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HOOKED

Once a couple becomes engaged, people ask you many questions. When are you getting married, where will the ceremony take place, do you plan to have children, who proposed to who, will it be a religious ceremony or secular, and so on. Lately my fiancée, Lieutenant Commander Edward Jessup, USN, and I get these sort of questions quite often, and most of them are fairly easy to answer, being simple questions that require only a simple answer. But one question that invariably comes up, with relatives or school friends or coworkers as they grow curious about our relationship, I can't answer in complete honesty: how did you meet? Yes, it sounds like such a simple question, but the real truth is rather more complex, and involves details of the kind one doesn't share with great-aunts, or classmates who sat next to you in HIST 304 Meiji Japan.

Here though I'd like for once to put down in writing the true story that only my twin brother and few good friends, most of them also gay, know. Be warned, though...things are gonna get spicy.

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It was Saturday afternoon in mid-August, 2016, and I was terribly bored.

Normally I was not, then or now, a particularly solitary coyote, except when relaxing with a book at home. When going out I preferred to do so with my twin brother, Berkeley, or with friends. But Berkeley, with whom I had been for most of our life inseparable, had decided to spend that summer in Alaska doing some sort of internship with the National Park Service, as he thought he might like to pursue a career with them. It didn't end up working out, and last year he moved to New Zealand to work as a vineyard assistant at a winery there, although I think in reality he's more of a pet of the two gay foxes who own it. But that's neither here nor there so far as my story goes.

With Berkeley gone, usually I'd fall back on friends, but that afternoon none were available, so following a morning swim, and lunch back at home (my parents live so close to the university that it would have been silly for me to have wasted money on an apartment or dorms), I drove down to the Ala Wai Harbor, in Honolulu.

Yes, I live on Oahu in Hawaii, although I wasn't born here. Dad is a colonel in the US Air Force, and was transferred to the Bellows Air Force Station in 2002, when I was 9. After all these years it very much feels like home, and there's not anywhere else on earth I'd want to live; once you get used to the tropic breezes, the rainforests, sunshine all year wrong, the warm blue Pacific, the vibrant fish of the sea and birds of the forest, and the warm loving culture of aloha, no where else really compares.

Ala Wai is the biggest harbour on the island, the place to visit if you want to wander about admiring sailboats, cruisers, yachts, and more. Since I was a pup I had always liked going there; getting to check out all the boats, imagining that someday I might have my own vessel moored here amongst them. In the end this childhood captivation with ships and the sea had lead me to choosing to major - myself, my twin Berkeley, and our younger sister Bianca were all attending the University of Hawaii - in history, focusing specifically on the maritime history of the Hawaiian islands, though at the time I had little idea what I would do with it now that I'd graduated. Just the same, an afternoon strolling about Ala Wai excited me no less now at 23 than it had when I was a pup, and it was better than hanging around the house all afternoon. I found a parking spot in the lot, though it was very full - on a summer weekend like this, many people would understandably be out on their boats - and stepped out of the car, panting in the afternoon heat. In the reflection within my car's window I could see myself, a skinny coyote in aviator sunglasses, a pale blue button up shirt, and white jean shorts. Truth be told I probably didn't look my best; the fur of my head frizzy from being quickly dried by the sun after my morning swim. But given I expected to spend the afternoon alone I didn't think much of it.

A slight breeze was blowing, carrying the scent of the sea, as I walked down to the marina and out onto the pontoon decking which fans out, like a string of T's, a neat line of boats moored alongside each. There were still plenty of boats in harbour even on such a pleasant day, and others coming in or going out all the time, and even those boats moored up tightly were not without action, as here and there various owners or passengers could be seen doing maintenance work on their boats, or preparing to set off, or merely relaxing. That was one thing I liked about the marina: there was always much going on, different every time.

For awhile - between half an hour and 45 minutes - I wandered up and down the rows of boats, pausing here and there to admire a particularly handsome sailboat or yacht, reflecting on what kind I'd rather have someday when I could afford my own boat. Out on the harbour edge palm trees swayed, a very stereotypical Hawaiian aesthetic to be sure, but one that reminded me less of the islands themselves but of the winds blowing in from the sea. As I watched a big yacht putting out to sea, pondering the likely prospect of a quiet and dull evening at home, I wished very much that I was on that yacht, preferably in company of my brother, or some of my friends, or the handsome boyfriend I had been dreaming of for ten years but not yet found. It was now around 4 in the afternoon, which seemed to me an excellent time to break out pina coladas, or a nice chilled wine. How grand it would be to lean back against the rail of the boat - or against a stud's shoulders - sipping my drink, feeling the wind in my tail, the salt scent in my nose, ears folded back in bliss...for a moment I indulged in the fantasy.

Presently though my vision cleared; the yacht had sailed beyond the harbour entrance, my fur felt sticky with sweat, and my tail drooped, rather than waving with enthusiasm. My mouth felt rather dry. Ah well, I thought, the marina had been a fun distraction for awhile, but there comes a time when one tires of watching other people go off on adventure, wanting to be a participant, not just a spectator.

Perhaps I'd best just go find a bar and get myself a drink, though I did not usually like drinking alone.

Resigned to this less than inspiring prospect, I'd resolved to go back to my car, when as I walked back down past the row of boats I'd been perusing, stepping over ropes and nets and fishing poles, iceboxes and suitcases, and the other assorted paraphernalia being loaded or unloaded onto boats, or simply carelessly left on the dock, when out of the corner of my eye something caught my attention.

It was a boat I hadn't seen before, a cabin cruiser of standard size and dimensions, but unlike most such boats, this one was made mostly of wood, with a white hull and cabin and a polished, well-stained deck; rather the sort of boat one would expect to see featured in a 1960s movie, with JFK or James Bond or Katherine Hepburn or someone similarly classy standing on the stern in evening dress, sipping champagne. My ears perked.

Now this boat had an aesthetic I could go for. I walked up to the edge of the dock, peering into the stern, which was shaded by a sunroof. Two big fishing poles were thrust through holders, one at either corner of the stern, and back farther under the sunroof I could see two beach chairs, presumably for use of fishermen. The cabin had a French door, the top half of which hung open, though the inside was too shadowy for me to see far within. Above this was a much smaller upper deck, covered by another sunroof, on which was a steering wheel. When I leaned out to look down the side of the boat I perceived that the bow had a large flat deck on it, of the sort one might use for sunbathing.

What a pretty boat, I thought. I much preferred these old-style boats, with their classy wooden exteriors, to the chrome and metal designs favoured by modern sailors. Someday I will have a boat like this, I promised myself, my tail wagging as I imagined such a prospect. Down on the stern my eyes fell upon the boat's name, Happy Hour, and I chuckled.

'Do you approve?' asked a voice.

My tail paused midwag as my eyes swung up to face the hottest painted dog I'd ever seen.

Hell, correction, one of the hottest guys I had ever seen full stop.

