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That cold November night marked the second time in two weeks that Desmond had taken Victoria out on a date. It went that way publicly at least, with her changing her Facebook status to say she was having a second date after Desmond Lankett asked her out, when the reality was that it had been her idea, she told him upfront she was going to pay for it since she ate a lot, and she was probably going to fuck him too. Desmond didn't mind the ruse.

"I love this place," Victoria said. "They give you a huge basket of bread. Lots of wine, too."

Desmond smiled crookedly. "Can you even afford enough wine to get drunk?"

The fat beaver's hand reached across the partition and grabbed Desmond's crotch. She didn't care that he was driving and hardly noticed the way he sped up, then slowed back to normal when she started kneading him. "Yeah," she answered bluntly. "I'll probably sit on your face once I get tanked, though. You're cool with that, right?"

There was no point in lying to Victoria. Desmond had noticed not long after he met her that she wasn't given to teasing - she either did or didn't do things, and was never much for innuendo. "Yeah. You can sit on me whenever you want."

She squeezed his stiffening, small cock between her thumb and forefinger. The tiny size of his penis didn't bother her. Desmond was physically small and weak, and she enjoyed that about him. He could never fight back. "I'll keep that in mind. You're a total butt fiend, aren't you?" She laughed. "I don't blame you, asses are pretty cool. Remind me to give you a rimjob sometime, everybody says I'm good at them."

Desmond had stopped joking early on that he wanted to marry Victoria. Her reply was always a flat no, though she never seemed cruel about it. Being married, even if the idea was farcical, was simply never something she considered or cared to imagine. She liked being single too much. Desmond was the first guy she'd taken on a second date in years, however.

"I think we're here," the foxcoon said, knowing he was right but looking at Victoria for guidance anyway. She nodded, letting go of his crotch. "Uh, I made us a reservation. In your name."

Inside, the staff seemed to know Victoria by sight. They treated her with respect, but there was another feeling in the air Desmond only managed to put his finger on once they were seated: awe. They regarded the beaver as if she were some kind of mythical beast, showing a combination of utter deference and fear. Notably, they brought two small wicker baskets of breadstuffs to the table, where all other tables had only one. They were seated also in a booth off in the far corner where the lighting was at its dimmest.

Victoria chowed down on the bread, crunching thick crust under her overbite again and again. Crumbs fell to the table and dusted her torso, obscuring the witticism on her sweat-stained t-shirt: I took it in the butt and all I got was this funny walk. Desmond's attire, a cream button-down shirt and brand new blue jeans, made him look unbearably nerdy.

"Here," she said around a mouthful of roll. "Have some, it's free. They bring you more if you finish it all off."

Desmond looked into the first basket, which Victoria wagged at him obligingly. He took out a breadstick smelling faintly of roasted garlic and started to chew it.

Finally the waiter joined them, a tired middle-aged raccoon dressed in a way which reminded Desmond of a stereotypical TV butler. In an even American accent, he said, "Hello Victoria, and sir. Do you wish to see the menu, or-?"

"Just bring us both the lasagna," Victoria cut in, spewing crumbs from her mouth. She wiped her lips and overbite on the back of her arm. Desmond looked at the wall, blushing. "Two helpings for me. Desmond? Hey, Desmond, you want anything else? I'm buying."

"The lasagna's--, it's all right."

"He's shy," Victoria explained, smiling. "I dunno why, tough. It's not like I'm gonna take his pants off right here in the booth."

The raccoon smiled as one smiles when suppressing utter exasperation. "No, of course not. Not again." He turned on his heel and said, "Two plates of lasagna, one a double helping."

The beaver called after him as he left, "And don't go light on that wine!" Several couples turned their heads to glance at her, some glaring sternly, but Victoria was unfazed. She turned back to Desmond and cracked a smile at him. "He's nicer than he seems. I licked his butthole once when I didn't have the money to pay the check. You know what else?" Desmond looked at her sheepishly. Victoria winked and said lowly, "I actually had enough money, I just wanted to see if he'd go for it."

"You're really fun, you know that?" Desmond said, despite looking like he wanted to die.

She kicked off one of her sandals and slid her foot up his leg. The long table cloth and the darkness obscured what she was doing, but the shocked look on Desmond's face would have given it away to passerby. "Yeah, I know," she said coolly. "Hey, take your dick out. C'mon."

"Right here?" Desmond asked, his voice barely a squeak. His ears were splayed down flat.

