FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Like an ebony ribbon of oil carelessly spilled onto a warped, rusted piece of scrap metal, Nevada County Highway RR wound its way haphazardly around crags of ancient stone and between stands of Joshua trees. RR stood for Red Rock, a county that found itself lonely in central Nevada, far from any interstates and, consequently, civilization as well. A tall bluff stretched its arched back to the unforgiving sky, lazing away another desert day.

The road itself was subject both to the hellish heat of the day and the barren chills of nighttime. When the sun set reluctantly over the western horizon, the temperature dropped fiercely, sometimes by forty degrees or more under a cloudless sky. Despite the harsh conditions the Double-R (as the locals chose to call it) was lightly trafficked and rarely needed maintenance. Its smooth asphalt was surprisingly free of cracks, its yellow centerline shining as brightly as the day it had been laid.

The ghost-shadows of passing clouds made their way along the sprawling scorched valley, painting the land in two shades of iron-rust red. They moved swiftly but the air was still and stifling. From a distance came the soft staccato caw of a lone crow, likely in search of dinner. Maybe it was complaining about the heat.

At the intersection of the Double-R and County Road W-M hung a lone stop light, suspended between two ancient poles. W-M was short for Warren-Main, because the road turned into the Main Street of Warren, Nevada, a bustling metropolis of seventy-seven souls. It had not worked since 1996, but no one had ever seen cause to take it down. It was a sign of the lifestyle out here; things happened slowly if they were important, and not at all if they weren't. The power lines attached to it sagged like umbilical cords waiting to be cut. They yearned to be free, just like the person who was staring at them from inside his cramped little office.

Besides the stop light, a few cliffs of red rock and the occasional wandering vulture, was a gas station. Built first during the silver boom to refresh and provide miners with equipment, the site had seen many incarnations in the ensuing years: Pony Express stop, law office, speakeasy, squat house for hippies, porn shop, brothel. Since 1981 it had stayed a gas station, but the sign out front had often changed: Chevron, Amoco, Sinclair, and now Bargin Bin. Some guy in Reno owned the chain, and this particular location made just enough revenue to break even with some pocket change to spare.

Its single pump stood under a metal awning painted in broad green-and-white stripes, the garish colors obnoxious and out of sync with their surroundings. The entire station consisted of the one pump, an office about the size of a Port-a-Potty (at least in the attendant's humble opinion), a junk pile against its rear wall and three long natural gas tanks, shining like brilliant silver sausages with warning placards on their sides.

The sun shone straight down and cast almost no shadows, which was good because Toby had been avoiding the shifting light all morning. He was easy to perspire, and the longer he could put off having to go outside for anything, the better. A grand total of eight vehicles had passed the dead stop light since he'd opened up at eight o'clock-a busy day so far-and two of them had stopped for gas, both serving themselves and not even entering the claustrophobic convenience store. This had left the fox plenty of time to catch up on his sketching, nibbling on a Twinkie to sate his hunger until noon.

Toby had his bare feet propped up on the counter, pondering them as he drew his pencil furiously over his sketchpad. The black fur from his knees on down made for a challenge, especially in the diffuse shade behind the cash register. His pencil flew in circles and short, quick lines. After a few moments he uttered a curse under his breath, drew a big X over the page, and tossed pad and pencil onto the counter. No doubt about it: he was absolutely certain sure that he had never been this bored in his entire life.

"Oh my God, kill me now," he groaned to the water-stained drop ceiling.

Of the citizens of Warren, Toby was one of the few who had ever been more than a county away from his hometown. Having spent one summer in Los Angeles, and now forced to be a gas-jockey this summer, the fox pined for life outside the box of Red Rock County. Day by day he could feel his creativity waning, sucked from his soul by the unforgiving sun and dingy junk food-filled shoebox in which he worked. The sketchbook--which lay half-open on the counter, its contents splayed out like a Chinese fan--contained mostly half-finished pencil works, a multitude of five-minute doodles and page after page of dark X's. He had seen not one piece to completion, and it drove him crazy.

Soon, he thought. As soon as I find a decent school I am gone. I don't care what Mom and Dad say...I need a life! Mom and Dad, who had left town only once for Toby's birth in nearby Mesquite twenty years ago, wanted him to stay and work in the family kitsch shop. They never stopped to consider their son might not want the same thing. So in a way, being fifteen miles from home every day had its advantages. It got him out of the house and away from drudgery, plus he could make enough money to skip out and go to school where there were people who might appreciate him as something more than an unwilling heir.

None of that mattered right now, as Toby sat and watched the dead highway. He would leave when he was ready, but getting through the day without going mad was more important. Sighing, he picked up the sketchbook again, but not before reaching over to turn on the ancient transistor radio to his right. He had a cell phone, but Pandora tended to kill the half-bar he could get on a good day. The device crackled into life with a hiss of static, and a quick twist of his claw proved that, like every other day, there were no radio waves to be picked up this far out in...well, nowhere. Not even on the AM dial, which was all he had to work with. Even NPR would be better than nothing.

