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Standard disclaimer:

This is a furry adult story containing gay males in sexual situations as well as explicit language and descriptions. No kids are allowed so this story is only for those who are 18/21 or whatever the age is at your legislation. If you are not of the legal age, you shouldn't view this story because you might lose your innocence. Also, by browsing this story you have done so by your own consent and wish to view such material. if you do not wish to view such material you should leave this site immediately.

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Hello, and welcome to the latest chapter!

If you have any thoughts or comments about the chapter, please drop a few lines. It'll help me to become a better writer. Faves and votes are certified luvvvvvv as well ;)

Have a nice read!

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I blinked.

Marge didn't.

Crystal didn't.

Mason's head bobbed along to the mysterious music coming into his ears.

The two women looked at each other with wide smirks on their lips.

My tail wished that it had the ability to retract inside my body for safety.

"What do you think, Crystal?" the cougar smiled all too broadly. "You think that a hunky older boyfriend would impress the sorority girls?"

Crystal flicked a tall ear at me and winked at the cougar.

"He'd probably cause a riot and a bitchfight over the cat...ohh...can you call that a catfight by proxy?" the mare nickered.

My ears practically convulsed against my skull. I knew they were joking...I know they were...I hoped that they were.

"Of course!" Marge declared, curious eyes roaming over me as if to make sure that I was hunky enough to cause fights to break out between slightly tipsy college girls.

My tailtip smacked against the coffee table loudly, almost threatening to collapse the pile of magazines down to the floor. My paw clutched the coffee mug.

"I don't think I'm quite hunky enough for that, girls," I tried with my best smile. "I'm sure Mason would much rather go, wouldn't you?"

I gave the frat wolf a look, and perhaps it was telepathy, or maybe he was only pretending to be listening to the music, since Mason had put down his magazine and was now looking at the three of us with a curious look on his eyes.

"Whut?" the wolf summed up.

"Crystal was asking Rory here out, if you want to know, and now he's jealous that she also considered asking you out," Marge interfered.

I chuckled sharply at the outrageous claim and received a tail bat from Marge in return.

"It's true!" the cougar continued. "Crystal needs a real man and since we've got one readily available here..."

"Off the shelf!" Crystal's teeth seemed even bigger and whiter than before as I saw them through her leering smile.

"I didn't know you want to go out with me," Mason spoke in his usual gruff rumble.

His ear flicked and his MP3 plug fell off it and was left hanging by its cable on the wolf's chest while he looked at us, brow creasing up.

Crystal gave him a wink.

"I like to keep my options open," she smirked and turned to look at me again. "Wotcha think, Rory? Wanna hang out with me and Marge and Goggy and a bunch of envious college girls who'd want nothing more than a little bit of catnip? Bianca, a panther, would probably love to mix up some black and yellow and see what happens."

My inner lion groaned at the dirty jokes while my ears still danced a desperate tango against my skull. I still wasn't sure if they were joking or not.

"As long as you promise not to stand Crystal up like that bastard ex of hers," Marge glared at me with suitable ferocity.

I scratched behind my ear with my free paw and frowned.

"Guys, I don't think I'm much of a date...I'm kinda boring compared to you," I tried.

Marge snuffled.

"Do you think that they expect you to actually talk and be amusing?" the cougar shrugged.

Ouch...

"Well I'd like that," I smirked, "you know, being a highly educated person and all, and working a responsible public relations work where I get to meet new furs every day and..."

"Of course we would tell them that you're the manager, not the clerk," Crystal spoke to me, straight-faced.

Now I was sure that they were playing, and decided to join the game.

"Would I have to wear a business suit?" I grinned.

"Of course, and you'd be expected to pay for everyone besides appearing hunky and mysterious and refined," Crystal added, "and you would have to buy me flowers, and compliment me while we're eating, and then possibly lick my ear once Marge and Goggy start going on about how happy they are together..."

Marge burst out into laughter and even Mason chuckled.

"Well...," I sighed once the riot was calming down a little bit and Marge had stopped clutching her belly with laughter, "I may have to tap into my summer vacation fund to fuel a night of decadence at...Lefties, was it?"

"That's where Goggy works, yeah," Marge replied, her whiskers still wobbling with her sharp breaths, "he's a sous chef."

"Thought he flipped burgers like any short order cook," Mason replied from his vantage point on us three on the couch.

Marge gave the wolf a dirty look.

"Sure, but since there are only two cooks working at Lefties, and with that...Garrett in charge, that puts him as the second cook around, so that makes him a sous chef!" the cougar postulated.

"You've watched too much Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares," Crystal chuckled.

Marge flicked her ears in unison and frowned.

"He does replace every other word with fuck while he's in the kitchen...and in bed..."

I looked sharply at Mason to hide my face from the cougar, just so that she would not have any other reason to verbally claw at me while Crystal burst into insane laughter. Mason had his ears down and he looked like as if someone had just replaced the music in his iPod with Justin Bieber.

