The boar let a thick wad of smoke out into the hazy summer air. Another day alone, hubby off on business, nothing to do but laze.

Heavy and chubby but muscular beneath, flesh a ruddy pink where graying hair did not cover it, Greg had a dad's body - and he was proud of it. He had it on display, albeit in his backyard. The canvas lattice of his lawn chair creaked a bit under his heavy weight, but it was rated for four hundred pounds. He was big and heavy, but the scale in the bathroom said he was under that line. And so he lounged in confidence.

He scratched his belly, making doughy rolls wobble. Then he scratched his chin, where his gray beard was bushy, but groomed with care. The bristly noise his fingers made was oddly satisfying, the same way it always was.

Then his hand slid down his belly. Over his hairy chub, onto his groin where striped boxer shorts made him legally decent. Even in such loose fabric, the heavy twin lumps of his balls were hanging low in the summer heat, and they created obvious outlines.

Under his boxers, his fingers teased the orifice of his sheath. Ordinarily only the leading nub of his Prince Albert showed in the loose circle of his sheath's opening, medical grade-stainless gleaming alluringly. In this case, the boar already had a half-chub, and his thick meat throbbed and leaked in his boxers. He traced his finger around it inside the sheath, huffing free another mouthful of smoke. Another day jerking off alone. He wished his husband would just come home, work be damned.

Across the neighborhood, a girl played. For Christine, this was only another hot summer day. She was out looking for fun, be it innocent pleasures of childhood or something more vulgar. Christine, Chrissie to most, could go either way.

The day was oppressively hot. She saw no other kids in her neighborhood; everyone was inside, playing video games and enjoying the air conditioning. With nobody to race on her bike or climb with, she settled for more delinquent amusements: she trespassed.

Christine was no thief. A sweet young girl with affluent parents, she wanted for nothing, and her fashionable but comfortable clothing spoke of money. She was tall for her age (five feet, ten inches at the age of twelve) and well-fed, not at all lanky, and in fact a hint pudgy in her belly. Though smooth-chested, Chrissie had obvious potential to grow into a beautiful woman.

Not a thief but an ardent rulebreaker regardless, Chrissie hustled over a chain link fence and explored the back lots behind the furthest homes from her own. Off in the distance, farm fields sprawled. Separating the yards from the fields were thatches of weedy green-gold prairie.

The vixen explored desolate yards gladly, imagining herself as a ninja, hiding in darkness to avoid the all-seeing eyes of security cameras. She leaped from shadow to shadow, only a blur in the sunny haze. Then, over another fence. Into another yard, where a heavyset boar was casually masturbating under the spotty shade of an old elm tree.

Chrissie slunk her way closer to the boar, intending to sneak right past him. If he busted her, she knew, the world was doomed; it was absolutely critical to her mission that he not see her. She crept along the sun-baked grass, footsteps whispering. And she would have kept sneaking, and Greg indeed would have never detected the world-famous spy, except she realized he was masturbating.

Far more than being a spy, Chrissie enjoyed sex. She liked boys, but she liked grown men so much more with their powerful scents and developed reproductive organs. With grown men there was no rudimentary sex-ed.

Still acting as spy extraordinaire, Chrissie slunk her way up to the reclining boar. She asked suddenly, cheerfully, "Hey mister, what are you doing?"

Greg flinched and sat bolt upright. He yanked his hand shamefully from his boxers and he turned as far as he could to look at the vixen. His bearded face was noticeably alight with blush. In the shock, he had bitten his cigar apart and inhaled a mouthful of smoke. He spat the frayed cigar into the grass and coughed a few times, bringing up thinner and thinner puffs of cigar smoke until his lungs had finally cleared.

"Who are you? What the heck, kid?" he asked nervously. "Why are you in my yard?"

"Um, just exploring," Chrissie murmured. She smiled, batted her eyelashes. She looked innocent, painfully so. Greg felt a little swell in his chest, a fondness for the girl. "So-o-orry if I scared you, mister."