Toby turned the radio off and settled for counting himself lucky that at least the small fan in the office worked. He flipped to a blank page and closed his eyes, feeling the gentle breeze in his spiky blond headfur, the only rebellious thing his parents hadn't grounded him over because it would eventually grow out.

Out of the shadows of his mind came flashes of disjointed light, images and color. He sifted through a mental clipart collection, looking for a subject. In a matter of seconds he considered and discarded hundreds of potential objects, tossing them to and fro with abandon. He stopped for a moment, and settled on a nude torso. It floated and rotated, and he took in the curves of muscle, saw the dark cleaves made on its surface by the direction of the light, the detailed pinpoints of the nipples, and each and every strand of fur that covered the form.

His paw flew, outlining the image and then sketching it raw, the details growing more intricate as he filled them in on the paper. Encouraged by his sudden wave of creative energy, Toby watched as the torso emerged out of the blank paper. After a while he didn't even need to think about it; two dimensions became three with deft strokes of his pencil.

All was quiet, save for the scratchings of non-photo blue on paper and the fox's shallow, anticipatory breaths. His brown eyes were wide, clear; finally he felt like his block had been broken.

All of his concentration was centered on the sketch in front of him, but his black-tipped ears perked at the sound of an approaching low rumble from the west. Toby's hearing had improved since taking the job at the gas station, and when the wind was right he could hear a car coming from a mile or more away. He looked up and through the open door, which gave an unobstructed view of where the highway curved and disappeared between two tall cliffs of rock. Far off in the distance, where the sky met the horizon, the blue melted into a ruddy brown dust. The vehicle had to be booking it across the desert to make dust fly on the asphalt like that.

Still reclined in his chair, feet up on the counter, the fox now watched intently to see what was traveling so fast in his direction. The sound was almost lost to his sensitive ears, but then came back full-force as a glint of chrome topped the curve. The flash reflected off the car's windshield and covered the office's interior in stars and sparks of light. Then it was gone in an instant as the big coupe roared around the gentle curve, dust flying behind it in a futile effort to keep pace.

At once the vulpine knew this was no ordinary car, and certainly not one you would want to take for a Gumball Rally-type drive around the desert. His feet left the counter and he stood, swaying a bit as blood rushed to his head. He padded out from behind the counter and to the door, leaning on its frame with his right arm raised for support. He squinted, and the car started to take shape as it rushed toward him, seeming to carry the sun on its shiny surface. The fox found himself hoping the mystery driver stopped for gas.

It disappeared below a rise, only to leap into full view again, barrelling along and straddling the double yellow lines. Like a stealth torpedo, its dark form rook the undulations with ease and deft authority. The car was old--possibly as old as his parents--but damn if he couldn't figure out the make and model.

Toby licked his whiskers. His throat made a dry clicking sound. Even if the car didn't stop, his day had already gotten much more interesting than usual.

The big throaty American V-8 lost volume, signaling that the car would at least slow down. When it reached the intersection, the fox was standing just outside the front door, thinking that it would pass up such a sorry-looking place for better facilities downroad. But, like an afterthought, the impossibly wide front end swerved toward the fox, its matte-silver wheels creating a spray of gravel that fanned out behind its rear fenders and showered the poor old pump.

The driver slammed on the brakes, sending the car into a low-speed angled skid, and the slab-sided coupe stopped in a cloud of dust, its rear bumper less than a foot from the nozzle. Toby sighed, partly in relief, and partly because he hadn't breathed in a while.

Once the dust settled, the fox took a tentative step toward the dark behemoth. Toby approached, almost reverently, taking in the surfaces, which looked to be free of imperfections...not concours quality, but not original either. It was almost too much to see all at once. A relic from the Seventies for sure, it shouldn't have looked that good, and it definitely shouldn't have been anywhere near a sun-drenched desert. Black vinyl over black, it was only after he rounded the pump that he noticed a pair of barely-visible ghost stripes running the length of the hood.

Smiling now, because he actually had something to do, Toby walked around to the passenger side to see the driver. "Hi!" he said in a cheery voice, although he had already begun to perspire. "What can I do for you, sir?"

The fox's smile evaporated when he saw the driver, who stood as he egressed. The tiger was enormous, noticeably older than him and at least a head taller. He raised his bulky frame from the coupe and shut the door with purpose. Even in the shade his gray fur screamed against black stripes, the white of his neck and chest contrasting with the black leather vest and pants he was wearing. A plain gold chain adorned his thick neck, and there were three studs in a line up the side of his right ear. His face was shaded by a black leather driving cap, but when the tiger removed his sunglasses his green eyes fairly glowed the same color as his car.

