FSE

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You take another drink of whiskey.

"I'm just worried about leaving my truck there overnight," you sigh.

Laura's tail bops you in the face.

"You should be more worried about massaging my ass..."

The cougar chuckles at your little growl. You press the tumbler down between her bare thighs, far enough for her to hold it firm before bringing your second hand to join your first on her mountainous curves. She kicked her pants off as soon as the two of you were in her mini-mansion, sighing heavily and subjecting you to bright, pink panties and garters. The blazer came off when you were on her oversized living room couch with the glass of whiskey. Just before she laid down on your lap and demanded that you massage her ass after the pounding you gave it at her office.

"It's got my uniform in it," you say, squeezing and shaking one large cheek. Laura chuckles, making her deep purr bob in pitch.

"That's what you're worried about? Your uniform for the job you hate?"

"Love it or hate it, I need it," you grumble. Her tail flicks when you knead a little harder. "And I can't exactly borrow my brother's car..."

"Have you thought about getting a different job?" she asks, shifting a little to take a drink from the handle of Willet Pot.

Whatever this chick demands of you, at least she's got good taste in booze. And lots of it, too.

"Hey," she says, flicking your face again. "I asked you a question, Mike."

She giggles when you spank her gently.

"Of course I have! There's just -- there's no work that's different. Like, managing A&Woo would be the same. Same attitude, same customers, just a different food."

Laura hums, wiggling her ass slightly under your hands. "What about a different industry? If you hate fast food, why not something else?"

"Then I'd be starting all over again," you groan. "Unless I'm the head manager for Dairy Yeen -- which I'm not, I'm just a shift manager -- they'll say that my skills won't transfer."

You dig your nails into her pliable booty.

"'Slow food is different from fast food!' 'Managing a hardware store is different from managing a restaurant!' 'All you've dealt with are unskilled workers!'"

Laura coos as you sigh, stroking your face gently with her tail.

"Well, maybe it'll change," she says, chirping slightly when you take the tumbler from between her thighs. You gulp down more bourbon. The earthy taste coats your mouth, leaving a hint of caramel.

"Lets talk about your job instead," you say, sliding it back between her thighs. "How long have you been a lawyer?"

"Too long," she chuckles, taking another pull from the bottle. "Got my bachelor's and went straight to law school. Haven't stopped since."

"It can't be all bad. You make enough to afford a big place, nice booze -- " you put your arms around as much ass as you can squeeze -- "enough food for a big ass..."

Laura gasps in mock indignance. She looks back at you, tail swishing slowly.

"It's not proper to comment on a lady's weight," she says. "Give that 'biiig' ass a kiss. Show me you're sorry."

You grunt, going back to massaging it again; she growls playfully and flexes her thighs.

"Kiss it, or you lose your whiskey."

"Alright, alright!" you grumble, stopping the tumbler from spilling over her golden fur. Her impressive stature means you don't have to lean forward far to press your face into a thick cougar cheek. Your face sinks into her plush fur and fat, and you allow yourself a deep breath of her vanilla scent. Laura coos, then giggles when you stiffen at her paw on your head.

"C'mon," she says, "gimmie a nice kiss."

She kneads your hair as you peck her behind, letting it linger longer when her hand doesn't leave.

"There you go," she says, letting you up. "Now don't do that again, or I'll have to really teach you a lesson."

You sigh, going back to massaging her rear. "If you want me to kiss your ass, just tell me."

The cougar chuckles, and brushes her tail under your chin. "Oh, you would be if I wanted you to be, Mike."

She shifts on your lap and presses her hips tighter into your chest; you scramble to save the tumbler from her bouncing thighs.

"I'm content with you just massaging it for now."

The exotic-looking whiskey bottle gurgles as she tips it up once more. Her tail drapes over your arms, clumsily going around your shoulders and neck.

"Are *you* content, Mike?"

You look at the enormous set of panties under your hands, the mound of lusty, mature woman they're clinging to. You take in her home around you, filled with creature comforts and decorated subdued taste. She's looking back at you, eyes half-lidded.

"Almost," you say, and drain your glass. "I'm out of whiskey."

