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So there I was, on my knees in a cubicle in the truck stop restroom, the big trucker wolf looming over me with his fat sheath and balls in my face. His rod was peeking out and growing by the second. I licked my lips, then opened up. He didn’t hesitate to take advantage.

He shoved not only his dick into my mouth, but his sheath too. His cock was thick and, me being a mouse, it meant I had to strain my jaw to accommodate all of him. He grabbed the back of my head and pressed my nose into the fuzz of fur above his sheath. I gripped onto his tree-trunk thighs for support, barely able to breathe or maneuver in the wolf’s grip.

My teasing tongue curled around his cock as it expanded out from its sheath in real time. He tasted how he looked, primal and earthy. He smelled about the same, but a little under-washed, a bit piss-stained. Not going to lie, I loved it.

With a grunt from above, I at last got what I had been waiting for: it started as a trickle, warm and tangy on my tongue, but quickly escalated into a full on hose-down. He let out a relieved, rumbling sigh as his pee splashed across my tongue and down the back of my throat.

I had to keep on swallowing over and over to avoid my muzzle overflowing. The constant jet of his piss had me rock hard in an instant. I dropped one paw to stroke my dick while my tongue massaged the underside of his rod, doing my best to savor every drop of his golden gift even as I had to slurp the stuff down with the ravenous need of somebody dying of thirst.

A piss-guzzling flow-state fell over me. Eyes closed I focused on the presence of his dick and sheath in my maw, the taste of his pee. It was sweet and piquant, I don’t know if—in a general sense—I could claim it tasted good, but to me it was ambrosia, the nectar of gods. Or, at least, the Gods’ piss. Nothing better.

As sudden as being dragged into the stall and pissed in was, I had been mentally preparing for this moment for an entire week, since last I saw the wolf. There was no way I was going to waste a drop. It seemed like the big trucker had been saving up for me, because he had plenty to give. His dick kept on pulsing as his pee flowed directly into my muzzle, his stream not wavering in strength at all, mouthful after mouthful. He let out a satisfied sigh and ground my nose into his crotch.

“Fuck yes. Might have to use you as a urinal more often, slut-mouse,” he said. “Could do with a warm, willing hole to piss in whenever I like.”

His dick extended out from his sheath as he spoke and I could feel his knot swelling by the way it tried to pry apart my maw. I could only barely keep my muzzle shut enough to avoid any spillage as I continued to swallow down his golden stream. I was pawing at my dick in a frenzy, my whole body trembling at the cavalcade of pleasures coming my way, both physical and psychological.

At last, his flow faltered. It only made me suck his piss down harder, my tongue greedily lapping all over his dick for any missed drop. He grunted and ground as far as he physically could into my mouth, I was practically sucking him off even as I drank down his final few drabs of pee, the tip of his thick canine cock not far from tickling the back of my throat.

This was my definition of heaven. I couldn’t take it. As I sucked down the very last of his piss, I began humping haphazardly at the air, my hips miming rough and feral sex as, in actual fact, my well-pawed dick fired its load off into the space between the wolf’s legs, my cum spattering against the floor and stall door as my balls emptied.

The tubby trucker wrenched his rock hard, fully exposed doggy dick free from my mouth. He looked down at the mess I had just made. “Faggot. You’re cleaning that up.”

I nodded right away, my tail curling around my waist as I looked up at him with saucer-plate eyes. I would’ve apologized, but he had instructed me not to speak, and I wasn’t about to disobey the hulking beast.

“Stupid, gay little mouse boy. You’ve got me all worked up too, that’s another mess you’ve got to clean up.” Without waiting for any kind of response he grabbed my head again and shoved my nose against his fat, fuzzy balls. “These need draining. Get to sniffing and licking and we’ll see if you deserve the honor.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. The swampy musk of his well-travelled nuts was intoxicating. They hung low and I was instantly entertained by the way they shifted and swung as I nuzzled against them. I grabbed his thighs once again and, with only a little trepidation concerning the fact that I would be overwriting the glorious aftertaste of his piss, my tongue set to work lapping and cupping and sucking his heavy balls.

He let out a long, low moan as I worked him, his right paw stroking and squeezing at his sheath until his knot popped out. Soon enough I could feel spurts of his precum gracing my cheek and neck. I was desperate to wrap my muzzle around his dick once again, but committed myself to being a good little submissive piss-whore and stuck to soaking his balls in my saliva. Thankfully, he must've been pretty desperate too, because a matter of seconds later he was pulling my head back and positioning my nose level with the tip of his cock.

His dick throbbed and a fresh spurt of pre splattered right across my nose and muzzle. I licked myself clean of it as he watched.

“You’re a dirty, compliant little slut, aren’t you?” Once again he wasn’t interested in an answer. He grabbed my muzzle with both paws, one on top, one on bottom, and pulled apart my jaw before thrusting right in. He repositioned his paws to the back of my head and, between grunts, said: “Suck a load out of me well enough and I’ll consider coming back to pissfuck your brain out again, fag.”

I barely had to do anything—other than grip hard onto his tree-trunk legs, that is—as he face-fucked my muzzle exactly like the fleshlight he’d compared me to earlier, with seemingly no regard for how it felt for me or whether or not I could breathe. Frequently, nose full of his fur, smashed against his fupa, I couldn’t. Holy fuck this was going better than I had even dared to dream. If I hadn’t just came, I would’ve done so then. It goes without saying I was going to paw off to this memory on repeat for the next few days or weeks; however long it took to taste the wolf again.

Needing a tighter grip, he clawed into the back of my head. It kind of hurt, but it didn’t matter, because he was thrusting harder, going faster. At this pace and intensity his knot was popping in and out of my muzzle with every rut, forcing my mouth open as wide as it could get again and again. I tried my best to stop them, but my teeth must’ve scraped at his knot a few times; he either didn’t notice or he didn’t care.

All he did was carry on thrusting, fucking, using my muzzle like the tool it was. All I could hear was his grunting and the thwap, thwap, thwap of my muzzle and his body making contact over and over. I was going lightheaded, out of energy, losing oxygen and finding my own personal paradise all at once.

For better or worse I didn’t need to last much longer. His thrusting became irregular, though it lost no impact, as his legs began to shake with the coming of his impending orgasm.

“Fucking pissrag, take it!”

I gripped his thighs hard as his final thrust mashed his crotch into my nose. I pulled myself in at the same time, locking us together as his knot pulsed atop my attentive, swirling tongue. He fired off near-continuous ropes of cum down the back of my throat, barely giving me a chance to taste them, but providing me with my second liquid treat of the day nonetheless, the insides of my belly soon to be half way made up of his piss and cum.

When his panting ceased and he had at last caught his breath, he stood tall, tugged his knot and dick out of my mouth, shoved his bits away and patted down his casualwear as if he were making himself proper for some highfalutin business meeting.

“Be here again in three days,” he said. “I won’t take kindly to my urinal going AWOL.” I nodded. “And clean up your mess, gay boy.”

He left the stall with as little warning as he’d given me before dragging me into it in the first place. For a couple minutes I remained in place, dick out, on my knees, gently rocking, mind swimming with thoughts of him, already thirsty for more trucker piss, cum and dick.

Then I remembered the bear. He’d said I should find him in his truck in the next fifteen minutes for the ride of my life, and it had been about… fifteen minutes. I stood, zipped up and left. Fuck cleaning. Maybe I was already too late, but out there might be more dick to drain. It would’ve been irresponsible of me not to look for it.