"What can I do for you?" repeated Toby in a much smaller voice. Although the wide car separated them, he still felt intimidated by the big feline.

"Top it off, I guess, if you want to," the tiger said in a throaty baritone as he removed his driving gloves and turned to walk toward the station. "You got premium, right?" Toby nodded at the broad back and swaying tail, the tiger apparently unconcerned about the answer to his question. "Push the crest on the trunk." And just like that, he disappeared into the convenience store. Nonplussed, the fox put a finger on the regal eagle crest below the trunk and the lid popped open on fancy hydraulics. Not stock. The fuel filler cap sat in its own little compartment, separated from the rest of the space by weather stripping. Definitely not stock.

When he was done (twenty-one gallons was nothing to sneeze at outside of a pickup truck) the fox made his way back into the station, wiping beads of sweat from his brow and off his snout. He made sure to close the door to keep the heat out, and when he glanced up he saw the big tiger sitting in his chair, bare feet upon the counter, looking at his sketchbook. First he was surprised. Then he was mortified.

His ears flushed, something he did whenever anyone else looked at his work, and wondered how to handle this situation. He didn't like anything in that book; it was all junk to him, but he also didn't want to do anything to piss his customer off, even if he had to pay for his already-pumped fuel. A few items sat on the counter: An egg salad sandwich, a bottle of root beer, and a bag of circus peanuts. There was no harm to just let the big male satisfy his curiosity, so Toby decided to wait.

The leather-clad feline hummed an unrecognizable tune as he studied the sketchbook, his head cocking this way and that. He tapped his footpads absently on the countertop, and the fox found himself oddly thinking that the chair would be nice and warm when he next sat down on it. Smiling at such a silly thought, he walked back to the storeroom to get a mop and bucket for the daily floor-cleaning. He rolled the clunky contraption back to the front, where the tiger still sat regarding the pages of drawings. While not looking completely like a criminal, Toby had to keep an eye out to cover his ass in case something happened and the owner looked at the security tape.

Of course, the tiger made for good viewing. He was the most interesting thing to happen to the fox in quite some time.

Toby was just turning around to retrieve some detergent when a deep rumble vibrated the hairs in his ears. It tickled, and they flicked in reaction to such a low frequency. The fox looked up toward the tiger, but his face was hidden by the drawing pad. Slowly, carefully, he crept up to peek around the edge of the paper.

The big cat's face had drawn into a savant grin, his upper lip trembling slightly as he growled...no, purred...at what he saw on the page. Curious as to what sketch of his could elicit such a reaction, Toby looked in the direction of the tiger's gaze, and fought to suppress a low moan of embarrassment when he saw what was there.

It was only a pencil-sketch, but it was something Toby had drawn months ago, in school. He had been in Life Drawing, and the model that day had been an exercise in physical perfection. Toby had taken the time and opportunity to focus all his efforts on recreating the model in his entirety, all the way down to the pubic fur curled slightly around his sheath. At the time, he had only been concentrating on the details, but the more he had looked the more it had excited him. Not only the fact that the model was good-looking, but also the fact that he had actually _drawn _that well. The fox had been trying to repeat that all summer, with no success.

The fox turned away, clutching his face in his paws. His heart beat wildly; he had never meant for anyone to see that, but he had forgotten it was even there. At least the tiger hadn't reprimanded him for his "lack of discretion," as his art teacher had put it. What was the point in drawing a nude figure if you couldn't draw its junk?

With one more rumble his ears tickled so much they flickered, and he shuddered all the way down to his tailtip.

"Hey, kid. What's your name?" The voice had an added trace of lustful vibrato now that erased the condescending nature of the diminutive.

Toby turned around and faced the tiger who, despite his reclined position, still looked just as intimidating. The sketchpad lay on the counter, its dark unashamed lines open to all the world. Toby couldn't help but glance at it, then up at the tiger, his eyes falling for just a split-second on the bulge in the leather pants that seemed to flex of its own accord. His head felt light and airy.

He cleared his throat and managed to speak, "Toby, sir." It felt more like an act of supplication than a polite address to a customer.

The tiger chuckled, his body shaking the chair under its weight. "'Sir' makes me feel a whole helluva lot older than I really am. Why do you think I drive that antique out there?"

Toby's eyes drew downward again, but he forced his gaze steady and welcomed the change of subject. "Yeah, that thing's spotless! But what is it?"

Piercing emeraldine eyes shone youthfully. "That there is a 1972 Imperial LeBaron. Longest car in the country outside of limos in its day. Big ol' boat of a thing, though I mde some improvements. Rotisserie restomod, we call it."

"Dang, it could pass for a Batmobile like that."

"You shoulda seen it when I bought it from an estate sale in Kansas. Dusty as all fuck, but the interior was fine. Only had twelve hundred miles."

