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In this sequel to 'The Exclusive,' Sandra decides to confront Dan Hayes and his... questionable views on consent. Unsurprisingly, she proves singularly bad at learning from her mistake :3

Okay here's some more nonconsensual smut because I felt like it and I was bored on my flight to Helsinki so, hey. It's a sequel to "The Exclusive," starring the same characters. When will they ever learn? This is another piece that is Just Smut :P

Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute -- as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.

"Evening edition" ** by ** Rob Baird (A Pledge Drive Canto, with "The Exclusive" and "Matching Donations")

---

The nice thing about his life, he figured, was that it was simple. On a good day, he worked a nine hour shift. On a better day, he put in a few more hours and pocketed the overtime. Either way once he was gone that was it. He didn't take his work home. There were no complications in his evening.

Like now, for example. There was a bill in his mailbox that would have to be paid -- sooner or later -- and a few dishes that needed washing from an abortive attempt at an omelette that morning. After that, then a quiet beer and catching up on the news, or going over to Spotty Haygood's place and fucking around with his big-screen television. Spotty had one of the new video game consoles. It could be fun to fuck him up in one of the shooters he loved, and was so fucking godawful at...

Dan Hayes was a cop for the town -- "city cop," he called it as a joke, since the twin towns of Cannon Shoals and Oak Valley were fewer than three thousand people all together. Not much of a city. But it was his, had been since birth, and though he didn't want to admit it the stoat knew he would be a cop there forever. The sleepy town, tucked away in a hidden harbor on the Oregon coast, had a way of trapping its inhabitants like a crab pot.

Once you were in, no matter how much you flailed, it was remarkably hard to get away.

Not that he really wanted to get out. It was a nice life. Plenty of OT, no real danger, and the people were nice -- most of 'em. Solid, hard-working folks you could grab a beer with at Annie's. Or like you'd ask to borrow a ladder and they'd drive it over and ask what they could do to help. Some of them were shitheads, yeah, but you found that anywhere.

Spotty said he was busy, so Dan cracked open a bottle of Rogue and leaned on his kitchen counter. Made a note to pick up some more -- was hanging out with his old friend Astrid in a couple days, and Christ knew she couldn't afford her own drinks. Nuked some sickly looking orange chicken from the Great Wall Kitchen and some rice. Clicked on the news.

That was the thing, really. Quiet and clannish as the Shoals could be, the world beyond was fucked. Global warming, though it had been a cold spring indeed. Big banks fucking over the little guy. Terrorists. Europe. Europe was always doing something.

And he didn't have to deal with it. There were no terrorists in Cannon Shoals, unless you counted the fishermen when they got drunk and didn't feel like going home quietly. Or how last year, on the Fourth, Tim Springer had built a "super firework" that set his shed and his Suburban on fire. Or the union men at the Oak Valley lumber yard, who had gotten rowdy when management back east wanted to close the plant down.

Not so bad.

He was debating the merits of actually trying the leftover chicken when there was a knock at the door. Daniel grumbled, set down his beer, and ambled over to the door. Probably his neighbor Alex Page needing to complain about something. Maybe Paul Fisher, who lived on the first floor and always wanted to talk about the most fucking banal things. Last time it had been something about 'quantitative easing' and Dan had acutely felt his eyes glazing.

The person knocked again, more sharply, and the stoat growled. "Jesus, hold your fucking horses." Deadbolt. Lock. He pulled the door wide, and then raised an eyebrow in surprise. "The fuck do you want?"

Sandra Callaway worked in Cannon Shoals, for a public radio station that billed itself as the smallest in the country. She was a loud white wolf with sharp teeth and sharper eyes, and they had not spoken since an... encounter some weeks before. "You know what I want, Danny."

He made a show of checking his wrist for the watch he never wore off-duty. "I dunno, I got a few minutes, but -- "

"Don't be an asshole. We need to talk."

He grunted. Their encounter had involved getting the she-wolf up against the brick wall of an alleyway, and while he believed she had probably enjoyed it -- eventually -- it was true that she had also not agreed to it, in so many words. Probably the opposite. Her reappearance therefore posed a complication in his life that he was unhappy with: "Christ. Get the fuck inside before anybody notices, then."

She stalked past him, leaning against the back of his sofa, and he closed the door to the apartment before turning to find her with crossed arms. "I want that memory card, Dan. Now."

