FSE

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--The Lovebird

The lovebird looked at the eight-line highway below him. It seemed to stretch on until the earth curved and it vanished beneath his line of sight. On his first day of work, this view had been breathtaking to him. After over four hundred days, it was dull and the only reason he took his breaks here was because it was the only place to sit which didn't reek of cigarette smoke. He yawned, clicking his beak in agitation. Paying for college was boring. He thought sometimes of stripping instead of serving coffee to grumpy motorists. It was possible, he figured, that some of the faces might even be the same.

He looked down at his phone. 7:55 PM. The bird knew he shouldn't check his phone. Like magic, checking his phone during his break seemed to shorten it and checking it during work made the hours stretch longer. But the headlights rushing past in endless lines held no interest. He needed to do something. He turned his back to the window and looked through his pictures. They made him smile and think about that stripper job, because here was a picture of his effeminate body in lingerie, penis tenting pink panties, his green birdfur as vibrant as a spring meadow. Another picture was himself seated next to a fox with raccoon markings. The fox had a serene smile. Vareoth's was forced and his cheeks were red. Closer inspection revealed the fox's paw to be stuffed down the back of Vareoth's shorts.

Those were good days, thought the bird as he closed his pictures. He saw the time was now 7:59. He got up and walked back to the coffee shop. Vareoth had no way of knowing that the black semi just hitting the off ramp was going to assuage his short-term boredom before nine o'clock.

--The Wolf

Ryan Huffman, proprietor and sole employee of Huffman Hauling, gave the tires on his trailer a kick. He didn't like the way it was riding. The loggers always had the shittiest trailers and that pissed Ryan off. People always needed wood, it was probably the most versatile building material in the world, so fresh-cut trees would always be profitable, but the logging companies never maintained their trailers.

"Cheap-ass bastards," Ryan muttered, thumbing a patch of exposed cord on the rearmost tire. "Won't fix your shit and it's my ass when a shredded tire goes through some schmuck's windshield."

The wolf stood up, wiping dust and grime from the tire on a flannel shirt already smeared with countless oily fluids and condiments. It was only forty degrees on this fine California night and he needed the extra layer even for his tubby form.

Ryan walked up to and into the highway oasis. Inside was an atmosphere like that of a mall. To the left and right were rows of restaurants, mostly big chains but some of them were mom-and-pop stores. In the middle was a two-tiered dining area. Small booths towards the entryways at either side offered road maps and guides for tourists.

Ryan's first trip was to the restroom. His second stop was for a hamburger from a popular chain with a king mascot. With that he was ready to go, but then he thought of his empty thermos in the truck. Ryan was nothing if not pragmatic. He'd get a cup to go and pour it in his thermos instead of walking all the way out to the truck.

He passed up the Starbucks to patronize a smaller, much less flashy shop near the eastern entrance. A brightly-colored bird who he found very cute forced a smile for him and asked, "Hello sir, what can I get you?"

"Cup of coffee, kid. In one of those styrofoam cups if you got 'em," Ryan said. And a bite under those tail feathers if you don't mind, kiddo.

Vareoth nodded and punched it in at the register. "That'll be two-sixty, sir," the bird mentioned as he turned away and fetched the drink. There was no need to ask if he wanted creamer or sugar. The old trucker types never did.

"Two-sixty," Ryan muttered as he fished through a ratty leather wallet, passing by a couple of condoms as he fingered his money. "Highway robbery, kid, how do you live with yourself?"

The lovebird chuckled, taking the three singles Ryan held up. As he tendered it and got out the coins, he asked, "Anything else you'd like, sir? Freshly-baked cookie? Muffin?"

Ryan had already sized up the bird. Ryan Huffman believed his gaydar was fully-functional and better-equipped than most. As he took his change he leaned closer and said surreptitiously, "I'll take you to go, if you wanna head to Colorado."

Vareoth blushed and held his beak to hide a squawking laugh. "Sir," he said as he glanced one way, and then the other.

Ryan's orange eyes stayed glued to the bird. He looked cute in his little apron and tan uniform they made him wear. Or was the color beige? Ryan could never tell the difference. "Or we could do somethin' here. One for the road, kid." He winked. "You ever been with an old man?"

