The last time I’d had black that age in my tail-hole, I was that age myself. And I don’t claim that the privilege of being fucked (as Lop would have it) by such a good-looking boy made no difference. I noticed, and relished, his light-voiced whimpering and begging as he hammered away. There was nothing about that that was delicate! I didn’t know which was more exciting, his youthful passion or his good looks.

And then his reaction to the clasp of my hand was very charming.

But he wasn’t any Lop.

No question he was hot. His nuts snapped a mere minute or two after my hand took his black, and his little cries turned into a string of rasping gurgles. Why he didn’t tear my throat out with his teeth is a mystery.

I didn’t begrudge him the short link, and there was some compensation in the sheer length of time it took him to snap–I mean, from the time he started to empty his nuts until he finally stopped drilling. In normal vulcid style his black slipped almost the moment he finished with his juice. I could feel it slithering out of my hole as it sheathed itself. It would be back in five minutes, but for the moment it was packed away. The pretty youth was panting, and lay still on my chest. He was zonked. A boy his age who wasn’t in an overblissed trance would have been out of me by now–looking for cunt, or else falling asleep. Well, maybe that was the story, since his breathing had become slow and deep.

I was half-asleep myself when he startled me awake by saying something polite about not giving me as much beauty as I’d given him.

"Oh, no", I said, "I’m sure you’re wrong." (Typical wlkatar stuff.) "Your balls just aren’t used to this. You never did answer my question, boy. How long were you cold?"

"Um, nearly two years", he said. His speech was a little slurred, and he had a light, quiet voice, and once he started purring again it wasn’t all that easy to understand him.

"Two years?!"

"Yeah. The folks, I mean, our uncles and that, talked over taking us to the monuxes. They didn’t want to. They said the ponies would probably hurt us."

"Well, they’re right about that. Good for them." I’d rolled us over so I was on top, again, and then sat upright on my haunches, my butt on his thighs. Partly just for the sheer pleasure of looking at a stunning young man from crotch to mane. "Look, boy, those sons-of-bitches have cocks this long and this big around. And the stupid ones–which is most of them–try to get it all into your butt. Pain? It’s like being disemboweled." I lay back down on him. Slowly. A conflict. I loved looking at him, but wanted to feel his fur against mine. "At least, I think being disemboweled would feel like that. I do know that afterwards you feel like you’ve spent an hour being kicked in the gut. And if my friend Lop’s black took your tail-hole by surprise, just imagine what a monux would feel like, a full year or more after your last link."

"Yeah", he said. "It did." He smiled weakly. "Take me by surprise, I mean. It was so beautiful. If I hadn’t been cold, I bet my nuts would have snapped before he was, um, all the way in with that thing."

"But listen, young man, I’m confused. Couldn’t your dads just reopen you boys?"

His hands suddenly gripped my mane. "Oh, no!" he said. His purring stopped. "That would be horrible! Our brothers couldn’t do that! I’d be so ashamed–!"

Oh my. I’d forgotten the family history. The older males were actually his own older brothers. Not a possibility.

"What are you doing?"

"Finishing the job. I was only half-done when your SkhtuS came to a boil." I was working on his soggy balls. His purring restarted, stronger than ever. I guess he didn’t know enough to be ashamed of having a male’s tongue on his scrotum.

"There", I said, sitting up, my rump on his thighs. He was in pretty fair shape, now. It wasn’t all pleasure, scraping him off, but it was a sort of sneaking victory.

He was looking up at me. "Are these tits?" he asked, reaching up and fingering the nipples on my belly.

"Yes. And those down below, too."

"Wild." He was playing with them. "You can feel that? You’re purring."

"Yes, dear boy, I can feel it. They all work."

"No wonder you rupellids are so hot."

I chuckled. "I’m not a rupellid. Lop is. And he just has two tits. Like you. Hah. Now you’re the purring one."

"Uh-huh, yeah, that feels good. You have a beautiful touch. Or something."

