FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Lorena Dunbar hated her job. That hadn't always been the case; as a young up-and-comer she'd been thrilled by the idea of clawing her way up through the ranks of this monolith and it had been fun, at first. No one expects sheep to be the predators on the corporate ladder. It had come to a crashing halt far too fast when the glass ceiling was deployed--it didn't matter how good she was, how she left the others behind in her wake and gave everything to her bosses, there just wasn't any way they could let her to the top. So here she was, middle-aged and middle management. You couldn't tell her age by looking, not with her 'classic' face, big deep eyes, and a body that demanded attention and admiration. She sighed and sipped from the hidden flask that everyone knew about, sitting in her strictly average office. At least she had something going for her.

Today, though, she'd been coughing her way through the smoke in her Happy Bubble all day long, and the mouse sitting on the other side of her desk with his soft smile and his general happy mood was making her teeth itch. How could you enjoy working here, being one of her drones, shuffling about your cubicles and gathering crumbs for the queen? Oh, there was a reason, and that's why he was in her office.

"Reginald--"

"Reggie, please, if you don't mind?"

"...Reggie. I need to talk to you about your work. It just hasn't been up to your usual standards, or to ours for that matter." She scanned him quickly and gave an unimpressed snort before turning away. She knew of this guy--he was a keyboard monkey for her engineering team and had been for a couple of years. He did good work and made few waves, but lately there'd been issues with his attitude and production. The floor manager had sent along a note that the guy had been acting off for a couple of months, dressing a little more casual and flaunting himself more than usual. Where'd his plain white shirts and greasy comb-over haircut gone? It set off alarms in Lorena's head. Nerds don't get confident. That's why they're nerds. "But it's not so much that we need to write you up or anything. So you want to tell me what's going on?"

Reggie paused for a bit as if he didn't really understand the question. "Not sure what you mean, ma'am." The mouse shrugged his shoulders. "I haven't been doing anything different."

"Don't insult my intelligence. I wouldn't waste my time over nothing." It was Friday, she just wanted to go home and drink herself into oblivion, not chastise a no-name cubicle jockey for slacking.. "I'm just giving you an opportunity to explain yourself before I have to do it for you."

"I wouldn't dream of it, ma'am." Lorena shot a glare at her laptop that was intended for Reggie, the smart-mouthed shit. She hated being called 'ma'am', like she was someone's grandmother. "I really don't know what you're talking about."

The sheep grunted in frustration and started clicking at her laptop. "If you want to keep playing dumb, that's your choice." Files flew open as she worked, reports full of dry text popping up in rapid succession. "There's more than a half-dozen reports from this month alone about you missing meetings or not answering your phone. Your team manager says he sees you head for the supply closet then come back looking... happy, for no reason he can think of." Lorena narrowed her eyes, knitted her fingers together, and looked Reggie square in the eyes. "Last chance. You admit you're smoking up on company time and you'll just get fired. But if you make me investigate, well." She allowed herself a thin, threatening smile. "You won't like the outcome."

Reggie just stared for a moment, blinking slowly in disbelief. Lorena had him. She knew she had him. No way out, Mr. Williams...

Then he started laughing. Lorena started, then stared, taking her turn at being the confused one. It was the kind of laughter you get from hearing a particularly good joke or when that guy on TV gets hit in the junk with a football for the three thousandth time. It was loud, healthy, and, truly pissing the ewe off.

"What in the hell is so funny, Mr. Williams?!"

The mouse wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "You really think I'm smoking pot in the supply closet? Are you serious?" Reginald shook his head hard, finally cooling off his hysterics. "That's just...it's so absolutely wrong." He leaned back, arms on the sides of the chair, the absolute pinnacle of cool and calm. "I'm getting my dick sucked."

Lorena spit coffee halfway across her office, hacking and wheezing as she tried to recover her breath. "You what?!"

"Are you alright--"

"Just_coff coff_ answer the question, Williams!"

"I told you. I'm getting my cock sucked. It's not really complicated..."

Lorena wiped at her face with some tissues, still sputtering up bits of half-warm Starstags from three hours ago. "Mister Williams, either you've got no sense of decorum or you're trying to be some kind of comedian. Neither one is a good idea. Now, do you want to give me a straight answer? Last chance." The expression on her face read very clearly:I will hurt you if you mess with me.

"I, ah--" Reggie made a frustrated grunt and shifted his weight uncomfortably in the chair. There was still a nerd in there underneath a thin veneer of confidence and pride, and the sheep knew how to get at it. It was one of her gifts. "I'm serious, Miss Dunbar. I'm trying my best to make sure I get everything done. I didn't know it was really a problem, no one's said anything to me. It's just, it's hard sometimes..." The mouse trailed off for a second. "I really need this job," he whined. "It's not my fault."

