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**Chapter 8 - White Knuckles

** Wow, I picked a metaphor-tastic song for that chapter title, didn't I?

The concert was over. The crowd had left. Word filtered back through the roadies that the buck's truck had been keyed rather severely, with many delightfully graphic and instructive sketches. My face had sprouted several good crops of tiny bandages, and I was washing down ibuprophen with my 'juice' bottle, being assured repeatedly that my car was fine where it was and I could hitch a ride into town with the band. This was reassuring considering I was quite drunk, emotionally distraught and possibly had a concussion.

Port Angeles had a pretty good industrial park on the highway, cement plants and timberworks spaced evenly with cheap motels and mini-malls. It was most certainly not riding through the Parisian countryside with flowers and cafes and, and, I dunno, and windmills and stuff in the distance. We were not riding through the heartland of romance. We were riding through the functional armpit of the Great American Northwest. I didn't care, though.

All right, all right, WE didn't care. Sheesh. You happy? I went three whole chapters without pointing you out like this, Myles. Now people are going to get confused. New readers will be all disoriented and start falling out of windows. You've got them on your conscience.

Lacuna Coyle finished off the set, with yours truly leaning against a speaker stack, inching slowly out of the limelight, and eventually sharing a dogend with a roadie (and no, get your minds out of the gutter, I just mean a cigarette. A TOBACCO cigarette. Boy, this is a long aside to put in brackets!) My eyes were glazed and felt like they were trying to high-five eachother, and the roadie just kept winking at me and elbowing me in the ribs. I didn't appreciate the insinuation, but I didn't try to deny anything. That point had probably passed about one passionate tongue-kiss ago.

"Huh," I had said when Myles eventually dropped down. As Great And Romantic First Words After That First Kiss go, it probably didn't rank very high. The next one wasn't better. "Za?"

He just grinned, the sort of grin that made you think that he knew something you didn't. Considering what had just happened, I'm pretty sure that I knew about as much as everyone else exactly what was going on, but at the same time I was disoriented enough not to really know. You know? Whatever. He was grinning, and I was... well, ok, I was grinning, too. Goofy and self-conscious, but still grinning. Also blushing.

I kinda got out of synch with this, didn't I?

Ok, the kiss ended, he finished the set, I was smoking with a beagle. Continuity has been achieved! Moving on.

When the final chords of 'Eighteen (And I Like It)' faded away, the crowd went so wild I was afraid they were going to knock down the barricades and storm the stage. Lacuna Coyle walked off, hid behind a speaker stack, passed around a quick Morley non-filtered, and then walked back out. When the lights went back up, the mass exhalation of joy almost knocked me over, and I was already a little unbalanced since Myles decided to remind me he was there by giving me a quick squeeze hard enough to make me wonder if he'd bent my credit cards.

I shook a couple hands during the last song, a very long and unusually thrashy rendition of "Beer Is Good" with a strange medley of "Folsom Prison Blues" stuffed into the middle. The roadies all seemed to feel the need to congratulate me, as did half of Panthera and two-thirds of Marylin Hanson. I had to yell the quick explanation of how we knew eachother a few times (basically "WE WERE FRIENDS IN SCHOOL! I HAVEN'T SEEN HIM IN TEN YEARS! MAYBE WE SHOULD MOVE AWAY FROM THIS GIANT GOD-DAMN SPEAKER!") but the Roadie Grapevine was in full use, and pretty soon people I'd never met before seemed to know more about it than I did.

I watched Myles sign off with the pidgin-sign forehead-tap, and some in the crowd even returned it. I felt a strange paing of jealousy, and a tiny, whiny little voice inside me complained "Hey, that's OUR thing!" but I stomped on it with the boots of maturity. They're big boots. Myles was a musician, an entertainer, and a very popular one at that. I can really hardly begrudge him for using his only real... well, ok, his only OTHER real means of communication, now can I? No, I can't. Shut up, whiny voice.

The band returned, the lights dimmed, and although the crowd was still being psychotically loud, it was slowly starting to dissipate at the back. James and Ricky high-fived, predator and prey obviously as close as brothers, and Myles, for once, just gave me a regular non-airborn hug. Even the tops of his ears didn't reach my chin, so he was hugging my kidneys, but it was still very sweet. There were a few whoops and hollers, but it seemed the novelty of our relationship was starting to wear off. At least, on everyone else. I didn't think it would ever wear off of me.

"Awesome show," I said thickly when he finally looked up at me, eyes hidden by braids, still grinning, tongue lolling. "You guys are awesome."

Myles nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and laughed, muzzle pulling back rhythmically. I could feel his chest bobbing against my stomach. Seriously, one of these days I'm going to get him a little tiny gadget that makes laughing noises.

"So...," I said, displaying my complete mastery over the English language.

For a long moment we just stared at eachother, or at least I stared at his hair while he stared up my nose. I squeezed him once, my hands around his midsection, and he responded by somehow rubbing his entire body against my leg in a very canine way. I was acutely aware of just how badly overfilled his jeans were, and my eyes glazed over. He shook his head, displacing some of his braids, and he looked askance up me, eyes concerned.

"No no, it's... a... uhm.... good thing... I just..." I swallowed nervously, wondering exactly what I could say that wouldn't make me seem like I was a completely size-obsessed weirdo, but he just chuckled and disengaged, patting me on the chest. His other hand twirled, circling his thumb and forefinger in the symbol he traditionally used to mean "Ok".

I wasn't sure what to do next, but he hooked a claw in my belt and tugged me towards the back of the stage. My brain took a decidedly gutter-oriented twist until he gestured to the various stacks and creates, and he started to haul coils of cable to the circle of vans.

"Oh, help clean up," I said, relieved and a little ashamed, watching his enormous tail obscure the rest of his body as he walked away. "Yeah, I can do that."

Maybe ten minutes later I'd finished hauling about eleven billion tons of PA equipment to the vans (it might have been less), and I'd lost Myles completely. Normally it's hard to see him because of his height, but the cumulonimbus-like bulk of his tail was hard to miss. I couldn't see James or Ricky anywhere, either. Really, I couldn't see anyone I recognized. I realized that I was just distracting myself again, forcing myself not to think about what was going on, but I knew I was past the point of denial.

Prove it, I said to myself.

"Fine," I responded.

"What?" said a passing deer, albeit one considerably smaller than me.

"I love Myles," I said.

"Oh. Me too," he said with a glint in his eye before moving on.

"Does that count?" I asked.

Good enough for me, I replied.

I eventually found Myles by the side gate, surrounded by legions of screaming fans. Well, ok, maybe only ten, but they were female, and they were definitely sexy, and they were definitely going wild. Camera phones flicked and flashed, and I was reminded of the previous night. My determination before floundered when I saw him squeeze himself between two golden-hued minkgirls, resting his head on one implausibly-round breast and smiling for the camera.

He's an entertainer, I told myself.

"I know."

He's making his fanbase more rabid and adoring, I continued.

"I see that."

The only person you've ever, EVER seen him kiss is you, I finished.

"Well..."

Shut up, I told myself. You have no argument.

I sighed, and had to chuckle. In the old days, Myles made everything seem to clear, so obvious, so sensible. He made me a smarter and better person. Since last night he's done the exact opposite, turning me into a drooling moron that can barely tie his own shoes without an instructional video. I watched him pat the minks on their impeccably-shaped rears, and they squealed with delight. Their eyes were, obviously, aimed somewhat lower on his body. Tail swishing like an enormous tornado-shaped peacock's, he turned away from the last of his fans, saw me, and waved.

