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I was beginning to get annoyed by now. I know tradesmen have a reputation, but the company made all sorts of promises when I called them up. Definite appointment time they said. The plumber will be there on time they said.

Well three o'clock is not two o'clock in my book. Fucking lying cheating scum. They were all the same.

I guess I could not complain too much though; I had taken the whole day off work to get some things sorted, so it really didn't matter much. Still, it was the principle of the thing. I would be leaving a sternly worded note on the relevant review site for Ace 24 Hour Plumbing Service when the time came.

As I waited I looked round our new home. We had been in only a few weeks and already things had started to break; used cars and old homes, it was the same phenomenon. My wife had fallen in love with the old place, a genuine Edwardian weatherboard with all original features. I didn't mind I guess, and I liked doing things to please her. At least this was something I could do that she would appreciate. Our pride and joy Travis, my little kitten, was all grown up now and spent most of his time in his shared house with his university mates. He only came home to dump a mammoth load of laundry on his mother and eat the fridge empty before waving his tail in farewell. He had a room here still though, Lauren insisted, but he didn't seem to care where that was.

As far as I was concerned, I was glad to be shot of him if I were one hundred percent honest. We tended to fight more than was necessary to maintain the normal balance of lion/cub relations. Perhaps if I was honest we were too alike in some ways; we certainly tended to rub each other the wrong way.

With the clock breaching the three o'clock mark, I had begun to fume silently. I was about to ring the plumbing service again to let them know exactly what I thought of them when my mobile buzzed in my paw. It was a mobile number I didn't recognise.

"Hello? This is Mister Dalton Wridgeway."

There was road noise in the background, and beeping, and the voice was a little indistinct.

"Ahh hi there, Mister Dalton?"

I ground my teeth, which in a lion is not a good idea.

"It's Mister Wridgeway actually. Mister Dalton Wridgeway. Who is speaking please?"

The voice carried on in the same easy drawl though, totally ignoring my impending meltdown, though there did appear to be some sort of recognition there.

"Oh great! Mr Wridgeway, Mister Dalton Wridgeway? Really? Oh...well, I'm James from Ace Plumbing. Sorry for the delay sir, the last job went longer than expected."

"I was told two o'clock!"

"I know sir, and I am very sorry. I'm just leaving East Bourneford now, so I should be with you in about fifteen minutes. Are you still able to be there when I come sir?"

I felt like telling him to shove it, but practicality got the better of my desire for pointless bravado and I remained curt instead.

"Yes." That was all the bloody plumber was getting from me. Once again, he sailed on regardless.

"Great! See you there soon sir, and once again, I do apologise."

I managed a grunt before hitting the end call button with as much force as I could muster. So has modern life reduced us to this I guess, getting our petulance out by pressing a button on a touch screen really hard.

Once upon a time my kind were lords of the savannahs. Now I can't even get some young dumb plumber's apprentice to come on time and he doesn't even care.

Often in times like this recently I had taken solace in one of my secret vices. Now I felt the pull again, and I headed to the shed at the back of the garden. Inside I had managed to install my personal man cave; a neat rosewood cabinet with a selection of prized single malts, an original pinball machine, my own plasma TV with a discrete locked box containing my stash of vintage porn on DVD, and my reading chair. It was here that I could find my equilibrium again, locked in the sweet sweet embrace of a double Ardberg and a round of Indiana Jones.

One of the few truly memorable bonding sessions I had with my boy involved inducting him into the mysteries of my man cave. The one in our old house was so much nicer though, a huge garage at the back of a sprawling brick veneer residence. This was kind of disappointing, but it would have to do. Somewhere into the first double Ardberg, I would no longer care anyway.

I was sitting in my recliner chair, reading a vintage copy of Biggles, with the amber fluid almost exhausted when the doorbell rang. I had just slipped into nostalgic mode, remembering my last business trip to Sydney. After one too many seriously annoying visits to customers, I headed for one of my Sydney boltholes; the old Olympic site. There, in the middle of the wasteland of traffic and McMansions, was an oasis of calm and restorative grace.

The former shooting and archery venue had been transformed into a golf driving range. For a modest fee, I could purchase one hundred and ten balls and use of a full set of clubs. And there, I would enact my calming routine. Each time I teed up a ball, I would scream out the name of someone who had truly, seriously pissed me off, and then hit the motherfucker as hard as I could. Over and over if need be; one time, I expended an entire bucket of balls on my manager. He never could work out why I called him "Slice" ever after, but it was true, for some reason every time it was him I imagined when I lined up the little white dimpled saviour, I sent the ball into Homebush bay with a wicked almost ninety degree kink.

The doorbell rang again, and I determined to make the fucker wait. I savoured the last of my Ardberg, and managed a small grin of triumph as I felt my mobile vibrate into life.