"Look, kitten, you’d probably come if I spent five minutes licking the soles of your feet, in the condition you’re in. Anyway, you’re pretty well cleaned up, now. It’s a start. And, well–I can hardly scent the sishemu any more. And I’d bet that most of the wlkon here are too exhausted to show black anyway."

As I spoke the words, his twin, Aaron, came wandering over and dropped to his knees next to us, and eased back on his haunches. He said "Hi" to me, perfunctorily, and looked at his twin for a long moment, like he was trying to remember where they’d met, before going on all fours and licking his muzzle. My "conquest" licked back.

Two of the prettiest young men imaginable. Far and away the handsomest males at the wlkatar.

"This guy just link to you?"

"Yes", said Abner.

"Did you know it was going to be like this?" I could see hkshihh starting to ooze out of the opening of Aaron’s cock-sheath.

"No", said my conquest. "I didn’t. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Just now, when I snapped into this guy, I thought I was dying. I really did. This guy’s–this guy’s lover–he linked you, didn’t he? That rupellid guy?"

"Yes", said the other. "That was when I thought I was going to die! It was something else, oh yes. It was very beautiful, but I’m just glad he didn’t start me."

Lover! "Rupellid lover!" at that! Where would these kids get a word like–oh, yeah. Their parents.

Well, I guess the cat was truly out of the bag.

"Oh, it wasn’t so bad."

"He started you? That must have been real painful. I couldn’t believe his–"

"No, it wasn’t painful. I don’t think. I don’t think I remember. It was beautiful. Just totally beautiful. Strong, yeah. And so–so–"

"So ‘what?’ "

"Um, well, tender."

"Yeah", agreed Aaron. "He was. Good thing, too. He could really hurt a guy with that post of his."

But he wasn’t really thinking about that. Taking the hint, I’d gotten off Abner’s chest and his brother immediately took my place. Making slow pelvic squirms between his brother’s thighs.

There was too much male loveliness. I’d never had any such thoughts, before, at a wlkatar or anywhere else, but it hit me that I could barely stand the idea of those two linking. I certainly couldn’t stand to watch it.

Aaron whispered something in his twin’s ear, and Abner raised his legs.

"Oh, ye-e-e-e-es", I heard two young, light voices gasp in unison, as I walked away. The sound of a black bone sinking out of sight. I didn’t look back.

Tim and Mickey had made a bunch of friends in the nursery, including several sets of girls of the right age. There’d be another wlkatar, probably, before the boys ripened. They could renew friendships then. Make further progress on choosing wives.

"Well, stud", said Lop, "did your black like scouring out a little cunt again?"

I started a teasing answer before I saw his expression. He sounded like raunchy old Lop. But he looked worried and uneasy.

I had to pause. "Well, since you ask, mainly it reminded me how much more beautiful my black finds one particular tail-hole." (My big tough green-eyes.)

"Hey, what about the handsome cubs?" he asked. "Did you get into both of them? One at a time, or what?" A crooked, wickedly sexy grin. His old self. I saw you pegging the one."

"Yeah, I got both of them. A treat, too. And for dessert one of them–the one you made a man?–Abner?–Abner fucked me. That’s what he said, too. ‘Fuck.’ He was too zonked to know who I was or what he was doing. My goodness, they’re handsome. But you know, Lop, he was the one who got the treat. The one you started, I mean. Something tells me his tail-hole won’t forget rupellid black any time soon."

Lop looked at me with an amused expression. "Look, stud, if you fucked those guys anything like you fuck me, it’ll be a long time before they forget yours."

I debated whether to tell Lop what I was thinking.

Finally I said, "You know, what, big guy? You know what the best thing in the whole wlkatar was? I mean, the most exciting? It wasn’t linking to those pretty-boys. It wasn’t even watching them link, or rather, getting ready to link–I couldn’t stand to watch–"

"I know what you mean–"

"–And it certainly wasn’t the slots. Definitely not the slots. No, sweet-face. The most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me at a wlkatar was getting to watch you. Link to that boy. That was so beautiful. It was you, too. I mean, that boy’s handsomeness, sure, it must have added something. And his softness. But the thrill came from watching you. Watching you totally possess him. You were so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as the way you moved. I’d like to think you look like that when we fuck."

