It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year
Alright, everyone! This is really long... sorry. I'm really happy to be part of this community
:3
Uh... Well, if you don't like young love, long stories, or yiffy sex (why are you here???) please do not read. Also, if your under 18 (17 in some areas? I'm not really sure) don't read. Everyone else, enjoy!
Oh right, disclaimer: I do not own the TV show house, the song "It's the most wonderful time of the year", Kool-Aid, puppy chow, or... anything else in this story that's namebrand.
Enjoy! P.S. The viewpoint changes between characters, their part starts at their name in between the ()
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(Trenton)
I was in my room, lying back on my bed, staring at the bug on my ceiling that was casually making its way over to the light fixture. I sighed heavily, wishing I was with my parents. They were in Cancun with all their expenses paid; probably on some beautiful beach drinking something exotic that smelled of pineapple. My brow furrowed at the thought, as I never got to tag along on my father's business trips. I'm already sixteen, but my father's work doesn't pay for anyone under eighteen. Without them paying we can't afford excursions to faraway places.
I sat up with another drawn-out sigh, lightly tossed the homework that my teachers (being jerks) had assigned for the Christmas break onto the floor, and went upstairs to the kitchen. The envelope that my parents had left for food money lay on the counter unopened as we were well stocked in practically every food imaginable. My father loved anything unhealthy and my mother was big on homemade and foreign meals. The mix resulted in an abundance of diverse foods. I swear, sometimes I was amazed at the fact that we had things like mangoes and sushi at this time of year.
I pulled out a packet of hot cocoa and released its contents into a mug that said "You're a winner!" Oh yeah, I felt like a winner now. A sixteen year old husky, no car, no girlfriend, parents in freaking Cancun, and stuck in one of the coldest places on earth, northern Michigan.
I poured water into the mug and placed it in the microwave, scowling at my reflection in the plastic. I was fairly good-looking, the gray of my fur in all the right places on my face, my head-fur cut just short enough to look the right length. I smiled, checking myself out.
I was wearing a black t-shirt, the decal on front the same shade white as my belly fur. Lifting it up, I got the same ecstasy as I always did at the sight of my six-pack, defined nicely by the shadows of fur. Farther down, my comfortable sweatpants (also black) ended in my big feet. I curled and uncurled my toes then dropped my shirt back into place. I laughed at myself and took deep breath at the ping of the microwave. Taking out the steaming liquid, I walked into the living room and turned on the TV. Flipping through all the channels (667, a hundred or more of them sports) I found nothing was on. I settled on a rerun of House, giggling to myself as the Doberman suggested lupus, like he always did.
My mind absorbed in the show, I absently took a sip of the hot cocoa, cursing lightly to myself at the burning of my tongue. The house was too quiet without my mother singing as she cooked some elaborate meal or my dad clapping loudly at some football game.
Blowing on it first, I took another sip of the drink, the chocolaty aroma filling my senses and warming me inside. I cracked the joints of my toes, sitting cross-legged on our oversized couch. I was occasionally suspicious of my parent just being stingy about me not going anywhere due to the cost when we had such expensive stuff around the house. I really didn't want to go anyway (as my parents would probably get it on sometime during the trip) but them inviting me would make me feel better.
Feeling lonely at the silence (other than the TV, which I had lost interest in) I scanned the neighborhood in which we lived through the front window. Snow was drifting lazily down through the air while reflecting the glow from the street lights. The sun was going down behind the clouds, the occasional person driving through the suburbs breaking the monotony of the evening.
I drained the last of the cup, rocketing myself from the couch with newfound energy. This was all too depressing, I decided, so I was going to have someone over. As I stepped into the kitchen, I decided that my friend Arnold would be the best choice. He was my best friend since we were pups, and lived about a block away. Being that none of my friends had a car of their own (except Daryl, who was out vacationing in Mexico) Arnold would have the easiest time getting here. He could probably spent the night, too, as his family wasn't assembled for the Christmas rush yet. His mother and father were at a funeral in Wyoming, his oldest sister at college, his little sister watched by his second oldest sister.
I shuttered at the thought of that many siblings. My family seemed complete with my parents and me, and while my girl-friends (in a figure of speech) were nice, I don't think I could stand living with them.
My parents had a lot of trust in me, which unfortunately wasn't misplaced. I knew that having a party wasn't appropriate. However, one friend for one night couldn't possibly piss them off. They were very liberal and laid-back parents; my dad even bought me some magazines for my fourteenth birthday.
I picked up the phone and dialed the number from memory.
(Arnold)
"Home alone, SWEET!" I thought as my elder sister pulled out of the driveway with my little sister Emily in the passenger seat. I didn't care that they were going shopping, as long as I didn't have to tag along. The mall wasn't a very fun place for me, as more often than not I was broke. Now was one of those times.
I shrugged off my t-shirt and went upstairs to my room. I laid down on the bed and polished off the peanut butter and banana sandwich that had been sitting on my desk for two or three hours. My stomach satisfied, I aimed to satisfy an area a little lower on my body.
Edging out of my jeans, I looked down at my body. I was slim, not quite to abs yet, but much thinner than the regular Sheepdog appearance. My fur was short, as I liked to show off my figure as much as I could. I was chubby as a kid, well on my way to my father's figure, when I had decided that I wasn't going to give into a stereotype. I worked my ass off during middle school... I joined cross-country and track, which left me with a much nicer figure (after all three years). Now a sophomore in high school, I still wish I had a better figure, but I liked how I was now.
I had my mother's Samoyed ears, which stood nicely through my longer head hair. My hair came down over my eyes, which made me look like a wannabe skater, but I liked it like that. It was a heritage thing. My mother was coming up with more and more elaborate bribes to get me to cut it, but I had yet to give in.
