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I sat watching the sea roll before me, the soft sand tickling between the pads of my paws as I sipped at the ice cold beer. It stung my lips, but it felt good as it slithered its way down my throat and pooled in my gut. My buddy, Logan, had invited me out for drinks and I could never say no to that lion. He always had that shit-eating grin, the one that would just become so infectious that an entire room would be soon smiling, and nobody would know why. I sat with him now, a six pack missing two of its comrades plopped between us as he leant back on a verge overlooking the bay. He loved the beach, Logan did, and I loved coming down with him. He was always more relaxed when the roar of the ocean was in the background and the smell of crisp sea air hanging around. Further up in the village you didn't get this kind of atmosphere. The place was surrounded by too many farms and miles of meadow wilderness.

I leaned back onto one of my elbows to get a good look at him. It was late evening, so we were pretty much just lazing around in the setting sun, but even then he still looked so calm and peaceful, yet alert and pensive. It drove me nuts sometimes trying to think about what was going through his mind, because he was one of those silent thoughtful types. He was a man of few words, but freaking hell were those words hard hitting and deep. I remember, once, whilst we were talking with a priest on some school trip to a pokey chapel that he thought religion was wrong, but that he would lay down his life to defend the priest's right to follow and believe in it. Of course, he did tend to be quite the dramatic, but Logan was different, and different suited me just fine.

He had a very bold coat, a dusty yellow that was probably a shade or two brighter than straw, but glossy and thick looking. His mane itself was a darker colour, though matched with the rest of his body. He was rather proud of it, and as he should be! Even I admired its size. He certainly took after his father, who'd moved to the village when Logan was just a cub. Whenever I thought back to that day, being barely a pup myself, I often recall the sight of big, bustling removal vans trying to negotiate their way through the windy streets of Upper Titterham. It was a tiny village, so word spread fast that an immigrant family had moved in nearby...

My next memory of Logan, and probably my most vivid and the one I remember most, is meeting him for the first time at school. We lived in an archaic community, where the unusual and odd were scorned and shunned. I was too young to understand it at the time, but I know now that Logan's family had been frowned upon my local villagers who opposed their presence. They were savannah savages, not like the British superior canines, felines, and other such breeds. I felt bad too, since I was the quintessential Border Collie, looks and all. Anyway, I first saw him at school, looking rather grumpy and very much alone. I didn't exactly fit in either since I was the scrawny kid who was bullied incessantly to no end by a two Bulldog brothers and their bull friend. That day had been the same as always; the three of them had me cornered behind the school shed where the head mistress would sneak off for a quick ciggie, and they would throwing me around like the ragdoll I might well have been. I don't remember the specifics, but I do remember Logan growling at them and punching them... He then helped me up and actually cuddled me until the teachers found us twenty minutes later. I had apparently been crying, and Logan had thought it was his fault - which was actually really sweet, looking back on it now.

Today though... today was a different story. Logan and I had grown up close friends, and yeah, I suppose you could say we were inseparable, as much as the cliché bugs me. But things were changing... And I don't mean we're growing hair down there and our voices are changing. God no, when that had happened we stuck it out together like most things. No, what I mean is, we were drifting apart. Maybe because I'd dropped the bombshell on him that I wanted to move to a city, or maybe it was because Logan didn't want to go to university, nor did he want to leave his home village. Deep down it hurt, I'll admit, to see him become so closed off... mainly because I didn't want our goodbye to be so absolute and cold. Perhaps tonight I could talk some sense into him, get him to come around to my way of thinking.

"Cat got your tongue?" He remarked dryly as the snapped open another can with a single paw, chugging down a big gulp before wiping his chin with the back of his wrist. He had this sexy looking goatee, trailing from where his mane ran under his neck and along his nape... It just looked so devilish and, well, he looked like a bad boy.

"Something like that," I quipped, somewhat reluctantly. If only he knew.

