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What little light was left in the sky was dimming rapidly. Miles didn't mind this at all. Nor did he mind being abandoned by the other three younger men. Turning, he stared at the cooler of beer that had hardly been dented. His lips jerked, giving a brief smile. All the more for me.

Whatever his boss's kid wanted to do, Miles decided he didn't want any part of any of it, other than the free beer and maybe some snacks. No __ne of these dumb games. None of this bullshit. After sitting around here, listening and watching the other guys, his list of suspicions had grown. All of them - Liam, his black friend, and - most definitely - that one young guy he had driven up here - had given quite a few signals that they were all queer. He remembered the drive up here, trying to talk to Scott casually. He was d_ efinitely staring at my junk the whole trip up here,_ and trying real hard to pretend that he wasn't. Guys have looked before, but not like that. I know what guys are thinking when they have that look, and I ain't even queer!

Not that there's anything wrong with that. Miles genuinely believed that: although he was gruff and, he suspected, probably offensive to a lot of folks, he didn't think they were disgusting or degenerates. They can fuck each other's corn holes all night if they want. Just as long as I don't have to see it, or get involved. I came up here to drink, not play grab-ass with a bunch of college boys.

Grunting, Miles belched as the liquids and gases in him percolated around in his organs. He stood up to throw some more logs on the fire, enjoying the spray of sparks and the crackling sounds as the wood was slowly nibbled at by the flames. Their campfire - even if he was the only one enjoying it, Miles still thought of it as theirs - belched back at him, whining and making small, but loud, pops when a pinecone attached to one of the burning pieces of wood got so hot it burst open.

Sitting on his own, Miles thought about the guys, and started wondering what he had been thinking in agreeing to come out here. Liam asked. Guess it just makes sense to keep him happy, if it keeps the boss happy. His boss's son sometimes pitched in, and he could be a good worker. If he didn't know Liam's old man, he would have been surprised. Most of these school types just don't get it. If it had been some of the other guys who worked here, he would have felt a lot more comfortable. Not only were these his mates from school, they seemed like kids. Even though he was only about ten, maybe fifteen, years older than all of them, they might as well have come from a different planet. Fair enough. They probably think the same thing about me. Other than wanting to blow me or something.

As with their sexuality, Miles didn't care too much that they went to university. He wasn't envious: he was more baffled, since school - for him - had been so boring that he couldn't imagine how anyone could stand doing any more than the minimum required. Miles liked working outdoors, and he was glad it was something he was good at, too. It was dangerous, he knew, and definitely not glamorous nor well-paid, but it was at least something he could take pride in. It gave him time to be alone, using his hands and the strength of his muscles, meaning all that time he spend pumping iron paid off.

Only two things really bothered Miles, and they were only tangentially related to the company. Being around all those young guys reminded him of what he used to feel like when he was their age, and how different it was now. Lately, he'd been feeling his body starting to fight back against all the punishment he gave it, and that spooked him.

That was the big one, and it fed into the second. Although Miles liked working alone, he didn't want to be alone. He had some good friends, but that didn't cover everything. There was nobody at home to make him dinner after a hard day pushing himself, nobody to rub his back, nobody to vent at stuff to each other about, and nobody to nag him into doing his laundry more often.

What bothered Miles the most was that he wasn't exactly striking it out in that regard. He had dates: mostly preludes to going back to some woman's place with them and fucking her silly. Even with how old he got, his body drew attention from the opposite sex. Women like to look. They really like to touch. But they don't like to stick around. Not that I can blame them, either, I guess. He supposed it was the money: most women his age wanted to settle down, and he didn't exactly have much in the way of ambitions or skills in an office job. There were also the horror stories, of course: divorced guys who had lost houses and kids. Miles didn't have much, but he didn't want to turn into one of those miserable sad sacks, either.

