The Interview
Fresh out of college, a young retriever faces his first job interview and boy does it have some unconventional parts to it. Red wolves!
Fresh out of college, a young retriever faces his first job interview and boy does it have some unconventional parts to it. Red wolves!
Let's take a break from steampunk adventuring to have some good, uncomplicated smut. Rechan is behind some of this idea, I think, because secretly that mole is bent almost as much as I am (hey! Go follow him :3).
Spudz is behind even more of it, and polishing the parts that seem polished. And for offering sympathy. I've been interviewing a lot of people at work recently. It's not this fun :c
Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute -- as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.
"The Interview" by Rob Baird
Terry Fox was in trouble from the moment he arrived for the interview. He hadn't known it -- folks always said that about labrador retrievers, that they were too guileless for their own good. Terry was wearing his best suit, charcoal grey on the black of his short pelt, and he smoothed it down obliviously.
"Terrence," a voice called out.
He stood, tucked the binder with his paperwork beneath his arm, and entered the office. Terry felt, incorrectly, that he was well-prepared. The previous interviews had gone well. Besides, LinkedIn was an invaluable resource.
Katherine Montoya. Senior Program Manager for RQ-33. Project Manager for X-2000 Avionics. Project Manager for Enhanced GNSS Integration. MIT class of 1999; MS in electrical engineering. MBA from Wharton, 2006.
"Kate," she said crisply, and held out her paw for him to shake. "Who are you?"
Kate Montoya was a canine -- and wild, without any of Terry's softer features. From her nose to her ears to the ruffs of ruddy fur at her cheeks, everything about her looked sharp. Coyote, he figured. He took her paw, shaking firmly. "Terry. It's nice to meet you, Miss Montoya."
"Kate," she said again, and dropped back into her chair to leaf through the printouts of his CV. "Your technical interviews were decent."
"Thank you?" Is that good? I can't tell. Coyotes, he thought to himself. Those eyes are impossible to read. She was staring at his papers fiercely, but he had no way of distinguishing interest from antipathy.
"I don't care about technical interviews," Kate said, and flipped the page over.
Terry swiveled his ears back. The curtness of the reply did not suggest that any protest would be well-received. Instead he swallowed, and glanced around the room. Posters on the wall showed a photographic history of the company's aircraft, from a flight of F2Ls at Pearl Harbor, to the famous E-20 spyplane glimpsed at altitude from a Blackbird, to the very newest stealth prototype he'd read so much about.
Kate's desk was mostly unadorned. There was a scale model X-2000 spaceplane, its wings and fuselage covered in signatures from the engineering team. A single framed picture showed the canine standing, with half a dozen others, in some clean room -- all clad in white lab coats. There was a newton's cradle. A closed laptop. A cup of pens.
And the story of Terry's life in papers scattered untidily over the free surface, while she glared at them. Kate plucked a ballpoint pen from the cup, tapped it against a claw on her other paw, and then drew a line through part of his CV. He straightened in his chair, trying to see what she'd crossed out, and she looked up sharply.
"I'm not certain why you're here," she said.
"Uh." The sumptuous leather chair that faced her desk suddenly began to feel less luxurious and more constricting. "Why not?"
"Your background doesn't really seem like a particularly good fit. Solid grades, and Chicago is a good school. But so what? No work experience. I guess you've been passed up the chain, though, so..."
Terry winced. Why is this not going well? Focus: stress your qualifications. "Er. Well, yes, I'm a recent graduate, but I think my educational background is... uh..."
The coyote was staring at him blankly.
"If you look at the internship with AMI..."
"Fine," she said. "Describe your process for beginning documentation work."
What kind of documentation? "Uh... you mean..."
Her eyes narrowed. "Interview me. What are the first questions you ask?"
The lab swallowed again, off-guard. "I guess I would want to know the project scope, and what your goals are? After that, I can come up with a plan to --"
"I don't want a plan. Terry, this is entry-level technical writing. Come on."
"I'm... I'm not a technical writer."
The eyes stayed narrowed, and she curled her lip. "Yeah, I'd figured that out. Ugh. All they do is waste my time. The hiring manager is such a useless -- argh. Like I want to be doing this right now? Were you headhunted, Terry?"
