The feel of that man’s black sizing my tail-hole, sliding into me, was beautiful. Unbelievably beautiful. The most beautiful thing imaginable. And startling. First, I was sore. And that thing of his hadn’t gotten any smaller in the meantime. I couldn’t believe that anything that ached like that could be beautiful. Second, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been drilled from behind. At a wlkatar, probably. Probably never even knew who was in me. Probably was hard at work slotting a wlkwy, myself. This was different. I knew who was in me, all right. I knew what was in me. And Lop had my undivided attention. He certainly had my tail-hole’s undivided attention. He was doing something between my legs with my hkshihh, rubbing my tits down there, or something; squeezing my nuts. Working my sheath with his hand, which I don’t think anyone had ever done. And though I couldn’t see him, the feel of his tough body against mine was wonderful.

I could feel my body start to grip his drill, the first tentative grabs quickly turning into a steady grip. He gave out with a long, breathy moan, and was grunting with the effort of pulling his black into me against the tightening inside my tail-hole. It felt so beautiful.

My nuts snapped before his did! They’ve snapped when Drushka was linking to me, I know. Once in a while. But that was between our bodies. When my cock was sliding around in his hkshihh-wet fur. This took me by surprise. I could hear him grunting and purring as I shot, and mumbling stuff about "kitten" this and "kitten" that.

I didn’t think I had any energy left between my legs, but I was almost dizzy from the beautiful feelings I had when I felt his balls snap.

I should have been outraged. Scandalized. Disgusted. But instead there was a wonderful feeling. It helped that he kept his black in me. I could feel it, for a while. Actually feel it. And I had the most wonderful feeling all over my body. Bliss, sure, but huge bliss.

"Look here, cunt-swab", he said. His husky voice was soft, but he was so crude. "Or have you forgotten: you’re supposed to be making me a man with that black, not snapping your SkhtuS into your chest-fur."

"I don’t, usually", I said, meekly. Because I was half-unconscious with bliss. I didn’t feel the least bit guilty. It was his fault.

Cunt-swab! Cunt-swab?

There was something about this–animal. I guess I wasn’t afraid of him any more, not really. And I had to admit I was actually sort of pleased by his attention. Even his crudeness was fascinating. It wasn’t just his black in my ass that was so beautiful, either. Or mine in his. I was feeling beautiful when he just held me. A few hours ago, the feel of his body pressing on my chest seemed, well, different, male in a way I’d never–I mean, I didn’t–even before–

Lop yawned and rolled away from my back. "It’s a pain in the neck, not having proper water", he yawned. "Clean me up, stud."

"What?"

"You got a tongue, don’t you?" he said. "Your black would pleasure my ass more; but your tongue will do."

I rolled over and looked at him. He was on his back, legs spread wide, the fur between his thighs sopping wet with hkshihh. I’d never done anything like that before. Oh, of course I cleaned up Drushka a couple of times, when the monuxes made a mess of us. And we cleaned up the boys after opening them. But this wasn’t that. He’d linked to me. But I was floating on bliss, and even before he growled, "Lick me clean, stud" and said, "Clean me up", again, I was on all fours over him, and set to work grooming his groin. There was a whiff or two of monux-spunk, around his asshole, but otherwise this wasn’t anything like cleaning up Drushka.

I remember like it was yesteday–thinking that his hkshihh tasted nice. Well, ours. Mine left over from before. Mostly his, of course. And he purred a little, off and on, while I licked away at him.

When I judged I’d finished, he was asleep. I had some grooming to do, myself, getting his hkshihh off of my spine and haunches, cleaning my asshole, and of course cleaning off my own hkshihh. It had mostly run down my belly to one side, but Lop had been spreading it around with his hand. There was a lot of it. Well, I knew I was excited even before my nuts snapped. Snapped into thin air! Pushed out of me from behind. Think of that!

Once the bliss faded I could get back to worrying. I was feeling bad, again. No, not bad; awful. For the kits’ sake. And my own sense of rightness. Strange wlkon don’t just walk up to one another and start linking! Well, at a wlkatar, of course. But this wasn’t that. This was a total stranger, lying in a little clearing, lewdly spreading his thighs and exposing a groin running with his hkshihh. We weren’t brothers, Lop and I. We weren’t co-mates. It was so unseemly. Oh, man! What had I done? And the finishing touch of squalor and degradation was that the creature immorally driving my seed was a rupellid.

