FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A long overdue commission for itoril. If you enjoy it, please leave a comment :3

---

I'd seen that shoddy green bike somewhere before, and I spent a good fifteen minutes of my time leaned against a flickering lightpole with my hand on my gun trying to remember what I'd seen being carried in its basket. I couldn't have seen it stuffed with plastic cups and aluminum cans, because none of the homeless population would have left anything this nice where anybody could break the chain and make off with it. I didn't figure it could have been carrying some briefcase or package, because no CEO or messenger boy would be seen dead at their office with the dilapidated pile of rust. It wouldn't matter how eco-friendly they wanted to be, they'd certainly find better options. It came to me in a brief flash, though- It was that ass, that pert little ass packed most recently into new blue shorts like overpreserved Christmas hams. I'd watched that pair of cheeks whizz past me on that death trap at least a handful of the times I patrolled the park. Every time the bunny flew by with his ears trailing like wind flags he would look where he'd passed me and try to catch my eyes as I stared at the globes under his puff tail. I remembered it so well because of the time he nearly bowled over Said's lunch cart, my absolute favorite in the park when I need to kill the time. I got closer to the bike, as if inspecting it would bring me a little closer to that glorious ass. In the cushion of the old seat, I could see the indentations those meaty cheeks had left.

Well that was all it was going to take. I cut through the patches of trees and petty brush that separate the meandering paths through the park to make a beeline to my squad car. I found the chain cutters in the trunk, buried beneath a variety of vests and other gear that rarely find use. The heavy tool seemed perfect in its profile as police tool: a sleek, squat professional black, with the oversized handles just about any wolf can get if they only ask. It proved to be almost a disappointment: The rusted chain as good as crumbed to dust in the sharp jaws. I could have torn it apart with my fists at the first and saved the time.

I carried the bike into the trees and stashed it under a bush, and tossed the crumby chain into the trash. I took my time walking the shears back to my car. If the bunny got there first, he wouldn't be going anywhere.

To be sure, he was waiting when I got there, and pounced upon me as soon as our eyes met, coming in eager nearly bouncing strides. "Officer! Excuse me, Sir!" I figured I could even make out when he recognized it was me, the wolf, and picked up the pace. I could have imagined him running right into my arms, throwing his slight figure against mine for the warmth and comfort, practically crying into my uniform about his vulnerabilities. But as he approached me - and why not stand still if there's no need to meet in the middle? - the bunny slowed and came to a stop at a respectful distance, his eyes mooning up at mine as if he were afraid to raise his chin, and his hands tucked reverently behind his back where they could do no damage. "Officer, somebody stole my bike. I don't know how I'll get home. I live miles from here, I rode all day to get to the park."

To this I gave a respectful nod of understanding. The words tumbled out of his mouth in a struggle to beat each other to the punch, and I sure didn't mean to stop it by using my authoritative voice to put the trembling little man at ease. He said exactly what he could with that first breath, then inhaled deep, trying to contain himself. I stood close to him, as if even I understood how necessary it was to guard the frail little thing from the obvious dangers.

I let him go through his story a couple times, each the contents of one heaving chest. As he got even a little bored with his own story, and perhaps a little beleaguered of my glare fixed into the back of his eyes, I watched his gaze start to wander over my person. If I had to guess what he was looking at, it would have gone in about this order: Eyes, badge, belt, badge, gun, boots, badge, belt, gun, eyes, belt. After about the third time wheezing through his explanation for his missing bike, his eyes had become comfortable on that last spot, and so long as I didn't seem to notice myself that he was staring down at my bulge, they stayed there. He offered plainly: "Back in my country, you know, the cops don't carry guns." And he took a breath, slight and sure, before continuing his thoughts. "I mean, not usually. Not in a place like-"

"Like what? You mean, in a park? Your bike got stolen, didn't it? The park isn't dangerous, I shouldn't have a gun?"

The bunny didn't have answers to these questions. As soon as I barked at him, his shoulders seemed to droop like melting wax.

"You want me to find your bike?"

