Flaren
Agh. I was fucking around with Flaren on AIM one day, and he mentioned something, and I mentioned it back... then we couldn't get the idea out of each other's heads. Here it is, anyway. If you're not 18 I'm coming to your house to fucking castrate you. That or I'm just going to take a picture of your house or something. Actually, I probably won't do anything at all.
FLAREN IS COPYRIGHT (THAT'S THAT LITTLE C IN THE MIDDLE OF A PARENTHESIS OR A TIT OR SOMETHING) TO HIMSELF AND LIKE IF YOU STEAL HIM OR SOMETHING THEN I GUESS HE'S GOING TO TOTALLY YELL AT YOU OVER THE INTERNET.
Flaren, an eighteen year old white-striped tiger, sighed in a fit of boredom as he washed the dishes. He was the houses care-taker, and then some. Hired by another tiger--a Bengal--he washes the dishes, does the housework, and everything else on the side. He's not necessarily one of those call-in maids that you can hire every week, either. He lives in an apartment with this fellow tiger. A small place in Northridge, California. It'd be a cheap apartment if it wasn't all the way out in California. And if it wasn't in Northridge, either. About three or four blocks away from CSUN, University, the complex sits as pale gray from the outside, but within is a beautiful brick pathway leading to all the rooms, along with a shimmering pool in the center of it all. The Bengal and Flaren lived in room 305 in this stupidly-expensive place. And Flaren did the house--well, apartment work.
The white tiger rubbed and scrubbed at one dish, then set it aside to let it air-dry, and started working on another. Regardless of the small size of the apartment, the kitchen was your stereotypical kitchen, tiled floor and all. The sink sat next to the wall, dishes lying in a rack right beside it, drip-drying, soon to be dried out by Flaren's own hands with a dry rag anyhow. They didn't have a dishwasher or dryer. They simply had the sink and a rag.
Flaren stood at about six-foot-one, almost one-and-a-half, but not quite. He had a set of deep, blue eyes that offset the whiteness of his athletic, but not buff, furry body. He wore nothing but an apron--the Bengal's orders. This included underwear. Behind the cute, house-working tiger, was his tail, dangling slowly this way and that, its striped length lazily swaying in the air as the tiger concentrated on doing his work. His rump was nice and soft, almost literally calling for a paw to slowly run along its curve and grope. The spot under his tail, however, seemed to be glistening. Not with his own excrements, of course, but something else...
The entrance to the apartment quickly opened and closed, silently, in a very cat-like fashion. Possibly in a cat-burglar type fashion as well, but less than likely. There would have been much noise from trying to pick the lock. Plus, it was around three in the afternoon. Cat-burglars don't rob houses or apartments in the middle of the day. Needless to say, though, Flaren did not hear it.
A Bengal tiger slowly crept through the living room, through the dining room, and paused, gazing at Flaren. Being the busy-working tiger that he was, he didn't notice. Scrub, shift, place, grab, scrub, shift, place, wag. That tail was really teasing the Bengal, and that made him grin with desire. He slowly crept up and behind Flaren and snagged him into his arms, wrapping his paws tightly around the white-striped tiger's waist and pushing that bare bottom against his groin, his work-pants already tented from the mere sight of the high-tailed kitty slave. Flaren gasped, nearly dropping the dish he was working on to the floor, but simply dropped it back in the sink. A crack rode up along side the plate.
"M-master?" the kitten spoke. The Bengal nodded slowly, growling gently into his ear, nibbling on it a tad. The white-tiger whimper-moaned and wiggled his bottom against his owner's lap.
"Mmmhm, that's me."
"What--what do you want with me..?"
An orange, black-striped hand drove between the two tigers and slid along Flaren's bottom, a finger teasing at the cleft and warm star of flesh not-so-well hidden under the black-and-white tail. Flaren groaned.
"I want this, tiggy."
Flaren simply nodded. It wasn't like he really had a choice, anyway. The Bengal, the owner, rolled the white-and-black tiger around in his arms and pinned him to the wall. He pressed his body, rock-hard within his pants, against Flaren's bare bottom, purring deeply against his ear. Flaren simply moaned and grinded his hips right back against his owner, already starting to pant, his own apron slowly becoming tented with his growing erection. The Bengal slowly sniffed the air and chuckled, reaching down to grope under the apron, grinning broadly.
"Mmmm... my little tiger is already getting hard over me, hmm?" Orange fingers curled around an erecting length, giving a squeeze and eliciting a moan.
The Bengal simply smirked, and took hold of Flaren's neck in his jaws, causing the white-striped, pinned tiger to groan with delight, melting against the wall and his captor. Hallowe'en colored fingers reached back to open up the Bengal's black pants and open up what was inside. He pulled down his boxers, exposing his thick, eight-inch, throbbing pink flesh. He growled deeply against his pet and teasingly rubbed the tip of his pulsing flesh against that already slickened tail hole. Droplets of warm, watery pre dripped and drooled from the Bengal's length, a deeper growl leaving him.
