The rhino leaned against the nearest tree, uncaring of the possibility of ants on his uniform. Getting away from Wendy was the reason he’d taken to leading the local Cub Scout pack in den meetings and on camping trips in the first place. Forty-nine years old and childless by choice, he figured it might be a way to minimize time at home—where he ran the risk of being chastised
for any number of miniscule things—while scratching his itch to be a mentor of sorts to kids looking for someone to look up to.
Ret glanced to the left, toward the campsite where the boys were setting up their tents in a semicircle around what was to become the fire pit come nightfall. Shouts and squeals pierced the afternoon air, but none dug deep into his brain like Wendy’s voice, complaining and passive-aggressive and nonchalant while hiding a deeper malevolence just below the surface.
In his uniform pocket, a pack of Lucky Strikes and its attendant matchbook sat heavily, begging to be plucked out and used. He felt the box just under the patches, sewn into the top layer but not any deeper just for that purpose. If the Scouts knew, he might lose his post. Thankfully, he stood downwind.
The pack came out and, with expert grace honed by years of habit, Ret lipped a smoke into his mouth and struck the match between two thick nails. It fired up easily, the cigarette lit with no effort. No burn, no coughing, just smooth flavor and relief.
His phone buzzed in his hand. Without looking at it the rhino held down the power button with the tenacity of a mercy killer. He could claim no bars out here in the wilderness, despite the fact that a cell tower stood twenty yards away, unconvincingly disguised as a tree.
As the tension gave way to a clearer head and a light breeze, the hand that didn’t hold the cigarette made its way around his hip to the front of his stiff, new uniform shorts. He’d had to buy a pair two sized bigger than his waist because of his ass, and the starch, combined with a crotch obviously sewn for fatties with no genitals, shoved his balls off to one side of the hem. Even with a pair of boxer-briefs he felt exposed; no way Scout shorts could hide his junk.
Not like he was using it anyway. Wendy put out about as often as Halley’s Comet, her list of excuses about as long as its tail, her libido about as frozen. Ret had had a few affairs over the years, the last one openly to encourage her to divorce him and set him free, but she appeared not to care. At least she didn’t mind him getting some on the side. That was a couple years ago, now.
“Fuck,” sighed the rhino, pawing the bulge the shorts couldn’t hide into a bulge a circus tent couldn’t hide. He wasn’t thinking about Wendy, of course. He didn’t have to at this point; all he had to do was touch himself to get a reaction. A tight clutch got a deep pachyderm grunt out of him, and that was that. He could find a bigger tree.
About twenty yards away, just inside the treeline, he finished his smoke and extinguished it on his tongue and stuffed the rest in his pocket. No reason to risk a fire. Keeping an ear out for approaching steps, he leaned his horn on the trunk and worked his fly open. The slight breeze felt great on his expanding shaft, a thrill he remembered from his teens that made him wonder why he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
He watched his hood peel back and reveal fresh, pink glistening skin, the mere sight enough to keep him going until his head blossomed like a flower. It didn’t look weird to him, but he’d had his fair share of comments. Once it got inside a pussy, however, the complaints stopped. Glancing one last time around the tree for wayward Scouts, he fisted to full size and contented himself with just watching. He was that pent up.
“Little risky, isn’t it?” A black foot entered the edge of his vision and stopped, snapping a twig.
Ret’s first instinct was to swear and yell at whomever had disturbed him, but with the kids so close, he’d really rather not send them running over to see his dong out. So he sighed and milked a few more drops of pre out, then looked up to meet the cool blue eyes on him. “I’m not even embarrassed, Sebastién. I don’t even care right now.”
“I wasn’t being serious, you know,” the coyolf said. “Otherwise I would’ve stopped you when you started grabbing your crotch ten minutes ago.” …he added while grabbing his own crotch.
“Fuck off, faggot.” Sebastién smiled back; the rhino knew he pretty much liked dick nowadays. Hector, his son, frolicked with the rest over by the tents, but beyond the fact the two were related the coyolf had betrayed little information.
“Love you too. Though I will give you points for not just throwing your butt into the grass there. Very dry, instant tinder. Good example for the boys.”
“Other than strokin’ off behind a tree.”
“I’m enjoying myself. Don’t know about you.”
Ret pushed off from the tree and bellowed exasperation. “God dammit, Seb, My fuckin’ wife won’t stop calling me. She knows where I am, she knows I’m trying to have fun, but she won’t fuckin’ leave me alone!”
“Women,” the coyolf muttered, casting a withering glance between the rhino’s legs. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t kill ‘em. You’re not putting that away, are you?”
“What’s the point? As soon as you leave I’m gonna breed this tree and try to get back to the Scouts with as little scent as possible. Don’t want any questions. I don’t know how you do it, man.”
Sebastién chuckled. “Same as you, except I’m more discreet about it. I got taken care of about ten minutes before I spied you.”
“Huh.” Ret squeezed his hardly-flagged cockhead. “I wonder what it is, about a bunch of guys all together that makes us crazy and shit.”