OK, so he made me a man. And since it was a kind of emergency, maybe the irregularity of linking to a total stranger was almost acceptable. It didn’t make me feel much better: this horrible rupellid goon made me a man–for what? The only thing that my black was good for (apart from the beauty I’d get from it) was for me to make him a man, and the only good of that was for him to make me, and so on. But that was unthinkable. Crude. Disgraceful. Some guy I just bumped into raped me little better than an animal! We had no business–

It was appalling. What had I gotten myself into? I couldn’t believe what I was doing. In front of the kits, moreover. Linking with a total stranger. Linking twice. Shooting SkhtuS into the air, I was so aroused by–by–by the feeling of a gut full of a dreadful brute’s black. Painful. A total stranger. Blown away by the feeling of him snapping his nuts into my gut. I thought I’d said something when I shot, and I tormented myself by wondering what, and wondering if the kits had heard. And the finishing touch was that I couldn’t imagine what I was thinking of when I licked him–licked that–clean. With the kits watching. Well, who knows what kits make of anything, when they’re that young; the real dread came from wondering what that rupellid was thinking. What kind of garbage was I in his eyes, now? A poor, spineless jerk. I could foretell that it wasn’t going to stop, not as long as I stayed around this unprincipled, lhuphh, over-sexed ruffian. Oh, we’d be linking, all right. Repeatedly. Him and that monux-meat of his. He’d have me driving his seed. He’d already said so. The kits, what would they think, watching their uncle link to some guy. Just some guy. Not even that–linking to this–this thug of a thing.

It was dreadful.

And the worst of it–get this: mostly when I thought back on what I’d done, I’d get a sinking feeling in my gut that was almost as severe as what I felt when I thought about my family. Dread. Total dread. It wasn’t exactly terror, not like I’d felt in the beginning when I was on the run. But it was surely only a matter of time before I "did something wrong" and this brute killed me. Like he killed that poor monux. Rupellids are like that. Oh, yes. You could tell just by looking at him.

Only, I kept catching myself starting to purr. To purr! Yeah. Purr. I’d never felt anything quite like linking to this–this thug. I was disgusted at my lewd behavior.

And ashamed at how beautiful–

I was ashamed at almost all of my feelings. That guy. What a creature. In the next several days I sometimes caught myself looking at him sleeping. Awful. But–I couldn’t take my eyes off of his awfulness. And, I had to admit it, I kept daydreaming about his black. Or his tail. I wanted him in a way I’d never wanted–what was I thinking? Sexy? Wlkon aren’t sexy. Oh, I noticed a good-looking guy at a wlkatar, maybe. I thought it was natural.

And I had to admit to myself that I was aware, once, of feeling something a little unseemly about linking. That once when Drushka and I went to a wlkatar with white bellies. Normally, I suppose, at a wlkatar, guys link mostly when they’re waiting around for an available cunt. It works out. I mean, otherwise all the men at a wlkatar would be cold by the time it broke up. But almost all the SkhtuS that snaps out of guys’ nuts goes straight up a cunt. I’d say that at a wlkatar I’d make or get made maybe once for every four or five fucks. At the most.

It was different the time we were white-balled. We were plugged one after another. It was almost like a trip to the monuxes, except it didn’t hurt. And I felt a little strange, I admit, because I was enjoying it so much. Worst was when I was linked to a couple of brothers from Clan 12–they were taking turns, it was like a contest. Between them their nuts took nearly an hour to snap–I could feel myself really gripping them. They felt absolutely huge in my gut. It was so beautiful. And I guess I was sort of aware why. They were handsome men. No question about it, Drushka was more skillful with his black, and besides I loved Drushka. But I could never forget how I wanted those boys from 12–and they were just boys, too, they’d only been open for three or four years–wanted them never to stop. And feeling just a touch lhuphh about it.

Of course, both of us, like any white-balled male at a wlkatar, both of us were flying. I’ve never felt so hot in my life, like my whole body was made of black. Just being linked felt like an orgasm. From the first pull. And every juicing just about blew the top of my head off. I didn’t fall asleep, I passed out. Fainted. I’m not kidding. Out cold. The last thing I knew I was eeling into some wlkwy’s cunt.

I tried to tell myself that was the whole story about why those guys from 12 were making such an impression on me. But I knew it wasn’t true. I’d had so much SkhtuS squirted up my ass that I imagined I was tasting it, that "SkhtuS coming out of your nose" wasn’t just a figure of speech. But none of the guys drilling me made any kind of impression on me like those two. I never told anyone. I wasn’t likely to, even before Drushka complained to me that being "linked to death" wasn’t his idea of a good time. He said it was definitely preferable to being fucked–his word, it shocked me–fucked by monuxes, but that was the only good thing about it. And at that, I knew I’d taken more black than he had.

