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Drake slid his phone back into his pocket and wrapped the dog's leash more firmly around his other paw. Today was Wednesday, approaching the middle of the day - and he'd agreed to walk Mr. Bronson's dog all week, in order to earn a little extra money between classes of his own. Mr. Bronson had been the wolf's German teacher back in high school a few years ago, and he'd liked him quite a bit more than any of the other teachers there, for quite a few reasons... so of course it was him who he'd gone to first when he needed something to do in his downtime.

Mr. Bronson had also mentioned mowing the lawn, cleaning the gutters, trimming the hedges, and a number of other things, "but only if you do a good job walking my dog this time", whatever that meant (this was not his first time doing such a job). Drake had just come over at the arranged time to pick up the dog from Mr. Bronson's house, and then brought him to the park for a walk... though he had gotten rather specific instructions about how to walk the dog, some kind of mutt with a bit of husky in him, given the ears: take the sidewalk around the park three times, and then go off into the woods for a while. He likes the sounds of the trees, and the birds. Afterwards, stop by the bathrooms, up near the entrance of the park. That part's not really necessary, but I always do, and besides, he likes sniffing the urinal, anyway. He's a feral dog, give him a break.

Because it was Wednesday and almost noon, Mr. Bronson - also a wolf, but a bit taller than Drake himself and at least two decades older than him, too - would be back at the high school teaching his class; his wife would be working as well; and then their kids, two or three of them, Drake couldn't remember, would be at their school, too. Not only that, but it also meant the park today was wonderfully quiet, with only a few couples walking by every now and then.

Something odd, though: when Drake had gone to pick up the dog, he could have sworn that he'd heard someone else in the house, like a door closing down the hall or something. However, he ignored it, as he knew for a fact that Mr. Bronson sometimes brought students home for one-on-one tutoring sessions; Drake himself had been to one before. Just seemed a little weird to him that a student would arrange such a session during the middle of the day, when both students and teachers should be at the school.

But, that wasn't his problem to worry about: instead, he had to run forward to stop Marvin, this dog, from raising his leg on a bench on which two otters sat.

"Sorry," Drake said to them, trying to tug on Marvin's leash to pull him away. He looked up at the otters, other paw raised in apology. "Sorry. Not my dog. I'm - walking him for a friend, got a little... distracted... sorry..." One of the otters, the one with the pretty blue eyes, gave him a gentle smile and a nod in return.

Marvin... bit of an odd name for a pet dog, considering how Drake had been friends with a Marvin in middle school. This dog at the end of his leash now was a bit better-looking than that other Marvin, though: soft ears, well-defined shape of the muzzle, sleek coat, body curved in a way that really showed muscle and refinement, in contrast to his mixed background. Other than his ears, it was his tail that showed the husky in him best, permanently raised a little and curled over towards his back, white fur giving way to pinkish-brown skin around the pucker of his tailhole, full and intact sack, black-furred, hanging beneath and swaying gently as he walked in front of the wolf...

Drake swallowed and tried to focus his eyes forward, along the unpaved path through the forested section of the park. He had yet to mention that part of why he enjoyed walking Mr. Bronson's dog was because he liked looking at the beast. Sometimes he'd intentionally sit down on one of the benches to take a break, and have Marvin sit in front of him a short ways away - just so he could pretend to look down at his phone, when really, he had his eyes directed between the dog's hind legs. Plump white sheath standing out against his bellyfur, an inch and a half of moist, glistening pink flesh peeking out of the end of that sheath, same heavy sack bunched up underneath.

Maybe - maybe - once or twice had Drake found a nice, quiet place in the woods to sit down, undo his fly, and rub one out, all with Marvin sitting close by and occasionally nosing over his direction to get a taste of the new, interesting scent - but of course the wolf had never actually let him touch him, or do anything of that sort to the dog. He did, at least, have some sort of moral compass to guide his actions.

Though that compass did get rather skewed at times.

