Unpleasant Developments Chap. Two: Do the Deed
#2 of Unpleasant Developments
Unpleasant Developments Chap. Two: Do the Deed.
(Author's note: Another story, with heightened yiff content. Most of it is foreplay, though. Enjoy!)
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Fortified by added-cream coffee and Allan's words of inspiration, I stepped into Sylvia's office. In the entryway, a solid wall of female scent blocked my passage. As I recoiled in terror/pain, small black paws came from nowhere and gripped me by the shoulders.
"Sorry if I seemed a bit rude earlier. It's just that I get angry when I'm horny, and otters really set me off."
"Why angry?"
"... No reason. Now, let's see some ottercock!"
*groan*
In the time it took to call Allan, my "swelling" had gone down dramatically. I slowly undid the belt, and dropped my slacks.
"Now the drawers. C'mon, I haven't got all day!"
I regretfully slid from the boxers. I felt like the veggies in a market; judged on appearance.
"Ohohoh yes! Oh... Er, is that it?"
(Five inches fully erect, maybe, but it still has feelings, lady!)
"It's scared, Ms. Blac-"
"Call me Sylvia. And now, let's cheer him up."
She drew her claws at the speed of light and started shredding her clothing. I'm guessing she was venting her anger, as she elicited a small growl at the snap of every fiber. Allan made those same growls whenever he was close. In seconds, the brown business dress was gone, leaving skimpy negligee underneath.
"She wears it to work?" I thought.
"You like what you see, rudderbutt?"
I nearly fainted dead away there. How could she have known?
"Give 'em a squeeze, they don't bite."
She unhooked her bra and flung it to one side. Her exposed breasts were, if you ask me, very ordinary. Large, sable-coloured orbs with small pink nubs sticking from the center. Ruefully, I started groping her chest. She gave a slight moan, and I discovered her breasts felt slightly different from Allan's ass, but still similar! If I can just picture her as Allan, I can just do the deed! But, there were some differences: when I touch, Allan growls, but she moans. Also, her equipment. What exactly do I do with that? Then, she broke my train of thought.
"You're liking this, aren't you?"
"What?"
She pointed down. The first inch was sticking from my sheath.
"Ooh, you're uncut! Lemme play with it!"
"Uugghhh... if you have to..."
She started fondling one testicle at a time, and I rapidly extended. Once fully erect, I stood semi-blushing as she ogled it.
"So thick!"
"Er... thanks?"
"Not too long, but it'll tear me to bits!"
I actually felt better, and in response she crushed my spirits.
"Now, pull down my panties... with your teeth."
I sadly obeyed this demeaning command. As I sunk on to my knees, the smell became stronger, coming in waves.
I bit the slimline string on the side of her hip and pulled down. The scent was intoxicating, perverting and twisting my mind into trusting her. My primal urges said:
"Go for it!"
But my naturality said:
"They're right! Hit it! But only for Allan!"
Weird. It agreed. At a 2-nil vote, I proceeded. She sat up and lay back on the desk, spreading her short black legs.
"...Line up your cock and push it in!"
She sounded a bit sad. After a bit of silent mourning, I penetrated her. There was a clamping, an electric jolt, a small tearing noise, and-
"Nyah!"
"What was that?!"
"My hymen, I think..."
"You're a virgin?"
"Well, not anymore. *giggle*"
I pulled out and grabbed a Kleenex, dabbing at the thin blood seeping from her. I caught the menacing glint in her eye, and replied sadly.
"I guess I have to do this. Well, here it comes again!"
I started to bury myself into her again. Her walls squeezed down with the force of a vise crushed between a pair of almighty Mack Trucks. Vivid, isn't it? Soon, she started milking me, flexing incredibly similar muscles to those Allan uses whenever I mate him. In the course of minutes, her entrance became sopping wet, and I began to throb painfully.
"C'mon, otter-boy. Really thrust!"
"Do I have to?"
"You wanna keep your job?"
"*groan*Fine."
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Twenty two *spoogy" minutes later... in which I am sad to say I never, EVER came so hard...
"I'm satisfied enough for now. You may leave."
"Really?"
"...Yes."
After we washed the spunk and juice stains off the desk, she pulled out a spare work dress and put it on. Then she reached into the pocket of her dress (I didn't know they had pockets either!) and pulled out a white rectangle. An envelope. Her voice darkened noticeably.
"Luke, go home. Open this with Allan. For me."
When did this turn to a flippin' soap opera?
"Er... fine?"
And with that, she left.
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At home, Allan brewed me some tea, stripped (happy sights make happy thoughts :)) and sat down on the couch. We opened the thick envelope. In it were two plane tickets, forms requesting a ten percent pay rise in my name with her approval, and a letter. I read it aloud:
"My Dearest Luke,
I'm sorry for what I did today. I forced you to go against your instincts just to feel loved. Perhaps I should explain. I've always been a lutraphile, but have never gathered the courage to ask anyone out, least of all any otters. I felt so lonely, that I felt I had to force you into yiffing me. I'll never recover from this guilt. The plane is going to New Zealand in two weeks. Have fun, and Luke,
Happy Anniversary,
Sylvia."
And, curtain! Thus ends story two! Please, tell me any comments or questions you have. Also, tell me if I put in way too much foreplay and not enough actual yiffing, OK? Thank you!