FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

So I was fired. Apparently.

I didn't even see it coming. It was like every other day at the office; I stroll in right on time, coffee in hand briefcase in the other, sporting an impeccable suit when here comes a memo, casual as Friday, saying 'Hey John, good work on that report, now clear your desk and say your goodbyes because your ass ain't valued here no more'.

It's a fucking joke.

Yeah, sorry about that, my name's Daryl, Daryl Black, and I've just been sacked from the job I've held for well over ten years - talk about recognising loyalty. It was some cushy position up at the head offices of OmniTech, I sat over a division of shipping and logistics. Boring stuff really, enough to have you napping within minutes, but the paycheques would be more than capable of having you drop your jaw. I was content to do the menial paperwork and button-pushing that was asked of me when at the end of the day a hefty salary was pushed my way. It made life sweet. They say money doesn't buy you happiness, but I'm one of those who believe that it makes everything taste that little bit sweeter.

I should have seen it coming, to be fair. They'd been giving the old boot to plenty of guys who'd been employed or promoted ever since the Fisher Inquiry; it turns out the guy was some blackmailing pervert or something, but those were just rumours I'd heard about the water cooler. Still, I'd been to see Warren like seven months before, and things had happened... I thought it was just dating though. I never saw what the two of us did as conspiring to get what we want - sure, I fucked his brains out, but that was because I genuinely thought me and him were an item for a while. A very brief while - the dude was dull as fuck and so prissy - but it had never occurred to me he was using me. But what can I do when a board of high-ups tell you that he'd proposed me for the new position and a pay-raise all because I was some muscled piece of candy? Nothing, except get pissed off at the injustice of it all. They could have at least placed me back in my old position and docked my pay, maybe some unpaid suspension if they were really cruel, but fire me? Come on!

I slammed the locker door shut. I fucking hate life. It's a bitch.

I'd gone to Grind immediately. Not that kind of grind, but The Grind. It's a hotspot workout, great if you're an enthusiast like me. I wasn't as big as some of the guys that went there, but I knew I could give them a run for their money if I really knuckled down to trying to properly beef up. Being a rhino gave me that edge of a genetic predisposition for being huge in all the right places.

Honestly, I'd only started going because I was seriously getting out of shape. As I looked in the mirror now, I know I'd shaved off a couple of pounds which had left me with a nice, taut muscle-gut, but a year or two ago and it would have been a _very_different picture. Late nights, takeaways, and food on the go at the office without much time in between to just do some general exercise had meant that I'd given myself quite the belly. Some of the patrons here and even a couple of the trainers said they were pleased with my performance, proud that I hadn't given up and was now in better form because of it. It was good, to hear their praise. It's a shame I couldn't be as competitive as the others or else I'd be trying even harder.

But now I was redundant and unemployed, I would probably have all the time in the world between interviews and calling up about vacancies to really trim down those last few pounds. It was a bitter thought... I missed the taste of money. Heck, I missed the taste of a secure salary. I did look a little dejected in the mirror - I say mirror, it's practically a wall, meant to be for trainers who need to have their backs to clients, but it also works out well for those wishing to preen themselves like damn budgies. As handsome as I was, I wasn't that vain. But I could still see the signs of stress on my face, my usually grinning features now frowning as I recovered from the blow of having my career smashed to pieces. They're supposed to give notice usually, but I guess the inquiry was taking everyone by surprise. At least I'll get a severance cheque, though with my lifestyle, it'll be gone in two months, not unless I go to bare essentials. I rubbed my face, paw stroking across the stubble I'd let build up into a stubble. That would have to go, can't be turning up to prospective jobs with a beard - it looks too rustic and unprofessional, as I know from interviews I've held. It'll be a change sitting on the other side of the desk for once. Though I liked the stubble for the rugged look it gave me, I'd have to get rid of it. It was sad. Already being fired was affecting my life, and I hadn't even made a single rep yet.

I sighed, taking one last longing look at myself in the mirror, wondering how long Corporate Daryl could survive before Desperate Daryl took over.

