groin and forearms. His shaft was a deep, dusky pink, and reddish-purple veins marbled the bare skin. Below it, Kristian's balls hung loose and low within a scrotum of the same near-white fur as his abdomen. The rich, subtle musk of a day's work rose like incense smoke from him, dense but soft, sweat and crotch-musk mingling with the warmer tang of his arousal.

Bruno took his time. His fingertips caressed in a delicate plucking motion at Kristian's glans through the hanging fabric of his drawers, coaxing the linen a tiny fraction at a time along his son's rod, ever closer to falling and completely exposing him. A little over halfway along the younger elk's shaft, the texture of the skin abruptly changed. The scar was neat and straight, marked by a faintly darker band of tiny striations. Above the scar, Kristian's inner foreskin was a substantially brighter pink, pulled taut by his erection. Kristian swallowed heavily. His father was staring at it so intently, drinking in every tiny detail of it. Indeed Bruno paused for a long moment simply to gaze at his scar. His fingertips danced over it, and his lips brushed delicately against the side of his cock, a feathery kiss that was so light that it may have been accidental. But the look in his father's eyes told him it was no mistake. Kristian flexed again, firmly, and turned his hips very slightly towards Bruno.

Bruno's fingertips returned to Kristian's tip, again softly tweaking the fabric forward until the only part of him it covered was his glans. Then he took hold of Kristian's drawers and pulled them sharply off. Kristian's cock flicked upward, divested of the weight that had been pulling it down. Far from instinctively covering himself up, Kris' hand tightened on Bruno's shoulder, and he subtly pushed his hips forward in a fog of arousal.

"Ye gods, look at you... I've never seen it this closely. Kristian, you have a _beautiful _cock," Bruno said, his voice a little husky with arousal of his own.

"Dad... I..."

"Shh. Let me examine you."

Kristian shut his mouth.

Bruno's hand moved to delicately surround Kristian's member. Kristian exhaled shakily, and a droplet of precum bloomed at his urethra. Bruno swiped his thumb over it and slid it downward beneath Kristian's glans, along the cleft beneath where his frenulum had been. It was smooth, but as Bruno's thumb pressed upward, nerves tingled and caused Kristian to flex involuntarily. His glans flared slightly, deepening to a taut, shiny purplish-pink. Bruno's other hand slid up the back of Kristian's thigh to his buttock, and Kris felt his father's fingers splay across the tight, toned globe. His father's cheek was resting softly against his hip, his muzzle brushing erotically against the side of his penis, while he tenderly touched it.

"Now. If even such a delicate touch to your frenulum caused that reaction, I think it's fair to say that your penis is _not _numb, not in the slightest," Bruno said with a chuckle.

"Yes, but..."

"Kristian, your glans has been exposed for seven years. Before that you'd never even seen it. Of course it's going to have lost a little of its surface sensation; it's dry and unprotected most of the time. But all that sensitivity is still there; it's just not quite on the surface. See how your glans is a little rough and has a slightly leathery texture when you're not... this erect? If it didn't have that, it would be impossible to even walk around without discomfort. Your body seeks that balance on its own."

Kristian listened silently, trying to calm his racing heart. Bruno was very slightly, very slowly stroking him, moving his hand over the taut skin of his penis, bumping up against his coronal ridge. Kristian had almost no skin mobility at all. His hand slipped and bumped against his son's ridge, and Bruno paused.

"Goodness, you're tight."

"Y-yes, I know," Kristian said, with a sigh.

"It's fucking beautiful."

Kristian stifled a moan.

"I am serious, Kris," Bruno released Kristian's cock from his hand to simply stare at it for a long moment. "Absolutely stunning."

"Now, for me," Bruno continued, "while my head is not very sensitive at all, I derive a lot of pleasure from other parts, especially my scar and frenulum. How do you masturbate, what feels best for you?"

Kristian blustered and stammered. "Dad, I...!"

