FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Nine at night on a crisp, cool summer evening. City lights reflecting their greens and reds in the lingering puddles of the day's showers. Graduation now just a memory, adulthood looming beyond the double-doors of a large, noisy bar. Even standing on the street Terry could hear the clinking of glasses and the raised voices of those with just a few too many drinks in them. A chaotic orgy of adult voices, his high school peers and their immature jokes left behind, for now. This one, he wanted to do alone. See what it was really like to immerse in an all new group.

The Oasis had a sultry, luxurious flair to it, designed around the notion of an African watering hole. The elaborate branches of imported trees shaded the entryway. Running water cascaded down the outside walls in perpetually flowing fountains. A classy joint, or so he was told, with an aesthetic that brought up memories of his childhood home both fond and best forgotten. The young, newly legal lion brushed his mane between his fingers a few times and looked into the reflection upon a window. Not quite right, but it would do.

That mane was thick and full in a way many guys of his species couldn't quite manage until they were well into their twenties, shrouding his features, reaching down his front and back just a little giving him an adult, masculine look that frequently got him mistaken for someone older than he was. He was a strong, grown lion in many ways, both tall and sturdy, kept fit with regular exercise and just good genes that made it easy to build some solid muscle along chest and arms. Biceps were big, belly was taut with notable abs, his chest was firm and subject to jokes about his overly defined pecs. All in all, not someone who should look out of place among grown adults, but he was having trouble keeping up appearances.

Terry - Teremesha in full - still hadn't lost that lumbering awkwardness of adolescence, evident in his constantly shifting stance as he lingered before the door that in theory led him towards adulthood. He adjusted a fully necessary pair of spectacles atop the bridge of his nose, which hid those deeply brown hunter's eyes from view partially. Such a place was no seedy drink-hole, and he had it in his head that he ought to dress up for the occasion, though he didn't own very much in his wardrobe that fit the need. A good, buttoned white shirt tucked into black dress slacks, one of his stepfather's borrowed ties fastened around his neck the way he had patiently taught him. He looked ready for a job interview, or at best like he was just coming off work right to the bar.

Nibbling his lip with a long canine tooth, Terry fetched his wallet from his pants and retrieved his driver's license. "Beginner", it read, embarrassingly, but more importantly, "Not 19 until..." two months ago. His birthday was quiet, with just a few good friends, as he had asked. They would have backed him up right now, but he felt like he had to do this one alone. It would mean something that way. With that card still in his hand, he approached the doors and gave them a gentle push, inching through them without opening them too far, as if that would be more conspicuous than an overdressed lion squeezing himself through as little of the doorway as he could.

Eyes were upon him as soon as he entered. He could feel them instinctually, and immediately was put on the defensive. They were looking from all directions. He couldn't watch all of them, but he glanced over several figures. Men, women, no one he recognized, but it felt like they all immediately knew him. Penetrating with deep, all-seeing gazes as if they could smell an outsider. Stepping back, Terry considered just leaving, acting as if he had stumbled into the wrong place and turning tail. They could shrug that off and go back to their business, conversations echoing with overloud laughter while a lively fiddle jig bounced through the speakers above.

Still, everything moved as it did before he entered, voices not giving pause and the energetic, yet subdued atmosphere persisting. It was a noisy place. The music was quick and strangely contrasted the décor, but most people were seated and calm. Nothing rowdy, nothing out of order, nobody throwing food, everyone doing what they were supposed to without a watchful eye or the threat of disciplinary action. That was something Terry could appreciate. He wanted to be among adults, and it was good to see them acting like it, even if they could stand to keep their voices down.

Terry was still holding that card in his hand, keeping it close as if it were a torch to ward off bugs. He realized he didn't know where to go. There were seats and booths all around, he saw waiters moving between them. Some forms were seated at the directly at the bar, being served directly, but he didn't see anywhere in particular he was suppose to be. Nowhere to line up, nowhere to wait to be seated. Just people he didn't know. He opened his mouth to speak as a waiter slipped past him, but didn't find the word and wasn't even acknowledged. That left him standing in the open, until he just pressed up close to an empty booth and lingered by it a while.

Scanning about, he tried to see if anyone was going to come guide him to where he was supposed to be, but aside from a few gazes he could sense, he was being left alone. Finally he decided to crawl into that booth, seated across from an empty spot with hands on the table, tapping his ID card to it softly, watching everyone who went by with a lingering stare that he hoped would communicate his need. This was all very disorderly for how well everyone seemed to keep track of things.

A hand on his shoulder made him yelp and jump, turning sharply to observe a brightly-coloured frog - or toad, perhaps - offering him a smile as she leaned slightly in. "Can I help you with something, dear?"