"What a naughty little kitten I have, hmm?" the Bengal said, growling deeply and biting hard on Flaren's neck, causing the captured tiger to whine with delight, pressing himself more against the wall, his own seven-inch tool erecting and starting to drool. The Bengal's pants eventually slid off his body and pooled at his ankles, and without any warning whatsoever, that thick, long member drove right under the black-and-white tail, penetrating full to the hilt, causing both parties to let out a deep moan of lust and delight.
Those strong, orange fingers found their way back around Flaren's shaft and squeezed again. The younger tiger mewled. The striped hand began rocking back and fourth against Flaren's length, even without his own hips moving. Flaren groaned and lowered his head submissively, already beginning to pant softly. The gentle, warm stroking of that fuzzy hand caused his anus to flex and fluctuate around the length buried inside him, causing the black-and-white tiger to whimper, his length to throb. The Bengal purred deeply against his pet's neck and smiled.
"That's my kitten," he whispered, "let your master take you, and let your master--" he bit on his neck once, causing the pet to whine and tighten around that thick flesh inside him again "--please you."
Slowly, the Bengal began to thrust his hips back and fourth, only letting about an inch or two of his length leave and return. He pressed his pet harder against the wall, causing his fist to not have too much room to move, but neither party cared. In fact, Flaren loved this position more than anything. Eventually, the orange-and-black tiger stopped teasing the cat, and began to pull more and more of his length out, simply to slowly feed it back to the tiger. Finally he reached that point where he was sliding from tip to base and back.
"Ohh, master," the tiger whined, pressing his cheek to the wall and his ass to the hips of his captor. His well used and well trained anus tightened and released around that wonderful cock. Each time it slid inside of him, he would open himself up. Each time it tried to pull away, he would tighten up. This caused the Bengal to grown out with delight, pressing his chest to the bare back of his tiger.
"You feel nice and warm as always, pet," the Bengal huskily whispered, pressing his strong, built body against the younger one, driving his length back and fourth, which throbbed and flared and drooled, causing that slick bottom to get that much slipperier. They both began to pant at the same pace, the orange paw on the white tiger's dick moving faster, in tune with the Bengal's powerful, deep pumping.
"Does my little tiger like this?" Flaren nodded softly, simply lying against the wall, his arms up high with his palms pressed against the wall. The Bengal growled deeply and suddenly took the tiger's neck scruff into his mouth. Almost the instant he did this, he started pounding the black-and-white tiger hard, without warrant or notice to his pet's pain. There was no pain, though. In fact, Flaren moaned even louder, calling out his owner's name as this happened. Fortunately for the both of them, the Bengal was only half-way toward his orgasm. So was Flaren.
Flaren, using his paws as a brace, pushed his hips back against that thick-dicked tiger with each heavy, deep thrust, keeping up his pace of tighten-and-release. He loved to please his owner in every way he could, which was why he only wore the apron. This gave the owner easy-access to the young tiger whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, be it he wanted to take the tiger to the couch to bend him over and mount him, or simply reach under that apron and start suckling on that meaty sheath.
"I'm going to fill you up, kitty," the Bengal huskily groaned against his pet's neck. This caused Flaren to whine with delight. He started shoving his hips, almost needingly, against his owner. His anus began to almost quiver at the feel of that thick length pushing itself inside o him. The Bengal groaned with delight, biting harder on that black-and-white tiger's neck scruff, pumping his fat dick harder and faster in his orange hand. Flaren whined and couldn't take it anymore. He suddenly arched his back and meowled into the apartment complex, orgasming with great delight. His pink length throbbed, and with his heartbeat, shot interrupted streams of his semen right into his white apron, his anus quivering and shuddering rapidly. The Bengal squinted his eyes and growled heavily into that thick neck scruff, and shoved hard against his pet with one last push, orgasming as well. The psychological feeling of having Flaren's owner suddenly cum inside him simply brought him to shoot harder into his apron, to shoot more. They both panted, Flaren's body being pinned to the wall as the Bengal lost his balance, leaning on his pet as they both came and began to glow in orgasm.
Flaren was the first to begin purring deeply, wiggling his rather full bottom with delight, his breath short but deep. The Bengal slowly released his pet's neck scruff and purred as well, licking at the bite-marks he created. After a moment or so, the Bengal slid himself out. Flaren lowered his tail to keep the seed inside of him, his blue eyes turning to stare his master lovingly in the face. The Bengal chuckled and kissed his cheek, pulled up his pants, buttoned them, and patted his kitty's rump.
"Clean yourself up." He went into the living room to sit on the couch.
Flaren blinked. He watched his owner slowly go into the other room. He turned back to himself and stood on his feet, a bit wobbly from that wonderful orgasm, then looked down at his lower half. The apron was drenched. It was sticky with his own fluids. He sighed softly to himself, but had a warm smile on his face.
Just another thing for him to clean up.