For about three years now I have known I was gay. Ever since Logan and I managed to sneak a dirty mag from one of the newsagents near the promenade, I had found myself drawn the muscled guys and the nude men. I tried not to show it at first because I was scared; I didn't want Logan to think me a freak. But then I got some alone time with the glossy pictures, and my curiosity wandered... as did my paw, and with a few feverish strokes of my adolescent maleness and with sticky globs of my first orgasm all over the pages later, I figured I was what all the bigger boys called a 'faggot'. I was a homosexual, and yeah, I'll admit, back then I was pretty cock-hungry. But in such a tightly knit community... getting laid was a freaking ordeal, even more so if you were gay.

But it had been around about our secondary school prom where I realised I'd fallen for Logan. At first, I thought I was just jealous of all the qualities I adored him for, but then it suddenly clicked that it might be something more. His amazing good looks, his beautiful smile, that softly spoken deep voice which he commanded with such seductiveness... He'd had a string of girlfriends, though none had ever worked out, and now he was at the point where he'd pretty much dated every gal in the village. I felt sorry for him, having nobody new or fresh to lighten up his love life, and having to deal with the baggage of all his ex-girlfriends surrounding him... That's what shocked me most when he said he didn't want to leave. It would have been like hitting refresh, and then wham... all these new girls for him to pick and choose from. I'd never dated in my life, and part of me feared someone might have noticed, but so far I'd remained off the radar.

"Something's wrong..." Logan said again, in that same soft tone he always adopted when addressing me. It was soothing, to hear his dulcet voice.

"Something's been wrong for a while now, Logan..." I sighed, fiddling with the rim of my can. It was true. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were and to never change. I missed the old Logan. I missed my Logan.

"Are you still going on about this university stuff?" The lion snorted, "Robin, I want only what's best for you, and if you think going is the best thing for you, then go. I'll support you no matter what. You're my friend, not some acquaintance."

"I know..." I mumbled, casting my eyes down to the ground. It wasn't fair... I couldn't just _abandon_him here. I didn't want to lose him, "Why can't you come with me?" I'd asked it so many times before, and I knew the response by heart.

"You know I can't, Robin... You know how I feel."

I flattened my ears. I didn't want this to happen...

"Something else is wrong though..." My ears perked up at that. This was new. His gaze was still cast out to sea, and so far he had refused to look at me whilst we'd sat here. I watched him intently, expecting him to follow up. For a moment I almost expected him not to - it was his bit, to say something that sounded like it led to something more elaborate, only to then drop it and let it trail.

I didn't say anything. I'd learnt not to force things with him. If he wanted me to know, he'd speak up. It annoyed me to no end, but that was how he was... And I still loved him for it. Talk about awkward, but I did love the brooding, sombre looking Logan more than anything. Especially when he had that smouldering pout that was simply divine...

"I feel... odd. I feel like something's different, and I don't know what, or why." I was gobsmacked. Logan didn't know what he was feeling or thinking. Usually he was so sure of himself, and I have, for all of our time together, never seen him so confused.

"Are you okay?" I asked, genuinely concerned. Part of me wanted to reach out and give him the biggest hug of his life, but ever since secondary school he'd become physically closed off. Even his body language now was unreadable, and he exuded an aura of neutrality. He gave me a shrug of his shoulders as though to affirm that very point, and inwardly I sighed, taking a few steps back into myself. Perhaps I was pushing the wrong buttons.

"Anyway..." Logan drawled, probably sensing the awkward tension settling between us, "I heard you got buggered by the fisherman's son."

I nearly died. My whole world just came crashing around me; the sound of the waves, the smell of starch air, the wind against my fur... It all just stopped as everything zoned in on Logan. My throat went dry, almost to the point that I could barely breathe. I went rigid with fear, panic snaking through my body like sickly venom, and I could feel the nasty retch of bile bubbling up to my mouth. I didn't want it to happen like this. I wanted something more intimate, something I could control. I wasn't ready...

"Robin...?"

I didn't register his words. I mean, I did; I saw his lips move in the familiar shape of my name, and it felt so odd. It was as though someone had muted him, and all I could see now was the silent image of the lion. He did it again, a growing expression of worry etching itself across his face. Fuck... I was screwed. I was royally and totally screwed seven ways from Sunday, and I had no way out.

