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It was cold. I noticed that first and it kind of surprised me. The day had been a hot one, even with the skies overcast, and humid. I hadn't expected the rain would be cold. I stood up from that awkward half-crouch you always have coming out of a tent and let the rain fall full against me. It was a downpour, the kind you only get in Florida summers. It cut through my short rat's fur as if there was nothing there, and with nothing else between me and the elements I was thoroughly soaked in short order.

I didn't mind the cold overmuch. After even a few seconds I was used to it, like a shower when you're trying to save the hot water so you run it cooler than you'd really like. It still pounded down on me though, big droplets different enough from a shower's steady stream to make me jump when they hit me. The storm wasn't destined to last long, not coming down the way it was. Guess I needed to find my ox.

He's a big guy, Hugo is, and even with rain knocking every other sound out of the air, it would have been impossible to miss seeing him step out of the woods. Well, less step, more half-stumble with a load of potential firewood that probably weighed about what I did. He was in a hurry, near jogging across our little camp to toss it with the rest of the lumber under our old pickup. He finally looked back at me and smiled, before pointing a finger to the sky. “One hell of a storm, Brad. You sure picked the right day for this, if that's what you're looking for." He had to raise his voice to be heard over the storm.

I stepped toward him, shouting back, “It's perfect. Do we really need that much firewood?" Our fire, more like a miniature sun, was happily crackling along with no mind to the rain. The ground wasn't even wet a few feet around it. I'd watched Hugo build it, and I'm fairly certain that it would have been more efficient to live inside the structure he'd assembled than light it on fire.

He pressed a hand into my chest to stop me from hugging him, and I pushed my lower lip out in a mock pout. “I'm covered in bark, wait a second. And yes, on the firewood. I'm not letting you into that tent like... like that." His hand slicked down one of my arms, flushing a small torrent to the ground. “Those are down sleeping bags." He dragged a few more logs to the fire, building it up to survive the storm unattended. Then, with no fanfare, he started working down his buttons.

First off was his shirt. It was flannel, and plaid, but in greens and blues instead of red and black. He didn't make a show of it, he never did when he was undressing, but I watched him like I always do anyway. As drenched as he was the white undershirt was nearly transparent, and clung to his arms and his gut. Not much of a gut, mind you, but neither of us could be bothered to work out enough to stay super slim. I liked it on him, hated it on me. The jeans came off next, and I was a little disappointed to see him in my favorite pair of boxers. I hadn't thought of it before seeing the shirt, but if I can ever convince him to do this again, he's wearing the thinnest white briefs I can find. Black, clingy as it was, just doesn't give a whole lot of definition. I almost wanted him to stay like that, underclothing on but plastered to him. It was terribly sexy in a voyeuristic kind of way, if you're into that sort of thing. I know I am. Still, I kept my mouth shut, let him do his thing. He peeled the shirt off and I watched as it ruffled his fur for a moment, only to have the rain push it back down again. Leaving his clothes draped across the trunks we were using as benches, he walked back my direction. The water was streaming off of him continuously, but through his heavy fur I wouldn't have been surprised if he was dry at the skin. Showers were kind of an extended process with him. “Now I'll take that hug," he said, and lifted me up to his chest in that effortless way that makes me just melt every time.

The rain was cold again as he put me down. I guess I didn't really notice how warm he was, even with as close as he'd been to the fire, until he released me back into the steady beating of the rain. “Ready to go?" I asked, bouncing on my paws like an excited child. I could have contained my eagerness, but why bother? “I don't know how long the storm is going to last."

“Almost." He walked around the truck and pulled the small bottle of lube from its hiding place in the glove box. We didn't have much use for it anymore, but I guess with the rain the way it was he wasn't going to trust saliva to do the job. He locked the door behind him and shot me a thumbs up. He made his way back close enough that he wouldn't have to yell to be heard. “Ready now. Lets get out of here before you get all covered in mud." I looked down and saw that, indeed, I was going a bit brown around the ankles. I rather preferred white.

It wasn't a long walk to the meadow we'd scouted out before. The grass was short and matted down, but kept the ground from being churned into the same mud that we'd left behind. He snagged my smaller hand in his as we came out into the field. “Under the tree?" He didn't point, but didn't have to, there was an apple tree that stood alone in the meadow, apart from the assorted woods that encircled it. I kind of wondered who had planted it, and when. Still, it wasn't our destination.

