[b][u]Bitch in the Back[/u][/b]

I'm sitting behind the cluttered, used counter, rocking on my chair. As on most days, there's no business today, no customer far and wide here in the middle of fucking nowhere, so I brought out my good ol' trusty motorcycle magazine to fantasize about the Harley, I'm going to be riding one of those days. Or not... Kinda hard to scrape enough money together for a broke ass 'possum when the rotten gas station yer working at ain't even on the map.

I could be doing something useful with my time instead - the mop's not seen water since I started working here. But I can't be arsed and it's way to fucking hot besides. Ah'm sweating from just sitting here in the shade of the store. Seriously! Mah hairy ass's a swamp and if I wouldn't be wearing a tank, I'd be carrying puddles under my arms! But at least the cooler's running and stocked, so I've got enough beer to bring me through the day.

It's afternoon by now and through the murky window with the tattered shutters, I can see how the gleaming heat bakes everything to death outside. I'm fully prepared to spend the rest of the day alone here, jus' me 'n my Harley, but then I hear a loud horn in the distance.

Honk, hooooonk, honk-honk.

I know the tune and, sure enough, when the red 'n rusty semi pulls up in front of the ramshackle shop, a familiar figure clambers out of it. While he feeds his hungry beauty, I lit a smoke and watch him over the rim of my magazine. This place has two gas pumps, but the one's been out of order since like forever. I always wondered why there are two to begin with – the one barely sees any use. Mack immediately picks the working one. That's his name, Mack, or at least that's what he told me. Eager to get out of the sun (the rusted through roof doesn't spent much shade nowadays), he walks into the store and brings with him a dusty whiff of the outside.

Mack's an alligator, a real unit. Over a head taller than me 'n much bulkier too. I'm a pretty skinny guy and, all alone out here, such a brute might look intimidating, but I know he's good company. An' if someone's not, I got a nice, loaded double barrel under the counter 't make them behave! Anyway, he doesn't look much different from last time I've seen him. His white, slightly greasy tee reveals his fat gut, the dark shirt he wears above that looks torn and musty. His first stop is the cooler and he pulls out a six-pack. Dragging his massive tail over the unmopped floor, he then approaches me.

"What's up, Tex? The AC still broken?" he says in a rough voice as he puts the beer down.

Only once he's waiting for me, I finally put my Harley down and get up to greet him. "If I'd make enough to repair the damn thing, I could retire." He's the first living being I've seen all day, so I'm in no particular hurry to serve him. Might as well have a little chat before he drives on. With one finger I push my basecap up a little to see his face and am greeted by a set of dull, yellow eyes that stare out of his swamp green scaly hide. "How've you been? 's Betsy still rattling, or did ya got her fixed?"

We go on for a little while, talk about his semi, his route, the heat wave... It's a welcome distraction for both me and him. Though at long last, I scan his beer and ad the fuel to it. He pays, gives me a little tip, even. Though instead of leaving, he leans down on the counter and grins at me with his long, toothy jaws. "Say, have you seen the bitch around? Is she in the back?" he asks with a look over his shoulder as though someone could overhear.

I drag on my smoke, take it from my lips and puff the white cloud out through the side of my muzzle, then I give him a shrug as I look his bulky features over once more. "Haven't seen 'er yet. Been plenty busy..." I tap my magazine. "But Ah heard some noise back there, so she might be workin' today. Ya gonna be lookin' for 'er?"

With a little huff through his nose, Mack pushes himself up from the counter he's been leaning on and slams one of his massive hands down on the six-pack. "I just might. Was good seeing you again, Tex. We'll talk again on my way back." He turns with a wave and his ponderous steps carry him out of my shop.

"Take care!" I call after him and wait until he's outside. Only once he's out of sight, I reach under the counter and prop up a sign that reads, 'We'll be back soon.' Heh, not that anyone's gonna stop by any time soon! I swiftly hurry to the back, which is barely more than some sort of closet for the mop I don't use. It's dark inside and stuffy. The only light that makes it in, comes through a small hole at about waist height. With a weathered creak of the restroom door on the other side, the light gets a bit brighter for a second, then I hear Mack's heavy steps again. I give off a short whistle.