Through a space in the trees up ahead Drake could see the flat grey of the sidewalk again. Marvin had already smelled the change in scenery, or the other feral dog that a tall German shepherd had just walked by, so Drake found himself pulled along yet again by the big mutt, almost tugging him off his feet. That was something he'd never get used to, as he'd never had a pet dog of his own before. He'd just watched Mr. Bronson's on-and-off since his senior year of high school, so he'd done this route often enough to know just at which points the dog got excited at.

Another strange thing, though: when he guided Marvin along the footpath towards the bathrooms, the dog got uncharacteristically waggy and barky, and pulled on the leash with even more fervor than usual. Drake had known that something of this sort would happen when he got here, but not to this degree; he'd started drinking some water beforehand so he could stand at the urinal and not look like a total creep while letting the feral dog sniff at the thing.

He didn't know how Mr. Bronson did it. Hell, one time Drake came over for a German tutoring session, and the two had come to this park for it - and while walking along that forested path, the big wolf had stopped, unzipped his pants, and took a leak right there with his student not four feet away. A bit of an awkward situation, sure, but being a teenaged boy at the time, Drake couldn't help but sneak a peek (not like Mr. Bronson made it tough to do so), and saw - a rather thick, uncut length, probably as wide around and almost as long soft as he himself was while hard...

...Okay. He shoved his paw back into his pocket to hide the growing bulge at the front of his pants, all the while still being pulled forward by the excited Marvin. The wolf could pick up the unmistakable smell of public bathrooms even before he'd entered them; and then, right before stepping in, a rather exhausted-looking housecat stumbled out, almost bumped into him, huffed a soft apology, and disappeared around the back of the building.

Whatever, right? Drake stepped up to one of the urinals, Marvin padding around the slightly-damp floor behind him, and unzipped his pants. He didn't really have anything to do today: he'd finished all of his homework for classes, didn't have any shifts at his other job this afternoon, was in the middle of that nice period between finishing one novel and beginning another... he glanced down, tugging the supple skin of his sheath back past the tip of his cock, starting to feel the relief course through him, and then looked back up. Marvin had wandered all the way around him, pulling the leash against his back above his tail, and now sniffed underneath the far stall.

"Marvin," the wolf called, and gave a halfhearted tug to the leash. The dog did not budge. "That's rude. Come back over here."

However, feral dogs could be quite stubborn, and Drake knew for a fact that if he were to get into a game of tug-o-war with _this_feral in particular, he'd lose. He'd done so a few times when watching him at Mr. Bronson's house, one of which dislocated his shoulder for a few days.

"You're gonna miss your chance, Marv-"

...Drake realized how odd that must have sounded to whoever occupied that far stall right after he said it, and promptly blushed and busied himself with shaking himself off and doing his pants back up, business completed. He had to spin around once completely to right the leash, though, and then started heading back out of the bathroom, when that far stall clicked open, and someone stepped out. Drake paid them no mind until he heard the voice.

"Ah! Drake, is that you? I thought I heard your voice..."

Sure enough, when he turned around he had to look up to meet the grizzled muzzle of his old German teacher, standing there with belt buckle open and pants fly half-zipped, paws taking their time in remedying this. It appeared that he wore no underwear today.

The younger wolf couldn't hide his surprise, and then ended up almost falling over again with a fierce tug on the leash from Marvin trying to greet his owner. "W-wait, Mr. Bronson, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you b-" He pulled back on the leash, to no avail. "-be at school?"

"On my lunch break. Oh, hello there, Marvin..." Mr. Bronson stopped halfway through buttoning up his pants to kneel down and scritch his dog behind the ears. "I usually come around here to spend some time when I don't have anything arranged. Nice to walk around, y'know?"

The younger wolf couldn't help but notice that when Mr. Bronson stopped petting his dog, Marvin moved forward and pressed his nose into the still-open zipper of his fly. Mr. Bronson either didn't notice, or didn't care; he just continued smiling up at Drake, remaining knelt down where he was with his pet dog's nose buried between his legs.

Drake had to shove his other paw into his pocket again, trying not to stare. Something in the older wolf's eye told him that he'd failed, though; after another moment, Mr. Bronson stood up - Marvin took a step back and then flicked his broad, flat tongue over his nose - and leaned against the side of the stall wall.

"Hey, Drake."

