Boytaur Christmas

by Jefftaur

Kevin gives his boyfriend the best present ever: a boytaur Christmas.

Consciousness returned slowly, fuzzily. There was a slight chill in the air, and I snuggled my four legs more tightly together under the heavy comforter on the bed, as I sniffed at the slight scent of wood smoke in the air from last night’s—Christmas Eve’s—fire. I stretched out my arm, sending my wristfoot burrowing under the covers towards Kevin… but no one was there.

I opened my eyes. The room was dark, as the hour was early and heavy snow clouds blanketed the sky, but I could see that Kevin’s spot in bed was empty. I propped myself up on my left elbow, my left wristfoot lying on its side on the bedclothes, and used the big toe of my right wristfoot to rub the sleep from my eyes. I looked around, but Kevin wasn’t anywhere in the room. Planting both wristfeet firmly on the mattress, I coaxed my four legs out from under the warmth of the covers. Eventually, I got all four bare anklefeet planted on the soft carpet, and I stood on all four legs beside the bed, rubbing the soles my wristfeet together for warmth. My four legs were warm in my four-legged boxer pants, but a slight draft from the icy window chilled my bare torso, and tickled the twenty toes of my four anklefeet. Still stumbling slightly from sleepiness, I set my four legs in motion and navigated my near-somnambulant boytaur body out of the room, occasionally touching a desk, wall, or doorframe with one of my wristfeet to steady my progress.

Once in the hallway, I saw the flickering light of a fire casting dancing shadows across the walls, and felt a lovely warmth flowing from the direction of the living room. I walked with a quicker four-legged gait to the living room door, and placed each wristfoot lightly on either side of the doorframe… but both wristfeet immediately fell to my sides and my four legs froze in place when I saw what was in the room.

Standing in the midst of mess of soft, warm blankets, in front of a roaring fire, was Kevin, gloriously nude, except for a red Santa hat, perched at a rakish angle atop his head. The warm glow of the firelight complimented the rich tan of his skin, and the flickering shadows played around the contours of the bulging muscles of his arms, torso, and legs—all six of them!

I gaped in amazement.

He spread his arms and wristfeet wide, and with a broad smile said, “Merry Christmas, Ste.”

I noticed then that he had wrapped little shiny red bows around his new hindmost feet, and around each of his three cocks, hanging low and half-hard between each of his three pairs of legs.

My face split in a wide grin as both my cocks began to stiffen and rise, my front cock creating a huge tent in the front of my four-legged boxer pants. “Oh, Kevin!” I exclaimed, as I clapped my wristfeet together in joy. Kevin placed his wristfeet at his waist and laughed, his three cocks bobbing in front of and among his six legs. “I thought you might like it,” he said, “since we were both so crazy about Ray, last spring break.”

Almost hesitantly, lest I break some sort of Christmas spell, I took a few four-footed steps forward to get a closer look at my wonderful, muscular, six-legged, wristfooted lover. He shifted his six bare feet and legs slightly to give me the best view, and I could easily see his bow-wrapped middle and hindmost cocks, rapidly stiffening and growing, among his six legs. I looked up at him with a grin and a raised eyebrow. “Have you been planning this ever since, then?” I asked, planting my own wristfeet on my waist, just as he had done.

His mouth twisted in a wry, sidelong smile. “Sort of.” He dropped one wristfoot down to support and lift closer, for my examination, his hugely long and thick front cock, as the shaft rested atop the toes of that wristfoot, and brought the big toe of his other wristfoot up to the corner of his mouth in mock shyness. “So,” he said, wriggling all thirty of his anklefeet toes into the warm blankets beneath us, “wanna play with your present?”

I immediately walked forward on my four legs, and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, my wristfeet dangling behind his neck. He, in turn, wrapped his arms around my waist, resting the inner arches of his wristfeet on my hind ass. I stared into his eyes, and both his and mine were dancing with excitement. “Thank you, Kevin. This is the best Christmas ever.”

As I leaned in to kiss him, my front cock finally sprung free from the fly of my boxer pants, crossing and brushing against his own front cock with its red bow, making both of our front cocks jump. As the kiss went on and we hugged each other tighter with our arms and wristfeet, my wristfeet heels pressing into his back, his wristfeet soles pressing into my hind ass, I could hear and feel his four hind feet shifting on the carpet behind him, his four hind legs almost dancing in anticipation behind his two front legs.

