The Trap
Nothing says attitude like black. Jonas the otter was equipped with black jeans (faded), black t-shirt (band logo included), and black shades (slightly mirrored.) He hadn't intended it, really, but even his socks and shoes were black today. Nothing says attitude like black, and Jonas liked it that way.
It's not that he really cared about attitude, really, but it was handy when it came with the package. Jonas wasn't punk or a goth, even though he had friends that were either (or both.) Neither did he have a particularly dark personality. It's simply that black went with just about everything, and when you're already a smooth mix of browns and tans, it's tough to color coordinate.
But the apparent attitude did come in handy, if only because he could sit just about wherever he wanted. Even if he attracted glances and glares, that's all he attracted, and on days like today, he was perfectly happy with that. Far above, the sun was shining down onto 8th Street Park, while fluffy clouds danced their way merrily by. The birds were chirping happily above as they pecked at the shoelaces of a pair of trainers that'd been lofted over a branch. The grass was green to either side of the paved path, and if you ignored the occasional discarded can or wrapper, the place could be considered relatively clean.
Really, it was about as clean as it would ever get. Jonas had been coming here his entire life, and he'd come to accept a rather minimal amount of trash as natural. It was about as natural as trees being in the middle of the city, and significantly more natural than most of the endowments of the women walking past.
Hiding behind his dark shades and crossed arms and attitude, Jonas sat and watched. Singles and couples and groups and gaggles all walked past on their way to somewhere, and on to the side, sitting on his slightly sticky wooden bench, Jonas judged them all. Here his eyes followed a wolf in a pinstripe suit, talking on his cell phone. "Self-important and oblivious. Probably hasn't even realized it's a gorgeous day" thought Jonas. Following quickly after, two female rabbits chatted incessantly to each other. "Shallow, and if the one on the left's tits are real, then I'm the pope." Jonas' eyes strayed for just a moment longer than was necessary, then moved on. A good twenty paces behind the rabbits walked a male impala, with a pet fox following him on a leash. "Turn down the flame a bit there, queenie." Jonas blinked as a raccoon in loose sweat pants jogged past, passing the impala and his pet. "Maybe a few hundred more miles to work off that last donut." Jonas' mind wandered, harshly critical of everyone that passed by.
All this he saw and thought without even turning his head. His black clothes were having the added benefit of keeping him roastingly warm, even though the day was typically chilly for mid-fall. Across from him, the two chatty rabbits sat on another bench. Their high pitched dialogue continued, and Jonas expertly tuned the sound of their voices out. The sunlight warming his fur and familiar smell of 8th Street Park was slowly putting him to sleep.
He was about to close his eyes for a nap, when movement at the far side of the park got his attention. A bush near the opposite wall shivered and shook, then went still. Curious, Jonas glanced side to side, and on having determined that he was the only one to see the movement, casually stood and sauntered over to the far side of the park.
Here, a brick wall adjoining the banking section of town stood tall and impassive, providing shade to a motley assortment of bushes and plants that huddled up against it. The bush that he'd seen moving was a large rhododendron, green leaves providing an obfuscating shield around whatever had caused the ruckus. A branch shook again, but the deep shadow combined with Jonas' shades obscured any hints of what might be taking place beneath. Moving to the side, though, he caught a glimpse of red and brown, and quickly pulled back. The front of the bush was clearly hidden from sight, a natural cubby of privacy in the otherwise bustling park. From the side, though, the leaves thinned, starved of precious sunlight, and the inhabitants and their actions came into clear view.
Beneath the bush, he spied the impala he'd seen just a minute ago, his pet fox now off the leash and sniffing at his master's hand. The fox was diminutive in comparison with its cervine master, only a couple feet tall at the shoulders, and only one or two longer in body, not counting the tail. Cautiousness overcame Jonas' curiosity, his casual stride became light and careful. Caught by the sudden urge to observe without being seen himself, the otter was sure to step lightly and avoid dry branches and leaves. He looked both ways, and found a small light green bush bunched up against the wall just ten feet down from the disturbance. Creeping his way there, the otter slinked back towards the open park, where passerbys blithely ignored him. Circling around to his chosen spy bush, he took a surruptious glance around, eyes hidden by his blackly mirrored specs, then ducked noiselessly into the foliage.
Jonas' fur quickly attracted bits of bark and wayward leaves, and he cursed his curiosity for leading him here. He carefully brushed his jeans, making sure not to jiggle his own bush, nor to make too much noise. From beneath his bush, he looked back out at the park, and was surprised to see that he could see just about everything, even obscured as they were by leaves. He suddenly felt silly and exposed, and was about to leave, before another bit of motion caught his attention.
