FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Mike," you say.

The receptionist smiles.

"No way, that's my name too! I prefer 'Mikey,' but close enough."

You sigh. You're not in the mood for small talk. The receptionist -- 'Mikey' -- seems as interesting as the lobby you're in. Clean, modern, just stylish enough to look good without looking like he's trying hard to. In a word, it's corporate.

"How long does she usually take to respond?" you ask.

"Well, it's Friday. Ms. Friar likes to make sure she doesn't have any 'homework' over the weekend," Mikey chuckles. "But if you set up an... informal appointment with her, I'm sure she won't be long."

You grunt and lean back in your chair. At least it's comfortable. The day shift at Dairy Yeen is as kind on the body as it was the soul. You look down at your clothes -- you stand out like a stain against the neutral grays and whites of the office. Black jeans, jacket, and flannel are a bit too dark, but it's better than the work uniform. You hope that she likes it, and it feels weird to do that. With luck, the cologne will cover up the stink of fast food people.

"Hey Mike? She's ready!"

You get up and shoulder your bag, heading for the elevators.

"Floor 11, room 45," the receptionist chirps. "And, uh, bit of advice -- don't look so mopey."

You groan.

"Whole office has a thing for humans like us, especially someone they'd see as a... fixer-upper."

You ignore him and step into the elevator, not returning his wave. Your heartrate rises with the car. The soft music surrounds you, and you take a breath to relax. That's what you're here for. Kind of. The cougar's profile made it clear she wasn't afraid to toss money around -- lots of pictures of her at fancy restaurants, wearing fancy clothes, with fancy things. She was a lawyer, so it made sense. The messages she sent you were a little more subtle, but just as salacious as the photos with a lot of curves and cleavage. She'd commented on the photo where you were trying to smile. She knew it was fake; she told you she could make it genuine.

That's part of why you're giving her a chance. Another is the picture of the Cantina Vietti she sent you, saying she needed help finishing it. Wine like that isn't cheap, nor is it easy to come by. You didn't expect her to say 'come to my office after work' when you said you'd be up to drinking it with her, but you're not complaining. Safer than just going to her place without really knowing her.

You snort a little as the elevator opens; maybe her coworkers and clients are just as vapid as yours. You've thought about sneaking a flask in to work more than once -- having an entire bottle would be heavenly. The hallways up here are bright with the late-afternoon sun, casting everything in amber and orange. It's a slight bit better than the blinding grays and whites. You check the sign when you reach room 45: "Laura Friar, Attorney."

Yep, it's the right place.

You take a quick breath, and knock.

"Come in!"

Her voice is softer than you'd expected. You cover your face for a moment after you push through the door, the corner office catching the brunt of the afternoon sun.

"Sorry about that," the cougar says. Shades start to click down over the window as you see her stand, silhouetted in gold. "Close the door behind you, sweetie. Don't need anyone else wandering by."

"Laura from Furble, right?" you ask, closing the door.

"One and the same," she hums. She's leaning over her desk a little when you turn back, her tail swishing in the fading sun. "You're Mike?"

"Yeah," you say. You unsling your bag, and she motions to a set of recliner chairs. They're one of the few features in the room, everything else clean and spacious. Aside from them, her desk, and a coffee table, there's hardly anything of note. The walls just have a painting each, dark drawers sitting below. You notice it's all her size as you walk up to her desk.

Christ. You knew 8 feet was big, but pictures don't do it justice.

"Mikey comment about your name when you came in?" she asks, looking down at you with a smile.

"Yeah," you groan. "Super fucking chipper about it."

The cougar chuckles, sitting back in her chair and running a paw over her ears.

"Well, that's how he acts. Has to if he wants to be a good receptionist," she says; you hear the distinct clink of glass as she opens a drawer. "What do you do, Mike?"

"Manage the Dairy Yeen on College Ave," you grumble. "Wish I had a secret stash like that."

Laura purrs a little as she laughs. "I'll let you share mine for now. This bottle of Vietti has served me well."

You watch her pour the dark red into a pair of glasses, her ear flicking as the wine peters out. You reach out when she takes one cup, but she stops you.

