"Eat me", he whispered again, his back arching. His purring turned his husky voice into a desperate rasp.

First I gave his tits a good scraping. He was really hot, himself. At least, I don’t think I’d heard him making those whimpering and moaning noises before.

"Oh, man" he said, purring. "Oh, man. This is going to be one fuck!"

It was indeed. Holding my pelvis tight against his butt, I managed to curl down, like I was going to groom my sheath and balls. And there it was, a shiny black shaft. I’d been feeling it between our bodies, like a stone; and more than that, this was the peg that I’d swear was on the edge of disemboweling me every time we linked. That, or my guts would just fall out of my wide-open tail-hole when he was through. "Big as life", an expression Mr Roper sometimes used. Big was the word. I opened my mouth and closed it over as much of him as I could. I got a snout full of hkshihh in the process. In my mouth than a blob of his SkhtuS joined the hkshihh flowing into it. It was smooth and rich-tasting. And so slick.

Without even thinking about it I started to lick. It was just the natural thing to do, I think. Guys have their muzzles full of cock-juices all the time, when grooming themselves after linking or slotting, and I guess it just triggered something. Lop roughly grabbed my mane with one hand and my neck with the other and hissed "Tongue!" with such violence–why my mane didn’t simply come out in his hands I don’t know–that I was almost startled into slipping my black.

I held on, though, marveling all over again at the feel of it. I’d never had anything in my mouth that felt like hard black. "Hard" all right, but there was something so tender and delicate about it. Yes, delicate. Funny; my jaws were about to come off their hinges. But it was delicate, sensitive. Smoother than anything I’d ever had in my mouth.

After I held him quietly like that, I tried to use my lips like an asshole.

Lop was purring. I was purring. It was awkward, but I’ll admit it: it was beautiful.

I felt this incredible pressure between my legs just before my nuts snapped.

And something filled my mouth, something wonderful. I’d licked something like it off my fur, after linking. Especially when Drushka and I were younger. It was bitter and sweet at the same time. It sort of burned a little as I swallowed it. It had to be SkhtuS, but it was really different somehow. Sticky, maybe. Nothing like the creamy slickness that had triggered my ill-advised licking.

I honestly don’t know why I noticed any of that. The–well, what I was doing, was so, well, exciting. But more than that, what was happening to my nuts was so intense, I thought I’d pass out. I thought the force of it would blow my prick right out of Lop’s linkhole. I think the only reason I didn’t fall out of his ass when I juiced was that his hand was holding my black so tight.

Lop was grunting in time to the surges of SkhtuS into my mouth, and his body was jerking, and then he let out this wild screech and his body jerked so hard he would surely have thrown me off him if his tail hadn’t been around my thigh (not to mention a certain part of my body jammed up to the nuts in his his tail-hole).

A small motion caught my eye. I looked up, and there were Tim and Mickey, wide awake, staring at us.

It was bewildering. My mood changed. Like that. Like breaking a stick. I was so embarrassed. I was furious. Not being rupellid myself, I’d slipped my black almost as soon as my prick shot its SkhtuS, naturally, and I let go of his still-rigid cock and practically threw myself on top of him. I had his mane in my fists. A minute before I’d been full of bleary regrets that my dearest love Drushka and I had never done this ourselves. Now I was whispering into Lop’s ear that he was a pervert. Disgusting pervert. I was serious: it made me angry. I blamed Lop for seducing me into doing dirty things. Right in front of the kits, at that. When his nuts had snapped, they’d watched me swallowing the SkhtuS as it came out of his cock! He was a brute. A monster. He’d made me into a disgusting outcast, almost as depraved as his own vile "cunt".

Lop pulled my head back with his hands on my cheeks, gently, but with those muscles of his there was no resisting. He looked at me with an incredible expression. Intense and sleepy at the same time. The bliss was stealing through his body. He took a huge deep breath, and smoothed my whiskers. He hugged me tight against his chest again, and when he finally started talking he was speaking in a soft, deep voice. Right in my ear. I was crying.