Lorena leaned back in her chair. "Okay. Let's assume for a minute you're not messing with me, though I seriously doubt it. How can that not be your fault? I mean, it's--it's your--you know what I mean." This was not a conversation she wanted to be having. Talking about some schmuck's, well, schmuck was awkward at best even if she liked him (which she didn't). She didn't have a sex life. She had work and not-work. It was hard to deny a little bit of curiosity though. Just a little, a shred, a tiny little particle of interest that floated around and irritated her brain like a grain of sand in your eye.

"I_swear_, ma'am--"

"--for pity's sake, don't call me ma'am!"

"Gah! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Reggie flailed his hands in front of his face, trying to deflect bullets of angry sheep-glares. "I mean--I--oh, cripes, I really don't know! Almost every time I walk past a woman, it's the same thing. We can be talking about work or a movie or anything at all, then she takes one look down and everything changes. All she can talk about is my bulge, my balls, or my dick, and before you know it she wants it in her mouth." The mouse calmed down a little, but still had that weak look of nervousness all over his eyes. "I swear, I don't do it on purpose. I figured it was okay as long as I got my work done."

The ewe stared in awestruck disbelief as her brain tried to process what she'd just been told, doing mental gymnastics to see if there was any kind of way this made sense. No matter what, it always came to the same conclusion. It couldn't be right though. It wasn't the sort of thing that happened in her office--hell, it wasn't the kind of thing that happened in reality. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. But like trying to get a song you hate out of your head as it goes into the chorus for the thirty-third time today, she had to bring it up or it'd never leave her alone.

"Are you trying to tell me you have some kind of...hypno-penis?"

They stared at each other for a few minutes, the room dead silent save for a bit of breathing and the ticking of an obnoxious clock that the previous resident of this office had installed and now Lorena was stuck with. Even the heating decided to sit the fuck down and heat the place as quietly as possible. It wanted none of this nonsense.

Reggie cleared his throat. "I don't so...? How do I put it, um..." He pointed his hands down at his lap and looked down, making the international standard 'tah-dah' gesture. "I guess it's pretty distracting. They see my package and get obsessed. All I hear is how big it is, how bad they want to see it or taste it." The mouse adjusted himself, or at least Lorena assumed he was; she couldn't see past the edge of the desk. "Maybe it's partially my fault? I don't really try to hide it, not that I could if I wanted. I get propositioned eight or ten times a day--"

"Okay, Mister Williams, that's quite enough. I don't need to hear the whole sordid story of your man-whoring." Reggie opened his mouth to protest, but the sheep cut him off with a word-based meat cleaver, slashing his train of thought into a whole array of steaks and filets. "This has to be the worst excuse story I've ever heard. 'My dick's so big women can't resist it'? Are you for real? You should have gone with being stoned on the clock, Reggie. It would have ended better."

"Listen, Miss Dunbar, I can prove it." There was a tinge of pride in his voice. He was self-assured. He had an ace up his sleeve. Lorena swallowed. The heat must be on too high. Who in their right mind kept the furnace going in April? It was fifty degrees outside!

"I can't wait to see this." The ewe sat back and put on her most judgmental face. "Okay, show me this irresistible member of yours."

Reggie nodded a bit and stood up unceremoniously, taking a half step back to make sure that everything was well in sight. He didn't want his manager to miss a single thing, not with the way she was griping up a storm when he was being perfectly honest with her. "I'm surprised you didn't notice when I came in. Everyone else does. Damn thing gets in the room before I do."

"Oh stop brag--" Lorena paused in mid-word, holding her Starstags cup halfway to her mouth but having no real luck at getting it much further. It seemed for some reason, her hand wouldn't move. And oddly enough, her eyelids had gone on strike too, letting her eyeballs practically fall out of her head. They were locked in place, focused on a singular spot in the space in front of her with a dedication that would have made zealots and basement dwelling nerds say that maybe they needed to chill out a little bit 'cause they were getting just a little obsessed and it wasn't healthy. Telling the ewe that, though, it wouldn't have done a whole lot--even if she could hear you telling her not to look into the ark, there wasn't a way on heaven or earth she was going to pry her eyes off Reggie's crotch. The mouse had a bulge like most men did, but his was something a bit more than just a bit of roundness or bounce that screamed out 'I AM A MAN!'. It was a billboard a thousand miles wide across the train tracks of her thoughts with its sensational advertisement for the family sized, warehouse-store sized carton of Dick. Reggie hadn't really been joking when he said it was an attention getter, one that stretched down his left trouser leg in a lazy curve that stopped about two inches above his knee, all originating from a crotch that bulged obscenely. Even in loose fit slacks of some generic brand she couldn't be arsed to remember at the best of times his pouch stood out like Reggie was smuggling cantaloupes in his lap, the zipper barely fitting over the half-sphere. Every time he shifted his weight, whatever was tucked behind cheap cotton bounced a little, forcing him to adjust the whole arrangement back into place. It was like a pornographic toolbelt, and he had a most intriguing hammer...