The fox's eyes went wide. "How can that be?" he practically shouted, leaning over the counter. "How do you come up with something like that?"

The tiger's paws were crossed over his broad chest. "An old couple. The guy bought it as a present to his wife for their wedding. She drove it for a week and didn't like it. It was too big, she said, so he got her a goddamn Gremlin instead. A Gremlin! He was too stubborn to return the beast, though, so they garaged it until now. Beats me why they didn't sell it, but I don't look a gift horse in the mouth. So now I'm out here, giving her new legs some room to run Got a Dodge Viper V-10 under that hood."

"Dang," Toby muttered again. The tiger's eyes were on the sketchpad again, and the fox knew what was coming. He blushed again, cursing himself for doing so.

On his feet now, the big tiger came around the counter to stand behind the fox. Toby could practically feel the big solid body encircling him, and he knew that if he looked up he'd be staring up at a white-furred chin. It wasn't enough to make him uncomfortable, though. The stomach behind him growled loudly, almost enough so that Toby could feel it on his back.

"These are good," the tiger admonished. "By the way, the name's Thor. Not my real name, but it's good enough." He offered his paw, extending it across the vulpine's chest, and Toby offered his in return. Thor's grip threatened to crush the fox's fingers, but he held on just the same.

"There's only the one that's really good, the one you looked at. The rest are junk I couldn't finish." Toby was finding it a little hard to speak with the big cat standing right behind him. His shorts suddenly felt a bit tight.

Thor chuckled and flipped a couple of pages back from the nude. "Maybe it would be easier if all these X's weren't in the way." A heavy paw came to rest on the fox's left shoulder. "See here?" he said, indicating a model sitting, facing away from the viewer. "On his back, the way you drew the spine? Either that's spot-on, or the model had a perfect back."

Warmth surrounded Toby's face, and he could feel red creeping into his ears. "Actually," he said, trying not to sound too boastful, "I drew that from memory."

"Bullshit." It came out more as a statement than an exclamation. "How do you do something like that from memory?" He cleared his throat, challenging the little fox to answer.

"I don't know; I just pick something out of my mind and concentrate on it. Once I've memorized everything about it, I just start drawing. The rest kind of comes as the picture takes shape. Doesn't always work all the way through though." Toby was surprised that Thor was interested at all in his work; he also hadn't expected the tiger to be so forthcoming. He hated that he couldn't explain himself in a more thorough manner, but it was all he knew. He'd never thought about it before.

Thor flipped forward in the sketchbook again, and stopped when he saw the torso Toby had been sketching when he had pulled up. Considering it for a few moments, he scratched his chin, his eyes glinting and reflecting the bright outdoor light.

"This is very, very detailed, Toby. It isn't crossed out, so I take it you like this one?"

"Actually, no." The fox stared at the floor, feeling the bulk behind him. "I was doing that one when I heard your car coming. I haven't had a chance to finish it yet."

The tiger traced a claw over the lines of the torso's muscles. "Hmm...oh, I know!"

"What?" Toby asked, perplexed.

Thor pointed repeatedly at the drawing, as if he were trying to jog his memory. "I suspected something wasn't right with this, and it's clear to me now. Do you see here, where the abdominal muscles come together?"

The fox nodded, happy to be receiving feedback of any kind, even criticism. Anything was better than a boring afternoon spent alone.

"You have the angle just slightly off. See, you have the abs straight across." Thor turned away and spread his vest, exposing his bare chest. Toby backed away a bit, finding all he could do was stare at the sculpted mass of snowy white fur in front of him. The tiger shrugged the leather vest off. "In real life-" he pointed to himself, outlining his abs for the fox to see-"the muscles angle slightly downward as you reach the side. Here, feel."

Before Toby could react, the tiger grasped his wrist and drew his paw forward. The muscles were solid to the touch, and gently undulated with his rumbly breath. They did, indeed, fall off a bit as he traced their outlines to the sides and down. Except now Toby wasn't thinking at all about drawing correctly. His claw ran over the bumps of muscle, and before he knew it he was just above the beltline of Thor's leather pants. Coming back to the world, he jerked his paw back as if from a flame, heat rushing over his face. He knew his ears were beet-red. Also, he couldn't deny the tightness behind the zipper of his jean shorts.

Thor closed his vest back up and scowled a little, looking down at the vulpine. "Is something the matter?"

Forcing himself to look the tiger straight in the eyes, Toby said, "No, no...I guess I was wrong about the abs. I'll have to fix it later." He smiled weakly, and Thor seemed satisfied.

"Lift up your arms," said the big cat suddenly. Toby had no idea why he should do this, but Thor carried such an authoritative air that he felt compelled to obey nonetheles. He complied, and his shirt was lifted off of him in one solid motion. He yipped in surprise, quickly covering his mouth at the kittish sound.