He stopped walking and looked at me. "You should talk", he said. "What a show. Your whole body. When you’re slotting, no less. Incredibly sexy. I’d keep thinking, ‘If he looks like that when he’s slotting me ’. And even if my nuts had snapped a minute before, my wood shot out of the sheath, already tingling with SkhtuS. I’m not kidding."

"They call us ‘lovers’", I said. (That really isn’t a very exact translation. The Wlko word refers to a male that a married woman meets at a wlkatar and afterwards continues to have sex with on the sly. It hardly ever happens except in stories, I think.)

"Hard to hide it, I guess", he said. "Any offers of marriage?"

"Not exactly", I said. "And you?"

"Yeah", he said, with a laugh. "One. Sort of. Good looking dame, too. Said she’d get a divorce if we’d have her. Imagine that! Outlandish. And she said she was pretty sure her sister would come too. She was holding my balls and pinching my tits. I wasn’t exactly gushing hkshihh, and I was trying to get a word in edgewise about how I’d promised not to slot any females, when her twin walked up and whispered something in her ear. She looked shocked and let go of me. I’m guessing that the babe who was coming on to me thinks rupellids are sexy or something. But I guess being married to a couple of zizi-nk hS nsles-SkhtuS wasn’t what she had in mind. Rupellid or no rupellid."

Life is so unfair. The unbelievably handsome young white-bellies at the wlkatar, Abner and Aaron, grew up to become even better-looking than they were as cubs. They remained quiet and sweet-natured. And even though they had every eligible female in the region yearning to marry them, their heads weren’t turned. Not because they weren’t normal. To the contrary. The shyness and whatnot didn’t get in the way of what turned out to be quite the appetite for slot. Even if they’d been plain, they’d have been the talk of the wlkatar because of their tireless fucking. Given how pretty they were, it’s just as well that they spread the goodies around. And I mean goodies: they were as famous for their passion as for their looks. Hard to believe those bashful young beauties would grow into beacons of virility. ("How can you tell when Abner and Aaron are asleep?" ran one wlkatar joke. "When they’re showing black. If they’re awake, they’re always sheathed. In a cunt.")

I couldn’t help wondering if the boys were so oversexed because of being linked half to death at that first wlkatar. It’s definitely unusual for ripened whitefurs their age to show up at those things. I couldn’t quite imagine how it would work, but I do remember that being linked dozens of times in three days made a powerful impression on me, and I was thoroughly grown up by then, and had a half-dozen wlkatar under my belt, and had only been cold a couple of months.

One has to laugh. By the second wlkatar after that, I think it was, the fable had become gospel that Abner and Aaron were so hungry for cunt because–shhhhh–they’d been opened by rupellids. Reputedly they could go for a week without needing to be made men, and could keep up with any wlkwy, orgasm for orgasm.

Pure silliness. They’d been opened by their fathers, and their seed needed driving as often as mine did. Or, well, whether they needed it or not, they certainly did it. At one of the wlkatar, while letting my black rest up the ass of Abner, I think it was, just relishing the pleasure of it, I asked him how often he linked with Aaron. Every day, he said. (Conversation was a lot more connected than it had been at that first wlkatar, when the boys were drunk with bliss.) They had a routine, he explained. He shafted Aaron first thing in the morning, and Aaron linked him before they went to sleep. "Daytimes are for cunt", he said, but then with a little grin he added, "Unless Aaron gets too close and cuddly." (He giggled.) "There’s always enough custard to go around. Listen, speaking of custard, big boy, are you just going to soak, or are you going to churn up some bliss?"

I suppose their reputations were secure, but I was astonished when word came to my ears that the boys had been telling other males in their mothers’ clan to seek out Lop and me at wlkatar. In effect, they were saying that any boy who wanted to know how to drive seed owed it to himself to be pegged by "that rupellid" and his "zizi co-mate".

Once I got over my shock and embarrassment I guess I was pleased enough. There aren’t many opportunities for fame in the Meggada.