"Uh, it's-, it's fine," he murmured. "Jeez, kid. You scared me."

"Sorry," she repeated. "Um, so like, my name is Chrissie."

"Hi, Chrissie," the boar sighed. "I'm Greg. Now you need to get home, little girl. All right?"

The vixen walked around him, hips swishing in a subtle, yet womanly fashion. Her ruby-red eyes fixed upon his, and she asked in a voice just as sweet as pie, "Don't you want to finish jerking off, mister Greg? Don't wanna get blue balls."

The boar's mouth hung open. He stared, absolutely flummoxed. "What-?"

Chrissie leaned in. She giggled sweetly, kissed him on the lips. Without thinking, so used to kissing his husband, he kissed back. Her lips were soft and gentle and he realized he enjoyed feeling them.

"Lay back, mister," the little fox purred. "Let me make up for startling you."

The boar grunted. He felt helpless in the strangest way, like the fox had control over him in spite of his size and age over her. He laid back, again making his canvas lawn chair creak.

Chrissie's paws pulled on his boxers, tugging them down his sweaty thighs. She cooed as she put eyes on his balls, "Ooh, so-o-o hairy. Can I suck on your balls, mister?"

"Sh-, sure, if you want to," he muttered. His mind reeled, demanding to know [i]what the fuck is with this kid?[/i]

Chrissie knelt beside the chair. She cupped his balls which smelled foully of musk. Her nose brushed with their bristly, coarse pubes and she smelled him hungrily, cooing, swishing her tail. "Ooh, your balls sti-i-ink. You're so manly and sweaty. Do you like little girls?"

"I don't really-, uh," Greg blurted, not knowing what to say at all.

The vixen lifted his balls. Greg tensed, huffed. He slid a leg off the chair to offer her more room. Chrissie giggled, and then her snout packed under his sack. His blush worsened and it seemed to reach a cherry-red peak when her nostrils touched his anus.

Chrissie reveled in the boar's heady scent. She moaned whorishly as she sampled his anal musk and the general, sour stink of sweat. Her tongue swabbed across his anus. His ass crack, like his balls, was also carpeted with hair.

"Ho, shit," Greg huffed. "You're not playing, are you, Chrissie?" He pawed around beside his chair. He found his cigar box and took out another, lit it with his Zippo, and found some calm for his trembling fingers as the nuanced smoke filled his mouth. He blew out the smoke and closed his eyes. The weirdness of the situation didn't seem to be worth dwelling on; the reality was he had a little girl happy to service him. The lonely old boar considered himself lucky and let it be.

Chrissie's long, vulpine tongue slunk across Greg's anus like an inquisitive worm, prodding the puckered center, teasing, laying on a coating of drool. The little fox demonstrated a taste for musky, sweaty ass which Greg saw rarely even in his husband; he let his leg drift further off the chair, the hoof resting out in the grass.

"Good lord," Greg huffed, expelling another mouthful of smoke. "Pretty little girl sneaks into my yard and starts eating my ass. That's too good even for some smutty story."

From underneath Greg's hot and stifling balls, Chrissie tittered with girlish laughter. She smacked her lips against his anus and gave the boar's musky pucker a suckling smooch. Greg shuddered, closed his eyes, held his cigar off to one side and let it smolder. "Fuck," he whispered. "I'm dreaming. Only explanation for it."

Her lips popped off of Greg's anus with a noisy smack, and the boar groaned. His penis, hanging halfway out of the rather slack mouth of his sheath, dribbled a thick blob of precum into Chrissie's teased blonde locks.

Slowly she pulled back. Her tongue slid along his hairy scrotum, digging through the wiry pubes, teasing the wrinkled, old flesh of his sack. If any of them stuck to her tongue, she showed no disgust or discomfort that Greg could see.

"You're not dreaming," the girl giggled. "You're just sexy."