"Everyone is different, son. I gather that you find it hard to masturbate the way most of your friends probably do, by moving the skin."

"I... well yes," Kristian confessed. "I usually... rub the head..."

"Ahh, I see. You're very glans-focused? And does that work for you?" Bruno said, allowing his hand to move upward to surround Kristian's glans. "Mmh. It feels nice in my hand. It's so smooth, and taut... like a plum. Firm, but not hard."

"Y-yes... it usually works," Kristian breathed. "It can be... almost too intense, sometimes... but in a different way. It feels like... I have to _work _it to feel pleasure, but the line between feeling pleasure and feeling... pain, I think? ...Is quite thin."

"I see," Bruno said, ruminating on his son's words. "Some pleasure can be bordering on the painful. It can be exquisite."

He was right. Kristian flexed in his father's hand and subtly pushed forward, forcing his penis into Bruno's grip, which tightened around his glans. Kristian pushed harder. The grip tightened more. His father's hand was dry and callused and _very _strong, and it felt... Kristian put almost his entire bodyweight into his hips, pushing forward into his father's grip. A burning rush of erotically painful pleasure erupted in the core of his glans. His heart leapt into his throat. His legs trembled. Bruno applied a slow twist of his clenched fist around Kristian's glans. Kristian pulled back slightly and then shoved forward. His glans broke through his father's taut, strong fist, and erupted in a sprinkle of watery precum which splattered onto the rug.

"Fuck..." Kristian groaned.

"Fuck," Bruno echoed. "That is... such a beautiful sight, and feeling. Gods, but you're a beautiful young man..."

"Dad..." Kristian bleated.

"With the most beautiful cock I think I've ever seen."

"Dad..."

"I'm serious, Kristian. I adore it. That... was exactly that sort of exquisite, near-painful pleasure, was it not?"

"Yes..."

"It was so intense it made you ejaculate pre-cum, yet it was not elicited with frantic, urgent friction. It was slow and hard. If I'd suddenly began to masturbate you fast and hard, especially with a dry hand, it would have hurt, would it not?"

Kristian nodded. "Yes, but I would have orgasmed."

"Really?" Bruno said with a grin. "So suddenly? For a man who masturbates as much as you do, I am surprised you haven't explored this more!"

"I guess... I get into a habit and stick to what I know."

"Then let's keep going. I want you to learn to love yourself again, and that might mean exploring some pleasure-seeking that isn't orgasm-focused. Your glans can be intensely erogenous but also strikes a discordant note between over-sensitive and under-sensitive. It's one or the other, rarely in between. The underside gives you a nice little rush. What about your inner foreskin and scar?"

Bruno allowed his hand to move down over Kristian's shaft again, until he could form a ring with thumb and forefinger right over the younger elk's scar.

"You... have certainly thought about this a lot, haven't you?" Kris managed.

"Aye, I can't lie, I have. I went through much of the same thought process you're going through, remember? I spent a long time obsessed by it, and not in a healthy way. I researched the procedure, all its variations, and even had a very, very strong fetish for it for some time."

"You... a _fetish? _For circumcision?" Kristian's ears perked sharply forward.

"I felt you throb at that," Bruno grinned. "Aye, a fetish. For the results, not the procedure. I'm no sadist. There is something intensely erotic about the exposure, don't you think? It's almost like a form of exhibitionism in itself, and I _know _that is something you're into."

"I never thought of it that way."

"Most don't. But in a lot of older cultures where it is a common practice, it's a rite of passage to manhood. The exposure of the most erogenous part of your body, a way of displaying it proudly. So... I don't think of it as losing something, but of exhibiting something you've always had."

"Is this how you stopped resenting yours?"

"Aye, in part. But also because I found someone else who was very, very into it."

Kristian thought on that for a long moment. He suddenly thought of Sammael. Whenever they were together, naked, the whitetail's eyes would take every opportunity to rest upon Kristian's cock. More so than any other part of him, particularly when Sam was aroused. Until that moment Kristian had written it off as general horniness, but suddenly he was seeing it differently. Perhaps Sammael was fascinated by his cock for a different reason, as well as being the incorrigible hornbag he was?