He'd come out of the cabin while I was reading the name, a big tall painted dog, half smiling, with the big rounded ears pricked forward in curiosity. A good head taller than me, he had to be at least 6'3, probably more, and had wide shoulders and fairly-well muscled arms. His face was mostly dark, black fur across a broad handsome muzzle, above which his forehead and mane were much lighter, naturally golden probably but bleached almost blonde by the sun. From that handsome face dancing green eyes gazed out at me from beneath very long, elegant eyebrows, curled almost mischievously. His big dark ears were up on full alert. He wore only some light green shorts so that the spotted fur of his chest was on full display; an intensely toned chest, not quite porn-star level, and not at all like a body-builders, but at very least the body of someone who worked out often, judging by the obvious rise of his pecs, - his chest-fur was short enough to make his nipples very obvious - and below them the clear outline of a six-pack. Behind him a half-white, half-spotted tail swung casually, a friendly motion. And damn, I gasped inwardly, those thighs! Clearly this dog had never once skipped leg day; the thighs straining those shorts had to be at least 2/3s the side of my waist. I swallowed, felt my cock twitch within my underwear, and remembered that the dog had spoken to me.

'Excuse me?' I sputtered, sounding, I thought, the exact opposite of attractive. My ears flew askew as I mentally scambled to regain composure.

The painted dog just smiled, with that same twinkle in his eyes. 'Of the name, I meant.'

The name? Momentarily distracted, my eyes dropped to the boat's stern again. 'Oh yes.' I chuckled nervously, my tail twitching. 'It's, uh, a good name!'

I was rewarded with a warm laugh. 'Good. When I was getting her registered, it did occur to me that some folks might take it rather the wrong way. Think it's in poor taste. You know, fitting the alcoholic sailor stereotype.'

'I didn't take it that way,' I said, my ears relaxing a little. He had a relaxing vibe to him, this painted dog, just a minute talking and already I could feel my anxiety slipping a little.

'Most people don't,' he agreed. 'Anyway, in truth I picked the name in part first because I do like booze, but hey, who doesn't, and secondly because any hour I'm out on this baby is a happy hour.' His tail wagged smoothly as he glanced affectionately at the boat. 'Kind of a personal significance to me, in the name.'

My tail gave a nervous wag. 'That's cool, boats are supposed to be a source of happiness,' I flicked my ears, realising this does not sound particularly intelligent. 'And many people like drunken sailors anyway. Just look how popular Captain Jack Sparrow is.'

The painted dog laughed again, richly, a sound I realised I liked. 'Oh, I'm just as charming as he is, only better looking.' He smirked, the mottled tail wagging harder. Strangely the words don't come across as arrogant, almost more in the tone of fun poked at himself, as though he doesn't take himself very seriously.

'I can't disagree with that,' I nodded, wagging, and then immediately cringed and flattened my ears, embarrassed at having nearly revealed how attractive found him. To cover up, I rushed on. 'I hope I didn't interrupt you, by the way. I was just leaving, but I saw your boat and it was so pretty I couldn't help but stop to admire her.'

As I was talking his long elegant eyebrows seemed to dip in concentration, his eyes narrowing, the broad brown muzzle dipping down in a smile. 'I'm glad you like my baby,' he grinned. 'Wanna go out for a ride?'

The offer caught me so off guard I forgot my anxiety instantly. My ears flew up, as with wondering eyes I stared at him. 'Wait, like now?'

His smile deepened, almost a smirk, as though it were already a done deal. 'Of course. Unless you're going somewhere. I was planning to sail out for the afternoon anyway, but it'd be even more fun with a cute coyote along.'

'I have no plans,' I assured him, my tail suddenly bursting into frenzied wagging. My delight at being invited out with such an unspeakably handsome painted dog was so complete that my shyness vanished; now I smiled as deeply as he did, charmed that he had called me cute, which presumably meant he was also gay, or at least bi. 'If you're offering I'd love to join you.'

'Get on board, then.' He watched, still grinning deeply, his tail continuing its casual wave, as I climbed over the back of the stern and into the boat, then smirked down at me, as I, feeling deliciously giddy, realised even more how much taller than me he was. 'Unless,' he smirked showing very long, white fangs, 'you have a boyfriend who'd mind?' Something in the nonchalant, casual way he said it made me think that he didn't really care about my reply, and would encourage me to come with him regardless.

I blushed, my ears folding back. 'I don't belong to anyone.'

'All the better.' He put one of his big hands on my shoulder. 'My name's Jessup, Edward Jessup, though of course you should call me Edward.' It was then that I realised, going by the fact that he started with his last name, combined with his muscular body and the fact he owned a boat, that he was probably military. Growing up on Air Force bases I'd learnt to recognise servicemen not just by the way they dressed but in a certain manner or carriage; what Sherlock Holmes described as a 'military bearing.'

'I'm Basil...' I got no further chance to introduce myself, as he was looking down directly into my eyes with a knowing smile, as though he knew exactly how attractive I found him, knew how thrilled I was he'd invited me out, and knew that half of my cock was already out of my sheath and straining against my shorts.

He had a ridiculously confident aura to him, not one that suggested arrogance but rather a kind of unassuming self-assurance: the commanding presence of a natural leader. Five minutes before I'd never seen him before in my life, and yet standing there, with his hand on my shoulder, his handsome muzzle bent down towards me, his scent, distinctively painted dog with a masculine twang, rich in my nose, I felt oddly submissive, as though whatever suggestion or request he made I'd accept and defer to without question.

We gazed at each other for a brief moment, I unable to ignore realisation that up close he was even more attractive than I'd thought, which did things to me; he was a virtual stranger and yet already I was hoping he'd pull my face into his pecs and hold it there. Then he reached up to ruffle the fur between my ears, dragging a few claws from there down my cheek. 'I can already tell you're a good boy, Basil.' His finger paused on my chin, holding our gaze, as his words made me shiver. 'You and I are going to have a most excellent time today, I think. But for now I'm just delighted to have you on board.'

'Thank you for having me,' I wagged, my muzzle contorting into an expression half shy-smile and half stereotypical coyote smirk. 'Now where are we off to, Captain?'

'You'll see.' He released my muzzle, gave me a devilish grin, and with tail still waving, stepped around me to set at undoing the mooring. I was almost trembling with excitement, my tail rustling erratically behind me, still grinning rather giddily to myself, half-unable to believe my good luck. Whenever before had such a charming, good-looking stud as this Edward was asked me out, and on a boat no less? It was almost unbelievable, and yet here I was.

Only a few short minutes later, I stood next to him on the upper deck as he piloted us out of the harbour, past other boats bobbing at their moorings, past the border of palm trees, out towards the open sea. The sea breeze blowing in our faces felt fine on my damp fur, such that I relaxed a little, panting less. Beside me Edward stood calmly surveying the scene before us, glancing to and fro watching other boats pass, steering us free of the harbour. When his muzzle was closed, as it was now when he was intently focused upon one task, the tips of his upper canine fangs hung just barely over his lower lip, which I rather thought made him look all the more sexy.

