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The little piece of paper was covered with numbers now. No matter how many times he did the math, the result was the same. 10,080. That was the number of minutes in a week. He thought about converting it into seconds, but he didn't want to know. He stuffed the notepad and pen back into the glovebox and began exploring his thoughts to the quiet hum of the engine. How was he going to last seven whole days?

It wasn't that Raccoon didn't like it out here. He loved his quirky uncle, his sweet aunt, his three older cousins... Together they could be a riot! They lived right on the river. They had a big back yard with a dock and a rope swing and a cute little gazebo. He didn't mind the two-hour drive. It wasn't even the first time he'd been away for so long.

But of course, that was before Raccoon discovered masturbation, before he developed his evening routine. Every night after lights-out, he'd lie in bed and paw off at least three times. Definitely more if Fox was around. It was so relaxing when he was finally satisfied. Soothing. It helped him sleep better. He might've even called it therapeutic if he'd known the word.

And this was his problem. As Raccoon gazed out the passenger side window, watching the endless swathes of trees go by, he tried to think of ways around it. The bathroom? No... Their little cottage had only one toilet, and with so much family around, he'd never find a moment's peace in there. Besides, parents weren't dumb. It would be obvious what he was up to, hiding in the bathroom and emerging with a soiled towel two or three times a day. Perhaps in the bath? It would all go down the drain. No slimy towels. But again, with five others competing for bath time, he'd have to choose between getting off and getting clean.

Raccoon looked over at his father in the driver's seat. Like a responsible parent, he was concentrating fully on the road and didn't notice his son staring. I wonder if Dad had this problem growing up, he thought. He let his eyes drift downward to his father's belly...to his privates, so large and daunting compared to his own. Since his sexual awakening, Raccoon noticed things like that more often. He let his gaze linger there perhaps a bit too long before turning back to the window. He didn't want to make himself hard.

Oh, no...what if that happened while he was with his cousins? What if he started looking at their sheaths and his urges got the better of him? What if his weenie got hard in front of everyone?!

The sound of the blinker yanked Raccoon's attention back, and he saw the home stretch approaching. The car slowed to a crawl and they left the highway, turning onto the long, lonely, and narrow road that would eventually lead them all the way to the cottage. Raccoon recognized the scenery here. Big trees surrounded both sides and reached outward to cast a thick canopy over the road. It was beautiful, and the poor cub tried to enjoy these final moments in the car, but the silence was beginning to make him nervous. Thinking about getting hard was actually starting to make him hard. Wouldn't that be a heck of a way to begin his visit? Step right out of the car and greet them all with a stiffie? This was turning into a nightmare.

As the tip of Raccoon's penis began sprouting from his sheath, he realized there was only one way to get rid of it. They hadn't crossed the river yet, which meant he might have time... Maybe... There was no one else around. This was practically a private road. Even back on the highway, they hadn't passed but two or three other cars in the last half-hour. The only question was: would Dad let him? They'd never spoken about it much, even after being caught that night with Fox. He'd certainly never asked for permission, but then again, he'd never had to.

Perhaps if he just explained himself properly. What would his father say? How could he even ask? Every moment he delayed, they drew closer and closer to the house. It was now or never.

"Hey, Dad?"

Mr. Raccoon's eyes never left the road. "Mhm?"

"Can I paw off?" There it was. He could hardly believe he just said those words, but they were out in the open now and he couldn't take them back. All he could do was sit there and wait to see what his father would do with them.

Mr. Raccoon furrowed his brow, but still watched the road. "Right now?"

To say the least, this wasn't the response Raccoon expected. He studied his dad's face, tried to figure him out, but his expression was completely neutral. No obvious feelings about it one way or the other. No approving smile...but no shock or disgust, either. Maybe this would actually happen. "Please? I kinda need to," he admitted with a bit more courage.

Finally, Mr. Raccoon glanced over at his son. He nearly did a double take when he spotted the tip of Raccoon's penis peeking out. He smiled to himself and rolled his eyes. Youthful vitality... Oh, how clearly he remembered being that age. When nature made itself known, there was no fighting it. Those special desires took over no matter the location or company, and suddenly the whole world was between one's legs. In this moment, he empathized with his son more than the boy could ever understand.

