Company in Seclusion
Warning! Warning! Warning! This story contains all those things your mom and dad said they'd tell you about when you grew up, in hopes you'd never ask again. Avert your eyes, lest this missage burns itself into your retinas, for I can't be held accountable for your marred purity! And all the rest. You know the deal. 18 blah blah don't read blah blah legal blah blah... Okay, enough on with the story. Warning! Warning! Warning! __________________ Company in Seclusion - By Kandrel
- * * Time never seemed to travel quite right while he was out on his little sojourns. The sun trekked across the sky at a turtle's pace while he struggled to set the tent, but traded in the turtle for the hare when he lay basking in the sun next to his finished work. Bristy was blissfully unaware of the waning day, though, knowing that he had at least two more weeks of it before he was expected anywhere. After a little though, he counted the day a success. Starting with a breakfast of fish he'd caught, cleaned, and cooked, proceding on to a brisk hike of some ten or twelve miles by his map, and now he'd found perhaps the perfect camp site. He'd set his tent in a small clearing surrounded by pines, overlooking a thick river meandering slowly by not a hundred feet down slope. The clearing opened to the south, letting sunlight stream in onto an exposed granite face. Basking in the warm glow, Bristy stretched out and let his attention wander. As a foreigner, Bristy had been struggling to keep his job, even though he worked harder and put in longer hours than co workers with a more local lineage. It was only these trips into seclusion that kept him sane. 2 weeks in the spring and 1 week in the fall were all it took to keep him happy, even when the inequality of his career drove him to distraction. It's too bad, he mused, that the roo he'd been courting recently was back home visiting family. Seclusion is nice, but a trip into the wilderness with two was even better. It'd be great to have another pair of hands to help set up the tent, someone to clean the fish he'd caught while he readied the fire to cook. Even better, someone to warm the bed roll quicker, and make the tent friendly at night... His daylight reverie was interrupted by movement in the bushes. He jerked up, heart racing in startlement. He looked around and saw the flicking tail of a squirrel, approaching his supply bag slowly. Cursing under his breath, he stalked over, daydream (and fantasy) fleeing his mind as he gathered rope and tossed one end over a low hanging branch. Securing the supplies high above the ground, he counted his preparations for the night complete. Brushing his paws clean and smiling, he took a towel from his pack and tromped off towards the river. The smell of fresh water was thick in the air, along with the fragrant tang of the animals that stopped here to drink and bathe. He could smell fox (slightly bitter and very strong), deer (a little sickly-sweet, must have been a young one), and some sort of weasel or mustelid (also bitter, but not as strong as the fox.) Looking around to make sure he wasn't disturbing any bears or other large predators, he descended to the river bank, sliding a bit down the slick grass. He stopped on the edge and quickly disrobed. The sun felt gorgeous on his fur, and he resolved then and there to let his fur dry by basking, rather than toweling off. Biting a lip and bracing himself, he waded in, trying to suppress a shiver as the ice-cold water lapped at his legs. After five feet, the river deepend quickly, and soon he was able to dunk in to his head, wading and pawwing at the bottom to avoid being swept downstream. After a moment adjusting to the cold, he started scrubbing at his fur, cleaning out the remnants of the long hike over the last few days. The shimmering surface of the water broke up his reflection. He looked down, scanning his canine head for signs of aging. Staring back up at him was a middle-aged dingo, tan ears alert and eyes bright. His muzzle had a touch of grey around the sides, but his cheeks were still full. His chest and arms, though lithe, showed the good shape of an outdoorsman, a naturalist, in his prime. He rubbed down his body, fingers picking over muscles and squeezing at the slight bit of paunch that his desk job had given him over the last six months. Picking at his fur, he resolved again to work off that little flab in the time he had left. As he scrubbed his head, eyes closed, he felt a poke at his belly. Paws stopping and eyes closed, he looked down, trying to peer through the bright reflective surface of the water. After a moment of adjustment, he could only see the bottom of the river, his own feet extending at weird angle due to the refraction of the water. Shrugging, he continued scrubbing, then stopped as he felt another poke at his side. This time, he spun quickly, looking down curiously. Bobbing just below the surface