Terry slid his card towards her. "Oh, I have this, um."

She waved it off. "No need, I can tell. First time here? We've never seen you around before. How about a drink?"

"Oh, yeah. Um, beer. Just whatever you have."

"We have a lot of beers," she said with clear amusement, but she didn't tease him. "I think I know just the one for you, I'll be right back!"

Terry sat damning his awkwardness, and wishing he had ordered something more impressive, but then he also had no idea how much any of this would cost. Where was a menu? Prices? At the side of the table there was a laminated sheet detailing "Our specialties", and he pulled it over. Most of them had things he didn't recognize, but one did catch his eye. He had only ever tasted Irish cream in desserts, but he remembered liking the taste, and this one combined it with vodka and some kind of coffee thing, so that sounded pretty delicious. It also wasn't pink, like some of the others, so that helped.

"One of those too please, thanks" he said when his waitress returned with a frothy mug of beer.

She looked at it and gave him a broad grin and bright giggle, though he wasn't sure what was funny. "Coming right up!" she said, and headed off again, leaving Terry with that glass to consider.

It was just beer, not something he was really fond of in his few tastes before, but that he figured was the kind of acquired taste that only came from drinking it often. Why he would want to when it didn't taste good in the first place was beyond him, but there was a lot he still needed to learn. He raised it to his lips and took a long sip, swallowing it slowly and setting it down. His face wrinkled swiftly and he gave his head a shake to the side, shuddering at the taste. It immediately brought back an old memory of eating a piece of fruit left out in the sun too long. Trying not to let his disgust show, he brought it back to his lips and drank deeply from it, downing a good half of the glass in one go, going as long as he could stand it just to try to make that awful stuff go away so he wouldn't have to drink it anymore. Halfway through, he set it down again and gulped heavily, closing his eyes to outright wince.

Beer was definitely not his thing, he decided, letting the remaining half glass sit there in front of him while he dragged his tongue along his teeth, thoroughly disgusted and confused on who exactly enjoyed the stuff and why. Maybe the next drink would serve him better, though he was dreading leaving half a glass behind, and equally dreading finishing it off just to say he did. The colourful waitress returned with a glass of something that looked like dessert.

"One screaming orgasm," she said with a smirk, setting it down before him.

Terry stumbled over his response a moment, thoroughly confused on whether she was joking until it occurred to him that it was just the drink's name. Somehow he had glossed over that when ordering, leaving him to just smile embarrassedly.

"Thank you."

"Just flag me down if you need any more!" And she was off, operating as if overcharged with energy, bouncing back to bar and tables as he watched her briefly.

Now it was time to try another drink, and hopefully this one wouldn't be as cringe-worthy as the last. It certainly smelled better, his whiskers slightly catching the foam atop it as he leaned in to sniff. Then he wrapped his fingers around the cool glass and drank, filling his mouth with a strong, sweet flavour and a bitter undertone that just made him feel like his tasty beverage had been poisoned or something. Still, much more tolerable, and when he set it back down he could already feel something. A bit of dizziness, maybe. Like his head was a little heavier and was harder to hold up straight. This was pretty much the first time he'd had more than a taste of alcohol, so it was easy to assume he'd be a lightweight.

He was probably supposed to talk to someone. Everyone seemed pretty busy. With each other, or just with their drinks. Some were large, tough looking types with piercing and leather jackets, others just kept quietly to themselves and gazed distantly into their drinks, apparently not looking for chat. He kept drinking. It was starting to cloud things a little, make his thoughts go a little more blurry, like he couldn't quite keep them straight, and by the time he was at the bottom of the glass he felt different, at least. Not himself. Tired, mostly.

It must have been a while he was staring off at nothing in particular, and the voice that spoke to him made him jump out of a thoughtful stupor.

"Hey, kid." A gruff, harsh male voice.

Terry was already nervous before he even looked at whoever it was. Someone come to throw him out for his age or the like, even though he could prove he was old enough. Just the confrontation wasn't going to be pleasant.

"I've got my ID, it's right here..." he fumbled about before turned towards whoever it was.

"Nah. Boss wants to see you. Follow me." The person was a thick, somewhat heavy wolf with an unpleasant smile. He wore a black leather vest that more or less matched the dark colour of his fur, Open, showing off muscular arms and a rounded, hefty belly. One of his ears was heavily damaged and half missing. Pretty much the kind of guy who looked like he needed to be within arm's reach of a motorcycle at all times.

Terry didn't like the sound of that, and was already wondering if he had committed some kind of faux pas that was going to cost him somehow. He wasn't going to argue, standing up and leaving his unfinished half-drink behind for now.

"What's this about?"

"Find out." It was a seemingly annoyed response, one that had no time to waste. Terry followed.