Back beneath the rhododendron, the flashing of a red and white tail drew his eyes. From his new vantage point along the adjoining brick wall, he could now see both the impala and his pet clearly. The cervine was stroking along the fox's flanks, a small wire brush in his hands. The fox stood obediently still, all four paws planted firmly on the ground as his master groomed his fur clean. The impala ran a paw over the fox's ears, scratching behind them in reward.
Jonas suddenly suffered a pang of guilt. He'd snuck into a hidden place just so he could observe a stranger's affection for his pet. Embarrasment almost forced him from hiding, fleeing back to the safe anonymity of the park, but on looking back out, Jonas realized the lunch rush had hit. The next five or ten minutes would see the park absolutely overrun, and his safety beneath the bush wouldn't save him the strange and enquiring glances of others as he emerged embarrassed and blushing from the bushes. No, he decided, he'd wait it out here, until the lunch rush had died down.
He put his back against the brick wall, his eyes drawn back to the impala and his pet. The impala's horned head swiveled and turned, obviously looking through his own obscuring shield of leaves at the crowd. Jonas' breath caught as that piercing gaze passed over his bush, then let out a gasp of relief as the impala's eyes moved on. "Well, my hooved companion," Jonas' mind mulled over, "I guess I'm stuck with you and your pet for the lunch break." The pet fox gazed up expectantly at its master, putting a forepaw up on the impala's thigh. Apparently feeling secure, the impala returned his gaze to his pet. After a moment of silent communication between master and pet, the impala lifted a hand, and without hesitation, rubbed fingers between the fox's hindlegs.
Jonas lurched as if struck. He took another long glance around the park as people passed each other twenty paces away on the sunny paved path. The endless stream of people passed each other on their own business, but eyes never strayed to the bushes to the side, nor to their current inhabitants. Jonas' eyes were pulled back to the impala, and a lump formed in the otter's throat as the impala's arm moved slightly, hand buried out of sight behind the fox's thighs. Still unable to believe what he was seeing, Jonas leaned forward away from the wall.
The impala and his fox didn't seem concerned by Jonas' disbelief, though. The fox wriggled, and the impala pulled his hand back. Rather than running off or acting uncomfortable, though, the fox turned around, backing his rump up against the impala's knee. The cervine reached around the fox's russet thighs and tugged it back, and that same questing hand ducked between the canine hindlegs again. Jonas realized he'd been holding his breath as he watched the fox give a few playful humps of its hips, and after just a few moments, a hint of pink flesh showed from between its thighs.
"Good boy. Just hold still for me, now." Jonas wasn't sure if he could actually hear the impala's whispered words over the din of the busy park, but the words seemed to match the impala's lips, and the message seemed clear as the fox flicked it's (though by now it was clearly a "he") tail up over his back. The impala's hand worked quickly, and the rest of the fox's intensely pink organ appeared flashing between the vulpine's hindlegs, gripped in his master's skilled fingers. Apparently caught in the moment, the fox lowered his forelegs, his white-tipped tail flashing as it flicked over his head. The impala kept one hand gripping the vulpine's shaft, while he pulled the other back, fingers quickly unbuttoning the fly of his khakis.
Jonas felt a hot rush flush his ears and steal his breath to short little gasps. Unconsciously, one of the otter's paws had fallen to his groin, and was gripping his own sheath through the layers of denim and underwear. Unwilling to tear his eyes away, he watched as a long and thin spear of flesh poked from the folds of the impala's pants. The fox, excited and playful, backed up further, bumping his thigh against his master's leg. This time, as the impala spoke, Jonas was sure he could hear the words clearly. "Patience, you horny little thing. Just hold still." The impala shifted fluidly to his knees, and his thin shaft sprayed liquid over the fox's back.
Jonas' hand found its way into his jeans, the button undone and the zipper half down. As his leathery pads touched his own shaft, though, he was suddenly struck by the fact that he could still see people passing obliviously by on the path. His shaft strained against his underwear, leaving stains on his jeans, but he just couldn't bring himself to actually disrobe. What if someone could see him? What if someone heard him?
