Creiloog the Even More Risqué Radioman

Creiloog finds some rather risqué things to do with his field radio. If only it transmitted scents!

Creideiki stood in the forest, his radio transceiver in the brown leather of his gloved hand. He felt the warm summer breeze on his naked, feathered body, though he was ready for anything with those brown boots and gloves of his. And he was fit to relay messages to headquarters with the old-fashioned backpack radio he had on. Though something captivated his imagination beyond his immediate duties. You might say he was horny, even.

"Lieutenant Creideiki, what's the situation on the field? Over," blurbed a man's voice on his transceiver.

The big booted loog grunted, his free hand lightly squeezing his blue-feathered balls as he breathed heavily, sweat rolling down his feathered body in the heat. He pressed the transmitter button. "Nothing unusual to report. Over."

"Good. Your radio seems to be working well enough. Please report again to us in about fifteen minutes. Over and out."

Creideiki then saw the transceiver's coiled cord. He huffed a breath, his cock erecting out of its sheath as he rubbed his balls and then his male flesh. He pressed the transceiver against his bits, his heart racing and his mind going to fantastical places that didn't make sense. He pressed the button to transmit.

"Actually, perhaps there are more diagnostics that can be conducted on this radio. Over," he said slightly shakily, his penis now throbbing and knotted against the handset.

"In what way, Lieutenant? Over."

Creideiki grinned, putting the receiver around the back of his thigh, the cord going taut against a firm white-feathered butt cheek. "I'll show you. Over."

"You'll ... show me? Over."

The loog grunted and growled lowly as he reached between his legs and pulled the transceiver to the front, the cord sliding right up between his butt cheeks. He clenched his glutes, the cord trying its best to resist the strength of his gluteal muscles, but it disappeared deep within his warm and sweaty ass crack. He placed the handset right up against his cock again, the transmitter button pressed all the while.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what's going on. There's a bunch of scraping sounds. Over."

"Have a smell. Over," said Creideiki, licking his beak as he dribbled pre from his pulsating cock. He pressed the handset a little more firmly into his dick, the cord riding up against his tailhole tighter than the inside of a geode.

"I beg your pardon? Oh ... ohhh ... " said the man on the other end, with the sounds of a sniffing nose coming through.

"How's that for a report? Over and out ... " said Creideiki smoothly.