The memory card went to a portable audio recorder the wolf carried. She'd had it at the time; its contents required little imagination to divine. "Memory card. Memory card..."

"The SD card for my TASCAM, Danny. I know you have it. I want it back now."

The problem for Sandra, he decided, was that -- as with most wolf bitches -- her anger only made her hotter. Now, for example, her teeth were half-bared. "Oh, that."

"Yes. That."

"You gave me that." Among other things.

"No I didn't," she shot back. Her lip was starting to curl, and he grinned in spite of himself. "You took it from me after you raped me."

Yes, she was getting feisty. Dan returned the growl she was cultivating, to show that two could play at that game. "Oh, is that what we're calling it now?"

His growl narrowed her eyes further, and he saw her tail flick, and start to curl. "What else would you call it?"

"Well, Jesus. See, the way I remember it, you decided to get up in my face for some little thing of yours --"

"Reporting." Sandra said with a nice little scowl for emphasis. "I'm a reporter."

"Alright, public radio bitch, reporting," he conceded, although for some reason the epithet did not pacify her. "That's why you decided to pick a fight with me and why you were so fucking wet. Guess this must be the evening edition, then. God, I just have to wonder what is it about field reporting that makes it so damn hot for you? Wait, wait -- don't tell me --"

Predators. They're so cute before you take 'em down a peg. She raised her lip further; he could see sharp canines, and the glint of a stud in the wolf's tongue as she spat: "have you ever even heard of consent?"

"What is this, eighth grade civics? You George Washington or something? Plannin' on writin' a Declaration of Independence for yer --"

Another snarl. Probably, beneath the nice leather jacket that gripped the wolf's generous curves, her snowy hackles were up too. Dan licked his chops and decided he'd have to find out. But she gritted her teeth, and spoke with the deliberateness of someone who is trying to defuse a situation. "The card."

He pretended he hadn't heard. "I'm just trying to figure it out, that's all. Because if that's what you think last time was, this time is just gonna --"

"There is no 'this time.'"

"Well." He tilted his head, and looked the wolf over. Seasonal clothing with a Northern California flair. Pair of Asolo boots that had probably been through most of South America. Tight jeans, raw by the looks of it, scuffed and well-worn. A supple leather jacket that clung to her body and did a very good job indeed of calling attention to her chest, with her paws at her hips the way they were. "See. That's where you're wrong."

Sandra's eyes flashed. "Don't press your luck."

Dan made a point of letting his gaze linger, and he licked his lips again. "I'm sorry, did you think this was a negotiation?"

He took a step closer, and as he'd known she would the wolf swung at him, reflexively. He caught her paw -- it was a deceptively strong punch, and he grunted with the effort, but it didn't take much to pull her off balance, spinning the white wolf around and locking his other arm around her belly to fix her in place.

"Careful," he growled; his muzzle was nudged into her ear, and he could lower his voice to a dripping purr. "I like 'em fighty, remember?"

"Lemme -- fucking --" She twisted sharply, struggling in his grasp, punctuating each burst of syllables with another kick. "Go."

Except that each time she tried to get away, he tightened his grip further. Like a python. "That's it?" Sandra jerked heavily, and drove her free elbow into his side. With a snarl of surprise and a sudden burst of adrenaline he shoved her forward, up against the wall of his apartment -- hard enough to topple a stack of DVDs from his entertainment center, and to knock the breath from the little wolf bitch. "Better."

"God damn it," she gasped into the wall, and aimed an awkward kick at his leg that he avoided, and responded to by pinning her thigh with his knee. Now as she fought, the squirming heat of her body was pushing into him and he snickered approvingly, with a sharp grind of his hips against her firm little butt. She felt that, he knew, because she growled uselessly. "You can't do this."

"You said that last time, too." Another buck of his hips and Sandra's desperate jerking teased his cock into hard, aching stiffness that he pushed eagerly into her futile struggles. He had her good and trapped. Trapped enough that he could free up his paw to search for the zipper of her jacket, tugging it down inch by yanking inch. "But yes, I can. Pick another word."

"Son of a bitch," she growled again, although those snarls were getting less and less sure of themselves. Beneath the jacket she just wore a light shirt that presented little barrier to his paws as he fondled her chest. God but she had an amazing body. Her breasts were more than a pawful. Nice and heavy; he squeezed her and she twitched. Her ears splayed. "You shouldn't --"

"Closer," he grinned. "Get your jacket off. It's in the way." He'd gotten the zipper all the way undone, but he needed some cooperation to free her arms.

