The Sidewinder
The Sidewinder
by Slight ([email protected])
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is copyright (C) 2010 Slight
Bloodhounds and Dobermans and gay furry smut so if you don't like that sort of thing you know what to do.
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Gravel crunches under my boots walking the shoulder of a two lane highway. Moving up on a late model Buick. Ten feet and closing, getting faint scents, synapses fire, mental images. Doberman behind the wheel, male, mid twenties by the shampoo and cologne. Oak and citrus, classic, subtle. Inside the car: leather polish, old cheeseburger wrappers, pot, not in the car but definitely in him, and whiskey. 5 feet now...anxiety tinged dog sweat wafts from the car window, not fear, but nerves, which is common if not constant in my profession. Cops make people nervous. Usually the stoners flip out, stink fear, not this guy though. A cool customer.
I like to shut my eyes walking up on civilians, remove the distractions sight brings to the equation. The black and tan behind the wheel can't tell, he'll see a tall, broad shouldered, bloodhound cop saunter up in his rearview. Eyes hidden behind black aviators. Late thirties, long black tipped ears framing my brown furred head and muzzle. Excess fur and skin bunched at my neck and collar against my blue patrolman's uniform. Blessing of my breed, my face hasn't aged a day from my rookie year on the force. Give or take a few pounds, until gray streaks my muzzle, I'm ageless.
"License and proof of insurance."
"Good evening officer. What seems to be the problem."
Doberman has one arm on the door frame and the other paw on the wheel. Plain sight, smart. His voice clear, deep, and fast. No jitters.
"See the sign back there for no right on red?"
"Must have missed it."
He pulls his license from his front pocket, rifles the glove box and comes back with an insurance form.
"Where you coming from tonight."
"Had a late lunch at Regino's on Sixth. Now I'm headed to a friend's house over on Ravenwood."
One muzzleful of the crap Italian at Regino's I would have a nose full of burnt garlic and olive oil.
I give him a head tilt and wrinkled brow. "Really, haven't been there, what did you have?" He doesn't blink.
"Speghetti, wasn't that great."
More plausible theory; he was at the Sidewinder Saloon a block further north on Sixth, smoked a joint on the patio while trying to score a quick blowjob and had a whiskey at the bar. Didn't get lucky though, not a touch of cum on his breath or fur. Can't be an out of towner, plates are local and he got the street names down. Either he's a closet case, or he thinks I'm an asshole cop that likes to mess with queer furs. Definitely not a regular at the Sidewinder, I have a reputation there and it ain't for busting the clientele.
I take a look at the license, it's legit. Good looking fella, Jesse Sparks, 6'2, 185, green eyes, don't see that everyday on a Doberman. I pull off my shades to get a better look and meet his gaze, twin emerald green fixed on me, respectful-like. Cropped ears sitting so straight they're brushing the cloth of the roof. Smooth black and tan markings obscured by a clean white wifebeater T. Fitted cotton stretched over sleek black fur, a muscular chest and shoulders. I lean in close and take my claws of my right paw and graze the solid meat of his upper arm and rest the weight of my paw on his shoulder. His scent changes with the contact. Musky tinge of arousal invades my nose as I inhale deeply, visibly.
"Mind pulling onto that side road and kill the engine. I don't think you're being honest with me."
"That really necessary officer?"
"Don't make me ask a second time."
Shades back on, I turn back to my cruiser, three steps while huffing through my mouth to keep that doberman's scent in my nose a little longer.
A call from behind. "Hey, hold up."
I turn slow and he's got both arms hanging over the doorframe and a smile on his muzzle. New tactic. He gives me a hangdog look, a pup caught stealin from the cookie jar. He waves me back over and I oblige him.
"Sir, I've known a few hounds and I should've known better. I'm a marine, I'm on leave for two weeks. I live in Richmond, but I grew up over on Ravenwood, and this is my first time back in 6 years. I was blowing off a little steam, borrowed my pop's car. Remember the last weekend you spent with your folks? Got me a little stir crazy. Decided to stop by a place that didn't exactly cater to underage folks last time I was home. I don't see a problem with that, but my CO might."
Genuine military mutt, nice. Story fits with the leather polish floating around his car. "You know what, I can probably let this slide for a serviceman like yourself."
"I'd appreciate that."
I keep eyes with him "And save those stir crazies till later tonight. You'll probably have better luck."
"That right, officer?" An "I knew it" smile. Those bright green eyes trail down my uniform and land at 12 o' clock. Which happens to be my half swollen sheath. Pink tip of my cock edging out, pressed tight against the cotton-poly of my uniform. Didn't think much about foregoing briefs when I pulled on my blues this morning. I can smell the drops of pre soaking into my slacks. I take a step forward just to be sure he smells it too. His muzzle drops, a couple soft pants, a touch of tongue. I lean in and get a nice solid cloud of horn dog doberman swirling in my head.