"Er. No. I applied specifically. I've always wanted to work for this company, ever since I was a kid building models of stuff from the Centauri program."
More agitated, now, Kate scribbled out another line on his CV. "See, because what they do is the headhunters lie to people to get them to apply, and then they somehow get to me and just -- mmf." She held up her paws in mocking surprise. "'Gosh, Kate, why don't you like any of your candidates?' Maybe because cute, naïve college kids look great in the brochures but they don't tick many boxes for technical documentation? Could that be it?"
Terry wasn't a hundred percent certain that the coyote was still talking to him, rather than at him. "I'm not a technical writer," he said again, bewildered.
"I know that."
"No -- uh. I mean. I didn't apply to be a technical writer. I, um." He opened his binder, and pulled out a printout of the job posting.
Kate took it from him skeptically. "Wait. 'Junior Data Scientist'? Oh, what the actual fuck -- data scientist? 'You are passionate about statistical modeling and data visualization'? 'Your second language is R'? R what? Russian? Romanian?"
"Just R. It's a programming language."
"You're a programmer?" She held up his CV, squinting at one of the lines she'd struck out. "So you are. Why are you... hm. Was this what that fucking E-mail was about? Hold on a moment."
He waited. Kate flipped open her laptop, and Terry watched her keen eyes sweeping back and forth. A scowl built, and deepened. She pointed to the door and pantomimed closing it; when he did so, he turned back to find her with a phone headset pressed awkwardly to one oversized ear.
"Pat. Why do I have one of your candidates in my office? Yes. No -- what? Well, so what if I do? Pat. Pat, no, you fuck -- you're not fucking sticking me with this. No you're fucking not. Pat. I will call Lovell myself. Yeah? I think he'll fuck you, that's what. I think he'll fuck you with your own goddamned server rack. I think he'll take your last quarterly CIT deck and shove it up your -- Pat? Get back here."
She was snarling into a dead line. The coyote slammed the phone down, and looked up to glare at Terry as if to displace her irritation. He wilted. "Should I..."
"So, you're Pat's. I don't have to care about you," she said.
"Well..."
"I don't..." Then Kate froze, and cocked her head. Her grimace became an abrupt smile. "Huh. I don't have to care about you."
Terry made a valiant effort to keep his floppy ears upright. It was difficult. "I am very lost right now."
"Pat is a... special kid. He knows I have open head count, and for some reason he thinks I'll take on one of his data people. It doesn't work like that! And I... I don't have to care about you..."
"You keep saying that and I'm not certain it's supposed to be a good thing."
Kate kept smiling. "I'm quite stressed, Terry. It doesn't help that Personnel keeps sending me fresh-faced pups like you who can't get the job done. Maybe I need to be more specific to get what I'm looking for. But I don't have to care about you, which means I don't mind your lack of experience. You're just... nice eye candy. And we have a full hour for this interview."
"We do, but... if you don't want to hire me..."
Her smile crept towards being a full-on grin, and she leaned back in her chair. "Yes. In that case, we got off on the wrong foot. Let's start over. Do you like wasting my time, Terry?"
He shook his head, still perplexed. "No."
"Then maybe we can help each other out. What do you say?"
Help each other out how_?_ "Alright. Alright, sure."
"That's a good boy. I've always wanted to do this... damn nannying supervisors and their fucking code of conduct -- sorry, Tour Guide to Empathy and Team Values. They even made a dumb little map. No sense of fun..."
"Fun?"
Kate ignored him, glancing back at his CV. "Hm. Hmm, hmm. Terry Fox. You're not a fox, though, are you? I mean, not literally." She winked. It started additional gears turning in his head, not all of them moving in the same direction. "A lab, I guess? It's distinctive. Me, everyone mistakes me for a coyote. I'm a red wolf."
"I see."
"You thought I was a coyote, didn't you?" She clucked her tongue, and crossed out another line with her pen. "Goodness. You need to be more observant, foxy. What are we going to do with you? Let's see..."
"'Do with'?"