Greg gained a lopsided grin. Compliments, even cheap and corny ones, had a way of getting to the old boar. He blushed and waved her off. "Aw, shush, you."

"Nuh-uh, it's true," Chrissie said. She knelt on his chair, putting her other leg on his gut, but turned so she did not drive the ball of her kneecap into him. In this rather cuddly position, the vixen unbuttoned her pinstriped shirt and peeled it off of her sweaty torso.

Greg watched, smile more crooked than ever. His lips moved as he counted, then he said, [i]"Eight[/i] nipples. My god. Must be hard to tickle a girl like you with all those tits in the way."

The fox grinned, Greg's first and only look at the hellion beneath the innocence. She laid over him, soft girly chest with eight pert nipples grinding against his hairy form. Her lips touched his and Greg, now ready for the child, slipped the thick slab of his tongue into her maw.

Chrissie cooed at his kiss. Her young mouth suckled his tongue, her own tongue teasing it, playing across it. She brought up a paw and fondled his chin, teasing her way through the wiry brush of his beard.

A lustful rumble quaked Greg's chest. Though the cigar occupied one hand, with the other he held Chrissie's hip. The girl felt sturdy to him - as if she could handle a breeding despite her age. Though if she fucked as well as she ate ass, Greg had no doubt at all she could handle the pumping lust of a lonesome boar.

As Greg drew back his tongue, he shuddered. He said to the softly panting girl, "Your cute little mouth, does it suck cock?"

Chrissie tittered. She was blushing, very nearly glowing. The massive brush of her tail swished; it seemed to be the only air moving in that stifling summer day. "Maybe," she said cryptically. "Your big, nice tongue, does it eat pussy?"

Greg chuckled. He slid his thick fingers under Chrissie's shorts, feeling over the curve of her bottom. No panties; Greg was not surprised. "Sure it does, Chrissie," he said, speaking gently but with an unmistakable note of lust. "I might be married to a man, but pussy is most definitely on the menu."

The fox grinned and giggled. "Ooh, you're fun... I bet you've never had pussy like mine, though." She gave him a peck on his lips and sighed. On a whim she asked, "Can I try your cigar?"

The boar's first impulse was to say [i]no, you're just a kid.[/i] His fingers were on her bare bottom, and the smell of his rather musky anus lingered on her breath; realizing the absurdity stopped Greg before he said anything.

"If you want to," he said, and Chrissie then straightened herself up. Greg slid his fingers reluctantly out of her shorts. He brought it up, still smoldering, and turned it around so the wet end faced her. "The thing about cigars is-"

She grabbed it from him, wrapped her lips around it, and drew in - and her form would have been fine had this been a cigarette or a bong. "Wait, no!" Greg said, but he was too late by far.

The look of revulsion on Chrissie's face was pure comedy to the boar. He was kind by nature, but the immediate punishment for Chrissie's rashness caused him to laugh. He took back the cigar as she sputtered and coughed, at least doing so away from his face.

"That's-, that's so [i]gross,"[/i] cried the vixen, whose lips still smelled of sweaty old boar ass. "How can you enjoy that?"

"Because," Greg said with no small amount of pleasure, "I smoke cigars [i]properly."[/i] As the vixen watched, Greg puffed his cigar, and several seconds later he exhaled the smoke. "Note, please," said the boar, lowering the cigar to nudge off the ash, "I didn't [i]inhale[/i] it."

"You don't inhale it?" Chrissie asked, baffled. "But, when I smoke weed-"

Greg chuckled. Another, more responsible adult would have been horrified, even disgusted with Chrissie: sexually active with grown men and a pot smoker? But Greg liked the girl the more he learned about her. He squeezed her hip gently. "Well there's your problem, Chrissie. This isn't pot, and this isn't some shitty Camel or Marlboro, this is a fine, hand-rolled cigar." He offered her the wet end. "Want to try again?"

"Nuh-uh," Chrissie huffed. Just looking at the cigar made her stomach churn. She turned away.

