FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Thank you for the cool down, ladies. You're the best trainers around." The mouse eased his cock down, careful not to fling any more spunk around the locker room than he had to. Sure, the two squirrels in their aerobics gear didn't mind a shellacking of cock-tail sauce, but not everyone was into that sort of facial and far be it for him to force it.

One of the twins giggled and licked a stray driblet off her sister. "Don't mention it, Big R. You're me and Maggie's favorite gym buddy."

"Uh huh," the other chimed in. "Me and Mae love getting' sweaty with you." Identical twins were on most guys' fuck-it list, and as twins went the Taylor girls were high up on the ranking scale. Both were blondes, tightly built with trim bodies and sculpted curves, perfect icons of the hardbody scene with lovely palmable tits and thong leotards that just begged to be pulled aside so for a good slamfuck. Sure they were a bit ditzy, but they knew their gymcraft, and Big R didn't come to the gym for the intellectual conversation. B.R. left the girls in a combination self-cleaning and make out session right there on their knees in the middle of the locker room. They were a handful, but he was several himself, so it all kind of balanced back out. After a good long shower and a polite handjob from a badger he'd never met before (but definitely would try to again) with fantastic manual dexterity , the mouse was off to the great wide open. A muscle shirt put his better-than-average chest on open display and a pair of loose running shorts did their damndest to keep Mr. Willy in check. Turned out, he discovered, there's an entire marketplace of goods for the extremely gifted being, from condoms to especially absorbent towels to pride shirts. So with his new found attention to his body and health, being able to buy the kind of jockstrap that could hold back a ten ton anaconda was a godsend, even if it only did so well at the job. Textiles weren't magic. Yet. With a one-two-let's-go, Big R set off on a modest jog, cruising from the gym's track into an adjacent park.

It was rather nice out there beyond the gym walls. The sun was up, the breeze was light and crisp, and the crowds out here weren't bad at all. Sure, there were more than a couple of other joggers and a few walkers doing their thing just like him, but they gave B.R. his room. It was a change from the usual line-up of horny women chasing him down for a slice of that monster schlong of his. Not that he didn't enjoy rutting a slut so hard she poured love juice down her thighs until it soaked into her shoes or guiding a sheepish divorcee through the wonderful world of debauchery. It wasn't that he wasn't going to follow through, far from it. His fans and followers wanted it, and he was going to give it to them. Reginald "Big R" Williams, public servant, providing servicing to the people of this great city.

B.R. adjusted his shorts to compensate for the pendulous swinging of his package and gave a small nod to a sleek mink that passed him on the trail. She returned it with a familiar sort of nod but kept on going; he didn't chase her. That wasn't part of his style. If someone wanted a fuck or a suck, he'd provide, but he never forced it. There were no strings attached and never any obligations. B.R. made as sure as he could to not get in the panties and pussies of married women--he might be packing a sledgehammer but it wasn't gonna be used for homewrecking. He figured there were enough douchebags, assholes, and predators out there that he didn't need to add to that pile of refuse. Besides, fucking was way more fun when it was just for the fucking fuck of it, and the crowd fucking loved it to if the numbers on his camshows were any indication.

B.R. sighed himself a happy little sigh and took in the scent of flowers in bloom. The time and freedom to put himself online like that for the world to appreciate had come from a break so lucky he wasn't sure if he hadn't buttfucked a goddess somewhere along the line. Worrying about employee productivity, Lorena had reassigned him to a remote position, under the condition he came into the office once a week under the pretense of auditing reports and doing hardware checks. In reality, what he was doing was auditing the sheep's needy cunt until she passed out on her now not-carpeted office floor. It'd disappointed his fellow co-workers, both the ones who were friends and the ones who were friends with benefits, but at least things were still getting done and The Iron Ewe had stopped bitching at everyone and everything in reach. Stephanie, always ready to grab an opportunity when it dripped cum on her lips, put together a sneaky system to set the office girls up with what she called 'playdates', a chance to go careening down Mount Mousecock with a wet t-shirt and a photo for your album. At first, B.R. didn't quite know how to feel about being an unpaid gigolo, but when it was clear it wasn't changing him or how anyone else saw him, the mouse-turned-organ-grinder just rolled with the new scene. Big R genuinely enjoyed the attention, the free time, and the boosted confidence, but most of all it was wonderful the way he could use this natural gift of his to make people feel genuinely pleasured.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to stop right there for a moment." So lost in his daydreams was he that the voice from behind and a little to the left came out of nowhere and ended the greatest hits replay in his head somewhere just after Lorena swallowed a second load and before Stephie gargled his nutsac and lapped at his taint. Great tongue on that rabbit, just marvelous.

Big R came to a sudden halt as ordered, panting slightly and wiping a bit of sweat off his forehead. Whoever this was, that voice was deep and tempered with authority, the tired-and-bored voice of someone who'd been telling idiots 'stop that, zip it up, didn't your mother teach you' for too damn long. A smooth turn around and an up-down glance confirmed just that: she, and it was definitely a 'she', was a rather statuesque tigress and one of the many members of the Beach Patrol who wandered the area. They had all the legitimacy of a mall cop, but instead of being inside and chasing mallrats with tainted pretzels and grappling hooks down, they got to spend the summer standing out by the ocean in a tacky polo and ill-fitting shorts, sweating their asses off in the name of harassing pot smokers and getting laughed at by teenagers.

"Officer--" B.R. took a quick glance up at the tiger's nameplate. Poor woman didn't even get a real badge, instead saddled with something you'd see at some kind of burger barn. "Officer Jimenez, what can I do for you?" The mouse actually had to crane his head up some to see the tag. Jimenez was easily half again his height, probably pushing seven feet if an inch; the fact she was built like a Tiger tank just added to her presence. Big R could have been crushed between her thighs and likely the cat wouldn't have even noticed.