"Like I said, I've always wanted to do this. So let's have a... a functional interview. Not one of those boring code samples or... where I ask you dumb questions about how you think you'll make a difference here. I think you need to be put through your paces."
Terry held up a paw to interrupt. "Put through my paces?"
She licked her muzzle slowly. "You'll have to sell yourself, cutie."
Lab or not, he was not so naïve as to miss the look she was giving him. His hesitation came not from a lack of awareness but from a sense of disbelief. "This isn't, um... Uh. The last job I interviewed for was at Target. This isn't how it normally goes, right?"
"Nope. Empathy and Team Values bullshit. But you said you were game for it. Besides..." Kate leaned forward, set her elbows on the desk, and rested her pointy muzzle on folded paws. Then, watching him, eyes glinting, she reached back to undo the top button of her blouse. "Just say I'm testing your ability to think on your feet."
Also the observation skills she'd just derided. The opened blouse showed off ochre fur, blending to white before vanishing with just a hint of cleavage. "Well, I... I think I can do that..."
The wolf smiled. Color alone was not what got Kate mistaken for a coyote; the smile was pure mischief. She languidly unfastened another button and resumed her forward lean, with her blouse now trying to open further of its own accord. "You have a full 757. What are the odds you could make a jazz trio from the passengers?"
One of those questions? Well... "I would start with one instrument. I know about fifty people, and two of them can play trumpet, so within an order of magnitude I'd expect, uh..." Not another button. Give me a chance to --
She opened the blouse by one more degree, and gamely returned her muzzle to her paws. "Yes?"
"Uh, so if, uh... if there are eight passengers per row, I'd... expect a trumpet player every three or four rows. Call it five rows. So if the plane has forty rows, that's eight trumpeters. N-not every trumpeter plays jazz, of course..."
"Of course," the wolf drawled. "Do you need a piece of paper to work this out, pup?"
"Maybe."
She turned his CV over to a blank page. And then she tucked the ballpoint pen in her bra. "Carry on."
Terry took two deep breaths. He remembered what his advisor had said. Valley companies are different from what you're used to, Terrence. They've all gotten into these new interview techniques. You'll have to be prepared.
He was not prepared.
He sat up, and stretched across the table. Closing his fingers around the pen brought him dangerously close to the wolf. Only a few inches separated their noses. Eyes -- mirthful, keen flint behind her glasses -- seemed to be daring him. Terry froze.
Kate tilted her head. "Tell me about a time where you had a stressful encounter in the workplace, and how you dealt with it."
"My first job interview out of college, somebody put a Bic pen in their cleavage and asked if I needed it to, uh... work something out."
She lifted an eyebrow, her voice softening to something sweet, and coy, and far beyond the line of appropriate office behavior. "And how did you deal with it?"
"I... took the pen." He plucked it from her, carefully. There was no way to remove it without touching her. Instead he took the offered opportunity to feel the soft, plush fur under his fingerpads.
"And then you took your pants off," the wolf said.
Was that a question? An order? "I did?"
"You did." Somewhere, the author of the company's Tour Guide to Empathy and Team Values (We Empower Rockstars to Ignite Disruptive Synergy) was weeping into his gin.
Tucking the pen between his teeth, Terry stood up. It was at this point that some degree of absurdity struck him: the dog, still in full business dress, standing in a stately office as though nothing at all was out of the ordinary. As though a rather insistent red wolf was not eyeing his every move, her head canted and her open shirt all but an invitation.
The most appropriate course of action would have been to thank her for her time, collect his possessions, and escape. He did not need to answer any more questions about jazz musicians, after all. He could leave, gather his wits... stop staring at the wolf's chest... stop wondering just how far she intended to test his qualifications...
Instead he pulled open his belt, nudged off his polished shoes, and slipped from the neatly pressed trousers that matched his blazer impeccably and his sky-blue briefs not at all.
"Those, too," Kate told him, rendering the fashion statement moot.
He pulled the briefs off. There was no point in hiding anything. Certainly no point in being embarrassed by it. Half-exposed from his jet-black sheath, Terry's canine cock presented itself for ready inspection.