"I can honestly say no, I have not," Vareoth chuckled. He was blushing badly. He got his fair share of propositions but never ones this blunt. That, in its own way, was endearing. This fat old wolf in his greasy flannel was hitting on him, Vareoth, who could have had any man he wanted with a flick of his tail feathers, perhaps a coquettish smile to clinch the deal. Vareoth tried not to be vain, but he had to admit that he rated a very high class of man. And this wolf acted like he didn't understand the game at all. Or maybe he understands perfectly. Maybe he's the high-class hotshot and you're the cheap hussy, a doubting voice said in his mind.

"What's-," Vareoth licked the edge of his beak in contemplation, "what is your name, mister?"

"Huffman. Ryan Huffman," the wolf said, not offering a paw. He sipped his piping-hot coffee. "And you're Vare-, Vareoth?" he said, eyeballing the plastic Hi, my name is tag on the bird's chest.

"Yeah. People have trouble with it sometimes," the bird chuckled. Another customer came up to the counter. "Excuse me," Vareoth said. "Just wait right there, Mr. Huffman."

As he helped this customer, Vareoth looked back at Ryan. The fat wolf was waiting, smiling, sipping his coffee. You think you're hot shit, don't you, Mr. Truck Driver? You must have something serious going on in those oily pants of yours to have a smirk like that...

Vareoth dealt with two more customers before he came back to Ryan. He leaned on the counter, smiling wanly. "All right, Mr. Huffman. I've thought it over."

"Ryan, just Ryan, kid. Mr. Huffman's my prick old man."

"Ryan," Vareoth laughed, and now the wolf had control again. Vareoth admired that ability to yank back control. "I'm going to close this little shop early, I think. And then I'm going to make my way into the restrooms..."

"All right, kiddo," Ryan said, walking away - towards the dining area.

--The Restroom

Vareoth stepped in with a feeling of ambivalence. This Ryan was going to blow him off, or turn out to be a fag-stomper, or maybe he'd just be a really lame lay. To his minor surprise, Ryan was in there. The wolf was loitering near the stall, amusing himself by playing with the motion-activated urinal.

"Y'know, kid, these things probably waste a ton of water," he said with an ironic smile. "So you here to fuck?"

The lovebird smiled. There was that confidence again, that self-assured swagger. He had to have a big dick or something, there was no way he could be so full of himself without an ace in the hole. The parrot pushed the lock button on the door handle and started to unbutton his shirt.

"Don't bother with that, kid. Just the pants. Let daddy see that asshole."

"Daddy, huh?" Vareoth repeated with a smirk. But he was blushing too, and he could already imagine himself calling this wolf daddy at some point. He unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, slipped out of his beige/tan trousers and then there he stood in pink panties. They were not frilly, but nevertheless he was a young man in women's underwear.

Ryan snickered. "Fucking panties, huh? I sure know a queer when I see one." He grabbed Vareoth, big paws gripping round ass cheeks under the pink underwear. His jowly lips smushed into the bird's beak in a short kiss. "I never made out with a beak before."

"It's pretty difficult and not worth the trouble, in my opinion," Vareoth admitted. His hands, scaly yet soft, the moisturized hands of a sissy boy, touched Ryan's face. The old wolf was scruffy but handsome, and the glint in his eye was that of a man with secrets to tell and surprises to unveil. The lovebird was stricken by the wolf's good looks. It caused a feeling of unreality for a twenty-something queer who enjoyed other twenty-something queers to admit that he was very attracted to somebody as old as his father.

The wolf squeezed Vareoth's cheeks and then hoisted him by them. Vareoth squawked, tail feathers splaying wide and arms hugging the trucker's grubby body. Ryan laughed and sat him down on the cool formica counter. A paw came around and pressed into the bird's crotch, and the size of the lump in them caused him to say, "Definitely got a man's prick under your panties, kid. Bet this thing give me a run for my money."

Vareoth licked the edge of his beak again. He was smiling, glowing because of the praise. He was a very pretty bird with a large dick and he liked to be complimented. "Oh, I don't know," he said, putting on an air of practiced modesty. "I'm never on top, so I don't think it matters."

Ryan winked a big, orange eye at the bird. "Backdoor beauty, gotcha. So how about it, kid?"

"How about it?" Vareoth asked, grinning at the very edges of his beak. His bright blue eyes were narrowed and jaunty. "Do you want to fuck me, Mr. Huffman, sir?"

"I wanna tongue-punch that butthole," Ryan said so flatly that Vareoth giggled. "And then, yeah, I'm gonna fuck your brains out, kid. That cool?"

