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I decided to officially christen my rented Fjord truck with a proper fucking. Car sex was one thing, boat sex another, but having gay sex inside a large truck? Hell yeah!

I'd crossed into Oregon and drifted through various towns leading towards Docklands, then spent the night in a decent motel just within city limits. After helping myself to a shower and ordering some room service, I lay across the bed while browsing through a few hookup apps other than Howlr. Most of the men sending messages seemed too sketchy, too old, too young, or too demanding, so I decided to scroll through Pred8r, a dating app mostly for herbivores looking to hook up with carnivores. Or vice versa in my case. If it weren't for the occasional species supremacist making their opinions known, I'd find myself on the app more often.

He was a twinkish hunk beaver in his mid-twenties named Orel. Of course, he mentioned it only being a nickname, but I didn't question much of it other than exchanging lewd jokes about it as we talked late into the night. For being a beaver, I'd later learn that he also had the sleeping patterns of a night owl too, with his job requiring it at the dockyards.

Me: Heh, you work at the dockyards in Docklands, OR?

Orel: Hehe yeah pretty much.

Orel: Night shifts suck.

Me: but not in the good way?

Orel: Exactly lol!

Orel: I can show you tomorrow night after my shift if ur interested? I don't just like nibbling on wood if U know what I mean? ;3

Me: >~<

Me: It's a date ;P

We worked out the details of our rendezvous, and I agreed to pick him up at his apartment the very next morning after 5:30 A.M. Until then, I wasted the following morning and afternoon enjoying Docklands' historic landmarks. Besides hitting tourist spots and getting a couple of small souvenirs like a gimmicky t-shirt showing Docklands' skyline, I very much enjoyed the local cuisine, especially trying a slice of marionberry pie from a small downtown bakery. It sat down so well that I even purchased some blueberry-scented lube from an underground sex shop for later that night. Afterward, I returned to the motel and fell asleep extra early and woke up around 2:45 in the morning to prepare.

Driving through a big city between midnight and dawn never stop amazing me, no matter the state/province or country. It felt like traversing through an empty maze of buildings, full of sleeping mammals and populated at the moment only by those who could tolerate the deep night. Mostly early risers, insomniacs, less-than-reputable denizens, city workers, blue-collar workers, and incredibly horny men like me looking to fuck said blue-collar worker.

As he exited his apartment complex and entered the passenger seat, I blinked at his appearance. The beaver seemingly went into full incognito mode. The loose black sweatpants and baggy hoodie did well at hiding his muscled physique underneath, but I still recognized his lecherous smile from the photos.

"Great to meet you, Seb," he greeted me after buckling himself.

"Same here," I hid my accent well and proceeded to drive out of the apartments' parking lot. "Take it you're not into being recognized?"

"Nah, it's just laundry day," Orel replied, and we laughed.

We made small talk for several minutes until I finally brought us to the place. Orel described it as the perfect location for our fun; an abandoned shopping mall with parking between the back alley for delivery trucks and the giant hill separating the property from a nearby road. Anybody and everybody liked to use it for public sex and random hookups. Straight people included.

In fact, we spotted a small car shaking at the farther end of the alley before I parked the Fjord a good distance away. No sense in interrupting anybody.

"So then," Orel chuckled apprehensively, squirming in his seat. "You ready?"

"Absolutely, lad," I let slip my accent as I unzipped my trousers. "Mind the teeth, please. I wanna see those lips of yours put to great use."

Orel nodded fiercely. "Yessir!"

Minutes later I was in Heaven. We were both in Heaven. The only sounds in the truck were my flaring nostrils, Orel's slobbery suckling as his throat squeezed around my dogcock, lips brushing to my sweaty sheath, and his paddle-like tail tapping against the seat cushions. Resting one paw between his heated ears and the other reaching over to his ass, I multitasked between encouraging and teasing him.

"Mmf, that's the spot...good boy, good lad..." I crooned, "F-Fuck, you're good."

My fingers curled past his belt line and under his boxers, feeling each muscular globe of his toned ass. No doubt a reward for all the hours spent moving heavy boxes all day despite his size and height. After finally discovering the beaver's tailhole hidden beneath that thick tail still batting at the seat, I carefully inserted a finger, only to feel no difference in suction from Orel other than intensity. Pulling it out and giving my finger a quick sniff, I chuckled. True to what I once learned in a sex booklet, a beaver's ass smelled like vanilla. It all revolved around their anal glands secreting a scented smell reminiscent of ice cream. They also helped provide lubrication, which I further discovered after he pulled his lips off my cock and wiggled himself bottomless into the backseat of the truck.

"Damn," I exhaled, "I guess we will not be needing the lube I just bought then."

"Awww, just for me?" He chirped playfully as I watched him present his handsome ass, legs extending with my knees between his ankles. "What flavor did ya get?"

"Blueberry," I theatrically smacked my lips with my canine tongue. "Marionberry flavor didn't exist for lubrication, so I went for the next best scent."

"Mmm, sounds tasty," Orel reached around to slightly spread one of his cheeks, then held up his tail to show more. As he did, vanilla wafted into the backseat, driving me wild. "Sorry I'm not scented like marionberries, but I hope you'll enjoy vanilla ice cream more, big guy?"

I couldn't help myself from smirking, kneeling closer as I grabbed each cheek to reveal more of his delicious crack. "Of course, I'll enjoy it, lad," came my reply.

No sooner did I tell him, did my tongue extend, and I hungrily lapped at his quivering pucker like a dehydrated dog to fresh water.

If the beaver had been in heaven before, then I brought him to the next best thing. I ravaged his ring with my canine tongue, delving deeper into his depths as his glands released more vanilla flavoring. Normally, I didn't care for so much musk, but beavers had become the exception for me. They tasted too delicious.

I smooched Orel's anal ring. I made out with it, frenched it, kissed it, devoured it like my dinner at a restaurant, then spread him open with as much muscle my tongue possessed. During which, my mighty paws gripped his spread buttocks for dear life as the beaver's breaths turned desperate.

"Fuck me, please! Please fuck me, Sebastian!"

I waited until I had my first helping of vanilla ice cream, then helped give Orel a tasty creamy filling. Two creamy fillings, to be exact. No doubt, I felt pretty sure the occupants of the other car were able to see the Fjord truck rocking back and forth. No doubt too that I loved my rented truck, and what I could do with it on my journey across the continental United States.