Finishing off his bottle, Miles snorted. Maybe these queers are on to something? Doesn't do it for me, but I guess having one of these young guys around wouldn't be too bad... if any of them could cook! Chuckling to himself, Miles pushed himself off the log again. He could already feel the last dregs of beer swirling around, sloshing around inside on a direct line to his bladder. That was already full, and starting to get painful.

Miles knew he should deal with it soon, but he frowned as he looked at the campfire. Shouldn't leave the fire unattended... The idea of pissing somewhere close was appealing in other ways: it meant, at least, more time to drink. B __ut if th_ os_e guys come back, I don't exactly want them staring at me.

Squinting around in the darkness, Miles looked for a good place to go. From the shaded silhouettes that still, somehow, stood out against the night sky, he noticed a large tree nearby - an old one, that looked like it was almost as old as the dinosaurs - and he decided that looked like a good place to relieve himself. In sight of the fire, just in case something should happen to it. The light the fire gave was bright, but faded quickly, and he knew how treacherous it was trying to walk around in the woods, even if he had been stone sober. Only slightly buzzing from the drinks he'd downed, Miles scooped up the remaining flashlight from Liam's game and headed out.

Swaying the flashlight across the ground, Miles hardly felt the coolness of the night. If anything, he felt hot - too hot - and he fanned himself with his flannel shirt. With his suspicions of the others, he'd done his best to keep his big old body covered up, but feeling safely alone and increasingly sweaty, he didn't mind loosening them a little. Not like they'll be able to see much anyway. Still, he scanned around before he did so, just in case there were some curious faces peeking out of the darkness. Certain he was alone, he tucked the flashlight under his armpit and started to fumble with the zip at the front of his jeans, distractedly approaching the tree.

Suddenly, things happenws very quickly. Miles's hand jerked down as the zip suddenly gave way, letting his wedding tackle pop free. Swearing in surprise, he jerked his head around when he heard something rustling through the leaf litter on the ground. Fuck! Is it a person? Don't want them to see me! His flashlight squirmed loose, and worried about it smashing, he shifted his hand to catch it. With all those distractions, he was primed to have an accident.

Miles felt his left foot suddenly plummet. "Fuck!" A sharp, stabbing pain tore through the ankle as the stumbling foot bent forward, and at an angle, in a way he didn't appreciate. No longer fumbling at his cock or the flashlight, he shot his arms straight out, feeling his big hands slam hard against the ground. Leaves crunched under his fingers as he started to push himself off the ground. "Fuck!" A dead, twisty little branch spiked painfully into his palm. Even with his work-calloused hands, he could feel the twig do its best to pierce through his skin. Shifting it off, he shuffled back on his hands, bending his knee as he tried to free his trapped foot.

Fucking animals! What had caught his food had been a burrow of some sort. Rabbits, maybe. He had seen rabbits bouncing around on the boss's property before, on a few occasions, and these holes were the type of places they loved to hang out. Too bad we didn't bring any guns. I'd pay the little bastards back... Brought out of his bloodlust, Miles felt something warm running down his pants. "Fuck!" It was too late to stop the flow of urine, so he just relented, relaxing and let his bladder empty. The stink of his warm piss wandered up to his nose as he finally got his foot free.

At least those other guys are off playing with each other. If I'm quick, I can go and stand by the fire until my pants have dried off. They probably won't even notice. Miles thought that, but he wasn't so sure. For some reason, the stink of his piss was sticking around. That however, was something he couldn't do anything about, and his ankle demanded more attention than his wet, uncomfortable trousers.

Trying to put weight on his twisted ankle, Miles quickly jerked his foot back. "Fucking fuck!" Unlike other times when he'd twisted his ankle, this one still was still smarting well after the throbbing should have stopped. Did I break it or something? Don't think so, but what else is it? After his bout of bad luck, what he'd assumed was just a short walk away from the fire to get some privacy felt was now going to be a slow, painful, stumble. Should've just pissed near the campsite. Probably would've dried up by the time the others got back.

