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Cliff laughed with his friends as they marched through the forest, the night is balmy and cool, but the chill of Autumn hadn't yet set in, despite it being early October. Daina tossed him another beer which he took gratefully, senior year had everyone rattled. Cliff however didn't know what he was going to do, rudderless and with little money to his name. His brother had enlisted and taken over the farm, but Cliff knows himself well enough to know he wouldn't make the military. Physically probably but he doesn't have the tenacity or the self-control, he'd probably get thrown out for mouthing off or worse going AWOL. Not to mention he can't really see himself anywhere but his family farm, it's clear Dan resents working the place with their parents gone but wants to take the burden himself. That was the point of this, to drink and laugh and forget they were seniors for a few hours. To get plastered and hopefully get laid, and if the eyes Daina was giving him were any indication Cliff would be both by the end of the evening.

About two hours later Cliff and Daina wander away from the group, Cliff's hands wandering her body drunkenly, even so the young running back manages to unhook her bra and slid it off while she undoes his belt. Gasping into each other's mouths between rounds of tongue wrestling when a drunken voice called out, "hawly schit, y'all schee that?!" With one of their friends crashing around in the underbrush the two go silent and still for a few tense moments. As the crashing gets quieter they look at on another, "Pick-up?" Cliff asks, "Pick-up" Daina confirms and they make their way towards Cliff's flat bed. Before they leave Cliff takes a deep breath, noticing the musky scent on the wind, heady, woody like spruce, and undeniably masculine and wild. It makes his half-mast cock erect into painful hardness, causing him to immediately race after Daina when she calls him.

As soon as the two are alone they're half-dressed the air pebbling Daina's nipples cliff lowering his head to one of them to run his tongue across it as he thrusts into her, his pace quick and angled to rub her clit while he drunkenly tries to hit her g-spot. Her warmth, her tightness, even the pain of breaching her was suppressed by the new sensations of their first time. Eventually the teenage lack of stamina catches up to him and he thrusts forward hard, cum spilling into the condom. More due to luck than skill the added pressure and stronger thrust manages to hit the right spot and Daina orgasms a moment later. The two panting and sticky with sweat that reeks of drink slur sweet nothings to each other while continuing to make out. Him testing with his hands if what he read is true; if he can bring her to climax again. Clumsily, but with enthusiasm he does, her cry cut off by her own hand.

As the two make their way back to their friends clothing disheveled, they notice half their group missing. Most of the other half having passed out, all save Jacob, who just looked at the two of them with a smirk. Most people would just assume he can hold his alcohol better than anyone, but Cliff knows he's probably still nursing his second beer. "What?" Cliff asks, voice smug, and still husky with sex, Jacob just chuckles and shakes his head going back to his beer. Daina pulls out a bag with a brush so get her hair back in order. Cliff throws himself into the seat next to Jacob, "where is everyone?" Jacob snorts with a small measure of contempt, "Jack says he saw something, said he saw werewolf," Cliff just starts laughing, "did he get into Ann's shrooms?" Jacob leans back and sighs, "probably, or Chris thought it'd be funny to sneak him some, probably just a coyote, or maybe a timber wolf." Cliff sits up, "think we should got get them?" Jacob shakes his head, "you can if you want, but they're stomping around like a marching band and both coyotes and wolves are pretty shy. They won't find jack shit."

The two laugh and sit in the cool night air, Jacob sighs, "it's almost one, we should probably head back." He looks over to Daina, "you coming miss Daina?" She waves him off, "in that dinky pick-up? No thanks, I'll wait for Chris and have him give us a ride in the Camaro." Jacob shrugs and snags the keys from Cliff, "I've only had about one and a half, what're you packing? Four? Five?" Cliff smiles up at him making a fumbling for the keys, but Jacob's coordination is significantly better than his. "Ugh, fine, but next time you ask what I'm packing I'm showin' you," Cliff grabs his crotch for emphasis. Something he would only say drunk, and only as a joke since he'd been pining after his dark-haired best friend since puberty. If Jacob ever noticed he said nothing, which was probably for the sake of both their dignity. "We're on the same team, I've seen what you're packing, and my statement stands." He cackles as he jogs towards the car with Cliff angrily chasing after him Daina mumbles, "'s not that small." As they run out into the woods.

Upon reaching the pickup the smell hits them both; the same smell from earlier, but stronger, more pungent. Jacob laughs nervously, "you really weren't kidding about you and Daina tonight, huh?" Cliff turning beet red can only respond with "shut up," while climbing into the truck, which Jacob turned on and they drove off into the night. A possessive growl going unheard from them as a furred creature stroked its knotted dripping cock.

*

The next day Cliff enters school tired, and slightly hung over, shambling in through the front door Jacob cuts him off and hands him a sprite. "It's good for a hangover, I told you to space it out with water." Cliff grumbles and mutters something about Jacob being too chipper which his friend laughs loudly at, "So I don't like the taste of booze? Looking at you today can you blame me?" Cliff takes a long pull from the bottle and flips his friend off. Jacob just laughs and claps him on the shoulder, as the two of them make their way to their next class.

