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Do you think I'm a bad man?

I wonder this as I lean over the moaning feline, keeping my hand pressed down on the side of his head with one hand, my other holding his hips up high as my own slam into his ass while my cock spreads his hole wide. His moans are interrupt by his quiet gasps as we fuck... Make love, I mean make love. That's what I'm supposed to call it he's told me.

I raise one leg off the floor so I can adjust my footing, and now my foot is up on the outside of his knee, giving me a better angle to slide inside of him. I'm not sure if he notices how little into it I actually am. Any noises I make are from exertion or discomfort, not like the passionate cries he's giving. His face scrunches up, and I know that if it lasts too long it's from pain, but instead his face relaxes and he gives a high-pitched moan before a series of sharp breaths and so I know it's okay for me to continue.

He never opens his eyes when we fu- make love. Which is alright with me. It gives me time to examine him. Most of his young, lithe body is covered in gray fur, except for his muzzle and chest which are pure white. However, he recently dyed the fur down his spine into the bright colors of the rainbow. He says it's something he's proud of and that I should be too. However, he doesn't know that it doesn't apply to me.

I press hard into him, grinding my hips against the soft cheeks of his ass and I notice his claws raking across the bed, bunching up the sheets and probably scratching up the mattress itself. His voice is muffled and I see he's biting down on the corner of a pillow. He's holding his breath. I can tell because with every plunge I make into him, his voice comes through as sharp little notes that accentuate the slap of my hips against his ass.

His other hand is hidden from my sight, playing with himself. I know he's pumping his cock through a hand to match my tempo, squeezing his fingers around the tip when I find that sensitive spot inside of him which makes him clench himself around my length. I know he thinks it's for my sake, but honestly, it doesn't do much for me.

Somewhere in that sex induced fog that I've put him in, he's found the wherewithal to push back against me. This happens every so often and is his subconscious way of saying to try harder. I find it humorous in some fashion since I'm doing well enough to keep his words out of his voice. Still, he's challenging me. One of the few times he's done it before, so I growl and really start to put my back into it.

The next few minutes are a series of moans, squeaks, grunts, and slaps that become so loud and fast that it's almost deafening. His teeth have torn holes into the pillow and his hands desperately try to grab a hold of something. Instead he rakes claw marks into the mattress cover. Yet he's still pushing back. I've never failed to leave him in a post-sex stupor after his signal. But here I am, having my efforts shoved back in my face like his ass towards my hips.

He reaches his hand back, the one he was using to play with himself, and rests it against my stomach. I can feel the leftover friction heat on his hand, his cum from the previous two orgasms sinking into my fur, and I hold back a growl of disgust.

"S-stop! Wait! Hold on!" he slurs, fighting to catch his breath. For the first time I can remember since we started having sex, his eyes open. They're clouded from lust, moist from the tears of euphoria that I've been providing. But his bright blue eyes are clearly looking at me.

This makes me uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" I say, panting. I need to make him close his eyes, so I try and distract him by pushing my hips forward again. It makes him moan but he pushes his palm harder against my stomach, and again I stop.

His eyes are still open.

I don't like this.

"Pull out for a minute." He pushes me back, making my cock slide from him. I watch as every inch of my shaft slip free, my thick tool dragging past the sensitive spots inside him and the tender flesh of his hole until it's all out, shining with the mixture of pre, lube and spit I used to enter him some time ago.

I sit there, confused and frustrated, replaying the actions in my head, searching for that moment where things went wrong. Meanwhile, my partner manages to gain control of his limbs again and has risen to his knees. The rainbow on his back compresses as he stretches backwards, pushing his ass towards me and his tail upwards to give me a good view of his worn, pink tailhole.

There aren't many things I'm jealous of in this man, but his flexibility is definitely one of them, a defining characteristic of his feline heritage. Now my view of his rear is blocked by his face, his upside-down smile and his sharp, bright eyes. He's bent himself so far back that his head is inches above his tail-base with ease. Lifting his arms around my neck, he drags me down so he can rub his face against mine. Inside, I'm praying that this isn't what I think it is. Mentally, I'm begging him not to ruin this...thing we have.

"I want to switch things up," he whispers into my ear before sitting up and stretching his thin body. His dulcet voice whispered through a satisfied sigh as his body relaxed and he turned his body to face me, his smile was cute and eager with his fangs barely showing past his lips.

"Don't worry," he chuckles, noticing how tense I am, "I'm not trying to get under your tail. I'm not a top."

It's not worry I'm feeling as he stands and steps next to me, guiding me to face him. Nor is it excitement as he slides his hands up my chest, those claws that were shredding the bed moments ago now parted my fur delicately. The momentary shivers I'm giving as his pads of his paws glide over my collarbones aren't from lust. The way he has to stand on his tiptoes to plant his soft, eager lips against mine is not the cause of my body becoming stiff. And the way he is running his fingers sensuously through my head fur is not the reason my dick is still stiff and rubbing against his.