Laura laughs deeply. You can feel each peal through your lap, the warmth reinforced as she shifts around again. There's a short pause when she nearly falls off the couch, but the cougar manages to stay on the generous cushions as she sits up. Any semblance of cat-like grace is gone -- she's drunk, for sure. The warmth and pleasant mood says you are, too.

Laura only adds to the feeling when she heavily mounts your lap, bottle still in hand. She leans heavily against you with a sigh, squishing you against her straining dress-shirt. She giggles an apology and sits back in your lap, getting a grunt; your arms go to her hips on their own.

"Close your eyes," she says, setting the whiskey bottle on the couch. You don't, watching as she puts her hands on her hips. The fabric of her shirt stretches, the gaps between buttons growing wider and wider until the top few buttons burst right in front of your face. She laughs at your delayed attempt at dodging, fumbling at the rest of the buttons.

"Here," you say, reaching up and getting them for her. Your fingers feel just as big as her digits, but she still coos as you make progress.

"Good boy," she says, "such de-dexterous little fingers..."

She licks her lips as her pink bra comes into view.

"Nimble tongues and nimble fingers are why I like you humies... so good at hitting just the right spots..."

Laura sighs when they're all off, and rewards you by smothering your face in her low-cut bra. You groan as she jiggles her tawny chest. You only realize it was to take her shirt off when she sits back, shimmying the last bit of sleeves off. Her chest bounces when she finishes with a huff, the pink and tan inches away from your face. You get a face-full of her left boulder when she reaches down for the bourbon.

"Hey, hey, eyes up here," she says, pressing down on her chest so you can see her. "Watch this..."

The amber liquor glows in the soft light as she raises the bottle high above her head and starts chugging. Her weight and warmth seem to increase with each swallow, and she seems to press in on you more and more. It takes you a second to realize it's just her swaying and leaning into you. Laura sighs in satisfaction when she's drained what was left of the handle, bringing it away with a clumsy flourish.

"Now, you said you were out of whiskey?" she asks, adjusting herself on your lap, dropping the drained bottle to the side.

"Y-Yeah," you slur. She takes your head in her hands, looming in close.

"Let me fix that for you," she purrs.

Her kiss is sloppy but passionate. Her teeth scrape your lips as she presses her muzzle against you. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to make you shiver. She cocks her head and presses deeper, her whiskers tickling your forehead. You squeeze her breasts when she fills your mouth with tongue. It feels rough, the texture burning softly. When the vanilla and caramel notes of the alcohol come in, you realize what she was doing.

You moan past her muscle, relaxing as the cougar coats your mouth with boozy saliva. Her hands dip to your shoulders, letting your head rock in time with her nodding, insistent licks. She nudges and nuzzles as she pleases; you're too busy sucking on her tongue to care. You can't recall if you kissed her or not yet -- a proper kiss like this one. She tastes sweet beneath the alcohol, some extra hint of flavor hiding among the residue of the whiskey.

She purrs when you swallow.

You don't know how long it is before Laura finally pulls away. The lightheadedness could be from the booze, the warmth, the excitement, or her smothering kiss. Either way, she coos as she looks down at you, stroking your hair.

"Aww, you need a minute?" she asks.

You manage a nod in response. The traces of alcohol burn gently in your mouth as you breathe in her perfume and lingering breath. She pushes her breasts up around your chin with a dramatic whine, squeezing you tight for a moment.

"Oh, it's so tempting to just smother you a little more," she says, pressing her soft, cream fur up against your cheeks. Then she lets her heavy melons drop with a sigh. "...but I suppose I should let you catch your breath."

The cougar pecks the top of your head and gives you a pat on the cheek before shuffling backwards off your lap. Her weight and wide bottom-half rocks you gently as she does so, the overstuffed couch's cushions thumping softly with every repositioning of her knees. You give in to the sensation and relax into the couch's embrace, finding nearly as soft as Larua's. After what'd happened at her office, you doubted this little break would last long. You close your eyes as her paws hit the floor, expecting her to walk off to get more wine or to make some snide comment about what a tired little angel you look like.

Instead you feel the floor shake a little as two dull thuds reverberate through the room. You think about opening your eyes to see if she's alright, but the greedy paws on your pants tell you she's fine. The cougar's purring drowns out your soft groans as your button comes undone and your zipper goes down. She traces lines down your legs with her claws, gentle enough that it doesn't shred your jeans or break your skin, but hard enough that the soft sound of nails on fabric teases your ears.