'Have you ever been out to sea before?' he asked me.

Smoothly we sailed free of the harbour. 'No,' I confessed, 'though I've been into boats and ships all my life. I'm studying maritime history at the university actually. And I'd like to have my own boat someday.'

'Maritime history? That's chill, I'm a navy man myself.'

'I thought I had you pinned as such,' I told him. He had us pinned to sail directly out to sea, out into the wild blue world beyond. Away in the distance I could see the skyscrapers of Honolulu, and the expanse of the city extending up into the hills, the world I was familiar with, but here now he was taking me to a new world I'd only dreamt of... 'What ship are you on?'

'I'm XO on the destroyer Halsey,' Edward explained, with obvious pride. 'Just promoted less than a year ago, which was what allowed me to finally buy this baby, after saving for years. She's a genuine antique, 1967, shipped all the way out from Florida...'

Over the next half hour he told me a bit more about himself. He was 28 years old and had been in the navy for a decade now, having applied to train as a US navy officer at Annapolis before he'd even finished high school. He was competent and well-respected and accordingly had risen in rank quickly, and intended to stay in commission for life; with his aptitude and enthusiasm for naval life, and committed belief in the abilities of the USN to serve American interests, he would probably end up an admiral someday. Aside from his career, his chief passions seemed to be his car, a 1970s Dodge Challenger, and the boat; it sounded like he spent most his spare time working on one or the other.

I was fascinated by him from the beginning and eager to keep piling on questions, but even more amazing was how interested in me he was, treating me like I was some amazing prize he'd discovered. I explained about having grown up a military brat, that my dad was AF and my mother wrote crime novels, that I had a twin brother who was also gay, that I liked old books and ships and swimming in the sea, '80s rock music and hikes in the mountains of the islands, that my dream car was a Jaguar XK8 convertible, that someday I wanted to settle down with a nice guy and have children when we could afford surrogacy. And with every detail I revealed he seemed all the more intrigued, genuine interest of the kind no one can fake.

It was one of those incredibly rare conversations where whenever one person reveals some new detail about their tastes or interests the other cries 'me too!' or 'dude, same!' To be standing on the upper deck of a classy boat with an amazingly handsome wild dog, so handsome and sexy that with every glance I couldn't help imagining what it would be like being held by those strong arms, or kissed by that handsome muzzle, was divine enough in itself, but to then discover he was so similar to me in many respects, made him seem all the more marvellously attractive. I suppose it was then that I really started thinking - prematurely, yes, you might say, but hey it's worked out - that he was boyfriend material. Personality is four fifths of attraction, as they say.

After he'd jokingly asked if I had a thing for military guys, to which I'd replied in the affirmative, I was telling a story.

'This was years ago, Berkeley and I were maybe fifteen, so Bianca would have been about ten. Dad had to go to some formal official event at Bellows, the kind where everyone's in dress uniform and has to show up prim and proper, so mom and us kids had to dress up nicely too and go along. Well, after we'd found our seats and were watching all these officers or enlisted men go filing by, all in their dress uniforms, Berkeley and Bianca and I started commenting amongst ourselves as to which of them we found most attractive. And then Dad leaned over to Mom and said "You know, I used to think I was raising three soldiers."

"And what have you raised?' she asked in an amused tone.

"Three military wives" he replied with a mock sigh of resignment."'

Edward laughed. 'Your old man may not be wrong. I could see you making a pretty good military wife.' The devilish smirk returned as he grinned down at me; tail wagging, eyebrow arched.

I blushed, flicked my ears, and grinned in giddy pleasure. 'I'm glad you think so.' It was then that I realised quite suddenly that we were far out to sea; so caught up had I been in the flow of conversation that my attention had been distracted from the boat's passage out to sea. Now Oahu was a distant speck, close enough to see easily without binoculars, but far away to the point that to eyes still on the island Happy Hour would be invisible. Around and below us the blue ocean was calm, and fortunately I was never prone to sea-sickness anyway.

The abrupt quiet alerted me Edward had silenced the engine. All about us little disturbed the silence, only the modest lap of the swell against the sides of the boat, until Edward's cool voice reached out to me. 'Fancy a drink?'

His words reminded me how thirsty I was; while we were shared by the small sunroof, the afternoon was still warm and humid. 'I'd love one.'

'Come along to the bar then,' he replied, wagging. The smile splitting his muzzle was softer now, more modest, with a lightness in the eyes, and a relaxing of his ears, as though this, being out at sea, was where he felt at peace.

As I followed him down the stairs my eyes inevitably fell again onto him, his broad shoulders, the gold and black and white splotched fur, that tantalising grove in the middle of his back, running town to the waving tail, and a very fine ass. He had a gorgeous butt, two perky mounds impossible to miss even through his shorts. By the time I was down on the main deck I was hard again, but the wild dog had already opened the cabin door and motioned for me to follow, so I ignored the pressure of my cock against my briefs, and followed him.

The interior of the cabin shown as tasteful and classic as had the exterior. To my immediately right was a kitchen sink, stove, and counter, and beyond that a table with booth seating. To my left was the tiny bathroom or 'head' as Edward called it, and beyond a small wooden bar. At the front of the cabin was a hatch leading into the hold, and beyond it another steering wheel and a small built-in bookshelf laden with nautical volumes. 'I added this myself,' Edward said proudly as he opened a cabinet below the bar, which I realised held the refrigerator. I watched as he took a couple bottles from it, along with a pineapple, which he set on the counter.

Edward was apparently just as skilled at mixing drinks as he was at captaining a boat, as in no time I had a tasty piña colada in my hand. He'd also sliced up the pineapple and carried a plate of it out to the back of the boat, so we could stand there in the shade, sipping the classic tropical cocktail and munching the sweet fruit. No where in the world grows pineapples as sweet as those of Hawaii; in comparison those grown in Costa Rica or Mexico or elsewhere are always a disappointment.

It was one of those moments Uma Thurman talks about in Pulp Fiction, a comfortable silence; watching the smooth blue sea roll beside us, feeling the gentle rise and fall of the boat beneath, licking pineapple juice from our claws as we exchanged the occasional friendly, or knowing, glance. In a way the silence, and the way we were both reacting, made me even more aware of the heavy sexual tension between us than constant chatter would have: the unspoken interest and desire evident in his eyes with every glance at me; the way I found myself inching closer to him without even realising it; the gentle, but obviously intentional, brush of his tail against my legs; and finally, after he'd finished his snack of pineapple, when he dragged his claws down my back and quickly gave my butt a firm squeeze. 'Hey, wanna hold my drink for a moment?'

'Sure,' I flicked my ears. Already my thoughts were running: had he taken me out here to planning to fuck here and now? My cock liked the idea, and my mind did too, to say nothing of the yearning flutter of my heart, still enthralled such a handsome man should show interest in me, but surely I must be hoping for too much. My eyes flowed over him, imagining being held by those muscly arms as he thrusted into me.