Jimenez adjusted her sunglasses, thankfully not ridiculous Aviators, and pulled a smartphone from a pouch on her belt. "Sir, are you aware of the city decency rules?"

"I didn't think there were all that many out in the park."

The tiger stared stone-faced. "You're not in the park." The mouse looked around him in surprise; somewhere in his erotic daydreams, he'd jogged all the way off his usual route and come out at the boardwalk mall, not more than a half-mile from the shoreline. This place was crowded, full to capacity with summertime revelers shopping for tchotchkes, showing off their newest swimsuits, or trying their luck at the flirting minigame. It was anything but closed off and largely private.

B.R. laughed and pushed his bangs back from his eyes. "I must have gotten distracted. This isn't my usual route, y'know?" Stephie had suggested he grow his hair out a little more, and Janet thought it was perfect. Everyone did. With his toned-up and broadening build, it gave him that supermodel aesthetic without the homosexuality or the overwhelming vanity. "My mistake. I guess they don't like guys with big--" He stopped, realizing humor with Jimenez was probably not the best approach, seeing as she didn't seem to have any of it. "There's rules about, um, gifted people. I didn't know."

The tigress snorted. It was a loud sound, a skronk almost, and B.R. swore he felt the air move from a couple feet away. "Ignorance is no excuse. And as for 'gifted people'"--something she said with a rather sharp edge of derision, if not repulsion--"most of them don't hang around with it hanging out for the world to see."

Big R started to protest. He definitely wasn't hanging out. In fact, he'd made sure his jock was secured and ready to go before even leaving the gym. So what was she talking about--

The feeling of a sudden rush of cooler air across his nethers convinced the mouse to perhaps make sure of himself before acting the fool. Yes. Indeed. There it was, right before his eyes, that Pink Monster of his, waving from the hem of his pants leg and waving at the outside world with a big stupid one-eyed grin. A quick feel around his thigh answered the whole question of 'how': one of the twins must have chewed through part of his things-like-underwear, and the bouncing from his run had broken the poor strap clean through, meaning it was less a cock-cup-and-cover and more like a dick-drop-and-displayer. If it could have talked, B.R. was sure it would have said something dumb and bro-ish right out of one of those insipid comedies that were weirdly popular when his parents were his age. Oh the audacity his dick had.

There was a hot moment, literally and figuratively, where B.R. and Jimenez both stood there under the summer coastal sun without moving. The tigress simply crossed her arms under her tits and waited with absolutely no humor on her face until Big R's brain managed to engage. The mouse, for his part, stared at his unit like it'd just grown out of his pubes in the last few minutes and he'd never seen a damn thing like it before in all his days. Oh the stories he'd tell his kids of the Phantom Phallus!

"Sir, you seem to be the kind of idiot who's almost too dumb to breathe on his own. How's about we get you on your way to somewhere away from normal folks trying to have a fun day on the beach." Jimenez tilted her head down and mumbled something into a cheap radio mic that B.R. couldn't pick up, not that he would have understood a single word anyways, but it still bothered him a little to be left out of something that could have been cool, like getting free tacos or maybe a new jockstrap. That would have been nice right about now--these things cost like a hundred bucks!

"So, Mr. Big Stuff, I'm gonna need to see some ID. I don't wanna know where you've got it, just hurry up, I'm sweating like a Coke coming out of the cooler." Slit-eyes flicked down for a hot second to shoot a half-volley of eye daggers at Big R's not at all Little R before catching his eyes again. "And put that fucking thing away," she hissed under her breath in that way only cats are capable of doing, the voice that made mice shiver down in the primal cockles of their being.

Somehow Big R--who was not feeling all that big at that point--found enough manual dexterity to get his driver's license out of his pocket with one hand and slot his schlong back into its pouch as best he could. With the structural integrity of the thing highly compromised, its ability to hold back the wall of pink matter in the face of the endless assault of physics was greatly compromised, and without a single doubt the rules of reality would send all fourteen inches back out to slap against his knees.

"Here. I hope there isn't gonna be much trouble, officer."

"That's not up to me." Jimenez took the card with the gingerly touch of someone asked to handle a used diaper, obviously relieved when the plastic wasn't warm or sweaty. "Yeah, control, I got a..." The tigress stopped cold in mid-sentence, tilted the card left, and then right. The look on her face was utter and total confusion.

"Um, officer?" Big R waved his hand back and forth, like you did in the movies to wake someone up. "Are you alright?"

Jimenez shook her head hard enough to make her brains rattle around. "Yeah, yeah, fine, I'm fine." She adjusted her sunglasses and read his ID card one more time, as if those cheap darkened lenses had changed the words into a foreign language she hadn't studied since high school (she wasn't very serious about it back then either, it was a lot more fun to mess around in the gym and flirt with the wide receivers; god that one panther had the finest_ass...). "_You're Reginald Williams?" The inquiry was made with such blunt-force incredulity, such absolute disbelief, as if Jimenez could not bring herself to believe what was right in front of her in no uncertain terms. Her rational mind rebelled at the very notion.

Big R, for his own part, looked just as befuddled by the situation. "Um, yeah? Is there something wrong with my license? I just had it renewed--"

"Seriously, you're Big R?!" This time around the emphasis was shifted over a few houses where it could take residence on the last words. It masked a kind of girlish glee, words wrapped in brightly colored ribbons and glimmering glitter. Jimenez didn't show it in her face or her demeanor, but something was up behind those eyes of hers, something no sunglasses on the planet could possibly hide.

