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Mom always told me "don't have sex", and then she told me "don't have sex until you're married", and then she told me "don't have sex with someone you don't know." Well, I didn't listen.

I know, I know - there's plenty of goddamn sex where I live, what with those two roommates and all of my friends; why would I need, or even want, any more? Well, see, I'm a bit... adventurous, so to say. Think about flavors of tea, or candy: sure, you have your choice three or four that are your absolute favorites, but what's the harm in trying more flavors that you've never had before? You might find out that you like a new one better than an old one, right? I mean, sure, sometimes the candy's a little old and has bugs on it that you don't notice until after you've bitten into it, or it's a little hairy, or there's weird juice on the inside that shouldn't be there - but it's really good up until that point. One of my roommates is good for when I want to be sore for three days; the other is great for when I want a nice, slow fuck; I have a friend who's fine with messing around, playing video games until we get into the mood again, and then mess around some more - and his girlfriend who'd just as soon push my head down between her legs as she would her head between my legs; there's a wolf a few streets down who used to rail me every weekend or so; there's a fox with notoriously constant erection...

...yeah. Those were my favorite flavors. Still, I found myself eager to taste more.

I'd heard rumors from a few different sources of a certain park a bit of a distance away, one that I'd been to once or twice. It was a fairly public place, frequented by people almost all day - although there was no playground or anything of that sort; it wasn't the kind of place you bring your pups. Thankfully. The rumors were that, at a spot a bit out-of-the-way from the path near the bathrooms, guys linger around to hook up with others and fuck right there, against the trees and wall of the building. They say that you can see the stains from so many loads being blown over the cobblestone. Ficken Park, it's called.

The hardest part was getting there: it was about a ten minutes' drive from where I live, and I didn't exactly have many friends who were willing to drive over, pick me up, drive me there, drop me off, drive back to their place, and then drive back and get me when I'm done... although, I do have a nice king shepherd as roommate who has a soft spot for me. I remember how it went:

I'd slept with my other roommate, an Arcanine, the previous night, and slunk out of bed early in the morning and into the shepherd's room. This shep, Pan, was still asleep. I wiggled under the covers, planted a kiss on his cheek, and then wiggled under the covers; he awoke to find his cock buried up to the knot in the muzzle of his favorite little otter. He held me down, he panted into the air, he bucked into my mouth... I swallowed, swallowed again, licked my lips, swallowed a third time, came up, lay on his chest, gave him a wide grin, and asked if he could take me to the park. He managed to get out "Sure," and then "after I take a shower" between intakes of breath.

I made sure to wear a slim shirt that hugged the contours of my body and one of my several pairs of pants that were a bit loose, so that anyone who found themselves at all inclined to could easily just tug them down my legs without having to undo the fly first. Pan, being tired and dazed, didn't notice - not that he really should, as I often dressed like this around the house. I could tell that he wanted to ask why I wanted to go to Ficken Park halfway across town, but he didn't. Hell, depending on how this goes, I might ask him to come with me next time - the idea of having Pan's cock under my tail and that of a stranger's halfway down my throat... God...

A few times on the way there, I had to shift how I was sitting in the seat, and had to pretend like I was pulling my phone out of my pocket. And just like the body of one, the mind of a horny otter is always shifting: what if I met someone I knew from school several years ago, someone who'd recently found themselves or just wanted to try something out? There was this hot meerkat in my calculus class in high school, a shy sort of guy who kept to himself except when he really, really needed help... God, I used to fantasize about crawling under his desk, opening his pants, sucking him off while he tried to focus on his work. See what that'd do for his shyness.