'One benefit of being out to sea,' he told me as I took his drink, 'is the freedom to wear this, providing no other boats are nearby.' Neatly he popped free the button of his shorts, unzipped them, and shoved them down his thick thighs, revealing that underneath he wore a dark green speedo, a very tight one specifically.

My eyes went to it immediately, ears perked with interest. I couldn't help it, but surely that was what he'd intended. The speedo was so well fitted that the big bulge of his sheath and balls were absurdly obvious, the outline clear under the shiny green material; moreover he was almost certainly already partly erect. The slight hint of pink below his bellybutton was evidence enough of that; his cock was already partly unsheathed, and too big for the swimwear.

I couldn't take my eyes off it, but he didn't seem to mind, just stood there, tail waving lazily as ever, watching me with a calm cool smile, his long eyebrows ever curled, the big ears relaxed. My eyes devoured that bulge, marvelling at his size, at the way his balls seemed too big for the narrow strip of fabric between his thighs. Under my gaze the flash of red-pink above his speedo lengthens easily into two inches, then three. Momentarily I forgot the heat, the drink in my hand; I forgot to pant, and my tail wagged harder. Then the thick, trapped shaft throbbed, and before my eyes a drop of pre appeared, and began to ooze down his tip...

I swallowed, my nose twitching as amid the scent of the sea I picked up stronger than before the rich male scent of his musk, distinct in a way different from any man I'd been with before (he was the first painted dog I had been with, so I was not as familiar with their scent. We have since then played with a wild dog couple he knows in the military, so I know now that scent is distinct to their species, although his personal scent is of course my favourite). Intensely aware of his gaze upon me, I glanced up, forcing eyes and ears and focus away from that cock. Edward had taken his drink back from me, and as he sipped the piña colada, I could see his green eyes over the rim of the glass, holding my gaze, dancing with need and desire and obvious pleasure. Then he lowered the glass, and his tongue lolled out from the broad black muzzle, curled, and licked sensually along his lips. The meaning and intent of the act could not be more obvious: I want you.

The charming intensity of that gaze and lip-licking, combined with the ecstatic inner joy I was feeling at being alone, desired, by such a handsome male, was too much for me; I looked away, ears splayed not in tension but in giddy pleasure, eyes nearly closed, grinning uncontrollably down at my feet. It's always been a trait characteristic to both my twin and I, perhaps to coyotes in general, that when extremely happy we can't help smiling. Our hearts are always worn on our sleeves. And so I stepped up to the stern of the boat, placing my hand on the rail, tail curling against my leg as I fought to regain control of my absurdly grinning face. I could still scent him, that musk tempting me with every scent. I had no words, but it was not necessarily the kind of scene that needed them. His glance, the way his cock was poking free, the fangy lip-licking smile, all said well enough.

As did what he did next. No sooner had I settled myself against the stern when I felt his presence behind me; first his muzzle nuzzling into my neck and down along the side of my face, then his arms sliding around my middle, hooking under my armpits, and so that in one simultaneous motion he pulled me tighter into an embrace and settled in firmly behind me, my head under his chin, my back against his manly chest, and his big bulge pressed tightly against my ass, a presence I neither could nor wanted to ignore. Instantly he gave a hard thrust against my ass, so I moved my tail out of the way as best I could, and was rewarded with another firm grind, and his words whispered calmly into my ear: 'good boy.'

My ears laid back in delicious contented pleasure, the natural joy of submission. 'Thank you, stud.' Another grind followed, firm and precise, so that I felt clearly the rigid outline of his shaft, which felt even bigger than it had looked.

He reached up and sipped his drink again, then returned the arm holding it to being around me, drink and hand resting on the rail, above mine. 'I've wanted you from the moment I saw you, cute coyote.'

I shivered joyously. 'Did you? You may well be the hottest man I've ever laid eyes on.' It seems like flattery, or a cliché thing to say, but in the moment I did believe without doubt that no man I'd ever met appealed to me the way he did. Instantaneous love really is something that one perhaps must experience to understand. In history books you read about men who happened to see a beautiful woman across a room at a party, who then approached her and proposed marriage on the spot, and who afterwards had long and happy marriages, while people who dated a long while, testing whether or not they wished to be together, ultimately failed. Sometimes real genuine romantic attraction simply just happens: two souls see each other, and just know.

'Thank you, cutie,' he whispered again, with another grind against my ass, the pleasure obvious in his voice. 'You are so cute I couldn't resist. There's something about you...' Another thrust. 'Just a few minutes chatting and I knew I wanted to bring you out on a date on my boat, and fuck you, and take you home with me.'

I shivered again, and was rewarded with yet another firm hard grind, that weight shaft making me crave the feel of it directly against my hole. A shuddering breath escaped my muzzle. 'I'd like that very much,' I whispered. 'All of it.' Then, slightly self-conscious at just having given him permission, I jerked my glass up to my muzzle and quaffed the remainder in one gulp.

'I'm so glad, puppy.' His breath smelled of rum and pineapple. 'Not gonna lie, I haven't instantly connected with a new guy this fast in years.' His voice was more serious than before, with perhaps less dominance in it, pre honesty. Despite the heat I loved the feeling of his larger form wrapped around mine.

'Neither have I,' I said softly, arching my butt sensually back against his groin. 'And hearing you say you feel that connection too...and that you want to fuck me, and take me home...' I shivered, my ears staying properly back in willing submission. 'I can't tell you how thrilling that is.'

He laughed, a pleasant, charming sound, and reached up to sip his piña colada again. 'I'll say it again then. I'm going to fuck you like the bitch I know you are; or to be more specific, I'm going to fuck you and make you my bitch. You aren't leaving this boat until I've claimed you as my own.'

A whine of need escaped my muzzle. 'You don't know what talk like that does to me.' Need I say, I was achingly hard? He thrust against me again.

'But I do know. You like being reminded what you are.' Another thrust. 'A sweet adorable coyote bitch.' Dominance drips from his words, but when he nuzzled at my neck again, lapping tenderly against the sensitive underside where my fur was thin, kissing there and lightly dragging his long fangs across my skin, the touch was oddly romantic, sweet and affectionate, as though he wanted to convey not just sexual interest but a concern for my pleasure and well-being generally. That was perhaps most attractive at all: the best doms are those who can be dominant and affectionate simultaneously, after all.'

'Thank you.' Again I grinned giddily to myself, my tail twitching against our legs where it stuck out between us. 'When you kiss me like that, you make getting fucked over the stern of a cabin cruiser sound oddly romantic. Which I guess is fitting, near Hawaii, with a marvellous view before us...'

Abruptly the steady grinding stopped, and he spun me around. 'Darling, _any_moment with a cutie like you is romantic.' He called me darling, I thought, and then his muzzle dipped, and that beautiful muzzle pressed to mine.