The boar smiled and set aside the cigar. Letting it simply go out was better than stubbing it. "Come inside with me, Chrissie," he said. "Let's get out of the heat. I have some things inside I think you'll enjoy more than that."

She followed him into his modest home, not mentioning that hers was bigger - almost palatial in fact. The little girl had good manners in spite of her proclivities.

Greg led her to the bar in his dark, cozy rec room. "Here. Have a seat," he said. He hugged the girl against his musky form and set her on the tall stool, waiting until she had a paw on the counter before letting her go.

"Ooh, can I have a beer?" Chrissie asked, giggling.

"Do you want one?" the boar asked doubtfully. "Let me be honest here, Chrissie. You're a little girl, and I want to fuck you, yes. But I have yet to meet [i]any[/i] child who likes the taste of a good beer."

The fox snickered. It was quite unlike her giggle, and Greg thought it was another glimpse of the real Chrissie. "I guess you're right. I always think I'll like beer, but it always tastes [i]gross."[/i]

Greg went through his well-stocked bar, trying to think like a child with an unrefined palate. He kept no wine coolers, thinking them to be trash. He had orange juice and V8 in the kitchen fridge, but he wanted to party with Chrissie.

In the back of a cabinet, he found a dusty bottle of peppermint schnapps. He wiped the dust off on a small green towel, then cut the seal off with a knife.

Chrissie watched closely, smiling, tail swishing and legs swinging. "That stuff smells good," she cooed as Greg poured two fingers. The liquid was clear, but smelled like candy.

"It's a little too saccharine for me," the boar chuckled. "But, for a little princess, should be tasty." He slid the glass across to her. Its glass was unadorned and spotlessly clean. "Enjoy."

The fox picked it up, smelled it, and then downed it in a gulp. She tittered as she set the glass down, "Oh, wow, that tastes like candy! More!"

Greg grinned, leaning over the counter somewhat. He saw the color rising in her face, heard the bubbly giggles rising out of her like steam from a boiling kettle. He held the bottle and poised to pour it, but asked coyly, "What's the magic word?"

[i]"Please,"[/i] Chrissie cooed, leaning forward and giggling wildly. Greg gazed at the smooth plane of her exposed chest and belly. The thought of dragging his tongue over her immature nipples made his cock throb.

Pouring her another two fingers, Greg said, "Now sip this one, don't just-"

The vixen gulped the schnapps down in one go, and then she hopped off of the stool. Her legs wobbled and she stumbled, but caught herself on her paws. Her near-crash left her standing on ramrod-straight legs and arms, butt perked out, still giggling.

Greg stepped around and helped the girl to stand. She fell against his bulk and shrieked laughter. "Oh, I think I'm [i]fucked up!"[/i]

"Sure seems like you are," tutted Greg. The big boar walked his young guest to the couch and encouraged her to sit with a gentle push. Then he slipped out of his boxers, going nude as he preferred to do in his home. His sweaty balls dangled low and fat, but his penis was snoozing in its sheath.

"Let me take a look at something," the boar said, kneeling down on the carpet. With surprising agility, his thick fingers untied Chrissie's shorts. He pulled them slowly downward as Chrissie attempted to accommodate him, wriggling in a way which was mostly helpful.

The boar looked hungrily between Chrissie's taut young thighs as he bared her loins. Pert and plump between them was a dark canine vulva, though to Greg it had a handful of cute names, spade and fortune cookie most prominently. He grinned slyly, touching his pronounced swine nostrils against the dark peach. He snuffled her musk, then prodded his tongue against the split of her thick cunt's lips, parting the two lobes where their black flesh became a naughty pink.

"Doggy pussy," he said thoughtfully, between prodding licks into her snatch. "Been a long time since I had any."

