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Francis was nervous.

He'd never been to a gay bar before, and he'd never tried to pick up someone before. Yet here he is, heading out quite late (after drinking a few beers at home, for extra courage and to save money), on his own. He pauses for a moment at the threshold, under the neon sign, Hunter/Prey.

He is dressed the way he thought a gay fox should dress when attending such a venue: a tight black t-shirt (he hopes the colour hides the touch of bellyfat he finds so embarrassing), a pair of thin, billowing pants (he hopes these hide his bottom, sure it's too big), a red g-string (bought earlier in the day, he hopes people can see its outline through his pants), and a nifty pair of bright red shoes - stolen from his ex-boyfriend, Fentiman.

Fancis and Fenti had known each other since school. Their friendship grew over several years, before Francis finally opened up about his sexuality to Fenti: I think I'm gay, he typed, while chatting online.

Francis followed his confession with reassurance that he wasn't sexually attracted to Fenti. Francis said that he didn't know his 'type', but was pleased to have a friend like Fenti, someone smart and worldly and inspiring and trustworthy.

Fenti thanked Francis for his trust, and the two chatted away for a little while, as friends do. Francis felt good.

Two days later, online again, Fenti told Francis that he knew a couple of gay furs - friends of his family - and that he was curious about, as he put it, 'the whole gay thing'. I don't think I'm gay, typed Fenti, but the idea of being with another guy makes me feel a bit funny inside.

Francis's eyes widened. (In keeping with a long-standing agreement between he and Fenti about emoticons, he did not type "O.O".) Fenti went on to propose that the two friends, young and inexperienced, experiment with one another. Fenti wasn't sure of his own sexuality and he knew his friend was looking around, so it seemed like a good - and fun - idea.

From the beginning, the Francis/Fenti relationship was doomed. Fenti was unsure and standoffish; Francis was super-keen and a bit pushy. Fenti's nervousness made Francis scared and desperate. Around the time that Francis started issuing declarations of love, it was clear that the friendship was doomed too. A sad cycle developed: Francis would calm down for a few days; Fenti would relax and offer an olive branch of friendship; Francis's hopes would surge as he interpreted this as a spark of romance; Fenti would be overwhelmed and would back off. Occasionally, Fenti would consent to sex with Francis (always while drunk), which made everything worse. Fenti felt trapped; Francis felt heartbroken. Both missed their lost friendship.

Six weeks after a final emotional (for Francis), relieving (for Fentiman) breakup, Francis had decided to prove that he is completely over the relationship. So here he finds himself, wearing Fenti's shoes, a new red g-string, thin billowing pants, and a tight black t-shirt on the threshold of Hunter/Prey. Francis is giving himself a pep talk: "It doesn't matter how you feel inside, it matters how you look on the outside". He walks in.

Hunter/Prey is busy. It's standing-room only, with many furs huddled around the long bar. Francis immediately notices that the barmen are topless, all of them bunnies (and all of them gym-bunnies). He looks at his nearest bunny barman, shaking a cocktail, and counts 16 piercings in a single ear. The bunny notices Francis looking, smiles, and licks his lips. That's enough to break Francis's trance, and he works his way towards the bar to order a beer. He finds himself being served by a different bunny, who sports a large chest tattoo, a kind of wing motif starting at his breastbone and terminating at his nipples, both of which are tremendously erect. Francis can't tell if the lines on the tattoo are curved, or whether straight lines are being perverted by the bunny's substantial chest.

While his beer is being poured, Francis looks around and noticed that he is in a sunken part of Hunter/Prey. Everyone else seems to be a foot higher, a perfect vantage point to watch new patrons come in the door. It seems to Francis that everyone is looking at him, but this isn't quite true - most of the group are watching the bunnies. Closely.

Francis claims his beer and looks up at the group. Several pairs of eyes look down at him. This makes Francis feel slightly queasy, and he looks down at his feet. Fentiman's shoes. Francis is reminded of his pep talk, tries to act like he belongs, looks up again. A snow leopard, obviously sensing Francis's discomfort, elbows his friend, points and giggles. A bear raises a glass in Francis's direction in sympathy or perhaps brotherhood. A wolf, standing a few inches taller among a group of wolves, catches Francis's eye and winks.

Francis flushes at the attention and looks down again. His shoes are stolen. He hears some laughter from the elevated group and wonders if it's aimed at his. Francis resolves to move to the elevated section where he won't feel quite so visible, and quite so short.