At some point, I must've have just let it all go. Three years of hiding, of secretive meets and of constant deception, I finally just let it all out - the injustice of it all. I was crying. I was vaguely aware that I was crying, and that I must've been crying a lot as the fur on my cheeks was absolutely sodden wet. Logan was there still, and he'd closed the space between us in a heartbeat. Suddenly I felt anchored as he wrapped his broad, warm arms around my protectively, and we just cuddled. I didn't know how long we sat there for, like that, simply cuddling with him cooing softly to me. I didn't catch what he said, not that it mattered; just hearing his voice was good enough for me. His gentle voice... Strong, caring arms... I didn't feel so helpless anymore, and in a single moment he'd helped me wash away three years of suppressing my identity.

"I'm sorry..." He mumbled into the top of my head. I could feel his breath. God... it was so warm... "I didn't think you'd react like that..." I just sagged in his arms, clutching at his forearm as he held me. It felt so good. Like he cared, like he properly cared, "Robin... please, I'm sorry, please stop crying..." His tone was pleading, almost morose. I couldn't let him feel like that. I wiped away my tears as best I could with the back of my paw and sniffled, clearing my throat,

"It's okay," I said sincerely, my voice still too shy to speak confidently with a tremor; "I know you didn't." Still I felt the rough beard nuzzling at my head,

"Just... I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you."

I gently pushed him back with my paw against his chest, and he relinquished me from the hug. His eyes were watery. Bloody hell; was he about to cry too? I had to give him my best sheepish smile,

"You didn't hurt me... It was just a shock. I'm fine, really." I sighed, now deciding it was my turn to be the pensive, man-of-few-words. I looked out onto the much darker horizon as we watched the blinking lights of far-off ships, "I guess that cat not only got my tongue but also got out of the bag..."

"Yeah..." Logan chuckled. Humour was not his strong suit. "So, did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you get fucked by Ian?" Ian was the fisherman's son. He was an admitted bisexual to a few, like me, and apparently his whole family knew but kept it under wraps for the sake of not being ousted by the village. He was lanky, though incredibly tall, and always had to stoop for doorways, much like his father who owned the trawler that would come in to dock every month or so. He was a ram by most standards, with these handsome curled horns and stubble across his chin which seemed to keep in this constant state of mid-way between beard and shadow. He wasn't my sort of guy; he had no definition to him, so it was like being with a matchstick. He was also a bore to talk to. Give yourself five minutes with him and you'll quickly go through the two topics that only interest him; boats and climbing. After that he just zoned himself out, which is annoying for me. I like a guy to be listening, even if he's not going to contribute himself. Like Logan.

But anyway, you probably might be wondering why I slept with Ian then, as it's true - we used to meet regularly back when we were younger. He had a redeeming feature in the bedroom, and it wasn't his size. He was roughly just above the average, maybe at a good seven, maybe seven and a bit inches, with a good thickness, but fuck could that ram cum. It was like a fire hose, and I spent many a time on my knees or with my ass up in the air for him. Reckless, I know, but I was young and his spooge was deliciously creamy and had the most exquisite taste that I just couldn't get enough of. Sue me; I gladly took advantage of what he offered me.

I thought I might as well come clean, in a manner of speaking, to my best friend and crush, so I just nodded my head, the brightest blush burning on my face. I felt like I was about to implode. He just grinned, those pearly white teeth shining as his eyes lit up with amusement,

"Fuck Robin... I've heard the rumours about him. Are they true?" Wait... what? I looked at him gormless, unable to comprehend it. Was he actually asking me about sex with another guy?

"You're... You're cool with me being gay?" Logan's smile softened almost unnoticeably. Were it not dark, I might never have caught it.

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" He stroked a thumb over my paw. When had he been holding it? "I'm happy you can finally be yourself with me. I knew you were hiding something..." Was this what he had been referring to before, this 'something else'? It might explain a lot. Maybe he felt like I was keeping bad secrets from him. Maybe I was... coming out isn't exactly the cleanest of ordeals. He broke the silence again, "So... the rumours, are they true?"

