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This story was written for Zazaleto. It contains M/F sex between consenting adults, and cuckolding. :3

Making the Most of a Man

Almost every week-day that Marci worked, the routine was the same. At around three in the afternoon the gabbiest group of stuck up bitches would come in, dressed in their hand-stitched copies of original designer fakes and swinging around their faux-leather, faux-stylish purses, and order a round of the most frustratingly complex coffees. For a while after starting to work as a barista the otter had thought that the stereotype about customers wanting complex drink orders was just a playful exaggeration, but after making her first skinny half-caff no foam vanilla syrup extra sugar latte for one of those women, she had swiftly learned otherwise. Still, for as obnoxious as it was to listen to them squawking and shrieking with laughter for hours on end, as frustrating as it was to hear their fingers snapping as they summoned staff members over to clear away their empty cups and asking for new drinks to be brought right to their tables, that wasn't what frustrated Marci most about those women. Indeed, much as they frustrated her she couldn't deny their confidence, their forthrightness; something far too many women lacked in her opinion. What truly got to her though was the way one of them, more so than any others, treated her husband.

Every day she was there, some time shortly after five o'clock, he would arrive. A mouse with weary eyes whose fur barely hid the dark rings beneath them, and whose suit and tie clad body moved with a near constant state of fatigue to every step, every motion. He would arrive, walk over to the women, and present himself to the bitchiest bitch of them all. From that moment onward, he would be the one to go up to the counter and get every drink order. He would be the one who paid for every drink for every woman present. And of course, for the rest of the hour or so they tended to remain after his arrival, he would otherwise be expected to sit in total silence and rapt attention. If he looked around, he was chided and mocked for being uninterested in the vastly important opinions on local gossip that his wife had to share. If he checked his phone, it was rapidly fished out of his hands as he was accused of texting some floozy, only for his wife to then loudly read out in the most purposefully dull, droning voice whatever work email or random news article online he had in fact been reading, the rest of her friends cackling and snorting with mirth while the mouse cringed and blushed in shame.

Marci had never seen such a pathetic man, and yet, unlike those other women, she didn't blame the man himself. She could see in his eyes when he came up to get coffees for his wife and her friends how there was the spirit of a good, perhaps even fun and interesting person buried inside. Buried under years of domineering cruelty and emotional abuse from his supposedly beloved wife, there was a soul that seemed kind, and warm, and loving.

"Hi again."

He chuckled softly as he stepped up to the counter for the fourth time in about fifteen minutes, barely having managed to sit down this time before another of his wife's friends had demanded a new drink.

"Hi. Sorry again, but can I get a..."

The mouse closed his eyes, focusing as he tried to remember... because of course she didn't let him write the order down... what his wife's friend had wanted. His mouth moved silently for a few moments as he tried to remember the complex order, then finally with a triumphant smile that all too rapidly faded as he realised he had no real reason to be proud, he told Marci what he wanted.

She smiled and nodded warmly.

"Anything for yourself, sir?"

He smiled dryly, but shook his head.

"No. My wife doesn't like it when I have caffeine. She worries I'll become too hyper, that I'll disturb her evenings."

The otter nodded, trying not to scowl as they made pleasant conversation while she made the drink in question.

"That's a shame. So, you two are spending the evening together?"

The male opened his mouth, then frowned, and his body sagged in obvious frustration. He sighed.

"Uh. N-no. She... she's going out for dinner at a restaurant with some of her friends. I... uh... I have laundry to do for us at home. Then I need to... t-to wait up, for her to get home. She doesn't like it if I'm already in bed when she gets back. Thinks it shows I don't care about whether she gets home safe or not."

He looked so tired as he spoke, so defeated, so... broken, almost. But a second later his eyes widened, his face flushed, and he looked around towards his wife and her friends in horror before looking back to Marci.

"B-but... I'm not complaining. I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of that. I... I'm just a little tired from work. That's all. I really didn't mean anything by it. Please, d-don't... don't say anything to my wife."

Marci didn't know how to respond to that, so she simply nodded and said nothing more. She concluded making the coffee in silence, and after handing it to the mouse and nodding in gratitude as he ensured that he tipped her on top of the coffee's price just as he always did, she watched him slink slowly back over to the group of women. She watched as the coffee was snatched out of his hands without a word, and he was left to sit down on the edge of their circle, ignored, alone and silent once more.

