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It didn't cut, so you get to see it instead!\n\nYou can find stories like this and more over on my [url=https://www.patreon.com/c/Ralanrwrites]Patreon[/url] and/or [url=https://subscribestar.adult/ralanr]Subscribestar[/url]. Your support is greatly appreciated!\n\nEnjoy!", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Max may be the camping expert, but her boyfriend has got a surprise for her.

This was initially for an outdoors sex erotica anthology. It didn't cut, so you get to see it instead!

You can find stories like this and more over on my Patreon and/or Subscribestar. Your support is greatly appreciated!

Enjoy!", "writing": "There was something about seeing camping displays at Proshops that set off a sense of awe for Brandon. Any store that sold bladed tools like machetes in the open seemed reckless to him. Surely, the bear thought, the machetes were dangerous enough to be put behind glass. Some were just sold in their sheaths, letting any madman draw the blade and start hacking.\n\n\nBrandon shook his head and let go of the blade’s handle. “Take a deep breath,” his inner voice said. He didn’t go shopping for his anxiety to bubble up. In his defense, camping was a dangerous affair. Spending an extended amount of time in the wilderness where feral animals could sneak up on any unsuspecting camper. A person could get mauled on the way to taking a leak. And if they were, they’d be miles away from any hospital, so you’re as good as dead.\n\n\nThe bear took another deep breath, held it for several seconds, and released it. \n\n\n“Can I help you find anything?” \n\n\nBrandon turned to a moose in a camo vest with a nametag. Daryl. He carried a customer service smile, a careful mix of a professional mask and genuine concern. The bear’s throat tightened when he tried to turn him away. \n\n\n“I could use a little help,” the bear pushed himself to say.\n\n\n“Well, that’s what I’m here for. You looking to go camping?” \n\n\nBrandon raised his brow. He’d almost asked how the moose knew, but stopped to remember the purpose of the store. “Yeah. My girlfriend and I are planning a trip. Says it’ll be good for me to get some country air. I’ve never been camping, so I’m just trying to pick out some essentials. Trouble is, I don’t know what those are.”\n\n\nThe spark of a potential sale lit up the moose’s eyes. “Well, unless you’re going through some thick branches, a machete isn’t required.”\n\n\n“Oh,” Brandon smiled awkwardly with a forced laugh, “Good. I was worried it’d be overkill.” \n\n\n“It is. What you’d want is a knife for all your cutting needs. If you need to chop, a small hatchet will do just fine.” The moose handed him two plastic packages, one with a four-inch black blade, another with a small hatchet of the same material. Same brand too by the look of it. \n\n\n“Wouldn’t it be cheaper to buy a machete then?” Brandon asked, not wanting to buy either of these items.\n\n\n“I get what you’re thinking,” Daryl said with a quick tap, “But machetes are more of a luxury item. If we were in the tropics, I’d be selling them like hotcakes, but up north, they’re for guys who love swords but don’t wanna admit it or put down good money to find something authentic. Besides, these two combined are still cheaper than the machete.” \n\n\nThey were by a dollar. This and Daryl’s charisma were enough to keep Brandon following along with the salesman's spiel. Flashlights, batteries for said flashlights, back up flashlights that could be powered with a hand crank, camo clothes, sleeping bags, hanging sleeping bags, those little metal spikes used to hammer a tent into the ground with a name Brandon missed in the torrent of terms the stag spewed. Before he realized it, the bear had a shopping cart full of supplies and a cashier expecting over five hundred dollars.\n\n\n“That’s, um, that’s more than I expected.” Brandon scratched an anxious itch on the back of his skull. “Surely there’s some stuff I could do without.”\n\n\nDaryl nodded with a smile; the bear couldn’t quite read anymore. “The customer is always right. But you want to be extra secure, right? Tell ya what. I’ll throw in a few cans of bug spray at a discount. What do you say?”\n\n\nHe didn’t have to say anything. Max spoke up for him. “I’d say you’re slicker than owl shit.” \n\n\nMax, or Maxine as her momma named her, collected the teeth of anyone else who tried to call her as such, stood with a confidence that made up for her height. Dressed in ratty cargo pants and an unbuttoned flannel with oil stains over a greasy undershirt, the raccoon appeared from behind the bear as if she’d walked out his shadow. Brandon caught himself from leaping, still not used to her appearing act despite dating her for almost three years now. \n\n\nDaryl blinked. “Excuse me?”\n\n\n“You heard me,” She said with an accent so thick Brandon empathized with the stag’s confusion. “You’re out here sliding around my man like he’s some sort of Jezebel at a summer fair.”\n\n\nBrandon offered nothing but a shrug at the stag’s glance. “I don’t…I’m sorry, can you speak English?”\n\n\n“I am speaking English.”\n\n\n“I mean without the slang.”\n\n\n“Lord have mercy.” Max sighed, scratching her crew-cut. “Brandon, hun, this man’s trying to fleece ya.” \n\n\n“I mean…yeah?” He said, trying not to sound like he wasn’t falling for it. “To be fair, that’s his job. And he did save me money on a machete.”\n\n\n“Why are you buying a machete?” \n\n\n“I’m not. I’m buying a knife and a hatchet and…wait, why are you here?” \n\n\nShe thumbed over her shoulder, “I’m getting my knives sharpened across the street. You don’t have to buy anything.” A small, almost cruel smile crossed her face as she slipped seamlessly into the bear’s personal space. “Were you trying to get something for me?”\n\n\n“N-Nope. Nothing like that,” he said, flustered and tongue-tied. He glanced at Daryl for support, not surprised to see him vanish as quickly as Max appeared. Some people knew a lost cause when they saw one.\n\n\n“Think he noticed?” Max asked. \n\n\n“Noticed?” Brandon tilted his head. “Noticed what? Are you telling him off? Max, we talked about this.”\n\n\nShe rolled her eyes, “And I told you I hold the right to call out bullshitters. But no, I meant this.” Max pulled his hand against her crotch. There were no excuses Brandon could make to justify the action, but the solid and cylindrical feeling of her strap-on made everything else seem irrelevant. \n\n\n“Here? You’re wearing it here?” Brandon failed to pull his hand away. \n\n\nMax bit her lip. “What’s wrong?” She cast her gaze lower. “Your little buddy seems to like it.” \n\n\nIf Brandon was a polar bear, anyone could have noticed the pink shade of his blush enveloping his head. She snickered, leaving behind his attempted purchases with Brandon in tow. “What’s wrong?” Max asked, leaning against his dark blue punch buggy. Her crossed legs helped outline her extra package. \n\n\n“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.” Brandon averted his gaze. When they started dating, Max would have grabbed his shirt collar and forced him to look her dead on. Now, knowing he liked that, she had worse ways to get him to talk. \n\n\n“You let that guy talk you into buying hunting gear when we’re just camping. Something’s wrong.” \n\n\n“Well, it is my first time doing real camping. Maybe I will need a…” The exact names for any of the gear beyond the knife and hatchet escaped him. Even the flashlights, as his brain seemed more focused on calling them by their brands than what they were. “I’m nervous. The last time I went camping it was in a cabin. I’ve never slept in a tent.”