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Desmond's small-dicked, corn-fed southern niceness made him act sweet as syrup to everybody but especially to Jericho - the kind of bitchy sissy who found that kind of earnest sweetness patronizing. What Desmond would only reveal to Jericho's cousin, Ricky, was the fact that he thought Jericho was at his most attractive when bitching.

He played the voicemail again when he was minutes away in his car. "Yeah, this is Jericho. Ricky said you wanted to see me again." Not altogether untrue; Desmond had liked him. He was cute and gave a good handjob. "So I suppose if you have to, you can come by my place this evening. No earlier than six PM. If you don't come, then whatever, I won't really care."

The foxcoon was just pulling into the driveway when he got a call. Considering it was ten after six, he expected it to be Jericho fussing about him not showing up on time, not that I care or anything! Instead it was Ricky.

"Hey, man. You busy?"

"I'm drivin', whatcha need?"

Desmond's accent always made Ricky smirk. The fox could hear it in his voice. "Ah, yeah. My cousin just texted me. Did you stand him up or something?"

Desmond smiled, killing the engine. "Ju-u-ust pulled into his driveway."

Ricky laughed. "Ah, okay. Yeah, then, never mind me. Have fun."

The horse met him at the door, not quite scowling. He silently took Desmond inside and locked the deadbolt behind him. Never one to let ice go unbroken, Desmond shot him his best smile and drawled near the front door, "Well, heya, sugar. It's so nice t'see that purdy face of yours again so soon!"

"Yeah, I'll bet." Jericho turned away to hide his blush. He was a sucker for compliments, but he wasn't dressed to fish for them. In fact, he looked an awful lot like he hadn't intended to see anybody given his sweat pants and sweatshirt, its chest emblazoned with his alma mater's emblem. "So, Ricky said you really liked hanging out with me, huh?" said the horse, sashaying into the kitchen. Desmond followed.

"Yuh-huh. An' Ricky said you loved meetin' me 'n all that good stuff." He seated himself at the island counter, wrists but not elbows resting on the formica. His tail swished; he smiled. "That about right?"

Jericho leaned against the sink, folding his arms across his chest. "Something like that. But, you know, I don't usually see guys twice. I just owe Ricky a favor."

"Sure."

"I don't like you in any special way."

The fox widened his smile. His eyes narrowed. "Sure," he repeated.

"Yeah. Sure," Jericho mocked, pushing off the counter. "I guess let's get this over with."

"Wha-a-at," Desmond teased, slipping out of the chair. Nearly upon Jericho, he asked, "No dinner first? Ya' ain't gonna watch a movie with me? Ain't even gonna cuddle some?"

Jericho scoffed. "I don't cuddle! And I watch movies at my computer, I doubt you'd be comfortable that way." He walked down the hall, turning into his bedroom. It occurred to Desmond, as nice as the house was, that Jericho probably lived with his parents. "This way," he said unnecessarily.

"Just followin' yer cute little pos-terior," Desmond purred. Jericho blushed and grunted.

Only reaffirming the foxcoon's notion, Jericho shut and locked his bedroom door. He turned to face Desmond, regarding the fox in his flannel and blue jeans with disdain as though he were a project the horse didn't want to take on. "All right," he huffed. "First of all, these," he gestured sweepingly to the foxcoon's body, "need to come off. I can't stand flannel. Even on you."

Though he undressed, Desmond was keen to note: "An' you might be even less forgiving if I weren't one sweet and cuddly Mr. Desmond Lankett?"

"That isn't what I meant." Jericho fussed with his own clothes, revealing a lack of underwear. Desmond was hardly surprised and certainly not judgmental; for what reason did sweat pants exist than for freeballing?

Desmond wasn't so unencumbered. He stood before Jericho in briefs, a small cock tenting pearly white cotton. He took stock of Jericho's girly body and cracked another famous smile. "Real nice pecker, hon. Y'gonna let me do you this time?"

"No," Jericho almost sneered. "You're not going to do me. On that note, lay back," he snapped.

"Well, yes ma'am," Desmond tittered. He draped himself across Jericho's narrow bed, resting comfortably. "Mmm, real nice bed, sugar. Too bad ya' don't like cuddlin' up. Ricky tells me bein' in bed with me's like snugglin' a pillow."

The stallion reached into his desk's top drawer, surreptitiously withdrawing a bottle of lube and a length of soft cord. With eyes narrow, lips pouting, he straddled the foxcoon and rested on him in such a way that they would have frotted if not for Desmond's briefs. The fox lamented as much.

"He-e-ey. Whatcha doin' with the clothesline there, hon?" asked Desmond, smiling wanly.