I waved back, but in one of those strange moments that you try to tell yourself isn't happening one of the minks turned around and looked straight at me.

"OH MY GOD IT'S HIM!"

I looked around, trying to figure out why she was screaming, when I realized that the minks, along with the rest of the backstage fangirls, were now closing in on yours truly. I took one step back but hit a speaker (where do those COME from?! I think they multiply at these shows) and before I could reorient my body through the haze of alcohol I found myself the center of a very scantily-clad dance party.

"You beat up that elk! That was so COOL!"

"Oh my God, you kissed Myles! That's so COOL!"

"Are you, like, boyfriends?"

"What does he look like naked?"

"Are you, like, a champion kickboxer or something?"

"What's it like being BALD all over?"

This was substantially closer than I'd ever been to this many furgirls, particularly ones that had been selected to go backstage based almost entirely on their spectacular hotness. I didn't even really like reptilians that much, but my hand was being repeatedly pumped by a pink and dainty-winged dracogirl whose doe-eyed innocence belied the fact her white tube-top was really not doing a good job covering a pair of breasts almost as big as Christmas turkeys. I impressed the hell out of myself by not staring.

"Bwuh?" I said genially.

Some of the girls tittered (what a word), and in the distance I could see Myles hop up on a milk crate and wink at me, his hands making the universal 'honk-honk' bosom-squeezing gesture. I blushed, if it was possible, even further than before. He knew I'd had a thing for the cleavage-types from our comic-book days, and he obviously hadn't forgotten. He flashed the thumbs up and vanished again, possibly to go find new ways to embarrass me.

Yes, Myles, I know you weren't trying to EMBARASS me, you were trying to make me have a good time, but it was still embarrassing. Ok, and it was a good time, too. It was both. A good, embarrassing time. Say, do you have that dracogirl's phone number? OW! No biting!

I managed to get through the expurgated version of how me and Myles met, lost eachother, met again, and then ended up in a passionate public embrace in the middle of a live show. There was a chorus of emotional "Awwwwwww!"'s when I finished, and they shook my hand and hugged me and told us we were lucky to have eachother, and they hoped to see me at the next show. I didn't know their names, but they knew a lot about me by the time they left, more than I'd known an hour previous.

It seemed half of the backstage had already cleared out, and most of the remaining crew were hanging around smoking and drinking in small groups. I was sitting dazed on a folding table when Myles appeared at my side as if by magic. I was dismayed to see him wearing a shirt, and then amazed that that had been my first thought.

"Hi," I said.

He licked my cheek in response.

I couldn't help looking around in a mild panic to find out if anyone had seen, and I immediately regretted when he looked hurt. "Sorry, man," I said, scooting closer and putting my hand on his. "I... old habits die hard, you know?"

He nodded, lifting up one slender paw and tracing a fingertip along the curve of bandaids above my eye. I chuckled. "Yeah, actually, I was doing good there until tonight. Three years without fighting."

His eyes widened, and he mimed a few shadow punches. "Yeah, I kept fighting when you were gone. More, actually. I was.... kind of angry. Not at you! No no, just sort of, everything. All the time."

I looked him in the eyes, and when that failed I reached up and shifted some of his braids aside. "There we go," I said with a chuckle, finally seeing the sparkle of his eyes. I took a deep breath, wondering how to phrase stuff, when I decided that maybe a plastic folding table backstage at a vacating rock show wasn't the best place.

He sensed my pause and nodded, standing up. I glanced down once, reflexively, took a mental snapshot of his legs... thighs... general lap area, wondered how those pants were not painfully crushing him, and stood up, too. "Where are we going?" I said, a little unsteadily.

He made a steering-wheel motion, and I shook my head. "Man, I need at least an hour to get ok for driving. You should probably just, you know, go on without me. If you're in PA for a couple days we can... meet up..." I suddenly realized the awkwardness of the next stage after public displays of affection: what next?

He shook his head, and yanked on my arm again. "What? I can't leave my car, it... well... I suppose..."

The first kiss at the motel had been frantic, excited, and brief. The second kiss on stage had been purposeful, passionate, and drawn out. The third one, which I was now experiencing, could only be described as illegal in some states and probably requiring a warning label and disclaimer. One of his feet was standing on mine, and the other had managed to work its way completely around one of my legs. One set of claws was gripping my rear with enough force to leave scratches I knew would be there the next day, and five other claws sank into the back of my neck ever so slightly, pulling my head down and into his. He'd apparently figured out the problem with our last embrace, and now his head was tilted ninety degrees to mine as though he were trying to bite my tongue. His tongue was trying quite successfully to wrap around mine, and if I'd had any doubts about his size before, there was none now. I gripped him under his raised thigh, hoisting him higher, my hand gripping far more of his anatomy than I'd intended.

His breath caught and surged when my hand ended up wrapping almost entirely around the bulge running down his pant leg, and my own became ragged when I felt that incredibly thick and soft length of flesh pulse with the beat of his heart, growing firmer each time.

I tried to casually move my hand away, not wanting to get THIS fresh so quickly, but he slid down my body like a wet towel, both feet back on the ground, and stared up at me.

"I should go with you."

Ten minutes later, with James driving and Ricky chattering like a radio DJ in the passenger seat, me and Myles found ourselves crammed into the back of the van he called home. I took up most of the mattress which was never designed for a full-sized human, but Myles didn't mind, since he'd decided that shifting around as using ME as a bed was much more comfortable. I lay on my back, staring up at him, feeling his toes playing with mine. I couldn't see the front of the van beyond the vast landscape of his tail, but I didn't mind. I could HEAR them winking.

"Comfy back there, boys?"

"Yes, Ricky." I smiled, feeling Myles draw little nonsense pictures on my chest. Five-six to six-four, I probably was like a bed for him.

"I don't want to hear no hanky-panky back there."

"Don't worry, Ricky, you won't hear it."

"Good. Wait, what?"

Myles laughed his silent laugh and nipped at my neck. I shivered from the touch, but when he looked quizzically at me I had to reassure him it was a GOOD shiver. One of my hands was snuggled up above the tops of his jeans near the base of his tail, keeping him steady whenever we went around a corner, and my other was scritching him between the ears, feeling his braids flop around. When I scritched down his neck his entire body seemed to stretch and quiver and it was all I could do to not faint from the sensations.

"Hey, why's his tail shaking?"

"No reason."

James muttered something, and Ricky laughed uproariously. "I think we'd have noticed THAT."

I raised my eyebrows at Myles, and he just shook his head 'don't ask'. I smiled and kissed his nose, and he smiled and went back to nuzzling at my neck. This put my lips back up to his ear, and we continued.

"So," I whispered, confident that with his tail as a sound barrier even James's feline hearing couldn't pick it up, "you went back to being homeschooled?"

A nod affirmative against my neck. "Because they didn't want you meeting anyone else like me." Sad nod. "And that was until high school." Another nod. "When they thought you'd be ok in public school again." Nod.

"Wow. Your parents are dumb."

There was a pause, and I wondered if he'd pick up that I was mostly joking, then he nodded and licked at my earlobe. I shivered again and shifted my legs, and he responded by shifting his as well, pressing ever more interesting shapes and masses against my rather painfully aroused body. I tried to remind myself there was more to my best friend than just an unusual hormonal condition, but given my advanced state of inebriation, lust and horizontalness it was not easy.

"Did you have any girlfriends?" I tried to sound casual.