\n\n\nNow she pulled him down, cupping his face with both hands. “Brandon, do you trust me?” The shade from his size made her eyes blaze brighter in the noon sun. \n\n\n“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “After what I let you do, I’d be crazy not to.”\n\n\n“Oh, you are crazy. You’re just the boring kind of crazy. The insane that’s happy to stay in that tiny cubicle of yours day in and day out without talking to anyone for weeks.”\n\n\n“That was one time, and I was on call.”\n\n\n“Shush.” She pressed her finger to his lips, “This trip is to get you out of there. Out of this city. You’re walking around like everyone’s got eyes on you. It ain’t right. So I’m breaking you out, and I’m gonna make sure you enjoy it.”\n\n\n“You’re talking like my life is a prison.” She raised her brow at his comment. He sighed and pecked her lips. Max wasn’t completely in the wrong. Before meeting the raccoon, Brandon made a habit of spending too little time being a person outside of work. Go to work, go home, watch TV, eat, sleep, repeat. He’d only met her through routine car maintenance at her job. Whether that was a happy accident or fate, they’d been together long enough that he didn’t feel alive without her.\n\n\n“It is, Sugar. But I’ll happily be your warden if it means I can pull you out now and then.” She shut him up with a kiss. “Now you go back home and relax. Big day tomorrow.” She smacked his backside before going. Squeezing into his car, Brandon opened the glove compartment and pulled a tiny black box out of the stacks of ID and registration papers.\n\n\nIt fit in the palm of his hand like a pebble. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that he could crush it with his thumb. He pressed the digit against the seam, straining at the thought of opening it. Giving up, the bear took a deep breath, rested the box against his scalp, then prayed before putting it back. \n\n\n“No more distractions,” he said, igniting the engine. “No more excuses.” \n\n\n\n\n***\n\n\nMax got him out of bed before dawn bled through the window. He pushed through his morning routine in a groggy haze, mournfully looking at their bed whenever passing it. Max, to his surprise, took the liberty of making it. Brandon didn’t see this happen, but given how many creases were in the blankets, it was obvious.\n\n\nNo matter how many times he’d wake up early, the natural shade of blue in the morning light never sat right with him. As though the world was enveloped by a specific filter, like how movies used sepia to depict the characters are in Mexico. Max, straining, pushed him into her truck before he could comment on it. \n\n\n“How are you not tired?” Brandon slurred with a yawn. \n\n\n“I got myself some coffee already.” \n\n\nTilting to the cupholder, the bear blinked, forgetting he’d seen a coffee cup there. Just one. “Where’s mine?”\n\n\n“You need your beauty sleep. We’ll get you one when it’s your turn.”\n\n\nAfter three hours of rumbling sleep, the bear didn’t need any coffee. Max argued she could keep driving but Brandon put his foot down. Her backseat directions were enough. When she did finally sleep, he planted the address into his phone and turned on an audiobook about space battles in a grimdark dystopia. \n\n\nThey arrived an hour past noon. After stretching on Max’s behalf, Brandon carried their heaviest camp supplies, namely the tent and cooler, and followed her into the wooded depths of the forest. The raccoon went off the beaten path early. “I know a better spot than the tour guide.”\n\n\n“This isn’t Appalachia,” Brandon argued.\n\n\n“It’s part of the trail.”\n\n\nHis brow perked. “You know the trail by heart?”\n\n\nHer grin begot no argument. “Family tradition.”\n\n\nThey marched through the thicket, crushing twigs and brushing away branches whilst trying not to trip over roots or stones. Despite Autumn rearing its head, the forest was flush with green. In a month, the forest floor will be littered with leaves ranging from brown to amber, giving any who cross it a clear view of the countryside that he couldn’t see now. Given the shade he got instead, Brandon wouldn’t trade it. \n\n\nHe heard a stream. Max parted through bushes and whistled. “Perfect.” They’d come across a clearing parted by a small river where the ground was muddier. A natural circle of trees surrounded them, the grass, and dandelions. He smiled, circling their camping spot after dropping their gear. \n\n\n“Max, how’d you–” He stopped short when he saw her start stripping. “What the fuck?!” \n\n\nThe raccoon, midway through taking her shirt off, caught herself from jumping at her boyfriend’s startled cry. “Christ almighty! Don’t scare a girl like that.”\n\n\nHe raised an accusatory claw her way. “You? What about me? Why are you getting naked?” \n\n\nMax didn’t let his confusion stop her. “Who’s gonna see?” The raccoon tossed away her black shirt to reveal she’d been without a bra. He noticed no panties either when she cast off her shorts with a kick. \n\n\nBrandon almost said “Other hikers,” but he hadn’t seen anyone else on their walk. “Just warn a guy if you’re gonna change.” \n\n\n“I ain’t changing.”\n\n\nHe blinked. “What?” Brandon asked, certain he had misheard.\n\n\nShe bundled her clothes into a ball and stuffed them in a plastic bag. “Hun, we’re out in nature alone. No one’s gonna see us walking nude like we’re meant to.” \n\n\nIt hit him like a wave. This was her plan. They were alone in the wilderness without anyone else for the entire weekend. No one to walk in on them. No one to question them. His pants felt tighter at the prospect. Max licked her lips when she glanced there. \n\n\n“Need help, hun?” \n\n\n“No.” He threw off his shirt. The raccoon grabbed his paws before he reached his pants.\n\n\n“No,” she said with a knowing smile, “I think you need my help.” With grace unbecoming of her she unbuttoned his shorts and pulled the zipper free. Fingers slipped into his boxer’s waistband and yanked it down hard enough that his cock flopped out at half mast. A soft breeze rushed through the trees, rattling the branches to silence his shuddering gasp at the cool air on his rod. \n\n\n“Guess I shouldn’t have packed spare clothes.” Brandon kicked off his boots to rid himself of the pants. Max snorted, then returned to her things, leaving the bear to unpack. He decided to wait first, standing tall to soak up his surroundings. Being, as Max put it, a city boy all his life, Brandon took to feeling confined as natural. Tight walls, small rooms, spaces that didn’t follow modern standards for large species. Rarely did he get to feel what it was like to stand straight and tall. The world seemed so much smaller when he did.\n\n\nMax’s voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. “I came prepared. Kneel.” \n\n\nReflex took over. Brandon felt a soft towel against his knees instead of the rough earth. She kissed the nape of his neck, gnawing at it as nails dug into his fur. His skin was too tough for her to cut. It made every attempt exhilarating. Thick fur hid years of possessive scratch marks. \n\n\nThe collar could not be hidden. Raising his neck, Brandon held his breath for the leather band. Metals clinked with her adjustments. Not so tight to strangle him, nor so loose it’d bounce with every step. \n\n\n“How does it feel wearing your play collar in the open?” She asked with a whisper. Her warm breath hugged his scalp like a blanket. The bear deflated, sinking backwards just enough to let her hold his weight. “Thought as much.” Something wavered in her confident tone. Hesitation perhaps? Brandon tumbled backwards too fast to process it. \n\n\n“Now git your boots back on. Sun’s still up, and I wanna get a good hike in.”