His legs gave a bit of a shake when he first stood, feeling just suddenly worse at everything than they usually were, but he was stable enough to walk in more or less a straight line. The wordless path took him up a staircase, down a hall, and to a red-painted door with a shining golden knocker in the form of a snarling lion. The wolf didn't use it, instead knocking with his fist.

"Come in," a female voice called.

"That's you," the wolf said, sticking a thumb towards the door and starting to leave Terry behind. "Do what she says and don't get stupid."

Something told Terry that he really ought to think about this before just doing as told, but he had already come this far. With a tight grasp on the doorknob, he pushed his way in cautiously. It was a large, decorated office, walls adorned with various newspaper clippings and gold-framed paintings. A broad desk stood on the opposite end of the room, and behind it a tall leather chair was turned away, towards a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the bar below.

What drew more attention though was what laid before that desk. Stretched out on the rug was a large, feral male lion, his great maned head raised to regard the other lion who entered. Perhaps it was drink that gave him the courage, but Terry felt his instincts prevent him from showing nervousness, instead directing his gaze directly at that wild male, as if he might battle him for dominance. For all he knew it would get him mauled, but he didn't back down. The lion gave him a growl, but didn't rise from his lazy, sprawled position.

"Nanji. Go." The voice came from the chair, a stern tone that got the big beast moving. He kept his eyes on Terry, but pulled himself to his feet and paced across the room, leaving through the same door as he pushed past, kicking the door shut behind him. A simple command and the beast obeyed.

Terry didn't know what to think, but he at least got to see who he was dealing with. She turned the chair around, revealing herself as she sat back, fingers folded together. Now he laid eyes upon the proud face of an oryx, an elaborately coloured African herbivore, like an antelope painted in splashes of black and white, her face almost like a skull in its markings, like a voodoo priestess. She was not a large woman, but plenty tall, made much taller by long, dark horns sticking straight up, right through an old-fashioned fedora that sat snugly on her head. Her hair was tied tightly in a long tail that rested on her chest, curled around and hanging down the front. Dark black was streaked with grey, to go along with her shapely, matronly form that was most feminine even in her fine, two-piece suit. She regarded him with warm, experienced eyes.

"You are a sight to see, young man," she spoke, not clear on whether that was a good thing or not. Her voice, now that he heard more of it, rolled with a lively, sing-song accent that fit with the music filling the bar.

"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong? I'm old enough to be here, it's my first time."

"I know." She said that firmly enough that he shut right up, but she spoke softer afterwards. "Relax. Have a seat. I only wish to talk."

Swivelling in her chair, she held her hand out towards a violet couch, her narrow fingers adored with jewelled rings. Though she was not a huge, strong woman, Terry found himself immediately following her urging, seating himself with a thoroughly disoriented expression. He felt vaguely guilty, his eyes shifting around as he suspiciously did his best not to look suspicious, not knowing what he did but regretting it anyway. The oryx slowly rose to her hooves.

"You are probably wondering why you are here," she spoke, assuming a tall, proud stance, only to falter slightly and lean on a wooden cane when her right leg wobbled noticeably. Still, it didn't take away from the image, and maybe even served to better establish her as a mature, well-travelled woman. Terry found himself staring at her, amazed that someone so distinct and unique was even real.

"And it's very simple," she continued, striding out from behind her desk, limping some but staying at a steady pace, tapping that cane against the rug beneath. "You are a cute young thing whose company I would most enjoy."

She seated herself beside him, though gave him his space, leaving him to consider a polite but direct statement like that. He had been staring almost the whole time, but it didn't seem to bother him and she didn't stare back confrontationally like some might. Just let those warm brown eyes of hers gently look back, her herbivorous docility leaving Terry comforted and feeling surprisingly safe. Given she already had a wild lion sitting at her feet when he entered, she certainly wasn't going to be uncomfortable around him, which was a relief.

"Ah, company?" He assumed he knew what she meant, but didn't want to say it lest he was wrong. His posture was rather rigid, sitting straight and not moving much, not helped by his uncomfortable attire.

"As you say. No obligation to you, but if you are willing, I would most enjoy spending the evening together. Your name, perhaps? Tell me yours and I shall tell you mine."

Terry felt at the same time tense and cautious as he was relaxed. She seemed safe, trustworthy, but he feared offending her in any way. "Oh, it's Terry. Teremesha actually, but, Terry."

"Wonderful. And I am Dairinn Donegan, delighted to meet you. Might I touch your mane?"

Terry flinched a moment. That sounded wonderful, but was he allowed? Well, of course he was. He was an adult now, drinking drinks, everything was legal. His lightly drunken state made every thought linger much longer than it should have, but he simply nodded, and at once felt her dipping her fingers into the soft, silken hairs of his ample mane, combing through and immersing her hands to the wrist.

