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Standard disclaimer:

This is a furry adult story containing gay males in sexual situations as well as explicit language and descriptions. No kids are allowed so this story is only for those who are 18/21 or whatever the age is at your legislation. If you are not of the legal age, you shouldn't view this story because you might lose your innocence. Also, by browsing this story you have done so by your own consent and wish to view such material. if you do not wish to view such material you should leave this site immediately.

*

Hello to all!

This is the first part of what has been tentatively planned to be a multi-part Christmas Special for the Bent over Behind the Barracks series. Each chapter will be narrated from a different point of view, so you'll be getting both viewpoints into this story throughout.

I'll be posting each part as soon as it's finished.

As always, dedicated to my avid readers and commentators on SoFurry! Hope you as well as new readers enjoy!

If you like or hate the story, please take just a moment to vote, comment or fav, or anything you fancy! That helps me to become a better writer.

I would also like to point out three things that came to mind when writing this. As of this story, I have gained over 200 watchers as well as over 28,500 views in my stories on SoFurry.

Also, quite significantly, while writing, I read the news about the dissolution of the Don't Ask, Don't tell policy having been accepted by the United States senate, thus starting along the way of stopping LGBT discrimination in the United States Military.

Thus, I would like every one of my readers remembers those 13,000 servicemen who have been lost from the ranks due to their sexuality during the 17 years of the DADT policy.

Happy pawings and Christmas spirit to all!

*

Author's note: This song is playing on the car radio at the beginning of the story. You might want to check it out if you want for the banter to make any sense. It's a good song ;)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=toDv4-yiP0w

*

_ September, 1962 _

*

We were flying through the darkness of the night at a steady 60 miles per hour, and the only thing that kept us connected with the world outside were the two beams of light emanating from the front lights of the small Dodge Coronet me and Brock had stuffed ourselves.

I had looked at the small car with disbelief, telling Brock that there was no way that two huge Dobies like us could never fit into such a small vehicle. The dirty private Stahlman had simply shrugged, prodded my shoulder with his fisted paw and told me to haul my pathetic Dobie butt into the passenger's seat. He also claimed that the car was more than large enough to fit his whole family in when they'd go to church on Sunday. Shaking my head in disbelief, I had finally concluded that perhaps I would fit in as I'd watched Brock contort himself through the driver's door and behind the steering wheel of the small green car.

That had been 14 hours ago, on Thursday, and now it was four AM on Friday, and we were on the road. I had inquired Brock about the possible time of arrival, and he had simply grunted from behind the wheel which he had taken during our last switch at midnight. I turned to look at him and saw the large Dobie sitting in a very relaxed pose on the driver's seat, elbows resting on his knees. It looked like he was only casually steering the car with the tips of his fingers, held to the bottom of the steering wheel. His ears were flat and he looked tired, but his eyes were alert still, and I trusted that he would be good for at least an hour more before I'd have to insist on another change.

My rump felt numb from all this sitting in this car decidedly not designed for such large occupants. I was a bit hungry after only eating biscuits, beef jerky and Coke for the duration of the trip. My neck also ached from an awkward position since I had to be careful not to straighten my head too quickly or I'd hit my forehead to the roof of the car. I sat half-hunched on the passenger's seat, and the only thing really keeping me awake was the slightly scratchy radio, which Brock insisted keeping on even if he commented derisively on almost every song they were playing.

Right now they were again playing yet another version of some new kind of a song, which for some reason they had been playing throughout the night with only little variation. It wasn't a bad song, all sorts of swinging beats and stuff, but Brock didn't like it.

_ "I will leave you never, for I know that you'll forever be returning my great desire..." _

"This shit sounds like a Cuban brothel," Brock grunted, scratching his belly while drawing single-pawedly.

I yawned, blinked to get the sleepiness out of my eyes and flicked my ears. I felt them brush against the worn roof of the car and scrambled a paw between my jammed knees to pick up something from the floor. I felt up a chocolate bar wrapper and two empty bottles of soda before I found the object of my desire, and then straightened up carefully, holding up the small magazine I had picked up from the drugstore on that small town where we stopped to buy some munchies for the trip. That had been 10 hours ago.

"Don't you know that this is supposed to be...uhh...hold on," I told him, flicking through the pages of the leafy magazine to get to page I remembered reading beforehand.

"Okay, here we go...," I spoke, folding the correct page out and showing it for Brock, "The NEW rhythm...bossa nova...the BIG song... One Note Samba...15 recordings prove it..."

Brock snorted.

"Why'd they bother recording it fifteen times if it already sounds like it's a record that's stuck in place?" the Dobie grunted.

"But it's the new rhythm," I spoke with a lopsided grin, gesturing at the screaming headline on the magazine.

Brock elbowed me to the ribs before returning both of his paws to the steering wheel, giving the road ahead a cursory glance. Then he spied me again.

"What's with that paper anyway? You read it for hours during the day."

I folded the paper closed and showed him the red headline.

"See? Billboard Music Week," I told him, gesturing at the letters as if trying to teach him to read them. "I always read it when I get the chance."