I edged my fingers into my boxers, my tongue hanging out as my mind flooded with unclean images of dogs, wolves...and the occasional cat. Although they shouldn't have, cats turned me on. Not all of the figures were female, either. I closed my eyes in contentment as I started out, only semi solid and still in the confines of my boxers. My sheath slid down, starting to itch as it clustered at the swelling knot.
The phone rang and I cursed loudly, my fun interrupted, but flipped Tarzan style out of my bed and quickly put my clothes back on. In case it was someone important, I rushed to the phone. I caught it at the third ring and frowned as I checked the caller ID, as it was only Trent. I rolled my eyes as I answered, even though inside I was glad he'd called. He probably wanted me to come over, which would cheer me up greatly after the death of my great-grandfather. He was a distant relative, but we'd visited him every once in a blue moon, and he did matter to me.
"Hey... now's really not a good time. I was just about to sacrifice my goat." I answered. It was an inside joke we'd had for a while. We watched a lot of movies together, and during the summer we'd seen one about this Aztec civilization that slaughtered hordes of a rival goat tribe... but I digress.
He laughed, and then said "Hey Arnold. Wuzzup?"
"Not much. You?"
"Parents are in some beautiful, foreign country."
"Like usual?"
"Yep. Hey, you wanna come over? You could like, spend the night. Movies, piles of food?"
"Sounds good. I'll be there in... Half an hour?"
"Cool."
"K, see ya."
"Bye."
Trenton always makes me smile. He's really random, but still cool, like William Shakespeare on crack. Intelligent, but nice. There are other kids at school who are annoying in the way they talk, but Trent's voice is low enough to where it can't piss you off.
I set off to pack my bags. I threw in an extra pair of boxers (possibly unclean, but I make no discrepancies), clothes for the next day, my Ipod, and a container of grape Kool-Aid mix. I LOVE grape Kool-Aid, but all Trent's family ever buys is orange and strawberry.
I put on sandals, just to torture myself on the way there. It's mainly because I'm lazy, but I never wear shoes with laces. Too much effort.
As a last minute thought, I wrote a note to my sister saying where I was. She probably wouldn't care, but if mom and dad called to say hi, she'd need an explanation.
I put on my leather jacket, which contrasted nicely with my white fur, and headed out into what looked now to be the arctic tundra. Snow was blizzarding down from the sky, obscuring the view of the dismal suburbs in which I live. Not to say it's low class, but in a small town life is pretty boring.
I started to run, my breath staining the air grey for a second as I exhaled. My feet screamed at me for my stupidity, but I didn't care. It was exhilarating, sprinting over the snow-covered sidewalk. I went down on all fours occasionally, just for a moment or two, primal instincts keeping my limbs in time with each other. Within two minutes, I'd successfully arrived at Trent's house. His house was bigger than mine, 3 stories if you counted the basement, which doubled as his room.
I straightened myself, stretching a bit and then shivering in the cold. I had a slight sweat going, but even in the snow I had yet to progress into the "wet dog" area of the smell spectrum. I pranced up the porch stairs and rang the doorbell. I shivered, freezing my tail off in the biting wind.
(Trenton)
I was in the kitchen, attempting to make allergy-friendly puppy chow, when the doorbell rang. My ears perked up a little as I heard Arnold swear harshly. I turned around to find that the arctic floodgates had been opened; the snow banks were almost as high as the windows .
"Shit." Arnold was probably freezing outside, probably without any shoes. The kid was so lazy.
Running toward the door, I wondered if I could torture him into giving me some of the grape Kool-Aid that was sure to be in his bag. I thought better of it and unlocked the door. It swung open only to be slammed shut again, Arnold's eyes wide, his paws stretched out behind him on the door.
"Frickin' cold!" he exclaimed, making me laugh.
"Hey, do you know how to make puppy chow that won't kill us?" I asked. He rubbed his arms as he walked pass me in the narrow hallway that led to my front door. As I breathed in, a scent caught my nose, capturing my senses. It smelled good, faintly reminding me of something pleasant.
As I snapped back into my head, I realized that he was halfway down the hall, staring at me. I looked him in the eyes and said...
"GIMME SOME FREAKING KOOL-AID!" as I pounced at him. His eyes grew wide for a second, then a devilish grin set on his face. He back-stepped, pulling the item in question from his bag. I fell down to my paws in his absence, and as I looked up I found the red jug mascot thing staring me straight in the face. He was taunting me, which made my adrenaline flare up.
"Catch me if you can!" He said, sprinting into the kitchen. I followed without question, feral remarks passing out my mouth. My mind was racing, but not about the Kool-Aid. That smell...he smelled of it, as did his bag. There was something inside that I wanted to sniff, but just digging through someone's stuff (even your best friend's) wasn't something you just did. If I had the chance later, maybe I'd take a peek.
When I caught him in the kitchen (tackling him to stop him from running) we were both a little sweaty. I rolled off of him and snatched the Kool-Aid from his paw, practically skipping back to the kitchen to get a jug, sugar, and water.
He got up off the floor ninja style; lying back all the way then flipping forward. He staggered a bit, and put his large paw on the table.
"Whoa...major head rush..." he said, rubbing his eye with his free hand.
"Ok, space cadet. Hey, check what's on the movie channels." This was the standard movie night. He walked to the living room, dropping his bag inside and started looking for the remote. We chatted idly for a bit as I finished the Kool-Aid, and then drank half straight from the jug. He was flipping through the channels, sprawled out on the couch, when he saw what I was doing.
"Ok Corky, save some for me!" He said, drawing himself up again to claim some of the grape nectar for himself. Corky was the name he called me when I was doing something stupid...which was the case now, as later I was going to have to piss like a race-horse.
