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These have been the best two months of my life.

Granted, that’s what I said after my isopods hyperfixation too, when I had multiple tanks filled with dead leaves and hundreds of rollie pollies. I still maintain that was an excellent two months and I still love my rollie pollies. But I’ve had so much fucking sex with Houston over the last two months, and I certainly wasn’t having any sex in my rollie pollie phase.
Every day after he’s done with classes, he makes the drive over to my place and we fuck like rabbits. We’ll do it from 7 PM until 2 in the morning, then we’ll fall asleep, and when we wake up we fuck until 12. We’ve gone up and down the list 15 times. Topping, bottoming, topping from the bottom, bottoming from the top. He’s tied me up with a rope and slapped my ass with a paddle. We’ve sat in the bathtub and pissed on each other. We went and flip-fucked in an empty parking garage. There isn’t anything in the top two hundred categories on Pawhub we haven’t done.

That isn’t to say we liked all of it. All of it was consensual and we discussed all of it before and after, but I can say that somewhere in between pretending he was my dad and cumming in each other’s coffee cups we sort of lost the plot. But even the weird stuff was fun, one, because it was Houston, and two, because it meant I got to check another thing off of the list.

But two months in, I can feel my interest start to wane.

I’m not fully out of it yet, but I know what this feels like. That gnawing, all-consuming obsession dripping away like holding sand in my paws. And more than ever, the idea of that is terrifying.

Houston is laying on my bed, tapping away at his laptop. Whereas before we would be hanging out all night online, now he’s really in front of me. I watch him from my desk. His sweatshirt is riding up a little and I can see his tummy. I still feel a pang of something, but it’s something different than before that I can’t identify.

“Houston?” I ask.

“Yeah?”

“When this is all over… like. When I’m not into sex anymore… what do you think’s going to happen?”

He chuckles. “You’re gonna get bored of sex?”

“I mean. Knowing me, probably.”

“Oh.” He furrows his brow. “But… sex still feels good even if you’re not hyperfixated on it, right?”

“Yeah. But we’re probably not going to be fucking for half a day straight anymore.”

“Well.” He puts his paw on his chest. “I like this thing we have going on. And if, like. You’re not into it anymore, I can’t do anything but respect that. Even if I really, really like it.”

“Yeah. And then it would just… end?”

He swallows. “I don’t want it to.”

“Me neither, but…” I shake my head. “Sorry. Finish what you were doing.”

He returns to finishing his assignment. I just keep looking at him, trying to dissect this feeling in my chest.

I like having sex. I like having sex with him. I like him. I like him even if we’re not having sex. And putting it like that makes it seem like the most obvious thing in the world.

Half an hour later, I get up and sit next to him on the bed. He sets his computer aside. He puts a paw on my face and kisses my muzzle.

“Do you wanna…?” he whispers.

“I do.”

Houston grins, then goes in for another kiss.

Quickly, we start making out. We’ve made out for maybe a whole day’s worth of cumulative hours in every single position imaginable but there’s something about it right now that’s just so good. We get sloppy, lapping at each other’s tongues like two dogs are meant to do and slobbering all over each other. He rubs my bulge through my cargo pants and I rub his through his shorts.

Still making out, we hungrily pull each other’s pants and underwear off and throw it to the ground. He climbs onto my lap and pushes himself down onto me, our dicks pressed against each other. Our tails are wagging back and forth like crazy.

He starts thrusting into me. It’s hard to focus on kissing with all of his weight being pressed into my body so I pull my muzzle back and let him do his thing. He keeps lapping at my muzzle, then moves his tongue down until he’s kissing my neck, an action we’ve both learned I particularly enjoy. I grunt with each thrust into my body as the air is expelled out of me.

“Houston…” I moan. “Faaawk…”

He stops thrusting into me and giggles.

“What?”

“Your accent is just cute.”

His dreads are dangling onto my face and my hair is all messed up. He brushes it aside with his paw and gives me a kiss on the forehead, then sits up. Our cocks are pressed together.

“What do you wanna do?” he asks. “What’s on the list?”

“I think I’m good on the list.”
“Really?”

“Yeah. We did everything from A to Z.”
“From ass eating to Zoom sex. Okay.”

“Why don’t we just jerk each other off?”

“Hell yeah. I’d love to.” He gives me another kiss. “You feeling good?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Mmhm!”

“Let’s do this.”

We both grab each other’s cocks and start jerking each other off. This is how we started off two months ago and it still feels so good all this time later. He shuts his eyes tight and presses his forehead against mine.

“Mmmm…” he whispers. “God, that feels so fucking good…”

We’ve perfected the art of the handjob together. I know exactly where he likes my paw, exactly how tight to grip, how fast to go to get him to cum in 30 seconds and to get him to cum in two hours. He knows the exact same things about me.

And as we get closer and closer, I can’t stop thinking about that. How well I know him. How well he knows me. How much this has brought us together. That little moment of him stopping and commenting on my outrageous Boston accent. His little giggle. His smile. And I know that even if we never have sex again, I don’t want to give that up.

“I’m…” I whimper… “I’m gonna cum soon…”

“Fuck yeeeeeess,” he groans, his wrist slapping again and again against my thigh. “Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah. Cum for me.”

“Fawk,” I whisper, just to see him smile again. “Faaaaawk.”

And that smile is what puts me over the edge.

“There we goooo. Let out that fat fuckin’ load.”

As I’m finishing all over his paw, I realize exactly what I need to do.

And I feel his cock pulse twice as he lets out two thick ropes of cum with me. The first lands on the end of his thigh and the second on the sheets between his legs. Another shorter rope of cum shoots out of him and then the rest of his loud drips down my paw. I keep going until I can’t feel him pulsing anymore and then I slowly pull away my paw.

He collapses onto the bed. I join him, my paw that was just holding his cock moving to grab his paw. I don’t even need to muster up the confidence to say it. Once we’re both settled, I know just what to say. With my gaze still on the ceiling, I ask the question.

“Would you want to go on a date sometime?”

“What?” he whispers.

“Would you–”

“No, I heard you, I just…” he laughs. “Oh my god!”

“To a restaurant or something? Somewhere in ugly Gresham?”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Really really?”

“Really really.”

“Oh my god. Yeah. Yeah, I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Okay. But I won’t just put out on the first date. You gotta work me a little.”

He laughs. “It’s a date, Asher.”