Pete's Dragon
Pete's Dragon
By Eightane
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"So let me get dis straight... I can't go up, and you can't tell me why."
If you looked closely, you could see the condensation on the counter, even through shadows cast by the set of hands at fault. Bathed in fluorescent light, two figures stood facing one another, with quite-clearly-nothing in common... A short, thin mongoose, well-suited to the bright red and bronze of his bellhop uniform... And the gruff, heavyset dog in dark purple polo shirt and brown corduroy, on the outward side of guest check-in, gripping the formica so hard he may just leave eight distinct dents. The scowl, the jowls, every piece of the anger-pie that girdled his chin stubble... It would come rather futile, at least from how underwhelmed and all-around bored the bellboy seemed.
Even the furied pants, didn't phase him enough to halt a blasé inspection of his claws. "I've tried to tell you, sir ," his nasal tenor intoned, "I'm not the concierge, and he's out for lunch at present. I'd be more than happy," He added, drenched in sarcasm, "To take a message for you, but I don't have the info to say what's wrong with your particular room."
Pillowy canine form - though neither calmed, nor accepting the answer as enough - seemed at least to believe it. "Fine, shrimp, den get'cher manager down here. Peter Pete Senior sank mucho dinero for a night at dis swankhouse, and de fun starts RIGHT NOW!!"
The last pair of words, chaperoned by a double-shot of fists slamming the counter. 'Shrimp' and his eyes traced the motion, lazily keeping stare on the emerald-green finish for an extended moment.
He was no more impressed, when his drooping lids came up to lock with the canine's. "That's how you know we're a quality lodge, sir. In a cheap hotel, you would've sent cracks racing through that counter."
Pete's ears nearly flapped with the proverbial steam shooting out of them, and the white of his eyes may as well have turned a deep crimson. " Manager, NOW."
Smug satisfaction on mongoose features, thick enough to slice with a steak knife. "She's on vacation. Help yourself to the jacuzzi, sir, it's open for all confirmed guests."
Pete, and his stout cheeks, slowly swung towards the clear glass door to his right, its bottom dampened by warm spray... And his boiling rage took its own vacation. "Ya better have strong jets in dat t'ing, or I'll be back to yank a knot in yerr pissy little neck."
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To the edge of gritted cement, and three inches of smooth tile, something softer approached. Bare legs and feet, strolling in no kind of hurry, stopping by the hot tub's dropoff. Two yards above, Pete and his conceited smirk took a moment to admire the basin - and the fact it would soon be surrounding him.
His left hand - borne by a burly limb - raised to rub his stomach's healthy curve, driving tiny sounds from how his thick fingers toyed with belly fur. Convenient, he was now by himself... So none were nearby to notice his choice of boxers, instead of trunks. The decision had a purpose; pacing slowly towards the set of stairs that led into hot bubbly bliss, his other hand went south, diving lazily for the crease at his bulge. Over his manful gut, a pair of wide nipples quickly grew firm, fine measures of his heightening enjoyment, perched on thick, fitting moobs. And descending the steps, relishing the heat's embrace on his toes, heel and ankles, that same lazy hand spread both sides of the crease, bringing a heavy member - and its uncut mass - to fall out, and briefly swing in all directions. Gazing down with egotism's pride, he gave a few good tugs, before sinking through the suds for a seat on the sub-surface bench.
"Ahhhhhh..."
In that moment, the bellboy, his rage and the issue with his room were distant memories, melted away by liquid warmth. Both arms slowly drifted behind, seating elbows atop the thin ring of tile at his back, while eyelids lowered to focus on the aqua-nirvana. A good while, he kept in this limp-muscled ease... Until one lid drowsily rose, and one arm made a second lazy dive, this time into actual water. His smirk filling out, subtle biceps visibly rustled beneath his black fuzz, telling of motion under the suds. As fine as the warm jets felt on his chubby form - and the similar thickness between his legs - they only felt better, with his admirable manhood stiffened from self-service. His head newly tilting back, in a deep-voiced groan, savouring the perfect repose...
... When he heard it.
" Howdy there, mahnd if ah sit in?"
The shock alone, brought his hand to spring from the water, splashing water up and straight into his eye. Rasping yelps spewed forth, and for a brief stead he beget more splashing, in rekindled fury. Rubbing his eye, the other, open one peered up and to the left, catching what poor, innocent shmuck had disturbed him.
This second bout of rage, died far faster than the first... The country twang belonged to a frame of no less than seven-point-five feet, draped in scales, claws and cranial frills. A dragon, coloured somewhere between grey and teal, in the skimpy cover of hand-knitted denim shorts. Whether in fear, curiosity or just plain amazement, Pete's widened stare could only run routes on the stranger's form. Every nook and cranny of his pecs, sturdy legs, beefy arms... And a fair-but-promiscuous paunch, hanging over his denim duds' button.
Pete's awe did well to drive away his every thought... In fact, they might have stood silenced for ages, if it weren't for a polite reiteration.
"... 'Scuse me, ah asked ifya got room fer' one more."
Snapped from his reasonable trance, the stout jowls bobbed up and down. " Yeah yeah, sure pal, be my guest!"
"Thankyeh." A nearly-beaklike mouth curved a smile, and the shiny scales of his limbs dipped through the turbulent foam. Meantime, his reptilian eyes curled into a tiny grimace. " Hol -eh mackerel, that's warm..." Slitted pupils locked on his hefty company. "Guess ah just ain't used to this kahnda swank, y'know?"