\n\n\n\n\n***\n\n\n\n\nThe backpack’s straps chafed his shoulders, and he didn’t care. Max stuffed it with all the essentials: food and water, a first aid kit, and at least two flashlights. For reasons he couldn’t explain, it felt much heavier than all of that. He still didn’t care, standing tall as they trekked through the woods with only their boots for protection. \n\n\nBy contrast, Max’s smaller backpack was packed with the fun non-essentials: Soft rope, restraints, and more. Not long after leaving camp, she pulled the rope out and tied his wrists together. He asked about his legs but she told him the terrain was too dangerous. He nodded disheartened, knowing it best to trust the outdoorswoman on safety. \n\n\nPeople liked to tell him that, compared to the city, nature was quiet. Brandon never liked that description. The sheer cacophony of urban noise, from cars, whistles, to the smallest phone conversations, made nature seem like it would be silent. Max laughed at that in their early years, telling him over drinks that the forest is never silent. \n\n\nFeral birds sang songs ranging from a sweet melody to a pitched cawing cry. A breeze would run through the trees like a wind instrument, their leaves the notes dancing on the air as they spun down to the ground, becoming foliage that crunched and snapped underneath their boots.\n\n\nDespite being in front, Max kept a loose grip on the rope so Brandon could dictate the pace. The bear pretended otherwise. She looked back to smirk, sometimes playfully sticking out her tongue when he smiled back. She untied his wrists at every break, inspecting them in case he was hurting.\n\n\n“I’m fine,” he’d tell her. “It’s a soft rope.”\n\n\n“And you’re a soft guy. Don’t mean you can’t put someone in the hospital,” she’d argue. \n\n\nSince Max took his watch and refused to tell him the time, Brandon watched the sun’s steady decline to track it. He guessed they’d been out for hours by the time they reached a small clearing. The aches in his legs would agree. “Think it’s time we head back?” he asked. \n\n\n“Already?” Max dug through her backpack without looking at him. “But I finally found the perfect spot.”\n\n\nBrandon looked around the spot in question. Beyond the trees as thick as his waist and the small cliffside overshadowing them, he couldn’t place what was so special. He held his tongue instead of asking when he noticed the raccoon push her leg through a strap-on harness.\n\n\n“No…” He said, ignoring the throbbing sensation between his legs. Max just grinned, adding the snap of latex gloves to the forest’s musical. \n\n\n“It’s…it’s unsanitary,” He argued.\n\n\n“Not if we’re careful.” Max nudged over to a tree off to his right. “Just wrap your big arms around that and stick your ass out.”\n\n\nHe shook his head, smiling. “Max, come on.” \n\n\nShe yanked him closer by the rope. “It’s cute, you know. The innocent boy act you got.” A quick clasp of his sack kept him from interrupting, “But we both know you don’t hate this idea. Your little buddy here is the only part of you being honest. And I do mean little…”\n\n\nThe strap-on in question was only an inch bigger than his, despite almost reaching her belly button. She flopped it around, winding it like a helicopter before grinding it against his throbbing shaft. “One word,” the raccoon whispered, “Just one, and we’ll walk back to camp. No if, ands, or buts about it. Is that clear?”\n\n\nHe mumbled. She squeezed. “Is. That. Clear?”\n\n\nThe bear’s spine shot straight. “Y-Yes, ma’am!” He squeaked.\n\n\n“Good.” Max let him go, “So, what’ll it be? Your call.” \n\n\nBrandon looked back at the tree, her, and the sun. The blue sky couldn’t be more than an hour from turning orange based on the gold hints. He gulped at the thought of being caught in the shadow of night underneath the branches, blind to those that stalked the woods. Yet he said nothing. His heart skipped with her smile. \n\n\n“Good boy,” her praise was almost as good as the kiss, both paled to the slap on his ass when she turned him around. “Now go show Momma what she likes.” \n\n\nBracing both hands on the trunk Brandon arched his back, presenting his ass with a lip biting smile. Max growled softly, digging her nails deep into his cheeks with a solid clenched. “There it is,” She whispered, spreading him wide. The slick warmth of her tongue circled his pucker, sending his shudders into suppressed grunts when it slithered inside. \n\n\nThe erection bounced on its own, hard as rock and throbbing for her. She held it tight with both hands, grinding her palm against his cockhead. Deep breaths heaved his chest. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Tiny gasps cut through the pattern like rudders breaking white water.\n\n\n“Why are you so quiet?” Max asked, whipping a loud crack against his ass with the flat of her hand. “Who’s gonna hear? The trees? The rocks? The shrooms? Since when do you care about fungi?”\n\n\nHe gulped with a smile. “Y-You know I can’t…”\n\n\n“Shush.” The irony of her comment was not lost on him. “We’re not in our apartment. There ain’t no neighbors to worry about. Just you, me, my big dick, and my favorite lube.” He knew that slime all too well. Even staring at the tree counting the lines of bark, he could picture the large bottle squeezed in her hands, pooling the milky white substance over her fingers. It mixed with the saliva left behind on his pucker, delightfully circling until that finger pushed. A growl surged from him by mistake. She cut his apology short with a deep thrust of her digit.\n\n\n“There it is,” she whispered, pulling her finger out just to press the rod between his cheeks. “There’s my big bear. Tell momma what she wants to hear.”\n\n\n“Fuck me…” his voice cracked. \n\n\n“Hmm?” Max hummed, hotdogging her toy with his ass. “Did you say something? I thought I heard a cricket chirping.”\n\n\n“F-Fuck me…” he forced himself to speak, resting his head against the rough bark. \n\n\n“Oh, that’s better. But you seem to be missing something.”\n\n\nClaws buried into the bark. His lips rose, showing vicious fangs back at her with his roar. “Fuck me, Momma!”\n\n\nHer face flushed red, but her smirk didn’t dare drop. The raccoon held her man’s love handles and pushed in, spreading his pucker wide. For a moment, Brandon lost the sensation in his legs, but he refused to let them fall as she plunged inside him. \n\n\nNo amount of lube or practice, of which they both had an abundance of, could let her go balls deep in a single thrust. More fun for the both of them. He grunted when she pulled back and threw a pitched groan at every push, cracking his voice with quick hushed breaths as his prostate suffered her pressure. The occasional slap stifled him, yet he begged for more. Pleaded to feel the dam cracking behind his cock. \n\n\n“You’re just swallowing me up.” Max’s rhythm steadied. “I’m only halfway inside, yet you’re so hungry for more. You’re such buttslut.” She slapped him again. “My buttslut.”