So long as it was over and done with before they arrived, Mr. Raccoon saw no harm in letting him have a little fun. "We'll be there in about ten minutes. Can you make it quick?"

A great big smile crossed Raccoon's muzzle. He nodded excitedly and pulled his sheath all the way down with only the briefest hesitation. Being completely unsheathed around his father was starting to feel less and less scary. His dad wasn't the strictest of parents, but Raccoon still couldn't believe he was really being allowed to do this. It gave him butterflies in his tummy and a tingle in his hips that urged his penis harder. Right away, he began stroking.

"Whoa, hold on, there," laughed Mr. Raccoon, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to the rear of the car. "Grab one of your spare swimming towels before you get started."

In his urgency, he'd almost forgotten. "Oh, yeah. Sorry," Raccoon said as he temporarily removed his seatbelt and reached back, trying not to poke his father with his little cocklet as he retrieved the towel. He draped it over his belly and resumed, shamelessly pleasuring himself right there in the passenger seat.

"That's alright. I just don't want you making a mess in the car." Mr. Raccoon smiled and shook his head as his son began masturbating just inches away. "Honestly, isn't this something that could've waited until tonight?"

"Well...I'm gonna be staying in my cousins' room," said Raccoon, voice bouncing slightly with the motions of his wrist.

Mr. Raccoon hadn't considered that. "Ooohh, that's right. I forgot how small their house is. Such a cute little place. All four of you boys in the same room, huh?"

"Uh-huh," Raccoon replied, paw at a steady pace. "I can't do it with them in the room. They're not like Fox."

Mr. Raccoon nodded thoughtfully before turning his attention back to the road. "So, this is probably your last chance to do it for a whole week, huh?"

"Yeah. I might be able to do it real fast in the tub..."

"That doesn't sound like a very good idea to me."

Raccoon agreed, but... "Where else could I do it?"

"Well... Maybe if you play hide-and-seek, you can find a really good spot. Just make sure it's somewhere you won't make a mess."

What a fantastic idea! "Wow! That's a good one! I'll try that for sure. Thanks!" His dad was so smart.

"You're welcome..." He considered telling his son to put his seatbelt back on. After all, he wasn't just Mr. Raccoon, he was Constable Raccoon, and he knew a thing or two about safety. But he also knew a seatbelt would make masturbation uncomfortable. Besides, this was indeed a very lonely road with a low speed limit, so he decided to let Raccoon break the rules just this once. "...But did you ever think about being honest with them? Maybe ask everyone for some private time when the urge hits you?"

"No way!" he exclaimed, staring down at himself as he pawed relentlessly. Having done this with Fox more times than he could remember, he was easily able to divide his attention. "That would be so embarrassing!"

Mr. Raccoon gave his son another smirking glance. "You're not embarrassed to do it right in front of your old dad, though, huh?"

"That's different," he said. He couldn't pinpoint precisely how it was different, he just knew it was. "Besides, you've already seen it."

Mr. Raccoon thought conversation might slow the boy down, but Raccoon seemed completely unaffected by it, pumping his little penis with vigorous concentration. As he listened to Raccoon's breathing grow just a touch heavier, he thought perhaps this would be a good opportunity for a little education. As a parent, he was sure Raccoon had questions; the kinds of questions young boys were bound to have, but didn't know how to ask. "So, tell me...how much do you know about what it is you're doing right now?"

Unsure exactly what kind of answer his father expected, Raccoon shrugged. "Feels good?"

Mr. Raccoon chuckled. "It sure does. What else?"

Raccoon paused, sensing that certain tone to his father's voice. With his paw producing those electric sensations he loved, Raccoon felt surprisingly receptive to the idea of learning something new and interesting about it. He supposed the timing made a strange kind of sense, considering both of them would remember this particular car ride for quite a long time. For now, rather than admit he knew very little, he gave his father a soft moan as he gained momentum. "...Feels really good?"

Still focused on the road, Mr. Raccoon laughed heartily at his son's playful innocence and half-fake moan. "Right, again. It's a lot of fun," he said cheerfully. His boy was so cute. "Did you know it's called 'masturbation'?"

Raccoon's paw maintained its pace, but he turned to his father and gave him a confused smile. "It's called what?"

Mr. Raccoon repeated the strange new word, then spelled it out letter by letter.