"Sounds splendid," said Vareoth, shifting then on his round ass. He put his knees on the counter and his tail feathers punctuated his small, but feminine behind. Gently he swayed it while his eyes focused on themselves in the soap-scummy mirror. "Go o-o-on, eat me out. Or are you just going to stare?"

Ryan's fingers hooked into the bird's panties. He pulled them down slowly, unveiling birdfur as soft as powdered snow. Down the panties went all the way to the knees, exposing balls dressed in orange fuzz the same vibrancy as the mask-like shape on his face.

"Real cute colors, kiddo," Ryan remarked, paws grabbing cheeks again. "But you got just about the best ass cheeks I ever seen, kid, no lie. Like a goddamn onion."

Vareoth laughed, reached up to clamp his beak shut. Before the bird could ask what he was dying to know, Ryan explained, "It makes me wanna cry, kid."

"Thank god. I didn't think I was shaped like one."

"Nah," Ryan muttered, kissing a cheek. The down was gentle against his nose. "If I had to pick an animal, vegetable or mineral for a comparison, I'd say you got a peach goin' on back here." Now he pried apart the cheeks to expose a tight pink smooch of an anus. He grinned and said, "Christ, that's a good butthole you got. You train this, kid? Looks like it could pull my dick right off."

The bird's face was glowing and he was trying his damnedest not to laugh. Ryan struck Vareoth as being about as charming as a tropical rash but that seemed to be the reason he was so endearing in the first place. He was a vault of dad jokes come to life with a thirst for men. "God, Ryan," he said in his best attempt at admonishment. "As a matter of fact-, as a matter of fact, yes, I do train."

"Well, that's good," Ryan said primly, and then gave the bird's anus a gentle kiss. "Training, it does an asshole good."

"Oh, just shut u-u-up and rim me," Vareoth grunted, pressing his forehead into the mirror. That way Ryan couldn't see his smirk. He pressed back his ass and his plump cheeks spread around the wolf's muzzle, which was broad and warm. Vareoth enjoyed the feeling of it wedging into his crack. What he loved was the feeling of hot breath washing over his pucker. Then the licking started and Vareoth became unapologetically attached to the black old wolf.

Ryan's slurps were long and slow. The wolf knew his tongue was a broad, smooth pad and he had long learned how best to use its size and strength. Loping laps across the bird's anus and the run of taint leading up to it quickly had the boy huffing, hissing, curling his toes. Ryan's paws clutched the bird's penis which was fat and gray with a pink glans hiding under its hood of foreskin. It was smaller than Ryan's cock but only just. A glancing comparison would have declared them the same size.

The lovebird's thoughts shifted quickly away from work and the fact that he was in a public space built like a bridge over a highway. There were so many strangers coming and going but his interest in the world distilled down to Ryan the more the wolf slobbered and fondled him. He reached back and bumped off the wolf's cap. His fingers rubbed through short, grubby hair and over the points of the wolf's ears.

The trucker's thumb and forefinger looped snugly around the base of the bird's penis while the rest of his digits grasped it more gently. His tugs were smooth, his knowledge of just how to pleasure an uncut penis well-earned from decades of handling his own. But the star of the show was his tongue which dragged over the bird's puckered asshole over and over as if Vareoth were a piece of candy Ryan wanted to lick his way to the center of. Saliva rolled down the bird's balls, dribbling onto the floor. His cock added to the mess with a drizzle precum that dripped from the pucker of its foreskin.

Now I see why he's got that swagger, now I get it, Vareoth thought with a dreamy smile on his beak. He rocked back on his knees and pushed his behind against the wolf's snout.

Ryan took the bump as a hint for more. "I got you, kid," he mumbled into Vareoth's ass crack, sounding like someone talking through several layers of winter clothing. His lips ground into the bird's anus and gave it a kiss before his tongue pushed into the rim. His oral muscle folded in half and he pressed its surface intently into Vareoth's anus like he was tonguing a salt lick. The pink rim flexed under his tongue, seeming to smooch against the prodding tongue. Vareoth made a sweet, crooning moan and rested his head on the mirror again. It was cool and firm, and he liked it against his head which now was very hot.

"All right, okay," the bird said between huffs. "You're really good, Mr. Huffman."

"Uh-huh," said Mr. Huffman, his nose in Vareoth's tail feathers. "Don't need you to tell me that," he remarked, sounding so overwrought in his offense that the sarcasm was obvious.

