The Universal Language
_Toonces, the Driving Cat, the Cat Who Could Drive a Car
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He saw me struggling by the water, and perhaps thinking I was in pain, he rushed to my side silently, lifting the rock that my foot had slipped between. I hadn't necessarily been panicking, I wasn't exactly in pain, but his sudden arrival was like an angel sent down from above regardless. I thanked him, and he nodded wordlessly, traces of earthy markings on his face demonstrating that he was native of the land I was visiting. The paw he extended to me, to help me out of the shallow pool I was in, gripped me gingerly, with trepidation, a certain nervousness in it that obviously couldn't be expressed in words.
Standing up now on in the soft dirt, I stared a little dumbly into his face, I was a little embarrassed which probably showed in my cheeks. Having taken off my clothes to swim, I met him in my most humble dress, but he didn't seem to mind that for once he was more dressed than the tourist. And, given what was probably natural to him, and considering how comforting that smile was, my apprehension with standing there in the nude didn't last long. An unwavering and innocent smile on his muzzle that cut straight through me, the kind of smile that has no questions for why it's there. It just seemed to sit so placidly on his face, a happiness so pure and serene, the otter obviously considering it no great feat that he'd freed me. I walked a few steps to demonstrate that I wasn't hurt, returning his smile though not nearly as genuinely as he managed his. I made to walk away, to continue my hike, but he stopped me suddenly. I had a height advantage on him, and he seemed so small and petite compared to me, his slender body hidden by only a loincloth. His fur was decorated with tribal markings, an earthy clay it seemed, as I looked down onto his face, a line along the bridge of his nose, a few others framing his face. There were simple designs, gently looping lines and arcs, on his body. Them were just as graceful as he was as he turned me around and began to silently narrate the scene.
He pointed to the modest waterfall that fed the pool, its gushing and churning a muted orchestra of turbulence. "Denshu," he said, an trickled his fingers down through the air like the water rushing down. He bent down to the water, a clear jade that you could see straight through. He cupped a little in his paws and lifted it to my lips, and I drank. As I did, he said "Herrah, herrah," and made a pose as if flexing his muscles, though his toned arms were a little meeker than what mine were. I believe he was saying the water would make me strong, or healthy. I wasn't certain, but the crispness of the water refreshed me either way.
He bent down to the bank again and scooped a little mud into his hand. It was thick, clay, wet, and as he lifted it to my nose I noticed it even smelled a little sweet, hardly like mud at all. He almost seemed nervous now, looking up to me with something that reminded me of tension in his eyes, but it was filtered through the same innocent face and smile he'd yet to drop. Even his insecurity, if that's what it was, seemed so good-natured and vivacious and youthful. He lifted a muddy thumb to my face and smeared it on. I stood there, bending down to him, looking into his wondrous, gleaming eyes as his smile widened. He pointed his face, traced his markings, and then pointed to me. He was putting his marks onto me.
He moved to my chest next, just barely gracing my fur with his touch, leaving elegant swirls in my white fur. I don't know if they said anything, I don't know if they meant anything at all, but I knew what it meant to us. I simply stood there with breathless awe, in awe of the moment, in awe of the otter, his thick yet expressive tail tossing slowly back and forth behind him. I realized mine was, too.
He turned me around, and my tail enveloped him immediately, pulled him close, and I could feel his warm breath on my neck as he ran his muddy fingers over my shoulders, crafting his sensuous designs still. My body was slowly being covered by his markings, and I felt almost as if the mud was warming me, warming me as much as the otter's touch. Closing my eyes, I could sense all of nature around me, could sense all of nature around us, and felt as if every new swirl, every warm, earthy touch of his paw brought us closer together, or at least brought me closer to him.
Finally, he turned me around again. His smile hadn't faded, hadn't lost any of its innocent charm. He washed his paws in the pong, and returned to me. I wondered what might come next, if I might try with even the most vain hope to talk to him, to thank him. But words obviously failed me. Actions failed me. Gestures failed me. His smile paralyzed me, the only muscles that functioned on my body was my heavily beating heart.
Every muscle livened at one moment, and I wrapped my arms around him, pushed him down to the soft grass, and mashed my lips into his, sloppily, hastily, foolishly, the markings on our bodies rubbing together and becoming nondescript. He writhed with me, his once deft paws now seeming to wander aimlessly in overflowing excitement, grabbing my fur, scratching my legs, and finally, onto my sheath. He rubbed and squeezed it as I moaned into his muzzle, taking my fuzzy balls into his paw and rolling them between his fingers. He spoke now, assorted little words, "Jaruk, jaruk," he repeated, and "Tem," which was one word I actually understood. It meant "sweet," like sugar.
We rolled around in the grass, me on top, then him, our lips sucking at each other, our tongues wrestling just as much as we did. His loincloth as lost in the fray, and my paw immediately shot out for hisotterhood , taking the pouch between my fingers and teasing it as gently as I could, his cock quickly emerging. My emotions urged me on to go for more, more, more. And his clearly were, too. I teased his balls, squeezed them in my paw, and reaching back I ran a finger along the cleft of his pert, tight ass. I circled his little hole with my finger, and he spoke one of the few words of English he must have known. "Pure," he said. "Pure." It seemed, to me, he was talking about himself.