The red wolf regarded his endowment more favorably than she had his curriculum vitae. Certainly, it was longer and had more experience. Her eyes devoured him, and without a pen to fidget with, she settled on the newton's cradle. She flicked one of the balls up, letting it fall with a loud click in the quiet room.
As the gadget ticked back and forth, her grin widened. She brought it to a halt. Aimlessly, the wolf's fingers settled for toying with a pair of the balls, rubbing her thumb over the polished metal. Then she licked her muzzle, and got to her feet.
"Alright." Thump. She'd kicked off one of her shoes as she stepped around the desk. Thump. Now she faced him -- half a foot shorter and no less imposing for it. "Another back of the envelope problem, pup."
"Yes?"
She pushed herself up so that she could take a seat on the edge of the desk, with her brushy tail waving audibly against it. "How many cute young dogs in San Jose are about to use their job interview to go down on a manager with hiring authority?"
"One."
"So quick!"
"It's a simple Fermi problem," he explained. "Within an order of magnitude, one is a safe bet..."
Kate arched dusky eyebrows. "I think you better show your work."
As she was, after all, an experienced project manager, he was obligated to defer to her authority. He dragged his paw up along her leg, gathering the fabric of a pleated skirt whose conservative earth tones no longer sent an especially accurate message.
Terry kept the skirt bunched, working it up to the red wolf's waist, and dropped down between her legs. He pressed his nose into the fur of her thighs, sniffing in short breaths to flood his muzzle with a tantalizing hint of her arousal. Coyote or wolf, she was still a canid -- just like him.
So it was completely irresistible, and he was mindful of the time. He felt around for her panties, and with his pointed tug she lifted her hips up momentarily so he could pull them off her. As the cotton slid by his snout, he caught her scent thickening. And he went in for more.
If there was anything dogs were naturally qualified for, it was this. He ran the tip of his tongue along her lips, bathing her gently. A sigh of released tension rewarded him -- just loud enough that he was happy she'd told him to shut the door.
Once again his LinkedIn review left him unprepared. It said nothing about the salty, fragrant tang of her juices as he lapped at her, or the way her sigh shifted into an encouraging rumble that proved she didn't need words to communicate. Or the pressure of her strong thighs, locking behind him to draw the lab firmly into her crotch.
Profiles like that never touched on the important points.
Growling, Terry chose to persevere. His tongue danced and flicked and worked over her, nice and eager. He ran it down one side and up the other, putting a little more pressure behind each long, lingering pass until she started to twitch and stiffen.
More pressure still and his tongue slid with tantalizing slowness inside her -- gliding back and forth as he pressed her slick, clinging folds apart. Just long enough to let her feel it, at first: that broad, oh-so-canine tongue rewarding her with a bath of velvet heat.
Then faster, and more eagerly, taking his cues from the red wolf's shudders and muffled cries. A hasty glance showed that she was biting down on her paw to keep herself restrained. Better keep going, he thought -- his tongue drew back, and he slid two fingers in its place.
Kate groaned, loud enough that the paw didn't matter. He started to pump his fingers gently, twisting and working them to hide his claws, so that there was nothing but slick pads and soft, soaking fur. A cute -- and quite unsafe-for-work -- wet sound accompanied their passage.
The sounds grew louder -- so did her groans, joined now by a high-pitched whine that whistled through her long nose. Terry grinned, and pressed his muzzle right up against her. Burying himself in her pussy, nosing heatedly... guiding his tongue in quick, darting flicks of the wolf's little clit... closing his lips over her and sucking, ever-so-gently --
But more than sufficient. Kate choked out a wavering whimper -- by the time her paw fell away it was already an exultant moan, just lyrical enough to make her wolf heritage happily undeniable. She thrashed, kicking her foot aimlessly, tail lashing and paws fighting for purchase on whatever they found on her desk.
Ever the gentleman, Terry pulled his fingers from her and used both paws to keep his interviewer from falling all the way off the desk. It seemed only polite, at least until she calmed down enough that he could see if a follow-up was necessary. I sort of hope so. I kinda like this style of interviewing...