He looks up and finds his eyes being drawn to the group of wolves. The tall one, the one that winked, has turned his back on Francis as he chats with his friends. All the wolves are silver, distinguished by black fur variously featuring ears, chins, necks. All them seem to be in ferociously good shape, particularly the tall wolf. From behind, the wolf seems to have a torso like an inverted triangle, stuffed into a shirt two sizes too small. Francis notes the wolf's back muscles, lats, biceps straining his shirt beyond all hope of it retaining its original t-shirt shape. Francis's eyes, widening, start to work down the wolf's body towards his tail. And trips over on the step to the higher platform.

Francis's beer was expensive, so he tries to protect it as he loses his footing. He ends up on the floor. He looks up to see the sympathetic bear, who has kind eyes and forearms that will lurk in Francis's dreams for months. "Don't worry", says the bear in a squeaky voice, somewhat ruining the effect, "that happened to me first time too." The bear offers a hand, which Francis gratefully accepts.

Francis dusts himself off, thanks the bear (receiving a squeaky you're welcome), and turns to take stock of the scene. He hadn't planned what he would do once he had reached this point. It seems to him that most of the furs are coupled up... maybe he should find someone single and start a conversation? What would he say? And where did those wolves go?

Swinging around towards the wolf group, Francis is surprised as a paw gently presses against his lower back, then further surprised as it slides down towards his right buttock, coming to rest just below his tail. The paw gives Francis a generous squeeze, and he feels warm breath in his ear.

"Hi there fox, I saw you come in and just had to say hello." Francis turns around to meet the voice. It's the tall wolf.

• I'm Wolfram.
• Hi, I'm Francis.
• Don't feel bad about being a little shy [squeeze], all of us were new to this once. I've got a feeling that someone as sexy as you will have no trouble meeting new furs [squeeze]. Anyway, nice to say hello.

And Wolfram is gone, back turned, chatting with his friends. Francis is alone, feeling a little confused and slightly rejected.

Did I say something wrong? Was he disgusted after seeing me close up? Francis mentally replays the encounter while carefully studying Wolfram's muscular buttocks, powerful thighs, shapely calves. Francis decides that he's inadequate. Maybe, he thinks, this wasn't such a good idea. I'll just have one more drink and enjoy some bunny-watching.

The second drink never comes. Francis is still sipping his first when an arm appears around his waist. Wolfram again. Drink up, says the wolf, I assume you're coming home with me.

Francis is confused: bu... Wolfram is miming the drinky-drinky motion.

Francis is paralysed. His beer is relieved from his possession by Wolfram, who downs it, grabs Francis by the paw, and starts towards the exit. Mind the step says the wolf, smiling.

Outside, Francis asks if they need a taxi. Wolfram responds that he lives nearby.

Francis pauses. So, you must come to this bar a lot then?

Wolfram: Well, you know how it is.

Francis does not know "how it is".

By this stage, Francis understands that he is committed (resigned?) to whatever lies ahead. He was some questions for Wolfram, but a combination of nerves and politeness means he keeps his queries to himself. Wolfram, for his part, wouldn't answer the questions anyway.

In a different situation, Wolfram would say that he has slept with 78 furs. (Francis has slept with two, assuming you count a drunken blowjob he once gave someone at a party.) Wolfram would concede that 78 seems like a lot but justifies it with a simple mantra: "I like sex".

Wolfram would say that he has had only one boyfriend, a bull he met several weeks in a row at Hunter/Prey. They slept together a few times, got along well, and started to meet during the week. They grew a friendship, sharing mundane days out shopping, visiting friends as a couple. Their relationship grew as the two developed a close bond, sharing intimate thoughts. Even so, both of them - independently - continued to go to bars and sleep with other furs. In eighteen months together, they never talked about their relationship even though they were both keen to make it "formal". They both became frustrated by what they each saw as the other's lack of action, which grew into resentment and they slowly grew apart. Wolfram knew it was over when he saw his bull kissing one of Wolfram's friends in Hunter/Prey, an action Wolfram couldn't begrudge seeing as he had just received a blowjob from a bartender on a break. That was two years ago.

In the short walk from the bar to Wolfram's place, Francis decides that this evening isn't so bad after all. He takes a moment to look Wolfram up and down, then reaches out with a paw to bat the wolf's tail, eventually feeling up his buttocks and resting around Wolfram's waist. Francis can feel Wolfram's back muscles and thinks that Wolfram might be deliberately flexing to show off. Either way, Francis is impressed.

Wolfram: That's more like it. You can look forward to a great night.

Francis's response is non-verbal: an instant erection. Wolfram notices, smiles, and ruffs the back of the fox's neck.