"Wonderful, splendid. What a fine mane you have on such a young man." She smiled to him, probably picking up on the way his expression shifted from worried to so very relaxed and contented just with a few moments of his mane being played with. "But still so tense. Relax. Let yourself have a good time."

He was still nervous, but he returned her smile, especially as her fingers worked and tugged through those fine hairs, the little pulls at the base of them feeling so nice they made him breathe a little deeper. "I'm sorry, I've never done this kind of thing before. It's very nice to meet you though, miss Donegan."

His speech was overly cautious, trying to think about every word so he didn't blurt out anything. He was convinced he was drunker than he actually was, just because he could feel that lingering haze and had no idea how much was too much.

"Your first time?" she asked, while her thumb caressed behind one of his twitching ears. "Surely not, for someone as robust as you?"

"Oh, no." He was blushing beneath all that mane and fur. "Not completely first. I mean, just, like this."

Dairinn didn't hesitate to slowly push her face right into his fluffy mane, rubbing her cheek alongside his as she immersed in the warmth of a lion. She laughed softly. "And what is 'like this'?"

Terry's eyes fluttered slightly, feeling her enjoying him like that. It always felt so good to have someone just bury themselves in his mane, enough to make his tail jump back and forth a little, soft tuft tapping the cushions. "Well, sudden."

The oryx slowly removed herself from that comforting warmth, loosening the tie around her neck in a quick, easy motion. She tossed it over her shoulder without a care to where it went, and laid hands upon his own tie, tugging a few times before it loosed and slipped off of him.

"So tight. Everything about you." She untucked his shirt with a hard pull. "You just need to be loosened up. I saw you down there." She slowly unbuttoned his top, one after another, letting taut, tawny chest be revealed. "So afraid of doing the wrong thing. Trying to be who someone else wants you to be."

With his chest revealed, she laid her palms upon him, rubbing deep into the muscle there and making him flex automatically, watching her with wide eyes and not sure what to say. He didn't dare refuse anything she did, nor ask her to slow down. Something about her just said he had to obey, with those warm brown eyes watching his every movement like a quiet, gentle predator. The lion was under her spell.

"Now, I just want you to enjoy yourself." She shrugged off her suit jacket, leaving her hefty bust slightly bouncing a moment, strained against the tight tug of a stark white shirt buttoned over those two large mounds. Terry's eyes strayed. When he glanced away sharply, she reached under his chin and cupped it in her fingers.

"No. Go on. Look. Feel. Enjoy."

Now his pants were starting to feel tighter than before. Sheath started to fill out and plump where it rested atop short-furred sack. The lion was sizable, for a cat, but not sporting a massive heaving length as might be expected for someone so outwardly masculine. Big enough to satisfy, small enough to feel little embarrassed around thick-knotted canines or especially massive, flared equines.

She saw. Her hand drifted from his chin, skimming down his chest and abs, until it rested atop those formal bottoms that hid his rising bulge. She just paused there a moment, let him firm all the more quickly with the anticipation, and then grabbed an intimidating, tight hold. Cupping him from balls to base, she squeezed, leaving him to gasp out with a surprised moan a moment, his shaft smoothly sliding from hot sheath to press against her insistent palm.

Now he knew, he really could let himself go, let himself get into this as much as he wanted. No one would make him feel ashamed, he was no longer too young to know what he really wanted. Such were his thoughts as he finally raised his hands from where they had been hanging quite still at his sides, moving to that bust of hers that tempted him so much with its generous size, gripping the whole of her breasts through her shirt and taking a deep, greedy squeeze right back.

She smiled to him. Softly, subtly. He could think her a motherly figure if observing her more casually. Her hands drifted up him once more, pulling his unbuttoned shirt down his arms, leaving him bare from the waist up, brushing fingers and nails along the fur of his muscled torso and arms, leaving him feel stronger than he actually was just for her admiration.

With so much of him on display, he had to follow suit. His fingers shook a little as he worked the buttons of her top. He wanted this, and he didn't want it to slip away from him. His mind rattled with the realization that this was really happening, that he was all alone with a hot older lady who wanted him, and that he wasn't going to wake up. Now his pants bulged to the fullest, laying eyes on the contrasting markings that adorned her fur as he stripped her down to a violet bra, indented by her perked nipples.

Her eyes met his, and then glanced down, looking pleased that he was enjoying the sights. His fingers massaged into her mounds some, digging his hands in to get as good a feel of them as possible, before slipping around to unfasten that final covering to let him at her bare breasts. She wasn't going to make it easy on him though, gripping his cheeks in both hands and pulling him forth with surprising strength and utter demand.