His ears perked. Still, though, he had trouble maintaining eye contact. "Um... yes, sir?"

The older wolf extended a paw out, as if to take the other end of Marvin's leash. "Since you're supposed to be done soon anyway, how about you just let me bring him home, and you can finish early today?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure... sure, here-"

However, when Drake stretched his arm out to hand over the leash, Bronson's large paw instead closed around his wrist and tugged him forward towards the open door of the stall, the sudden movement knocking him off-balance. Marvin barked at the commotion, Mr. Bronson moved back and caught the younger wolf, the stall door closed behind him - and by the time Drake had made his way back to his feet, he turned around to see Mr. Bronson sliding the lock across.

"Actually..."

The big older wolf stepped back over towards the toilet, lid lowered, and sat down on it. Marvin, leash now held by nobody, ran forward and again buried his nose between his legs; instead of batting him away, Mr. Bronson just scooted closer to the edge of the toilet, moved a paw down to unzip his fly, and spread his legs. Drake got a pretty damn good look at the thick base of his ex-teacher's shaft, stirring and moving beneath the licks from his pet.

"I think you're due for a bit of a bonus, Drake. You've taken good care of Marvin here over time. Why don't you let him take care of you?"

The younger wolf swallowed, other paw half-lowered. He wasn't sure whether to cover himself with it, or go ahead and unzip his own pants, or... "Take... care of me?"

"Mhmm." Mr. Bronson adjusted his cock, moving it up in front of his shirt. Fully hard, thick, foreskin half-retracted, supple skin glistening with a combination of natural musk and the saliva that Marvin left on him. Now, the dog had moved down and nuzzled at the teacher's sack, full and heavy - even more so than the feral himself, which Drake had spent quite a bit of time looking at. "He's trained, you know. Me and the wife often spend time apart, and if we can't find any time to go at it... well."

"Mr. Bronson, I... don't think-"

"You don't?"

The big wolf stood up to his full height and then stepped over, closer to Drake, who could do nothing but look back at him. Mr. Bronson kept his pants half-up with one paw, all the while his hard cock twitched and throbbed in front of him; he ended up coming close enough to the other wolf that he could feel the heat radiating off his body, and so that his sharp canid senses could easily pick up the heavy, musky scent of the older wolf's erection, so close to the front of his body. It just seemed odd to him that Mr. Bronson could remain so turned-on and sure of himself in such close proximity to an ex-student of his - while Drake felt the temptation and the arousal, but remained as soft as he had before... just past him, about at muzzle's height above the toilet seat, a round hole had been cut between the stall walls.

"Well, then, I'll ask you this..." Mr. Bronson briefly rested his big paws on Drake's shoulders, and then started running them down his sides. The younger wolf shivered at the feeling of blunted claws running along the cloth of his shirt, the fur of his back... and not only that, but Marvin had come up between the two and now nosed repeatedly against the slowly-growing bulge in the front of his pants. "Top or bottom?"

His cheeks and ears started burning. Mr. Bronson's paws made their way to the waistband of his jeans; he hooked his claws under the fabric, moved his fingers inwards toward the center, brushed his pads against the button of his fly... "I... what?"

"Back when I had you in my class, however many years ago that was. It was one of our oral assignments, with the headsets, remember? I ask a question, class records their answers, I go back and listen individually afterwards. Well, apparently you and a friend of yours didn't know that we were recording that day. You told him a little story about how you had your boyfriend over during the weekend, so..."

With a swift movement from his paws, Mr. Bronson tugged Drake's pants and underwear halfway down his legs, brushing the back of his paw against his half-hard length as he did so. His dog instantly got to business, as well; Drake had to pull in and hold a slow breath to keep from moaning against the tongue dragging along his cock again and again, moist flesh catching against the skin of his sheath and then pulling up past his half-formed knot, earning a few sweet twitches out of him. "Mr. Bronson, I mean, I-"

"Oh, no, no, never mind. I think I have it figured out." Mr. Bronson took another step back. "Bend over the toilet."