"Well? You satisfied?" Reggie's voice slapped Lorena back into the office, washing away a marathon of daydreams. "I've got work to do. Wouldn't want anyone to complain that I'm smoking weed in the supply closet again." He spoke with a little tinge of annoyance, which wasn't him being a jerk, he really was kind of getting grouchy at having to stand around a bland office and model his genitalia. "Ma'am?"

"Oh, um, yes." Lorena cleared her throat and set her coffee down, unclenching her hand while ignoring her sore fingers. She was suddenly acutely aware of the dull throb in her crotch and how her thighs were instinctively pushing together, making her wiggle and rock in her chair. Somewhere in the last two minutes, her brain had gone from vague curiosity to absolute fixation, visions of sugar-cocks dancing in her head. What did it look like? Was that really there? Was he circumcised? What color was it? Wait, was she wet? Lorena cursed silently and told her hormones to rein it the fuck in--she was a professional and professionals do not fantasize about their subordinates, and they especially do not leave wet spots on their $200 skirts.

"I'm not convinced, Mister Williams." She gave him the kind of half-eyed frowning look you give a small child who's trying to convince you that a giant dog from Mars ate all the cookies and broke that vase before it went off and destroyed the backyard with a shovel. "You wouldn't be the first man who needed to buoy his less than impressive attributes by stuffing something down his pants. Frankly I didn't expect that kind of testosterone-soaked nonsense out of you. Maybe I should have." The ewe yanked a desk drawer open and tossed a few forms on her desk, shaking her head to just drive the point home: she wasn't going to respect Reggie no matter what. "Now, let's discuss disciplinary action--"

"Oh for fuck's sake..."

Lorena looked up in mid-stroke of her pen, mouth wide open. "I beg your pardon, Mister Williams?"

The mouse grabbed at his belt, already working the buckle open. "Would it kill you to just say what you want? I don't really like playing games." Lorena opened her mouth to tell this drone from the lower floors that he'd made a fatal mistake in underestimating her when the sound of a zipper falling open brought her train of thought to a complete halt, derailed it, and rolled down the hill before bursting into a ball of flame and destroying an orphanage on its way past. "But if that's what makes you happy...." Fabric hitting the floor with a soft paf sound put the staccato on the last word and the alarm bell that Reggie was not fucking around. Lorena had annoyed him more than she was aware he could be. Nerds were supposed to be submissive, docile, and easily manipulated. This one was certainly not. Fuck, this heat was getting to her.

Two steps forward and one kick later, there was a mouse without pants where one with pants had stood a few minutes before, his hands held out to the sides as if to say 'ta-dah!' in silent words anyone could probably understand. Lorena tried to drink it all in without choking, but it was less a glass and more beer bong straight to the throat. Reggie wore underwear, something that came as a surprise to her, though he may as well have not, as the blue briefs weren't the normal tighty-whities you'd see on someone like this scrawny nobody. About half of them were ordinary and plain: the sides and presumably the back fit just fine over narrowish hips and a fairly average butt, showing off a slight musculature from the waist down. That was the only really 'ordinary' thing about them. The front panel bulged out even more now that there wasn't nearly as much snug fabric caging it in and made the two bigger-than-her-fist balls being smuggled in there even more obvious as they hung heavy behind a proverbial elephant's trunk of a dick. Wherever he'd gotten these shorts from they must have been made just for gear like his; a pouch of sorts cut into the front panel let all those inches of meat swinging lazily between Reggie's slightly spread knees hang out free rather than pinning it all against his pelvis. The cobalt material managed to hold everything in place, though not without something of a struggle, pulled so tightly by mid-member that the shape of Reggie's cockhead and glans were plainly visible, standing in relief like some kind of statue. Even as she realized she was staring slack-jawed and probably drooling, Lorena couldn't look away. It'd been a while since she'd seen one this close and they were never like this, the kind of manhood that made her fidget, struggling to keep her hands out of her lap...

Reggie's posture suddenly slumped. "I shouldn't have done that..." He started to look for his pants, rattled, his voice soft. Every move he made sent his package swaying again like a piece of meat at the butcher's. "I don't know what came over me, Miss Dunbar. I'd completely understand if you wanted me fired, I'll go clean out my desk--"

"Reggie." Lorena stood up from her desk and walked around the side, looking down, unbuttoning her jacket and tossing it back on her chair. The condescension was gone from her voice. The ewe was no longer making demands. In fact, it sounded like she was talking to him like he was a normal person, a friend maybe. Reggie watched her hips sway in awe; the sheep was what you'd call average above the waist, but what she hid under her desk was remarkable, curved and thick, with an ass that swayed gently even with a $200 skirt trying to keep it in check. "I'm not going to fire you."