I shook my head at him, “No, its going to be muddy there, too. Besides, I want to be right out in the rain for this." We'd talked about doing this before, it was an old fantasy of mine. Hell, Hugo'd said he was game more than a year ago, we just kept not getting around to it. Now that we were here, I was surprised myself at just how specific a scenario I'd built up in my head. I dragged him over to a spot a little further from the tree line, but had enough sense not to want to be completely out in the open. Not in this weather. He just sort of grinned and let me put him where I wanted him, but as soon as I stopped moving he pulled me against him.

I was just a little too short to tuck my head up under his chin, there was always a bit of a gap there. Instead, I just leaned back against his chest, his arms holding me there with a sense of latent strength. I could feel his body better than I normally could, the way his fur was contoured to it. I felt his sheath, through those black boxers, pressed against the small of my back. I saw little rivulets flow down off of him across me. I reached an arm back and snapped the elastic waistband against his hip. “Time for these to come off, I think." I ducked, and he tensed ever so slightly. It was enough to hold me there, if not enough to crush me.

“Patience. Its pretty out here, I want a second to enjoy it." The easy strength and the rumbling of his chest against the back of my skull did not help me to be patient. It was pretty, though. No bugs, no birds to be seen, the whole forest was sheltering from the storm. Me too, taking shelter against my big ox, warm and immovable. My sheath wasn't going to hold me for long. That's when I noticed something: Hugo's sheath. Of course, I'd noticed it before, but something hadn't registered. He was soft. Completely.

Normally, when he holds me like that, especially if I squirm a little, he plumps up pretty quickly. If I'm naked, there tends to be a time limit on how long he can remain, uh, worksafe. I pushed back into him, and didn't get any response. I ducked his hug again, and he let me go this time. He moved a hand to his boxers, but it hovered there a moment, and I turned and reached out to pull them off of him. I thought I felt a well concealed flinch as I did. I looked up at him, and he just smiled down at me and licked his lips for show. I couldn't tell if it was forced or just him being goofy.

When he'd stepped out of his boxers and kicked them aside, my hands found their way down to his nuts. I wish I'd been able to stare at them, to see the stream I could feel flowing off of them, but we were too close together. They were as swollen and heavy as I'd ever felt them, he probably hadn't jerked off since the last time we'd been together, a few days back. That was unusual for him, he was a once-a-day kinda guy. I lifted and fondled them, sometimes with one in each hand, sometimes moving up to the base of his sheath to play with that as well. His breathing became heavier, but there was still no response from his cock. Finally, I stepped back and just stared at him.

He didn't look like someone who'd just been getting their balls handled with some level of expertise. He looked nervous, and a little haggard, and sorely disappointed. I just reached up to brush his face with my hand. “You're not loving this. I'm so sorry, you should have said something. C'mon, maybe the tent will be better?" I'd tried to goad him into public situations before, but it was the one thing he'd put his hoof down on. The idea of getting caught scared him silly.

“No," he said, “I'm sorry. I thought this would be okay, out away from people. I just... nothing's happening." He gestured redundantly at his sheath. “I know this is something you've really wanted. I want to be able to share it with you." I moved forward again to hug him, my own erection flagging at seeing him like this.

“It's really not that big a deal, Hugo. Just a passing fancy. We'll head back to camp, dry off, and play back in the tent. We've got a spare length of rope in the truck still, you know." His eyes glinted at that, we both knew how much he enjoyed tying me up sometimes. Instead of turning back to the trail, though, he knelt in front of me.

When he snagged me by the hips pulled me forward, I had a rough idea of what he was planning. “I'm not ready to give up quite yet. Let me at least get you prepped, and we'll see if I'm feeling it a little more. With his first broad lick across my sac, my dick's retreat reversed itself. The way he'd just kind of grabbed me hadn't hurt either. I loved feeling those big hands wrapped around me, the way his fingers sort of kneaded at my ass while they held me in place. There was iron in that grip; I couldn't have escaped if I'd been trying.

He had to bend to get low enough to get at my balls. The bovine tongue is a powerful muscle, as powerful as the rest of him, and his was a precision instrument as well. The tip traced along the bottom of my sac, between my balls, and then came back to curl around the base and squeeze them just hard enough to make me ache. He corralled first one nut, then the other into his muzzle, sucking on them and lashing around them with that tongue. I was fully out of my sheath, almost achingly hard, and he was pointedly ignoring that while he lavished more and more attention below.

I must have been thick not to realize what he was doing, but at least he was thinking for both of us. His nose was pressed firmly into the base of my sheath, right above my balls. We rats are kind of musky when we get going. Its one of those things that most people just have to get used to, its too strong not to notice. Hugo always said he liked it though, and I eventually stopped worrying about it. With the rain, of course, it didn't matter how worked up I was. So my big, precious ox decided to bury his nose in my balls, and get some of that scent from the source. And sure enough, it had worked, as I saw him spilling from his sheath. I'd have kissed him if I wasn't so happy with what his mouth was already doing.