He said that I was doing so-called "dirty things" because they made me feel good. He actually said that he was sure I found it somehow extra beautiful to screw around with an unrelated male. He knew he did. But he said the real reason he wanted our SkhtuS to mingle was he thought I was the sexiest stud he’d ever known. More than that, he wanted me for his own. He actually said–for the first time of hundreds–that the only thing that stood between him and perfect happiness was that his cunt couldn’t "fish twins out of my black", as the Wlko expression goes. And some other stuff that’s kind of embarrassing to tell.

And as for my qualms about the kits, he wanted to know how they could have any opinion at all about what the two of us did with a hard piece of black.

As upset as I was, and bewildered, I had to admit he had a point. About the kits. I was putting my own views on them. But my own views were pretty strong. I felt out control. I didn’t like the feeling that Lop, or rather Lop’s prick, had taken me over completely. At the same time, I felt good every minute I was with him. And for whatever reason, doing stuff like I’d just done–I couldn’t even say the words–made me feel real close to him. I admitted it felt beautiful, so very beautiful, when we were doing things that only co-mates should do.

Not to mention doing things that no decent wlko would ever do, even at a wlkatar.

I lay there, oddly comforted by the clasp of his hard arms, crying miserably.

"Come on, Perry", he kept saying. "You’re all right. You’re wonderful. You’re wonderful. You’ve lost your family. You say we’re doing stuff only married men should do. So think of us as co-mates, if you want to", he stated, reasonably. "It’s nothing but facing facts, really. It’s easier than trying to kid youself into thinking we’re a permanent two-man wlkatar. And while you’re thinking it over, stud, maybe you could stop tearing at my shoulders with those claws of yours."

"Oh, Lop–I’m sorry! What have I–" Now I had something else to cry about. I was horrified. "I was just–what are you doing?"

"Cleaning you up."

Cousin Paul style. Reflexively I glanced at Mickey and Tim. They were cuddled together, watching us, but so drowsy their eyes were almost closed. Lop was right. What possible difference could it make to the youngsters that a wlko’s head was down between the thighs of an adult male, cleaning him up after linking? What did they know? Not even that Lop was a rupellid, for one thing.

Of course I returned the favor. Cleaning up Lop. Lop didn’t even have to ask me (or tell me) to, now. Given his aches and pains, grooming himself down there had to be torture. I’d heard him sighing and grunting as he did so. But like I say, he never actually complained.

While I was licking the fluids from his fur, Lop kind of grumped, "Well, cat? What do you say? Why can’t we be co-mates? What do I have to do? Tell me. I’ll do it."

Conversation ceased for a moment: I’d gotten to his tail-hole, and with a rasping groan his body went rigid and he arched his back as I mopped the precious socket free of our mingled juices.

I was feeling a little better. Licking my whiskers, I stretched my body out next to his. Half on him. The kits were completely asleep now. Like an idiot, I caught myself thinking how glad I was that they hadn’t seen that reaction of Lop’s. Men don’t lick each other’s assholes.

"Well, I guess we could be", I mumbled, forgetting that that it had been some minutes since Lop had spoken. "But, what does that actually mean without wives? Maybe some wlkwy or other would take us as husbands?"

"Yeah", he said. "Oh, sure." He turned his head toward me. His look of bliss-muddled exasperation made my heart melt. His voice was pleading and a little bit sarcastic at the same time. "Sweet-face, this is vulcid territory. Your bunch. And what vulcid dame wouldn’t jump at the chance to take a rupellid for a co-mate? Tell me another one! But look, stud, if that’s what you want, I’d be willing to try. I’d do it for you. I’d do it even though I’m not the least little bit interested in cunt. I know that for a fact. I’ve had eighteen children. I loved every one of them. Four of them were murdered in front of me. I loved our wives. But I’ve done my part. I want you, you adorable, beautiful animal.

"OK, let me just say it plain and simple: nothing else matters. If nothing but wives will make you happy, stud, I’ll go along.

"One thing–"

"What’s that?"

"No more crying, Perry. I can’t stand it when you cry. It tears at my heart."

I felt bad. Annoyed and guilty. Shamed and defiant. Wishing I wasn’t mixed up with this diseased man but dreading the thought that we might split up. Or even that I’d make him mad or something. And it only added to my confusion when this disgusting thug begged me not to cry.