"That's right, marine. You be on your way."
I'm back at the station, unshowered in street clothes. My watch reads 10:03. Jeans and a nicely worn black polo will do fine. Hop on my bike, old Honda I've been holding together for a few years. Start her up, kick her into gear, and roll out of the station with a sense of anticipation.
Whipping down the road, delicious scents rollicking around me. Buffeted by them, too many too fast to fixate on any, but keeps my head spinning till I'm where I need to be. The Sidewinder, it looks familiar as hell. Same Old Style sign in the window, blacked out windows, it's been around for 20 some years at least. I've been hanging around for a good ten of them.
Leave the bike on the curb, and yank the worn brass handle on the door.
Doesn't look like much. An oak bar lines the wall on my left bordered by leather stools. A couple velvet covered booths along the wall to my right and some tables sprinkled throughout. They'll open up the floor for dancing on the weekends but not tonight. A fireplace sits unused. A well worn track in the floor follows along the bar to the back screen door.
The scents tell another story though. Willis, a bad ass bobcat I know, fucked a young skunk on the second booth last night, the sweat and oil of their fur lingers in the seat cushion. Brooks, a badger with a thing for leather, must have gotten a handjob in booth number one. His cum sprayed against the underside of the table. The place is infused with sex, and it's intoxicating. I ain't saying it's dirty, they run a tight ship here, and the crew they got on cleanup does a bang up job. Most folks'll have no problem having Sunday brunch in any one of these booth's with their mama. That's all surface, but what my nose is marinating in is ingrained in the floor and the walls. A solid wipedown doesn't erase two decades of sex.
No sign of my black and tan yet. I saddle up to the bar. The bartender turned at hearing the door slam shut. Bear, medium build, late 20's, sporting a Ramones tshirt. He's smiles, extends a fist and I give it a bump. His name is Vic, he's family, or something like it.
"What's up, Harris."
"Nothing much, Vic. Could you fix me up, long day."
"The usual?"
"That'll work."
A bud heavy and a black label neat appears on the bar. I let the smoky tang of the black label hit my nose then knock it back without much affair. A sip of bud.
"So Vic, any new blood come by today?"
"Been on since three, there's a young lookin otter out back, I think I've seen him once or twice before. He's usually in a bit of a hurry."
"C'mon Vic you remember how many times you came in here before you opened your mouth for anything besides sucking dick?"
"Yeah, yeah. I was pretty lowdown about it you held me hostage in that booth back there and dragged me home with you."
"I was trying to sober you up. I took your keys because you were shithammered and I slept on the damn couch that night."
Vic laughs. "Right...right...I sneak out of my own bachelor party to get laid, I wake up in a cop's bed, and my fiancee finds my car parked on the sidewalk in front of the bar." His paw claps me on the shoulder. "It could've been worse."
"Yeah?"
"I could've married her." Vic mocks shivers.
"That would've been a nightmare."
"I'll drink to that." He pours Jameson. We both put back a shot.
The bar door opens behind me, in the faint breeze coming into the bar I find doberman. My boy, nice. Without turning around I announce.
"Vic set up Mr. Sparks here with a round on me. Mr. Sparks, say hello to Vic."
He walks up and takes a seat at the bar next to me.
"Hi Vic." Nods to the bear. "and officer, you can call me Jesse."
"Jesse is it? How about Sparky." I look over and meet his eyes, he's got an eyebrow cocked. Still sporting that wife beater, jeans and some heavy black boots.
"The last time somebody called me Sparky was back in basic. I broke his arm in two places." He takes a sip from the beer on the bar.
"Jesse, it is then." I smile.
The booze is working on me, fuck it, I was planning to leave my bike here anyway, and I don't have a shift until tomorrow afternoon. I lean into Jesse.
"How are the folks?"
He looks at his beer. "They're alright."
"You want a shot?" A nod. We put back a couple each. He tells me where he went to school. I smile and nod but I'm stuck vibing on this wiry strong military dog, I'm not listening anymore. Too busy thinking about those green eyes looking up at me with my cock buried in that sleek muzzle. Dammit, kid's just sitting there and I'm dripping in my jeans.
I stop him mid-sentence. "Let's get some fresh air." I clap a firm paw on his shoulder. Figure he's used to taking orders. He looks at me and his eyes glaze a bit, and he kills his beer in thirsty gulps. I drag him off the bar stool, and lead him in front of me towards the back door to the patio. With the booze haze, I didn't notice it at first. Mixed in his doggy sweat, tinged with arousal, is fear. Fuck me, I reeled in a first timer.
The patio ain't much, ten feet of bricks lined by flat wooden benches at the edges, another 15 yards of lawn of lawn behind that with rows of bushes and shrubs, tall pine fence all around, and some evergreen trees to complete the isolation.