If the booze wasn't hitting you hard and if you weren't still catching your breath, you'd tell her to get a move on.

"My, my," she says, tugging your pants off at the base, inch by inch. "You're really tuckered out... maybe I gave you too much whiskey."

"Nah," you manage. "In fact -- if you've got more..."

She chuckles, giving your pant legs another firm tug.

"I don't know if you've *earned* more whiskey, mister."

"You're about to try and -- and break my pelvis again, and you -- you say I haven't earned a little more?" you splutter.

The cougar laughs and yanks your pants off all the way. Her pawpads are soft on your thighs, massaging circles into them just above the knee.

"Who said I was taking these off to ride you?" she asks.

You realize you can feel her breath on your now-spread legs. A gasp escapes you when she rams her snout into your boxers, holding you firm by the hips. A shudder runs through you when she inhales, her cold nose pressed into your nethers.

"That's cute," she sighs into your balls, "not even to the skin and you're already shaking."

"S-shut up..."

She hums in response, getting another shiver from you as the vibrations run right through your groin. The fur on her cheeks tickles your inner thighs, making you even more sensitive to the minute movements of her head.

"W-what do you -- want?" you ask, struggling to keep your voice controlled. Laura looks up at you with half-lidded amber eyes, still surprisingly far up even with her head between your legs.

"You're not the only one out of whiskey," she says.

She pulls back, pressing a kiss to your stomach that makes your toes curl.

"I need something to suck on, too..."

Her teeth scrape against your skin as she bites the hem of your boxers. Her brown-tipped tail flicks behind her, as mischievous as the look she's giving you from below. She growls and gives you a little tug; the fabric creaks in protest.

"Laura..."

Stitches split when she tugs again.

"Laura!"

The cougar darts her head back and tears the front of your boxers off, giving them a second jolt to snap the few remaining threads. She smiles at you through the shredded fabric, keeping her eyes on yours when she spits it out.

"I'll get you new ones," she says, leaning back down. You're already at attention, twitching at her breath. She presses her nose into your sack once again, nudging it and inhaling your scent. Chuckling hitches her continuous purr when you shiver again. She shifts around to the base of your dick; that cold nose makes you wince. It's a stark contrast to her warm tongue cupping your balls. You squeeze the couch cushions as she jostles them around and watches you squirm. Her tail swishes lazily, her claws gently knead at your shaking legs. You finally break down and moan when she gently closes her mouth around them and rumbles deeper. The vibrations and suction make you twitch against her face.

"Not yet, Mike," she says, quickly pulling back. She takes a hand away from your hips and spits on it, looking up at you with lust. "I get to suck it out of you..."

She slowly wraps her slick pads around your member. The strokes she gives you are gentle and slow, but you still twitch with each one. Just watching her do it pushes you closer to the edge. You close your eyes and try to relax, ignoring her teasing coos. Sharp claws poke into your hips every time they twitch, changing your sounds from moans and sighs to grunts and winces. The cougar is still giving you the slutty cat eyes when you frown down at her; she chuckles when you grumble.

"Oh, don't look so pissy," she says -- you stiffen as her paws go to the base of your nethers, hooking her thumbs under your balls and spreading your legs with her palms.

"-- it feels better when you wait a little longer."

You almost scream when she darts down and takes you into her mouth. But she's gentle despite the speed, mouthing your manhood like a jello-shot rather than prey. Your balls don't escape either -- her lips close around them as your head glides along her palate. Even the simple pressure of her lips makes your toes curl and fists ball. The sensations only get more intense when her rough tongue explores her new prize; your balls are jostled, your tip pressed between her broad muscle and the top of her mouth.

Fortunately it's a bit softer than sandpaper.

You try to thrust into her to little effect. The cougar's hold, her weight, and the absurd softness of the couch have made you practically immobile. And the sparkle in her amber eyes tells you she knows. Laura puts the pressure on slowly, gradually closing her jaws around you. The flicks and licks of her tongue keep you squirming for her. Only when your dick is nestled tight in her mouth does she move her hands, giving herself an inch or two of play.