"Are you still with me?" Bruno said.

"Y-yes, yes, I was just thinking."

"Good. Thinking is good."

Bruno brought his other hand forward between Kristian's thighs. Kristian gasps softly at the unexpected sensation, but parted his thighs to allow it. Bruno's forearm pressed upward against Kristian's perineum, and the younger elk rolled his hips. Bruno nuzzled his son's hip, and cupped his balls softly from behind. Then he gently enclosed them in his hand and tugged backward. Kristian gasped at the unexpected sensation. It pulled his cock down to protrude almost straight outward, and pulled the skin on his shaft as tight as a drum. The thumb and forefinger ring of his father's other hand, still around Kristian's cock, began to move delicately up and down over the very slightly raised ridge of his scar.

"Dad..."

"Mm?"

"Do that a little harder..."

"Did I just hear a version of _'harder, Daddy' _from you, dear son?" Bruno said silkily, continuing with the very light movement of his fingers over Kristian's scar.

"Dad! _Ye _gods!"

"Say it!" Bruno grinned.

"I am never going to live this down..."

"Your secret is safe with me..."

"H..."

"..."

"Harder, daddy..." Kristian finally mumbled.

Bruno gave a filthy grin. His grip tightened, both around Kristian's shaft and his balls. He tugged and squeezed, and began to stroke firmly over Kristian's scar and inner foreskin, his fingers bumping gently against the back of his glans.

Kristian's eyelids fluttered and his glans flared, but it didn't have the same explosive effect as grinding his glans into his father's fist.

"Do you ever do this? Tug on your balls while you stroke, to pull the skin tight?"

"N-not really... my other hand is usually uh... elsewhere."

Bruno's eyebrows rose. "Are you going to make me guess?"

"Yes."

"Well, if I find one of those spots, I'm sure I'll know."

"You will."

Bruno rumbled appreciatively. "I see... I can feel it on my arm."

"Fuck... Dad..."

"Guessed it?"

Kristian nodded and rolled his hips. Bruno released his son's balls, and slowly allowed his fingertips to trail backward, along the warm, humid and velvet-furred skin of Kristian's perineum, until the fur ran out, and Bruno's fingertips teasingly brushed his son's back door, and upward along the taut cleft of his buttocks. It was an incredibly erotic sensation.

Kristian grunted and pushed his cock through Bruno's hand again, and the elder elk pulled sharply backward on Kristian's cock, tugging his skin taut and holding it back.

"Fuck! Nng..." Kristian trembled.

His skin was being pulled so tight his glans was deforming, pulled beneath the end of his shaft slightly. His sulcus stretched his corona backward, and Bruno delivered a flurry of firm, rapid strokes, a fleshy slap accompanying each, then released Kristian's cock altogether, pressing two fingertips upward against his back door. Kris flexed and thrust into the air in front of his father's face, another sprinkle of precum escaping him as his balls pulled up tight beneath the base of his straining shaft.

"You enjoyed that, I see."

Kristian bleated softly and bucked his hips subtly as the sensation passed. "That... I was not expecting that to... nearly make me cum..."

"Aye, the stretch works for me too. It pulls the nerves in your shaft tight, and simulates pushing into someone. It's why you instinctively shove your hips forward when you orgasm."

"You are... full of these weird little facts, aren't you?"

Bruno just grinned. Then he reached into the pocket of his trousers with the hand he'd been using to touch Kristian's butt. Kristian looked down. The sight of his own cock, with its distinct two-tone and swollen, shiny purple glans felt different to earlier in the day. Better. He didn't feel the urge to look away from it. He was... admiring it. He flexed it firmly, causing it to jump, and Bruno chuckled at the sight. Kristian's eye fell to his father's hands. From his pocket, Bruno had produced a small, stoppered phial which Kristian knew was the same scented oil he sometimes used to lubricate himself, both solo and with a partner. His eye flicked to the groin of Bruno's trousers. His father was erect. It was clear, a sharp upward tent in the fabric. He stared at it and felt the urge to touch it. To feel his father's arousal pulsing in his grip, just as Bruno was feeling his. The fog of arousal in his brain became tainted with lust.