Victoria faced mostly away from the other guests; it was Desmond whose back was to the wall. She lifted her shirt surreptitiously and let her naked, fat breasts show for five seconds which Desmond found both agonizing and titillating. His heart began to race as he stared at her jugs. His penis was already a stiff bulk in his jeans. As Victoria lowered her shirt, again exposing the vulgar legend, Desmond opened his fly. "This is goddamn crazy," he shakily said, pulling down his briefs and tucking them under his balls.

The beaver slid her sweaty foot higher and bumped his balls. She gripped his penis between her big toe and its neighbor. "Bet I can make you cum like this. They'll probably think it's garlic butter when they clean it up."

"God damn, Victoria." Desmond's fingers sank into the breadstick, crumbs falling onto the tablecloth. He looked uneasily at the other guests, finding their disinterest insincere. "Have you ever been caught doing stuff like this?"

"Nah," she said breezily. "First time for everything though, right?"

The obese beaver leaned over the table, letting her breasts rest on it. She stared intently at her date, her body as still as a statue, but her foot worked eagerly on him. A soft wet noise which had more to do with the slick sweat on her foot than his own wetness squeaked out from under the table cloth. It was so muffled and so soft to begin with that it was inaudible past their table. Desmond was still mortified by the sound, thinking each squeak and slap was deafening. "We're gonna get busted for this... oh, my god."

Victoria smiled. She pushed her foot into his groin, mashing his cock into his loins. She caused him to shudder, and clearly she enjoyed this power she wielded over him. "We didn't get caught at the carnival, and we were a hell of a lot more bold there, I think... you buttfucked me in the funhouse, remember?"

"I remember," Desmond hissed. "Keep your voice down."

Glancing out into the restaurant where other couples nibbled at spaghetti and dabbed their sauce with breadsticks, Victoria appeared to be a benign people-watcher. That was about all she was, in fact; she liked the feeling of Desmond's eager little cock under her foot, and she loved to tease her cute date, but that didn't occupy all of her attention.

"The lasagna here is so good," she said hungrily, turning her eyes on Desmond again. She went back to toying with his penis, squeezing and stroking its small, now utterly slick shaft in her toes. "Are you gonna cum?"

"There's too many people for that," Desmond muttered, but he was getting close and he knew it. The strain in his features betrayed him, picked up as easily to Victoria as tracks to a hunter. She grinned knowingly at him, resting her chin on her palms. He growled, "You're really good with your toes, okay? Can you stop?"

"We're not done," Victoria plainly said. "Come on... you'll relax once it happens. Then you can eat a bunch of pasta and pass out at home with me later."

Desmond whimpered almost silently. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as if stricken with a headache. "Oh, god. Oh, ga-a-awd... you're the worst..."

The beaver licked her plump lips, then her overbite, leaving all glistening with saliva. She leaned heavily on the table, causing its sturdy oak to creak. "Come on," she warmly urged. "C'mon, Desmond. You're right there. Come o-o-on."

Her foot moved urgently, abandoning skill for speed. She was shockingly quick for someone so fat, jerking Desmond off as well with her toes as fast as she would with a slippery, clammy hand. She felt the heat in Desmond's cock and wondered if it was him about to pop, or friction.

"Miss Victoria and company," said the raccoon waiter patiently, tiredly, ignoring the shocked flinch of the foxcoon and the bashful way he pulled the table cloth into his lap. Victoria blinked at the raccoon a few times, the closest she ever came to real surprise.

The raccoon held in his spindly-fingered paws a steel stray, its surface shined to a mirror sheen, and two dishes sat atop it with matching steel covers keeping the contents bathed in their own steam. "Your meal is served, if you're through with your appetizers."

"Yes, um, ye-yes. Thank you. That's very good," Desmond said shakily, feeling like a teenager who had narrowly avoided being caught masturbating in the bathroom. It was worse than that, actually; he felt like a teenager who knew mom or dad had seen exactly what was going on, but played dumb so all parties involved could save face. That was always so much worse.

"That's great, I'm starving," said the tubby beaver without an ounce of guilt. She watched rapt as the raccoon set down her plate, then pulled off the cover to reveal two colossal, but delicately neat slabs of lasagna oozing sauce and molten cheese. Desmond's plate was similarly unveiled, and the beaver regarded it with equal lust.

"Bon appetit, friends," said the raccoon, turning to take his leave with the tray and covers.

Victoria, her fork already digging into the lasagna, called him back. "Hey ringtail, I have a question."

