FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

For the Sake of

By pyrostinger

Andy © Aaron/PsychoRam

“Dr. Way?”

I paused briefly in writing down my thoughts in order to answer the intercom. “Yes, Betsy?”

“You're 4:30 is here.”

I glanced at the clock and made note of the time. Punctuality is always something I liked, though I could understand if my clients were late. That was my job. “They're early. Give me five minutes, and then send them in, alright?”

“No problem, Doctor.”

“You're a doll, Bets,” I said, smiling. I heard the sound of gentle giggling before I turned off the speakerphone. I really did like Betsy. The ewe was a lifesaver in terms of helping me with my work, taking care of all the small things.

About five minutes later, I was done with my writing and my client entered the inner sanctum, as I like to call it, with his parents. They seemed to be a sort of average rabbit family. The mother, I was guessing to be in her late 40s, had a severe look to her, a little on the thin side for my tastes, with her black pants suit and a white shirt. It seemed to contrast with her cream colored fur, patches of brown over her nose, chin and ears. The father was more open, though he had a worried look on his face, flicking his green eyes around at the office. It seemed he either had a fear of doctor's offices or he didn't want to be here nearly as much as the mother. Perhaps he was a little worried as to what was going on. He wore a much more casual polo shirt in orange over his gray fur, with some black jeans. It was probably safe to guess that the mother had come straight from work. That and the appointment being scheduled yesterday told me that the parents thought they had an urgent problem on their hands.

The client, however, seemed completely at ease. He was either 17 or 18; going by what I'd learned when the appointment was made, and sported two stud earrings on the inside of each ear. He was only slightly taller at the ears than his mother and father, who were of minutely dissimilar heights. Nature had seen fit to give him a combination of his parents’ features in an interesting way, getting a patch of darker fur from his mother (over his right eye), and the green eyes from his father. Dressed in a soccer uniform, he had an easy smile on his face as he looked at me, and then looked me up and down as I came around the desk to greet them. I did wonder about that... but decided not to get too far into the analyzing at this stage.

“Hello there. Mr. and Mrs. Porter, right?” I smiled warmly, shaking their paws. My first impressions seemed to have been right; Mrs. Porter was prim and proper, Mr. Porter more relaxed. “And you must be... Andrew, correct?” I held out my admittedly large paw for him.

“Yeah, that's me,” Andrew said after I got welcoming noises from both parents. Again, I saw him look me up and down. “Elephant shrink, huh? Does that mean you don't need notes?”

I smiled indulgently. “Notes are a very useful way for me to organize my thoughts. I may be an elephant, but it's never a bad idea to keep notes. Now then, why don't you take your seats, Mr. and Mrs. Porter, and Andrew, could you wait outside?”

Andrew shrugged and walked out.

I sat down behind the desk, folding my fingers, and then looking between the two. “So, as I understand it, you have a problem with your son?”

“He's sick in the head, and I want you to fix him,” Mrs. Porter said bluntly, leaning forward.

Mr. Porter placed a hand on her arm. “He's not sick, Dr. Way, we just think that he--”

“He is sick, Dan!” she continued, snatching her arm away and glaring at her husband. “There's something wrong with him, that's not normal behavior!”

“He's a young man, young men--”

“That is not normal behavior for a young man! He is oversexed!”

“Patricia,” Mr. Porter started mildly, but was interrupted.

“Doctor Way,” Mrs. Porter snapped, “the night before last our son had a sleep over party. When we went down into the basement to check on him, he was...” Her nose twitched, something I took as an expression of annoyance. “He was engaged in some sort of sexual intercourse with every single person he invited! If this was the first occurrence of such, I do not think we would have to take such measures!” The husband frowned, going from careless dismissal to interest. It seemed that there was a revelation here. “I searched his room! He has... he has phalluses in his room!”

“Dildoes?” I supplied.

“Dildoes, exactly! What young man has dildoes,” and she spat out the word, “in his possession?” She sat forward, clutching at the armrests, and it was clear that she thought this point was all the reason she needed to justify the appointment. Her husband was silently skeptical.

I leaned back in my chair. “Well, Mrs. Porter, if your son is either gay or bisexual, he might wish to purchase such objects.”