Marge's tail smacked my hip as it trashed along with her laughter, and for a while I wondered whether the customers inside the shop might think that something fishy was going on here at the back room. Crystal did manage to spill some coffee over her uniform shirt and stood up with a yelp and fast enough to unseat the still cackling Marge whom ended up sprawled on her belly on the concrete floor, her laughter only increasing in intensity.

I could only look at Mason and shrug.

The wolf flicked his ears and shrugged back to me in return. It seemed that even though he was the straight frat guy, unlike yours truly the rump ranger, but nonetheless, the mystery of the female sex was still as great a dilemma to him as it was for me.

Well, I was pretty sure that he had at least seen the female sex up close and personal...I...kinda saw it, but it was more of the "a fumble in the dark" kind of an affair, to be honest.

Ugh...my sexual traumas could fill a whole book, it seemed.

Maybe I should try to write a NaNoWriMo out of it all. Homosexual experimentation interlaced with a singular heterosexual experience that left the girl crying and left me crying, combined with a string of failed monogamous relationships and one-night stands culminating in Victor Terrence Holden, the Hockey Hunk. I don't think that counted as a trauma, though, more like a...multiple concussive ass injury on the Dobie's part, and I had a severe haemorrhage of spunk from my balls that had only barely stopped aching.

I reminded myself that not only I should stop watching House reruns late at night, I should also not think about gay sex with a guy I picked up from a gay bar while having coffee with my quite straight and quite innocent-in-comparison co-workers. Maybe almost innocent, though. It did sound like that Marge and...Goggy had a healthy sex life going on besides being completely insane in general.

"Well, now," Marge rubbed her muzzle to get the lingering feeling of carpet burn off her face as she stood up from the floor, "you sure you don't want to come, Rory?"

"Yeah, give a horse a chance, will you!" Crystal winked.

I flicked my ears at them both and tried to smile as charmingly as I could.

Now that I think of it, Victor didn't even need that smile to start groping my thigh.

"I'm sorry, guys, but my parents are coming over this weekend and they expect me to act as a tour guide, historian, menswear fashion expert..."

Marge snerked.

"Secret talents that we don't know of, Rory?" her ears perked up.

"Mom always forces me to come shopping with her and dad for dad's clothes and forces me to tell him what she thinks about them because she claims that dad doesn't listen to her," I shook my head tragically.

They didn't have to know that mom also had me choose six different colour schemes for her living room and had me compare colour slips and fabrics for three hours at some DIY shop, and that she thought I didn't wear gay enough clothes. Apparently, I could never hope to attract boyfriend without at least one rainbow-coloured article of clothing on me.

Maybe I should send her a picture of me wearing assless leather pants and a black studded leather cap.

"That's tragic, "Crystal sneered. "I stopped letting my mom pick my clothes when I was 10."

"My mom gave me a sweater for Christmas that has a picture of Tom Jones on it," Marge mused from by the sink where she had migrated during our little chat to put away her empty coffee mug.

"Mom once tried to buy me a Metallica T-shirt," Mason added his own terrifying experience to the mix of mom-child fashion disasters.

He didn't have to say anything more.

*

A few more hurried excuses later, I was free to simply listen to how Marge and Crystal planned their dream double date together. Coffee supplies ran dry eventually and we had to return to the job, anyway.

It was the afternoon and things were slowly picking up, thanks to furs taking an early day off to enjoy some shopping in the crisp weather before settling down for the weekend. That meant lots of smiling and pointing towards completely obvious signs on the various shelves while the furs kept coming in at a steady trickle. Marge was in her element again, handing out Winter Sale Special brochures and flashing tonsil-displaying smiles and flicked ears at all the potentially single customers. I wasn't quite sure how she determined who was single and who was not , but I don't know, maybe straight girls had some sort of a boydar installed that was finely tuned to detect anyone who might want to bury their muzzle into the Grand Canyon of Marge's bosom.

It's not like I don't get looked at, too, you know. I'm a pretty big kind of a guy, after all, with wide shoulders and nice hips and kind of compact muscle and ears that have fascinating roundness to them. I always smile, and my voice is deep when I want it to be, and a tenor on occasion, and I don't lisp, and I don't wear a tongue piercing, nor carry my tail in an odd angle. No, I looked pretty good and natural and normal, and that of course brought the eyes of the ladies. I don't mind, to be honest, a smile for a smile and all that. Marge was the only one whom I had to fear for the gropes, anyway, perhaps partially because she was the only girl at the moment who was actually behind the service counter. Even she limited her antics to the occasional tailtip drawn against my calves when she wanted to rile me up, and each and every one was retaliated in kind. I wondered what her boyfriend Goggy thought about Marge coming to him smelling quite a lot like a big, musky lion like I was.

*

"That'll be 21.95, please," I spoke to a miniscule bovine girl whose snout barely reached the edge of the service counter as she peered up to me with her big brown eyes.

"Mama will pay!" the little girl giggled, her hands reaching for the thick book currently resting on the counter.

I lifted my eyes from the tiny little girl to the huge momma who was looking at me with a big smile, her fingers already buried into her purse to fetch the required sum of money.