The tiger looked him over appraisingly. Then he was on his knees, his head level with Toby's navel. The fox stood still, not knowing the intent of his very unusual but very attractive customer, and when he clasped his paws just above his tail, he realized they were trembling. If he couldn't remain decent now, there was no way Thor wouldn't notice. Big, pink-padded paws smoothed down where the shirt had pulled his creamy chest fur against the grain, running up to his neck and down to his belt, his claws even curling under a little bit. Still, Thor's touch was platonic and nothing more.

The wide muzzle smiled, then turned down in concentration, and finally relaxed. "Dang, I was going to say you could practice on yourself if you wanted to draw muscular anatomy, but you're not as defined as I thought you were. Just wanted to check."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault. That doesn't mean you can't find somebody to pose for you, just for practice. I would, but I'm kind of on a tight schedule."

"That's all right. Just you stopping here made my day. Usually I'm lucky if I get to talk to two people a day working here. It's boring. I'm sure I can get back to sketching in no time." Toby couldn't stop the thought of Thor posing from entering his mind, and his sheath pulsed against the cotton of his briefs, right in front of the tiger's eyes. He swallowed again; his throat was as dry as the air outside.

There was an awkward silence from both furs: Toby looking down at the kneeling feline, Thor gazing pensively at the floor. Only the faraway call of a crow penetrated the office's open door. No cars had come since the tiger's Chrysler.

Toby's breath was consciously slow, and he was unable to think of anything to say to carry the conversation. He didn't have to, because in the next moment Thor thrust his head forward, turning it slightly, and bit around the fox's covered hardness. The tiger inhaled sharply, snarling, and let go with a sigh of pleasure. His eyes were closed but fluttering as if he were dreaming...or fantasizing. The fox felt his tip rubbing cotton; his knot painfully obvious through his shorts.

Clearing his throat, Thor stood up, blushing and embarrassed. Toby was surprised to see such an expression on a rough-and-tumble exterior. The tiger turned to the counter, sighing again for a different reason, and braced himself. "I apologize," he said, uncharacteristically softly. "I was out of line. You should not have been subjected to that. I'd best just pay and be on my way." His tone was submissive and distracted.

The fox, still a bit stunned but as hard as ever, could do nothing but watch the big cat as he opened his wallet, fumbled with weak fingers, and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. Toby saw the bill and despaired.

"This should cover the gas and food," said Thor, refusing to meet the vulpine's gaze but handing him the bill. Toby took it but knew it was of no use.

"I can't accept anything bigger than a twenty," he said, and Thor's face flashed past anger, and grew into slight worry. "Owner's rule."

"Do you take credit, then?"

Toby cringed a bit, but his eyes were someplace not on the conversation. Thor was wrapping and unwrapping the fifty in front of his zipper, which still stood out quite easily from the crotch of his pants. "We only take cash," he muttered apologetically.

"Oh, great..." Thor rolled his eyes and scratched behind his head with one busy paw. He sighed a third time, obviously uncomfortable. "I don't know how I'm supposed to pay for this, so unless you have any big ideas we're both screwed." He was looking at the ceiling now, and when the fox didn't answer he brought his head down. Watching the tiger fidget in embarrassment seemed more painful than just getting yelled at by the feline.

Toby was thinking hard, all right...but in a much more obvious way.

Thor put the bill on the counter and his paw into his pocket. He could have sworn the tiger was at least partially hard. Remembering the day with the perfect model, and how he had memorized every small detail about him, he almost whimpered from the uncomfortable pressure between his legs but he dared not move or make a sound. The money problem was all but forgotten for the moment. He licked his lips; his whole body felt dried out and needy. Finally, he looked up at Thor's face, unable to hide anything.

The tiger's right paw came out of its pocket and up over the leather-clad waist, under one sleeve of the vest and pulled the material completely off, so now both furs were shirtless in the stuffy office. He leaned against the counter, the pressure on his tail enough to make his hips jut out just farther than the rest of him. Carefully, and without leaving Toby's stare, Thor hooked a claw on the zipper of his fly and brought it down slowly. The noise seemed deafening in the heavy silence. Following it was a barely audible groan of relief from the tiger.

Toby's eyes were still locked on Thor's, but when he caught a flash of white from a place lower he averted his gaze. As the zipper came down, soft white fur filled the space where black leather had sealed it off. The feline finished by undoing the button on his pants, and it snapped open to reveal its pink-tipped prize.

At last the fox found the strength to speak. Smiling and giggling, he managed, "That's some anatomy right there."

Taking advantage of the comment, Thor walked over to the fox, his sheath bobbing a little further from his body. Leaning in past the russet muzzle, he simultaneously pinched his trapped bulge and whispered in one ear: "I can think of something you would enjoy much, much more, Toby."