"I really don't know what you mean..." I lied. I knew exactly what the rumours were. Girls gossiped at how good he was in bed, and how he'd left those he slept with full for weeks with his seed. Of course, many over-exaggerated his skills, and in a way I felt sorry he'd become such a covert celebrity. But remarkably some of the whispers were true. Certainly at least I thought so. When he'd first unloaded in my ass, I had panicked and thought he was pissing inside me. I would've pushed him off were it not for his astounding strength and the familiar pulses and less-than-severe warmth of cum. After that he always left me full after fucking him. After sleeping with him, I'd sit in the bathroom for up to an hour, playing with his cum up my hole, eating some, or just generally trying to get rid of the evidence that he'd taken me. One time, whilst my parents had been away, I risked having him over at my house for the weekend, and by the end of it I'd washed the sheets over a dozen times, and my hole felt like it was constantly leaking his remnants.

"Oh come on..." Logan jibed playfully, "You can tell me." He made a cross over his heart, and I snorted out a laugh. I couldn't keep things from him, even if I tried. After all, word got around the village fast, so I doubted he was the only one who'd put two and two together and I figured out I was gay. One hurdle at a time though...

I nodded, and made a coy smile at him,

"Yeah... Some of them are true." I told him about it, about all the times Ian and I had hooked up; just liked he might have told me if he'd just got back from screwing his latest girlfriend. We shared everything... well, almost everything. It felt good to unload all of the secrets I've been keeping. All the while he listened, nodding and humming as he took it all in. When I was finished, he let out a long, heavy sigh. Shit... did I do something wrong?

"Damn Robin... You've got some freaking hot stories to tell..." 'Freaking hot'? Was Logan gay? He must've sensed my confusion as he coughed abruptly, "I'm still straight, but just like you I can appreciate a good story about a hot fuck. I bet he was real chuffed to be ramming your ass, if you excuse the pun." We chuckled together, and suddenly everything felt a little better. This is what I liked best - our casual, carefree conversations with just the two of us, where nothing else in the world to bother us. Nothing else except the elephant in the room.

"I can see why you'd want to move to the city though," Logan admitted now, finally being more talkative, "I don't think the village would be happy with the sort of people you lay in bed with." I just nodded, not knowing quite what to say. A saddened, tortured look flashed in his eyes briefly, and I most definitely caught it. He sighed again, "Do you really want me to come with you?"

"Yes," I blurted out before I had a chance to think. I blushed, correcting myself, "I mean... It's what I want, not what you want, but yeah... If you weren't in my life, I don't know what I'd do." He didn't say anything, so I changed tack, "Do you want to come?" Another terse pause, and I was about to speak again when he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on the verge,

"I don't know."

This was new. This was impossibly and terrifyingly new. So far he'd been stubborn, refusing to agree to accompany me, and he'd dug his heels in all the way. But now, now he was saying 'I don't know'. That was doubt, right there! Clear doubt!

"What do you want then?"

"I don't know." Freaking hell, this was getting tiring.

"Do you want to stay here?"

"I don't know." I growled quietly, trying not to let him hear.

"Do you want me to go?"

"I don't know." For fuck's sake!

"Do you love me?"

"Yes." Logan shook his head as though irritated by unseen flies, "I mean, I don't know. No, yes, maybe... I don't know..."

Fuck...

Just... fuck.

For the second time that night, my world came to a halt. I might have to get myself checked out, but once more all I could focus on was him. Logan seemed on edge, and he gulped down his second beer before snatching up a third, downing that too. The alcohol seemed to help him relax a little, but here was still this untamed fear in the backs' of his eyes that wouldn't budge. He rubbed his temple, and I could see the strain this was putting on him.

"Logan..." I said softly, though my voice was weak, and it trailed off. What should I say? What _could_I say? I didn't want to interfere with his feelings and come off as though I wanted to manipulate him into my grasp, but this was so close...

"Robin... I..." He interrupted me before I did manage to figure out something to say, "I just... I like you. You're my best friend. My only friend, and I cherish you with all my heart." Oh shit... this wasn't good. Was he just going to friendzone me and then brush all the feelings under the carpet? "And I don't want to ruin anything..." Fuck... No, fuck, fuck, fuck!

"Logan... Tell me what you feel. Please..." There was that heavy silence again, and I could feel it weighing me down, like an anchor in that darkened ocean out there...