That didn't seem to be stopping the pair in the next bush over, though. The fox backed up, tail in the air and tip wagging to and fro, as his master tugged back on the red furred hips. The fox's shaft squirted a thin stream of fluid onto the leaf-strewn ground, his cock growing thicker and darker red by the moment as Jonas watched. The impala shook his head, sending one of the bush's branches rustling for a moment. Both he and the fox stopped, eyes once again making sure they weren't being observed. Then with little care for the spectacle they were making, the impala pushed his thin shaft down just below the fox's raised tail, and tugged the russet hips back.
Though he was a ways away from the pair, Jonas could clearly make out the expressions on both of the couple's faces. The fox's eyes closed, and he pushed back with forepaws. There was no slow start, no easy entry, instead, the fox simply sat his hips back against his master until the red tailbase pushed at the impala's belly. The impala was staring intently down, watching as his obedient pet eagerly pushed himself onto his master's straining shaft. The cervine's hands dropped once again to the vulpine's thighs, one dipping beneath to grasp the fox's cock, as the impala's tan hips bucked forward. With silent ease and obvious skill, the master humped into his eager pet.
As though in a dream, Jonas found himself unable (or unwilling) to move. His hand was buried in his pants, feeling himself just throb and pulse with excitement as he watched the pair's soundless coupling. Though the view of the actual action itself was mostly hidden by the impala's folded knees and the fox's red flanks, Jonas could see just the hint of the impala's shaft flashing wetly outside the fox's rear every few thrusts. By now, the fox on the bottom had formed a slowly spreading puddle on the ground beneath him, the hard packed park ground absorbing little of the liquid spraying from the intensely pink shaft.
The impala grunted just loudly enough for Jonas to overhear, and leaned forward over his fox's back. His paws traveled up and down the vulpine's creamy white belly and chest fur. Righting himself again, the impala carried his pet up with him, lifting the fox off the ground and into his arms. One hand supported the fox between his forelegs, while the other hand dropped back to the fox's dripping shaft, squeezing behind the now visible knot. The impala lifted himself upright to his knees, keeping the fox's rump pressed tightly against his crotch as he moved. Holding his pet level, the impala's thrusting became quick and frenzied, and with the new angle, Jonas could now clearly see every detail of the thin cock spearing into the vulpine's backside.
The fox let out what Jonas thought was a loud whine, but a quick glance back to the sunny path proved that the pair's unwitting audience had once again missed every sign of the taboo act happening not twenty paces from the paving. The fox's knot seemed to flare even thicker than it had been, and the infrequent spurts of liquid became a veritable torrent. Once, then twice every second, streams of runny liquid splattered against the puddle already coating the ground in front of the coupling pair. The impala shivered, clutching his pet and holding him tight to his master's crotch. Dark furred ears flicked back and forth between the spiraled horns, their owner closing his eyes and obviously riding out what seemed like a rather heady orgasm of his own.
Jonas shivered himself, his shaft straining for freedom as his fingers worked unconsciously over it inside his jeans. His eyes drank in the sight of the impala's slender penis as it pulled free of his pet's rump, trailing and dribbling semen fitfully. The fox, eager to be on his feet again, scrabbled at the ground slightly as his master lowered him. The vulpine spun in place, shaft dangling comically from between his rather stilted hindlegs, and quickly licked at his master's shaft, cleaning any evidence of their coupling. The impala pulled in a sharp breath, then nudged the fox's muzzle away as he quickly buttoned his pants. "Good boy, now stay here while I take care of business." Either well trained or coincidentally playful, the fox regarded his master for a few moments more, then dropped to his haunches and bending to lick himself as he slowly retreated back into his own sheath. The impala stood, straightened his shirt and khakis, and strolled back towards the path with no sign of remorse or embarrasment. His fox, still nursing the remnants of his arousal, stayed behind in the bushes.
With the spectacle now concluded, Jonas suddenly began to feel self-conscious. People-watching was a fun hobby, of course, but he felt like he'd stepped out of his comfortable interests and invaded on new and wholely unfamiliar territory. He'd just watched someone pleasure and then fuck their pet, and far from the train-wreck he would have imagined that would be, he enjoyed every second of it. He couldn't lie to his straining erection; that had been the most arousing few minutes of his life.
But he couldn't just tug his pants down and take care of that business here. No, maybe the impala was comfortable with that, but Jonas still had a modicium of tact and proper ettiquite. If momentarily overseeing lovers in the throes of passion was walking a fine line of proper public discourse, openly staring and masturbating to it was taking a sprinting run over the line. He couldn't just...