The fox was taken off guard by the comment. He knew what the big, handsome tiger proposed, and his cock begged for release. This was certainly turning out to be a good day. "Okay," he said in a breathy voice. He didn't care if the tiger didn't pay at all. He could take it out of his next check. Suddenly getting laid was worth the price of a half-tank of gas and some sundries.

And then Thor was on his knees again. As Toby watched the tiger buried his broad pink nose between his legs and sniffed hard, then clamped down around his concealed member, gnawing up and down its sheathed length and making him meep and yip and erf, all in falsetto. One paw made its way easily under the loose fabric and went all the way to his balls, tickling them with a claw as the other undid his fly. The shorts came open, and soon they--and his pre-stained briefs--were around his ankles.

The tiger took a moment to admire the vulpine's tapered tip before licking its seeping entrance and pulling the white fur around it down and over Toby's growing knot. The fox stared into space now, thankful to be freed from his clothing. Neither paid mind to the fact that a car could pull up for gas at any moment. There were more important matters for the time being.

Thor stroked the shaft, narrow but shapely, noticing its pink surface was splashed with a black birthmark on one side. It was an amoebic shape, resembling nothing, but it was cute. The big tiger kissed it and stroked some more, keeping Toby's leaking tip free of fluid.

He stood up, placed a paw on side of the fox rump, lifted, and carried him to the counter. After setting the fox down, Thor spread his legs so that the vulpine's cock was unobstructed and his crotch fully exposed. The member bobbed slightly and twitched with a quickened, excited pulse.

"Hold on," the tiger warned, and Toby clutched the burly, striped shoulders as he bent down to the fox's most vulnerable area.

Toby saw the broad muzzle go for his length, watched the tiger take every inch down to the knot, but he was beyond belief that what he was feeling could be possible from the simple touch of lips to skin. He was aware of his toes curling under, and the sound of claws being dug into the countertop. The one time he'd hooked up at college couldn't hold a candle to this guy's cocksucking prowess.

Thor sealed his muzzle tightly around the shaft, slowing his movements to an agonizing pace. He started with his lips only, first in a straight up-and-down motion, then added a twist of his head to increase friction and Toby's resulting pleasure. Each of his paws was rubbing a corresponding thigh, scritching as they went, feeling the contours of the fox's lanky muscles and soft buttocks.

Grasping the counter, Toby closed his eyes to the pleasure. It was still only early afternoon, and the strong light penetrated his eyelids. The fur inside his ears and his whiskers swayed in the gentle breeze from the lone fan, and his wagging tongue felt cooled for the first time that day. Beyond the soft whirr he could hear gentle wet slurps and Thor's breathing through his nose as he serviced the fox.

Satisfied that his partner was sufficiently warmed up, Thor struck out his tongue on an up-thrust and caught the underside of the fox's head with its rough surface. He heard a yelp from above him, and suddenly his wrists stung, but he couldn't tell if the sound was from pain or pleasure. Keeping up his ministrations, the tiger settled into a series of strained moans, which meant he was doing something right.

Toby let go of the tiger's injured wrists, making a mental note to apologize later for hurting him. At the moment, however, the cat's raspy tongue was making quick work of him. He placed his palms flat against the counter and thrust upward to meet that wonderful warm muzzle. Since he couldn't touch himself, he raised his head back, out of the harsh light a little, and fell victim to the orgasm that had too-quickly built up in his loins.

Humming in a low register around the fox's cock, Thor slowed up again, opening his jaw wide enough to just take in Toby's knot. His balls drew up tight and the tiger darted his tongue out one last time. The poor fox jerked and held onto the cat's thick forearms with determination, and sprayed the back of his throat with hot fluid.

Toby gritted his teeth and held his breath, only to let it out again forcefully. Little streams of saliva fell from in between his teeth; he felt like he had no control over his own body. The fact was, Thor had all the control right now, and that only intensified the climax. He felt it leaving his body in great spurts, felt the tiger's throat working to swallow all of his seed, that rough tongue caressing his knot and the stretched sheath close to his body.

The rest of the fox's load trickled out as Thor eased off the swollen base before it could trap his muzzle open. He retreated, drawing a lower fang over Toby's urethra to milk the last out. He stood to his full height again, licking his lips and smiling.

"That was one of the better-tasting loads I've taken," he said, wiping himself on a forearm to make sure he didn't miss anything. "Never tasted fox before." Toby's head was lowered, his tongue flaccid and moving with every ragged pant he took. Upon opening his eyes he could see eight deep furrows in the ancient surface of the counter. After catching his breath, he slid off the edge, but his legs buckled beneath his weight. He stumbled into Thor, who caught him before he fell all the way to the floor.

He did fall far enough, however, to bump his nose into a couple inches of tigercock peeking out of leather. Before Thor could pull him up, he gave a few bobbing passes to the barbed member. A loud growl signaled the tiger's assent.

