The sun was high. The village smelled like fruit peels, sweat, and bad decisions. Allen stood in front of a curious crowd of beastkin with a stick in one hand and the most reluctant assistant on Earth—Mirka—sitting on a smooth rock beside him, looking like she regretted everything.
"Alright," Allen began, "today's lesson is about what happens before the stick goes in the hole."
The beastkin men blinked. One scratched his head.
"…You mean before mating?"
"YES," Allen said. "You don't just grab her and ram it in like you're a beast on a timer! There's… build-up. Foreplay. That means touching, kissing, teasing."
One of the girls in the crowd, tail twitching, scoffed. "Try telling Raffo that. He climbs on like a drunk goat and falls asleep before I even feel anything."
Another one raised her paw. "Last week, mine tried licking my foot and thought that counted."