Halfway through math Cliff finds himself daydreaming, something about the smell from last night, raw, powerful, wild, and masculine. It put him in the mind of a tall broad-shouldered lumberjack or hunter. Scruffy and unabashedly male, someone to be dominant with him, but also gentle, to ease him through his first time. Cliff bites his bottom lip and tries to focus on class, not the now painful hardness between his legs.

Eventually school and football practice end, while he's playing on the field it's easy to avoid thoughts about the previous night. He enjoys running, the feeling of the wind around him, just the air flowing around him. His legs and muscles burning. It's exhilarating.

Unsure if any of his classmates are gay or bi Cliff doesn't want to risk someone discovering and outing him. Not this close to graduation, not with his reputation so solid. However, that doesn't stop him from relieving his tension in the shower stall after practice.

Warm water dripping over his body he remembers the night with Daina, the memory of the smell sticking in his nostrils. Remembering that thick masculine musk chubs, him up fast in the humid shower air; his foreskin pulling back from the head. He smiles remembering the warm tightness of Daina slowly his thoughts drift to Jacob, the what-if he knows he'll miss. He just can't bring himself to test that water, not with his friend moving away, not with his desire to stay home, no matter how much his brother might want him to leave their parent's farm.

He imagines Jacob behind him, his long black hair draping over his shoulder as he imagines their lips meeting Jacob's turgid manhood hotdogging between his cheeks while Jacob's hands encircle his own manhood. Oh, Jacob would be the first, maybe the only man he'd bottom too, those few confusing and deeply shameful dreams about Daniel after his brother had first come home from Afghanistan would stay locked in the reaches of his subconscious. Jacob whispering how close he is tips Cliff over the edge, he sags against the wall of the shower stall, panting with the hormones buzzing in his head.

Exiting the shower after scrubbing the remains of his loneliness, toweling off the water he gets dressed in his running shorts, preparing to jog back home. Slipping into his running shoes and a tank top with a sigh, the dog days of summer are coming to an end. Jogging out onto the wooded path and away from school, his backpack, twenty pounds of paper and textbook is the perfect thing to weigh him down.

The wooded path takes a slight turn, he knows this path well it will take him home, but he must take it slow. Unfortunately, between the weight of his bag, the slick path from the night before, and an inconvenient collapse of the limestone cliff he's sent barreling off the beaten path and into a ravine skidding trying to stop doesn't work. At least until he meets with the inconveniently placed oak. Cliff tumbles the world going white and the wind leaving his lungs.

Curling in on himself he holds his head groaning as white spots dance across his vision and his ears ring. He lays there like that mewling in pain for what feels like hours until the sweet breath returns to his lungs. The ringing is accompanied by something, something big crashing through the brush towards him. He tries to stand wobbling on his feet. "H-hey?" He croaks his voice still strained with wheezing as his body remembers how to breathe. "S-someone out there?" His only response is for whatever's coming towards him to pick up it's pace. Crashing and lumbering closer and closer, Cliff tries to move away but he can't take more than three steps before blindly grappling for a branch, black and white patches making his sight a kaleidoscope of strobing madness.

Something big, and greyish brown enters his field accompanied by bestial panting and chuffing; he tries to stumble backwards as the heavy musk of the beast hits him full force. But only succeeds in falling into the fork of the tree he's braced against. Earning another stripe of road rash across his back for his trouble. "He-help!" His voice is still cripplingly weak from the fall. The chuffing noise starts to come in short bursts. Like whatever thing has found him is laughing at his expense. That's when he's yanked forward out of the tree and into a furry warm embrace. Trying to call out only leads to the beast's thick odor entering his lungs, it doesn't burn his throat, by all rights it should, it's certainly powerful enough to. But instead it fills him, like the smell of wood smoke, or coffee in the morning, things his primal brain recognizes as deeply adult and masculine. Things he remembers from those bygone days of camping with his father and brother.

Those hunting trips, bonds of fraternity between the men of his tribe, it relaxes him, letting this great thing haul him off his feet and into the deep warmth of its body. His vision begins to clear, showing the whirls of thick dense fur growing out in rosettes along the beast's form. It must be a beast, nothing human has these features, and yet, he's carried with such delicate tenderness. The smell lulling him, reminding him of both his father and older brother, the smell of safety, of strong men who will always provide for him, always protect him. His head starts to feel as fuzzy as the great arms holding him. He leans away from the mass which turned out to be the chest of a great wolf headed monster. The beast of legend, the great cryptid of the Michigan peninsula, he's being carried, bridal style, by the dogman. A thought that makes him blush and sends a strange rush of arousal he resolves not to think to hard about at present, to his groin.