"Wow, I didn't know there was a real word for it. Fox and I just call it 'pawing off'." Raccoon was getting a little closer now. His paw trembled slightly as he realized he was about to squirt in front of his father, but his body demanded more pleasure. He pushed on, building the tingle in his little cock.

"That's alright. Most boys your age call it something like that," said Mr. Raccoon as he stole another quick glance at his son's privates. He set his eyes back on the road after checking the mirrors for anyone approaching behind. "And the white fluid that comes out? How much do you know about that?"

Even the mere mention of squirting seemed to push Raccoon further toward those amazing tingles. He was quickly losing the will to speak as he drew very close. "Makes a girl have a baby, right?"

"Only if she's the same species."

Closer and closer... His paw pumped fast between his legs. "Oh, okay...so..." he trailed off, breathlessly.

Mr. Raccoon resisted the urge to look to his right. "...So, for example, if you were to have sex with your friend Beaver, it would be okay for you to squirt inside her."

Raccoon had never heard his father talk like this. The image of himself thrusting against Beaver's hips was now stuck firmly in his mind. It was enough to finish him. In just a few seconds, the spark between his legs became a fire. He shut his eyes, leaned back against the headrest, and began ejaculating. Even as the first shot hit his belly - covered safely by the towel - he marveled at how good it felt. Not only the incredible ticklish tingle he loved so much, but how freely and openly he was doing it. This was a pleasure he'd only ever enjoyed indoors with moonbeams streaming through his window, and now he was doing it in broad daylight with his father sitting to his immediate left. Many squirts followed, his right leg gently kicking outward as he wriggled around in the seat. He moaned quietly with each stream of fluid that left his body.

Mr. Raccoon could feel his boy's movements rippling through the car as he drove. The moans obviously weren't fake anymore. He didn't have to look to know what was happening to Raccoon, but he did anyway. That handsome little face... He chuckled at his son's reaction to the wonderful feelings. As he watched impressive amounts of semen hitting the towel, he momentarily wrestled between the responsibility of navigating the road and the joy of spectating. "Guess you like that idea, huh?" he said with a proud grin as he went back to driving. "I didn't know you had a crush on Beaver."

Raccoon couldn't answer. His body stiffened. He gripped the cloth of the seat with his free paw, still spraying his mess and moaning through his teeth. Legs kicking, muscles tensing, he thrust upward into the air. This was a powerful one, and he knew his father could tell. Fifteen times he squirted onto the towel before the flow began to let up. His young muscles slowly relaxed. The rest oozed outward onto his paw until he finally peeled it away. When it was all over, Raccoon let out a very relaxed and satisfied, "Phew!"

"Way to go, son!"

Raccoon looked up to see his father pointing at the towel and the big mess he'd made. "Oh... Is that good?"

"It's very good. It means your reproductive system is healthy and everything is working like it's supposed to be."

Raccoon giggled with pride. "Yeah?"

Mr. Raccoon nodded. "Looks like we've got some good news for Doctor Bear next time you get a check-up."

"What?" Raccoon stopped smiling. His ears went flat and he shrank into his seat a little. "You're gonna tell her about this?" he whispered.

Following his son's worried expression, Mr. Raccoon whispered as well. "Of course. Why wouldn't we tell her?"

"Well, it's..." Raccoon struggled, even as he looked down at his rigid penis and all the fluid soaking into the towel. "You always say it's private."

Mr. Raccoon threw his head back in a laugh. "She's a doctor, son," he said, no longer whispering. "She's supposed to know private things about our bodies. Otherwise, she wouldn't be a very good doctor, would she?"

Raccoon watched the vestiges of fluid oozing out of him. "I guess not..."

"'Private' means you don't share it with everyone. Doesn't mean you can't share it with anyone. You share it with Fox, and you just shared it with me. It's not something to be ashamed of. This is a good thing, I promise. It means you're growing up," he said with a gentle ruffle of Raccoon's head.

Raccoon was smiling again. With his clean paw, he straightened his headfur.

"Only a healthy, growing boy could make so much. And so fast, too. In fact..." Mr. Raccoon said as he noted the time, "I think you probably have time for one more."

Raccoon felt a wave of arousal through his lower parts, not unlike what he felt when Fox was around. "Can I really go again?"

