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Kyle moved himself to rest against the door of the truck, gazing out at the distant, blue-tinted mountains. An ocean of golden, summer-baked grasses and who-knew-what swayed and rippled like waves, paving the way to the distant peaks.

They had passed over those mountains a couple hours ago. That had been the nicest part of the drive. The air was cool. Now Kyle, and his dad, were suffering the heat of late summer. The truck had 'two sixty-five' air conditioning, as Rupert, Kyle's father, put it. Two windows open while cruising at sixty-five miles per hour. The wind roared in the cab, offering meager cooling. It was still unpleasantly hot.

They were in Kyle's grandfather's truck. Technically, what had been his grandfather's truck. The elderly kangaroo had passed a few years ago, leaving the truck to Rupert. Rupert's coupe was too small to move Kyle back to college- the entire purpose of the trip- so the old truck, which distinctly lacked air conditioning, was the only option.

The only option for this year, Kyle's second year, at least. Kyle was eager for the move, to be back on campus. The summer between freshman and sophomore year was a nice respite from classes, but being back home hadn't been particularly enjoyable. He was passed between his mother's and father's houses while they were busy with their own lives. That part wasn't too bad. What had really gotten him down, what really made him look forward to returning to campus, was a lack of friends. The lack of his few friends. A couple had moved out of the area while he was at college, and the one remaining friend he had hoped to see was working two jobs the whole summer.

His summer boredom was only worsened by the sudden shift from hectic college to being a lay about. Kyle had managed to entertain himself a little, at least. He finished so many of the video games he had meant to over the years. He caught up on shows, since there was no cable in the dorms. And, of course, the freedom to jerk off. A lot. His respective parents each being busy, leaving him to his own, had been great for that. But eventually it was all getting old, leaving him listless. Bored enough that he headed to the gym his dad worked at and got back into an exercise routine.

Kyle sat back in his seat, slouching, reclining his head against the rest. His face fur was all mussed and uncomfortable from taking the wind head-on. And it was too hot. It was omnipresent. Making Kyle pine for his step father's air-conditioned SUV. That's what they took for his freshman trips moving to, and from, the dorms. The monstrosity of a vehicle even had enough leg room for a tall boomer like Kyle. But no. Kyle, and his even-taller father, were cramped into the cab of a two-seater bench truck his grandfather had been too stubborn to ever upgrade. All because Kyle's mother, step-father, and step-siblings were away at an extended church event.

Even if it wasn't cooling enough, Kyle could at least be thankful for the roar of the wind keeping conversation to a minimum. Times where it was just Rupert and Kyle always seemed awkward. Kyle and his father didn't have a ton to talk about, once Grandma and their respective job or schooling had been covered.

Of course, just at the moment of that thought, Rupert spoke up.

"So, are you going to be in that ... GLBT? The gay housing you were talking about?" Rupert asked, looking past Kyle to the large truck they were passing. He glanced down to Kyle, then back up to the truck, nodding to its driver as they passed, then merged back to the lane in front of it.

"LGBT. Lesbian, gay, bi, transgender. And no." Kyle had to half-shout for his father to hear.

"Sorry bud. You know I'm not great at spelling. What happened? I remember you being so excited applying when you got back home."

Rupert's attention turned away, out to the left side mirror as a car blew past them, easily twenty over their speed. Rupert chattered something Kyle couldn't understand. Atop the sound of the windows being down, it had been in the wrong language.

"Yeah, I applied... Didn't get in. The school's whole 'we support diversity' bit is bullshit." Kyle laid his ears back as Rupert glanced over. The younger kangaroo had been raised to keep his tongue clean, but a year away at college had loosened it. Rupert let it slide. So long as he wasn't speaking that way in front of Grandma.

"The LGBT housing they promised was a whole dorm building, so that's... Ten dorms? Four doubles and a single, times two floors. They cut it back to half a floor. Two doubles and the single. The LGBT group's president got the single, the vice and her girlfriend a double, and I don't even know who got the last one. And of course, all my friends who knew better than to trust the school already buddied up, sooooo..." So his hopes of suddenly having a gay roommate to turn boyfriend roommate were fucked. "I'm with some rando from the housing lottery. Name's ..." Kyle looked down at his phone. He could pull up the email, but did it really matter? "... Tim I think? Tom? Something like that."

Rupert's meaty mitt left the wheel and patted Kyle's thigh, giving it an encouraging squeeze before returning to its position.

"I'm sure you and that Tim guy will be fine. Your first roommate worked out well, right? And he was randomly paired with you. You've got macropod luck." Rupert reasoned, glancing at his mirrors again.

"Yeah." Kyle quietly answered. A blatant lie. Kyle and the fox roommate hadn't gotten along in the slightest. Brent, said ex-roommate fox, had often kicked Kyle out of the room to 'study'- masturbate a ton- or because he had migraines- masturbate a ton more- or for any other reason the fox could manage. It had been ridiculous. Infuriating, after long enough. It wasn't like Kyle couldn't smell what had happened every time he returned to the dorm.