"Ahhh Mr Wridgeway! It's J...James. I'm at the front door? Are you still home?"

I waited five seconds, ashamed of myself but still doing it anyway.

"Yes. Just a moment, I'm out the back. I'll be there in a moment."

"Right you are sir!" fuck his cheery bonhomie was starting to grate.

When I opened the front door I had to do a bit of a double take. He was a bull, and a damn big one. Brown and white fur, his arms and legs looked like tree trunks, with a tuft of thick white fur visible poking from the collar of his polo. That was a standard blue and red number with the logo for Ace Plumbing on the pocket. He also had a pair of khaki work shorts with a tool belt attached, a pair of well-worn work boots on his hooves, and a large toolkit in his left hand. He was also wearing a wide smile on his muzzle.

I expected his gaze to be as bovine and braindead as he sounded on the phone, but something made me stop and look. He had big wide brown eyes, and they looked kind and soft, and they were looking at me, hard and apparently keenly.

"Um...hello...James is it?" he seemed to hesitate a moment before reaching out his right hand to shake my paw.

"Yes Mister Wridgeway. Sorry about the delay, really. I know Ace plumbing pride themselves on their punctuality, and well this is not good enough, I know. I really am sorry, but now I'm here, please let me get right down to it if I can."

He was looking at me the whole time, and I could see he was sincere. I could also see something else, something I couldn't quite work out. I found my anger dissipating pretty rapidly though, staring into those eyes. Perhaps it was just the whisky. One way or another though, I quickly abandoned the idea of complaining. I didn't really want to make things bad for the young bull.

And that was how he seemed; maybe early twenties at the most. Probably only just qualified, and therefore cheap. I guess that was how these services made their money, and I started to worry that maybe he wasn't up to the job. We would see.

"So...Mister Wridgeway...the booking service mentioned your shower?"

I led him into the shared bathroom. One of the first things to go to shit; it stopped draining and the water and soap just piled up on the floor and overflowed into the bathroom. Travis had complained bitterly last time he was here, and deacamped to our shower in the ensuite instead without so much as a please. I was late for work that day thanks to the ungrateful cub; took him an hour and a half to get ready, between all the washing, preening, products in his mane and coat and tail and everything. I thought he might have washed down the plughole he was in there so long.

The bull nodded and dropped his toolkit to the floor.

"Well, better have a look at it then."

I stood back a bit distracted as he went to work. It wasn't long before my distraction became something else though.

He had knelt in the shower recess, with his back to me. As I waited, and he pulled off the drain cover and went to work with some tools, I amused myself in watching him. My interest quickly grew.

I always had a soft spot for bulls. This one was a perfect specimen of the type too. Broad shoulders, tapered back down to wide hips and really big mounds of a heavy muscled ass, and cute hooves that wiggled along with his ass and tail as he worked on the drain. I noticed his shorts falling slowly, and got a wonderful view of plumber's crack; the swelling mound of the top of his ass appearing from under the fabric, and the deep dark cleft that started just under his tail at the hollow of his spine. I could see just enough enticing crevice to imagine the rest, and my imagining was having certain effects that made me blush under the fur.

It had been a while since I had indulged my other secret vice, the one my family had no idea about. He had been a bull too, a guy I met in the bar of a hotel I was staying at on a business trip. Not as young as this one, but then neither was I. Mid forties daddy lions take what they can get, and that bull had been pretty damn hot. Not a patch on this one though; and as I thought those thoughts, he stood up and stretched and I got another look at the rear.

Standing, I could see his thighs and calves; massive, flexing as he used them to stand. His ass flexed too, and his shorts fell a little lower so I could almost imagine the first hint of his pucker somewhere in that deep moist cavern and I had to bite my paw to avoid whimpering. His efforts had delivered a patch of sweat on his spine that looked good enough to lick, and as I watched he gripped the front of his polo and brought it to his muzzle to wipe some sweat away, giving me a view of naked muscled back covered in brown and white fur while he tail lazily swayed a foot each way.

"Well, think I've got it Mister Wridgeway."

"You certainly have..."

I almost slapped myself then, as the plumber turned with a quizzical look on his face, and a hand full of something vaguely disgusting.

"What the hell is that?"

"This? Oh...hairballs. Huge one; mix of brown and black fur. Who did you buy the place from if I might ask sir?"

"Ahh...couple of felines I think..."

He nodded, smiling again.

"Well, always need to be careful with felines I find. Hairballs are an occupational hazard then; looks like a lot of it was recent though..."

"Yeah, that would be Travis. He spends so long in the shower when he's here I'm surprised he has any fur left."

The bull seemed to frown then shrug, and he deposited the tangled mass in the bin before turning on the water. It seemed there was still a problem though, as the drain made all sorts of evil noises and the water soon began to pool again. I was soon cursing the Real Estate agent, the vendor, our building inspector, and all felines everywhere as the bull shook his head sadly in a way that made his nosering jingle enticingly.