Kissing on a boat in a tropical ocean setting where you've just met a charmingly handsome stud sounds too good to be true, or too cliché, I know. On later days when I reflected on my good luck it seemed too good to me too. But in the actual moment, when his arms were sliding round me, and his tender lips pressed to mine, I couldn't think of the absurdity of what was happening to me, only of how right it felt, of how marvellous he was, of how much I wanted him. I could feel his erection against my belly now, and surely he could feel my own as well, and his scent was stronger now in my nose than ever before, an oddly comforting richness.

Our first kiss was perfect, romantic, and unforgettable in all the ways first kisses should be. And then that charming wild dog pulled back, eyes mischievous again, and smirked down at me. 'You're a good kisser, baby.' He pulled me close, into his chest, such that my fast pressed against his pecs, and hugged me tight, while I ecstatically savoured his scent. Then he released me. 'However, you just mentioned enjoying the view.' The elegant eyebrows wiggled devilishly. 'There's another view I think you'll enjoy, as much or perhaps more.'

By this point I was charmed as only a sub in hands of a splendidly charming dom can be, ready to eat out of his hands. 'Lead the way, babe,' I said, copying his use of endearments. He grinned, took my empty glass, and set it aside, then looped a finger under the waistband of his speedo, and with some difficulty pulled it down, stretched tight over those bulging thighs, until it dropped to the deck and he stepped out, entirely naked. Freed, his big cock bobbed up and wobbled obscenely in the air before him, too big and heavy apparently to stick upwards at an angle the way most men's dicks do. Even prepared as I had been by seeing its outline in his speedo, I nearly gasped. My eyes almost bulged out of my head, ears at full alert, devouring him with my eyes.

Once again my story is going to sound cliché, but hey, if you've got a boyfriend - fiancé now - who's got the endowments of a porn star, why not be proud of it? Edward's cock was easily the biggest bone I'd ever seen, 10 inches long or so and ridiculously girthy, from the fat tapered head down to where it disappeared into his sheath. After you've seen a lot of cocks sometimes it's easy to say a dick's just a dick, but his was undeniably pretty, its dark pink colour stained red by the veins that crisscrossed it, damp and glossy because he'd obviously been leaking heavily (if there is a more leaky man than my painted dog, I have yet to meet him; he really is like a broken faucet). A drop or two of pre fell to the deck as the hefty shaft swung in front of its owner. Belong the bunched up sheath, which was strained by a slightly-swollen knot, hung low-hangers nearly the size of oranges. My face probably looked rather like the 'love' emoji that has hearts for eyes. 'Holy fuck you're hung.'

The painted dog chuckled, with a flick of the big round ears. 'Yeah, I am.' The words did not sound arrogant but rather as a kind of simple observance of an easily recognisable fact. He reached down to grip his cock, his big hand covering only half of the length, and squeezed another drop of pre free. 'You'll get to feel this later. For now though...'

He turned away from me, grinning over his shoulder with that smirk that made me weak kneed, and the pretty cock and giant balls disappeared from view. Instead my eyes flowed over his muscular back and bubble butt as he took position at the stern where I'd stood while he ground on me, one hand on the rail, the other holding his drink. His legs spread a little, his tail swished to the side, arched up and over, and the big ears flicked back towards me. 'Get on your knees behind me, puppy.'

I scrambled to obey faster than I'd reacted to any order in my life, dropping to my knees, scooting forward over the deck till my face was level with his ass, knowing just what he wanted, and wanting it myself with equal passion. As I mentioned, he'd spread his legs, and now he leaned forward over the rail, arching his butt back into my face, stopping when it was just a half-inch from my nose. Again I smelled him, more inviting than ever. Now it was I who licked my lips.

Thusly positioned, my attention was immediately drawn to his asshole, my favourite place to kiss on a male. He had a rather sizable hole, not a little pin-prick like some men have, of a kind of dull medium brown colour, a tempting concave that upon seeing I immediately wanted to thrust my tongue into. My mouth fairly watered looking at it, my tail vibrating behind me, and I gave a whine of need. 'Sniff my asshole, puppy.' Edward's voice was a low growl, firm and commanding.

I could not have disobeyed him even if I wanted to, and needed no encouragement. Gripping the twin mounds of his ass, soft with the same splotchy fur patterns of black and gold and white, as unique as a zebra's stripes, I thrust my nose up against his hole, drawing in his scent, richer here than anywhere before. It had clearly been at least a couple hours since he'd showered, though he wasn't dirty, just flavoured with the scent of sweat and natural male musk. I nosed at his hole, snuffling at it, drawing in his scent as my fingers squeezed his ass, far too big for my hands. Above my head his tail twitched and rustled, but remained lifted.

'Good boy, Basil,' Edward breathed above me. 'My good bitch, so obedient and eager to please.' A shiver of pleasure rippled through me again, from nose to the tip of my wagging tail, as I drank in his scent, adoring it, liking it best here of all places. Though the smell of him did make me crave him all the more, which he must have known as after another minute or two he glanced over his shoulder again. 'Good boy, you can taste me now.'

No further permission needed, I thrust my tongue into his hole in one go, shoving it in firmly, and plastered my muzzle in his ass, lips over his hole. By this point I pretty much wasn't thinking much about what was happening, not in a reflective sense anyway, just enjoying the moment, enjoying the taste and feel of him on my tongue, or under my gripping hands, relishing the knowledge that I'd met a man I wanted...something...with, and he wanted me too. A muscly painted dog sex god.

Greedily I ate at his ass, making out with his hole, mouthing at it, my nose all scrunched up as I lapped at him. Most guys whose asses I'd eaten were fairly quiet, but he wasn't; he grunted and moaned and granted me the occasional 'good boy.' As again I worked my tongue into his loosening hole - for someone who was presumably a strict top, his ass wasn't anywhere near as tight as one might think - my cocked ears picked up the sound of him letting out a long, breathy sigh. 'Fuck, I tell you, Basil, I love my life. Standing on the back of a beautiful boat, offshore an island paradise, with a drink in my hand and a cute coyote boy's pretty muzz in my ass...life can't get much better.'

No doubt about it, I was loving every second I had my tongue in his ass, working at thrusting it in, stretching my tongue's roots to get maximum depth, but it was the painted dog's words that made me truly unspeakably happy. For a brief moment I again dared hope, might he want to be my boyfriend? But such thoughts could wait; at the moment I was still perfectly content to continue exploring his butt, establishing beyond possible doubt that painted dog ass tasted delicious.

'Damn, you really work that tongue,' Edward muttered. Faintly I heard a clink, apparently from him taking his glass in the hand he was gripping the stern with. Immediately afterwards he reached back, slid his big hand over the back of my head, and gently pushed my face firmly into his ass. God I was so turned on, my cock throbbing achingly even if the poor thing was still trapped in my underwear and shorts, my tongue deep up Edward's ass, lips sealed around his asshole. His hand holding my face steadily in place made the whole situation all the more hot, he making it clear he wasn't letting me stop until he was thoroughly satisfied. 'Fuck, yote, you must really love my ass. I don't think anything one's ever ate me out quite this well.' He huffed again. 'Maybe in the future I'd best make you eat my ass like this every day."