"It's good to start it young, ma'am," I smiled really professionally.

"Little Daisy here already read the two first books and she can't get enough!" the cow beamed and handed over two slightly crumpled 10-dollar bills and then went for the coins.

"Ohh, aren't you a fast reader then!" I smiled for the girl who looked at me with infinite wisdom in her bright eyes, my paws working the cash register mechanically while I spoke.

"She's the best in her class," the momma beamed while she finally found a suitable amount of change and got a nickel from me in return, and a neat receipt.

"Oh, really now?" my smile seemed to get even wider while my paws searched the underside of the counter for a small Albrecht Brothers carrier bag into which I could slip the purchased Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

"I got me a gold star!" the little girl beamed.

"Aww, isn't that just lovely!" I pried the plastic bag open and put the book inside and then rested the newly packed treasure onto the counter again, within the reach of the girl's hands. "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

The little cow's fingers almost didn't go around the book as she clutched it and held the red bag down tightly against her chest.

"I'm gonna be a Mythbuster!" the girl mooed.

My eyes instinctively turned to the momma cow who simply smiled still.

"She watches a lot of Discovery Channel."

"Ahhhh....who's your favourite, Adam or Jamie?" I addressed the girl now so that she felt just as important as she should.

"Jamie, because I wanna have a hat like that!" she hopped on her little hooves.

Momma's big hand landed on her daughter's shoulder.

"Come now, Trudy, you don't want to be late from the pizza," she gave me a secret wink while the little girl mooed even more loudly.

"Wooooooooooooooooo!!"

Marge giggled as we watched the bovine pair disappear out of the doors.

"She totally looked at my boobs," the cougar snuffled to me in a low cat voice.

"Marge, with a shirt like that and with boobs like that, everyone's bound to look at them at some point," I replied, and looked at her boobs.

Marge glared at me and flashed me her teeth.

"Hers were the size of my head and she still looks at mine as if I had them hanging all out!" her anger made them wobble inside their clothed prison.

They weren't exactly hanging out, but...

"You could've told her that your sexist boss forces you to work with your boobs almost popping out of your shirt to attract more customers," I smirked my bet chauvinistic grin.

"Bah," she flicked her tail in a snake-like pattern behind her. "We already get all the geeky college boys who actually want to buy textbooks. That's a pretty good influx of fresh males already...and you know that the numbers of hunky geeks are increasing..."

She started to purr again, and while I of course quite happily agreed that the increasing number of hunks was fun at the shop, I wasn't planning to disclose that pleasure aloud.

"I suppose the ratio of geeky girls to geeky guys is still leaning towards the girls...," I mused with plenty of ear flicks to suggest everything that was needed.

Marge snorted.

"Too many of them are type Mason, though."

My brow lifted curiously.

"What's type Mason?" I was genuinely curious now.

"Just what it says on the tin," Marge grumbled. "Always nosepad stuck in a book and always wearing those hideous earphones to blast unspecified music into their ears and blocking them out of this world at all. It only gets worse once they get their paws to an iPad, and that makes the isolation complete. They become hunk ghosts, Rory!"

Marge rubbed her chin.

"Hunk ghosts?"

"Trapped in a world of funny videos and great music that render them blind to everything that goes on around them," the cougar groaned nasally.

"Including your boobs?" I suggested.

She shrugged, and her boobs shrugged, too. She must've been wearing some sort of invisible bra underneath there, I decided. I helped someone buy one, once.

"Yeah, especially since they probably have a million pair of boobs hidden in those computers anyway," I suggested.

"You still can't bury your nose between these big mamas if they're just on your LCD", Marge made an abstract gesture over her bosom.

Damn they were big mamas. I bet they were really good mamas, for someone who appreciated them properly.

"Nothing beats good old 4D action, I have to agree," I smiled and my tail looped and my sheath shared the opinion that burying something between very real and very warm and very alive fleshy mounds was simply fantastic.

Even when I was thinking about my dangerously fun ass-humping I wondered how I had ended up thinking pushing my face against both Marge's boobs and pussy within the space of one hour in the same day.

Well, at least it was Friday. That meant, thanks to no weekend shifts for me this month, a whole lot of beautiful do-nothing for me, too. Maybe I could finally hit the gym properly and work out a sweat and sublimate some of my rampart sexual urges to some different kind of physical exercise for once. Porn and one-night stands aside, I didn't usually feel this randy, anyway, so I don't know what was going on.

Maybe it was the one-night stand that reminded me how great it is to do the old rump de bump...especially with the Hockey Hunk who took more than his share of penalty shots into his goal from yours truly. On the other paw, I'm not sure if thinking about passionate sex was the best way NOT to feel like wanting to have sex...

I shifted myself closer to the comforting coolness of the glass side of the counter, pressed my paws against the countertop and put my best smile on my lips as the clock showed that it was fifteen more minutes until weekend.

"Welcome to Albrecht Brothers, what can I do for you, sir?"

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