He jacked the jug from my hand with fake anger, and then drained the rest himself. We were both instantly sugar high, our minds humming with too many thoughts too fast. We'd go off on a tangent at every little thing, and would more than likely have lots of fun doing it.
After flipping through the movie channels (about 50 or so), we stared at a porn flick for about five seconds, cornered in our own respective mind. He flipped about 16 channels reeeeally fast as I promptly stood up and said I'd go check through the rentals.
In the family room (blushing where no one could see me), I checked the rental movies that we had. All were probably a week or more overdue, but my family never got around to watching them. There was an adventure movie... a kids' movie that my mom thought I might like... an anime... and a romantic comedy. I had seen the adventure movie while it was in theaters, the kids movie was out of the question, and I wanted to watch the anime but it was a series Arnold thought was bad. This left the romantic comedy, a total chick flick. Thinking it over, I grinned at the thought of us making fun of it the entire time.
I walked back out of the family room to find Arnold had converted the living room into a movie den.
(Arnold)
The pillows were set up, the couches all up against the opposite wall, and the lights turned off. I had done it in about a minute, silently, and couldn't wait to see Trent's reaction to the change. I turned to find him already standing there, holding a chick flick up in his hand. I mentally cursed, as I was hoping to see more surprise.
"Tonight we will be testing this flick with the trials of hell!" He said with mock seriousness, making me laugh.
"I'll get the snacks!" I jittered out, still sugar high from the Kool-Aid. I slid past him as he went to go put the movie in the DVD player. His deodorant smelled good, briefly registering in my consciousness as I passed.
In the kitchen I hunted for standard movie food, as well as anything that looked appetizing. I took my sweet time, as I didn't really want to sit through the commercials. After about five or six cupboards, I found a slew of popcorn. I scanned the flavors, looking for extra butter. I found my prize tenfold: triple extra butter. Euphoria hit me with a bang, as I felt a brief love for Trent's dad. He always bought the best stuff, things you couldn't find in the local marketplace.
I put the bag in the microwave for the desired amount of time and continued my search. I grabbed soda, brownies, homemade cookies (at which I wondered where his mother got the time), and finally a bag of pretzels.
I got down on my knees and checked through the drawers that held untold treasures, eventually finding the Holy Grail: Girl Scout cookies. I grabbed a platter plate and piled the food on top of it. It came up to about my pecks, while the table only made it to my navel.
The microwave dinged, popcorn done. I pulled it out and immediately cringed at the burning of my fingers. My claws extended in surprise, piercing the popcorn bag and spilling a few molten kernels to the floor. I picked them up from the floor, swearing a few more times, and ran my fingers under cold water. I dried them, frowning, and told myself to be more conscious.
Walking back into the room, I found Trent sitting stiffly on the center couch, leaning forward and giving me the "What the hell took you so long?" look.
I dropped the platter of goodies on him and plopped myself down right next to him.
"Finally!" he said, mockingly. He pressed the play button and we started the monologue.
"Slutty looking fox girl has a fight with her redneck boyfriend. Said boyfriend leaves and takes the car. Slutty fox breaks down crying and takes an entire bottle of some unnamed painkiller in a suicide attempt." I said, laughing at the cliché.
"Loser pizza deliverer hates his life. Never had a girlfriend in his entire feeble existence. Loser-dom knows no bounds. Makes plans to kill himself after final pizza delivery. Arrives at house, finds almost dead slutty chick's body. Instead of reverting to necrophilia, he saves her by taking her to a hospital." He said with what I assumed was fake solemnity, making me laugh harder.
"While at the hospital, loser face falls down a flight of stairs, getting a broken leg and having to stay in the same room as slutty woman." He continued, making me practically choke on the popcorn that I had been scarfing.
We continued, making each other laugh more and more, until we practically had soda flowing out our snouts. I stretched, pulling my hidden abs apart as much as they could go.
(Trenton)
I found my chance when Arnold left to get snacks. I popped the movie in, letting the commercials roll. When I heard the microwave turn on, it was all I could do to not dive toward the bag. The smell had persisted the entire time I'd been in the room. With shaking fingers, I unzipped the bag and examined the contents.
A puff of whatever that smell was came out like smoke, making curiosity take my body over. I dug my fingers through, sniffing everything. It all smelled of Arnold, but one thing had that particular tinge stronger than others. I pulled it out with closed eyes and took a deep breath through the fabric; my mind clouded. Explosions rocketed behind my eyes like multicolored fireworks.
I withdrew the garment from my face to see what could possibly smell that good, but my body stiffened like a rock when I realized what it was. Arnold's boxers, pre-worn and unwashed, lay like satin in my hand. They were white with vertical green stripes; a few of the green stained a lighter color with cum.
Now, I consider myself straight. When I picture myself in say, 20 years, I see myself with a house and a wife. When it comes to the carnal pleasures, however, let's just say I'm not the straightest nail in the box. I can get off to girls, but guys give me a bit of pleasure as well. Someone seeing me right then, however, would thing otherwise.
I was starting to get stiff through my boxer briefs... things were not looking good. However, I couldn't restrain myself as I buried my nose in the boxers again and inhaled, uninhibited pleasure rushing like water through my senses. His musk, a deep and dark scent with what seemed to me to be a tint cinnamon... this was not how I should be reacting to my best friend.
I almost pissed myself when I heard the microwave ping. With a rush, I shoved the spilled contents of my friend's bag back inside and zipped it shut. I was shaking as I sat down, feeling embarrassed and exposed. I picked up the remote and leaned forward, trying to hide the too-slowly receding bulge that showed like a silhouette through my sweatpants. Arnold walked in then, and I gave him a questioning look to hide my worried expression. One hand was holding the remote, the other in the form of a fist pushing on my face to hide my blushing. Damnit.
He walked in nonchalantly, dropping the platter of food he'd collected into my lap. He brushed a bit of his hair out of his green eyes... the same green as his boxers. I could feel myself getting stiff again...
