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He leaned forward on the table, hunching over decades' worth of initials crudely etched into the worn maple, but the border collie could barely keep his attention on the book spread between his paws. He found himself reading the same paragraph over and over, never really taking in its meaning with the distraction rudely beckoning his eyes from the page. With a huff, Dylan lifted the hardcover just enough to hide his face, still allowing him furtive glances at the subject of his young fascination. She was pushing a cart of returned books from one stack to the next, pausing to diligently inspect their spines before disappearing between the shelves and replacing each with effortless precision.

Spending the summer on his grandfather's orchard, Dylan made regular visits to the small-town library thanks to his parentally imposed summer reading assignments. He groaned, abstractly considering his fellow high schoolers and how much more excitement they were getting out of their respective summer vacations. Their total absence from the public library only served to bolster that suspicion. But he kept coming every day to please his folks and avoid his grandpa's vocal reprimands.

One thing in particular did come to make the visits worthwhile, and a spotless white shirt hugged her waist, the top three buttons left tantalizingly undone, affording Dylan repeated opportunities to admire the deep furrow of her golden cleavage. Presumably, the spaniel simply dressed to deal with the library's temperamental air-conditioning, but the effect was the same to him. Her book return cart was old and its bearings sticky, so each push to get it going required a little shove, and the collie peered over his reading material with the farfetched hope that the next sudden bounce of the librarian's chest would send those ample mammaries spilling over her treacherously low neckline. His teenaged imagination ran wild with hormone-driven daydreams; he pictured those nipples in his mind as being the same chocolate brown as her nose, set perkily upon each swaying bosom.

As Dylan sat, silently peeking over his book from several shelves away, he could feel the pressure of his unbidden erection growing, snaking its way down the leg of his jeans. What his active imagination could only mentally conjure, his body reacted to in a very real way, and trapped in the intimate hug between the denim and his own thigh, every shift of the collie's body encouraged his foreskin to slide along an eagerly engorged head. And, just as satisfied that it was buried deep in that busty spaniel rather than wedged awkwardly down his pant leg, Dylan's penis throbbed lustily, edging ever closer to its single-minded goal of planting a few generous jets of seed in the fertile female.

Feeling the telltale tension of impending orgasm, the collie stood up suddenly with a scrape of his chair over the hardwood floor, eyes wide and a gasp stuck in his throat. He clenched his pelvis for all he was worth, placing his book tactfully over the length of his lewd bulge as he awaited the sudden gush that threatened to darken his denim. After one moment passed, then another, Dylan carefully shuffled his way to the safety of the water fountain by the restrooms. His progress was slowed by that conspicuous erection, but slowing down and getting something to drink cooled his nerves, bringing him back from the edge. Even though it wasn't unusual for the hormone-addled teen's fantasies to take a turn for the erotic, he'd never indulged them to the point of actually cumming his pants, and his heart was still pounding as he collected his things to check out.

To be totally truthful, Dylan hadn't made it to the library _every_day. Only a few mornings prior, he was sidetracked by a forest fox and, after some hesitation, whiled away the hours in his company. Now, as he approached the front desk with the librarian dutifully bouncing over to assist, he tried to avoid reminiscing on the specifics of his time with the fox: stripping down, hanging out naked, . . . pawing off to fantasies of the spaniel girl who, in that moment, was right there in front of him. She pulled out a barcode scanner and flashed it over the inside cover of his novel.

"Cyberpunk Warrior," she read out in a soft, deliberate voice. "I read it back when it came out. Nice choice," she handed the book back with a gentle smile on her slim canine muzzle. "If you like it, you should give Star Fleet a try next."

His mouth rudely agape, Dylan finally grabbed the book and stuffed it in his backpack. "Thanks . . ." he murmured back, forcing an amicable if slanted smile, "I-I'll do that. It'll be next on my list." He nodded before somewhat hurriedly striding out of the front door. Another moment in her company was more than he could handle right now.

