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"Get Hype" by K.M. Hirosaki

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is copyright © 2014 K.M. Hirosaki.

"You can come up here if you like, but there isn't going to be much for us to do but each other," the ringtail says to me over IM, and within the next ten minutes I'm in my car heading northbound.

It's my dad's car, actually, and I'm not stealing it, per se, but it is after one o'clock in the morning and I want to have it back by like seven at the absolute latest so that he doesn't know that I took it. Like he lets me borrow it when I'm visiting and shit, but I don't think he'd appreciate me driving on the icy roads in the middle of the middle of the goddamn night for some gay hookup.

But whatever, by 1:30 I'm already on the highway, doing five over the limit and blazing ahead along the mostly deserted highway with a partial pressing against the inside of my jeans. Like I'm not leaking a wet spot through my boxers or anything, but there's a certain thrill about the whole thing that's impossible to deny. Plus I'm going to get laid for the first time in who knows how long and that's awesome too.

I don't think I've ever remembered less of a car trip. Not that driving alone in a car is ever that memorable, but between getting on the highway and my trundling along the not-super-plowed side streets is forty minutes of time that just don't exist in my mind anymore. I'd worry that the ringtail's not even awake anymore, but he keeps bullshit hours the same as I do, so it won't be an issue.

So I mostly know this ringtail by his online handle; I learned his real name once, but I don't call him that ever, and I'm not telling an entire story where I fuck someone that I refer to as 'Clovermist' so you'll just have to fucking deal with that. Besides, when you think back on this later on, you're not gonna be thinking of his name anyway, so fuck it.

It's pitch black at two-something in the morning, out in the middle of goddamn nowhere, with only tall evergreen trees stopping me from being able to see the Milky Way as I trot from my car to the front door. I rapraprap my paw on the door and before I've even taken another breath that door swings open, and light stings my eyes for just half a second before the silhouette before me resolves into a cacomistle wearing a sleeveless tee and a pair of sweatpants.

This is the first time I've met him in person, but he's sent me pictures of himself before (and a lot more of his dick), so it's not too shocking to see him in the fur and flesh. He's all smiles and he welcomes me in and if this were a different sort of story I'd kick the door shut behind me and immediately pull him into a kiss while shoving him against the wall or the kitchen counter or something like that, but it's not, and I don't, but ninety-plus percent of what's going through my head is how sometime in the next fifteen minutes I'm going to be fucking him anyway.

He asks me if I want anything to drink--soda, water, anything--but I'm good, and he doesn't even bother to half-assedly give me a tour of the house before just leading me down into the basement, which has been converted into a rumpus room or whatever the hell you call it. This is his parents' house or some shit and he's home on winter break like I am, but his parents are out doing a thing that I didn't ask and don't care about, and that's good because he's mentioned on IM a lot that he's a really loud and vocal fuck and yeah, now I've got more than a partial.

In the downstairs room there's a couch and a big beanbag chair and a big-ass TV that's currently on mute and got some JRPG menu screen up. The walls are yellow, which stands out because it's bright, but honestly I'm paying way more attention to that banded white and black tail and the perfect little ass it's connected to. You know an ass is perfect when it looks this good in sweatpants, and after driving almost an hour in the middle of the night in a half-stolen car, an ass like this looks even better.

There's small talk, but it's stilted and awkward the way it always is when both people know they're there to have sex but want to be slightly less perfunctory about it for whatever reason. Like it's legitimately cool to meet him in person for the first time, and I tell him so, but I think back to what he said online earlier, the thing that made me zip up to see him in the first place, and yeah, I didn't come here to drink soda or watch him level grind, that's for sure.

He actually makes the first move, though, I think because he can see the outline of my dick in my pants. So he reaches over and grabs it, and he murmurs something that--from the tone--I can tell is sultry, but I don't hear the words themselves because I groan over them and my pulse starts hammering in my ears like a motherfucker. I press upwards encouragingly with my hips while also working at the clasp of my belt.

There's awkward fumbling as the two of us get my pants open, but when isn't there, am I right? My dark blue-green boxer-briefs have an impressive tent, and okay, maybe a tiny bit of a damp spot by the time it's all fished out into the open, and the ringtail uses his fingertips to undo the button on my underpants before threading my dick out through the flap.

I've never actually had sex with a cacomistle in real life; I mean, me and this one have typefucked a whole bunch, and I've jacked off to plenty of pics and vids of them, but this here, right here and now, is my first actual erotic encounter with one, and the touch of his fingers against the bare skin of my shaft is borderline electric. For a moment I can feel (or least imagine I can feel) the individual furs on his digits as they glide along and get nice and slick. Either way it feels nice.

We start to make out; he isn't the best kisser in the world--really he's only just okay--but I've had way worse and he's nowhere near bad enough for me to complain under the circumstances. My own paw finds his cock somewhere in there, kneading it through the sweatpants. He clearly isn't wearing underwear beneath them, and so I use the soft fabric at my disposal to my advantage as I stroke him through his clothes. That makes him whimper into the kiss, and he squirms a lot, which is fun, but it does make it harder for him to stroke me at the same time.