"I guess--I mean that's my nickname--"

"Oh my god!" There it was. The pure glee seeped out through the cracks forming at the corners of Jimenez's mouth, forming into the thin impression of a grin and coating her voice in a thick veneer. She still looked every bit the role she'd been playing since minute one, all business and no pleasure, but the more discerning eye could pick up a few tells here and there--a flick of the tail, a slight roll of the feet--that told anybody with a discerning eye that something had her attention in all the positive ways. Big R, being something of a carnal entertainer these days, knew that kind of joy when he saw it. But why was it?

Then it clicked.

"You watch my--"

"I watch your shows on, uh..." The big cat flicked her gaze around a little conspiratorially. "On Chatgasm." Her voice was a hoarse whisper, something she played as quiet but anyone nearby could hear. It wasn't as though Big R was that close.

Big R let his own little smile creep up. "Oh yeah?" His shows were popular--not millions of viewers popular like some other 'producers' he could name, but enough for him to know people liked his product while making him enough spare bucks to be comfortable and get some sushi now and again. It was a hell of a change from those days of off-brand Coke and ramen packets, that's for sure.

Jimenez nodded a little more enthusiastically than most people would when they were confessing to having watched a horsecock-bearing mouse whack off on a regular basis. "Yeah, definitely! I'm BigNStriped there, and I totally never miss the Big R Show." B.R. started to follow up but Jimenez cut him off with all the subtlety of a mini-van blasting over six lanes of freeway traffic to make the next exit. "It's, like, amazing seeing you up there. Most of the guys on there, y'know, like, they just get up there and wave the goods around. Buh, egomaniacs, y'know?" The tigress continued acting like a car metaphor, this time shifting from a low idle into high gear and heading towards the horizon at breakneck speed. Her hands did half the talking, swinging this way and that, all sorts of gesturing and pointing and shrugging as she babbled on about the other people on Chatgasm she didn't like for whatever reason, which was usually that they had egos as big as their dicks. It was a seemingly never-ending deluge of flowery valley girl speak without a single smudge of the uptight hyper-professional of just maybe two minutes ago.

"Hah, well, I try to put the viewers first--"

"Ohmigawd, like, you're soooo awesome to talk to! Totally not just there to be all sexy and talk about your muscles and your dick and what you'd totally do to us." Jimenez bit her fingertip and looked off to one side. "Though, like, I'd totally let you..."

Big R ran his hand through his hair and laughed, more than a little uncomfortably, like when your mom stopped to ask you about those dirty magazines you had under your bed or your dad wanted to talk about getting laid with the same spiel you'd hear on a bad 60s educational film. "Maybe we could talk about it somewhere--"

"Like, yer soooo relaxed and mellow and real. Saying that it's _totally_not gay to, like, play with your ass? So cool!" The Tigress Express had burned out the brakes, and B.R. had ended up as a speedbump, a penny left on the rails that got smashed flat without anyone else noticing. Jimenez was bouncing on her heels at this point, a cartoon that didn't seem to realize what was coming out of her mouth. "And omigawd you cum so much, like..." Was she--yes, she definitely was panting now, and not from the blazing summer heat.

"I remember that, yeah, heh. Listen, officer, I don't think--" Big R took a couple looks around the boardwalk. It was just as packed as ever and wasn't about to slow down, not in the middle of summer. Right now though, no one was paying a lick of attention to him and the bouncy giggle-bag of a beach cop that was chatting his ear off then lighting it on fire while it was sitting there being a defenseless former part of Big R's body. It couldn't last though, not with how the big cat was building up steam. "I don't think this is the best place to--"

Nope. The mouse's attack wasn't very effective yet again. "I always wanted to know, like, where you get your stuff from. Y'know, cuz, like, it's hard to find stuff for, like, big people? And well uh..." Jimenez's face spun a little sheepish and shy, something totally out of place on a seven-plus-foot-and-several-hundred-pound orange and black amazon straight out of a cheap pulp novel.. "Finding stuff like that, like, what, like, y'know, works, is kinda totally hard..." Nibbling at her claw again just made the whole thing weirder. Jimenez and her big-bouncy-giggle-giggle happy hulking hugeness proved that for as buff as the cat was, she still filled out the 'big hot woman' card, with a good healthy chest and hips that made her taut shorts stretch over two fantastically firm glutes, the kind that no man's hands could easily cup, ones that could take a hit from a paddle and come back begging for more. It was truly a blessing to behold.

Big R quietly blessed the god of spandex before giving it one more shot at stopping the runaway chatterbox of a pseudo-cop. "Officer." It was friendly but stern, the 'mom voice' when she really wished you'd shut the fuck up but she couldn't just say that for reasons.

The tigress blinked one single time. The cavalcade of jabber stopped somewhere around talking about how she wondered what it'd feel like to have a big pair of balls on her face. "Oh. Uh...sorry. I kinda get worked up about...stuff."

"It's...it's fine." Big R let go of a deep breath and a bit of a chuckle. "I guess we all get excited sometimes."

Jimenez nodded with a silly grin all her own. "Fer shure. And, like, call me Karen. It sounds like totally weird when you call me 'officer'all the time." The tigress took a hit off her water bottle before clipping it back to her belt. "So, like, you wanna fuck me?"

The pure casualness of the question hit Big R and knocked some of the wind out of his proverbial sails. If he'd had a drink in his mouth, they might have needed to get him an ambulance. "Why would you even ask me that? You barely know me!"

Karen shrugged. The giddy girly grin never left her mouth--in fact, it seemed to get even bigger until she looked like a jungle Cheshire cat.