\n\n\n“Yes…”\n\n\n“Say it,” she slowed down.”\n\n\n“I’m your buttslut.”\n\n\nHer pace fell to a crawl. “Come on.” The breath of her whisper nipped at his neck like tiny daggers. “I can’t hear you. You don’t want me to stop, do you?”\n\n\n“I’m your buttslut!” Brandon cried out as soon as he felt her pulling out. She rammed back in, turning his cry into a voice-cracking scream. \n\n\n“That’s it.” She hoisted him by the collar. “Let it out. There are no thin walls here. No neighbors to knock on our door. Tell me what I want to hear!”\n\n\nBrandon’s claws ripped into the bark. He bared his teeth, growling with the rising pleasure. She sped up, deeper and harder into him, enough that his fat cock smacked his stomach like a drum. \n\n\n“Fuck me!” He roared. “Harder! Harder!”\n\n\n“No magic word? That’ll cost you later.” She let go of his collar and grabbed his headfur, tugging him back with nails hooked. He could have overpowered her, could have kicked her off and taken her with his raging erection. She knew it, and it spurred her more. Edging on the rising tide against the dam behind his cock. He scratched at it, begged for it to burst. \n\n\nA week's worth of seed plastered the earth below. She didn’t stop, pounding his sensitive prostate like she was probing an instrument for the right note. He winced, laughed, and cried out at every thrust, legs standing by his willpower alone. He wanted her to stop for rest, but his mouth refused to listen. His body craved her force. Demanded she tear into his asshole like it was her property she decided to excavate. Analogies slushed together with his words. His knees buckled to the ground. \n\n\nHe felt her withdraw and whined in the absence. “Shh…” she whispered, hugging him from behind. Rough paws patted the tears from his cheeks. “I’m here. You’re safe. You did good.”\n\n\nThe tears wouldn’t stop. Brandon clasped the raccoon’s hold. Heavy breaths puffed his chest. In through his nose, out through his mouth. She repeated his lesson with a whisper to keep him still. He smiled. “I’m a mess, aren’t I?”\n\n\nHer smile said enough. Callused fingers used to wrenches and power tools scratched softly behind his ears. He sank into her, shuddering into the raccoon’s stomach. \n\n\nThen her grip grew forceful. A silent signal telling him to get lower. The bear inches down till his knees hit the towel. Sun’s angle plastered her strap-on’s shadow over his face. For a second, he grimaced, hoping she didn’t intend what he expected. Relief rushed over him when she fiddled the strap loose. It fell to the forest floor with a wet thud. In an instant, he smelled her arousal. It washed over the air, enveloping his focus as she drew him to her engorged lips. \n\n\nMax’s fingers tensed as he layered her spine with a tower of kisses. He didn’t stop, climbing the other thigh until her voice squeaked. “S-Stop teasing.” She muttered, biting her lips. \n\n\nBrandon laid the flat of his tongue on her lips. A slow, dragging lap that shoveled up her juices into his maw. He worked carefully along her cunt, clasping her legs as they shook from the pleasure. She stammered out what sounded like a cross between words and grunts, but the meaning was lost in the moment. It took another hand on his scalp to help Max brace her bearings. \n\n\n“D-Deeper.” She huffed out, chest heaving. He smiled, locking eyes without moving from her mound. Her face flushed red. “Don’t you hol–” The thrust of his tongue cut her off. Max doubled over, clutching his shoulders while her boyfriend merrily ate her out. No matter how many times they’d done this, the raccoon seemed to forget just how deep a bear’s tongue could go. \n\n\nHe continued as the sun descended. Her voice cracked whenever he pulled away for air to suckle her clit. When her legs gave out, he held her. Soon Brandon was on his back, letting her take a seat over his wet maw gouging her cunt. \n\n\n“F-Fuck,” she hissed, gritting her teeth. Her grip returned to his head, digging deep enough to hurt. To let him feel her possessive nature. “Fuck…” The raccoon huffed. He clasped her ass for balance, giving tentative squeezes she’d be too distracted to notice. “Fuck!” She cried out.\n\n\nHer juices plastered his maw. He didn’t stop. Not through her swearing. Not through her pleading for god almighty. Not through her orgasmic laughter. He stopped by her third orgasm, leaving his face drenched in her juices as though he’d dipped it in a passive river. Whatever comment Max had about that was lost in her bliss while she rested on the forest floor. \n\n\n“Can you walk?” He asked, wiping his face with the clean side of their towel. Max raised her thumb. He didn’t believe her. \n\n\n“I’ll carry you.” He hoisted her up over his shoulder. \n\n\nMax scrambled in his grasp. “Not like this you ain’t,” she argued as if he pulled her by the tail and she was trying to be polite. “Piggyback.”\n\n\n“Piggyback?” He snickered. “Aren’t you a little old to be asking for that?”\n\n\nWith renewed vigor, Max slipped out of his hold and climbed around his back without touching the ground. Her legs locked over his stomach. “Who runs Bartertown, big boy?” \n\n\nHe laughed. “Bit dated, don’t you think?” \n\n\n“Would you rather I tug your collar, kick your ribs, and shout ‘Hi-ho!’”\n\n\nSomehow, he didn’t fall over in laughter at the thought. She clasped his collar like there were reins. “Hi-Ho, bitchboy.” She cried.\n\n\n“Yes, Mistress!” He said after stuffing their backpacks and looping the straps through his arms. He held back on galloping or trotting to camp. \n\n\n\n\n***\n\n\n\n\nThe last vestiges of light sunk beneath the horizon at their campsite. He expected the sky to darken and pulled out a flashlight. Max put it away, wanting him to come up to the small cliff overlooking their spot. \n\n\n“For the record, I love living in the city,” the raccoon said. “People say it’s cramped, and it is. But I like being able to walk to where I need to go rather than drive everywhere.”\n\n\n“You still drive everywhere.”\n\n\nShe stuck out her tongue. “I like the option, hun. But as much as I like it, there’s always something missing.”\n\n\nHe followed her finger upward. Specks brightened the sky. Stars. He’d seen stars before, but when the bear couldn’t place. Surely it couldn’t have been since childhood. But it was true. He’d spent so long living in an urban sprawl that he’d forgotten the night sky wasn’t black but a deep blue that expanded far beyond what he could see. \n\n\nMax cradled his arm. He sat down, cuddling with her in the natural light. Neither found words worth breaking the silence in the moment, letting nature whistle wind through the trees underneath the starry sky. \n\n\nOnce it became too dark to see his hands, he switched on an electric lamp. “Guess it’s time for bed.” Max yawned. Brandon searched through his backpack at the campground, sneaking in one last thing. \n\n\n“Max,” he dropped to one knee, flipping open the black box. “Will you marry me?” \n\n\nSomeone, Brandon knew, somewhere in the woods, woke up to the sound of her screaming.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "There was something about seeing camping displays at Proshops that set off a sense of awe for Brandon. Any store that sold bladed tools like machetes in the open seemed reckless to him. Surely, the bear thought, the machetes were dangerous enough to be put behind glass. Some were just sold in their sheaths, letting any madman draw the blade and start hacking.