Grabbing the flashlight, Miles scanned around. Where the fuck are those guys? He snickered weakly, enjoying the distraction from thinking about his foot and his current situation. If they're still out there, fucking each other, I'll have to give them points for stamina. As the humour he'd gotten from the thought faded, he grunted in frustration. Although he wasn't exactly in a hurry to have them get back and see that he'd pissed himself - even if it was a stupid accident, he just bet Liam would laugh about it - that he had been left alone for what seemed like ages now sent a prickling unease run down his back, especially now that he'd been injured.

"C'mon, c'mon," Miles grumbled, deciding to search for a walking stick. Having something to help him hobble back would be ideal. C'mon, Miles! There's some beer that needs drinking! He plastered a grin on his face, thinking about the cool liquid glugging down his throat. However, after a while, he wasn't sure he did want to drink any more of that beer. Sniffing, all he could smell was just how bad his piss reeked. Normally, that wouldn't bother him - it wasn't exactly a bad smell - but he wanted it gone if the others came back. If they come back.

Even when he didn't put his weight on the twisted ankle, Miles could feel the foot throbbing. Grimacing, he looked over to where he could just make out the swaying glow of the campfire. None of the branches that he'd seen were long or sturdy enough to use as an emergency makeshift crutch. Salty trickles ran over his lips, and he licked them off. Am I still sweating? He tried to remember if that had happened the times he'd known he had broken a bone. Did I feel so hot then? He definitely remembered that pain, only this time he felt his sweatiness and the almost feverish heat were a sign of something else.

Through the distracting pulsing from his foot, Miles figured out what was probably happening. Despite it being cold, his crotch felt really warm, and he could feel his thick cock start to straighten up, standing against the cool night breeze. It was curling over, like a fat lazy snake groggily lifting up its head. Pointing the flashlight at it, he could see the thick cock head gleaming. He wasn't leaking, although he could feel that wasn't too far off, going by the way his nuts were getting worked up. The outline of his large tool glistened as it moved from hanging to hard, emerging from his open fly.

Heh. If the other guys are having fun, they can't blame me for going off by myself to get off by myself. Miles grinned, his deep voice grunting out a lecherous chuckle. It suddenly felt like it had been ages since he'd had any good action. Trying - if only a little - to get a grip on the flow of horny thoughts trickling through his brain, he pointed the flashlight down, shifting his hand around to loosen his clothes a little more around his dick.

Miles hunted the ground again. Now, though, he wasn't looking for something, but looking for a lack of something. A quick wank could be just what the doctor ordered, but I don't want to twist my other ankle before I relax. Finding a suitably hole-free spot right underneath the big tree, Miles eased himself down, ignoring the spasm given by his ankle. Midway, he hovered for a moment on all fours, his arousal suddenly kicking into overdrive. A surge of hormones stiffened his cock the rest of the way. Underneath the still-strong stench of urine, he smelt himself start to leak pre-cum.

The stray spray of the flashlight caught something else as well, and just before he was about to turn it off, Miles used it to examine the part of his abs that had leaked through his opened shirt. Seeing his cock distracted him for a moment. I am really hung. No wonder those gay boys are drooling over me. If I were into men, I'd probably think I was hot too.

Those thoughts had nothing to do with what Miles had noticed. They were what his brain went to as it tried to understand what he was seeing. In the middle of his abdomen, surrounded on both sides by the bulging muscles of a guy who really worked his physique to its natural best, he'd always had a good thicket of body hair. Tonight, though, that thicket had blossomed into a full-fledged forest, and he almost had a hard time seeing the edges of the muscles that he had spent many years building.