"Cuz, like, you're totally hard and stuff. Why else?" Big R didn't even need to check; he knew that traitorous muscle of his had gone and given his daydreams away, leaving the mouse-about-town to answer questions that his dick was prompting. "And, like..."

B.R. couldn't help but squeak in a spot of alarm as Karen closed the distance with a steady, deliberate strut that oozed of sex. Her simmering libido gave off clouds of heat that circled around her body and left patches of carnal condensation clinging to her sun-bleached orange fur. Karen was like a soda can but in reverse, a hot core wrapped in a cold outer shell that was having little success keeping those urges in check. At point blank range Jimenez's stature was even harder to ignore. The understated and tacky uniform couldn't do anything to hide her physique, built from rock-solid sinews, shaped under trimmed back fur until it read like a topographical map of Mount Karen (which he hadn't scaled just yet). Everything moved with a coordinated grace, a perfectly tuned biological machine topped with a face that didn't cry traditional beauty, landing somewhere between what most of the glamour ladies along the beachfront could brag about blended seamlessly with porcelain cheekbones that guided his gaze up to softly almond-shaped eyes and emerald green irises and slit pupils tucked away behind the smoky lenses of her sunglasses. She certainly wasn't hurt any by a trimmed mid-section, a bust that filled out her polo more than adequately, and the sort of ass that would break walnuts (or a weak man).

Karen's tail swayed in a lazy arc behind her, one hip cocked, a fingertip in her teeth. "Like, no pressure. But, like..." The valley girl had swallowed a bit of smoke, the sweet naïve voice paired with the thick and heady tones of a femme fatale that wouldn't be out of place flowing over the painted lips of a torch singer, bathed in the raw glare of a spotlight as she crooned her siren song to the lonely souls hiding in the inky shadows. The very flavor of the words made Big R's spine tingle in a most delightful way.

"Like..." Karen whispered in conspiratorial tones, lips at his ear. "I haven't had a good fuck in...in ever. Most guys...they don't do the job." The mouse felt fingers on the awkward bulge trying to stay inside his running shorts even as the mass there squirmed and swelled, threatening to burst forward like the Kool-aid Man hearing a crowd of thirsty, sugar-starved kids.

"And you think I can?"

Karen laughed softly. "Mousie, I know you can." She nibbled coquettishly on that claw again, eyes half closed, lips turned into a pout. "Wouldja do that kinda thing for a fan?" The question wanted to be seductive, it wanted to be a little coy and a lot lusty. Most of all it wanted to hide the scent of desperation. Karen wasn't desperate, or at least she didn't want Big R to think she was.

If he knew how hard up the tiger was for a good, solid, bone-rattling fuck, he didn't let on. It wouldn't do to make light of her as she ground her thighs together and the end of her tail lashed at the air, how her tongue traced lips dried out from the heated panting she'd been doing for the past several minutes. He was, after all, a good guy that just happened to have a very big dick and no hang-ups about it.

"I'd be happy to, Karen. You live nearby--whoa!" Things that were queued at the end of Big R's tongue and ready to launch into the ears around him were scattered all over the fucking place as Karen grabbed him with both hands and lifted the mouse clear of the ground without zero effort, clutching him around the waist with both arms, mashing her face against his in a kiss that threatened to knock his teeth clean out of his mouth if the tongue cramming past his lips didn't end up in his stomach first.

Karen could--and did--remove B.R. from the ground with absolute ease, which may not have seemed like much of a feat to anyone else in the area but to him it was sudden and a little disorienting. There wasn't enough room for a lot of rational thought between the two of them right that moment; too many synapses were sparking and too much blood was headed in other directions.

Though he couldn't really see it happening, Big R felt he was moving and pretty fast, right up until he met a brick wall that didn't have stripes as an accessory. Pressed against the masonry, Karen kept right on working her lips and tongue against his, the sloppy and soggy kiss audible to anyone who happened to pass by. With today's crowd that was probably a few hundred people, a number that was climbing steadily with every wrestling move the tigress's thick tongue made against Big R. Seconds turned into minutes before the sun smacked him square in the face and air that hadn't been filtered through Karen's pelt managed to reach his nose.

"You...are a helluva kisser," B.R. mumbled, his breath refusing to hold still long enough for him to catch it.

"Like...thanks..." Karen was grinning at him, but it wasn't the usual cat-and-mouse sort, the smug type that curled at the corners and did squat to hide scheming going on behind it. This one was more...desperate, a little flustered, breaking with her breaths in a steady cadence while wild eyes flickered about above it. A fan held her lower lip back; her voice had a thread of a whine weaved through it. There was really only one explanation.

Even without the scent on the air, it was obvious that Karen Jimenez was so horny she'd practically wet her shorts.

"But...like...um...I..." Another whine. "I tooooootally hate this..."

B.R, having removed the majority of the tiger saliva from his person, just raised one eyebrow and watched Karen squirm on the spot. Some passers-by canted their heads towards the pair, but as soon as they saw what they thought was a cop, anything else on the beachfront seemed like a way more interesting distraction. The temperature kept rising and the tension got thicker with every heartbeat Karen tried to keep under control until the figurative dam burst and flooded a poor village in the valley below.

"Ever since I saw you on cam, I wanted you." Karen swallowed, hard, the kind that made her throat bulge and chest heave. "Not like...I don't wanna talk to you or hug you or date you or like...y'know, that..."

Big R never got much of a chance to put a word in edgewise before Jimenez erupted with a deluge of phonetics. "I need you to fuck me I need you to fuck me now please fuck me I'm totally begging fuck me fuck mefuckmefuckmeFUCKMEFUCKME" Every syllable rose in pitch, every phoneme was louder than the last, and the whole statement picked up speed like an elevator working its way to the basement from the fiftieth floor. Now the eyes were on them. Now Karen wasn't really able to hold herself back. And now Big R's namesake was filling up with blood, lust, and ambition. Even after all the practice and aerobic exercise it'd gotten, that mondo cock wouldn't do more than hang out in space and bounce, but frankly that was more than enough. It was about the performance, not the presentation.