He comes closer and the floorboards creak under his weight. I hear rustling, then a zipper. "Hello, sweet cheeks. Mm, I've been dying to see you again. It's been a long haul!" Eventually the light fades as something moves through the hole. "Hope, you've missed me too?"

I stay quite, take off my cap and get down on my knees. Even though it's dark, I can see just fine what's in front of me: Mack's fat slab of meat! It's long, thick – incredibly thick! - and the green skin becomes all wrinkly at the tip. He's half hard already, the fleshy glans poking out of his sleeve. Carefully I press me nose to its underside, blow a warm breath over the dick and then inhale. Fuck, he reeks of sweat and musk! Guess it's really been a long haul.

"There you are, honey. I was afraid you weren't on duty today. You wanna give oll Mack a kiss?"

I give the dick on my nose a lick. It tastes salty, manly, not very pleasant. Though the guy on the other side of the wall rumbles happily.

"Aw, yeah... I've been dreaming about your tongue work, darling! Hmp!" He humps a bit against the wall. "Why don't you gimme another one, huh?"

It took me a moment of effort, but eventually I overcame the musk and rolled my long, pointy tongue out for Mack. I wrapped it tightly around his girth, weighed his heft, slithered down to his base, then back up, where I teased his tip. I could hear him moaning and kept going despite the nasty taste that filled my muzzle.

"Ah! Y-yeah, that's it, baby..." The wooden wall rattled some as he pushed his thick gut against it. "Keep going..."

I did so. Put my hands up against the wall and made out with his stinky dick, as though I'm some kind of slut. Though I knew what Mack wanted and eventually, I got us ready. I gave his cock a firm push with my tongue, to which he retracted. Light fell in through the hole again, though not for long. I pressed my muzzle to it, opened wide and let my tongue hang through like an invitation. Everything was dripping wet. My tongue, my muzzle, the hole... and the dick he soon plopped down on my red carpet.

"Ye're hungry, huh? Well here it comes!"

I suddenly felt a massive sausage enter my maw, that filled it to the brim. To not grace him with my sharp teeth, I spread my jaws wide, and while he gives my mouth a few testing pokes, I press my lips to the wall and can smell the decades old varnish. I'm well familiar with the smell and the full feeling in my cheeks. Mack's a real chunk!

"Aw, darling, I need this so bad..."

He starts to hump my maw and in turn, I try to squeeze him with my tongue, though there's not much space left for that. Pretty soon he feeds me more of his tool. He's got a full hard-on now, so there's a lot to give, but I slimed him up good. I can feel his fat tip poke at the back of my throat, which makes me gag. Though I keep my maw spread and my lip sealed to the hole. The humiliating pressure of this trucker's growing urge to cream a pussy makes my own pants tight.

"Uhrrf!"

With a little thrust he eventually pushes past my threshold and that reptilian love stick of his stretches my throat hard. I gag and choke again, though don't move back one bit. That's what gets me going – and him too, apparently. To just offer my dumb muzz' at the other side of this filthy hole, to hold against it, let that pent up, hard working, sweaty trucker use me as he sees fit. I allow him to advance at his own speed, his own rhythm, let him go as deep as he wants. I'm just a fuck hole in a piss stinking rest stop bathroom!

Before long, Mack is shaking the thin wall between us, while he fucks my squelching throat to soreness. I stubbornly hold against his thrusts, take every punch he gives me with retching, slurping sounds that compete with his grunts of pleasure that come for the other side. My lips hurt from the rough wall and the rough humping, so I peel them back and instead, press my teeth to the wood. It hurts so good to get my throat raped by this well-endowed hunk!

"Ah! Hurrgh!"

With a final thrust that buries his dick balls deep (safe maybe for an inch of plywood) into my fuck face, the alligator comes and feeds me the first thing today that isn't beer. I breath rapidly against the wall through my scrunched nose, feel how his creamy junk fills the corners of my muzzle and nearly choke myself out due to the lack of air, but I remain a part of this glory hole until the man on the other side is done using it.