It wasn't just the hair itself that caught Miles's attention. It was the colour. Or colours. Most of the chest hair was dark, but some around the middle, where his dick was starting to nuzzle, was white. Grey he would have understood: he was starting to get to the right age for those genes to start kicking in. These hairs weren't grey: he checked, pointing the flashlight at himself as he ran his fingers through them. It felt good, in a way that it really shouldn't, and he rustled and fingered the weird extra hairs he could feel growing as he sat there, just as real as the hard wood pressing against the back of his shirt.

"The fuck?" With it being so dark, Miles couldn't be sure that he was actually seeing what he was sure he was: the strange hairs were actually growing and spreading across his skin. Deciding to make certain, he kept running his fingers through it. It didn't help all that much, but Miles found himself distracted anyway, wriggling out of his shirt further. Ostensibly it was to inspect himself, but his actions betrayed that quickly. Moaning, once he was free of his shirt, he sat there, grabbing his cock with one hand and fingering any newly-hairy spot on his torso with the other.

So distracted by the throbbing of his cock, Miles didn't notice the twinges and twitches that his flesh endured as he milked himself. His panting mouth looked swollen as it unloaded misty breath with each moan. The cartilage in his ears bunched and moved around, becoming rounder and sprouting tiny little white. Wriggling his buttocks on the ground, he didn't even notice the tiny squirming of a new tail pressing out of his body.

Muscles heaving as he started to really get caught up in jacking off, Miles let go of his cock for a moment, and even stopped playing with his growing fur. Clothes feel tight. So hot... what's going on? Grabbing the middle of his shirt, Miles jerked the sides apart, buttons flying off as the front gave away easily. He kept pulling, surprisingly turned on by his show of violence. Pushing backwards, he felt a tear forming. Grunting and cursing, he felt the back split open, and he quickly tossed the remnants of his shirt off to the side. "Yeah!"

Miles didn't stop there: lifting his buttocks up, he quickly loosened his belt and slipped his jeans down his legs, letting his sweat-stained, bulging, black-and-white-haired legs send off the entrapped musk into the night air. Fuck, whatever's going on, I feel really good! All of the aches from the day were barely there, and he felt so horny it was like he'd de-aged a decade or two, sending him back to the first big flushes of puberty.

Yanking off one boot - his other ankle still throbbed unpleasantly - Miles's stretching, transforming nostrils, twitching at the end of his expanding face, smelled the sweatiness of his socks. Panting more, he pulled one off, wriggling his toes around until he'd gotten them free. One look at his foot, and he knew he wasn't just getting hairier. Thick claws were stretching out of each toe now, black and short. Miles stared at it with a dumb expression, then leaned back, moaning as he started to tug on his cock again. His grin stayed: all of the alcohol in his system seemed to soak right into his brain, leaving him tipsier than he should've been. It made it a lot easier for him to ignore the strange changes to his body, and enjoy himself.

Groaning and grunting and moaning, Miles had given up watching out as he pumped away. He heard something rustling - the rustling sound getting closer - but he was too horny to stop and too horny to care. His heart almost stopped when he heard a slightly familiar voice declare, "Wow! It's huge!"

Miles's eyes, bugging out of his head, turned to look. Is that - is that a giant squirrel talking to me? He wasn't sure which part he thought was stranger: the squirrel was the size of a man - a short man, but that was still really huge for a squirrel - and the squirrel's body wasn't quite right either. The muscles looked wrong; it wasn't as round and four-legged as it should have been, instead showing off a fairly flat stomach with lean muscles. There was also an erection sticking right out at him. Fuck, squirrels have fucking huge nuts!

"Who are you? What do you want?" Miles asked, not stopping. He was kind of irritated at the intrusion, but he wasn't annoyed or shocked enough to stop: his nuts seemed to be agitated like two fully-loaded washing machines, only churning around filled with the spunk it was making for him to shoot.

The large squirrel, panting and looking almost hypnotised at Miles's cock, blinked. He looked down at himself, slightly shocked, then grinned. "Oh yeah, you wouldn't recognise me! It's me, Scott!"