was an otter, almost invisible against the dark sandy bottom of the river. Curling and writhing through the water like a snake, the otter bumped him again, touching its nose to his side, then retreating again. Something sharp bit at his tail, and he caught the shadow of another slithering otter circling behind him. More shadows appeared around him, at least six or seven of the creatures surrounding him curiously. He held out a paw over the water, and a head broke the surface, sniffing at his paw before retreating back below. Bristy waded a bit, pushing himself towards land. Catching his feet in the sand, he stood, shoulders and chest above the surface. As he moved, a sinuous shape brushed against him, thick fur warm against his own, then slapped his arm with a meaty tail. The dingo reached, trying to catch one of the otters, but his hands couldn't grasp the slick fur. Another brushed up against his back, and another nipped at his heel. Bristy kicked his leg and smirked a bit at the curious creatures, but stopped as one of them glided over a brighter patch of sand. Finally able to get a good look at it, he realized that this was no small animal. It was at least three and a half feet long, longer with its tail. The head poked above the surface, the rounded ears perked and black eyes gazing at him curiously. A small wake formed behind it as it (he, Bristy noted, definitely a he) paddled backwards on his back, entire frontside clear of the water. While his attention was caught, another long furry form, wormed between his legs, the long tail catching his thighs with a flick. A little spooked, Bristy started wading for shore, cupping his paws to push himself forward. As he moved, another body crashed into the back of his knees, and he stumbled forward, head going under as his paws stroked to keep him upright. He gasped as he surfaced again, shaking his head as the fuzzy forms hugged in closer to him. One nipped at his belly, and another curled around his back, fur warming him in the cold water. Another, perhaps the same one that he'd felt before, swam between his legs. The strong tail lifted up between his thighs, flicking beneath his tail as it passed. The cold water had caused his equipment to retract to safety, but the brush of thick fur across his perenium shook him like an electric shock shivering in the water and floundering for a moment. His next step took him to the shallower shelf, where his knees could touch the sand while his head was still above water. The otters renewed their assault, crowding in on him and cuddling from all directions as they swam. More of the rounded muzzles peeked into the air, snuffling quick breaths before disappearing. Another of the slinky forms wiggled between his legs, arching its back up against his belly, then dragging along his sheath as it swam. Sharp teeth nipped at his tail and rump, and claws grazed at his fur. Bristy put his hands down, steadying himself as he was pushed side to side by the flowing forms. One of the otters curled itself around his arms and nipped at his fingers. He wasn't quite sure how he'd passed the curious investigation, nor how he'd been accepted into the clan of otter's little social group, but now he could see them playing and frolicking, both with each other and with and around him. The dingo stopped for a moment, looking around. The otters were all rather large, similar to the one he'd seen sillhouted against the sand. He counted eight of them in total, though he couldn't say whether there were more that hadn't followed into the shallows. All of them were very friendly, and as he watched, he saw them nipping at each other as much as they were nipping him. Losing his sense of alarm and drawn in by their playful attitude, he smiled, pulling his hands up from the gritty sand and catching the one nipping at his paws in a strong grasp. He tugged it up out of the water and hugged it, where it chittered noisily in his ear and nipped at his neck. He grinned, letting it climb over his shoulder and dive back into the water, splashing noisily behind him. Another one of the slippery otters dove between his legs, this time very purposefully pushing itself against his sheath. Bristy wriggled a bit and shifted, barking a little in surprise. Another dove, and he felt a soft and incredibly hot tongue trace across his sheath lips, then a nip at his belly before it dove away. Confused and starting to be a bit aroused, the dingo stood again, slapping the water with his wet tail. An otter from his right brushed against his front, and another poked up under his tail, rounded nose catching him straight in the pucker, then disappearing. More than a little worried now, Bristy waded back to the shore, looking back at the cavorting otters and frowning slightly. He was no expert at mustelid behavior, but he was pretty sure that this wasn't normal for otters. Grabbing his towel and shaking himself off, he half-walked, half-ran