So Drake did as told. In a way, he might have wanted this: more than once before in the past had he bucked up into his paw late at night, mind consumed with thoughts of a bigger faceless wolf grinding against his muzzle, or pounding up under his tail - and he'd _definitely_watched more than his fair share of videos online about dogs, and owners who weren't afraid to take them in their paw, or muzzle, or under their tail... he just hadn't expected that his first time with a dog would take place in a public bathroom.

He had, however, expected it to be with Mr. Bronson's dog. He had spent the last three weeks trying (and failing) to work up the courage to ask. That was just a bit of an awkward subject to begin a conversation on.

Ears half-lowered, Drake glanced behind himself after getting into position over the toilet. Mr. Bronson leaned back against one of the bathroom walls, hard cock held in one paw, while his dog looked up at him with tail wagging.

"Well?" he said, down to the feral. Marvin licked his chops. "That tail right there is all yours, boy. Go get it."

Drake thought he'd have a few moments more to get his thoughts in order, seeing how Marvin apparently wanted his master over his stranger, but - just as the younger wolf started to shift his position, a cool, wet nose pressed up underneath his tail and remained there for a moment, the flesh twitching faintly in quick breaths. Then, also taking him by surprise, a much warmer and much wetter tongue took its place, dragging sweetly up along the outside of Drake's revealed tailhole, unprepared for such contact.

The wolf jerked forward over the toilet and swallowed down a gentle gasp, the first feelings of surprise at having a tongue under his tail quickly receding. Marvin dug into his rump, pulling his tongue up along the puckered rim of his tailhole again and again, saliva warm and slick against him, nose pressing underneath the base of his tail with each lick. Even if - if - Drake hadn't wanted this, he wouldn't have been able to resist: he found himself pressing his rump back against the feral as he licked at him, tongue sometimes brushing against the underside of his sack and making him buck forward again.

The cold surface of the toilet against his chest and arms and paws provided quite the contrast to the warm tongue and breath under his tail. It didn't take long at all for Drake's cock to harden up out of his sheath to its fullest, and then drool out a few drips of pre beneath him. Hell, he had almost forgotten about the other wolf in the stall, until-

"Good with his tongue, isn't he? I'm not really one for having my tail licked, but my wife sure likes it. Hell, one of her favorite things is to shove her muzzle up between my legs, while Marvin there is lapping away at her... hey, actually..."

Drake had his eyes closed and forehead resting against the edge of the toilet, so he didn't hear Mr. Bronson standing up from the wall and stepping over until he got closer. Then, the younger wolf lifted his head and looked up - past a hanging sack and hard uncut length, a drip of clear pre gathered at the tip.

"Scoot back a little, will ya, Drake?"

Again he did as told, and kept his muzzle back. Mr. Bronson took his place on the edge of the toilet seat again, his thick shaft not even a full inch away from Drake's muzzle once he'd settled into place - and the younger wolf couldn't resist. He quickly closed that distance, first nuzzling against the underside of his throbbing cock and then putting his tongue against the warm skin, just like how Marvin had done (and still did; he regularly churned his hips back against the feral's muzzle, eagerly lapping at his tight rim) to him.

He couldn't believe he was doing this. Sure, in the past, he'd thought about going down on Mr. Bronson before, especially after getting a good glimpse at him in the school bathroom... and after receiving a few certain pictures from the guy he sat next to in German his senior year, one of which was of that guy with this thick cock now underneath Drake's tongue halfway down his throat.

Drake had had a few one-on-one sessions with Mr. Bronson. Apparently, he'd missed out on quite a bit of valuable teacher-student interaction.

The younger wolf held Mr. Bronson's cock between both of his paws, one steadily rolling his foreskin forward and back over his sensitive head while the other kept him angled down towards his muzzle, for easy access for him to drag his tongue up along the bulge along the underside, or to follow one of his veins with his tongue. The same musky spice that he'd picked up on the air now lingered along his tongue, and came back even stronger with each new contact, each swallow...

Right as he moved up to close his lips around the head of Mr. Bronson's cock, though, Marvin hopped up onto Drake's back, hooked his paws over his shoulders, and started thrusting forward against his thoroughly-slickened tailhole.