Brock snuffled and returned his eyes to the deserted road ahead.

"Didn't know you dig music that much...I mean, listening to it is one thing, but wanting to read about it..."

"Looks like you don't know very much about me to begin with, Brock," I told him, and quietly in my mind thought that it was very true.

We really didn't talk that much when it was just the two us, really. Usually in public we'd be surrounded by all the other soldiers, and then Brock would be too busy making an idiot of himself with dirty pussy and pawing off - related jokes, posing around to show off his huge body, and generally simply being a big fool.

He wasn't much different when we were together, though then he'd simply use those same qualities for another purpose, for making me feel weak in the knees and steely in my pants. We'd also be too busy fucking anyway for as to really have a nice chitchat, so I don't think there'd been really too many occasions for us to have an in-depth conversation. We had talked some during this drive, but mostly it was just banter, passing the time with comments on the non-existent sights and how boring the drive was and how bad the songs on the radio were.

If we had talked before, Brock would have known that I really liked music, and used to buy singles and albums all the time before joining the army. He would've known that I read the Billboard magazine every week since I was 16. He could've known that my favourite colour was green, and that I liked the movies but not the television that much because all the commercials were annoying. He could've known many things if he'd just asked and not simply shove his tongue down my throat every time I opened my maw to say something.

"You're not supposed to tell more than your name, rank and serial number when interrogated," the Dobie next to me spoke and laughed.

His rumbling laughter echoed in this tin can of a car and made my ears flatten by its sheer volume. He also obscured the radio which had stopped with that bossa nova business for a while and now instead was blasting a very cheeky-sounding trombone piece that was about taking off your clothes in front of people, I think.

I groaned and yawned and rubbed my face with my big paw. It smelled of beef jerky and again I realized how hungry I was.

"Hey, Brock, why don't we stop by at a next trucker's dinner or something like that for a sandwich, I'm starving," I told him with my best kind, friendly voice.

Brock flicked an ear at me.

"We're only about three hours away, doggie, you sure you can't stay that long?"

"Yeah, I think I would like to stop, Brock," I told him matter-of-factly. "I also need to take a leak."

"I'd tell you to do that into a Coke bottle but I'm sure you'd just spill it to the floor, and there's no fucking way I can drive us back on a piss vehicle," Brock snorted, though he was again leering with that characteristic smile that made him look like a giant asshole.

"Well I'm not gonna let you look at my junk when I'm taking a piss," I replied, snorting. "Or who knows, maybe you'd get the idea that it'd be hot if I DRANK from the bottle afterwards?"

"Does that turn you on, wuffy?" Brock grinned at me, winking.

"Fucking no!" I snapped and in my anger slammed my knees against the dashboard.

Brock rubbed his knuckles against my thigh.

"Just messing around, wuffy," he spoke, still grinning, "let's find you a doggy potty."

After about ten minutes of further driving, we finally encountered the civilization again. This time it was a small town in the middle of nowhere, a real bump in the road, but as we drove through, there were lights, and we pulled into a halt at the small all-night diner located to the edge of the nameless town. The night air was great and refreshing, and I took big gulps as I stretched and walk around the car. Brock stretched, too, his thick arms bulging while he twisted them and tried to get his circulation going around.

"You buying?" the Dobie asked me with a grin over the car, and I snorted.

"Everyone buys his own," I replied, resting my paws over the roof of the car and leaning against the vehicle. "Unless you want to treat me to a dinner, pumpkin."

I winked.

"Shut the hell up!" Brock grunted, giving the top of the car a heavy tap from his paw. "Let's go, you stupid jarhead."

I followed my own stupid jarhead into the small diner. There were two other customers in attendance, a trucker bear sleeping sitting up on one of the booths, as well as a grizzled-looking wolf who was chatting with the middle-aged badger running the counter. Brock told me to hit the bathroom while he'd order us something to eat, so I quickly made a detour to empty my nearly bursting bladder. Once I got back, Brock was sitting in a booth with two cup of coffee in front of him.

I wriggled myself into my half of the booth and sighed as I was off my paws again. Brock was drinking from his black coffee, intently concentrating on the fragrance that floated into his nose.

"Hope you like it black," the Dobie noted, pointing at the identical cup.

I picked my share of the black drink and drank deeply, feeling it burn slightly on my maw and throat as the heat passed into my belly. I set the cup down and yawned heavily. My head felt like it had been stuffed with feathers due to the lack of sleep, and I really wanted to hit the sack. That, however, would not happen for many hours more, depending on Brock, of course.

"How many more hours is it anyway, Brock?" I asked him again.

"I told you, three hours, maybe, if we can keep it up," the Dobie replied.

He was leaning his chin against his paw and managed to appear thoughtful, which was quite a feat for someone like private Brock Stahlman.

We both settled for a quiet coffee-sipping for a moment before the badger appeared, carrying two good-smelling plates.

"G'mornin' boys, here you go," the badger spoke to us with a grin that showed a golden tooth, and placed the plates of breakfast next to us.

