Wuff in Boots
Wuff in Boots
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A quickie off the queue for
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The clientele of the Butt(on)Hole Club had some very interesting tastes to...boot, indeed, and the Pussy in Boots Night was no exception to the numerous ways the establishment went on its way to make sure that their customers would be happy to come back to spend another dark hour mingling in the musky depths of the nightclub. Just like the Toes of Lust evenings featured an extensive no-shoes policy, the promise of a free drink for everyone appearing in appropriate attire for the Pussy in Boots Night ensured that the place would be packed with horny men looking for their kind of fun.
Aaron was no exception to the fashion rules of the night. The wolf found himself at the bar, where patrons were being served by the usual rather hunky daddy tiger, though today with a theme-appropriate twist. His striped, muscled form was about as bare as usual on the top, his outfit only consisting of a harness with a stainless steel hoop on the front. The bottom consisted of his black leather assless chaps that were adorned by a studded belt about his broad hips, and his tail swung from the sheer joy of going commando under the said piece of hide. His contribution to the kink night was a pair of black highwayman type boots, pointed tips, heels, folded tops that gave him a suitably dashing look - for anyone who got to glimpse his feet when he wandered away from behind his bar to risk the common occurrence of getting his ass groped by wanton denizens.
Aaron was happy to enjoy the eye candy for now, however, while nursing a whiskey in his paw. The black wuff wore a leather harness, leather chaps and black, well-polished leather combat boots to complete his own attire for the night out. The lack of any clothing but for the leather straps about his torso gave many a curious eye something to enjoy. He didn't mind them, but he was intent on minding his own business for now. He did have his own distractions to deal with,
namely the alcohol, and the feel of a horn tickling at his calf.
"That's right, cow boy," Aaron grumbled to himself, with emphasis on 'boy' indeed.
He had reasons for his musings, which were not directed at the sexy tiger prancing his stuff behind the bar, but rather at the large, by nature, bull who was intent on worshipping some wolf boots while he was at it. He was crouching at the wolf's feet, lodged between bar stools and the actual bar in a position that could not have been very comfortable, but whatever he was really concentrated in was more than enough to take his mind away from a painful twinge on his back, or an elbow, or a knee. A heavy muscle wolf combat boot over the top of his head made sure that he wasn't about to move anywhere any time soon, either, considering that Aaron seemed quite intent on keeping his bull acquaintance right where he was, thick bull lips and tongue rubbing over the polished, musky, fragrant, stinking leather of his boot.
"There ya go boy," Aaron mused after another hearty sip of Jack Daniels.
His ears danced slowly, both to the beat of the music that prompted the twinky boot-wearing cheetah go-go boys on the stage to booty shake, as well as well as the slurping sounds of the tongue worshipping his musky feet. Saliva glistened over the thick, polished hide, covered in a dark, dang miasma of spit, cum, piss, sweat, musk, many things that mixed over the bull's taste buds into the heady cologne of a dirty, raunchy male having his kind of perverted fun in the club.
Aaron enjoyed the power he felt over the bull, a bitch at heart, obviously, despite his great physical size. He could tell by the enthusiastic slurping of the tongue on his heavy, reinforced boot that the bull liked nothing more than submitting to men who were stronger than he was, perhaps not in body, but in spirit. Maybe this guy was a real big macho in his everyday life, the one who bossed everyone around, made them do his bidding and they'd meekly follow like the good boys they were...but here, in the dark, noisy club, full of scents, lusty growls and masculine energy, there was no mistaking what he really wanted to do.
"Suck that dirty boot, pussyboy," the black wolf chortled.
He could feel the vibrations of the bull's head, caused by the soft moo his sheer submission made him let out upon the words from the dirty wolf. Aaron grinned and twisted his ankle a little, to press the boot on top of the bull's head more firmly against him. He was going to be getting a reproduction impression of the pattern on the bottom of the boot on his skin by the time this session was over, Aaron thought, with pleasure.
"Heh," the wolf let out a small, amused chortle, an affirmation of his enjoyment.
The bull wasn't speaking. His maw was much too busy playing with the wolf's dirty boot. His cock was as hard as Aaron's was, inside the leather codpiece at the front of his chaps. The bull wore assless chaps, mostly for convenience, considering that the base of his tail bulged with the large black rubber plug shoved up his slutty ass. Aaron had already toyed with that a little, to make sure that the bull's prostate got the poking it deserved. Aaron's own big hard wolf-cock throbbed stiffly in his codpiece while he imagined those wrinkled bovine ass lips spreading to take something fleshier than a mere piece of rubber up the bull butt.
Good times, thought Aaron. With one paw on his snifter, he put his paw into his pocket and pulled out a little special treat. The cigar was a thick, smelly stogie, just the kind Aaron liked to huff at to pass the time in a fragrant haze. The same paw deposited a lighter onto the counter, while Aaron's eyes sought the barkeep tiger busily scrubbing a glass.
"Won't tell if you won't," Aaron noted.
The tiger shrugged nonchalantly and went on drying with his towel.
"It's technically a private event," he snuffled, "not like you're the only one."
"Ya," the wolf grunted.
Aaron's lighter was one of the fancy butane things, practically a blowtorch that burned hot and without leaving any unpleasant residue onto his smoky treat. The wolf puffed in the smoke so that it filled his muzzle and twirled his tongue among the aromas filling his maw.
"Hmmmmrrr..." the horny wuff growled.
The wolf exhaled through his nostrils, slowly until his entire head was swimming in a cloud of smoke. He sniffled and grumbled in pleasure from the extended second paw smoking that could be enjoyed, even with his cigar slowly glowing away between his fingers.
"Lick up, boy," the wolf murmured, pleased with himself, the power he felt at the moment as sensual pleasures flowed through his body.
The bull did as he was told, sandwiched between two rough combat boots holding musky, sweaty footpaws. Aaron certainly had an eye for boots, and enjoyed wearing them a bit more than the average fur, he suspected, but he had nothing going in comparison to the bull who was practically eating his boot away. It wasn't just the leather, too, these boots had seen interesting times in the past, and the leather hide was covered in the residue of many curious past sessions. The saliva turned the sticky, dried remnants into a frothy mixture the bull seemed to have no trouble lapping up and reveled in the rank muskiness that ensued. Nothing seemed to please the submissive hunk more than servicing the aloof wolf sitting practically on top of him, with one boot almost stuffed into the bull's broad maw.
Aaron leaked precum into his leather codpiece, enjoying the show of respect and submission. The pleasure one received from dominance went beyond the physical pleasure of friction that was at the core of most sexual experiences, of course, but this was better because it was mostly happening inside his head. That also meant that it could go on almost indefinitely, without the limitations set upon sexual pleasure by physical stamina. He could savor every moment, let it grow and then keep it up without needing time for breathers in between.
Now he only needed puffs of smoke, sips of whiskey and adjustments of his junk to maintain this state of pleasurable sexual tension and mental relaxation while the rowdier elements of the bar moved about him. The bull at his feet was certainly not the only fur in the club on that night intent on sniffing, licking or outright worshipping a pair of good hide boots. Many just wanted to wear them, or look at others wearing them. Other perks were...circumstantial.
"Hmmmmrrr..." growled the wolf.