Or - damn, what if it was a stranger who knew what he wanted and how he wanted it? My two roommates are stark opposites, other than how they're both dogs and both smelly: Pan, this shepherd, is about twenty years younger than my dad (who's almost 70); he's tall and wide; he smells often of fresh leather or cool rain or something; and he's a bit quiet, really affectionate, really lovely. He's the kind of guy who likes to hold me to him and kiss me while he thrusts into me. Arkani - the Arcanine, clearly - in contrast was about twenty years younger to Pan, and thus much closer in age to myself; he was even taller, to the point where he had to duck when going through doors, and damn beefy - it's not really an achievement to pick me up, but I've seen him pick Pan up, with one paw; he smells of rich musk and just-as-rich cigars, a combination I'd come to love; and he's quite a bit louder and more forceful, the kind of person who grinds into my leg at night and pushes me down under the covers when he wakes me up, the kind of person who grins and slams me into the wall when I tell him 'I want you to fuck me', the kind of person whom sex energizes like a goddamn lightningbolt. Pan has a thick red knotted cock, and damn, I love sheaths - perfect to close my lips around the end, slip my tongue in and work the flesh out... while Arkani has a thicker black uncut cock, the sort that just makes me drool (since I have a bit of a thing for foreskin, see; it's not uncommon for me to catch him when he's busy, tug his pants down, and wiggle a finger or two and my tongue under his foreskin just for the hell of it)... but anyway. What if this stranger were like Arkani, and upon seeing me shoved my down to my knees, took off his belt and pants, rested his cock across my muzzle, and growled "suck"? God, what if he pushed me against the wall and started fucking me right then and there, with no lube?

Hey - what if it's not even a guy? Weird thought, yeah, but that lioness I hang out with is the proud owner of a heavy strap-on about the same thickness as my wrist (as per my own request); the thought of meeting a woman back there just as forceful as her when she wants to hear me whine and moan the way that her boyfriend and I make her - that thought is just... mm. I don't know what it is; it's just the whole feeling and idea that it's a female holding me down and fucking me... or - what if there's more than one guy there? Sure, there's nothing quite like having an Arcanine in one end and a king shepherd in the other, but...

"Alright, Luke."

I looked up from my lap, which clearly displayed the boner that such thoughts had induced. Damn. "Yeah?"

"Ficken Park, on your right. There a time in particular you'd like for me to pick you up?"

It was still kinda early in the morning - for a weekend, at least: ten, ten-fifteen AM. Usually when you hear stories like this, you always imagine it to take place after dusk or in the middle of the night, in such conditions so that the only knowledge of the partner's presence is from the noises and feelings, because there's no light by which to see... well, not this time. There were less people walking around the paths than I'd expected based on the rumors, but again, that was probably because the guys into this sort of thing don't see it as a midmorning activity. "I dunno. I'll let you know."

He pulled up by the curb and brought the car to a stop. "Alright," he said, smiling at me; I moved to open the door, but then: "Hey Luke - gimme a kiss." So I did, and stepped out into the warmish day. As I'd heard, this place was pretty large - one of those walking-style parks with the singular main sidewalk or loop or whatever, and several little ones coming off of that. All I had to go off of was iffy memory from a conversation I'd had a few nights before, but I know he mentioned the bathrooms... there was a sign, a map, near the entrance. I went over to it to look around, got an idea of where it was I should be headed, and went off in that direction.

Maybe it's just that 'ready-to-fuck' mindset that I'm almost perpetually in, but I found myself wondering about the other people in the park that passed by. There was a young panther with obsidian fur that shimmered in the sunlight, reminding me of someone I knew in the past who'd stepped out of my life... I wonder - is he still doing okay? He left rather abruptly, and I didn't get much of a chance to try to redeem myself for what I'd done to him. However, it'd have been rude to hold him back... but, anyway. This panther in the park wore a tight shirt and slim pants, just the kind of outfit that you'd expect the bottom to be wearing in one of those pornos that try to be more than just sex. And then, leaning against a tree was a grey she-wolf, body type of somewhere between 'average' and 'full' - like, not skin-and-bone like me but with enough for you to hold against you when lying down in bed, enough to nuzzle into - and I wondered: is she like my lioness friend? Would she just as soon hold me down to the mattress as she would beg for something from me? As I walked by, the she-wolf turned a pair of sky-blue eyes up at me and gave me a soft smile. I smiled back.