Vareoth had a pretty good picture of Ryan now. Above all else, Ryan was a horny old man. That kind of raw sexuality in such an old wolf would have been unsettling if not for the coyness. Especially important was the next layer above it, the geniality that brought to mind cool uncles full of jokes of a slightly more raunchy caliber than dad jokes.

The bird eased his legs apart further, lowering his stance like he was trying to rub his penis against the counter. Ryan grappled with it, palming its gray length with the kind of roughness only a man familiar with the durability of a foreskin would dare to use. The men Vareoth slept with mostly ignored his penis, and that was well enough for him, Vareoth being the bottom bitch that he was. Those who did often had no idea how to handle foreskin, but Ryan was an old hand at it. He stroked up to the head a few times, priming the bird, making sure his hard-on was as hard as it could get. Then he felt around the tip with his fingers, slid one over the bared glans and up under the foreskin. He rubbed along the ridge of the glans, teasing its edge and all the tender nerve endings present in it.

The lovebird clicked his beak in response to Ryan's slow teasing. As opposed to his agitated snaps, his soft clicking was his version of a lip-bite; a show of pleasure, a gesture of concentration, often both at once. "Don't forget to-, hey, don't forget to rim me," he said, saying neither Ryan nor Mr. Huffman because he didn't want to sound too forward (how much more forward can I be with my butthole almost in his mouth?) or too stuffy, because calling him Mr. Huffman made him sound like a teenager. Which he supposed he pretty much was, to somebody as old as Ryan. Everybody under thirty is a kid to everybody over forty. Vareoth had heard something like that from his father years ago.

"Never forget that, kid. Just playin' with some meat," Ryan said, voice still muffled, muzzle still wearing Vareoth's ass cheeks like winter clothes. The wolf's tongue slipped up through the bird's downy ass crack and over the roots of the tail feathers. He wriggled his snout down into the crack again, nose butting against the pucker, and he slopped his tongue out again. Now it dragged across Vareoth's testicles, which were also covered in soft birdfur.

"Rya-a-an," said Vareoth, forcing himself to use the name - in a plaintive whine, no less. "Come on..."

The trucker pulled back his muzzle. His fingers curled around the bird's cock, gripping it at that strange perpendicular and upside-down angle familiar to the faggot ass-eaters of the world. To Ryan, holding a cock like it was a teat was as natural as beating himself off. He started masturbating Vareoth in loping strokes, paw pushing firmly into the bird's groin, pulling the foreskin further back with it. Sensitive nerve endings were tickled as flesh not usually doted on was stretched. The parrot shuddered, clicked his beak, splayed his toes out. His legs split further and a thick drop of precum squeezed out of his cock's slit. Ryan's masturbation shook it free before it could grow fatter and drop down on its own, and instead it was slung into the sink.

Vareoth was mildly sated. He was going to whine again, though, because he really wanted that rimjob. It was a simple, vulgar thing but it was his favorite act in the world. Only receiving, never giving, but he had the feeling Ryan was the kind of guy who liked to receive, himself. But he likes giving even more, I can tell that much, the bird thought. "Ryan-."

"Shaddup, kid," Ryan said, these words both playful and non-negotiable. He rubbed his palm into the head of Vareoth's penis, collecting - and smearing around - another wad of precum along with a few more that oozed out into his paw, which was now closed around the bird's penis as if he were trying to keep it quiet. When he had his paw all wet, he went back to his strokes. Then he nuzzled into the bird's ass crack, exhaled a hot breath across the pucker, and while it was still winking he slurped over it.

Now Ryan began giving Vareoth what he wanted. His tongue slathered the bird's delicate anus, slobbering over it again and again, bringing to mind that salt lick or hard candy once more. The paw he had free came off the sink's edge and ran down the bird's back, caressing soft boy lines through a dull tan/beige shirt. Ryan didn't like the shirt, he thought Vareoth was a pretty bird who needed to be on full display. He was kicking himself for telling the boy not to worry about the shirt.

"Oh yes, oh_yes,"_ Vareoth crooned, smile wide and toes wiggling. "That's good, Ryan. You really know how to take care of a guy, don't you?"

Ryan gave Vareoth a few more slurps. They were noticeably thicker ones. His tongue was dragging roughly on the rim, pulling it slightly open only for it to tighten back up immediately after. In his muffled voice he said, "I pretty much got it all kid." A lick, then a kiss on the bird's asshole. His paw jerked on Vareoth, making a wet noise. "I know how to back in a trailer in one shot and I can curl my tongue 'til it fits in a queer's asshole."