The air hung heavy, weighted down by humidity, perspiration, and a cloud of hormones not often seen outside of the hallways of a girl's reform school. B.R. just stared in bemused alarm, somewhere between concerned for his future well-being and worked up enough to drive his dick through a foot of concrete with enough drive left to fuck its mother too. Karen panted heavily, chest heaving, sweat collecting on her shirt, holding formidable tits in place for as long as it was called to do.

Karen swallowed and looked right into R's eyes with her own, big and gold and wet and desperate. She was so very desperate. "Would...would you do that for me?" The mouse caught the leading edge of a mewl as the last word drifted away on the sea breeze. "I dunno who else can do it...right..."

B.R. put his arm out, resting his comparatively shrimpy hand somewhere on Karen's own arm. "It'd be my pleasure, miss--" Big R made a note to himself to brace before saying much of anything to Karen, as she was demonstrating quite a habit for flinging the kinda-sorta slight mouse around like a chew toy. His feet hit the ground with a little more force than he expected, stumbling forward as Karen let go and left him to the rigors of momentum, gravity, and all the shit that physics brought to the table to bore you with. "Fuck, Karen, warn a guy before you do that!"

"Sorry! Like, you're so light and stuff when I'm excited, I totally get all excited, fer shure!" Karen giggled and bounced on her toes, a complete one-eighty from just a couple heartbeats ago. "Like, do you like anal?"

A few weeks ago that might have knocked B.R. off his feet. Heck, even earlier today it wouldn't have been the usual conversation, but when you have a dick like a small torpedo girls don't generally want you to shove it up their tailholes and ram your way home. It just doesn't seem wise. But Karen, Karen was not proving to be the normal kind of girl who jumped in Big R's lap without any pants on.

"Uh, sure, why not? Why do you--whoa." B.R. didn't know exactly how sneaky or stealthy tigers were in their more native habitats, where-ever that happened to be, but Jimenez must have put some points in her thieving skills. Maybe he hadn't heard the sound of fabric and other stuff hitting the ground over the crowd noise (some of it directed right at the two of them), and he hadn't really been focusing on Karen that closely (that crowd again with their endless eyes), so the fact she was now bent over a bench with her ass held high in the air and her shorts wrapped around her ankles, tail waving like grass in a slow wind. Tawny, black-striped legs as thick as trees spread to either side and put what the woman had on open display: two pink orifices that beckoned for him, one swollen and damp while the other simply shifted with the powerful musculature of the cat's lower body. It was a broad and blatant display of arousal hanging out without an ounce of shame; all the mouse could do is stare at the lovely pussy's lovely pussy and bubble-round ass, laid bare by the complete lack of any underthings, a tuft of bleach-blonde hair sticking out as the single landmark.

Big R's brain got ahead of him for a moment. "No panties?"

Karen laughed, or more accurately giggled even more than before, almost making titter-music. "Naw...I like bein' naughty..." The tiger sighed a little, watching B.R. over her shoulder, black hair untied and brushing at her shoulders. "No bra either. And these are natural."

There was a short pause, maybe two beats. "And the blonde?"

"Natural. Like, I don't act like an airhead..." Jimenez fumbled a little in front of herself before making a choked little sound of frustration. "Aww, dammit!"

A grey head and the attached hair poked up over the orange arches, distracted for a minute from sliding his fingers over a freshly shaven pussy . "What's the problem?" B.R. had to admit a little bit of distraction; with the tigress's presentation of assets, most of the blood in his body had made the short pilgrimage to his long crotch, leaving him unable to think about much more than the bigger-than-life bimbo he was going to get to plow.

"I_totally_ don't have any lube!" It sounded Karen was about to cry, frantically trying to find anything slick enough to take on the herculean task of lettingBig R's dick into her, something that consisted largely of going through her belt pouches over and over again and maybe looking under the bench to see if someone had conveniently left a packet of KY there for potential . She was on the verge of breaking down in tears when a bottle of some sort of gel branded with a picture of smiling faces and naked bodies was dangled between her eyes.

"When you have a dick like mine, you come prepared or you don't cum at all."

Anyone familiar with the ritual of anal sex will tell you that without a proper degree of preparation, any number of most undesirable outcomes could occur, with results ranging from both parties being left pouting after a less-than-pleasing pass at pounding, to more dire situations involving medical personnel or possibly therapy. The coital encounter between Big R and Karen was really not much different in its earliest stages; slipping a spunk-securing sheath on a standard schlong or a pendulous phallus was the same and so was lubrication.The only difference was the quantity of materials and labor required to get the task done. One can safely assume that once Karen was greased up inside and out with an absurd amount of giggling and squirming, there was about to be some very intense fucking, with both mouse and cat champing at the bit to get to the meat of the matter in the matter of mouse meat.

Big R's first stroke was a smooth, steady probe into the tiger's backdoor to see if she was really as capable as she insisted between pants that she was. The mouse hadn't done any anal arithmetic lately and figuring out the maximum capacity of a non-standard gluteal region like Karen's, with its thick and sturdy cheeks pushing the size of his head, wasn't math he could do in his head. Thankfully for him, Karen, and butt-lovers everywhere she took him with surprising ease, the pink ring spreading open around his meat like it was made to have a huge dick up inside it. Now B.R. had fucked a lot in the past few weeks--his day planner was filled with more booty calls and cum splatters than anything else--but none of them had ever been the kind of feel that cried out "this is my hole, it was made for me."