The otter's fists clenched by her sides, and she promised herself in that moment that if ever there was something she could do for that man... if ever there was a way she could grant him even a few moments of the happiness he seemed so eternally denied in his current relationship, then she would.

About ten minutes later, as Marci was out from behind the counter clearing another table's empties, she heard the mouse's wife laugh loudly and obnoxiously once more, and call out in a voice loud enough for everyone in the coffee shop to hear.

"Are you a child?! You don't need to ask my permission to go use the bathroom, Malcolm. Not unless you want me to wipe your tushie for you after."

She and her friends cackled and squealed with laughter as the mouse rose, humiliated, from his chair, face staring at the ground so that he didn't have to look up at the various other people staring at him with expressions ranging from amusement to surprise to pity. He made his way to the bathroom, and Marci scowled as she recalled an occasion not two weeks ago when he had gotten up to do the same, only to be yelled at by his wife for not telling her where he was going. With her body trembling with such rage that the plastic tub of mugs and saucers in her hands rattled slightly, she stormed back over to the counter and set it down. She watched as the mouse, Malcolm, disappeared into the back area where the toilets were located, and a violent shudder ran down her spine as she realised what she wanted to do. What she had to do. What she was going to do.

She turned to one of her colleagues, smiling warmly.

"Hey, are you okay if I take a bit of my break now?"

Barely thirty seconds later she too was walking through the door that led to the restrooms. Ten seconds after that she was approaching the men's room door, and just a few seconds after that, taking a deep breath and reassuring herself with one last mental image of that mean bitch yelling at her husband, she was pushing the door open and slipping inside.

The restroom was small, with only three urinals, three sinks and a single stall. It was surprisingly clean for a men's room, and currently it was occupied by only one figure. Malcolm stood at the rightmost urinal obviously mid-stream by the sounds of things, and of course, not wishing to seem weird, he made no move to look around as Marci entered. Thus it was only after he had finished peeing, when she heard the jingle of him shaking off and watched as he slipped his manhood back into his trousers and began to re-zip himself up, that the otter spoke.

"Malcolm?"

He squeaked loudly in shock, whirling around and covering his crotch with both hands even though his cock was already hidden by his clothes once more.

"A-aahh! W-what are you... oh god, I... I'm sorry, I just didn't expect..."

He stammered and stuttered, obviously not even sure himself what he was trying to say, what he was thinking in that moment. It was clear however that guilt, that apologetic sorrow was his default response, because most likely that was all he was able to deliver at home. The otter smiled at him, shook her head, and pressed a finger to her lips as she extended a hand and beckoned to him. Malcolm blinked and frowned in confusion, but as Marci proved relentless, as she employed her own confidence and forthrightness, though in a very different way from his wife, he soon found himself stepping forward and taking her offered hand.

The otter led the trembling, blushing, confused male out of the restroom without washing his hands. She led him down the back corridor a little way further, and with her free hand pulled her staff key from her pocket and unlocked the door to the staff only restroom. It was just one small room with a single toilet for any gender or usage, and a sink and a hand dryer of its own. Once they were inside together, Marci locked the door and slipped the key back into her pocket. Then she turned back to face Malcolm, and giggled as she saw the look of absolute confusion, of concern and guilt in his eyes. Yet, it wasn't guilt because he knew or even suspected why he was here; why she might have brought him here, all alone with her. It was the guilt of a man who knew that he wasn't where he was supposed to be, and that there was a woman, his wife, who would be very, very angry with him for stepping off the beaten path and taking even a second longer than he was meant to before getting back to her.

Marci smiled at the mouse.

"Your wife is a bitch."

She began to take off her apron. Then to unbutton her shirt. The mouse squeaked loudly, covering his eyes for a moment before adorably peeking through his fingers with wide, overwhelmed eyes.

"I don't know why you're with her. I don't know why or even if you actually love her. But... from everything I've seen, she's a horrible person who has done nothing but make your life hell."

She pulled off her shirt and unhooked her bra in a swift, practised motion, revealing two firm, modest breasts rising from her chest, the lush brown fur upon them giving way to two firm, pale pink nipples.

"If you love her, or if you believe that she genuinely loves you, please just say so and I'll put my clothes back on. I'll never mention this to anyone. But... I think, or... maybe I just hope, that you feel like you have no other option. That you've lived under her thumb for so long, you worry that there's no alternative. Well... this is me..."

She pulled down her trousers. She pulled off her panties. She stood naked in front of the mouse, clothes crumpled on the bathroom floor beside her.