He turned back to her, weary as ever in his eyes but patient in the rest of his face. "Yes, I know. We're currently short of wine. Someone is opening another case as we speak."

The beaver smiled crookedly. She'd forgotten the wine. "Oh. Nah. Not that. Listen, my date here thinks you're cute."

Now the waiter stared at Desmond with mild amusement, and Desmond stared at Victoria in helpless confusion. "You do?" the waiter asked, sounding neither interested nor offended.

"He sure does. I mean, he's kind of a ringtail too. Seems like a natural fit to me." She took a huge, sloppy bite of her lasagna then inelegantly wiped the sauce off her chin with her arm. Some of it smeared across her lips like whorish lipstick. "So like, how's about I lick your butthole again, and then you sit in his lap? His dick's out anyway."

"God damn you, Victoria," Desmond hissed, now beet-red in the cheeks and mortified. His erection was gone, but his crotch was still hidden under only the table cloth.

The waiter, that middle-aged raccoon with the tired face, looked thoughtfully from the foxcoon to the beaver. "Please enjoy your lasagna, Miss Victoria." He glanced at the foxcoon. "I'll return soon with your wine. Perhaps you might care to discuss dessert then."

As the waiter left earshot, Desmond shakily zipped up and slumped on the table, his braid of hair hanging mere inches from the lasagna on his plate. "Are you kidding me? The waiter? He's gotta be like forty years old."

"His ass is sweet, though," Victoria said blithely. "Man, this lasagna is kick-ass. Try some." Though Desmond had a steaming, untouched piece on his own plate, she reached across the table with a chunk of noodle drenched in browned cheese and sauce speared on her fork. "Open wide." Desmond took the bite, and he found himself reaching for his own fork then.

"That is really good."

Soon the raccoon returned clutching two wine glasses by their stems in one paw and hugging a bucket of ice with a bottle of wine jutting from it with his other arm. Silently and efficiently, he poured out their wine for them and left the bucket on the table. He faced Desmond and said with a wry smile, "Will you have any dessert, sir? I'll admit, I'm eager to share our specialty with you."

"He'll be having some," Victoria said, polishing off her first chunk of lasagna and following it with a hearty gulp of red wine, guzzling it down as if it were iced tea. "That's a good year," she said coyly. "More, please."

As he poured Victoria's glass full to the brim again, the raccoon said, "Miss Victoria knows where the kitchens are. If she would be so kind as to lead her date to that point, then down into the wine cellar just across from those doors, I believe I can furnish him with his dessert."

"Oh, that-, hey, that really wouldn't be necessary, sir," Desmond muttered, following his stammers with a sip of wine. He followed that with a gulp and already felt his head begin to swim.

"Don't mind him," Victoria said calmly, digging into her second piece. "He likes that hard-to-get stuff. We'll be there in twenty minutes, give or take."

The raccoon topped up Desmond's wine again, but still left the bottle and the pail of ice. "Fantastic," he said, smiling his wry smile at the foxcoon again. "You look like you enjoy a good dessert. I'll have it ready for you."

When the waiter swished away, his ringed tail swishing in counterpoint to his noticeable booty, Victoria leaned over the table and smiled. "Total buttslut. Gay as hell but he likes having his ass licked, even if it's from a girl." She nudged his foot under the table, making him flinch. "He's gonna ride you like a show pony."

Desmond sipped his wine and followed it with a dab of his napkin. "You didn't even ask if I like men, you know."

She nudged his foot again. "You do, though."

"That's beside the point," Desmond groused, while wondering if it actually was.

Roughly twenty minutes later, Desmond and Victoria left the table. It was by all rights a mess, but clearly the couple had enjoyed their dinner. The beaver left a fifty dollar tip with the check. They slipped past the other wait staff and Desmond thought of heading out the door, except Victoria pulled him along by the arm and led him into the wine cellar. She waddled ahead of him on the stairs, making the wooden steps creak tiredly. Surrounded by cases of wine loaded onto dusty shelves, she and Desmond waited in silence for several minutes.

Abruptly, the obese beaver grabbed Desmond by the shoulders and pulled him close. First his head mashed into her fat breasts, and then she lifted him effortlessly. She kissed him hard, slapping her tongue past his warm jowls, but in the kiss, she showed no interest his own tongue. It seemed that her entire goal was just to slobber the inside of his mouth, something she did eagerly whether Desmond was participating or not.

