Friday, November 28th, 1997 — Part 4: Roland Turner, age 16

     “Why don’t you lay back, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
     Roland did as he was told so Jeri could do just that.
     “Bend your knees,” Jeri instructed. Roland complied.
     Jeri crawled over and kneeled in front of the horse, sitting on his tail, with his  
nethers pressed up against the horse’s ballsack. Roland’s thighs came to rest on top of the cat’s. 
     The teen sighed as he felt the warmth against his balls; the cat’s folds still damp from before. The cat gently traced his fingers along a vein on the side of Roland’s cock, from the base to the tip, and then pressed gently against his urethra with a thumb. Pre-cum oozed out from beneath the cat’s digit and Jeri swirled it around the horse’s cockhead with his palm. The horse covered his eyes once more.
     Jeri took both hands and hugged Roland’s cock against his body. Roland felt Jericho’s small cock throbbing against the base of his own. The cat’s stomach fur tickled the underside of the horse’s length, which extended just beyond the feline’s sternum. 
     “I don’t think I’m gonna have any problems fitting you inside me,” Jeri had said earlier. These words echoed through his head as the massive erection pulsed against his belly. Man, had he underestimated the size of a teenaged horse. He suddenly understood how poor Melissa had felt in that locker room toilet stall. No wonder equidae rarely mated outside of their taxonomic family.
     Jericho, however, was undeterred, and grinded his whole body against the horse’s; tiny barbs tickling the trunk of the horse’s cock as the cat hugged it ever closer. Jeri bent down and kissed the tip, then slowly drew his tongue across the wide, flat head of Roland’s dick. Every experienced feline knows this one simple trick: use your tongue sparingly and wisely. 
     As usual, Jericho had picked the right time to use his tongue. The teen’s ass clenched and his knees jerked—a tiny spurt of pre-cum shot out yet again, this time with such force that it landed on the bridge of the feline’s nose. Jeri couldn’t help but get a taste; he lightly lapped at the leaking liquid—but only ever so slightly. He couldn’t get greedy and overuse his tongue. 
     Jeri returned to his upright position and continued grinding against the turgid tumescence. He used both hands to massage the length, one hand on either side of Roland’s medial ring and working their respective halves. 
     Roland said nothing, breathing heavily with his face still buried in his hands. He was almost so focused on not cumming quite yet that he nearly forgot to enjoy himself. As if he had something to prove to the older cat, or maybe even to his friends or, worse still, to himself. Even so, he found himself dangerously close to cumming yet again.
     “Jeri, I—”
     The horse didn’t need to say anything else; Jericho stopped moving immediately and took his hands off the horse, leaving him right at the edge for the second time that night. Every breath the cat took pushed his torso against the horse’s cock ever so gently, tickling its sensitive underside with soft fur. Jeri gently squeezed the horse’s medial ring once, firmly and quickly, causing the teen to cry out in surprise. He pulsed and oozed once more, saturating the cat’s belly further. 
     “Jeri…” The horse sighed and opened his eyes for the first time in a while. He stared down at his cock, trying with all of his might to quell his imminent orgasm. He looked up at the cat, who smiled down at him.
     My God, what a handsome smile… he thought. His heart skipped a beat.
     Suddenly, Roland’s cock erupted in a violent spasm and slapped against the cat’s chest, nearly threatening to knock the wind out of him. The cat almost lost his balance—mostly out of surprise—and grabbed onto Roland’s length to brace himself.
     “Ah—!” The horse yelped, then gasped, then balled his fists up and pressed them against his eyes until he saw stars and hexagons and trapezoids and all kinds of strange things in colors he couldn’t name. Jeri’s attention was quickly drawn to the boy’s face, and it couldn’t have been better timing, because the second his head snapped forward, his chin was plastered with cum.
     “A—hh—ah—nn—hnn—ahhh—uhhn!”
     Jericho leaned back slightly and hugged the equine’s pulsating pecker against his midriff, squeezing the medial ring with one hand, and massaging his flare with the other. My God, I’ve never seen so much cum, Jeri briefly thought to himself. It seemed it could have overflown a pint glass. The cat relaxed his hands as he felt the pulsing wane, and the emissions slowed to a dribble. The horse’s fists had opened up, but his palms were still pushed against his eyes and the boy was still seeing stars.