"Sorry sir...looks like it's not a simple one."

"And I assume that means expensive. Does it mean you have to come back another time?"

He gave a cheery smile and shook his head.

"Nah, I will need to phone base though. This will need to be my last one today, so they need to reassign my five o'clock. Once I've done the call, I'll be back don't worry."

I watched him trot placidly back to his van with a strange bovine grace and imagined the taste of his ass all the way. The thoughts had an effect, and I tried to stop thinking, but my cock had other ideas. It had been a long time; such a long time. Sex with Lauren had all the passion and enjoyment of doing my taxes by now, and we rarely indulged for which I was thankful. But I still needed to feel alive, and with the right guy...

Thankfully that train of thought was interrupted by the return of plumber bull, carrying a large box of equipment. I managed a slight look of query, and that was all he needed.

"The snake. I'm a wizard with the snake, this will sort it out."

Yes, I had no trouble imagining him as a wizard with the snake. That was the problem.

In no time he was back hunched over in the shower, this time with the aid of the mighty snake. And he seemed to be making progress but it was heavy going.

"Um...is there a tree just outside this bathroom by some chance?"

"Now that you mention it...silver birch, mature. My wife loves it."

"Ugh...hate the fuckers...um, sorry sir...I didn't mean..."

"No that's alright, I don't mind a bit of fucking swearing."

"Yeah, I know."

Something hit me then, like a flash of cold water, and I was about to give voice to my uncertainty when he gave a grunt and a bellow and the snake moved freely. The breakthrough had it's cost though, as a torrent of black water suddenly shot from the drain all over the plumber, narrowly missing me. Now it was my turn to be apologetic, but he just waved away my concerns.

"Nah don't worry sir. Occupational hazard too. This is pretty minor, trust me...anyway, those old pipes, they need some love and care, but that should do it. Those trees though; my advice, get rid of them sir. They are a menace for a place like this. Fucking with the plumbing, undermining the foundations...well, you know the deal."

He had the grin back, though there was a splash of black fluid over half his face that added a new colour to his coat, brown white and black. His polo was saturated, and he did..well..."

"Um...might be an idea if you hold your breath sir..."

I had to agree, as he packed up the snake and shut the lid with a click. It was pretty pungent, but underneath there were still the more pleasant scents; sweat, young bull...

"Ahh...would you like to take a shower here? Now that it's cleared, it should drain shouldn't it? And you said this would be your last, so you don't have to go anywhere..."

On the surface, I couldn't believe what I was doing, nor could I fathom how I thought this would end. It was stupid, pointless...but I knew I needed. And something about those eyes made me do it.

He looked at me a long time, with those big brown eyes not blinking, then he smiled and nodded and I let out the breath I realised I had been holding.

"That would be great sir. Thanks so much..."

He looked at me awkwardly, and I looked at him uncomprehendingly, and I realised he was waiting for me to leave the bathroom and I mumbled something about towels and beat a retreat. The sound of water hitting tiles followed me down the corridor as I searched for the spare towels. I knew Lauren had put them somewhere...

By the time I found them, he had been in there for a few minutes. I managed to locate a nice set of spares, in an agreeably soft Egyptian cotton with a green tea colouring. Lauren liked buying linen. And towels. And furnishings. And really anything expensive. I almost enjoyed the idea of how scandalised she would be at her precious towels being used by the tradesman. It gave a slight spring to my step as I entered the bathroom.

There was steam in the air and the mirror had fogged nicely. He hadn't turned on the Tastic all in one light/heater/fan unit. I flicked the switch, and the darkness retreated along with the steam. I drew in a shuddering breath.

Our spare shower recess had a plain glass door, very elegant and all, slimline set against mushroom and ecru tiles. The combination managed to provide no coverage at all to hide the naked bull, while simultaneously highlighting his fur colouring to maximum effect.

He looked pretty damn fine in his work gear. Out of it he was magnificent. Every muscle flowed easily under fur, water and soap cascaded across the mounds of heavy pectorals crowned with nipples pierced with rings that matched his nosering, a flat belly, wide hips, big thighs and calves, and in the middle, a pair of obscene huge testicles under a fuzzy sheath. I watched. I stared. I think I drooled, holding the towels out to nobody in particular like some sort of robot.

I didn't even notice properly when he turned off the water and stepped out, I was still staring. I gave a sudden start as the sound of hooves on tiles woke me from my crazed slumber and I looked up expecting anger and an inbound fist.

Instead, I saw that smile again, and now it was heated as well as mischievous. He reached for the towels and took them from my limp paw.

"Thanks!"

"Um..."

"So...like what you see I see..."

"Um..."

He winked, and stared at my groin. I realised I was hard as steel, my cock poking at the zipper of my casual chinos where a small wet patch had developed as additional embarrassing confirmation of my predicament.