Today was practically empty - I suppose that's because it's still work hours and I've never been to the Grind during that time. The owner was here today, which made a nice change because I rarely saw him. The Shire draft was a good guy, always friendly, really honest and basically took no nonsense from people who messed him about. We'd got chatting one time when I was signing up for an annual membership and I'd learnt a lot. He introduced himself as Caleb McGuire, about halfway into his twenties and currently looking for what he called 'that special someone'. I'd learnt more though when he invited me out for drinks one night with, and get this, his partner... that was a shocker, but we'd grown to be distant friends, nodding and smiling when the other passed though otherwise left to our own things. I wasn't what he was looking for, and that was fair enough, because neither was he what I wanted.

Whilst I'm gay, and unashamedly so, I had particular tastes. When you get to be a guy like me with a decent enough body - ignoring the period where I'd let myself go - and a wallet to match, I'd gotten all those superficial gits who'd clamoured about me pretending to be interested. They were easy to pick out. Their eyes lit up when I offered to buy their drinks, then proceeded to pump me for a dozen rounds more, or the ones who'd rub their paws all across my body but then refuse to kiss me, or even look me in my own damn eyes. For them, it was always so casual, and I wasn't the kind of guy who'd do anything if it didn't mean a repeat performance at the very least.

Which leads me to now; since the place was empty and today was a Thursday, it meant I'd run into my favourite trainer. He was called Kurt, somebody just shy of my own height at six foot two, but he was just as jacked as I was, if not more so. I liked him out of the rest because he had the best smile - like he honestly wanted people to excel at their workouts and didn't just batter people into healthy submission. No, he encouraged those who had bigger tires than they had on their cars, he made sure people were welcomed, chatted to everybody he could and even tried to get the younger kids who were dragged in by their fathers to keep fit. It was always a pleasure to see the jaguar, and today was no exception. There were probably only two or three people on the machines when I'd strode in, so I glimpsed him across the gym helping out a husky with some simple weight-lifting, showing him a technique or two, or either just to watch him to make sure he was doing it right. I left them be. Waste of time dragging the cat away from a client just so he could cheer me up.

Since I didn't have Kurt to spot me, I had to settle for just some cardio stuff. A warm-up for the lifting, I decided, even if it was just to kill some time to see if the jaguar would be free. If I could just get him to make me chuckle, then today wouldn't be so bad. I did like him. I liked him a lot, and whilst I normally didn't pick guys up in such sleazy ways, especially at an all-male gym no less, he was quickly making me want to change my mind. But I had no idea if he was into dick. There were several trainers and patrons here who were definitely not queer, and they made it painfully obvious by bringing in some girl to take off their shirt for and flex around - the kind of guys who weren't comfortable with their sexuality. It explained a great deal about why they attended a male-dominated gym then filled with a good number of bi men and gay dudes.

I picked the treadmill. It was a waste of time going for the bike, my footpaws never fit inside the damn pedal-straps and they were too finicky and small for me to unpick and resize. Big fingers made for phenomenal fingering of a man's hole, but were less useful when it came to equipment that had felt like a mouse had designed it.

Setting the speed up high, I ramped myself up into a brisk jog. I wasn't in the mood for taking things slowly or lightly today, I wanted to punish myself, to make my whole body burn with a crippling workout so that I could spend the next few days just sleeping and not having to worry about being unemployed. Self-destruction wasn't a real option, but more of a short term relief. I'd start looking for the next job as soon as I could move my legs again. My footpaws pounded against the conveyor, the noise probably drowning out whichever shit workout music they put on and alerting everybody to my presence. At least Kurt would notice me then, though I didn't expect him to come over and say hi.

Of course, I have to give credit to the jaguar, he's one hell of a guy and maybe too friendly for his own good.

"Hey Daryl, fancy seeing you here at this time."

The fucker had stepped up onto the machine next to me and set himself a light jogging pace, one that nearly matched my own. I wanted to ignore him, even though I yearned for some respite from depression, but I had to be polite above all else,

"Yeah, I got let off early." He had a grin on his face, just like always. Today he wore a pair of rather loosely-fitting green shorts, contrasting starkly against the rest of his amber gold fur. The blotches of black stood boldly out against the coat, his chest tufted with the clean white he always somehow maintained. I was disarmed by it all.