There was a goddamn horse sitting on a bench reading a book. Now, I'd never played with a horse before, but I'd heard the stories and seen the videos, and... goddamn. Definitely on my to-do list. Feral or not, I don't care; I'd just like to see what it's like to have in my paw a pair of balls large enough so that one is more than enough to fill the palm; and their sheath, like a canine's but more, so that when you rub it, the cock just keeps on coming... I still need my practice when it comes to deepthroating, but... well, I've been told often that I'm a bit overambitious. I won't know how it goes until I try, though - I mean, even with him sitting with one leg over the other, I can see the muscles under velvet skin, can see the relaxed tendons and sinews and whatever all else. He shifted how he sat and looked up, and I quickened my pace to make it look like I wasn't deliberately staring and fantasizing.

This was a pretty "nice" park, as opposed to some others I'd seen. Gently-rolling shallow hills over which the sidewalk coursed; tall, wide trees standing around offer friendly shade from the sun; at one end, a body of mostly-clear turquoise water that was far too large to be a pond and far too small to be a lake. Along the opposite bank of this body of water, the trees condensed and came together to form a thicker forested area that some of the paths of the sidewalk disappeared into... I think I mentioned that I'd been here once or twice before, and I knew one of those paths pretty damn well.

It was the first time I visited this park that solidified that path's course in my memory. Arkani had decided to bring me by after class one day - this was quite a while back; I was in the middle of a lot of test preparation and told him that I was really stressing out, and he said 'I know just the thing' - and took me along one of the forested paths, the one on the right side of the fork from the main one. At first I thought that he'd taken me just to enjoy nature and the beauty of everything - seriously, this place was stereotypically green, like the kind of wooded road you'd see in some paranormal teen romance movie. But, I was wrong: down in the forested area, all of the paths came together in one big intersection as a sort of second 'main' area of the park, a wide-open clearing totally encircled by trees. There was a bench off to the side, and Arkani brought me there, sat down, and patted next to me, so I sat beside him. When I did, though, one of his big paws came up and tried to slip into my pants; "damn," he growled, "I don't understand you and your tight fuckin' pants..." and then unbuttoned and unzipped them, and started pawing me off right then and there. He'd move his paw and make it look like he was just rubbing my leg whenever someone walked by, and then would continue with his stroking right as they passed by. I remember I panted, I swallowed, I gasped, I clutched his arm tight, and I bucked into his paw... the load I shot and its stain remained visible spurted across the sidewalk even after we'd waited for me to catch my breath and then walked off.

So. Y'know, there's that. As for today, I wasn't too sure what to expect, but... I doubted I'd be disappointed. Sure, I was nervous, but that was certainly normal.

The bathrooms gradually came into view in the distance, and again I picked up my pace, eager to get there. I found myself wondering again: what kind of person will I find back there? Hell, will there even be anyone back there when I get there, or will I have to wait around for a while? And then, the worst thought: what if my friend was just telling me a lie, a funny joke, and there's no actual basis to his stories? This last thought haunted me as I drew closer to them, as I came up on them and then turned to follow around behind them...

...and then I turned around the last corner, blocking me from the sight of the more wholesome park-goers, and found myself in a surprisingly wide clearing, considerably darkened by the shade of thick trees above. There was nobody else back here.

Damn, I thought, and leaned back against a tree (of which there were more than a few). Maybe choosing to come here at such an odd hour in the morning wasn't such a good idea... in fact, now that it appeared to be a decidedly bad one, all of the shortcomings of the idea in particular came forward and made me progressively less sure of myself as time went on. First five minutes passed, and then ten, then fifteen...

...and I was just about to dig my phone out of my pocket and tell Pan to come get me when a wolf turned the corner, stopped when he saw me, and looked me over. I waved. Actually, I might have seen him when I was walking to this little area... I just couldn't really remember. I could describe what he was wearing, but for some reason that didn't seem like it'd be too important.

I could almost feel his eyes trace up and down my body, like the gentle caresses of a known lover, as he came closer. "Hey..." he said, in a voice smoother and higher than I had expected. "What are you doing back here?"

