Four Dogs in Exile 1
#1 of Exile
This story starts in a bar, because of course this story starts in a bar. I say of course because I'm going to introduce you to a Pit Bull who calls himself Ares, and Ares likes bars. It's a Saturday night, a light rain is falling, and high above the big city, the moon is hidden behind clouds.
I should mention that when I said of course there was neither sarcasm nor hostility in my voice. I was simply giving you a fact, without judgment. The sun rises in the east. The sky is blue. Ares likes bars. These are all facts.
I should also mention that "Ares" is not his real name. Ares is what he calls himself, these days, when folks ask his name.
This is the story of four dogs.
However, at this moment - the moment when this story starts - we do not know where three of them are.
Ares has been searching for the other three for some time, and the search is starting to wear him out, wear him down. He's tired. He assumes the others are still alive, and he assumes that they're searching, just as he is searching.
He assumes, but he doesn't know.
The problem is, the city is just too fucking big.
If the others are alive, they could be anywhere.
It's Saturday, it's raining, and the moon is hidden. Ares finishes his second beer of the night, and he sets the empty glass down on the bar. The bartender glances at him - asking, without words, Want another? Ares holds up a finger and he tells the bartender, "In a minute." He wants another beer, oh yes, but he needs to piss first, and he doesn't want to leave a beer unattended. Someone will take it, and Ares doesn't need that shit.
The bartender is cute. He's a cute Beagle, and Ares wants him - he wants to go behind the bar and kiss him, deeply, kiss that sexy muzzle, right there in front of all the customers. The bar is called Low Hangers, and Ares both hates and loves that name. Inside the bar, males fill the space, congregating, dancing, drinking, flirting. Gay, bi, curious . . . males of all sorts come to Low Hangers. Canine, feline, equine, ursine. Ares is tired - the search is making him tired. But places like this lift him up, give him energy. Places like this are a welcome distraction.
Ares, as I mentioned - at least, I think I mentioned - is a Pit Bull. His fur is reddish-brown, leaning towards the red side. He is of average height, he's somewhat wide and muscular, and his eyes are the blue of the ocean depths.
He goes to the male's room. Inside, the large bathroom smells like piss and semen and males. Ares inhales, and revels in the mingled scents. A Lynx and a Cougar are making out - kissing and groping each other - up against one of the sinks. A tall Doberman with pierced ears is pissing into one of the urinals, and Ares feels a small pang, somewhere in his chest, because one of the dogs (friends) he is looking for is a Doberman. This particular Dobie, in the male's room at the bar, whose face does not at all resemble the face of the dog Ares is looking for, finishes pissing. He finishes, he zips up, and he leaves without even glancing at Ares. Ares, meanwhile, has gone to the urinal in the middle of the five, and he starts pissing. Halfway through, a muscular Rottweiler enters the bathroom and he goes to the urinal next to the one Ares is unleashing a mighty stream into. Ares glances over as the Rottweiler unzips, as he tugs down his underwear (rather than simply opening up the flap), as he pulls out his sheath. Soon, he, too, is pissing, and Ares watches, casually. The Rottweiler glances over - at Ares' face, first, then at his sheath. He grins, and it is a confident grin.
Ares is done pissing, and he gives himself a shake, and then he rolls back just a bit of his sheath, exposing just a bit of his tapered, canine cock.
How much detail should I go into here? After all, this story isn't entirely about Ares. However, at this moment, we don't know where the others are. We know where Ares is, of course - in the male's room of a bar, sheath in hand. We also know that anthro folks are complex - there is so much stuff that goes into what we are. Our desires, appetites, needs . . . Those are part of who we are. Our strengths, our weaknesses - those, too, are part of who we are. Is it enough to tell a story, simply and concisely, and leave out certain details? Or do we need to tell the whole story? If we tell the story of Ares - starting from this moment, in the male's room, well, then I believe we need to talk about everything. We should talk about Ares' strengths, and weaknesses, as well as his desires and needs.
The Rottweiler's name is Mark, and Ares will never know that - because he won't ask. Mark is intrigued by Ares' fur - the color is somewhat unusual. Also, Mark has a definition in his mind of the word masculine, and this beefy Pit Bull fits that personal definition perfectly. Thus, Mark is aroused, and because he is aroused he inhales, sniffs, draws in the scent of Ares.
Ares walks to the last toilet stall in the row, and Mark follows.