Bruno was gazing up at him. Their eyes met, and the elder elk's gaze fell pointedly to his son's cock. Kristian, overcome by arousal, tugged on his own balls and flexed it firmly. A thrill of pleasure raced up his spine, and his hips jolted involuntarily.

"Ah ah, no touching yourself, Kris," Bruno ordered. "That's my job, tonight. You're clearly very used to just grabbing your cock and going as hard and fast as you can stand it until you cum, but I'm here to help you appreciate what you've got in some new ways. And to remind you how staggeringly beautiful you are."

Kristian was hard as granite, revelling in his father's attention. Bruno uncorked the phial and applied a few drops of the oil it contained to the palm of his right hand. It was viscous and richly scented; exotic, cloying and floral.

"Right now, I want to be the one to bring you to climax," Bruno was saying. "I want you to feel every unique sensation your beautiful, _circumcised _cock can bring you. Even without touching you anywhere else."

Kristian trembled at his father's emphatic use of the word. He's right, _Kris thought. _It IS circumcised, and it IS beautiful... it's MY penis and I love it...

As if reading his son's thoughts, Bruno shuffled in closer to Kristian once again, rising up onto his knees a little higher to bring his muzzle to Kristian's belly height. The head of Kristian's cock was mere inches from his father's chin. And Bruno tilted his head down to stare right into the eye of the snake, just as his oiled hand encircled it. The oil was warm and slick, and Bruno expertly applied it. A brief corkscrew around Kristian's bare glans, then a careful application down to the root of his shaft.

"Feel its tightness, Kris. How beautifully _exposed _your glans is. Straining forward, skin stretched taut behind it, every nerve as taut as the string of a lyre."

Kristian stifled a moan. His father's hand twisted and slid around his cock with delicious, teasing slowness, capturing every inch of it with each expert motion and sensitising his skin with the scented oil. Bruno brought his other hand up to Kristian's base, and formed a tight ring around it, holding his shaft skin as taut as he could.

"I love the way your glans flares when I do this," he rumbled, the heat of his breath washing over Kristian's glans, so close were his lips to the swollen helmet. "It has such a beautiful shape. So pronounced. Even when you're flaccid, sometimes I can see the outline of your ridge through your clothing. It's stunning."

Bruno's hand slid upward over it, fingers sliding across that coronal ridge and squeezing tightly. Kristian pushed forward through his grip, and felt his father's lips on the tip of his glans. His eyes flew open, and Bruno chuckled hoarsely. Bruno allowed himself to tease his son's tip with his lips and tongue, a delicate touch, but one that set Kristian's heart on fire. Kris stared down at the man who'd raised him, who was now on his knees, all but worshipping his oiled up cock in the room they'd just eaten dinner in, as a family.

His balls clenched, rising hard into his abdomen, and he felt the familiar burn of fluid rising along the aching length of his cock.

Bruno felt the impending eruption, and gave Kristian's cock three quick, light, ridge-focused strokes, then let it go completely. Kristian thrust forward and his penis strained, jutting rigidly into the empty air and pulsing angrily. A thick, opaque drool of seed dribbled from him, landing on the tented crotch of his father's trousers. Teetering on the edge of orgasm, Kristian grit his teeth, breathing hard, and instinctively took hold of Bruno's antlers. Bruno's tongue flicked across Kristian's frenular cleft, the smooth valley beneath his glans, and captured his son's leaked cum.

"Beautiful," the elder elk murmured again.

"Gods, you absolute tease..." Kristian groaned, as his edge subsided.