I discovered that Brock had ordered us bacon and eggs. The smell of these greasy treats filled my nose and I instantly felt my maw water. It really had been too long since I'd had anything proper to eat, so I was more than eager to dig in.

"Say, boys, you lookin' like your' going for a leave, righteo?" the badger inquired as he stood there, a stout figure who wore a grease-stained apron and had a towel tucked around his arm.

"That we are sir, that we are," Brock replied with military sharpness. "A weekend leave, and since we're coming from the same way, we caught a ride together."

I let my eyes move between Brock and the badger, judging his response to the smooth lies in the big Dobie's words. The badger seemed to buying it since he kept giving us that wide, golden grin.

"Good boys, you, keeping sure the Commie isn't gonna steamroll us," he grunted. "Thought they'd given 'em enough a kick bag in Korea but still, you keep hearing news from the Indo-China...what darn place is it this time, anyway? Viet Nam? Who keeps a track of 'em, eh, boys?"

The badger laughed at his own geopolitical analysis and didn't move an inch from his place.

"It looks to be a bit of a hotspot alright," I spoke, really too tired and disinterested to talk about anything military-related at the moment.

"Just better hope they don't want their asses kicked again like we did for the Jerry back in '44 at Ou-ma-HA beach!" the badger grunted.

"Damn right we'll kick them back if they do," Brock assured the badger with the hopes that would satisfy his curiosity.

"That's the business, attaboy!" the badger exclaimed and finally decided to leave as alone since the old wolf was asking for a fill up on his coffee.

We could finally get into eating our breakfast. It didn't took us too long to make the bacon and eggs disappear into our starved maws. After only about a quarter of an hour, we both sat back, content and with warm, full bellies that seemed to require a scratch. At least my paw was doing a zigzag over my abs, getting more of that nice feeling going. Brock's eyes were almost glazed from exhaustion and the heavy meal, and I saw them start dropping a little.

"I think I should drive once we get again, Brock," I told him.

The Dobie grumbled something incomprehensible in his throat and took a deep breath, fighting the comfort of the lull of sleeping on the plastic seat of the all-night diner.

"Right," Brock mumbled before he dug into his pockets and dug out some money to pay for his food and also provided the car keys.

They landed to the table with a clinking sound as the Dobie started to get up.

"I'm gonna hit the bathroom, you head to the car and you'll drive," Brock told me, and I gave him a nod as I picked up my coffee to finish it.

*

The morning had already dawned when I pulled the car up to the parking lot of a supermarket on yet another small town. I was again stiff as a board and hopped on my paws a little to get them feel like paws again and not some odd stumps. Brock watched me with an amused expression on his broad maw.

"Didn't know you could dance, too, Jack," he smirked and locked the driver's side door. "Come on, time to stock up on provisions."

I must say that going shopping with Brock was an odd experience to begin with. I had never seen him in such...normal...surroundings, that is, leaning against a shopping cart, which he dwarfed with his huge bulk, of course. He bulged as he strutted past a shelf full of washing detergents and snorted at their strong scent while I followed in his tow. The supermarket had just opened and it was still very quiet, but we got glances from the early birds who seemed to find Brock and me quite the sight. Perhaps it was our size, or our obviously military issue clothing, or our hair cuts.

Maybe it was the fact that whatever Brock picked up from the shelves seemed too small for his paws as he'd bring up, for example, a can of beef, hold it up to his line of sight and roll it around to read the small print. It could've been the fact that he was really loading up the cart now with all kinds of foodstuff. He put in meat and veggies and bacon and eggs, three large loaves of bread, butter, cheese, and all kinds of things which he seemed to simply give a look before throwing it in.

I mostly let him do the choosing, but managed to put a couple of words in whenever I saw something I liked, and thus, we ended up also buying pickles and salami since for some reason I had a craving for sour, savoury things. Brock declared the pickles tasting like piss-soaked underwear, but he relented and even told I should get two jars since he was buying. That surprised me even more, but I complied, and only half-heartedly offered a few dollars for him as we'd again squeezed ourselves into the tiny Coronet.

The back seat clinked with the three six-packs of beer Brock had piled into our cart earlier as he put the gear on reverse and drove us out into the street. Soon we had left the premises of the town and again only saw empty countryside, with houses littering the fields that we passed.

"So, how much further?" I asked, feeling desperately tired and in need of a good rest.

This sudden staying all night had really put my internal clock off the balance it had found during the months of military training back at Fort Chipmunk. I felt like I could sleep a day, but now we had already stayed up past the morning call-up hour, so sleeping the whole day should not be what to do. It'd be better to try to survive a little bit longer, have a nap in the afternoon and then get to bed at the usual hour to try and catch up with the rhythm again.

"Just a couple of miles...we weren't as much hicks as you'd think so, wuffy," Brock noted, thrumming the steering wheel with his pads.