"On a Thursday? A little odd. I hope everything's okay."

"Yeah, sure is swell..." I must have sounded angry, or probably bitter, because the smile faltered. He didn't look so chipper anymore. I turned up the speed; I had to pay for making him sad.

"Is something wrong?" I didn't want to get his mood down. I could feel like shit, but that didn't mean I needed to make those around me feel like they'd been dragged through a sewage pipe by their heel backwards either, least of all someone like him. I just shrugged,

"I'm fine, Kurt, but thanks for asking." There was a pause, like he wanted to question it further, but I stared dead ahead against the blank blue wall wishing he'd leave so I wouldn't snap at him, yet wanting him to stay and ask anyway.

It shocked me then when I saw him reach across the machine and press the 'stop' button, bringing what would have been a very session to a very short close. As I slowed down, I looked across to him with an expression that screamed murder, but it rolled off his back,

"Come on, I'll spot you."

Now he and I had lifted weights before. He was keen to see me lift heavier and heavier stuff, so I'd kept at it for him. He always praised me when I'd add another weight onto the bar and manage to lift it. It felt like progress. Towards what was irrelevant, it made both of us happy. Him, because it meant I did well, and myself because I'd wind up bigger by the end of it. Each time though it had been an excellent chance to gawp at his junk indiscreetly. I'd never catch a glimpse of his actual endowment, but I knew from the context of a sizeable bulge that he packed heat. Any guy or girl - depending on his preference - would have been pleased to get their paws on him, I knew that for sure. For now, I remained coolly indifferent to him in the relationship department. I couldn't afford to get my hopes up, let alone my dick.

He patted the smooth leathered seat I was to lie down on. It felt more like plastic to me, and since I was wearing nothing over my torso I'd have that itching feeling down my back. It didn't matter really, but it was just one of those things that got me bothered.

I leant down and levered my weight onto the bench. Caleb had reinforced all the stuff in his gym so that it could withstand the weight of guys like him. It was probably one of the reasons I like plenty of other guys came here, so we didn't have to play twinkle-toes with the machines in fear of them dying on us. As I manoeuvred my way into position, Kurt packed on the weights. I thought he'd take it easy on me, not let me hurt myself, but he surprised me again by putting on weights until I was way over what I normally benched. I figured he was joking, about to crack another smile, but he was serious. His face was serious. It was like I'd managed to wipe all cheeriness right off his face with a knockout punch of misery to his gut.

Perhaps being fired wasn't the worst thing that happened today.

"Lift it," he said, quite blankly. It wasn't a request or a recommendation, it was plainly an order. What could I do except obey? I braced my paws against the cold grooved metal and prepared myself for the strain of lifting. It was barely impossible to even move the damn thing half an inch of the bar. I struggled, arms physically vibrating like someone had flicked a switch and left me to whir away whilst I did my best to look pathetically weak. Maybe over-ambitious was the word, but out of my periphery I knew I had a crowd. They watched from the other side of the room, waiting to see if I could prove myself strong enough all the while Kurt just stood there, crotch practically hovering above my nose, a potent aroma of musk drifting down, hinted ever so slightly with... arousal?

I nearly dropped the bar, but Kurt's paws prevented the thing from dropping down and crushing my throat. Together we lifted it back to the stand,

"Again, properly this time."

We were just gonna gloss over the fact I smelt you getting a boner whilst spotting me? Okay then. It was unusual, but maybe it was just some awkward assumption I was making.

Once more, I put my paws to the bar, and determined now to at least lift it once, I readied for the push up,

"So, you gonna tell me what's on your mind?"

"No."

I lifted it up, growling under my breath as the pain kicked in. I ignored it, probably not the best thing to do since I'll pull some muscles here or there, but no pain, no gain, right?

"You know I offer massages; they're good for stress relief."

"Not interested."

I was about halfway, Kurt's inane babble managing to dull out some of the senses. I could hear him, if only faintly, as blood pounded in my ears like the throbbing beat of the bass on way too loudly. I could feel the veins in my arms bulging, protruding out like spidery tendrils that coiled beneath my hide,

"I call bullshit."