"Ah ah-- " she tuts. "If you want it, you have to come sit with me."

You cock your head and get up on your toes. Yeah, she's in an office chair -- a big one, and she's still filling it out.

"In my lap, Mike," she purrs.

You roll your eyes and let out a groan. Her amber gaze doesn't let up, though -- she looks down at you, wineglass in hand, pantsuit on full display. You shake your head and relent, going around the desk. The cougar hums and turns in the chair to make it easier for you to climb up. Her free paw guides you into place as she leans back, settling you on her hips. Your head sinks into her bust just a little.

"There we go," she says, shimmying you into place, "that's comfy, isn't it?"

"I guess," you grumble. She hands you the second glass, and you immediately take a swig. The red wine is juicy, but different from the cheap kind of juicy. The aftertaste is mild and subdued. You actually like how it coats your tongue.

"Good?" the cougar above you asks.

"Yeah."

"Good," she replies, laying an arm over your waist. You grunt and try to push it off; Laura just giggles and puts it back in place.

"What's the matter, Mike? I thought you said I was comfortable?"

"It -- you are," you say. "But that's a bit far."

The cougar hums, rubbing a huge thumb against your side. You can feel the rumbling behind your head.

"I thought my profile made it clear I liked to be intimate," she muses. "Not necessarily that sort of intimate, but, you know..."

You take another sip of wine. "I know."

"Do you not like it?"

You almost snap, but hesitate. Because you don't want to offend her, mostly.

"It's not the first thing I was looking for," you say instead. Laura hums again, her thumb circles moving to your other side. "It's a bit base."

"What are you looking for then, Mike?" She pokes you gently on the nose, chuckling when you growl. "Don't think I forgot that you SuperSwiped me. You must've seen something that enticed you."

You huff when her paw returns to your waist, taking another drink to stall. There's a lot on the line, here.

"You seem mature. I like that. I have to deal with immature assholes all the time, so someone like you is a breath of fresh air."

"Oh?" she asks, taking a large gulp above you.

"A lot of the workers and customers are young and dumb. It's so --"

"That's not what I meant, Mike," she says, setting her glass down. She wraps both paws around your waist, squishing her chest up beneath your head. "You don't seem to think getting intimate like this is exactly 'mature...'"

It's a little unnerving to be held like this. At the same time, it's kind of nice.

"You're at least up front about it," you say. "You know what you want. You were clear about it. You were clear about it in your messages, and you're clear about it now."

She hums as you take another drink.

"Not like the people I have to fucking work with. Every shift I've got someone late, someone missing, and someone canceling last minute."

Laura coos above you.

"The people that do actually show up goof off half the time, even when they know we're short staffed an swamped. They all think they're so interesting, too, as if everyone hasn't had the idea to -- to I don't know, go sneak into the old furniture factory, or write music and magically get scooped by a label!"

You take another drink, relaxing further into the cougar's curves.

"I mean, I get it. They're doing it for money. No one works at Dairy Yeen because they love Dairy Yeen. We all have to put up with that 'Company Pride' bullshit. But still, can't they just be a little responsible?"

She takes your now-empty glass and sets it aside, wrapping her arms around your chest.

"We're all there for pay, so just work and we get paid! Simple as that! I just want to go there, get my check, and then put it towards all the shit I have to pay. Bills, food, debt, rent -- my rent went up by $100 this month for part of the new lease! And on top of it, I have to spot my brother some cash because he messed up and brought a gun into the museum. He tried to donate it, and now he's so busy paying back the fines that he can't afford literally anything else."

You freeze for a second when a paw passes overhead; Laura strokes your hair gently, her other arm wrapping tighter around your chest. Then you sigh and relax.

"That's it, relax," Laura says. "I can see why you're stressed. Let's think about something else for a bit, take your mind off it. Would you like that?"

This was what you wanted. You wanted someone to listen. And it seems like this cougar is doing that.

"Yes."

"Good," she purrs. "Now, which do you prefer; mixed drinks, hard liquor, or beer?"

"Hard liquor. Easy. You're not muddling it with anything else and you actually feel it after a sip."

"What about cats and dogs? You have a preference?"