With his foot long (and then some) sausage firmly nestled into Karen's buns, Big R set about his business right quick, right then and right there in the middle of the boardwalk crowd. Some folks might have thought this was unusual or inappropriate maybe. The crowd didn't seem to mind; the ones that weren't interested just moved along of their own volition; the cops weren't called, and no one hit either one of them with a broom or a purse. If either one of the two coitally intertwined bodies had thought about it, they might just consider how unusual this all was, but they didn't. B.R. was too busy warming his hips up, moving with the kind of practiced smoothness specifically engineered to prick every damned nerve from rim to rectum and all parts in-between like an orgasm train straight through the torso. Every inch he fed her drove the cat's timbre up a half-step and made the muscles under her black and orange coat ripple and flex. Up this close, what had seemed to be a prime specimen of urban jungle cat turned into a truly Amazonian credit to her species, with claws on her fingertips that managed to leave little rows in the plastic surface of the bench seat, even manicured down. He knew in his animal brain he was safe, as long as he kept bringing regular deliveries of pleasure straight to Karen's belly. The scent of her pussy, the little smears of fluid on her thighs, the way she writhed like a housecat in a sunbeam gettin' her ears rubbed was a broadcast on all frequencies that this girl was hot for the dick. As much as he loved fucking, Big R got almost more out of watching the pure euphoria of the women who fucked him back. The whole thing did his heart and his dick good in equal measure.

Big R put his legs to work, taking advantage of all the gym time he'd been putting in. Sure, having a massive dick and a lot of enthusiasm helped a lot, but working out and taking care of himself had made it even easier to deliver the total package to a waiting wanton lass or three, and being as his typical day involved quite a few women, being in shape was damned near a necessity. Of course, referring to what the two were doing as 'typical' was rather inaccurate by most interpretations, unless you were living inside a pornographic film. Stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust, the two tantric titans built up an infinite loop of hormones and whore moans that no barrier on this earth was going to hold back, not even the milky white prophylactic wrapped around his cock with significant distress as the veins and muscles throbbed underneath. Their routine, average sex was what most people would consider remarkable and actually rather dangerous.

Somewhere around the twenty minute mark neither Karen nor B.R. showed any signs of stopping despite being sweaty, sticky beasts; the bench whined in protest at the strain but no one heard it. The tiger on bottom (and happy to be there) ground down on the seat, two fingers buried to the biggest knuckle inside her snatch and moving in counter-time to each one of R's rapid-fire drives, balls slapping against buttocks and pussy mashed against plastic planks. Karen's vision was hazy and her eyes wouldn't focus under the assault of an army of climaxes going off like a machine gun in the back of her brain. The big one was a bit off, but the journey towards it was the kind of thing she'd tell her kids about when they were old enough to hear about their mother getting her asshole pried open by a mouse that would fit in her pocket. They should put a plaque there and call it the Memorial Anal Bangslam Bench and just get it out of the way; anyone with a working nose would know just from sitting down.

"Dispatch to Jimenez, Jimenez what's your twenty, over." The loud crackle of Karen's radio split through a series of moans and colorful language describing exactly what Big R was doing to the tigress's insides, breaking their mojo for just a heartbeat--enough to make R's rhythm stutter and his footing stumble. "Dispatch to Jimenez again, Karen, come on, don't leave me hanging here." The Wal-Mart brand gadget wasn't particularly pleasant to listen to, with its piercing wail and agonizing static, making Karen's sudden scramble to answer something between obligation and necessity. Big R just held on and did his best to keep inside the tiger's asshole--he wasn't giving up this warm hole for love or money, even if Karen would let him.

"Yeah--yeah, Jimenez here, Dispatch. I'm at"--"she shot a glance up to try and figure out exactly where their rabid fucking had ended up--"Hot Dog Shipping Yard and Ray-Ray's Bikini Shack." Big R slowed down a little bit to let the tigress talk; the sharp growl and sudden glimmer of teeth made his ears fold back, his tail wither around a leg, and his bowels rattle just a bit in fear. "What's the situation, Disp--oh fuuuuuck--atch? Like, do that again, mousie--yeah! Yeah! Spank my ass! Uhnf!"

The long pause before Dispatch answered was another verse in the ongoing story of Reginald "Big R" Williams's legacy of sexual congress, and one he'd heard enough times to know whoever was on the other end of the conversation was trying to digest the fact one of her officers (guards? agents? What do you call a mall cop when they're on the beach?) was moaning like a cat in heat into her ear. Given she was a cat in heat, it was an appropriate sound to make. If anyone raised a stink, well...that was their problem. When they finally did answer, a short sigh of resignation and a voice to match put the punctuation mark on one sentence and changed the tone for the rest.

"Again, Karen? Come the fuck on, honey. Wait. You're at--you're getting fu--" The dispatcher cut themselves off as just exactly what Jimenez was doing sank the rest of the way in, making almost as much of a jolt as Big R's sledgehammer pounding between two solid striped hemispheres. "You're--you're doing that--people can see?!"

"Oh like you better fuckin' believe it, Dispatch!" Karen tried to say something else but a moan beat all those words to the finish line, blocking up her windpipe with a sound so absolutely bawdy that it practically left puddles of lust on the ground as it floated away over the crowd. Big R felt muscles tense up and watched as Karen's back muscles clenched hard under her polo. "Oh damn, like, this guy totally fucks like a machine, fuuuuuuuck." Jimenez sounded for all the world like she was drunk; for all intents and purposes she was.

"Wow, I'm jealous, it sounds like he's good."

"He's the beeeeeeeeeeeee...he's the beeeee...he's that mouse I, like, I showed you!"