"That is-," the bird huffed, "that is very interesting, Ryan. I'd like to see both. One more than the other."

"Ooh-hoo, yeah," Ryan chuckled, almost giggling. "Oh, I know what you like, kiddo. You wanna see my big, lo-o-ong trailer glide into a tight little spot, daddy's hand on the wheel. You dirty slut, you."

Vareoth laughed. He bumped his head on the mirror, found that funny too, and laughed again. "You're the worst. You are absolutely the worst person I've ever met."

"Thanks, kid, I love you too," Ryan said in a smoochy-smooch voice. His tongue pushed against the bird's anus now, not licking but pressing against it like a finger. The lovebird tensed, huffed, and clicked his beak.

Between firm, steady pushes which lasted for several seconds each, Ryan broke off to kiss and lick the bird's anus which by then glinted under a thick veneer of slobber. The entire time he continued to masturbate the bird, paw moving fast but not too fast, firm but not too hard. Making the bird cum before there was a tongue in his ass seemed like a waste of effort to Ryan.

Ryan went for the push again. His tongue was big and floppy but it was deceptively strong like any tongue. He pressed against the bird's tensed, pink asshole, resisting its somewhat trembling flesh, opening it up until the bunched-up length of Ryan's tongue was able to pass into it just a little bit. Now Ryan's foot was in the door, so to speak. Tip of my tongue's in his asshole, if you want to be technical about it, he thought.

Vareoth's beak sharply clicked as this strange penetration occurred. He had had many fingers and penises in there, more than a few tongues on it, but never a tongue in it. It was new and exciting and bizarre. He wanted to push back like he did when it was a finger or a penis or a simple rimjob, but he stayed put, not wanting to interrupt whatever strange business Ryan Huffman was up to.

Ryan's tongue slithered into Vareoth, unpacking itself as it went, seeming to unfurl like the bellows of an accordion. What struck Vareoth most clearly about this was how much tongue Ryan seemed to have. As he considered it, he supposed it was normal. Canines and lupines and vulpines had long, flat tongues, some so big that it was like a fire hose unfurled from its spool. Vareoth had kissed with those big tongues but he had never had one underneath his tail feathers like this. The flesh of his penis twitched in Ryan's tugging grip and his anus instated its own tugging grip on Ryan's tongue.

The wolf's oral muscle spread out in Vareoth's snug anal channel more like a liquid than a muscle. It seemed to fill every gap, conform to every shape, and it spread saliva as it went. Vareoth was full of wet warmth. His smile was massive, eyes half-lidded and vacuous. "Ooh... oh, Ry-y-yan," he moaned, thick wads of precum dribbling out of his penis. "Ooh-my-gawd, Rya-a-an," he droned in a pleasure-drunk voice Ryan was used to hearing. This was a song he could hear all day, every day and never get sick of.

Now the wolf's jaws stopped further ingress. Semi-sharp canines bumped the bird's taint one way, tail feathers the other, giving Ryan the comical look of a hyena trying to swallow a body whole and rump-first. With what he had buried in Vareoth, he started to slobber, slathering the bird's anal walls with his pink fire hose. The slurps were slow but exceptionally sloppy. He was fighting Vareoth's anal muscles every step of the way now and by the time this was done, his tongue was going to be exhausted, but the effort was always worth it.

Birdmeat throbbed in Ryan's paw, breathing with life more fully than the bird himself who had been reduced to shallow, rapid breaths. The wolf's masturbation slowed as he grew preoccupied with working his tongue inside of the pushing and clinching walls of Vareoth's asshole, but by that point a sloppy handjob was all the bird needed. Ryan's tongue would have been enough to cause him an orgasm after time enough to really work its magic. The masturbation was step two of a double-tap; the tongue was the killer but the handjob made sure.

Vareoth's behind wriggled somewhat. His knees hurt against the counter but it was such a pittance to pay when Mr. Huffman was doing this for him. When Vareoth got up twelve hours ago and first put on his shirt and his plastic Hi, my name is name tag, he thought he might cap his night off by calling one of his old friends, men he supposed he was a boytoy to. Now here he was with an exciting stranger who used his tongue to do things some men couldn't do with their dicks. It made him glad he hadn't cashed in one of his vacation days.