"Fuck you."

Dan rolled his eyes and forced her into the wall again, crushing the air from her lungs. He put his muzzle to her ear and growled quietly -- it was nice not having to shout. "Take it off, or I will tear it off."

Sandra's teeth were gritted and from the corner of his eye he could see her glowering. Trembling, she shrugged her shoulders, and as soon as her arms were free enough he pulled the jacket sleeves away roughly. Didn't want her to change her mind. The soft leather fell to the floor, and he ran his paws approvingly down the cotton of her shirt.

"Better," the stoat purred, returning his muzzle into place. "That's a good little bitch." Last time, they'd been in public and he'd wanted to hurry. Now, he worked his paw under the hem of her shirt to feel her soft fur -- she sucked in her belly with a gasp as he touched her and Dan laughed. "Now, what were you saying, wolf slut? I shouldn't?"

"Yes." Her muzzle was clenched; her voice muddy with the stifled growl. "You shouldn't."

Her shirt was bunched up at her ribs, by now, and Dan's paw found her left breast, groping her wantonly. The fur there was soft; downy. Nice, and white, and pure. Well. So much for appearances. "That's a matter of opinion," he drawled. He came up on bare flesh, hot under the pads of his exploring fingers. She choked back a whine as he squeezed the nipple teasingly. "You stopped fighting."

The wolf shut her eyes. "You'd just do it anyway."

"Now you're starting to get it." He smoothed her fur down as his paw went for her belt, pulling it open and unfastening her jeans. The zipper yielded swiftly and he pressed his paw down and into her crotch. "But it was cute while you pretended."

"I'm not fucking pretending," Sandra said -- into the wall, which probably believed her more than the stoat did. He felt around until he found the edge of her panties and forced his fingers down until he found her slick, soft lips. The wolf jerked again. "God damn it -- stop it."

"Mm-hmm," Dan grunted, feeling slippery wetness coating his fingers as he teased her. "Deadly serious. Not just another needy wolf who needs somebody to use her like the little bitch she is." He put a hissed emphasis on that word, and his paw curled to stuff two fingers deep into her. No effort. He felt her squeezing instinctively over him, buried to the knuckle in her sodden cunt. "Right?"

"God damn it," she swore again; it was most of what she seemed capable of saying, and now there was almost a whimper to it. "Danny, come on..."

When she said it like that it sounded... very needy. That was not the intent -- maybe -- but who was the stoat to argue? He pumped his fingers in a few deep, plunging strokes as she pulsed and shivered around the intruding digits. "Was that begging? I think you would beg for me, wouldn't you? Don't worry, bitch. I won't make you. Maybe next time."

He forced her into the wall with his shoulder to keep her from moving while his other paw undid his own pants and he tugged them off swiftly, along with his boxers. His cock was at full attention, hot and stiff as he ground it against Sandra's soft-furred thighs.

That put a little fight back into her. The wolf squirmed and tried to get away, and he had to tear his fingers from her snug pussy to keep her from getting any ideas about escape. Wrapped his arm back around her belly and growled into her ear. "No. You don't need to pretend, radio bitch. I already know you can be a good little whore. We've covered this."

Sandra tensed, and bunched her leg for a kick. He shifted his stance, anticipating it, and she surprised him by throwing her full weight back, using the wall for leverage. "Fuck you," she snapped, as he staggered back two paces to catch himself.

She started for the door, but Dan had his feet beneath him again and he grabbed her wrist, letting her own movement pivot her around and then putting his other paw between her shoulderblades to throw her up against the arm of his sofa. She fell forward, and just barely caught herself -- but he was already back behind her, and when she opened her muzzle he let her wrist go, and promptly clamped it shut again. "I already said I like 'em fighty," he reminded her, as she tried to straighten up and wound up pushing her pert rear straight into his hips, forcing his cock between the eider-soft fur of her white thighs.

Sandra grunted into his paw, and for a moment he felt teeth on it.

A buck of his hips to remind her of her station calmed the bitch back down, although he shifted his grasp a little in case she got any smart ideas. "You are fucking terrible at pattern recognition. Fortunately..." he trailed off, pushing her thighs apart with his knee and lifting the tip of his cock into place, teasing her for a moment. She twitched as he started to push inside her, and he nipped her ear. "Fortunately, it don't matter much, do it?"