"...telling you, showing you that there is another option. You can say fuck your wife. Fuck that bitch and her selfish cruelty. You can stop buying her drinks and sitting around quietly waiting for her to tell you that you can go home and do her laundry... and instead, if you like, you can fool around with a woman who doesn't know you nearly as well as she'd like. A woman who'd love to get to know you more... if it can be a version of you who isn't trapped and owned by a bitch who doesn't deserve you."

She stepped away from the door, leaving it free and clear for Malcolm to unlock and open, to flee if he so wished. He made no move to do so, and Marci smiled. She stepped closer to him. Closer. He didn't withdraw. He just stood there. Blinking. Frozen as he stared at her naked body. Motionless, except for the unmistakable twitching and throbbing at the front of his grey suit trousers.

Marci giggled. She stepped around Malcolm, and he turned to follow her. She brought her back to rest against one tiled wall of the restroom, and leaned against it. She spread her legs apart as best she could while remaining upright, reached down between them, and spread the lips of her pussy lewdly apart, watching as the mouse's eyes bulged and his crotch throbbed visibly once again.

"Stop being who you think she wants you to be, Mal. Stop being who you think you need to be to keep her. To earn or win her love. You don't need it. You don't deserve the kind of love that women like her pretend to offer. What you need... what you truly need, is to know what you want."

The mouse squeaked softly, and trembled where he stood.

"I... I... d-do. I... I know w-what I... what I want."

He took a single step. A single step towards her. Towards the naked, exposed otter. She moaned and grazed her clit with her thumb, licking her lips as his eyes bulged and he took another step closer to her.

"Then take it."

She murmured to him.

"Stop holding back. Stop sacrificing your happiness for someone who cares nothing about it. D-do what would make you happy. Do what would make you feel good. Do what your wife would hate for you to do. Put yourself first... and do exactly what I know you want to do."

The mouse squeaked loudly, and lunged forward. To Marci's surprise however he didn't drop his trousers and plunge himself directly into her. Instead he dropped to his knees, shuffled forward until his hands were caressing her thighs, and he stared up at her with his mouth open and panting, a hunger burning in his gaze.

"M-my wife would never let me eat her out. She said I w-was... disgusting. That I was a pervert for even thinking about it."

Marci shuddered and reached down, caressing the top of the mouse's grey furred head and the tips of his pink ears.

"Lick my pussy. Suck on my clit. I... I won't make you stop until you want to. I won't say no, I won't make you hold back, e-even if you keep going till your face is soaked with my... o-oh... oh god! Oh, h-holy shit, Mal!"

She didn't even manage to finish what she was saying before with a giddy, almost sobbing squeak of joy the mouse pressed his face between her legs and began to feast. To devour her pussy not just with haste and urgent glee, but with skill. With natural talent that didn't just surprise Marci, but overwhelmed her. His tongue flicked at her clit in a way that made her toes curl and her fingers scrabble at the tile wall behind her in a frenzy. He pressed his tongue inside of her pussy and fucked just the first inch or two of her depths with it in lashing strokes, and Marci had to fling a paw over her muzzle to keep her cries from echoing out beyond the restroom. And after barely a minute when Malcolm did as Marci had suggested and wrapped his lips around the button of her clit, suckling and rubbing at it with intense, focused passion, it took less than sixty seconds more from that point before Marci's hands were clutching at two handfuls of the mouse's hair and she was humping against his slurping maw, staring wide eyed down into his own joyously shimmering hues as he moaned and gurgled and sucked upon her, driving her to the brink of orgasm.

"Oohhhh fuck, M-Mal. Oh god. I... I'm gonna cum. Mal, b-baby... ohh jesus, I'm gonna squirt. Fuck. Fuck. You're gonna make me... y-you're... you're making me... ooooohhhhgodyes!"

Marci still found herself looking down at Malcolm as she humped at his face; as she bucked and shuddered and squirted, and in those moments of ecstasy she saw a brightness, a vital intensity sweep across the male's face the likes of which she hadn't seen in the many times he had visited the coffee-shop. His fatigue and resigned complacency fell away, and it was replaced by a desperation. A frantic, pleading wildness that began to burn and burst forth from his eyes even as he suckled upon her clit a little longer before finally letting go, allowing the woman's final few streaks of ejaculate to streak and stain the fur of his face. Yet more of her juices dribbled off his chin and stained the front of his suit jacket as he drew back from her and pulled himself upright, grinning, panting, already reaching down and unbuckling his trousers even as Marci giggled in satisfaction and fell hurriedly, eagerly to her knees.