Toby finally got to his feet...and to his senses, pulling up his shorts just as soon as he was resheathed. One last drop of cum glistened at the tip, and the fox swiped it up and onto his tongue, smiling cheekily at Thor across from him. "I've never tasted tiger before, either. I might like that."

Leaning in to keep the fox steady, the tiger whispered in one ear. "I've got a better idea," Thor said, shucking his pants and leading the fox outside by the paw.

"Where are we going? I can't leave the office unattended," said Toby as they passed around the corner of the building and into the clearing of dead brush between the station and the old white well-cylinder. He was practically dragged behind the structure; tumbleweeds scraped his bare footpads. When Thor had gone far enough so that the long propane tanks blocked any view from the road, he turned to face the fox.

"I think you'll be okay." The tiger had a smile on his face. Whatever he was planning, it couldn't be done inside, and that was decidedly naughty. His curiosity was piqued when the tiger asked him, in a hushed whisper, if he'd drunk very much yet.

"I dunno, average?"

Thor whispered even quieter, which seemed hilarious considering their isolation. "You pissed yet?"

Toby paused. "Uh, when I woke up, but not since." But now that he was thinking about it, of course he had to.

"Good."

"Why do you want...oh, no. No, no, no." The fox started to back away slowly, but halfheartedly. Thor followed him, imploring.

"Come on, kid. I'm not out to reciprocate. It's just a thing I hardly ever get to do, and you have a hose right over there on the wall. Is the whole subby thing creeping you out?" The big, built tiger ran his paws through his headfur and laughed in a high, barking tone. He walked up and embraced the smaller fox, holding him in his tight, huge arms. "Please?" Thor did look awful cute, supplicating like that.

Toby didn't have to think very hard. Yeah, it was weird, but who cared after what Thor had done for him? He turned around to answer, but held his tongue when he saw the feline was already naked, kneeling before him, muzzle wide open, ready and waiting. It was funny, and a little unnerving to see a tiger, who had pulled up leather-clad in a big American boat of a car, the very picture of masculinity, submitting before him in the dusty backyard of a desert gas station.

"You're crazy," the fox stated incredulously, and stepped forward while unzipping his shorts again. Thor ran his paws through his chestfur, tweaking his nipples so hard he made himself yowl in pain. Nonetheless, his half-hard cock sprang to its full nine inches, the length emerging straight out from his groin. As the fox released his sheath, a drop of precum oozed from Thor's tip, stayed there for a moment glinting in the sunlight, and drooled to the ground, never breaking. The tiger milked his member, and more added to the small puddle.

One eye scanning around, the other watching the begging cat, and his ears on the lookout, Toby drew the first few inches of his dick out and down, aiming directly for Thor's muzzle. The big cat stroked himself vigorously, his paw slick and matted with pre, and his mouth opened wide. The green eyes focused on the vulpine cock aimed at him, awaiting a rare treat he seldom had the pleasure to experience. He was actually whimpering a little.

"Um, Thor..." Toby was finding it difficult to let himself go. He tried, but his bladder refused to cooperate. "I don't think it's working."

"Fine then," said the tiger authoritatively, reaching out with his free paw and using a light touch to massage just behind Toby's scrotum. As the fox moaned from the massage, Thor extended a claw and dug it into the skin, hard. Toby jumped; his bladder let go in a sudden rush of warm release, and he had just enough time to aim before a stream of yellow fluid arced out of him and directly onto Thor's broad nose.

Seeing the inevitable, the big tiger drew back and let the warm spray shower him from the head down, his broad tongue lapping up whatever happened to land upon it. Toby aimed lower, soaking the white chest, watching the fur mat, the black nipples harden. It pooled in the sheath bunched up around the base of his cock, his paw catching it and flinging urine and precum over the ground in front of his legs.

"Mmmm, oh yeah," he mumbled in between breaths and swallows.

Toby saw the look of pure enjoyment on the tiger's face and began to glean a little bit of what the cat was getting out of this. He smiled and renewed his efforts, aiming to cover the rest.

Thor covered the short distance to Toby on his knees. He rooted around the fox's groin, snuffling and taking in the very essence of vulpine. Then Toby's member disappeared, his paw shoved out of the way as Thor sucked what little he had left to give.

A grunt emanated from his crotch, but Toby paid it no mind. The fox's head was lifted to the sky to release a constant breathy sound that would have been a moan, had it had more power behind it. His right leg felt as if it were in a vice, and then Thor slid off his cock, which had released all it had to give and started to harden again. At last the big tiger exhaled, his body collapsing from the effort of strained muscles. The tiger sat back on his calves and looked up gratefully at the fox, who shook his head in disbelief.