Mrs. Porter leaned back, her nose twitching primly. “You mean my son--”

“Likes men,” Mr. Porter finished flatly. He leaned back in his chair as well, letting out a sigh. He was clearly taking this a lot better than Mrs. Patricia Porter.

Her ears shook, and then she regrouped. “Regardless, I see no reason why my son would be participating in an orgy, Dr. Way. Nor should he be coming home from school every day after soccer practice smelling like one! I have reason to believe that he is... fucking his teammates and maybe even his coach! This is not normal teenaged behavior, doctor. That is the behavior of a nymphomaniac! He is displaying all the symptoms of one!”

I glanced over to her husband as Mrs. Porter sat back into her chair with an air of triumph. “WebMD,” said Mr. Porter, shrugging.

“I believe I'm capable of being the judge of whether or not your son is a nymphomaniac, Mr. and Mrs. Porter,” I told them both. I judged that it would probably be best not to inform her that the correct term, if he had it, was satyriasis. “Now, the first session is purely exploratory, and I'm going to ask that for any further sessions that you and Mr. Porter not enter my office while Andrew's here.” Mrs. Porter bristled, as expected. “This way, I'm better able to diagnose your son's disorder, if any, without any outside interference.”

“But we are his parents!” Mrs. Porter began.

“And you've made the first step by bringing Andrew here,” I finished, raising a hand. “The rest of the trip, Andrew will have to make by himself. There will be times, however, where I'll need all three of you here, so at that time I will call and request that. Is that alright?”

Mr. Porter and I clearly saw the protest in Mrs. Porter's eyes, but he was quicker than I was. “Thank you Dr Way,” he cut in, standing and taking his wife forcefully by the arm. “We'll be in touch. Come on, Pattie, let's not waste any more of the doctor's time.”

They left about the same time as Andrew re-entered. He waved to his parents, but only his father gave him a hug. “We'll be back in an hour,” he said, and then left.

I stood and went around my desk, gesturing with my arm to a more casual setting. “Why don't you and I take a seat over there, Andrew?”

He shrugged, and flopped into an armchair, which overlooked a small waterfall setup I had. I was very proud of that waterfall, as well as a number of statuettes and paintings that I had acquired over the years. It made for a very peaceful environment, and many of my clients agreed. After grabbing my notebook with my trunk, I joined him, sitting opposite him. “Usually I like to begin sessions with new clients by getting to know each other,” I said, my fingers clasping in a relaxed manner. My trunk gently adjusted my glasses as I continued. “I’ll start. My name is Dr. Gregory Way, but often my friends call me simply Greg or Grey. It’s a college nickname. Speaking of college, I am an alumnus of Northeastern University, and I’ve had this practice for going on eight years now. In my spare time, I generally enjoy fishing, and playing cards. Now, why don’t you tell me a little of yourself?”

Andrew sat up straighter, regarding me once more. I made a mental note of his seemingly visual nature. “Name’s Andrew Porter, but most everybody calls me Andy, ‘cept teachers on occasion. Uh… I go to Brigham High, and I’m in 11th grade. Um… I’m on the soccer team, and I’m pretty good at that, yeah. Um… yeah. And I like to screw around with my friends, too. Maybe I’ll take you up on a card game or somethin’, one of these times.”

Due to the nature of the problem Mrs. Porter seemed to have with her son, I couldn’t let that casual remark slide by. “If you don’t mind my asking, Andy – is it alright if I call you Andy?” He nodded. “Alright, Andy, if you don’t mind my asking, what do you mean by ‘screw around’?”

The rabbit smirked at me. “I mean hang out.” And then, as an afterthought, “And fuck.”

As a psychiatrist, it’s usually a good idea to not act surprised at whatever your clients say. Sometimes you run into the occasional client brought here that will attempt to manipulate the situation, saying things for shock value. As such, I thought it best to tread carefully from here on in. “So you and your friends do engage in sexual intercourse?” I asked.

“Call it what you want, but yeah, me and my friends do that a whole hell of a lot,” Andy told me, smirking still. “Why, my mom worried I fuck too much?” he shot at me.