Slowly, we made our way toward the pool, and soon I was sitting up with my feet in the refreshing water, the young otter sat in my lap as my paws devoured his body, searched out every nook and crevice, made measure of every curve, took stock of the textures of his body. I grabbed his tail, remarkable in its strength even for a small guy, so thick and powerful it was. I ran my paws along it as it wagged uncontrollably behind him, and he did the same to me, delighting himself in the softness of my own. The white tip tickled against his face. He huffed its scent. I huffed him. We were intoxicated. I slipped a finger inside him. He gasped, his little body shuddering against mine, his tail twitching from base to tip.
Our cocks rubbed against each other. My swelling knot exotic to him and he squeezed it with curious lust. He ran his fingers all along from the base of my cock to the tip, where already I was leaking. He was leaking, too, hisotterhood stiff and firm, his large balls tight in their fuzzy sack, pressed against mine.
And all the while we kissed. We kissed madly, passionately, the only reliable communication our tongues could manage.
He grabbed my cock at the base, and leaning forward, he took aim on himself. "Ohhhh," he moaned, in that universal language, "Ohhhhh, mayame, mayame..." He pressed the tip against his hole.
"There, just like that," I said, hoping at least that the encouraging tone of my voice would get through not just the language barrier, but through the haze of lust as well. "Just like that, otter..." he started to sit down on my cock. His hole popped open after a little resistance to let me in, and his body shuddered again. I kissed his neck and rubbed my paws over his back. Our markings were unrecognizable now, each having rubbed off onto the other, the one almost divine, elegant curls now smeared and messy from our love. He grabbed my shoulders, no longer having to hold my cock, and sat up as he slowly lowered himself on my cock. My toes curled in the water, his curled in the mud. His slight chest was heaving with great breaths, his fingers dug into my fur. Soon enough, my knot was pressed against his cheeks.
his
He rested for a moment, slowly rolling his hips around, grinding back and forth, perhaps exploring himself as much as he was me. I kissed him again, like a celebration, mad glee on our lips as we sucked at other's muzzles. Sitting back, again, I admired his body as he balanced himself on me, so thin, so beautiful. The previous markings were unrecognizable, to where you'd think he and I had simply rolled in the mud. My shirt, shed what seemed like so long ago, was within my reach. I grabbed it, wrapped the cloth around my finger, and dipped it in the water. Lifting it to his chest, I cleaned off a spot on the left side of his chest. I wiped the mud away from one spot, leaving the rest messy, like a badge of our romping. Only a moment later, my design was done, the clean fur in the shape of a heart.
He began to ride me, his eyes shut and his head lifted upwards as he ground, bobbing his ass up and down as his tail swayed. He bounced his tight ass on myfoxhood , soft moans leaking out of his throat, as they did mine. I held him by the hips, guiding him along, thrusting my hips only when I could no longer resist the temptation. He was biting his lip, straining against something, not pain, not apprehension, but something. He kissed me, this time. We traded kisses like that, regularly assaulting each other's lips with our tongues, craving to taste the other's passion as much as we felt it.
Soon he bouncing a little harder, driving himself down a little faster, settling down on the knot and taking me deep every few dips. His cries got louder, almost strained but unrestrained, the sound of his voice bouncing off the water, complemented perfectly by the omnipresent crashing of the waterfall. He would drop down, take every inch, and grind against the knot, his throat tight with groans. It didn't take long for me to figure out he was trying to take the knot. He tried in vain to stretch himself around the bulb, each time a look of hope in his eyes as he tried again. I began to urge him on, "You can do it," I said to him, almost passively. I didn't want to push it into him. I didn't want to force it into him. I wanted him to take it all on his own, all by himself, I wanted him to feel what it was like to overcome himself, and to reach that blissful pinnacle. It simply wouldn't be the same had I done it for him. And so he soldiered on.
"C'mon otter," I said, leaning against his chest, close enough to hear the frantic beating of his heart. "Be patient, you can do it, oh God, I want you to do it..." I said. It was a little freeing knowing he couldn't understand me. "I need it just as much as you do, oh God you know I need to feel myself deep inside you!" I would have felt ridiculous saying this to anyone else, but with the otter the cork on the lustful part of my brain popped, and I found myself repeating this almost endlessly, constantly urging the otter on, telling him how much I needed him, how badly I longed to knot him, to have him knot himself, even though he didn't understand a word.
His breaths got quicker. He started to clench around my cock. He was getting close. "You can do this, otter, you can do it..." he started to gasp and groan, urgency in his voice. I resisted the urge to rock my hips against him, to grab his shoulders and bury myself home. He started to bounce frantically on top of my cock, each time grinding against my knot with heavy, belabored moans. He shrieked, his cock tensed, and he started to squirt. He shot a tremendous jet of cum against my chest, then another, as he ground against my knot. I felt his hole begin to give. With a loud gasp, and a shot of cum that splashed under my chin, he settled into my lap, my knot inside, feeling him clench around me as he shook and shot, tremendous streams of cum landing on my body. And as they did, I let loose too, finally, my own voice mixing with his as we were both now groaning. My knot swelled, my cock spasmed, and I felt myself drain into him. My fingers dug into his fur, my teeth bared as my whole body was racked, burying my seed in the otter.
We were both at rest, his balls resting in my fur, his cock stiff in front of him still, a drop of cum collected on the end of it. We were breathless, but we kissed anyway, and slipped forward into the refreshing pool, both up to our necks in on the water. We sat there for hours, enjoying the scene around us. It was exotic to me, as exotic as I was to him. But, together, we both felt natural, we both felt entirely at home.