"I really need to do that more often," Thor muttered, looking at his cum- and urine-stained chestfur. There was quite a lot of pale yellow mixed in with the white, and his thighs were dotted with drops of cum.

"That was...different." Toby had meant it to sound slightly sarcastic, but in his mind he had actually enjoyed it...and wondered what it would feel like to trade places with the tiger. At the moment he was too spent to care. "Would you have done this if there hadn't been a hose out back?"

The tiger pulled himself up. "I never do this sort of thing unless I have a way to clean up. I may be a little kinky, but I'm not stupid." He reached down and, with an effort that made his body tense up and give the young fox quite a show, turned the knob. There was a rush of brackish, rust-colored water for a time, then it ran clear and cool.

"There's a well nearby. It's pretty clean," Toby said.

"Could you help me?" Thor handed him the hose, and the fox rinsed him down, watching him alternately dance and shiver, making sure to put his thumb to the spray to jet several sensitive areas of his body. After Thor was satisfied, he held onto the side of the nearest tank and shook himself vigorously. The air burst into a giant rainbow, and wordlessly they padded back into the office, where the tiger squeaked and squawked his way back into his leather gear.

"I still don't know how I'm going to pay for this stuff," Thor said as he held the door for the fox. "I could leave the fifty, but that's an awful big tip, even for getting pissed on."

Toby went behind the counter where the bill still sat, looked at it in the light and opened the register. He made change and handed it back to the tiger. "I'll just go to my house in town at the end of my shift, get change from my parents, and come back to the till. The bill's good, and besides..." the fox jingled something in his pocket... "I have the keys." The tiger chuckled. "People are too trusting in this fucking town. Sorry, I've been here too long."

Something must have shown through on his muzzle because Thor gave him a look somewhere between agreement and pity. "I could tell as much the minute you walked out that door and offered to fill up my car. Seeing your sketches there, I feel sorry for you that you're out here at all. Tell me...why are you stuck pumping gas instead of selling your art?"

Toby almost laughed, but knew it would be inappropriate. He swiped his arm in a wide, encompassing arc. "Look around, pal. All these people want are cowboys, God, and mountains. I'm sick of all three, and I don't even draw the first two. Tell me how I'm supposed to sell anything." He couldn't help the cynical note in his voice, and suddenly he felt very alone.

The tiger patted him on the back, and looked down into his eyes. "I can't really help that, but I can do something." He took out his wallet and pulled out a card. Toby took it and looked at it. "Thor Vaalkson, Talent Scout, The Hammer Gallery, San Francisco" was printed in neat letters on the front. The fox gasped and stared back at the grinning tiger.

"Told you. My boss is always looking for new talent, and I know what he likes. And that just happens to be what you're doing. At least what I've seen so far. Do you use anything besides pencils?"

Sputtering at first, Toby managed, "Uh, yeah. Oils, watercolors, some digital...you name it. I've done a little bit of everything."

"Well, that's great. I can think of a couple people looking for graphic designers out west off the top of my head. What I can't find, my connections can." Thor put his vest back on and took his change. "Say, you don't have a paper bag to put this stuff in, do you?"

The fox didn't respond. He stood there, turning the card over in his paw, at a loss for words. Finally he spoke. "Why are you doing this? I mean, I don't even know you...well, you know." Both males smiled. "Do you think I could finally get out of here? Like, don't shit me. I can't tell if you're serious."

"You look like a nice enough kid. And you really do great work. My boss'll say the same thing. Besides, you're very cute." The fox blushed. "Hey...I like to help out when I can. The world needs talent like yours not to be wasted in the desert. Call me in a week; I'll be in the city. Anytime." The big feline extended his paw. The fox shook it, his grip stronger this time, and followed Thor out to his car.

"You're all topped off," said Toby as he watched the thin tail tuck itself under when Thor slid easily into the wide body. The door shut heavily, the big engine roared to life and settled into a throaty idle. When the tiger saw the fox's lonely expression he gunned the engine a little. Toby smiled at hearing the exhaust note, and they were both okay.

"In a week!" the fox yelled as Thor sped away down the road, dust flying behind the Chrysler as it headed west, to the coast. And just like that, silence took the day back for itself.

The fox walked back to the safe, cooler shade of the office, humming a Beach Boys tune as he did so. Closing the door and sitting back down, he quickly replayed what had happened in his mind. What had possessed Thor to come to this gas station? Why had he trusted the fox to take him up on his kinky request? And why, oh why, did he have to be a talent scout? There was some deeper meaning to all this, but he was satisfied to just let it be.

He hummed the tune absently. His feet went back onto the counter and crossed his legs, leaning back and closing his his eyes for a moment. They jerked to and fro, as if searching for something. Suddenly they reopened, and his muzzle spread into a wide, knowing grin.

The small business card twirled in one paw. The other paw flew over the paper.

10/27-11/12/04

Revised 8/18-8/21/15

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