“Crazy, or horny?”
“Both, probably.”
“The ancient homoeroticism of close quarters, maybe? A holdover from the Greeks?” The coyolf stayed silent just long enough to allow a scintilla of awkwardness to descend before picking up the slack: “You gonna let me suck it or not?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m not. It’s a great view.” Sebastién openly groped himself, his eyes split between Ret’s face and his groin. “Personally, I don’t really care that we’re out in the open. You can keep watch for kids, and I can give you the first blowjob you’ve had in probably a long time.”
Ret had to admit: just the word blowjob gave him shudders. And the way that Wendy was acting, and given the relatively lukewarm outcomes of all three affairs with females, the thought tempted him. Sebastién looked like a man who knew his way around a cock, and the openness with which he spoke meant it’d be no big deal if they shared a moment away from responsibility. He looked down at his member. Ran his thick fingers over the hard skin. Sure, it felt good, but
not as good as it could…
“Why?”
“Why what?” Sebastién replied, even as he stepped forward and kneeled before the rhino, using the tree as a backrest. His slender fingers had him unbuckled and de-pantsed in seconds. The sun on his ass actually felt pretty good. Thrilling.
“Why do this? I mean, I don’t care that you’re…not straight, but…won’t it be weird now?”
Sebastién cupped the rhino’s sizable balls, admiring their light coating of brown fuzz that matched Ret’s treasure trail. “Doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be. Guys help each other out. Isn’t it how they do it in stories?” He adjusted his glasses further up his muzzle. Out of the way.
“I wouldn’t know, because I OH HOLY HELL.” Warm slickness enveloped his tip and sank halfway down the nine inches. No one had ever done that before. Certainly not Wendy, certainly not any female. He held on for dear life as he accustomed himself to the sensation of hitting the back of someone’s throat. “You weren’t kidding.”
Sebastién came up for air, leaving streamers of spit between muzzle and cock. “Really gay.” And he went back to work, rolling the rhino’s balls to and fro, humming appreciatively.
Ret didn’t have to thrust. He didn’t have the mental presence to do much of anything aside from lean his horn into the tree trunk, rest his head on his forearm and look over the curve of his belly at the coyolf’s bobbing head and expert muzzle. Sebastién would tease the folds of his tip, work up a big load of saliva and slide as far as he could go which, after only the first minute, meant
touching nose pad to pubic fur. The 37-year-old canine looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes when he did this, when some muscle in his throat would open and allow Ret through, and the rhino had never felt more masculine in his life.
Suddenly forty-nine wasn’t as old and over-the-hill as he’d thought. There was plenty of life left, especially between his legs. For a second he pictured a white-furred cheek in each hand, spreading them apart while he pounded away under Sebastién’s tail. It looked good and it felt good, which scared him, which sent him over the edge, which scared him even more.
Less than three minutes had passed.
“Seb, I’m blowin’,” he managed, miraculously, between snorts. “There’s a lot. Oh God, I’m sorry buddy…” But the coyolf reupped his efforts and switched to a hard suckle with lots of tongue underneath the head. The result was a long, drawn-out surge with no real crest, during which Ret bucked gently, groaned and stamped the ground to keep from bellowing into the peaceful day.
He couldn’t look, he only felt. He imagined with every pulse a shower of cum splattering across Sebastién’s muzzle and ruining his uniform, and there’d be no way to clean up and they’d both go back to the campsite reeking of sex and either explain themselves or make up a lie to a bunch of ten-year-olds who probably could piece things together with their assorted snouts.
When the climax had tapered off to a series of shuddering gasps, Ret dared to look. Sebastién pulled off while keeping a tight seal, his cheeks bulging, nary a drop on him or his clothes. He had to swallow four times, but he got the entire load down, even licking his lips for the remainder.
“You weren’t kidding,” said the coyolf. “That…was a lot.”
“Blueballs,” Ret panted. “Fuckin’ blueballs.” Realizing that he’d done a shitty job of looking out, he peered out from behind the tree. No change, not like it helped now.
“Suffice it to say that they don’t have to be blue on this trip if you don’t want them to be.” Sebastién stood up, his shorts quite tented. Re-placing his glasses, he added, “I’ve got other holes too, you know.” He smiled.
Ret held up his hands, palms out. “Dunno if I’m that desperate, man.” But he had imagined it, and he had come from the thought. Desperation had nothing to do with it. And he had to share a tent with this guy for a weekend. Would he be able to resist? Why would he want to? Because the rhino knew Sebastién, and he knew Sebastién wouldn’t stop at one “no”. He’d be gentle about it, but he’d be persistent.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
“Shut up.”
“At least pull your shorts up. Set an example, man.” With that, the coyolf clicked his beseeded tongue and turned to head back towards the campsite.
The rhino tried to think of a retort, but couldn’t find fault with anything Sebastién said. So he stuffed his withering dick back into his too-tight shorts and clomped after.
***
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