Pete, slowly warming to his rugged visitor, cut eyes away from the clearly-rural male. "I'd never guess." But beyond this shot of sarcasm, curiosity swelled... Something was oddly familiar. Quickly shedding the ire of his interruption, and resuming gaze at the guest - while those slit-pupils vanished behind scaly lids, closing for the same reason Pete's had before him - he trained a very ogling stare, across the strong neck and what perfection sat below... Only ending when the dragon broke his peace, leaning forward to speak the start of more banter.
"So, you frum around here?" He queried, adjusting his posture.
Lifting peer to draconian features in just the nick of time, a stutter was last in Pete's concerns. "Uh-b-ub-u yeah , de other side o' Spoonerville!" Remembering himself, dark chest puffed out for a world-class pitch. "Name's Pete, owner and proprietor of Honest Pete's Used Cars. If you're in de market for a real cherry, don't go suckin' a lemon-"
The schpiel was cut down by deep-toned, nasal laughter. "Thanks, but mah Silverado gets me 'bout everywhere ah need to be." The sound of a gentle splash, from his hand rising to extend. "And by the way, ah'm Tab. Plehsurr to meet ya."
Pete took the invitation to shake hands, letting vigorous motion therein distract from a second peek downwards. "Likewise, Tab... Okay if I call ya T, instead? De long version, eh... Well, it makes me t'ink of what my old lady's after me to drink, and I don't exactly cherish de idea."
"Mmm... Ah guess it's fine." His head gave a slight upward twitch, in time with a change of subject. "You nosy 'bout that scar, buddy?"
The portly canine, caught unawares of just how long he'd been staring... And barely noticed the hair-thin crease in question, running sidewise on the dragon's firm pectoral. He took the hint, just soon enough to believably nod. "My bad, pal, guess I'm too relaxed to even t'ink about my focus."
"T" leaned back with a good, country guffaw. "Aw, ain't no biggie. Got it this July, plowin' sorghum. Thresher bogged down two-thirds o' the way through, and mah bright noggin' thought ah'd just hop down while it's still cranked and do some blade inspectin'. Ah was lucky... Jumped back just quick enough tah get kissed, if ya know what ah mean."
"Ooohh... Dat must'a ruined your week." Beady canine eyes proved a cringe.
"Yeh, damn-shurr would've, if mah uncle hadn't been by ferr a visit. Got him all spooked, he never liked what ah do fer a livin' anyway, so he went 'n' bought me a laptop and some web service. Said if he couldn't do anythin' about mah work, ah should at least have a way to look up some safety tips; cut mah risks, y'know, an' maybe have a safe new hobby to boot." He cut amused glance at his company. "He means well, anyway. An' hell, it's even jump-started mah love life. Ah'm actually here waitin' fer a 'net date, if you kin believe that."
Pete's mind had a sudden impact, somewhere between a light bulb going off and a train hitting him. At last, familiarity made sense. Jaw gaping, his heart pumping harder against their foamy quarters, he edged ever-so-slightly closer to the visitor, who viewed in vague puzzlement.
"TopDog56."
It came suave, and brimming with anticipation. The next moment saw him relish how Tab went from detached ease, to a narrow, come-hither smirk.
Disclosure was returned. "CurionFarmer."
Unsavvy as the dragon had seemed, that aspect fell away as he himself scooted closer... And for Pete, the cause to hide his own attraction was thoroughly, instantly dashed. In a herd of enthused breaths, they leapt from running wanton eyes over each other, to laying open, scintillated fingers across every bodily inch. The warm, appeasing water slicked each set of digits, while they trailed over Pete's solid shoulders, T's breadth of muscle, the round, billowing heft of canine stomach, and a dragon's wide back. Their gasps only grew, mixing and moistening each others lips, which drew ever closer... Until Pete reached his breaking point, practically seizing Tab by the sinew of shoulder blades, pulling him in for a firm, near-violent deep-mouth kiss.
Even as their eyes flew shut - engulfed by spontaneity - Pete's arms were gradually sinking, for every instant they were locked in embrace. When mouths finally parted - an impressive bit later - his grip sat in striking distance of the farmer's tight hole, and what else lay behind that denim-flanked zipper. He could so easily dive for the button, ending the fabric's hold... But he kept some composure, large palm coddling the shapely rear, the other clutching and caressing a tight-restrained bulge. Still, the 'affectionate' bend was a fluke, the fault of the moment; and when Pete's voice returned, it was bathed in wily machismo.
"You never said anyt'ing about.... What you are." His mien trailed up and down the beastly reptile, mouth watering at the bounty to which he was now so clearly welcome. "Afraid ya'd scare me away?"
"T" - whose spirits warmed even further - seemed to equally appreciate his large escort; and just how much was there to relish. Even so, and despite how they'd smitten each other - certain clues whispered of a bashful tinge. "Nah... It jus' never came up, ah 'spose." A flash of concern sped in. "It don't make a difference, does it?"
Pete, with hands moving freely over his date's every well-built curve, was anything but repelled. "You tell me, pal." In pure, guiltless lust, he slid one set of digits to the top rim of Tab's cutoffs, diving behind them at the dragon's side to explore around and under the meaty tail. All the while, though open and aroused by his full-figured admirer, he didn't expect such a quick and hands-on approach. He continued speech, to stave off the nervous tickle deep in his gut.
"A-and you never said aneh-thang 'bout a wife." Not so easy to form a cogent thought, with the denim's bulge suitably growing. "She okay with all this?"