He sat up, resting his elbows on my lower ribs and staring down at me. I thought he was mad again, but he was just getting into two-way conversation mode. I'm buying him a god-damn Etch-A-Sketch, I decided. His hands formed an hourglass in front of me, and then he held up two fingers. "Two girlfriends," I translated. "At the same time?"

He thwapped me on the forehead and laughed. "Ok, total." He took a deep breath, seeming unsure how to proceed, and decided that the best way was to grind his hips against mine. I bit my lip, trying not to moan, trying to think of anything other than what he must be rubbing against me. He chuckled and kissed my lips briefly, but leaned back again and stared at me meaningfully.

"They...," I tried, caught my breath, and tried again. "They were just into you for your... uhm, size?"

Sad nod. I sighed. "Sorry," I whispered softly. "I... I hope that's not what you think I'm doing..."

His eyes widened and he shook his head in surprise, miming holding a video game controller. It took me a second, and I hazarded a guess. "We're better friends than that?"

He nodded vigorously, paused, and then ground his hips again, fastening his jaws onto my neck ever so softly. I gasped, loudly this time, and arched my back, everything going tingly. When I came back to earth several days later (or maybe seconds, I dunno), he had that meaningful stare again.

"But... we can be more than just friends," I said through a mouth full of cotton, wondering which of the two Myleses I was seeing was real.

A happy nod, tongue lolling.

"Hooray."

We lay like that for a long moment, he snuggled back into the nape of my neck, my hands chastely at my side. Before long he sighed, gripped my wrists, and very deliberately placed both of my hands alongside his tail. Just below his tail, to be specific. Below and to either side. I'm sure you get the picture. I had the brief realization that his ass felt very similar to Tanya's, which was a bit of a strange thing to think.

He started to draw on my chest, slowly and deliberately, the way he used to. It was a difficult skill to be able to interpret things drawn in that manner, and I was long out of practice, but eventually I figured out he was drawing a female figure. "Yeah, I had a couple girlfriends. Actually, I went out with Tanya for a long time. She used to pull your tail, remember her?"

He nodded. "Yeah, she was... she left me for a photographer."

Myles pantomimed flipping through a magazine, then turning the magazine sideways. I laughed. "No, not porn. Well, maybe by now, who knows? She'll have a pay site in no time."

He settled back down, and started drawing again. This was a slightly different drawing, but after a moment I figured out where the fingernail was focusing. Somehow, after all that had happened, I found the energy to blush. "No, no, uh... no boyfriends."

He nodded against my neck, and patted his chest. "You, either?" I must have sounded a little incredulous, since he leaned up and glared rather challengingly at me. "Well, I don't mean to sound disbelieving and all that, but... well... I dunno, I sort of thought you... this isn't coming out right, is it?"

Myles shook his head negatively. "Well, I just figured you'd be more popular with both sexes. I mean, when we were in the treefort... well, I guess we snuggled a little more than we were supposed to, but you're the one who put... well, ok, no, I guess I put my hand there FIRST, but then you put it there the SECOND time and... I'm overthinking this, aren't I?"

Affirmative nod, and the glare softened a tiny bit. I seized the opportunity. "I guess I've thought about you differently than... well, than guys in general. I like girls. A lot. And...," I gave him a very fond squeeze, snuggling my hands down a tiny bit lower, enough that my pinkies were brushing against the rear swells of the sac he managed to stuff into his jeans, "... and I like you a lot, too. I always have."

The glare continued, but then vanished entirely to be replaced by a saucy grin. He wriggled his rear in my hands, tail swishing back and forth and sparkling with static electricity where it brushed the floor-to-ceiling upholstery. He nodded once, patting his chest, and then burrowed against me once again, slipping his own hands underneath me and into my back pockets.

For many minutes, the only sound was our breathing, the wiper blades, the hum of the engine, and Ricky's running commentary on why new punk was superior to nineties punk but still inferior to eighties punk, which in itself was post-punk and not true punk, either. During that time, both me and Myles took the opportunity to, very slowly and carefully and with special attention paid to any cues to stop, explore each other's bodies.

Myles' hands roamed down my legs, and he had to move out of the way slightly in order to feel them on the way back up. I jerked slightly when both hands moved across my, er, zipper region, but he kept them moving, on up my torso to my shoulders, which were almost twice as wide as his. For my own part, I started out plumbing the depths of his tail, which was still just a thin, ropelike assembly of bone and tendons but with a fuzzy body and bounce that the funkiest of the 70's afro-minks would have been jealous of. When I had built up sufficient bravery, they returned to his surprisingly small bottom, explored the backs of his thighs briefly, and then sauntered up into the tummy and chest region. I still didn't really feel up to getting to second base with him (how did bases work between guys? Should it be a football metaphor? 'End Zone' jokes?)

I noticed it seemed brighter in the van, and looking up through the tiny rear door windows made it clear there were regular streetlights, highway sodium from the looks of them. "I think we're almost there," I whispered. "Where, uh... exactly is 'there'?"

"European Motor Lodge," came Ricky's voice from the front seat.

"Uh... thanks."

"Don't mention it. By the way, I'm not cleaning anything up back there."

Myles looked down at me, winked, and sat all the way up, legs straddling my waist. Inwardly chanting Zen mantras about cold showers and baseball, I watched the little fox-coyote spin on one knee like a ballerina, haul back one arm like a baseball pitcher, and smack the squirrel upside the head with a sound like a coconut being dropped from about six feet.

"AUGH! What was that for?" Myles was already laying back down on my body, quaking with laughter, and me doing my best to hold him still. Even James was chuckling, sounding like a boat motor that was trying to start. I ruffled the enormous tail and patted him on the back, happy to see that the irrepressible friend I'd known so long ago was very much alive and well.

"Don't see what was so funny," the squirrel groused as the van drifted sideways, hit a small bump, and slowed to a halt with a squeal of the brakes. Through the tiny square window I could see some upside down blue letters, but they could have been anything.

"I guess we're here," I said, and the little (relatively) half-fox nodded.

The two front doors open, and then slammed shut again, leaving us alone for the first time that night. Myles' fingers tapped on my chest, and mine tapped the jeans below the base of his tail. We heard other vans pull up outside, and voices drifted in through the poorly-sealed doors.

I didn't know what to do. I was never really the gung-ho take-charge type; in the past, that had always been Myles. He seemed to be vaguely uncomfortable as well, glancing around as though he'd never seen the interior of the van before. We'd gotten over the whole ten-year gap, but now there was a much more immediate future looming in front of us.

A stray vodka molecule grabbed two neurons and yanked, and broke the silence for us.

"I don't suppose you have a sleeping bag?"

His head swivelled around and his jaw dropped. I couldn't tell if it was shock or amusement or horror, but he held that pose for a couple breaths before collapsing into a giggling fit once again. I wasn't sure what had been quite THAT funny, but I joined in.

He slid a hand down along my body, snuggling it in between our bodies, and I froze, not sure what to expect. A moment later I blushed when the hand came back up, holding a little orange rectangle, with a shiny little metal doodad hanging off the end of it. When I was done admiring the sparkles, I recognized it as a motel key.

"Ah. Well... that works, too..."

He pounced, the kiss forcing my head back at an awkward angle, his hips sliding up to my belly. My hands flew out to the sides in surprise, but he was up in a flash and out the door before I could get my arms around him.

"I'm never going to get used to that," I said, hoping that it was true.

I slammed the door behind me, looking around for the unmistakable oversized tailfluff. Several people I dimly remembered from the show waved at me. Others gave me a thumbs up, others winked, and still others asked me if I had brought protection. I was halfway to the bank of motel doors before the import of that sank in, and my insides quivered.