"Can you say anything other than um?"

"Um..."

He towelled himself off, rubbing my wife's Egyptian cotton over his back, then his ass and thighs, and finally sawing the soft fabric between his legs to dry off his low hanging bull nuts. I gulped at that, determined to never wash the towels again.

Then he stepped forward, and I was suddenly face to face with a big damp bull plumber.

"I always wondered..."

His right hand reached for me, but instead of gripping my muzzle, or slapping it, he gently stroked my mane. I let out a whining meowl at that touch. So unexpected, and so tender. Then he stroked the side of my muzzle, before pulling me towards his gently but unwaveringly. I wasn't about to protest.

He tasted like peppermint. I don't know what I expected really, but it was peppermint, that much I could tell. Then his tongue slid into my muzzle, pausing to tease my incisors which made me melt, and we were kissing. It soon became rougher, and he pulled me against his body, damp bull fur against my clothes leaving little damp patches in its wake. At least my leaking cock wasn't the only thing making me wet now.

"Do you want me Mister Wridgeway?"

"Um..."

We both chuckled then. I nodded, took his hand, and led him to the bedroom. I had the presence of mind to turn Lauren's portrait around. The idea of her watching was both too disturbing and too arousing to deal with right now.

I sat on the edge of the bed, not quite sure what to do, as he stood in front of me. He was waiting, calmly it seemed, and I was damned if I was going to be nervous in front of a guy half my age. I may be going grey and portly and my doctor was more worried about cholesterol and prostate hormones than anything else, but I was not going to be nervous. I had been here before, not often, not enough, but before. I was in charge. The lion was master of his domain.

If I said it enough, I might just believe it.

Seeking action, I looked in front of me at the perfect V of his groin. Plenty to work with there, so I would. My paws found his testicles, and I rested one paw under his scrotum, marvelling at the weight and the heat. They rolled and jumped a bit and he laughed as I played with them, then as I got bolder I began to jack his sheath and enjoyed the deep rumbling moos from his muzzle as I began to get into it and he did too. The first sight of his cock was magical, a fat pink tip leaking clear precum that spread his sheathlips and greeted me like a long lost friend. I coaxed it out further with a gentle squeeze on his balls and a steady rhythm on his sheath, but after a while I needed more and so did he. I wrapped my paw round his length, surprised and delighted at the feel. It had been too long since I held a guy like this, felt the hot heavy mass of his maleness. And this was more than a pawfull, swelling alarmingly until I had it fully extended and hard, my paw sliding up and down the twitching length of his shaft as the head throbbed and spat impatient blobs of pre at my delighted face.

His smell was what got me then. Even after the shower, he smelt strong. It came from his cock, and his sheath, musky and rich, and before I even knew what I was doing, I had extended my tongue to lap at his tip. That drew more moos and a laugh, and he rubbed my muzzle with his blunt fingers but didn't grip or shove me down his length. He wanted to show me he liked it, but leave it up to me. I always loved that when I went down on a guy. That trust.

I managed to get his head into my muzzle, without too much scraping on my teeth. My lips found a spot, just under his head, that made him moo in pleasure, and I slid just a little up and down right there, before getting more adventurous. I slid my rough tongue under his head and licked and that had quite an effect. He threw his head back and bellowed, and his abdominals clenched and his balls danced and shuddered. I could taste the tang of precum now flooding my muzzle.

"Mister Wridgeway...if you want me to last a bit longer...maybe you should stop..."

That was the best compliment anyone ever gave me, and the ego boost made me feel immortal for a second. Then he gripped my paws and pulled me off the bed and reached into my chinos to grope my crotch and I felt suddenly all selfconscious again. I pulled his hands out and flopped back on the bed.

I could tell he was a bit upset, and uncertain. I bit my lip and cursed myself many times over before I met his gaze. He could see I was pleading.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't...I mean...I think...oh fuck it. Can we do this with me still dressed or something? I'm not...well, I don't look like you, do I..."

I didn't know what to expect after that. There was a pause, and he knelt between my legs and drew me into a kiss. God it felt good.

"Mister Wridgeway...I have a confession. I...well, I kind of like daddy types. Especially daddy lions. So, you are exactly my type..."

I had the feeling he was going to say something else, but the moment was gone. And truthfully, I believed him, I could see it in his grin. I wanted to believe too, and he kissed me again for good measure and I let out a soft moan as he took advantage of the kiss to stroke my hard cock through the fabric.

"Is that why you keep calling me Mister Wridgeway?"

"One of the reasons..."

"Oh, and what are the others?"

"Company policy..." at least that made us both laugh.

"Now, relax and let me take the lead..."