I inclined my head slightly. “Your mother is worried that you may be placing too much emphasis on sex at this point in your life, but that’s not the reason you—“

“What’d she say?” he inquired suddenly.

“Concerning what?”

“C’mon, Dr. Way, don’t do me like that.” His ears flicked a bit, and as he continued talking, I saw a glint of metal on his tongue. “If you’re gonna do me, bend me over your desk.” He chuckled; I did not, keeping my mild expression. He went on. “Seriously, though, I’m talkin’ about the phone call my mom made yesterday. What’d she say about me, makin’ this appointment?”

I took a moment to consider, eventually judging that it couldn’t hurt. I steepled my fingers and went on. “Your mother expressed a concern—“

“Meaning she bitched about.”

“—expressed a concern,” I repeated firmly, “that sex was taking an undue precedence in your daily activities. She cited a test that you were graded on recently where you received a C+.” His interjection about his mother was something I made note of. Going by what I had personally observed of Patricia Porter, however, it would stand to reason that her son would have such harsh words about her. She did seem a mite… well, bitchy.

“Are you serious?” Andy groaned, leaning back into the chair briefly, then sat forward. “Ugh… lemme tell you about that test, Dr. Way. First off, history and social studies ain’t my strongest subjects, but I still got a B+ average as of that test. Second off, that test was an aberration. It was a pop quiz that day, and I wasn’t the only guy that didn’t do well. Third off, right after I got the result back from that test, I got one of my friends to tutor me in the subject so that crap doesn’t happen again.” He flopped back into the armchair, and then ran his tongue piercing over his teeth. “The one time I get caught with my pants down that wasn’t on purpose, my mom thinks I’m crazy… buncha crap.”

His use of the word aberration started a shift in my method of thinking. Still, I had to probe what I had. “This friend of yours… do—“

“Before you ask; yeah, we screw around, yeah, he fucks me, and no, he didn’t start fuckin’ me after I asked for his help. We’ve been screwin’ around for longer than that. I’m a slut, Dr. Way, not a whore.”

“I see,” I said simply, nodding. The thing that mystified me most so far was why Andy seemed so combative.

“Do you?” he asked directly.

“It’s my job to at least try,” I replied.

“’Cuz really, Grey, I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with me,” he said as I made another mental note of him addressing me by my nickname. “I just think that I’m a normal guy, with normal hormones. Is it my fault I act on my urges a lot more than others do?”

I gently spread my paws in a shrug. “Some might call you impulsive, however.”

“Is it a bad thing, to be impulsive?”

“Not necessarily, no. It’s certainly normal for young men.”

“So be honest with me for a sec, Grey. What do you think is wrong with me, if anything?”

I paused. Andy was leaning forward in his chair with an interesting look in his eyes, his head slightly tilted to the side. Perhaps I should have taken note of this. “Well, Andy, while I do believe that your sexual proclivity is certainly above average, I don’t think that this is the result of any kind of hormonal imbalance or mental disorder. In the short time that we’ve spent together, I find you to be an intelligent young man, and certainly attractive as you don’t seem to lack for sexual partners.”

“Good” said the rabbit, sighing.

“Why is that?”

“Because for the last 20 minutes, I’ve been tryin’ to figure out how to kiss you,” he got up and advanced toward me, “and I think I just got it.”

“Excuse—mmphf!!” As I had prepared to deal with a possible case of satyriasis, I had guessed that Andy might try to make a move on me, perhaps even innuendo his way into my pants. However, I had not prepared for the rabbit to be a skilled kisser, mostly because I thought I would have seen this particular action coming. As I did not, in any sense of the word...

I knew that was very, very wrong for me to be kissing a patient, skilled though he may be, and I gently pushed Andy off of me with my trunk and my hands. Before I could speak, however, he did first. “Don't tell me you didn't like that,” he said with a playful, perhaps arrogant smile.

I cleared my throat. “Regardless of whether or not I found that enjoyable, I think it's very inappropriate for us to be how we are right now, Andy.” The rabbit had a finger on my chest, running it down the center of it and meandering around the buttons down to my belt. I removed his hand from me. “I'm still not sure if you have a problem,” I continued.