The hint of a future connection between us thrilled me so that I put my tongue to work in a series of even more vigorous thrusts. Edward laughed. 'You like that, don't you? My own personal coyote asslicker, available at any time...'

I did like it, oh so much. To show him that I tongue-fucked him as eagerly as I possibly could, and kissed lovingly at his hole, deep passionate kisses, with all the affection so naturally felt for him, the force of that instant connection, half-reflecting that I could quite happily eat him out all afternoon. And then the pressure on my head disappeared, and he straightened up, his ass pulled away, and after about a quarter hour or twenty minutes with my muzzle between his cheeks, I was free, licking my lips, and rubbing my slightly-sore jaw.

The painted dog grinned down at me. 'Good boy, Basil. Why don't you bend over that rail yourself for me, now.' His fangy smile was encouraging, affectionate, and as I took his offered hand and stood up, he dragged his fingers through the fur of my head again, a tantalising motion strangely satisfying in the sensations it brought out, comparable to getting a massage. Before I could obey him, he leant down, with not just desire but deep affection in his eyes, and kissed me quickly, on the mouth. Not afraid to go ass to mouth, apparently, which made him all the sexier to me.

'You have a beautiful butt,' I told him, smiling slyly, with an ear flick. 'And very tasty.'

'Thank you puppy.' As I turned to obey him I was conscious again of the motion of the boat beneath my feet, which I'd momentarily forgotten from being so caught up in the marvel of Edward's ass. 'You'll be seeing, and tasting, a great deal of it in future, I wager.'

My shiver of pleasure was cut short the moment I placed my hands on the stern. Stepping up behind me, Edward slid his hands down my sides, then around my front, chuckling as he gave my bulge a quick grope, then undid the button and zipper of my shorts, and slid them down my legs. I lifted first one leg, then the other, helping him get me free of the clothes, and then did the same when he likewise pulled down my underwear. Though I still had on my shirt, it felt liberating being nude from the waist down at least, exposed to the world, or at least to the sky, and the sea, and the wild dog presently gripping my ass. 'Cute butt, puppy. I can't wait to claim it.'

He didn't even sniff my ass, just dug his big muzzle into my butt, mouthing hungrily at my hole, and digging his tongue into it. My tail went up and I gasped; it seemed his tongue followed the general theme consistent with other parts of this painted dog, in that it was big, or at least felt so as it was slathering my hole. His style of ass-eating wasn't the soft tender affectionate kisses I sometimes lent towards, rather an eager, needy ravaging. Less comparable to the kisses we'd shared muzzle-to-muzzle than to the sloppy make-out sessions engaged in by couples in teen drama movies. Such was our chemistry that I knew the reasoning for this - he wasn't eating my ass just for the joy of it, but to get me loose and wet, ready for his monster of a cock.

Standing there with my hands braced against the rail and my ass arched out, while the studly wild dog made out with my butt, I could see why Edward had earlier stated he loved his life. The view was splendid: faraway in the distance I could see Oahu, my beloved island home, that sanctuary in the middle of the Pacific to which we would tonight return. Around us the cerulean sea glistened under the early evening sun, so bright I momentarily wished I still had my sunglasses on. Below us the boat rolled gently. Despite the openness of the place, and the occasional passing of other boats a long ways off, it felt marvellously secluded. We were alone with the sea, and each other.

Edward had his hands on my butt, kneading at it and pulling my cheeks apart to give his tongue better access as he French-kissed my hole. I couldn't help letting out the occasional whine, my ears still laid back in lovely welcomed submission, eyes half-glazed from the marvel of the sensations that practised tongue was bringing out in me. He had it pretty deep, no mistake, and if a little further he might wriggle it just right to -

My sudden hopes of a prostate massage by tongue were extinguished instantly as he pulled his tongue free, licking his lips, and squeezed my butt again. 'Don't move, puppy.'

I obeyed fully. My hands stayed braced on the stern, my legs spread, my tail raised in the inviting arch of a submissive male coyote ready to be bred. Only my head moved, as I glanced over my shoulder, watching him step into the cabin, from within which I heard the muffled sliding sound of a drawer being pulled open, followed by a fainter rustle as apparently pawed through it. A moment later he reappeared with a small bottle in hand. His weighty shaft swung in front of him as he walked, all the way out of his sheath now, and with the knot somewhat swollen. Gazing hungrily at his cock I wanted it and was intimidated by it in the same instant.

The painted dog stopped just behind me, flipped up the cap of the bottle, and squeezed lube onto his fingers. My head still turned, I watched as those fingers rolled over his cock, coating it from knot to tip. Lubed up his shaft glistened more than ever. Edward must've noticed my eyes on his polished spire as he met my gaze, giving me that devilish, yet oddly affectionate, grin I was already growing fond of. The eyebrows danced again, big ears swung slightly to the side; a satisfied, anticipative expression of lust and intention. And then I felt him slide one finger into me, its entrance granted ease given how well he'd eaten me out, and from being coated in lube.

'Mmmm, you're a stretchy bitch.' His voice sounded impressed. The finger pulled free, but seconds afterwards I felt it again, joined by a second this time, and again after the briefest resistance he thrust it slowly but surely up into me, testing.

His fore and middle finger were still within me when I felt his snout nuzzling in over my shoulder again, nuzzling at my neck. The breathy whispered words came right in my ear, folded back submissively though it was. 'Whoever knew coyotes were so stretchy? Let's test you a little more...'

A moment later I had now three fingers up my ass. He had had very little difficulty even with three of them, in part perhaps because I felt amazingly relaxed. When you want a man as badly as I wanted him, sometimes one's body just cooperates. Or perhaps he was right and coyotes just naturally are quite stretchy; I always have been, even before I started bottoming regularly.

Edward kept his muzzle in my ear as he held position for a moment, lightly flexing his fingers within me. 'I'm very impressed, puppy.' His fingers finally vanished, leaving me empty again. 'Let's see how you can handle the real thing.'

I swallowed. Now came the moment I'd been, honestly, half-wanting from the moment I first laid eyes on Edward. There was no doubt in my mind then that I wanted him; wanted to feel him atop me, wanted to feel his arms about me, gripping me closely as he thrusted into me, growling in my ear, claiming me as his. So I arched my tail all the higher, put my mind in a place of peace, and glanced again over his shoulder, telling him I wanted him not with words but with an expression of need clear in my eyes.

'Ah, baby, you look beautiful posed like that,' the painted dog huffed. Stepping up behind me, his presence settled naturally over me once more, just like he had earlier when we were still clothed, but this time no clothes prevented the thick rod from grinding teasingly up between my cheeks, leaving the short downy fur of my butt slickened with lube and pre. One of Edward's arms snaked around me, curled down to hold me firmly just above my hip. His claws gently flexed through my belly fur. I thought he was going to tease me more, but as his muzzle dipped to nuzzle me once again, only breath came out, and I felt him use his other hand to angle his cock just right so its tip could kiss my hole.