We broke, finally, for deep, panting breaths, almost raspy with lusty excitement. As we grinned madly at each other, foreheads pressed together, I murmured, just before moving to kiss him again, “I can see we’ll have to hit the post-Christmas sales for extra socks and shoes… and I just hope we can exchange all the four-legged stuff I bought for you!”

And his kiss-muffled laugh shook his entire six-legged, wristfooted boytaur body.

I heard Kevin’s four flip-flops slapping gently against the heels of his four feet as he padded down the hallway towards the room. I grinned at his image reflected darkly in the computer screen: he had placed each wristfoot on either side of the door, the big toes of each wristfoot absently rubbing the insides of the door frame as he leaned into the room, his four anklefeet behind him in the hallway, a smile on his handsome face.

I didn’t turn around, but went on pecking at the keyboard with the big toes of my wristfeet. “’Sup, Kevin?”

“Abercrombie’s got their fall line out in stores. Thought we might amble down to the mall and check it out.” His four feet were shifting restlessly behind him, positively itching for the outing.

Grinning to myself, but still not turning around, I slapped my right wristfoot down on the mouse and dragged it around, clicking with my wristfoot big toe. “I dunno, man, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“C’mon,” he said, persuasively, “you could use the break.”

I faked reluctance. “Do we really have to go?”

His face changed, surprised, and his wristfeet slid down the sides of the doorway a little. “It’s just getting a bit cooler,” he said, expressionlessly. “I need some four-legged jeans, I think.”

“Couldn’t you just give up clothes altogether?” I asked, turning around to grin, finally, at him. I put my left elbow on the desk and cocked my head sideways, resting it on the sole of my left wristfoot, chin against the heel, considering. “Yeah,” I said, running my eyes over his four-legged, wristfooted boytaur body, “I think that’d be good.”

He smile suddenly returned as he dropped his wristfeet from the doorframe and moved swiftly forward on his four legs, his four flip-flops slapping against his four heels. “Idiot!” he said, giving me a playful swipe across the head with his wristfoot, knocking my head off the sole of my own left wristfoot.

I shot up my right wristfoot in defense. “Okay, okay! We can go shopping!”

“Glad to hear it.” He planted his wristfeet at his waist and stepped back on his four anklefeet to let me rise and stand on my own four legs. I rested my wristfeet on his shoulders to steady myself as I lifted each of my four anklefeet in turn to slip them into my own set of flip-flops. This accomplished, I quickly dodged around him and headed for the door, my four legs and feet moving in brisk rhythm.

“What are you waiting for?” I called over my shoulder, needlessly cupping one wristfoot to the side of my mouth. “Let’s go!”

He laughed and leapt forward on all four legs, quickly catching up to me and grabbing my hind ass with his wristfeet. And forming thusly our own little eight-legged conga line, we headed down the hall and out the door.

We ambled with a casual four-legged gait into the store together, near forearms crossed to lock our wristfeet together, inner arches side-by-side, big toes pressed against each other. The moment we crossed the threshold Kevin suddenly paused on his four feet and reached across us with his free arm to point with his wristfoot at a poster on the wall. I turned and looked up, to see a giant photograph of a pair of muscular, wristfooted boytaurs rather like us, arms draped over each other’s shoulders, wristfeet dangling at the ends. They were ostensibly modeling sweatshirts, but they were both bare-chested and laughing, their abs clearly defined, one with his sweatshirt tucked into the waist of his pants, the other with his shirt dangling from the big toe of one of his wristfeet.

“Reminds me a bit of spring break,” I murmured with a smile as we resumed our four-legged walks.

At the sound of our eight flip-flop-clad feet on the hardwood floor, a cute young wristfooted salesboytaur looked up from the sweater he was carefully folding with his wristfeet and smiled broadly. He had very short blond hair and a boyish face that flushed easily. He wore a dark wool sweater that did nothing to disguise his muscular torso and arms, and four-wide-leg jeans, the twenty toes of his four anklefeet peeking out from under the hems in his four sandals. His skin was lightly tanned, and he had a very tight and toned boytaur body, with beautifully shaped wristfeet. He abandoned the sweater and came over to us with an easy four-legged walk. “Hi, my name’s Heath,” he said, taking my free wristfoot between his two wristfeet, the heel of my wristfoot resting in the small well created by the inner arches of his wristfeet, and raising it to his mouth to kiss it in greeting. He did the same for Kevin, and then Kevin and I unlocked our wristfeet to take each of his in ours and kiss them ourselves. Formal greetings out of the way, he rested his wristfeet on his waist and asked, “What can I do for you?”