He shook his head. “Don't have a problem, no... but you do.” His other hand dodged under my arm and grabbed me. I jumped. I most definitely was not prepared for how hard both he and I found me. The situation went from bad to worse as he leaned forward, his eyes lidding as his hand stroked across my bulge. “And it looks like it's a big problem, at that.”

Whatever happened now, it was imperative that I did not lose control of the situation, which was rapidly slipping from my grasp. I decided to ignore the hand on my crotch as I pushed him away again. “Andy, this behavior must stop.”

“Why? 'Fraid you might like it?” That impudent grin was back and in full force as he swayed back, actually hopping into my lap. He was a persistent bastard.

“That is immaterial,” I told him, pulling his paw from my crotch, where things had gotten far too uncomfortable. I felt quite absurd that an 18-year-old rabbit was trying to seduce me. I was a little embarrassed and ashamed at his success rate thus far. That in mind, I grabbed both of his hands and directed them behind his back, trying to tug him off me. “Andy, please, this behav--”

That was about when he licked my trunk.

For those who are not informed, elephant trunks have a lot of nerves in them, rendering them extremely tactile and sensitive. When Andy licked my trunk -- and he did it slowly, going from the bottom to the top -- Suffice it to say that I was feeling somewhat accomplished that only a small and immediately cut off moan came from me.

Grunting, I tugged the persistent rabbit from me, probably a little harder than absolutely necessary. Because of the directness of his approach, my mind was jumbled between the rational and the emotional. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, finally feeling a sort of calm reach me. “Now, while I apologize for treating you roughly, I really do believe you should desist from this behavior,” I told him, opening my eyes.

Oh, god.

Andy was bent over in front of me, dressed in only those heelless soccer socks, the rest of his clothes thrown onto the chair he had been occupying. He had just finished tossing his shirt onto the chair, his little cottontail giving a little flick. His athletic, firmly sculpted rear etched itself into my mind, bringing to the fore feelings I had not felt in over ten years. I swallowed, gripping tighter into the armchair without fully realizing that I did.

“...Andy.” My voice was shaking. Why was my voice shaking?

He stood up, but instead of turning to face me, he shook his hips a little bit, his tail flicking from side to side. “Yeah, Grey?” His voice was dripping with honey, sweet as sin. I knew that if I had too much, I'd be sick, but...

I pulled my eyes away from his body with great effort to look at his face. The rabbit looked back at me, smiling, his eyes half open. Seductive. “I think it would be best if you put your clothes back on... immediately.”

He grinned a little wider, and then turned around. “Why?” His hands were on his shoulders and then started to slide down his body. Following them, my eyes went down his chest, across his nipples and chest, even crossing his perfectly flat stomach to his-- Oh, god! I pulled my eyes back up to his face, though I felt his body calling to me. That little grin of his grew just a touch wider. Damn him, he knew what he was doing to me. He was enjoying every second of it.

“Because, Andrew, I believe that this session is getting rapidly inappropriate, and if I am to help you, we need to level on a more formal standing.” My voice cracked a little bit. Dammit.

“Oh, c'mon, Grey... you know you want it.”

“I believe you should refer to me as Dr. Way, Andrew.”

His finger laid itself on his chin as he looked up slightly, considering. It was completely insincere, but the other word that came to my mind as he did it was “cute.” Oh, god... “Hm... nah, I don't think so, Grey.” He turned back to look at me, that grin back on his face, his eyes capturing me, holding me. “I like being casual about certain things... I think we should get to know each other better, and I think this'll do just fine, don't you think?” He started advancing. My hands tightened on the armrests. As much as I wanted to stop him, more of me wanted him to keep coming.

“Andrew—Andy, stop.”

“Mm-mm,” he said, shaking his head.

My voice sounded hoarse. “Andy, this needs to stop.”

He placed his hands on the back of the chair, leaning in. “Lemme ask you a question, Grey.”

I said it without thinking. “What is it?”

“When's the last time you let yourself go?”

The question surprised me. “What?”

“I mean...” A finger slid down my chest from my shoulder, crossing over the white shirt I wore, crossing over to my red and black striped tie and under it. “When is the last time you saw somebody, thought 'I like that person... I wanna get to know them. I wanna fuck them,' and then acted on it?” The finger slid down to my stomach. I had never been so self-conscious about my pudgy tummy until now. He popped one of my lower buttons.