A piece of drifting paper caught his eye. His CV was crumpled, with a ragged row of claw marks denoting the wolf's verdict. Kate, panting and with her eyes screwed shut, seemed to be oblivious to either the damage or the likelihood that anyone might have heard... anything.
A knock at the door put the lie to that. He heard it open a crack, and the cautious voice of the office assistant -- a young buck, if Terry remembered properly from their quick introduction. "Uh... Miss Montoya?"
She groaned. "What, Chad?"
"Are you..."
"I'm conducting an interview," she hissed through gritted teeth. A shudder jolted her, and in the last half-second the hiss turned more into a moan. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Er. Yes, Miss Montoya."
"Hold my calls."
"Yes, Miss Montoya."
"Good boy." The door closed, and this time Terry heard the lock being turned as well -- from the outside. Kate finally opened her eyes, curling her head forward to regard the lab between her legs. "You too, don't worry."
"I'm not."
"I'm not allowed to use Chad, see."
"No?"
"No. I've asked. But you..."
"I'm not in your Tour Guide, right?"
"Right." She inhaled deeply. And, as though the infusion of oxygen had returned her to her senses, her eyes came back to life. So did her foot: she put it against his chest, and pressed lightly. "So. Up on the chair."
"Chair?"
"Chair," she repeated, with a firmer shove. Terry half-stood, toppling back into the luxurious, smooth leather. "I believe we may have a position for you. What do you think?"
"The position would be, um..." Terry stopped himself to watch the red wolf slink gracefully to the floor. Her sandy-white paws came to rest flat on his hips, rather conveniently framing his sheath and stiff erection. "Me like this, and you -- oh, god."
She was a project manager, and a good one at that. Kate had immediately honed in on what they referred to as the critical path. Her tongue slurped wetly over the underside of his cock, and before he could finish the sentence she'd demonstrated her intentions with a perfectly serviceable proof of concept.
Terry groaned and felt around for something to rest his paws on -- something he was unlikely to damage. The chair's leather squeaked at his tense gripping. Kate giggled, and went back to her work. Every hot, dragging touch of her supple tongue left a ribbon of electric pleasure in its wake.
The lab grunted, arching up instinctively. A spurt of precum caught the red wolf's whiskers. She stopped. Locking eyes on him, she cleaned her muzzle off. "Calm down, pup. I just want to show you our benefits package. Or, well..."
"Well?" he managed. Her tongue swirled teasingly over his tip, and he gave up on trying for anything more complicated than a one-word question.
Her ears waggled, her tail waved playfully, and she slurped again. "Package benefits," Kate corrected. Sensing a protest at the phrasing, she parted her lips and Terry stiffened with the slick heat that abruptly engulfed him.
The red wolf moaned and sank down to push him deeper into her muzzle. Slowly, letting him enjoy it, she rocked her muzzle in firm strokes that suggested plenty of relevant worked experience. Slurping, she sucked on him until the world seemed to close in on her warm mouth and the dog felt his resistance cracking.
Kate was a wolf on a mission. Her sharp, keen predator's ears were pricked forward, and the sparks in her eyes danced with every new gasp and twitch from her hapless partner. Terry's hips started to flex and buck, grinding his prick deeper into wet heat that swallowed him in tight, slick pressure.
He heard her -- felt her -- panting for shallow, ragged breaths. When he groaned, the panting put a carnal edge on her happy giggle. A light, nimble paw cupped his balls in time to feel them starting to draw up -- the way his toes were starting to curl. The way his ears were back, and his muzzle lifted.
By an order of magnitude, he was within two seconds of giving in. They both knew it. They both wanted it. Tingling pressure rose in his loins, racing up to where she had his cock stuffed in her sharp, willing muzzle, his swelling knot bumping against her soft nose.
At the first heavy, warning throb she stopped bobbing her head. Instead she suckled, hard, pulling him all the way over the edge -- pleasure slammed into him like the newton's cradle on her desk, pounding his peak from him in sharp, rhythmic jolts as he erupted into her. Spurt after thick spurt of warm, rich dog cum filled her mouth.
She gulped him down as best she could, staying happily put as Terry's musky load painted her tongue. Even so, when at last he was simply twitching and she pulled off him with a final kiss, a few dribbles of sticky canine seed managed to escape. She brushed her lips with the back of her paw, swallowed a few times, and grinned. "So?"