Hey, you're on your own, said my little internal voice. This is new to me, too.

"Thanks," I quavered.

Three doors down I saw the tail twitch, vanish, and then reappear. It was followed by Myles' head, which nodded meaningfully at the door. I waved, and headed over, breaking out in a cold sweat, every forbidden mental image rising behind my eyes. He smiled and his body vanished again, leaving just the great ruddy tail, swaying back and forth what could only be called invitingly.

I stroked the soft tail when I got close enough, and he moved out of the way. I stepped forward, and the door closed behind me, leaving us both in the darkness of his motel room.

My heart pounded. My head pounded. Fireworks flashed at the corners of my vision as my blood pressure rose. A fuzzy hand found mine, and squeezed. I licked my lips.

"I missed you, too."

Chapter 9 - In The Air Tonight -------------------------------

There was just enough faint light seeping in around the edges of the drapes that I could make out the vaguest shapes of the motel room. There was a little dresser with a TV off to one side, next to a little kitchenette that seemed smaller than the one I had in the back of the Fas Gas. There was a little chair by the front door, and a small door at the back that probably led to the bathroom. And taking up most of the available space, as is the way of cheap motels everywhere, was a large, square bed. Taking up all of my attention, though, was the diminutive silhouette of Myles, and the scenery-blocking bulk of his tail.

We stared at eachother (or at least the faint outlines of eachother) for a long while, hearing only the click of the cheap bedside clock as it approached 2:00. Then his tail began to swish, and it was as though a herd of horseflies were trying to find their way out of the room. A smile split my face, a goofy and somewhat terrified smile that, somewhere, had some grimace in its lineage. My heart was thumping so hard I could feel it pressing against my throat.

"I..."

A fuzzy finger pressed against my lips, a move I knew very well. It was Myles' way of politely asking me to shut up, usually because he wanted to say, or at least express something.

What it was, I couldn't imagine. He could really only communicate visually, except for the little chest-doodles, and he didn't seem to be doing that. It was almost pitch-black, I doubted I'd be able to see his hands, let alone his fingers or gestures. He moved backwards towards the bed, and I was the tiniest bit disappointed he didn't pull me along with him. My feet were tingly and seemed to have flown away while I was distracted; I wasn't going anywhere. (please YouTube the song '4am')

"I walked around my good intentions, and found that there were none."

My jaw dropped. I'd seen him sing on stage a couple times now, but never in my life, in our life together, had he ever made a sound to me, not like this. I half-remembered the song from an old album, and a music video involving some sort of big black car, but rational thought was slipping through my fingers like fine sand. His voice was sweet and raspy at the same time, thick with emotion.

"I blamed my father for the wasted years.... we hardly talked."

He was singing for me, just for me. There was no audience, there was no music, there were no instruments. For the very first time, he was using his voice for me, and no-one else. One eye went all teary, and the already dark room blurred. The import of the words were not missed.

"Never thought I would forget this hate... but a phone call made me realize I'm wrong."

My feet moved. I seemed to drift across the cheap carpet, the walls melting away to inky blackness on all sides, studded with diamonds and stars just for we two. Little claws danced their way up my chest, but he moved to the side, cottony tail gently thwapping me. My knee hit the side of the bed, but I stayed standing. Until the next like, at least.

"And if I don't make it... known that... I've loved you all along."

The tingling spread from my feet to my knees, and I slumped to the bed. It was obviously a motel bed, about as comfortable as a giant whole wheat cracker, but I didn't care. Myles was, for lack of a better word, twirling around the foot of the bed now, hands clutched to his chest as though he were holding a microphone, or maybe a bouquet of flowers.

"Just like sunny days that... we ignored because."

I was proud of myself for going almost two whole minutes without trying to grope him with my eyes, but on his next twirl I found my gaze sliding down his slender body, trying to pick out details in the faint light. Except for a brief outline when he moved between me and the cheap coffee machine in the corner, he was nothing but a shadow with the voice of an angel.

"We're all dumb and jaded, and I hope to God I figure out what's wrong."

His next twirl carried him around the foot of the bed, tail humming like a swarm of angry bees. It wasn't ideal, and it didn't seem fair to me that if he wanted to communicate on a vocal level it had to be through song, but I was just so happy that my little Myles had found his voice after so many silent years. I ached to ask him what had caused his breakthrough, but this didn't seem like the time.

"I walked around my room not thinking, just sinking in this box."

The sadness in his voice was almost unbearable, and I wanted to reach out and hug him and comfort him, but he seemed to be working up to something. If he'd been overthinking this whole situation half as much as I had, then I needed to let him do what he needed to do.

That made sense, right?

"I blame myself for being too much like somebody else..."

My mouth opened, but closed again. Maybe the song was drifting a little bit off course from his message, and he just had to go with the best he could? There really weren't that many songs perfectly adaptable to our situation. Myles' arms moved in complicated circles, and I wished I could see his dancing in better light.

"I never thought I would just bend this way... and then a phone call made me realize I'm wrong."

I was still trying to puzzle the lyrics together, my higher brain functions temporarily reasserting control. So focused on trying to unravel the message was I that I didn't notice that Myles had stopped twirling until the bed seemed to shift under his weight. I turned to see if he had lost his balance, my hands coming up, and I was met with an armful of fur. I could wrap my arms completely around him and almost grip my own elbows, so great was the size difference, and it took me a moment to realize I was only feeling fur. Somewhere during his dance, his shirt had vanished.

His mouth moved up close, his damp nose tickling my own. "And if I don't make known that... I've loved you all along," he continued to croon, tiny claws caressing my neck. I could feel one of his legs slip across my lap, and my hands began to slide downwards of their own accord.

"Just like sunny days that we've ignored, because..." My hands reached the taut, muscular base of his tail, and another inch revealed to me that his jeans had also, somewhere during his recitation, disappeared. One eye wandered briefly to try and find it before the message was fully delivered to my brain that Myles, all fluff and tail and deliciously soft flesh, was completely naked.

"We're all dumb and jaded, and I hope to God I figure out what's wrong." By the time the final words passed his lips they were little more than a whisper. I, on the other hand, had turned into a nervous quivering wreck. I thought his body was shaking like a leaf until I realized that it was me that was shaking, jostling him back and forth.

My hands stayed where they were, though. He had snuggled his tush nicely into them, and my thumbs could feel his tail swishing from side to side. I tried not to think about anything else that was going on down there, though. Imagination and fantasy had crashed it's train right into my reality, and right now emergency crews were trying to sort things out.

He nipped at my lower lip, and my entire body twitched enough to make the bedsprings squeak.

He pushed himself back, little paws resting against my chest, but my arms still held him tight. He cocked his head, and in the dim light I could see the twinkle of concern in his eyes. He made another move to escape my grasp, maybe to move off the bed, and I stopped him again.

"I..." I started again, and stopped. Boy, the English language was giving me a lot of trouble this week. That has to be the third time I've done that. Maybe being mute was contagious. "Don't."

His legs flexed, and I could feel other shapes pressing against my lower belly as he tried to wriggle free, but I squeezed him one more time. I took a deep breath, and tried again. "Don't... go. Is what I was trying to say. Don't go. Stay."

Myles' immense tail twirled quickly in a spiral, something I remembered meant confusion or frustration. Hey, I didn't say I could make this easy for either of us! I barely knew what day it was.

It was time for a leap, though. Something brave. I'd been merely dipping my toes into this whole thing while Myles had leaped in, and was bobbing around singing about how the water felt fine. It wasn't fair to him.

And then the words came to me.

