The Spaceman Story
The intentionally reserved dog hated these kinds of parties. You know the type. Friendly gatherings with booze stacked to the ceiling and a hundred plus guests looser than a fat slut with B.O. from all the differently assorted dicks she's had smacking her face, cumming in her armpits, all the multi-colored sweaty ballbags she's throated and had rubbed against her asshole, etc. For as many women there were at the party, there was an equal amount of men. Straight, horny, I'm-a-slave-to-your-will-oh-colossal-tittied-temptress men. These guys would shove multiple jagged iron dildos up their asses if these bitches wished it so. And Will Washer, A.K.A. "Spaceman", the blank-staring golden retriever standing in the corner watching the others considered himself to be above these mindless shits. In a way, he was.
Everyone at the party wanted to go "chat somewhere quieter". That was the same line for each of 'em. They never played around with it, never varied it up a bit. They just wanted to "chat somewhere quieter". Spaceman knew that wasn't what they were gonna do. Fuck, even a full-on retard could read between those wider-than-a-carrier lines they were trying to sex each other up with. Simply put, everyone who uttered that puke-inducing phrase was gonna go fuck. And that was it. They weren't gonna say a goddamn word to each other in that quieter place except for "lose the FOLs", which stood for the underwear company "Fruit of the Loom". There were a few things about that acronym that both peaked Spaceman's interest and royally pissed him off. One, despite the fact that "of" is an article, therefore its initial isn't at all necessary to include in an acronym, they whipped it in there anyway. Two, "of" is as much of an article as "the", but they left "the" out. He considered "the" to be way much more important informational-wise than "of". "Of" was just a two-lettered bridge hanging between two unrelated words to complete a phrase or sentence. "The" was a storytelling word. "The" was used everywhere. It was a necessity. Therefore, "the" to Spaceman was vastly superior to "of". The phrase should've been "FTLs", not "FOLs". Just because you can say an acronym like you would a word doesn't mean that it's a correct acronym. Three, they could've just skipped all that logical bullshit and have simply said "take off the pants" instead. When someone says "take off your pants" to you, you don't think about what they mean by it, you just fucking do it.
Fuck-phrases aside, there wasn't a mildly attractive woman in the bunch. Spaceman had been standing in the same spot chugging beer from the same red plastic cup for nearly 2 hours and with every further intoxicating sip he took, none of them looked any better than they did before he wrapped his lips around the cup's rim and tilted his head back.
"What a goddamn waste of time, man," Spaceman uttered to himself with another sip of beer. The cup ran dry and he had completely emptied the keg beside him, so he tossed the condensated piece of trash to the floor and fell onto the keg and began snickering. "I am so drunk." As the last word escaped his lips, he collapsed to the hardwood floor and passed out.
Now here's a little about who this careless and ultimately loathsome doggy was and how he came to be this way. Spaceman acquired his eerie nickname from his junior high school friends for his habit of drawing multiple-breasted and dicked aliens sitting atop their planets stroking and massaging their stuff on his loose leaf homework paper. He was never into that shit sexually however and he'd informed them of this countless times. He said he just liked drawing aliens with big tits and dicks. No fetishes were involved. Not to say he didn't have any fetishes, because he certainly did and he was known for that also. Spaceman had a strange fetish that he never really explained when asked about it, and it was for stinky, sweaty dicks. Spaceman was an unusual individual in that he loved the sweat drops of a guy's hot cock descending onto his tongue and snout before he blew him. He loved stinky dicks. The stinkier, the better. According to him, most of them must work up a good, pungent odor trapped in that warm, airless sheath all day. While he loved this biological quality in a man, he didn't have any specific fetishes towards women and their pussies. As long as she had a cute face, a nice supple rack, and a medium-sized pussy, Spaceman never complained. Even if the dude he was about to fuck had a dick that smelled like Irish Spring, he didn't mind. Stink was almost a delicacy because most of the guys Spaceman had sex with were so self-conscious about the scent of their genitalia and whether the foul, sweaty odor would drive him away at the last moment. Too bad Spaceman's tongue was already cupping their tonsils before he could tell them he liked that.