We cleared the door, immediately to our right is a Dalmatian in a nice suit, fly open, getting his cock worked on by a particularly talented Hyena. The Dalmatian moans, abruptly bracing both arms against the brick wall of the bar. Jesse cranes his head left, sees the action, and immediately returns his eyes down and front.
Shortening the distance between us. I say quietly. "Don't worry. Nobody here but us queers."
Keep matching him back to the lawn, the kid don't need an audience. Wet slaps from the corner ten yards to my left. Lead him right behind a bank of evergreens. Turning the corner, the light of the bare bulbs strung over the patio are blotted out, Jesse moves into the shadow and I follow. Eyes momentarily useless, enveloped in dark. My nose fogged with pine sap. Releasing my grip on his shoulder, I run my paw quickly up under his shirt across his chest and hug him roughly against me. My muzzle on his shoulder, huffing deep against his neck and jaw, trying to pull his scent back through the evergreens. I can hear Jesse panting, the short breaths vibrating against my chest. My erection rubbing obscene against his ass through damp jeans. Jesse's paw grips tight on my upper arm, claws digging into my tricep. I hear a tang of a belt buckle loose and he's pulling me to the ground on his back. I grab a fistful of his bluejeans with my left and with my right arm still across his chest I yank him back upright. His breath caught in his chest.
The loose skin of my bloodhound muzzle up against his cropped ear, breathing hard.
"Hold up there new dog. If I'm gonna fuck you, you're gonna look me in the eyes. I know this is your first time. I know a hard case like you won't say shit if it hurts. At least on your back I can see it in your face and ease up."
No hesitation, "okay."
I release him, he turns and sits. Contrast melts back into my vision. Green eyes framed in silhouette, his dark features and strong body fade in. His jean undone, loose on his hips. Moving to a knee I yank them off, discarded somewhere on the bushes looming next to us. No underwear, naked from the waist down, Jesse starts to pull the wifebeater off.
"Leave it on." He complies. Muscular arms fall back to his sides.
Looking up half-dressed, his cock full on, bobbing slightly with his heartbeat. His scent strung out with need, cut with uncertainty. I make up his mind for him.
A solid tug, my button fly open, my sopping wet sheath enveloped by cool night air. Hanging heavy, sheath stretched taught, my engorged bloodhound cock begging for release. I oblige and slide my sheath back behind my knot. Paws on doberman hips, I drag him firmly into my lap, my cock is warmly nestled against his ass. Jesse's propped up on his elbows, eyes wide. Leaking a steady stream of pre against his hole, I grab the throbbing girth of his cock in my fist and I tug on him.
His body tightens, "oh fuck." hisses between his teeth. Shit this will be quick.
I press into him, his body resisting my fat glans until it gives. Strong black paws are up under my shirt grabbing handfuls of my loose pelt. Clawtips digging my flesh, Jesse's eyes are screwed shut, and I'm buried in heat. Looming over him, looking down, ears falling forward along my muzzle.
"Aw...yeah, that's it." I exhale slowly, my balls rubbing the fur of his ass. Fighting the urge to hammer into him, I grab a pawfull of headfur and pull Jesse into a sloppy kiss, the only kind I give. My jowls envelop his pointed muzzle. As I slip my tongue through his wet lips, I give him his first solid hump, my hips meet his ass. He audibly grunts into my muzzle and breaks away from the kiss, muzzle glistening with saliva. I start riding him with a slow rhythm. Jesse is wrapped around me, paws latched tight on the loose scruff of my upper back.
"Relax", I tell him.
The musk coming off of him is spicy in my nose, blotting out everything but the sensation in my cock. Hips straining faster, beyond my control. Jesse's red dripping doberman cock is trapped between us, soaking my stomach. Grabbing it roughly, I jerk him off in time with my thrusts. Jesse's head hangs back limp, involuntarily nodding as his body rocks against me, his tongue lolling from his open muzzle. Heavy lidded eyes, loosely focused on me. My paw slick with pre, I slide it around his expanding knot and squeeze. His body spasms, the smell of cum hits me in the face. Alright kid, my turn.
I slam his back into the ground, and grind my cock into him. Staccatto thrusts, and I'm grunting in his ear.
"I'm gonna cum in your ass."
Burying my knot is out of the question, so I grab the base of my cock. My hips jerk, my pupmaker throbs obscene and I empty my balls in him. My nose buried in the slick mess of sweat and cum soaking into his t-shirt, a cloud of dog sex in my head.
I slowly pull out.
Jesse's remains lying in the grass, chest heaving. I tuck myself back into my jeans.
"Sit up kid." He does.
I grab a fistful of his wifebeater and pull it up over his head. Up to my nose and my head is awash with his scent.
I stand over him, wrapping the shirt around my fist, "I'm keeping this. I'll have a beer waiting for you on the bar when you're ready."
Stepping back onto the patio. Vic is smoking a cigarette, an amused smile on his face.
"Shut up". The patio door bangs shut behind me as I walk back into the bar.