back to his camp site, shaking his head in wonder. *** *** *** *** *** Bristy jumped, sitting straight up in his sleeping bag. Something large had just bounced off of the side of his tent. Well, he was pretty sure something had. In the hazy fringe of sleep, as nothing else happened, he slowly convinced himself that it had just been a dream. Laying back down and putting an arm under the pillow, he closed his eyes, trying to return to that blissful state of rest. *Thump* This time, he was sure that something had collided with the tent. He could see the roof of it shuddering back and forth. He heard snuffling outside near the buttoned flap. For the second time that day, he felt the cold bite of fear in his stomach. He reached for the electric lamp, its bright flourescent glow illuminating the tent. The snuffling stopped for a moment, then something nudged at the flap, making the whole tent shake. After a moment, a rounded nose and face peeked into the tent, and one of the otters followed, flowing into the tent in one bouncing bound. Just behind it, another stumbled into the warmth of the tent, blinking in the bright light. Fuzzy forms stormed against the flap, all eight of the large, curious mustelids gathering around Bristy and sniffing at him. One of them siddled sideways, knocking into the lamp. It fell, and with the snapping of a broken contact, the light went out, replaced by snuffling, warm, and wet darkness. A weight descended in Bristy's lap, and more forms crowded in along his sides. Something pushed itself up against his chest, knocking him back against the sleeping roll, head to the pillow. Another otter nosed its way down into the insulated bag, curling around and through his legs. The one on his chest huffed at him, and the odor of fish filled his senses. One of the otters settled on his chest, pinning him down, while the other entangled his legs. A small part of Bristy's mind was screaming at him. Stand up! This isn't right! The remainder of his mind, though, was at ease. The warm bodies around him, pushing against him and cuddling down into the warmth of his sleeping bag, made him feel accepted and loved. A rational part of his brain told him that these creatures may be curious and friendly, but not dangerous. Yes, friendly. Very friendly. A tongue grazed over his toes, licking at them and between them, grooming over his leathery pads. One curled around his head started nibbling sharply at the webbing of his ear. Feeling like he should return the favor, he dragged his claws through the fur of the one curled up on his chest. The other uncurled and barked softly, arching its back into the caress and huffing loudly again. One of the two bunched up at his waist started licking over his sheath, and the other cuddled up over his leg, cuddling in between his thighs and wriggling about. The impulse to pull away and run away from the unfamiliar was crushed beneath the weight of Bristy's pleasure and lazy acceptance, spreading his legs and lifting his own head to lick over the otter's rounded ear. As the dingo relaxed into their gentle care, the otters started to move. Paws found his sheath and squeezed, one of the long forms sitting on his belly and tongue digging into his sheath. The one on his chest rolled over, and the Bristy's paw that had been stroking the thick fur now found itself nestled between the hindlegs of the otter. The form humped and bucked a little, a thick sheath, larger for the otter's size than he would have previously guessed, pushed into his palm. The dingo pushed his own hips up, closing his legs around the otter nestled between his legs and trying to feel more of the tongue exploring his sheath. His tip peeked from his canine pouch met with the tongue, and the paws holding his sheath tugged down, exposing more of his shaft to the warm air. Up until this point, he could have been sure about the gender of any of the otters except for the one on his chest, but as the pheremones started to flow, the fuzzy bundles of energy curled around him began to pleasure themselves as they could. The one curled around his feet licking at his toes pushed something hard against his footpad, holding onto his leg tightly as it started to hump against the leathery pawpad. He felt wetness between his thighs as the one nestled between his legs started to lick at his sheath, and the one on his belly followed suit across the dingo's shaft. Near his head, he could smell something decidedly female to his left. Turning his head, he felt the thigh of the otter nibbling on his ear. He felt a hindpaw step on the side of his muzzle, and the smell got much stronger, filling his nose with need. His tongue flicked out, and he tasted otter for the first time, slightly bitter and musky, as his tongue lapped across the female's bared nether regions. Apparently, this was enough to send the rest of the crowd surround him into action. The female curled around his head