Krieg frequently visits that cave you last saw him in, he and the entire crew at times. It serves as a decent rest point for the long distance hikes they might take when time allows them. So here we see him again, performing in his morning stretch routine while he waits for the others to get up, keeping his hips loose with the addition of a few leg raises while he lays on his back. His paws high, he finally could no longer stand not tending to himself. Having been on the return trip from their three day hike, this the last day, he would finally succumb to his body's impressive drive, his building need to feel that release, like a hunger that had been building throughout his stretch. He may have spilled a decent amount of seed down Schwartz's throat after setting camp the past two nights, even last night, but he always found himself increasingly aroused during his stretch routines. The other mornings, he resisted the urge, but not this time.

Reaching down with both hands, still holding his legs up, he would grab his erected canid length, already free from his sheath. Using his fingers to pull that sheath back over his knot, he would tease that sensitive swelling bulb with that hand as he stroked along the length of his shaft with the other hand. Keeping his pleasured huffs of breathing quiet, as not to disturb the others sleeping nearby, he left his knot be and shifted those hands to his furry ball sack, fondling them, encouraging their productivity with the pleasant touch of his careful digits, the other hand picking up its pace on his length. Breathing a bit heavier now, the muscles in his legs tightening, toes curling as he brought himself closer to his edge, he moved back to that swollen knot. Squeezing it, rubbing at it, kneading it in his paw.

Then he reached his edge...

Leaving his knot alone, trying to hold himself at that edge as long as he could, he gripped both hands firmly around the shaft of his decently sized breeding tool. Holding out as long as he could short slow, tight strokes with those hands, his legs shook in the air. His pre was dripping onto his belly, from his canid tip, but that was not the mess he was looking for. Finally, with a shudder coursing over his body, he climaxed. His prostate pulsed rapidly and tightly, spurting gushes of his own cum onto his face, his eyes already closed tight from the intensity of his edge. Mouth opening slightly in his moaning, he would be all to happy to taste his own essence, the potent scent of his seed filling his own nostrils as his nose was plastered with semen.

Draining his balls of their daily need, his mind swam in pleasant bliss, but also with an increasing desire for more, the canine knew that when he was done cumming this time, another load would be waiting for him. That thought just made it better for him... Perhaps his next load will be down the otter's throat again...