Your moans come back in force when Laura bobs her head and sucks. The rhythm is a little off, the pressure not quite matching her strokes. But you still have to grab her ears to keep from coming early. The cougar doesn't seem to mind, a deep-seated rumble coming from her chest and engulfing your sensitive parts. Minute twists of her head make your toes curl, puffs of breath against your stomach send you reeling. Soon she opens her mouth and gives your balls one last lick before clamping down on your dick alone, pumping up the pace and wrapping her tongue around your tortured rod.

The only warning you can give her is a tight squeeze of her ears and a crescendo of your disjointed groans. You grip her head hard and push yourself in as deep as you can, letting her furry chin grind against your balls, but you don't feel yourself bottom out. You do feel her swallow as you blow your load, her jaws working gently against your base as you let it all out. Even when you're spent and flopped back onto the cushion, the cougar keeps sucking. You groan as she draws out every last drop.

Only when you've gone soft and the last of your aftershocks are in her belly does Laura pull back. She sits heavily on her haunches, still taller than you even sitting on the floor, and swallows with an exaggerated noise. She coos lewdly and rubs circles into your thighs; her paws are heavy and sloppy, and her expression is warm and drunk. But she manages not to slur her words too badly.

"What a strong, young vintache..." she says, running a claw up your torso. "Did I take your breath away again?"

"Y-yeah... but since you left me an airway this time, I -- I've got it back, mostly."

"Good, because you're going to need it."

You glance down at the cougar's eyes as she lowers her head down to your torso; they're warm, drunk, lusty. But there's still a predatory drive hidden within the amber.

She kisses your belly and drags her rough tongue up along your center, slowly drawing out another gasp from you. Her breasts squish into your lap, and she purrs when you unconsciously grab them.

"Because I gave you a little sucky-suck," she says, planting a sloppy kiss on your sternum, "it's only fair that you give me some sucky-suck, too."

Her paws clamping on your ribcage makes your chest echo with a dull thud; you jump when she wraps her lips around your nipple and gives you the faintest hint of teeth.

"Well?" she asks, chuckling at your yelp. "Does that sound fair, Mike?"

"W-what am I sucking on?" you ask. You try to push her teasing maw away, but the cougar's big arms keep your hands squished into her tits.

"Hmm, since I sucked on two things for you," she says, sliding her tongue across your chest, "I'm thinking you do at least two for me."

She nips your other nipple and sends another shock down your spine.

"Actually, I suppose I sucked on *three* things," she giggles.

"Laura! W-what do you want?"

The cougar hums, sliding up your body and running her snout along your cheeks.

"You'll see," she hums in your ear; her vibrations against your sternum make you melt. Her purr fills your head when she pinches your earlobe in her teeth. Laura gives you a kiss before pulling away, clamping her mitts on you and pulling you with her. You aren't able to protest much before she smothers your words with breast. She holds you tight as she shifts beside the couch. The slight groan and wobbling are a little unnerving as the cougar stands, but she manages to stay upright with you in her arms. She shifts you with relative ease and pulls you into a bridal carry. You adjust yourself in turn and try to push some of that heavy boob-weight off you to little avail. She hums, letting your face slip away from her bra before slowly starting to walk.

"Where are we going?" you ask.

"To the bedroom," she answers, a slight sing-song to her sultry tone.

"Why?"

"Because we need the bed!"

"W-why? What am I sucking?"

Laura hums, kneading your hair just hard enough to push you into the side of her tit.

"My pussy, maybe."

You splutter and push at her bra-bound boulder.

"Why do we need the bed?" you ask, looking up at her from beneath her curves. "I-I could eat your pussy easy! Right on the couch!"

The cougar gives you a lusty look, licking her lips as an ear flicks. She rocks you slightly before smashing your face back into her bra.

"Trust me," she purrs, holding you tight. "We'll need the bed."