"I like cats," you say. "That's parta why I came here, I mean. I like black cats the most, but you -- you're okay too."

It's as Laura chuckles that you realize what you just said.

"I'm flattered," she hums. "I know someone you might like to meet..."

"W-what do you mean? I --"

"Later," she hushes. "First, very important: which do you like more? Tits, or ass?"

You pause. You look up to find her staring down at you with half-lidded eyes, eagerly awaiting an answer.

"...Ass," you say tentatively. The cougar's eyes flash, and she lets out a purr. You rock in her arms as she spins the chair, grabbing the two empty wine glasses and putting them back in the desk drawer. Then her paws wrap around you and you go stiff.

"H-hey! What are you doing?!" you ask. She pays you no mind and spins you around in her grip. You're not really struggling much, but there's a firmness to her grip.

"Just getting adjusted," she says, standing up. She sets you down in her massive chair and chuckles.

"Very funny," you grumble. You feel tiny -- you can't even reach both of the armrests. "What are you doing, Laura?"

The cougar shifts her weight, looking down at you with hands on her hips. She licks her lips, eying you up almost as much as you are her. The curves you were just resting on strain against her pantsuit. Her tail flicks on the edge of your vision, and you can feel the low rumble of her purr.

"I just was thinking about what else to give you," she says, turning slowly. Her tail brushes up over your legs, then your face. "You did help me finish that bottle, after all."

"I -- that's not --"

You stop when you hear her belt buckle clink.

"Laura, are you --?"

The dark leather belt knocks gently against the table as her pants start coming off. You're not sure if the slow, teasing wiggles are for show, but you know those pants are doing their best to hug her hips.

"You did say you like ass, didn't you?" she asks as cream fur fills your vision. It presses against the tight waistband as it goes down; the fat makes that tasteful little curve, and it jiggles just a little with every shimmy of her hips.

"Mike?" she purrs, flicking your face with her tail.

"I -- uh --"

You cough. Get ahold of yourself.

"Yeah, it's alright."

"'Alright?'" Laura repeats, smiling back at you. Her legs are bare now. Her thick thighs are the brightest thing in the room.

"Yeah," you say, watching her kick the pants off. You notice a flash of pink -- you look back at her ass.

"Well, we'll see what you think after this," she says, leaning lazily over the table. Your thoughts are confirmed when bottom of her jacket rises up. Her hips are bare, panties nowhere in sight. The soft tan moon grows closer when she grabs the edge of your chair and pulls you closer. Her curves tower over you, filling your whole vision. You feel her thighs press up against your legs, locking you in place.

"Go on, Mike," she purrs, tail draping over your shoulder. "Go on and explore. See how much you really like ass."

You freeze, feeling her shift slowly against you. You can smell the vanilla perfume from here.

This is what she wants, isn't it? You've played right into her hands. You came in, drank her wine, and now you've got to give her a little pleasure because of it.

If she was anyone else, you'd call her out on her bullshit right now.

But she's a lawyer. A rich lawyer. One that's not above spending her cash.

You lay your hands on her ass with a sigh. She purrs.

"What do you want me to do?" you sigh.

"Explore it!" she says with a rich voice. "Squeeze it, spank it, kiss it, lick it -- I want you to enjoy it, Mike."

She pushes back gently against your hands.

"You can even go deep if you want..."

You squeeze her huge cheeks and press your face between them. The cougar hums, swaying her hips as you knead at her soft flesh. The vanilla scent masks any other smell, even when you nuzzle in a little deeper. She titters when you spread your arms wide and hug her butt. You can barely reach the sides. Each cheek is huge and heavy -- you can feel their weight as you rub big circles in them, both jiggling against your face when you push up.

Laura chirps when you peck her cleft. You nuzzle deeper and do it again, feeling her jump a little this time.

"Ohh, good boy," she purrs. "Get as deep as you want, Mike..."

She stifles a groan when you flick your tongue out. You're starting to get the picture. The thought of probing deeper makes you hesitate for a moment, but you think back to the Cantina Vietti.

It's not like she tastes bad or anything, anyway.