Generally, Spaceman never dated. He wasn't even fond of the very concept of relationships. You kiss a bit the first meeting, you take 'em back to your place, fool around for a few minutes, fuck, fall asleep on top of them, wake up with a boner still firmly wedged between their labia/asscheeks, spend the day with them doing some stupid fucking thing they suggested you do together, go home when it gets dark, fuck again, fall asleep, wake up with their pussy/balls next to your face and cum on your lips, spend the day with them again, go home and fuck again, fall asleep, wake up with a pool of their cum in your mouth, spend the day with them again, yada fucking yada. Spaceman didn't need that consistent shit. He was good with the pool of cum in his mouth. At least the fucker had the consideration to make him breakfast. So it's easy to understand why Spaceman was looking down on every asshole that got a fuck-partner at the party: he wanted to be that asshole. But none of these easy made-up little furs were appealing enough for him to spot peripherally and shift his eyes in their direction. And why did he come to this miserable excuse for a "friendly gathering"? It was at his best friend's house, whom he'd always wanted to blow from the first day he met him. On the way there, he thought he might be able to put the moves on him and get him into bed, even though the guy was jock-straight. But he had delicious pecs and a rock-hard six pack that were utterly irresistible to Spaceman. Spaceman himself was a hottie. Nice, tone, smooth chest with two gleaming pecs and a delightfully plump sheath on his pelvis. His balls were white as snow, and shiny as a cent. His arms were pretty bulk, though nothing to blow your load over. He kept himself in shape and this body had so far gotten him close to 35 lays, men and women included. He wasn't as built as Desh, the friend he was trying to fuck, a polar bear with everything Spaceman wanted on top of him under the sheets. But of course, Spaceman's chance with Desh had vanished when he scurried into his room with an average-looking field mouse wearing a tank top and cutoff jeans. From that point, there was only one thing to do: get shitfaced drunk. And get shitfaced Spaceman did.
The out-cold golden retriever was awoken a half-hour later when a slim black cat doused his face with a cup of tap water from Desh's sink. He barked ferociously until the cat scolded him to shut the fuck up, and she crouched to her knees and helped him to his feet.
"Goddamn," she remarked as Spaceman stumbled when brought to his feet, "you're really shitfaced, Spaceman."
Spaceman wasn't surprised she knew his name. He'd built up quite a substantial reputation for himself over the past 7 years. Everyone knew his name. "It's Will," he grunted, aware that he was neither in the mental nor physical state to be flirting.
"I see," the cat responded and rolled her eyes. "So uh...Will, did you happen to come with anyone to this little soiree?"
She was talking fancy, and for no good reason either. Spaceman wasn't the least bit interested and it didn't matter if she offered to drop to her knees and suck his cock right there because he would instantly decline. "No," he whispered. "I'm alone."
The feline caught a whiff of his stenchy beer breath when he muttered "alone" and turned her face away from his and coughed while fanning her hand in front of her nose to get rid of the sickening smell.
'Oh, good,' Spaceman thought. 'I have bad breath. That should keep this stupid bitch away from me.' Spaceman figured he would talk some more so he could fill the cat's nasal passage with the stink and drive her away from him, but before he could open his mouth, she faced him and began talking again.
"God, you were only asleep for 20 minutes and you've already got morning breath," she said with a smile and another cough. Smells didn't bother her in the least. She had her mind set on fucking Spaceman before the party was over and she was eagerly determined to do so, although she hid her excitement so he wouldn't become wise and tell her to fuck herself. Spaceman might've been drunk, but he was goddamn sexy. All of her friends had told her in great detail about how amazing Spaceman was in the sack. With the word "sack" in her mind, she sneaked a quick peek at his glimmering white balls and joyfully shuddered as a tingling sensation erupted in her vagina.
Spaceman caught her ogling his nuts and swatted her hand off of his khakis. The waistband of his boxers smacked against his pelvis as the pants returned to their original position around his hips. She looked up at him with an incriminating and disappointed look and he softly spoke, "I'm really not in the mood now." He added emphasis to "now" so his breath would wash over her face like a tidal wave, but this time she didn't turn away and choke. In fact, she didn't even blink. She just pressed her fuzzy cleavage up against his chest and lightly stroked his left cheek with her paw while seductively gazing into his hazel eyes.
"What's the matter?" she sensually breathed. "Don't you find me attractive?"
She was trying to arouse him now, and she was fucking bad at it. Spaceman was attracted to her, but he didn't wanna fuck her. But he didn't even give her the satisfaction of knowing that. He just wanted her the fuck out of his face, so he pushed her off and growled, "I don't want to fuck you." Unfortunately, the statement was loud enough to hear over the blaring metal music, much louder than he had intended it to be, and it caught everyone's attention. Now everyone was looking at him, cups in hand, eyes wider than a fisted asshole, and completely silent, waiting for the feline's response to his rudeness.
It took a few moments for the cat to grasp what had just happened and what words to say in rebuttal. "Well then, who do you wanna fuck?" she angrily spat.
Spaceman didn't hesitate. "Desh, you relentless bitch!" And that was just the moment when Desh walked out of his room to take a piss. Spaceman saw him and his tail started wagging frantically. A big smile grew on his face as he thought to himself, 'What timing!' Sure enough, the frozen polar bear had no idea what was going on.
"Did somebody call my name?" he confusedly asked.
Spaceman opened his mouth to answer his friend, but again, the cat interrupted him.
"Yeah, Desh! Spaceman did! Or 'Will' as he likes to refer to himself when someone he doesn't want talking to him decides to open their stupid bitch mouth and try to make a little conversation!" She turned back to Spaceman with an eviler look than before. "That's all I was trying to do, asshole! Just make some conversation with you!"
"Fuck you, loud mouth! You wanna fuck me and you know it! And look at you, acting like you were so subtle in your delivery! If you just wanted to make some 'conversation' with me, why did you sit on the couch while I while passed out admiring what you could see of my balls through my pants for 20 minutes!?"