No, he couldn't. He pulled his paw from his jeans, wiping the wet fingers on the ground before zipping his fly back up. His shaft gave a mild complaint, throbbing uselessly against the denim, but finally relented. Closing his eyes and counting to five, the otter practiced a quick meditation he'd learned in school to calm himself. Hands on his knees, he prepared to rise to his feet and flee the scene, but was interrupted by a rather curious snuffling to his right.
Jonas' eyes snapped open, gaze flicking about guiltily at the prospect of being discovered. His eyes whipped around, then finally landed on the same pet fox, who was now sniffing around the otter's own concealing bush. "No boy, not here. Go back and wait for your master." The otter whispered, trying to crawl back against the brick wall behind him. Uncaring of the nervous otter's request, the fox pushed his way past the leafy barrier and into the shaded bush. Spying the otter, the fox immediately perked up, tongue lolling from his mouth.
"No boy, I'm not here. Please, I'm not here." Jonas begged of the vulpine, but his pleas fell on uncomprehending ears. The fox hopped forward, avoiding branches and bracken. Jonas plastered himself to the brick wall, terrified of discovery, but the fox was having none of it. He put forepaws on the otter's chest and propped himself up far enough to sniff at Jonas' muzzle. Seemingly pleased, the fox's tongue licked over the otter's whiskers.
Jonas unconsciously lifted a hand to pet the fox's head, but as it passed his hips, he felt droplets of liquid seep through the fur of his arm. Horrified, he glanced down. The fox, still excited from his previous "play" was sprinkling the otter's shirt and arm with pre, the fat tip of his's cock peeking out of the white-fuzzed sheath. Jonas froze, sure that any second the impala would return, looking for his pet. "No boy, down!" Jonas's voice raised to almost a shout. Immediately sorry, the otter looked around, expecting the entire park to be looking at him.
Instead, the normal crowd had just ignored the otter's cry, just as they'd ignored everything else up to this point. Jonas stalled for a second as the liquid started to soak into his shirt, and with a sudden realization, it dawned on him that even if someone had heard, no one was listening. Not really listening, no. He watched them pass every lunch break, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone around them, rushing to and fro and never really seeing where they're going, or where they've been. Here, in the middle of public, hidden by an insufficient shield of bush leaves, he was nigh invisible.
Jonas lifted his arm again, ignoring the erattic squirts covering his front, and stroked the fox's head. "Heh, you are friendly, aren't you, boy? Where's your master gone, I bet he'd pay attention to you." The fox quirked his head to the left, then gave another few licks to the otter's whiskers. Now sure of his welcome, the fox sat back onto his haunches, sheath pulsing visibly between his spread hindlegs. Jonas' paw reached out hesitantly, but stopped as his conscious mind kicked in. Instead of his original target, he rubbed his fingers through the fox's creamy white chest fur, sating himself with the luxiously soft feel of the fox's pelt.
The fox, however, had already made up his mind about the otter. The petite pet stood and rubbed himself against Jonas' outstretched fingers as he turned around, presenting his red rump to the otter. Shameless and eager, the fox's tail flicked up over his back, and hips arched up for Jonas' approval.
"No boy, I'm not going to..." Jonas' protests petered off as his eyes were drawn between the fox's lushly furred flanks. The white streak of the fox's chest and belly fur ran between the fox's legs, coloring his rump a beautiful cream, surrounding the dark contrast of his black-skinned pucker. Jonas' gaze couldn't miss the thin trail of translucent cum that stained the ebony tailhole, dribbling down and disappearing into the thinly-furred white stretch of the fox's perenium. Fascinated and running on curiosity fueled hormones, Jonas lifted his hand and touched the stubby claw on the tip of his webbed finger to the messy fox's rump.
The fox seemed to approve, as it pushed its rump back against the tentitive touch. Before he could even think to move it, his finger had been buried to the second knuckle in the fox. Jonas pulled in a sharp breath and froze, while the fox gyrated his hips on the outstretched finger, rump squeezing around the digit and caressing it with enthusiasm. Stunned, the otter just watched as the vulpine pleasured himself on the surrogate shaft.
As he watched, something broke in Jonas' mind. The same excitement he'd felt earlier watching the impala pound into this very same fox flooded back, and would not be denied. The din of the crowded park and rainbow-hued noise of people passing in his peripheral vision faded until he heard only the excited fox riding his finger, and the cute noises it made in the grips of pleasure. Jonas' arousal pushed and throbbed at his jeans again, now so stiff it was painful. Not wanting to interrupt the fox, Jonas unbuttoned his fly again, the fabric of his underwear immediately stretching out to accomodate the otter's full size. Looking down at his quickly staining undergarments, Jonas slowly came to the realization that the battle for his modesty had already been fought and lost. His free hand tugged at the fabric of his underwear, and the straining otter flesh sprung free of its cotton prison.
