The Filthy Festival 
Part 1 
 Waking up hot and bothered

Billy woke with a groan, covered in a film of sweat. The tent was as hot as a sauna and the intense temperature had made his throat dry and his fur matted with damp. He shuffled around under the sleeping bag he shared with his dad Brian, who was pressed up against him, the warmth radiating from his body further heating up the cub.
He was barely 10, but had begun puberty, starting to stink a little from sweating, a bit of course fuzz growing around his crotch and his dick was growing bigger everyday. Brian was in his late thirties with not a spot of grey in his fur yet, though the wrinkles around his eyes had been getting deeper lately. The cub turned himself around, gently dislodging his father's arm wrapped around him, and stared into the gentle face he so loved and trusted. The orange fox-fur gradiated from dark orange and trailed over to pure white under the adult's muzzle, continuing into a big mass of white fur across his chest and belly. As he shifted the arm away from him, the older canine rolled over on his back, the arm now covering his face and his body fully opened up for the young fox to explore.
Lying like this, the cub could practically "feel" the strong, manly scents coming off his daddy's body. The somewhat stale breath, still tainted with the beers he had been drinking the night before, mixed with the sour musk coming from his armpits. The sleeping bag was still draped over Brians lower body, and the cub ever-so-slowly lifted it aside, to find his senses attacked by potent and virile man-musk emanating from his groin. The smell was intoxicating and the young boy inhaled deeply again and again, taking it all in. His pecker soon started stirring in his sheeth and lust began to take over his mind.
He started wriggling downwards, kicking his legs so the sleeping bag didn't impede his journey down his father's body. The smell of man-musk got stronger and stronger as his face came closer and closer to the potent-smelling sheeth and balls that he had seen and serviced so many times.
The intense temperature of the tent and being wrapped in a sleeping bag had caused literal droplets of musky sweat to be deposited all over the sheath and balls. Billy found that panting with a dry throat was unpleasant and he decided to rectify this by assaulting Brian's hefty orbs with his tongue. 
The first lick sent shivers through his sex and heat-addled mind, his developing cock sliding fully out of its sheath and beginning to form a knot. The taste was all over his mouth, full of salt, musk and traces of urine and cum. He licked sensually all over them, occasionally taking one orb into his mouth and sucking it for good measure. Then he turned his attention to the general crotch area, buring his muzzle into the area of his daddy's sheath, his nose trailing the entrance, and inhaling the richest musk he had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. All the while his tongue lapped deeply around the fur between Brian's thighs, the taint and all over the balls once again. 
His small, fox dick twitched and spurted precum as his nose was deliciously treated to the raw smell of manhood coming from the sheath all the while musky sweat was deposited on his tongue and face, the sheen of sweat he had woken up with trippled by the addition from his daddy's funky crotch. In the damp confined between Brian's legs, Billy failed to notice that his father had woken up somewhat confused, somewhat hungover and with a bladder full to bursting. The fox-cub accidently pressed around with his head, trying to get the optimum angle for sheath-huffing, when his dad let out a groan and a short spurt of musky piss flew out, directly into the cub's nostrils.
He recoiled with a sharp hiss and a few snorts, his eyes watering and his nose burning from the strong, salty liquid that had been injecting there. Billy's face was scrounging up in pain and from the sheer potency of the beer-flavoured piss that had accumulating in his daddy's bladder, a trickle running down the back of his throat making him cough a little. 
"Boy, you had better get that muzzle over my sheath or I am going to piss all over the tent!" The father half-murmured, half-growled, his head heavy with hangover and his bladder screaming for release. The older fur tried to lift his arm to force the cub's head down but he lowered it, trembling, his body weak from heat and beer-sickness.
Billy blushed and loudly snorted out a glob of yellow-coloured, runny snot onto his paw, using the sticky and smelly liquid as lubricant to rub on his overly exited dicklet, then he moved his face back to the sheath, opening his muzzle and completely enveloping the fleshy tube.
"Ahhhh, fuck, owww I have to go so bad! Get ready, son, it's going to come out like a waterfall!"
Brian rarely lied, and Billy was subjected to a full-on torrent of strong and musky piss that exploded out his father's sheath into his awaiting muzzle. He kept suction of the area so as not to spill a drop, but the flood was overpowering and his fast swallows were only just enough to keep it from overflowing more than a tiny rivulet that began dripping from his cheeks. He kept a paw on his dick, rubbing it hard and fast as his mind was overwhelmed by the naughthiness of it all.
The stream was continuous and cruelly fast, the cub feeling his stomach starting to get bloated and he drank down what felt like a gallon of strong fox urine before the pressure abated a little and he could concentrate more on tasting than simply swallowing. 
As his taste-buds were allowed to do their work, he was rewarded with a tongue-curling bitterness and incredible saltiness and well as the mellow tang of hops from the beverages his father had consumed the night before. Sometimes he liked it when Daddy's morning urine was like this, but in the quantity it gushed out and the potency of that hangover-piss taste he soon felt queasy. His paw was a blur though, the sensations he had experienced this morning, the sheen of manmusky sweat all over his face, the smells and yes the acrid tang from urine was forcing him closer and closer to the edge. 
As the stream died down and ended with three strong final jets that tickled the back of his throat, the little fox-cub came as hard as only a ten-year-old can, his dicklet spurting globs of puppybatter all over their sleeping area, his body shaking and convulsing, yet his mouth never left sheath, and his ecstacy made him stick his tongue deep into the musky chamber of his daddy's dick, cleaning off any all all urine and musk that might have been there, while his balls emptied themselves in numerous contractions. 
Finally he took his mouth off that delicious sheath with a heavy gasp, burped loudly and clutched his now fully bloated cub-tummy, the hot liquid sloshing around inside him, his guts tensing up.
"Daddy, I think I have to go now," he exclaimed as a blubbery fart rocked the tent.
Brian didn't hear him, after his halfly-asleep piss he had fallen into comatose slumber once again..