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inkbunny.net · 3698107:5701524
[b]If you like my content and would like more of it, check out my website, which contains up-to-date links to all of my content (not just what I post here), plus all the social media I am active on - https://dainendog.com.[/b] Sometimes the most unexpected encounters happen in the most ordinary places. You were just going about your day, heading toward the gym storeroom to grab a basketball. The hall smelled faintly of floor polish and chalk dust, the usual background for a routine stop. But when you pushed the storeroom door open, the ordinary shifted into something else entirely. At first, you didn’t register what you were seeing. Your eyes went down, and there he was—a short-statured deer boy, his antlers small but sharp, his brown fur glistening under the dull fluorescent light. His blue shirt was rumpled, already stained, and his face and chest were messy, coated with unmistakable streaks. His shaft, thick and veiny for his small frame, stood fully erect, twitching in his hand as beads of precum dropped to the floor. He froze when he saw you, eyes wide for only a heartbeat before a grin crept across his blushing face. For a moment, the air between you felt heavy. The storeroom was warm, the faint scent of male musk hanging thick, sweat mixing with something rawer, sharper. It was overwhelming—close, intimate, impossible to ignore. His left hand moved behind his head, almost in a mock pose of nonchalance, as if trying to play off the fact that you had just caught him in such a vulnerable, shameless act. But his crimson cheeks betrayed him, glowing against the muted brown of his fur. You didn’t move, not at first. The door stood half open behind you, but instinct made you push it closed with a quiet click. The lock slid into place. His grin wavered at the sound, and his shaft pulsed in his hand, as though even his body was acknowledging that something important had shifted. Now there was no escape, no pretending that this wasn’t happening. The deer looked up at you from his knees, still stroking himself slowly, precum stringing between his fingers. His blue eyes shimmered with something halfway between defiance and submission, as though daring you to speak first. The position itself was telling—kneeling there, shirt still on, cock in hand, messy and vulnerable, yet smiling like he had all the control in the world. You towered above him, and the weight of the situation fell squarely in your hands. He had been caught in the act, and he knew it. If word of this ever got out, it would change things for him. He couldn’t allow that—and maybe, deep down, he didn’t want to. Maybe part of him wanted exactly this: someone to find him, someone to take control. He shifted slightly, spreading his knees on the cold floor, his cock bobbing as he let out a shaky laugh. His blush deepened, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. The scent grew stronger—sweat, musk, raw need filling the room. His right hand kept working along his shaft, slow, deliberate strokes, while his left hand stayed behind his head like an open invitation. Your silence said as much as words ever could. He was grinning still, but his grin carried a nervous edge, a trace of shame mixed with excitement. He knew the balance of power had shifted. You had him right here, locked in this storeroom, kneeling, leaking, waiting. And now, whatever happened next was entirely up to you. So the question hangs heavy in the air: You’ve caught him in your hands, and he knows this secret can never leave the room. With the deer boy kneeling, grinning up at you, blushing hard, and already dripping… what do you do next?
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