Miles frowned, not sure if he believed it, but then he looked down at himself sprouting even more fur, his hips widening to change the shape of his changing body even more. "Scott? What the fuck happened to you?"

"Whatever's happening to you," Scott pointed out. "Only a bit different. Think you might be turning into a badger, rather than a squirrel."

"A badger?" Miles had still not stopped jerking off, not even when he started noticing the changes in his cock. He was too horny to stop, and not even Scott the Squirrel's leering could stop him. He could feel a whole bunch of things that told him his body wasn't human: the muzzle poking out in front of his face, the claws, and most obviously the fur. What fucking good is a badger? If I had turned into something, couldn't have been like a bear or a wolf or something?

Scott squirmed down, his large tail twitching behind him as he crouched down in between Miles's legs. Miles scowled at him, but didn't do anything to stop him. He couldn't: the need to nut was too strong, and he felt only sort-of close, despite being so horny. Let the queer little squirrel watch me if that's what he wants. However, with him getting so close - too close - he decided he needed to set some boundaries. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

Gulping down a mouthful of spit, Scott answered. "Honestly? I want to help you out with that." His hands started rubbing each other, nervous and fidgety. "I want to blow you. I want you to fuck me. I don't know what happened to us. I don't care. It's left me too horny to think!"

"Then jerk yourself off!" Miles insisted, growling. "Somewhere else!"

Scott snapped back. Miles found having a squirrel angry at him was a bizarre experience. "Don't you think I'd have tried that? I nearly wore my cock down, but all I did was get more frustrated. I'll bet you're going to be the same. I mean, you could have stopped when you saw me coming." Miles snapped his jaws shut, leaning forward a little, but Scott continued on. "I don't think we can get ourselves off, but I think maybe we can help each other out." He shrugged. "Or you can sit here and give yourself blue balls, and I'll try tracking down someone else. Charlie, maybe, or Liam."

Maybe you should. It was Miles's first instinct to get rid of Scott. Let him get fucked by someone who wants it. Only, Miles squirmed. Am I actually thinking about letting him have a go? His changing paw-hands hadn't gotten much from throttling his cock this whole time. He growled, annoyed that his brain was considering Scott's offer. "At least help me up. I twisted my ankle. Help me get back to the fire."

Scott's nose twitched. It took him a long time, but he eventually nodded. Miles grunted, pushing himself to his one good foot, feeling Scott's head slide under his armpit of his weak side. Feeling his body respond to another warm naked body - naked, that was, aside from the fur, which almost didn't count to Miles's thinking - was embarrassing. Why'd I have to come out camping with a bunch of guys anyway?

They moved closer to the fire, both of them having to do their best to stop and masturbate. Moving didn't help, neither did the cool air. Miles couldn't think about anything but sex, and he was certain Scott was the same. It was the little things, like the twitching of the nose on the tip of his short squirrel muzzle when he thought Miles wasn't looking. Scott's head was right next to Miles's armpit; yet he somehow thought his sniffing could be ignored. Just like in the truck.

Miles could smell Scott too: mostly the musk coming off the raging erection he had. Smelling another man didn't put his own cock off from being hard, but then these were strange circumstances. He jerked his tail. I've got a fucking tail! Looking down across his muzzle, he saw the long, white whiskers gleaming as they got closer to the fire. His black, animal nostrils sniffed at the crackling smell of burning wood.

"Over there," Miles grunted, pointing at the thick logs they had been sitting on earlier in the day. Scott helped him to get over there. "When you're done, put some more wood on the fire." Wincing as he sat down, Miles was grateful to relax again, and not be reliant on Scott any more. He watched the squirrel picking up a log of wood, throwing it into the fire. I don't think I'm going to get used to a fucking giant squirrel.