Her ears went back, momentarily freeing the one from his teeth, and he jerked his hips upward, plunging inside the wolf in one deep go. Steamy, wet heat grasped at him as he hilted himself in her and she stiffened with a muffled oath into his paw. Danny groaned, and rocked his hips in a sharp, short thrust that grated his cock over her clinging folds.

Another oath followed, which didn't sound very polite, so he did it again, grinding his hips up so her tail was pinned between them. "Do it?" he asked her, voice low. Finally she shook her head, and he rewarded her with a marginally gentler thrust. Not because he felt particularly charitable. He did not. But pushing into her more slowly, feeling her part to aching tightness around his girth as he forced it into her inch by inch...

She was every bit as good as he remembered. All of it, actually, including the resistance. It was nice to see a bit of spark in a bitch, even one as mouthy as Sandra. But she was smart, needy, or slutty enough to protest only up until the point she had a cock crammed into her and that was okay, too. His rocking thrusts took up a swift, clashing rhythm of fur on fur and slick flesh squelching together.

And for the first dozen or so, the hapless wolf kept up the appearance of protest, at least, but her muted cursing became weaker until finally he decided he could let her muzzle go. It fell open, and she gasped. "Fucking --"

He grabbed her by the throat, just beneath the jawline, and hauled her back against him, sinking his teeth in her ear. "Huh-uh," he warned, and grunted with the effort of the heavy thrust that followed. "Be a good girl now."

Sandra didn't acknowledge, but at least she obeyed. A moment later he felt her legs shuffle, and almost had to bite her again -- but she was shifting her stance to brace herself better against the fierce tempo of his rutting. Even as wet as she was -- I'm-not-fucking-pretending, in_deed_ -- she had to work to take him.

He had to work too, though, and that was getting old. Sandra wasn't doing much to help -- she had, he suspected, forgotten how big the stoat was until he was reaming her tight little cunt and she had to stretch up on her tiptoes. Tiring. Besides, he wanted to see more of her stunning ass, and what the fuck was she going to do? Stop him? "Bend over," he told her, and nudged her back with his paw. Her head tilted -- what, whore, like you don't know what I mean? "Bend over, so I can fuck you like a dog."

A growl of protest, so he pulled her wrist from where it was holding her up on the back of the sofa and shoved her forcibly downward. Christ, he had to do everything. She tried to get back up, and he pushed her down again with an exasperated sigh.

"I know you know how this works, bitch," he told her severely, and now that she was bent over he gave her a nice, deep thrust as an object lesson -- deep enough to meet resistance as he bottomed out in her, and she jolted sharply. "Gonna cooperate?"

Her answer would not have passed muster at Sunday school, but so what?

Two more wet, messy bucks and he decided his instincts had been right. She was even better this way, posed so that he could grab nice pawfuls of her solid rump, pulling her back to meet him as he plowed the shivering wolf bitch from behind. They were made for that, after all. "You like this, don't you?" he said. Grinning to bare razor fangs, his voice slurred and guttural.

Sandra's heavy panting made it difficult to tell what she was saying. He felt his pace building. It was harder and harder to stay measured and slow and now she was making hoarse little grunts every time he hilted in her, and her paws dug sharp furrows in his couch cushions.

He repaid the favor to her rump, squeezing her roughly, tugging at her fur and raking her with his claws. Leaned into her for just that little bit more depth and she went still like she'd been shot. A ragged, untidy cry, and just as he started to pull back he felt her clench hard around his cock, and a convulsive arch that worked through her body like the sway of an overloaded bridge.

He couldn't even move. Had to stop, half-buried in her, as her trembling thighs worked her hips in a bucking frenzy and her fingers splayed and then dragged slowly over the cushions. Her quivering pussy spasmed around his prick in rhythmic, sucking jerks that drew her almost painfully snug on him.

Well, he didn't have a knot. He guessed the bitch was just making do. Rode it out, giving gentle grinds that moved him as much as he could, waiting for her to relax. Finally she did -- panting, tongue lolling out, breath hitching -- he thrust sharply again and she wailed, forcing her own paw into her muzzle and biting down to stifle the sound as another heavy shudder rolled over her and again her inner muscles gripped and tugged on him.

Which was well and good but the stoat was going to lose control of himself. Shutting his eyes, he let his attention focus just on where the wolf's cunt was wrapped vise-tight and hot and dripping wet around his cock. Her silken folds stretching to envelope him as he plunged himself into her hungrily. Did it again, more shakily. Again.

