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Hehhey, everyone!

After way too long a pause...here's another little instalment to my magnum opus to be...just something I envisioned, and I wanted to share with you. I hope you'll enjoy the read, and leave me your thoughts - I do find your feedback most interesting!

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We drove back to the farm in almost complete silence. Brock told me to drive, so I did, taking the occasional glance at him on the front seat. He sat stiffly, one paw over his muzzle, and stared into the sweeping road ahead of us. He was so tall and the Dodge was so small that his eartips touched the ceiling.

I didn't know what to say. He hadn't really been talkative since...since everything that happened in the bar, and I didn't really want to try, either. I knew we'd have to try to get some sleep before tomorrow, when we'd have to start on the long drive back to the base, the weekend over.

I parked the car in front of the empty, dark house. Brock got out of the car and seemed to stagger when he landed on his footpaws. One huge paw grabbed the edge of the door and steadied him for a moment, his head held low...jaws moving, making chewing motions. For a moment I wondered if he was fighting off the urge to barf, but it seemed to pass, and he stood upright again.

"Gotta take a nasty piss," he said, heading into the darkness.

I felt a similar urge, but did my business onto the corner of the house while disappeared somewhere into the darkness. I was back to my pants and through the front door before he came in. Brock announced himself with lots of rattling and colliding with a doorway before he appeared, too, having come through the back. The dirty windows offered very little in the way of the moonlight outside, but my eyes worked enough to make out his shape, leaning against the wall heavily.

"Better get some sleep then huh?"

"Yeah," he said.

I managed to find the doorway to the downstairs bedroom and made for it, followed by the brooding shape of the Dobie grunt whose home this was. My legs felt heavy, and my head, too, from the alcohol, from everything.

I didn't get anywhere close to the bed before Brock suddenly pulled on my arms and pushed me heavily against the wall, his body plastered on me, paws gripping wrists while his muzzle closed around mine.

I tensed and let out a grunt, and my cock went from limp to maximum hardness in the space of the few seconds it took for him to grope his way over my arms and grab my shoulders instead, his tongue pushing into my maw, hot, wet and acrid, exploring inside my muzzle. His breath smelled heady, he smelled sweaty and dirty and masculine, and soon he had me panting through my nose while our bodies rubbed together, he insisting on grinding upon me like that.

"We...we gotta sleep..."I complained, just once, but he silenced me by biting my chin.

I growled...it almost drew blood, and I grimaced, even when he grabbed me again and threw he about, pushed towards the bed. I almost stumbled, and hit my knee on the edge of the old bed, before we landed on the ancient mattress and his body pressed over mine.

I gripped onto his muscular, sleek back, unable to resist his advances by this point, even if I'd wanted to. This was a madness that he could put upon me, making me do these things men weren't supposed to do together, these dangerous, nameless things that involved his tongue in my muzzle, his teeth biting my neck and his paws gripping my own harsh, toned body.

By God, I was aroused...pressed into that body and with my face and neck covered in his slobber, gluing my shirt onto fur and skin, making me ache with his heavy, desperate-feeling thrusts over my belly. It was as if he was trying to fuck me even now, with our clothes on, doing whatever to feel something...whatever he needed...and I knew that I was going to give it to him like a bitch. There was just no way to stop once he started with me on this, and I knew that he knew...and that he enjoyed the power he held over me, like that. He held me, and I couldn't stop touching him, his harsh, firm paws everywhere...so were mine.

Suddenly it all changed. Quickly, holding onto me, using his own drunken weight for him, he rolled us over, both of us landing on the bed again on a new angle, and I found myself on top of him, his knees pressing to my thighs, paws on my collar, almost tearing my shirt apart and yanking the chain of my dog tags tight so that it bit onto my skin...

His jaws closed around my neck and he sucked, bit, snorted, doing all sorts of thinks that made me yelp and my ears fall flat, until he suddenly released me and just laid flat there, under my body, paws gripping my back on either side of my spine.