"Finally." I said, hopefully loud enough to cover the fact I was still shaking. He sat down right next to me, even though there were two other couches in the room. I started the movie, trying to make myself absorbed. He started the monologue, exploiting the ridiculousness of the movie. It was cheesy, and when he finished, I was able to quick fire the jokes back.
We continued to watch the movie, and I relaxed to the point where I could lean back again. I was laughing at what he said, focusing intently on not giving into the temptation of leaning over and... who knows what-ing him. I forced the thoughts from my mind.
I was succeeding up until he stretched. His t-shirt unmercifully exposed his stomach, almost as fit as mine. The fur looked softer than what covered the rest of his body, with a line of slightly longer fluff leading down into... into his sapphire plaid boxers. He had a treasure-trail... I wasn't so successful in repressing my thoughts any longer. I couldn't help imagining what it would be like to pounce on him now, embrace him, bring him closer and closer and closer... get inside those pants and have a party. I was full-on horny now, causing me to have to lean over as my eyes shot back to the movie in desperation. No luck, as it turned out the movie had become more perverted than I felt. Two girls were making out, and without a consequence of the plot hanging over the situation (as I hadn't been watching for a while) it felt like watching the opening of a porno.
Did I die? It feels an awful lot like I'm in hell. I thought sarcastically. Sarcasm is how I deal with a lot of my problems, actually. My gaze shifted to outside, where the snowbanks were already a foot over the base of the window. Wonderful. Hell's frozen over.
(Arnold)
I leaned back fully into the stretch, feeling amazing. My eyes were still open, staring at the ceiling. Holding my pose, I glanced downward. What I saw shocked me more than I should have been able to handle, however I've taken a slew of karate classes. This means that I have mastered (most) of the art of not letting your emotions be portrayed on your sleeve.
Trent was staring straight at my crotch, secretly, and seemed oblivious to the fact that I could see him. I held the pose, guiltily relishing the fact that I turned him on, before sinking slowly back into a seated position. He had leaned over, eyes returning to the screen, where two vixens were making out.
I felt...good. I was, technically, in the closet. I hadn't quite hit Narnia; girls could turn me on, but I had a primary interest in guys. I didn't really see a long, extended future with one, but they were what floated my boat best.
Trent... really didn't seem like the gay type to me. Even when we were pups, he seemed more interested in girls. Now, in a cluster of emotions and groups, it wasn't like I could just come onto him. He'd take it the wrong way, or I'd be ridiculed, or I would wind up with nobody... being gay hurt my self esteem. It wasn't even the gay part, what hurt was being gay in a small town. It's not like you can talk to anyone about it, or be with someone. Your cover up has to be perfect. Trent having the same feelings made me feel better, a sense of camaraderie stroking my ego.
Suddenly doubt turned on me like a bitchy, bipolar alligator. What if's ran through my mind like cheetahs: What if it was a mistake? What if you're wrong? What if you didn't actually see that? What if...?
He shoved his hands into his pockets and stood up sharply, interrupting my thoughts. My senses were on high, and I realized there was an unfamiliar smell about. I took in a breath, realizing that the displaced air had blown what must have been his musk over to me. It was a resonating bellow of a smell, powerful, but without much of a specific. Skunks had a powerful smell, one that hit you like an anvil. Think of that, but subtract the actual...flavor? An after-scent of faint chocolate and mint was left behind in its wake... it pummeled my brain, leaving me in a haze.
"Bathroom." He said, smiling. It didn't touch his eyes. He was concerned about something. He walked out, leaving me feeling weird. Another what if ran through my mind, this one a bit different than the previous. I brushed hair out of my eyes and stood up, following him like a stalker. He shut the sliding door of the bathroom behind him, assuring my safety as I approached.
I was shaking, whether it being from the cold or what I was doing I couldn't ascertain. I was on the very balls of my feet as I stalked up to the bathroom door and peeked through the crack of the door.
He sitting on the toilet, but wasn't peeing. Instead, the seat was down, and he was holding his head in his hands. He lifted his face with the look of someone with new hope. He slid down his sweatpants -I was more than a little horny- and clutched his shaft through his underwear. They were black, boxer-briefs. Tight. The fur pushing out of the edges was a pure white; it looked really soft. He gripped himself and made a quiet grunt, my tail wagging in unison with his.
After a couple of strokes he gave up, pulling the sweatpants back up. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. I felt bad. Not only because I was being a total voyeur (the boundaries I'd crossed burned in my mind) but because I was the reason he was feeling like this.
Making my way back to the huge, brown couch, a flash of intuition hit me, and I smiled. I was going to make this up to him. It was going to have to wait until morning, but I thought that it would be worth it. The timing would have to be perfect, and tonight would be torture, but if I could pull it off we'd have the best experience of our young lives.
I arranged the couches back to a way that I could watch him sleeping, turned off the TV, and dug my paw into my jeans. I was stiff, my knot already swelling to about a tennis ball in size. I pulled the shaft up, secured the tip partially into the waistband of my boxers (enough to keep it in place, but not all the way out; I didn't want to be leaking pre on his couch). I stripped; blushing slightly at the reaction Trent would have, and lay down. I slowed my breathing to imitate sleep, relaxing. Let's see just how much Trent would like it...
(Trenton)
I sat on the pot, my brow furrowed. Jacking off wouldn't be reasonable, as I didn't have enough time to really get into it. Arnold would probably expect me to be back soon, and the stress really wasn't helping. I retrieved my sweatpants from the ground, as the seat was cold even through my fur.
After a brief mental fit of hysterics, I composed myself and rose from the porcelain throne. I could put this off. If I could just wait until he left, I promised myself, I would masturbate like I never had before.