"Easy, boy, easy..." the teacher growled, one paw against the back of Drake's head while he held the other out to his dog. The younger wolf had instantly tensed up and shifted forward when he felt the feral start to mount him, but now - now Marvin obeyed his master, and instead of slamming forward into him, he gave a few weak thrusts in attempts to find the wolf's tailhole.

Drake's nervousness hadn't yet gotten the better of him, partially due to how he now had the very thick and very hard cock of an old teacher between his lips, warm pre drooling down over his tongue - and how he'd had his nose buried in the pubic fur of this teacher just a few seconds ago. After a moment of consideration, he reached back behind himself, took the dog's cock in his paw - God, it was warm, hot, and slick all over with liquid musk; flesh somewhere between firm and squishy to a certain distance before he met the resistance of the bone, halfway along his length - and guided it down towards his tailhole.

Mr. Bronson leaned back against the toilet, shifting the lid of the tank back a little. "He'll go slow if I tell him to. _That_took quite a bit of training, several nights where we had to get a babysitter for the kids... Marvin! Hey-"

Drake had to put all his focus into _not_biting down on Mr. Bronson's thick length, then, as the feral dog first started pushing up underneath his tail. Tapered canid tip, cock here unsupported by the firmness underneath - it started as fairly easy going, but he could quickly feel his thickness as he sunk deeper into him. Good thing Marvin had so thoroughly licked at his tailhole, though; Drake could feel the slickness of his saliva aiding the dog's entry into him, making him sink in perhaps a _little_too quickly for comfort. That was alright, though: he didn't lean forward unless the wolf beneath him pushed back against him, and Drake again found himself doing just that as the pain and discomfort lost their bite.

"Y'know..." Mr. Bronson went on, paw remaining behind the younger wolf's ears. Drake had started to slowly bob up and down along his length, keeping him cupped in his tongue. "I had an otter not too long ago in this same position as you. Muzzle between my legs, right where he loves; my cock buried between his lips; my dog's cock buried underneath his tail... was a good look for him. Seems like it'll suit you just as well, Drake."

The younger wolf couldn't say anything in response. He was far too busy with diving deeper along Mr. Bronson's length, feeling the way his shaft filled his muzzle with its warmth and taste - and with trying not to let out too embarrassing of a noise in response to Marvin steadily pressing into him, the contours of the feral's cock stretching his tailhole around him.

Drake only half-noticed the sound of the door to the bathroom opening, followed by footsteps into the stall just next to this one. He tried to ignore it - even his breathing would give away what was going on in here, without considering the similar elevated breathing and gentle rumbling of the feral dog above him and beneath his tail. He just resumed diving down onto Mr. Bronson's length, feeling his throbs and twitches, tasting his pre and musk - and then coming back up, until the older wolf's foreskin rolled up with the movement of Drake's muzzle on him, so he could feel it against his tongue...

The younger wolf had forgotten about that hole between the stalls until after Marvin had hilted beneath his tail, wide bulge of his knot squeezing against the already-stretched rim of his tailhole. Drake flicked his tongue over the head of Mr. Bronson's cock, opened his eyes, looked up past the teacher - and saw someone else's muzzle flash by the other side of the hole, apparently not wanting to be seen.

Drake felt the same way. However, he didn't have much of a choice, squeezed into this position with a big canid on either side of him... because he had stopped moving, Mr. Bronson had taken up the rhythm, paw on the back of his head holding him in place as he lifted his hips up into his muzzle. Marvin had started something similar, lurching forward into Drake, moving back a few steps, and then thrusting into him again - making him wriggle and moan gently with the feeling. A feral's cock felt a bit different than what he was used to, but still enough to give him the familiar shivers all over, the deep, pulsing want to press back as firmly as he could, to have this dog breed him-

A gentle zip came from the other stall, and then, that muzzle came back into view. Drake couldn't get a good enough look from here, but it looked fairly feline, maybe a leopard or cheetah or something - but, really, that didn't matter. Mr. Bronson humped up between his lips a little roughly and pressed his cock against the back of his throat, forcing him to close his eyes in response and swallow down the resulting gag. Meanwhile, behind him Marvin had also started to pick up pace, shifting his paws on his shoulders and thrusting into him with a little more speed and force.