Then, their lips met, her tongue immediately stuffed into his mouth to make him jolt with surprise. He wasn't sure just how old she really was, but she didn't show her years. She was strong, she was lively, and she wanted everything about him. He could feel that in the way her lips mashed to his, tongue exploring every corner of his mouth, trailing along his teeth, tasting the rough texture of his tongue, filling him and leaving only muffled moans as his response.

Even still, he managed to loosen her bra and let it fall away, immediately returning to take a generous feel, clasping her heavy mounds in each hand, thumbing over the dark nubs that adorned them. She was busty enough that he couldn't even cover a single breast if he used both hands, and the more he squeezed and groped the deeper she shoved her tongue into his muzzle, to the point he was nearly throating it. He sucked on her tongue, tasting her saliva, draining it from her, loving the way she tasted, her sweetly perfumed scent, her sleek fur that massaged his fingers with every touch. He was throbbing in his pants now, giving pre that dabbed against his shorts, those heavy pants far too confining all of a sudden.

Finally, she pulled back, slipping her tongue out of him with a wet trail for a few moments. He had been drooling upon it from sheer taste, and he wanted to taste more of her. Raising a finger, she drew a circle in the air with it.

"Turn around, Terry my dear. Get that pretty dick of yours out of your pants, and you'll get a surprise." She spoke slightly condescendingly, talking down to him as if she owned him. Which got him all the hotter for her.

So he turned, spinning in place and swivelling his legs around, squeezing at his cramped bulge in the process. It had never felt better to take off his pants, working belt and button and zipper in a flash, freeing himself with an outright pop as his cock pushed up and out towards freedom, his body visibly relaxing as he tossed his head back a moment. He straightened his legs out and pulled pants and shorts alike down them, kicking them off his ankles and just letting them hit the floor for now. Finally he was free, with pink, gently barbed shaft bobbing and pulsing against his belly, his balls outright sore for the pressure that was sustaining his extra-hard prick.

"Can I turn?" he asked breathlessly, hearing some shuffling behind him and the clink of a belt dropped to the floor.

"Turn," she simply answered, and he did.

The oryx was naked, leaning one arm over the back of the couch as she sat with legs spread before him. Her body was a luscious, curvy, womanly thing with hips that were wide and durable, thighs fit and tight, one leg marked with long and jagged scars like teethmarks that explained her limping walk. But more importantly, between her legs rested half-erect a blunt, thick, ebony cock, shaped and flared like a zebra's, hanging partly firm but still flopping over a set of smooth, palm-filling balls with black skin that shone slightly under the lights.

"You'll have to coax it a little. It needs a lot of filling." She spoke in a sultry, expectant tone, not even bothering to ask if he was surprised or if he approved of her being distinctly not as female as she looked. Such a curvy, beautiful body, such a womanly way of doing things, and yet there she sat with a fat cock more than twice the size of his. And he didn't have a single problem with that.

"Wow, I... just, well... yes, ma'am!" He didn't let his awkwardness get in the way, and just let his actions do the talking, removing his glasses and setting them on a side table before he got to work.

Terry all but lunged at her, but the African herbivore didn't even flinch to see a well-toned lion pouncing forth with a hunger in his eyes. Oh, he was hungry, but not like that. He didn't hold back, he could tell he shouldn't, and just shoved his face right between her legs, stretching out on the couch. His nose nestled against her balls and he took a deep, long sniff. That perfumed scent of hers was still present, but now flavoured by a rich, hot, masculine musk that filled his nose just as well as his other senses, that gentle prey so much more potent than he could ever be, making him lay and worship her superior tool. Yes. This he needed.

A tight wrap of his fingers around the base of her shaft let him lift it, revealing in full those orbs he already loved, kissing them and then dragging his tongue underneath, tasting along her warm taint and lifting both balls until he could slip one of them into his mouth. He couldn't fit a second, just a single one enough to completely wrap his lips around while he bathed it with his tongue and deeply sucked, breathing deep and enjoying her scent on top of her taste the whole while. Once one luscious nut had been slicked and drooled on to a sheen, he let it slide from his lips and replaced it with the other, giving it the same wet, eager treatment that got her softly moaning in a low, contented hum, a prolonged hmmm like she was settling into a comfortable bed.

"Good boy," she told him, slipping her fingers into his mane once more, massaging his head and holding it in place. "Suck and lick, my little kitty."

His face warmed to such praise, his tufted tail swishing eagerly as he released her sack and dragged his tongue firmly upwards so that he could watch her balls bounce. Then he raised her pulsing, firming shaft straight up, feeling it tip over slightly, but less and less the more he attended to her. His eyes darted up and down its length as he watched her aroused pulses travel from base to tip, making it twitch and raise a little more with each second gone by. From flopping in his grasp to rigid, dark, and huge.