"Relax. You'll like this change, I promise." He places his palms against my chest and guides me to sitting on the bed. I'm not used to this; not being in control. But he continues and climbs onto the bed with me, placing his knees just past my hips, pressing his dripping feline shaft against my chest. I feel the heat of his hard length on my fur and it takes everything I have to ignore it.

Again he guides me, but not with his hands. I think he's trying to be sexy as he presses his hips forward against my chest, his dick resting between my pecs, and we both slowly fall to the mattress. My head now rests upon pieces of torn fabric and ripped padding while he hovers over me, and I'm forced to look down just to avoid his eyes.

I see his cock hanging hard and proud from between his legs, resting against my chest and pointed straight at my face, a heavy drop of pre drips from the tip of his shaft onto my fur. I'm fighting against myself now since throwing him off and leaving would be rude. My body is trembling as my adrenaline rises and I make the mistake of looking at his face again. His loving smile and tender eyes that would melt any heart were gazing down at me, and suddenly I couldn't wait for tonight to be done.

He slides backwards and lines himself up with precision, tail hiked high and curled to the side and I can see the tip twitch to and fro excitedly as my tip teases the pink and well used hole just below its base. Biting his lip, he hisses quietly with a hint of a moan sneaking through his teeth, and I'm reminded of another who had a similar habit.

His name escapes me, but I remember him being a canine. A mutt with a bad attitude who had piercings and wore leather with studs and spikes. He was a closeted kind of guy who overcompensated by being too masculine, constantly used the "fag" word and getting into dick measuring contests, sometimes literally. His excuse was that he was trying to get a rise out of others and to prove he wasn't "queer", as he put it with his limited vocabulary.

Calling his bluffs and breaking down his facade was fun. It was exciting to get him in a room and get him undressed. It was amusing to watch his discomfort slowly change into euphoria. And what a pleasure it was seeing him speechless and trying to cope with what happened after getting fucked. His words, not my current lover's so I'm allowed to use it. He fought so hard to deny it and left after throwing several curses at me, but a week later I had him again with his legs over my shoulders. Then again the week after, then the next few days until it was routine, but he ruined it by coming out and we had to stop.

My feline lover brings me back to earth after being distracted, and I see that he has built up quite a steady pace. He has changed positions, now leaning back with his arms behind him, holding him up with his feet planted under my elbows, he raises and lowers himself down smoothly. I can see his ring flexing around my shaft, hear his desperate gasps, and I see his already spent shaft drool the last of his seed just below his navel. His muscles are flexed, trying desperately to hold himself up through what will undoubtedly be the last orgasm he is able to have tonight. But I know what he's thinking and why he's doing this. There's only one thing he wants at this point, and I'll give it to him if only to get out of this situation.

This isn't something I can fake by tossing an empty condom down the toilet after he's spent and laying on the mattress. So I close my eyes and focus solely on the physical stimulation he's giving me. I imagine some of my many exploits, not just the mutt, but others from my extensive list with no names as well. The panthress who liked leashes, a wolf who was into being a cuck, twin red pandas who enjoyed having a third. I was with everyone else and everywhere else but here.

You see, for me, it was never about the emotional connection.

It's not about the chase or the honeymoon phase.

I can tell the end approaching, the tingling and tightness in my balls, the precursor to my first orgasm tonight. It's going to have to be a big one to match the many he's had, so I continue down the list. There was lion who was into breath play, a closet transvestite raccoon who insisted on being called a girl in private. The naga who was into bondage, a lady gator who liked being degraded, role playing as the master to a dragoness.

It's about the power.

All of those do it for me, I feel my orgasm rip through me and instinctively begin thrusting my hips again. My hands grip his thighs and the heavy load I release practically pours into the feline's ass as my mind becomes clouded by the Dopamine, Oxytocin, and Serotonin cocktail now swirling in my brain. I hear the feline give a rare squeak, and I know he feels my hot shaft shooting into him. Looking up, his eyes have finally closed, now he has a satisfied and relieved smile. I only get a short look at it before his arms and legs collapse and he falls onto the bed, forcing the remainder of my shaft into his tail hole and keeping my cum deep within him.

He's trying to catch his breath, as am I.

At the far end of the bed, he says something, but I no longer care. Not about tonight and not about him. Tonight he showed me everything he is, and none of what he is keeps me interested anymore. The others on my list had secrets and skeletons, but the man purring loudly on top of me has none. While others hid their needs and desires, this man is content with them and who he is. But tonight, he took away the last bit of control I had over him. He took the lead during sex and stole the reins from me.

Now, he's just another tick on my growing list of people without names. So I'll clean him up when he's asleep and leave a short breakup letter that I've worked on over the years. Tomorrow, I'll be somewhere far away from here. And in time, I'll be nothing more than a heartbreak and bad memory to this young, caring man with the rainbow on his back and the sharp, blue eyes.

Because that's what bad men are.