I grunt and then roar, lifting up the bar to the fullest height. My arms are burning, my chest is screaming in pain, but I'm elated. Proud I'd done it, even if it was under the forced direction of the jaguar and most likely going to suffer tomorrow, but I'd lifted well over my limit. The bar wobbled, then steadied by Kurt's stable paws, resting it back down onto the stand for me to slip out and sit up, huffing out hard, struggling breaths as I recovered.

"See, whatever it is that's bothering you, you can get past it. If you can lift that, even if it hurts and you struggle, then you can move past it." It seemed so simple to say, but it really spoke volumes when you thought about it. He'd pushed me past my physical limit, regardless of the damage it'd do, just to make me prove a point to myself. If we weren't in public, I would have kissed him, gay or straight.

"Right..." I probably looked a little lost. It's not often you get taught a life lesson when you're nearly into your thirties. They become a rare treat, unlike a sour recurrence every day or so from when you're young. He tried to smile, but it came off more sheepish than anything,

"You sure I can't interest you in a massage?"

I don't know why, but I said yes. I knew there would be no massage. Even if he was straight, in my mind I was determined to make him gay, if only for me. The oils we'd be using wouldn't be to rub into my chest or shoulders, but into his ass. Even as I followed him to the changing rooms, I could already see myself rubbing my length between his cheeks as I had him beg me to fuck his brains out.

It was why when we stepped into the dingy locker room that I set upon him instantly.

I slammed him against the wall and pressed my body close to his. Whether he liked it or not, I didn't know, as before even I knew it I had my mouth latched onto his, my tongue darting out and pleading for entry to his own. I worried for a moment when he did nothing but breathe hard against my muzzle, thinking for a brief minute that maybe I'd just made a wildly inappropriate move and potentially just violated a good friend, but he relaxed, slowly, against my own. He kissed me back, hungrily, like he'd been wanting this just as much as I had, and all the pent up need I'd kept back from him for all this time came out in this one moment, our bodies connected, our lips upon each other's. For me, it was heaven.

He forced me back with just as much strength until he collided with the other wall, his paws going for my shorts. I didn't wear anything underneath - ever since I'd gone to college, I'd gone commando to save myself on buying new underwear when I was running skint. I'd gotten used to the feeling of rough fabric against my crotch that I'd eventually even begun to like it, so the jaguar gave a gasp of surprise when I felt his paw grope at my thickening dick. Either that or my size startled him. I definitely was just as big down there as I was upstairs.

I pushed him down by the shoulder and wiggled my legs out of the shorts. As he squatted at my groin, I grunted, pinching one of my nipples as I moved my paw then to push at the back of his head. He got the idea, moving his succulent lips towards my member. I expected to feel warm moistness caress my shaft, a firm tongue sliding along its side, but he moved it out of the way, going for my tender sack with apple-balls. Grunting, I could barely contain myself as he sucked and lapped the rough hide of my crotch, breathing in my manly stink and leaving me weak at the knees. I was a sucker for some good oral. Most bitches gave up when they saw my length, noted my smell, giving me some pathetic excuse they'd never deep-throated before or asked if I could just freshen up in the shower. I liked real men - no sissy boys for me - and whilst I was familiar with younger, suppler flesh, I preferred that of hardened guys who didn't turn down someone like me. I hadn't taken Kurt to be the sort like that. He seemed too young to be part of the generation where we respected a man's odour like it was a badge of honour. Nowadays there were so many scents and soaps that people would rather hook-up with someone who smelt like they'd wandered out of a perfume shop, where they believed sex was some delicate, intimate activity for when the lights went out and the single beds were pushed together for the anniversary. Kurt, like me, was no such kid. We were the rugged men who'd survived the femininity that had plunged into the gay community, and we loved lingering in our ways. He inhaled deeply as I let him delve into my balls, the furry hide about my junk engulfing his nose. I could only imagine how it felt for him, but seeing him down there like that made my dick twitch in excitement.