"I concede that you were right about this place," I murmured, horrified at the sound of my own voice trying to be musical. I really didn't have a good voice for shower singing, let alone holding-a-naked-boy-in-my-arms serenading, but I was giving it my best, dammit. "I can make a perfect likeness of your body, if I trace. I can hold you, 'till you turn out the light, and I can't... see...."

I could just see his eyes growing huge in the near-darkness, and his jaw dropped. I can't tell if he recognized the song or not (it wasn't a hit anywhere, just an old B-side) but I knew that, on some level, I was making sense. The rest of the song didn't quite fit what I was trying to say, but that was all right, since further singing was made quite impossible.

He might have been a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet (ok, maybe one-fifty if his tail got wet) but there was a lot of power in that lithe frame, and the impact of his chest against mine, his muzzle against my mouth, and then the back of my head against the headboard all surprised me. He gasped when the clonk of my skull filled the room and he tried to sit up, but I just laughed and pulled him back down again.

A little shifting and we were laying much how we had in the van, me on my back, his entire body using my frame for a bed. He wrapped his arms around my neck, shoving the pillows out of the way and fairly attacking me with kisses. The feel of his teeth against my skin, gentle but still very noticeable, was far, far more arousing than I'd ever have guessed. I nuzzled at his ears, still as flopped over as when we'd been young, and a little nibble caused his entire body to stiffen against me, and I was rewarded with a little gasp.

"I got a noise out of you that time," I whispered, giving another little squeeze as he ground his rump against my hands. He nodded against my neck, and then I felt little pinpricks of dainty claws dancing down my chest, down my side, down to the pocket where I had my car keys, and then over...

I hadn't realized just how obviously aroused I was until his hand found the marble-hard bulge in my jeans and gave it a squeeze. I spasmed in response, more than happy to discover that the expected uncomfortableness was not there. His leg slid up the inside of my thigh, forcing my own leg out to the side which only served to give him more room to explore. Tiny hands stroked and fondled me through my clothes, and I had to bite my lip to not moan, and I don't even know how I didn't finish right then and there.

He must have sensed my tension and I felt his hands retreat. I wanted to protest and tell him not to stop on my account, but after a few insistent tugs I realized what was happening. A few more tugs and a little contortion of my upper body, and my black shirt joined his somewhere in the empty recesses of the motel room.

"That's... better," I managed to croak, still nervous but now more eager than ever. He laid himself out on me again, and the feel of that silky fuzz against my pink skin put the sensation of tiny teeth almost to shame (not that I didn't want him to keep doing THAT, either, mind you!) I don't know what it felt like to him, but it was somewhere near heaven for me. My hands found his lower back again, sliding down to his rear, but I was stopped by a steely grip at my wrists.

He looked down at me, balanced precariously, and I looked back up in askance. He took a deep breath, tugged and rolled to the side. I rolled with him, pinning one of my own arms beneath me but letting him guide my other.

"Oh," I managed. I was proud I even got that far.

We faced eachother on our sides. His braids had all slipped to one side and I could see his ears twitching furiously, the surest sign he was nervous. I didn't know what he had to be nervous about, though... I was the one who'd just managed to get to second base. Third? I lost count.

His hand still gripped my wrist, keeping me from moving my own hand away. Not that I wanted do. It was filled beyond capacity with velvety-smooth flesh, soft and giving but growing firmer with each beat of his heart, which I could easily feel. It was like feeling a sweater that had been rolled up tightly, though it was considerably hotter than mere fabric. Slowly he released his grip, when he was sure I wasn't going anywhere.

Breathless, heart thudding so bad I thought I might get a concussion, I squeezed.

The effect was startling. He seemed to be fighting the urge to curl up into a ball, and he was clearly biting his tongue. A hand sank into my hip, digging quite firmly, while the other still pinned beneath me hummed like a bandsaw. The luxurious anatomy I held, however, still had my full attention. My fingers closed slightly, fingertips almost touching, but then it swelled in response, throbbing urgently. It pressed against my palm ever so slightly, beginning to angle out from his body.

"Wow," I breathed hoarsely, beginning to make good on my musical promise. I inched down the bed slightly, my hand slowly stroking down the length of his implausibly-large sheath. Farther and farther I reached, and yet there still seemed to be more, always more. I gasped loudly when the backs of my fingers bonked into the unmistakable bone of his knee, and still there seemed to be more. My mind whirled, reeled, trying to figure out the dimensions involved, and failing utterly.

A moment later, though, I reached the nape of his sheath, where it bulged slightly and then tapered. If I had thought his flesh had been hot before, it was nearly scalding here, and, I realized with weak-kneed desire, quite damp. My hand shifted position, slipping around to caress from the other side and started its slow trek back up. Myles seemed to be keeping very, very carefully still, breathing shallowly.

Eventually, trying my best not to rush things, I reached the base of his phenomenal sheath, feeling it bulge out there as well like a grapefruit in a sock. My fingertips, snuggled up underneath all of that bulk, brushed the taut, satiny surface of his sac, and his entire body vibrated like a bell struck by a sledgehammer.

"Is that.... ok?" I cooed softly into his ear, and I had to chuckle when his vigorous nodding almost gave me rugburn on my neck. "Oh, good."

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about this scenario before. I never admitted to myself that it was Myles specifically in my fantasies, or that I was into anything like this, but it had been him, and it had been all this. Remarkably, he was bigger in real life than I'd ever dared let myself imagine him, and I was suddenly worried about my ability to... to... well, to satisfy him.

I had to shift off of my hand, which was starting to go to sleep, and he scooted backwards a little bit, tail arcing around and resting like a gentle cloud across both our bodies. Not for the first time I wondered if this wouldn't be easier with the lights on, but there was a certain comforting mystery to the darkness.

Freed to explore again, both of my hands tickled their way down his tummy, not hesitating the way I had before. He shifted a tiny bit more to the side, rolling several degrees onto his back and exposing his entire body to me. The light grey portions were somewhat visible in the dim light, which I was growing accustomed to, but his nethers still only revealed themselves to me by touch.

My eyes almost rolled back into my head when my hands had to sweep out wide to take in and properly fondle his stretched sac. Before it had looked like a cantaloupe stuffed into his trousers, but now it felt like two. I would be very much surprised if each one wasn't larger than his head (not counting the muzzle). I don't think I'd even be able to walk if I were half that size, but he had been this way all his life.

My breath left me in a rush when, against all probability, I clearly felt them expand, becoming smoother, firmer, and above all heavier. I tried to say something meaningful, like "Oh my God," or "Jesus Christ," or "Will you marry me," but there was nothing I could say.

For, I dunno how long, a minute or two or maybe a couple years, we remained still, me simply cupping (or trying to cup) his incredible size, and him focusing on breathing in and out, in and out. When I finally remembered to breathe, I took the opportunity to lean in closer and plant a firm kiss on his lips, wondering why I had to reassure him but just knowing that I had to.

His hands flew around my neck and he clung to me, forehead burrowed into my bare chest. To keep from falling off the bed I was forced to let go of him, but I thought, we're probably going to be here for a while, I don't mind if i have to start ALL over again. I cradled him comfortingly, one arm around his shoulders and the other tugging his hips closer.

"Were you worried about... about this?"

A slow, hesitant nod.

"Did you think you'd scare me off?"

Another nod, and a sniffle.

I tipped a finger under his chin and aimed his muzzle upwards. "Let's just say you... made an impression on me when we were younger," I said, hoping it sounded half as confident and alluring as I was shooting for.