Then, it turned out, the fox as a bit of a homophobe. When Kyle broke and said to just jerk off while he was there, because he had his own exams to study for, Brent had been oh-so-horribly offended. Not only to be accused of lying about a headache, but, 'he would never do that around another guy like a faggot'.

Kyle had stayed rather closeted his first year.

Rupert smiled and chuffed, clueless to his son's unpleasant experience. But it had always been like that. Kyle liked to keep his father in the dark, thinking all was well, after the divorce. Reassuring Rupert that was the case, every time they had been in contact. It hadn't been often.

Rupert's eyes glanced to the striking blue-and-white sign.

"You need to hit the rest stop? Or..." Rupert glanced to the clock, to the road, and over to Kyle. "We're probably forty-five to the hotel. You good 'til then?"

Kyle eyed past his father, to the low orange sun. It was finally starting to cool as the day neared end. As Rupert had estimated, they were too late for dorm check in. Kyle would be staying with Rupert at the hotel that night, for sure.

"I... could use the stop. I need to take a leak, and I really could use another water." Kyle suggested apologetically. He gestured to the two empty bottles on the floor, then lifted the one in his hand.

"'Course, no fur off my back." Rupert rumbled, letting off the gas so the pickup gradually decelerated. He stroked at his muzzle, over the scarred side. Thin claw-scars only visible by the thin line of fur that was missing. Subtle, like permanent creases in his fur. But Kyle knew they were there. He couldn't help but see them.

They took the turn off and drove toward the extended rows of parking. The rest stop was looking pretty great, compared to most their stops. There was a broad grassy area to stretch in, trees for shade, and two large bathroom buildings that didn't look like rundown prisons.

It was weird to spend so much time with Rupert. Eight hours straight, only bath breaks, nothing to distract. Even Kyle's phone hadn't been of much use. Friends weren't responding. Most the people he would text were making the same move back to college that Kyle was. Meaning the eight-hour trip was just the road, Rupert, and Kyle.

Kyle figured a father and son shouldn't be as awkward as they were. He shouldn't be shy to tell his father the truth about things. But things were the way they were. Life doesn't give you things the way they should be, Rupert had told his son many times. It was their job to take what they were given and make things the way they should be.

Maybe Kyle should be more honest with his dad.

Kyle, of course, loved his father. He had plenty of fond memories with his father. Both his parents, really. Kyle couldn't have asked for a better childhood. Up until he was getting to middle school. Surely, everything had been gradual. But to a joey, to Kyle's young mind, it seemed like a switch had been flipped. His happy parents and him having a blast, a loving little family, then suddenly they didn't spend time with him together any more. Then Rupert was away now and then. Then regularly. Then often.

Nicole, Kyle's mother, had always been aggressive and opinionated. But it seemed to be meaner, darker around that point of Kyle's life. At the time, Kyle had thought it was because she missed Rupert. His dad was always away for work, training some up-and-coming boxer. Or so Kyle had been told.

They were suddenly going to church at that point, when his dad was around less. Just Nicole and Kyle, Rupert never around for that Sunday trip. He was never around any part of the weekend, most of the time. That was a standout memory of his. Every Sunday, going to church, and praying that Dad's new star boxer would make it big, so his dad could start being around more. And his mom would be happier. And everything would be back to good times.

His prayers were ignored.

That all broke apart one night. A Sunday night, after spending the morning at church, praying as he always did. A fight, flashing red and blue lights, both parents taken away. Rupert by police, Nicole by EMTs. A very nice man, Paul, had arrived around the same time. Kyle knew Paul and his kids from church. Nicole and Kyle always sat with them, every Sunday. Nicole had told Kyle he was having a sleepover with Margret, Louise and Louis- Paul's children. Nicole would be there in the morning for breakfast.

Life doesn't give you things the way they should be. And prayers aren't answered. Kyle knew those to be true. Life had been something else ever since that night. Something lacking a lot of his father. At first, because "daddy needed help". As Kyle matured, he understood more and more. The arrest. The divorce. That Rupert only wanted to see Kyle one or two weekends a month, because his life was too busy otherwise.

That last bit had always seemed so weird. Rupert was such a loving father, so eager and happy to see Kyle every weekend he could. He gave what he could, spoiling Kyle in the meager ways he could afford.

He was a good dad. He paid his child support, he was encouraging and supportive, he was even the loving parent when Kyle came out as gay. Rupert, and his step dad Paul, at least. Rupert was a good dad. Just so very absent from half of Kyle's life.

The absence meant silence. And in silence, awkwardness grew.

Kyle chased away the intrusive thoughts as the truck came to a stop. He hoped out, stretching as much as was alright with others around. He took his time, savoring the ability to extend his tail, stretch his arms, and awaken his long-sleeping ass. Sufficiently sated, Kyle headed toward the men's restroom.