***

The old wooden bridge spanning the stream marked the rearmost border of the public park, and it swayed creakily under the border collie's sneakers as he crossed. Beyond it, a trail stretched deep into the forest, eventually opening up to the orchard that was Dylan's home for the summer. From his daily trips to the library, he'd grown familiar with the narrow dirt path and how infrequently it was used, but that didn't stop him from looking over his shoulder every so often, just to double-check this wasn't the day someone decided to follow along on a fluke.

His heart pounding, Dylan stepped off the trail and scanned the scene, eyeing up every nearby tree as if picking just the right spot. His sneakers crunching through the leaflitter, he settled on a sycamore only several steps further into the woods. The canine panted lightly, unslinging his backpack and dropping it hurriedly to the ground before fidgeting with his jeans. His paws were unsteady, working almost deliriously. He unzipped his fly and in the next moment his jeans and underwear were slumped around his ankles and his stubbornly firm erection sprang free. The hormone-addled teen didn't waste any time wrapping a paw around his shaft and pumping away. His hand was a blur, working his foreskin back and forth over a rosy-pink glans just glistening with the glaze of precum he'd been amply leaking since the library. His balls jostled, the full weight of those post-pubescent orbs swinging erratically between parted thighs.

"Ohhh . . ." Dylan moaned out, leaning heavily with his upraised forearm on the mottled bark of the sycamore. The fap-fap-fap of his urgent masturbation joined the rustles of leaves and the tweets of robins flitting overhead. "Oh, those boobs," he groaned, imagining the gifted spaniel's breasts spilling free of their starched cotton prison as he watched his paw at work. "Those nipples . . . those chocolate chip nipples . . ." Hot breathes passed his white-furred muzzle and, involuntarily, his lips pursed as if to latch upon the nub of one of those temptingly bare teats.

Only moments later, that frustratingly deferred surge returned. This time, Dylan pawed all the way there, forcefully delivering one thick jet of teenage sperm after another onto the tree trunk before him. The collie moaned loudly as the milky trails meandered down the bark and he continued pumping and drooling more only to land in the leaves below. He huffed and panted, basking in the warm glow of his powerful release.

"Hey, Dylan!" a chipper voice suddenly called.

He snapped upright, nearly tripping over the jeans still incriminatingly around his ankles. His heart skipped a beat in the fear of being caught in such a compromising situation, then he noticed the burnt-orange fur framing a familiar vulpine figure. Padding up through the leaflitter with surprisingly delicate footsteps, Reed joined the spent collie by the tree, not at all perturbed by the softening erection still held in paw, nor the semen freshly draped on the sycamore's trunk. The fox--like every other time Dylan encountered him--was completely nude, and couldn't have looked more comfortable.

He cast a matter-of-fact glance at Dylan's slumping penis, his foreskin easing around the pearly white trail of semen still hanging from his tip. "Rough day?"

The collie sighed, "You could say that . . . I got a little distracted at the library and had to get the hell out of there just so I could, uh . . . take care of this." He avoided making eye contact with Reed. Even though the fox and his nonjudgmental attitude had been so valuable to his coming to terms with these grownup urges, it was still a little awkward to talk about masturbating so directly, especially right there in the aftermath of his latest session.

"Ahhh, your dream girl was there again!" A grin spread wide on the fox's muzzle as he crossed his arms confidently.

"Well, yeah, she works there. It's kind of hard to avoid her when I'm there, like, every day."

Reed pointed with a black-furred foot to Dylan's crumpled jeans. "If you didn't wear those all the time, she might know how you actually feel 'bout her," he smirked toothily.

"Um, yeah. That wouldn't help the situation AT ALL." Dylan's muzzle was askew as he dragged his jeans back up against the lay of his fur, flustered nonetheless by the sudden mental image of sporting a hard-on in front of the librarian and leaking a puddle of hopeful precum between them. "I don't even like her in that way. She's got nice tits. Everything else is totally involuntary."

"I'm only teasing, dude," he laughed, shaking his head. "But hey, wanna do something fun tonight?"

Zipping up his fly, Dylan raised an eyebrow, "Fun? Like what?"

"Like a midnight raid!"

Dylan looked at the fox like he'd just grown antlers. "Huh?"

"Okay. Every so often, a few friends and me get together in the middle of the night and run into town. For a little raid, y'know? There's some amazing fruit in the gardens, plus whatever else the townsfolk happen to leave unattended overnight. You'll see. It'll be fun!"