He didn't disappoint either. He must have had practise, or else I wouldn't have been on the edge by now from mere ball-licking alone. As his lips trailed along the underside of my hard shaft, I tapped my head against the wall and groaned, my horn glinting off the brickwork. The sensation of his remarkably delicate mouth against my member was phenomenal, like an encroaching ebb of pleasure that was gradually making its way into my mind. He was right about stress relief, I could barely feel the boiling anger I'd felt before, and I was moving faster towards a climax than I'd anticipated. I knew he'd have me cumming from a blowjob alone, but I didn't realise it'd be so soon. I held off though, with as much resistance as I could, whilst he wrapped those sweet lips about my head finally and sealed them down. His tongue flicked at the very tip, along that opening, making me tremble and growl. Whilst I might have made the quintessential daddy figure in the gay community, I still loved it when a bottom could make me squirm like he had control. He moved down an inch or so, sucking in my pulsing length, and moaned to himself. It was cute, even for a guy like him, to make a noise like that. It made me feel good in both ways, not only as he licked my cock but also that he could take pleasure from doing it. He kept a reassuring paw on the back of his head to make sure he knew he was going to take the whole thing, regardless of how big we both knew I was going to get, and every now and again I'd force him to take another inch more. If he could push me to lift heavier weights, I'd make him swallow more of my dick. I noticed he'd since sported a tent in his shorts, the pair no longer loose but now poking out upwards as he gobbled my meat down like he'd been deprived of male dick for eons. I rubbed a footpaw against where a wet spot was slowly forming, my biggest toe just grazing his head through the fabric, and he whimpered about me. I could see his eyes, needy and wanting, as he looked up at me past my gut and I just carried on pushing him down. He had a bit more to go, but he was struggling now. He didn't show any signs of giving up, commendable granted he'd made me do the same thing before, so I let him carry on trying. Properly hard, I'd never actually measured myself. The closest I'd gotten was comparing lengths as a teenager with my twin brother and our friends, and even then whilst my brother had a longer dick I was more than certainly thicker than him. I suppose it might have been about as thick as a beer can, maybe a little thicker. I'd have to get Kurt to measure me sometime when we went back to one of our places - assuming he'd want more of me after.

Finally, with a triumphant groan, I felt his nose bump up against my crotch. His slender chin dug into my itchy balls and I gave his head a slight twist this way and that, just to make sure I was really stretching out his throat. There was a bulge in his neck, pronounced to where my cock rested, and it looked so sweet on him, knowing it was me that was the cause. It felt more than amazing to have his muzzle gag and suckle along my shaft like it was a lifeline, drinking down my pre with fervent need. I must have tasted good, because he gulped it down without any complaint. It was then that I knew I could take my paw away and let him do the work. As he breathed once more the smell of my crotch, taking the stench in with low whimpers of desire, he pulled back on my dick, removing it from his throat and gradually sliding it along his muzzle. The slick tongue writhed against my flesh and sucked it hard; making me grunt each time he pulled the dick out to its very tip. I just growled on in approval, unable to do much else whilst he did the work. It was hypnotic to watch, seeing him slide up and down my foot long member, taking it with much more skill than anybody else I'd known before had, and with a look of pure adoration on his face. I didn't normally do this, not these casual flings in locker rooms, but true, loving relationships, though for him apparently I was the exception. I moaned aloud, uncaring if anybody heard or if people came to watch us, as he kept taking me all into his mouth, as deep as he could. His face pressed so far against my crotch I swore I could feel myself slip a little farther each time into him. It was like he found more length attached to me but swallowed it down regardless. It was too much, even for a veteran like me who'd slept around with enough men to know good oral when I receive it. I tried to alert him to it, huffing out some half-arsed warning about needing to cum, but I probably only spurred him on. I made a low, deep grunt before I took his head between both my paws and forced him down my dick, shoving my length into him as deep as I could before cumming. I shot off maybe five to six times into him before I let go, seeing his cheeks bulge as he attempted to contain the backwash of rhino jizz, groaning in desperation for air as it flooded his mouth. When I did let his head go, he pulled off, gasping as he did with a surge of cum splattering to the tiled floor, my length still dripping. I loved being a heavy-cummer. It always made every guy I slept with have a fun time - though for some, it was too messy. I liked messy though. Messy was fun.