Chrissie crooned and squirmed, wiggling her butt on his couch. Her paws played over his head, feeling over his short pink ears which were of a noticeably softer flesh than the somewhat rougher hide on his body. "Boys lo-o-ove my cookie," she cooed, a minor slur in her words making Greg smile. "They like my butt, too..." She threw a leg on his shoulder and flopped back, arms hanging limply at her sides. "I feel all nice and warm."

"You should have a good buzz going, as much of that schnapps as you had," Greg said. "Just relax, princess, enjoy that buzz. Let me help." The boar kissed Chrissie's spade and his beard bristled against its folds, making the vixen titter. The thick muscle of his tongue prodded into her sex, teasing its way inside with its wide, hot bulk. A low moan whistled out of Chrissie who lay calm against the couch, her breathing shallow.

Greg had never had a child before. Chrissie's pussy seemed almost flavorless compared to some of the cunt he had munched in his years: fat, musky boxes ripe with vaginal stink, dripping wet with hair as thick as jungle canopy. Chrissie was a contrast: delicate in flavor, pubescent but not yet vulgarly adult, with only a small thatch of blonde hair above her mound.

The boar fondled Chrissie's thighs, sliding up against the grain to her hips. His tough hands slid higher, between the halves of her unbuttoned shirt, and his fingers slid across the six nipples in neat rows on her belly - plus the two on her breasts. All eight were stiff and tender, and Chrissie whined sweetly, cooing of her pleasure to Greg.

His tuft-tipped tail flicked, a small show of excitement. His penis hung again from its sheath, a good many pink inches. Thick dribbles of precum ran along and fell from the cool steel of his piercing.

As he gently thumbed her lowermost nipples, Greg dug his tongue harshly into Chrissie, thrusting it inward and upward. Its powerful meat pushed against the little fox's g-spot, teasing brushes becoming firm grinds as he homed in upon it by listening to her heightening cries. It tired his tongue to do so, but Greg gladly tonguefucked the fox, whose box was experienced but incredibly snug - almost too much for his tongue, most definitely too much for his penis.

Chrissie smoothed down his ears, fondled them, rubbed them lovingly in soft paws. She said in a quavering voice, "I love your [i]tongue,[/i] it's so-o-o good, mister Greg..."

Greg knew it was true. His husband and so many others said the same thing. It didn't matter if he was kissing or if he was tongue-fucking some lucky girl's spade, Greg's tongue was strong and he knew just how to apply it. He tugged it back, allowing Chrissie's cuntlips to purse. The only sign he had been there was the ribbon of drool oozing from between them.

"I know it is," said Greg with no small amount of pride. "You must be glad you caught me jerking off."

"Sure am," Chrissie giggled.

The boar smirked at her and shook his head, but he was enamored. He would have done anything for her, a daddy doting on his little princess.

He touched his lips to her sex again and had just swabbed his somewhat aching tongue against the mound when Chrissie spoke. "Want to fuck me?" she asked him, bluntly.

Just as bluntly, "I do."

The girl grinned at him, rosy-cheeked and glass-eyed. She leaned down and pecked a kiss on his snout, right on his nostrils, but started to tip forward. With a yip and a laugh she tumbled off the couch, but Greg caught her handily and lowered her to the floor with no harm done.

"You're a lightweight," Greg tutted, but with a warm smile. "You better not get sick."

She grinned up at him. "You'd hafta hold my hai-i-ir."

The boar shook his head and sighed. "Let's get you to the bedroom," he said, pulling her up slowly. Once he had her vertical again, he simply picked her up like a bride. Chrissie shrieked, giggled, and threw her arms around his neck.

"Ooh, carry me!"

"I think I will!" Greg chuckled. "It's easier than having you stagger through my house." He let the upstairs master bedroom be; the guest bedroom would do just fine. No stairs to go up with a wriggling fox in his arms. He draped her on the bed in the small, but cozy room and admired her young form for a moment. She looked up at him with a small smile, the picture of innocence - at least until one looked below her neck.

"C'mon," Chrissie urged, pulling off her shirt, tossing it away. "Fuck me-e-e."

