It’s hard not to blush and turn your head whenever you pass other hikers. There’s nothing technically wrong with what Gideon’s talked you into, but you still can’t ignore their eyes on you, both facing you as you follow the fox down the path, and then again in their inevitable double-take as they pass by. The park’s not exactly rammed-full, but you’ve passed at least four separate groups on your way in, and your distinct lack of clothes is making you feel self-conscious.
“Come on, cutie, keep up! We’re almost to the overlook” Ahead of you, the fox tail bobs and weaves as he bounces up the incline. The few trees remaining at your altitude are miniature, and far between, and you left the thick loam and dirt back half a mile ago. Instead, you can hear Gideon’s claws scrabbling for purchase on the rock face as he crests the next rise.
He bends to get hands on an outcropping to steady himself, and you get a tantalizing reminder of why you’ve followed him this far up the trail. His black tail goes up, its white tip drawing your eyes, just before you get a glimpse of his pendulous nuts dangling between athletic thighs. It’d be easier to have ignored the previous hikers if the damned fox’s toned body in front of you wasn’t keeping you at least half-hard at all times while following him.
The outcropping provides a rather convenient rest stop, where Gideon plants his tail on a smooth rock and pulls his feet up. “Okay, we can take a quick break. Man, what a view. Mind if I rest my paws for a few minutes before we continue?”
The suggestion holds a hidden offer, and with a hindward glance to make sure you aren’t being overlooked, you follow him to the impromptu rest stop. Shucking your slim backpack, you take your place sitting just by his legs on the clean stone. He’s not wrong, the view is wonderful. You’re at least half a mile up, and stretching out below you the river valley is lit with mid-day sun and glittering from the distant waves of the beaver pond. The green carpet of pine trees is impenetrable, except for the skinny snaking trail of the interstate winding its way through and past.
But that’s not the view you’re currently enraptured with. Gideon crosses his left leg over his right, putting his paw just next to your head. You reach out and take his leg, and without comment, he flexes his toes and pushes his paw closer.
By the time you dig your fingers into his paw pads, he’s got you hard again. That makes it even more embarrassing when the couple of hikers come into view around the edge of the outcropping of rock. The larger one, a fit lion with a lush mane and wide eyes, takes in the scene. You can see the slim smirk on their face. You get a subtle wink and nod, before they pull their partner—a distracted donkey that appears to be out of breath—past your rest stop and continue up the incline past you and out of sight again.
Gideon’s fingers stroke your ears, pulling your face towards his dusty paw pads. “If you want to indulge, my dear, you’d better do so before the next group happens by.”
And indulge you do. You push your face into his paw, and feel the pads flex and stroke you back. They’re rough and leathery, and beneath the dust of the trail you can smell Gideon’s natural scent strongly. Stronger still as you extend your tongue and push it between two of his paw-toes. Up above you hear a soft sigh of satisfaction. You open your eyes and see him slowly stroking himself as you squeeze his foot. The pads stroke along your cheek, then you can feel the hard nubs of his claws—blunted by his constant hiking—drag over your nose. With both of your hands, you lift the paw up so you can bury yourself in its rough, tender caresses.
Ever considerate, you feel Gideon return the favor. His other foot strokes down your belly, then lift to make room for your erection while you lick his other paw clean. Paw pads press your rigid length to your belly while the ones over your face flex forward and surround you with leathery touches. You shudder, holding onto his paw for stability as his indulgence of your interests brings you to your peak and over, making a sticky mess over your belly and his paw.
Then when you’re feeling recovered, he swaps paws. The request is clear, and you’re all too eager and willing to help him clean your own cum from his pads. He sighs again as your tongue laps over his toes, concealing all evidence of your excitement away—at least from Gideon.
“We should continue on. We’ll never reach the top if we don’t keep moving!” He tugs at your hand as he stands and leads you out around the outcropping and back onto the path—ignoring that he’s left a wide and visible wet spot against your belly. You can’t help but think at this point you could care less about the destination, as long as you can keep enjoying the journey.
“Keep up! The next rest stop isn’t far off!”
Story by Kandrel
We dust all of our toys with cornstarch to help preserve their surface texture in transit – and they come in heat-sealed bags so they stay in the best condition possible!