He heard the wolf bitch's whine as a keening plea and whether she'd really meant it that way -- she was cumming again, fighting to keep from howling as he rutted into her -- it was all too much. Dan gritted his teeth, managed a few more deep, erratic thrusts, fucking her into the arm of the sofa before the last one pinned her and he let himself go with a primal snarl.

Pleasure swelled up and burst over him -- the stoat grunted with the first tense pulse of his seed as it raced up his shaft and jetted in a hot splash, deep inside the wolf who was too busy kicking in her own spasms to care. He bucked reflexively, straining to push himself deeper -- meeting resistance that gave, suddenly, and a squeezing pressure around his tip as the next few spurts of his cream pumped directly into her womb.

He couldn't keep from humping into her through his orgasm, groaning as he flooded the helpless wolf bitch with his load. The trembling urgency ebbed and his spurts began to slow, and he felt the gentler movements forcing sloppy gushes of his cum from around her clinging lips -- smearing it into her rump as his own rocking thrusts spilled his seed from her tight, well-used cunt.

Finally neither of them were moving -- both out of breath and drained. He closed his eyes and relaxed for a moment on her back, heedless of the claws that were still dug into her belly. Dan did not have any conspicuous fetish for dogs, but he sort of saw the value a tie would've brought to the situation.

It would've kept her from pulling away, were she so inclined, but at the moment the wolf was gurgling incoherently and didn't seem capable of much movement at all. "Happy?" Sandra gave a muzzy, garbled non-answer. "Guess so."

The stoat made the effort to get up, and then abandoned it, slumping down on her snowy back again. Again that overwhelmed mumble. Again a full-body shudder from the diminutive bitch, who was a good size or three too small for his cock, really.

Well, at least she liked it. "Glad you stopped by."

"It wasn't going to be like that..."

He found his feet again, finally, and stood. Patted her rump, and took a moment to take in the sight of her bent over and spent, his massive cock still three-quarters stuffed inside her. It was hard to believe it fit, but... "Uh huh."

"Wasn't..."

Another pat. "Yep."

"I was going to offer to buy it off you."

Dan coughed a startled, snorting chuckle, halfway through starting to fondle her. For the second time, if you counted her innovatively futile attempt at escape, she'd done something to surprise him. "You fuckin' for real?"

"It's not the kind of thing I... I want somebody else to have. I figured I could give you a few hundred and..."

"Few hundred?"

The she-wolf flicked her ear, and spoke to the sofa rather than to him. "Five."

"Deal."

"What?"

Dan put his paws back on her shapely ass and gave her a shove as he tugged himself back, pulling free from the heat of her body. More of his cum followed, spilling wetly into her thighs and spattering the carpet. "I said it's a deal." Anyway he'd already got what he wanted; he licked his chops as he took a few steps back to regard the soiled bitch. "You want your thing back, you can buy it off me."

Awkwardly, Sandra turned around and sat on the arm of the sofa. "What was this, then?" she gestured at the mess between her thighs, his seed trickling from her as she shifted with the movement.

"Sure as fuck wasn't payment. Think of it as a bonus," he offered, with a lewd grin. "'Sides, you got what you came for."

Her ears pinned. "That wasn't why I --"

"How the fuck stupid do you think I am?" he cut her off. Now that he'd gotten off, the dopey slut's protests were no longer arousing him. He chalked that up to the afterglow. "Might as well just admit it. You coulda showed up, said, 'I'll give you five hundred for that tape thing,' and that woulda been fuckin' it. You know that."

"I didn't know you were going to force yourself on me."

"Yeah, I'm sure it came as a big fucking surprise. Definitely not just another needy bitch lookin' to get some sense fucked into ya all along." Shaking his head with a dismissive smirk, he padded off towards the kitchen, where he'd left the memory card on a counter. "You had no idea what was going to happen. None."

"I didn't."

He rolled his eyes. Hard. "Yeah, the first time, maybe. You come back here? To my apartment? Alone? Jesus, you're either asking for it or you're too fuckin' dumb to know the difference."

"Fuck off," she muttered. Because he was right, probably.

He tossed the card at her. "Pay up, now."

"I shouldn't."

"But you will," he smiled knowingly. "Five hundred, like you said. Another five gets you the other copy."

"There is no other copy."

He paused, and decided it wasn't worth pressing. "Alright, so you called that bluff."