So I did. First he unbuttoned my shirt. Country Road, cotton, it flew across the room and landed in a rough pile on the genuine antique French provincial ottoman that Lauren found when we were on holiday. He got an eyeful then, complete with generous paunch and decidedly flabby pectorals, but he just smiled wider and blew me a kiss. I began to relax, truly and completely relax for the first time. Even when he undid my shoes and released my hindpaws and kissed each individual toe I was mostly going along for the ride.

When he began unbuttoning my belt the nervousness was back, and he seemed to sense it. He leaned over me and kissed me, gently, firmly, fast, slow, hungry, playful. I was too busy responding to the myriad signals to think, and before I knew it, my pants and boxers had joined the shirt over on the ottoman. Lauren would be so pissed off, she hated buying me good clothes then watching me mistreat them like that. The thought made me laugh like a hyena.

"Well, at least you aren't nervous any more."

"Sorry! Just...carry on..."

"Aye aye Mister Wridgeway...Ace plumbing at your service."

"Ahhhhhhhhh"

His muzzle bent forward, and I tensed. Then he stopped, millimetres from my sack, and he blew a flood of warm bull breath on my balls. I was in heaven. Then he licked from the base of my cock to the tip and I gripped the thousand threadcount sheets and tore holes in them with my claws and didn't give a flying fuck as his tongue played with my head and teased my barbs and then he engulfed my end in a warm suckling muzzle and I almost passed out.

One deft hand cupped my sack, rolling my boys around gently. There were nothing compared to a pair of bull nuts, but a fair sized pair of eggs nonetheless. He seemed to like them, paying close attention to my groans every time he squeezed. Then he cupped them again and slid two fingers behind my sack and stroked my perineum. More tearing, and the sheets were officially ruined now. Like I gave a fuck.

Before I could stop him, he gripped my legs and raised them over his shoulders. I whimpered a little, wondering if he would just go for it, but he wanted to tease a bit more it seemed. He bent forward, rocking my whole body back to open up my cleft, and sucked my balls hard into his muzzle. I was in heaven, precum drooling all over my coat, and soon it got better, as his muzzle left my scrotum and slid under, huffing and lapping at my perineum before he found my pucker and lapped like he was devouring a delicious icecream.

I went wild, begging like a nutcase, pleading, thrusting my lion ass into him, and he gave me everything I wanted. His muzzle slid along my crack, drawing ever hungrier moans, until his lips circled my pucker and I felt his tongue pressed to my hole. I wondered what he was doing, and then my eyes went wide in shock as I felt him worming his tongue harder and harder and my ring opened and I felt the warm wet touch of a bull tongue eating my ass. He kept on, deeper and deeper, as I clenched and squirmed and tried to stop the flood of embarrassing noises that came from my muzzle. Instead a sort of restrained, muffled meowling roar filled the room, as he tonguefucked me. Nobody had ever done that before. I knew I could never do without it in future though; I was hooked.

I didn't notice that he had stopped, and was instead looking at me with a perplexed look on that placid face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, trust me!. I just...I was embarrassed, I didn't think you would want to hear all that..."

"I love it. I want to hear you, all of it. It's a fucking turn on daddy lion...um, Mister Wridgeway."

"Daddy lion sounds good you know."

"Not as good as your moans."

I could see his cock now, looking down my paunch and across my overheated cock to him. It stood up proud and leaking a line of liquid fire, and I licked my lips anticipating the taste. He had other ideas for it though.

"Mister...ahhh...do you want...?"

"Oh fuck yes."

"Well, I've got condoms in my wallet, but no lube. I do have something in the toolkit that might do, though I'm not sure you would like it so..."

Now I was a little embarrassed again, but more determined. I pointed to the bedside table, on Lauren's side, where the bottom drawer contained some slight surprises. My kitten had worked out, one day, that I liked anal play, and bought a vibrator and some lube to test out my kinks. I don't think she was quite prepared for the effect, though she seemed to enjoy the hard pounding I gave her afterwards, but she seemed reluctant to use it much. It was still there though along with a sizable tube of lube that should be sufficient even for a massive piece of bull meat.

James found the stash, grinning like he had discovered buried treasure. I watched him a little fascinated as he rolled the condom on, seeing his pink length covered but still visible, the twitching end leaking into plastic. I felt a little cheated, I wanted to feel the real thing, but I was old enough to be wiser than that. Bareback was for the young and the stupid in these circumstances.

Still, I wanted to hold it, and I reached for the lube before he could use it, and unloaded a long line along the top of his cock and massaged it all over with my paws as he gasped and shook. He felt fantastic, though I was a little apprehensive. I hadn't had too many, and none this big so far.

One he was well oiled, I sat and waited, suddenly unsure again. He lifted my hindpaws, but instead of putting them over his shoulders as I expected, he pushed me back with easy strength until I was lying on the bed, then used his grip to turn me on my tummy. The bed creaked, and I felt the weight of a bull between my legs and suddenly it was all very real.