"Ahhh..." With a satisfied huff, Mack pulls his spent dick out of my gullet. "That's it, baby! You're so good to me. Hm, such a talented muzzle! Hope you're around again, when I'm on my way back south. Ghu, can't wait for it!"

I accept his praise in silence, only stifle a cough and spit the remnants of his spunk into the corner, while Mack wipes his dick dry. Fuck, my own tool is so hard it hurts when I grope it through my pants! Wish I had a fuck hole of my own, though I gotta get back anyways. Mah bathroom break's only like five minutes an' if the boss finds out Ah'm slacking, this poss's gonna be in trouble!

So I return to the counter, grab a fresh, cold beer on my way, flop down and prop up my magazine again. I don't wait for Mack, don't look for him. I merely hear him start his semi and honk me farewell as I wash down his stink




[b][u]Pump Attendant[/u][/b]

I lay slumped down somewhat comfortably in my chair, had my cap pulled over my face and was dozing through noon. It wasn't actually my lunch break, but who's gonna stop me? Certainly not any customers! Though eventually something does wake me up. Rather unpleasant too. A siren howls up once, loud enough to make the thin windows clatter, and then a black and white SUV with a big, golden star on it rolls up in front of my store.

"Aw, fuck..." I swiftly stumble to my paws and hurry outside, where Sheriff  Douglas already gets out of his car. The coyote's looking posh as always in his speckless uniform. Straight from central casting, with a big hat and even bigger sunglasses, muzzle stiff as stone and standing upright with a stick up his ass. He's got the brawn for the job too! Tall, buff, not one of those doughnut cops. He could hand me my ass real good, if he wants to. Already did so in the past, this man's no fun to pick a fight with! "Evenin', Sheriff, Sir," I say and halt in front of him. "Wot can Ah do fer ya?"

I'm not sure, but I bet he's looking me over from behind those shades, with grumpy, stern eyes. It takes him a moment before he says something, though not because he's hesitant, or anything. He just wants t' keep me waitin' an' stayin' at attention for him, jus' because he can! "Fill her up," he then says in his gruff voice. Nothing more. No greeting, no pleasantries. He doesn't even kept on facing me, because he knew that this poss's not gonna pull any pranks on this man o' the law!

We're actually a self service gas station, so I never come out to do other people's work. But Douglas enjoys t' keep me on mah toes and I'mma not gonna say no to that 'yote, so I grab the pump and refuel his car, even make sure not to dribble on his polished, glistening paint. Once done, I return to the Sheriff. "That'll be forty-two, twenty, Sir."

He pulls his wallet out and pays me right there. I don't need to go back in to get change, he hands me the exact amount, doesn't give me a tip either, of course! Then he just keeps standing there, like a prison ward, or somethin'. He's not smiling, not scowling, just waiting.

"Summin else ya need help with, Sir?" I ask and then flinch when the coyote slings his nightstick through he air. I feel the breeze swish over my muzzle, as he graces my tattered whiskers, though the weapon doesn't connect with my face, only knocks over my cap. It lands in the dirt and the only strange thought I have in that moment is that I wouldn't be able to pull that stunt off even with a hat as big as his without smashing some face. That mutt is as precise as he is sharp!

I bow to pick up my cap, though on my way back up, Sheriff Douglas puts his nightstick to the back of my head. Not in a blow, he just touches my skull gently and I freeze, my cap clutched in my pink fingers. "My shoes are dusty," he states with just that little bit of snarl in his voice.

I involuntarily look down at his black leather boots and gulp. They are indeed a bit dusty, can't really be helped in a near desert place like this, that's why I go bare, usually. Oh, and kicks ain't cheap! "Uhh... hehe, sure thing, Sir. Ah'll get straight t' that..." I mutter awkwardly, then lower myself further down to kneel. With both hands on the rocky ground, I bow before the slick 'yote, wet my tongue and then press it to his leather shoes. I immediately feel the grainy dust in my muzzle, though that's hardly the worst I've ever downed. The Sheriff's patient, lets me do my work with barely the move of a muscle, until I've got both his toecaps lapped up and glistening with spit. Once I've given them a finishing polish with the soft fur on my underarm, they're as good as new and I sit up. "Hope that'll do, Sheriff?" I look up at him, though without my cap, the sun blinds me.