barked, and the forms surrounding him started to move and wriggle, showing the same energy and playfulness they'd showed him in the water. The tongue left his shaft, and he felt something hot and wet engulf the tip of his shaft. The tighness slowly traveled down his length, then with a churr, something squeezed around him. His free paw felt down and found an otter arched and backing up over his cock. Feeling under it, he found the otter's own shaft, hard and dripping against his belly, and started stroking it swiftly. The otter latched onto his foot yipped, and the dingo felt slippery liquid squirting over his pawpad, dripping down into the material of his sleeper. The otter on his chest hugged itself to his arm and thrust wildly against his hand, chirping softly as it moved. At this point, Bristy's rational mind had retreated into his subconscious, letting instinct and drive for pleasure take over. His tongue probed the depths of the otter near his head until she shifted, and he felt the paws of another otter paw at him and the one he'd been nursing on. Another paw stepped on his shoulder, and something bumped his tongue. He pulled his tongue from the depths of the otter's dripping cunny and making way for the dripping shaft of the male that had just mounted into position. Tongue still riding the female's lips, he felt the hard lenghth thrust into his companion, hearing her chirping in his ear. The male otter riding the dingo's cock let out his own bark, and Bristy felt his paw-full of otter shaft spray across his belly and chest. The tight tunnel around the dingo's shaft pulsed, then slowly slipped up the length, leaving Bristy dry and pulsing in the air. As the spent otter collapsed to the side, the one that had been licking his sac crawled up his belly, taking her turn on the dingo's length. Lifting her tail and flattening herself to Bristy's belly, she backed up slowly, fitting the thick cockhead to her cunt lips and slowly walking back, the shaft spreading her wide. Bristy moaned against the otters curled over his head, their movements quick and jerky, liquid from their coupling spraying over the dingo's muzzle. Caught in the moment, Bristy lowed his paw to back of the female riding his cock and held her tight as he started bucking his hips. His shaft drove deep into the tight otter, huffing loudly under his breath and groaning. He licked his lips as cum dripped onto his muzzle from the couple around his head, the male standing still and quivering as liquid dripped. Barking loudly and causing the ones near his head to jump, Bristy lifted his hips, his knot flaring outside the tight embrace of the otter and cock jumping, squirting into the stretched otter cunny. Panting loudly and relaxing against the myriad of furry bodies surrounding him, the dingo slowly nodded off, the otters still squirming, writhing, and humping against him. *** *** *** *** *** Dawn broke across the tent, and Bristy woke with a start. Blinking owlishly and sitting up, he shivered. During the night he must have kicked the covers off, because he was laying naked to the air. He brushed himself off, finding scratchy patches where his fur had dried stiff, and the smell of fish was strong enough to make him just mildly nauseous. The memories of the night rushed back to him, and his rational mind quailed. His camping equipment wasn't ruined, but everything in the tent was knocked over, and there were stains and stiff spots all over his sleeping roll. He stared around in shock, wondering what he had let himself be caught in last night, and wondering what he should do. Needing a bit of fresh air, he unbuttoned the flap and pushed it open, stepping out onto the springy pine-needled forest floor. Sitting in front of the tent flap was a pile of 3 fresh fish, each with needle-like teeth marks across their flanks. He heard a splash, then shuffling, and before long, the clan of otters crashed out of the brush, colliding head-long into him. Now sure that last night wasn't just a dream, he smiled, and picked up the one closest, a female, holding it under his arm where it wriggled and squirmed. One of the otters licked at his sac, and the dingo pawwed lightly at the crotch of the otter he was holding. The remaining otters tromped off towards the water, looking back expectantly. "What the hell," thought Bristy, "I've got two more weeks of vacation, and what's more relaxing than this?" He hoisted the otter onto his shoulders, paw beneath her quivering tail, and bounced briskly towards the river. _________________________________________________________________ (Fin! Bristy is copyright J. Fox Rosenberg and any other resemblance to other characters is only incedental and unintentional. Reposting is permissable, however, all reposts must be in original form, and must contain the author's name unaltered.) Send Kandrel mail! fox at foxyonline dot com Comments and suggestions are welcome, flames can go to hell!