I emerged from the bathroom, in control of myself once more. Walking back into the living room, I found Arnold... asleep. He was sleeping on his stomach, in only boxers, other clothes in a pile next to the couch. My stomach felt acidic, then twisted into knots as I watched his back rise and fall. The TV had been turned off, chick flick forgotten. The couches were also in some semblance of the way that they were supposed to be.
My shaft gave a throb, sore, as I pulled off my t-shirt. It was incredibly tempting, the whole situation. His tail was cocked partially in the air above his back, his hands under a pillow. He was a beacon in the darkness, all the hair on his body white as the snow that was still piling up outside. His frame was larger than most runners, his back broad like a snowy plane, shoulder blades and back muscles very defined. He was the same age as me, but large enough to pass as someone two years older. The tendons in his neck looked tense, but still made perfect curves into his spine. His arms and legs were also amazing: thick tendons and sharp cuts all around. The unseen stomach fat was a slim layer, the last on his body. His fur looked fluffy; you could tell it was soft just by looking at it. I wanted to lay with him more than any desire I'd ever felt before; every fiber of my body screamed at me to do so.
HE'S MY FRIEND! I shouted mentally back, silencing most of them. If I did... who knows how he'd react. I couldn't read him very easily; I'd never been able to. His emotions were as ambiguous to me as how fruitcake was made. He seemed straight, but there'd been the occasional hint or glimmer that made me wonder. He'd stare at a guy as he walked by...got out of the gym showers too fast...breathed a little too hard when we'd sit together on the bus ride home, as we had to cram together in the small seats.
I made my way over to the opposite couch, as I need some distance... but I strayed a little too closely to Arnold. His warm breath tickled the hair on my exposed waistline... I couldn't help myself when I turned around. Tentatively, the pads of my paw brushed his neck, lingering as I wondered if I should offer him a neck massage in the morning. I lifted my paw and settled it lightly upon his butt, the boxers the only barrier. Arnold was a sound sleeper: a fact that I'd known for a long time, the only thing that enabled me to do this. My hand stroked ever so lightly down to the bottom right leg of the boxers, making contact with the fur.
Every alarm in my head was going off, my sensible side screaming at me like a crack whore. It tried pulling up every possible consequence, every inhibition that I had.
It didn't stop me, the lust was so great, from whispering my hand up the leg of the boxers and touching his balls. My fingers tingled, the alarms stifled by a roll of uncontrolled ecstasy. I cupped my pointer and middle finger around the soft fur, and pushed up slightly past the pressure of the couch and his weight to touch the shaft. The knot (still contained within Arnold's sheath) was really hard; the contact must have been making it so.
I pulled my hand back out as abruptly as I could without risking waking him; an argument had struck home in my head.
I shouldn't be playing with him like this, making him hard, when he isn't conscious. It's wrong... he isn't a plaything for my whims. If I was ever (not that it's likely) to be doing something like this to him... he should at least be able to punch me if he wants to.
I made my way over to the other couch, regretting mildly what I'd done. I considered masturbation then, but it fled my thoughts as fast as it had come. I was tired, and I doubted that Arnold, no matter how sound a sleeper, could snooze through my grunts and groans.
I turned over on my side and scratched myself from behind, attempting to sleep. The emotional rollercoaster had worn off; exhaustion overcame me like a semi. I was asleep in seconds.
(Arnold)
God, that was the hardest I think that I've ever been. Sitting through that was difficult, but I had to ... I knew a bit about psychology (I had it first quarter of the school year, and we had had two or three class periods focused on the fact that being caught in the act can turn a person off to something faster that you can say "please").
I wanted to turn around and grab his shaft, grope him, have him to my heart's content... but this wasn't the setting. He was exploring his boundaries... that first touch to the neck had been him giving in. Truth be told, Trent was more observant than he gave himself credit. My neck had been sore since I did that Tarzan flip out of my bed... sometimes I hurt myself in stupid ways like that.
Anyway, it was my guess that he saw the stiffness (IN MY NECK!) and was considering rubbing it... that played into my plans well. Yes... very well. Tomorrow morning was going to be a blast. I heard Trent's breathing steady and knew he was asleep. My hand strayed to my sac... it hurt; I was probably getting blue-balls. I focused on thoughts of my grandma and nuns as I drifted to sleep, my nether region hurting like hell. I was going to have to "save up" for tomorrow. The streetlights outside and the drifting snow soothed me, shipping me off into a comfortable (if somewhat horny) slumber.
I awoke the next morning, the sound of a toaster and warm bread breaking me away from a happy dream. My semi-conscious self was warm and comfortable; I considered going back to sleep. The fact that I wasn't in my own bed, however, drew me out of my stupor.
Opening my eyes to small slits, I realized that I was in Trent's house. The events of the past night, now clear in my brain, almost made me horny. I could feel the familiar tug as blood started to flee to an undisclosed location, but I held it back by diverting my thoughts. I waited for his light footsteps to come back into the room; he muted the TV as he turned it on, slowly bringing the volume to a level that he could hear. To assure him that I was not waking from the TV, I waited two or three minutes before arising.
I made a big show of my neck, cracking it loudly and rubbing it, whimpering. I stretched for him to see, extending my arms and legs, arching my back. I could feel his eyes on me, the weight of it focused on my crotch. I shifted my head and yelped; this time not only an act, but from an unexpected pain there.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty. Long night with the seven Chihuahuas?" He said laughingly. His shirt wasn't on, and I momentarily stared at the clusters of muscles that lined his abdomen.
"Shut up, it's your stupid couch." I said, sticking my tongue out. I stood up, more than half naked, and walked over to his couch. I snatched a piece of toast and sat down.
"Whatcha watching?" I asked, needing a filler.