"If you'd like to."

"Oh, yeah! I usually go at least three times in bed," he said as he began stroking again right away.

Mr. Raccoon raised an eyebrow. "Hope that's not keeping you up too late."

Raccoon rolled his eyes. "Daaaad..."

"Just want to make sure you're getting enough sleep. I am your father, after all."

Relaxing further into his seat, Raccoon shut his eyes. "I actually sleep better after I squirt a few times."

There was a pause as Mr. Raccoon listened to the soft, subtle noises going on right next to him. His eyes were fixed to the road, but his ears were picking up adorable things, like the little whines his son probably didn't even realize he was making. He swore he could even hear the boy's wet paw over the engine. They were sounds the proud father could've listened to all day, but he had a few more things to teach. "You know there's a special word for that feeling, too."

"Huh?"

"The nice, tingly feeling you get when you squirt. There's a word for it."

"Really?"

Mr. Raccoon nodded with a warm smile. "Mhm."

Raccoon continued his pace. "What is it?"

"Orgasm," said Mr. Raccoon before spelling it. "We call it 'having an orgasm'."

The boy snickered. "That's... That's a-"

"A funny word for something that feels so good," Mr. Raccoon interrupted. "I know."

Looking thoughtfully downward as those lovely electric feelings pulsed through his penis, Raccoon spoke up again. "Dad, why does it feel so good?"

That was a question for which Mr. Raccoon was less prepared. In his youth, he'd memorized many details about the biological processes behind it all, but he'd long since forgotten most of it. "Well, it's sort of your body's way of encouraging you to make babies. It has to do with special muscular contractions that happen on their own. If you want, we can ask Doctor Bear during your check-up."

Raccoon obviously wasn't satisfied with that answer, though his paw still didn't slow down. "But I'm not making babies right now. How come squirting feels so good when there aren't even any girls around?"

Mr. Raccoon's tone slowly changed from teacher to that of a philosopher. "I suppose it's just one of nature's gifts. Sex can be a powerful urge, and being able to satisfy that urge with nothing but your own paws... I'd say that's something to be thankful for, wouldn't you?"

With his paw moving faster on his little cocklet, Raccoon realized he'd never felt closer to his dad. Despite how little he knew about sexuality, he understood its intimacy, and he was delighted to share that intimacy with his father, who seemed so casual and welcoming about it all. "Oh, I'm very thankful," he said with a smile.

"I can see that," said Mr. Raccoon, returning his son's smile. "So... Now you know a bit more about what's going on with your body when you do this." Mr. Raccoon reached over to his son and spread the towel in a few places where it had wrinkled or folded. He didn't want Raccoon to show up with dirty fur. "And you have something to teach Fox next time you see him," he added.

That's right! Through all the excitement, Raccoon hadn't even thought of sharing this knowledge. Suddenly, he was very eager to tell Fox about all the things he'd learned today. "If it's okay with his parents, can he sleep over when I get back?"

Mr. Raccoon's voice remained gentle but unyielding. "Absolutely not. That's a school night."

"What about that weekend?"

"That'd be fine with me, but we'll have to ask your mother." In a tone that was more an observation than a question, he said, "You and Fox really like pawing off together, don't you?"

Even with all that he was doing, his dad still managed to make him blush. "I can always..." Raccoon stopped himself from saying 'squirt' and decided to use one of the new words he'd been taught. "I can always have more orgasms when he's doing it, too."

This was Mr. Raccoon's first time hearing such a mature word reflected awkwardly on his son's young and innocent lips. Now it was the father's turn to blush, if only slightly. "Well, if you two are planning another of your little orgasm marathons for that night, I'd like you to get an early start. I don't want you up late again."

"What about Mom?"

"Hm?"

"Won't she ask why we're going to bed before bedtime?"

The boy had a point, but Mr. Raccoon knew a few ways to distract her. "Well, how about this..." Mr. Raccoon began as he rested a paw on his son's left leg, "I won't tell her if you won't."

Raccoon's climax surged closer. The idea of keeping a naughty little secret from his mother was just too much, and the big, comforting paw on his thigh - so close to where he was doing his business - was undeniably arousing.

