FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Dover was much like any town in Northwest Arkansas: Small. Not just small in size or population though, small in ambition... one might say small in mind if one was being unkind. And Jimbo was in no mood to be kind right now.

The young muskrat cursed under his breath as he messed with the chain of his four speed bike. He had plans today, and the sky was already getting pretty overcast. As much as he hated the idea, he had to get home as quickly as possible to fit everything in before his curfew. The lad launched a hard kick at the front tire of his hand-me-down bicycle, and then manipulated the chain back onto its spokes with a patience that belied his frustration.

He hopped back onto his black bicycle and quickly pedalled his way to the northeast. The rodent lived a couple miles outside of the town proper, just up the road to Scottsville. Jimbo usually enjoyed a lazy ride home when the sun was shining and he didn't have a care in the world. But under the circumstances, the muskrat's head was down, his rump was up off the seat, and he was surging hard. JP Lovelady Park was only a vague blur on the right as the rodent shot past. Furs of all ages stopped and watched with curiosity as the kid with his cousin's beat up bike (and even more beat up green helmet) set an unusually angry pace out of town.

It was an uphill ride... and Jimbo wasn't particularly athletic, even for a muskrat. By the time he reached his family's run-down country house, his leg muscles were burning. He tied his bike to the old water pump, and then opened the screen door. "I'm home, pa." the muskrat drawled as he padded into the kitchen.

The older rodent was on his second afternoon beer, feet propped up on the kitchen table. He smelled of gasoline and motor oil, in addition to the normal miasma of alcohol. Two of the three smells were reasonable. His dad was a mechanic, third generation owner of the local garage. To his credit, he did work most mornings from 8:30 until around 3 in the afternoon... at any other time it was family or extended family, including Jimbo himself, who would watch the shop.

"It's 'bout time boy. House needs cleaning, and I expect ya to get all yer homework done if ya plan to go see yer nerd friends at any point." the older muskrat intoned, gruffly.

The lad nodded and hurried past with a blurted, "Yessir."

The insult aimed at his friends was fairly tame compared to the average greeting from his father, so Jimbo considered that exchange a win. He went directly to his room: Eight square feet of space that had everything a teenager needed to survive. He had a single bed, a dresser full of clothes that mostly belonged to other family members in the past, a small unlocked trunk of gaming related material, and a laptop that he bought himself... no password allowed. Privacy was a dirty word in this household. The muskrat assumed that his parents searched the place regularly, so there was nothing incriminating stashed away. His secrets were stored elsewhere.

With practised celerity, the lad got out of his school clothes and donned a pair of gray sweatpants and a long sleeved pullover shirt, cherry red. He swapped the contents of his pockets, so that he could make a quick getaway later. Chucking his backpack on the bed, Jimbo resolved to get through his homework quickly, so that all of his chores could be completed before dinner. He was a straight A and B+ student, no thanks to either genetics or his home life. Algebra was what he tackled first, wanting to wrap up with his bread-and-butter subject of World History. The lad turned on his laptop as he started to do the first problem in his workbook. Once it had booted, he fired up myTunes and set his study playlist to random. He wasn't allowed to use headphones of course, so that his father could be assured that he wasn't engaging in anything that could be considered 'devil music'.

Homework was wrapped up in an hour, and the easy chores followed. He grabbed the dirty laundry hamper from the bathroom, cycled out the dirty towels and bathmat while he was at it, and separated everything into two loads. He threw the white load in with a few drops of bleach, and left the other load sitting by the machines until everything was ready to shift around.

The muskrat lad had a different room to clean every day of the week, and today was dedicated to the living room. His mother rolled her eyes and got off the couch without saying a word to her son. She wasn't particularly out of shape, but diazepam was a hell of a drug. But it was a drug that she knew that her husband wouldn't try to steal. With his liver disease, benzo's could be fatal. She wandered off into her bedroom to call one of her girlfriends and gossip about the other women she called 'friends'.

This left Jimbo alone in the living room to work. He grabbed a trash bag from the kitchen, being silently eyed-up by his father all the while. The empty cans, bottles, fast food wrappers, discarded pill containers, and other crap all made it's way into the garbage. It would take a while to clear the surfaces and the floor, clean up the glass surfaces, spray the wood polish onto the table and TV stand, and finally get to the carpet.

Plenty of time for his father to start a polite conversation.