Big R could hear the sound of someone having themselves a spit take followed immediately by a drawn out coughing fit. "The--the one--Huge something? Fuckin' shit--" More coughing and sputtering broke up the radio operator's attempts to convince themselves to calm the fuck down and act professionally for at least a couple more minutes before running off to the staff bathroom to frig themselves into a puddle. That orgasm would just have to wait. "Um. Shit. Okay, Jimenez. I need someone to check in at Tan Graham's, reports of a drunken frat boy with his dick out itching for a fight. You need me to send someone else over?"

"That's a negative, dispatch. I totally can--" Jimenez stopped in mid-sentence and bit down on her knuckles to hold back a rampaging scream of pleasure that would have busted a couple of nearby windows and probably more than a few eardrums. It sorta kinda worked, in that only a few people heard how she wailed like a cat in heat. Big R felt the wet rush of fluid against his legs as Karen came hard around her plunging fingers, gushing like a busted hose. "Oh fuck," she managed to groan out between shallow breaths. "I've never cum like that before. Fuck, mousie, you're the best..."

"Only giving the lady what she wants." B.R. gave himself a moment of smug satisfaction, grinning like the mouse what ate the cat what ate the canary, or at the very least stuck fourteen inches of tube steak under that particular cat's tail and worked her into a literal lather.

"Right. I'm gonna call Rick in, you finish up who--I mean what you're doing. There was a quiet mumble about security cameras before the radio crackled one more time, went quiet, and stayed that way. The radio did at least; between the murmur of the crowd, the heated breathing of one Karen Jimenez, and the absolutely non-stop precision machine-gun slaps of Big R's dick inside said tiger's pucker, the boardwalk was anything but quiet. But you'd expect that--half of a good performance is the sensory engagement.

The mouse did not however expect to be swept backwards brusquely as Jimenez planted her feet against his chest and pushed back, forcing him and his tantric totem of a todger out of her warm back passage. "The hell--?"

Karen rolled smoothly over on her back and yanked her polo shirt up, letting tits as big as the rest of her body free from a cotton-weave cage. "Like...I wanna see your face when you blow that mega-wad of hot jizz in my ass." There was a blush playing along her cheeks, something oddly adorable when complimented with near complete nudity, a pussy glazed in its own gravy, and a pair of mighty hydraulic legs spread wide to flash off a strained and gaped sphincter. "Maybe like, I dunno, kiss too or somethin'." Karen tittered and looked away, suddenly nervous, like a virgin in her boyfriend's limo on prom night preparing for that first ass-reaming.

B.R. couldn't help but laugh, lining up his greasy cock with Jimenez's rear docking port, rolling the head around and drinking in her soft whines. "You're such a naughty little thing, aren't you?" The little moans and their unspoken entreatment for Big R to get back to delivering mighty packages of pleasure to this particular Amazon disappeared, followed a split-second later the air inside of his lungs as those previously mentioned monster legs clamped around him like the sexiest vice ever made, one you could only buy from the special Perverted Power Tools department way in the back. Karen reeled _her_mouse in, forcing his titanium-strong dick back inside her with absolutely no effort, watching him with half-opened eyes and a jaw hanging low.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

Hands that could have used his entire head for a basketball grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer. "Less talking, more fucking. I need you to fuckin' fill me up." Big R was all too happy to oblige a polite request like that, and went straight to town. The two shared breath and saliva in the kind of kiss that could have sent a whole convent up in flames, hot enough to cook dinner on and steamier than the best sauna in all of Finland. This was determined sex, calculated for absolute pleasure without any of the frenzied slam-fucking that had preceded it. There was no reason for Big R to go crazy with his thrusts; he'd get off soon enough, if the electrical aching of his balls was any indication; for now he enjoyed tongue-wrestling with Karen, running his hands over her heaving breasts and feeling the perfectly sculpted muscles shifting underneath him. If they'd sold women as mattresses, he'd have one of her delivered as soon they were in stock, maybe two.

How long they'd been at it was anyone's guess. Forty, maybe? An hour? A half-hour, at least. No one was holding a stopwatch up and tracking every second as the ribald debauchery continued at pace; in reality, while there were a couple of appreciative gawkers taking in the full performance there on the bench, more people had moved along with maybe a nod or a smile or a thumbs-up if even that. Both of the actors on their impromptu stage were definitely deep into their roles and cascading rapidly towards the kind of climax that would leave a body breathless, possibly even comatose.

Big R made the decision--or rather his scrotum and its two well-rounded passengers, who had been rocking back and forth on the best carnival ride ever for some time now--then and there to go out with a bang of a completely different sort. In the most literal definition of 'nut up' ever uttered by man, beast, or pornographic writer, the mouse's balls pulled up into their docked position and, with abdominals tensed and thighs straining, the floodgates opened and Mount Spoo-suvius erupted with the mightiest roar a five-foot-tall mouse who'd only been going to the gym for a few months would manage. Cum erupted forth in an off-white deluge of pearl jam, filling Karen's ass and innards with a flood of biblical proportions (if your bible talks about anal sex anyways), filling up every inch, crack, and crevice until there was no other option but to rush into the tigress's stomach. She gagged and hacked, coughing up some of the output until it left thick lines of semen rolling down her cheeks and chin. Still more broke the seal of Big R's phallus and poured into steadily growing puddles on the wooden slats around Big R's running shoes. For the moment, 'officer' Karen Jimenez was the vessel for mouse-flavored baby batter flowing forth like a broken nozzle on the Slurpee machine. It was probably better this wasn't indoors or the janitor would be one pissed off hombre with hours of carpet shampooing in his future.