"Excuse me, Sir?" the bunny asked, eager to untangle any confusions.

"You want me to find you bike, right? That's what you want," I growled. I must have had a long night, and in the blander sense of the phrase, I really had. I must have had to deal with quite a lot, and in the suggestive sense of the phrase, I did too. "You want me to go and find your bike that you lost."

"Aye, Sir," the bunny came to the considered answer a few moments later. "Though it was stolen," he offered the helpful correction.

"To you it's stolen, I just see it missing." I grabbed him by the arm, like he needed to be escorted off the premises, and walked him over by where his wild gesticulations had earlier pinpointed the pole where his bike had been secured. He tried to stop there, but I tugged him along as if I didn't notice his pausing and dragged us to the next pole for a thorough investigation.

"You had it just locked up here, against this lightpole?"

"Ah- aye, Sir" the bunny testified. He rubbed the tender spot on his arm where I'd pulled him along. "I had a chain wrapped around it and the lamp, but they're both missing."

"Well, it looks to me as if your bike's gone." I took my time in making this proclamation, after rigorous and quiet study, waiting for the last rays of the sun peeking out from behind the buildings in a hot orange aura to bleed out to a cool black. It was a half moon, and not a star in the sky. The bunny didn't say much, now, which I considered an improvement. He didn't speak without being spoken to, at all. It's easy to like that.

I leaned against the pole, taking the weight off weary footpaws that had trod up and down this same path maybe a dozen times, and the bunny didn't say a thing to interrupt my break. So long as I kept my grimace straight and serious, as if in deep contemplation, he gave me the peace to plot the quickest route to the shadiest bridge. When I didn't say a word before setting out on that path, he followed me a pace behind, as if keeping slack an invisible leash.

He wasn't going to say a word for the whole trip, but just the same, I told him, "We're gonna go find my squad car, it's parked on the other side of the park. Have you ever ridden in a cop car, whore?"

"Excuse me?" He plead, and answered the silence with a stern "No, Sir." I craned my neck to watch him following, my eyes moving a little lower every time his body swam through another pool of yellow light, then turned them back around.

"With an ass like yours I can't imagine you haven't been picked up for solicitation at least once or twice. If you ain't selling it you oughta be. I don't care if you're working this park, I promise not to bring you in- so long as you can find a motel, I don't tolerate anyone fucking around in the bushes, and that's fair, yeah?"

"Sir- I wasn't- what was that word you used? I don't think you have this right-" He only stopped when I did, and when I turned around he had muted again.

"Let's see some identification," I demanded in my firmest bass. I did my best to tower over him, for my lush black fur to become as much of a shroud over him as the starless sky. Against the haze of the light in the atmosphere, I seemed to eclipse it. "Better yet," I demanded as his trembling hands struggled to manipulate a slim billfold, "I'll just confiscate this," and pocketed a tourist's treasure trove of bank-stiff bills. The bunny had on him an identity card establishing him as a citizen of the UK and a library card surely affirming his upstanding public credentials. "You can't hide your racket from me, Craig," I told him as I tossed the billfold back at his feet, "but we're going to handle this outside the station, so I won't have to tell them just how successful you've been tonight."

"Sir, I- I-" the bunny stammered. I waved him off. He pawed through his emptied billfold and put it back in his pocket, and tried again. "I think this would be best sorted out at the station, Sir, and I don't mind going. I never have ridden in a police car before, and I never solicited anything, and when we get to the station I can just tell them about my bike."

But I don't think he really got the picture. It was going to take a little bit of time to get him adjusted to my point of view.

"This is much better handled on the scene," I assured him, and that's when I took a hold of his arms again. He tried to pull away this time, but his slender little figure was caught in my grasp. I yanked him by the wrist against me, I wanted him to feel the cold brass of my badge, if he could, but he put his free hand up against my chest and pushed me away, at least as far as he could with my my arms wrapped around his waist. The first thing he tried to do was shout, of course, and we couldn't have that. I snapped my muzzle over his, sinking the teeth into his pudgy snout only just enough to cinch it shut. He whimpered, and I swear I could taste it, like the acid boiling up into the back of his throat.