I felt a small jolt of excitement course through me - in only a few more minutes I would see what had been the target of my ongoing curiosity ever since Brock had cornered me after dinner a couple of weeks ago and asked me if I'd want to go with him for the ongoing four-day leave. I had not been given a chance to ask any questions about the excursion, but I had said yes, since I didn't have anywhere to go particularly during the extended weekend leave. I had managed to pry out a few more details during the early part of the drive when wed' still had the energy to have at least some conversation. Brock had told me that it was a small farm, a certain amount of miles away, and that nobody lived there anymore since his mother and sister moved in to another town. I had asked Brock whether he'd want to visit them, but he declined, saying that they didn't have much to speak to each other. I had taken that quietly and without asking for more details. Now, though, I was going to see it all first-hand and for the first time.

Brock signalled and swung the car to the left, taking us from the proper road into a small, winding dirt path that coursed through fields. At a distance, lit by the sun now moving towards its heights above us, I saw the shape of a fodder tower, a big red-painted outbuilding, and next to them, a small two-storey-high white house. I had a few moments to spy the premises as we passed a rusty mailbox before the car came to a sudden halt in front of the house and the familiar rumble of the engine finally died out after 18 hours on the road. I looked at Brock whose eyes were fixed on the house, and his ears were flat.

"Not much there to see, is there?" he snuffled, rubbing the side of his muzzle.

"Well you said it was small."

"Shaddap, doggie," Brock snorted. "Give me a paw with the groceries, I'll get the key."

"You don't have the key?"

"No, doofus, but I know where it's hidden. I was told it. Get going."

Obediently I escaped the car and began to transfer the various brown paper bags from the back of the car and towards the porch of the house. I noticed that the small patch of lawn was unmowed, and there was an air of destitution hanging around the place, perhaps apparent from the few parts on the walls where paint was missing. The house didn't exactly look like it was going to collapse under its own rotten weight, but it was obviously not lived in.

Brock was nowhere to be seen so I leaned against the wooden banister of the small front porch, patiently waiting for the Dobie to show up. My eyes picked him up after a moment, coming over from behind the large red outbuilding which I presume once held their milk stock. He walked with a broad swagger, paws slung into his pockets as he proceeded along. He didn't look like a farmer at all, which was perhaps due to the lack of coveralls and a stray hat and a straw between his teeth. There was an abandoned pair of rubber boots standing next to the door, so maybe that could be a start in creating the perfect hillbilly look.

The floorboard creaked when Brock stepped up the couple of stairs needed to reach me, and he pushed the key into the lock that opened after a little bit of persuasion from Brock's footpaw. I picked up a couple of the paper bags and followed him into the musty twilight of what I presumed to be the living room of this small house. Light was coming from dirty windows covered in tattered curtains, and they made odd bright stripes across the wooden, bare floor. There were no furniture besides an old wooden couch which looked like it could be pulled open to make a bed for the night. A bare light bulb hang on a cable from the ceiling which had lost some paint, too. Stairs led to the second floor on the left. I also noticed a small fireplace resting against the right wall next to a window that lay abandoned and full of old, yellowed newspapers.

"The kitchen's on the back," Brock spoke, pointing at the right side door of the two that led out of the living room.

I nodded and headed out towards the kitchen while Brock went out again, presumably to get the rest of the groceries.

It was a small kitchen, but the cabinets were neat and had a good coat of paint on them, and the old table and four spindled chairs left over from the house's occupants weren't looking too dingy either. There was an electric stove as well as a wooden one resting against the other wall, presumably sharing the single chimney with the fireplace on the living room. The greatest object of note was a great old fridge that stood next to the door which I presumed to lead to the back yard.

Here too it was dark and the air smelled of slight damp.

I set the bags down to the table and gave the room another look before I walked over to the sink and tested the faucet. There was only a slight hiss of air but no water came out. I cranked the squeaky tap shut just as Brock entered with his own share of the foodstuffs.

"The pump's not running since there's no electricity," Brock told me as soon as he noticed my venture. "The fuse box is down in the basement."

"Okay," I mumbled.

"What're you thinking about it so far?" the big Dobie inquired, giving me an once-over with his gaze while he stood there, paws planted on his hips.

"Dunno yet."

"You never think enough, I think, wuff," Brock snuffled.

I wanted to grunt something impolite at him, but the Dobie kept looking at me, and something in that gaze made me bite back the nasty comments I had been formulating for putting up there. Instead, I just stood there, looking at him, looking at Brock, whose tired eyes seemed to be intently trained at me. I was starting to feel that perhaps the look had been going on for a bit too long already, but as I tilted my head to the side, I saw him move, and felt Brock's heavy paws come to a rest on my shoulders.

His breath kissed my weary face before his lips did, and they were warm, soft and pliant when he pressed them over mine and held onto me. His paws squeezed on my flesh as his lips explored mine, and I let my paws raise and cup the Dobie's head as I began to return the kiss. He was surprisingly soft this time, making no attempt to push his tongue into my maw or bruise my lips with heavy kisses, but instead, perhaps because we were so tired, he simply was content with tasting my lips again and again with his own.