To circumvent the issue I break the kiss, lean back, and try my best to convey--with just a look and a nod--that I want him to start sucking my dick. Maybe it's because we're both horny or maybe I'm just that good, but he does, and it's a fight to not scrunch up my eyes as his tongue laps against the underside of my dick. It's a fight I win, though, and I shiver from head to toe as he keeps licking, starts kissing, and then wraps his lips around me and pushes his muzzle down.

If there's a heaven, then I hope that it's an eternity worth of the moment someone first gets their mouth on your dick, because I'm not sure anything could be better than that.

The sight of a ringtail dipping his head into my lap and bobbing his muzzle up and down is one I've imagined more times than anyone could count, and to my pleasant surprise, it looks basically like I'd always pictured--that is to say, it looks like a palette-swapped fox with a touch of raccoon, like, if you squint your eyes a bit. Whatever. A blowjob feels just as good with your eyes closed; it's just more fun to watch, and this guy, he's fun. He moans theatrically, and if it's just an act, I'm happy that he's putting in the effort, and if he's actually that hungry of a cocksucker, I'm happy about that too.

The part of me that wants this to play out like some kind of porno wants me to grab him by his big-ass cacomistle ears and face-fuck him until he's gagging but still begging for it, but at this point I'd get three thrusts in and probably get my dick caught on his teeth halfway through jizzing onto the back of his tongue, and neither of us wants that. I do start to stroke and fondle one of his ears, though, and I swear to god the fur is soft and velvety as anything. Probably he uses some super high-end conditioner, the kind I ordinarily wouldn't think would be worth the money, but if it makes a cute boy like him this strokably soft then I'm not going to complain about his spending habits. I murmur something about how nice he feels, and he groans out a sound of what I assume is approval from around my dick.

My balls tense up and I feel a spasm in my groin, and for half a second I fear that I've busted my nut way too early, but thankfully I haven't. I'm close, though--real close, too close, and so I hiss out some half-uttered words of warning and touch his cheek, gently easing him off of me. His eyes fix up at me questioningly, and good lord if he isn't the prettiest little thing in the world as I look back at him, my dick slipping out from between his soft lips, glistening in the too-bright fluorescence of the ringtail's rumpus room. Now that he's not sucking on me anymore, I can tell just how damn close I was to shooting right into his mouth there, and I actually shudder as I take a few deep, slow breaths in order to calm myself down. Not that I wouldn't be happy getting off in his mouth, but I didn't come all this way just for some head, even if it's good head. More to the point, I think he'd be disappointed if that's all we got to do, and I don't exactly have time to wait around for a second climax if I still want to be conscious enough for the snowbound drive back home before my dad wakes up.

He starts saying something, but I don't listen; I'm leaning in and I shut him up in mid-sentence by kissing him while simultaneously wrestling him to the floor. He doesn't fight back. The sounds coming from his throat and muzzle are fucking adorable. My paws force his sweatpants down to mid-thigh, and I distract him further by starting to jerk him off while making out with him. His dick is almost as wet as mine, and mine is fresh from a mouth, so that's saying something.

I'm reasonably confident that I could get him off right here and now--just make him jizz all over his own shirt with hardly any effort whatsoever, but that would be self-indulgent (ironic, that), and I know that I, at least, don't have as much fun if I'm getting fucked after I've already gotten off. And wouldn't it be a pity for him to have waited so long for me to get here and fuck him only to have a substandard amount of fun?

This doesn't mean that I can't still torment his poor, leaky ringtail-dick, though.

I start to play a little game where--using my paw-- I see how loud I can make him whimper, and then--using my tongue--I try to muffle those whimpers as much as I can. It's a fun challenge, because he's as loud as he promised me he was, but I'm a pretty eager kisser.

Some combination of my fingers and toes get the ringtail's sweatpants the rest of the way out amidst the frenzied handjob/makeout session. He reaches out with one arm, flails and slaps about for I-don't-know-what a few times, until I hear a minor crash as he pulls a drawer completely out from a little end table next to his couch, the contents spilling all over the rumpus room floor. He paws about a few more times, but I see what he's going for and I grab it first--a small black bottle of lube. A growl escapes my throat as I break the kiss and lean up, kneeling over him as I catch my breath and get myself nice and slick.

I'm about to reach under his tail, but he grabs the lube from me, and slips easily from my slippery fingers, and this time it's him who beats me to the punch. I'd complain, but inside of a few seconds I'm watching a cute cacomistle sprawled out under me, naked from the waist down as he fingers himself with one paw and keeps his own cock hard with the other. I'd grab my phone in order to take a picture but I don't want to have to move that far. Plus my fingers are all covered in lube.

He looks like he's almost finished diddling himself, and I decide for him that yeah, he's finished, semi-gently tugging his paw away by the wrist and replacing his fingers with the tip of my shaft. I pull one of his legs up over my shoulder, still holding my dick steady, and thankfully the lack of direct stimulation for the last however long it's been has brought me back away from the very edge of getting off.