"You are such a mother fucking douchebag! I assumed you were lying there in your own pissy backwash for 20 minutes! I didn't actually fucking time it!"
"Whatever, man! I don't care how forceful your arguments are! I don't wanna eat you out and I don't want your skanky little disgusting mouth on my dick, so why don't you get the fuck over yourself and move on to the next schmuck!?"
"Excuse me!" Desh shouted. "What exactly does this have to do with me?"
"I'll tell you what this has to do with you, man," Spaceman quickly retorted and treaded over to the bear. "I'm in fucking love with you, Desh. I know we've known each other for years, but not a day has gone by when I come over and we watch the game together where I don't stare at your dreamy ass when you get up and think about pouncing onto you when you're sleeping and just sucking your dick for hours on end. I still wanna be friends, but I want you to fuck me too. And I came over tonight intent on getting you into bed with me."
He'd said it all. Everything Spaceman had memorized in his head for the past 3 years came out perfectly with not even so much as a stutter. The room was silent. Even the music stopped. Desh looked at his eager friend with a raised brow and Spaceman looked back at him with a nervous smile, awaiting a response to his confession.
Desh grabbed a wall of the bathroom doorway and let out a sigh. He pressed his head against the back of his hand and closed his eyes. He didn't want to hurt Spaceman's feelings because he knew he didn't feel the same about the dog as he did about him. The polar bear searched his head for a proper, ethical response, but all that came out was, "You should leave, Spaceman."
Spaceman's smile dropped faster than a bomb in Pakistan. You could see in his eyes and the defeated look on his face that he was broken hearted. Fuck, he was almost about to cry. "Desh, please..."
This time Desh looked Spaceman in the eyes. "I don't love you back. And I don't wanna be friends anymore. It'll be too awkward to be around you. I gotta say man, you really embarrassed yourself tonight. Now along with drawing naked aliens and having a stinky dick fetish, you'll also be known for losing your best friend by telling him you wanna blow him. And look at all the witnesses."
Now Spaceman had begun to cry. "Desh, why are you doing this?"
"Why am I doing this? I'm doing this because you're a goddamn freak, Spaceman! You always have been! No one's ever liked you! And it's not because you're bisexual, it's because you wanna fuck everyone that doesn't wanna fuck you!" Spaceman started sobbing and Desh calmed down a bit. "Look, if I were you, I'd just lay low for a few days. Don't go out in public because everyone will be talking about this and giving you shit you don't deserve. I care about you, Spaceman, but I don't wanna fuck you. Now I want you to get out."
Tears were streaming down Spaceman's cheeks like a river at this point. He didn't know what to say. His heart was now nothing but liquid shit and all he wanted to do was find a knife and stick it in his throat. This black-hearted polar bear had just ripped everything that made life worth living to him out of his ass and all he could say to him was, "You cunt."
Those were the last words he exchanged with his now ex-best friend and he left the house as soon as he uttered them. Spaceman slammed the door with a force that shook the foundation of the house and Desh dismissed the dog's fleeting anger and shut the door to the bathroom.
This left everyone else in the living room whispering to each other as to whether the party was over or not. The amplified sounds of Desh's piss stream splashing into the bowl echoed throughout the house and he yelled from inside the bathroom, "You enjoying listening to me take a fucking piss? Turn the music back on, goddammit!"
Without missing a beat, the party goers turned the music back on and the party resumed. The cat rushed over to the window and watched a distraught Spaceman slowly descend the staircase to the driveway. She slyly smirked and opened the window and called out to him, "Nice going, you faggy fucking pussy!"
Spaceman quickly spun around and evilly glared at the feline. "Say another word and I'll fucking kill you!"
The cat rolled her eyes and closed the window. She walked back into the living room and Spaceman waited until she was completely submerged in the colorful crowd to turn around. Sure enough, as soon as he did, she ran back to the window, opened it, and began mocking him with a shaky voice and used her fingers to symbolize tears rushing down her face. "You cunt!"
Spaceman spun around and raced back up the stairs and over to the window, but before he could grab the bitchy feline by the neck and rip her head off her torso, she slammed the window down and yanked the collar of her shirt down enough to fully expose her breasts. She pressed them up against the glass and flipped off the furious dog.
"You could be fucking these tits right now, you crybaby bitch!" She pulled her shirt back up and closed the blinds on the window, completely cutting off Spaceman's view of the party inside.
Spaceman slapped his paws onto his head and viciously growled. He screamed and gave the siding a good denting kick and flipped off the window with both fingers. "FUCK YOU SKANK! AND FUCK YOU DESH!" He kicked the house once more, threw his arms up in the air and tilted his head back and screamed again, and walked back down the stairs to his car.