He slid his hands down the back of my thighs and I crooned at his touch. Then he gripped me just under each knee and spread my legs wide until I was positioned like a frog, legs out, paws pointing to the foot of the bed, and importantly, ass spread wide and open and ready for action. At least partly...

"Now, hold still. Remember, I'm a professional...and I'm used to caring for older pipework."

I gave him a roar of disapproval and he slapped my ass which put me in my place and made my cock spurt precum into the quilt. I looked back, a little curious, to see him coat his fingers in lube, then he winked and bent forward to his target.

"Oh...ohhhh....ohhhhhhh!"

He teased a little, rubbing my hole with his fingertips. It felt wet, a little cold, slick...and then he pressed his fingers, and suddenly I was full of bull digit. He only went in a little way before pulling back...then deeper, then back, slowly sawing in and out of my out of practice anus. I could feel myself tensing, and he just kept slowly stroking. Then I began to relax, and feel warm, and moan, and he went deeper and harder and then it happened.

He touched my nut, and I bit the pillow and screamed.

"Hmm...someone likes that..."

"Oh God oh God oh God AHHHHHH!"

Again. The cocky fucker. Then again. I was on fire, and open, and needy, and so so ready.

He seemed to know that too. I felt the bed creak, and a pair of bulging biceps appeared on either side of my head, along with thick forearms and big hands that spread wide to take up a stable stance over me. His muzzle found the back of my neck and he licked, his legs rubbed against the inside of mine and he gently forced them further apart. My tail flicked against his belly and chest, and I could feel him breathing thought my tail. I could hear it too, in my ears, the harsh rasp of a bull ready for rutting. He was taking it carefully though, slowly, and that made it hotter.

Then I felt it, under my tail. The tip of a hot bullcock, alas covered in latex, as he wiggled his hips to line up on target. The head found my pucker and pressed, covering my hole but not entering yet. He kissed my neck, then moved his hands to cover mine, gripping my fingers as I dug my claws into the mattress.

And he filled me until I felt I was overflowing with heat.

It started as a pressure, hot and heavy, that grew. I tried to relax but tensed anyway. He was patient though, and kept on until I relaxed and suddenly he pierced my hole and I yelled as several inches of bull sunk inside me. He waited then, while I squirmed and tried to relax and make the pain stop, and only when I was ready did he press again and sink a fraction deeper.

It took an age, a long painful and ultimately pleasuring age. By the end I was in heat, pushing back against his bulk and trying to take him to the hilt but he kept to his own plan, a little at a time, back and then in again, kissing, caressing, his hands wrapped in my paws. Finally, he gave a last heave and I felt his sheath in my crevice and those massive bull nuts on my skin and he collapsed on me covering me with his fur and we began a slow steady rhythm like a boat rocking on the lazy waves of the bay.

He nibbled my ears and whispered as we fucked. He told me how sexy I was, how much he wanted this, how good it felt to be inside me. I barely noticed, too enthralled by the incredible feeling of a hard thick mass inside my ass and the weighty bulk of a stud bull pushing me into the bed almost uncomfortably. I wanted it to go on forever, but that was impossible. Especially after the eating out he had given my ass, and the teasing play with my prostate. Now, as he tickled my flesh anew with each thrust, he changed his angle slightly and kissed my nut on the way in with each deep plunge.

He should have enjoyed that. At least I should have been vocal enough for him, as I screamed and begged and roared and unloaded my balls under my belly. As I lay, spent and exhausted, I felt no answering heat inside me. It left me strangely deflated, cheated in a way. I wanted that part of him too.

The bull moved, and I was grateful for some relief from the crushing weight. He spooned behind me, still inside, and I enjoyed the feeling of him there, even managing to draw some chuckles as I clenched my sore ass on his length. He let his hand roam across my body, and I realised I wasn't self conscious any more. If he wanted to feel my paunch, so be it. As long as that length of bull meat stayed where it was I was happy.

He seemed to appreciate my form anyway. First he played a bit with my nipples. I grumbled a bit, not being a big fan of nipple play. He was gentle though, at least, but he gave up with a slight sigh and continued his exploration. I found I loved belly rubs though, and I lay back and drooled a bit as he stroked my tummy and then cupped my balls and playfully jacked my rapidly re-hardening cock.

"So you like tummies?" I felt I had to ask.

"Well, I like yours. Kind of love a big bulky daddy type, especially a feline. Always have; so shoot me."

"No way, I'm just curious. Do you do this often?"

"Fuck?"

"No, I mean..."

He was serious now, and his hand even stopped teasing me, just gripping my erection like he was swearing on the honour of my cock. It was kind of touching.

"I don't want you to think...no, I don't. Not at work I mean. This is the first, and well, you're kind of special...I've only just got fully qualified you see, and I need to build experience and all before I go out on my own. I am serious about being a plumber...I want to be good. And this isn't something I would normally do; with clients or not. I don't usually go in for...well..."