I growled. I wonder how that tasted for him.

He shut up, yeah. He went limp in my arms, actually. I think I felt his body numbing in my fingers, like the dropping of a few degrees, or the silencing of impulse activity. The cooling of a dwarfed star. He dropped like a bag of rocks to the ground when I let him go, and grunted when he hit the cracked concrete.

But he stirred all the same, and would only need to be whipped back up into the proper foam. His ears made for a perfect leash, and I grabbed them both in one fistful and yanked. He squealed at this, but only once, crawling on all fours before he could get onto his feet. We made for the low coverage of a nearby pedestrian bridge.

I found the remains of cement chunks and brick, though I was nearly tearing it from the foundation of the footbridge above us. The first streetlamp went out on the second throw, I got the second on the first. It didn't return any of the stars to the sky, and under the bridge, not even the moon punctured the glowing pitch. The night absorbed the light of the city. My fur and my uniform were just a little dusty, and the former more absent of light than the sky.

My hands took survey of what I had pressed up against the brick wall. They swiftly frisked his body, sliding over the tender muscle with the apparent ability to make it vibrate and rev like an engine at their enlightening touch. Nothing on the bunny's body didn't yield to my grasps as they made a feast of his tender, trembling muscles. As my fingers peeled layers of his clothes, they removed the layer of compliance that had shackled his body. When my paws fought into his shorts to grope his ass and thighs his legs started to twitch and kick. The bunny's sneakers barked my shins, but as I kept him pressed face-first against the mossy brick wall, he wasn't able to obtain much maneuverability. When my touch ventured above his beltline so that I could run the tips of my fingers over the modest yet taut abdominal muscles, they began on command to twist and contort. I felt his chest heaving as he sucked air through his teeth, and his shoulders bucked and wrenched to unpin themselves from between the wall and my body. I crossed his wrists above his head and secured them, my fingers clamped around his frail wrists like a claw. Every muscle in him fought against me, and wherever my free hand wandered to grope, the hot fervor of struggle radiated from the groped muscle.

From a distance, my ears keened on the light tread of footsteps. The bunny's long, supple ears served as a leash by which I could yank his chin upward, and I could gruffly whisper "Not a word, bitch," against his head. I gave him another tug for illustration, and pulled him in close to still the trembling of his body. He heard the footsteps in a moment, and the whimpering in his throat turned to a repressed crackle. I yanked on his ears again, and the gurgling, impulsive cries became only more impatient. The bunny opened his mouth, his lips looking to form words but unable to spark a connection, and what did come out of his throat sounded pathetic and shrill, even if one could wonder how audible it was. I rushed to push my pants and jockstrap down to my knees, so that my half-hard cock could finally spring free and continue its inexorable growth. I yanked the bunny by the ears again, but this time I really tugged him. He fell back onto his ass, and when he tried to turn and settle himself on his knees, smacked his chin into my dick as if it were a wily tree branch in the woods.

The patient, scraping steps seemed to imply an intimate group by the time they reached the further end of the bridge, although the hare was by then gobsmacked into silence by smacking against my tool. I figure I surprised the fella, just a bit, and he maybe even saw it coming when I shoved his back against the wall and gagged him with my cock. He clutched at my thighs, but I was in control, and his throat seemed to wrap around my fat cock like a velvet glove. In the head of my cock I could feel feeble coughs snuffed out, the tingle of it surging all the way up the staff, as if along the vein. It didn't last until the group passed overhead of us, and I could hear their feet crunching on the gravel leading away from the bridge. "That's a good bitch," I commended him, though I politely didn't mention that I had done most of the work. He really had done a much better job than I'd expected, and for half a second I entertained the prospect that he really was selling it. I pulled his ears like I was paid to do it and bucked my hips, sure that I could feel my cock throbbing at its limits as I stuffed it into the warm, relenting gullet. My nuts slapped against his chin, and did so a couple more times, until his chest started to heave and and his weak paws quicken with sudden life at my thighs. My rod withdrew from his snout, and he knelt forward on the dirty ground, gagging and spitting, his meager body swaying slightly. The footsteps seemed to be far in the distance, then.