It did have the desired effect though, because our breaths deepened and we murred happily into the kiss which had been traded back and forth for a few moments now, my paws rubbing Brock's neck and the back of his big head while his own paws held onto me firmly but carefully. My skin began to prickle and I felt the familiar surge of warmth inside my trousers when his body met mine and we sort of met in the middle, our bodies pressed to one another. Both large Dobies, me and Brock, were holding onto each other as we kissed, and I felt my blood receive a boost of energy from becoming aroused so suddenly.

We kissed for what seemed to be a timeless moment, since I closed my eyes and forgot everything except the fact that I was kissing with Brock, his insistent but soft lips covering mine comfortably and making them slick and feeling slightly swollen. I barely noticed that I had ended up being pinned between the kitchen counter and Brock's large form. My arousal throbbed inside my pants, kept back and confined and trapped by pressure from my clothes and Brock whose own thick need pushed against my belly as a reminder of his maleness. Each breath through my nose brought a hint of musk into my senses, and I slowly opened my maw to coax him to kiss me further, deeper.

Brock growled and let his tongue push past my lips and into my warmth. The tip of that wet muscle brushed over my gums and insides of my lips, causing me to moan quietly into the kiss. Brock's paws went down my back and he held me close with those big paws splayed over the small of my back just above my stub of a tail while he enjoyed me.

It must've been going on a while since I was panting and feeling painfully hard after his lips finally left my maw, and we just looked at each other for a while. My paws had moved down his back and were now cupping his firm hips, and I had been quite happy feeling up Brock's nice, meaty Dobie ass while we made out. Right now he was huffing hot breaths over my face.

"Feels like you aren't so tired after all...," he grinned, giving my hips a little push from his.

"You don't *nhhhhh* seem to be so either, Brock," I replied to him in a husky, low voice brought up by my shallow breaths.

"I'm never too tired to mess around, Jack," the Dobie smirked and ground his hips onto mine again, really sending a lot of dangerously good friction over my most sensitive male flesh.

"You wanna * nhhhhhhh* ," I succumbed into mild grunts and clutched his backside, really feeling the flexing of that big Dobie ass.

"...mess around?" I managed.

"Hell fucking yeah," the Dobie growled in a deep, dominant tone and snapped his teeth together right in front of my face.

My heart leaped at the sight and the depth of his voice, and that familiar flutter was spreading throughout my belly as I imaged how his teeth might clench around my shoulder or even the side of my neck in a hard mating bite. Instead of that he took a broad lap over my nosepad, causing me to sneeze and close my eyes in the process.

I felt Brock's paws disappear and he stepped away from me, and once I opened my eyes I noticed that he was now lifting the grocery bags to the floor to clear up the table. I only had a moment to watch before the leering Dobie returned to me, wounding his thick arms around me as he guided me to step backwards and sit down on the table. I was momentarily worried whether it could take my weight but apparently it did since it barely creaked as I was seated on the edge of the surprisingly sturdy table by the firm soldier. He leaned down for another kiss and I tipped my head up to receive it gratefully while my paws reached almost blindly to feel whatever I could reach of him. I found his firm belly and happily touched him while his tongue made its home inside my maw and his paws rubbed all over my chest and sides as Brock felt me up.

My paws soon found his belt and began to untie, almost unconsciously, and Brock growled appreciatively as he felt that little additional pressure near his fully hard cock. I fumbled a little with my shaky fingers, but eventually I managed to get that belt buckle out and get into his buttons by the use of my fingers only. Brock's paws still moved lazily over my torso, getting a good feel wherever he liked, an I felt my nipples harden into tough nubs when his palms teased them through my shirt. He kissed me hard now, really keeping our tongues into a constant contact as we swapped spit. Brock still tasted a bit salty from the breakfast we'd had, but it wasn't unpleasant at all, especially coming directly from his lips.

I felt him shake as my fingerpads brushed against his cock through the fabric of his boxers while I finally had opened enough buttons on his fly. I didn't waste any time moving to tug all of his garments away. I was greeted by the soft thump of Brock's cock slapping up against his belly. His arousal filled the air with his musk and I simply had to break our kiss in order to savour it all completely.

I stared down at his maleness, all throbbing inches of that hot, angry red length of maleness that was adorned by the big swollen knot at its base. If there'd been more light I'm sure it would have shone with all the moist pre covering that big piece of dogmeat.

My maw watered as if being faced with the best breakfast known to furkind, and I simply had to have a taste. Giving Brock a grin, I leaned down and took a big, slurping lick over the blunt tip of his pride. My warmth breath and the heat of the contact caused his cock to jump in the air, and the big Dobie who carried that male flesh jumped too and growled throatily.

"Yeah...fuck that's good," he snorted, one of his big paws pushing on the back of my neck so that I would go down on him again.

I grasped that slick shaft with a pair of careful fingers while my other paw found the Dobie's ass again and gave the now bare rump a good squeeze just as I kissed the wide tip of that pulsing cock and felt the first inch slip into the heaven of my maw. I minded my teeth and gave his flesh a little suckle, sending Brock into a series of grunts and snorts.

"Fuck yeah Jack, yeah!" he huffed and gave my neck a little push to get just a little bit more of himself into me.