"Oh gawd, Ryan, omigawd, I can't handle this, I really can't," said Vareoth, punctuating his speech with clicks of his beak. He reached back, pawed at Ryan's head with his scaly fingers, felt over an ear and the greasy hair. "Jee-hee-sus, that feels so good it almost hurts, it's so-, it's so weird, it's so intense."

The bird's cock twitched. The precum was no longer coming in fat raindrops but a constant dribble, some running down Ryan's fingers with most ending up slung across the sink and the counter. His fingers balled into fists and his anal muscles tensed hard, catching Ryan's tongue in place. Like any male, Vareoth experienced a superior climax whenever his ass was held open somehow, be it with a penis or finger or silicone toy, something. He had never had one with a tongue buried in him. It gave much more than anything solid, but it was still something to keep him braced open just a little bit. Despite the sudden tightness, Ryan still managed to wriggle his tongue all along its length and it sent pleasurable trembles through the bird's body. His trembles became quakes as the orgasm hit.

Vareoth inelegantly squawked when he ejaculated. Ropey strands of cum shot from his cock, their trajectory wild enough without Ryan's masturbation. With it, he painted large swatches of the sink including its faucet. Cum slopped behind him, landing on Ryan's pantleg and the toecap of an already filthy boot. As he rode out his climax he arched his spine. His legs drifted so far apart that Ryan was bumping his fist on the counter to keep jerking Vareoth off. It was well enough that he couldn't keep masturbating the bird; Vareoth was tender now, his orgasm over and refractory period in full swing.

"Uh, gawd," Vareoth muttered, his smile and eyes still utterly vacuous. "You know a thing or two, Ryan. I'll give you that. You really know a thing or two."

Ryan pulled back his tongue. It felt to Vareoth somehow alien, like something was slithering out of him, something alive. Which was exactly the case, as he chided himself by noting a second later. The wolf worked his jaws, rubbed his chin, and then patted the bird's ass. He leaned down again and kissed one of Vareoth's round, green butt cheeks. "Not as exciting as backing in a trailer, gotta be honest with you. But it's pretty fun."

The bird chuckled. He felt tired, but he was happy. Not just satisfied, but genuinely happy that he had been given this experience. He carefully reoriented himself to sit on the counter beside the sink. He happened to look at the faucet and saw his slop dripping off of its spotty, dirty chrome. "God, what a mess," he said sheepishly, grinning. "But I'm not the janitor."

Ryan leaned into Vareoth, kissed his beak. Vareoth licked him, the closest thing he could do to kissing, and smiled. "Can I take care of you now, sweetie?"

"Nope," said Ryan with a smile Vareoth found both jaunty and somehow sad. He bent down and picked his hat up off the tile. Fitting its ragged cap over his messy hair, he said, "Got work to do, kiddo. Delivery to make. Colorado needs its wood."

"So do I," Vareoth remarked, smiling. "You really can't stay for-?"

"Nope," Ryan reiterated, hushing the bird with a touch on the beak. He kissed the bird on the forehead. Paw on the door handle now, he glanced at his watch and declared, "Got ten minutes before I gotta be back on the road."

Their eyes locked, Vareoth staring uncertainly at Mr. Huffman. His butt was chilly on the counter, but he felt no shame in his nudity and certainly no need for modesty around the wolf.

"I'm parked in the second row, the entrance by the Cinnabon. Black truck. Trailer with logs chained to it." He winked. "If you ain't sittin' next to me by nine on the dot, I'm gonna assume you're not coming." He grinned his winsome, handsome grin and winked again. "It was real nice getting to know you either way, kiddo. Ciao."

Vareoth sat dumbfounded for several moments, precious seconds ticking away. He had work the next morning. He needed his weekly pittance for his big student loans and of course all the other bills he needed to pay. Vareoth was disdainful of other young adults who complained about adulting, as if the term could be turned into a verb, but sometimes, like right now, he bordered on sympathy for those types.

The bird wiped his penis clean of smeared slop and gave the faucet a quick, guilty wipe before flushing the whole mess down the toilet. He pulled up his pants and stepped out. Sparing the coffee shop a glance on his way past, he did not stop and stepped through the door past the Cinnabon out into that frigid California night where the mercury had dropped another four degrees. He saw the black truck with the logs on its trailer idling in the second row, steam puffing from its exhaust as if it were an old freight locomotive. Vareoth climbed up into Ryan Huffman's truck with no regrets at all. He had always wanted to see Colorado.