He was stunned. "You're not?"

"No, I'm not, Mr. Williams," Lorena said, shaking her head with a displeased frown across her face. "But I admit I'm not entirely sure what to do with you. You're flaunting yourself in a way that's completely inappropriate and mistreating the female members of your team. Really, I should file a complaint with HR."

"But--but it's all consensual, and I'm still getting my work done!" Reggie peddled, trying to find the way out that might exist somewhere between him and his manager. "I can stop if that'll help--"

"Mr. Williams. Please. Don't grovel, it's embarrassing. Here's the simple truth of the situation: this whole situation can't be allowed to continue, not the way things are." Lorena leaned back against the desk, propping her broad ass on the edge and crossing her arms under her bust. It was hard to ignore that rack when she put them on a 'rack' all their own; they filled out the basic lingerie well, and while they weren't going to set any records for size, the ewe still had enough chest to keep Reggie's eyes on them. Trimmed and painted nails tapped against a be-bloused elbow, the cotton a little damp in the stuffy room. Thick legs crossed at bare ankles. "What do you suggest?" There was a pause. "Reggie. My eyes are up here." Her brain completely disguised the fact that while the mouse may have been glued to the sight of her tits, she was having a long conversation with his dick, watching it sway in his briefs as it filled out, just a touch.

"I'm not sure what you want. Maybe move me somewhere else where there aren't so many women?"

Lorena clicked her tongue and tapped fingers on the side of her glasses. "That's not really an option. I can't just put together an entire team of men and expect anything to get done." With a push of palms against furniture, she came to stand again, wobbling a little. "I really need those jackasses in maintenance to fix the heating already." Even with carpeting, Lorena's footsteps echoed in his ears, each louder than the last, until she stopped mere inches from where he stood. "We're going to have to reach some kind of compromise here. I don't want to fire you, Mr. Williams--you're a great employee, top notch. It wouldn't behoove the company to dismiss such a valuable asset." Her eyes slid downwards, over Reggie's less than impressive chest and arms, over his belly, until they came to rest on that crotch. It had her attention, that was undeniable.

"Miss Dunbar...? Are you alright?"

"Let me worry about myself, Reggie. I'm a big girl." One soft hand came to rest on his shoulder. At this distance, the air filled with a potpourri of scents; sweat, modestly expensive perfume, heated breath, and the merest hint of a pussy that was absolutely desperate to be stuffed full of meat like some kind of carnal burrito, dripping with hot sauce until it puddle on the floor slid into Reggie's senses. "We're both adults, so let's discuss this like adults, hmm?"

"What were we--" The startled squeak of a nerd still being rehabilitated into a normal person was sharp, driven to higher pitches by the unexpected presence of five fingers and a smooth palm on the inside of his underwear. His unnaturally huge testicles were squeezed; fingertips grazed over the underside of his shaft, gauging exactly what he brought to the underside of the table.

"Mr. Williams, I'm not going to tell you again, you need to keep your focus and pay attention. You're a professional, so act like it." What kind of professional he was wasn't easy to pin down, but it wasn't easy to do much of anything when someone is milking your dick in shallow strokes, moving from the base for just a handful inches. There was no way in this reality that Lorena would ever get her fingers completely wrapped around the monstrosity that she was trying to coax out of its cotton coffin. It didn't seem to matter to her, and Reggie wasn't complaining at the squeeze and stroke that made his cock throb and smeared dribbles of precome into his briefs. "What project are you on right now, Williams?"

"Guh--uh--we're auditing the-the-the package we put together for Billinggggggslllllyyyy..." Two hands tripped a fault in Reggie's brain and robbed him of speech for a few seconds. Lorena may have been a hardened bitch when it came to managing people, but in the field of dicks her manner was anything but.

"Billingsley...right, that's the custom asset management software, isn't it?" Reggie's briefs were now a full house with two visitors fighting against the very large tenant that, despite his privacy being invaded, didn't seem to mind the company in the least. The sheep found it more and more difficult to feel around as her target dick thickened until it turned into an arrow, a stiff one smeared in its own juices that pointed right at her midsection. If it was an arrow, it knew where it wanted to sink the head and declare a bull's eye. "I thought we put that one to bed last year."

Reggie squeaked again, running his fingers through his hair and working to regain his composure. It came surprisingly easy, even as his heart pounded and poured blood into his lap. "Why are we putting man-hours into it now?"