The hare seemed to be going about a mile a minute, and his eyes darted to either side of him maybe a few dozen times, looking for something that never came. By the time they finally found mine, he seemed to understand. I aligned my cock between his eyes so it could dominate his vision, knowing well enough to lead with my best asset.

Eyes are subtle. You can read their intentions in their turns and rolls. But nothing speaks so bluntly as a stiff cock. A hand rose first to gingerly grab it at the base, the hefty balls fitting nicely into the fuzzy palm. And then, with a certain apprehension, his lips found and suckled on my head. I could feel the reservation in the slurps, but they were something less than timid. The tip of his tongue didn't shy away from pressing against the head of my dick. My best guess was that he was sampling me, and he took a good long swig of it. I'd already had my cock stuffed into the back of his throat, so I didn't mind demonstrating a little patience, or a little time to consider my prospects with the timid bunny. His lips crawled up the head by fractions of inches as he suckled patiently. He must not have disliked whatever he was getting. He seemed to struggle for more with each successive suckle, like a guy slurping at a straw. I popped it from his lips and let his eyes uncross in front of it. They stayed fixed there for quite awhile in complacent consideration. By this point it was pretty clear what I wanted. I could see he was wondering how high this tribute was going to run, and in hope of either quickly settling or escalating the matter, he pledged the breadth of his tongue to the base of my cock and traversed it to the tip.

Ah, I was stiff as a rock, then, and there was no turning back for me. Craig got comfortable, sitting on his feet and leaning up against the wall so that his knees wouldn't grind into the loose gravel and broken glass littered beneath the bridge. I kept my hand above his neck, either at his cheek or the base of his ears, but I didn't have to push him toward anything. He heaped his toll upon me with lusty laps, the strokes growing all the more confident with each exploration over the sylvan expanse. His breath poured hot on my head when he balanced it on his tongue, and I knew I had a real aficionado on my hands. His stout snout encompassed my hefty cock, and he pushed my meat once more into his gullet, though I felt the fella must have had to unhinge his jaw to do it. I didn't say a thing about the tips of his sharp little teeth dragging along the surface. The soft mat of his tongue undulated underneath, and was too divine a pleasure to pick over. His movements, if nothing else, were patient, and at that reverent speed even the graze of a fang is just a titillation. He braced a paw against my hip and drew my cock from his mouth like he was unsheathing something.

As if the mass of the tool had managed to plunge the anxiety from his body, the slight bunny spoke plainly when he asked "Aye, so this is how you want it handled, Sir?"

I had to smile at that. "Well since you cornered me," and to make clear that I didn't expect an answer, I gave his ears a yank and capped my prick with his snout. I didn't have to shove, he dived back into the effort. I didn't want him getting too eager, given that simply tasting my cock was giving the bunny regular shortness of breath. He seemed impatient to discover it all, and compulsively he traced his fingers along the contours of my root, pausing where it branched to be sure that it did. He inspected it with his eyes and his tongue. He tried to conceal his curious sniffs, even, but one can't maintain that charade for too long in such intimacy. In between efforts at glorying my cock, he cradled his nose in the crook of my thigh and huffed deep draughts. The tremors would go through him like shocks of bitterness, like samplings of liquors he wasn't yet suited for. He'd drink up these heady draughts of the musk that lingered in my crotch, letting his head brace against my body as if the boldness of it really made him weak. His hand clutched against my thigh, steadied itself there, then moved with sedated curiosity along the span of taut muscle. The tips of his fingers dug into the lush fur and tried to grasp at loose skin, but failed, though the process left my leg feeling nice and tender.

I had to nudge him to get his nose back to the grindstone, so to speak, but when he did he jumped to the work with an animated eagerness. He burnished my sword with his velvet tongue and told me, "It''s- it's the biggest I've ever had to get in my snout-"

"Shut up, bitch," I ordered, and tossed the back of my hand across his cheek. "You need to be quiet." I made sure to raise my voice to him when I said this, to express my exclusivity from the laws of discretion. "Nobody wants to hear about your day job."