We didn’t say much. He was lying with his head turned, his long neck a beautiful curve, staring at me with a bliss-foolish expression. "Do you like me, Perry? I mean, I guess I don’t expect you to like me the way I like you. But, do you like me at all?"

I was off-balance. Lop was full of surprises. This incredibly masculine creature. More male I think than any wlko I’d ever met. Strong, even brutish. But that was just looks. I knew he was the picture of tenderness with the kits, little guys he wasn’t even the tiniest bit kin to. And at the moment, he sounded so tentative and sad.

I felt myself getting a little angry. At myself, I guess, more than at Lop. "Look", I said, "Yes, I do like you. A lot. I like you–" I was going to say, "for the same reason you like me", but in the nick of time decided that would be a bad idea. "Uh, I like you so much that it’s part of the problem. I wasn’t brought up to fall in love with some strange man. Oversexed, perverted thug–" I was starting to weep again. Frustration. Embarrassment.

Words can’t describe the confused expression that slowly spread over his blissed-out features.

"Fall in love?"

"Yeah", I said, glumly, with a nervous glance at the snoozing kits. My voice was all wobbly. "Love." It came out in a spastic whisper.

He’d as much as begged me not to cry, but I couldn’t help it.

"But, kitten", he said, on all fours now, his scarred face centimeters from mine, and looking at me so earnestly through the bliss I came this close to laughing. With tears dribbling down my face. "I’m not a man. I’m your slot. I’m your fuck."

This from a man whose raw maleness was the cause of the whole problem!

"Hold me", I said, and lay back to take the weight of his damaged body on mine.

I craned my neck to look up at the kits, where they were sitting. They were looking at us. A little sleepily. I whistled to them. They hesitated, then scuttled over and nestled against my sides. Except that each one of them threw his arms around one of Lop’s barred upper arms and hugged it and started to purr.

"Daddies OK now?" Tim asked, looking anxiously back and forth between me and Lop. Lop craned down and gave the boy a couple of licks across the muzzle.

"Yeah, shorty", he said, "Daddies OK", and gave a few more licks, and then turned his attentions to Mickey.

The kits purred. Lop was purring a little too, a dull rumble under the kits’ warbling. When he looked at me his whiskers were twitching. Then he licked my muzzle a half-dozen times. The moment I realized I was purring I stopped it.

I resented it. That thug could make me do anything by licking my face. Get me out of any mood. The feel of his tongue on my muzzle and cheeks always did the trick. And if that didn’t work, a swipe or two on my neck was all it took. I’d be purring like a freshly-opened boy at his first wlkatar, even before something he did with my tits made my mane stand up like httisk grass.

I didn’t know then, and don’t know now, what the kits were thinking. At the time, I was afraid they were shocked by my crude, perverted behavior. But Lop had to be right: what did they know about perversion? The better bet is that they were frightened because we were fighting. Or they thought we were. ("Daddies"? It hadn’t even registered when Tim had said it. Only when Lop mentioned it later. It really tickled him.)

"I know I came on a little strong", Lop purred into my ear. "I’m not really that crude."

"It’s not that I wasn’t horny."

"I’m not talking about that", he said, butting me under the chin with his muzzle. "I’m talking about when we met. When you first came on me and my monux. I thought I’d never seen anyone so beautiful in my life. It was so sudden. It was–violent. It was like a kick in the belly. And I know a thing or two about that. That’s why–" he paused to lick my cheeks a few times. "That’s why I was so rude. I didn’t know how to behave."

Another pause for licking. "You did say ‘love’?" he asked, his voice thick with purrs.

"Yes."

"Oh, my", he said. "Oh, my, oh, my." Then: "Why did you, um, bite my dick?"

"Do what?"

"Just now. As my nuts snapped. You just about nipped off my black. That was a shock."

I hugged him. I started to purr again, and just let it go this time. "I didn’t realize I did", I said, sheepishly. I thought of the spicy tingling in my mouth. "Look, you hose-happy thug, I wasn’t myself. My own nuts snapped so hard I thought my black was coming to pieces. I didn’t know what I was doing. But, look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Oh, my, I wouldn’t hurt you for anything. Especially not that!"