Parting her thick cheeks is actually a little difficult. She chuckles as you struggle with their weight, trying to stop them from eating your face to nuzzle deeper. Your hands just sink into her plush figure. Her cheeks barely move; you get more progress by just nodding into her ass.

"Let me help you," she hums, reaching back and grabbing over your hands. She stiffens when you glide along easily and bottom out, your nose finally finding firmer flesh.

"I-Is that what you're looking for?" she asks, feeling you nod along her crease. You grunt into her fur, getting a breath chuckle in response. "Well, go on..."

The cougar's hands squeeze yours when you start to kiss her depths. She's pushing back against you harder now, her hips swaying side to side, up and down. You bring out your tongue and drag it along her, finally getting past the vanilla and hitting something more salty. Every lick brings a sound and a shudder; every lick gets you closer to not having to worry about money.

And every lick you brings a small, undeniable source of pleasure.

You squeeze her cheeks and dig deeper, giving her the flat of your tongue in long, broad strokes. You feel her head roll back with a rumbling purr.

"Mmm... so, do you like ass, Mike?"

You grunt in response and nod against her. Your nose digs into her thinning fur as you go lower, and she stiffens when it catches on something. There's no fur in the divot you find, only wrinkles. Sensitive ones that make her shudder every time you brush against them. Even your breaths send cougar shaking. You inhale deep, and let your tongue out again.

Laura moans when you lick her pucker. You can't tell if it's moving against you or if it's her hips. She tries to speak, but gasps when you interrupt her with another lick. Feeling her rumble against your lips is strange when you kiss her. Her hands tighten over yours as she hisses, and her fingers flex.The cougar lets her cheeks go with a sigh and they squish back around your head, trapping you deep in her warmth and scent.

"That's it, Mike," she sighs. "Explore me..."

You can definitely feel her hole flexing against your lips now. The sound of claws on wood reaches you through her thick cheeks. You nuzzle against her to find air and work up your nerve. Then you press your lips back to her behind poke at her folds. The scraping and moan grow louder, the cougar's breath hitching with each flick of your tongue. She's slightly bitter, but more salty than anything else. You try not to focus on it and push to the center and into her hole.

Laura's whole body stiffens. Pressing past her folds takes some wiggling and some pressure -- the cougar above you shivers with each and every movement. She yowls when you're finally through, and her walls squeeze tight around you before slackening. You seize the chance and press your tongue in deep. The sound Laura makes is both a hiss and a low moan. There's less resistance this time, and you open your mouth to get a few extra centimeters in. The cougar relaxes against your face when you've gone as far as you can, hissing in a breath when you wiggle to test her firmness. Her warm walls gently tug at your tongue. Every inch you pull back, they recover with ease.

You manage another breath through your nose -- you don't know how you'd survive this if she'd sat on your face. The taste of her mingles with the smell, adding to the lightheaded haze. You pulse in time with her muscles, going in and out, in and out. The wet sounds of your tongue are drowned out by her pleasured groaning and rumbling. Her hips sway and push back against you, her cheeks clenching gently around your head.

The warmth, the scent, the lack of oxygen are all getting to you. You're actually beginning to enjoy it. You grab onto her plush cheeks and rub them, grinding your face into her backside. Laura nearly yowls again, and her claws scrape against her desk once more. A hand fumbles near your legs; she grabs the chair and pulls it closer. The leather back traps you against her behind, your hands pinned when hers moves to the top of the chair.

It's just enough that you can't breathe anymore.

Your muffled sounds of protest can't escape her thick cheeks. The rumbling huffing that she's doing would drown them out anyway. You wiggle your arms to little effect. Your body feels light by the time they come free, getting below the curve of her ass. With your last bits of breath, you slap at her thighs and let out a muffled yell.

Laura pauses, then pushes the chair back. Your world returns with a gasp. You slump back in the chair, putting your hands up to ward her ass off.

"Fuck, Laura!" you splutter. "I almost passed out back there! What're you trying to do?"

The cougar looks over her shoulder with a light hum. It's not apologetic, and her eyes remain half-lidded and hungry.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mike," she says. Her tail drifts over your shoulder -- she titters when you push it away. "Did you at least enjoy it before that?"