Desmond was attempting to kiss her back, but she was overwhelming. He squirmed in her two-fisted grip, glad most of his weight was resting on her chest rather than his biceps, but being restrained was still an uncomfortable situation. It didn't keep him from getting hard.

The kiss broke, leaving Desmond panting and blushing, once Victoria heard footfalls on the stairs. She receded into the many shadows with Desmond clutched near like a cuddly toy, but when she saw the familiar raccoon, she stepped out into plain view again with a smile on her face.

"Sorry for the wait," said the raccoon. He unbuttoned his fly and briskly shoved down his dress pants. Immaculate white briefs clung to his hips, making the great surface area of his ass cheeks appear pale and moony. "I'm only on break for another ten minutes or so. Are we still having dessert, young man?"

Victoria set him on his feet and nudged him closer to the raccoon, looking like a mother urging her skittish son up to a costumed performer. "Yeah, he's still having dessert. Aren't you, Desmond?"

"Oh, Desmond. That's a cute name. You definitely look like a Desmond, I can just tell." The raccoon smiled, sliding his arms around the young foxcoon. He kissed him softly. "You seem nervous. Is everything all right?"

Desmond bumped the thick canine pad of his nose to the raccoon's much smaller, nearly pointed one. He hugged him and cupped the warm, round cheeks of his ass through his briefs. "I just, um... I don't do casual stuff that often. It's kind of-. It's her thing."

Victoria stepped behind the waiter and got down on her knees with a little effort. "I guess it is," she admitted. "You could say no if you wanted."

The fox said nothing, but smiled timidly, red-cheeked.

"We should do this now," the beaver said, pulling down the waiter's briefs and shooing Desmond's paws in the process. She pried apart the raccoon's thick cheeks and saw his pink, small anus in the dim light of the cellar. "Your ass is cute," she said plainly before packing her short snout into his crack. She lapped her big, soft tongue across it like a dog might, slobbering him until he moaned and pushed back, and still going even after that.

Blushing and smiling, the middle-aged raccoon pushed a kiss on Desmond. Compared to the earlier kiss with the beaver, this was all but inoffensive; his tongue stroked softly along Desmond's, their sticky lips hardly meeting. Desmond took the kiss contentedly and squeezed the bottom-heavy raccoon around the middle.

Victoria pulled back and wiped the slobber off on the back of her arm. It was everywhere, weighing down the fur in the raccoon's ass crack and smearing the puckered, pink flesh of his anus like syrup. She said as she rocked back on her knees, "You're ready, I think. This'll be cute."

The waiter was blushing and smiling as he eased away from the kiss. He knew he had perhaps six minutes left, but he was gentle and cautious as he coaxed Desmond to sit down on an empty, dusty crate which once held red wine. "I wish we had more time," he said pleasantly. "You're a cute young man. I'd do a lot more than just sit in your lap."

Desmond opened his fly and slid down his jeans. He only tucked his briefs efficiently under his balls, and his small but clearly eager penis stood hard and ready. Precum gave the flesh a shine. "I'd enjoy that," he admitted, touching the raccoon's thigh. "Sorry about the... um."

"The size?" The waiter winked. "Doesn't bother me. I happen to like them on the small side." He turned on his heel, dress shoes scraping on the cellar's concrete floor. His great, gray ass loomed massively in Desmond's face and he found himself hoping despite the waning time in his break that Desmond would opt for a taste, but the boy didn't, and the raccoon began to sit with no hurt feelings. His thick cheeks parted for Desmond's little cock and the foxcoon guided it with a shaking paw.

It was easy for Desmond's penis to slip inside of the chubby-assed raccoon, almost embarrassingly so for both parties; the raccoon wondered if he was really so loose, and Desmond thought of how small he was. In fact, they complemented each other well, and Desmond's nearly four inches felt delightful to the waiter as he settled into Desmond's lap. His long, ringed tail wrapped around Desmond's body, brushing the fluffy rings of Desmond's tail. "It's been a while for me," the waiter said partly through a puff of breath.

Desmond again slid his arms around the raccoon, finding him inherently cuddly. His legs slid apart until the pants pooled around his ankles would permit no more slack, and he sighed into the raccoon's jacketed back. "You're so warm," he cooed. "And I don't usually do this with... you know, older men."

Still on her knees, Victoria slipped a chubby hand under her shorts and panties and fingered her cunt absently, not expecting to get off. "You have like five minutes," she said helpfully.