Between times, we lived an odd, men-only life, but a comfortable and very contented one. I could cook; Lop was practical; loved the kits and they loved him. I sometimes saw Lop looking lonely, I thought. But he never said anything about it. He never mentioned his family again, after he told me, years before, about his escape from hunters. But there were times when I was sure he was thinking about them. And hurting from the thoughts.

One day, Lop was horsing around in the water with the boys and I thought there was more than the usual commotion and splashing around, Lop doing a lot of yelling. The three of them came out of the water and slopped over to where I was lying. Lop had his arms around their necks and was sort of holding them firmly, scolding them. The boys were protesting and fussing, but laughing, too.

"These little thugs", Lop said, as he came up to me, "these little thugs just about drowned me."

"Hey, short-whiskers, that’s no way to treat Uncle Lop."

Lop let them go and they sort of whapped at him playfully with their little fists.

Only–they weren’t so little.

Lop muttered something and grabbed the boys again, this time with his arms around their shoulders. Against those arms of his, Tim and Mickey looked boyish. But the tops of their heads came up to Lop’s shoulders.

"Murdering little thugs", Lop said, sort of squeezing them roughly.

"I think I see what the problem is", I offered mildly. "You used to toss the boys around like baskets. You can’t do that any more–look how big they are."

Lop smiled his crooked smile. "I know. And strong, too. Just now, when you called them ‘short-whiskers’ I almost laughed." He let Mickey go and got him by the mane, which he jerked playfully. Mickey said "Ow!" Lop held on to his mane long enough to lick him a couple of times on the side of his face, then did the same to Tim before letting him go. Tim jumped at Mickey, who dodged, and jumped Tim. After a brief tumble, Mickey got away and scampered back to the water, Time right behind him, giggling and shouting.

"They’re still just kits", I said.

Lop looked at me for a long time. "True. But they’re growing."

"Every day", I said. And wished I hadn’t–that sad look came into his eyes. The kits meant every bit as much to Lop as they did to me, the only family either one of us had. I hadn’t meant to stop the conversation, since it was something we’d have to face, and sooner rather than later. The kits were becoming boys, would be boys before we knew it, probably; and boys have needs that only fathers can satisfy.

Perhaps six months later, I happened to notice Lop hugging Tim, and something brought me up short.

Inevitably, I suppose, my thoughts returned to that little matter when we were driving seed.

"Lop, darling green-eyes", I said, as bliss spread through my body from my tail-hole, still full just to the point of pain with a certain outsized piece of black. He had been licking and nuzzling and purring endearments. How I was so masculine and made him feel whole, and so on. "Speaking of masculine. Just this morning, when you were giving Tim a hug. Did you notice how tall he is? I mean, when was it that he only came up to your shoulders? And–besides–it’s all in his neck."

"I know, big balls", said Lop, with a sigh. "I know. And whiskers out to here."

That wasn’t all. Their bodies were looking altogether more grown up, somehow. Darker fur. More obvious muscles. If one of us roughhoused with both kits together, they always won, these days. It was fun, and great exercise. But it meant something, too.

"What are we going to do?"

"Why can’t they just stay kits", I fretted. "I love them so, and it’s so wonderful having youngsters around, and we’ll never have any of our own. Maybe we can adopt some."

Lop chuckled, a strange sound because it came out at the same time as the odd little sigh he always made when his black was slipping out of my ass and back into its sheath. "You’re changing the subject", he said, taking my head in both hands and licking my face. "And not being practical. No, they can’t ‘just stay kits’. And as for adoption, sure, who wouldn’t kill for the chance to turn over their youngsters to be raised by two guys living alone. Look", he said, crisply, but with another couple of swipes of his tongue, "look, we’ve got to make them men, when the time comes. That’s all. You want family, they’ll give us family. They’re too good-looking to stay bachelors for long. At the outside, come the first wlkatar after they’re open, I bet you ten fucks that we find ourselves in the middle of marriage negotiations."

"Such a deal", I teased back. "You couldn’t squeeze ten additional fucks into the schedule if you tried. Ow! Hey! You horny son of a monux! Hey, what are you doing? You just–"