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The smell inside of the tour bus had been a mildly musky, male smell with a touch of housekeeping. Pine-Sol on the vinyl floors, Febreeze on the bedding and carpet, but still noticeably male, the smell of Kahnso and his masculine musk.

In sharp contrast was the smell which the wolverine brought in on her like a fog. It was a rich garage stink. Gasoline and oil reeked on her clothes. Sweat and a deep, earthy mustelid stink permeated the fur covering her doughy, stout body.

Kahnso tried not to act offended. Part of it was fear. He rarely showed fear, fear being something no self-respecting rock singer king of excess would dare show. But Zaylin was frightening to him. He had dealt with pissant thugs before, but never bikers. Whether or not the butch lesbian stinking up his sofa could whip him in a fight, he knew she had friends. He had seen them when she approached, a platoon of motorcycles waiting just up the hill, headlights like murky fireflies. She was the leader and the envoy. Shoot the messenger and the army invades.

"So, prettyboy, let me just say this is one heck of a tour bus," the wolverine said, her voice a little rough and a lot masculine. Kahnso's assessment that she was a bull queer felt truer by the second. "So, you know, blah blah, shame if something happened to it."

The tall fox leaned against the wall opposite Zaylin. He peered around his snout in aloof fashion, a look he had seen his agent pull off a hundred times during tense negotiations. "Why the fuck shouldn't I just call the cops and be done with it?"

Zaylin smiled. She tilted her head as if she hadn't heard him, and then completed the pantomime by nudging forward an ear with her fingers. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Sounded like the guy who always travels with a brick of coke wants to get the law involved. Well be my fuckin' guest, prettyboy, but I guarantee they're gonna be a lot less romantic about it when they core your ass out. 'Least I'll give you a nice reacharound."

Kahnso huffed. He tightened his arms across his chest. The star-shaped locket around his neck, loaded with a single toot worth of cocaine, dug into his skin a bit. "Oh, fuck off, you tubby bitch. What do you want then? Come on, name your price so you can stop stinking up my fucking bus."

The wolverine leaned back, wriggling the sweaty seat of her black leather chaps on the cushion. "Mm, nah, see, I don't like that fucking attitude. You're on my turf and you're gonna pay your tithe and you're gonna do it politely and gladly, prettyboy." She propped up her grimy booted feet on the table, then toed at the heel of the other and kicked it off. Then she kicked off its twin, and she let her naked, foul-smelling feet rest on the table.

Ominously, "Come here, prettyboy."

"No."

Zaylin held up a finger. "One shout and I'll have ten guys down here, beating you into a fucking coma. Come here."

Kahnso eyed her stolid green gaze, looking for a flicker of humor, finding none. He moved closer to her, the gap small to begin with, and looked balefully at her feet. The ripe stink of sweaty boots rose up to meet his nose.

"Come on, I don't want to touch your gross fucking feet," Kahnso whined.

"One smooch, come on, Godfather style. Smooch 'em."

The fox bristled. "In Godfather, they kissed him on the goddamn hand!"

Zaylin grinned. "Hey, look outside. Look at that," she said, pulling aside the curtain. "Look at all those fucks out there that I give. Falling from the sky, it's amazing."

"You're a sick cunt," he snapped.

"And you're a numb fuck," she growled. "Kiss. My. Fucking. Feet. And maybe I won't rip your goddamn sack off like it's a sheet of fuckin' toilet paper."

Kahnso snarled, and then obeyed with all the reluctance of bratty child. He bent, rather than kneel, even if it would have been easier. He visibly held his breath and he pushed his lips hastily into the left arch, giving it a brisk kiss.

With speed nobody ever expected from such tremendous feet, Zaylin smacked her pads together on the fox's snout and held him there, bucking and whining like a trapped animal. As he tugged back and gained ground, she warned him, "Stay put or I'll call for 'em. Stay put!"

Slowly, like a suicidal man brought back from the brink, Kahnso relaxed. But he looked at her hatefully, water in his eyes, his nose snuffling in sharp bursts because her feet clamped his mouth closed.

"That's good, so you can fucking listen. Good, real good." Zaylin massaged his snout with her feet, smearing in sweat and some of the grime her feet had accumulated in her boots. As she rubbed his muzzle, she slid her fingers under the lip of her chaps and prodded her vulva, feeling herself through her panties. "Mm, good. Yeah. Now I'm gonna let your muzzle go and you're gonna be a good prettyboy and keep doin' what you're told. How's that sound?"

Kahnso snorted.

