Another Successful Mission
Ovni purred as he laid against a pillow. It had been a rough weekend, he'd just gotten back from yet another misadventure in the name of 'galactic security'; specifically, he'd been asked by the Grand Council of the United Galactic Federation to gather evidence against an arms smuggling group, and as usual Raz preferred to cause a firefight. "Ah well..." he mused, stretching. What was another near-death experience this far into his career but a notch in the stick? Admittedly, sometimes it really did scare him: the last mission before that, he'd been shot in the shoulder with a needle gun. It'd been three months since then, but it reminded him he wasn't built for combat, a serious flaw in Jumba's overall plan.
He turned and fluffed the pillow, pushing it into the corner of the arm of the couch he currently called a bed. Recently, his beanbag chair had been too flat...many evenings with Wizzie had worn it out, and it was due for a replacement any time now. Leaning back into the pillow, he sighed. He wanted to get some sleep, but he hadn't had any personal time in over a week, and it was beginning to get to him.
"Aah, chenasta....." Ovni chuckled, turning onto his back, his tail twitching idly. He licked his left index finger, then thought for a moment. Was it worth a little pleasure if he got walked in on? "Yeah..." he chuckled again. He began to rub his groin softly, his finger tracing over the lips of his genital sac. He always wondered why Jumba had decided on internal storage when making some of the Experiments, but it made things easier, both in the field and in play, if it was tucked away in a sensitive slit instead of flopping about like on the Earth-creatures he heard referred to as 'mammals'.
With a little wiggling, the digit found it's way into the lips, parting them and rubbing against the 'top' of the slicked folds inside. Instead of the lengthwise folds in and around a female's vagina, these were smaller and simply where muscle and sensitive flesh overlapped on itself. They were greater in number when he was flaccid, and always moist with what he assumed to be pre-ejactulate whenever he played with himself, but his attention was distracted from those as his tip began to glide past his finger and out into the cool morning air.
"Aaaah...." He churred, his right paw curling around the length as it slid into the open, easily reaching it's five inches in seconds. He'd heard somewhere that that was relatively average for experiments, but he didn't mind. He rubbed his thumb over the tip as he dug a little deeper with his fingers, playing with himself. He didn't have to worry about his claws, as blunt and small as they were they never caused any problems. He churred again, turning onto his side and curling his back a little, squeezing himself softly as he thrust softly into his paw. He pulled his left paw away from his slit and gripped the base of his shaft, his testicles descending into a soft furred sac as he became further aroused.
Several minutes of this attention and his right paw was slicked with pre. He giggled to himself and pulled it away, squeezing softly with his left as he began to lick the liquid off his fingers, to little effect other than smearing some on his face. The taste always reminded him of coconuts and pears in a slick syrup-like consistency, and he quite enjoyed it. His paw quickly found it's way back to his tip, though. He much enjoyed orgasm for more than just the flavor, after all. He groaned a little, arching his back and running his paws up and down his length, his left paw partially buried in his slit as he gropes at his full length, his tail twitching wildly against the couch's back. His shaft began to twitch, the prehensile organ bucking slightly as it began to fire a small thick wad onto his bellyfur and couch. He growled loudly, two more jets finding their way out as his orgasm died down. He purred and licked what was on his paws off, then crawled onto all fours, his shaft still throbbing and aching. He leaned onto the pillow, resting against it with his chest as he scooped the mess off the couch, smearing it onto his shaft. He cooed softly, both paws quickly wrapping around his shaft as he lowered onto his knees. It was harder to hold his legs straight in this position, and he knew it. He began to pump again, thrusting against each pump as his tail twitched over him. He cooed softly, eyes shut as he imagined what anyone walking in would see: Him, on and against a pillow and rear in the air masturbating, his mouth smeared with a little pre and cum and the couch already stained. The mental image only made it more fun, and he giggled mischievously. His shaft pulsed in his paws, and he squeezed firmly with every downward thrust, each time accompanied by a pant as he got more and more excited with each one.
He didn't know how long it lasted, the furball just crouched there pleasuring himself, but didn't care. With a growl, he bit down on the pillow as he climaxed, four jets of cum squirting onto the couch below him, joining the earlier mess. He panted into the pillow, his shaft twitching as the second orgasm died. It was, as usual, more powerful than the first, but only served to make him more aroused as he backed across the couch and began to lick the cum off of it. He giggled, slowly lapping up the syrupy expulsion as a plan formed in his head. With a sly smile, he realized, as he began to lick his paws clean...he was going to have to invite someone over to celebrate a successful mission with him.