Having had all the pictures of other men he could find, Jonas knew he was no slouch as far as otters were concerned. He was almost painfully hard, the graceful curves of his shaft pulsing with each beat of his heart. His sheath had already rolled back behind the smooth bulge near the base of his cock, leaving the entirety of his pride hanging out in the quickly heating air in the safety of his bushes.
The fox let out a soft growl, and clamped down around the otter's finger. Glancing back up, he watched as the fox's full length dangled between his hindlegs again, once again squirting and throbbing fitfully. Jonas pulled his finger from the fox's depths, which immediately elicited a low whine. The fox stopped, though, when Jonas wrapped his hands around the fox's hips and tugged back. The fox wriggled obediently, paws prancing backwards between the otter's spread knees. The russet tail stayed plastered to the fox's back as he moved, and the dangling shaft between the fox's hindlegs throbbed at the feel of fingers around his hips. Jonas stared down, gazing on as if it were a dream, or as if this were happening to someone else. He used a few fingers to lift his straining cock to the fox's rump, then let go when his tip caught the pucker. Excited and eager to please, the fox danced on his hindpaws, then pushed his hips backwards.
Jonas drank in the sight of the red furred hips, surrounding the white furred rumpcheeks, surrounding the wetly black-skinned tailhole, which was now surrounding his throbbing shaft. There was no resistance, no barrier to penetrate. As soon as the spongy tip of his cock touched the fox's pucker, it spread and gripped him like a finger in a silk glove. The muscle that tugged and pleaded at his cockhead rode up his shaft smoothly as he watched the fox push back, the black skin of the fox's tailhole growing milky as the new intrusion forced out some of the impala's cum. The sensation of the fox's tailhole around him was incredibly smooth and rather gooey. There was so little friction that he could barely tell when the fox moved. Instead, the fox's internal muscles gripped around him in slow langorous waves. The pucker slid along his penis, spreading easily around the bulge near the base, then kissed the lips of his sheath as the fox's rump finally contacted his crotch. Hot flesh bumped against Jonas' sac, and he realized that the fox's dangling erection was resting against him, wet, hot, and pulsing each time the fox's rump moved.
Jonas gazed down at the fox, so perfectly wedged between his thighs, and his shaft gave a throb of excitement. The fox gave a pleasurable whine and flicked his tailbase, muscles gripping around the otter's member in quick response. Nervous and unsure, Jonas tugged his hips back, eyes still glued to the union between otter and fox, where his twitching shaft emerged from the fox's slick tailhole. Inch after inch of his own excitement pulled free of the fox, until only his very tip remained gripped in that talented pucker. Finally closing his eyes and focusing on the feel of the fox, Jonas smoothly slid his hips forward. The hot embrace surrounded him again as the curving dip then bulge of his shaft spread the fox's backside. His hips pushed until he was hilted again, his sac bumping against the wet flesh of the fox's own arousal. He opened his eyes again, and as he watched innocent and oblivious pedestrians pass by him, he felt the hot grip of the pet fox's ass caress and excite him.
A quiet whine from the fox brought his eyes back down. The fox wriggled, and he took his hands off of the ruddy thighs, letting the vulpine do as he wished. The fox lowered his forepaws, and while still impaled on the otter's spear, rotated his hips as he flipped over onto his back. The soft and fuzzy brush of the fox's tail flicked back under Jonas' dangling sac and between his legs. It wagged, brushing against the underside of his own tail behind him, and as it moved, Jonas could feel every twitch of the vulpine's muscles as clenches and squeezes around his cock. The wagging tailbase cradled the otter's sac and testes, tickling very slightly as the otter moved.
Now excited far past the point of rational thought, Jonas thought back to watching the impala fuck his pet. Reaching down, Jonas lifted the fox as the fox pulled forepaws up to his chest, and spread hindlegs out of the way. The fox's shaft had changed from pink to red, and the knot was now almost twice the thickness of the fox's already rather formidible penis. Liquid coated the fox's underside, causing the fox's creamy belly fur to stick up in spikes. As Jonas maneuvered the vulpine, he felt drops of creamy liquid slowly drip down his shaft, the fox's squeezes forcing his master's cum out around the new and throbbing otter shaft. Jonas lifted the fox just to crotch level, then with a shuddering breath, pulled his hips back for a thrust.
