Lined Up

Pulling in behind a pickup truck full of tired beavers in construction gear, Wolt cranes his neck to look around at the cars, counting them off slowly.

"Fourteen deep... well, we're gonna be here a while."

"Think we should just go inside and order?" I ask.

"Nah, look at that line. They're wrapped around the building," he replies, peering at me over the tops of his shades. "Guess that gives us plenty of time to figure out our order. You know what you want?"

I put a hoof on his leg to brace myself and lean across his lap to look at the menu. "Fuck, everything looks so good."

There's a sudden weird sensation at the back of my head, and the next thing I know it, his paw's running through my headwool, grasping and curling it around his fingers excitedly.

"Uh, *hi*, Wolt," I laugh pointedly, giving him a weird look. "Just make yourself at home there, okay?"

"Thanks. Been staring at it all night," he grins, not bothering to take his paw off of me. "Go on. You were sayin' about gettin' some protein in you."

"Yeah, uh. Just that I'm fuckin' *starved*." I shift a little, still leaned over him awkwardly while my ass is still half in the passenger's seat. "I haven't eaten anything all day. I could go for a *dozen* burgas right now."

"Little ewe like you? *No way*." His smile widens as he lifts his other paw to the back of my head, even while easing off the brake pedal slowly to creep Al's car forward in line. "You look more like a Baby Buglet type to me."

He's *still* salty about that, huh? "What can I say, Wolt. I'm a meat lover."

"Think you'd ever try *mammal* meat?"

"Nah. I mean, I've tried fish, but--"

"No, not to eat -- more like, to *taste*, anyway," he responds, eyebrows raised. He's no longer playing with my wool but his paws are *still* very much holding onto me, almost possessively.

As I start to reply, out of the corner of my eye *something* catches my attention.

Oh.

Oh, *that's* what he's talking about.

"Hey, uh, we're--"

"--still thirteen cars deep," he interrupts. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin', Femmy?"

I huff a little, trying slowly to shift back into my seat. Way to make it *awkward as hell*, Wolt. Great. I gotta deal with this all the way to Bunnyburrow.

"Yeah, how about you at least buy me dinner first," I grunt.

"S'what I'm offering to do." He reaches into his pants and flashes a Bug Burga gift card at me. "Got a *hundy* on this bad boy. Won it in a contest -- not even Anna knows about it."

First of all: why didn't *I* know about that fuckin' contest? Secondly: "I'm not gonna *prostitute* myself for fast food!"

"No, no! Nooo. You *misunderstand,* pillow pal -- I ain't tryin' to *buy love* offa you. Even *I* know better than that." Wolt strokes the back of my head affectionately, his claws tenderly massaging the back of my scalp and sending shivers down my back. "I repay all *favors* in *trade*. The burgas are just me sweetenin' the pot."

Before I can even say anything, he rolls both windows down and a cross-breeze blows in, instantly filling my nostrils with *powerful* scents.

Greasy, *delicious* fast food. Crispy fries, juicy burga patties, buttery bread...

...the thick musk of my hot, confident, good-looking neighbor next to me...

"Uh." I'm not even a predator and my sense of smell's overloaded right now. I squint again at the menu, pretending to study it, my hooves grasping awkwardly. "I... I dunno. I mean -- if I *did* do you *that* 'favor' we'd *definitely* get caught."

The car lurches forward again, and I lose my balance, tumbling into his chest. I try to right myself and accidentally end up putting my hoof square on the stick shift.


...only to remember too late that Al's car is an automatic.


Glancing down, I realize that I've got a hoof *full* of aardwolf rack-and-pinion and he's winking at me.

"Twelve, now. You wait any longer and eventually you ain't gonna have time." Leaning back in his seat, he jerks a thumb at the plastic sign showing off the restaurant's latest special, reading, in bold letters: **Limited Time Offer**

"Wolt, I mean--" I don't know why I'm *suddenly* filled with this sense of urgency! "Y-you want me to just... *blow you*. Right here in the fucking *parking lot*?!"

"If you're as hungry for *meat* as you say you are, I bet you could make short work of it."

The fabric-wrapped piston in my hoof jerks as Wolt not-at-all-subtly *thrusts* himself at me.

"Well?"

Yeah right, Wolter. Ain't gonna happen. I'm not gonna fucking let you run all over me just for some hamburgers, and fries, and shakes, and fried pies and, aaaaaand who the **good FUCK** am I kidding. I want him worse than I want the damn food.

Reaching for the zipper on his cargo shorts, I slowly unzip the grinning aardwolf, startling a little as his bare, sweaty, *dusky* dick *springs* loose like a cutout in a pop-up book. He's not even wearing *underwear*?!

"Can you at least *roll the windows up*?!" I plead. "We're *way* more likely to get caught with 'em down!"

Nodding, he does so. Glancing at the glass to make sure they're tinted enough to provide cover -- or at least plausible deniability -- I drop low and bury my face in his crotch, *breathing* deep.


Fffffuuuck.


One of his paws slowly traces its way down my back, finding its way to my skirt and slowly lifting it. I gasp as I feel his fingers grope my panty-clad butt.

"Eleven," he pants as the car lurches forward again.

I don't waste any more time. Pressing my lips to his tip, I push my face down his pole, taking the full thing all the way into my mouth. He's not so big that I've got to worry about deepthroating him, but he sure ain't a small fry either.

Apparently it's a hit, because Wolt throws his head back and lets out a full-lunged *howl* like he's Al him-fuckin'-self.

"*Woooof*," he drawls, gripping the steering wheel for emphasis.

I laugh in spite of the cock in my mouth -- Wolt's too crass to take seriously. Brushing a little wool out of my eyes, I stop sucking just long enough to sort-of reply.

"'Whllf'? Thffugg haffnnd to 'mmyoww'?"

He wiggles appreciatively in his seat, squeezing my fluffy ass with his paw.

"Hey, girl, I'm flexible. I'll make whatever sound you want me to."