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The red squirrel shouldered his way through the laundromat door, hefting a full hamper of dirty clothes in his arms. It was nearly 10:00 p.m. and a Sunday night, so the place was almost empty. There was only one other person there, a lion sitting in the corner, reading a magazine. The squirrel met the lion's eyes and inclined his head before heading over to some machines on the other side of the laundromat. The lion looked back down at his magazine, licking the tips of his fingers and peeling back the next page.

This laundromat was set up just like any other, rotary washing machines in stacks of two lining each wall with a row of dryers in the middle of the space. The squirrel made his way down the aisle opposite the lion and set his basket down in front of a washing machine. It had been a long weekend for the diminutive squirrel. He'd gone out Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night, making appearances at all of his usual haunts, reacquainting himself with a number of familiar faces. The result was that he was sore all over. Really, all over. Not to mention the drawers in his dresser had gone from full to only one outfit, which he was wearing now, hence his presence here. The squirrel didn't mind making the trip though. He liked doing laundry on Sunday nights. There was rarely anyone else here, and even if the squirrel did have company, they usually paid him no mind.

Squatting gingerly, the squirrel started loading up the lower machine. When it was full of his jeans and t-shirts and other standard garments, he added a full cap of detergent, adjusted the settings (Large load, warm water), slid five quarters into the slot, and pressed the start button. There was a buzz, and a mechanism within clicked, as the compartment started to fill with water.

The squirrel looked back down at the colorful items remaining in his hamper. These were his "delicates," a modest collection, but certainly the pieces that most needed to be washed. He opened the top washing machine and glanced nonchalantly over his shoulder at the lion. Still reading the magazine. Good. Discretely, he loaded his underwear into the washer, and closed the door, maybe a bit too quickly. He dug into his pockets for more quarters. He had to do a full sweep of his apartment looking for change, and luckily he had scrounged up just enough. He made to pay for the lighter load, but accidentally missed the slot and dropped the contents of his palm. The coinage clattered against the linoleum floor amidst the sounds of the whirring machinery.

Bending over, the squirrel hurriedly picked up the quarters and slammed them into the slot, starting the machine. He let out a deep breath and rubbed his eyes, turning away from the washer and walking smack dab into the lion. Startled, the squirrel jumped back against the wall of machines and sputtered, "Oh my go- I-I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there."

The lion smirked down at the squirrel. He was almost a foot taller with golden fur, a lush mane of dark red hair coronating his head. Gesturing to the top machine, he said, "Some fancy-lookin' underwear you've got there, squirrelly."

The squirrel's eyes darted to the machine where several pairs of boyshorts, panties, and thongs were now spinning around in a vat of soapy water, plainly visible through the transparent door. "Uh... those... th-those aren't mine. They're, uh... they're a friends," babbled the squirrel, not really sure why he was denying ownership. The big cat was still staring at him, his tail swishing back and forth and a hungry look in his eyes, one that made the squirrel flush. His shirt was tight enough to see his toned muscles clearly. He was a big cat. It goes without saying that he was sex incarnate.

"Well that's a shame," murmured the lion. "You look so cute in those panties you've got on, I wouldn't mind seeing you in some of those other ones."

If the squirrel could have turned any redder, he would have. Realizing that he must have put on quite a show when he bent over to pick up the quarters, plainly exposing the blue lace beneath his jeans, he knew he had been caught. He simply stood there lost for words, gaping at the lion.

The cat chuckled. "Either way, you've got a little while before your clothes finish, don't you? I just put mine in the dryer not too long ago, so we've both got some time to kill, and I bet if we put our heads together, we could think of a way to pass the time. What'dya say?"

The squirrel just nodded meekly, not fully aware of what was about to happen.

"Atta boy. Now then," said the lion whilst unzipping his pants and pulling out his swelling shaft, "Let's put 'em together." He put a huge paw on the squirrel's shoulder and pushed him easily down onto his knees. "Your head..." grasping his prick with his other paw, "...and mine."

The squirrel briefly looked up to meet the lion's leer before leveling his eyes on the dick dangling before them. The big cat's cock must have been nine inches long, a set of hefty balls hanging beneath it like a pair of plums, juicy and ripe for the picking. It had the slightest of curves to it, perfect for hitting all those hard to reach places, and as the lion squeezed the base, a bead of pre was already forming at the tip. It was certainly a cock fit for a king. The heady musk of the big cat's maleness permeated the motionless air of the laundromat and assaulted the squirrel's senses, making him sweat through a mixture of intimidation and anticipation, his mouth drying out and thirsting for a taste of the natural dew drop clinging to the end of the lion's cock.