"Fuck me," he panted harshly, "fuck me, Jack."

My eyes must've widened, even in the dark, looking down at him to see if he...if he could be serious. He'd never asked...he'd never let me when I asked him if I could...I'd only done it once, when he'd almost forced himself on me...and now...fingers clenching over my collarbones...

"...I don't even care if it fucking hurts...fuck me, Jack...fuck...fuck me...hurt me..."

He pushed his muzzle to mine and with a paw behind my neck, made it impossible for me to speak while he mauled my muzzle with his own, our teeth colliding, we almost bled from that kiss, with our lips bruising from the intensity. His dark taste lingered on my tongue and made me pant through my nose, the only option to catch my breath now that he held us locked, and his body, large and vibrant under me, still moved against mine in desperation.

it went on until he pushed me off him, I, rolling to my back and panting, head woozy from breathing too quickly and only through my nose. The bed began to shake, for next to me, Brock was taking off his clothes, lying down or not, he was almost naked by the time I realized what was going on.

"Brock..." I groaned.

He rolled to his knees, moving in a somewhat groggy manner, but that didn't stop his paws from going for my belt. I gasped at the sensation, the pressure on my groin.

"Brock..."

"Get that fucking cock out and fuck me," he growled.

I lifted my ass obediently when I felt my fly open, and he pulled my pants off, everything, underwear including, down to my knees, in one, surprising yank. I watched him, but in the darkness, I could only really make out his basic shape, his arousal, his panting chest and...the deep, deep musk in the air that was turning me on more than I could have imagined. This was so strange...so erotic...

He let go of me and landed on me again, his hard, huge dick punching my belly when he landed on me, hugging me with his body and licking my face, panting feverishly.

"Fuck me hard, Jack...fill me up...fuck me...fuck me...hurt me..."

His slurring words almost made no sense to me, my skin on fire, my senses burning, but something on the back of my alcohol-dulled mind, something told me that something was wrong, that...that...I didn't know what, but this wasn't how it was meant to be...I just knew that it wasn't...it wasn't really what...what ought to be...

"B--Brock," I grasped his chin into my paw and held it so that I could actually speak to him, "what's gotten into you?"

He thrust against my belly, leaving a trail of oozing hot fluid there, moving so hard that it was almost difficult to breathe with his weight on me, moving so quickly, rapidly, that there was little I could do. I couldn't best him in physical strength, and likely not in mental power, either...I was at his mercy, and I didn't like what he was making me do.

"Just FUCKING do it!" he snarled, snapping his teeth as if trying to my bite on my fingers, "need you to FUCK ME!"

He suddenly sat on me, over my groin and began to hump me with his ass, rubbing his muscled rump over my hard cock. It poked him everywhere, under his tail, against his big musty sack, and he groaned, throwing his head back and moaning as in the greatest pleasure, driving down to me with such hard movements, he could've bruised me if me made a wrong move.

"B--Brock...I panted," I will if you want me to...but...but..."

I grasped at his thighs, really the only part I could reach now, but that did little to stop him.

"Brock!"

He stopped his performance upon me and looked down to me, the light just strong enough that I could see the glistening of his eyes.

"Wuff..." he grumbled.

"I'll do it," I said, "but I don't wanna hurt you...Brock...ain't meant to..."

"Don't you want to do it?" he said. "Don't wanna pay back to all the times I've screwed you?"

He suddenly sounded so harsh, so loud...his ears went flat, I could hear them go flat...and he was suddenly off my body, rolling out of the bed and standing next to it.

"Fuck!" he grunted, head crashing down, held in both his paws.

I saw the tense curve of his back, heard his growls, and just laid there on the bed, panting for a few moments before I got out of the bed, pants around my ankles or not, I tried not to stagger when I moved to him, put a paw on his shoulder.

"Brock..."

"FUCK YOU!" he shouted.