He knelt on the bed, depressing the mattress quite far with his muscular and doughy weight. Under Chrissie it hardly dipped at all. His hands gripped her legs around the knees and he lifted them, pausing to look at the curve of her behind like so. All the while, Chrissie giggled and writhed like the drunken imp she was.

He let her legs fall to either side of his wide, kneeling body. Although she was tall, Greg was taller still and vastly more dense. He gripped his cock - which required a brief fluff - and guided its pierced tip to the split of her spade. Merely touching her with his penis caused her to coo, and the sound made Greg shiver. He smiled, warmly stroking a leg in his free hand. "It's coming, princess," he said lovingly.

"I hope so," she said.

Greg pushed forward slowly - but the fox was tight, and simply spreading her lips with his cock was a challenge. His tip rubbed fruitlessly against the orifice of her vagina, which his tongue had loosened and wetted, but it struggled to spread for Greg. He held her by the thigh and bit his lip as he tried to enter her, but soon the fox began to whimper and gasp. The boar eased back, rubbing her belly as he did.

"It's all right, I stopped," said Greg, sounding like a gentle father.

"It won't fi-i-it," Chrissie whined. "It hurts."

"I'm sorry, honey," Greg soothed. He leaned over Chrissie and gave her a smooch. The fox smooched back, then huffed. Her cheeks were still warm, but her buzz seemed to be ruined.

Still leaning over her, his gut resting warmly on her smooth belly and bristling body hair tickling her nipples, Greg peppered her with loving kisses. Gradually the fox began to thaw, and she soon giggled for him. She kissed him back on his hairy face, nuzzling into his beard and feeling around his strong shoulders.

"Maybe we can, like, do something else," she murmured. "Maybe, um, I can jerk you off?"

Greg had a number of ideas. He thought of fucking her thighs, grinding on her pussy. Sitting on her face as she ate his ass - that would be fun too. He ground his cock playfully against her spade so that its bottom smeared along her lips. The girl was simply too tight. Then the idea hit him.

"Hold on, Chrissie," he said, giving her a smooch before getting off of her. "Wait right here."

The boar walked off briskly, plump and hairy ass wobbling pleasantly - Chrissie enjoyed watching it as he left the room. He went upstairs into the master bedroom and rifled through the party favors he and his husband employed in the bed. Finally he came across a small red bottle, its label describing it as leather polish. On the way back to the guest room, he picked up a towel from his bar.

"There you are," Chrissie said, smiling as he stepped in. She was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Greg smiled back. He showed her the bottle and said, "Here's how you get big things in small, tight places."

The girl reached for it, but Greg gently pulled it back. As he spun off the cap, she asked, "What, is it lube?"

"No," the boar said, dribbling the liquid onto the towel. A powerful solvent stench emanated from the fluid. "Amyl nitrites. Poppers."

"I guess you don't drink that," the vixen murmured, recoiling from the smell.

"God no," Greg said. He screwed the cap back on and set the bottle aside. He knelt beside her, one knee on the bed, other hoof on the floor. "Don't worry. It stinks, but you'll love this. It just helps you relax, sweetie."

Chrissie eyed the towel dubiously. She finally nodded and leaned a bit closer. Greg, gently holding her shoulder, brought the towel to her nose. She winced at the harsh smell, and then she appeared to relax. Her eyes opened wide, then drifted shut. She smelled more hungrily, inhaling the tart scent with the same lusty hunger with which she had smelled Greg's body.

"I feel-, um, different," she giggled. "Wo-o-ow. My head is spinning."

Greg took away the towel. "And now a little for the doctor," he chuckled, bringing it to his big nostrils. Much more severely than Chrissie, he snorted up the smell without so much as a flinch from its pungent chemical taste. After a few good huffs he set aside the towel, and just as the effects were beginning to take hold, he helped Chrissie to lie back.