"Nothing really..." he said, flipping a few channels. He paused at an episode of House. It was a close-up of the Doberman's face; he looked solemn for a moment.
"Lupus." He said. After the first half a second of silence, we looked at each other and burst out laughing. Crumbs of the toast both he and I were munching on got all over, and it took a few moments for us to calm down.
We continued to watch the episode for a while, partially entranced. I shifted my neck a few times, enough to draw his attention.
"Hey, I'm feeling pretty stiff, could you rub my back a bit?" I asked in a calm, collected voice. If this was going to work, I had to act confident; I spoke like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"Uh...sure." He said. There was hesitation in his voice, which I understood completely. The touch barrier was a serious issue among guys, especially when one was in only boxers. If one got a boner at the touch of another, accusations could be made...
To make it easier for him to keep his cool, I laid down on the ground. This helped both of us, as I expected myself to be hard before he was done. He, too, would be stiff, as this position required him to put his knees on either side of my back. This way, though, we wouldn't be able to see each other's lap.
He reservedly touched me at first, lightly massaging the muscles in my neck. My tail started to wag, and I could feel it occasionally brush his.
"That's not gonna help anything; push harder." I said, hoping to get a rise out of him. I emphasized harder lightly, trying not to come off too...willing.
"Sh-sure." He stuttered, probably blushing. I closed my eyes and restrained a smile. He was cute... the way he was so resistant turned me on. My knot was forming under me, and I had to relax my lower abdomen to keep from rising.
He obligingly, however, pushed harder into my back; I growled contentedly and my tail wagged harder. It brushed his butt, but I didn't apologize.
That strong smell hit me again, leaving what I identified as Andes mints on my palette. Now I did smile; I was definitely turning him on.
After a minute or two of this, occasionally grunting a thanks or encouragement, I deemed him sufficiently aroused.
"Better." I said, and slowly rose from my place on the ground. Not slowly enough, however, to allow him to get off of me in time. My lower back brushed his sac and knot through his sweatpants; he was hard, but I didn't portray the fact that I knew or that I was simply euphoric that he was enjoying himself.
"Oh, sorry." I said loudly, as he turned away to hide himself. I grinned as he stood there, frantically looking for an excuse to leave the room, his back facing me. I handed him the empty plate that still had toast crumbs stuck to it by tapping it to his arm.
"Here, don't wanna make a mess do we?" I said, his face looking at me over his shoulder the same way most might look at Jesus as he proclaimed himself the savior. Luckily, his vision didn't stray from my face. I smiled, then lifted an arm and smelled myself. He could probably smell me too, as I smelled of male body odor and faint, defeated deodorant. I pulled an expression of fake disgust (I honestly find the smell of my own B.O. fairly pleasant) and said, "Hey, I'm gonna go take a shower. Second door to the left at the top of the stairs, right?"
I saw a gleam in his eye as he said "Yep!" and left the room. The moment was coming, and my insides fluttered with anticipation. I turned around and glanced at my bag... I wouldn't need the clothes anyway, if all went according to plan. Leaving it sitting there, I climbed the carpeted staircase, a huge smile on my face.
(Trenton)
I dropped the plate into the sink and almost panted I was so happy. The morning was, if somewhat uncomfortable, was going amazingly. I had woken and watched Arnold sleeping for a while before getting enough courage to rub his leg a bit, at which his tail wagged. Smiling, I had gone into the kitchen to make toast. The rest had progressed into me touching him all over his back... every time his tail touched my back I had nearly fallen over in pleasure. His unexpected rise had also provoked my smaller self...the heat of his body had felt so good against it. Not only that, but I'd successfully avoided him finding out just how hard I was.
The morning had been made even better by the fact that...just through a single door... he was about to be naked. Who knows... he might even do himself. His room at home had no lock on the door, and we were good enough friends for him to tell me how afraid he was about being walked in on. It wasn't really a big concern for me, as both my parents had come in on me before; my mother had abruptly apologized and walked out, while my father had lingered a second then smiled, giving me the thumbs up and saying "Keep up the good work." The next day I had found those magazines in my underwear drawer. When I said my parents were liberal, I meant it.
As soon as I heard the door shut, I started my ascent. Tiptoeing up the stairs, I cursed and froze in my head every time one the stairs creaked. I reached the top, at last, very hard through my sweatpants. My knot was fully formed, aching. I reached into my pants and stoked it a few times, as the pain was intense.
My inhibitions were once again upon me as I peered through the crack. The bathroom was arranged perfectly. The opening to the shower (as the clear glass shield was only operable on the left side) and the toilet were easily visible through the crack, the sink and mirror on the other side.
Arnold's back was to me, his hand in the water that was spraying through the showerhead, but nothing else. He was checking the temperature, which was a wise decision, as the water took a long time to warm in my house. He turned and my heart skipped a beat; his boxers were tented, but I only saw a glimpse as he went over to the mirror.
My toes, claws extended in frustration, scratched the carpet, making a little noise. I about yelped in surprise, as the noise was loud, but realized the noise was probably covered by the sound of the water. My eye returned to the slit, wanting to see my friend. He was nowhere to be found, and I heard little movement.
I was still wondering what he was doing as the door slid open quickly, an inquisitive look on his face. My heart stopped, with my hand in my pants. I started to stammer out excuses.
"I-I thought you might...y-you f-forgot...I needed...uh..." I realized that it was useless, I'd been caught red handed, as I had forgotten to remove my hand from my sweatpants. I looked at him, begging for mercy with my eyes.
A grin curled up his face, and my eyes widened to dinner plates as he hooked two of his fingers into my waistband and pulled me in, not bothering to close the door.
My muzzle was still hanging partially open with surprise as he slammed me into the wall between the shower and the toilet. I started to open my mouth to say something, even though I had no idea what, when I found a rough, long tongue suddenly exploring my molars. If my eyes could have gotten any wider, they would have.