Miles spread his legs apart; he tried to keep himself from moaning at how horny he was, but a longer grunt snuck out anyway as his cock craned to attention. He scraped his claws across the wood. How am I supposed to wank with those, huh? Guess I'll need to be careful. Turning up, he saw Scott, still standing there, looking at him in that way. Doesn't seem to be pretending not to be turned on now, huh? "What do you want?"

"I'm not going to pretend I don't find you hot," Scott answered. "I'm pretty sure neither of us can get off on our own, but you can keep trying using those claws if you want." He waited, almost goading Miles into answering back. Cocky little fucker, aren't you? Guess those big squirrel balls aren't for show, huh? Miles was about to snark something along those lines when Scott jumped in first. "You don't have to, you know, do anything for me. But at least one of us can get some relief. I can go hunt for one of the others to at least help me out. You don't have to look, either. Close your eyes, imagine it's a hot woman - or a hot badger woman, I don't know what's going on in your head now - going down on you. I won't tell, either." Scott glanced around. "Any minute, Charlie or Liam might come back, check on us, especially if something's happened to them, too."

Fuck. The kid's right. Miles growled. Am I actually gonna do this? His body needed the release badly. Gotta be if I'm taking this seriously. He growled again. "Fine. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll break your fucking neck, get it?" He quickly added. "Don't get cute. Just the mouth, okay?" Can't believe I'm gonna let a guy - a fucking squirrel guy no less - blow me. He closed his eyes, trying to pick out one of those horny women who came into his favourite bar sometimes, looking for something a little rough.

Lips enclosed around Miles's cock. His hands gripped the wood beside it; he was surprised at how he enjoyed hearing it crack under his strength. A squirm tried wriggling out of his body, but Miles pulled it back at the last minute. The mental image wavered; with his eyes closed, he stared at the flickering lights of the fire through his eyelids. Warm air washed over him, filled with ash and the scent of fresh wood. His tail swept along the back of the log underneath him, biting his lip when he accidentally curled the toes on his injured foot.

Sucking in air, Miles felt a growing dread. Fuck me, this guy's pretty good. Argh. Just don't think about it. Try as he might, though, he couldn't conjure up any memories of sex or even watching porn. It's being in this fucking furry body. It's messing me up. We need to find a fucking cure. His eyes flickered open, watching the large squirrel head plunging down his big, thick, somewhat transformed cock. His claws dug in harder, fighting the temptation to grab the back of the furry head sliding along, slurping on his shaft. What's wrong with me.

"Stop!" Miles demanded. Scott obediently slurped off, leaving Miles feeling the leftover drool sliding down his shaft. "Fuck!" He pounded the log beside him with his fist, a jolt of shock shooting up his arm. Ignoring the pain on his foot, he got up, wincing and hobbling, bending over and breathing heavily.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked. He came over, resting his hand on Miles's shoulder.

Miles jerked away from the touch. "Leave me alone, okay?" He could feel himself shaking. He'd been blown before, plenty of times, but it hadn't been this intense. Is it just because he's sucked so much cock that's doing it? Is it because I'm turning into a fucking badger, of all things? He liked Scott sucking his dick; it had felt amazing, but he didn't want it to do so. He exhaled air in a ragged breath.

"If you're worried about this making you gay, don't," Scott suggested. "If you're enjoying it, that's doesn't make you gay either. Your body's designed to enjoy getting off: I'm just helping you out, because otherwise you can't. If you want to stop, that's fine; if you want to keep going, I'm fine with that too. I wouldn't worry about this meaning anything. You've turned into a fucking badger, and I'm a squirrel, and somehow we're both hornier than normal! I don't think gay covers this situation."

Miles snorted. "Thanks. I mean, I don't have anything against you, or nothing. It's just-" He stopped as he straightened up, looking at Scott's lean, furry body. He was twitching. Poor guy's just doing his best. Can't blame him for that. How bad must he be feeling if I'm this horny, and he's the same, only he's with someone he thinks is hot. He thinks I'm hot. "It's just weird, is all. I'm not thinking straight."

