FSE

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Wrapped this up quite sleepy so I apologize for any typos or grammar issues!

Edit: oof yeah I gotta update this at some point, sorry!

After some issues, a lady decides to do what she can to help her husband out of a bad mood!

Please read tags if you're offended by various content.

We'd been on the road for hours. My head leaned against my palm's heel, and my elbow pressed to the door, near the glass. Through the tempered window and my rose-tinted sunglasses, I could see the verdant hills of South Central Appalachia. The sunglasses were a bit much for where we lived but not for our destination. James had an aunt with an old beach house on the Virginia coast. We had been there a couple of times before but usually with more family. This was the first time it'd just be him and me.

Of course, I was excited to go. It seemed like a lucky time to get the time off because James and I had recently been under too much stress. Our lives since we'd married felt like one bad thing after another. We both had a lot of issues to work through, and sometimes those things would butt heads. So a little break where we can just have fun and relax was sorely needed and would be a good break from the stress.

But it didn't feel like much of a break at all when James said he was getting “Christmas lights on the dash." It seemed as though all sorts of things were suddenly going wrong left and right. We hoped it was a bug that could go away, but we had to stop. James pulled over and let out the most frustrated sigh, tense, knuckles tight. I merely looked away. I was scared. No, it wasn't that I feared he would hurt me. Of course, he wasn't that sort of man. James was only a few inches taller than me, and he was a civilized man. He worked… some kind of IT, and he hadn't so much as taken a fist to a piece of hardware.

No, the fear sat squarely on the feelings, his feelings. I'd become accustomed to managing them– or maybe really just responding to them. He grew angry quickly, and he stewed. Asking his feelings would only frustrate him, and he would dig in further, his resentment toward me growing palpably. Over the years, it didn't really improve, in fact, it felt like it worsened. I had grown quieter, more timid, and jumpy under the swing of his moods.

And so my eyes jumped here and there, never landing on him or moving much in his direction but simply searching as though they were reading some unseen text. I'd heard your eyes do that when you're trying to think creatively, or maybe it was when you're trying to remember something. But as they searched, so did I, for something to say or do in the moment. Soon enough, I recalled a sign. “Hey," I said, putting on my bravest face. In times like this, it was best to seem fine and to be helpful, it helped to keep his temper at bay. “You have Triple-A, right? They help in situations like this, right?" And I knew he did, of course.

So after he nodded reluctantly, the next hour was my husband on his phone a few times and an uncomfortable ride in the back seat of a tow truck with him in the passenger seat.

When we arrived at the shop, the place looked strangely cliche. I'll admit rural areas are not really something I had a lot of experience with. I was born in a city, grew up in a city, and lived in one. But the way this building looked– run down with exposed siding that rusted all over the place– it looked fictional to me for some reason. Some part of me expected a man wearing overalls to come out with an ear of wheat, perhaps a banjo in tow.

What showed up certainly broke that fantasy, but not exactly disappointingly. It was maybe disappointing that what he wore was a uniform of some sort, killing a bit of the country charm. It was a simple uniform, slacks, a black collared shirt with red trim and some kinda logo on the chest. Of course, that shirt was beat to hell, it'd been used for some time and the bear was absolutely stuffed into it.

And yes, the bear, that's what he was. He looked to be a brown bear, of which I don't know if there are specific sorts, but like a grizzly bear or something. And he was… honestly kind of handsome– tall. He wasn't cleaned up in the slightest, his fur kind of going everywhere and patches of grayish, blackish grease glistening here and there. Well, no wonder his uniform was black. But on top of not being exactly a pretty boy, the brutish man was unfortunately also wearing the most unfriendly face I might have seen on a non-human.