Your words of rage die in your mouth. Laura turns and crouches down as you fumble for words, doing something to the legs of the chair.

"I -- it was alright, but --"

"Do you like my ass?" the cougar purrs, looking up at you with a grin.

"Yes, I like your ass," you huff. "But I'd rather not die from it."

Laura chuckles and straightens up. You swat at her roaming paw, but she cups your groin anyway, finding a pleasant firmness there. Her chuckling only deepens when you stiffen and stifle a moan.

"Well, I'm glad you're not lying," she purrs, pressing teasingly between your legs. You've still got enough presence of mind to grab her when her fingers dip over your waistband. The cougar coos and leans in close, sending another wave of warm vanilla through your head. Her soft fur brushes against you as her lips grace your ear.

"Take them off," she whispers, "or I will."

"W-why?" you ask. The cougar hums in your ear and presses in on your member.

"Because your tongue didn't go deep enough," she says. You pause as she pulls back, flashing her amber eyes at you.

"Y-you mean --?"

"You like ass, don't you, Mike?"

You grumble as she stands, looking down at you with hands on her bare hips. She chirps with approval when you start undoing your buttons. Only then do you notice the slightly darker patch of fur between her legs. Laura turns around before you get a good look, treating you to another full moon as she moves the monitor and keyboard to the far corner of her desk. She glances at the deep claw marks and grumbles. You're kicking off your pants when she turns back around, condom in hand.

"Should've just let me have your pussy if you were that serious about it..." you mutter.

Laura laughs. You're now down to just your skivvies while you watch her chest bounce for a few moments. It really jumps when she crouches down again, shoving the package in your hand.

"Oh, you haven't earned that yet, Mike," she says; she licks her lips as her paws again curl around your waistband. "But maybe you will later..."

The cougar coos, leaning in between your legs and tugging your boxers off slowly. Her grin widens when your pulsing member springs free. You start tearing at the condom packaging, but Laura tuts at you.

"We can't have you slipping that on without any lubrication," she purrs, spreading your knees.

"But right here on the package it says it's 'pre-- '"

You gasp; her lips are so soft.

"Shh," she coos. "Let me have my fun."

You nod, trying to keep your legs from closing. Her words register with you even as she's teasing your member with more kisses and hot breaths; she's having fun. That bodes well.

Now you just have to not cum on her face.

Laura isn't making it easy, clearly enjoying pushing you to the edge. She covers your cock in kisses, each one gentle and wet. She looks up at you every now and then, ears flicking as she watches you pant.

"You want a preview?" she hums.

"What do you --"

The rest of your words are cut off when she takes you in her mouth. You see white for a moment: you can feel every ridge on the top of her mouth, every bud and dull barb on her tongue as it wraps around you. Her lips are tight around your base, and you groan when she gives you the tiniest bit of pressure. You can feel her purring through her warm, wet maw, and you nearly lose it. All at once it's gone. Laura locks eyes with you, the most satisfied expression you've ever seen on her feline face. She reaches in and pinches your fingers, tearing the condom open for you.

"Go on," she says as she turns around. "Put that on. Then you can feel the real deal."

You swallow the groan growing in your throat and get to it. Bedroom talk doesn't excite you, but it means you're doing well. You have to slide the condom on slowly. Not because it's ill-fitting or the packaging lied about it being pre-lubed, but because you're so goddamn sensitive.

"You're gonna have to stand, hon," Laura says over her shoulder, "I locked the wheels, so you don't have to worry about tipping over."

"...Thanks," you say, staring at her huge ass. "How thoughtful of you."

The cougar chuckles as you get to your feet with a bouncing, purple member. The chair is as stable as she said, and somehow it's already at the right height. At least, you think so -- her ass is so big, the top of it brushes your chest when you move in close. Laura's tail sways in front of your face along with her huge hips as you position yourself. You yelp a little when she pushes back against you.

"Hey! You want me to fuck your ass or not?"

"Depends if you can handle it," she says, smiling over her shoulder. You growl and dig your fingers into her plush cheeks -- the cougar hardly twitches. You jam yourself up against her and grab higher on her hips to get leverage, jabbing your dick between her cheeks blindly.