     “Ohh…. oh God… Uhhhhhnnn….” Roland reluctantly opened his eyes and gradually came to as the phosphenes faded. His gaze fell upon the cat, soaked in seminal fluid. “Oh… oh God! I’m sorry! Oh, God, I’m so sorry!”
     Melissa’s screams of disgust echoed in his mind. He fought the urge to hide his eyes again and reached out towards Jeri as if he could do anything with his bare hands to even begin to fix his mess.
     To his bewildered relief, Jericho started laughing. That same genuine, warm laugh Roland was hearing now for the third time tonight. 
     He’s… laughing?
     “Good lord, kid. Do you always cum that much?”
     “W—well, no… Not when I jerk off at least.” He shut his mouth upon realizing he just openly admitted to committing the deadly sin of onanism.
     The cat continued snickering. He looked down at himself and laughed even harder when he saw how horribly sodden he was. 
     “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to… I—I knew I was going to cum fast, but I… I’m sorry… let me help you clean up… I—”
     “Dude, I was jerking you off. This is what happens when you jerk someone off: they cum…usually.”
     Roland’s train of thought jumped the tracks at being called ‘dude’ by a grown man who was currently sopping wet with his cum. “Y—you’re not mad?”
     “M—mad?” He chuckled. “What on earth would I be mad for?” The cheetah gestured at nothing and looked around the room for someone to give him an answer. As he let go of the horse’s softening cock, it flopped down onto Roland’s belly with a comedic plop!, making him flinch. 
     “For—for…you’re covered—”
     “Not everyone is like Melissa. Some people actually quite enjoy getting jizzed on.”
     “R—Really? You…?”
     “Well, I never said I was one of those people,” he said. He was, of course, one of those people, but he had resolved not to show the horse too much of his kinky side just yet. “This is just an occupational hazard when you’re workin’ the shaft.”
     Roland didn’t get it, and stared blankly at the cat. Jeri frowned. 
     “Stop giving me that face. I’ve never seen someone look so glum so soon after cumming.”
     “I just—I was trying to last longer than that…”
     “Hon, you’re still a virgin. I told you I had low expectations,” the feline reminded him with a smile. This seemed to only make Roland feel worse. “Plus, there’s still time for a round two.”
     “Round two? As in, like, do it again?”
     “If you’re up for it,” he cooed, stroking a finger down the horse’s length, making it twitch beneath his touch. 
     “I—I mean… ooh.” Roland moaned as the cat grasped the head of his penis, just below his fading flare. The teen’s legs tensed up, as he was still fairly sensitive from his recent orgasm, and he began growing stiff again ever so slightly. “Don’t you want to… uh, clean up or something first?”
     “Hmm…” Jeri looked down at the puddle that coated his front half. “I think it looks good on me.” The cat raked two claws through his chest fluff, scooping up a smidgeon of semen and inspecting it. The strong bleach smell drove him crazy, making his cock throb as he parted his fingers, watching strings of cum form between them. He popped his fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean.
     Oh my God, ew… is he… eating it? Roland thought to himself. No one had ever tasted his cum before. Besides himself, when he was a few years younger and first discovering the wonders of masturbation. He was not pleased with the taste then, and couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to voluntarily put that sticky substance in their mouth.
     He must have been making a face at the cat, because Jericho frowned and popped his fingers out of his mouth audibly.
     “What, you covered me in spunk and now you’re judging me for wanting a taste? Here, there’s plenty to go around.” Jeri took his fingers and again dipped them in the horse’s cum and then held them up in front of the horse’s mouth.
     “Open,” Jeri said sternly, his gaze locking onto Roland’s. Without a second thought, Roland did as he was commanded. 
     Jeri placed his fingers gently on the horse’s tongue, and Rollie closed his lips around them. The cat used his other hand to pat the horse’s broad cheek.
     “There you go. Good boy.”
     The horse huffed hot air out of his nose and began to suck on Jericho’s fingers. He closed his eyes as his mouth filled with the taste of his own sperm. The acrid flavor made him scrunch up his nose, but he hastily put on a smile on, as if to prove to the cat that he was a big boy now and enjoyed the taste of cum.
     “Does the horsey want some more?”