Still a little dazed, the retriever allowed himself a few deep breaths for recovery. "It seems like a good position? Good... good fit..."
"Excellent." Licking the last of him from her whiskers, Kate rocked back on her heels, apparently satisfied with a job well done. The red wolf's dainty fingers remained, contemplatively brushing at his sheath like she wasn't quite finished with him.
Which... actually. "There's just one problem."
"From a company policy point of view, there's honestly several," she admitted. "Go on? I haven't even made you an offer yet."
"See, I'm not looking for a blow job. I'm looking for a blow career."
She quirked her brow. "Is that so?"
"Well, I mean, I'm not into the gig economy."
Kate rose just enough to join him in the executive chair, straddling the dog and touching her pointy lupine muzzle to his. She clicked her tongue skeptically, betrayed by a wagging tail. "I don't know. I'm pretty happy with smoking-hot-retriever-stud-as-a-service so far."
"So far."
"Oh, is that so? Tell me..." Her grin went all sly and telling, and she pushed herself closer to him. She nipped his nose to keep him still, and her husky whisper filtered into his ear. "Where do you see yourself in five minutes?"
This is where they want you to show that you know how to take some initiative, Terry. He growled, squeezing the wolf's firm butt in both paws, and concluded that more than 'initiative' needed to be taken. "Fucking you on your desk until you're begging me to tie you."
She stayed in place, considering the proposal. He saw her ear flick in his peripheral vision. "You know, Terry. Now that you mention it..." Kate trailed off. Getting her feet under her, she made a fluid pivot.
Then she spread her legs deliberately, widening her stance and bending forward over the desk. Her thick, soft tail hiked, pulling her skirt with it. While his eyes drank in the sight of the gorgeous she-wolf, she reached back with one paw to trace the fur of her thighs.
And then, with her teeth bared in a partly hidden grin, to part her slick, wet sex in wicked invitation. "I think there might be an opening you could fill..."
His cock hadn't completely softened, and now it was rising back to full attention. Nobody denied wolves, not even rangy coyotish ones. He stepped behind her quickly, guiding the tip of his length forward until it kissed those pouting lips.
She closed her eyes, biting her tongue as he nudged her, teasing, stroking her with his length as it hardened and throbbed against the slippery, silken caress of her sodden pussy. It didn't take long before he was ready. More than ready, even.
He pushed forward firmly, glancing down to watch as she took him, inch by thick, veiny inch parting the wolf's dripping folds. The subtle bulge of his unformed knot slipped inside with no hint of the resistance to come. They both moaned as he hilted, working his hips in a circling, rhythmic grind to let her linger on the solid bulk that had her so thoroughly filled.
Kate sucked her breath in when he started to pull out. The yearning emptiness had her trembling. He could see the carnal, base desire in her quivering ears, and her opened muzzle twisting to form words. "Do you need something, Kate?"
"Your cock, Terry," the red wolf gasped.
"More specific." The big retriever drove forward in a short thrust, a mere half-inch or so that was just enough to catch her attention. You had to be specific to get what you wanted. "Remember?"
Kate's ears splayed and she bunched both paws into tense fists. "Holy fucking Christ. Fuck that cock into me, you stud!"
He pumped his shaft all the way back in, smoothly. "Like that?"
"Harder," she breathed.
Terry drew back and thrust a third time, rougher, claiming her with a wet squelch that nicely complemented her grateful hiss. "Yeah?"
"Harder," she whimpered. He put both paws on her rump and rammed into the plaintive woman again -- and again -- and again. She yelped to every thrust that slammed her full of the dog's prick -- but her tail jerked higher, and she clenched her teeth. "Yes! Fuck your wolf bitch!"
The dog groaned and let her have it. Kate grabbed on to the edge of the desk and braced herself as he snarled and rutted his swift, coarse way into her. Muscles tensed and knotted beneath his sleek black pelt with the effort of their fierce coupling -- and if her throaty barks hadn't been loud enough the desk rattled and clattered and squeaked its protest to the hardwood flooring.