Zaylin smiled and let him free. He yanked back his face and gasped in the clean air. He started for the kitchenette but Zaylin reached out and grabbed him by the tail. "Don't you dare wash your face off. Come back here."

"Your feet are fucking disgusting," Kahnso whined. "You fat cunt."

"Yeah, they do," Zaylin agreed, not bristling at the name or the observation. She pushed herself up to her feet and glowered up at the fox. She herself stood six-foot-four, Kahnso taller but somehow less imposing. "Bedroom. Come on."

Kahnso's eyes widened. The fear showed through. He was too stunned to hide it. "What the fuck? Why?"

"Because what I'm gonna do is easier on a bed, prettyboy," Zaylin answered. "Get moving. Come on. I'd rather have that nose against my butthole than steal baby's crack money."

"No fucking way are you sitting on me," Kahnso snarled.

The wolverine wheeled on him and brought her knee up into his crotch. Kahnso yowled and buckled, but his paws went around her neck. He even started to squeeze and the wolverine was thrilled, almost giddy at the development, because finally the fox had some fight in him.

She grabbed for his face and jabbed a thumb against his eye. The eyelid cinched shut in reflex but the pressure made him yelp and let off her neck. "Not my fucking eyes!"

"Not as dumb as you look," Zaylin growled, quietly. All her bombast was gone, leaving frigid speech in its void. "Get in the bedroom. Get your clothes off."

Her tone said to Kahnso I'm the boss here, bitch. He didn't fight her. He touched his face protectively, thankful both eyes were still in their sockets. As he moved shamefully to the bedroom, Zaylin grabbed his ass. He winced, flinched away from her, and felt like a slab of meat for her to peruse at her pleasure.

"Nice ass," she hissed. "Too bad I didn't bring my fucking strap-on. I'd cornhole you into next week, prettyboy."

"Stop it," Kahnso grumbled. As he came upon the bed he started to strip, his shirt first, wanting to delay removing his pants as long as he could.

Zaylin was there to help. She yanked his track pants down and off in a single tug while he was fumbling with his shirt, which had inverted at the neck. He flinched away from her but she grabbed him, muscular oil-stained paws grabbing hold of his hips like savage hooks. She shoved him onto the bed, snarling, cackling.

"I swear, it ain't nothing to me, but I heard you're a real rapist, real piece-of-shit kinda guy. Must be tough for you, huh?" Her paws ripped open his ass cheeks. Kahnso's pink bud winked at her, clenching as if trying to hide. Zaylin packed her snout into his crack and snuffled him, snorting hard, sucking in that male musk. His stink was thin and she didn't like that. She asked with a snarl, paws digging into the cheeks, "How fucking hard do your scrub your asshole? You smell like a total wimp."

"Fuck you, quit that!" snarled Kahnso, but Zaylin was the boss. Zaylin could have him beaten - to death in fact - and he knew it.

She slopped her tongue across his asshole once, then twice. Smooched it, sucked it, coaxed its rim up pink and fat, then stabbed her tongue into it. Kahnso hissed with grudging pleasure, but it was pleasure he wanted no part of. He balled up the satin sheets in his paws and buried his face into them.

The wolverine's tongue fucked Kahnso, stabbing in, jerking back, doing him like a finger. When she jerked back for the last time, a ribbon of slobber whipped from her lips like water off the scales of a leaping fish. She wiped her mouth off on the back of her arm mannishly, and then she walloped his ass with as hard of a smack as she could manage. Kahnso shouted in pain. Zaylin walloped him again, same spot, same savagery, and Kahnso shrieked. That time, Zaylin was satisfied.

The fat wolverine pulled down her chaps and her panties. The seat of them was soaked through with sweat. Her brown, wide ass glimmered. She clambered onto the bed and pulled his ear. "Roll over. Roll the fuck over," she growled, speaking with the same guttural savagery as a mugger demanding a wallet.

"I hate you, you fat fucking cunt," Kahnso snapped, sounding like a little boy who had just learned to swear. As he rolled over Zaylin saw the hints of tears in his eyes and felt a great swell of satisfaction. She had broken the asshole.

She climbed over him, knees denting the bed as she put her ass against his snout. There was no ceremony, no care as she brought her ass down. Fat brown cheeks enveloped his snout. Her anus, wide and black and absolutely vulgar with musk rubbed against his nostrils like a smooching mouth. She wriggled and writhed, smearing the stench in deep, offering him no chance to suck in outside air. She reached back and grabbed the top of his head and held him in close.