The rest seemed popular, plenty of other furs taking extended breaks and walking about to get their blood moving. Many were probably Kyle's peers at Woodfall University. As usual, very few were peers in terms of marsupials. Just like at Woodfall, most of those at the rest stop were more common species. Canines, felines, other mammals, and some avian and scaled types sprinkled throughout. A few larger species. All something Kyle was quite used to.

Artificial floral stink hit Kyle's nose as he stepped through the switch-back entrance to the bathroom. It marked the bathroom as better-tended than the acrid rooms they had stopped in so far, but the intensity still made his snout wrinkle.

The bathroom wasn't particularly large, only four stalls and a row of ten urinals. Most occupied. Kyle headed to the only open urinal, undoing his pants and getting to business. He earned a couple side-glances. Standing at six-foot flat, Kyle had, at minimum, several inches on everyone else there.

The skunk next to Kyle- possibly another Woodfall student, given his similar age- tucked and walked away from the urinal, still doing his pants back up. A long sigh escaped Kyle as he relaxed. He had held off for too long, since he didn't want to bother his father with too many stops. At least now the discomfort was easing as he relieved himself.

On breathing back in, Kyle caught the scent of his father. Kyle suddenly wasn't the tallest at the urinals. Right beside him saddled up his father. Kyle was tall, but his father was another head atop that. Rupert stood at seven feet tall, even when he was standing flat-footed. A standout in most crowds. Kyle was a good example of an average red kangaroo boomer, but Kyle's dad showed off how big they could get.

Kyle could see all the others at the urinals turning head, or at least peeking over, wide-eyed and upward at his dad. Kyle felt blush building on his cheeks. He was getting a few eyes as well. Boomers were known for the damage they could do, often eyed nervously like predators. Kyle and Rupert were each careful to go about flat-footed, hiding the extra height they got when on foot-end and hopping. Still, even flat-footed, they were at six and seven feet.

Kyle had always been comforted by the smell of his dad and relatives. Something about being around your own kind, feeling safe in a troop. That still held true. But he got hit by it hard. An intense, pungent waft of kangaroo sweat and musk. Kyle swallowed, closing his eyes and breathing out for a second. He knew right where that waft came from, timed just after his father unzipped.

Kyle was almost finished. He opened his eyes and glanced over as he heard Rupert groan. Rupert had his head up, stretching his neck back, eyes closed as his snout pointed toward the ceiling. Both Rupert and Kyle had been hunched forward in the undersized cabin. Kyle had worked it out when he exited the truck. At Rupert's age it took longer.

His father wasn't looking. Kyle set his eyes back 'on the road', the wall just above the urinal. He set his jaw, teeth pressing hard to one another. He knew all too well he shouldn't look. That he'd die of humiliation if his dad caught him glancing.

And in the end, it wasn't really his fault he glanced. There was movement, and his eyes darted over out of habit. Rupert was scratching his chest with one hand, the other aiming down below.

It was probably Kyle's fault that he went from eyeing the chest scratching to glancing downward. Just a quick peek, out of the corner of his eye.

Rupert's paw was covering most of what he wanted to see. Rupert was left handed, like most kangaroos, and had that down to guide himself, while he right absently scratched. Kyle was the weird one, holding himself with his right. Each paw blocking most of the goods from each other, with Kyle at the left urinal.

Most of the goods.

Kyle's heart throbbed in his ears, his stomach filling with butterflies. He could see the darker end of his dad's shaft, a stream flowing from the tip. It was only barely extended from his sheath. Kyle could see the rim of that sweaty, furred sleeve. And his balls. Kyle's were resting atop his sheath, easily held out of the way with his thumb. Rupert's seemed to hang lower, pushed off to the side with his paw to keep them away from the stream.

Kyle was pretty sizable all around. He stood tall, his nuts were heavy, he got a lot of compliments on his dick. The size, at least. The prehensile bit and 'upside down' arrangement were often a topic of curiosity and/or disgust.

Sizeable. But not huge.

Rupert was huge. Not only was the sweaty sack longer-hanging than Kyle's, but each of the treasures it protectively held outsized his by a good bit.

It must have only been a fraction of a second. Kyle glanced over, then back to the road. Staring at the tiled wall, eyes tracing the mortar between the tiles. Rupert's head was still up, and the steady- and rather loud- hiss of Rupert relieving himself was still going.

Kyle felt like he had stared for ages, drinking in the details. But it had just been the briefest of moments, stealing a glance that he shouldn't have. And he got away with it.

Realizing he'd petered out, Kyle looked down and shook his own tip. The pink of his shaft wasn't the dusky, darker color of his father's shaft. It was only a couple shades different. Kyle couldn't help but wonder why. He shook again, then retracted back into his sheath. His nuts rolled off his thumb, everything sagging back into his boxer-briefs. Safely tucked away, he got his zipper closed and headed to the sinks. He exited the bathroom with a brief glance back at his father, who was still at the urinal.