His tail began to wag frantically, and even in the darkness I could see his teeth when his lips pulled back into an enormous grin.

"Now wh..." I started, but in what seemed to be my lot in life, I was cut off. Not with a kiss, which I half-expected (how can you half-expect something?) but by suddenly having a popular singer-slash-bass-player perched on my stomach. I chuckled when he started to scoot backwards, and gasped when his fingers found and undid my belt, button and zipper in what had to be some sort of a world record. "Whoa, ok..."

The following scene Myles wanted deleted from the story, but he's not in charge so he can go to hell. Yeah, that's right, I said it.

He scootched down further, yanking with surprising force for such a little guy. In a moment he was on his knees between my legs (there's something I never expected to tell someone!) and dragging my jeans past my knees, but he seemed to have forgotten that I was wearing heavy shoes. I tried to sit up to help, but another yank pulled my butt across the mattress, and by then I was helpless to resist the giggling that was welling up from within.

He slipped off the bed entirely, standing upright and continuing to pull, while I continued to laugh myself into a painful stomach cramp. The yanking stopped but one of my legs was still being held up, and when I opened my eyes to see what the issue was, the sight of him standing there with one hand on his hip, glaring at me, caused me to collapse into fits of hilarity once again.

I felt a playful slap on my leg, and then a resigned sigh as he fiddled with my laces. Tears were streaming down my face as I struggled to catch my breath, and by the time I was sitting up again, he'd managed to get both shoes off.

"Do you want some help?" I giggled nonchalantly, and was rewarded with a wadded ball of denim to the face. I flung my pants aside just in time to end up with that sweet armful of coyle sitting on my chest once again.

His knees gripped my flanks as though he were riding me like a horse, which, all things considered, was sort of the direction I was heading in. His permanently-puffed tail was wagging energetically, completely engulfing my erection and giving it the most incredible sensations it's ever experienced (the rest of me was jealous). My hands flailed for a moment before deciding to settle onto his hips, and that was when I realized why the rest of my torso seemed so warm.

"Gyar," I managed to wheeze. My eyes had adjusted more or less to the faint light in the room, the orange from the sodium lamps in the parking lot, the blue from the LED clock on the microwave, the red from the alarm clock on the bedside table. Myles was a glowing, shimmery ghost sitting on my belly button, his hands locked behind his ears, smiling down at me, and down, where his body met mine, was the faint but absolutely incredible outline of his blessed size.

"Fwahhh," I continued weakly. His sac was stretched around two testes that looked like glossy black bowling balls, and not the five-pin kind, and I could feel their heat intensely against my skin. Propped up by those tremendous orbs was his unmistakable tube-like sheath, which I finally realized was the same ruddy grey-red as the rest of his underbelly. It reached from where he sat, arcing over my stomach, resting heavily on my chest, and very nearly touching the tiny dimple between my collarbones. I was reasonably sure that, as it was, his sheath was wider than his upper arm. I moved my hands around, and then nodded when my suspicions were confirmed.

"Wow," I finished, pleased to have made a recognizable sound.

He nodded bashfully, and gestured to himself as if to say 'Well, this is me. Want to change your mind?'.

He inched backwards again, my shaft now being bonked by his tail rather than caressed by it, his own incredible nethers dragging slowly across my torso. Another scoot, and I was protected from his tail, and it was with some startlement that I realized it was because I was currently snuggled up very intimately with his rear.

Half of my mind was yelling 'Oh, man, this is too far for the first night,' while the other half was screaming 'KEEP MOVIG BACK! JUST A FEW MORE INCHES, OH GOD JUST KEEP MOVING!'

I'm not sure what his mind was screaming, but he did stop. He wiggled his hips a few times, though, just to let me know that I was not entirely forgotten back there. I felt myself twitch a few times, almost kicking off something unstoppable, but things settled down again.

I slid one hand back along his sheath, and the other down his body, until they met once again at his sac. I couldn't help it, I was utterly fascinated how someone so small, in terms of, y'know, height and stuff, could have balls THAT big. It defied logic, but then again, so did the whole situation. I know furry morphology was a lot more varied (or as my dad called it, 'interesting') than human, but still, Myles was fucking amazing.

He nodded and tapped my arm twice, his symbol for 'thanks', and I realized I'd spoken that last part out loud. Still, I wasn't ashamed. I gave a gentle squeeze, and smiled when he shivered again. I felt his sheath throb, and I explored it further as well. I could just feel turgid veins beneath the surface, and I was still utterly floored (or at least bedded) that he was still soft. Not even soft, by anthro standards, having not even emerged yet.

I took a deep breath, lifting him into the air, and squeezed much more firmly this time, stroking and tugging back to his base. He threw back his head, howling silently, mouth open, tail a hurricane against my legs, and the entire sheath seemed to jump in my hands, thickening dramatically. Bicep hell, he was closing in on being wider than his damn thigh. The nape of his sheath bulged, strained against the impossible girth within, and I felt a few drops of something hot and musky against my chest.

He leaned back now, body forming an obtuse angle to mine, and sank his claws none too gently into my thighs. My own shaft, paled in comparison to his, was bent somewhat awkwardly too, but still snuggled up somewhere so warm and inviting I didn't care. My hands held something that seemed alive in its own right, each beat of his heart causing the veins to distend more, almost visible against the delicate, overstretched skin of his sheath. Scooted back as he was, it was once again almost reaching my collarbones. My nostrils were filled with his scent, and the nape struggled once more before finally releasing his trapped endowment.

His entire body seemed to sag with relief as the taxed flesh of his sheath receded, but for every inch it pulled back the newly-exposed shaft swelled forwards. In moments I could feel that his fuzzy sheath only extend maybe twelve inches from his body, but now there was blazingly-hot and glossy-black skin draped across my chest, against my neck and snuggling up next to my cheek on the pillow.

And still he grew, and the point was driven home that only NOW was he considered, by his people, to be 'soft'.

"Fuck," I breathed.

He nodded, patting me reassuringly on my belly next to where his sheath had retracted to.

"I mean, I knew you were big."

A nod.

"I mean, REALLY big. Like... well, ok, it's not like I did a lot of research or anything, but there's not many people your size on the internet."

A nod, but a curious head cock as well.

"Ok, maybe I did a... a little research."

He stared at me, or maybe just stared at the backs of his braids, but his muzzle was aimed straight at me. Beside me, tucked up against me like a strangely affectionate anaconda with a fever, his soft shaft continued to throb and shift slightly, periodically managing to squeeze another inch out of the recumbent sheath. His hand waved, urging me on.

"Well... ok, sure I, you know, looked online. Just sort of... curious. You know." I patted his soft, slick shaft, near the base and near the tip, still in far too much shock as to its size to really be nervous anymore. "Looking back, I guess I was just thinking of you the whole time."

His knees clamped onto my hips and he lowered his body again, bringing his chest to mine (or at least as close as he could get with his throbbing endowments between us) and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Somehow, THAT was cuter and more alluring than the impossible peep show I had just been given. His bottom wriggled, and I could feel the breeze generated by his tail against my legs. The rest of me was still tucked in, as it were.

I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around his slender frame and squeezing him tight, which caused his tumescent gift to tense and swell against my cheek. My eyes rolled back from the combination of sensations, and I felt myself go suddenly, urgently, painfully hard against his tail. His lips split in a giggle, and he wiggled his hips again.

"Sorry," I blushed, "I can't really help it."

He shrugged, and patted his shaft. It occurred to me that, given the height differences, when he was soft it must come up past the top of his head. SOFT. "I guess you can't help how you are, either?"