Once again the authoritarian coyote just stands there with a stoic face. He peers down ever so slightly to inspect my job, though gives me neither praise nor rebuke. He just waits and I get nervous.

"A-any other spot ya need t' have licked, Sir?"

He simply raises his nightstick to me, quite casually, though Sheriff Douglas has that rigor in each of his few motions.

I know what he expects and widen my eyes a bit, though of course don't give the man any backtalk. I simply roll out my tongue again and let it slither over the smooth, black stick. My licker is long enough to be wrapped around the rod, so I do it and lube the menacing thing up and down. At some point he pushes the tip of it into my muzzle and I let him. I suck on the weapon even! Anything to stay on the good side of the law.

The Sheriff's not satisfied yet and pushes deeper. I again grant him free rein and soon feel the round tip of the nightstick poke at the back of my throat. My breath quickens and I crane my neck straight up, then he pushes further and I gag hard as the damn thing enters my gullet. He doesn't pull back, neither do I. The Sheriff holds me there for a moment and I look up at his sunglasses, his expression was almost deadpan, just one small corner of his brownish muzzle was slightly twitched upwards. "Glrkchhh!" I squelch as he pushes on.

My knees wobble on the hard ground, my slim chest heaves painfully rapid and I can feel how the bulge on my neck expands downwards. I don't care for any passersby and neither does he. There are none! And even if there was someone coming, you'd see them a mile away. 't was just me and the long arm of the law here. And he was making a mighty long arm right now!

The rigid, black rod slowly but relentlessly moved deeper into my esophagus. My hands were shaking, my eyes were wet with tears, but I let him proceed. I only gagged and choked for his amusement – if he could even feel something like that. The tip of the nightstick was past my collar bones already, though he kept shoving it down into my chest. I don't fucking know how long that thing is, or how long it took to squeeze it into me, but I know that I took it all. I could feel the fucking handle of the stick stretch the corner of my muzzle as the Sheriff gave it a last testing push to make sure I was bottomed out.

My toes crunched through the sand behind me and my fingers clawed at my thighs to cope with the intense pressure. I've given head before, throating guys is my passion, but that thing's doing a number on me! Every muscle in my body wants to push it out of me, but Sheriff Douglas holds it down. Holds me down. Makes sure I behave!

I do behave.

And at long last, just before my pretty mug turns blue, that prick slowly pulls his bat out of my depths again. It feels as if he's pulling my lungs out with it! I squelch, smack and gasp. Feel how my innards push against the black pipe. Feel how it slowly retracts out of my neck, how it wanders up my throat. And finally I can breath properly again, suck in a gust of air and nearly puke on the shoes I just spitshined moments ago. I'm completely done for. Spit, snot and tears mess up my face, while I try to focus my eyes and stifle my retching. I barely had myself under control, when the Sheriff bend down towards me.

The man wouldn't help me, mind you. He merely grabbed my worn wifebeater with his big strong hand, pulled it taut and then wiped his nightstick dry on it as though I'm some towel. "Good boy," he simply said to me and shoved his law enforcer back into his belt. "Keep out of mischief, Tex." Without further regard for me, he got back into his car and drove off.




[b][u]Possior[/u][/b]

"Ahhhh~" I sigh with relief and lean my head back as I finally let go of all the beer I've had today. I'm certainly leaking a lot, but that only adds to the feeling of ease that's settling somewhere in my bowels now. The serene moment is broken by an engine halting in front of the shop. I grunt. "Yeah, sure, why come when I'm actually on duty. Fuckin' stop by when Ah'm having my piss break!" I don't get in a hurry, though. They can wait until I'm empty. Ah'm just about to squeeze out the last few drops anyway.