     A record scratched inside Roland’s brain. Why did that turn me on so much? he thought. No, he did not want some more. It tasted foul. The whole concept of having cum in his mouth disgusted him. But something compelled him to nod his head yes anyway.
     The cat removed his fingers from Roland’s mouth, and wiped them dry on the horse’s chest. He spread Roland’s heavy legs so that he could escape from their weight—his legs were cramped and beginning to sprout pins and needles—and crawled towards Roland’s head. The horse’s cock was presently in an intermittent state of limbo, undecided whether or not it was time to go back to sleep and retreat into its sheath. As such, Jericho made sure to tease him as much as possible by brushing against it with his body as he crawled upwards.
     Finally, the cat came to sit on the horse’s chest. He was surprisingly light for his size, tall but slender, with muscles that were defined but subtle. 
     “Open,” Jeri commanded again. The horse opened wide, as if to show off his molars to a dental hygienist. “No, not like that. Smaller.” The cat looked at the ceiling lazily, thinking of a way to teach his young protégé. “Imagine you’re about to slurp down a particularly thick milkshake.” You couldn’t have thought of something a little sexier? Jeri scolded himself. But ever the apt pupil, Roland complied and pursed his lips as if sucking through a straw.
     “Good boy. Now, watch the teeth and mind the barbs.”
      The horse’s cum had dripped down the cat’s entire frontside, soaking Jeri’s privates. The stench invaded Roland’s mind and, while the odor wasn’t necessarily pleasant, it was certainly erotic. Especially when it mixed with the cheetah’s own scent: an aromatic medley that seemed to be an aphroditic match made in heaven. The feline pushed forward, his cock tip meeting the opening of Roland’s lips. 
     This was to be Roland’s first experience with the barbed cock of a feline, though it would not be the last. It would be a while still until he got used to them, and a while longer until he would get over his fear of catching his lips or teeth on one of those intimidating spikes.
     Jericho entered the horse’s mouth. His inch-long cock hardly made its way past the horse’s front teeth, but the fleshy folds of the equine’s face felt like paradise. He grabbed the horse’s ears to brace himself, and started grinding his hips.
     The taste of his own seed once again overwhelmed Roland’s senses as the cat began to fuck his face. His delicate nose pressed against the cat’s pubic mound, which was also wet with cum. Unsure what to do with his hands, he reached up and grasped the cheetah’s ass, massaging it and spreading it and pulling Jeri’s body closer to him, as if he was trying to swallow the cat’s cock whole.
     “Oohh… oh fuck yes.”
     The cat continued humping and thrusting and fucking, not necessarily in that order, and the horse simply lay there, allowing his head to be used as a feline fucktoy. Further down, Roland’s cock had once again risen to full mast, glistening with fresh pre-cum and the remains of his last orgasm. It craved attention, but even the inexperienced teenager understood that it was Jericho’s turn to be satisfied. 
     “Oh, yeah. Suck my cock,” the cat mumbled, and it suddenly clicked in Roland’s head that he was officially gay now. He was sucking a cock—and enjoying it. It had been less than an hour since he had learned what a trans man’s cock looked like—in fact, it was entirely new information to him that trans men could even grow one, and here he was with the cat’s modest length throbbing against his tongue. He had no idea how to explain this to his friends, one of whom was homophobic at best. 
      Suddenly, Jeri pulled out, panting. He leaned down and kissed the horse on the lips, tasting the equine ejaculate once more. 
     “I need you inside of me,” he whispered.
     Roland’s eyes widened and he felt his face flush. There was that word. Need. And it didn’t feel like a lie; the way the cat said it was rife with desperation.
     Jeri rolled off to lie on his back once more. His dick ached; he had denied himself an orgasm just yet, knowing that the edging would make it worth the wait. Rollie laid there and reached to adjust his maddening erection. Licking his lips clean, he stroked himself a few times with a sigh, scratching an itch at long last. 
     “Well? What are you waiting for? Come here,” Jeri said.
     “I am here.”
     “No, I mean,” Jeri huffed and reached over to pull the big dumb animal on top of him. Their stomachs brushed against each other, and Roland winced at the feeling of his cold semen between them. 
     Roland was suddenly terrified again. He had never… fucked before. He’d never had to use his entire body to pleasure himself, usually only one hand to jerk and the other to flip the pages in his magazine. 