Of course, anthros weren't unheard of, just not that common where I lived, at least not bears. I'd known plenty of cats and dogs and rodents, but I knew out here there were bigger communities of raccoons and bears and wolves. Did I mention we were states away from home? He seemed to sort of have longer, more feathery hair on top of his head despite fur elsewhere. Similar to a human, his sideburns led down to a fur that was longer and more coarse, but the biggest difference was that it was a bit more reddish and dark than the golden-brown fur that sat everywhere else on him. Of course, this all was messy, disheveled as the rest of him. This was some sort of beard, it seemed, with a scruffy patch under his nose akin to a bristly mustache. I'd never seen something like facial hair on an anthro– or maybe I had before and just never noticed. His eyes were blue… they…

But it was then I realized I might have been staring because as my husband spoke to him, the bear had begun to raise an eyebrow and look my way. His face never grew anymore friendly, still something of a scowl, mouth twisted in nearly a grimace. He honestly looked almost disgusted to see us. Did he not like humans? I ducked my gaze lower, embarrassed, and I could tell he returned to looking at my husband as they spoke.

I'm a very pale woman, with powdery, fair skin and so the red on my face was likely obvious. But he didn't really seem to be paying attention anymore. Glancing back up at them, it was a bit odd seeing my husband so dwarfed by another man. Perhaps a human the bear's size would have looked smaller than this because the bear was just so wide as well, every feature on him broad, and he wore a pair of ears that made him a little taller, though a cowlick or two seemed to give them a run for their money. But a paw dragged over that hair that seemed matted with a grease that had nothing to do with cars, causing it to simply stand and hang in a different but similar mess.

“Yeah, it's Friday and my dad ain't here. So it's gonna have to be Monday" came his gruff, annoyed voice as though he was likely repeating himself. I was finally paying attention to their words, but the realization made my eyes widen. Fuck. It gave me pause, because I knew that if we had to wait until Monday, we'd be stuck in the middle of nowhere all weekend. Frustrated, James turned and stepped away, walking to the car to begin working our stuff out of the trunk to take to the motel.

As the bear was walking away, I began to follow him in a quick little anxious trot. Honestly, I didn't really know what I was doing. Maybe I had a sort-of “helpless white woman" instinct that I thought would get me out of a pinch. Of course, I know that's shady, don't get me wrong. As he walked his way towards a large desk, he turned his head towards me. He obviously knew i was following him the entire time but he hadn't bothered to turn his head until he reached the desk.

“Can I help ya?" in an annoyed blurt that brought out a thicker country accent that I'd noticed at this point. It was a tone that sounded a bit like someone trying to wake someone up. Perhaps I was staring again; I suppose I was following him silently for a few seconds. I jumped slightly and fidgeted in place for a moment, undignified and embarrassed for the moment yet again. There was just something about the way he looked down at me. He was so tall but he hunched so much that it betrayed it heavily. And yet he had so much height over me even with his body nearly curled forward. I realized now he might have been trying to see my face, or perhaps more easily communicate with shorter creatures.

“I-I… I'm sorry I just– isn't there anything you can do?" at this point the bear sighed an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes. “M'dad ain't here and he does the diagnostics–" I mumbled, interrupting him “Dad…? Are you like… a student?" I asked. Perhaps the bear was young. I admit I wasn't really sure that I knew what an old or young bear might look like.

This got a grimace out of the bear, who was furrowing his brows in annoyance as he spoke in a slightly higher, incredulous tone “Th'fuck kinda question is that? Just turned thirty. I work with my dad in the shop, I do the heavy liftin' physical stuff, he does the diagnostics." Well, my eyes wandered over to his arms. They did look… thick, extremely. They were covered in fur and they lacked much definition. I didn't know where it was fur or fat but his arms seemed a bit like logs. However they were… very thick logs. Each might be thicker than my waist, I thought.

But once my eyes went back to his face, he was once again wearing a very confused, annoyed, frustrated face that just silently said “What are you doing?" I blinked, realizing I'd spaced out briefly, and then suddenly spoke up. “I-I… Is there.. Anything… we can do? A-anything I can do…? P-please…" My face was likely red again, cheeks rosy, nose too most likely. I had already begun look away a bit, embarrassed. I felt like he was just gonna make fun of me again. But when I looked back he was giving me a look.