Stupid pants, I thought, as I kicked them off and stood there, only in my shirt, and grabbed his arm now. The Dobie swung around, growling loud and hard, and I felt a paw land on my chest...he fucking punched me, it hurt, my body shifted back and to the side, it really hurt, and he let out a pained yelp when his fist made contact with my body.

"AugG!"

My own sound was more like a "humphph!", and I bared my teeth, in anger and pain, briefly, before my brain worked again.

"STOP ACTING LIKE THIS!" I yelled.

"Why don't you fuck me?" he panted. "I TOLD YOU I WANTED TO!"

"I said I would!" I growled, standing only a yard away from him, so close I could feel every movement of his growling chest, "but not like you asked me to! That ain't right!"

"I don't care if it hurts," he said.

"Well it doesn't have to!" I huffed.

"I don't care..." he grunted, not looking at me.

I put my paw onto his shoulder again, gave it a little squeeze, and drew a deep breath.

"Brock..."I groaned, "why the hell do you think it needs to hurt?"

"Nobody ever cared if it does," he snorted, not looking at me.

"But I...care..."I groaned.

"You fucking queer," he snorted.

"Ain't more queer than you," I replied, my neck furs bristling.

He swung around and for a moment I thought he was going to lunge at me again, but no...he just put his arms around me and pulled me close...kissing me as heatedly as before, but...the violence was gone...it was still there, the want to do whatever he wanted to, but not the strangeness there was before. I still didn't know what to think about it, not really, but it made things feel easier...better...

"Lie on the bed and I'll do it properly," I told him, finally, holding his paws, "where's that oil of yours?"

"Under the bed in my bag," he breathed.

Brock settled onto the old, squeaky bed, and I spent a few moments taking off my shirt and my shoes, and digging under the bed for the bag that contained the small bottle of that foul-smelling gun oil Brock preferred to misuse on my body so often. I had the glass thing in my paw when I got to the bed...and put it carefully by him, as I laid over his body, straddled him, and touched my lips to his.

"Properly..."I told him again, giving him more kisses, "Like I'd want you to do it to me..."

He harrumphed.

"I never do it like this to you..." he replied.

I stroked the side of his muzzle with a paw, and forced myself to be slow and gentle, even with our hard dicks rubbing together between our bodies. I wanted to show him this was the way to go...that it didn't have to be anything like he'd spoken in those harsh words and sounds...that this could be...good...

"I know," I whispered.

He didn't say anything else...not when I rubbed his arms, kissed his chest and rubbed my body to his, letting him feel everything that was me...and for me to feel his body, full of youthful toned muscle, much like mine, but different...touching him like a man shouldn't touch another, but it didn't seem to matter, not in the dark, in this dank room.

I kept stroking and touching his body, even when I moved down along to his belly, and mouthed on his hard cock, wanting him to enjoy this as much as he could, being...in this strange mood that he was, I just wanted to touch him well...he moaned and bucked his hips upwards, trying to drive himself into my muzzle...but I only kept at it for a few moments, not doing much more than that.

"Bend your legs," I said, "get your knees up a bit..."

He obeyed me without a word, the new posturing rising his rump just enough so that I could touch him, rub soft, dry fingers into the valley between his ass cheeks, trying to make him relax to what he wanted me to do to him, with my fingers running through the wispy hair and over sweaty skin and warm muscle. He tensed under my touch but I pressed a little...rubbed a little...before I braved myself an ducked my head down, to start licking him.

He moaned and grunted, cursed, he said a lot that didn't mean much at all, except that I knew that he liked me doing that rank think to him, kissing his asshole like that. It wasn't so bad as long as you didn't think what you were doing...and he liked the feeling, hell, I knew I liked the feeling when he'd done it to me a few times...of course I'd do it to him.

Listening to him go like that made me feel horny again...the earlier confusion replaced by just wanting to do exactly what he'd told me to do...take him like a girl in heat, even if he wasn't a girl. I finished polishing his asshole and then knelt between his legs, and got that oil out, and poured some onto my paw. I began to rub it over his flesh, and tried to push fingers in, too, before he grabbed my wrist.