You struggle against her breast again to little success. The silk is soaked in her smell, that combination of perfume and musk. But you'd still rather your face be buried in fur. You try to tear aside her bra, working in time with the bouncing as she climbs the stairs, but the tight garment is surprisingly strong. You suppose it has to be to keep her chest from bursting out. Laura shifts you in her arms to open a door, bumping it with her hips. There's a soft grunt when she lets go and dumps you into the biggest bed you've ever seen. You right yourself and look around at the heart of the cougar's den. The bedroom is large but cozy, the furnishings big but packed relatively tight. It's more homey than the minimalist office and front rooms you've seen, books and clothes laying out on dressers and nightstands. The sheets you're on are silk; you realize the plush monstrosity you're on is in the shape of a heart. An abundance of pillows surround the oddly-shaped headboard, a built-in nightstand sitting in the center.

The colors all change with a *click*. Laura smiles by the light switch, turning a dial to lower the recessed ceiling lights down to a moody level. Flameless candles flicker around the room. You feel yourself sinking into the mattress a when you try to face her, the top layer frustratingly giving. The cougar giggles as she closes the door. Her hypnotically swaying hips catch the light as she saunters towards the bed, her tail flicking behind her.

"You a little bit stuck, Mike?"

"S-shut up."

Laura makes a sound of feigned offense, clutching her bountiful chest and squeezing her breasts. She purrs when you pause to stare.

"Had to get it special ordered," she says, leaning down to press a hand on the mattress. "Don't want to *permanently* squish anyone..."

You remember to nod. She's looming over you, and her amber eyes seem to glow. You can just make out her curves in the dark light, blending in with the darkened brown tones of the bedroom behind her. The pink undergarments highlight the biggest ones. You feel more than see her smile when she brings a massive digit under your chin.

"...But don't worry," she purrs, "I'll still squish you good..."

Your response is unintelligible. You're too busy leaning into her pawpads. They're soft and warm, and it's not just the fur. You hum as she rubs you, giving you just the faintest hint of claw. You almost fall over when she pulls it away and stretches up to her full height. Her silhouette changes, and it takes a moment for you to realize she's fumbling for her bra. The sheets are quiet as you flop across them. The sound of fur on silk is much nicer; it's backed by a rumbling purr. You pull her panties down. It's easy after you clear the curve of her hips; as soon as they're falling on their own, you wrap your arms around her legs and press your face into her thighs.

"Such a desperate little human," she coos. You scowl and pull back; the sight of her now-free fun-bags barely makes you hesitate.

"I'm not --"

She picks you up under the arms and tosses you further onto the bed with ease.

"I-I'm not desperate!"

She chuckles, crawling over to you. There's something pantherine about it, even though she's big and drunk. Her heat presses down on you, and her weight shifts you around the mattress as her arms and legs press around you. It pushes you up into her when she sits up. Her fur barely glistens in the low light, right above your face. She shifts her hips side to side, just out of reach.

"Are you sure you're not desperate?" she purrs.

You growl.

"Fuck --"

Laura drops down before you can finish, smothering you in fur and scent. You grab her ass and she grabs your head. She pulls you up tight between her thighs, so that there's no escaping her heat; you dig your fingers in to try and get over the fluttery feeling in your chest.

"Eat it," you somehow hear her say, "you said it'd be easy!"

She shifts you into position with practiced ease and locks you in with a squeeze of her thighs. The pressure is overwhelming; her thighs are soft, but she's clenching hard. Her ass feels like a leaden sack on your chest. The cougar growls and presses against your face, and you feel your nose slip into her folds. You get a mouthful of musk when you gasp. Laura shifts and presses down harder, firmly trapping you beneath her. She tells you without speaking that her expectations are high, and that right now, you're falling far short.

She shudders when you shake your head the tiny bit her thighs will allow; it clears your head. A little, but enough. You start rubbing your face in circles against her, feeling her excitement coat your face. The cougar's sounds raise in tenor, and her hackles grow more responsive on top of your hands. You drive your face left, then right, then left again, pressing your lips against her outer walls. It's a difference of centimeters, but you feel her light up with each one. She groans when your tongue comes out. The warmth of her core masks her taste, save the salt. It's probably the same as the musk that coats your mouth anyway. You're more focused on touch. The smooth texture of her walls, how tightly they wrap around you as you slip deeper. How you can feel her heartbeat.