He let up and spun me around, one tug at my hips telling me that it was time to bend over. I knelt in the sodden grass, moving to hands and knees. I couldn't hear him behind me, but a glance back showed me that he was fighting with the bottle of lube, then squeezing out a liberal portion into his hands. The rain had gotten colder and while I wasn't shivering yet, I kept waiting, hoping, for his form to fall over me, to protect me from the storm. His next touch, one hand pulling my asscheecks apart caught me by surprise. A lube slickened thumb worked its way under my tail, and I felt the pressure against my hole. I was tense, more tense than I'd realized, and was suddenly glad he'd decided to loosen me up first. The rain ran down into my eyes in this position, so I closed them. I pushed back against him, willing myself to relax, and his thumb popped inside me to the knuckle. It felt right, there, to have any part of him inside of me, and I really did relax at that point.

The thumb spun and bent inside of me, stretching me, but it was redundant. I was ready to take him, and hoped that he was still ready to take me. He was, if the way he shoved himself forward was any indication. I finally found myself where I wanted to be, under my ox, his body the shelter from the storm that raged around us. I squeaked as he lined his cock up with my tailhole, tensed and relaxed again as he just let the head sit there for a moment.

When he pushed in, my world collapsed. Eyes closed, and with the rain drowning out all scents and sounds, there was nothing in the world but him. I felt him like I never had before, not just the dick inside me but his whole body above and around me. I was focussed on him like it was the first time I'd ever had sex, only without any apprehension or worry. Slowly, he drove under my tail, sliding inside me in a smooth motion. I felt his hips as they rotated down to push against me, the weight of his balls hanging below mine. I felt rainwater, cool through my fur and contrasting against his heat above and inside me. I felt that deliciously thick cock spreading me deeper and deeper, until it pushed against that sweet spot and I spasmed around him.

He pulled back just as slowly, and I became aware of his breath, not because I could hear it, but from the sense of his chest pressing and retreating against my back. He was breathing deeply, great lungfuls of wet air. He didn't pull all the way out, I could feel more than a little bit of him left inside me when he paused and changed direction again. He shoved himself forward, not roughly, but with the strength and firmness I'd come to associate with him. The control as well; I gasped in a breath as he struck my prostate again and just held himself there for a moment. Then, with an almost unbearable force, he pushed himself deeper into me, working his way down to the hilt. I whined out a breath, a squeaky, thin sound, and I'm sure he felt my shoulders trembling against his chest. Finally, he stopped, and I tried to calm down, to let myself adjust to having him so deeply inside of me.

I let myself suck in a deep breath, arching my back into him to let him know I was okay, and because I wanted the contact, wanted to be as close to him as I could be. His hips moved, a half inch back and then forward. I rubbed my face against his tree-trunk arms, totally out of control of what I was doing, little whimpering sounds coming from the back of my throat. He did it again, an inch this time, and didn't pause when he bottomed out again. Quickly, he worked his way up to a deep, strong fuck. The rain made a slapping sound every time our hips met, and while I must have been breathing, I've got no recollection of it. I remember grunting, and whining, and nearly screaming as his cock tripped past my prostate, past where he normally stopped, and pressed deeply inside of me. It hurt of course, but it was ecstasy too. I might have killed him if he stopped.

He was grunting, too, loud enough to hear the near bellows over the rain. He was thrusting with a kind of animal desperation, and I wasn't so far gone in my own pleasure that I couldn't get a thrill from being needed. I clenched as he pulled back, and his breath caught. I felt like I would burst. He slammed back into me, hard enough that I almost lost my balance, and I couldn't make a sound as the wind was blown out of me. He held himself, pressed against every inch of my insides, and I convulsed as I came, my arms turning to water. My spasming, and the movement of falling to my elbows, was enough. He lowwed as he emptied his balls into me, pushing cum even deeper, and while I couldn't feel the heat that far inside of me, his body flushed and warmth raced along his cock. He bucked his hips a few more times, instinctively grinding his seed deeper into me, and I jumped with each one.

We stayed like that, the rain pounding down around us, his warmth keeping me safe and secure. When he started to pull out, I whined, and he relented, staying a minute longer. Eventually he rocked his hips back, and moved himself off of me, and I clenched to try and keep his spunk inside. I started to shiver the moment the rain struck me, exhausted and somnolent, and no sooner had my ox picked up his few things but his arm was around my shoulders, lending me his warmth again.