"A little lower," she hums, turning and leaning on her arms. "Helps if you use your hands, too."

Her tail goes straight when you slap her ass.

You see her turn, but you're too busy parting her cheeks and feeling for her pucker to look at her face. Her purring shakes your chest, anyway. It hitches when you find her spot. You press in and let her cheeks go, grabbing as far up on her as you can. You want -- no, need -- to keep your hips deep in her plush rear.

"There you go," Laura says, her tail draping over your shoulder and wrapping around your back. "Now go on -- give it to me!"

You dig your nails into her jacket and thrust. Warm fat and fur jiggles against your torso. The cougar stifles a grunt, apparently unimpressed. You growl and thrust harder; you can just barely feel her tight ring on your head. You twitch your hips to keep them in line, grinding yourself against her to slip in. Laura grunts, letting out a breath. It loosens her up enough for you to make headway. She rumbles when you make it in past your head, your length slowly being enveloped in her warmth.

...It feels even tighter than her mouth.

Her asscheeks partially envelop your torso while you seat yourself against her. The cougar purrs when you have to lean partway over her to grip her lovehandles. It hitches when you begin thrusting again, sliding yourself a little further in with each go. You press your face into her fur and huff her vanilla scent. The soft slapping noise echoes through the room on top of her humming, and you have to stifle your own moans.

"You can go a little harder," Laura says. Her idle tone makes you look up; her ear flicks as she stares over her desk.

"A little harder?" you say, trying to control your anger.

"Yeah, harder. Faster," she says, turning back to you. "Make me really feel it, Mike."

The little teasing grin is what does it. You growl, grab the base of her tail and jackhammer your hips against her. The cougar's fluffy appendage goes rigid, and she can't completely silence her squeal. The plapping noises are louder and faster now. You're afraid you'll fall out with each thrust, but the pleasure is all worth it. You slap her ass with your free hand, feeling it wobble with your impacts.

Laura sighs as you go to town. You can't tell if it's from bliss or boredom, but you don't really care now. It feels so good. Not just the sensations lighting up your lower half, but the act itself. Being able to pound her ass with reckless abandon, yank her tail, slap and squeeze her thick cheeks. No judgment, no performances, just raw aggression.

It's almost as satisfying as the release itself.

You groan and your legs go stiff. Your back arches and your hips twitch before you slump down over the cougar's backside. Laura coos as you twitch, your fluids adding another layer of warmth as they fill the condom. She reaches back and takes your hands, rubbing them against her cheeks as her hips sway side to side.

"That feel good?" she asks. You nod into the back of her suit jacket, mumbling a reply. The cougar hums with contentment, rocking her hips against you a little more before leaning forward. The chair skitters out from under you when she kicks it a little. You're still too out of it to complain -- she's got you resting on the curve of her ass anyway, so you don't fall to the floor.

"Aww, you tired?" she coos, bouncing you on her backside. She chuckles at your disjointed, disgruntled groaning before setting you back down in the chair.

"Hey, hey, hey!" you say, struggling against her grip as she lowers you down; you're awake enough to know a lapdance from her shouldn't be undertaken lightly. Laura just chuckles, putting a little weight on you before standing up. You slump back in the chair as she takes off her jacket.

"What, you afraid of my butt now?" she asks, tossing the garment to the side.

"Just didn't... wanna get crushed," you pant. Laura crouches down and hums, brushing some of the hair from your face.

"Don't worry, Mike," she says. "I don't play that rough on the first date."

You huff, and she smiles. She cups your face with her huge paw; you can't help but lean into it a little. The other slips off the condom more deftly than you'd have imagined. Only when the last bit of it comes off do you gasp at the cold air and sliding sensation.

"Aww. Still sensitive?"

"F-fuck off..."

Your skin prickles. The words just came out. You're winded, and you've had to endure her sappy sex talk for the past -- however long it's been. But Laura just smiles at the comment. She purrs as she pulls away, depositing the used rubber into a trashcan. You sit and pant while she stretches. Her tawny bottom-fur glows in the filtered light of the blinds. Her muscles shift slightly beneath it, highlighted by the soft shadows.