It might be yours, you realize. It's hard to tell your vision is fading when you're face-deep in furry muff. You can't see, and you've got plenty of reason to be lightheaded. It's the feeling in your chest that lets you know your air supply is dwindling. You almost tap her ass -- as much as her flattening rear will allow, anyway -- but you grab it hard instead. She's not going to get up until she's gotten off. Maybe you're drunk; maybe you know her that well; maybe the brain damage from a lack of oxygen is already setting in.

But you know you have to tongue-fuck her like she's never had before.

Laura chirps when you press into her heat. She tries to speak, but all that comes out are light gasps. You can't hear them through her thighs, you feel it through her tightening. Hints of regret seep in as she puts on the pressure; your head is going to explode, your ribcage is going to cave in. But you claw at her plush rear and press in harder, working in time with her shudders. You lick and thrust, faster and faster and faster.

The cougar's roar pierces her thick thighs.

Might be because it's high pitched -- you're almost happy they're wrapped over your ears. But you're happier when she spread them with a gasp that matches yours. You blink, breathing in her heat. Her weight is on your stomach and lap -- you can't move, but you can breathe. She looks down at you over the twin mountains of her chest, panting and smiling.

"Was it -- easy?"

You slide your arms under her thighs to grasp the insides for some feeble defense against her closing them again.

"Y-yeah..."

Laura laughs, dipping herself down to nuzzle her soaking lips against your chin.

"Then you can do it again," she says, "but I need a rest first."

You catch your breath while she shifts above you. Her legs stretch out with a groan -- and a wheeze from you as her weight rolls onto your lap. You're glad the sheets are silk and that you're on top of them. You'd be roasting while you suffocate otherwise. As Laura settles in, you think that might be what she has planned -- you look up to see her big behind looming over you.

"I know how much you love my butt," she says, still a little light. "Ready?"

You plant your hands on her ass with one last gasp, and the cougar wastes no time. She relaxes down onto you with a sigh, sliding your face between her tawny cheeks. You grunt when she shifts some more, weight once again settling in your lap. The humming goes from her back right to your groin. She's laying down on you with her ass on your face, pressing you down into the mattress.

"This is comfy," she says. She reaches down and grabs your hand, guiding them to the sides of her enormous cheeks. "Good for you too, I assume?"

You nod, feeling her silky rear glide against you. Her muscles move beneath the padding as she shifts her legs around, dropping more weight on you and pressing you deeper between her cheeks.

"Good," she sighs, going still. "How about you show me?"

With a muffled groan, you twist your face to kiss her cheeks. You switch between them, gliding deeper with every exchange. The cougar hums above you and wiggles her ass. She chuckles when you start thrusting against her back.

"Oh, you should be saving that."

She lifts up for a second, giving you a musk-filled breath before dropping back down.

"...I'm thinking you might've earned some pussy."

The thought only stops you for a second. Laura stiffens when you add in a little teeth, biting her booty flesh and teasing it with your tongue. She grinds down with a playful growl, pressing heavier on one cheek and then the other.

"You really want that, huh?" she asks when she lifts up next.

She lets you answer "yes" this time before dropping back down. Her droning hum spreads through your loins again as she shifts, rocking on your face in a circle.

"Would you say you're *desperate* for it?"

She lifts up before you can stifle your anger; the cougar flattens you again when you don't have an answer, squishing your hands next to your head. She giggles when you curse into her rear.

"What was that?" she asks, lifting again.

"No."

She pouts and pounds you again, the sound of flesh-on-flesh loud in your ears.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

You brace yourself for another butt-bomb, but she hovers centimeters from your face. You feel the fur of her behind brush against your nose and cheeks and she wiggles slow and teasingly.

"Are you absolutely sure, Mike?"

She tries not to react as you dig your nails into her rear. Your tongue still tingles from the taste of her heat, and memories of what happened at the office come back. The weight of her on your lap. The soft squeeze of her tits. And the tight embrace of her snatch, every millimeter like ecstasy.

"I'm desperate."

Her ass brushes lower.

"What was that?"

"I said I'm desperate!"

She drops her weight on you with a satisfied huff.

"Good," she says, wiggling you back into place. "Lick me to get me started up again, and you can have it."

You claw her cheeks apart and nuzzle in. It takes some searching to find her divot, but you find it. Your chin does first; she stifles a sound and helps you out, grinding on you and smashing you into place. You'd say her actions seem desperate, but you doubt she'd hear you.