The two felines leave the restroom, and so, for a moment - a glorious, intoxicating, wonderful moment - the bathroom belongs to Ares and Mark, and only to them. We won't look away, from that toilet stall, as the two male dogs grab each other's sheaths. The toilet seat is up, but if we were to lower it - we won't! - we'd see urine and semen spread out on that seat like lines on a map. There is graffiti on the walls, as there must ever be in a public restroom.
Ares holds and squeezes Mark's balls, and Mark runs a fingertip along Ares' cock - half of which, by the way, has slipped free from the thick sheath. Quickly, the Rottweiler kneels, and he begins running his tongue along the sexy contours of Ares' red cock.
They don't have much time. They are in a public restroom - but that is not the reason why they have to hurry. After all, in this particular restroom, which belongs to this bar, males are always getting off with each other in here. No, the reason why they are in a hurry is because both are - suddenly - overwhelmed with lust. Both want to come, soon, and both want to make each other come.
Neither of these dogs has any way of knowing this, but, both are tops. Both of them would want to top the other, and take their time doing so, and then knot the other . . . and then remain blissfully tied for a while.
But, however, here, in this toilet stall (where other males have left behind their piss and/or their spunk), both dogs will be content with something less complicated.
As Ares moans with pleasure, Mark fellates him - the Rottweiler blows the thick, red cock that has emerged nearly all the way out of the sheath. Pre slips down Mark's throat, and he revels in the taste of warm, canine cock.
Soon, Ares is gripping Mark's shoulders, and he says something like my turn, so Mark stands up and Ares kneels. The Pit Bull's cock is throbbing, and there is both pre and saliva on the shaft. Soon, Ares is going down on Mark, and soon it is Mark's turn to moan in pleasure. And Ares wants to swallow, he wants to feel the jizz running down his throat. Instead, he stands, and he grips Mark's knot. He can feel that knot swelling up in his hand, swelling up into a hard mass of pure lust and ecstasy. One hand still gripping the knot, Ares uses his other hand to masturbate the Rottweiler. He goes hard, and he goes fast, and Mark's face lights up with pleasure. His eyes roll back, and his mouth pops open, and his orgasm rocks him . . . a geyser of spunk shoots up - it arcs up, then down, down towards the toilet. The dog's semen splashes on the floor, and he gasps, his body held firmly by the pleasure of his orgasm.
For a moment, both dogs simply stand still, leaning towards one another. Mark pants. Ares inhales the various scents that are coming off of the Rottweiler's gorgeous body. And then Mark leans in, and his muzzle connects with Ares' muzzle, and the two males kiss - tongues wrestle, saliva is exchanged - yes - you know how kisses can work, sometimes, when two males are together and they're caught up in a frenzy of lust.
Anyway, after the kiss, Mark reaches for Ares' knot. As it swells, Mark circumnavigates the circumference of it with a finger. Mark has just had his orgasm, but he almost gets hard again, just from touching the Pit Bull's knot. And then he puts his other hand on Ares' cock. There are a few subtle veins, and the tapered tip has pre oozing from it, and Mark begins stroking . . . going slow at first, then speeding up. Then speeding up yet more. Ares' testicles are taut, full. His cock throbs, as he reaches full erection. Mark masturbates the Pit Bull, running his hand quickly up and down the red shaft, until Ares groans and his orgasm rocks his body. Once again, semen arcs up and splashes down. Ares comes, hard, while Mark maintains a firm grip on his knot.
And then the two males kiss again.
I'm fairly certain none of this is relevant. This bar, this bathroom, what the two male dogs are doing with/for each other . . . None of it is relevant to the story I am trying to tell.
And yet, all of this is relevant - because we started this tale with Ares, and Ares has been exiled to a city that is, let's face it, too large, too overwhelming, too full of distractions.
Yes, this city has lots of distractions. There are shops and eateries, of course, and a ton of tourist attractions. There are galleries and museums, and parks, and oh, what else, a thousand, thousand ways to spend one's time. This city has a lot of bars, and a lot of males. If Ares wanted to, he could spend nearly all his time indulging in what some call "pleasures of the flesh," and he knows it.
This Pit Bull who calls himself Ares (though that is not his real name) is in exile, but, he is in danger of becoming lost as well. He could so easily get lost amongst this city's myriad distractions, and if he does . . . If he does, he will never find his friends. He will never complete his mission.