Is this it? Is she done? What happens now after you've done it? Is she going to call you for a second date, or is she going to try and drag you home with her now? Should you get up, or --?

Laura is still purring when she sashays back over to you, hips swaying with each step. The damp spot between her legs is more noticeable now. You say nothing when she comes to a stop in front of you, hands on her hips. Her ears flick and her tail lashes, her chest sticking out just beneath her chin as she smiles down at you. There area a few more buttons undone than before.

"Back up and sit up," she rumbles. You groan.

"I'm still catching my --"

"Back up," she rumbles again. There's more force this time.

You slide along the leather and pull yourself up, putting your back against the seat back. The chair is so big your feet don't hang off the edge anymore.

"Thank you," the cougar says. "Are you still catching your breath? Need a little time to recover?"

"Yeah..."

Laura chuckles -- and grabs the back of the chair. She ignores your protests as she slides on top of you, your shoving doing little to stop her. Her soft weight doesn't crush you, thankfully, but you still grunt and squirm. She coos, shifting on top of you and planting herself firmly on your lap. You slap at her sides when she leans forward and squishes you against the back of the seat with her curves. The cougar hums as you grunt and curse into her cleavage, bouncing on your lap when she decides to let up.

"I told you I needed a break!" you manage, looking up at her smug grin past her twin hills.

"Sure," she says, pressing her plush tits against your face. "You can have it right here in my chair."

Laura coos when you try to respond, but your words are muffled by her furry bust. She laughs when you try to move them. The lacy lingerie -- that you can now see up close -- is deceptively strong, and her boobs are exceptionally heavy. You huff, and you feel her shudder as your breath is trapped in the fur; you knew they were big from the outset, but you didn't realize they'd be this big. Or heavy. The cougar frees you from her vanilla-scented prison after a bit of rubbing and squishing, cooing at your breathy gasp.

"H-how the hell am I supposed to rest with my face in your chest?" you ask.

"By relaxing, Mike," she sighs. You grunt and push at her when she squeezes again, but she leaves your eyes and nose poking free this time.

"You've got two warm, soft pillows, and a whole body to pet," she says. The cougar leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Relax," she whispers, edging on a purr. "I'll wait until you're recovered to finish things off."

She lets out a quiet groan; you feel her heat grind against your stomach.

"I need you to be ready again, after all..."

You sit there for a while, grunting and taking in the cougar's scent. She grinds against you throughout. It's gentle, and you can't quite tell if it's teasing or not. Every now and then she squeezes her bust up around your face, humming contentedly until you slap at her sides. She makes you wait longer and longer after each go.

"I said, 'you have a whole body to pet,' you know," she sighs after a particularly long one. You can just barely see the glint of her amber eyes over her tits. She rumbles when you start to stroke her white shirt rather than grip it for dear life.

"How modest, not going straight for my ass..."

You grumble into her cleavage and move your hands lower.

"What was that?" the cougar asks, pulling back and drawing her tits apart.

"'I think I've had enough of your ass for a while,'" you repeat. You stifle your curse and look up -- you have had enough of her for a while, but you doubt she wants to hear that. Laura's eyes remain half lidded and her expression smug.

"Have some more of these then," she says, letting her golden boulders drop back around your face. You go to push them away reflexively before giving up with a huff, letting the cougar smother you in her tits. She hums with pleasure when your hands go back to her ass. Her grinding deepens, her hips rolling against yours and your kneading fingers. Every breath brings more vanilla, more warmth, more purring.

You find yourself groaning and grinding back before you realize it. Laura lets out a throaty chuckle and pulls back, shifting away enough to reach a paw between the two of you.

"I think you're ready now," she says. Her pawpads brush your dick, finding that it is indeed ready -- so ready you gasp at her mere touch.

"But first," she purrs, teasing your tip, "call me 'mommy.'"

Even through the growing haze of pleasure, that catches your attention.

"What?!" you say. You look up at her incredulously but find only that smug smile.

"You heard me," she says, running a furred finger along your shaft.

She purrs when you shudder.

"Call me 'mommy,'" she repeats slow. "Or you won't enjoy this nearly as much as I will."

