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Frustration

Forty-four days. It has been forty-four days since the rabbit has masturbated, and that is quite long enough. Maybe it doesn't sound like that long, but this isn't sex we're talking about here. Obviously, people go as long without sex all the time, whether they're between relationships, they aren't concerned with it, or they just can't get any. But this isn't about sex, this is about masturbation, and this is a rabbit. Say what you will about stereotypes, but in this case, it's the truth. In fact, if it was sex, it wouldn't be such a big deal because this rabbit has definitely gone longer than this without sex.

He's a virgin.

Now you understand. Now you see how long forty-four days is for a rabbit with his v-card, one who's used to masturbating a minimum of twice a day. He's certainly not choosing to abstain by choice. He would never just try to quit choking the chicken cold turkey. No, it's his job that's forcing him into chastity. He works at a summer camp, and if you've ever been to a summer camp, you know that there's not much in the way of privacy around there. Not much at all. The bunny is a counselor, living in a cabin with a bunch of little kids and another counselor. There's always someone in or around the cabin, and the kids are light sleepers. Everyone is at summer camp, what with the heat and humidity making them toss and turn, never quite able to find the cooler side of the pillow. Again, no privacy, especially not in the cabin.

During the day, he works down at the swimming lake, life guarding and teaching kids how to swim. The lake is your average mountain lake, with clear, cool water. They built a big, wooden square dock for kids to swim in, with more docks crisscrossing it to break it up into a couple of different areas of varying depths. The bunny generally sits around the docks all day, yelling at kids to stop horseplaying, or floating in the water going over assorted swim strokes. The time at the lake is definitely the worst part of the rabbit's job. Not because of the lifeguarding or the swimming. He enjoys doing those things. No, because of his fellow staff members, the other guards. All day long, he's surrounded by a parade of lithe swimmers wearing speedos that leave nothing to his imagination.

Not that he has any shortage of that. The rabbit spends an unhealthy, and perhaps irresponsible, amount of time daydreaming about and staring at his co-workers. That's what he's doing at this very moment, leaning against the railing on the edge of the dock, ogling the leopard that teaches diving. The lanky cat's ass looks like it's been vacuum-sealed inside his speedo, perfectly defined underneath the thin layer of fabric. When he isn't looking over the other lifeguards, the rabbit's mind is just wandering, usually returning every other thought to how it's been forty-fucking-four days since he cranked one out. It's really quite frustrating. He's got all this great material for fantasies and yet no time or place to utilize them. He wakes up every morning with morning wood that could cut diamond and with his balls positively aching, and then he has to sidle over to the bathroom in such a way that the kids in his cabin don't notice. Forty-four days. God damn. He thinks he's forgotten what his own cock feels like.

For his part, the rabbit isn't bad looking, not one bit. He doesn't have a swimmer's build because this is just a hobby for him, but he's still pretty athletic. He's not skinny as a rail, but he's not what you would call fluffy either, as far as weight goes. Tall and fairly toned, he's got a rich coat of black fur, except for the swathe of white fur extending down from his chest, over his stomach, between his legs, and up around to the bottom side of his tail. So the bunny surely isn't bad to look at, but he knows that the other guys at the lake are in a league of their own. To make things worse, they know it too.

It didn't take very long for them to figure out how the rabbit feels about dudes. His eyes wander far too much for his own good, and he was lacking a decent pair of sunglasses for the first week. Now the others delight in teasing the bunny every chance they can get. While he's teaching, the effete otter that works with the class one dock over loves to walk by swinging his hips in an exaggerated fashion so that the rabbit trails off as he explains how to frog-kick, his attention suddenly on another set of legs. The stallion who coaches water polo never gets tired of asking, "Hey bunny boy, have you seen my balls?" causing the rabbit's eyes to drop reflexively to the clear outline of the horse's sack in his speedo, at which the horse laughs uproariously. And then of course there's that leopard, the biggest tease of all. He comes by whenever the rabbit is stretching at the end of the day, usually when he's bent over, and either stands right in front of him so that he's got a face full of the cat's bulging swimsuit, or he delivers a firm spank to the bunny's ass. These days, a spank alone is enough to tent the rabbit's swimwear.

Again, the rabbit's been gazing lustily at the leopard all afternoon on this forty-fourth day of frustration, and as usual, he gets caught looking at what he can't have. The leopard winks at him from the diving board, bending over and waving his tail before doing a perfect one and a half. The rabbit blushes and turns back to the area he's supervising, though he's still thinking about the jungle cat and how much he wishes the tall feline would bend him over the guard rail and- forty-four days, how has he even lasted that long? It's staggering to think about, really. He hasn't even had a wet dream in that time.

Suddenly the air is alive with the sound of screeching whistles. It's time to pack it in for the day, and the rabbit blows on his own whistle to let the swimmers know to head for the shore. He helps tally up the campers, making sure they're all safe and accounted for. Then it's time to huddle up with the guys, talk about the day, and just generally debrief. Good of the order type stuff. The bunny tries to mentally prepare himself as he walks over there because he knows that the guys are all going to get their last teasing in for the day. Sure enough, he walks over to the circle and they're already snickering, but the chief, another otter, hushes them up so they can get on with things. The rabbit quickly zones out while the chief talks about things like getting to the lake on time, keeping campers focused during swim class, and other mindless minutia of lake management.