The squirrel didn't even realize his mouth was hanging wide open, his tongue barely lolling out. Placing a paw on the squirrel's head, the lion said, "Come on now, this isn't a museum. You can look and touch," and with that pushed his shaft into the gaping mouth in front of him. He had just enough patience to pull back before reaching the squirrel's throat. Understanding it wouldn't do him any good to choke the frail fellow, he let the squirrel taste the warm pre dripping from his dick. The squirrel swiveled his tongue around the cat's tip, getting a tactile gauge of the meat he was about to be forcefed. The flavor of the lion's masculinity made the squirrel's fur stand on end and provoked a low moan, creeping up from the pit of his stomach and eking out around the quivering member in his mouth. Satisfied with this response, the lion pressed his hips forward, gradually muffling the moan, much like one would mute a trumpet.

Once the cat's tip was tickling the squirrel's tonsils, he pulled back and pushed forward again, repeating until he had built up a nice head of steam. It wasn't long before the squirrel was struggling to keep up with the lion. He rolled his tongue along the underside of the cock hammering down his throat like a piston, wrapping it around the shaft like a thin ribbon of silk. For the most part though, he just tried to relax his jaw and open his throat as much as possible while the lion fucked his face, his heavy nuts slapping against the squirrel's chin, which was wet with a mixture of drool and pre seeping out of the smaller mammal's mouth. The squirrel reached around and grabbed the backs of the big cat's thighs, hanging on to the seat of his pants as those powerful hips kept thrusting forward, chugging along with the progressive rhythm of a locomotive.

The lion relented to catch his breath, panting heavily before letting out a sudden gasp. Despite the strain of having his jaws stretched open as wide as they would go, the squirrel apparently did not need a break. Taking control, he began to lavish the cat's cock with more thorough ministrations, swirling his tongue around the tip and teasing the slit at the very end, seeking more of the lion's sweet pre. He opened his throat and went all the way down on the shaft, pressing his nose into the curly fur at its base and inhaling greedily, the potent scent making his eyelids flutter and his own dick throb against his waistband, a wet spot blooming in the front of his pants. As he bobbed his head up and down the lion's prick, he cupped the feline's balls, weighing the hefty orbs in his paw, fondling them delicately.

With a reluctant moan, the lion pulled his cock out of the squirrel's mouth and grabbed a hold of the squirrel's hair, as he was leaning forward, still wanting more. "Whoa there, hot stuff, don't get ahead of yourself. There's still two more cycles to go through, and we're just getting warmed up."

Having said that, he picked up the slight squirrel with little effort, the squirrel giving a surprised squeak, and walked over to the dryer his clothes were in, setting him down on top of it. "Let's get these off of you," said the lion as he jerked the squirrel's jeans off over his legs. "Those are staying on though," he murmured, eyeing the blue lace panties, which now featured a sizable damp patch on the front over a noticeable bulge. The squirrel's tip was just peeking out, and he blushed while the machine rumbled underneath him, his eyes fixated on the lion's cock, the taste of which was still fresh on his lips, his craving still unsatisfied.

The lion pushed the squirrel down so that he was lying back on the dryer, his bushy tail between him and the dials, his legs lifted up so that his rump hung over the edge. The cat hooked a finger into the squirrel's panties and pulled them aside, exposing his tailhole. The lion gave it a firm prod with his firm rod, forcing an urgent moan from the squirrel.

"P-please, be gentle..." he whimpered. "I've, uh... had a long weekend." The squirrel cut his eyes away bashfully, not wanting to meet the cat's gaze.

The lion roared with laughter. "You're not fooling me with that, hot stuff. I can tell you want it rough." He gave the squirrel's pucker another poke, causing his face to wince and his dick to pulse excitedly. "I can tell you like it rough." The squirrel let out a pitiful whine at that, so the lion conceded, proferring two fingers, "Well if you're that worried about it, why don't you help me butter your bread?"

The squirrel's tail bristled beneath him, and his cheeks burned with shame. Taking the digits into his mouth, he suckled them hungrily. His mouth was still watering, so the lion didn't have to wait long before withdrawing his fingers, dripping with saliva up to the knuckles. Bringing the wet digits down to the squirrel's tailhole, he jabbed them in roughly making the squirrel squeak. "Maybe you were right, squirrelly. If this is you after a long weekend, I'd hate to try picking you up on a weeknight," purred the lion, flexing his fingers in the squirrel, prepping him for his impending impalement. Judging his job done, the lion removed his fingers and repositioned his cock between the squirrel's pert cheeks.

The squirrel bit his lower lip as he felt the lion's member threatening to breach his entrance, trying and failing to suppress a moan. He was suddenly aware of how painfully exposed they were. He was about to be fucked on top of a dryer in the middle of a laundromat. They were barely out of sight of the door. Anyone could walk in at any moment and see him getting rutted, getting completely and utterly used, and they would be able to see how much he was enjoying it.