His palate shook hands with my glans and all was swell. The bunny had the most diplomatic of impulses. He didn't say a thing, but his eyes stayed locked on mine as he swallowed my cock whole. I'm pretty sure in how I interpreted it. He was past wanting to be discovered, too. He recognized my exclusion from persecution.

In the cool night air, my exposed cock chilled out of the bunny's mouth, and so it was only natural to plunge the meat into the warm, inviting flesh of his throat. His gag reflex pulverized, I drew my staff from his throat so that his nostrils could flare with deep, thankful gasps of air. His eyebrows furrowed each time he did, I think that was from the scent. He loved it. He thrilled in it. That's what I smelled on him. But the scent of adrenaline is subtle compared to its direct effects. The hare practically vibrated around my cock, which stifled any cough or sputter forced into it so that the bunny's chest only seemed to heave and expand with the very girth of my dick when I snoutfucked him. The back of the bunny's head hit against the brick wall, and I held him there with my two great black paws gripping the base of either ear so that he didn't hurt himself. When the bunny's chest heaved, he seemed to suck me in by the root, his nose mashed into the short mat of curly fur above my cock.

Oof, it rocked me to the core. The bunny might have been trying to suck my tail out through the other side. My balls felt heavy with the night's beat of sexual tension, and I freely let them slap against the bunny's chin. I felt the churning inside my gut like an overburdening of pipes. I wondered if my reserves weren't already overflowing onto his tongue. The levees were being topped, and nothing but a mix of stern resolution and chilly weather kept my cork on as I fucked the bunny's throat. No reason exists to give up such a pleasure so quickly, and like when presented with a buffet, one ought to make a habit of taking more than their capacity. If I were able to follow the lesson well enough myself, I'd teach it to the bunny himself in just a moment.

Craig didn't protest, and his patience didn't waver. He latched onto my thighs, squeezing them as they thrust into his face. Every gulping, gasping foray of my cock into his chest was met with the same urgent, near-frantic management of crisis, and with universal aplomb. His eyes crossed to take measure of the tool violating him, to keep it centered in his concentration, even though I'm guessing it gave him double vision.

"Remember, bitch," I warned him, "this is not for you to eat, this is for you to wear."

It was like unplugging my cock from a vacuum when I popped it free of his lips, and with a few subtle pumps of my hips into my fist, I blew a thick rope of cum like a kill shot across the hare's forehead. The glistening, pampered head of my cock gushed like a burst pipe. Strands of cum flowed from the end of my dick in great spasms of the veiny flesh, every slight ridge and valley coming into perfect definition as it pulsed. The third blast shut his eyes, but each and every one down to the last hit below and between those pair of floppy ears. My aim was impeccable. When I came to a dribble, I collected the remnants in the palm of my hand, and held this in front of the bunny's nose until he caught a whiff of it and lapped it up like a pet dog, with a certain trepidation, unsure of this sudden eccentricity in the rules. But he cleaned my paw up, all right, and while his eyes were still shut I leaned down close enough that he could feel my presence. I took loud, snorting huffs of his effluence by his ear.

And I said, "If it smells like a wolf, it belongs to a wolf."

He whimpered a verbal signature to the contract, the great trembling beneath his shoulders starting to peter out as he sat back against the brick wall. A creamy dollop of cum still tipped the head of my cock, most evident in the intermittent fat slaps of it against the dirty concrete.

The broad log had slackened to a degree, almost shivering in the brisk air. I grabbed the bunny by the ears, but didn't yank him forward so he wouldn't shriek while I was trying to clean myself. I looped the great floppy, cotton bobs around my prick and wiped it clean of his spit and my cum. The sensation was luxurious, like something they might demand $200 for at some salon in the queer district. As fine and warm around my cock as a silk-lined glove. The bunny sat with unwavering patience as I cleaned my slicked cock, though the more I rubbed, the stiffer my cock became. It continued to leak juice, clearer again now, with reserved pressure. After I let the bunny's filthy ears fall back against his cheeks I cleaned the patina of gunk on my hands with his shirt.