See, I wish I could be cool and say I said something like 'that depends on what you're here for', but that's not what happened. Instead, I just looked him over like he did me, saw the already-half-undone belt and the wary glint of appraisal in his eye, and instead what came out was an awkward "Well, one of - one my friends told me that, uh, that back here, sometimes there's..."

But, thankfully, he seemed to understand whatever it was that I was trying to say, and nodded. "Alright. I figured - I mean, everyone knows about it, and nobody comes here otherwise... and I haven't seen you before, so I figured you were new."

"Haven't... seen me before... so you come here often?"

"Often?" The wolf cocked his head. As he spoke, he worked at his belt with his paws. "No, I wouldn't really say that. Well... I come here probably... I'd say somewhere between 'rarely' and 'all the time'. So." I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Here I was, damn unsure and nervous, and then there's him a few feet away already starting to take his pants off. He didn't even know my name yet. "You a top or a bottom?"

Again I wanted to say something clever like 'I'm an otter; what do you think?' but my nerves got to me and all I could say was a timid "Bottom", which caused his amber eyes to light up.

"Oh, thank God." He tossed his belt to the side; it hit the dusty earth with a clang. "You have no idea how many times I've come back here to find, like, a horse, or a bull, or a - or an Arcanine or something, fully hard and throbbin' and all that, about as wide around as my forearm, and just looking for someone to squeeze into. Doesn't go well for a straight guy like me... I mean, I've taken a cock once or twice before, but I'd prefer not to."

"...Wait. You're straight?"

He shrugged. "'For the most part' is what my friends'll tell you."

"You know, I have a few straight friends who like taking it under the tail."

"Oh, yeah. I never said I didn't like it, did I?" With a grin, he popped the button of his pants through. "I just prefer to be the one doing the fucking. Speaking of which..." There was the zip of his pants and then the soft rustle of the fabric as he lowered it down his legs - and then there amid cloud-grey fur waited a lighter-colored sheath, with a pulsing pink flesh tip above that. "I have only, like, ten or fifteen minutes. Let's get going."

So sure of himself!... yeah, I wanted to go forward and lick, like, all over him, but again, I was nervous. He had come closer to me while he spoke so that now only a few feet separated us... I closed that distance, unsure whether I should look at his cock or his face, and dropped to my knees. I could feel the dirt griming up the knees of my pants - oh well.

His paw came down on my head, behind my ear; my nose was inches away from him. "Suck," he said. So, I leaned in and put my tongue first to that tip of his, followed by my lips - as you'd taste an unfamiliar drink before downing it in its entirety. His fingers dug into my fur and I could feel him push his hips forward, then, as I kept there and brought a paw of my own up to work his cock further out of his sheath. There's no feeling quite like that, feeling a nice thick cock grow between your lips and on your tongue, feeling it slip out of its sheath until the warm, moist knot presses against the front of your lips...

"Obedient little otter..." cooed the wolf. I looked up at him through half-closed eyes, the full length of his shaft above his knot cupped in my tongue. "Have you been punished before by someone you disobeyed?"

I wanted to say 'I've just sucked a lot of cock', which I guess was true, but what he said was also true. One time in the past, Pan - yes, Pan, sweet as he is - really wanted a blowjob, but I had homework to do, and I told him that. Well, when I got up to pee, he was standing outside in the hall; he put a big paw on my shoulder as I passed by and pushed me down, and then pressed the bulge of his underwear (as he'd had his belt and pants undone) and told me that I'd better get to sucking if I wanted to go anywhere. So, of course, I obeyed him then, too. It was one of those things that I enjoyed during it, but somehow enjoyed a lot more afterwards - especially on nights when one or the both of them were out, and the only companionship I had was two paws and a thick toy in the top drawer of my nightstand.

Well, instead of any of that, I just rolled my eyes. This wolf was pretty well-endowed... sure, he was no Arkani with a cock, like, as wide around as my upper arm, but he was big. The tapered end of his cock pressed against the back of my throat when I went down on him, down until only his half-revealed knot remained outside my muzzle; when I came back up, I could feel the contours and veins of his length, the natural slick musk along the surface and the occasional little jet of salty pre onto my tongue. Of course, being a wolf, it's no surprise that he's naturally larger and more... delectable, so to say, than dogs (of the anthro variety, who are more so than those of the feral variety).