At the very top of that black spire, the broad slit glistened with a steady flow, and the lion just had to get his tongue on that. The more shameless and indulgent he got, the more he wanted to be, letting go of all notion of shame or embarrassment and just acting the eager slut. His tail tuft beat against the couch as he clutched the oryx's cock in both hands, dragging a slurp hard over that richly musked tip, tasting what she had to offer, bathing his tongue in it, letting it fill his mouth and senses. Get his juices flowing.

The fingers in his mane tightened to a controlling grip. A firm yank had him following her guidance as if on a leash. Dairinn took hold of her cock in one hand and Terry's head in the other, rubbing it in his face, grinding all long his features, brushing his mane down with slick black dick, leaving a deep-soaking layer of dampness and musk on his fur, matting it down just a little, leaving him sputtering a moment before just settling into a soothed moan.

"You look good between my legs, cat." She smiled to him, as he looked up with youthful, admiring eyes. It sounded like a genuine complement, not a tease. "And I can tell you love every second. Such a perfect choice of company tonight."

"Thank you, ma'am," he replied, short of breath simply for forgetting to breathe in all his excited attending to her. He didn't know what else to say.

"Oh, there's no need to thank me. It's true. Now."

With that precise, forceful way of hers, she pushed his nose against her balls and held him smothered there for a while, letting him drink her in at her most potent. Slowly tugging his head back and forth, she had him rubbing in there a good while, his nose sliding against the smooth skin of her scrotum, sleek and without a single wrinkle.

"What I really want is to see that lovely tail of yours lifted high for me. But even a big strong lion might not be able to handle it. What do you think?"

She softly rolled his ear between a finger and thumb, a comforting touch that helped him shrug off any concern. Then she released that and instead set to smearing her free-flowing pre all the way up and down her shaft, leaving it shining with a thick layer of slippery lube that would certainly help.

Terry simply nodded. He was more drunk on her scent than on actual drink by now, blinking a few times when she released his head from her balls. "I've been with some big ones before. Very big. I really want it..."

Dairinn laughed warmly for a few seconds. "Now that, my dear, I can tell. Turn around for me, Terry. I'm going to mount you."

The young lion let a brief expression of total delight light up his face, betraying his youthful excitability. Then, he just did as told. He turned away from her but watched her over his shoulder as he bared his back, his tufted tail out of his control for a few moments as it swung about. When he caught it, he just slowly lifted it, exposing the muscled shape of his tawny backside to her. It wasn't often a muscled fellow like him was prized for his hips, but now there he was, with hands planted on his thighs, tail lifted right up, offering himself to the oryx.

A slap upon his rump made him jolt, the spank loud but painless, and then he felt her heavy bust pressing back against his shoulders, smishing in against the muscle with her elegantly soft fur mingling with his. Then, he yelped right out. Her hand was wrapped tightly around the base of his tail, and she yanked hard enough to bring the sound out of him, stretching it high and making sure his sweet spot beneath was completely exposed. His whimpers were pathetic for such a big cat, and just continued when her other hand took a big fistful of his mane and pulled his head back, enough to remove a few of the many hairs. There were plenty to spare.

Now he was gasping, shaking a little, feeling utterly vulnerable, and this was before she even introduced that tool of hers. She let it slap against his back, long enough to do so, dragging it slowly down his curved spine until it rested just above the base of his tail.

"I should warn you," she spoke in his ear, leaning against his mane. "Once I get going, I do -not- stop. Not until I'm empty. If you want to go home dry tonight, now's your last chance."

He didn't say anything, and she bit his ear with flat teeth, hard.

"Because I'm going to fuck you, lion. Right under your pretty tail until you're screaming and yowling like a lioness in heat. I'm going to leave my mark on you so everyone knows you're really just a whimpering slut under all those muscles. What do you think, hmm?"

Terry whimpered, right on cue. She didn't even sound rude when she talked dirty like that. Simply stating the facts.. "Yes. Please, miss Donegan."

"Shh. No words."

That was her last warning before he felt the hot, throbbing pressure of her cock parting the rim of his ass, wet and lubed so that when the sheer force of that powerfully hard shaft spread him out and began pushing into him, it could slide into his squeezing depths without pause. One long, filling shove and she was working deeper and deeper into his backside, leaving him forgetting he was a lion and only finding the weakest moans and gasps escaping his throat, his eyes shut tight while her teeth shifted from his ear and just caught the back of his neck. Now he was really feeling instinct. His tail yanked, mane tugged, neck bit. He was being made her bitch.