With a snarl and a sudden thrust, the lion drove all of these thoughts from the squirrel's mind, replacing them with the familiar and welcome sensation of a stiff prick filling him to the brim. Even after the lion's prep-job, the squirrel couldn't help but shriek. Once the initial shock subsided, he basked in the glorious heat radiating from the lion's cock, spreading from his ass up through his chest and then out, down each limb, ending at his fingertips gripping the edges of the dryer, his toes curling and uncurling in the air above him. He gave no further resistance, relaxing, ready to enjoy the ride.

The lion didn't make him wait long before kicking into high gear. He pulled back until only his tip remained in the squirrel, the muscular ring gripping it desperately, and then slammed his rod all the way back home with the speed and strength of a jackhammer. He had said he would give it to the squirrel rough, and he hadn't been lying, wielding his tool with brute force, battering the squirrel's tailhole mercilessly.

The lion had been wrong about one thing though: The squirrel didn't like what the lion was doing, he loved it. He wasn't sure if the dryer was rumbling underneath him because it was on or because of the power in every one of the cat's thrusts, the sound of his hips slamming against the squirrel's butt and reverberating around the premises. The squirrel could feel the force of the lion's humping in his gut, he felt the warmth of the cat's prick in his face, and he felt the feline's tip as it collided with his most sensitive regions in the pulsing of his own dick, spurting pre freely into his belly fur. He felt all of these things within brief snapshots of sensation, the lion's shaft stretching him wide and igniting his nerves in one moment, the king's cock receding and leaving him empty and yearning the next. He moaned throughout, sharply and adoringly when entered, softly and longingly when in need. He was in every way beholden to the regal beast leaning over him, making him his bitch.

When he felt the lion slow down, the squirrel thought the big cat might be on the verge of climax. Something in his expression must have betrayed this thought to the cat, for he chuckled raggedly, "Oh no, hot stuff, we're not done just yet." Then, pulling out, he picked the squirrel up once more and turned around so that they were facing the washing machines. The squirrel braced himself with two paws against the machine in front of him, the same one rinsing out his lingerie, and spread his legs, raising his tail and looking back at the lion, his eyes watery with lust. The feline wasted no time, taking a firm hold of the squirrel's hips and plowing into his ass once again.

If the squirrel thought he was getting railed before, this renewed effort was redefining what it meant to be fucked. He wasn't sure if his feet were even touching the floor, the lion throwing his hips up and forward, burying his package deep within the squirrel time and time again, each thrust carving out new territory that had never been explored by anyone before. It was like the lion's dick had been custom rigged to service the squirrel's ass, touching up all the important places, no precision required. One hump was as good as the next, and the pleasure each delivered was mounting higher by the second, a swelling wave on the verge of breaking at any moment.

The squirrel could feel the lion's hot breath weighing on his neck fur like a steamed rag. The cat was obviously close to his breaking point now, the strokes of his piston seeming to misfire every so often now, not as measured and symmetric as before. His heavy sack swung pendulously and chimed against the squirrel's, still contained within his panties, the fabric cloying with their collective sweat. The squirrel's cock now hung out the topmost fringe of lace, scatterings of pre landing on the floor while a single long strand clung to his tip, swaying to and fro in the air as the lion struggled to maintain his assault.

Growling with a tone of unmistakable finality, the lion grabbed the squirrel's bushy tail at its base and yanked the squirrel's ass down to the hilt of his shaft. It was as though he had pulled the string on a bottle popper. The squirrel instinctively clenched around the cat's cock as his own dick bucked and flung ropes of cum that streaked his chest or splattered against the washing machine's porthole. Inside him, the lion had been no match for the immense pressure applied to his cock, and accompanied by a roar, he unleashed a flood of seed into the squirrel, the sticky surge spilling out of the stuffed hole and dribbling down between their balls, soaking the squirrel's panties. As the squirrel sprinkled the last of his load onto the tiled floor, the lion pulled out to deliver the rest of his all over the squirrel's ass, lobbing jizz into the fur on his tail and the fabric covering his cheeks.

Spent at last, the lion released the squirrel who sank to the ground in a sticky heap. He panted, breathless while the lion's seed seeped out of his tailhole, matting the fur on his thigh on its way to an expanding puddle on the floor. Overhead, his own cum dripped down the glass face of the washing machine as his underwear spun to a halt within.

The lion grunted, tucking his package away and zipping up. "Damn, hot stuff, for a Sunday night, you've still got one hell of a fine ass. What'dya say you spend the night at my place, hmm? I'll go bring my car around, you grab your things and get in."

The squirrel showed no signs of moving, save the rising and falling of his chest.

The lion called back over his shoulder on his way towards the door, "No need to hurry though."