Brandon shook his head and let go of the blade’s handle. “Take a deep breath,” his inner voice said. He didn’t go shopping for his anxiety to bubble up. In his defense, camping was a dangerous affair. Spending an extended amount of time in the wilderness where feral animals could sneak up on any unsuspecting camper. A person could get mauled on the way to taking a leak. And if they were, they’d be miles away from any hospital, so you’re as good as dead.


The bear took another deep breath, held it for several seconds, and released it.


“Can I help you find anything?”


Brandon turned to a moose in a camo vest with a nametag. Daryl. He carried a customer service smile, a careful mix of a professional mask and genuine concern. The bear’s throat tightened when he tried to turn him away.


“I could use a little help,” the bear pushed himself to say.


“Well, that’s what I’m here for. You looking to go camping?”


Brandon raised his brow. He’d almost asked how the moose knew, but stopped to remember the purpose of the store. “Yeah. My girlfriend and I are planning a trip. Says it’ll be good for me to get some country air. I’ve never been camping, so I’m just trying to pick out some essentials. Trouble is, I don’t know what those are.”


The spark of a potential sale lit up the moose’s eyes. “Well, unless you’re going through some thick branches, a machete isn’t required.”


“Oh,” Brandon smiled awkwardly with a forced laugh, “Good. I was worried it’d be overkill.”


“It is. What you’d want is a knife for all your cutting needs. If you need to chop, a small hatchet will do just fine.” The moose handed him two plastic packages, one with a four-inch black blade, another with a small hatchet of the same material. Same brand too by the look of it.


“Wouldn’t it be cheaper to buy a machete then?” Brandon asked, not wanting to buy either of these items.


“I get what you’re thinking,” Daryl said with a quick tap, “But machetes are more of a luxury item. If we were in the tropics, I’d be selling them like hotcakes, but up north, they’re for guys who love swords but don’t wanna admit it or put down good money to find something authentic. Besides, these two combined are still cheaper than the machete.”  


They were by a dollar. This and Daryl’s charisma were enough to keep Brandon following along with the salesman's spiel. Flashlights, batteries for said flashlights, back up flashlights that could be powered with a hand crank, camo clothes, sleeping bags, hanging sleeping bags, those little metal spikes used to hammer a tent into the ground with a name Brandon missed in the torrent of terms the stag spewed. Before he realized it, the bear had a shopping cart full of supplies and a cashier expecting over five hundred dollars.


“That’s, um, that’s more than I expected.” Brandon scratched an anxious itch on the back of his skull. “Surely there’s some stuff I could do without.”


Daryl nodded with a smile; the bear couldn’t quite read anymore. “The customer is always right. But you want to be extra secure, right? Tell ya what. I’ll throw in a few cans of bug spray at a discount. What do you say?”


He didn’t have to say anything. Max spoke up for him. “I’d say you’re slicker than owl shit.”


Max, or Maxine as her momma named her, collected the teeth of anyone else who tried to call her as such, stood with a confidence that made up for her height. Dressed in ratty cargo pants and an unbuttoned flannel with oil stains over a greasy undershirt, the raccoon appeared from behind the bear as if she’d walked out his shadow. Brandon caught himself from leaping, still not used to her appearing act despite dating her for almost three years now.


Daryl blinked. “Excuse me?”


“You heard me,” She said with an accent so thick Brandon empathized with the stag’s confusion. “You’re out here sliding around my man like he’s some sort of Jezebel at a summer fair.”


Brandon offered nothing but a shrug at the stag’s glance. “I don’t…I’m sorry, can you speak English?”


“I am speaking English.”


“I mean without the slang.”


“Lord have mercy.” Max sighed, scratching her crew-cut. “Brandon, hun, this man’s trying to fleece ya.”


“I mean…yeah?” He said, trying not to sound like he wasn’t falling for it. “To be fair, that’s his job. And he did save me money on a machete.”


“Why are you buying a machete?”


“I’m not. I’m buying a knife and a hatchet and…wait, why are you here?”


She thumbed over her shoulder, “I’m getting my knives sharpened across the street. You don’t have to buy anything.” A small, almost cruel smile crossed her face as she slipped seamlessly into the bear’s personal space. “Were you trying to get something for me?”


“N-Nope. Nothing like that,” he said, flustered and tongue-tied. He glanced at Daryl for support, not surprised to see him vanish as quickly as Max appeared. Some people knew a lost cause when they saw one.


“Think he noticed?” Max asked.


“Noticed?” Brandon tilted his head. “Noticed what? Are you telling him off? Max, we talked about this.”


She rolled her eyes, “And I told you I hold the right to call out bullshitters. But no, I meant this.” Max pulled his hand against her crotch. There were no excuses Brandon could make to justify the action, but the solid and cylindrical feeling of her strap-on made everything else seem irrelevant.


“Here? You’re wearing it here?” Brandon failed to pull his hand away.