Pete's amused laughter. "She's at a realtor's convention; what she doesn't know, can't hurt me." Scooting up on his natural undercushion, he shot the rural stud a knowing eye. "You ain't too practiced wit' dis kinda thing, are ya?"
By now, the fleshy torpedo jailed in Tab's denim throbbed with every beat of his heart. Casting gaze to the side, his head slightly dipped. "You'll be tha first... Always wanted ta' see what guys'rr like, never had the guts. Guess it's just easier ta start on the 'net, where yerr all anonymous."
Some men may've second-guessed a discovery like this... Realizing the novice-toned time they were in for. But to a certain portly canine, this was even closer to perfection. Guiding four fingers over tender, scale-rimmed tailhole, the middle soldiered gently in what he knew to be a virgin receptor. While the white of Tab's eyes disappeared, his maw throwing gasps with the novel sensation, The dog's other hand clutched a mass that, even under tumbling suds, was all too clearly a well-blessed whopper, fat and fully-prepared. Once Tab got past the tailplay's enrapturing start, his focus was brought to the frontal activity, and a soft palm's up-and-down motions on what he owned.
Now, the pivotal question. "You got a room upstairs, lahk we arranged?"
A roll of Pete's pupils. "Technically."
"Then whut say we go an' check it out?"
Had he not been so pleasantly distracted - giving dragonhood an expert's polish - Pete's anger might've dropped in a third time. "Never wished harder for anyt'in', but de bellbastard says our floor's closed. Didn't even give a goddamned reason, just mumbled somet'in' about pipes 'n' red tape."
"Oh... Maht be a gas line check, then. Annual compliance, an' all that." Pete's perplexity was clear, through the bend of bushy eyebrows. "... Mah other uncle's on a zonin' board. Long story."
The porcine family man gave a sideways nod... And with body still sidled up to his friendly partner, and fingers taking turns in the tight opening behind that same charge, he held an even purer load of dominant kink. Closing in on Tab's rugged features, he watched the scaled beast sigh in shallow burst at how stubble toyed with his chin. "So you got yourself a ranch, eh? Just how far outta town?"
Even an abject, long-standing loner could pick up on subtlety, as told by Tab's one-sided smirk. "Twenty minutes, give 'r' take five. You up fer the grand tour?" Now pleasurably eased in sense of male affection, his broad shoulders moved to run a campaign over Pete's pillowy rolls, grey-green touch guzzling every crease of their feel.
With a grin that was everything but evil, he leaned in to strike another impassioned French. "I'd be takin' some kinda tour. Besides," he added, ending the smooch to glance up for the glass door, he brought Tab's gaze to follow, where both locked onto the red-clothed form of a limp-armed, jaw-dropped, horrified mongoose, "I got a soft spot for privacy."
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Warm, humid breeze whipped through the passenger's window, drowning the low pitch of a George Jones ballad, and spurred by the Silverado's speeding motion. It toyed with Pete's neck and bare chest, drying what drops and trails stuck around from the hot tub... Just as it did for the driver, still poured into nothing more than cutoff jeans, whose dampened form hugged every inch of his loins. Boxer-clad Pete - though showing the patience and restraint of a saint - had no cause to avert his lowered eyes, while they targeted a priceless view.
The country dragon caught his shameless appreciation, beaming ear-to-ear with every word. "So, y'ever had yourself a hick lahk me?" he half-quipped.
Distracted and licking his lips, Pete gave the slightest of nods. "Once. Second year o' college, we had a freshman from even further out den dis. Shy fella, much more den you... 'Til our first good kegger, and de clothes came off." Slyly, carefully, he edged left in his seat. "Between you, him, and what I see on de web... Dey grow 'em big out in the boonies."
An even wider draconian smirk, augmented by a line of teeth. "Guess ah don't exactly break the mold, there." A quick, careful glance downwards. "Ah am proud o' the straw ah drew."
For every sentence, Pete's form drew an inch closer.
Tab, unaware, continued. "Ya got me scratchin' mah head, though... If yerr so happy with other guys, what made you settle down and have a family?"
A stout canine arm moved undetectably for its target. "Never said I'm not into misses. Dere's plenty o' cock fiends out dere, givin' equal time to de other team..." His fingers crept methodically closer. "You don't really have to make a choice, if you're clever enough."
"Hmm... Never thought of it that wa A Aaayyy-"
Pete's attempt was purely success, the grip on Tab's bulge drawing total surprise. Reptilian maw flung open, while its owner shot another brief gaze to an aggressive guest.
"Just watch the road... I'll take care o' dis."
Leaning fully to the spread above the farmer's lap, he felt the dragon's breath skim his scalpline, so clearly sent with arousal. The smell of vintage leather pervaded the cab, while his fingers latched onto the zipper, pulling ever so slowly towards the seat. Even now, Tab's paunch heaved with his 'initiation'; and Pete chuckled to himself, seeing just how fun it would be to teach this country male some new tricks.
It took great care to unzip the denim duds; Tab's manhood bulged so fiercely against its grip, it seemed to plead for release from such a tight dungeon. Once Pete was halfway, its wrist-thick mass was made gloriously evident, and he swept in for a quick, deserved lick - drawing roused gasp from the sheltered hick - before resuming its meticulous reveal.