It was an excruciatingly lonely drive home for the defeated and heart-broken golden retriever. He was now driving on a mountain highway, in other words, cliff central. At any moment of his choosing he could jerk the steering wheel to the right and send the car careening down a rocky terrain at 150 miles an hour and maybe, if he was lucky, he would be impaled by the parking break when the car dropped like a boulder into a lake at the very bottom of the mountain. That was all he wanted, just to die. Why not? There was no reason to go on living this overly promiscuous and careless shitty life he had been leading for 7 years. The chunk of sex Desh said it himself: no one ever liked Spaceman and he was nothing short of a goddamn freak. Those two words sat in his mind like a couple of kids floating idly in a swimming pool with water wings and blow-up seahorses around their hips keeping them above the surface. 'Goddamn freak. You're a goddamn freak, Spaceman!'
Finally, he decided he would do it at the next turn. He slammed on the gas as he approached it, closed his eyes, and braced himself for his final moments on earth. He could feel the beat of his heart accelerating alongside the speedometer. They were both racing at a simultaneous speed. Beads of sweat emerged from his temple and snowballed into drops as they cascaded down the side of his face. He gritted his teeth as he swore he felt airborne, but he wasn't quite there yet. Just a few more yards to go and that would be it. But just as he was about to go flying over the edge of the cliff, the car stopped dead, not even 5 inches away from the rail. Spaceman's eyes popped open and nearly right out of his head as he realized he was still on the ground and unharmed. He looked at the gas gage. Empty. The frustrated canine struck the steering wheel multiple times and rocketed his head back against the seat.
'Well, what the fuck do ya know?' he tiresomely thought. 'I can't even kill myself. The one thing I had left to live for. Dying.'
His head slumped to his chest and he noticed a throbbing boner beating in his lap. All that tension that went into preparing for his death must've given him a stiffy. Spaceman couldn't help but smile at the sight of his pulsating pink member already leaking warm precum onto his thigh, and with a quick check both ways on the road, he reached into his glove compartment and pulled out a bottle of ranch salad dressing. He popped off the lid and squirted a nice thick puddle of it into his palm and proceeded to lube himself up with it. Like I said before, Spaceman was an unusual individual who liked extraordinarily unusual things. Within ten seconds, his hands, balls, and dick were submerged in a thick white dressing and its vegetable garden scent filled the entire car. Spaceman also loved lubing himself up with dressings and condiments like ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, and of course, horse radish. This was buttermilk ranch, which added a little more zest to the overall combinative smell of the dressing and his sweaty dick. Spaceman began to stroke his member tenderly. Small gushing noises escaped from his palm as his hand scanned up and down the shaft of the veiny, stiff, ranch-covered cock. A large smile grew onto Spaceman's face as he tried to make this beautiful moment last as long as it possibly could. He knew he would have to cum sooner or later, although he preferred later. With every pump, the smell would invite itself into Spaceman's nostrils and it always smelled fresher than the last. He began to moan as he slowed the pace significantly. There was now two pumps tops per minute and Spaceman enjoyed it all. He thought about his tenth grade physical education teacher and his tanned, luscious abs with beads of sweat making the nipples glisten like diamonds. From there, he pictured this buff fox he'd fucked a couple of nights ago completely naked, and fully hard. He remembered the taste and smell of his dick vividly. Delicious. He pictured the fox walking over to him and slowly inserting his scrumptious red cock between his lips. Then he pictured himself sucking it. The orgasm was coming, Spaceman could feel it building up in his balls. So he continued thinking about blowing the fox. He remembered the smooth texture of the dick and the tickle he received in his nose every time he swallowed it and the fox's pelvis fur engulfed his snout. Just as Spaceman was about to cum, he imagined the fox just about to cum, and he pushed Spaceman off of his ready-to-burst dick and Spaceman opened his mouth and held out his tongue. The fox began to cum and the warm, succulent sperm splashed onto Spaceman's tongue. Thicker and thicker globs of white, tasty cum spilled out of the fox's dick and slid down the dog's tongue and into his throat. With this image in his head, Spaceman achieved a fiery orgasm. His cum shot at the windshield and as the globs got thicker, they began to blanket his steering wheel. Pretty soon, he'd covered the entire horn with his sperm and shifted his aim to the radio. He'd gotten a few shots in the CD slot and on the radio knobs. He finished off the last of his spurts of cum on his parking break, making sure to get as much on the leather handle as he possibly could. Soon, the handle was covered with the transparent thick liquid that was Spaceman's cum. The satisfied and relaxed dog let out a relieved, contented sigh and leaned back in his chair. "Fuck you, Desh. Fuck you."
Spaceman waited a couple of minutes for his knot to shrink and for his stick-o-fun to sink back within his sheath before he stepped out of the car. He could've waited for a tow truck to come cruising by, but he decided against it. After all, what was he gonna tell the guy when he noticed the cum-covered steering wheel, radio, and parking break? That he was run off the road by some revving asshole and the unexpectedness of the occurrence made him jizz all over the interior of his car? Well, he considered that after the trucker noticed all the fresh cum puddles in the vehicle, Spaceman would spin him around and stick his tongue down his throat. If the trucker would turn out to be gay, it could save Spaceman a couple bills for the service. But what were the odds of that plan succeeding? Close to none, Spaceman calculated. So he figured it better to ditch the violated piece of shit and hitchhike his way home, where he would flip on the fireplace, get out the cheese whiz, and watch recorded reruns of "General Hospital" while sitting on the couch and fondling his nuts. It would be a perfect Saturday night, and one of the only in quite a while where he didn't have a "guest" over. He grinned as he thought about the fox again and elevated his arm and stuck out his thumb. "That guy was a good lay, man," he breathed to himself.