"However, you'll need to do your own laundry in the morning. We don't want your mother grabbing an armful of towels covered in dried semen," said the sweet-voiced father before patting Raccoon's leg twice and returning his paw to the steering wheel.

Raccoon's ears twitched and broke his concentration. "Covered in what?"

"Semen. Your fluids."

"Oh," he said, slightly disappointed to discover his preconceptions were wrong. "Fox said it was 'sperm'."

"Did he, now?" said Mr. Raccoon with a smirk as he briefly wondered where Fox had learned that word. "Well, he's half right. The fluid itself," he said, reaching over and circling a finger just above the mess on Raccoon's towel, "is actually called 'semen'." Just like before, he spelled it for his son. "And semen contains sperm."

"These words are all so funny! Especially that big one; 'masturlation'."

"Mastur_ba_tion," corrected Mr. Raccoon.

The tingly feelings were starting to get much stronger. Wouldn't be long. "I think I'll just call it 'pawing off'."

"You can call it whatever you like. 'Masturbation' is just the proper term. That's the word you'd use if you were talking to Doctor Bear, for instance. But there are other ways to say it."

"Like what?" Raccoon asked, trying to stay interested as the tingling feeling spread.

"Well, you've got several options. There's 'pawing off', of course...also 'rubbing one out', 'scratching the itch'..."

Raccoon hadn't heard those other two before. He would've commented on them, but he was busy moaning and shooting the first of his ejaculation. The powerful tingles came crashing through his lower half and he added to the mess on the towel. Keeping that mess from going everywhere was harder this time with intense spasms shooting up and down his back, but he was up to the challenge. He planted his feet on the dashboard and used it to thrust upward with every squirt. He always loved the second orgasm, and he'd grown to know it's unique flavor very well.

Again, Mr. Raccoon had no reason to look, knowing full well that his son was having a stunning climax. But again, he gave in to temptation, looking over and continuing like nothing was different. "There's also 'shaking the sauce', 'beating your meat', 'pulling your taffy'..."

Even in the middle of all that pleasure, Raccoon burst out laughing, making it even more difficult to keep his fur clean as the squirts were flung sloppily outward by his little pumping paw. He'd have to remember those. Fox would get a kick out of them.

Mr. Raccoon briefly turned back to the road. "Greasing the pipe...shooting the yogurt pistol..."

Raccoon was now giggling so hard his feet slipped off the dashboard. His paw never slowed. "Dad... S-Stop..." he managed to say with a struggle.

Eyes back to his son, Mr. Raccoon didn't stop. "Making baby gravy, liquidating the inventory, waxing your carrot, polishing the pink torpedo..." He watched Raccoon's face. His reactions were quite entertaining. "I've got more," he teased.

"No more!" Raccoon's fluffy, gray chest heaved with wild laughter. At this point, he had no control over the trajectory of his squirts, but with luck, the last of it ended up on the towel like all the rest. With a curl of his toes, the orgasm yielded one more sharp wave of pleasure while a few more pumps of cum slowly oozed out. Only a drop of it had landed on Raccoon's shoulder. His father quickly spotted it and rubbed the goo away with a clean part of the towel before it dried. Poor Raccoon had laughed so hard there were tears in his eyes. He wiped them with his clean paw just as he felt the car pass over the bridge. They'd almost arrived. Perfect timing.

"Better now?"

The word 'afterglow' was not yet part of Raccoon's vocabulary. Had it been, the boy might have used it to describe the delicious, warm feelings he was enjoying. "Mhm," he said wearily.

"So, if you were in bed right now, how many more times would you go?"

Still resting his eyes, Raccoon shrugged. "One or two, I guess," he said, rather uncertain. "But we just crossed the river. Won't we be there soon?"

"Maybe..."

Suddenly, Raccoon felt the car come to a gentle stop. He opened his eyes, still a little blurry with tears of laughter, to see his father's paw at the ignition. The paw twisted and the engine went silent. He looked up and was met with a sly, almost mischievous grin.

"Maybe not," said Mr. Raccoon. "Maybe we hit some traffic back on the highway. We might be about ten minutes late." He leaned back and put his arms behind his head. "Maybe even twenty minutes late."

"You're the best dad in the world," said Raccoon as he began pumping his cock again, setting his sights on orgasm number three.

"I know."