"One of those Atheist fucks gassed up at th' station t'day. Had one of them dino-fish things on his car."

The younger muskrat tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, just wanting to eat and get out of here. "Oh, yeah pa?" was his generic reply. He reached up to pluck a couple of old mugs from the top of the TV stand and bring them to the kitchen.

"Uh-huh. We got them CCTV cameras up th' road now, so couldn't do shit 'bout it there. But phoned up the road ta my pals at th' quarry. Let's just say some rocks might'a gotten kicked a bit far outside th' work zone. Fucked up that bitch's paint job good, caught a tail light too. Hope she's insured!"

The evil chuckle that followed sent a shiver up the younger rodent's spine. His tailtip curled around his own left knee and gripped tightly, as in if it needed a hug. Despite his reaction, Jimbo managed to reply, "If she ain't, that'll be expensive." Anything to reassure his father that he was listening.

"Don't really care ta be honest. At th' end of the day, if you don't believe in Jesus, yer dangerous. No morals. They think it's all random chaos, ain't got no laws, no Hell ta go to when they do... whatever shit they're up ta."

The conversation was getting to Jimbo. His father was talking about him, even if he didn't know it. The young man's paw shook a little bit as he twisted the garbage bag shut and put it aside. Without thinking, he went to the closet to get the vacuum. It wasn't the right order, not his usual routine. "Oh. I dunno anyone like that at school." he managed to blurt out.

There was a creaking from the kitchen as the older rodent stood up. He sauntered over to the door and leaned on the wooden frame that separated the kitchen from the living room. "Yeah? Well iff'n ya ever find one, you tell me boy. That shit gotta be stamped out when they're young. We gotta little group that re-teaches kids an' deals with th' parents."

He forgot to answer his father's rant with some kind of platitude. The muskrat had sent his mind elsewhere, and was just moving on autopilot... setting things up, plugging them in. Without thinking, the rodent's tail uncurled and flicked the power switch on the vacuum.

He didn't look up as the noise filled the room. The lad just stared at the carpet and started to push and drag the beater bar over the fur encrusted floor. He didn't move as the cord was torn violently from the wall, and silence filled the room. He knew better than to avoid the powerful slap that rained in on his left cheek, flattening the messy fur and bending his whiskers.

For a moment, Jimbo forgot his sense of self preservation. Instead of pretending to be dead inside, he looked up at his father and stared at the older muskrat with wounded, betrayed eyes.

The right hook that followed was too fast for the young rodent to track. It caught him above the jaw, just below the eye socket. First came the nauseating dizziness when the floor rushed up to greet him. Then the dull, throbbing pain of another bruise starting to form under the lad's rich, overgrown pelt.

The muskrat managed to slur out a series of "Yessir" and "Nossir" responses to the drunken 'corrective conversation' conducted by his old man. By the time his head cleared, the older rodent was back in the kitchen, opening another beer before dinner. Jimbo quickly allowed muscle memory to take over. He remembered what he had to do tonight, and he let that goal drive him through the rest of the clean up process.

Once the living room was done, the white laundry went in the drier and the dark load got thrown into the washer. By the time he made it up to the dinner table, the microwave had finished warming up both of his parents' meals. He quickly put his own in so that he could join them. They ate in silence, which wasn't unusual. Tonight, it was a blessing given how much Jimbo's face hurt. He waited until all three of them were finished, before clearing the table and bringing out two glasses and the box of chilled wine that lived on the top shelf of the fridge.

"Thank you for dinner, I'll be back by ten."

There was no reply. He wasn't really welcome for this part of his parents' day. It consisted of 'sophisticated' drinking, television, and the occasional overly-loud fucking on the couch. The muskrat was silently grateful that his birth had made his mother infertile. He couldn't even defend himself in this environment, nevermind younger siblings.

Jimbo grabbed his backpack, swapping out school books for a small board game. After shouldering the minute load, he threw a yellow plastic poncho over himself. The young muskrat hurried outside, already chilled by the sound of thunder.

The storm had broke, and raindrops the size of orange seeds battered down upon him. The poncho would keep his backpack dry, but the rodent already knew he would be soaked as he rode. He just didn't care. After unhitching his four speed, the lad set off. He had recently serviced the brakes, but even with that in mind, this was a potentially dangerous descent if he wasn't being careful.