Jericho preferred to answer with actions in such situations. He bound Desmond's wrists together, looping the silk cord through the decorative perforations in his headboard. When his vulpine prize was secure, he scooted down the bed and pulled Desmond's briefs along with him. Merely seeing that stubby, uncut cock made his heartbeat quicken and cheeks flush. In a rare candid moment as he smeared lube all over it, he said, "I like your cock. Ricky's is too big."

Desmond giggled. "Aw, heck. That's cute."

"Shut up," Jericho groused. "I shouldn't have told you."

In spite of his embarrassment, Jericho reached back with his slicked fingers and unsubtly fingered himself. He even moaned as he did it, his eyes gaining a glazed quality.

"Aw, I'm sorry, sugar," Desmond said, genuinely remorseful yet still smiling. "I ain't gonna tell Ricky." He laughed. "He's a peckerhead anyway."

Jericho sneered. "I guess he is... but still." He locked eyes with the foxcoon, frowning again. He was still fingering his ass, somehow managing to look quite stern. "Suppose I need to leverage you. Tell me something embarrassing."

The foxcoon's face fell blank. "Uh, well... shit, I dunno," he laughed. "You, uh--, well, hmm."

Scoffing impatiently, Jericho straddled Desmond. His low-hanging equine nuts brushed Desmond's cock before clearing it, and he sat with some grace on the foxcoon's meat. A guiding hand helped him get it in, and a well-trained, puffy anus helped him take it down to the balls. He moaned softly; Desmond echoed his sentiment.

"Mmm," Desmond murmured, curling his toes. He looked at the ceiling thoughtfully, finding it a little funny that Jericho had a pinup poster of some sabertoothed rock singer pinned above his bed. "We-e-ell. I fucked me a horsie once."

Jericho's ears splayed indignantly. "How is that embarrassing?"

Desmond met his eyes, smiling self-consciously. "Was one of them four-legged ones," he chuckled. "Never told nobody 'bout that 'til now."

"Oh, well, that's... that's better," Jericho conceded, beginning to bounce. That the cock in his ass had been in a feral horse was little bother to him; he had seen a few videos here and there, and he knew that feral horses were beautiful creatures. That, however, was a sentiment he kept to himself.

Rubbing down Desmond's naked, slender breast and eyeing the strip of his bush, Jericho murmured, "Do you like this? I mean, it doesn't really matter if you do or don't. I do, and that's what's important."

"Yeah, you're good, sugarpie," cooed the foxcoon, closing his eyes. Precum oozed into Jericho and Jericho in turn oozed and shot across his belly, streaking his blonde bush, saturating his colors. "Y'ever plow Ricky's momma...?"

Jericho frowned. It had nothing to do with her being his aunt and everything to do with him being gay; if anything, keeping it in the family only enhanced sex. "No," he said, "I like men."

The fox sighed wistfully. "Ah, I did her once. Pretty sure Ricky knew about it. An', well, gotta be honest, she purdy much fucked me. Big woman, ya' know? And there's me, just some poor lil' country boy just moved into the state, gettin' Mrs. Robinson'd by my pal's momma... fucks a guy up, ya' know what I mean?"

"Mmh," Jericho grunted. He leisurely masturbated, riding Desmond smoothly, firmly. The lube was doing a fine job, yet his pucker had still swelled nicely. He enjoyed having some puffiness. "That's nice," he said, somewhat tartly. "I still don't like women."

Desmond smiled sympathetically. "We-e-ell, ya' know, banged one MILF, banged 'em all. Heck, I knew this here bear boy, what's-his-name, Ben? Brad? Brett? Anyway, his momma - gawddamn!"

"I should have gagged you," Jericho bitterly said.

Desmond laughed, but he was embarrassed. "Well, gosh, Jeri-honey. If ya' wanted me quiet..."

The horse puffed from his nostrils, making them flare inelegantly. Reaching over Desmond, he touched the foxcoon's naked body with gentle fingers; he found himself drawn to the narrow lines of Desmond's breast, yet he lingered on a nipple, tracing its areola, then pushing the stiffened button. Desmond's shivering coo saw Jericho nearly smile, but not quite.

"Yer gonna make me bust a nut, sweet stuff," the country boy said with a sigh. "Mmm, gawd... I'd love t'bend ya' over if ya'd let me, sugar. You can ask yer cousin, I try to be real sweet when I'm givin' it. Feel ya' up, make sure yer feelin' so-o-o good before we're done."

Jericho chewed his lip, contemplating the notion. Touching Desmond's soft white fluff reminded him of cuddly toys; pleasures more innocent. He wondered if somebody who could match his sadist cousin yank for yank and bite for bite could really be a gentle lover unchained. Jericho didn't like that slap-and-tickle nonsense.