So. Yeah. I've just sucked a lot of cock.

Instead of his paw guiding me along his length as guys usually seem to enjoy doing, he just let me go at my own pace, just let me go down on him and then come back up as I wanted, let me pull back and swirl my tongue all over his tip and then dive down and keep him in the back of my throat. The thing I love best about canine cocks (other than the taste, the scent, the shape and taper and contour, the knot, the sheath, the color...) is how you can feel the little bursts of pre when your tongue is there - spurt, wait, spurt, wait, spurt - like in all of the videos of handjobs. I'm a bit of a sucker for a leaky dog, and either it'd been a while or this one was just pent up, because I found myself swallowing quite often. At one point, I drew back off of him to get my own pants open and instead ran my paw up and down his slick length - and I was rewarded by another spurt of pre across the side of my muzzle.

"Lookit you," he said, "all worked up from givin' a blowjob. I always like t-" I put my lips back against his length, and he bucked forward an inch into them. "-to see a guy who enjoys his work. Some of 'em seem to treat swallowing a load as a chore..."

...well. Every guy has his own taste, and if your first is a bad one, that could turn you off from it. Like a kind of meal or dish that you really like, and you get it at multiple different places or cooked by many different people: it'll taste different every time, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, sometimes it's excellent, sometimes it's meh, but overall you can say you like it.

Look at me, talking about spooge like it's a restaurant delicacy, and while I suck a guy off, too. Really, it's been one of my greatest fantasies for as long as I can remember to have, like, dicks everywhere - one under my tail, one (or, hell, two or even three) in front of my face, one in each paw... maybe I could come back here every now and then. I'm sure that sometimes there's more than one guy at once...

The first blowjob I gave, I came before he did because I was pawing off while blowing him, and I was just so excited and worked up. I sorta felt that this time would be the same way, especially as he started to thrust his hips forward and back, just deep enough so I could feel him on my tongue and in my throat but not enough to cause me to gag (which took a lot; after playing around with another wolf in high school, I learned that I don't really have a gag reflex). There was just something about the... about the whole everything of this, the taboo part of it, how I don't even know this guy, and then the way he smells, the way he tastes, his little grunts and panting, how he holds my head down for a half-second every time he thrusts in... a thumb over the end of my cock came back slick with pre of my own. It was a considerable amount, too; I felt like if I were to look down, I'd see a little clump of dirt on the ground underneath my shaft where it drooled out... damn, if he weren't so close already (which was clear in his thrusts, his breaths, all of that) I'd turn around, get down on my paws and knees, and lift my tail for him. 'I just prefer to be the one doing the fucking', he said. Maybe next time, I can add my own mark to those splattered across the back of the bathrooms.

I moved my paw down to push his sheath back, and squeezed behind his knot. Dogs and wolves always love that; this one's mouth dropped open for more breathy panting, and his humps picked up in speed and ferocity. I just tightened my lips around him and kept my tongue moving, and soon enough, he bucked forward - once, twice, a third and fourth time - and spurted out thicker, muskier cum into the back of my throat. So much for the thought of me finishing before him - though I did cum shortly after, prompted by fast-moving paw, when he was dripping the last of his load onto my tongue. I swallowed twice, once to... y'know... and once to clear up the sharp taste and lingering slickness that lingered.

As he was working his pants back up his legs, he checked his phone. "...Okay," he panted, and turned those amber eyes to me. "Just in time. Thanks, ott."

I stood, too, and wiped at my mouth. "Mhmm."

"This was the first time I've seen you here; I sure as hell hope it's not the last."

I'll make sure it's not, I wanted to say, but as established before, I'm not that slick. Instead, I just said "Can I have your number?"

Sharp white teeth, revealed in a grin. "I was just going to ask you the same thing."