The fox let out a yip as tan otter hips impacted the red vulpine ones. The fox's cock jumped on his belly, spraying liquid up over the fox's head and into the bush's hard packed soil. Supporting the fox's rump with one hand, and the head with the other, Jonas pulled his hips back again for another solid push. Unable to stop at this point, and unconcerned about the noise they were making Jonas started humping frantically.
Given all of the different and new sensations he was experiencing, Jonas couldn't tell how long he was thrusting. The fox's tailhole was tight and gripping around his shaft, spreading easily around his wavy curved member. Each thrust squelched more impala cum out from the fox's ass, coating Jonas' balls wetly. The fox's tail curled up and under his legs, cradling his sac and caressing his skin as it wagged. Finally, each thrust elicited a small "erf" from the fox, and caused the intensely red shaft to bounce on the vulpine's belly. Belatedly, Jonas wished he'd taken his jeans off completely, so he could feel more of this wonderful creature's soft fur rubbing against his own.
Quickly, too quickly for Jonas' liking, the otter's pleasure built. Unsure of how long he'd last, nor if he'd be able to tell when he was about to cum at all, Jonas squeezed his hands around the fox gently, holding him still as his hips pounded away. Stars flashed in Jonas' vision, and the quickly building pressure erupted. He leaned down and hugged the fox to his belly, where the obedient pet wriggled and humped it's own hips. As Jonas emptied himself into the exquisite rump of the diminutive creature, he was vaguely aware of the hard spear of flesh rubbing against his belly fur, leaving his pelt sodden. Jonas's breath paused and he clenched his eyes shut. Every shifting of his or the fox's hips moved the otter's shaft around in the gooey and used tail end of the fox.
Jonas was still holding the fox and recovering when he felt a hand on his shoulder roughly pull him back. Startled, Jonas jumped, sitting back on his knees. The motion pulled him out of the fox with a audiable slurp, and as he held the fox at crotch level, Jonas's shaft still spurted fitfully over the fox's own hindquarters, rump, and knot. Looking around in alarm, Jonas found khaki covered legs stretching up right next to his head.
The impala's hand grabbed Jonas' head and held it firm to the impala's fabric-covered thigh. "You know, if you're going to fuck my pet out in public, it's at least common courtesy to let him cum." Jonas' eyes went wide in alarm, then realized that his head was being pushed into the crotch of the khakis. "What am I going to do with you, you naughty, thieving otter."
"S.. Sss... Sir, I'm sorry! I can explain!" Jonas let out in a gasp, his blood running cold at the reality of being caught. The fox squirmed and fell free from his shocked hands. The excited red pet ran around the otter, then stopped in front of his master. As if to show off his achievement, the fox rolled onto his back and spread his hindlegs wide, cum dripping fitfully from his tailhole. The fox rocked back and forth, the red knotted member flopping from one side of his belly to the other.
"Oh, no need to explain. I know my little Mendel is a hot little fuck. You probably didn't even have a choice. But reality is, my caught otter, that I just caught you red... Ahem... Handed... fucking my pet. Now, I can either bring this to the authorities, who would be all to eager to listen to your explanations..."
"Please sir, I'm sorry! I'll never..."
"Quiet. As I was about to say, or you can buckle yourself back up, follow me, and we can work out payment in private. Just so happens that my little red ball of energy here isn't my only pet in need of attention." The red fox shifted back and forth on his hips, then flipped back onto his fours. Moment by moment, the signs of the fox's excitement faded, and the impala bent to fasten a leash to the fox's collar again. "Your choice... Errr, what was your name?"
"Jonas, it's Jonas."
"And for the moment, you can call me "Sir." Don't try to run, you know I could run you down, and that would not end well for you. Button your pants, take my hand, and follow me. If you're obedient, you'll walk home tonight with your secret safe."
The impala leaned in, and the curved horns brushed the otter's ears. Jonas' and "Sir"'s whiskers brushed in just a moment of twisted intimacy. The impala's voice dropped to a husky whisper as the fox tugged excitedly at the leash. "If you're good, I mean really good, you might just walk home tonight with my name."
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(Fin! Jonas, that impala guy, and his hot little fox are copyright Kandrel. Any resemblance to other characters is only incedental and unintentional. Reposting is permissable, however, all reposts must be in original form, and must contain the author's name unaltered.)
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fox at foxyonline dot com
Comments and suggestions are welcome!