Reggie took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and did his level best to ignore what was going on south of the border between normal contact and the No-No Zone. "They had some issues with the, aaah, data aggregation. Stats aren't coming out like they think they should." Lorena pulled his waistband down sharply and tucked it under his sac, never for a single solitary second letting his pink obelisk get away from her hand. Normally it would have been a rush of coolness that made his toes curl but the room was hot and the air refused to move more than a whisper. It made them both sweat more than they'd like to admit, though trying to say that the broken ventilation system was the only cause would like saying Reggie had a modestly large dick--a rather egregious understatement of the situation at hand.

Lorena's face fell into a tight frown, something that contrasted against the sound of lubricated fingers polishing a monster truck sized piston until it could drive any woman's motor straight into overdrive. "How'd something like that get past QA?" The carefully fen-shui'd lighting gleamed off the slickened surface of Reggie's cockhead; the ewe absently ground her legs together, squeezing her pussy in a lovingly wooly embrace and helping it get greased up some itself. If the mouse's dick was the driving piston, her twat was the cylinder waiting to get fitted with hard metal, and her libido was the engine block pumping fuel and air in with enough torque to break Reggie's axles in half if he wasn't properly primed.

He simply pumped his hips, pushing all that pulsing pink meat through the ewe's fingers and over her palms. Her engine was waiting in sweaty anticipation to turn over and burn rubber, but Reggie was all calm and decorum. "Someone pushed a change to production and screwed it all up. We're trying to track down what did it." The mouse huffed in a breath as Lorena grabbed him by the tie with a sloppy hand and pulled him over to her desk, treating him like a cock on a string. "But our focus right now," he continued, "is getting them a fix. We can point fingers later."

"Good man. That's what I like about you, always putting the customer first." She clutched the sides of Reggie's briefs and shucked them down his legs like the banana peel they were. Fully engorged, his meaty mast hung in the air, bouncing cartoonishly between his thighs. Lorena turned around and swept an arm to clear the surface of her workspace before folding at the waist and planting thick nipples right into the cold tempered glass. From underneath her considerable tits squished into wide dark circles topped with diamond-hard peaks and broad areola over a trim belly for a woman her age; from behind, Reggie took his own turn to declothe Lorena just like she'd done for him, though it took a touch more effort. The plush, plump pussy presented like a perverse package had positively soaked its cotton wrappings until any casual voyeur who took a simple glance could see moaning, pleading lips pressed into their panties. Knickers were slowly dragged away and down, landing silently around one ankle. "Anything else on the roadmap?"

Reggie stopped for a second to appreciate Ms. Dunbar's breeding region. Her fat ass was pushed outwards into two dark half-moons capped by a tail that flicked and twitched in annoyance. It was big, for lack of a better word, wide and tall and deep, a masterful design of glutes could bring a tear to eyes of a master pornographer with its light-dappled skin and subterranean muscle flexing with every moment her lower country made. Wool patches framed a snatch swollen by around and parted pink sea in anticipation of Moses leading his people into the crevice. And bringing the most ferocious fucking to her promised lands. He put his fingertips against the curve of her mount, surprised when the ewe grunted and shot a harsh glare over her shoulder.

"Stick to the job, Mr. Williams. You're not being paid to fuck around." The message was clear: no filler, all fucking. A pump of her hips backwards put the punctuation mark down. "I'm waiting for your answer."

With his magnum dong lined up with Lorena's empty male slot, he breathed steadily, smoothly. His voice did not waver--he was ready for this in a way he'd never been prepared before. "Not much. Summer's for sales, so we're on the maintenance cycle." The pure absurdity of a dry and perfunctory business discussion was complemented by the ludicrous sight of his fleshy gift from the gods of phalluses pressed to the sheep's opening like Alice preparing to knock at a door a quarter her size. Lorena was hardly a small woman and nature had designated her as a proper beast of breeding, but no deity could have guessed that her cunt would be staring down a blood-swelled helmet the size of a baseball attached to a throwing arm with enough pure mass to pleasure two Lorenas. Given available inventory, one would have to suffice. "Unless sales keeps making promises they can't keep."

"I'll have to talk to Woodman if his people keep interfuuuuu_UUUUUCK_. " One good push of otherwise ordinary hips threw Lorena's train of thought off a bridge and deep into a canyon. The first inches of Reggie's dick pried her open without restraint and parted her fuzzy peach in twain. Just that alone put her head on spin cycle. It was more than she'd expected and she'd expected a whole fucking lot. "...inter-er-er-erferring. We can't keep covering up for his peeeeoooooohple." The ewe screwed all her resolve together in the name of protocol. This was a meeting and she was a professional, damn it, and that meant doing her job even if her vision was dotted with pretty little fireworks punctuation every extra inch Reggie pushed inside over the steadily fading protests of her pelvis. Friction and tightness were alien concepts to this king cobra cock and its bearer as they hit seven inches deep in tandem. "But...you let me... worry about that." Lorena kept her face down, her panting breaths leaving clouds on the desk that framed her pillowed tits. "I think you've got things under control. I'm not worried about you performing to expectations." There was a pause, only the moving of the hot air from the three sources breaking the silence. "Why did you stop?" she grunted in frustration, shifting motherly hips in a shallow figure eight around Reggie's fuckrod.