He had made it about a mile before his shoulders started to shake. Out here, as the lightning flashed and the fury of the gods pummeled him, Jimbo could finally cry. The sobbing wracked his body, hot tears mixing with the cold rain as all of the pain and fear drained out of his abused body. He had the presence of mind to slow his descent to a crawl as his young body fought for enough breath to whimper and howl. He had stored the pain up for days, but he had to let it go now. Now, when it was safe. Now, before it ruined his plans for tonight.

After five minutes, everything was burning: His eyes, his lungs, his belly. But it was over, at least for now. The hood of his poncho blew back over Jimbo's ears, but he made no move to replace it. Instead, the rain washed the heat from his face; it soothed the hidden bruises, it calmed his puffy eyes. Determined once again, the muskrat kicked hard, giving his bike a sudden burst of speed. He maintained the semi-reckless pace until his destination had been reached.

Just on the outskirts of Dover, where the hills started to flatten out once again, there was an unassuming four bedroom, two bath house. It had white siding and an attached two car garage. Jimbo quickly pedalled up the driveway, walking his bike up the steps to the porch before chaining it to the redwood bench that was meant to overlook the front yard on better days. With a shaking paw, the lad reached out to press the doorbell.

He wasn't waiting too long. In a few moments, a bespectacled gray and white sugar glider answered the door. He was dressed in a checkered red and black after-dinner gown, black pajama bottoms, and fluffy yellow slippers. The visage brought with it a surge of joy within the muskrat's chest. He was taller than Jimbo by a good six inches, though to be fair the muskrat still had some growing to do. The marsupial looked down at the drowned rodent on his doorstep, registering a bit of shock at the state of the boy.

Jimbo looked up at his teacher, shaking... for many reasons. He swallowed hard, and with precipitation dripping from his nose and his long whiskers, the lad's voice only broke once as he meekly intoned:

"Lou, it's my birthday."

The sugar glider quickly ushered the boy inside, marching the muskrat into the guest bathroom. "Are you crazy James? You came out in this typhoon on your bicycle?" asked the exasperated fur. There was no smart-assed reply to the rhetorical question, which was never a good sign. The older man let it drop, opting instead to hand his student a couple of huge, fluffy tan towels. "I thought your kind was supposed to be fairly waterproof. Two layers of fur and all that. I supposed nature never compensated for headlong bike sprints in a torrential downpour."

Jimbo shook his head. "No sir."

Lou squeezed his young friend's shoulder. "Get dry, I'll start a fire. You in the mood for Chopin?"

The muskrat just nodded mutely, which was good enough for the sugar glider. He padded out to the living room and stoked up the fireplace. The brass tea kettle was left to boil, and a small service for two was set down on the oak end table, next to Lou's comfortable leather sofa. Then the sugar glider started to set things up for their lesson.

By the time Jimbo emerged from the bathroom, the tea was ready and being poured. Lou's sharp ears picked up the light clicking of blunt claws on hardwood. "Milk and two sugars, just how you like it. So what do..."

The older male's voice died upon his lips when he looked up. Jimbo had recovered from his bout with nature, but had elected to come out of the bathroom garbed in nothing but one of those fluffy tan towels. It hung from his waist, perilously loose, held up more my the curve of his tail and bulge of his crotch than anything else.

"James Thompson! What are you doing?"

The rodent rose to his tiptoes as he stretched, showing off more of his body with that one casual move. "Well it's mah birthday, and that means. Ya know."

Lou waved the younger man over and patted the seat next to him on the couch. "I know dear, I remember."

"It means I'm legal."

"Yes, I know! Come here."

The muskrat parked his rump on the sofa, hip to hip with his teacher. The sugar glider handed him the cup of tea before taking his own. "You have a lesson to get through first, yes? No distractions until then."

Jimbo pouted. But he couldn't maintain that pout, because the rich flavor and sweet warmth overpowered him as he took a sip of tea. The rodent churred happily, toes flexing against the hardwood floor. "Chopin t'night?"

"Sonata for Cello and Piano in G minor."

"M'kay."

The two shared tea and warmth as the fireplace slowly radiated warmth throughout the living room. The cello's position had been shifted closer to the fire for Jimbo's benefit, while the baby grand remained where it was, a few feet farther away. When the sugar glider rose to take his place at the piano, the younger man instinctively stood and padded over to the cello. The chair sitting beside the bowed string instrument had been set quite high, to make up for the rodent's smaller stature.

