Hunter (M wolf / M horse)
This is a little vignette (ie an uber-short ditty) I pecked out yesterday afternoon for fun. Nothing special - completely plot-driven fluff designed to get one dude's dick into another dude's ass. And yes, Downtown is an actual gaybar in Chicago. Enjoy.
~V.
*Hunter *
by
Vaille
You know that guy who has a knack for getting everything he wants? That's me. Now some say I'm out of touch; that I let it go to my head. Nah. Not in the least. Behind the bravado, swagger and large wads of cash, I'm really just an ordinary, down-to-earth wolf. Just so happens that I know how to play cards at the big boy's table, that's all. It got me my ride and a posh pad in one of those ritzy Goldcoast high-rises. It gets me tail. Find me a twink and I'll have him rockin' on tap in fifteen or less. Guaranteed. Don't hold it against me. It's always been this way.
I was strolling down Michigan Avenue, scoping for my Friday-night lay, when a particular piece of ass caught my eye. It belonged to a well-built stud - a Clydesdale - and every bit a hick by the look of him. His head was swinging this way and that, gawking, as he turned about in a slow circle, frazzled by the glitz and glamour of the Magnificent Mile. It was really quite comical.
The big pony tugged at his chin whiskers as I padded up to him. He was cutie. Adorable, even. His fur was a mix of deep chestnut and brilliant ivory. Feathering puffed around his wrists and ankles. He wore tight blue jeans that amplified all the right bulges and hid the wrong ones. His shirt was a red and white button-down pocket-plaid. It looked perfect on him.
Holy fuck, you so _gotta bed this..._I thought to myself. My eyes flicked from the scruffy horsetail covering his tight rump. Our eyes met for the first time. "Hey man, lost? Need some directions?" Not the most original line, I know, but judging by his appearance, I wasn't exactly dealing with a gay-boi debutante, either. No reason to put more effort into this than was necessary. Besides, I had no idea if he was homo, hetro or something in between and I wasn't about to have my ass handed to me in the middle of Michigan Avenue because I hit on some hayseed who just so happened to be straight.
"Huh? Oh, hi. Yeah..." he started awkwardly in a whickering drawl. "I was lookin' for a place called 'Downtown'. I thought it was s'posed to be off Michigan, but I been hoofin' it back n' forth for an hour now and I just can't seem to find the place."
"Downtown? The club?" I asked.
The horse nodded. "Yup."
Hope blossomed. A hint of smile slicked its way across my muzzle. "Eh, you're too far east, bro. Downtown's up on State Street, not Michigan Avenue. It's actually a really nice place, definitely swankier than the dives over on Halsted, that's for sure."
"Halsted?"
"You're not from around here, are you?" The question was rhetorical.
The Clydesdale shook his head. "Nope. Is it that obvious?"
My smile crept into a smirk. "Yeah, kinda. But that's not a bad thing," I said as I took him by the arm, guiding. "Not a bad thing at all. Now...you know about Downtown, right?"
My piece of pony ass quirked his muzzle and glanced up, thinking. "Uh, a buddy of mine said it's a good place to relax and unwind. 'Bout it."
"You'll see when we get there," I said with a chuckle. "You meeting anyone there?"
"Nah."
"You are now. Lemme buy you a drink or three. Whadya say?"
"I've been fixin' for a drink or three so that sounds like a plan," the Clydesdale said over the clomp of his heavy hooves. He offered me his hand. "I'm Hunter, by the way."
I took it into my paw and shook. "Terrance," I introduced. "It's a pleasure.
"Likewise."
As we walked, we chatted. I learned Hunter was in Chicago for the week from Nowhere, Nebraska for some shitty agri-con over at McCormick Place. He was 23, worked on a farm and was really into country music, particularly the crooning of some asshole named Trent Taylor. I'm sure Trent's tunes are chalk-full of angst over the pickup breaking down, the beer running out, the dog dying and his bitch leaving his loser ass for no reason at all. I'd bet on it.
Between grunting the occasional "Yeah" and "Uh huh," my mind wandered. In my head, I held Hunter by the ears, guiding him slowly up and down on me. His warm, wet muzzle was wrapped firmly around my dick, sucking, while his soft, pink horse-tongue eagerly polished my knob. Equine fingers tickled my knot, danced across my balls. Oh, how it'd feel to cum in his mouth. Spurt after spurt, my heavy wolf-spunk trickling down that long throat in runny, gloppy wads...