Kurt apparently shared my sentiment, as he looked up at me, cum smeared around his muzzle and dripping down onto his chest, licking his lips greedily,

"Next time, don't warn me." He made my dick twitch again. Who knew he was such a horny fucker? Then again, felines were renowned for their libido. It was a good thing I had one to match, because as he was giving himself a cheeky grope against what must have been an aching hard-on, I had managed to stir my soldier back up to attention and ready for another bout.

"Get on your paws and knees," I told him, stopping him before he could make a move to polish off my cum-slick cock. He looked at me, shocked, but did as he was told. I dropped his shorts and finally let me get a good look at him nude.

It was a sight to behold. His fur was in pristine condition, unlike the weathered hairiness of my hide, and the muscles were neatly defined beneath. I wouldn't have put it past him if he'd done modelling in the past, or if he was a body-builder much like the rest of the guys who trained. His length was almost enough to rival my own, being not quite as long but arguably just as thick. I might have to return the favour for him by letting him blow a load in my mouth sometime, but for now I'd made my decision and we were sticking to it. He stooped down onto all fours and raised his tail so I got an eyeful of his rump. It was, much like the rest of his body, shapely. I could see the worked muscles clenching and unclenching beneath the veneer of fur. As I made a grab of both cheeks, they didn't feel at all flabby beneath my palms like some of the guys I'd been with. They were like rocks, powerful and strong just under my paws alone, and it was a huge turn on, to know I'd have this butt to fuck all for myself, regardless of the fact that he could break my arm quite easily. True submission was not with somebody easy kneeling down for a more powerful man, it was of the powerful man submitting to the weaker one.

My cock bobbed its head in agreement again. I was going to destroy his ass.

There would be no gentleness about it. I knew he could take what I'd dish out easily, and whilst I was what I believed to be an intimate gentleman, I was above being a dominator when needed. As I squatted over his raised behind, angling my cock down to his winking hole, I spat onto the pucker, at least to give it a little lube. He'd taken dick before though, plenty by the looks of it, as when I pressed my head to his rim he spread open without too much trouble. I hadn't expected to be his first, but he was probably already well into the double digits by the feel of things. He'd probably taken double digits before too, I thought amusingly.

But my size negated all the stretching men had done before me. He still mewled anew as I spread him apart, as inch after inch of my cock slowly sank into him, impaling him into the most intimate part of his body. He still felt amazingly tight as I pushed down, lowering myself into his ass as the rim swallowed what his mouth had taken just moments before. The pink ring expanded about my shaft, sucking me down with each passing inch like it wanted me in there, it beckoned me into the warm depths. He had the perfect hole, with just the right amount of grip, the perfect level of looseness to make it a swift glide, and then the most enticing fold about my cock that I'd ever felt. I know some guys describe the sensation to be like sliding on a fitted glove, that it's just a perfect mould, but this was something more. It was like jelly, where everything oozed about me to fit _exactly_to my shape, to the contours and veins of my member, to engulf me fully into I was balls deep. I gave out a heady grunt when my balls did slap against his, my cock throbbing in his guts. I could feel myself sitting quite heavily within him, weighing him down with the sheer mass of my meat, but he didn't complain. He must have liked it, for he held me there like a champ, my dick bulging out his abdomen whilst he let ourselves become attuned to the moment. I couldn't believe that I was balls deep in a jaguar's ass whereas a few hours ago I'd strolled into work as though it was going to be a regular day.

But it was happening, and I needed to stay focused. My main aim was to pound Kurt into orgasm, to make sure I at least made up for him giving me such an excellent blow-job, so I pivoted my hips about a bit, searching for that tender spot that had him arch his back and his hanging cock spew droplets of pre. It wasn't hard to find - a member like mine made it easy to just bludgeon things until you hit the right note - and I had him singing out songs of cute moans before long. As I drove back my hips, grinding my dick along his inner walls, I made sure to put more pressure against his prostate to leave him with a shudder that ran throughout his entire body. His hole clenched about my shaft when it did, though it did little to stop the invader from pushing back in when the tip was resting against the rim. I plunged back down into his ass and had him grunt loudly as I bottomed into him, giving him a solid slam to the gut. I had my arms around about his hips as I held him close, thrusting back my hips so that the head just remained before driving back in. He grunted again, louder this time, with a more pronounced whimpering tone. I wouldn't just fuck him into orgasm; I'd fuck him into a mumbling, whimpering submission that left a cummy puddle on the floor.