My laid back ears could catch it all: Edward's anticipative breathing, the faint squelch of lubed up cock and lubed up hole meeting, the subtle lap of waves against the boat's hull, and then my own slow, drawn-out intake of breath as he pressed up into me, a long slow glide in, deeper and deeper. My eyes widened, ears lowered even further, my muzzle opened as a slight shudder ran through me. He must be nearly hilted, I thought, but deeper and deeper that big cock speared me open, until at last I felt the firmer pressure of his knot against my hole, and he whispered 'Good boy, Basil,' into my ear, now gripping me on both hips. I thought there was a touch of pride in his voice.

In the right position I can sometimes take averagely-endowed guys without any discomfort at all, but I won't lie, taking Edward the first time was a different story; he was simply just too big. Knowing how well hung he was though he must have been expecting that, used to it, so as soon as he'd hilted he paused, pulling himself firmer against my back, and nuzzled at my neck, waiting, while I willed my body to relax, adjusting to the monster just shoved up by backside. Neither of us spoke. Even through the discomfort I wanted him maddeningly...

I learnt that day that Edward was one of those top-doms who can read a bottom's needs and readiness without needing to ask. I was just starting to feel more at ease, my body adjusting, when he began to pull back, though only about halfway before he hilted himself again, a little quicker this time. A faint 'oof' escaped my muzzle. The third time he pulled back and pressed in I pushed back, and there our lovemaking really began.

I could say that it was magical and life-altering, full of out-of-this-world pleasure, in the way writers of erotic stories sometimes do, but that would be exaggerating for sake of sensation, and besides what it was, was good enough: two males who liked each other a lot, fucking on the back of a boat at sea. Besides, in the moment I was too happy and ecstatic, to much caught up in the emotions, to think on whether it was magical or not; the best moments in life are those of pure experience. You can reflect and decide on what it was afterwards.

Edward had obviously been wanting to do this all afternoon, as once he'd let me adjust to his length, he got right to work, pumped into a rhythm. With one hand on my hip and the other on my side, each gripping me tightly, he held me firmly, using my own grip on the stern of the boat to keep me even more solidly in place, so he could rail me unobstructed, piercing me deep with every precise thrust. But then as he got more into it his left hand started to wander, caressing over my side and belly, reaching up to trace the line of my jaw, and then down to fondle my own cock and balls. I wasn't that hard yet, but could feel the beginnings of an erection, and when he really started hammering me, that big cock nuzzling my prostate again and again, I groaned and pressed back into him all the more eagerly.

As we got more in sync, I pressing back, Edward's thrusts precise and measured, he got more noisy. At first it was just the occasional grunt or moan, growling into my ear, or letting out playful snarls as he grabbed my hips and virtually pulled my ass back into his cock, making his knot pop against my hole teasingly. But then he started encouraging me, leaning in to my ear without breaking his pattern of thrusts to growl 'You're being such a good bitch for me, yote,' the kind of wording that never failed to make me shiver. There before me the blue sea sparkled, my nose smarted with the rich scent of Edward's musk, stronger now than ever with him being so worked up, my loosened ass welcomed the wild dog's every thrust such that he seemed to go even better, if that were possible. My muzzle hung open as with glazed eyes I tried to pant, as best I could when the eager yelps, moans, and uncontrollable gasps poured out, a vocalisation nearly every time he brushed against my prostate. A very noisy pair, were we.

That he was good at sex was marvellously obvious almost from the beginning, the way he seemed to know my body and anticipate my own desires even before I myself realised them; the way his hands were forever wandering over my body, caressing, stroking, petting; the way he got me hard naturally, without I needing to think 'okay, work yourself up to erection' as I usually did when being topped. He kissed me too, first soft kisses on the back of my neck, and then more forceful bites and nibbling along my nape, my shoulder, the back and sides of my neck, a hungry eager biting, possessive and passionate. My entire body seemed to be on fire, or vibrating, simmering with sensations of pleasure, not just my ass, or cock, or neck, but everywhere, stirred up by his constant thrusts, kisses, and caresses. 'More, more,' I begged him.

He snarled playfully, shoving me forward with a more forceful thrust than before, nipping those long fangs at my neck. 'That's it baby, my good bitch.' Another forceful thrust as his caressing fingers wrapt round my knot and squeezed. 'In a few moments I'm going to knot you, you adorable yote. I'm gonna knot you and fill you up and give you my pups.' I whined, and he bit my neck again, nibbling down from the back of my head. 'I always wanted to knock up a cute bitch on the first date...'

The growly words didn't seem over the top, they just made me all the hornier, wanting that big knot in me, regardless of its size, wanting him to claim me that way, wanting to be his coyote. 'I want to be yours,' I gasped between whines, pushing back on him more, though I felt half dazed. Somewhere, close but not yet present, I could feel the vague suggestion, in my cock or lower, that I might get off.

'You _are_mine, baby,' the painted dog growled joyously, pulling me up close again in a tight embrace made all the more intimate by fact that he was knot-deep in my ass. Then he pushed me down against the back of the boat again and went on humping me with enthusiasm, his hand back on my own cock, working it. 'Now I'm gonna make that claim obvious. Ready for my knot, bitch?'

Below me I could see my own face reflected in the water; the long coyote muzzle, open and panting, my dazed eyes, my ears askew, and above my own face Edward's own, grinning a pleased fangy smile. Even if all I could see was our faces, it was almost like watching myself get fucked; at least watching the facial expressions we each made while mating. His knot slapped against my hole again, stretching it. 'Yes, please yes, I want it,' I groaned.

Edward only gave a happy snarl as reply, nuzzling in around my neck again, reaching around to pull my muzzle to his in the quickest kiss. Then his paw was on my cock again, jerking it steadily in obvious intent to getting me off, as his thick thighs went into overdrive, with firm powerful thrusts designed with one purpose only, to get his knot into me. I arched my ass back into him, his stroking hand edging my cock closer to climax, aware of his knot stretching me more with every thrust.

His knot popped into me with an obscene squelch, though I hardly heard it; I was too distracted gasping out a yelping moan as my cock spasmed, spurting cum out over the back of the boat. Within me Edward's cock was surging, pulsing, but he didn't say anything, only bit down hard on my shoulder, his long fangs vibrating with ferocious tension as his whole body shuddered against mine. My head lolled back, tongue hanging from my muzzle, eyes screwed up shut as my orgasm continued. Deep inside me he was cumming, marking me as his, a thrilling rush that made my climax all the more intense, to say nothing of the delicious pressure his knotted cock was putting on my insides. His arm around me held me close, as though we were one. In our reflection in the water I could see Edward's own expression, his ears pinned back, eyes clothes tightly, muzzle scrunched up as he held his firm fanghold on my shoulder, a possessive grip I didn't really mind even if it was a tad painful. I'm his, I'm his, my happy mind repeated over and over, just panting now as the need and urgency of passion faded into the contented, loving togetherness of being one.