"Just make it wet and get it, don't want any fingers," he said, "hurry..."

I couldn't really resist him, speaking like that...how could I...so I just wiped the rest of it over my straining dick and then grabbed his legs...

"I'm gonna put these...up...yeah?" I breathed, almost unable to keep my voice steady.

"Whatever," he huffed in seeming disinterest despite his earlier insistence.

Guess that was Brock being Brock fucking Stahlman again, wouldn't speak up his mind even when he was about to get butt-screwed. I pushed his beefy legs up, his back curling, really exposing me for what was gonna happen, when I pointed myself down to the dent under his balls and felt it give a little under my tip.

"I'll be careful," I whispered.

Brock grunted.

"Shut up with that shit and just do it!" he moaned.

I did obey, it's what he wanted, after all, and began to push.

It didn't really go anywhere yet...he was much too tense and tight and the lack of fingers had something to do with it, too, though that hadn't stopped him before...I just had to heave my body forward again, hold onto his thighs and press again...and again...he hissed...I snorted...

"It ain't going..." he said.

"You need to relax," I said.

"Just push that fucking thing in there!" he growled.

"It's not how it works," I said, gritting my teeth from the feeling of his tight muscle gnawing on my tip.

"SO MAKE IT WORK!"

I shuffled my knees and pushed his legs forward a bit, to make the angle even sharper, and tried again...and again...but he wouldn't budge, not until I really put my weight on it and suddenly...there was a give and I went in.

"Gawddamn..."

It felt like his body was biting down on me, it was that tight...hot and oily...I had to grip onto his legs to try and not to fall over him...my knees felt weak...damn Brock...difficult even in this...

"Erghhh..."

I tried pushing, and pulling a little, and realized it felt good...and realized I'd never done this before...did a girl a couple of times when Christina Yates decided to put me out of my misery just before I enlisted...this was nothing like it. Brock was tight and smelled of a big man and booze, not...not of girl things. And he was so tight...

"Fuck..."

I kept doing the back and forth thing again, the bed squeaking, gripping more tightly to his legs, heavy over my shoulders, just like the rest of him. His dank hole both tried to keep me out and not let me get out once I did manage to get there...a bit deeper now...really starting to pick up speed...sweat and spit rolling off my muzzle...I wished I could see what his face looked like beyond the mask of darkness that only allowed me to hear the sounds he made...deep grunts and huffs...his paws grabbing onto my arms.

It never grew into a true pounding...he felt too tight for that, and I didn't want to hurt him...though soon I had my tongue lolling out of my muzzle...trying to keep it all steady while it was taking more effort out of me than I thought it would...this kind of movement and action...I was growing tired...

"Gotta...gotta do it soon..."I whispered, "you want...the rest?"

I had to ask...I just couldn't...shove it in like he did for me...though I knew I couldn't wait for long, whatever the outcome.

"Fuck me," he grunted.

I picked it up again, driving into him now, and saw his paw drop onto his belly...he was starting to jerk himself off...still fully hard...likely knowing how this was gonna turn out, too, wanted to...well, it helped to distract from the sensation of getting a tennis ball up your ass...that's the only thing it could be compared to, me trashing that thing on the bottom of my dick into his body and leaving it there while panting and grunting and cussing madly, like he did before.

I leaned over him and kissed him, my hips still bucking a little, just as much as it was needed, I just...had to do more, too, taste his muzzle while my body handled the rest, automatically...Brock's knuckles slapping against my abs while he jerked his own meat...then it was just gripping and slapping and growling from both of us when it all boiled up and suddenly juice covered my belly...my own going into him, with both of us barking and saying all sorts of stupid shit while my dog tags rattled against his chest.

We didn't say anything.

We couldn't say anything...we could only breathe.