Lou glanced over and shook his head in mock disapproval. "I don't think Rostropovich ever performed in a towel, young man."

The rodent cracked a smile. "He didn't have my legs."

The sugar glider smiled at the smart-assed reply. That was the Jimbo he knew. "In your own time, young man."

Lou watched James as he took up his rather unique position. As with most players, the neck of the cello rested on his left shoulder, and the arm holding the bow circled around to the right. His claws had been blunted and flattened to accommodate the strings, but his parents just assumed that was from his occasional mechanical work. None of that was unusual. The position of the lad's left foot however, was something the sugar glider had never seen from any other student.

The blunt claws of James' agile toes rested lightly on the body of instrument, allowing him to feel every vibration. At first Lou was tempted to break him of this habit, but what developed was beyond all expectation. The extra digits could subtly modify the sound coming from the instrument, and they gave the muskrat an amazing feel that couldn't be denied. Indeed, when he was 'messing around', Jimbo could use his clawed toes to tap out a rhythmic beat as he played, the sound amplified by the hollow body of the cello. It took quite a while to discover how to apply the rodent's twist on the traditional form, but after two years of lessons the young man was really coming into his own.

As the two of them lost themselves in Chopin's Sonata for Cello and Piano in G minor, Lou's mind drifted back to when they first met. The lad was 14, working at his father's gas station. When he found out that Lou was a music teacher, there was a hushed confession revolving around Jimbo's love for music. And so, twice a week, the rodent secretly came to Lou's house and took lessons while his parents thought that he was out with friends.

It was only in the last six months or so that the sugar glider discovered that James had a crush on him. At first he wrote it off as teenage infatuation. But long conversations with James convinced him that it was a genuine, healthy attraction. The marsupial had made it clear that he would never do anything illegal, however. He figured that would give the lad time to outgrow the crush and move on to conquests closer to his own age. But instead, a very mature, and very mutual anticipation set in. Months became weeks, and weeks became days.

As the final notes drifted away, Lou closed his eyes. He heard the clicking of claws across the hardwood once again. Then there was a warm, almost fevered rodent joining him on the piano bench. He felt the nubile young creature in his lap, arms and legs wrapped tightly around the music teacher's torso. There was also a feverishly hot length pressed against the sugar glider's abdomen, jutting between the folds of his evening gown.

Lou opened his eyes. He saw a discarded towel lying dishevelled on the floor. He saw an eager, nervous young rodent clinging to him, hoping that this was the right situation... hoping that he was enough.

The sugar glider reached down and slid long, strong digits over James' rump fur. He got a firm grip on the young muskrat's ass, and lifted as he stood up. It was only a few steps between piano and sofa. Marsupial and rodent were quickly situated on the natural leather, the surface warmed by the roaring flames still crackling in the fireplace. The older fur rolled his shoulders and flattened out his wings to make it easier for his next command.

"Undress me, young man."

It was a slow, shy process. Jimbo gently tugged the checkered gown from the sugar glider's torso, first freeing his arms, then sliding the collapsed wings through their back slots. As Lou kicked off his fuzzy yellow slippers, the muskrat stared at the black pajama bottoms, and the obvious bulge underneath. His teacher asked if he was alright, and the rodent nodded dumbly. Slowly, Jimbo reached out and stretched the elastic band towards him, before rolling the soft material down past his teacher's thighs. With the lad distracted by eight inches of bobbing marsupial meat, the sugar glider shucked his pants off the rest of the way.

"Happy birthday, James." murmured Lou, as he slid a paw under his lover to massage that fluffy rump. "It's OK, just be gentle."

Jimbo reached out with a shaking paw to stroke his lover's shaft. It was bigger than his own by a couple of inches, and slightly thicker. The marsupial made sure to give James audible feedback, letting out a happy trill as his member throbbed and slowly leaked over the muskrat's exploring digits. The young man brought his musky fingers up for a sniff, and a curious taste. It wasn't bad... slightly salty, very slick. The discovery made him reach down to coax more of the clear fluid from his lover's tip.