I drew my cock back again, sliding back from his deep ass to the very tip, even daring to pull out entirely just to get a sight of his stretched and wanting hole. It was beautiful. Like I said, I'm a man from a past generation, and I whilst I favoured the regimented style of love, I preferred the sleazier side of sex. I was a great contrast between the suited date who paid for drinks and pulled out chairs for you to the man who'd have you licking his footpaws clean whilst you had your paws bound behind your back, me huffing on a cigar as you did so. I guess my twin rubbed off on me too much sometimes, but Kurt seemed more than willing to take it. As I crashed back into him, his hole gasping and then swallowing my cock, he moaned and yowled, his claws digging in against the ceramic tiles. I could hear them scrape against the surface, his body standing on end whilst I plucked every nerve I could. I was, after all, a gentleman, and so a reach-around was more than just a necessity to me. As I gripped his cock lightly in my paw, I matched my rhythm to his, hunched over his body like two dogs rutting, and I pounded away into his ass. I grunted as his wet insides groped and caressed my shaft like it was being welcomed back into a home it had for too long neglected, my paw getting coated in sticky pre. I knew the backlog of my cum had mushed up against the jaguar's cleft, but that only made it all the more hotter, making me slam into him harder as he continued to whimper as higher pitches. I wondered if I could truly make him whistle out a tune as I jacked him off slowly. He was getting to the edge, I knew that much, but for now I was prolonging it until I knew he could take no more. My dick rubbed over his inner nut over and over in short, sharp thrusts to keep him dwindling on the edge for longer, waiting for the right moment to ramp up the speed when I knew all was lost. He didn't disappoint.

When I felt his body tense up, I sped everything up. It was like I'd switched into some kind of overdrive as I well and truly fucked his ass into a pulp - my hips crashed against his own, our sacks no longer slapping but colliding like wrecking balls against the other's. I kissed him, turning his head to mine to drown out his whimpers in my own muzzle, passionately making out as I wanked him furiously. My paw was a blur along his barbed, pink length, and I made sure to stroke in just the right way against those soft spines, leaving him bucking back against my groin. I was close, but I wanted him to cum first, so I slowed to just the right pace to let him blow his seed. He grunted and howled against me, begging for me to stop, but I refused - he wanted more than just this. As his body convulsed against my own, his cum splattered out onto my paw and then the floor, spurting in thick, heavy strands. I didn't stop, even when the jets had lingered to just tiny splutters, making him shake and moan uncontrollably like he was in some kind of fit. I loved it when I could push a man to the edge and then carry him beyond it. Seeing him in such a state of agonising bliss put me over the brink, coupled with a more than tight hole now clenching down upon my shaft. I buried into him deep and delivered the second load he'd had today. I just held him there, pressed up close, my gut against his back and his cock in my paw, now softening, kissing him deeply. His seed surged and shot deep into him, washing his guts in rhino spooge until I could feel the hot swell in his guts. I stroked over it with the cum-covered paw, where I bulged him out as though he'd swallowed a melon, and could feel every pulse and throb of my dick and the surrounding cum against me. It was hot to know his body was a neat fit to mine, pleasuring me in every way in that it fit so perfectly, and that he enjoyed the kind of sex I did. I wondered why I didn't do it sooner as I pecked his lips with chaste kisses, bringing up the dribbling strings of cum on my fingers for him to lick clean.

It was hard to think that a few hours to go I was ranting and raving to myself about how unfair it was I'd lost my job, about how life was a bitch and that I was now in for a hell of a time looking for a new place of employment, having to change everything just to get by. But Kurt added on final thing that made my day even better than the wild sex we'd just have. Panting, exhausted and delirious, he managed to huff out,

"You know... I could... I could get you... a job here... As a trainer..."

It meant a secure paycheque. It meant working in a place I loved doing what was great for my body and mind. The perfect solution for stress relief; it meant seeing a lot more of Kurt. It meant we could maybe be something more. Perhaps getting fired wasn't the worst thing to happen today; maybe, and just maybe, it was the best.