He nodded. He made a motion that looked like scissors, and I was aghast. "Don't tell me though thought about a reduction!"

He sighed mutely, and nodded, tapping his fingers restlessly against my chest. "Was it your parents' idea?"

He shook his head. "Girlfriends?"

Still negative. "Just... you didn't like being bigger than everyone else?"

A long pause, and then a nod. I sighed, and nodded as well. "I guess it's not easy being different," I said softly, giving him a little squeeze. "Not for nothing, but I'm glad you decided to stay the way you are."

He nuzzled his own shaft, a sight that almost sent me over the edge again, and chuckled, shoulders shaking. "I'm just a little... uhm... well, let's say 'intimidated'."

Myles smiled, and nuzzled my cheek next, giving me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. I felt him lick my ear, and I shivered all over. I stroked the longer fur of his back, and I realized that his body seemed to be sloping up towards his butt. I tilted my head to the side, trying to figure out what was going on when I realized that, while our chests might be separated by the several inch thickness of his soft and tender shaft, his hips were currently resting on top of what seemed to be a pair of glossy black soccer balls. I softly stroked one, not wanting to press too hard.

"Do those... you know, hurt at all?"

He shook his head, and then nodded briefly. "They kinda hurt?" I drew my hand away, suddenly concerned.

His head snapped around and he carefully replaced my hand where it had been. God, it was like patting a giant ham that had just come out of the oven. His hands waved indistinctly while he figured how to put whatever it was into words. Eventually he just sighed and patted my hand again, making sure it stayed put. "They sort of hurt, but this is nice? Then I'm your man."

I could feel his body bounce as he laughed. I was curious, though. "They're, not, like... full, are they?"

He paused, and I could see his braids shift as his eyebrows drew close together. His answer was snuggling in close again and giving my earlobe a little lick.

"Oh, no you don't, I know when you're trying to change the subject."

He exhaled into my ear, and then nodded. "Is that one of the things that... you know, sort of caused problems for you?"

His tongue rasped my neck, and my other hand caressed his other swollen teste. We lay like that for some time, until I whispered "I think I'll manage."

Tiny teeth nipped at my neck, and I chuckled. "Hey, what sort of boyfriend would I be if I didn't do my best?"

He was up like a shot, hands on my chest, rump once again settling comfortably where I never thought I'd want someone's rump, gloriously overfilled sac resting on my belly. His jaw was hanging open, and he actually used one hand to push his braids up and out of the way so he could stare even more incredulously.

"What?"

He tapped his ear. "What, boyfriend? I... well... uhm... you're sitting naked on my crotch right now."

Myles tilted his head to the side, conceding the point.

Realization was starting to sink in, prodded by the slowly increasing pressure against the side of my face. I turned my head slightly, lips brushing across the delicate tightening skin of his length, and we gasped in unison. A little further, and it was pressing against my chin, my lips, and my nose, the faint background light playing along it's glossy surface.

Hey, came that little voice in my head. You're kissing his cock. Just... just thought you might like to know that.

Being a gentleman, I declined to answer.

I kissed it with more vigour, my tongue lightly playing over its surface, and Myles was bent obtuse once again, body shaking like a leaf, claws gripping my knees hard enough that I feared for my future imaginary soccer career. The entire heavy weight of his soft shaft shifted, tensed, and I could feel the nearly invisible veins just below the surface swell anew. It moved an inch, stroking my cheek tenderly, and then another inch. And then another.

"God," I managed to whisper, cognizant that he was finally growing hard. And growing seemed to be the key term.

His body jumped, landing rather heavily on my lap again, and I felt more than heard a strange thump from somewhere above my head. I slid one hand up along his shaft, past my chest, past my head, to where his glans had just reached the headboard.

"Uhm...," I said, really not sure what words were appropriate for a situation like this. Pardon me, but your dick has outgrown the bed. How do you go about saying that? Not wanting him to bend or break something we were both quite fond of, I reluctantly lifted it up and clear of the faux-hogany headboard, giving it, well, at least a little more room. It continued to grow thicker and heavier, oh God heavier, forcing my fingers apart.

He was looking at me, panting from the exertion, and it occurred to me that this, just the simple act of getting READY for love, must be taxing on the little guy. He shrugged again, head tilted sadly to one side, and I patted his sac reassuringly. "Just more to love," I said with far more bravery than I felt.

He pointed at me, using his other hand to help support his semi-aroused self, and shook his head negatively. "You want to stop?"

He paused, and pointed at me again. "You're asking if I want to stop?"

Another pause, and I was a little shocked to see his teeth bare, and not in the smiling manner. He gripped his braids and yanked, a sign of exasperation I had only seen a few other times. I saw up, or at least as much as I could in my position. "What is it? Just... just take your time. I can get a pen..."

His head whipped side to side, and he rapidly pat his own chest, his burgeoning endowment, and then me, and shook his head again. That one didn't take too much translating, but there were still a couple ways it could be interpreted. "You don't want to... go all the way?"

And then his forehead was against my chest, his arms were around my body, and his tail was hoisted into the air as he teeter-tottered over his unrealistically but alluringly immense sac. I'm not terribly bright, and this isn't exactly a common situation for me, but figured one thing out pretty quick.

"Are you a virgin?"

His whiskers rubbed against my chest, and I could feel the heat of his tongue counterpoint the much larger and more pressing heat of the shaft squeezed between us. Every time it throbbed, my own twitched against the fluff of his tail, and I wondered how much longer I'd be able to last before my body just gave in and finished things up for me.

I kissed the top of his head, stroking between his ears with one hand and ruffing the base of his tail with the other. "If it's any consolation, all of this is... sort of new to me, too," I chuckled, giving his somehow still-hardening member a little kiss, "but do you mean, like, completely? Girls, too?"

A pause, and another sad nod.

"Wow. But, you had girlfriends?"

He nodded, patted his shaft, then his sac, and then mimed his fingers walking up my chest. "You got... I mean, they saw how big you were, how big you got, and they LEFT?"

A nod.

My heart pounded, but not out of desire (well, not entirely). No, now it was pounding with rage. My fist closed around the whip-like base of his tail and I almost yanked in frustration, but good sense and the memory of sharp teeth stopped me. "What the hell, seriously? That's fucked up. Yes, you're big, you're, ok, you're fucking huge, but come on, you're AWESOME, too! Why would they, I mean, it just doesn't, you know... what the hell?!"

I didn't realize how angry I sounded until I felt him sit up, pressing both of his hands against my shoulders, pinning me while he kissed me. It was a long, and slow, and very tender kiss, not urgent or passionate at all, and I realized he was thanking me.

The sound of his shaft rubbing up against the headboard, and eventually freeing itself with a faint twang like the low-E on his bass, caused the kiss to turn into fitful giggles on both our parts.

"I'm not going anywhere because of this," I murmured into his ear when we settled down again. "Hell, if anything it's just one more reason to love you. Two. Well, ok, three," I finished, resting my hands on the sides of his balls where they extended out past the width of his slender body. They felt even tighter now, struggling to contain everything, and I wondered just how much his poor body could handle?

Then I wondered how much MY poor body could handle, and I quivered. He was chuckling again, though, and didn't notice.

I kissed the top of his head again, and his tongue lapped playfully at my side. When I turned and kissed the side of his shaft, now propped up against the wall and suspended an inch or two above my face, the lick became a nibble, and then almost full-on gnawing. He scooted down my body, and I could feel the weight of his sack dragging across my loins, my erection, and then my thighs, eventually settling heavily between my knees. I had to part my legs just so he could rest them more comfortably against the mattress.