Even if she could, she likely wouldn't care.

You press your tongue out slow instead. Laura squirms above you, feeling you tickle her ring. She sits partway up, trying to slip you in with her weight. But you make sure that you've thoroughly coated everything around her pucker before you poke her back entrance.

"Inside," the cougar says, her breath as tight as her rear. "Get it inside, Mike."

You get your minute form of revenge by laving it instead. You press the flat of your tongue against her, letting the taste soak in; the frustrated shuddering you feel is much better. The cougar bounces a few times, but it doesn't change your position. She gives up when she realizes she might push you out of position -- only then do you give her the tip.

Laura almost roars again as she sits up straight on your face. It drives you in to the hilt, her ring nestled against your lips. Sucking makes her shiver, and you push in and out. Slowly, she relaxes again. Her ass turns soft, her fluttering breaths less sharp.

"H-okay," she sighs, leaning back and taking some of her weight off. "That's good, Mike. You can have my pussy."

She winces when you pull your tongue out, wiping it on her thin fur. You wait for her to get off your face for a second or two before you start pushing at her. Only when you yell into her cheeks does the cougar respond with a chuckle.

"...if you can get out from under my ass, I mean."

She wiggles when you groan. Pushing her doesn't work, slapping her doesn't either. She just giggles when you claw at her. You slip your hands under her legs again and grab the insides of her thighs; it's like grabbing warm, pliant clouds. You pull with a muffled grunt, but the cougar stays lounging on your face. She chuckles when you pull again with more nails and smothered complaints.

"Oh, come on now, Mike. You have to show much how much you want it!"

You save your breath and pull again with a jerk this time. You can feel your nose brush against a virgin patch of fur in her depths. It's not wet -- or, not as wet as other spots -- and the shivering she's doing confirms your thoughts of progress. It's slow but undeniable. Her cheeks gradually press on your bare chest, and warm air hits your forehead. You make the mistake of gasping when your nose comes free; Laura grinds her perineum against it, further filling your head with musk. She coos when your mouth finally pops free, gently stroking your hair with one hand and parting her breasts with the other.

"Almost there," she says, "so close, Mike!"

"Shut the fuck --"

The cougar shoves your face into her cunt before you can finish.

"We'll put your mouth to good use if that's all you're going to do," she muses. She rubs your head in place a little before letting you pop back with another gasp. You look up to give her the stink eye, but the cougar's head is back in pleasure. You settle for a growl. She doesn't acknowledge it as you pull your chest out from under her rear. It's easy now that your shoulders are free, and it only gets easier the further you go -- right up until her ass is in your lap.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mike," she purrs, pulling her head up to look down at you. "I didn't even think to make sure you were nice and ready down there!"

"I'm ready," you growl, pushing at her again. The cougar's thighs wobble, but her ass stays planted on your lap. You twitch as she wiggles it slowly, stroking your straining dick. Laura purrs, shifting to put more of her weight on it with half-lidded eyes.

"I don't know, Mike. It feels a little small down there -- are you sure you're hard?"

You attempt to thrust up into her, but it barely nudges her. A fact she smiles about.

"I can always sit here a little more," she teases, grinding away. "Anything you need to get ready, sweetie..."

"I need your fat ass off my dick!" you shout.

"You *need* my fat ass?"

"Off of my dick," you growl.

Laura smiles, tousling your hair one last time before lifting up with a sigh. She slides down your legs and lays down, grabbing a pillow as she gets herself comfortable on one half of the huge heart-shaped bed. The cougar has a rough armchair of of pillows by the time you struggle to your knees. The mattress is too pliant -- though you suppose that kept you alive when she was on top. You look your hostess, mistress, your torturer and temptress. Her feline face remains a smirk, her posture relaxed. Her legs are spread wide. Her curves blend almost become one with the pillows in the rose-tinted light. Her tail thumps off to the side, the only sound in the room besides the rushing blood in your ears.

"Well?" she asks, voice rich and deadly. "Are you going to fuck me, humie?"

"Any more hoops I have to fucking jump through?"

"Only one," she smiles; she raises her legs high and beckons you with a finger. "You have to do it *hard*."