"Breathe. Smell it, that's what a real fuckin' woman smells like, not the scrubbed and sterile little bimbos you like sticking it in."

The wolverine masturbated as she ground her tender anus on the fox's face. His big fangs pricked her ass; she pushed into them, feeling both mechanical pleasure and something more wicked. Not only would his fur stink of her ass, his fucking teeth would be stained with her musk too.

"Smell it," she growled, low and sultry. Grinding, riding, lapping up his whines and snuffles. His paws on her hips, trying to dislodge her. Zaylin holding fast, using his snout, satisfying herself on his misery. "Piece of shit singer, come here thinking you're hot shit and you can just toss money at your problems, huh? Not in my town."

The biker reached under her leathers, under her shirt. She felt over the plump hemispheres of her tits which a threadbare bra held barely. Her nipples were stiff, pussy wet. Even as soaked as she tended to get, her cunt had nothing on the sweaty sheen of her asshole. Such wide cheeks bred a lot of sweat. Zaylin was fine with the occasional panty wedgie and itchy asshole if it meant she could smear it on men like Kahnso.

"Fuck. Fuck yeah," Zaylin hissed, masturbating hard, fast. Plunging her fingers in deep, pinching, rubbing her clit. "Grab my tits. Grab my fucking tits, make those paws useful!"

Kahnso did. He grabbed them hard and squeezed them with spite and hate but Zaylin groaned. She gyrated and her asshole smooched and smeared on his nose, forcing its deep mustelid musk into his sinuses. Kahnso's eyes were watery, his body unprepared the wolverine's smell. He wasn't even hard; having a nice fat ass on his face would have ordinarily made him stiff as a board.

"Oh fuck, oh fucking Christ," Zaylin snarled, throwing back her head and tossing off her black bandanna, exposing a swoosh of soft brown hair. She shuddered hard as she came, her vaginal secretions shooting across Kahnso's chin and neck, marking him with more still of her stink. Being a wolverine with all the mustelid stink which that implied suited Zaylin just fine. She was happy to mark Kahnso.

For a moment, the wolverine ground hard against his face. Her fingers were still deep in her cunt, but their raking thrusts had stopped. She was tender, sliding smoothly into afterglow. Slowly she pulled forward, giving Kahnso some fresh air. He breathed it in in greedy huffs interspersed with broken whines.

"Good face, prettyboy," she huffed.

"Are we done now? Please, can we be done?" Kahnso asked miserably.

The wolverine grinned. She wondered how often women bleated the same words at him in the same tone. "Yeah. Sure. We can be done, pussy." She started to get up. Kahnso stayed put, his body language cold, his eyes avoidant. He didn't even make an effort to wipe her sweat off of his face.

Zaylin's final humiliation was a spur of the moment decision. She was about to ask the fox where the toilet was - of course this nice tour bus had to have a pot somewhere - but her idea was so simple and elegant. She squatted over him, brushing her rank, black cunt against his muzzle, and then she pissed on him.

Kahnso sputtered and yelped, and in doing so took on some of the wolverine's piss so he sputtered again. Zaylin was laughing, cackling really as she pissed all over his face, dousing his long snout and pretty black hair in smelly liquid gold. His paws smacked at her, shoved her, but she held fast.

The wolverine always had to piss her worst after a good squirt. She had heard the same was true for men. Whether it was shared by the sexes or not, she enjoyed herself a good, long piss on the fox's face. By the end of it, when she had only some dribbles left, Kahnso was cowering under her. She smeared her sex on his muzzle, knowing full well it wasn't going to get her any cleaner. At first she thought of demanding he lick her clean, then decided she wanted the job done right, and thoroughly.

Zaylin fell onto the bed beside him and blotted herself with his big, bushy tail. At this, he offered no fight. He turned onto his side. His back was softly heaving. Zaylin grinned.

She leaned over him, enjoying in a wretched way the cocktail of smells on his face. The piss was strongest, that astringent reek overpowering most things, but the smell of anal musk was powerful too. The smell of ass would linger the longest.

"All right, prettyboy, you're all paid up." She smooched his cheek. Why not? It had all come out of her anyway. Not the first time she'd had a dribble of piss in her mouth, not that she actively liked it. "Clean yourself up, wash these sheets. Don't be a fuckin' tramp and lay in it." With that Zaylin pulled on her bottoms, stepped into her comfortable old boots and left the rock singer alone.

Later, she told herself, she'd come for another offering. If he hadn't wised up and fucked off by then, anyway. She went back to her garage for a cold beer. She had a good story for the boys.