It wasn't really an easy look to describe. He was staring at me now, his expression a little more curious, his mouth closed. He looked stoic, mean almost. An eyebrow raised a bit and his eyes flicked down, then up. It wasn't really a cartoonish pan but it wasn't impossible that he was checking me out. God. Well, I hadn't really been intending to suggest anything like THAT, of course! But this look he gave me had me feeling all sorts of flustered. The problem was, I couldn't tell if he was stoic or if I just couldn't read the emotions on an anthro's face that well.

He grabbed a card and slapped it on the desk. Grabbing a pen, he held the card with a thick finger while he wrote something down. God, the pen looked like a toothpick in his hand. He was massive, for sure, but his hands were so much bigger and wider than a human's was. Mostly wider, but it was just a very thick, big pair of hands, even for his size.

I nearly yelped when he thrust that card right near my chest, jumping just slightly. “Here," he said, my eyes falling to it, seeing numbers having been written on it, partially obscured. The card seemed like a cheap, white business card. The print on it suggested it was that of the auto shop. What he'd written seemed to be a phone number. “It ain't impossible I could stay late. Just ain't likely I got anything to keep me in town all night." I blinked, taking his card and looking up at him with the stupidest expression. His own was still inscrutable, and he attached no smile or gesture to the statement.

Dumbly, I nodded, not fully understanding. “That's my cell," he said, leaving me wondering who calls it a 'cell' anymore. “You can text that" he offered simply. And as I searched the card for clues, I shuddered a bit. Like a slow echo, the feel of a bit of fur from his finger brushing past mine as he drew his hand away from the card sort of tingled on my skin, even if his hand was gone already. I nodded again, just sort of staring at the card, peeking up at him. Eventually, he just turned away from me and went back to doing something else.

I was so quiet on the ride to the rental place and then the ride to the hotel. Well, it was a motel, really, but the word “Hotel" was on it for some reason. I knew James was anger, a fury deep within him that he hid well from anyone but me. The room was dirty and dingy, but it wasn't really on either of our minds. That night we quietly got ready for bed. He went first, as he often did. I needed a lot less sleep, usually keeping to a schedule of about five hours, while he slept a solid 8. And the man slept like a log, he could sleep through anything. I'd even worked on my laptop next to him and taken calls with no issues.

It was once he was asleep, that I began to act. It was strange, as though my hands were possessed. But I had to. I didn't know why, but I had to act, I had to try to do something.

“Hey sorry it's late understand if you can't respond. You said maybe you could do something?" I sighed after sending it. There was a sort of tension for me, but I also knew I wasn't going to be getting a response.

The buzz made me jump, however, looking at my husband the instant it came. Of course, he'd sleep through the apocalypse, but for some reason it felt like that tiny buzz could somehow wake him.

“you the wife?"

I stared at it for a moment. Nothing had happened, nothing was going to, and yet I already felt this deep pit in my stomach, a weight in my chest, as though my lungs were being pulled, vacant. But eventually my fingers moved once again and we began to text.

“Yes, I'm the wife"

“im still at the shop"

“Is there anything you can do with the car?"

“depends"

“Anything we can do?"

“come give ass and i do it tonight"

My head turned to my husband's sleeping form, still snoring as he had been. It really did feel like he'd suddenly wake up standing over my shoulder, looking down at my screen. I couldn't believe I was having this conversation– if you could call it that! But the worst part was… I was considering it.

I'd be lying if I said it was just because I wanted to help. There was definitely more to it, a lot more. I was in this strange situation where just a few button presses would lock me into something I never thought I would ever do or could ever do. I felt like I didn't know myself in that moment, and there was some strange thrill to that. And even if his personality was.. nonexistent, he was a very handsome man, tall, rugged. But it wasn't just that, his shitty personality somehow made him more exciting. He seemed.. Mean, angry. Not angry like my husband, not a passive-aggressive issue of glances and comments. He looked like he could punch through a brick wall with those thick paws of his. He looked dangerous.