A blue Sedan approached the highway and Spaceman could see the passengers debating whether or not to pick him up through the windows of the lit car. He knew they weren't going to, even if it was a 3 against 1 vote. If you didn't know who he was (and most people did), then you could easily understand why he wasn't a very comforting-looking individual. Come on, he was shirtless with light brown khakis with dried tear streaks dampening the fur on his cheeks and sweat trickling down his chest. Would you pick him up? The only thing left to complete the unsettling image was a big hacksaw held in his palm and fresh blood drops coating his abs. So, as Spaceman predicted, the Sedan continued driving without picking him up. Ehh, typical. He didn't wanna be in their faggy little motorized piece of shit anyway. Besides, there were two kids in the backseat who both seemed to be under the age of 10, and the father was pretty goddamn good-looking, and Spaceman didn't wanna get caught in a fiasco with the authorities if he decided to jerk the daddy off while he was driving. There was no need for that.
The next car drove by, this one a convertible with a young sunglasses-wearing couple sitting in the front seat accompanied by another passenger sitting on top of the vehicle and hanging on. Spaceman caught a good enough look of all of them while they cruised by. The girl in the passenger seat was an adorable little badger with bronze, free-flowing long hair and nothing but a pink bra and panties on. The driver was an alpha-male-looking raccoon with a crew cut wearing a tight green tank top which revealed the outlines of every single one of his chest muscles so vividly he might as well have not have been wearing anything at all and summer shorts covering the calves of his tasty muscular legs. Sitting on top of the car was a striking, tall and dark stallion, shirtless with a dark blue banana hammock shaping his bulging package into a nice shining orb in his lap. When Spaceman caught his first glimpse of this spellbinding stud, he swore time froze. God, what gleaming pecs, what a perfect six-pack, what a tantalizing, pink pelvis guiding the way for what Spaceman pictured to be the most magnificent cock he would ever lay eyes on. Even though he'd thought this many, many times before, Spaceman could truly identify it this time. He was in love. And with his luck, this was the exact group that would screech to a halt to pick him up.
They did. When that convertible began to approach the next turn and stopped dead, Spaceman almost jumped for joy. Fortunately, he didn't. He didn't want to make any wrong moves with these guys. He had a new mind set for the night: getting to fuck that stallion. He ran over to the car with a light skip in his step that he tried to avoid, but the excitement was just too overwhelming and he couldn't shake it. The horse slid over and patted the spot where Spaceman could sit. Spaceman did his best not to giggle like an overzealous school girl getting invited to the lunch table that the boy she had a crush on was sitting at and jumped into the car and sat next to the stunning piece of ass that was the horse.
"Thanks a lot, guys," Spaceman breathed as a formality.
The raccoon turned back to him with a kind smile. "No problem, bro." He held out his hand and Spaceman shook it. He had a firm, clenching grip and he grabbed Spaceman's hand like he was hanging onto it for dear life. Spaceman's balls began to perspire from the manly handshake. The raccoon let go of the eager dog's hand and rubbernecked at the car his new passenger was standing beside when they spotted him.
"Bit of car trouble, amigo?" the raccoon asked.
"Oh, yeah," Spaceman stammered. "Ran out of gas and...uh, well it's a really long story." Spaceman refrained from informing the group about how he was trying to commit suicide by running his car off the road.
"Happens all the time. These goddamn foreign cars, man. They always dry out at the last minute." The raccoon gave Spaceman a sly look with the last sentence as if he knew what the downtrodden dog had just attempted. "I'm Slug. This fine piece of tang sitting next to me is Patty..."
Patty turned back to Spaceman with the same grin the raccoon had just given him. She held out her hand. "Charmed," she softly uttered in a fake English accent and shook Spaceman's hand. Hers was a more tender grip, very loving, very comforting, and her palms were wet with vanilla-scented moisturizer that wafted through Spaceman's nasal passage and brought a contented smile to his face. He didn't dismiss her for not holding up the back of her hand to be kissed, which is what most people do after they say "charmed", because she was cute and if things didn't work out with the horse, he wanted to taste what she had brewing in that pretty little thong.
"...and this dickhead back here is 'The Gentleman'," Slug finished. Of course he was kidding when he called his friend a dickhead, and the horse knew it because he lightly chuckled and nudged the raccoon on the shoulder after he said it. Then he turned to Spaceman, who was completely lovestruck, making sure that he held out his hand instead of plunging his teeth into the banana hammock and ripping it off to expose the giant pink orb of heaven inside. No, that would have to wait. The Gentleman took Spaceman's hand in his and lightly kissed one of the dog's knuckles. Spaceman nearly melted.