He at last reached the bottom; and shaking lightly the moist shorts, he popped Tab's member fully out of the flap, its heft falling over his hand. By now, his own adequate pole was a tent in his drying boxers, so incredibly rigid... Stiffly, achingly prodding no more than a thimble's length from the frontal crease. It surged with hard, unrelenting throbs, bearing a spot of pre to darken the fabric's peak, as he watched Tab's meat rocket upward. Seven, eight, nine inches and more, while his tongue dove to run affectionately up and down its every side. While the rural dragon moaned and gasped, proving just how sensitive his giant endowment, it easily passed his navel, slapping his upper stomach for every time Pete's oral worship lifted its overblessed reach. The chubby father's right hand lunged through his underwear, freeing canine cock to furiously stroke its sixteen rock-hard centimeters, peach-fuzzed sack bouncing heartily with each renewed movement.
Tab's hands stuck fast to the wheel; fingers curling and uncurling over its smooth vinyl, spastic from Pete's effectual talent. A single uncertainty struck his mind, and spoke itself between his gaggle of accented groans.
"Ye_ohhhh_... Yew already goin' for the gold? Ah'd at least like to- Oo oo... Keep it in, an' wait 'til we get thar 'n' comfy." He could barely sputter the end, before Pete's volumed lips - and how they sank over his ample trophy - sent him through a volley of euphoric yelps.
The plump canid pulled his throat from its barely-started work, not so glad that he'd have to take a pause, to reply; still, he saw a chance to toy with the dragon's monster, thick digits slapping the engorged tool against his face. It worked well, in dispelling his letdown; a short and savory "Unh" for each time its weight crashed against him, while he jerked madly the fat, mature pole that poked through his boxers. "No worries - ah, yehh - beefcake, I'm just primin' it for de near future."
Self-control fading, he rose to pop it back down his eager throat, bobbing like an ocean buoy in peak of spiteful storms. A good length of this 'bonding', and those same practiced lips squeezed hard onto Tab's trophy, as he ever-so-slowly pulled away. The moaning cries were music to his ears, tossed by a manly paunch that heaved and solidly shimmied. Moans became a single, wailing shout, with the feel of Pete's lips ending suction... And the down-low daddy dog, broad body splayed across their leather seats, took every ounce of control not to blow his own load. His dick had never been harder; mouth watering from how the dragon's manhood swung back and forth at its release, glistening root-to-head in the moonlight, coated in the slick of his oral tribute. Tab cut the engine, as they coasted down a slope on the final stretch of dirt road; his chuckle at the perfect sight of Pete's handiwork, shown he hardly liked it any less... The smirk of his pride danced in Pete's craving eyes.
"Got me so damn het-up..." Stare again fixed forward - begrudgingly - on their path between the fields. "Yerr gonna learn how us big-dicked country guys lay some pipe."
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Truly, straight out of the olden, classical frontier; modest two-story farmhouse in weatherworn wood-grey, a few boards chipped or broken, but otherwise in respectable shape; the quintessential red barn a stone's throw beyond, girdled by a ring of dried hoofprints; whitewashed picket fence as the boundary for tens of well-kept acres... Corn, sorghum and a few other crops Pete couldn't easily recognize. Not that he was trying to, as they piled out of their flatbed chariot, feet throwing tiny clouds of dust below. The few nearby houses were darkened, far as the eye could see; so his agenda was intact, and on its way the second his toes hit the grass.
Tab, on the truck's other side, remembered himself and a share of manners; zipping the cutoffs up and over his half-hardened pride. "Hope ya lahk the place," He began, while his guest circled around. "Ah try to make the most of it. Best thing Dad ever gave me, 'fore he left to retire in Miami."
Pete's gaze trailed over the admirable ranch, for all of three seconds... Standing next to his flawless host, just far enough behind to admire the tightness beneath his smooth tail, he sidled up, raised his palm, and gifted the rear a full-strength slap.
It drew exactly what he'd hoped for; a shocked yelp, Tab's form spinning to confront, while his large palm rubbed the point of impact. But in survey of his portly new squeeze - stout, seasoned, so delectably burly, whose fat member still hung free from light-hued undies - he was far beyond protest.
... And Pete could easily tell, as he practically leapt into Tab's muscled arms, pushing him up against the driver's side window. His breath, heavy and excited as it infiltrated the farmer's throat. A quick peer down, gasping for the sight of dragon's bounty from so close a perspective, and he nudged the rancher's nose with his own. "Well I wouldn't say it's the best t'ing he gave you."
Snickering, his grip closed around Tab's bulge, while the dragon's narrowed slits journeyed deep into the gaze of his suitor. Barely time for the smooth meat to unstiffen, before Pete's hungering touch renewed its growth. One ebony arm slid behind the farmer's back, anchoring for another plunge of his tongue down Tab's inviting maw... The taste of pork, coffee and a hint of hours-old chewing tobacco. Fifteen seconds of rising passion, and as Pete drew away, the country-bred meat was at critical mass, giving the denim's strength a run for its money.
Stubble-ringed grin dipped, with the rest of Pete's head, ogling the sum of Tab's core... Bread-basket so perfectly framing his well-worked beef, drawing in and out from the dragon's carnal thrill. Canine jowls trembled, from a vague shake of more-than-vague arousal. "Ya must get an ass load of exercise out dere... Dat chest 'n' dose arms, so fuckin' cut." A slow, fond grip on T's biceps, navigating their every ripple and crevice; mouth and eyes drew in to the aqua-tint pecs, for the slow, doting equivalent of a male motorboat. "I wanna know how you smell, after a hard day's work." The heavy gasps of a worshipping uke; but the mind and tone of a dom. "I bet it's so fuckin' pungeant."
Tab's brow held a brief quake, hardly conscious of how full and deeply this pleased... Scaled hand sank over the canine's scalp with a proud smile, knowing little else to do in this new territory. "Well... yerr in luck, ah didn't bathe 'fore we got in that hot tub... See fer yerrself."