Wolfram lives in a shared flat, shabby but clean. He leads Francis to his bedroom, little more than a low mattress with a few clothes tossed around. Wolfram leans over Francis to close the door, one paw on the handle and the other reaching down, rubbing the fox's erection. Wolfram leans right over, pushing his chest into Francis's muzzle, daring the fox to breath in, or perhaps to look down and notice that the wolf is just as hard.

Francis chooses neither option, instead speaking, slightly muffled by the wolf's torso: "Uh... I think I need to pee." Wolfram: "Heh, sure, second door on your left. Although good luck aiming while you have one of these", rubbing Francis's erection all the while.

Francis unzips in the toilet to discover that his new g-string is heavily stained by pre-come. Time for another quick pep talk ("calmdown calmdown calmdown calmdown calmdown"), some contortions to allow him to pee in the general vicinity of the bowl, and a largely fruitless search for some dry bits on his g-string to mop up his leaking cock. A few quick dabs and a look in the mirror (Francis sees a hunger in his own eyes that surprises him), and Francis arranges his clothes and returns.

Wolfram is sitting cross-legged on the bed, completely naked, with a grin on his face. Francis starts, then smiles and comes in and closes the door. He doesn't know to be more impressed by Wolfram's body or by the size of his erection.

Moving his eyes slowly upwards, Francis is tempted to dwell on Wolfram's calves, strong but relaxed, even in a cross-legged position. From Francis's view, they look like they would cradle the wolf's genitals except that he is fully erect.

Wolfram's knees are slighly knobbly, connected to his thighs with a thick sinew that draw's the fox's eyes up along the wolf's upper leg. Francis can see that Wolfram's thighs are strong but long, so long that his muscles seems to be stretched to fit the wolf's frame. One thigh muscle twitches, and Wolfram's whole leg seems to jump.

Further up, into the good bits now, Waolfram's balls are tucked up close to his body, two small globes held in place by elastic skin. A touch of extra silver fluff marks their place and Francis can see blow where the wolf's buttocks part and rest on the mattress. Francis is filled with a sudden desire to cup Wolfram's balls, smell them, lick them, taste them, stretch them.

Further again, Wolfram's cock stands vertically. It's clear that the wolf is proud of his erection and it's easy to see why. Thick, all the way up, covered in fine fur, flesh exposed near the top. The head of his cock looks like it is hovering in front of his body. Francis notices, in passing, that Wolfram is also carrying a couple of extra pounds around the midriff, previously hidden by his clothes. Francis feels better, a little less self-conscious.

Francis can also see that Wolfram's tight shirt did full justice to his upper body. A strong chest, nipples erect, leading Francis's eyes up to the face of a grinning wolf. Francis recognises the look in Wolfram's eyes: just the same as he saw in the bathroom mirror.

Francis: So this is why wolves are such a big deal huh?

Wolfram: Yup. And you, fox, are overdressed.

Francis steps forward but is halted by a raised paw. "Undress for me standing there. I want to watch."

Francis feels the heat rise to his face. He removes his shoes, socks, shirt. He unbuttons his pants and, as he removes them, feels the heat rise to his face again as he recalls the stains on his g-string.

Wolfram laughs. "Excited, are we?"

Francis looks down at his soiled g-string and hastily removes it. He is happy for it to be taken from public display, and relieved to be no longer restricted, as his erection bends down with the red fabric, then springing up again, sending a drop of pre-come floating across the room, lodging in the white fur of Wolfram's chest.

"That's a nice trick", smiles Wolfram as he picks out the drop and licks it from his paw. "Anyway, that g-string clashes with your fur."

Pause.

Wolfram: Well, come over here then. I don't bite.

Pause.

Wolfram: That was a lie. I do bite.

Francis springs onto the bed, knocking over Wolfram in the process. He feels the heat of the wolf's body and, in a tangle of limbs, Francis hunts the warm, the comfortable, the sexy parts of Wolfram's body with his paws.

Francis buries his muzzle into the wolf's chest and armpit. One fox paw has a tail tip and is rubbing the wolf's back (as far as tail flexibility will allow); the second fox paw has the wolf's balls and is rubbing along the bottom half of his erection.

Wolfram, who thought he was in charge of the operation, was going to try to start with a kiss. Laughing, he holds the fox in his arms.

After a few moments, Francis relents and Wolfram gets his kiss. Francis remembers that he's inexperienced and is unsure what to do next. He looks up, with curiosity, into Wolfram's eyes. Wolfram knows what to do: he's seen that look before.