I'm still shaking my dick dry, when I hear the restroom door behind me open and a set of heavy boots walk in. I roll my eyes before I peer over my shoulder. "Ah'll be right with ya if y..." The light from outside blinds me for a moment, though I still catch a glimpse of the beautiful black chopper, before the door swings shut again. In the returning dimness I can make out the guy that's disturbed my pee break and I gulp when I noticed that it wasn't boots I'd heard, but hooves. "A-Alfredo...?!" The donkey in his black leather jacket stares right back at me, through a pair of mirrored sunglasses. He eventually removes them to reveal his stoic eyes. I have to look up to look the man in the face!

"¡Maldita sea, aquí huele mal!" he says in an unpleased voice.

Mah Spanish's a bit rusty, but Ah get what he means. The flushing's broken and the only thing that's rinsed this bowl since before my time, was piss and the occasional bucket of water from the tap when things got a bit more... solid. Nothing better than heat and sewage in a cramped space without ventilation to give you the real rests stop vibes!

I quickly make to stuff my junk back into my pants, but before I can succeed, the ass had grabbed me by the shoulder and flung me around. He'd shoved me against the wall and he's damn lucky my bladder's empty already, because I might have wet myself a little, otherwise – and him too, god forbid! I keep clear of the man, just wait for my chance to duck myself out so he can go about his business, but he hesitates, arms crossed, and stares me down.

"I already told you last time I was here, to clean the fuck up, hombre!" he growls. I didn't know donkeys could growl. "Or at least air the place out. ¡Mierda! This stink makes me want to vomit."

"Ah was!" I lie. "I tried! Look, Alfredo, Ah'm not a charlady 'n this place ain't no highbred roadhouse. Ya can be glad we actually have a hole ya can shit in!" I realize the uncouthness of my words only after I'd said them and bite my tongue. Yeah, fast thinkin' ain't my strong side. "I  mean it's..."

Alfredo is a member of a local gang that's known as 'Los Escorpiones'. I dunno what they're up to – drugs, chicks, guns - it's healthier to stay unaware. I only know that these guys are dangerous and that, if ya like yer kneecaps where they are, ya better do as they say and don't be brazen. I'd like to say it's my luck that I've encountered Alfredo alone, but I'm not so sure about that.

Sure enough, the man doesn't take kindly to my loose tongue. He grabs me by the throat and pushes me back against the wall. I stretch me neck, raise to my tiptoes, but even then he nearly lifts me off the ground. Never underestimate a donkey's strength! "M'sorry Alf-do-grck...!"

"¿Te enseño a limpiar un baño con la lengua?!" Apparently donkeys can also bark. Fuck, he's literally spitting in my face, now that we're on eye level.

I'm a bit too busy with choking to translate that properly, though he seems to expect an answer, so I quickly shake my head and try to look as intimidated as I was. The biker eventually drops me and I slither down the wall, coughing. When I looked back up to see whether he was done with me, his pants were open and the guy waggled a fat, gray snake in front of my eyes. His dick wasn't as gargantuan as that of a stallion, was lacking a flare too, though the difference wasn't all that vast. He was an inch or two shorter and a good bit thinner. I was grateful for that, though still gulped awkwardly.

"Consider this your last warning, hombre," he said with an impressive twitch of his dark-skinned dick. "If you expect me one more time to take a dump in this agujero sucio, I won't be as nice!"

I merely nodded, completely stunned by the sheer size of that cock.

"¿A qué esperas? Open your dirty muzzle!"

Naturally I did what he wanted. You don't say no to an Escorpión! Alfredo immediately stuffed his thick glans into my muzzle and, seeing how hasty he was, I stopped swallowing my spit and instead used it to lube his cock. A wise decision, for he soon prodded deeper and, trapped against the wall, I didn't have much space to retract from his length. Thankfully, my throat is an apt dick sleeve, so I was able to accommodate him. It was a struggle, I'll admit. He might be slimmer than a stallion, but that thing was still valid horse cock in my book! The fact that he didn't outright fucked my gullet, but rather slowly shoved his pipe down my hole, was helping me to keep it together. I soon should learn why he was holding back!