Pete's ultralow, chuckling elation tickled the trace of water that loitered in Tab's ears, as the dog leaned his soft gut across dragonhood... And lunged into the bend of his armpit. Drawing feverish breaths, his knees swayed with Tab's rock-hard prize pushed against his navel, jostling the folds of well-spoken beer gut. The smell was so intense... sweaty, earthy, befitting of dragon's might, the scent of pure testosterone. Jet-black nose dug deep in the farmer's pit, while a muffled groan flew from his lips... The tip of his wood poked gently at Tab's swinging sack, and gutteral whiffs gave way to a tongue, rolling over the scented split of ranchhand pit.
Tab moaned, for each pulse that jabbed Pete's gut and his meager clothing, his arms propped over the truck's red finish... The porcine daddy's work, so quickly more than he could bear. "Y-ya wanna take that outta my pants, b'fore you bruise it? 'Least if yerr gonna keep doin' me lahk that."
Pete's grin was selfish, pure and simple, as he retreated, knelt his plump form onto both knees, and scrambled to undo the rancher's shorts. "Gotcha goin', eh? Dat makes two reasons to lock teeth. First bein' you taste so damn good..." His jaw dropped open, by reflex, with Tab's ten-inch blessing freed of the fabric. "... All of you."
On the road, rural reptile had so clearly felt at ease with Pete's worship. But out here - leaning tail against his cherished truck - a thin line of sweat bordered his scalp. "... Sure you don't wanna step inside? Ah..." An unsettled stare, darted around. "... Ah got beer, 'r ah could put on some coff_e ee- eee_..."
Canine cockhound, proved himself such; while the rock-hard pole received a deep throat, all the way to the sack, oval orbs fluttering with Tab's euphoric twitch... As did Pete's hefty gut, poured over the open-slit garment. A swift lick of his lips, and pupils rolled skyward. "Leave 'em in de cupboard... We got better ways to spend our time." Straightaway, his lips sank over the dragon with pure, manful greed.
It seemed to soothe Tab's angst... Or at least, make him easily forget it. Though with Pete chowing down on the smooth-fleshed rocket, gulping lavish loads of its pre as he served its every inch, he switched it for a suitable question.
"Ah... Don't know too m- mmu ch about... Guy sex, but... Yerr be EE Eein' pretty forward, after sayin' all this time you'd be - Ohhh - Takin' it."
Pete's muffled laugh, betrayed the expectation... Amused enough to make him less than put-out, for another break in his spit-polish. Parting gift, a strong slurp of Tab's mushroom head, coaxing the might of dragon's wail. "Dere's plenty you didn't see on de 'net... I like a few jokers up my sleeve. Waited over a mont' on you to give, you bet'chur ass I'll be makin' de most of it." No time was lost, resuming his work, taking it to the root before launching into firm, shallow bobs... Something he knew from years, no male could resist. And then, something just for him... Head swaying wildly with another full plunge, coal-black lips burrowed straight to the base, nuzzling that hairless field of scales.
"T" might've held a single raised brow, if both weren't up together from such raw stimulus. "Y-yeh, but that don't exactly AAa- answer mah question."
Popping lips free, again, he shot a glance behind... Before it wandered to the oversized feet, half-concealed by crumpled cutoffs... Then to the prize that proved the rumour. Thirsting groans, prefaced by the skim of his tongue from one side's root, over the sensitive head, quenched with 'T's gutteral whine as it dragged to the opposite side. "I t'ink dat's primed enough... If your barn's got what dey usually have, I'll show ya what I mean."
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They practically burst through the wooden door, showering the hay below with starlight. Pete, his arm around Tab's bicep, scrutinized the barn's every corner, scratching chin with a sly "Hmm..." Every cliché was accounted for; stalls for steeds, walled stys for hogs and smaller stock, a loft for feed and storage... And something else, for which his fingers were snapped in implied 'Eureka'.
More suitable than he'd even wished... At head's height between two walls, riveted quite soundly, set a long black pipe.
Pete chuckled, running palm over his date's taut muscle, their weapons throbbing with teased neglect. "Dat for your garden tools?"
Tab's answer took a moment, eyes fixed on the drop of pre clinging to the dog's boxer-buster. "Um, yeah, plows an' all that. The'rr out 'n the field, though, from yesterday's tillin'."
Thick, furred fingers ran routes on the country bumpkin's core, bringing giant cock to contract with involuntary muscle's might. "So you'd say it can hold a lot o' weight."
The farmer's nod, Pete barely caught before breaking touch to stroll for an outer wall, feet crunching the dessicated hay. Tab watched every step, and how the daddy's plump ass shook heartily; his dragonhood so firm, every other second saw it shine in the night's illumination. A question, in no way steady; speech could be nothing but panting and painfully aroused. "J-just what'chu plannin'?"
Pete's toes came to their halt, under a half-driven nail.... Whose stem held loose coils of rope. Flashing one-sided smirk to the farmer, thumbs hooked into his underwear's elastic, and slowly, purposefully, pulled the moist covering from waist to feet. Every speck of dragon's pupils, exposed in their jaw-dropped gawk. Every atom of air, thrown from his lungs in the howling "FUUUCK..."
Smug for what effect he had, leaning up, he held one hand to the back of his leg, tracing it from calf to the meaty shape of one cheek... And held it apart from the other, so Tab could see just exactly what he'd be visiting. "Easy, stud... You just stay dere, and be ready to learn."