“I... Why would…?” The thought was preposterous to me; I just don’t do that.

I felt his warm hand slid into my shirt, then tug up my under shirt to touch on my tough skin. Oh... god... He was... he was just stroking over my stomach, but it felt...! “When's the last time you had sex, and didn't think about why?” Andy's hand left my stomach, then opened up my shirt, button by button. I was panting. I was sweating.

I squeaked. There was no other word for it.

He chuckled, my stomach exposed to the open air, my shirt open, and he went to work on my tie, pulling it loose. It slid from around my neck, and I followed it as it fell. Something else captured my attention, it becoming more prominent when Andy got into the chair, straddling my legs. “You're not a virgin, are you...?” His grin widened ever so slightly.

I felt an irrational surge of testosterone-laced annoyance. “Of… of course not!”

“Good...” He grunted softly, pressing himself – all of himself – to me, and I inhaled sharply.

It had been a long time, perhaps, too long, that I felt another person’s body pressed against me in passion. It was, perhaps, the reason I gave myself so readily into Andy’s advances. Some part of me still held back, however, though probably just due to professionalism, which is why trunk was the only part of me that wrapped around him when he kissed me again. I held him tightly to me, stroking over the back of his head. I was distracted by both of our bodies responding to the other… It had been a long time since I had been with another. My motivation for choosing psychiatry as a major was for more personal reasons than any desire to help people, and in the course of that I did some experimentation. But now… I had not felt as much desire in any other partner I’d had, male or female, when this rabbit rubbed himself against me, grinding into my crotch as his hands clutched my shoulders.

Andy pulled back slowly, luxuriating in the kiss, and I’ll admit that it hit me here how far this had gone. The side of me ascribed to professionalism made one last plea to stop through me, but the rabbit simply pressed a finger to my lips. He got off my lap, still gloriously clad in only his soccer socks, and went to his knees. My professional mind knew where he was going and cried out for this madness to stop, but the more powerful emotional mind was curious, remaining transfixed as he stroked over my legs. Grinning up at me, the rabbit’s hands went even further inward, and my professional mind tried and failed to stifle a moan as his very experienced hands undid my belt and opened my zipper, exposing my boxer shorts.

I remember feeling absurdly embarrassed about something, perhaps the fact that I had been wearing boxer shorts with little pink hearts on them. That qualified as my sense of humor nowadays. I do remember him smiling, perhaps for my boxers, but largely for my size. I’m fairly average-sized, in proportion to my species… as I learned in college, however, that meant that I was fairly large for most everybody else.

The rabbit let out a little giggle as if he was a schoolchild (which wasn’t terribly far-fetched), caressing over the bulge he found. There was a risqué smile on his face, but his hands ran over me almost reverently, and I had to bite my lower lip to keep those sounds bubbling up from inside me out. Slowly, he peeled down my boxers, exposing me to the open air. I was frozen in place when he did that, but surged forward as he handled me directly, a muffled moan coming from me. His fingers traced over every bit of me while my professional mind screamed in a shrill, rapidly shrinking voice to put a stop to this.

Nobody heard the voice, of course, least of all Andy, who had been busy leaning in to nuzzle across me. Here was a new experience... none of my prior partners had bother to rub their faces across my genitals. I remember that some of them had been amazed at my length, but it almost seemed as if this rabbit was almost... was this what was referred to as cock worship? I had only encountered the term a few times, and granted only when I was much, much younger, but... his fur felt very good against me, like that.

I grunted, still trying to restrain myself as he brought his tongue into play, dragging it up me. I quivered, especially down there... on my length. His blunt claws rubbed on my thighs, creating more sensations to go with his tonguework. I was forced to let out another grunt, my own hands digging deeper into the armchair, so much so that they were starting to hurt. Somehow, even this added to the overall feeling of euphoria that was building in me. I pushed my head back, my mouth set in a severe line as I struggled with the feelings, incapable of stopping them and reluctant to try.