"Ya era hora..." I hear him utter with a long sigh, as I twitch on the floor beneath him, Alfredo's third leg crammed deep inside my throat. Then I can feel a strange pressure build up in my chest. A strange warmth that spreads down into my belly, like when you swallow hot tea to fast. I retch, peel my lips back, though I'm smart enough not to grace Alfredo with my teeth. I'd like to keep 'em, after all! Instead, I do what little else I can, to deal with the punishment he feeds me. I helplessly kick my legs over the ground, drive my claws so hard into the floorboards beneath me that I feel the splinters poke into my finger pads. My head rests flat against the wall, there's no way out of this fer me. "Tal vez esto es todo para lo que sirves," the donkey laughs from above.

Most of Alfredo's gift gets delivered straight to my stomach, where it joins the rest of the beer Ah've had fer lunch and weighs on my bowels like a warm, wobbly rock. Though another forceful convulsion of my throat sends enough of it up to trickle from the corner of my muzzle and spill into my nose. The foul, acidic stench that overwhelms my senses leaves no further space for imagination to cope with my fate. This guy wasn't fucking me, wasn't pleasuring himself. Although 'finding relief' would have been a fitting description. The reality was a bitter as the liquid on my tongue.

Alfredo was taking a piss! Through his dick. Which was shoved down my gullet. He was pissing down my throat! This filthy ass was pissing down my god fuckin' throat!!!

And despite being a donkey, he was pissing like a race horse! Ah could feel Alfredo's powerful jet bubbling deep within me, could feel how the pure amount of gold juice bloated my belly. I didn't even have t' swallow, his equine monster cock was so far down my throat that he fed his stinky slash straight into my stomach. Ah've done some questionable things in the past that most folks might rightfully call disgusting. But bein' used like this even made a dirty possum like me feel some shame.

It was an unrewarding relief when Alfredo finally pulled his slackening hose out of my muzzle. His impressive girth left an empty soreness behind and I retched up a wet cough that stank of rancid donkey piss. In a final act of defilement he then wiped his dick dry on my face, leaving drips in my fur that I hope was at least mostly my own spit.

"¡Puedes alegrarte de que no tuve que cagar hoy!" he sneers and stuffs his dick back into his pants with some boastful effort. Then he's looking down at me and seems equally amused and disgusted by the view. "La próxima vez puede que no seas tan afortunado, Tex." Then he leaves the restroom, starts his bike and is gone.

I'm still a bit dizzy from too much beer and what just happened, but in a moment of clarity I'm once again forced to realize the truth which is still lingering in my nose like the sweet scent of gasoline on a hot day. I hold my revolting stomach, my breathing quickens. And just like too much gasoline fumes would, Alfredo's piss too makes me queasy. Fuck, I can feel it sloshing around in my gut! Like in a cartoon where some poor fella gets a fire hose shoved in their muzzle and their belly bloats to an absurd size.

I suddenly feel a dangerous pressure prodding in my throat and hurry over to the toilet to get rid of my involuntary drink, though am only greeted by my own piss that still sits in the bowl. I retch, but nothing comes, even though I want it to – my gag reflex is just too well-trained. Only down, never up! Guess Ah'll be pissin' double brew for the rest of the day...

To get rid of at least some of the nasty taste left in my mouth, I spit into the ill-treated porcelain, before I eventually pull myself up. The once white ceramic looked indeed rather unappetizing nowadays and the rest of the rundown loo wasn't looking any better. If I was a guest, I wouldn't want t' place my ass there neither. Though unless it's my lap, I don't care where my customers want to put their asses! 

Though, after what just happened, I'm also not keen on finding out what that last thing Alfredo said to me actually meant. Ah'm not super fluent in Spanish, but Ah understood enough of it and it makes my ragged pelt bristle. So I better get my ass in gear and pull the mop out of the cobwebs, before that damn donkey halts here for his next toilet break.