The mouse who had her speared in a way no fish ever even dreamed of (if fish dreamed about getting speared or fucked, anyways) answered with a little smirk and gave her a short sharp pelvic thrust in kind. "There's no more room, ma'am." And there wasn't. Reggie had slipped into the hallways by force and, having penetrated any sort of defenses in his path, was now knocking his oozing slit against the bulkhead door leading to the cockpit of Captain Cervix. That he had gotten that deep into her lamb chops was a marvel in itself; the outer fields of Lorena's pussy shivered and twitched, with rivulets of crystal honey running down her thighs and matting her wool. There was no way that dick was going any further without some serious internal renovations. Rose-colored flesh pulled into an incredible o-shape to accommodate and equally incredible girth. She could say she hadn't been fisted before but if being punched in the cunt felt this absolutely _amazing,_Lorena would be investing in a partner with big hands. Or a big dick, that was an option too.

"Oh." It was one word but it was dappled in a whole gamut of emotions, from annoyance to disappointment to a sort of satisfied disbelief. "Bound to happen. So...is...there anything else to discuss?" The rhythmic rocking of the ewe's dusky ass mesmerized Reggie nearly as much as the tensions and release of her canal around his shaft. The sight, with his immense prick nearly three-quarters inside and the remainder standing stark between two black mounds of rump and a sodden twat holding him like a velvet fist, was something that started at mouthwatering and rolled straight into a pants-ruining masturbatory fantasy from the minds of the greatest of all perverts.

"Not from my department," Reggie said as one sloppy thrust ended and another began. It wasn't hard to imagine that the big packing-rat was pouring out the kind of oil slick that Exxon only had in their wettest of dreams. But Lorena, oh, the ewe was like a broken faucet with a constant flow of richly scented love-honey that matted her wooly patches and made the room reek like Bo Peep's barnyard during the rutting season. Even with her pussy stretched into a pink "o" until her backside looked like a black blow-up love doll's face, Lorena took it like a champ, like a professional, like the kind of brazen hedonist who'd give you whatever you asked for. Every other word she managed to speak was cut off by a moan and "fuck" or "oh god" had come to replace punctuation marks. It had barely been five minutes but she was sure that this was not just the best sex she'd ever had, it was the best sex there was to be had. No experience would ever top being topped by Reggie. Not a one. Ever. Not until he was nuts-deep in her snatch again, anyways.

Lorena's desk rattled and shook from the slap-slap-slapping of mouse hips against her own broad black ass. The shockwaves rippled from juicy glutes up under her bunched up skirt and through her fluttering stomach until it could come to rest in her pancaked tits that gleamed with a veneer of sweat, something that she couldn't blame entirely on the broken heating anymore. The vibrations rested there for a few minutes and caught their breath, maybe had a sandwich at a little shop somewhere in Lorena's lungs, before they hit the road again and boiled up through her throat, where they poured out over her dried lips and down a hanging tongue in the shape of a moan. These were no ordinary moans, no, not the simple cries of pleasure that any normal woman could put together. The sound assembled itself from all throughout her person, starting at the shadowy corners of a long-neglected libido and finishing with the chaotic electric jolts from every nerve Reggie hit, over and over again, and it made a hearty cry of passion that echoed and carried. No walls would hold it back. Reggie's slim hips and unimposing nature had played the distraction to a fucking machine.

The mouse smiled to himself as he watched the ewe explode in pleasure in front of him. "Your back must be getting sore." The mouse paused for a tick to let the slurping sound of his monolith prying itself free of Lorena's depths pass, dripping gobs of goo all over, spattering the front of the ewe's desk with dribbling trails of precome. "Sit up there and let me do all the work, miss." In his head it was a silly kind of thing to say, more at home in the kind of porn movie he spent all night whacking off too more than once. But here, in this all too unbelievable situation that would have been right at home in the same stroke flick, it sounded genuine. It made Lorena pant, it made her chest heave, it made her pulse race and her vision fuzzy. Moving up to the desk and sitting down required maybe two steps and a pivot, just enough motion to put her cushioned derriere in position for still more cock-slamming action. Lorena could barely manage the first, though, and her cloudy brain transformed turning on her heel into a giggly spin and set her fuzzy brain off its axis.

The hard-as-steel consummate professional who shunned the stereotypical meek nature of her species had turned into a cock-drunk giggling bimbo, a drippy ditz that landed on the desk with a plop and a laugh. "You mean like this?" Lorena asked as she ran her fingers through the woolen hair on her head. Her legs spread wide and she leaned back, her nethers on open display and breasts swaying hypnotically. No one outside this office would ever believe Reggie's luck...or would they?