Kevin and I explained what we were looking for and Heath, his cute smile never leaving his face, immediately led us to what we wanted, showing off the various types of four-legged jeans and khahkis, deftly grabbing hangers or folded four-legged pants from the shelves with his wristfeet. Following Heath’s cool four-legged walk around the store on each of our own four legs, we quickly accumulated a number of purchases, all of which ended up slung over Heath’s right arm, held in place by his right wristfoot. This included a couple of sweaters which Heath almost instantaneously sold us on, simply by having us run the soles of our wristfeet over the soft wool blend.

“Sold!” Kevin exclaimed, almost laughing, rolling his eyes back in mock ecstasy as he dragged his wristfeet across the sweater.

Once the sweaters were safely over Heath’s arm, Kevin pointed towards the back of the store with one wristfoot. “What have you got on clearance?”

Heath, grinning, shifted his four feet around until his tight hind ass was facing Kevin and said, over his shoulder, “Climb on, and I’ll show you.”

Kevin smiled and turned to me. “Go ahead,” I said, with a dismissive wave of a wristfoot. “I want to check out these four-legged Paratroops.”

Kevin grinned as well and turned to mount Heath’s back, wrapping his arms around Heath’s shoulders and dangling his wristfeet in front of Heath’s broad chest. Heath began a careful four-legged walk towards the back of the store, as Kevin’s four legs dangled around his own. I paid little attention to the rack of four-legged pants that I stood beside, and spent most of my time watching them move around the back of the store. Heath was padding around on his four feet, digging up items from the piles of summer clothing with his wristfeet, holding them up for examination by grasping them with his wristfeet toes. Kevin was absently slapping his flip-flops against the heels of his four dangling feet, his wristfeet occasionally moving from around Heath’s neck to point at an article of clothing or to hold some four-legged shorts or a T-shirt.

Eventually Kevin dismounted and asked Heath some question, to which Heath responded enthusiastically, gesturing with his wristfeet. He reached over to a display and grabbed a catalog between the big and second toes of his wristfoot, passing it to Keith, who smiled and nodded. They then turned and headed back towards me, ambling casually on their four legs. Kevin put down his catalog on a table and held up a T-shirt against my chest, holding the shoulders of the shirt tightly in the toes of his wristfeet.

“Thought this might look good on you,” he said.

I looked down and held the bottom of the T-shirt against my waist with the inner arches of my own wristfeet. The color looked good, and the design was cool. I nodded in approval. “Thanks.”

“Will that be all?” asked Heath with his unflagging smile, snagging the T-shirt with the big toe of his left wristfoot to drape it with all the other clothes over his right arm, the toes of his right wristfoot peeking out at the edge of the pile. Kevin and I both eyed the pile of clothes and nodded simultaneously.

“Done enough damage for one day,” Kevin said with a grin.

We all set our four legs in motion, all twelve of our feet padding across the hardwood floor towards the register. He moved his four legs a bit faster than ours, reaching the far side of the sales counter just as we arrived. He slid the clothes off his arm onto the desk, using his wristfoot to make sure they didn’t fall to the floor, while starting to peck at the register keys with the big toe of his other wristfoot.

“I’ll get this on my card,” I told Kevin, reaching into my pocket with one wristfoot to grab my wallet between my big and second toes. As I laid my wallet on the counter and, steadying it by pressing down with one wristfoot, slid out my credit card out by pushing with the big toe of my other wristfoot, I watched as Heath, with surprising wristfoot dexterity, rung up our various purchases: sweaters, T-shirts, and four-legged pants. His four legs and feet shifted in concert beneath him as he worked, almost performing a little four-legged dance behind the counter. Kevin laid a wristfoot on my hind ass, and I turned to share a small smile with him in mutual appreciation of watching Heath work with his beautiful wristfeet.