Dragon's hand leapt to his pole by pure instinct, moving teal-grey digits to stroke it from every side. There was no containing himself, while Pete moved to lift the bundle of rope. " Fuck , man, that hole... Ah'm gonna love every second o' this." Still aloof of his actions, the other set of fingers closed on his left nipple, squeezing and tweaking with a growl. " Oo ohh... Git over here, you big beautiful bitch. Ah'll rock yerr god-damn world."
Husky canine, clenching the mass of hemp, sauntered to rejoin his novice date... Billowing rolls, thick daddy meat and the low-hanging furry sack all bouncing with every step. On his stubble-framed lips, set the widest guileful grin.
"You got it all wrong, pal, I'm in it for de bot' of us." He lifted one coil, stretching it to a taut length of cord. "Now get your fine tail under dat pipe."
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"Damn it, Damn it to Satan's taint..."
Clearly, the red-cloaked mongoose was at a rough time... Thin fingers, in their clammy nerves, slipped from the shallow holes of a rotary phone. "Ass-backwards lodge. I don't care how kitschy these are, get yourself some modern damn-"
At last completing his dial, he was met by the sound of ringing on the other end. With his growing scowl, sharp teeth mostly-revealed, elbows perched on the lobby's counter... In the time it took for someone to answer, his index claw settled on a hairline fracture, and traced the crack he'd apparently missed at the time.
He heard the 'hello', and impatiently took his cue.
"Hello!? ... Yes, it's Robert, from Tri-Cities Inn and Suites... No, I'm the... The bellhop... No listen, I'm the only one here and there's been an incident." His grey-furred finger wrapped and twisted the antiquated phone cord. "There were these two guests, and they started making out in the hot tub... No, both men... Well, just kissing and touching each other... I don't think they did, but... I don't care what you think is your business, I-"
He took the receiver from his ear, pursing lips and rolling eyes up to the chandelier's glint. Two seconds, and he brought it back to head's perch.
"Look, my concierge called out, and I won't just sit here and be responsible for spreading disease in our guest areas... I'm not saying it's more likely than if a woman and... Hey, Barney Fife, I think one of them cracked the counter in the lobby here, with his hand." He seemed to slowly calm, gaining a vindicated smile. "... Yes, a dog. Heavyset, I'd say at least thirty-five or forty... Oh, not long, less than an hour ago."
One brief moment later, and his eyes shot wide in fury, hand pointed fervently at no one in particular.
"Well I didn't KNOW until now, it takes for-fucking-ever to sanitize that pool... No, I'm not completely sure if he..." Pounding open hand on the counter, he lurched in willowy rage. "You don't understand _, if my _manager comes back and SEES this shit... No, I don't know what he drove off in... I'm not some circus freak who can tell a man's height by looking _ _at him... Well FUCK YOU TOO, CRUELLER BREATH!!!"
He lost it on the last sentence, and firmly slammed fist on the richly-hued formica... Which proceeded to fill with much larger cracks, skewing from his point of impact, until they reached the side where guests normally stood. He watched a foot-wide section fall out of sight, followed by a cloud of white dust.
Frozen for a series of instants, his first thought was to cautiously walk around the counter, still blankly holding phone's receiver and its newly-sounding dial tone. His twitching eyes scoped out the floor, covered in jagged blocks of marble... Then the air, thick with epoxy dust... And finally acquired the black tile above, where a camera kept ever-vigil.
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Few options, for the country dragon, his fervid gasps warming the air. Pete improvised well; an empty wooden crate beneath the pipe, to which Tab's feet were tied through opposing knotholes. His hands, bound tightly to the cast-iron bar, palms against its cold smoothness. The denim cutoffs lay in a heap yards-distant, atop large white boxers and matted with hay that clung to their moisture.
And all Tab could care about - hips in the air, knees slightly bent, massive meat vaulting with each pulse - was the plump figure of this kinky daddy, box creaking under him as he knelt his broad cheeks over T's weapon. Between growing smirk, he drew an eager breath, reaping scents of treated wood, farm feed... And Tab's sweaty, naked form, aroma strengthened in all his naive apprehension. Chin pointed floorwards, Pete watched himself lower, until the dragon's wide glans prodded his well-cushioned sphincter. He groaned in the delight of its potent feel, and eyes locked on those of a dragon so hot and anxious, he could barely see straight.
"Just relax, T... And be ready for dat handsome prick to serve."
Tab's hunger peaked so high, even to speak was a chore. "I... Well how'd I be doin' anything, if you got me up here lahk this?"
Dog's hands darted up to twist and pinch his vast nipples, while returning masculine giggle. "Dat's the clincher... You won't."
Slowly, carefully, he sank over Tab's ten-point-five... At first. Once the dragon was halfway in, and his maw slack with soaring sensation, Pete's toothy smile came into its own - a signal - before he rocketed over the rest. Mere fractions of a second, and reaction was mutual; two scalps shot for the ceiling, one with moans of smug appreciation, the other in country-twanged yelp for the harsh-but-enthralling surprise.
"T" - perhaps from a dragon's inner heat with moments intense - dripped sweat from his chin's apex, as it trickled down the fold of his pecs, trailing to the manful paunch beneath. Pete's broad cheeks found their rhythm, up and down the huge pole like a manful butter churn. So taken by Tab's moan, heightening for each dive right down to the sack, he had to yowl for just how pleasing the sound. Body's tempo hastened; T's trail of sweat had quickly grown to consistent drips, wetting a large share of his flawless body, while it rocked to and fro from the daddy's airborne work.