As James played with his birthday present, his teacher explored that fuzzy young body. His fur was layered, so blunt claws had to dig through the stiffer, more oily fur before encountering the amazingly soft down underneath. He gripped those fluffy rump cheeks a couple of times, making his young lover squeak and wriggle. The sugar glider chuckled, before sliding his right paw higher and his left paw lower. Gripping the base of the muskrat's tail made the rest of it coil tightly around his wrist. But teasing that virgin pucker with a blunt claw achieved the most fantastic chitter. Lou laughed with joy, and continued to circle the little rosebud with one digit, delighting in the shuddering and chirruping that such a simple action produced.

When it seemed like James was no longer satisfied with just licking the slickness from his fingers, he started to curl against the sugar glider's chest, forehead sliding down his abdomen and bringing his lips closer to their goal. When Lou noticed, he sat back on his haunches and reached down to tilt the muskrat's chin up. "Yes James, it's fine. You can do that. But I'm going to show you how to shield me from your beautiful buck teeth, OK?"

It took a couple of minutes for the young man to master curling his lips back over the edge of his teeth, and another couple of minutes of suckling on Lou's middle finger before both of them were satisfied with the safety of it all. With a nod of approval, the sugar glider tucked his wings tightly and leaned back against the padded arm of the couch. The younger man took his time getting into position and planning his approach. The marsupial kept himself amused by stroking Jimbo's fuzzy balls with the top of his foot, feeling the steady drizzle of precum bathe his ankle.

Finally working up some bravery, the birthday boy engaged in a little slow, sloppy dick sucking. There was very little technique involved, but a lot of tender loving care. His thin lips kept those broad teeth covered, and formed a seal about two thirds of the way down Lou's shaft. He felt his lover rubbing his ears and the back of his neck, and the lad felt encouraged. The muskrat's head bobbed up and down slowly. All the while, that nimble little tongue lapped daintily at the underside of his teacher's shaft, collecting each drop of precum as it fell. The minute complexity of it all made the muskrat lose his grip a couple of times, causing him to reset and establish that tantalising suction once more. Soon his slick, precum infused drool was leaking over the sugar glider's heavy balls. But nobody was complaining.

The older man gently pulled Jimbo off of his swollen rod. He stroked the muskrat's face, which resulted in a sudden, unexpected wince. After making a mental note, the sugar glider murmured, "Why don't we take this into the bedroom, James." The rodent was on his feet before Lou finished pronouncing his name. The marsupial rolled his eyes at the youthful exuberance on display. He rose, more slowly, and then gave the muskrat's fluffy behind a swat. Jimbo chirruped once, and then hurried towards his teacher's bed chambers, his turgid dick slapping against his belly with each stride.

Black satin sheets were rolled down to the foot of the bed, and a nervous muskrat was placed in the very center, on his back. He watched as Lou took out a little bottle of clear liquid. "W-what's that?"

The sugar glider tilted his head. "Lubricant, dear one. It makes things slick." He demonstrated by first coating his own shaft until it glistened. Then he joined the muskrat on the bed, crawling closer.

"Why dun ya jus' use corn oil? I do sometimes wh- OH!"

The rodent's words died in his chest. His eyes went wide in amazement, and the only sound he could summon was a breathless chitter. His lover had slowly pressed and twisted his middle finger into the young man's hole, right up to the second knuckle. "In this household, we use the correct tool for the job, young man." He watched as the muskrat's tail curled tightly around the lad's own wrist, and his legs tensed and kicked a little bit at this amazing sensation.

"Yessir." came the bashful, squeaked reply. James felt his little tailstar clench and pulse over the invader. Lou hilted the slick digit to the third knuckle, and then started to curl and uncurl the finger inside of the rodent. The careful stroking over the lad's prostate cause his fevered six inches to jump and twitch on the rodent's bellyfur. In just a minute and a half, he was a moaning, cavorting mess.

The sugar glider withdrew his finger from the lad. He took off his glasses and put them on the nightstand. "I'm going to make love to you now James. If it hurts too much at any point, you must... you MUST tell me to either slow down or stop. Alright?"

"Y-yessir."

Lou took his time deflowering his student. From tip to root, the first thrust took two minutes. True to his word, Jimbo told him to slow down twice as he adjusted to the girth of his first real lover. Only when the sugar glider's pubic fur was nestled right up against James' stretched pucker did the two of them breathe sighs of relief.

"Good boy. Wrap your legs around my hips, dearest, and get ready."