I lock my eyes with his. He pants. I push forward an inch or so. His eyes scrunch shut and his muzzle cracks open. A gasp hits my ears.

I push further in. I push harder. I grab his other leg and hook it up over my other shoulder and use the leverage to push even further and even harder. He whimpers and pants and nods his head against the carpeted floor when I ask him if he wants more, the little slut.

My arms hook around the ringtail's shins like they're the straps of a parachute or something (I've never gone skydiving; don't judge me), and hold on just as desperately as I quickly cross over into 'properly fucking' territory. I don't want to rush it, but I also don't want to just tease and fool around without fucking him, so I go for a rhythm that's easy and simple and more slow than fast but still pretty deep. Cacomistle tails don't make great metronomes, plus it's mostly out of my line of sight anyway, so instead I set an imaginary beat inside my head and try to make him squeak in time with it, and that's both really fun and also keeps me just distracted enough from my own pleasure that I don't peak too suddenly.

Soon enough his paws are balled into adorable little fists that occasionally beat at the rug, and his muzzle is turned off to my left, showing me his face in profile, such as it is with his eyes closed tight and his mouth wide open, panting and squeaking and yipping and sometimes wincing or grimacing but in a good way if that makes any sense. Again, I briefly wish I had my phone so that I could take a picture, so instead I make a mental note to go looking for pics of ringtails making their O-face after I get home or something. I don't know that I'll need it, though, since the memory of this, right here and now, me and him fucking on the floor in what might as well be our own little downstairs world, is going to be masturbation fuel for years and years to come (no pun intended, fuck you).

The longer I go about fucking him in this position, the more I start to naturally lean forward, which causes his legs to bunch up to the point that I can tell it's getting uncomfortable for him, so I slip them down off of my shoulders and roll him onto his side there on the rumpus room floor. My knees situate themselves to either side of one of his legs, and I hold the other one off to my side, and in this new position holy shit I can drill him nice and deep. I see his toes splay and he lets out an utterly gorgeous noise that just makes me want to fuck him even harder and so I do.

For one precious little moment I take stock of where I am, with the bright walls and the TV screen bright and motionless and nothing outside this house or this room at all a factor in anything that's happening right here.

There comes a point, every time you have sex, where the tricks and the maneuvers and the thought processes all go out the window and it all just comes down to the fact that you're going to get off. Well, unless you get interrupted partway through, I guess; then I suppose it wouldn't be literally every time. But that time fast approaches, and I see it and decide that I'm not going to try to fend it off.

I work the ringtail's leg more to the side, still keeping a firm hold on it, and I alternate between looking at his straining face and his bouncing cock and his tight little ass as I jackhammer him under that pretty-as-hell banded tail of his, and I'm not on-edge but the finish line is in sight so I go and I go and I go go go until I'm past the point of no return but I'm not quite there yet and just another moment just another thrust or maybe two and there it is yes right there just like that in in in don't stop don't stop do not let that leg go just hold on tight let it out let it out there it goes there it goes fuck fuck fuck yes, fuck, that's it, god, fuck, yes.

And then I've let go of his leg and I'm half-slumped on top of him and I can smell him in my nostrils, and vaguely I'm aware that his belly is smeared with jizz, all over his skimpy shirt, and I don't know if he jacked himself off or if I just hammered his prostate hard enough to force his climax out of him but either way here he is, here we are, and we've both gotten off and it's wonderful.

We start making out again, but just for a few seconds because we're both out of breath.

Fuck.

I don't really do pillow talk with, like, sex-friends. Also there's no pillow, and we're not even in a bed, so we sorta just stay tangled up in each other long enough for our pulses to return to normal, our breathing to level out, and our hormones to finish doing whatever hormones do when you're done fucking until you're back at a point where you can see straight and think straight.

Even when his afterglow is finished the cacomistle is still all giggly, which is actually kind of cute and endearing and makes me even happier that I fucked him because I do legitimately like making cute boys feel good. There's small talk as we get dressed, neither of us bothering to change, him because he's home alone anyway and me because I'm just going to be driving back and I'm not the one who came all over myself, besides.

We kiss a little more, the quick-and-growly sort, and there's more small talk that mostly amounts to hey, it was fun, but nah, I have to get my car back before my dad finds out and probably there won't be time before my trip out this way is over but that hey, next time I'm out this way or the next time he's in my neck of the woods we should totally do this again sometime. He giggles some more and says how I can do him again anytime, and it's a silly compliment but it's an earnest one and if nothing else I'm game to take him up on the offer.

I take a can of soda when he offers it, cracking it open as I walk back through the trees, looking back up at the stars as I make my way back to my dad's car. It's freezing outside, but I'm still nice and warm inside, and I know that the giddy thrill I'm experiencing right now will keep me constant and pleasant company for the entire clandestine, snowbound drive back to my parents' place.