As pleasant as the warmth and softness as a pair of ears were, I still knew they were no match for a throat. I slapped my cock against his lips like a while elephant at the altar of a sacrifice. He moaned, and I could smell a spike in his sweat.

"Again?" He asked. He raised a hand to his cheek in a futile attempt to clean some of my cum from his fur, but I slapped his hand away with a dismissive flick of the wrist. Getting the sticky wads out of his fur was a job I didn't have the patience for. To his question, I shook my head and pressed the meat into his maw, which welcomed it with a practiced lack of reluctance.

"I'm just getting it slick." Ah, it's good to feel a whine reverberate in your cock like flicking a wind chime. I'd wanted to get my dick wet and turn the bitch around, but his throat was naturally inviting. As the whimper petered out, his ministrations became more tender and considered, as if he might persuade me to go with his original thought. He didn't make a bad argument. I put my palms up against the wall and yet let suckle at my hose, bringing it back to its fullest vitality. In the dark, it was difficult to see just how badly the bunny's shorts tented, but I could scent his arousal. He had a sweet scent, nearly effervescent, like a clear soda pop. But as sweet as it smelled, there was no denying what it was.

Pulling my cock out of his mouth was enough to blunt the scent of the bunny's smell out of my nose so that again the smell of spit predominated. I grabbed him by his dirty ears and yanked him to his feet by one hand, and with the other I deftly manipulated his belt and the button of his shorts that held them loosely around his waist. I had to laugh, the bitch was wearing frillies! I knew people did that, I figured some of them even did it out of the house, but either the number's higher than I figured or I'm a tad more fortunate. His cock tortured the poor things, obviously they weren't built for what they were doing. I'd wager they were perfectly ruined. Maybe not so if the bunny had been a bit smaller, but he didn't have anything to be ashamed of. I had to laugh, but panties are only special for those queers that think pussy is some frightening foreign thing, or else can't land a lady as well as they lure a fella, so I pushed those down to his ankles. It would be easier to keep his legs spread that way, without doing any more disservice to those poor things. "Gotta dress nice for the customers, huh, slut?" Was all I had to say on the matter. He might have been hoping the entire time the last thing I'd do was unbutton his pants and see his Fall Collection, but lace just wasn't on my mind. I turned the bunny around and sunk my hands into what I really wanted, and pressed the slight hare against the wall with my chest.

I slid the fat, wet head of my cock between his cheeks, and that was when he started to writhe and twist. I put my broad trunks of legs around his, bunched his wrists in one of my fists above his head, and kept him flat against the grungy brick with my chest. The effort actually brought me a bit closer to his height, and from there I was able guide my cock directly against his tight pucker. I gave it one heavy, determined thrust- and realized that wasn't going to work. It made the bunny shriek, but it didn't make his tight tailhole open.

"Please!" He squeaked, "I've never-"

"You've never wanted it up the ass?" I cut him off. The whore schtick had been a ruse, clearly, but I really didn't figure the bunny for a virgin. Not after what I found his package in. "You must make your money with that big cock of yours." Not that I didn't put the bunny to shame, but it fit the pen I'd put him in, say.

I stuffed two of my fingers into his mouth and didn't respond to his love bite. The same digits then slipped between his cheeks with only a little effort, and with less of a moan.

He was damn tight, my God. I couldn't tell you. Although I wasn't interested in anything more than stretching his firm little pucker to fit my rod, the probing made the bunny leak lustful moans. The knob behind his balls was firm, I could nearly feel it pulse, as if trying to send a distress call, or hold back a surge.

"You're so much bigger- It's too much," he simpered. "I never could. I barely can in my fantasies. Please, I got you off."