"I feel... things." He said quietly, his paws straining not to crush the can he was holding, "Like... I can't stop thinking about you. When I go to sleep, I want to say goodnight to you. When I wake up, I want to be there to say good morning. I want to make sure you're okay all the time, and I get jealous at the thought of you hanging out with someone else... I get angry when I think about anybody who has hurt you, and I just want to smash them to pieces if I ever laid my paws on them. I don't want you to go, not really. I know it's what you want, but I want you to stay here with me forever. I don't want you to leave me..." He fell silent again, and I realised he was whimpering. I had to ask... I just couldn't come this far without asking,

"Have you ever thought about... about us?" I questioned softly, putting emphasis on the 'us'. He looks at me, an expression caught between fear, shock, and guilt. He nods his head, and I just leave it at that. I wasn't going to say anything else, as I felt I'd gained enough ground, and to beg for more would be cruel to him, but he began to simply just give it away by the yards,

"I've seen gay porn, Robin... so I know what happens, and the sorts of things people do. I'm not... I don't hate it, but I just don't get turned on by it - which is normal... but..." He huffed, a panicky breath coming out, "But sometimes I get these images, with you in them, and I can see you getting fucked by hung guys and blowing off these hunks; then suddenly I'm sporting a boner. Then I imagine myself with you, and I cum within seconds... I imagine sex with you to be ten times better than with any girl I've been with... and I don't know why. I've never even done anything with guy, and I'm not sure I want to." He faces me, his eyes looking vulnerable and his face distraught so minutely, "But I want to with you, and only you. I don't want it to be just the one time though, I want it to be all the time, any time, and only us two together..."

"I think I love you, Robin."

I... Fuck. I don't know what to say, or do. I'm stuck there, rooted to the spot, unmoving and unresponsive. This is everything I've ever wanted, my perfect dream come true, and I can't believe it. I'm near to tears again, and it takes all my self-control not to burst into a blubbering mess all over again. But I can't speak, either, and I'm at a loss as to how to express my happiness. I did the only thing that came to my head first...

I leant forward slowly, as though I was cautioning him for what I was about to do next, and I drew our heads close. His body took over instinctively, his paw brushing up my body and curling around my neck. He pulled me closer, until I could feel his breath against my muzzle. Gingerly, as if I were about to touch the world's most frailest piece of paper, our lips met, and I pressed my mouth lightly against his own in a chaste kiss. It lasted for no more than a second, and I thought that would be it, that he'd pull away. It shocked me when I felt his paw become firm when I tried to remove myself from his hold, and he drew me in for another kiss, this time introducing his tongue. I felt the moist, warm tip flick at my lips, and I allowed him inside - our tongues greeted each other. They danced and stroked along one another before mine decided to sit back and enjoy the ride; Logan took me more confidently now, his flexible muscle exploring every crevice of my mouth, and his earthy taste flooded my senses. I became consumed with him, and I only wanted more. His other paw was now settling on my waist, and his whole arm supported my back. I was becoming his girl, as I knew his style quite intimately. He was a talented romantic, and I was now his latest and hopefully last conquest.

I felt emboldened by his encouraging enthusiasm, and I carefully kissed along his jawline and down along the border of his mane, where his coat met the thicker headfur. My pecking flutters seemed to please him, and whilst he breathed heavily as he watched he made no attempt to stop me. Things were going well... I could now be a little more risky. I kissed his neck, then his chest. He was still wearing his shirt, and so with ease I slid my paws underneath the hem and rubbed along his abdominals. They were rock hard... I lifted away the clothing to reveal his tight, toned body. I'd never seen him really naked at all... Sure we'd gone swimming when we were younger together, but we both grew out of the sorts of activities that promoted the need to get nude for whatever reason. He must have been working out, maybe to impress the ladies, or to keep strong and maintain his role as my protector and friend, I didn't know. All I knew was that right now he looked mighty fine...

He helped me with his shirt, and he pulled it up and off his torso. His muscles rippled beneath the fur, and I gently massaged over each one, feeling the build under my fingerpads. I wanted more... I'd waited so long for a moment like this; I _needed_more.