Tongue whipping his canine chops - gratified in his own lust - Pete saw the chance, while dragon's head craned sidewise, overcome by the power surging through his many inches; and took it. Tab had no window to predict his move, lunging forward, rolling that thick physique over scaled paunch and abs... Coarse stubble raked T's collarbone, while the seasoned pro lapped every drop of man-made sweat from his solid neck and shoulders.
Country yelps gave way to full-blown shouts... Pete bobbed on his throbbing meat like a true teacher, tongue sliding down the front of his heaving pecs, caressing them and all nearby corners. The elder dog forced himself on that monster, hard as he could, launching jowls into the defenseless pits for a second go. Even stronger now, driven by his own virile skill... It blessed the very form of his nose, black orbs rolling skyward for just how godly the effect. Cheeks dominated the diamond-firm pole, as it dominated them, lubricated by the endless stream of pre; volume so vast, it could only leak out of him, sliding viscous paths to the base and across Tab's loins, bringing liquid sound to the daddy's deeds.
Pete, in how this exercise would affect his fuller form, felt his own load of sweat breaking through... With fur matted down, it eased the slide of his thick meat over Tab's lower stomach. Farmer's mouth hadn't closed, enraptured by every shred of the trial, helpless while Pete had his way. Willing his dick, not to go over the edge... Its long reach so highly responsive, and the man-hungry work of his date was a new and total power. It stood painfully close to the line, pulsing harder for every plunge of the brown star and Pete's deepened passage.
Screaming yelps, easily gave this away; and Pete, still sweeping tongue over his bare, soaked form, paused only to speak of it. "Already got'cha so close, eh... *gasp* You and dat meat missile... And I'm... ERRG GH...Just warmin' up."
Tab's twang, quivering in pitch; toes curled in helpless abandon. "Y-yew... Gawd- damn... It's so... Sensitive... With yew... Oh hhh- hh dayum..."
Pete knew the suggestion, and eased ever-so-slightly his rhythm. The effort left over, put promptly into another dive on T's glistening hide, its damp coolant so quickly replaced. The more his work brought the silver-aqua serpent to sweat, the stronger scent became, while it and Pete's own pheremones blended in a manful bouquet. The family man put his fingers to work... One set travelling Tab's paunch, feeling how it so-barely-gave under pressure, before gliding to his side, and down by the vulnerable tail. The other five lay higher to worship Tab's muscle... The first lodged to an exposed hole, catching the veil of heat that dwarfed all but his occupied loins.
Daddy relished it all... One month was far too long a wait, for this kind of perfection. Tab's massiveness filled him, stretched him, tickling his prostate from a true stallion's depth... It begged his eyes to shut, for just how intense the ride. But he wouldn't take the urge... There was just too much for them to see. Tab's brow, locked in a bend that told all of how he felt, without words... The form too good to be true, paunch rolling in resplendence... His own thick tool, massaged by the dragon's dense scales, daddy-pre seeping down his frenulum and welling in Tab's recessed navel. He filled the air with a steaming medley of gasp, sigh and conceited laughter... He wouldn't have to hear it in words, to know someone was deep in their first time. And so clearly loving it, even more than his pent-up self.
Rancher's yelps, though enduring, weren't as high or 'precarious' as prior... Getting used to him, it appeared, but the dogmatic dog knew just how to counter. For every third descending thrust, one came at full strength, pounding his weight to the farmer's thighs... And each time, the force dipped their suspension, bouncing Tab's heavy sack like an air-juggled ball. Gravity's stretch pulled ecstatic screams, as every vein in his manhood coursed with unequaled power. Pete's lower-perched hand - and its index finger - coasted the rim of Tab's hole, the only gentle touch he'd see from the brutal dog... Whose other palm skimmed through each dragon pit, wiping their saturated span, before each finger was licked and sucked clean. Pure, liquid musk, spread over his tongue, and Tab's navel was a tiny lake of his proven excitement... The dragon flinched and winced even harder, while fat digits explored the depth below his virgin tail. No matter if Pete's pace had slowed even further, nothing could stop him now... Just too taken, too conquered by the passion and Pete's expert mode... In the moment, even stiff hold of ropes on his wrists, and the creaking sound as they moved with his form, were decadent... Reminding there was no escape, and this vigorous daddy would have his way... And his every load.
Pete's breath warmed cheeks and nose, from how he leaned in to admire Tab's pleasure. A short smooch, of manful tongue, followed by moist suction on his chin... The stout digits swimming in his tailhole, faster and more ruthless each second. In the brief kiss, Pete shared with him the taste of his own musk, its salt and potency staggering.
Pool of canine's pre overspilled its well, trickling to mix with Tab's own at the root of his crashing loins.
Well-buried dragonhood grazed every side of Pete's cavity.
Sweat ran down the smoothness of his back, skirting narrowly the space where Pete's hand massaged his black cherry.
And the Earth seemed to move.
Pete's mouth couldn't possibly broaden, while his ears filled of the ranchhand's manly scream. Before all else, the king of throbs strained his insulated passage... And for the first time, he had no way to control. The flood was amazing, crippling... Tab's monster fired shot after shot, each even harder than the last, filling Pete's veteran hole long before it finished. Four sets of twitching toes, feet swaying wildly... T's neck swung in all directions, jaw gaping with explosive release of his first corralled loads, paunch rolling even more than Pete's billowed heft. Folds of canine fat jiggled violently, from the thick of his neck, all the way to a pair of spread cheeks... That still crashed around the giant pole, only now in even wilder pace. Pete was swelled to capacity... And himself starting a grand yell, the bulk of Tab's payload had nowhere to go but out, spewing pressurized jets of seed over Pete's ass, his own hips and the lowest reach of his noble endowment.