"Tell me what you want. T-tell me what you want from me. Not her. Me."

The mouse nodded, groaning happily as he cast down his trousers and the briefs beneath them, tented with what was a surprisingly large, thick cock for a man of barely five feet tall.

"I want you to suck my... ooh fuck..."

Before he could even finish asking though, Marci was all over it, and all over him. Her hands were gripping at the lean cheeks of the male's ass, and her muzzle was eagerly swallowing up each of his seven inches, pushing him to the hilt inside her muzzle and gurgling but not gagging as she felt his tip press into the back of her throat. Hungrily, giddily she began to bob and slurp at his erection, and she moaned in encouragement as she felt his hands land upon her head just as her had for him, gripping at her fur and beginning to coax her into a faster, more urgent rhythm.

"Fuck. Oh fuck, it's been so long. I... I'm n-not gonna last..."

Malcolm wasn't kidding when he said that, but by the same token he didn't seem ashamed or embarrassed by the fact that barely thirty seconds after his cock had slipped into Marci's muzzle the otter could feel it twitching and straining with the obvious signs of a shaft that was about to let loose all that it had to offer. She moaned and tugged at his buttocks with her hands, urging him to keep thrusting with whatever speed he desired before the mouse could even think about slowing down and attempting to delay things. And sure enough when he gave a grateful whimper and began to thrust against her maw even harder, the otter giggled through her muzzleful of cock and allowed one of her hands to slide away from the male's rear end, slipping between his legs and cupping his equally large, heavy balls.

"Ah!"

He squeaked and gasped as she gently squeezed his testicles within her palm, hips jerking sharply forward, cock throbbing urgently within the otter's muzzle.

"A-ahhh! F-fuck!"

He grunted again, louder, ever more desperately as she did so again, coaxing him ever faster towards his peak, begging him wordlessly to give her what she suspected his wife rarely if ever took the opportunity to receive, far more interested in the mouse's money than his heart, his mind or indeed his body.

"Marci, I'm... oohh god. Oh. Ohhh yes, I... I'm..."

Gasping her name, making the otter blush with how tenderly, how joyously he spoke what thus far he had only ever seen printed on receipts and on her name badge, Malcolm shuddered, squeaked and thrust his hips forward one more time. He rose up onto the tips of his pink toes, and let loose a long, breathless, shuddering moan of pure elation and relief as he let loose, and began to paint the back of Marci's throat with strings of cum that seemed so thick, so voluminous in their potency the otter had to wonder just how long it had been since Malcolm had been given any opportunity to empty a load into any part of a woman. She gasped, gulped and swallowed down every salty drop of what Malcolm had to offer, devotedly suckling upon his member until it fell to the male himself to pull back, whimpering and groaning with the sudden over-sensitive intensity that swept over him as she kept sucking even after he was spent.

Blushing and both breathing heavily, both their faces a little damp and both their breath smelling of the other's sex, the otter and mouse found themselves face to face as Malcolm dropped to his knees before Marci. He began to raise his arms, then stopped and glanced downward, bashful and uncertain. A few moments later though he whimpered in delight as Marci flung her arms around him, giggled, and whispered into one of the mouse's ears.

"Kiss me. Hold me. D-don't let go of this feeling."

She sighed happily as he flung his arms so tight around her naked body, and she embraced his still shirt and tie clad upper half in return. They nuzzled. They kissed at one another in soft, rapid pecks before finally sinking into an even deeper, lengthier kiss.

"I... I don't want this to end..."

Malcolm gasped when finally their lips parted, eyes widening in embarrassment, in shame as he again realised he had let himself say something that perhaps should have remained inside his head. He didn't understand why he couldn't restrain himself in front of this woman, even before today. Why he couldn't help but feel relaxed and calm around her, the very opposite of the tension and worry he felt whenever he was around his wife. Or rather, he hadn't been able to understand in the past. Now, though, after this? After today, he thought maybe he did understand. Though the truth of what that might mean for him, for all that he had known for so many years, was terrifying.

A gentle hand upon his cheek made the mouse jump, and he sighed, and sank into the affectionate touch as Marci caressed his face and wiped a tear away from where it had formed in the corner of his eye. She leaned in again, and kissed a matching tear out from the corner of the other, leaning her forehead against his.

"Then... don't let it end."

She smiled softly as he looked at her in fearful confusion.