Reggie went with the simplest reply he could think of. With one palm each under Lorena's thighs holding them up, the mouse drove himself right back into the steaming honey pot that he'd been churning into sexual butter. He had Lorena hoisted up and folded over like a deck chair only the wildest of stores could offer (and even then how would you get it home?) until her toes pointed in the air as calves and thighs shivered in delight, and the only thing that you could say Reggie was doing without understating the situation to the extreme was plowing. He made no move that was not a thundering drive of his entire length and girth, he did not stop until he hit bottom with a slap of balls to thighs. It was a master class on making the woman scream and writhe. She must have cum a hundred times, the little pop-cap climaxes ringing in her ears and drawing afterimages on the insides of her eyeballs.

Wham. "Harder! HARDER!" Wham. "Oh-oh-oh god I can taste your cock..." WHAM. "Ffffffuck! Shit, I think I have a meeting oh fuuuuck it coming coming coooming!" The sheep slammed her head against the desktop, now totally devoid of anything except her body and a lot of sticky glop, and let go of a screaming climax that would keep the bells ringing in Reggie's ears for a lot longer than it took to make Lorena cum. With her cunny pulled up tight like your dad's wallet when you ask for $20 to go hang out with your friends, the mouse had to put his entire self into his rocks and rolls; just using his back alone wasn't going to get the job done, not against kegels that had decided to close down the office early and send everyone home. But failure wasn't an option either, and with his feet planted firmly on the floor Reggie kept right on driving the point right home into his boss until physics made him stop and pull back for another attempt. These were clumsy, hardcore strokes like swinging a hammer at concrete, smashing at the target until you got the job done. Every hit kept Lorena on her electric carnival ride that left well-hung mice dancing between flashing lights in the psychedelic strip club she was hallucinating. The desk made a cracking noise, its legs giving out under the torrent of banging bodies copulating upon a surface never rated for so damn much sexing.

"I...I'm gonna lose it, ma'am..." Reggie's face screwed up in a grimace somewhere on the road between pleasure and pain, panting under sweat-soaked fur. The ewe underneath him opened her eyes and locked to his, eyelids slit and lips pulled into a laser-thin line. Her nostrils flared, her chest heaved, her thighs tensed until Reggie could feel the muscle under his palms. It was a moment of clarity, something like the eye of a very sticky hurricane.

"You cum in me or you're fired."

To some people those would have been words. To Reggie Williams's animal brain, it was the trigger word, the cue to light a fire up under his softball-sized nuts and bring this festival of debauchery to a thundering crescendo. One, two, three thrusts. That was all he had left in him now that Mr. Pin had been pulled out of his testicular hand grenade. After that the dam burst and with a cry from deep down in his chest, deeper than he figured he could go, the dam burst and the village below was subjected to the deluge. There was so much cum pouring from his pulsing manhood, quantities that the rational mind couldn't comprehend. The flared slit of his cockhead poured it out like a two-liter soda bottle that had been shaken in an earthquake. Most men came jets or streaks; even the horses and bulls around the office could claim to have maybe shot a dozen blasts of nut-butter. Reggie beat them all with a continuous stream of semen pumped up from his scrot-egic jism reserves, moving from ounces to liters in the time it took to say 'ounces to liters'. Lorena threw her head back, jaw hanging open, reveling in the rush of being full in two completely different ways, the first more fantastic than any cock-stuffing she'd ever had before in her entire life; the other was harder to rank on the How Fucking Good Was It scale. Never before had any man--and despite his appearance as anything but, Reggie fucked like a man--pumped her with spunk until it filled every crevice, every corner, every single spot inside her. When her canal was filled up to the brim Reggie's cream went anywhere else it could find, welling up inside Lorena's gut until her stomach puffed out and the taste filled her mouth. Veritable waterfalls of white poured out of her bruised, battered, and bathed in bliss hole; it formed puddles on the carpet and left sticky lines all over the desk as it stained her with Reggie's seed. The streams grew to small rivers, the mouse's nuts effortlessly summoning more cum until the pressure pushed him out, leaving him to paint the remainder of his supply all over her body. Few spots inside or out were left without the mark of the Mouse Who Made Her Roar.

The pair was still for a while; the act of ferocious copulation caught up with them with a thud of sore muscles and aching limbs. Lorena tried to stand up but found wobbly legs and numb arms wouldn't provide that kind of lift for some time to come. Reggie himself fell backwards into his chair with a gasp of breath, while his equally spent dick fell down from lofty heights. The impact of his ass to the chair sent it bouncing in the air and threw one last streamer of spunk up in a lazy arc where it landed on Lorena's belly.

"Do...you always...that?" she managed to mutter.

Reggie fanned his face, trying to find any coolness in the overheated and oversexed room. "I...don't know...first..."