Both with swimming heads and a sparkling, bubbling sensation of bliss in their minds, the fox and the boar coupled. Greg kissed her, slipping his tongue past her peppermint-tasting lips. The kiss was slobbery and sloppy, soft moans punctuating wet suckles. He guided his penis to her thick vulva again, and as he pressed between the lips, he found her vagina still snug, but no longer impossible.

Slowly, because of the high and his care for the little fox, Greg entered into Chrissie. His blunt cock was fine enough but the hard ball ends of his piercing pressed into her vaginal walls, giving Chrissie reason to squirm and shudder, and also to moan into the vulgar kiss. Her muscles had become very accommodating and her head swam, just like her tongue swam in a soupy mixture of boar and fox slobber alongside Greg's burly tongue.

Greg did not wait until he was fully inside of Chrissie to fuck her. He pulled back when he felt like it - around the halfway mark. Back in he went, his cock sliding into tight young fox pussy not quite with ease, but something close to it. Poppers always had a way of making him impatient, eager to fuck and cum, but Chrissie didn't seem to mind. She clung to him, feeling all over his pink hide, pawing at his ass, devouring his tongue.

Every thrust into Chrissie sent waves of pleasure emanating through the little girl's body. His cock and its piercing pushed the very best spots, the piercing teasing her g-spot as a matter of course while his cock in general opened her wide and stretched her in a fashion she had never felt before. The euphoria of the poppers only made her fly even higher, making her so hungry for Greg and his old, hairy body.

The boar felt up her small form in a greedy hand, its twin holding his weight up, although his gut rested on her. He fondled her chest, feeling over the barest hints of would-be breasts on her chest and pressing the many buttons of her teat-nipples, for they all made the girl shudder and clench.

Into Chrissie, Greg leaked precum copiously. The poppers made entry possible but his slippery liquid musk kept the sex free of pain. Chrissie overflowed with his precum and her insides smelled more of musky boar cock than they did of fox cunt.

Greg at last broke off the kiss. He and Chrissie both panted and gasped like desperate, horny teens, groans creeping up their throats. Chrissie nipped at his face, pinched his beard hairs, lovebites given as she whimpered and bucked back.

"Greh-, Gre-e-eg," she whimpered, "oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum..."

"Good, good," Greg shuddered, bucking hard, so hard - hard enough for his husband, for another adult, not for a girl, but Chrissie took it so well. His cock pounded her, his balls dragging on the bed, bristly pubes making a rustling noise. Inside, his gonads were snug in spite of his bodily heat, and they churned with fertile boar cum.

Greg grunted and panted. He listened as Chrissie came, the little fox yowling and holding fast to him. Her body shook and her box tightened. Though the popper high was wearing thin for both, Greg especially, he had so thoroughly reamed out her sex that fucking her caused no pain; even fucking her through her climax was doable.

"Oh-, good god," Greg breathed, breathing harshly on Chrissie's face. He humped her viciously, hard muscles under flab making him a mighty old boar. His body hair tickled her, his slobber coated her face and neck and chin, and now his cum spurted into her in dozens of fat ribbons and ropes. It took no time at all for the mess from his balls to overflow in the girl. As it spilled out across his hairy sack, making milky webs in the hairs, he draped himself over her and sighed deeply.

"This is just what I needed," said Greg, still breathing heavily.

"Me too," Chrissie sighed, hugging around Greg's neck loosely. She kissed his cheek and cooed, "You're really fun, mister Greg."

The boar chuckled warmly, but tiredly. He hugged Chrissie tight and rolled over on his back, always keeping her flush to his heavy form. Then he relaxed, and the girl sprawled against his chubby stomach. Her nose drifted close to his armpit and she sniffed him delicately, then more thoroughly.

Greg chuckled. "Like that, do you?"

Chrissie blushed and giggled. "Um, I liked the smell of your butt more."

A smile spread over his snout. He petted down her back slowly and nosed into her hair. "You can have all you want of that, princess. Anytime."