"Yeah, stud. Never mind me. You’d be high and dry without that", he gurgled into my ear. "Well, anyway, how did you like it?"

"Like what?"

"Eating me. My black. My SkhtuS."

"Uh–well, a little weird. Spicy."

"Yeah. You’ve got to wonder why it isn’t more popular". He butted me under the chin again. Harder this time. It hurt, but it was affectionate.

I don’t know when I first noticed I got a peaceful feeling after eating Lop. It was sort of like the bliss after being linked, but not very pronounced. Hardly more than the comfortable pleasure–once I got over my qualms!–of feeling him in my mouth. I’m guessing I was too upset, that first morning, to notice anything.

In the morning, after eating some wild ekshkol bulbs raw for breakfast, we parked the kits in a tree for safety and crept back to the edge of the grove nearest the bandul herd.

A couple of the mares were lying down. I thought they might be giving birth. In a way, they were. As we watched, from hiding, one expelled a large, bloody heap from what must have been her cunt. She seemed to be more or less OK after that. At least, she scrambled to her feet–quite the production for an animal so big–and started grazing. Didn’t even glance at the pile on the ground. Another mare did the same. But a third one was different. She had been lying down when we first caught sight of the herd. A pile of something bloody and unrecognizable was at her tail end. She was breathing very deeply and fast. As we watched, she started coughing and making funny noises and thrashing around. Then she was still. The other bandul all ignored her.

Meantime, we watched the new stallion fuck a couple of the mares. They were so similar-looking I had no idea who was who, but Lop assured me one of them was the cause of all the trouble–the one whose charms had seduced the young stallion into an act of insubordination. He was in them within a few minutes of one another. But I guessed from the shivering and whinnying that he’d come both times.

"What’s with all this stuff?" I whispered. "And why are we hanging around?" Just being in sight of those gigantic creatures made me nervous.

"Well", said Lop. "This one here’s obviously dead. Fucked to death. Think about that, stud." He snickered softly. (So like a rupellid.) "One of the risks of being a pregnant bandul when there’s a change of prick. But she threw her baby first. And so did the others. What a pity."

"What do you mean? And wh–"

"Oh, precious puss, I mean lots of things. We’re looking at some of the best eating on the planet, out there. First, we’ve got two dead bandul. Two. This dame and her ex-husband. Bandul liver is unbelievable. But just one would keep a biggish wlko family group in gravy for a couple of days. Not to mention other things. The meat, well, meat is meat, but it’s a little tough. Especially from a stallion. And rank. Their brains are delicious, if you want to go to the trouble. Not much more than a mouthful apiece. But–and if you’ve never had them–boiled bandul balls–mmm-mm! Nothing like it." He practically shivered with pleasure, licking his whiskers.

"The very best part of all, though–if they’re young enough–the bloody mess the mares have thrown–that’s the most heavenly stuff in the world, stud. Rich. Creamy. Delicious. It’s like eating SkhtuS by the mouthful, only better. If you get them young enough, unborn colts are so tender and soft you can eat them raw. Bones and all. Don’t even have to skin them. But that stuff spoils real fast. We’d only make ourselves sick if we even tried to eat what’s out there."

"Lop–where do you go being so smart about bandul stuff?"

He looked at me quizzically.

"Hmm! I was about to ask you why you were asking me all this stuff. Don’t you folks have bandul round and about?"

"No. I’ve heard of them. But these are the first I’ve ever seen. I had no idea–"

"Ah. Oh. Well, in our regions, they’re always around. They’re not a problem, exactly, being so skittish. But they’re so dumb. And a beast that size with no intelligence at all is a menace. But hey, you’re about to find out something wonderful. –OK, stud, time to clear the coast."

So saying, and cuffing me on the shoulder, he lurched to his feet. Just stood up and moved out of the bushes. Here were twenty or so of the biggest animals I’d ever seen in my life. They could have killed us by just stepping on us. Once would be enough. But the moment they saw Lop limping toward them–limping–there was total panic. They all snorted and whinnied and thundered away as fast as their legs would carry them. The ground shook under their huge hooves. There was another patter of ihhssskenu nuts around us, knocked out of the trees by their hoofbeats.

"How do we get this stuff back to the camp?"