Andy's tongue dragged itself over my... length, rambling from side to side, each swipe ending with a little flick. I'm not sure if this is true anymore, but at the time I was ashamed to admit that each one drew a grunt from me. When he got to my tip, however, it was a breathless moan. Finally, I gave into a desire, reasoning with myself that it was just one, and looked upon him.

His gaze smoldered, eyes half open as was his mouth, his hands dragging over my thighs as his tongue flicked over my tip. I couldn't hold the next moan back, but I managed to manipulate the volume. Andy came off me, grinning softly, his gaze still fixed on mine. His hands found mine, pried each finger loose, and then guided me to his head, thumb and forefinger curled around his ears. Shaken as I was, I had no idea why he had done this... until his muzzle enveloped around my tip, then down onto the shaft, his lips tugging on me as he came back up. That moan I couldn't hold back or even diminish.

With the next, I was only marginally more successful, and that's because I had become somewhat more acclimated to the sensation. It was no less pleasurable however, and I closed my eyes, drinking in every little touch with that seemingly magic tongue on me... my shaft, my... me. He knew how to use it, pressing-- I suddenly jumped, a loud sound pulled from me. He had a piercing!

I’ll admit now that I was impressed that he had been so good at kissing me, managing to avoid my detection of his piercing until now. I will further admit that most of my mind was occupied at how stunningly good that piercing felt on me, depressed on my… shaft. Shaft! Dammit, my shaft, my penis, my cock! Like a wrecking ball, Andy’s piercing broke down my final intellectual barrier, and I swore out loud. Most of the reason I did so was that lovely motion he made with his tongue and piercing, fluttering it just under my tip…

I felt a surge originate from the epicenter of all this madness, and I had no idea what was happening to me. I panicked until Andy gradually drew his muzzle off me, delicately squeezing and stroking me. “Shit, Grey, that was quick,” he told me, applying pressure to the base of my member. “Been a while, huh?”

Oh, right. I blushed, trying to avoid the gaze of this pleasure diety. “Yes,” I answered quickly. Shifting my eyes upward to him, I could tell he wanted to press, but he just grinned, pushing some of his hair out of his eyes. I couldn’t return his stare.

He giggled, and then got into my lap again. His member, his beautiful member was rubbing against my stomach, smearing a clear fluid into it. Leaning forward, he kissed my chest, looking up to me as he did it again, higher. I didn’t fathom how hard I had been panting until he got to my neck, drawing another, loud moan from me as he simultaneously rubbed his rear over my shaft. My hands, which had fallen down his body to his hips, remained there, clutching into him as he teased me further, somehow just avoiding my climax. I started to become frustrated… then became further frustrated when I realized this. He was playing me like a flute.

That is, until I managed to take some initiative, my hands grabbing onto his firm, delectable rump. Instantly he moaned, the paw that had been bracing his body on my chest went up to curl around my neck. “Fucking finally, Grey,” he told me, then bit his lip. From that endearing expression, I surmised what I wanted to know.

Just one thing bothered me. “Andy… are you sure you have—“

“Fuck yes!” he said with surprising force. “Now put it in me!”

Nodding, I paused yet a moment more to stroke over his face with my trunk, something he nuzzled into. I took hold of my shaft, rubbed it into its destination, and then pressed inside. I think I may have used too much force to get over the initial barrier, because when I went into him, he accepted half of my shaft on momentum alone. I wasn’t quite sure what emotion was passing through Andy, but surprise had drawn an extended grunt from me, coupled with his tight-squeezing rear.

It took me a moment more to understand exactly how much of me the rabbit took on the first go, and I immediately started to look for signs of stress. Andy, however, grinned easily at me. “Told you, Grey... I'm a slut,” he said, then shifted himself backward, the rest of my shaft quickly being taken by him, fast enough that he almost lost his balance. I caught him in my hands, and a loud sound of raw lust ripped itself from his muzzle, grinding even further down on me. The rabbit was skilled.

He rolled his head back, then looked at me, a faint blush on his cheeks, a devilish smile on his face. He felt... wonderful around my shaft. The feeling increased by at least tenfold when I saw him move, his tunnel clamping down around me at the base. I uttered a curse, which he giggled at... though perhaps that wasn't the right word. It was a sultry sort of merriment, after which he leaned forward with those half-open eyes of his, tracing a finger down my still exposed chest.