[b][u]Harley Boy[/u][/b]

As always during my job, I'm sitting in my creaking chair and watch the flickering light tube on the ceiling, while I wait for the customers that never come. Seriously! This place is deader than dead ever since they rerouted the highway. Going several days in a row without a single customer showing up is no rare occurrence out here. Though today someone does stop by!

I can tell a lotta vehicles apart from their engine sound alone, it's one of my useless talents. But this one I'd recognize in my sleep! It's a Harley Davidson! The powerful rattling slows down and then turns into a deep, thumping clatter as its rider stops in front of my run down gas station to refill his hungry beast. The V-twin music stops and my eyes are trained to the door to see who's coming in and maybe also catch a glimpse of the bike itself.

My prayers are heard. The door swings open – magically even stays open just for my convenience! – and reveals a masterpiece of steel and oil, painted in pitch black. The winged logo glistens in the sun light, which appears to throw a holy shine onto the machine. Jus' a second later I take in the man that's harnessed this monster and he ain't a bad look either!

He's not how you'd imagine a member of the Escorpiones, those big, burly bikers with a pouch and a grim face. He's a fox, gray fox if Ah'm not mistaken, and pretty slender, kinda short too. Ah've never seen a twink on a chopper, but I don't think I mind the sight. The leather vest he's wearing makes the boy look cute, but also gives him a cheeky, audacious attitude. His gray and orange fur is perfectly groomed. Too perfect for someone who's been riding through the desert, but Ah guess foxes never really look bad, eh? This one certainly doesn't and his slinky face with the dark markings gives off such a... 'vulpine' energy. Such a bad, little boy!

He's not looking at me, at least not at first. He's just standing over at the rack with sunglasses, looking them over, but not trying any of them on. He doesn't need to, he'd look rad under all of them! Eventually, though, I guess he noticed me staring and gives me the side eye. I mean t' look away out of courtesy, don't wanna scare away my few paying customers, but Ah can't keep my eyes off him. He jus' cracks a smile and it's holy! The most charming grin my sore, sun-burned eyes were ever graced with! I only hope the CCTV's cassette isn't full again already, because I want to save that hot mug for eternity!

He's browsing through the shelves, moving light and svelte like a ghost, always a happy wag in his short tail, though he's not interested in anything – anything but me! He keeps looking my way, fleetingly at first, but at some point he's outright ogling me. Me, a rank ass opossum in a grimy wifebeater and with messy fur, stinking of booze and smokes. You'd wanna be more careful around this area, Harley Boy, I think to myself as I wet my lips. Flirty bitch like him might end up in trouble, otherwise. But Ah'm a good 'n friendly 'poss for the tourists. Especially when they drive a Harley 'nd are this cute!

Harley Boy eventually walks over to me, swishing his black-tipped tail back and forth so flamboyantly, that I'm under the impression he wants me to check out his ass. Which I do! He barely fills out those skinny jeans. It makes my mouth water, because most guys that find their way into my shop, sport butts as wide as their rides. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but ffffuck that tight fox ass is as perfect as the chopper it came here on!

"Hey there, Tex. Had a long day?" he says in such a boyish voice that it sounds illegal for him to own any kind of bike. Heck, maybe Harley Boy ran from home? Nah. He's a shorty, but he's got the body of a man – which he readily shows me by pulling aside his vest to reveal a bare, white chest. It's taut and buff, but the fur there looks heavenly soft. I'm so caught up with questioning why he rides shirtless through the land and why he flashes me like this, that I completely forget to ask where he knows my name. I've never seen the fox before.

"Ugh, yeah..." I mumble and realize that I sound more than unappealing compared to his delicate voice. Harley Boy doesn't seem to mind, though. He tilts his head this way and that, hurls his tail high through the air like a happy dog and undresses me with his beautiful green eyes. He's like fresh oil for a dry motor.

"Mmm, sounds like you need to blow off some steam."

Furry, flimsy fingers briefly touch mine and, even though I'm not entirely sure what he means by that, I agree. "Uh, yeah..."