"You got me started," I put an end to his begging. I stuffed the rest of my my fingers in his maw, and advanced my quick, rude work. The fight in his body seemed to erode with the tension in his ring, both seeming to become looser and more pliant the more I worked them. When the tension in his ring didn't seem too great to bear, I put my palm in front of his mouth, and instructed him curtly to spit.

I slathered my rod, pinned the bunny against the wall once more, and this time I struck gold. His cheeks split and my burden of a cockhead bored into his hole. He shouted at that, sure, but I clamped my hand around his snout and he shut up. His knees knocked against mine as I sunk inch after inch into him at the rate his virgin ass would allow. He didn't give it up easy, oh no, he clenched against every bit of it, but I got it in just the same. After he felt my hips press into his bubble butt and my fat cock sat pulsing and idle in the deepest trenches of his ass, he seemed instinctively to relax. I tried to look past the dark at where I was stretching him open, and in the general sense I suppose I could, but mostly I had to concentrate on how that bunny felt with my dick stuffed under his pufftail. I could feel his body with the skin of my shaft, and tried to sense the quaking of the muscles that composed the trembling figure. When his leg wrestling against mine for space I could feel the vibrations of the sinuous fibers in the back of my balls. It felt as if I might have been tapped into the very nervous system of the effete lapine. I dropped my hands from his wrists and placed the burly paws on his slight hips, holding him as if to remind him I had him from both within and without.

The babbling that came out of his throat was hard to describe, seemed generally inarticulate and strained. The poor bunny didn't have anything to say, but his vocal cords were compelled to produce. He really started to groan once I was fucking him. I kept my ears keen for anyone walking by, but with nobody intruding I let the bunny voice his frustrations. Trying to stem the burbling from his lips would have been too great an effort for me, especially at a time when I wanted to focus on the tight tube of silky muscle clenched around my dick. His ass resisted each invasion just as it should, and I can't report a length of time before the globes of his cheeks ever became truly at rest pried around my cock. That tight little package was such a divine pleasure. I couldn't have felt any luckier stumbling across a banker's wallet in the street.

For a thrill, I stuffed my fingers into his mouth, and with a little effort, got him to gag and cough. His ass squeezed tight around me as his body heaved, the whole of it seeming to try to force me out, which felt tremendous.

It proved a little too difficult to get the slut to gag, but I spent a moment fishing for the sensation a few times before getting bored with it. My hands got bored, easily. Wherever they roamed, and they wanted to be all over his body, they would make frequent stops between the bunny's thighs to check the unrelenting firmness of his package. I don't believe anything I could've said would have been quite so illustrative as allowing his swaying cock to fall into my palm as I fucked him so I could tease my thumb over its tip and feel the glossy juices pouring out. Being patient enough with each thrust to not lose my stride as I investigated him, I rolled the foreskin back. The slick liquid coated the tip of his member, and seemed to leak freely into my palm. It seemed to pulse with a struggling, emerging life, like a life form striving to break out of a chrysalis. For the most part, I let it swing freely between his quivering legs as I bore my cock into him.

It seemed queer to me he should love it so much, but I knew better than to let him tip over that edge. I simply let my hips proceed apace, which involve abiding by two rules. The first was that the wet rod felt much better in movement than at rest and the second was that it also felt better in the rabbit's bare ass than it did exposed to the brisk air. I didn't hurry myself to power through the prey I had captured, the fight long flown from him, though I pleasured in keeping him sandwiched between my chest and the brick. I let my fat rod expand and explore that cozy, inviting space at its own pace.

When the bitch's moans would seem to suddenly climb that higher register, and I would feel in the tip of my cock some impulse deep in the bunny's ass like a tipping point, I would grab his fuzzy nuts in my fingers and give them a brusque tug like a trucker's horn. It had about the same effect on the bunny, really. He'd shout out and protest, going so far as to say "Stop" sometime other than the last time I did it. But his judgments of my methods aside, his keel stayed rather even as I took my pleasant time conquering his ass. I nipped at the nape of his neck to remind him just how sharp the fangs were. But it was a small substitute for tugging on the rabbit's nuts, as only assaulting his pride jewels could you get such a groan from the pit of his stomach. And if the rabbit were at all confused as to how he might avoid the unpleasant squeezes, I didn't hide the secret that I was simply trying to keep the cork on his bottle. "Make a mess in this park," I taunted the quivering male, "And I'll spank your ass a real inviting red before I haul it down to the station and throw it in the pen."