And so did he. He teased me about it. He said it didn’t surprise him, I was better-looking than he was.

I was really bothered. By that remark. Especially because I knew something was weird about how much I’d enjoyed being worked over by those beauties from Clan 12. Well, by some other guys, too. But I didn’t let on. Besides, I wasn’t pleased to think that wlkon I didn’t even know would be extra eager to drill me just because of my looks. And I felt guilty at how much I’d enjoyed those particular boys from 12. And I felt guilty about how often I thought about them. It only made things worse after we got home and I was resting on Drushka after my balls snapped and he licked my face and said over and over that the best thing about wlkatar being reminded that mine was the only black he wanted to make him a man.

But–this business with Lop, this was far worse than any of that. It was worse than unseemly. Linking again and again with just any old wlko. I had no excuse.

I shuddered. But I couldn’t tell whether it was from dread or pleasure.

I didn’t know the half of it.

The sky was getting light in the east when I woke up. I was on my back. I was being licked awake. Not by the boys. They sometimes tried to wake me up by licking my cheeks and neck. No. It was my new friend. And it wasn’t my cheeks and neck. He was between my legs. Lapping at my nuts.

The idea! I’d never, ever, ever, had a wlko lick my balls. The wives would do that, of course, if they were really in the mood for catching an eel and no one was showing black. And of course all sorts of funny things happen in wlkatar. I remember feeling someone licking my balls, once. While I was actually fucking. It felt good, for some reason. I didn’t think my cream was more than halfway up my black, but I juiced almost right away. It was a really pretty wlkwy, too. It wasn’t hard to figure out. The moment her cunt was free of my black, the guy who’d been licking my nuts was up to the sheath in her slot, fucking with such grunting and groaning you’d have thought it had been months since he last cooled his black in a twat. I wondered where he’d learned that trick. I could never bring myself to try it, myself. It just seemed, I don’t know–perverted.

Anyway, I got much the same results from just regular old linking to a guy who was using a cunt I coveted. Right about the time I felt his third hand settle down to a steady grip, he’d usually snap. It was beautiful twice over: I’d take his place, hot as coals, with my nuts still bursting with SkhtuS. And if the timing was off, I mean if he was still at his fucking when I lost my juice under his tail, well, that was OK too. That good old third hand–when the guy’s nuts are about to snap, I learned, it has a grip to it you wouldn’t believe. Terrifically beautiful. (A couple of our sons scandalized Drushka and me, shortly after they were married, by how they sometimes linked during a fuck! We didn’t say anything, but I think we were both pretty dismayed. Drushka and I never did anything so crude at home. We might go straight from linking to fucking, sure, but they were always distinct acts. The kids seemed pretty straight in every other way. Probably something they picked up at a wlkatar. You know how kids are.)

Anyway, this wasn’t wlkatar foolishness. I raised my head and looked down at Lop in astonishment. He wasn’t just licking my balls. He was licking my nipples down there, and the insides of my thighs. I didn’t know whether to be more horrified by what Lop was doing, or by how beautiful it made me feel. The air was filled with the mixed scent of our hkshihh. As he licked my sheath, I could hear the gurgling and popping at the opening of it, right through the rumble of the rupellid’s harsh purring.

"Hey, stud", he wheezed, "don’t strangle me."

I was wrapping my tail around his neck. I didn’t realize I was doing it.

A second later, I felt my mane bristle. There was this sensation I’d never felt before, and it made me shoot shoot my black with a pang of beauty that was almost unbearable. I actually had to look. He had the whole thing inside his mouth. My eggs! He was looking up my hkshihh-soaked belly right at me. Sort of peering over my streaming black. Like he was hiding in my crotch. Our eyes met. I could feel his tongue rasping against my out-of-sight balls. He was purring. I was horrified. Six different ways. It was so unseemly. Perverted. Really perverted, this time. Unthinkable. I already couldn’t shake the worry that he’d kill and eat Mickey and Tim, and maybe even me. And it would be just like that ogre to start his cannibalism with my nuts.

It’s funny how off-center your thinking can be: in the next second I was wondering whether he’d eaten the monux’s tongue or cock first.

I choked. It sort of hurt. But at the same time it was wonderful.

"Hey!" I said. "What are you–"

"Mmmfff", he said.

He let my balls fall out of his mouth. He was looking intently up my body at me. He wasn’t licking any more. His eyes looked like they did when he walked up to me the first time. When he was bent on making me a man whether I wanted it or not. Except that now it was more intense. It was alarming. It was exciting. I was so hard and hot. I was afraid if he kept messing with me, down there, I’d juice again.