She takes your head between two fingers and gently twists around it, torturing you with the sensations of her fur. You throw your head back into the leather cushioning and blow a raspberry. But you don't say it. She's had enough fun with you, forcing you into her lap, making you eat her ass and then fuck it. You know you won't get her off you now. You know she's gonna have your dick. But you're not giving her that satisfaction.

Even if you were quite literally looking for a sugar mommy.

"Mmm, playing hard to get?" Laura purrs. She wraps her fingers around you and presses down slowly, trapping your length in her hand. It's when she fingers your balls that you gasp again -- and find your mouth suddenly full of fur.

"Come on, Mike," she says, pressing your face into a humongous breast, "call me 'mommy!'"

You try pushing her tit away, but her grip makes it impossible. She purrs when you relent and say the words.

"What was that?" she asks, grinding your face in a little more. You let out more muffled 'mommy's into her breast, gasping when she finally pulls you back.

"What?" she repeats; you manage to suppress your anger this time, if only because you're still catching your breath.

"Mom--" is all you get out before you gasp.

"Well?" she asks breathily, her lips dancing and dribbling on your head.

"M-mommy..."

Your words trail off into a groan; Laura smothers it between her breasts and drops down heavily, taking you all the way in. You huff her fur at the sensation. So much weight, so much warmth. It's not quite as tight as her backdoor, but here it's not a struggle to stay in. Her hips grind against yours and keep you enveloped with every twitch and thrust. The cougar laughs when you try pushing up into her, the sound echoing like her breaths.

"Nice -- try -- " she says, bouncing on you. "You've had your -- fun -- now I get a turn!"

You grunt with every slam of her hips. The chair creaks with each one, and you can feel your legs slowly getting numb to her warmth. You're not sure if it's from overexposure or her weight. They lift with every slam regardless. Your hands move from her jiggling ass to her breasts as your head gets fuzzy, pawing and pushing hopelessly.

Laura purrs, giving you one last heavy grind before pulling back. You wheeze in her tawny valley, prying her tits apart. Somewhere along the way she undid her shirt completely, and her lingerie leaves a lot of bare fur. She pets your hair as your chest heaves.

"Okay," she rumbles. "Try fucking me."

You squeeze her love handles and roll your hips. Your dick moves a little in her depths, but not much happens. She chuckles when your feet scrabble against the leather and you try pushing up into her; it hardly moves her asscheeks. Laura groans softly; you watch as she sets a breast free. Her pink nipple almost blends in with the fur around it.

"Alright," she says, shoving it into your mouth. "Suck. Knead at it, too."

You're not given much choice. Her nipple is hard, a contrast to the pillow world you're immersed in. Your hands sink in when you grab onto her teat and start licking. Laura's claws dig into your hair, and you feel her huge breast bounce against your face when she starts to grind again. She groans when you start to suck. You're squeezed in time with her heavy thrusts, rumbling growls coming with each one. You fall into the rhythm of pleasure, managing a breath here and there. You're so lost you barely notice the sounds of flesh on flesh as they speed up and the cougar rides more and more wild.

Your muffled moans come almost the same time as hers, both of your strokes and squeezings getting slower, harder. And then you sigh, feeling her do the same around you. Laura relaxes against you, pumping your head gently against her breast. You barely have the energy to push at it to get her off.

"Good boy," she hums, leaning back. You wince as her asscheeks shift on your legs, but the cougar quickly lifts her weight.

Though not completely.

"Did you enjoy that?" she asks, looking down at your panting form. You stall, letting her trace your face while you try to clear the haze from your head with fresh air.

Give her what she wants to hear. Tell her you did.

You did, a little.

"Y-yeah," you finally manage. Laura smiles; she purrs and gives you a kiss before finally lifting up and off. You sigh when she does, finally able to catch your breath.

"You gonna live?" she chuckles, buttoning back up. She smiles when you weakly nod. "Good... What's your rent this month?"

"S-seven hundred?" you manage, only realizing the question when the words are out of your mouth. The cougar hums, her tail swishing at she looks back at you.

"How about you come back with me, and I'll make it zero?"

You stare at her still catching your breath; you sigh. This might not be as easy as you thought.

But you still say "yes."