"Fuck, haven't pawed in two days, need it man...," the Dobie growled as two, three, four inches slipped between my lips and came under the attack of my tongue.

I let my squeezing paw move upwards over his shaft, catching him just above my lips now that my comfortable limit was reached, and began to bob my head up and down, allowing that thick meat really get welcomed into the spit-slicked heat of my muzzle.

Brock made incomprehensible sounds while I gave him head with whatever little expertise I could offer and he sure wasn't complaining. I soon had my tongue and the insides of my cheeks coated with a mixture of Brock's pre and my saliva while I played with him. I had missed his strong male musk, especially potent in his groin which was sending good whiffs each time I pushed myself down on him, as much as his slightly salty taste. It was making my own boner throb even more inside my straining pants and I knew I needed some relief soon.

The Dobie didn't seem to be too far off either, since I felt that meat jump and pulse on my tongue as it moved in and out of the warm, inviting cavity. Heck, I even wondered whether he'd bust his balls right there and there, on my maw, and I suddenly wondered how that'd be like.

Brock, however, didn't seem to be planning to give me a mawful, since his paw was suddenly on the top of my head, and with gentle pressure he pushed me back.

"Lie down, Jack," he spoke in that telltale voice that was drooling with arousal and strength.

It made me weak in all the right places.

I obeyed without regret and carefully let my paws leave Brock's doggie hardness, instead letting them fall to my sides as I laid down on the still solid table. Its cool surface felt reassuring behind my back and for a moment I only saw the painted ceiling of the kitchen. Then I felt paws over my belly as Brock leaned over my to get rid of my clothes in return. He quickly unbuckle me and got my fatigues to my knees with some wriggling, and a gasp from as my hardness was finally freed from my boxers. I resisted the urge to give myself some paw action while Brock knelt down to untie my shoelaces and pull them as well as my sock off before he yanked my pants down all the way.

His big paws held onto my ankles as he straightened. Brock pulled my legs up with his movement and I felt my spine pop as I was moved into an odd angle, with my beefy legs pushed up towards the ceiling by the dirty-minded Dobie. Brock looked at me with that same overtly confident smile on his lips as he stood there, still half-clothed, aroused and smelling like he could use a shower. Hell, I surely would've needed one after fourteen hours in that tiny car that must've now smelled worse than the insides of my shoes after the two of us had stayed in it for so long.

I smirked at him and wriggled my pawtoes a bit, and Brock replied with a growl and a nip over my ankle. I shivered at the feeling of his teeth on my flesh again and breathed heavily as he placed my ankles over his shoulders and let his paws slide down along each of my leg slowly. His grip was rough and firm, and he felt every muscle up while he slowly moved lower and lower, smirking all the time and nuzzling at my ankle over the spot where he had lightly bit me.

"Damn, Brock," I hissed with pleasure at the slightly odd feeling of being touched in such a way. I let out a growl of pleasure when his paws reached my ass and cupped each half of my rump, kneading the muscles there as he leaned over me. I was pushed into a new position with my legs up over him, and my knees threatened to touch my chest as the Dobie folded me in half over the kitchen table, intent on kissing me again. I hissed against his lips when I felt his sizeable cock press against my balls and the base of my own throbbing need.

He began to hump me slowly as we kissed, our cocks rubbing together after I tilted my hips for better contact, and we made out right there, lips and chins getting stained with our spit as our tongues danced. I caught him with my paws and held the thick Dobie close to me, trapping our bodies together while we rocked in pleasurable anticipation of release. My shirt received a fair share of wet stains from our combined pre, but it only served to preserved the elusive scent better, and I was beyond caring.

Brock didn't even stop kissing me when I felt one if his paws slip between our entwined bodies, his fingers rubbing over my fuzzy ball sac before pressing against my tailhole. My muscles down there clenched at the sudden feeling, but I groaned and pushed my hips up to meet Brock's firmly. He kept massaging my puckered opening with a firm amount of pressure even when he kept up the humping motion of our bodies.

I felt him leave me only for a moment, but then his fingers pushed against my cheek and into my maw. I suckled at them wetly, lapping over his digits while he still kissed me. Soon I found those newly slick fingertips probing against my tailhole, trying to force the firm muscle into submission. Brock kept pushing and teasing the puckered flesh while he distracted me with kisses and light nips over my lips. They would surely be bruised once he was done, but I didn't mind, simply kept my paw at the back of his neck to make sure he would not stop doing whatever he was doing to keep us both so aroused for so long.

His kiss muffled my light grunt at the feeling of Brock's fingers gaining ground when they pierced through my resistance. My pink bud was spread open by those questing padded fingers, stretching and pushing and massaging with a strange wriggling motion that sent all sorts of interesting feelings through my underbelly. My muscled ring clamped down on his knuckles when he jabbed those fingers deeper, even managing to reach that unnamed place somewhere down there that really caused these feelings which I wasn't sure of whether they should be pleasure or pain.