     …What if he couldn’t do it? 
     He struggled to lift himself up onto his knees; his legs shook and buckled. His trembling hand grasped his cock and aligned it with the cat’s opening, pushing forward timidly.
     “Woah—hey!—woah,” Jeri interjected. “I don’t think that’s going to fit.”
     “I—I thought you said you’d have no problem taking it?” Rollie asked innocently.
     Not wanting to be caught in a lie, Jeri thought fast and came up with another: “I won’t. You’ll just have to go in through the back.”
     Woah, cool, anal, Roland thought to himself. For straight guys like his friend Jack, anal was like the mythical unicorn of sex, something that seemed only to exist in one’s wildest fantasies. And here he was, being offered it on his first try.      The cat adjusted himself so that his tailhole was in plain view. Since transitioning, he had only had a few partners—a few fellow felines, a dog or three (never knot-deep), and an especially bizarre one-night tryst with a raccoon. He was, however, a bit of a size queen when it came to anal. Some of the toys in his sock drawer would rival Roland’s girth, but not his length. 
     “I will need a bit of warming up, though.”
     Roland didn’t understand. So Jericho grabbed him by the wrist and guided his hand downwards.
     “Start with one,” he instructed. 
     Oh, Roland thought. And then stopped thinking. 
     The cat moaned as Roland’s broad fingertip pressed against his pucker. The callow teen went straight for it and pushed his finger in immediately, sending shock waves throughout Jeri’s body. 
     “Woah! Hey! Slowly, slowly,” he complained, “and wet your finger a bit.”
     Roland went to stick his finger in his mouth.
     “No,” the cat commenced, and then slanted his eyes as he said: “with your cum.”
     The horse hesitantly lubricated his entire hand with the cum that still stained the cat’s stomach, and tried again, slower this time. Unsurprisingly, it entered much easier now. He was able to get it in as far as his second knuckle before he felt any resistance. 
     “H—hold on,” the cat panted as he reached for the bedside drawer and pulled out a small box, almost identical to the one he kept his cocaine in. He opened it up and pulled out a small brown bottle filled with liquid. After thinking for a second, he also retrieved a miniature spoon and tiny metal tin. He took a hit of his backup cocaine, sniffed deeply, and put the box away, keeping the bottle of liquid beside him. He knew better than to offer the kid any more cocaine. 
     Jericho twisted open the glass bottle, branded with garish yellow letters reading JACKED against a deep blue label. He then took a deep huff of the vapors before melting down into the mattress and clumsily closing the bottle again.
     “O—okay. Continue,” he purred, closing his eyes. 
     Roland did as he was told, putting his curiosity about the contents of the bottle aside for now. He pulled his finger out and began to work in another one alongside it. Jeri focused on relaxing his muscles, trying to allow the horse’s fingers inside him. 
     Roland felt his middle and index fingers enter with ease, noticing that the cat had loosened up noticeably. He worked his way in and out of the cheetah’s ass, going slightly farther each time until he couldn’t possibly get them any deeper.
     “Alright, give me one more finger. Then I’ll be ready,” he said. He absolutely would not be ready, but he hoped it would be enough.
     Roland’s eyes widened once more. Three fingers? That cat had lost his marbles. But he pulled his hand out, wetting them once more, this time with the fresh pre-cum that had dribbled down the front of his cock. And then he pressed his middle three fingers inside of the cat.
     Jeri yelped. Roland froze, unsure if he should continue or pull out.
     “Are—you okay?”
     “Yes, just,” the cat struggled to catch his breath. “Just hold on, give me a second to adjust here.” 
     He opened the bottle of JACKED once more and took two deep breaths, one in each nostril. He closed the lid again and sank down into the mattress—and onto Roland’s fingers down to the second knuckle. 
     “Aaaaaaaaahhh!” Jeri’s moan turned into somewhat of a yowl. Roland still had not moved a muscle since the cat last let out a cry of indiscernible origin. He was almost scared of the cat at this point, wondering if the scream was out of pain or pleasure. He’d come to learn eventually that it was a lovely combination of both.  
     “Deeper,” the cat pleaded, and the horse was relieved. However, he found it uncomfortable to push his hand in much deeper, try as he might. Instead he waggled his fingers around inside, as if beckoning someone to come. Jeri gasped. He shot up and grabbed Roland by the shoulders and demanded:
     “Fuck me.”