He felt her filling him more and more, that medial ring popping inside of him, the thicker base pushing out at the walls of his insides, stretching him, but he took it all. Never did he make any sign of needing her to slow down, letting her go balls-deep, so that he felt as if she was using him for a condom with how much was shoved under his tail. Her weight pressed against his back, and with her grip on him he couldn't resist her, being forced down onto his face while she bit his scruff and pulled his mane. Every rough yank of his tail made him clench on her a little, and just having her inside there was already getting the contractions of pleasure going, his cock throbbing, ignored, beneath him.

On his knees, shoved flat on his face, and then cheek as he turned his head a little, she started to fuck him. Though she had slightly hobbled to approach him, now the cane had been cast away, and a bad leg didn't stop her hips from working. In deep, rolling strokes, she rutted him like a stallion takes a mare. He could feel nearly a foot of her cock, wrenched from within him only to pound forth and rattle his very core all over again, knocking the breath out of him in a shuddered gasp. Slow, but thumping and powerful, she used every one of those many inches to their fullest to pump into him, the wet sound of slick flesh sliding into him echoing in his ears above all else.

His lips slowly curled back, his long teeth coming into view, but he couldn't even get out a grumble, never mind a snarl. The bliss of being stuffed to the centre with throbbing, wet oryx dick was only followed by the writhing pleasure of her yanking back out of his depths, and then doubled all over again when her balls hit him with a solid thud that to him felt like a strike of thunder all through his body. He realized that his rapid, quivering whimpers and gasps made him sound outright girlish, and he took a quick glance for perhaps a pillow to muffle himself with. Even if he could reach, nothing could move him from his pinned, dominated position while the long-horned herbivore made use of his body.

The pace began to rise, never for a moment losing that powerful thump that came with her slow strokes. He felt the whole of her body grow hotter over top of him, her perfume rising in his nose while the slow drumbeat of her cock pounding his ass rose to a steady, energetic tempo. He tightened around her, every little contraction sending pleasure to the very tip of his cock. She made him feel so very small. Not just for the size of his dick compared to hers, but for how she had overpowered him so greatly despite how strong he was. By this point, he didn't even think he could get out from under her if he tried his hardest. She simply had him.

His raised tail tensed as she dragged over that perfect spot within him, even with the sheer bulk of her cock fucking him. Every thrust was one that he could feel in his entire body, tingles of pleasure rolling through his head, making him shudder blissfully, muscles outright shaking despite barely being used in such a position. She wasn't just going to make him cum, she was going to force him to before he was ready.

This was it. The rushing tension of absolute pleasure working through him, making every muscle tense, his insides contract heavily around pumping hot oryx cock. If he was going to cum, he was just going to have to do it hard. His breath was short, but he could feel his voice within him, those deep, gruff lion sounds working up, building to a climax right along with his cock. Though her grip remained tight and she just kept pounding him down again when he raised up, he tipped his head back a little more to prepare for a triumphant roar of orgasm, taking a deep breath just as he felt the pleasure peak and his cum ready to blow, putting all his remaining energy into one long sound.

"Rrrrowwwrrrrll...." came his weak, mewling cry, like a sad little lost kitten. His face immediately grew heated with embarrassment, but it didn't matter anymore, because he leapt and jolted with the sheer power of orgasm, his load rushing out of him as fast as possible, sending shakes and bounces through his whole form as if being repeatedly shocked. He emptied his balls all over, soaking the cushion beneath him, layering it over his thighs, soaking his belly and matting down the tuft of darker, thicker fur over his crotch. Absolutely everything that he might normally squeeze out over several orgasms, splattered and shot out of him thanks to the deep impact of the huge cock shoved inside of him.

Impressive, for sure. He gave Dairinn a good massage inside when he went over as well. When he was nearly done, she ceased all her thrusting. She just buried herself balls-deep within him, and let her fat sack rest against his for a while. He could feel her ready to go, feel her flaring and throbbing. He knew what was coming, and yet those few seconds of waiting felt like teetering over the edge of a mountain, his chest filling with excitement as his reward loomed with an ominous pause and silence. This was going to be big.

The first jet of cum hit him like a shot, gushing forth like a burst dam, with so much pressure he actually yelped. For a moment, he thought it hurt, but it was mere surprise, not pain. Immediately, he felt himself stuffed with her seed, the sheer volume overflowing down along her shaft and getting her balls damp by the end of two seconds, and then he felt himself beginning to bloat. Like that one glass of water too many, he felt her cum filling him utterly, sloshing within him and pumping all the way up into his belly, her massive shaft pulsing so hard with every spray that it nearly set him off again. He had no idea how she could have so much inside her, but she just held him absolutely still while she filled her mewling condom.