My Dobie kept himself burrowed into me while our cocks rubbed against each other and spat pre all over our bellies, really making us into a big mess of horny dogs, one with his rump up, the other with intentions of making that doggie beef into one well tenderized rump roast.

By the third jab against my pain/pleasure place I told him to just get on to it.

"You want me, Jack?" Brock growled dangerously, inches away and with his saliva dripping over my face and covering me in his scent.

"Want it bad, Brock," I spoke and again pushed my hips into that touch.

"It's gonna be a rough ride, wuff," he smirked and pulled himself from me.

The Dobie stood up straight now, his entire buff body rippling as he showed himself to me. He was a perfect example of canine masculinity, huge, ripped and most of all, horny as fuck.

Brock's paw moved swiftly over his length a few times, spreading the collected pre of his own and my making generously over his cock. Then he took careful aim and pushed our bodies together again, this time with his cockhead jammed between my rump cheeks and directly poised to spear me completely and make me his.

"This is how real dogs do it," he grunted, baring his teeth as a savage growl left his lips.

Brock pushed his hips forward and kept it up as he leaned over me, his paws holding me steady by my thighs as he took control of my body. I felt his forehead touch mine as he leaned over me completely, still pushing his cock into my straining flesh. His belly furs brushed against my cock and caused it to jerk with arousal, and that caused my muscles to flex as well. It was enough of a distraction to overcome my zealous guardian.

We huffed and snorted against each other's faces as Brock entered me with a quick series of firm thrusts that felt like punches into my gut as he spread my complaining flesh with his own. There was sufficient slickness to accomplish our joining without causing any damage. It was still a tooth-gritting affair while Brock again made himself known in my rump. He didn't stop until the bulbous flesh of his knot nuzzles against my own straining pucker. I had taken him almost completely and so had he taken me, my willing offering accepted.

The Dobie growled deep in his throat and licked my forehead as he stayed still for a moment, simply enjoying the musk and the pressure of my newly opened tube of heated flesh jerking around his cock imbedded in my tail tunnel. I was folded in half, speared and marked by the Dobie on top me, and my blood burned for it.

"Gonna work you good," Brock grunted against my lips while he licked them with his broad tongue, and I felt his body tense as he prepared to claim his promise.

He set up a fast, hard pace, and only the firm grip of his paws over my thighs was keeping me from being rocked over the tabletop by the rough tail fuck I was being subjected to. Our muscles strained and the table shook from the force of our rough mating, each quick joining of our bodies accompanied by a resounding slapping sound when Brock's heavy and underused balls smacked against my ass. The best thing about it was that he wasn't pumping into me in a crazily fast pace, but instead opted for a heavy yet controlled pistoning of his cock inside my clenching tailhole.

My body had given up all of its resistance and gave itself for Brock willingly. I threw my head back and growled deeply while he pounded my into an oblivion of those odd surges of pleasure inside me belly coming each time he moved back and forth. Those pulses were coming so closely to each other now that it was becoming hard to separate them. He was effectively rendering me into one big, grumbling heap of a Dobie on my back with my ass up and fucked by the soldier's other kind of weapon.

Brock seemed to like this new posture as well, with my head almost hanging down over the edge of the table, since his teeth found my neck and he began to nibble at me, further inflaming my desire and making me cling onto his shoulders with my paws while our bodies rocked. He was really putting all of his pent-up desires into this act, and it showed in the almost brutal way he took me. My once numb ass was starting to feel hot after being subjected to such a pounding, my muscles flexed deep inside me telling that this wasn't what they were meant for, but I didn't care. My own cock made even larger stains appear on my shirt and the heat spread slowly, and Brock's abs kept up their crazy rubbing on my knot and my length of doggie cock while he took me.

His own knot was reminding me of its existence with each of those thrusts. It was slowly spreading my ringed muscle even wider than Brock's thick shaft did, but the very bulk of that hot piece of meat prevented it from spontaneously slipping inside my confined tail tunnel. It wasn't for the lack of trying for sure since each thrust from the big Dobie was coming fast and deep and hard. He was nibbling on my neck and kept himself buried inside me as much as he could without holding back any of his strength, now channeled into this singular act. My tailhole was feeling the full wrath of Brock's gathered desire to stuff his Dobie, and he was now collecting what was his.

The soldier's ball-slapping thrusts only kept getting harder while our growls intensified. His motions were smooth and determined, everything done to make sure he would get the best out of me and my sucking innards. His leaking pre had made me very slippery and hot, and his cock found no problem going in and out just the way Brock wanted, hard and fast. Even someone as him couldn't keep it up forever, though, and as I felt more than heard his chest rumble with his need, his paws held more tightly onto my thighs as he poised himself for the final push into pleasure.

The time stood still for a moment as he pulled himself almost completely away from within me before I felt him again, and he was there and oh BOY was he in there when that inflated knot simply and plainly forced its way through my pucker and into the hot channel inside. The burning mixture of pain and pleasure coursed through me and I didn't even pay special attention to the feeling of his sheath pushing against my ringed muscle now madly clenching around whatever shaft he had at the root of his cock. Brock pressed his teeth against my neck as he started to come almost immediately once he was fully inside me.