You scramble over the fluffy ground to the waiting cougar's thighs. They clap when you slam into them, jiggling against you as you push. Laura hums with satisfaction and bends them back for you, letting you position yourself. Getting her into a mating press isn't easy with her width; you're lucky she's aching for it and puts a giant mitt on your ass. The other pulls your head down into her bare belly. You grumble into her fur. Getting some kind of revenge and fucking the shit out of her doesn't hit as hard when she's hugging you to her.

But you turn your face into the softness of her stomach and breathe her in anyway.

The heat below is only a little more intense than the warmth of the rest of her fur. Your hips twitch and press your member against her slit. Not in, but against. Her excitement slickens your length, and a wordless rumble courses through the cougar. Her claws poke into your ass when you jerk again, feeling her walls glide against your underside.

"Put it in. Now," she pants. There's a growl to her voice, but the desperation comes through. It rises in pitch when you back against her hand. You growl and push against her pudgy hips to get enough leverage. The gasp and crushing clench of her hands when you finally enter tells you it wasn't on purpose. The cougar drives you in to the hilt, and you nearly blow your load from the sensation. Laura is similarly overwhelmed, stiffening against you and hissing. She tries to clamp her legs around your hips -- but she finds you're hugging them tight against her torso.

"I'm -- fucking -- you!" you growl into her fur, each word emphasized by as much of a thrust as you can manage. The size difference means you're spread thin and her paw on your ass restricts your movement, but Laura winces with each one.

"Let -- me -- fuck you!"

The cougar yelps this time. You glance up as she shifts, not stopping your pounding. She lets her head roll back into her rapidly collapsing pile of pillows with a heave of her chest. Her legs stay tense, but she's no longer fighting against you. She gasps the moment her hand leaves your ass. Your thrusts are deep now that she's not trying to keep you pressed in. Huge paws trail to your shoulders as you continue, and you watch her stretch them over her head.

Laura is quiet. There's no argument, no snide remarks. Only panting. It backs the sounds of flesh on flesh, her breasts slapping a counter tempo to the thrusts of your hips. You watch them bounce in the rosy half light, swinging like wrecking balls. Then your hips speed up, your legs start to tingle, and you bury your face back in her belly.

Your yell is muffled. You don't mind when Laura clamps back down on your head and muffles it further. You nuzzle into the cougar's soft fur, on top of the overwhelming softness for once. Stilted gasps escape her as you empty yourself into her pulse by pulse. Your seed creeps back along your shaft; Laura breaks her legs free to crush you between them, trying to keep the flow contained. You are spent long before your pent-up body is, and you relax into her stomach. The cougar doesn't let up until your hips and dick go completely still. Even when they do, she squeezes a few more times.

The beast lets out a rumbling purr. It goes on even as she shifts you between her legs, pulling you up her body with gentle paws. She's careful to keep you inside. She pauses to sigh when you're settled with your head between her breasts. The rumbling nearly deafens you when she squeezes you between them.

"Good... boy..." she manages when you wiggle for air. "Good boy, Mike."

You're too exhausted to be offended. Too satisfied, too. You mumble something in response instead, pressing back against her hand while she strokes your hair. She chirps softly when you stroke her back, pawing gently at her breasts, hugging them the way they hug you.

You catch yourself almost falling asleep. Dairy Yeen calls your name as it always does when you have a moment of peace, and you try to get up.

"Ah-ah!" Laura chides softly, tightening her hold. "You're staying there. For that little performance, you've earned the night between my thighs. That's where you belong."

You groan. Not in exasperation, but from fatigue. She coos, holding your head firm as she rolls to side.

"But you can always go back beneath me, since I know that's what you like."

She chuckles at your more spirited growl. She shifts against you, settling into place. You struggle to do the same; there's some annoyance to her sigh when you insist on trying to escape her tawny prison to speak.

"What, Mike?" she asks, looking down at you in the half-light. "Don't tell me you need to piss."

"No, I -- "

You swallow.

Don't show your *whole* hand.

" -- I-I got work tomorrow. I'll be late."

The cougar stares for a second, then chuckles. Deep and soft.

"Don't worry," she says, pulling you back into her curves, "I'll take care of it."

"Keep treating me to dates like this, and you won't have to worry at all..."