Drake could feel himself twitching and throbbing with each thrust into his muzzle or tailhole. Many times before he'd thought about bending over for Marvin here, about serving as a good breed for the feral dog - and he'd gotten close to giving into his wants a few times, with a paw on his sheath or his sack held between his fingers, but had always stopped himself at the last moment. It would've been rude to do anything without permission.

And, then, here he was, on all fours with that dog under his tail and the owner thrusting into his muzzle, drooling out steadily more pre onto his tongue. Drake had lost a bit of his focus: he couldn't move his gaze from the half-visible muzzle in the other stall, whoever it was leaning back against the toilet, body shifting gently with the unseen movement of his arm... everyone was enjoying this, it seemed.

Mr. Bronson seemed to be a little pent up, too. At one point he moved his other paw down to Drake's head and started tugging the younger wolf down onto his shaft again and again and again, while he thrust up between his lips. Drake could feel the movement of his foreskin over his head against the roof of his mouth, against the surface of his tongue; he could feel the bigger wolf's throbs and twitches, just as he could feel Marvin's little bucks and impatient jerks as the feral started to give in to his base wants and took up the speed of thrusting that he had originally desired, pounding into the wolf underneath him like a bitch who had raised her tail for him.

Not like he'd offered much in complaint or hesitation when Mr. Bronson had told him to bend over the toilet. It just felt wrong to say no to a teacher. Drake had to close his eyes again, especially as the combined feelings of both the canids thrusting into him overtook his senses: the feline in the next stall disappeared from view, just as everything else did too, while the big wolf continued to lift upwards into his muzzle and throat, his thrusts a little uneven now. In fact, his breathing had picked up, his soft moans and turned into low, short rumbles in his throat -

And then Drake more felt rather than heard the big wolf's orgasm as it happened in a few thick ropes of cum spurting out against the back of his throat, gagging him again, and then the following throbs of Mr. Bronson's cock as it emptied out the last of what he had to give onto the back of Drake's tongue. He swallowed down the load and moved back a little, working his tongue over the sensitive head to lap off any cum that still dripped out - and moved his other paw back down between his own legs. He couldn't tell how close Marvin was - he'd need a little more experience with ferals for that; it was hard to tell from the videos, too - but, hell... he himself had already been pushed fairly close to the edge, just by having this dog fuck him at the same time as the bigger wolf claimed his muzzle.

Marvin leaned down over the younger wolf and pressed his muzzle against the side of his neck - which also put the feral's nose just a few inches from his master's still mostly-hard cock and recently-emptied sack. The dog's nose and whiskers twitched as he breathed, and he lifted one of his rear legs up against Drake's to try to move himself closer to him - and then suddenly stopped, knot pressing against the slick rim of his tailhole, threatening to squeeze in all the way but unable to.

Drake had to hold back again - he didn't want the person enjoying themselves in the next stall to hear too much - but couldn't help himself. There was just something about the mixed pain and intense pleasure of pressing back against this dog, against the warmth that steadily burst out into him again and again in small spurts from the end of the thick cock buried under his tail, of feeling Marvin's knot against his tailhole and almost widen him further - that made the young wolf bury his nose yet again in Mr. Bronson's unkempt pubic fur, breathe in his scent, and then shoot his own load out against the base of the toilet and tile floor beneath.

God, he'd be sore tomorrow. He could already feel it, especially with Marvin bearing down on him with all his weight while _throb, throb, throb_bing six inches underneath his tail. Drake could feel slick warmth rolling down the fur of his inner thigh, and knew that that area would become quite a bit more drenched with the scent of dog cum once the feral dismounted.

He also couldn't help but notice that the shuffling of a fast-moving paw had died down in the other stall - though when he looked up at the whole, that same muzzle looked back at him.

"Drake..."

He swallowed, and looked up at the older wolf. "Huh?"

Mr. Bronson briefly stuck two fingers through that hole, keeping his eyes focused on Drake beneath him. Then, a moment later, he brought them out - and the feline in the next stall stood up; then, a hard cock came into view through that hole, a bead of pre gathered on the end.

"Why don't you show our audience member your appreciation?"