I blushed, his tongue slathering up the inside of my mouth with spit...it was surprisingly enjoyable. He leaned onto me, his hands suddenly holding my arms above my head, as he grinded his boner onto mine. My coherent thoughts all drowned in happiness, still screaming. Retracting his tongue, he slid his hands down into the back of my sweatpants, though not yet in my underwear, and gripped the inside of my thighs. I realized, with my arms still above my head, that I should probably kiss back. I slid my grainy tongue into his mouth, the warmth turning me on even more. I licked his mouth all over and sucked a little, enjoying myself in this position as he rubbed an area that no one had touched except for me since I was little. He then pulled away, a small whine escaping my body.
"Well now, I think you owe me a little something for spying!" He said, gripping my front now. I felt pre starting to leak out of my tip, wetting my boxers. He ripped down my sweats, getting down on one knee, and put the bulge in my boxer-briefs into his mouth, the heat making my knees shake.
He unclenched, leaving me with a sense of disappointment.
"Now, I have an idea of how you can repay me for your insolence... get down on your knees." He said, standing up and stepping out of his boxers. I obligingly got down, pulling my sweats off, then turned back to look at him. The sight of his unhidden cock suddenly brought back every inhibition and worry that I had. I leaned back, fear in my eyes.
"Come on now," He said, smiling brightly. His happiness brought back my adventurous side, and I realized just how good of friends we were. "Isn't this what you wanted?" I considered that in my head. For all the liberal-ness of my parents, my life had been fairly reserved. I didn't drink, do drugs, or have sex... Why not? According to most groups, sex was the least offensive of the three.
"Not exactly... but close enough." I said, gripping his member. Suddenly I realized just how big he was, as my hand didn't even close around it. It was a good two inches shorter than mine, maybe five and a half, but almost the size of a coke can around. Two of the inches were already out of the sheath. The knot was huge, almost the size of a softball.
"Dude! Your loaded!" I said, making his tail wag. I brought it closer to my mouth, then rubbed my nose into his sac, breathing in the musk as much as I could. The cinnamon and manly tint made my body well up contentedly.
I pulled the sheath back, making sure to scratch it as I pulled it over the knot. It could itch horribly if something wasn't done. I opened my maw wide and put the entire shaft in, stopping at the knot. It didn't reach to my throat, but filled my mouth anyway. It was salty and warm, and throbbed as I licked it.
It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be, a lot like doing myself. I had recently discovered that I could lick myself, as my dad had a talk with me after I had walked in on him doing it... it was much better than regular masturbation. Arnold would agree, I could see, by the way he shuttered.
I sucked some more and began moving my head, putting one hand on his hip for leverage and the other to his balls. The fur was as soft as I remembered, and I rolled it around a bit in my fingers. Groans and growls, uncontained and loud, rumbled from his lips as he gripped the sink behind him.
"W-warm...thank-k...y-you...t-Trent...lesssss....teeth..." Were the only coherent words he could put together. I realized that my teeth were grazing him, which would have totally turned me off had I been doing myself. I moved my teeth off him and sucked more forcibly, feeling the knot getting harder and harder, and knew he was going to come soon. I wanted him to enjoy himself as much as he could, so I widened my mouth as far as it could go and got over the knot, the entire length being sucked. His head snapped back as he came...
"RRRWOOO-WOOOO-WWOOOOOO!" He howled through clenched teeth as he began to shoot, and I mean shoot, into the back of my mouth. The noise surprised me, and I pulled back. His seed spurted on my muzzle and chest, and he fell back to the other wall.
The taste in my mouth was... different... but still good. His cum was hot (what had gotten into my mouth, anyway), like fresh coffee. He sighed contentedly, sitting with a dazed look on his face, then stood up and pulled me to my feet.
Leaning into me and rubbing the semen into my fur, he uttered a few sentences in an almost loving voice.
"Thanks... that was amazing." He smiled devilishly again, digging his claws lightly through my now matted and wet fur. The feeling made me shiver. "But now you're all dirty. I think you need a shower, Trent."
He pulled down my boxer-briefs and had me step out. Bunching them up into a ball, he shoved it to his nose and breathed a long, deep breath. It turned me on, watching him repeat a scene that I myself had committed. He took it a step farther, though, as I could have sworn I saw a pink tongue brush over the elastic fabric.
Standing up again, he used my shaft as a handle to drag me into the shower. The water was hot now, steam had filled the room. We stood, mutually confused in the small shower for a moment, before he grabbed the shampoo/body soap bottle and turned towards me, that grin on his face again.
(Arnold)
That was, by far, the best orgasm I'd ever had. I'd had really, really good ones, too. That, however, literally made me feel the best that I had ever in my entire life. The warmth spread from my pole to my abs, clenching them with a burning heat, and then curling my spine. When it had hit my head, I felt the inability to think for at least 10 seconds, howling uncontrollably. My eyes jammed closed, red and white lights dancing across my vision.
I looked down at Trent as I leveled off and almost said that I loved him, but caught myself at the last moment. That wasn't what this was supposed to be, as if we continued on like we were now, later we could refer to this as experimentation. We may want to try experimenting again with different variables. If we saw this as a relationship, however, things could get complicated.
I saw that I had erupted all over him, his eyes surprised and confused. He was so cute, sitting there, still clutching my balls. I scratched the top of his head, where the white met the gray, and then proceeded to scratch behind his ears. It was an intimate thing: only parents or a spouse could do things like that to you.
I said some thanks, then got him out of his briefs. The bellowing smell emanated strongly from the underwear, so i dug my nose in hard for a moment of bliss. Wondering what it tasted like, I licked it. It tasted of sweat and his musk... I felt mildly kinky as I dropped the garment.