"...but if you ask me, Taylor should have won Album of the Year for Pickup of Love but they gave it to Trixie Cole instead. Talk about a complete travesty." Hunter was animated, talking with his hands.
"Yeah, sounds like it," I replied, tuning in. At this point, I had no idea what the hell he was carrying on about. Didn't care, either. A vague visual flashed through my head - my semen dripping from his chin. Wonder what it's gonna look like dribbling from his tailhole? I thought through a grin. With a quick shuffle-step, I adjusted the stiffness in my pants. God, I needed to fuck... "It's right up here."
We stopped under the black awning and snapping rainbow flags. An alleyway to the left. "Hey," I said patting the pack of cigarettes in my left breast pocket, "I'm gonna catch a smoke real quick so I'm gonna go around back. Going inside or you wanna come with?"
The big pony shrugged, smiled. "Sure, I'll join you."
I lead the way through the alley. No sooner did we round the corner than the horse shoved me against the brick wall and plastered his muzzle against mine. His clumsy hands nimbly undid my fly and yanked my jeans and underwear down around my knees, exposing my hard-on. He palmed my balls and squeezed them. I yelped into his mouth. He broke the kiss. Licked my nose. My chin. Drew down my chest, nosing, breathing me in. My paws settled behind Hunter's ears as he dropped to his knees. Lips touched my dicktip. Slowly nibbled. Then he went down on me.
Hunter had done this before, of that I had no doubt - the horse sucked cock like a pro. He bobbed and twisted, throated and hummed. His muzzle felt like velvet around my meat, his tongue like silk. I relaxed, pinned against the wall, and let him blow me. I didn't want to, but I came in his mouth. Couldn't help it. He was so fuckin' good. And the bitch swallowed it all.
His mouth left my shaft with a parting kiss. I'm canine and multi-orgasmic. That little peck to the tip of my pecker set me off yet again. The first two shots went clear over his head while the third hit him between the eyes. My seed leaked from my dick, dripping thickly onto his nose. "Sorry..." I said breathlessly. "Couldn't help it."
"Guess I'm just that good." A devious grin.
"Oh fuck yeah, you got that right..."
His hands went to his belt buckle, unfastening it and the button behind it. He pulled his zipper down. Thumbs hitched his belt loops. Tugged. His jeans cascaded to his hooves, followed by his briefs. The horse was hard and he was huge, his cock larger than any I'd ever seen before. His musk soaked the air. It was so strong I could almost taste it. Our eyes locked. I could smell my seed in his fur. My dick ached, my knot was swollen, my shaft felt like hot iron. Instinct took over.
Pulling the horse to his hooves, I swung him to the wall. Instantly, I was on him, under his tail and pushing. He grunted and snorted as I tapped his ass, shoving myself in all the way to my knot. Our hips began to rock, balls began to sway. I pounded that pony, fucking him hard and fast, just the way a good dog should.
Within a minute, I had Hunter moaning and squirming. I amped it up. Gave him a reach-around. I came in him and came again, but I resisted the urge to tie. The horses was hard as rock in my paw and leaking like a faucet. I used his juice to lube up his dick. It was hot and slick and smelled exquisite. I couldn't resist. I licked my paw. Tasted him. Salty and sweet.
Hunter started riding my dick like a power-bottom. He'd buck into each thrust; clench when I withdrew. The horse was fucking me as much as I was screwing him. His dickhead flared. His body twitched. He snorted. A hoof stomped the ground. Hunter started to squat, pulling me down and under him. I could feel his hole stretching around my knot. The horse held it there. The pressure on my organ was incredible. With a grunt, snort, he jerked. My knot popped inside the horse's ass. At that instant, pony cock throbbed. The throb became a pulse. Then a spasm. In that alley, we erupted together, a geyser of horsecum painting the wall as my cock unloaded into his tight, used rear.
After our climax, we settled down against the wall together, tied. I could feel myself dripping from him, onto my sheath, balls and thighs.
"You know, I always get what I want," the horse drawled. "From the moment I saw you across the street from the convention center, I knew what I wanted to do. You."
I laughed. "You're kidding, right?"
"Nope. Know what else I want? You, with me, in Bartonville, Nebraska."
"I dunno. I have a hunch the nightlife there sucks..."
"What if every night came with a promise of sloppy horse sex?"
"Then I guess we'll both get what we want," I said with a grin. My dick slid from his ass.