"Next time, I may not stop."

"Please don't."

"How are you feeling?"

"Incredibly, unbelievably turned on."

"I mean about your cock."

Kristian gave a strangled bleat and thrust into the air again, flexing his cock hard.

"Much better, I gather?" Bruno murmured. "Good."

Bruno's hand returned to his son's oiled cock, and this time applied only a very light touch, focused on Kristian's glans. His palm twisted and circled around it, polishing it with the scented oil.

"Your cock is not numb, Kristian. Even if the surface nerves are a little dull, all it takes to truly _feel _it is...a little pressure..."

As he spoke, in a low, husky whisper, Bruno tightened his grip. Slickened with the scented oil, he stimulated Kristian's glans with his palm and the web of his thumb, it made a delicious wet sound, which mingled almost immediately with Kristian's muffled bleat of pleasure and stammered warning to his father.

"Dad... I'm going to..."

"Show me, son," Bruno said.

His voice was suddenly shaky, and Kristian's ears perked sharply forward as Bruno's other hand dropped to his own groin. His father abruptly yanked open the crotch of his own trousers, just in time for Kris to see him cum, completely touch-free. His father's seed pulsed and oozed forth onto his trousers and the rug between his knees. There was no way Kristian could hold back, then.

With his eyes fixed on that sight, Kris thrust heavily into his father's oiled hand. He braced himself on Bruno's shoulders, and let the wave of orgasm crash over him, sending him into a bucking, humping frenzy that sent thick, heavy pulses of cum jetting through Bruno's fist onto the elder elk's muzzle.

There was a long, breathless silence between the two elk, which was eventually broken by Bruno, chuckling softly and swiping a drop of Kristian's cum off of his eyebrow, from where it threatened to drip into his eye.

"That's my boy," Bruno said.

"You... you didn't even touch yourself and..."

"Yes, I wasn't expecting that. I hope that didn't put you off."

Kristian transferred his hands from Bruno's antlers to the dense, thick mane of fur around his neck, and sank to his knees in front of his father to bring them face to face. Tenderly, he leaned in, and began to lick his own cum from Bruno's face. Bruno closed his eyes and sighed happily, and rested his hands on Kristian's hips.

"The opposite, dad," Kris murmured. "It's what made me cum."

Bruno grunted appreciatively and nuzzled his son's cheek, before licking the droplet of cum off his finger.

"How do you do this?" Kristian asked. "I was... not feeling good about myself, only a short time ago. Now? I won't say I'm 'fixed,' but I feel... different. The way I used to feel. Happy."

"It gives me a rush to make people feel good about themselves. And now that you know how appealing I find circumcised cocks, that probably puts a new spin on it," Bruno grinned.

"It's more than that, Dad, you know that."

"Aye, that I do. I know you better than you think I do, Kristian. And unlike most fathers, I have no reservations about telling my son that he's got the most attractive penis I've ever seen."

Kristian abruptly broke into laughter, and Bruno followed his gaze in momentary confusion.

"There's cum all over the rug," Kris said.

Bruno chuckled. "Not the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last."

"And all over your trousers."

"Mostly yours," Bruno grinned.

"This part isn't," Kristian said, reaching down and abruptly touching his father's half-wilted penis.

Bruno sucked in a sharp breath at the unexpected touch, but allowed it to continue as Kristian hefted the thick member, his thumb softly milking upward along its underside to cause a thick droplet of seed to bloom at his urethra. Kris swiped it up and lifted it without a second's hesitation to his muzzle, where he licked it off.

"You taste nice," Kris murmured.

"So do you, son."

"You're getting hard again..."

"I'm not the only one..."

Bruno reached once again for the phial of oil, and as he did so, Kristian captured his father's cheek in his hand.

"I missed a spot," Kris said, with a smirk, and leaned in.

Their lips met, and the phial of oil fell from Bruno's hand onto the rug, as their bodies came together, entwined into a passionate embrace.

*