     Oh no. This was really happening. It sank in that he was about to lose his virginity. Handjobs and blowjobs didn’t count, according to his friends. Virginity loss was penis-in-vagina only. He supposed anal had to count as well, right? 
     “We are going to need some actual lube for this,” Jeri stated. He opened the drawer again and procured a tube of lube. He squeezed out a small glob of the stuff onto one palm and rubbed his hands together.
     “Ready? It’s cold.”
     “Wha—? Haaaa—hhh,” Roland gasped as the ice-cold slime all over his dick.
     Jeri lay back and carelessly wiped his hands dry on the bedsheet. He then took another puff from the other bottle—the dark brown glass one filled with disgusting-smelling liquid. 
     “What—is that?” he asked, trying to find any way to stall for time.
     “Poppers. I’ll let you know when it’s your turn.”
     That didn’t really answer his question. And he didn’t have a chance to ask again, because the cat grabbed his cock and guided it to its new home.
     Jeri’s head was still swimming in chemical bliss as Roland pushed forward.  
     There was surprisingly little effort required for the horse to enter. One gentle push was all it took. As the cat spread to welcome its equine intrusion, Roland’s eyes retreated into the back of his head. Once the tip had sunk in, it was like Jericho was pulling him in deeper. One thing the teen hadn’t prepared himself for was how incredibly warm it was inside of the cat. It was almost hot. He was barely a quarter of the way in, and he was already quivering and holding his breath.
     “That’s it, hon. Nice and slow,” Jeri encouraged the boy. The horse adjusted himself, his hands still trembling. He pushed in another inch and the cat groaned. 
     Jeri was tight. Tight and humid. It was nothing like a hand—or even a mouth. It was snug and inviting. He pushed in farther, and the cheetah whimpered. It almost sounded like he was going to cry.
     “Ah—are you—are you all the way in?” Jeri lifted his head off the pillow and tried to see what was going on down there.
     Roland opened his eyes at long last and looked between his legs. He wasn’t even halfway yet; there was still half an inch or so to go before his medial ring. He carefully shook his head no. The cat groaned and his head collapsed back onto the pillow.
     “O—okay, keep going.”
     Roland did so. He placed his hands around the cat’s hips to steady himself. There was a bit of resistance as his girth increased halfway down his length, but with a little effort…
     Jericho screamed. Not just a yowl or yelp this time, but a loud, gnarled yell. He clasped his hands over his mouth, embarrassed he let himself show even the slightest sign of weakness. 
     “Are you okay?”
     “Mmmhmmff…” Jeri hummed a sigh of approval through his hands. “Are you okay?”
     “I… think so,” Roland conceded. In reality, he was absolutely terrified he was going to cum if he moved even an inch deeper.
     “I—I don’t think I can take any more…” Jericho reluctantly admitted his defeat. “God, you’re huge.”
     “Do—do you want me to pull out?”
     “Hah! No,” Jeri said. “I want you to fuck me.”
     Something about the cadence of the cat’s words made the boy’s cock twinge.
     “Oh, uh, okay.” 
     Roland eased himself out, whining as his medial ring popped out of the cat. He slid himself back until just the tip remained, and then thrust forward. The two let out a primal grunt in unison. The horse retained his speed, picking up the pace slowly but surely. He knew he wouldn’t last long, but his release was coming sooner than anticipated.
     “Jeri… I…”
     “Shh, slow down. Not yet.” 
     As instructed, the teen returned to his original slow pace. It was more comfortable for the both of them, anyway. A few thrusts, then easing his medial ring in and out—causing the both of them to cry out in pleasure. 
     “Jeri…” 
     Roland’s orgasm was fast approaching. He hadn’t yet learned how to control his impulses or stave off his imminent climax. 
     “Is the horsey going to cum for me?”
     There was that stupid pet name again. Horsey. How demeaning, how degrading! Perhaps it was the humiliation of being called such a childish name that made it so erotic. Roland whined and nodded his head. 
     “Then cum for me,” the cat obliged.
     “C—can I…?”
     “You do whatever you need to.”
     Roland took this as permission to start fucking faster. His thrust were shorter, shallower, but more intentional now.