"If you don't want this to end... if you don't want to stop feeling this way? Free? Happy? Cared for? Then... don't let it stop. Do everything in your power to keep it from ending. And... if you do? T-then... I will too."

*********

Priscilla frowned as she glared at the empty coffee cup in front of her, then at the restroom door. If her husband had eaten something bad at lunchtime that had disagreed with him, she was going to make sure he took nothing but dry bread and water with him to work as a bagged lunch for the next month. How dare he embarrass her like this in front of her friends. How dare he make her even consider having to go and get her own drinks, pay for her own drinks... even if the card she'd be using was tied to his accounts anyway. Didn't he know what was expected of him?! Didn't he know what happened when he let his wife down?

Well, when she got home from her night out, she'd make sure he knew.

The restroom area door swung open maybe ten seconds later, almost a quarter of an hour after Malcolm had disappeared inside. Sure enough, he emerged. Priscilla frowned. Why was he smiling? And why was his face damp? Had he thrown up? Had he washed his face in the sink or something? Maybe that was it, as his clothes looked even more dishevelled and unflattering on him than normal. Indeed even his tie was crooked. What a fucking slob!

She watched as he walked towards the counter, and growled under her breath.

"Malcolm. Come here, now!"

She barked at him, her friends looking up, giggling and murmuring in amusement as they prepared to watch him get reamed out yet again. Only... he didn't come. He didn't even turn, even look or acknowledge her presence. He just kept walking, his pink tail twitching and a slight jauntiness to his step. He walked to the door of the coffee shop, pulled it open, and disappeared into the fading evening light without a word.

"Holy shit... did he just... blank you?"

One of Priscilla's friends murmured, and someone else snorted with laughter.

"Oh my god, wrecked."

Priscilla whirled around, face flushed crimson, snarling.

"Shut up. You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. You know Malcolm. He doesn't have the balls to even think of blanking me."

From somewhere close by, a new voice spoke up, clearing her throat pointedly.

"Actually, his balls are pretty big."

Priscilla blinked, and she and all her friends turned to see one of the baristas standing by the table, her uniform slightly crumpled and creased, and the top two or three buttons of her shirt unfastened, the slight cleavage of her chest and a flash of black from her bra just about visible.

"Wanna know how I know that, cunt?"

She licked her lips pointedly, taking half a lunging step forward to punctuate that last, threatening word and grinning as not just Priscilla but all the women at the table jolted backwards in shock.

"Anyway, this is just a courtesy visit to let you know... Mal won't be waiting up for you tonight. He'll still be awake when you get home, don't worry about that. But, not with you. Not thinking about you. Hell, if I have my way he won't even be able to remember your name by then. He'll be too busy screaming mine, while I let him fuck me for the... gosh, I dunno, sixth or seventh time?"

Priscilla was trembling in rage and humiliation as she all of her friends staring, some open mouthed, others smirking, others still already with their phones out, texting madly. She stood up, practically yelling for the whole coffee shop to hear.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, lying whore. He couldn't satisfy a woman if she got herself ninety percent of the way there with a vibrator. You think I'd have half the number of lovers I do if he could please me? I've been fucking other guys since before our honeymoon just to stay satisfied."

Rolling her eyes, the otter smirked.

"Well then, you won't mind if I keep him. Although... I wonder how long it'll be before the money stops flowing your way, hmm? Gonna be tough to get that divorce settlement when you just announced to maybe thirty people and a CCTV network that you've been cheating on him from the day you were married..."

Marci shrugged, grinned, and began to walk away. Towards the door of the coffee shop, slipping off her apron and tossing it up onto the counter as she wandered past.

"Y-you bitch! You can't do that! You can't have him! He's... he's mine. My meal ticket. My husband. Mine!"

Priscilla screamed across the shop, stamping her feet as her friends stared and began to gather their coats, all feeling suddenly rather ashamed to be here with this crazily screaming, tantrum throwing wolf who couldn't even keep her husband from stepping out on her while out in public. They paused however, curious, as Marci stopped by the door and turned back to face them, to face the wolf as she snarled and glared across at the otter.

"No he's not."

She shook her head with a smile.

"He's not your anything, any more. And to be perfectly clear, he's not mine, either. He's his own person. His own man. And the more that he learns that... the more fun it's gonna be sharing all the things that he never got to do, even things that he never wanted to do, while wasting his time with your toxic ass."

Then she was gone.

Through the door, out into the night, and gone... taking Priscilla's husband with her.

By Jeeves

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