"You...virgin?" He nodded. "You don't fuck like a virgin. You don't fuck like anyone."

They both laughed weakly. There was a loud click from above, then both startled as much as they could when the temperature of the room suddenly plummeted.

An intercom that should have been on the desk came to life. "Miss Dunbar? The technicians have fixed the air conditioning."

Lorena shivered; her sweaty and sodden skin was now being blasted with sub-arctic grade weather. "Fucking...figures." She shot a glance at Reggie. "We can use the executive washroom. I stole the keys."

"What about all this?" The mouse gestured to the huge amount of his own output that lay on everything in front of the sheep's desk for a few feet.

"There's probably a service. You can't be the only high-output stud in the world."

Within fifteen minutes, they were both as back-to-normal as they could possibly be within the limits of the washroom and reality. No perfume or deodorant could hide how Lorena reeked of being freshly fucked, and neither one would ever quite get the suspicious streaks out of their clothing. But with the final zip of stained slacks, the duo parted ways for the moment, Lorena giving her subordinate the day off to "recover from a sudden illness." She'd leave too, but later, not wanting to attract more attention.

Reggie stood outside the door to Lorena's office and caught his breath. It was an experience to be sure, and it bolstered his confidence in a way he hadn't really expected. He'd absolutely conquered a woman sexually, and not an easy mark either--Lorena wasn't some bubbly blonde bimbo who'd bend over in the men's lavatory and let him cornhole her. It made him just a bit smug to think about it. Maybe she was right; maybe there was something special about him.

One of his oversized dish ears twitched. Maybe there was an odd buzzing sound, muffled, and it was coming from--

Stephanie was Lorena's receptionist. It wasn't a particularly lofty position, as Miss Dunbar was just a middle manager, but the rabbit poured herself into the job and wore the most professional demeanor she knew how. She was the absolute perfect woman for the job too: efficient, skilled, clever, good under pressure, but also immaculately attractive, with a blonde pelt and enough curvature to attract interest from every straight man on the floor and no small portion of the remainder. The perfectly tailored business attire certainly didn't hurt; by design, it should have conservative and unflattering, but Stephanie's thickness from ears to toes meant what should have been hidden was just more sharply defined, lifted and sculpted into shapes quite at home on an Icon of Venus [verify yes?]. Not quite motherly, far from fat, Steph was the sort of rabbit you could smother yourself with and come out smiling.

And, more to the point, she was buzzing, buzzing not like a bee would but like a small motor that had been ratcheted to a rather high level and left to do its job, audible despite any and all attempts to muffle it.

"Glad they fixed the air conditioning." Reggie stretched out a bit, arching his back. He could fuck like a piston but his conversational skills still came from the insecure and nerdy part of his brain.

Stephanie blinked quickly, looking around the office. "Who--ah--oh, hello there Mr. Williams." She put on a forced smile and nodded towards him. "Yeah, it's definitely more comfortable today..."

"Mmmhmm. Being hot like that, it just leaves you soaked, know what I mean?"

"I, um, I have a fan, it helped a little..." Steph pointed towards a small oscillating fan, the kind you got for three bucks at the local Dollar Depot. Not particularly good at anything more than making a lot of noise, but desperate times. For a moment or two, there was nothing more said, just the light motor sound and distant office chatter.

Stephanie sighed, put her head in her hands. "You can hear it, can't you."

"I'm afraid so. These ears aren't just for show." The mouse took a quick look around the empty reception area before taking a quick look at the rabbit, with her wilted ears and flushed cheeks. "How much did you hear?"

Stephanie didn't lift her head. "More than I expected. I've heard Miss Dunbar get loud before but...not like that. God, I'm so sorry--"

Reggie put a hand on Stephanie's shoulder and smiled, a genuine warm and supportive one. "Hey, now. No need to be sorry. We were bein' pretty rowdy in there. Probably the whole building heard the climax!" The two shared a chuckle. "So it'll just be between you and me. Though..."

Stephanie tilted her head in confusion. "What?"

Reggie leaned down, talking almost directly into the rabbit's ear. "You liked what you heard?" Stephanie nodded, short but fast little dips of her chin, eyes wide and locked on to nothing but the space in front of her. "Right. I have an idea."

Stephanie turned her head slowly towards Reggie as he hefted that mighty oak of a dick, already pumped and ready for more action on the Puss-ific Front, hanging from his open zipper with clear intent.

"I can offer you the same experience."

Stephanie looked up. Down. Up. Down again for quite a while longer than at first. With a spreading of her thighs and one easy shift of her hand, the receptionist yanked a soggy and overworked vibrator out of her cooter, slamming it on her desk. "I would love that..."

"I think," Reggie said as he eased the crown of his cock against Stephanie's nose, "this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."