His entire body held onto me as he spent his creamy doggie load into my tail tunnel, filling me up with the produce of his balls from the past two days he had been without the sticky relief of busting his paws. His hefty cock jerked and even through his orgasm, the heavyset Dobie kept thrusting slowly, sending jets of cum spouting from my own cock as well when he literally fucked that spunk out of me. It was going everywhere now, my belly and chest and my chin and his own chest and chin since he was so closely pressed over me. All my senses went into an overload of Brock, and he simply kept cumming into me, creating a new kind of warmth deep in my bowels.

We kept snarling and huffing all the way through our mutual orgasms, and we only went quiet when Brock kind of collapsed on me, letting his body meet mine fully as he breathed heavily against my shoulder and simply lay on me. He was heavy on me, but I still managed to breath just about properly, though my head was swimming with the thick, musky scent of cum.

After a few moments of catching our breaths and simply reveling in the feeling of being very full and very spent, Brock lifted his head and studied my tired face. He was smiling, though it was not the familiar leer, but a less involved smile. He noticed I was watching, and snorted before leaning to lick my lips briefly.

"Didn't know you were so good in kitchen chores too, doggie," he smirked and licked his own lips.

I flicked a tired ear at him.

"Since when has fucking been a chore?"

Brock grinned with an evil flair and ground his hips form side to side, making his hard, throbbing knot push against my innards in strange ways that made me want to grit my teeth together.

"If you ain't careful it's going to b a sore, wuffin," he smirked at me and lay his hips still against my rump again.

I felt overstuffed and filled and probably soon to be leaking with Brock's juices, but I was happy enough. I was with him, and there was time now, to just...be, besides the hard rutting we had just engaged in. It only got better when Brock began to groom the fur between on the top of my head with his tongue, and I was a very happy doggie indeed.

*

We managed to get disentangled after some time and got to work into making the house habitable for the duration of our visit. First duty was piling most of our clothes into a soppy, cum-stained pile on one of the kitchen chair. The grinning Dobie disappeared out of the back door claiming that he was going down to the basement to try and re-connect the fuses to get some light going into the house. While I waited for him, I decided to make myself useful and began to unload the groceries. I placed most of it to the kitchen counter and even put all the perishables into the fridge without knowledge whether it would start working or not.

To my pleasure, the singular lamp hanging from the ceiling suddenly flickered and lit up, signaling Brock's succeed in playing the electrician. The fridge began a resounding a hum and made me smile as I opened the big, white thing to fetch a couple of beers from within. I sat down somewhat carefully onto my rump and chipped the bottle open against the edge of the nearby kitchen counter. The cap landed with a click and rolled away somewhere. I had the time to take just one sip before the door opened and my Dobie returned. His smug grin was fully evident on his muzzle as he strutted over and pulled a chair for himself as well.

"See? I should've been a tech sergeant," the private snuffled amusedly as he used his overtly macho teeth for opening up his own bottle of beer.

"I don't think you're cup up to be more than a jarhead, Brock," I replied his boast and watched as he SPAT his own cap away and gushed down a big mawful of beer.

"So you think, professor!" the Dobie snorted and set down his beer.

We glared at each other for a couple of seconds more before we burst into laughter. Our throaty, hacking chuckles filled the small kitchen, and even as I was laughing and holding onto my aching belly and huffing, the unfamiliar room started to feel more and more like home for me too.

"You big moron," Brock snipped at me once he had finally regained the control of his faculties and was drinking down his beer in big gulps.

"You're bigger," I noted, snuffling a bit more.

"In all the right places," Brock winked at me.

I kicked his legs under the table and made him snort. I set my beer bottle down and stretched and yawned so hard that it felt like my jaws might dislocated from it all.

"I really think that a bed might be my right place at the moment, "I told him, rubbing my maw as I again felt more tired than I'd felt hardly ever before, even after grueling marching exercises back at the base.

"Face up or face down?" the dirty Dobie leered at my, licking his beer-coated lips.

I shook my head and buried my face into a paw.

"Hey, wuffy...," the Dobie crooned, rubbing his bare paw against my ankle. "I know it man, I really feel like crap, too."

"Then show some respect, man," I snuffled. "Let's get to sleep."

"Okay," Brock replied, taking a final big gulp from his bottle and settling it down on the table.

The big Dobie belched and scratched his belly as he got up from the spindled chair and moved over to me, putting his paws on my shoulders and squeezing them.

"How about this, then," he spoke, leaning down to speak so that his breath tickled my ear, "first we sleep, and then we fuck, okay?"

He nipped the tip of my ear and I flicked it by reflex, huffing indignantly at his ballsy idiocy.

"You really have a one-tract mind, you, Brock."

"I know you like it," he snuffled and rubbed the top of my head with his chin.

The softness of that feeling could have lulled me to sleep right there, seriously. His paws felt so nice and heavy, as was his slightly ticklish breath washing over my forehead, and the warmth presence of the Dobie in general, so close to me.

"Good doggie," Brock crooned.

*

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