"Ah, yes. That's right," the raccoon muttered, laying one paw over Desmond's, its twin on the foxcoon's thigh. He bounced, moving with a little grace which came from being a waiter in a sometimes crowded restaurant. His thick cheeks regained their roundness as he pulled up, and flattened sharply again when he dropped into the twink's lap. Their chubby warmth was almost as pleasing to the foxcoon as the tight, pink pucker presently milking him.

The foxcoon kissed the back of the raccoon's neck, exposed by the short cut of his dark brown hair. "You smell nice," he cooed, sliding his paws up the waiter's body. To his surprise, the raccoon was rather trim, his fat ass being the only chubby part of him.

"Well, nobody wants to be served by someone who smells like they dig in trash cans," the waiter dryly said. "Mmm, this feels nice, I hope you know," he purred then, still smoothly rising and falling, his black, uncircumcised penis throbbing with life despite staying untouched. "I'd invite you on a date of my own, but I know how Victoria is about her boytoys."

The beaver smiled, but it was a coy and dirty smile. "I can share him. As long as I get to watch."

"We'll see, then," the waiter chuckled. He licked his lips, giving moisture to cracked, aged skin. "Only a couple minutes left at best," he remarked. "Desmond?"

"I'm close," the fox said, as though ashamed of the fact. "Do you want me to-? You want me to take care of you?"

"Not enough time for that," said the raccoon. "I take a while, you see."

Yeah, a whole minute of me tonguing your prissy old butt, Victoria thought, and it seemed the raccoon thought the same thing when he glared at her. "This is really cute," she said pleasantly. "Hot as hell, too." She tweaked the button of her clitoris and shivered. Her nipples were hard, poking into her shirt obscenely. "Fill him up, Desmond. We both know you like getting off in fat butts."

Desmond squeezed the raccoon and nuzzled his shoulder. "Go a little faster," he urged, but that seemed unnecessary. His cock throbbed inside of the raccoon, his small but eager thing ready to pop in the raccoon and his fat, gay ass. When the waiter obliged him, bouncing so quickly now that the crate under their combined weight creaked and whined with each drop, Desmond clenched his eyes shut and his breathing began to come in erratic snatches. "Oh, god. Fuck," he managed between breaths, so the words came out shaky and tired. "Thank you..."

"Ah, you are most welcome," the raccoon cooed, a phrase he used often in the serving business, but here it was genuine and warm. He lifted himself, dropped, lifted again. He stopped bouncing and just let gravity do the work of lowering his tubby, round ass. He reached down and touched himself, making his fair cock nearly vanish under his long fingers, but his masturbation was short-lived and only exploratory.

Very soon, bringing him equal parts relief as disappointment, the raccoon felt the boy squirt inside of him. Desmond's breath caught in his throat and he squeezed tight. The waiter, for his part, settled into Desmond's lap and pleasantly cooed. His ringed tail swished and curled around Desmond's, forming a helix of orange and black and gray.

"Time to get back to work," Victoria said, glancing at her phone. It occurred to her she could have recorded what had just gone down, but she didn't linger on the thought. Except for occasional nudes when she wanted to tease a guy, she wasn't one for digital keepsakes. It didn't matter anyway, not when she knew she was going to see her two ringtails fuck again at some point.

"Sadly true," said the raccoon, smiling and blushing. He patted the backs of Desmond's paws then eased them off. "You were good, Desmond. Don't let anybody tell you a small penis can't get the job done," he reassured Desmond as he stood up out of his lap. His thick, gray bottom loomed again in the foxcoon's face, alluring in its great round beauty. To his delight, even though the clock said he was now a minute over his break, Desmond grabbed his cheeks and pried them apart.

The fox shoved his long snout in and mashed his lips to the pucker of the waiter's anus, which bore now the most mild swell from the sex. Desmond licked up a dribble of his own semen then smooched the back of the raccoon's balls indulgently.

"Oh! What a nasty young man," the raccoon said with perverse delight, grinning down at Victoria. "I suppose this makes up for all the messes you leave for me, both on the tables and under them."

"Your friends Ulysses Grant and Benjamin Franklin make those worthwhile," Victoria said in a tone as close to dry humor as she ever got. "You go get back to work. We'll come by some other time."

The raccoon pulled on his dress pants and left, but not without giving Desmond a warm embrace and a kiss on the lips first. When he was gone and the cellar was left all to the beaver and foxcoon, Victoria pushed her date down to his knees.

"That was really hot," she said. "You're gonna eat me now, pussy and ass. It's kinda sweaty down there, so try not to get too gross."