“leaving if ur not quick" he responded, and I nearly jumped. Tick tock. I didn't have time to think, so my fingers did it for me.

“Okay. When? Where?"

“the shop. Now."

“Ok"

I couldn't really believe what I was doing. I was numb through all of it. Getting something on, grabbing the keys to the rental, driving to the place. The way the rusty, dingy building lit up in the headlights when I pulled up made it seem worse somehow, dirtier, uglier. I was pale, unsure what I was doing, unsure why I was doing it.

It was like being in some kind of haze, and time didn't exist. Before I knew it, I was there, standing in the shop. The lights were still on but only some of them; The place was a bit dark. Outside was pitch black, too rural to be lit by more than the stars. I was breathing heavily, and I'm sure my face was flushed. I attempted to speak, but it was just a mumble under my breath. I don't even know what I'd said, but the big guy either didn't hear me or just outright ignored me.

I jumped and made a sound when I suddenly felt that wide catcher's-mitt of a hand land on my shoulder. My eyes looked up to the eyes i'd been avoiding, and his gaze was somehow terrifying. It wasn't like he looked mad. It was just… his eyes were locked on me and his expression was so inscrutable. He really was a very handsome guy but right now he looked like an animal. He hadn't even said anything since I'd shown up and I was starting to wonder if he would.

But the weight on my shoulder began to press and soon began to wobble me downward. It wasn't exactly clear, and yet I was guided down to my knees by the force. Now my mouth was open, heavy breaths rushing out of it as I found myself compromised. His hands undid the belt, zipper, and button of his jeans right in front of my face. And he fished his dick out of his boxers. I was so dazed and a bit stunned that I didn't blink until he began to gently smack my nose with it.

It wasn't the biggest thing in the world. One might think a big bear like that would be sporting something unearthly. But really it was a reasonable dick, just a bit longer and considerably thicker. His other hand touched along the side of my face. My eyes slowly closed, the sensation almost sweet. However, it shifted down, dragging those thickly calloused digits around my jaw. And then, with a rude prying of his thumb, he pressed my mouth open. I held it open, feeling like a cat or dog about to be force fed medicine.

But it wasn't medicine, but rather the wide and spongy head being pried into my little mouth. And now it had been done. Not only had I chosen to come here, but another man's dick was now in my mouth. I was a cheater. Nothing I could do would make this not have happened. And I was dazed. Fortunately, as he held my jaw, his other hand came up to grip the top of my head. Without much ceremony, he began just sort of fucking himself into my mouth. I winced as he pushed further and further back, and gagged slightly when he tried to cram that girth into my throat, failing.

What a slut. I barely even followed what happened as he so casually used my face like a toy. His wide head would drag wetly along my tongue, carrying its musky taste after a day of labor. I just screwed my eyes tightly shut, trying not to gag as he pumped. Soon enough, there were tears forming at the edges of my eyes and my body was trembling. But he just pressed and bucked. Soon he was spending more time trying to cram that thing down my throat, causing me to gag repeatedly. One of my hands came up to push on his thigh to push him away. I needed air, and the little gulps I'd been getting here, and there were not cutting it.

Despite the push from my hand his legs were unmoving as the rest of him. In fact, it felt like his hands only tightened around my head and his hips began to buck faster and harder. He seemed like he was getting worked up and some part of me was glad. Even if my head was spinning, I knew he'd cum and we'd be done. But instead, he yanked that dick of his out of my mouth. It was damp and glistening, and I could taste the precum on my tongue. It was strong, musky, masculine.