     “C—call me… call me horsey again…”
     Jeri at first resisted the urge to laugh at him, then did so anyway. 
     “Hah! He likes being called horsey, does he?”
     Roland nodded, his eyes squeezed shut. 
     “There’s a good horsey. Show me how much you need this.” There was that word again. Need. Roland now understood the desperation he had heard in the cat’s voice earlier. It was no longer a want, nor a desire, but a horrible, carnal urgency that compelled him to keep thrusting. Through the sounds of sloppy sex, Roland heard the opening of a glass bottle.
     “Here, horsey. Take a deep breath.” 
     The vapors emanating from the bottle were repugnant. But Roland took a deep breath anyway. Immediately, his vision went blurry, blood rushed to his head, his ears burned white hot, his heart began pounding, and his breath grew heavy. His cock flared up inside the cat. 
     Jeri could feel the flare pushing against his insides. 
     “Oh, God!”
     Roland thought for a second that it was the cat crying out for his Creator, but he realized the words had come from his own mouth. 
     “Good horsey.”
     Roland slammed into Jericho one final time, the deepest he’d been so far. Almost an inch past the medial ring, making Jeri gasp in pained surprise. The horse was cumming—hard. Harder than he had earlier, though Jeri had doubted it was possible. Roland fell forward, pressing his forehead against Jeri’s cumstained chest as he released inside of him, holding himself up with his quaking arms. He pulled out a bit, then thrust, and held. Pulled out shakily, thrust again, and held. One last time, he pulled out, thrust, and spasmed one final time as the muscles of his cock drained his balls and prostate of every sperm cell and ounce of semen his body had to offer. He slid out cautiously, braying as his flare exited the cat’s warmth. 
     Roland collapsed onto the bed beside his lover, panting. Jericho stared up at the ceiling in absolute bliss for a while, before he looked over at Roland, who had—that quickly—fallen asleep and was now softly snoring. The cat’s eyes trailed down the horse’s muscular chest, then to his slightly flabby gut, which was coated in cum, and then down to his crotch, where the horse’s cock was still showing its full length, but was now beginning to sag and deflate like a week-old balloon animal. A string of semen snaked down from the tip and onto the teen’s thigh. 
     Then Jeri looked down at himself. His tiny cock still stood at attention; was aching for attention, even. His own stomach fur was absolutely tousled with dried ejaculate and pre-ejaculate, all the way up to his chest and chin. A wasted shower. He decided to just sleep and deal with it in the morning. He always was secretly turned on by the feeling of his fur matted with day-old spunk. 
     What if I just went into work like this tomorrow? he wondered. That would surely give those homophobic customers of his something to sneer about. Serving their drinks while stinking of lait d’étalon. He felt the warm, wet remnants of anal sex beginning to leak from his tailhole down onto his tail. He’d clean that up in the morning as well. A shame Roland wasn’t awake to clean it up for him. One day he’d teach the boy how to fittingly felch a feline.
     Jericho sighed. He was more than satisfied with his sexual activities—at least mentally and emotionally. Physically, however…
     He reached over and turned off the light next to the bed. He stared up at nothing as his eyes adjusted to the dark, and then rubbed his hand around on the pool of tepid jism that covered nearly his entire abdomen. He smeared it into his fur, down his abdomen, over his pubis, and then slid a seed-slick digit into his slit. At the same time, he took the heel of his palm, also wet with cum, and massaged the base of his cock. He gasped and sucked air in through his gritted teeth. 
     With his free hand, he interlocked his fingers with those of the sleeping horse. Jericho snuck another finger inside of himself, stopping only briefly to relubricate his hand with cum. The cat gradually moved his attention to his cock, stroking it gently with just his thumb and index finger, careful to avoid rubbing his sensitive barbs the wrong way. Simply thinking of the fact that he was using the horse’s semen to jack off—let alone the fact that it was splattered all along his body from nose to knee and leaking from his ass—was enough to send him straight to the edge. A few final strokes and Jericho found himself convulsing and panting, his cock throbbing and his folds quivering as he endured the most satisfying orgasm since moving to this desolate town. And probably for a while before that. He involuntarily clenched the horse’s fingers in his, but the kid was a heavy sleeper and barely even reacted besides to give a gentle, unconscious squeeze back.