After a moment, when my own climax had subsided to an uneven oozing, and he had presumably filled me up well, in more ways than one, his fanghold on my shoulder loosened, and he breathed charmingly, possessively, into my ear: 'You're mine, coyote.' I shivered, and then unexpectedly he kissed me on the cheek, once then again. 'And you're a fantastically good boy, Basil. Thank you so much for coming out here today with me.' Not needing to hold my cock any longer, he wrapped both arms around me, leaning down on top of me as I held the stern with both paws.

'Thank you for bringing me, you sweet wild dog you,' I exclaimed joyously, my ears bounding up. Between us my trapped tail rustled against his hip, trying to wag. 'This is the best date anyone's ever taken me on.' I meant every word of it, and twisted my head round to lick his cheek.

Edward laughed. I could tell he was wagging too. 'You know, my grandma used to say, "If he's a keeper, knot him on the first date." Good thing I took that advice with you.' He flexed his hips teasingly, pushing against me just enough to make my breath quicken. When you've got a cock and knot the size of his in you, it's pretty much impossible to ignore even on its own, after all, much less when its owner is flexing. But then he nuzzled me again, and sighed happily. 'This is my favourite time, actually. After fucking. When my cock is locked in you, where it belongs, and we're knotted together for the foreseeable future, no place to go, nothing to do, just revel in the joy of being together, with the wild world before us. That's my kinda date.'

'You make it sound so beautiful,' I said, still wagging. In the moment I was content not to think about anything else but him, and us, and now. We had each other, and the boat, and the sea and sky, what else do two men need?

'You're right, two boys fucking is the most beautiful thing in the world.' I could hear the mischievous smirk in his voice without needing to see it. Then he nuzzled me again, kissing the top of my head, lightly nibbling on one of my ears. 'You're the most beautiful thing of all, though.'

My ears went back, and I glanced down at the water to hide my smile of pleasure. 'Thank you. It's so wonderful, more than I can say, that someone has gorgeous as you would think I'm beautiful.'

'Then let's be beautiful and gorgeous together, cutie,' he said, and when our muzzles met again our kiss was warm and tender.

Later that evening, when Edward's knot had finally loosened (it took him over half an hour), we went up on the bow sundeck, armed with new drinks and more of the pineapple (if you knew how delicious Hawaiian pineapple is, you'd want to live off it too). He brought out two long plush cushions, big enough for me to lay on entirely, though he was too tall, and laid then down for us to relax on, as the sun waned, drawing closer to the sea in a brilliant array of vermillion, pure light upon the water. We laid there, sipping our drinks and munching fruit, each with one arm around the other's shoulders, not talking much, just together. What a day, I thought. From the dullest afternoon of the summer, to the most unforgettable, all in only a few hours. I glanced to my side, where my handsome wild dog lover lay peacefully resting, though I couldn't tell if he was asleep or not given he had put on sunglasses. Could someone so charming and gorgeous really be mine? And yet he had said this would be only the _first_date...

I had been gazing at him fondly for a moment or two when he sat up, reaching to take another piece of pineapple. 'You know what they say about pineapple,' I reflected, with a characteristic coyote grin. 'If you keep eating so much of it...'

'...then you'll be all the more addicted to my cock, for how sweet my cum tastes,' he finished. That alluring eyebrow wiggle appeared again.

Now that the sun in its descent had nearly reached the water, our shadows on the boat's deck appeared decidedly comical, making Edward's big ears look larger than ever, like Mickey Mouse. I swallowed the laugh in favour of pointing out that he'd get no complaint there, and besides, I hadn't sucked him off yet, so he could hardly let me leave the boat without providing a sample. But the painted dog just laughed again, leaning over me to push me down onto the mat, kissing me fully, whilst gazing charmingly into my eyes. I could learn to love those dancing, mischievous green eyes, that teasing gaze that never failed to leave me feeling safe. 'Don't worry, puppy, I'm far from sated. Our night is just beginning.' Then his eyes narrowed. 'You know though...much as I'm enjoying the sound of your voice, now that you've finished your drink, I can think of a better place for your muzzle to be.' I got another devilish grin, he licked his lips with that same teasing curl of his tongue against his muzzle, and then pushed himself up, pivoting around, leg lifted over, so that looking up I next got an excellent view of his butt, though it was rather shadowed. That was the last thing I saw before he sat on my face.

Now I was missing the sunset, but what did it matter; I had more important matters to attend to, namely making out with his asshole, which tasted just as great now as it had earlier, only this time with our sexual urgency slightly lessened from the intensity of the earlier breeding, I could eat his ass at a more leisurely pace, providing him an excellent seat while he watched the sunset. It didn't take long before I had my tongue in his hole again, French-kissing it, while he tenderly dragged his claws through the fur of my chest and belly, teasing down to my hips. I had been under him for perhaps 10 minutes or more when he spoke again. Though I could really only see his back, I could tell the light was fading, the sun now disappearing into the sea.

'I should probably start steering us back to Ala Wai pretty soon,' he said. I pressed my tongue deeper as way of reply. 'Do you have anywhere you need to be tonight?'

For the briefest moment I started pulling my muzzle free, then, thinking better of it, merely lifted my hand and made a thumbs-down, by way of answering no, without breaking stride of tongue-trusts.

Again, Edward's grin was obvious in his voice, and his tail swish-swished above my head. 'Good boy, you know you don't get to stop licking until I tell you to.' His hips flexed, grinding his ass into my face, not that I'd ever complain from such treatment. 'I'm glad to hear that though, because I intend to take you home with me.'

I didn't answer, but the furious wagging of my tail, thwapping the mat, and the increase of enthusiasm in my kisses of his asshole must have shown well enough that I was only too happy to accept such an offer. An unspeakably lovely day, and it wasn't even ending; I was going home with this wonderful wild dog; who could say what further pleasures awaited me. Maybe he wanted to fuck me again, maybe we'd go shower together, maybe - probably, I gleefully corrected myself - he'd take me to bed and hold me all night long. As I kissed his ass lovingly, my eyes closed in contented gratitude.

A few moments later Edward reluctantly got up, telling me he needed to get the engine going as we'd best be heading in to port. Around us dusk was falling, the waters darker than before, and faraway I could see the distant lights of Honolulu, a fortress rising from the sea, and the shadow of mountains beyond it. Taking up our empty glasses, the plate, and cushions, we walked carefully along the side of the boat, dropping back into the stern, site of our frolicking earlier. Laughing, Edward jerked a thumb at the fishing pole fixed to the corner of the stern. 'Best evening out fishing I've ever had,' he joked, 'and I didn't even fish or catch anything.'

'You kinda did,' I smiled up at him, wagging. 'I think I'm the one that's hooked.'

'My best catch ever,' he grinned down at me, the dancing eyes filled not, I thought, with lust or need but simply with love and desire. I stood up on tiptoe, he bent, and we sealed the evening with a kiss <3