She grunted, and bent over to slip the memory card into the pocket of her jacket. It gave him a nice view of her from behind -- a fetching recap, with the fur matted and sodden and her tail draped pleasantly over the curve of her rear. She turned, caught him looking, and growled. "Oughta fucking..."

"Oughta fuckin' what?"

"Call the fucking... cops," she finished with a sigh, as she realized the absurdity of the threat. At least she was learning -- then again, he'd thought that last time. She shoved a stack of bills at him. "Take it. I'm going."

"Hold up." Fifty, a hundred, a hundred fifty, two hundred... "Looks about right."

"Then I'm going. My boyfriend's waiting, anyway. Shit."

She was dating Paul Fisher, who was another wolf and one whose company Dan enjoyed substantially less. "You left him tied up or something?"

"Go to hell," Sandra swore, tugging her jeans back on. Then she grimaced. He saw that she was still dripping; their combined mess stained her jeans darkly. He'd done a pretty good job, he thought. Grinned. Felt his cock starting to stiffen again.

"Have you considered just dumping the dumb fuck --"

"I said go to hell --"

"-- Or are you planning to slut it up with every man, woman and feral in town until you get what you want? You know -- I can ask around the office. I'd like to see Cutter Kendrick rail you," he mused. Clint Kendrick was also a wolf -- dog of some kind, anyway; he couldn't really tell them apart. "Bet he's got one of them knots. Think you'd beg for him, too?"

Having buttoned her jeans, she shrugged on her jacket and glared icy daggers at him. God, but wolves were so fucking adorable when they acted all fierce. "Go fuck yourself, Danny."

Mmf. That's it, growl for me. "Alright," he decided. The chicken was long since cold anyway, and what else was he gonna do? "That's enough of that. Get over here."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to." She glanced to the door, and the stoat bared his teeth warningly. "Don't be silly or nothin'."

"I told you, my boyfriend's --"

"He'll wait," Dan told her, although since he didn't feel like wasting time he did the bitch the favor of walking to her -- two strides, and when she took a step towards the door he blocked her chest with his arm. "He'll wait, and you've got him whipped anyway."

"I really need to go," she muttered; it wasn't quite as acerbic, and in its weakness it was basically an acknowledgment of everything he'd said. And done.

"Well, I ain't done with you. Just decided that. On your knees."

"What?"

He rolled his eyes again, and nudged his foot into her knee from behind, putting her off balance and giving her a good downwards shove at her shoulders. She toppled obligingly. "Get on your knees, public radio bitch," he repeated, and enunciated for her benefit. "And stay there."

"And do what?" His cock was at eye level -- mostly erect now and still glistening with her juices. She turned her muzzle to avoid looking at it.

With a grunt, he turned it back. She turned away again, and he twisted her muzzle sharply, holding it in place. "The longer you play stupid, the more I'm gonna have to get out of you. Be a good slut and get to work."

Sandra glanced past him, at the door. Her eyes narrowed. Then she huffed a sigh, her ears went back -- and a moment later he felt a silky smooth wetness curl around the base of his length. She grumbled something inaudible.

"Yeah? You like how you taste? Do that again."

She did, and Dan groaned huskily. Canines. Those nice, broad tongues -- just perfect for this. His pulse throbbed him larger and firmer with every passing second, and he humped his hips against her muzzle, letting his shaft bump and nudge along the bridge of her nose.

Sandra was, he suspected, sort of getting into it. The flickering laps of her soft tongue came faster and faster, and when he felt the stud in her tongue drag playfully over him he couldn't help but groan again, thrusting forward sharply. Time to stop playing around. "Open yer muzzle."

The wolf bitch paused, and he could feel her eyes on him, sizing him up. "I don't... know..."

"Don't know what?"

She circled him carefully with her fingers, and he could tell she was having the same thought as he had when he fucked her -- how the fuck am I going to... she lapped at him, hoping he'd let her off the hook with just that. "Can't I just..."

"Muzzle. Open."

Sandra swallowed, and felt the heft of his shaft warm and solid and heavy in her paw. Her eyes were wide and skeptical. "No," she finally shook her head. "There's no way."

He was not about to be denied. "You got a big fuckin' mouth, pup. It'll fit."

She swallowed, slightly apprehensively, but he didn't have to threaten her again. Carefully, she parted her lips, and sucked the tip of his cock between them. The stoat tensed, and he felt her flinch as a spurt of thin precum hit her tongue. Then warm, tight pressure closed about him as she took his prick into her muzzle steadily.