Dylan wasn't enamored with the idea of stealing something he could just as easily buy at the store, but the invitation to meet some of the other forest dwellers certainly piqued his interest. Reed had been a good friend in the short time they'd known each other, so maybe the collie owed it to himself to give it a chance. He scratched his cheek, "I dunno . . . my grandpa's not gonna let me just wander off late at night."

"So?" the fox chirped up with a sly smile, "Why would he have to know? Listen, you find a way to sneak out and I'll take care of the rest." He sustained an encouraging smile. "C'mon, you'll love it!"

***

Light from a half-moon bled through the drapes into the upstairs hallway as the border collie closed hid bedroom door with excruciating care. I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm actually doing this. He thought to himself, working his way down the old, hardwood staircase in cargo shorts and a faded black t-shirt. For the sake of silence, he went barefoot, descending the stairs while supporting some of his weight on either rail. The boards groaned under his paws, threatening a shrill squeak that thankfully never came. His grandfather was asleep, his snoring audibly from the second floor even as Dylan planted his first foot at the base of the stairs. The clock on the kitchen wall read thirty minutes to midnight as it ticked away in the unlit house. Easing his weight slowly with each step, he finally padded out the kitchen's backdoor, the screened portion of which was off its hinges and resting on side of the house, indefinitely awaiting repair.

The summer air was still warm, and the chirping of crickets surrounded him in the moonlit night. His heart wouldn't settle--instead he felt the rush of rebellion as he made his way to the dirt road, leaving his snoring grandfather and the old farmhouse behind him. Okay, you can do it now. That was the hard part. He tried to quell the pit in his stomach reminding him that sneaking off at night is definitely not the sort of thing the old dog would approve of. Every step offered a chance to turn around.

It was less bravery than simply failing to turn back that brought Dylan to the wrought-iron gate at the end of the driveway, mounted to stonework pillars on either side. This was where he and Reed planned to meet before heading into town, and at first it seemed he beat his friend there . . .

"Yo, Dylan!" the fox hopped up onto a waist-high pillar, startling him for the second time that day. "The old dog still asleep?"

Perched on the stonework, supported on both his hands and feet, Reed's bushy tail swished idly behind. His bare pink penis hung pendulously between cream-furred thighs, the tip of his rosy glans just peeking from under his snug foreskin, draped gently over furred balls. It wasn't easy for Dylan to ignore the candid sway of his friend's genitals, especially that much closer to eye-level.

"Yeah. I was totally quiet. He didn't hear a thing," the collie nodded meeting the fox's eyes glinting in the midnight moonlight.

"Nice! See? Wasn't hard, was it?" It was the fox's turn to look Dylan over. "You, uh . . . planning to go like that?"

"Hmm?" he tilted his head. It quickly occurred to the collie that Reed was pointing out his state of dress--that being any dress at all. He'd grown comfortable joining the fox in afternoons of shared nudity, but that was deep within the relative privacy of the forest. He hadn't seriously considered the possibility that he'd be going into town naked, even well after dark. It seemed so much more . . . public.

"I know you're not a wild dog, but . . . ," Reed strained his muzzle, searching for words. "This midnight raid thing is kinda for wild animals only. It'd make you sorta stand out, showing up looking like one of those civilized townsfolk." While it struck Dylan as odd, it didn't entirely surprise him that his nudist friend thought of shorts and t-shirts as emblematic of 'civilization'.

With a resigned shrug, the border collie slipped out of his scant summer attire, stashing the garments in a crumpled pile at the base of the entry column for later retrieval. "I'll trust you on this," he murmured, slipping out of his boxers last, tossing them with the rest. The warm air washed over his naked fur, a feeling he'd enjoyed with the fox on a few occasions already, but never in quite so open a setting. He looked back at the farmhouse, now a couple hundred yards behind, just to be sure the lights were still off. Pausing for a moment, he breathed in the sensation of the open air; seeing the way the moonlight cast over his figure was somehow other-worldly. And somehow thrilling.

"Way better," the fox concluded. "Let's go!"