Eagerly, and almost without containing my fervent desire, my fingers picked at his fly, unbuttoning his jeans. As the waistband fell slack, his bulge forced the fabric to pop open and slip apart, exposing the bright red of his underwear. I recognised the brand. It was Logan's favourite. He even told me once that he only bought them because they hugged his crotch tightly and made his package look big - I had to say, I think I agreed with him. It looked like he'd stuffed an coconut down there... I had to see more, and I drooled at the thought of my meaty reward.

He continued to watch me, a panted, lusting expression quite evident on his face though he made no move to aid me. I gripped the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, revealing his maleness to me. I actually moaned at the sight, letting out a soft huff of appreciation that gave Logan a heady smile. He knew he had me hooked, and damn it, he was right; I was transfixed. Quickly had he already extended to his fullest hardness, and it stood at an impressive length. It was the longest I'd seen, comparable to those on my laptop thanks to my parents failing to understand adult filters and giving me way too much private time. He was the thickest, too, thicker than any I've ever taken. I couldn't even wrap one paw around his base, and I had to grip his dick like a child would with a cup. There were barbs near to his tip; menacing looking things that glistened and dribbled with pre, flaring a little each time he flexed his cock. Its musky scent was overpowering, and accompanied with the salmon pink colour it made for a formidable temptation. I admitted it there and then; I'd scored the mother lode of jackpots.

"Please Robin," He whispered, almost as though he feared that the moon or the stars might catch us, "Taste me... Take me and blow me off..."

I didn't need a second invitation. Wagging my tail behind me lazily through the sand, I opened my mouth, my tongue darting out to wriggle along the tip. I got a feel for the barbs, and whilst I'd never been with a feline before, I came to the conclusion they were kind of cool. They felt odd, but still my mind raced at the thought of feeling this barbs stroking along the insides of my ass. With that picture in my head, I lowered myself onto his sweet cock, hit instantly with his earthy taste. God he was so good... Far better than Ian, or any other guy I'd been with. Maybe the wait had attuned my needs to what Logan offered specifically, or maybe it was fate, and Logan and I were destined for one another. It'd make sense, I thought, as I slobbered over his dick. We were perfect for each other.

He grunted and groaned, telling me what a good job I was doing, how much better I was than all the girls in the village. My own crotch bulged at the thought I was outdoing so many, that I was pleasuring him to this level. I increased my speed, gradually managing to take more and more of his length into my mouth until my jaw ached. Each thrust into my maw inched his groin closer to my face, and I closed my eyes as his hips took over. Soon I felt the crush of his coarser fur rub against my nose, and his barbed tip was grinding down my throat. I had practised though, all in preparation that I'd someday manage to take a guy his size. He, on the other hand, had apparently never been deep-throated before, and he bucked wildly into my mouth. I sensed him draw close, and I sealed my lips tightly and sucked hard, angling him back a little just as cum erupted all over my tongue. The taste of bitter, thick jizz swamped my mind, and I waded through its goodness. I sampled it, swirled it around on my tongue, I milked him for every last drop; it tasted so fucking good... The sweetest nectar a male can provide, and it meant so much more having come from Logan. He gave a contented sigh, finally prising his spent prick from my mouth and letting it hang loosely in the cold air as he lay back. I was surprised he hadn't asked for more, and so I voiced my concerns,

"You don't want to fuck me?" I questioned, the hint of disappointment scantily concealed in my tone. He gave me this apologetic smile, and part of me already knew the answer,

"Robin, please... I'm not ready. I'm just getting over the fact I just got the best blowjob ever by a guy, least of all, my best friend..." I blushed and flattened my ears as he once more applauded my skills. I can't have been that good... "Hey..." He spoke softly, his paw reaching up and cupping my chin, "Come 'ere... I want to cuddle and kiss..."

He pulled me down, and I curled up by his side, my head resting on his bicep as he wrapped his arm around me once more. We shared languid kisses, often initiated by him, where his lips and tongue became overly curious with my own. I didn't know if he could taste himself on me, though I'm sure he didn't care. I embraced him around his waist, latching my arms on his other side and refusing to let go. This was too good... I didn't want this moment to ever end. I wanted to stay like this forever. The way things should be. I didn't want to go without him, and he didn't want me to go... But he fixed all that, with six easy words that meant so much,

"Robin, will you be my boyfriend?"

I think we both know what my answer was...