“I'm gonna love this ride,” he told me, and then showed me why.

His hips raised from mine, going about halfway up my shaft before they were slammed back down onto me. This drew an impassioned moan from me, something that he would be smirking at if he wasn't immersed in his own experience of riding me... and ride me he did.

When my eyes were open, I managed to marvel at his skill at taking me so easily, yet still remaining very tight. The rest of the time, I abandoned myself completely to the sensations rolling through me, letting then take me for a similar kind of ride. Eventually, I became aware of Andy muttering something at me. Before I could ascertain what he wanted, he squeezed himself around me once more, and I let out a trumpet, my paws shifting automatically to clench tightly into his ass. He surprised me again with the force of his bellow. There after, I dictated the pace, grunting with every further impact, his arms hooked around my neck.

Things got hazy after that. The next moment I was fully conscious for was him moving a hand down to his member, pawing himself off as I felt myself surge again. I tried to hold back, but Andy felt me, and panted the words “do it” at me. My body didn't give me much of an opportunity to refute his demand, and I let myself go.

Oh, what a wonderful, wonderful feeling... It was as if my body turned inside out, exposing me once again, but all I could feel was pleasure. My climax passed out of me and into Andy, which seemed to fuel his own, spattering my stomach with his seed.

That day, I relearned what it was to be spent. I had felt as if all the energy had been sapped out of me with my climax, and I lay back against the chair, feeling hot but floating in bliss, molding those wonderful bunny buns in my massive fingers. I heard the rabbit make similar sounds of content to the ones I had been. When I looked at him, he still wore that lazy smile on his face.

I never felt more obscene than when Andy pulled himself off me, staggering backward before he steadied himself on his chair. He started laughing a bit, a finger exploring how distended he had become. Myself, I was entranced by his body... and by his apparent merriment at exploring himself. Looking at me, I saw him give me that sultry look again, his somewhat flaccid member rising and filling once more.

Without saying a word, he rolled over to his stomach, settling into the chair cushion, and wiggled his cute little rear at me. It wasn't entirely of my body's sole volition that I stood behind him...

***

All too soon, an hour had elapsed. We had cleaned ourselves up by then, mostly, but not without Andy giving me another blowjob and swallowing it all down. My energy was an extremely low ebb, but I had enough to greet his parents as they came in to fetch the rabbit. His mother threw him some suspicious looks as we shook hands, but other than that I don't think she suspected anything that couldn't be attributed to paranoia.

“So, um...” I cleared my throat. After such a liberating experience... what does one say?

“Same time next week, Dr. Way?” Andy said with that smirk of his.

I nodded, a smile rising to my own cheeks. “Same time next week, Andy.”

They left, and I wandered back to my desk, sitting down and sighing. I suppose I still wasn't sure what I had just agreed to, but there it was. Searching for something to do in between appointments since my next wasn't until 5:30, I started to open a new file on Andy. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what to put in it.

Betsy came in, breaking my staring contest with the computer screen. “Hey there, beautiful,” I said, smiling.

“Hey yourself, handsome,” she said, sauntering over to me. She laid a note down on my desk. “You're 5:30 just canceled. He called in and said that he was going out of town. Also, I typed up that letter you wanted sent to the Hansons, so all you need to do is put your signature on it.”

I had forgotten about that! I sighed with relief. “Betsy, thanks a whole bunch. I don't know what I would do without you... you're a lifesaver.”

She smiled, then started to walk away before she turned back. For whatever reason, I noticed that she had a pleasant, floral scent about her, and the blouse she wore was low-cut. “Hey, Dr. Way?”

“Yes?”

“How long have we known each other?”

I blinked, surprised by the question. “Um... probably about 9 years. I hired you not too long into my practice... things started to get away from me. Why do you ask?” And, as an afterthought, “Are you wearing a new perfume, Betsy?”

“So we have known each other for a while,” she stated, walking slowly toward me, ignoring my second question. I nodded, frowning a bit. She put her hands down on the table, looking directly at me. I know that the way she arraigned herself, almost framing her breasts, wasn't by accident.

“So all this time, calling me “doll” and “beautiful” and all that... were you hitting on me or what?”

...oh, god.