Scott smirked, his two big squirrel teeth sticking down. "I never think straight!"

Miles laughed at this. Yeah. This thing's weird. It's so weird. His head was pounding. The words "You wanna bend over?" left his mouth. Wait, what? Scott's eyes opened wide, but Miles could see the flicker of excitement. I mean, guys can make other guys cum like that, right? I don't have to touch anything. You can fuck women in the ass too, right. He felt like his brain was on haywire.

Leaning in, Miles sniffed Scott; the smell of the fur filling the empty gaps in his skull. Reaching up, he wiped off his mouth. Why am I drooling so much. He staggered, falling over; catching himself on his hands, he yowled, "Oh fuck! I need to-" His nose was throbbing. His cock was throbbing. His balls were throbbing. "I need to fuck! Please!"

Scott's ass was suddenly in front of him, large tail raising. What am I supposed to do? Worry flickered briefly through his head, then he was clambering on Scott's back, holding the warm body beneath him. The rightness bloomed in his head, and he started jabbing away. He enjoyed Scott's large, bushy tail. Kind of like fucking on a big blanket.

Miles ankle ached, but he didn't care. Need to fuck. God fuck just let me get off. His shaft somehow sniffed out Scott's hole, and he felt himself pushing in. Scott squealed below him. No fuck I don't want to hurt him. He jerked back, but a small, insistent paw was digging into his leg, and instead Miles pushed in further.

Hunched over Scott's rear end, Miles started pumping. Underneath him, he couldn't help but hear Scott moaning, painfully but also aroused too. Does he like this? His hole was tight, a lot tighter than his mouth had been. It wasn't like fucking a vagina at all. Even the tightest of those he'd fucked were never this tight. It was hard to push in, but Scott seemed to want to. He realised that Scott was leaning over the log.

On all fours, they rutted away. The churning in Miles's nuts grew, each thrust making him hungrier for the next. His body was shaking. Scott was shaking underneath him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Trying not to think about what he was doing was easy. Trying not to think at all was easy: he was so deliciously close. Stamping on his sore foot, he cursed out loud. Fuck. He was getting closer. His body was shaking. He was drooling and panting. His furry ears were ringing as the blood pumped hastily around his body.

"Fuck!" Blessed relief washed over Miles: cock-deep into Scott - which surprised him, as he didn't mean to get in that far, nor remembered how he had done it - he felt himself blasting out all of the spunk that was driving him crazy. "Fuck! Shit! What am I doing? What-"

Scott turned around, and his eyes were so bright and crazed that Miles was, for the first time in a long time, intimidated. "Don't you fucking stop!" Miles looked at him in confusion, then Scott slammed back into his crotch. What the fuck? Alright, I guess. Don't want an angry, horny squirrel after my nuts... His thrusts had stopped abruptly; Miles started again, feeling his cock sliding against his own juices as the oozed inside Scott. "Keep going!" Scott shouted. "So close! Faster! Faster!" Miles tried obeying his hips moving as fast as they could, his crotch slapping wetly against Scott's rear as his fluids started leaking out. Then Scott screamed so loud Miles winced, and he found his nose flooding with the smell of cum.

"Holy fuck, did you get off like that?" Miles asked, surprised.

"Just... gimme... a sec..." Scott replied, panting. Not sure of what to do, Miles just stayed there, curled over Scott's ass. Everything just stopped for a while, then Scott shuddered. "Okay. Pull out, but be slow."

Miles did as he was told, looking at Scott's gaping, cum-oozing asshole. I did that. Wow. Fuck. The puddle of spunk underneath Scott was massive. At least he enjoyed it, I guess? Grunting, he righted himself; his erection was still sticky and swollen, but the fire in it that needed quenching had been quenched. Stretching carefully, he started to hobble away.

"Where are you going?" Scott panted.

"Think I'm gonna want a beer after that," Miles answered. "Want one?"