He was so cute and lost now, I seemed to have put him on the spot. I was too old for that now...but I did appreciate the sentiment. I nuzzled against his body feeling his hand move again. I couldn't avoid shuddering at his touch.

"It's ok, don't worry. I'm just curious as to why me that's all."

He gave a boyish chuckle then, and the cold sharp shock was back. Where...

"You really don't recognise me do you?"

Now I stiffened a little. Something. Something...

"No!"

Before I could react, he moved, and I was laid on my back, one leg spread wide, the other over his shoulder as he knelt between my legs. His tip had somehow remained in me the whole time, even through the gymnastics of his roll, and my muscles complained as I wasn't up to that much at my age, but my discomfort was soon replaced with pleasure as he gently rocked his hips and slid ever deeper in my hole. I felt so spread, so vulnerable in this position, but I wanted it. Deeper, harder, more. I wanted all of him.

He slid in as far as he could, and looked into my eyes with a twinkle as I just stared back waiting. Then he bent forward, gradually bending my leg back towards my chest, his muzzle approaching always closer to mine, his cock reaching deeper into my ass as he moved. It burned inside, and I felt him reach places that had never been touched, and it felt terrifying and amazing. I was impaled, taken, owned, and loving it.

Then his muzzle rested on mine, but we didn't kiss yet.

"Still haven't worked it out."

"Ahhhhhh...n...no..."

He pulled back and my negative turned into a plea, not to be denied, not to be released from his cock. Then he slammed back in and I cried out.

"I let you cum only when you work it out!"

He was grinning again and he kissed me hard and deep. Another thrust. Another cry. His length filled me, so deep. So deep. It was all I could say, nothing coming out, no names.

"So deep...so deep..."

"I had the hots for you back then you know."

"Oh God so deep..."

He pounded into me, and I held onto him, totally lost. I wanted him to feel, wanted to claim a little of him, and my paws scrabbled for a hold, claws scratching his back, his biceps, his incomparable ass. I dug all my claws in then, wanting to hurt and love and just plain fuck like a maniac. It seemed to work and he bellowed and lifted his head and snorted out a long moo and began to piledrive into my ass. His scrotum slapped my ass, each new slap harder and louder than the last. I felt it building inside me, an insatiable need to burst, and I felt it in him too, in the way his whole body tensed and the harsh breaths bursting from his nose and the way his chest heaved and the twitch in his cock.

Oh God the twitch in his cock...

He suddenly went rigid, and his whole body slammed forward with a grunt. Once. Twice. I felt it, the spreading heat in my depths. I bit his muzzle, tasting blood, and he kissed back harder. Even his horns seemed to shake.

One last thrust and I came too, and it wasn't like any other orgasm I'd had. A long slow burn, one continuous flow that coated my belly and his and spread in a pool as my ass gripped his length and held on and I roared out a lion's challenge to his competitors. My claws sank into rump, and I didn't care if I hurt. This was primal, and he would just have to wear the clawmarks. After what he had done to my ass, I thought he got off lightly.

Afterwards he lay on me, propped up with one arm to avoid crushing me too badly. I teased his tensed bicep with a claw, and he teased my ass with his cock. He was still hard, even after that, though I didn't think I could take much more of it right now. He knew too, jabbing his hips forward and laughing at my yelps before he decided to kiss my mane. I hoped he didn't notice the grey patches I had coloured to match my fur. Vanity comes easy to a mid-forties male.

"Damn. I wanted to make you wait."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't. I think my ass was about to break."

"Felt pretty damn happy to me. And then there's this..."

He slid fingertips into the pool of cum on my belly and spread it across my paunch. I tried to flick him with my tail in revenge, but he caught it and got a wicked look back again.

"Right...guess or I don't give you back your tail!"

"I give up! I know...there is something familiar, but you are going to have to tell me!"

"Jimmy."

"Jimmy?"

"Yep...James, but you knew me as Jimmy..."

My mind cleared, to the face of a younger calf. Much younger, about fifteen...

"Holy fuck! Jimmy Tucker!?"

I had been fucked by my son's former best mate. I remembered a polite young calf, who spent his time playing football and hanging around with Trav. They were thick as thieves, then suddenly at sixteen it all seemed to end. Six years ago. Trav got a girlfriend, Melanie, and Jimmy went off to trade school. Oh holy fuck...

"Oh no..."

I got a kiss for my troubles.

"I had a bit of a secret crush on you back then Mister Wridgeway..."

He always used to call me that, when I took them both to football or the beach or school after a sleepover. Mister Wridgeway. Always a polite calf was Jimmy.

"Oh God...oh God oh God oh God!"

Another kiss.

"I always wondered....well, it was better than I ever dreamed. Truly..."