"And what's your name, handsome?" The Gentleman asked with a deep, hauntingly sexy voice and gazed into Spaceman's eyes seductively, similar to the way the cat at the party had, but in this case Spaceman was trying to contain himself from jumping into the horse's mouth. Usually when Spaceman was in the presence of such a marvelous creature, he would completely forget his name and stutter like a crashing computer. But he remembered his name exactly this time and didn't hesitate to tell the beast what it was.
"Spaceman," the golden retriever said and began to lick his lips, but yanked his tongue back into his mouth before The Gentleman could notice.
Slug's eyes lit up at the sound of the name. "Holy shit!" he shouted. "Dude, you're fuckin' Spaceman? The Spaceman?"
"The one and only," Spaceman cornily answered.
"Mother fucker! What are the chances, man? Our first night in the 'burbs and we get lucky enough to pick up the legendary bisexual naked alien-drawing stinky dick sniffer Spaceman? Wow!" Slug couldn't help from laughing hysterically. The overzealous raccoon was starstruck. Who could blame him? Spaceman was practically a celebrity.
"Oh my God, I've been wanting to meet you for years!" Patty squealed. "I've seen pictures of you on ADG! I have an entire sketchbook dedicated to you!"
"Nice," Spaceman casually uttered with a sexy grin. "You any good?"
"Well, I'm OK. I'm not the best out there, but I'm still trying, you know? Jesus Christ, I can't believe I didn't recognize you immediately when we stopped! I dream about you every night! I wanna fucking kick myself!"
Spaceman began to get a boner when she said she dreamt about him with that precious, truly feminine voice of hers. He directed a hand to his crotch and began softly stroking his package beneath the jeans. "Really, huh? Uh...what kind of dreams?"
The badger lightly giggled and placed a paw on his knee. "You know what kind," she said with a grin.
"You're a cute little thing," Spaceman said as he pulled his hand away from his pants and cupped her furry cheek in it. He started stroking it and she smacked it off and giggled.
"Stop. You're gonna make me cum."
Slug draped a large, muscular arm over Patty's shoulder and stared Spaceman down territorially with a raised brow. "Sorry to ruin the fun and games here, but she's spoken for, Spaceman."
"I know," Spaceman hinted with slight unintended nervousness in his delivery. "To tell you the truth, I'm much more interested in you." He was a little, but his main focus was on The Gentleman. This comment made Slug blush significantly.
"Really. Well, I'll have to take you up on that sometime," the raccoon replied.
"Maybe tonight," Spaceman sensually breathed.
"Haha. Maybe, my man. Maybe." Slug's foot hovered over the gas pedal and he looked back at Spaceman. "Hang on, bro." With that, he accelerated the car down the mountain highway and Spaceman grabbed onto the back of Patty's seat with one hand. Before he set the other down, he looked over at The Gentleman to see where he had put his. It was hanging by his side while the other gripped the side of the car and Spaceman looked forward again and leaned back and set his hand on the trunk. He waited for the horse to place his dark, glistening hoof over it, but he never did. Spaceman began to wonder if he was even interested, but then again, the whole two dudes holding hands scenario was pretty cheap. And pretty gay.
The gang stopped off at White Castle at about 3 A.M. for some midnight snackage. Spaceman wasn't particularly hungry, but he ordered a dozen sliders anyway. The Gentleman got a Coke and 40 sliders, Slug got a Mountain Dew, 25 sliders, and fries, and Patty got a bottled water with 17 sliders. Goddamn, even the slim chick in the bunch was eating more than Spaceman. Halfway through the 12 little burgers, Spaceman became pretty thirsty. Somehow, The Gentleman sensed this and put an arm over the dog's shoulders.