Max bit her lip. “What’s wrong?” She cast her gaze lower. “Your little buddy seems to like it.”


If Brandon was a polar bear, anyone could have noticed the pink shade of his blush enveloping his head. She snickered, leaving behind his attempted purchases with Brandon in tow. “What’s wrong?” Max asked, leaning against his dark blue punch buggy. Her crossed legs helped outline her extra package.


“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.” Brandon averted his gaze. When they started dating, Max would have grabbed his shirt collar and forced him to look her dead on. Now, knowing he liked that, she had worse ways to get him to talk.


“You let that guy talk you into buying hunting gear when we’re just camping. Something’s wrong.”


“Well, it is my first time doing real camping. Maybe I will need a…” The exact names for any of the gear beyond the knife and hatchet escaped him. Even the flashlights, as his brain seemed more focused on calling them by their brands than what they were. “I’m nervous. The last time I went camping it was in a cabin. I’ve never slept in a tent.”


Now she pulled him down, cupping his face with both hands. “Brandon, do you trust me?” The shade from his size made her eyes blaze brighter in the noon sun.


“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “After what I let you do, I’d be crazy not to.”


“Oh, you are crazy. You’re just the boring kind of crazy. The insane that’s happy to stay in that tiny cubicle of yours day in and day out without talking to anyone for weeks.”


“That was one time, and I was on call.”


“Shush.” She pressed her finger to his lips, “This trip is to get you out of there. Out of this city. You’re walking around like everyone’s got eyes on you. It ain’t right. So I’m breaking you out, and I’m gonna make sure you enjoy it.”


“You’re talking like my life is a prison.” She raised her brow at his comment. He sighed and pecked her lips. Max wasn’t completely in the wrong. Before meeting the raccoon, Brandon made a habit of spending too little time being a person outside of work. Go to work, go home, watch TV, eat, sleep, repeat. He’d only met her through routine car maintenance at her job. Whether that was a happy accident or fate, they’d been together long enough that he didn’t feel alive without her.


“It is, Sugar. But I’ll happily be your warden if it means I can pull you out now and then.” She shut him up with a kiss. “Now you go back home and relax. Big day tomorrow.” She smacked his backside before going. Squeezing into his car, Brandon opened the glove compartment and pulled a tiny black box out of the stacks of ID and registration papers.


It fit in the palm of his hand like a pebble. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that he could crush it with his thumb. He pressed the digit against the seam, straining at the thought of opening it. Giving up, the bear took a deep breath, rested the box against his scalp, then prayed before putting it back.


“No more distractions,” he said, igniting the engine. “No more excuses.”




***


Max got him out of bed before dawn bled through the window. He pushed through his morning routine in a groggy haze, mournfully looking at their bed whenever passing it. Max, to his surprise, took the liberty of making it. Brandon didn’t see this happen, but given how many creases were in the blankets, it was obvious.


No matter how many times he’d wake up early, the natural shade of blue in the morning light never sat right with him. As though the world was enveloped by a specific filter, like how movies used sepia to depict the characters are in Mexico. Max, straining, pushed him into her truck before he could comment on it.


“How are you not tired?” Brandon slurred with a yawn.


“I got myself some coffee already.”


Tilting to the cupholder, the bear blinked, forgetting he’d seen a coffee cup there. Just one. “Where’s mine?”


“You need your beauty sleep. We’ll get you one when it’s your turn.”


After three hours of rumbling sleep, the bear didn’t need any coffee. Max argued she could keep driving but Brandon put his foot down. Her backseat directions were enough. When she did finally sleep, he planted the address into his phone and turned on an audiobook about space battles in a grimdark dystopia.


They arrived an hour past noon. After stretching on Max’s behalf, Brandon carried their heaviest camp supplies, namely the tent and cooler, and followed her into the wooded depths of the forest. The raccoon went off the beaten path early. “I know a better spot than the tour guide.”


“This isn’t Appalachia,” Brandon argued.


“It’s part of the trail.”


His brow perked. “You know the trail by heart?”


Her grin begot no argument. “Family tradition.”


They marched through the thicket, crushing twigs and brushing away branches whilst trying not to trip over roots or stones. Despite Autumn rearing its head, the forest was flush with green. In a month, the forest floor will be littered with leaves ranging from brown to amber, giving any who cross it a clear view of the countryside that he couldn’t see now. Given the shade he got instead, Brandon wouldn’t trade it.


He heard a stream. Max parted through bushes and whistled. “Perfect.” They’d come across a clearing parted by a small river where the ground was muddier. A natural circle of trees surrounded them, the grass, and dandelions. He smiled, circling their camping spot after dropping their gear.


“Max, how’d you–” He stopped short when he saw her start stripping. “What the fuck?!”


The raccoon, midway through taking her shirt off, caught herself from jumping at her boyfriend’s startled cry. “Christ almighty! Don’t scare a girl like that.”


He raised an accusatory claw her way. “You? What about me? Why are you getting naked?”


Max didn’t let his confusion stop her. “Who’s gonna see?” The raccoon tossed away her black shirt to reveal she’d been without a bra. He noticed no panties either when she cast off her shorts with a kick.


Brandon almost said “Other hikers,” but he hadn’t seen anyone else on their walk. “Just warn a guy if you’re gonna change.”


“I ain’t changing.”


He blinked. “What?” Brandon asked, certain he had misheard.


She bundled her clothes into a ball and stuffed them in a plastic bag. “Hun, we’re out in nature alone. No one’s gonna see us walking nude like we’re meant to.”


It hit him like a wave. This was her plan. They were alone in the wilderness without anyone else for the entire weekend. No one to walk in on them. No one to question them. His pants felt tighter at the prospect. Max licked her lips when she glanced there.


“Need help, hun?”


“No.” He threw off his shirt. The raccoon grabbed his paws before he reached his pants.


“No,” she said with a knowing smile, “I think you need my help.” With grace unbecoming of her she unbuttoned his shorts and pulled the zipper free. Fingers slipped into his boxer’s waistband and yanked it down hard enough that his cock flopped out at half mast. A soft breeze rushed through the trees, rattling the branches to silence his shuddering gasp at the cool air on his rod.


“Guess I shouldn’t have packed spare clothes.” Brandon kicked off his boots to rid himself of the pants. Max snorted, then returned to her things, leaving the bear to unpack. He decided to wait first, standing tall to soak up his surroundings. Being, as Max put it, a city boy all his life, Brandon took to feeling confined as natural. Tight walls, small rooms, spaces that didn’t follow modern standards for large species. Rarely did he get to feel what it was like to stand straight and tall. The world seemed so much smaller when he did.