The pressure built and built until Big R's cock forced itself out of Karen's ass, raining the last of his steaming hot load on the ground alongside what escaped from her wide-open rear alleyway. The scene was a mess like none before it; if a normal fuck left one person looking like a glazed donut, Jimenez was a hellaciously stacked beefcake crusted over in a half-inch of hot manbuttercream icing, just out of the oven and hot enough to burn your fingertips. Big R stood a few inches away from the bench and panted hard, wiping away some of the pouring sweat that had soaked into his shirt. His hair was slicked back with damp.

"Do...do you always go that hard, Squeak?" Karen managed a little giggle and a smile, chewing on her fingerclaw in absolute feline indolence, the cat and her cream lazing about in a sunbeam.

B.R. fanned his top a little, trying to get a little breeze in there. "No." He raised an eyebrow at Karen and smirked widely. "Consider it a gift for my biggest fan. Literally and figuratively!"

They both shared an exhausted laugh or two as Karen peeled herself from the plasticky bench seat and tried to get back up to her feet. "Like, yuck, I'm totally a mess." Her tongue traced around her lips and down to her chin, quickly at first but getting slower, more deliberate, more _needy_with every pass. "But, like, hella delicious."

"We should maybe hit the showers. Do you have any back at, um, base or whatever it is?"

The tiger shook her head. "Naw. We used to but, like, they totally cut our funding and stuff, like, 'only the essentials' or some junk." She shrugged her mighty shoulders and pulled down her shirt over her tits, the outline of still-hard nipples hard to miss in the cotton weave. "We could like, um, go use the ones on the beach."

"I'm not so sure about that." The mouse reached down and picked up his shorts, or rather what was left of them. What had once been nylon and trimmings was now drowning in so much cum it was unidentifiable, a victim of an absolute hip-breaker of a fucking and Big R's fucking phenomenal testicular output. "These are a lost cause." Karen leaned forward with a grimace, poking a fingertip into what she figured was a leg. "My jockstrap's busted too. I should duck back into the woods and, I don't know, call someone with spare pants."

The striped wall of muscle, tits, and dried jizz shook her head and grabbed Big R's hand. "No way! I can get you a spare uniform from the guard shack." The mouse had to admit, even when she was leaking cocksauce down her thighs, her smile was friendly and infectious. "Besides," she said before getting sidetracked by a salty burp. "If anyone says something, like, I'll be all fierce!" And now the mouse had to admit that now, with fangs the size of his fingers on display, Karen Jimenez was making his testicles run for cover in his pelvis.

"Now let's go!" And they went!

Ten minutes later, the pair of public pussy pounding perverts hadn't made it half-way to the showers that were ten minutes down the boardwalk and onto the beach. Karen stood with her arms crossed and drying spunk all over her, shorts and equipment belt tossed over one shoulder, the fact that she was absolutely naked from the waist down to her shoes completely ignored as she stared down a wolf nearly her size and nearly twice her muscularity thanks to the miracles of questionable science who was preoccupied leering at any female-type who passed Tan Graham's. To one side, Big R kept his distance near a rather average skunk and his busted snout.

"S_ir_, let me get this straight. You thought that tanning salon was a brothel, then you decked my partner Rick here, and now you're out here making a scene." Karen said through gritted teeth and a gut full of jism. The only thing she got back in response was an obnoxiously loud belch that reeked of cheap weed, awful beer, and anabolic steroids. "Fuck, this is what I get for slacking off."

B.R. just stood there, his hands on his cock and balls like he could somehow hide his fuck truncheon away with anything smaller than a pup tent. At least he wasn't hard, so he could kind of try to tuck it around his thighs, but he really wasn't fooling anyone.

"Hey, honey, over here." The mouse flicked his eyes over towards a sudden honey-sweet voice coming in from one side trying to get his attention. The speaker of the mouse was a bombshell feline of some exotic species he couldn't place, with makeup plastered on in exaggerated excess and knockers that, unless genies were granting tit-related wishes, had seen a couple of knives and more silicone than his mobile phone. Where Karen was a stark natural beauty, whoever this was was certainly not. Beauty came in all forms though, and the cat was stunning in the sexpot way, swaying wide hips as she moved towards him in a seafoam green bikini that covered the absolute bare minimum and a little less. Big R figured if he got close enough, he might be able to tell the woman's pulse through her bikini bottoms.

"What can I do for you, ma'am?"

The cat twirled a bit of her loosely curled and professionally colored hair around a finger, giggling with a little glimpse of fangs biting a thick lower lip. "I couldn't help but notice you're a little...disheveled." Her eyes glimmered like little diamonds as she spoke, standing like a supermodel posing for a shoot with her other hand on her hip. "I'm the manager at Tan Graham's over there. If you want, I could let you use our showers, no charge."

"That'd be great, thanks!" Big R smiled his nicest smile and gave the lovely buxom bikini babe a healthy nod, working to keep his eyes from going too_far into private territory. Anyone with working eyes would have to accept that with her near non-existent coverage and absolutely stunning exaggerated curvature, it was a fool's errand to _not leer if she was in your line of sight. "They call me R. Big R."

"I'm Tasha. And I know who you are. Intimately." Tasha skipped the pretense of being polite and dignified. Her gaze was far from subtle as she hungrily drank in the size and girth of his cock, eyes going wider as it started to rise up in response to her appreciation and attention. "I...I'm also a masseuse...if you're interested in one..." The wet spot that spread over the thin material of her thong ruined any chance of her sales pitch and it's perfectly innocent façade working. She didn't care.

"That sounds delightful, Tasha. Please, lead the way."

He hoped she had something to drink in there. Being extra hydrated seemed like a good idea.