But it held, if just barely. The newton's cradle toppled in an untidy mess. Her model followed. Papers slid in a rush like leaves swept before a fall wind. The two canids could not have cared less. Kate threw her head back and wailed, the singsong keening broken by the rapid tempo of the dog pounding her from behind.
He felt her tighten around him, and her dripping juices spilling hot, slick warmth into the fur of his crotch. Terry grunted and leaned over her, wrapping his paws about her slim belly to keep the red wolf steady as a rising need overcame him. The throbbing bulge of his knot, too thick to ignore, pushed at her lips heavily, stretching her wide.
Kate whined, and when she found her voice it came syllable by straining syllable. "Hold on. T-Terry. Pull out."
He thrust sharply and held there, aching to bury himself all the way in her. Pulling out took every last bit of willpower. Shakily, he straightened up. "Kate?"
She shook her head, raising herself on limbs that were just as unsteady. "Huh-uh." Before he could find a new stressful situation in the workplace she rolled over onto her back. Propping herself with her elbows, she got her leg around him to draw him back close. "Like this. Want to watch you."
He sunk back inside her in a single thrust all the way up to the knot, and didn't miss how her eyes rolled back as he filled her again. "Mmf?"
"When you're finishing." Her legs locked behind his hips, and as he took a few more heavy strokes she tightened her grasp at every revolution, giving him less and less room to pull out. "When you're cumming deep in my hot, needy cunt... mm, that's right," she went on while he started fucking her again. "Good boy. Go on, fill your bitch up..." He could only growl hoarsely, bucking into the wolf over and over until her stance weakened and she fell back on the desk, pulling him atop her.
Terry's hips clashed to hers -- hard and hot, with the dog's muzzle set in a mask of feral concentration. The lab dug his feet in for purchase, working her lips open around his knot. _Almost there. _
"Get that knot in me," Kate panted -- interrupted by a sighing groan as he hammered into her again. "Tie me, you beast!" His hips dropped forward, pressing her against the desk -- forcing her wider around him until nature finally had its way and with a thud their bodies met and her howl let everyone know it.
The dog grunted with the shock of their sudden tie -- not that it mattered. His hips moved on instinct now, those last few deep, humping thrusts strong and uneven and unmistakable. His solid body pinned the wolf and he could feel her plaintive, heady gasps hitching her chest -- her slender ruddy frame tense with the energy of the final act of their mating.
A shudder ran through her and then she was begging, grasping at him, tugging at his sides. "Ohfuckthat'sgood -- oh, god -- fuck, yes, I'm gonna cum again... Terry -- harder, stud! Cum with me, oh please fuckin' --"
He forced himself in as completely as he could and joined her with a guttural bark. It might've sounded like her name but for her ecstatic howl deafening them both. He couldn't answer -- all he knew was the sweet release gripping him, that blissful culmination that came in the hot ropes of cum he was spilling right up against her womb.
His hips jerked erratically against the thick tie and the tight grasp of her folded limbs, and she kept howling, begging him for every drop that filled her. And he did, balls twitching to pump their creamy, virile load deep into her well-stuffed pussy. Panting, grunting the primal triumph of claiming the wolf bitch into her sensitive ear...
Until at last his strength gave in and they sank down in a chaotic tangle onto her desk. It was half a minute before he even knew where he was, and a minute more before he was aware of her pleased crooning, and her paws stroking his fur through the blazer her claws had ruined.
"Alright, Terry. Let's... let's say you interview well..."
"Unconventional interview."
"Practical interview," she said. Her hips wriggled, and he could practically feel his knotted cock teasing the mess he'd liberally flooded her with. "One last question. What would... what would you say your greatest weakness is?"
"Beyond red wolves?"
She smirked, and squeezed down on his buried length until he shuddered. "Yes. Beyond red wolves."
"Mmf. I'd say... if I enjoy doing something, I don't know when to quit."
"Is that a weakness?"
Now it was his turn.
A quick, firm tug of his hips made her all-too-aware of his knot; she quivered, and her eyes went hazy. He waited until she'd calmed down to seek out her ear.
"Depends. What are your thoughts about overtime?"