Very, very good. Pleasure jolted up through him as she bore down, her lips and tongue seeming to caress every veined ridge of the stoat's thick meat. Her ears were back, and her breath came in whistling gasps through her nose -- but that was why wolves had those nice pointy muzzles. Wasn't it? Really?

He growled in tense, shuddering gratification. And, since she seemed to be having trouble, shoved his hips forward a few inches until her muzzle was nicely filled and he was pushed up against the back of her throat. She half-gagged -- but didn't, just a snug rippling sensation as she swallowed, and he let her pull back to catch her breath.

Her tongue curled wetly around him, cupping him as he throbbed and jerked and twitched. The stud provided a sharp point of focus, drawing his attention to the patterns her tongue made as she scoured him.

Such a pro. "Fuckin' Christ, that's a good girl," he panted to her. "Such a good girl. Where'd you fuckin' learn that?" In truth Dan was pretty sure the bitch had a college degree -- Paul had mentioned it, in one of his interminably stupid conversations. Whatever she'd gone to school for, though, the stoat was pretty certain he knew how she'd been spending her time.

Trying to distract himself from the rising pleasure he felt, Dan chanced a look downwards. The softened triangles of her ears were splayed but as he watched the saliva-slicked flesh of his cock disappear into her pristine white muzzle there was no fucking way she wasn't getting off on it. Too eager. Too eager and far too fucking good.

His breathing was coming faster now, shallow and rough-edged. He couldn't help himself. Every touch of her tongue sent sparks rolling up his increasingly sensitive length. Sparks that caught -- smoldered -- flared up --

Dan sucked in his breath and then groaned hoarsely, ramming all the way into her as the raw, white-hot sensations overtook him. Sandra whined in surprise and he heard her choking gurgle as he spattered her throat with his salty essence, no less strong than the first time. He bucked into her twice more, two more strong spurts of cum spilling down her throat before he recovered enough to pull himself away.

She grunted, trying to clear her muzzle even as another rope of warm, sticky weasel cum lanced forward to catch her muzzle and the soft fur of her cheek. Dan squeezed his paw around his cock as it throbbed and twitched, painting the wolf's fur with his musky load.

Sandra flinched, tried to lick herself clean... but there was too much of it, and by the time he was done -- sagging forward on weakening knees, using her shoulders for support -- most of her fur was matted with his cum, and it dripped lewdly from her laden whiskers.

He managed to straighten up, although it took him stepping back from her and he saw that she was glaring again. "What the fuck?"

"'Wha' th'fuck' what?"

The wolf frowned deeply, and dabbed at her muzzle, staring at the back of her paw. "This is not... inconspicuous." No, that it was not; when her ear flicked, he saw he'd managed to get a bit there too. "Can I use your shower?"

"What for? It looks good on you. 'Sides, ain't like anybody can see you on air."

"My --"

"Yeah, yeah, yer boyfriend," he brushed the complaint off with a wave of his paw. "What's he gonna do about it? Not a fuckin' thing, useless fuck that he is. An' it ain't like you comin' back soaked from the shower's gonna be any easier to explain, is it?"

He was grinning, although she did not seem to see the humor in it. Reflexively she lapped at her muzzle, and then made a face. "Asshole."

"You know, you sound a lot nicer with a cock in your mouth."

"You could've said something first."

Dan shrugged. "Next time."

"There is no --"

"Stow it. There is if I want there to be. Now..." He looked the white wolf over. "You're dressed to leave. Either get out or get undressed again."

Sandra rolled her eyes, but saw that she wasn't going to get her shower. She was cursing under her breath, which would've meant more had her breath not been thick with the scent of the stoat's seed. She kicked the door open, and slammed it shut. One more thing for Alex to complain about.

Now it was quiet again. He looked at the money she'd left him, chuckled softly, and rolled it up tight. What the fuck was he going to do with that? Invest it? Beer money, was more like it. California bitches were too loaded for their own damned good -- saw that when he pulled them over, too, all pouty in their expensive convertibles and their conspicuously tattered designer clothes.

At least Sandra was a pretty good fuck, once you knocked the fight out of her a bit. And she'd sucked his cock like a champ. He doubted she was going to be able to wash all of him out of her fur before her boyfriend noticed. Dan laughed again, and cracked open another bottle of beer.

Well, at least that meant he'd finally have something to talk about with Paul.