     Jeri relaxed his muscles and sighed, wiping his cum-covered hand on the soiled bedsheet. 
     “Remind me to ask for clean sheets in the morning,” he muttered to no one in particular. He rolled over and spooned the sleeping teenager, placing one hand on his chest and his head in the crook of the horse’s neck.

- - - 

Saturday, November 29th, 1997 — Roland Turner, age 16

     The sun came up as it always had. Roland wasn’t awake to see it rise however and, when he finally did wake up, Jericho was gone. The clock on the end table informed the groggy teen that it was already almost two-thirty in the afternoon. The note beside it read: 
     “Sorry, I had to go. Didn’t want to wake you. Stopping by to see my dealer before work.
     I hope to see you again. I’ll be staying in this room for the foreseeable future. The motel’s number is in the yellow pages. And if I’m not here, you know where to find me. I won’t check your ID next time. 
     S.W.A.K.  Jeri
     P.S.: Dial 9 to make outside calls.”
     The letter was, quite literally, sealed with a kiss. The cat must have donned lipstick solely to plant his lips upon the page. A deep rouge. Why did he have lipstick, anyway? It didn’t matter. Roland kissed the page back and fell onto the bed, clutching the notepad to his chest like a teenage girl holding a love letter from the high school team’s quarterback. He laid there for a few minutes, just staring at the ceiling, his heart and the butterflies in his stomach both a-flutter. He decided to take advantage of the motel’s shower and wash the dried cum from his fur, smiling the whole time, recalling the previous night’s events. He dried off, put his same ratty outfit back on, and then dialed 9, followed by Jack’s phone number.
     He read the letter over and over again while he sat on a bench outside, waiting for his friends to return. Rollie could hear Jack’s truck from three blocks away; plenty of time to fold up the note and steal it away in his pocket. When the door to the truck opened, a wave of marijuana smoke hit the horse in the face. An inexperienced smoker, he would probably get high from just sitting in the van with them. The interrogation began the second the door latched shut.
     “Okay, okay, so? So? What happened? Did you fuck?” Jack shouted excitedly.
     “...Yeah.”
     “Oh shit! It was a chick, I told you, Dennis!”
     “Oh, uh…No.”
     “Wait—what?”
     “He’s a man.”
     “Oh. I’m... sorry, dude.”
     “Sorry? For what?”
     “I didn’t mean to... y’know. Make you a fag or anything. I really thought—did you suck his dick?”
     Roland thought for a second. “Yeah,” he decided.
     There was silence in the smoke-filled van. 
     “So, you’re a fag now?” Jack continued.
     “I guess.”
     “Are you... gonna see him again?” Dennis spoke up for the first time that day.
     “...Probably.”
     “Okay, so, at least tell me the details, like, did you...did he...who... who was the girl, then?” Jack had taken over the conversation again.
     “I... I don’t… I don’t really want to talk about it like that.”
     “Dude, come on, I tell you all the juicy, sloppy details about when I fuck Melissa. Shoving my knot all up in her dripping cunt. Did you stick your knot in him?”
     “...Horses don’t have a knot.”
     “They what?!”
     “Plus, this is—this is different from you and Melissa.”
     “Oh yeah? And how’s that?”
     Roland thought for a second, then stared up at the clouds. Somewhere in the dust and mist, above a thousand tons of garbage floating in the atmosphere. That’s where he felt like he was, at that moment.
     He thought about Jericho. That damned cat. How being with him felt like coming home again—though he had not gone anywhere. And in fact have never been farther than an hour from his hometown.
     Jericho made him feel warm, like a nostalgic scent entering his nostrils. The smell of a welcome rain after a long bout of heat. (Petrichor, as Jericho would one day teach him.) The brief respite of silence as your car passes under a bridge during a downpour. The smell of summer’s settled dust burning off the heater when you finally turn it on in late fall. The crunch of a leaf beneath your boot. That first frost of winter. A cookie just like grandma used to make.
     After a while, Roland finally spoke to answer the coyote’s question. It wasn’t just the lingering marijuana smoke speaking for him, though it had already begun to take effect. It wasn’t just hormones, or lust, or any combination of the two. And it wasn’t a lie or a joke when Roland spoke his next words, which would leave his two friends silent.
     “It’s different because...because I think I love him.”