Then it happened.

"Fuck me, stud."

"What?!"

"You heard me, big-dick–big, black–hard–hide it–in me–you–fuck me–slot me!" It came out all chopped up. He was back to giving my groin and nuts and sheath swipes with his tongue as he talked.

Fuck? Slot? Hide?! Such words! I hadn’t even heard anyone say anything as crude as "hide black" since I was ten years old. Where were the kits? Would they hear? What kind of a freak was this brute? Did he have a cunt somewhere?

"Er, in the ass?" I whispered, kind of unsteadily. I could hardly breathe.

He was lying on my chest, now. Licking around my face.

"Stud-nuts, if you found a cunt when you were licking around down there, last night", he growled, "you’re welcome to it. I had in mind a certain great big shiny black cunt-swab plugging a certain cock-hungry asshole. You owe me two, butch. Not that I’m counting. Listen, though, if you fuck me good enough once, I’ll count us even."

With a weird, low groan he sort of spun us over so I was on top. I could feel his tail around my thigh, could feel him raise his legs. He put his heels next to the root of my tail. Between our bodies I could feel the hard, black shaft that somehow–contrary to rudimentary decency–had twice poured his balls into my ass. And I could feel the results of that indecency, my own black wood, next to his, between our bellies.

"Slot me, kitten", he growled through his purring. "Hide that black in me, take me for a good long ride, and pump SkhtuS."

That was the second time he’d used that gross language about hiding. (And riding! Monux talk! Gross!) I have to admit it didn’t discourage me. He let out a shaky whimper as my black found his tail-hole. It was like a shudder. It was hard to believe this trembling boy was the rupellid thug I knew he was. With about the foulest mouth I’d ever heard. Well, I didn’t exactly find a hole so much as make one, when his body yielded to my black.

As it did so, he groaned and shifted the position of his arms. His hands were on my buttocks, pressing my pelvis tight against his groin.

I could hardly breathe, never mind do what was necessary to give him his cock.

"I can’t move". It came out a wispy little wheeze. I was so hot–it had been so long–it felt so good–

"I know. Just hold it a second, stud, hold it, hold it–I’m still sore. From taking that blockhead horse up my ass. You never saw such a dick."

His body was so tense. I’d never linked to anyone who felt like Lop. Bulky. Hard. It was like lying on a pile of rocks.

I felt his body relax. His muscles, so lumpy, turned yielding and supple. He sighed softly. "OK, sport–fuck" he said. "Fuck. Start fucking."

One of his big, scarred arms was around me, holding me tight. He had a handful of my mane. He was moving around a little under me, muttering about how my shaft up his ass, working his hole, made him feel more and more beautiful. But the way he was moving was more like a wlkwy than any man I’d ever drilled. But he wasn’t feminine at all, himself. He was male, no question. Muscular. Strong. Even though he was a few centimeters shorter than me, and a little stocky, he seemed taller, somehow.

He was purring louder than any female I’d ever slotted. And deeper. It was sort of like both at once, like slotting and linking at the same time.

And it was incredibly beautiful.

And about halfway through, as I could feel him start to grip my black, he started to whimper in time to my pulls. And started to lick my neck and cheeks!

I couldn’t believe it. This super-masculine creature. He’d practically dislocated my neck when I’d licked his face.

I was too excited and horny to do proper sex. That’s all. I juiced much too soon. Well, if it wasn’t a masterpiece of a fuck, it was all Lop’s fault. I mean, link. Well–fuck, OK. Fuck. That’s what he wanted it to be. It wasn’t actually boning a male’s tail-hole in any case, since what he really wanted–and got–was more along the lines of a cock-whipping.

He wasn’t mad at me for my nuts snapping too soon. In fact he seemed happy and contented. Purring and licking.

And me? I was happy. Weirdly happy. I was still thinking it had something to do with being cold (and lonely and frightened) for months, and now, a man again. And I’d found another wlko. But–it didn’t add up. It was hard to believe that that was all there was to it.

It kept coming back to the same thing. This guy was just plain sexy. Sexy the way wlkwim were sexy except it was all wrong. Everything about him. I was so excited when he was just lying on top of me, the day before. I couldn’t have been more excited if I already had black up my ass. Even as excited as if I was fucking. And that was when I was still cold!

And my frazzled state of mind around this rupellid bully–was it just fear? Or what? I’d had a good deal of familiarity with fear by then, and I guess I was afraid of this brute. Sometimes.

But mostly it didn’t feel like fear at all. I was edgy and off-balance, but I wasn’t afraid.