Jimbo did so. His agile hindpaws gripped Lou's buttcheeks, and his whip-like tail circled around his lover's lower back. The sugar glider offered the lad a gentle smile, before splaying his wings wide, and then curling them inward. The muskrat was cocooned in the protective embrace of his lover. The rest of the world was shut out, allowing James to concentrate only on the union of their bodies.

The older man started to thrust with practised ease, dragging his thick maleness over Jimbo's pleasure button with every measured stroke. The muskrat chittered wildly, gripping the satin sheets tightly as he was fucked. He couldn't help but pulse his little hole over the larger man's cock. It was an involuntary reaction to having his prostate battered so lovingly. He realised that he had no idea what was supposed to happen next. Should he be touching himself? Was he the girl now, and it was expected that he would cum without being touched? The way that this feeling was gathering in his balls and his belly, he thought that the later might be a distinct possibility!

"A-am I the g-girl sir?"

In the heat of the moment, the marsupial took James' confused question as dirty talk. He started to thrust harder, making the lad yelp and churr breathlessly. "You're a good little girl James. Your little pussy is so tight!" The older man was not above being lewd in such situations!

Jimbo was completely embarrassed at the ardent reply, but also quite chuffed by the praise from his teacher. He squeezed down on Lou's pistoning manhood with his 'pussy'. The tight knot of heat in the young man's belly made his untouched dick throb and drool, the copious precum sliding from his water resistant fur to stain the soft sheets below.

Suddenly, the marsupial pressed his groin flush with his lover's rump. His body quaked in ecstasy. James felt that faint throbbing in his rump, as his virginity was washed away forever. "Oh sir!" he whimpered, squirming on the bed as his lover flooded his tight little hole. The protective wings fluttered and withdrew, and the shaking paw of a satisfied sugar glider wrapped firmly around Jimbo's fevered six inches.

Half a dozen gentle strokes was all it took. His footpaws gripped Lou's rump tightly in anticipation. Then that knot in his belly suddenly slipped, his fuzzy brown balls jumped, and the muskrat cried out in a high pitched chitter. Squirt after squirt of pent up teenage cum fountained over the lad's chest and belly. Some of it stuck, but most of it slid down his pelt to form white pools on the abused black satin sheets. Lou gave his smaller lover a few slow thrusts, milking his prostate throughout the lad's peak. Only after nearly ten hard throbs did Jimbo's spine uncurl, and he collapsed back to the surface of the bed.

The damp bath towels were fetched so that both lovers could clean up a bit before cuddling. Jimbo was the little spoon. Lou wrapped arms, legs, and wings around his student to impart a level of sensual satisfaction and emotional security. And to render James helpless to the occasional tickle, which produced an incredible amount of squeaking and squirming. Each bout of tickling was followed by the marsupial licking and nuzzling the rodent's ears until he calmed down once again.

After fifteen minutes of relaxation, Lou decided to gently broach the subject that had been on his mind earlier. "James, how did you hurt your face like that?" Ever so gently, he ran one finger over the bruised area.

There was a telling moment of hesitation, within which a lie was created. "Oh, ah jus' got blindsided by a dodge ball in gym t'day. It was my fault."

The sugar glider held his lover in the shelter of his wings. "OK. Alright." Lou didn't believe it for a minute, but this wouldn't be solved in one night. "You're blossoming into a magnificent young man. I'm sure there are others who will see that and want to love you. You know what to do if that happens, young man?"

Jimbo didn't really understand what his mentor was getting at. "No sir?"

The marsupial slid his hand down to rub gently at the rodent's lower belly. "Well, if it's just you and me, we don't need to use any protection dear. But if either of us take another lover, we need to use protection. Condoms. We need to use condoms with those new lovers, and with each other. And we must, we MUST be honest with each other about this. I will still love and respect you if you tell me you're loving someone else, and I trust you will do the same."

The muskrat's head spun. He hadn't even thought about that! Not that he had any other prospects at the moment, but... "W-where do I get protection? And th' slick stuff?"

"From me." was Lou's immediate answer. "I can provide the kind that we use, and with some warning, I can provide the knotted condoms for canines, the spine protection for felines... you name the species and how big their penis is, there's protection out there for them." He paused and fondled Jimbo's pudgy sheath. "It's important. In some cases it can be life and death. Please promise me, James?"

The young man groaned and wriggled tiredly. "I promise, sir."