The hand that had been on my head curled its fingers to grip at my hair. I let out a small yelp and some whimpers as he guided me to basically turn around and bend forward. Even then, on all fours as I suddenly was, I coughed a bit, my throat having been doused with that same precum as he fucked my face. And I could smell it, I could smell his dick and that precum, taste it still. But it was nothing compared to the feeling of him gripping and tugging down my pants and panties with his free hand. I was shocked, letting out a gasp at the feeling of cold air down there.

“N-no– I– not there–" I stammered, things having gone far out of hand by now, not that I ever really knew what I was doing. But soon he yanked at my hair, forcing another yelp out of me, as he strangely maneuvered, sort of bending behind me. The bristly fur of his mustachioed muzzle tickled me unpleasantly as he nosed around between my legs, causing soft little surprised noises and twitchy jumps from me. And then he licked. I felt the thick, broad, hot tongue covered in spit that felt almost like a hot syrup just drag up against my labia, already sawing into the more inner parts. Despite being spongy and prehensile, it was strangely strong. But the man seemed strong everywhere.

Still, while I'd had cunnilingus before, this felt so much less… pleasant. It wasn't that it didn't feel good– on the contrary, even just one brush of that tongue felt better than most of what men have tried in my lifetime, of course they were humans. But the biggest difference was that oral sex usually felt like I was being pleasured, treated or spoiled in some way. But this… He gripped me painfully, he growled between my legs, his fur tickled and scratched my inner thighs, his teeth would nudge dangerously against my tender vulva. It was more like I was being eaten! I felt a fear, and it was like every drop of pleasure he pulled out of me with that tongue was ripped from me violently. I never thought this act could leave me feeling used and abused.

And in a strange way, I appreciated that.

In some fucked-up part of my brain something about this man, the way he gripped and controlled me, put me in place, did what he wanted– it all sparked this strange feeling in me. I was uncomfortable, hell I wanted to run. But at the same time I was… hornier than I ever had been and he was hungrily lapping up the fruits of that via the nectar I produced.

But the moan I didn't realize I was making was cut short by another yelp as he pulled my head back via my hair. The bear's head pulled up, drops of his spit landing on my exposed ass. And as he stepped his knees in between mine, he pushed it against me. It was his dick. Except… his dick was very wet. It felt slimy. I don't know if it was lube but it felt a lot more like it was just his… precum. To think he'd been creating so much that it left a viscous film over his dick, dripping generously. But then, perhaps all bears were like this. Some part of me wanted to find out.

Of course, there's a very big problem to feeling his precum, however. As he pushed the head of his dick into my eager, tender folds and pried his head impatiently against my vagina, it hit me. He was likely bare, no condom at all. Would he really do that? Would he just fuck me raw like that, on this dirty garage floor? I could barely think as I gasped as something much thicker than my partner spread me finally, stuffing itself into me proper as he pushed and pushed. Soon he was hilted and I could feel it pulsing. He felt rock hard, each throb really pressing into me.

I made a few pitiful sobs, but couldn't muster words. He didn't take his time, anyway. His dick began to drag back and buck forward, hilting himself in me a few times before he pulled back a bit more to begin fucking me. I was all gasps and chokes. He wasn't that much bigger than my partner and yet it felt so huge while it was inside of me. The girth especially seemed to make a big difference. It was another situation where it felt… very good, but I was at odds with myself. No, no, I should be ending this!

And so I managed to stammer out words between his thrusts, which came a bit paced. “I-I – W-wait– D-don't cum– Inside…. I'm not on the pill…." I managed out. I wasn't sure how easy to understand I was, but he did pause. I let out a sigh because it seemed perhaps he was indeed going to take out a condom or something of the sort. His wide paw let go of my hair, then, and I felt relieved to not have it pulled any longer. However that hand only went down to the back of my neck and then my upper back to– WHAM! The sudden shock of being pressed down onto my chest winded me. It wasn't that it was so hard, but rather my tits and chest did hit hard concrete, not a pleasant feeling. In truth I don't think he was trying to hurt me, since he could have done so easily.