"You should slow down there, buddy," he sarcastically remarked. He had completely finished his 40 burgers and drank half of his Coke. He grabbed the drink from its holder and brought the straw to Spaceman's lips. Spaceman took a slow sip from the cup, trying to swallow as much of the horse's saliva blanketing the tip of the straw as possible while still getting down some of the drink. After 30 seconds, The Gentleman pulled the straw from Spaceman's muzzle and gently kissed him. Spaceman took advantage of the magical moment and opened his mouth wide enough so that the horse could completely submerge his large tongue inside it. He did, and the two began making out. The horse's tongue tasted like a wonderful mixture of slider meat and fizzy soda backwash inside Spaceman's mouth. Still gripping the side of the car with his left hand, The Gentleman wrapped his other around the dog's head and his wide tongue snaked down his throat. Spaceman, on the other hand (no pun intended), reached into The Gentleman's banana hammock and thoroughly brushed every crease and vein on the horse's moist dick and balls with his palm and fingers. He put his thumb and index finger on either side of the shaft and stroked it gently all the way to the head. When he got to the head, he lightly tickled it with his thumb claw and felt it expand as the stallion began to get a meaty erection. He moved his hand back to the shaft and placed his entire fist around it and began pumping. It only took a few pumps until this sexy Gentleman was stiff as a brick, and with that, The Gentleman yanked his tongue right out of Spaceman's maw, let go of his head, set the cup back in its holder in the front, and proceeded to take off his banana hammock. Spaceman patiently waited for the horse to remove the pesky cloth from his loins and reveal his gigantic, throbbing erection to him. Fortunately, there was no need to be patient. The Gentleman ripped off the garment and tossed it onto the road in a split second. Now Spaceman was facing what he'd been eagerly waiting for. Only a few inches from his face stood the buff dream beast's thick, dripping wet, black and pink erect cock. The smell overwhelmed the awestruck golden retriever. It was an intoxicating, potent, spicy stench that literally burnt his nose hair as it fluttered over to him and smacked him in the face like a wet towel. Spaceman wanted to take a moment to cherish the sheer beauty of this glorious cock in front of him, but The Gentleman didn't give him a chance. He took his left hand off of the side of the car and crawled over to Spaceman and shoved his dick into his mouth. Spaceman didn't have to do a thing either. The horse thrust in and out of the dog's pried open muzzle and facefucked him mercilessly. Spaceman lay still as the horse rammed his incredibly delicious cock down his throat and his huge black balls with splotches of pink on the scrotum smacked his chin with such a force that he could feel blood vessels bursting in his neck. But it didn't matter. Spaceman didn't mind the gagging pain of the 17-inch dick bruising his throat, and it was the stinkiest he'd ever had the immense pleasure to have barreling against his tongue, pallet, and tonsils. In and out, in and out, in and out, for hours it seemed. This horse was raping the shit out of his face, but he didn't give a flying fuck. In and out, in and out, in and out, his own spit and the horse's dick sweat trickling down the side of his face and landing in a pool of scum beneath his head on the car. In and out, in and out, in and out, tears of joy rolling frantically down his face and collecting in the scum pool. In and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, and suddenly, the beast stopped. Spaceman was about to start sucking it himself until two seconds later when hot cum fired at his tongue. The Gentleman was cumming something fierce, and it was rocketing at everything in Spaceman's mouth. His teeth, his pallet, his tongue, his tonsils, his uvula, and it was so warm and so soothing against his gullet that the ravenous dog simply couldn't get enough of it. Glob after glob, the horse kept cumming. And glob after glob, Spaceman kept swallowing. It was so hot in his stomach and it settled every one of his nerves. He didn't have a care in the world. Sadly, this would have to end soon, and three minutes later, it did. The Gentleman slowly removed his cum-spattered dick from the dog's mouth and Spaceman lightly swished around the last of the stallion's sperm and swallowed it. He looked up at The Gentleman, who knelt in front of him with a now flaccid dick, and before Spaceman could make the next move, the horse began to piss on his face. This struck Spaceman by surprise, but he dismissed the shock and opened his mouth and held out his tongue as the hot yellow fluid poured onto it. Midstream, however, the wind caught a hold of the piss flow and directed it to the west. Spaceman quickly bounced over on his back and hung his head over the side of the car and drank the last of the cum-flavored piss.
The Gentleman had finished urinating and Spaceman got up to his knees and bent over with his ass facing the horse. The Gentleman chuckled and stroked his member a bit until he got another boner. Then, he hastily inserted the pulsating erection deep into the dog's bowels. Spaceman let out a pleasured squeal as The Gentleman reached his rib cage and began fucking him in the ass just as hard as he did his face. With every thrust, in and out, Spaceman squealed constantly. This hurt like fuck, but that wasn't about to stop the charade of throbbing fun The Gentleman had invited a fully willing Spaceman to. In and out, in and out, in and out, the horse rammed his extravagantly large cock into the dog's wide pink asshole. He figured this certainly wasn't the first time the loose little pup had gotten his ass fucked, but he wasn't the least bit surprised. He knew Spaceman's type all too well. They'll treat your dick like a brick of solid gold and they'll bathe themselves in your cum, but when that's all over, the fucker doesn't want anything to do with your sorry ass. Well, that's how The Gentleman was going to approach the situation. There was a turn coming up, and he knew Slug well enough to know that he was going to rev up the speed just to give it a little thrill and the car would run off to the side for a second, and when that second arrived, the conniving horse would pull his dick from Spaceman's asshole and send the dog flying off the car and over the mountain. But it was important to fuck him harder and time his orgasm just right so that the promiscuous bitch he was deep inside of would finally get what he really wanted and what he deserved. He saw the car back on the highway. He knew what Spaceman was trying to do. Everyone did. This sly golden retriever was a lot of things, but he definitely wasn't subtle.
Spaceman felt the horse wrap his arms around his hips and start to fuck his brains out. The catching dog had progressed from lightly squealing to loudly screaming. But it was pleasured screaming. Spaceman was so deep in the moment (no pun intended) that he hadn't noticed the hairy turn coming up on the road. All he thought about, if he could think at all, was being fucked by the monumentally-sized horse on top of the speeding convertible. He was living in the present, the oh-so-fuckably-good present. The horse thrust a few more times, and with each thrust Spaceman could feel his internal organs being smacked to the side like hockey pucks. He smiled and opened his mouth wide, letting his tongue spill out, and closed his eyes as the horse thrust his last joyous thrust. And then, he came. Spaceman felt it all over the walls of his bowels, filling up his intestines, and shooting out at his liver and stomach. The heat of the rushing sperm made Spaceman start to sweat, and he began shouting sweet nothings to the horse like, "Yeah! Aw, fill me up! Fill my bitch ass up, you beautiful-dicked mother fucker! OHH! OHHH YES!"