Harley Boy brightens up at that and I beg to the ancient VHS Gods that they've captured this moment. It's only getting better, though! He turns himself sideways and shoves his thumbs into the waist of his pants like any good, flirty fox would do. "So, what do you wanna ride first?" he asks and pushes the fabric down over his speckled butt. A thin line of creamy fur runs between his sexy cheeks and he keeps his tail up for me to see it all. "My Harley, or my ass?"

Not sure if I actually did, but I damn well could have drooled all over the fucking counter in that moment. Ah didn't have to think fer long. A Harley is perfect, but that ass was godly! He was sticking it out for me, wiggling from left to right, tail always raised. Before Ah even knew it Ah had both ma grabbers on his butt and was rubbin' ma hot dog through his silky buns. It was electrifying.

"Ah! Tex, fuck me already!" my little Harley Boy squeaked, properly bent over the counter like a good fox. Needy, little bitch!

He didn't have t' tell me twice. Ah was ready! Don't wanna brag too much, but Ah got a pretty hefty pecker. But today ma tool was jus' extra, extra hard, givin' it like a full fucking inch more in length 'nd makin' it so full 'nd plump that Ah could count every single of the bulging veins under my skin. I'm usually not a huge leaker, but right now mah dick's spittin'. Fuck, that's what foxes do to you!

"Tex, please... I need it!" he squeals as I spread his cheeks with my thumbs to reveal that tiny, pink man cunt. God it's been long since I got, rather than gave some ass!

I squeeze my tip to his pucker and smear an absurdly big drop of pre all over the warm entrance. The contact wakens my inner beast and give him what he's asked for. Slowly I stretch his asshole, feel the tightness engulf my prick like hammering a bolt through a hole drilled too small. Harley boy's loving it, gives off the cutest of sounds, clenches his already tight ass for me. I bent down, push my snotty nose into the soft, dusty fur on the back of his neck, inhale deeply and start fucking him.

"Mrrphf! Tex, harder!"

Ya want it, Harley Boy? Ya get it! Ah pull back as far as I can and then impale his backside, bottoming him out with a single thrust. He takes it like a real fox: Pushing back for more!

"T-Tex!"

I give him a repeat. Then another. And another, faster and faster, until I plow this little twink full throttle. He's so light, smells so faint. I can't fuckin' get enough of him, literally can't. I want to fuck him on his bike. Abduct the two and ride into the sunset.

"Tex!"

Yeah, bitch, scream my name. Tell the whole desert, every fucking shrub and bug out there, who's making ya feel good

"Tex? Tex!"

I suddenly blink, disoriented by the bright light I'm looking into. I'm no longer bent over hat fox, but leaned back, staring at the flickering tube light on the ceiling with blurry eyes. I rub them to clearness, snort my nose and sit up. That faint scent of fox is fading from my memory, his soft cheeks are no longer in my sweaty palms and Ah've got trouble t' remember his face. Harley Boy is gone. Instead I'm looking at... "Norm...?" An old rancher from some hicktown nearby. Ah dunno if he's still got his business, but every now and then he stops by to refuel his old ass Farmall – and himself...

"An' two bo'l af Ol' Taylor 'n topo dat," he mumbles through the few teeth left in his muzzle. "Didn'ya learn yer less'n from lastime ya was sleepin' on da job, Tex? Ya godda be glad Ah'm such a hones' man."

"Ugh, yeah..." I grumble, not really in the mood, nor the condition to chitchat with old Norm. I simply hand him his Whiskey, take his money and send him on his way, before the urge to test my double barrel becomes too strong. Every fucking day I fucking sit here and – NOTHING!!! But Ah got that perfect, wet dream, that once in a fucking lifetime wet dream and – Boom! – Farmer Norm shows up 'nd farts it away with his cheap ass booze stank!

It's only when he's gone, jolting away on his tractor, that I notice the absolutely massive boner in my pants. Not sure if he saw, but Ah also don't care. I sigh and sit back down, grope my bulge softly, but it's so sensitive that it almost hurts. That's what foxes do t' ya! Though Harley Boy is gone now and the only thing that remains of him is this aching frustration between my legs and the murky memory of his steel bending smile in my mind.

Ah can work with that, Ah guess...