I didn't want to have to berate the poor hare more than was necessary, of course, given what he was going through. But it's necessary and proper to see that you get certain responses and have certain demands met. That's just a matter of doing it right in the first place.

"I'm going to cum," he announced in spite of all my efforts. I pinched the base of his cock and plugged his ass with every inch of staff I had to give, his body quaking around my pulsing meat as he sputtered again "I'm- I'm going to cum!"

I sunk my teeth into his neck just as I felt a pulse clench around my cock. The same weak pulse pressed into my fingers, but died there, didn't cause the dripping lapine staff to swell. The bun voice wheezed and rasped, but he didn't contend he was going to cum again, and when I let my fingers go, he merely leaked a viscous, cloudy serum from his cock. The stiff staff stuck ramrod straight between his thighs and swung just as pendulously once I returned to fucking him.

"Let's not get this idea, again, bitch," I growled in his ear. But I saw the necessity of things, there. He wasn't going to last too much longer, and I really did have no intention of letting him get off before I could get him back to the station. My throbbing cock hungered for more. It seemed to expand insatiably into the inviting warmth of the pleasant ass, insisting that it had yet to be sated, but I had no sense of trying to do something I knew impossible. It would have enough when it said it had, and the now total darkness and dropping temperature was having as much influence on its opinion as the tight ring of fuzz clenching around its slick expanse.

So what was I supposed to wait for? Him to beg for it?

My hips rollicked back and forth, my powerful thighs burning with the lengthy effort to piledrive the tight hole. Even when I reared back far, the tip of my cock stayed lodged in the tight ass, so every thrust was sure and true to its target.

"I'm gonna fill this ass, bunny," was the only warning I gave him, when I could feel the cracking of the dam inside me. He whined at that, but it was no surprise. I drove into his ass without inhibition, carving out the last few allowances of space that would leave the fresh-fucked hole gaping and empty after I'd spilled my seed into it. I ceased to feel the subtle reverberations between his hemispheres, though I could feel him wriggling and writhing in my paws. My cock coursed with surplus energy, and after a deep thrust crashed heavy against the generous cushions of the meaty rump that had first drawn my eyes, doing just what I had already suspected them capable, a valve turned.

My fangs sunk into his left ear and I growled, so that the bunny might hear my pleasure as well as he felt it. I gushed. My cock spilled and spilled into the virgin claim like a newly sprung oil well. Through the timed thrusts of my hips I worked to burrow my juice as deep in the bunny as I could, though I knew nothing would prevent it from leaking down the back of the rabbit's taut ballsack. I chewed on his ears as my brutish, fat cock shook itself to stillness inside the caverned hole. And when I knew the last gasp had come, I pulled out and regaled with my own eyes the obvious futility of keeping the bunny full. My juice seeped from between his cheeks like a lewd miracle.

I slipped my hands between his cheeks, plying them apart, trying in vain to see the damage I'd done but having to settle with the senses of probing fingers. I got them sticky and messy. They slipped easily into the stretched and battered hole. The bunny cleaned them with his tongue at my behest, and said as the last knuckle left his lips, "Are you done with me?"

There was every intention of telling him "Yes," as my quickly sagging cock tucked defeated back into its pants. I resituated my uniform, made the requisite inspection and check as well as I could in the dark, and was only burnishing the brass of my badge when I heard the steps, and the eager chatter about the lights being out. I looked down at the bunny, who sat with his tail on the concrete and his face against the brick. He listened to them, too, and didn't say a word as they passed nervously overhead. By the time they had faded safely into the dark, I had realized a craft path through the thicker growths in the park, and probably past the bunny's bike, that would get us safely to my squad car.

"Bunny," I said to him, "You're coming with me."