I passed my credit card over the counter to Heath between the big and second toes of my wristfoot, and he took it between the toes of his own wristfoot and slid it through the slot on the register before passing back again to the toes of my wristfoot. Then, once again with amazing wristfoot deftness, he began to fold and pack the clothes into two bags. One side of each bag had the wristfooted boytaur photo from the poster Kevin and I had seen when we walked in, but the other side showed a new photograph, with one boytaur pinning another to the ground, the top boytaur with his wristfeet planted firmly on his boytaur friend’s thick chest, all their eight legs tangled together, their eight bare feet in a confused pile. The top boytaur’s long bangs hung down to obscure his face slightly, but the bottom boytaur was looking up at his friend with excitement beaming clearly from his eyes as he slowly peeled up his sweater with his wristfeet, exposing his toned and bulging six-pack. The sight made both my front and my rear cock twitch, and I was playing out the scene in my mind, when I suddenly realized Heath was trying to get my attention. I grinned as I turned back to face him, seeing the sales slip he held out to me gripped between the big and second toes of one wristfoot, and the pen gripped in the other. I took both from him, gripping them similarly, laying the sales slip on the counter and steadying it with that wristfoot while I signed it with the pen I had gripped between the toes of my other wristfoot. Meanwhile, Heath had finished packing our clothes into the bag, topping one off with the catalog he had given Kevin. Grasping the handles of both bags with the toes of his wristfeet, he passed them across the counter to Kevin, saying with that irrepressible smile, “Any exchanges or refunds, no problem.”

Kevin nodded and smiled back, grasping the string handles of the bags with the toes of his own wristfeet, and letting them fall to his sides. Heath captured the sales slip and the pen with the soles of his wristfeet and dragged them back across the counter. “Thanks, guys,” he said. “Enjoy your gear!”

I immediately reached across the counter to take one of his wristfeet between mine, and Kevin dropped his bags to the floor to do the same. We brought them up to our mouths and began kissing them, each toe in turn, and then, after sharing a quick glance, we both gave a playful lick to the soles of his wristfeet, making him jump on his four legs, laughing out loud. When we eventually released his wristfeet, he returned the favor to each of us in turn with even more playful enthusiasm.

When Heath at last reluctantly released Kevin’s wristfoot, Kevin and I each grabbed one of the bag with the toes of a wristfoot, and waved with the other wristfeet over our shoulders at Heath as we headed out of the store, flip-flops slapping once again against all eight of our anklefeet heels. Heath, ever grinning, raised one beautiful wristfoot to his forehead in a quick salute, and then we were out the door.

As soon as we got home, we each kicked off all four of our flip-flops into two little haphazard piles by the door. Kevin fished the catalog from one of the bags with one of his wristfeet and collapsed with it onto the couch, four legs and four bare feet splayed randomly, and began to leaf through the photograph-filled book, turning the pages with his big toes of his wristfeet.

I padded on my four bare feet around behind the couch and knelt on my four knees there, draping my arms around Kevin’s shoulders, letting my wristfeet dangle there in front of him, as I looked over his shoulder at the catalog. Several of the pages had more photographs of hot muscular boytaurs having fun together, shedding more of their Abercrombie gear than wearing it. But Kevin and I still both gasped when we saw the two-page spread at the center of the catalog.

“It’s Ray!” I whispered, amazed.

“From spring break… ” Kevin murmured, agreeing.

Ray was indeed there on the pages in all his six-legged, wristfooted boytaur glory, barechested and laughing as he tried to pull on four-legged shorts, leaving his hind ass and legs bare, the front of the unzipped and unbuttoned shorts gripped tightly between the big and second toes of his wristfeet, pulled just high enough to obscure his huge front cock. The sweatshirt he might have been supposed to be wearing lay on the ground beside his six bare feet.

Kevin and I sat there motionless for a moment, just staring at Ray’s picture. I felt both of my cocks—front and rear—begin to stiffen and grow, and I knew from the way Kevin’s four legs began to slowly writhe together on the couch that both of his cocks were getting ready for action was well.

I wrapped my arms and wristfeet tighter around Kevin’s shoulders as I began to kiss his neck. “It may be shallow,” I said to him, between kisses, “but their advertising sure works on me!”

Kevin, laughing, wrenched his torso around to face me, four legs and four bare feet flailing, and placed one wristfoot on each side of my face, saying, just before he planted his mouth on mine, “You’re not alone!”

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