The bunny barely hears any of this because he's too busy thinking about how it's been forty-four long days since he last ruined a pair of underwear. It's been forty-four excruciating days since his toes curled so hard during an orgasm that his feet cramped up. It's been forty-four days since he looked at porn. Fucking a'. Then he notices that everyone is snickering again, and he realizes that he zoned out while staring directly at the diving leopard's crotch. The group is losing it.

"I think he's drooling."

"I thought rabbits didn't eat meat."

"Looks like we've got Pavlov's bunny right here."

"He's definitely leakin' something, but I don't think it's drool."

He quickly averts his eyes, folding his ears down flat, blushing furiously. Try as he might, there's no hiding the bulge in his speedo though. After a few more minutes of them cackling, the chief finally calms everyone down. "Alright, alright, that's it for today, dudes. Get out of here," he says. "Oh and bunny boy, it's your turn to clean up the hut." More snickering as the crowd walks off to their cabin, leaving the rabbit, still trying to cover himself up, bright red burning through the black fur on his face.

The hut is just a small wooden shed on the edge of the lake that they store stuff in. First-aid kit, lifeguard rescue tubes, kickboards, volleyballs, and it's all a mess. It always is at the end of the day. Aside from storage, the hut is also frequently used as a changing area, and being a poorly ventilated wooden shack, it still smells strongly of wet, sweaty fur. Today, this smell nearly brings the already aroused rabbit to his knees. Nearly. He manages to shut the door before collapsing onto a pile of the red foam rescue tubes. Damn it all, this is happening, here and now. The bunny yanks his speedo down and lets it fall to his ankles. His cock springs out of its spandex prison, flopping against his belly with a slap. He's trembling with nervous energy, thrilled that he's finally going to satisfy himself, not caring a lick for where he does it.

With a quivering paw, he takes his dick in hand and slowly starts stroking himself from base to tip, attempting to savor the feeling. Attempting and failing, as he thinks about how much he wishes he could go cock to cock with the otter from the neighboring swim class, rubbing the tip of his shaft up and down the otter's, prodding his tight coin purse, his paw moving in a blur over their dicks until both of them come at once, coating each other in sticky seed. And his paw is a blur now, cranking his shaft for all it's worth, every now and then stopping at the top to give his tip an extra twist, the silky fur on his fingers coaxing a steady stream of pre out of the tip and onto his stomach.

With his other paw, he gently fondles his balls, heavy and aching, but not quite ready to spill their precious cargo. In his mind, he's kneeling in front of that water polo horse, cupping his balls, kneading them dutifully, one in each hand while he drags his tongue up and down the firm equine shaft arcing out over his face. The musk of the stallion is potent and intoxicating, and the bunny can't help but think about how much he wants to suckle the tip of his dick, massaging his sack until the horse empties himself down the rabbit's throat. And he would swallow every drop of it. The bunny's own balls are drawing up now. He won't last much longer.

Feeling himself get so close, the rabbit moves his paw down between his ass cheeks and circles his tailhole with a velvety finger, teasing himself. As his fingertip presses against his hole, he imagines that sexy damn leopard has him pinned against the wall of the hut and is prodding him with his hefty tool, pressing it against the bunny's pucker, but not hard enough to enter, just enough to make him squirm. He purrs into the lapine's ears, licking them roughly as he asks the bunny how much he wants to be stuffed. And he wants it so much. The cat spreads the rabbit's cheeks wide and hilts himself with one quick thrust, like he's doing the rabbit a service, and he is, just giving him some much needed release.

For a brief moment, the bunny thinks he hears something outside. Campers walking by? One of the other guys coming back to get something he's forgotten? It doesn't matter. It's been forty-four days; he's not stopping for anyone.

By now, the bunny is fingering himself with reckless abandon, two fingers moving in, out, in, out of his tailhole in time with the cat's cock in his mind's eye, pounding like a piston. He knows just the right spot to hit over and over again, the one that makes him moan every time, that forces an extra gush of pre out onto the growing patch of matted fur on his belly. In his head, he can feel the leopard panting on his neck, his thrusts growing labored, his balls swaying back and forth, slapping against the rabbit's.

Finally, with one last fantastic jab, the bunny flicks the switch that makes stars burst in his head, but not without conjuring one last image: the otter, and the horse, and the leopard, and everyone else gathered around him, pumping their shafts, panting, their hot breath steaming up the whole shack until they all come at once, innundating the rabbit in hot, sticky semen. When he comes, the bunny doesn't let out the kind of shrill cry of euphoria that you read about in bad pulp. No, his face screws up in ecstasy and he just gasps, not even able to make a sound that adequately expresses how good it feels to blow his load all over himself. And it is all over him. As he hits his climax, thick jets of seed spew out of his cock, covering his chest and stomach in sticky splotches of cum. His orgasm doesn't subside until every inch of the white fur on his front is speckled with the milky, translucent fluid.

As the final dregs of his seed seep out and dribble down the head of his cock onto his fingers, which are still wrapped tightly around his shaft, he relaxes at last, letting his head rest limply against the wall behind him, his ears drooping down over his face. It is only now that he wonders what happened to the noise outside. Again, it doesn't matter. He's done what he needed to do, and no one caught him doing the dirty deed.

Then again, he's not what you could ever call clean either, and it's a long walk back to his cabin....