Terry's ears filled with the sound of his belly sloshing and gurgling, his backside utterly filled and gripping, and now his belly pushing out against his tight abs, making them lose shape and definition with the sheer load in his middle. He rounded out with his cum-belly, jiggling noisily beneath him, and soon outright tasted her as hot cream rushed up his throat. She wasn't truly done until she had cummed right through him, making him huff desperately while he drooled out splashes of her thick cream, his nose stuffed with it as well, making his whole muzzle a musky mess and driving her musk into his senses so hard his brain nearly short-circuited. He briefly thought he might very well just die there, but after a second to cough he was breathing just fine, chest heaving while he shook with a body-filling load.

His eyes were even more out of focus than normal, watering both from musk and sheer devastation, and she slowly drew back from him, already somewhat soft by the time she popped out and set a streaming flow down his ass cheeks. He just didn't move. Never in his life had he seen so much cum, never mind held it within him. She left him for a few moments, he had no idea how long, and then slowly eased him to the side. A slight push, and he just tumbled to the floor, panting and belching once, her taste seeming permanently etched upon his tongue while he lay on his back and rubbed his belly, groaning.

One of her heavy hooves came to his chest as she rose up and stood over him. Just revelling in that pose for a few moments, the lion utterly defeated and knowing it. He looked up at her but couldn't really see her, just the voluptuous shape of the gentle creature who right now, he completely belonged to. He saw her wrap two hands around her softened dick and point it towards him, and then he felt the pressure and heat of a hot stream hitting him in the face. Some of it splashed in his mouth, and he let it, swallowing and getting a salty taste. It took him several moments to realize she was pissing on him, completely flattening his mane to his head and then working down his form so that his fur was soaked and darkened by the scented flow. He felt more puddle than cat by the time she was done, watching her shake off those last few drops in his face and then sigh with a muted chuckle, seating herself once more and hefting up her cane to lean on as she looked down on the well-marked lion. Smiling.

All at once, she looked the docile, wise lady she had before. He blinked some, managed to get a hand up to wipe his face, and just gazed back at her. It was strange to even see her now. When she was behind him, all of his senses but sight had felt her completely devastating him, but looking at her now he could hardly even believe it was the same woman. Or half woman anyway. Her eyes were warm, her hair greying, but that huge, soaked cock still rested between her legs.

"Do forgive me for that last part, dear Terry. I couldn't help but find it appropriate."

What alarmed him about her tone was that she didn't seem to at all think any of this was unusual. Meanwhile he was a soaked, twitching mess still reeling from the best sex he'd ever had. She didn't even seem to be out of breath. When he opened his mouth to speak, his wet mane dripped into his mouth and he ended up just sputtering. He didn't have much of a voice anyway.

"Feeling okay down there?"

He nodded.

"Take your time. Perhaps try to stay conscious, so that you might get yourself to a shower tonight. Wouldn't want to wake up like that."

It sounded a little like teasing, but there she went again. No jokes, just the truth, delivered with a gentle smirk. She hardly even seemed like she just fucked him silly, but rather looked soothed and relieved like she was just coming out of a relaxing massage. Eventually he managed to prop himself up on his elbows and look up at her better, but he wasn't getting up just yet. His expression was blank, not even really sure what he was supposed to be feeling right then. Mostly, he felt good.

"You make the most adorable sounds when you're being fucked," she stated bluntly, reminding him of that spectacular failure to roar. "I hope you'll stop by again. As often as you like. Drinks are on the house of course, and if you ever need anything, anything at all, you find me. Consider yourself like family."

She reached out for his hand and he took it, using her help to get to his knees before her, between her legs once more before she tilted his chin up and moved to kiss his sloppy lips. "Thank you, miss Donegan."

"You may use my first name, my Terry. Towel, perhaps?"

"Yeah, I ... yeah." He laughed, finally catching his breath. "I've never been with someone like you before, Dairinn."

"Most haven't." She rose, tapping the floor with her cane, limping slightly as before but seeming particularly limber after getting out all that pent up lust. "Some might consider themselves lucky. I've been told my scent lasts a week or thereabouts, so don't scrub yourself bald trying to lose it."

Terry didn't want to soak her couch anymore than he had, so he just kneeled in front of it, watching her. "Maybe I don't want to lose it?"

That made her laugh, and she handed him a large towel with a pat on the head. "Now now. What will the other lions think of you all smelling of prey like that?"

"I'm not a very good lion," Terry chuckled. "As you can tell."

"Nonsense. You are everything a lion should be: bent over and fucked 'til you mewl."

Kneeling before the big-dicked boss, soaked to the skin in her scent, Terry simply grinned, slowly towelling himself off at least to the extent he could climb back into his clothes a little easier. If that was the kind of lion she wanted, he didn't have to fake anything to provide it.