Soft but eager moans escaped Desmond. His small cock ached inside of Jericho, seeming to get a little hotter and harder with each passing moment. Jericho knew it was his mind playing tricks on him, of course; sexual hyperbole as he got himself closer and closer to his own orgasm, and perhaps some wishful thinking on his part.

He leaned lower, letting his cock, which was small for a stallion, grind into Desmond's belly fluff where it smeared precum into the downy fur. His broad nose met the pad of Desmond's and he breathed to the fox, "Don't read into this. I just like kisses."

Before Desmond could tease - and oh, how Desmond wanted to tease Jericho then and there - the equine twink pushed a kiss on Desmond, parting his lips, lapping Desmond's soft black jowls. To his pleasure, Desmond obliged his gay urges, opening his mouth haltingly; Jericho swabbed his tongue past Desmond's jowls and pointed vulpine teeth. The fox licked back, slathering deep and hard in the horse's mouth with that broad, pink tongue. Jericho grunted, blushing, clenching; he sluiced Desmond's hair through his fingers and flared his nostrils.

Although the kiss was his dominion, Desmond whimpered. The syrupy southern faggot bucked, though Jericho's flawless boy bottom was flush to his crotch. It at least kick-started Jericho, making him ride again.

Jericho reached between his flat, perfect belly and the similar plane of Desmond's. In that narrow space he masturbated, and he found that his cock was offensively drippy. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been so vulgar in his wetness and he rightly blamed it on his affection for the foxcoon. Indulgently, he sucked Desmond's broad tongue. Steady rises and falls helped him milk that stubby, stout cock buried inside of him. Desmond made awkward yet happy noises in the kiss and Jericho had a pretty good idea of what they meant.

The horse was such a dynamite twink that Desmond, stuck in bondage and embroiled in a sweltering kiss, simply couldn't outlast his pouty host. Beneath Jericho he shuddered, his green eyes rolling back to show whites fractured with capillaries. His ears splayed into his hair and he grunted bestially through Jericho's maw. Curled toes and twisted legs accompanied his climax into the horse, and as he dumped his nuts, Jericho appreciatively moaned and nibbled Desmond's tongue before it woefully retracted in reflex.

Huffing close to Desmond's lips, pawing desperately at his own cock as Desmond came, Jericho let his mask falter. The needful, enamored slut within nipped Desmond's soft jowls and nuzzled him sweetly. He rubbed and tugged his cock, masturbating in equal measure with his own hand as Desmond's warm fluff. He uttered, "God, you're better than Ricky. You kiss so fucking good. Your smell--, just, your dick. Your hair. I love all of it. God, you're good."

Desmond snickered in embarrassment, gaining rosy cheeks which may have just been his afterglow. He didn't say a word, finding language difficult in such strained times, but he smooched the horse between the eyes, rumbling lovingly. Jericho was deeply appreciative.

Finally the stallion had his orgasm, his release a foregone conclusion but a wonderful victory for him all the same. As his cock throbbed, spitting thick ropes of cum into Desmond's blonde bush and soft fluff, he fell fully slack against the fox and nosed timidly the side of his neck. Slim chests together with Desmond, the foxcoon's load beginning to leak out of him, Jericho felt naked but happy.

In an hour's time Jericho was back to his old self. He showered, not offering Desmond the opportunity to join him despite hoping the fox would invite himself. They didn't talk. Jericho played a game on his computer for a while and Desmond watched quietly and politely, not remarking on the exciting goings-on or claiming him a lame host. Such an observation would have been, after all, decidedly untrue.

Eventually, however, Desmond stood and stretched. His ribs settled in a crescendo of satisfying, wet pops. "I think I'm gonna head on home now, sugarpie," he said warmly. "It was nice seein' ya', Jeri-baby."

"Yeah," Jericho said distractedly, not even pulling away his headphones. "This didn't mean anything, you know."

"Mmhmm."

"It was just a casual fuck because you wanted to. That was all."

"Oh, I know, sugar." A big, cheesy smile. "Ya' don't like me or nothin', right?"

Jericho scoffed and Desmond laughed, heading for the door. He was almost out when the horse put down his headphones, pushed in his keyboard tray, rolled out his chair. He all but stomped up to the foxcoon and wrapped his arms around him, scowling all the while. "I really don't," he said, ineffectually. Softly he kissed Desmond's lips, and he let the kiss linger, soft lips tugging at sticky, black jowls. Gently, "If you want to come back again, I guess I can make time for you."

The fox was smiling coyly, red-cheeked. He winked as he twisted the doorknob. "Well, sweetie, I do love bein' an inconvenience. Might just see ya' again real soon in that case."

"Mm, yeah," Jericho puffed, turning away before the fox could see his own blush. "Let's hope not. Bye."