I had him in the shower within a couple seconds, and had almost forgotten (in my post-orgasm stupor) why he was in there before I saw his member still unsatisfied. I grabbed the soap and put a dollop into my hand, then started rubbing it into his fur. It was difficult to position ourselves in the small shower, as there was a plastic bench (that jutted out of the wall) that restricted the space even more. My fingers explored his body, his back, butt, legs, and private area. My stiffness returned as I got to know my buddy's body.
The shower head was retractable, so as soon as he was all lathered up, I started to rinse him.
"Uuuaaauuuhhh..." was all he could say as I put the shower head between his legs, my other hand pressing on his chest to keep him still, and rinsed his balls and throbbing shaft. I stared at it, slightly jealous. He was longer by a good two inches, leaving him about seven and a half. He was a lot thinner, however, and his knot was only a little bigger than a baseball.
The soap down the drain, I pressed back the sheath on his dick and started pawing him off, as the soap would hurt the pink skin. He was practically a faucet of pre now, it dripping like hand sanitizer in my hand.
Time for the last bit, now, as he'll blow soon...I thought, quitting pawing him. His back to the shower head, front to the wet seat, he cracked an eye open to see why I had stopped. He got an eyeful, as both immediately split open. I was about to take his virginity.
I had one leg on the bench, the other supporting me, my tail up and revealing my hole. He looked confused, lust and hesitation mixing in his mind like oil and water.
"I...wait...I'm not sure..." He said, his voice trembling.
This is going to hurt like hell. If I didn't do it now, though, he might back out. His member, pink and pulsating, was pointed just the right way, his hands reaching just a little bit forward.
I thrust myself backwards, gasping in pain as he was forced into me, tears streaking down my face as I enveloped the knot. Even for a thin prick, that hurt the worst I'd ever felt.
I looked back to see his reaction. His face was dumb, eyes glazed over, mouth open with drool coming out. If I had had a camera, I would have taken a picture.
Adjusting to the pain, I chided him.
"Yo, cowboy! You just going to stand there like an idiot, or are you going to be a man and do me?"
Determination and ecstasy crossed his face, pushing me back forward onto the bench. He gripped my sides and started to pump.
The first few hurt like hell, as his knot caused resistance that made more tears come to my eyes. Even in the shower, we should have been using lube. Sensing my pain, he slowed down a bit.
"Uh...uuuuucuhcuh...are you ok..?" he said, almost drowning for a second in his stupor.
"F-fine...just hurry up!" I said, trying not to let the crying touch my voice.
He realized that it was hurting more than he could imagine, but he couldn't stop himself as he started pumping again. After a while, the pain mainly subsided, and rolls of pleasure returned to me. His claws extended, gouging into my hips, as he started doing me hardcore.
His feral side took over, humping like an animal now. He had no regard for my pain any longer, it was just unimportant in his throes of passion. He groaned, grunting, sounding more like a bear having sex than a virgin husky.
His member's knot wasn't even leaving my hole anymore, his body just banging against mine, and he started to howl and howl. The wet thumps were loud, my pleasure hit another high as I orgasmed with him.
"ARRWOOOOO-kuh kuh-ROOWOOROOOOWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" He said as his head arched back like mine had, this time into the shower head, almost drowning again. His seed filled me up, like molten lava, as his dick rubbed my prostate. I felt amazing, and in my euphoria I looked back to see how he was doing.
I laughed as he plopped back out of me, falling on his butt and hitting his head on the other shower wall while temporarily incapacitated.
(Trenton)
The heat from inside Arnold had been burning me, but instinct had kept me from feeling any discomfort. The tightness felt...better than I have words for. I was at a new high; I hadn't known I could ever feel that good, with the heat in front of me and the warm water blasting me from behind. My eyes were shut without any conscious order, streaks of color racing across my sight.
I blacked out for second, waking to find that my head hurt like hell and Arnold offering me a hand.
"Best shower ever!" he said, bringing me shakily back to my feet. He was dirty, my cum leaking out his hole, dirt and a little blood every here and there. I soaped him up, making sure to get every patch of fur, and rinsed him off as he had me. Feeling him up like that was weird; the contact after the sex feeling like electricity. I felt bad as I got to his hips; in my lack of self control, I had dug my claws into his side. We got out of the shower, modesty forgotten as we dried off. I turned away from him for a second, then yelped as I felt a sting of a towel snapping against my ass.
I turned to find him running out the door, yelling "Catch me if you can!"
We chased each other, naked, for about fifteen minutes. The snow was piled two feet over the base of the windows, so no one could see us two nude boys running around, having the time of our life. The wet dog smell filled the house, even after we had dried, like a reminder of what had just gone on. After a while, we found ourselves standing naked in the kitchen, making Kool-Aid.
"That was a LOT of fun." He said, walking up behind me and gripping my package, nuzzling my ear.
I turned and gripped his balls, pulling them softly and nuzzling him back. After we finished the Kool-Aid, we laid back on the couch together, him embracing me from behind to keep warm. The TV was still on, the news now showing.
"After last night's freak snowstorm, all traffic has been blocked, as the plows simply can't move that much snow," said the reporter, a female fox with her eyes bugging out. "The city council is trying to determine a way to get the roads cleared, but little production has been made. Citizens are advised to remain indoors until further notified. Now for a word from our sponsors"
The TV went to a musical commercial, and I turned towards Arnold. Looking down, I could already see a pink dot appearing at the end of his sheath.
"Well, considering I can't go home...want to go down to your room?" He said, that devilish grin once more on his face. He licked my cheek, his hand straying to the gray line that was my treasure trail.
"Sounds like fun...I'll get some lube." I said, tracing his line as well. We stood up, rushing down the stairs, as the TV commercial played a Christmas song in our wake...
'"It's the most wonderful time of the year..."