I wanted to stop, but somehow found I couldn't. Not even the mental image of the shy gawky calf that came back to me managed to do it. Instead, I clenched down on his cock, feeling the massive bulk of the very mature and eager James Tucker, plumber, lover of daddy lions, as he lifted my hindpaws over his shoulders. He was still hard, still thick, still ready. And he apparently wanted more. Who was I to argue?"

He waited for a moment though, poised at my opening, with my hindpaws pointing at the ceiling. I tried to draw him in, using my anus like a hand to haul him deeper, but he just chuckled at me and made me wait. Then he bent over me, with his ass poised to thrust, and licked my ear.

"By the way Mister Wridgeway..."

"Oh fuck...please....just fuck me..."

"Not yet, you need to promise me a favour."

"Anything! Just....ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

He slid inside like a hot knife into butter. My ass melted round him, holding his length like a glove.

"When you see Trav next, tell him...well, tell him I said hello, and give him my love."

He slid back. Oh god, his tip was throbbing against my ring. Fuck....

"Oh...ok...I....AHHHHHHHH!"

Then he slammed in to the hilt, and my whole body shook. I held on tight, too lost to do anything but hold on.

"Oh and, you can tell him too, from me. He's not a patch on his old man in the sack..."

It took me decidedly longer to cum this time, thanks to that little nugget. I always thought he had a mischievous side, under the politeness. Now I knew.

*****

"Darling, the toilet keeps running in the ensuite. You know you can't fix it, you are the worst handyman in history."

"Yes dear."

"And don't yes dear me. You fix it you hear me. Call those plumbers again, the ones who came to fix the shower. At least they seem to know what they are doing."

My wife was on a roll now, and she ignored my dark glances. As much as she was right, I hated that she was right. Besides, no male likes having his skills as a handyman called into question. It was a matter of principle.

I heard a snicker from the couch. My hellspawn had come back for a feed a free laundry service and a night's sleep away from his party animal housemates, in that order. At least I knew we were wanted.

"And what are you laughing about kiddo?"

"Nothing..."

"Oh really?"

"Can't see you as a plumber somehow."

For some reason that really got my goat.

"Oh is that true? Well, plumbers happen to be well trained, very well paid, and able to run their own business. Believe me, there are plenty of days in this shit awful life with this shit awful job that I would cheerfully trade it in for the fucking tools. Perhaps you should get a fucking job instead of leeching off us and running around as if your shit don't stink?"

I realised I was roaring, and Travis was staring wide eyed and shocked at my outburst. I calmed down, a little ashamed, but also a little proud. He did need some attitude adjustment, as much as I loved him to death.

And of course, there were the things I needed to talk about too.

"I'm sorry I got angry...but not sorry I said what I did. You need a bit of attitude adjustment sometimes my sweet kitty...no matter how much I love you."

"I know dad, I'm just joking, mostly, just...wow. What got into you?"

"Nothing. Something. I dunno. I ran into someone you knew; do you remember Jimmy...James Tucker?"

I saw him jerk upright, the look on his face. I gave a sigh. I knew.

"Um...Jim? You saw...oh God. How is he?"

"Good. He sends his love, by the way. He's a plumber now, and successful. Seems good." Well, part of my debt repaid. The easy part.

"Ohh...well, that's....I'm pleased."

"How about we head for the mancave mate?"

That brought a grin, and my son led me to my private domain, my little break from life. He took up the prized place in my recliner, but I didn't mind. I fixed us both a drink.

How to go about this?

"So, that girl you keep telling us about...Cassandra?"

"Yeah...Cassie..."

"Are we going to see her sometime?"

He gulped down his Ardberg. I frowned, and he gave a sheepish grin and started sipping. I grunted. Better; maybe he can learn.

"Um...she isn't into families much and...well, I dunno, I don't think..."

I held up my paw and stopped the torrent of word salad. I knew what I needed to.

"So son..."

"Yes dad..."

"Ahhh...ahhh...ahhh..."

Do you know you might have more in common with your old man than you care to admit? No, that didn't sound right...I'm proud...no, too cliché...fuck this was excruciating...

"I've got to get the bathroom fixed according to your mum. I..ahh...well, I thought I might call in Jimmy again, he came last time. Would you be able to errr let him in, look after him so I don't have to take time off work? It would really help."

His eyes blazed with excitement.

"Yeah dad...that would be..."

"And, maybe you two could do with a chat? Long overdue?"

He gulped, and his eyes looked pleading. I nodded, and smiled, not condescending, just love, and he relaxed.

Girls didn't know shit. We guys got on just fine sometimes, saying nothing at all.

Now if only I could work out how to talk to Lauren, as well as I could with Trav. We both sipped our whisky lost in thought; and if both of us turned our minds to a sexy plumber bull, that was just one of the tricks that fate played on the unwary.