He would've kept blissfully cheering the horse on if that wasn't the moment when the car made the turn. It all happened in the blink of an eye. The Gentleman pushed Spaceman off of his dick, the car ran off to the side of the road, and Slug faintly yelled, "Hang on!" but it didn't matter. Spaceman was airborne. He spun around in the air like a tossed coin, and before he hit his first skull-shattering rock, he captured a perfect glance of the group in the convertible. Time granted him a little pause so to speak, and he saw The Gentleman sitting on top of the car, his dick spilling cum left from his orgasm, and he was laughing. Patty and Slug caught sight of the departed golden retriever and had panicked wide-eyed looks on their faces. He thought he heard them calling his name, but he couldn't tell because time unpaused itself at that moment and his head struck against a boulder. Everything went black for Spaceman, even though he continued falling. Well, this was what he originally wanted.
Four hours later, Spaceman woke up in his bathroom. He was laid back against the toilet and a bloody cast was wrapped around his forehead. It took a few minutes for him to come to, but he eventually moved his neck forward, then his arms, then his legs, and finally stood on his feet. He heavily walked over to the mirror and gazed at his reflection. His face was cut up and scarred, but not too badly. His chest, however, had a huge gash in it, which was safely bandaged with the same material his head cast was made of. God, his head cast. It was entirely red. He wondered how much blood he lost and then he remembered the chipping sound that emerged from his skull when he hit that boulder on the mountain. The answer was, a lot. Luckily, he didn't feel light-headed at all, but he did ponder as to why he was in his bathroom instead of a hospital. What, did hospitals in the county suddenly enforce a "No Bisexuals" treatment prohibition while he was knocked out?
Then, Slug walked in. Spaceman caught sight of him behind his reflection and spun around. The raccoon was still wearing that suiting little tank top with those adorable summer shorts, both of which were squeezing every part of his body they were covering. He was holding a wet cloth filled with what Spaceman figured was ice. He walked up to the injured dog with a kind, relaxing smile and placed the cloth onto his skull. Yeah, ice. The frigid sensation stung Spaceman's flesh underneath the cast, but he didn't wince. He just stared into Slug's settling, almost motherly golden eyes.
"Hold this on that spot for the next hour, man," Slug instructed.
Spaceman did so and looked at the raccoon with a confused, raised brow. "Thanks," he squeaked and cleared his throat.
"Hey, no problem." Slug placed his arm around Spaceman's waist and gave him a quick but loving kiss. He pulled back, smiled, and walked out of the room and into the kitchenette of the dog's apartment.
Spaceman followed him, desiring answers but too weak to ask for them. Finally, he mustered up enough breath to ask a simple, two-worded question. "Where's Patty?"
"Patty?" The question caught Slug's attention immediately. "Oh, uh...we broke up."
This came as a surprise to Spaceman, so much that he almost jumped back. "Why?"
"So I could be with you," the raccoon answered very casually, as if the two had been together for much longer than they really were.
"But..." Spaceman made sure to be completely honest with this delivery. "...but I'm a...freak. Why do you wanna be with me?"
Slug sternly looked at Spaceman as if he were about to school him. "Well, that may be," he started, "but I know you can make a relationship work if you put your heart into it. Face it, you can't always be the sex-crazed manwhore you've made yourself out to be. To tell you the truth, you are a freak. A fucking big one at that. But that's just my opinion of you. Look at your life for a second, dude. Are you happy with it? Are you happy with your past?"
"No. I'm not."
"Ah. See, that's where I come in. I'm gonna turn that shit around, Spaceman. I'm gonna make you forget your miserable past. All of it. The people who resented you, all the shit you've taken over the years for being the way you are, and all the careless promiscuity will vanish as soon as we fuck." Slug strutted over to Spaceman and took his chin in his strong palm. "Would you like that?" he whispered.
"That depends," Spaceman nonchalantly whispered. "Does your dick stink?"
Slug smiled and gazed deeply into the seductive doggy's eyes. "Like hot shit."
"Awesome," Spaceman replied and leaned in to passionately kiss his new boyfriend.
So generally, Spaceman never dated. He would just fuck and leave. He thought that was the be-all-end-all of his life on earth, until one sexy raccoon changed it all with a simple kiss.
This was the story of Spaceman, the naked alien-drawing, stinky dick-loving, promiscuous, careless, and ultimately loathsome bisexual golden retriever. He came from a shitty party to an adrenaline-powered masturbating to being fucked in the ass by a horse on top of a convertible to dating Slug, the tone, slim, buff love of his life.
What a fucking night.