"Good boy. Now hop in the shower for five minutes. And use soap, get rid of my scent. I'll warm up the pickup and give you a ride home."

After a brief clean up session, the two lovers headed out into the rain, which had eased quite a bit. They loaded that four speed bike into the back of Lou's red pickup truck. The ride was spent in satisfied silence, listening to some Beethoven - Symphony 4 in B flat Major. Jimbo gripped his teacher's knee when they were about a quarter mile out. "Here is fine."

The sugar glider nodded. "Yes, I was just about to ask. Ride safe James. Our next lesson is this weekend."

James gave Lou a brief peck on the cheek, grabbed his poncho and backpack, and then exited the cab so that he could grab his bike. The older male executed a U-turn once Jimbo was clear and headed back down the hill. It was an easy ride home for the muskrat, though he got wet all over again.

He secured his bike more out of habit than necessity... there wasn't a lot of traffic by his place after 9 at night. Walking into his home around curfew time was like walking into a seedy bar. The living room reeked of sex, just hours after he'd cleaned it. His father was passed out in his favourite chair next to an open bottle of scotch. His mother was awake, lying half dressed on the threadbare couch and absently watching the evening reality shows. She barely gave her son a glance as he hurried to his room.

After a brief stop in the bathroom to towel off, the young man swapped out his gaming things for textbooks, and set everything out, ready for school in the morning. To be specific, he set his heavy backpack in front of the closed door, so that it would make a racket if anyone tried to barge in unexpectedly.

He stripped down to his damp tighty whities, turned off all of the lights and then crawled into bed. Under the blankets was his only sanctuary in this place. It was where the young muskrat could hide away. It was the only place he felt safe enough to access the secret screen on his mobile phone, enter the password, and open his 'collection'.

The folder was filled with two things: Classical music and porn. Jimbo put the volume down low, so that it wouldn't pierce the fabric womb that he was nestled within. Then the lad brought up one of his very favourite images. A tigress, on all fours. Beach towel, wine coolers, ocean in the background... and sucking on a modestly sized dick who's owner was just off screen.

He bit his lower lip lightly between buck teeth, and slipped a shaking paw under the elastic of his underwear. In that moment, it was HIS dick being sucked by that beautiful feline. As his music played, and his pleasures were being put first. But the lad's imagination was being invaded by the ghost of the real thing. Suddenly, his brain inserted another figure into his fantasy.

Jimbo's paw was flying over his rigid dick now. In his mind's eye, Lou was fucking him hard, in perfect time to the music. The tigress' admiration wasn't for the six inches in her maw, it was for the eight inches buried under the muskrat's tail. He imagined her striped rump wriggling, her big tits swaying. She purred in delight as the sugar glider's wings spread to block out the sun and he pumped his load into the twinky rodent. It made her redouble her efforts until...

The muskrat gasped softly. His heart seemed to stop for a moment as the lad's balls churned. Quietly, he pumped his hot load into those tight underpants. The semen ran down the insides of his thighs, soaking the white fabric from fly to taint. Jimbo fucked his sloppy paw until the last few dribbles leaked over the back of his grasping digits.

It took the lad five minutes to really recover from his peak. Normally he would fall asleep at this point; sneak into the bathroom in the early hours of the morning to clean up the evidence in the sink. But tonight, he remembered his recent tutelage in the art of cock sucking. He remembered the taste... it wasn't so bad. It would be easier this way, he told himself.

Quickly, the lad shucked off his underwear. While his cum was still warm, the blushing muskrat started lapping it up. Slowly at first, but more and more eagerly with each drag of his tongue along the inside of his undies, Jimbo slurped up his own essence. He even went so far as to lick his fuzzy palm clean, and suckle each finger until no evidence remained. When the only moisture left was the slight dampness of his own saliva, the muskrat slid his underpants back into place.

"Happy birthday." he murmured, breathlessly.

The young man plugged his phone in to charge, prepared to get a good night's sleep. But not before issuing a final command: He started to download that adult chat program that all the kids at school were talking about. He hid the directory safely in his secret partition, then signed off.

For once, Jimbo slept through the night. No dreams, no nightmares.

---

If you want to see more, let me know. If you want your smut in novel form, check out my published work: Splice: Conditioning. Preview chapters and links here: https://www.sofurry.com/browse/folder/stories?by=20267&folder=53083