Instead, in this position, he began to pump more eagerly. Now when he hilted in me it felt like he was hitting in deeper. It made me moan and whimper, unable to really help the slutty noises I was making. I hadn't ever felt so full, nothing close to it really! It wasn't just that he was bigger than what I was used to, but the stiffness of it and his… just the way his big hands gripped me, the way he used me. It all felt far better than I ever wanted it to. And so there I was, chest on the cold hard ground, ass up and a stranger rutting me like some whore. And wasn't I one? I was doing this in exchange for services, wasn't I?

I was lost in it, dazed and awash with sensations. Eventually my noises got quieter, less common as i just sort of rocked back and forth from the power of his thrusts. So I was surprised when I suddenly felt him start to speed up. But it wasn't as much of a surprise as the acrobatic maneuver he pulled. He didn't seem like a very flexible guy but his foot raised up and over my back to land squarely on my upper back and the back of my neck. Apparently he had taken his shoes off because I only felt his bare paw.

This position was new to me, and I wondered if it was common for him. But it held me down as I assume was the intention. It also suffocated me just a little, the weight his wide paw burdening me with adding to the pain and sensations. But it was short lived because after just a few more violent thrusts he grunted and planted himself in deep.

Now there were many odd things that raced through my mind in that instant, and I couldn't really tell you why. The floor was concrete but it was worn, cracked and cratered shallowly. It had clearly been painted blue at some point, but was mostly worn out and chiseled down. Also, it smelled strongly of grease, but I could smell the bear's musk, his fur, his precum. But also… he didn't really last as long as I'd expect. It felt like my partner lasted longer, so that came to me as a surprise. Of course, this experience was certainly far more pleasurable and more intense, so there's no real competition there.

Now, none of those thoughts really mattered at all because the weight of reality came crashing down after my strange bounce into non sequitur thoughts. He had pinned his hips firmly to my ass and that hard dick felt like it had swollen with each pulse. And the pulses? Yeah, I felt each one. It felt like the thing was throbbing inside me. My tummy felt warm, he had likely unloaded a considerable amount. But not only that, he had… done so without protection, and I knew it. I let a stranger not only fuck me but cum inside me. And humans were… perfectly capable of carrying cubs.

So what the fuck had I just done?

As my mind swirled, wishing it had some way to turn back time, I was dazed and stunned. Similarly, the bear seemed to be pausing, panting, resting, with that dick still lodged inside me. But before long he finally pushed my hips to pull himself out and then stood, leaving me to sort of roll to my side on the ground. He walked away. And then… after a while longer… I heard the sound of machinery. Well, I would assume he was doing something to prepare the car. I stood myself up, wobbly, pulling my pants and panties up. I looked back at him but… he wasn't looking at me at all, instead looking down at a desk he was standing at, looking for something in a drawer. When he found whatever it was, he turned and… he didn't even look at me.

And there was something biting about that, something that sat terribly in my stomach.

I wasn't really thinking very much when I got in the rental, and to be honest I'm not sure how I got home. I should have showered, of course, but I laid down with my panties soaking in a bear's cum, not to mention inside me.

The following day I awoke to the smiling face of my husband. He'd put his hand on me and shook me slightly as I groggily stared up into his face.

“I said he called and said the car's done! We're good to go!"

Of course when the problem is fixed he's fine again, like nothing ever happened. I nodded numbly as I stood to go shower, but he stopped me. He didn't want to waste any precious time and I had showered last night, he reminded me. Well yes, before a bear fucked the hell out of me. I didn't say that part, of course.

All morning I couldn't make eye contact. And when we got to the place, the bear never once looked in my direction. It still stung, for some reason I couldn't understand. I couldn't make eye contact with him the rest of the ride, but he didn't really notice. He seemed very relieved, back to normal now that the issue had been resolved. I didn't know if the wetness still dampening my panties was in my head or not and I dared not to touch and check. We could finish our trip without any interruption and he was pleased.

That's what mattered, right?