His 'teacher' could only follow suit... Girth of the canine's cock inflated, jowl-perched stubble shivered in baritone yelps, and the first of seven ropes shot forth, painting the dragon's chest, while the rest took space on soft, scaled belly. All as the dragon's wailing moans had barely waned, creamy white flowing down his rippled legs, only stopping where the loops of cord kept prisoner. His cock felt a gradual cease in Pete's motion, long before his gaze could open to catch... And the deep, laughing sigh, forged of relief and what he'd accomplished.
The daddy rose up, steadily, expertly popping T's length from his purely-ravaged cavern... With a gutteral " Yehh" while Tab's dickhead raked the flesh-ring on its exit. That chasmal hole, and fur surrounding it, gave up a swallow of dragon loads to the hay beneath.
Tab's silence met its end, though breathy and broken the words... The glaze of his pupils, opened straight onto Pete's drenched body, rising to precariously reach for his hands' confinement. Dog's mass, stretched a bit trimmer in his upward lunge, a magnet for Tab's refreshed focus... Like the thick pole between his thicker legs, still firm and bouncing with every move. Dragon stare strayed from this, to thick puddles of release dotting his torso... And for this alone, he groaned in even deeper satisfaction.
"What's got'chou put out?" He heard Pete complain... And realized how he must've sounded. Before his answer, a smile curled beakish lips to prove the errant judgement.
"Nuthin' at all _, ya dark swig o' handsome. Ah'm just lovin' the moment; no smawl thanks to _yew."
Pleasurably corrected, Pete's rumbling chuckle certified his ego. "Y'know, I could earn a million bucks right now... Just by bettin' I'm your first. Never seen a guy react like you, if it wasn't new t'wim."
Tab himself gave a brief chuckle, cheeks blending aqua-grey with a twinge of red. "Yeh yeh, yew nabbed yerrself a greenhorn." One hand lowered, weak from its elevated rest. The dragon - loving how Pete stole the show, and aptly controlled - chose to flatter this further. "...That make yew feel manly 'n' powerful? Not that yew'd need anythang, to make it so."
Pete would've chuckled further, if not for what struck his mind while T's other hand was nearly free. A brief flash about gravity, just before it happened, and he crashed down over top of his studly rancher in the rustling chaff.
Sheer luck, his elbows landed next to Tab, rather than upon him... And there was hearty laughter, for a comfortable spell, before Pete rolled atop his friendly farmer, lips meeting like their naked bodies, drunk with passion for each other's masculinity. Pete gasped at the chill of what hit his chest, his own seed from Tab's scaly hide, warmth stolen by the night's air. He rolled slightly away, just enough to stare down and confirm; T couldn't help his palm's leap to caress the dog's fur, pulling numerable ropes of his cream... Greenish lids slammed shut, focusing taste as he sucked away every drop. And Pete mimicked, with the share that clung dearly to reptilian skin.
Finally, gloriously exhausted, they locked eyes, lying next to each other, taking turns in the lazy oral cleanup.
Pete's belly rocked, with laboured show of amusement. "Damn, T... Can't believe I waited since September, to have you. Dat'll teach me, for takin' my time." Pearly whites gleaming, he dove in for a long, deep whiff of country pits, a groan with each and every lungful.
The drake bore a merry sigh for the worship, slurping fingers while Pete oh-so-slowly drew back. "An' ah never woulda thought you'd get me up in that sorta pose. But yerr so fuckin' pro , ah hardly thought twahce about it." He trailed a stare, down the dog's damp silhouette. "Hope ah don't sound too forward, but if yerr wife gits half 'z much 'z yew showed me... She's one lucky lady."
Pete's grin was ear-to-canine-ear, while his fist wrapped the dragon's barely-soft blessing. "You wanna know de trut', it ain't nowhere close. I wanted kids, and you can't have d'ose pricy medical schemes on a lemon-fencer's paycheck. Did what I had to." Palm fur tickled the ten-inch staff. "So yeah, you better know I'll be seein' you like clockwork. You and dat." Yanks on dragon's manhood, lightning-fast...
... From which he drew the natural reaction, complete with dropped jaw and wince. "Ohhhhh fuhk _..." A quick decline, just to watch Tab relax... And he caught just how pure the lustful affection in his dragon eyes, above the sated smirk. "... That's it, ah'm a-hunderd-'n'-ten percent gay. _Yerr fault."
Pete was a mirror, of his thirsting ogle. "Like you weren't already... All I did was take advantage."
Dragon's laugh held a twinge of timid; it only egged the daddy on, how little he could hide his bashful bend. Their eyes kept fixed, even while he rose up on a reptile arm, and slowly stood. "Well shit, ah could use a beer aft'rr that. You drink Pabst?"
Pete's nod was shallow, concealed by motion to scramble up as well. "Won't matter if it's goddamned Nattie Ice", he brushed hay from his jiggling fur, "As long as it's nice and cold."
"No lahh." Tab led the way to their time-dried clothes, while a twanging laugh escaped him. "Y'know, ah think we scarred that kid at th' hotel fer lahf... Wonder what he's thinkin', raht about now."
Pete's eyes circled their sockets. "Don't know, care even less. But wit' dat kinda place, I can guarantee he'll see a lot worse before he's outta dere."
Which was true, if a five-figure wage garnish qualified.
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This should be considered the end.