I was so focused on the transit of his cock, sliding sleekly back down the headboard, and covering it with kisses and licks as it slid along my cheek, my neck, my chest, until the very tip was snuggled comfortably against my sternum, that I didn't notice where all of his movement was leading him. I sat up slightly, still staring awestruck at the tapered but still outlandishly huge glans of his shaft, feeling each little throb cause it to swell a tiny bit larger, feeling the immense girth of his shaft against my own, and it took me a second to see that he had shifted his paws to rest on the bed by my hips, and was looking down.

"Wha...," I managed before his muzzle clamped down around my member, and my simple question turned into a long drawn-out moan through clenched teeth. His lips wrapped around the base, his tongue explored almost my entire length with ease (the benefits of a canine boyfriend!) and when he drew his head up slightly the sudden section almost lifted my hips right off the bed.

One of my hands found his, and he squeezed back hard. My other hand flailed, adrift, until I felt his glans flare suddenly against my lower belly. I caressed it lovingly, equal parts scared and excited as to how big it was getting, and the fact that he still wasn't COMPLETELY hard. When he drew his muzzle back again I was forced to turn my head sideways and muffle my groans.

The next few minutes are a little bit of a blur, but from what I can piece together from rumours and innuendo I spent the entire time making enough noise for the two of us, and the thin motel pillows still let enough sound through that the people in the rooms next to us applauded when I came out the next morning. Every time I was about to climax, all motion from Myles stopped, and I could feel little canine pinpricks against the base of my shaft. I would twitch and spasm in his mouth, but eventually settle down again.

Four times he did that. I was cursing him by the fourth time, but it was the sort of cursing that's built on a foundation of love and admiration. I'd begun to fear I'd be backing up as big as he was by the end, but when I felt the inexorable approach of an orgasm a fifth time, I felt his hand squeeze mine hard enough to leave a mark. His muzzle lifted up, higher and higher until his tiny front teeth were just nicking my tip, and then he dropped back down.

I could probably come up with some flowery ways to describe what happened next, using words like 'explosive' and 'liquid fire' and 'fury of a thousand suns', but every time I try it never really comes close to what actually occurred. I do know that it was, far and away by several orders of magnitude, the best climax of my entire life (up to that point), and every time it started to fade the feel of his tongue completely encircling me kept things going.

When I started breathing again in deep ragged gasps, the first sensation I noticed was a painful internal ache that made me wonder if I'd done so much damage with that orgasm that nothing would ever feel good again.

The second was of his head resting on my thigh, and little tiny tongue-licks flicking against my flagging self.

The third was the impossible weight that pressed against me from just below my knee to just below my chest. I opened my eyes and looked up, but all I could see were these pesky fireworks, so I had to do it all by braille. One hand was occupied scritching Myles between his ears, and the other explores the marble-hard features of his member, which was now absolutely and undeniably hard.

"Wow," I whispered, and I felt his shoulders jiggle with his laughter. "You... you are very good at that, f-for your first time..." I felt a kiss against my other thigh, and I smiled.

The veins were not huge or anything, but they were certainly working overtime. My fingertips traced up and down, feeling the distinct changes in tendon and ligament that supported his spectacular size. Most of the shaft that I could feel was as thick as a two-liter bottle of Coke, though infinitely more interesting in texture. It was tight and smooth, vibrating faintly under all of that amazing internal tension. It tapered somewhat behind the glans, maybe an inch, two at the most, before it bulged out again. The fingers that were stroking his ears paused to briefly gauge the size of his skull, and I nodded to myself. Yup, it was bigger than his head.

I tried my eyes again. They were still staring at the pretty lights. No good.

My hand began to stroke rhythmically now, less meandering. I couldn't reach all the way down to the base, but the couple feet that were within my range were going to get my very best. At the apex of each stroke, his body twitched slightly, his tail slapping against my side, and his shaft jumped. I felt heat and wetness against my flesh again, and the strange, musky and altogether intoxicating smell of his desire filled my head.

When my other hand left his ears to join in the fun, though, he sat up and gripped my wrist. I looked at him, and even though it was STILL mostly just fireworks, I could just see his silhouette when he shook his head no.

"What? But... why?" I sat up a little bit, and he shifted off of my legs. I was more than a little sad to feel all of his delicious weight against me, but I still snuggled my legs up close around him when he got settled at the foot of the bed. Somehow his sac had found the ability to contain even more, and if they were smaller than a pair of midnight-black basketballs then I was a duck named Morris. Seeing his body and his outrageously aroused shaft at the same time threw the size of both into stark relief, and I felt myself fall a teensy bit more in love.

He took a deep breath, shaft bouncing, and sighed. He rest one hand against mine where it was still stroking him, and the other on my knee, and began to draw with one claw. Other than the chest, the space just on the inside of your leg was a good spot to doodle, as long as you avoided tickling.

"N... O...T... 2... N...I...T... wait, not tonight? Why not tonight? I'm not... ok, I'm a little out of it from just now, but trust me, I really, REALLY want you to enjoy..." His finger was tapping insistently, so I shut up. The drawing continued.

"M...O...R...N...I... morning? You want to wait until the morning?"

He nodded, sliding his hand up my thigh and giving my mostly-exhausted nethers a find squeeze. I jumped, but had to laugh.

"Well... you're in charge, I guess, but... Jesus, dude, look at you, can you even WAIT until morning?"

He nodded, and it seemed that there was a tired, almost resigned slump to his shoulders. "Do you sleep like this a lot?"

Myles slipped one leg over mine, leaning down and resting the side of his body against mine. I had to scoot my legs out even wider to make room for his sac, which was pressing up quite warmly against mine. His head settled against my chest, and his glorious and perfect shaft slid up along my body, coming to rest just shy of the headboard. He wriggled once to get comfortable, and then started to draw on the space between his body and his shaft. There wasn't much.

"Why do you want to wait?" I murmured into the top of his head, giving him a little kiss. I had resigned myself to my fate, although I supposed there were worse sentences than being forced to sleep with the most gorgeous coy-fox on the planet in an advance state of arousal. Seriously, where did he get the blood pressure to power that thing?

Myles started to draw on my chest, and I heard him yawn, jaw stretching wide enough to almost stick my whole head in. "No... hurt... you? I mean, me? You don't want to hurt me?"

I have to say, the thought had occurred to me. I was new to this whole 'being in love with a guy' thing, or at least admitting it and thinking about the physical aspect of it, but almost every scenario I could think of involved some rather, er, awkward positioning. I hadn't been averse to the concept before tonight, and even now I was only growing more fond of the idea, but it was still a little daunting!

"I... well... how will it be better in the morning?"

His head tilted up and he licked the underside of my chin. I managed to snap my head down fast enough to give him a kiss before he could move away, and he giggled, smooching me back. I wrapped one arm all the way around him and was still able to rest it on his gravid shaft, while my other stroked the soft fur of the leg he had thrown over mine, periodically giving his sac a little petting.

"Well?"

He nuzzled my neck, and drew two more words. "Trust... me. You. Trust you. Well, I do trust you, Myles, more than anyone, but... well... I..." I sighed, and squeezed him tight. "I'll always wait for you."

He nodded, and I was surprised when he sniffed. I slid my hand up his shaft until I was almost rubbing my own shoulder, and gently stroked his cheek, feeling wetness. My own eyes misted up a little bit.

"I love you."

We drifted off to sleep, me snuggling up with his fuzzy body and rock-hard cock, and my last memory is his little claw drawing a heart on my chest.