Wolfram grabs the fox around the back of the neck with a single paw and roughly - but not too roughly - pushes the fox's muzzle down. Francis gets the hint, not that he has much choice in the matter, and proceeds to lick around the wolf's balls, slowly rising towards to tip of his erection. The fox takes the head of Wolfram's erection in his muzzle and slowly moves down, and up.

Wolfram: nnngmnhn

Francis isn't experienced but he's been practicing. He allows his tongue to head his muzzle on the downward stroke, then bringing it into his mouth on the upward stroke, licking and exploring the tip of the wolf's cock as he comes up. Francis varies his pace and stroke depth, and is soon rewarded with the taste of the first few drops of pre-come. The next few strokes are shallow as the fox smiles.

Following the habit of his practice sessions (on conveniently-shaped inanimate objects, alone in his room), Francis slides a paw down to his own erection. Wolfram is having none of that: grabbing the fox's paw and returning it to the wolf's chest: "No no no". Francis smiles again (shallow stroke) and resumes his work.

Wolfram: You're enjoying that, aren't you?

Francis moves his head upwards to answer but is stopped by a firm wolf paw, which pushes him back down.

Wolfram: Now, now. No stopping until I tell you so. You can nod or shake your head if you need to. Understand?

Francis, smiling (shallow stroke), nods with enthusiasm.

Wolfram: Show me how deep you can go.

Francis pushes down, feeling the wolf's cock against the back of his throat. Francis is leading with his tongue but can't quite reach to lick Wolfram's balls.

Wolfram: This may be a little uncomfortable.

Wolfram's paw pushes Francis down, hard. Francis feels the wolf's cock move and suddenly the fox is gagging, can't breath. Francis starts to struggle but, at the same time, opts to test with his tongue. He feels it rub along Wolfram's balls, along the rough fur, up and down.

Wolfram: grnnnnghr

Wolfram pulls Francis's head up, eyes watering and gasping for breath. But smiling. Wolfram kisses Francis; Francis quickly drops his muzzle to lick some pre-come bubbling from Wolfram's cock; they kiss again.

Wolfram: You may have bad taste in g-strings but I know you'd never wear one unless you keep everything nice and clean. So how about you bend over and show me.

Pause. Francis knows what he's being asked but his body doesn't react.

Wolfram has waited long enough. He lifts Francis up off the mattress and throws the top half of the fox off the bed, and onto the floor. Francis finds himself on his knees (on the bed) and elbows (on the floor). Wolfram grabs the fox's tail and lifts it into the air.

Francis thinks of reacting but he is held down by his own body weight. Then he feels the wolf's tongue, licking around his rim, and exploring deeper.

Francis: !

As the wolf explores, Francis feels himself relaxing and loosening. A drip, then two, then three four fall of the fox's erection. Francis feels that he has no control, his senses overloaded by the feeling of the wolf's tongue, his body telling them both a simple message: Francis is lost, ecstatic, ready.

Wolfram licks his lips and, with a single powerful arm, hoists Francis's body back onto the bed. Wolfram kisses Francis, a kiss Francis isn't sure he wants, but he submits. It is a long, wet kiss.

As Francis collapses into the wolf's body, Wolfram asks: "you ready, fox?". Francis, swooning, nods.

Still seated, Wolfram lifts Francis on top of him. "At your own speed, fox." Francis allows his body weight to push down, feels the wolf enter him.

Time passes. There is laughter, there is moaning, there are misunderstandings, a t-shirt is ruined, there is leg cramp, there are winces followed by apologies, there is laughter.

Francis ejaculates when neither of them expects. He feels bad until he sees the delight in Wolfram's eyes. Francis follows the wolf's instructions to stay still, enjoy the close body contact and the feeling of the wolf inside him, and wait until the fox is hard again. It doesn't take long.

At times Francis is pounded, and he grits his teeth so as not to cry out. At times he feel enveloped with tenderness, and feels safe and loved. At times he is on top, and feels free and powerful.

Wolfram eventually throws Francis down, the fox's back on the mattress and his legs in the air. Wolfram kneels over him, enters him, and comes: one wolf paw holding up Francis's legs, the other around Francis's cock. Francis comes again, matting his fur.

After a shared shower, they fall asleep among strewn clothes and the occasional wet spot.

Francis wakes alone.

After getting dressed, he walks into the living area to find Wolfram's housemate making breakfast. It's the sympathetic bear from last night. The bear recognises Francis, laughs a squeaky laugh, and shakes his head.

"Wolfram apologizes for leaving so early", squeaks the bear, "he had a family gathering and didn't want to wake you. In his absence, he has asked me to offer you coffee, toast, and his phone number."