Max’s voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. “I came prepared. Kneel.”


Reflex took over. Brandon felt a soft towel against his knees instead of the rough earth. She kissed the nape of his neck, gnawing at it as nails dug into his fur. His skin was too tough for her to cut. It made every attempt exhilarating. Thick fur hid years of possessive scratch marks.


The collar could not be hidden. Raising his neck, Brandon held his breath for the leather band. Metals clinked with her adjustments. Not so tight to strangle him, nor so loose it’d bounce with every step.


“How does it feel wearing your play collar in the open?” She asked with a whisper. Her warm breath hugged his scalp like a blanket. The bear deflated, sinking backwards just enough to let her hold his weight. “Thought as much.” Something wavered in her confident tone. Hesitation perhaps? Brandon tumbled backwards too fast to process it.


“Now git your boots back on. Sun’s still up, and I wanna get a good hike in.”




***




The backpack’s straps chafed his shoulders, and he didn’t care. Max stuffed it with all the essentials: food and water, a first aid kit, and at least two flashlights. For reasons he couldn’t explain, it felt much heavier than all of that. He still didn’t care, standing tall as they trekked through the woods with only their boots for protection.


By contrast, Max’s smaller backpack was packed with the fun non-essentials: Soft rope, restraints, and more. Not long after leaving camp, she pulled the rope out and tied his wrists together. He asked about his legs but she told him the terrain was too dangerous. He nodded disheartened, knowing it best to trust the outdoorswoman on safety.


People liked to tell him that, compared to the city, nature was quiet. Brandon never liked that description. The sheer cacophony of urban noise, from cars, whistles, to the smallest phone conversations, made nature seem like it would be silent. Max laughed at that in their early years, telling him over drinks that the forest is never silent.


Feral birds sang songs ranging from a sweet melody to a pitched cawing cry. A breeze would run through the trees like a wind instrument, their leaves the notes dancing on the air as they spun down to the ground, becoming foliage that crunched and snapped underneath their boots.


Despite being in front, Max kept a loose grip on the rope so Brandon could dictate the pace. The bear pretended otherwise. She looked back to smirk, sometimes playfully sticking out her tongue when he smiled back. She untied his wrists at every break, inspecting them in case he was hurting.


“I’m fine,” he’d tell her. “It’s a soft rope.”


“And you’re a soft guy. Don’t mean you can’t put someone in the hospital,” she’d argue.


Since Max took his watch and refused to tell him the time, Brandon watched the sun’s steady decline to track it. He guessed they’d been out for hours by the time they reached a small clearing. The aches in his legs would agree. “Think it’s time we head back?” he asked.


“Already?” Max dug through her backpack without looking at him. “But I finally found the perfect spot.”


Brandon looked around the spot in question. Beyond the trees as thick as his waist and the small cliffside overshadowing them, he couldn’t place what was so special. He held his tongue instead of asking when he noticed the raccoon push her leg through a strap-on harness.


“No…” He said, ignoring the throbbing sensation between his legs. Max just grinned, adding the snap of latex gloves to the forest’s musical.


“It’s…it’s unsanitary,” He argued.


“Not if we’re careful.” Max nudged over to a tree off to his right. “Just wrap your big arms around that and stick your ass out.”


He shook his head, smiling. “Max, come on.”


She yanked him closer by the rope. “It’s cute, you know. The innocent boy act you got.” A quick clasp of his sack kept him from interrupting, “But we both know you don’t hate this idea. Your little buddy here is the only part of you being honest. And I do mean little…”


The strap-on in question was only an inch bigger than his, despite almost reaching her belly button. She flopped it around, winding it like a helicopter before grinding it against his throbbing shaft. “One word,” the raccoon whispered, “Just one, and we’ll walk back to camp. No if, ands, or buts about it. Is that clear?”


He mumbled. She squeezed. “Is. That. Clear?”


The bear’s spine shot straight. “Y-Yes, ma’am!” He squeaked.


“Good.” Max let him go, “So, what’ll it be? Your call.”


Brandon looked back at the tree, her, and the sun. The blue sky couldn’t be more than an hour from turning orange based on the gold hints. He gulped at the thought of being caught in the shadow of night underneath the branches, blind to those that stalked the woods. Yet he said nothing. His heart skipped with her smile.


“Good boy,” her praise was almost as good as the kiss, both paled to the slap on his ass when she turned him around. “Now go show Momma what she likes.”


Bracing both hands on the trunk Brandon arched his back, presenting his ass with a lip biting smile. Max growled softly, digging her nails deep into his cheeks with a solid clenched. “There it is,” She whispered, spreading him wide. The slick warmth of her tongue circled his pucker, sending his shudders into suppressed grunts when it slithered inside.


The erection bounced on its own, hard as rock and throbbing for her. She held it tight with both hands, grinding her palm against his cockhead. Deep breaths heaved his chest. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Tiny gasps cut through the pattern like rudders breaking white water.


“Why are you so quiet?” Max asked, whipping a loud crack against his ass with the flat of her hand. “Who’s gonna hear? The trees? The rocks? The shrooms? Since when do you care about fungi?”


He gulped with a smile. “Y-You know I can’t…”


“Shush.” The irony of her comment was not lost on him. “We’re not in our apartment. There ain’t no neighbors to worry about. Just you, me, my big dick, and my favorite lube.” He knew that slime all too well. Even staring at the tree counting the lines of bark, he could picture the large bottle squeezed in her hands, pooling the milky white substance over her fingers. It mixed with the saliva left behind on his pucker, delightfully circling until that finger pushed. A growl surged from him by mistake. She cut his apology short with a deep thrust of her digit.


“There it is,” she whispered, pulling her finger out just to press the rod between his cheeks. “There’s my big bear. Tell momma what she wants to hear.”


“Fuck me…” his voice cracked.


“Hmm?” Max hummed, hotdogging her toy with his ass. “Did you say something? I thought I heard a cricket chirping.”


“F-Fuck me…” he forced himself to speak, resting his head against the rough bark.


“Oh, that’s better. But you seem to be missing something.”


Claws buried into the bark. His lips rose, showing vicious fangs back at her with his roar. “Fuck me, Momma!”


Her face flushed red, but her smirk didn’t dare drop. The raccoon held her man’s love handles and pushed in, spreading his pucker wide. For a moment, Brandon lost the sensation in his legs, but he refused to let them fall as she plunged inside him.


No amount of lube or practice, of which they both had an abundance of, could let her go balls deep in a single thrust. More fun for the both of them. He grunted when she pulled back and threw a pitched groan at every push, cracking his voice with quick hushed breaths as his prostate suffered her pressure. The occasional slap stifled him, yet he begged for more. Pleaded to feel the dam cracking behind his cock.


“You’re just swallowing me up.” Max’s rhythm steadied. “I’m only halfway inside, yet you’re so hungry for more. You’re such buttslut.” She slapped him again. “My buttslut.”


“Yes…”


“Say it,” she slowed down.”


“I’m your buttslut.”


Her pace fell to a crawl. “Come on.” The breath of her whisper nipped at his neck like tiny daggers. “I can’t hear you. You don’t want me to stop, do you?”


“I’m your buttslut!” Brandon cried out as soon as he felt her pulling out. She rammed back in, turning his cry into a voice-cracking scream.


“That’s it.” She hoisted him by the collar. “Let it out. There are no thin walls here. No neighbors to knock on our door. Tell me what I want to hear!”


Brandon’s claws ripped into the bark. He bared his teeth, growling with the rising pleasure. She sped up, deeper and harder into him, enough that his fat cock smacked his stomach like a drum.


“Fuck me!” He roared. “Harder! Harder!”


“No magic word? That’ll cost you later.” She let go of his collar and grabbed his headfur, tugging him back with nails hooked. He could have overpowered her, could have kicked her off and taken her with his raging erection. She knew it, and it spurred her more. Edging on the rising tide against the dam behind his cock. He scratched at it, begged for it to burst.


A week's worth of seed plastered the earth below. She didn’t stop, pounding his sensitive prostate like she was probing an instrument for the right note. He winced, laughed, and cried out at every thrust, legs standing by his willpower alone. He wanted her to stop for rest, but his mouth refused to listen. His body craved her force. Demanded she tear into his asshole like it was her property she decided to excavate. Analogies slushed together with his words. His knees buckled to the ground.


He felt her withdraw and whined in the absence. “Shh…” she whispered, hugging him from behind. Rough paws patted the tears from his cheeks. “I’m here. You’re safe. You did good.”


The tears wouldn’t stop. Brandon clasped the raccoon’s hold. Heavy breaths puffed his chest. In through his nose, out through his mouth. She repeated his lesson with a whisper to keep him still. He smiled. “I’m a mess, aren’t I?”


Her smile said enough. Callused fingers used to wrenches and power tools scratched softly behind his ears. He sank into her, shuddering into the raccoon’s stomach.


Then her grip grew forceful. A silent signal telling him to get lower. The bear inches down till his knees hit the towel. Sun’s angle plastered her strap-on’s shadow over his face. For a second, he grimaced, hoping she didn’t intend what he expected. Relief rushed over him when she fiddled the strap loose. It fell to the forest floor with a wet thud. In an instant, he smelled her arousal. It washed over the air, enveloping his focus as she drew him to her engorged lips.


Max’s fingers tensed as he layered her spine with a tower of kisses. He didn’t stop, climbing the other thigh until her voice squeaked. “S-Stop teasing.” She muttered, biting her lips.


Brandon laid the flat of his tongue on her lips. A slow, dragging lap that shoveled up her juices into his maw. He worked carefully along her cunt, clasping her legs as they shook from the pleasure. She stammered out what sounded like a cross between words and grunts, but the meaning was lost in the moment. It took another hand on his scalp to help Max brace her bearings.


“D-Deeper.” She huffed out, chest heaving. He smiled, locking eyes without moving from her mound. Her face flushed red. “Don’t you hol–” The thrust of his tongue cut her off. Max doubled over, clutching his shoulders while her boyfriend merrily ate her out. No matter how many times they’d done this, the raccoon seemed to forget just how deep a bear’s tongue could go.


He continued as the sun descended. Her voice cracked whenever he pulled away for air to suckle her clit. When her legs gave out, he held her. Soon Brandon was on his back, letting her take a seat over his wet maw gouging her cunt.


“F-Fuck,” she hissed, gritting her teeth. Her grip returned to his head, digging deep enough to hurt. To let him feel her possessive nature. “Fuck…” The raccoon huffed. He clasped her ass for balance, giving tentative squeezes she’d be too distracted to notice. “Fuck!” She cried out.


Her juices plastered his maw. He didn’t stop. Not through her swearing. Not through her pleading for god almighty. Not through her orgasmic laughter. He stopped by her third orgasm, leaving his face drenched in her juices as though he’d dipped it in a passive river. Whatever comment Max had about that was lost in her bliss while she rested on the forest floor.


“Can you walk?” He asked, wiping his face with the clean side of their towel. Max raised her thumb. He didn’t believe her.


“I’ll carry you.” He hoisted her up over his shoulder.


Max scrambled in his grasp. “Not like this you ain’t,” she argued as if he pulled her by the tail and she was trying to be polite. “Piggyback.”


“Piggyback?” He snickered. “Aren’t you a little old to be asking for that?”


With renewed vigor, Max slipped out of his hold and climbed around his back without touching the ground. Her legs locked over his stomach. “Who runs Bartertown, big boy?”


He laughed. “Bit dated, don’t you think?”


“Would you rather I tug your collar, kick your ribs, and shout ‘Hi-ho!’”


Somehow, he didn’t fall over in laughter at the thought. She clasped his collar like there were reins. “Hi-Ho, bitchboy.” She cried.


“Yes, Mistress!” He said after stuffing their backpacks and looping the straps through his arms. He held back on galloping or trotting to camp.




***




The last vestiges of light sunk beneath the horizon at their campsite. He expected the sky to darken and pulled out a flashlight. Max put it away, wanting him to come up to the small cliff overlooking their spot.


“For the record, I love living in the city,” the raccoon said. “People say it’s cramped, and it is. But I like being able to walk to where I need to go rather than drive everywhere.”


“You still drive everywhere.”


She stuck out her tongue. “I like the option, hun. But as much as I like it, there’s always something missing.”


He followed her finger upward. Specks brightened the sky. Stars. He’d seen stars before, but when the bear couldn’t place. Surely it couldn’t have been since childhood. But it was true. He’d spent so long living in an urban sprawl that he’d forgotten the night sky wasn’t black but a deep blue that expanded far beyond what he could see.


Max cradled his arm. He sat down, cuddling with her in the natural light. Neither found words worth breaking the silence in the moment, letting nature whistle wind through the trees underneath the starry sky.


Once it became too dark to see his hands, he switched on an electric lamp. “Guess it’s time for bed.” Max yawned. Brandon searched through his backpack at the campground, sneaking in one last thing.


“Max,” he dropped to one knee, flipping open the black box. “Will you marry me?”


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