Yes, Sir, Please, Sir
_Toonces, the Driving Cat, the Cat Who Could Drive a Car
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Chester knew how to take a fat cock, and beyond that was pretty unexemplary in most every way. Chester didn't think it was a very big deal that he could take a fat cock: it's not a skill in the way that a person thinks of, say, shoemaking as a skill. When Chester found himself screwed down on a long, fat dick and an excited, insatiable grin on his face, he could never point to a single thing of consequence which was fixed, solved, averted, maintained, or rectified. He could only admire the fact that he was bobbing his healthy body - which looked like a baggy, comfortable fit for his broad frame - on top of a stately, demanding rod, though usually that rod was made of silicone plastic. Chester was also the kind of guy who would never grow into the name Chet. He smiled a little too much, joked a little too little, and had a habit of respectfully referring to everyone as "sir," a habit he would not drop in bed, and so even tentative and even hesitant men could only feel encouraged to awaken their most aggressive, masculine desires and energies when the friendly bear would ask - in a voice that started quiet and built slowly in pitch and volume with each successive entreaty - "Harder, sir."
Mac had been Mac since Mac was a baby. His parents named him Mac, the kids at school called him Mac, his college degree called him Mac, and Mac will be on his tombstone. The name belonged to muscular black leopard who could have been chiseled out of volcanic ash. Chester was intrigued in a very strange, visceral sense by the name's immutability. Chester had always wondered with a kind of vague worry if one day a person might call him Chet. And if another person picked up on it, and one more person figured that things must be changing and all of a sudden Chester was dead, and Chet was born. But Mac was a durable name, a name that stood on its own, and neither would nor could ever be contested. It couldn't be shortened into a diminutive nickname, it couldn't be drawn out into a taunt. The panther with a linebacker's build could not be anything other than Mac. Just the sound it made befit the gruff, solid panther perfectly. It had a kind of sonic quality like other terse, affecting words Chester could think of, words like "stud" and "fuck" and "dick." And of course the panther had a big dick, a bulge like a buried blimp protruding from his pants, that Chester would ogle it at the bar for hours before Mac finally got the idea to take the bear home for a little fun.
With all respect and humility Chester comported himself upon being invited into the Panther's home, trying to maintain his attention to good manners as a guest. He kept his hands behind his back and a shy smile on his face that implied a certain sense of guilt for imposing his leering presence. Chester stood silent and respectful in his shameless fantasizing, until the panther directly stripped the bear down to nothing at all, the stocky fellow still quiet, only a slight whimpering of simmering excitement between nervous gulps. "Yes, sir," Chester answered directly when asked if he wanted to suck a fat cock. "Yes, sir," Chester's voice quavered when asked if he could take it all. "Yes, sir," Chester promised when asked to prove it, and the plain, stocky bear found himself on his knees, hands still latched behind his back and his lips wrapped around the soft, ebony shaft, coaxing it alive gently with his tongue.
Little goading was needed on Mac's part to get the bear to perform. Mac simply reclined against a wall and kept his fingers in the shock of messy brown hair. He grabbed the bear's hand from behind his back and traced the trembling paw over his body, letting go as the subservient bear took control himself and slipped his paws along the thick, firm limbs, humbly squeezing and massaging powerful muscles underneath. The elegant panther built like a promising omen only relaxed, letting a broad, victorious smile cross his muzzle. His dick felt as if it might be glowing in the bear's muzzle, the nimble and frisky tongue belying the bear's apparent simplicity. Hungrily, Chester dipped the rotund nuts in his mouth, sucking and pulling at them in wanton craving.
"Think you can take a fat cock like this?" the panther asked plainly.
"Yes sir," Chester moaned. "Please sir," the pudgy bear appended, remembering that his mother had told him to always be polite. Chester waited until he was told to get up, then allowed himself to be led to the bed, where the panther laid down first, one hand postured behind his head and the other holding the stiff, throbbing cock in the air like an obelisk. He patted his lap, and dutifully Chester climbed into bed, using the sturdy black body to balance himself as he sat down, facing the overconfident panther's grin and the fat black shaft pressed into the cleft of his ass. "Oooooooh," the bear said dumbly as he held the fat meat against his backside. It had been so long since one this long and this fat hadn't been made of silicone rubber. He ached to impale himself on it. Nothing could compare to a real dick, not a single thing in his bedside drawer could make up for a cock, because a cock plies you open with such inviting warmth and when it plugs into you it feels Just Like the real thing.
"Awwww," the panther cooed, warmed by the bear's uninhibited, grateful pleasure. "You like that, don't you?"
"Yes, sir," the bear said in a breathless hush, unable to repress a smile.
"Well, then-" the panther said, and paused.
Chester pressed the slick cock into his tight pucker and groaned down against the knob-like head, so prodigious it was. A grunt released into a moan as he felt it spread him open, plug him out, and the bear dropped slowly and confidently, with the purposeful concentration of a craftsman interrupted only by pointed moans of pleasure, and buried the panther cock slowly in his ass. Chester's dick, fat and stubby, stood stiff as if in salute, and sported a heavy drop of pre on its head. The bear settled his gainful, curvaceous cheeks into the panther's hips and rested there, breathing deep through his nose, sat straight up on the long cock as if it were a second spine. He sat there for a moment, at first rigid and alert, turning and bobbing in strained jerks, tempering himself to the fat load like a man easing into a cold pool. Slowly the bear's countenance unglued into a loose set of pleased features. His body muscles eased and allowed him to droop into an easy slouch and start grinding his ass in brusque, taunting strokes against the panther's dick.
Mac grabbed put a hand on Chester's shoulder, taking hold of the short brown fur, and groaned through a clamped jaw. "Damn-" he said to himself. "Goddamn man, take 'er easy," the panther pleaded.
"Yes, sir," Chester promised, and immediately disobeyed. The bear fucked himself with growing eagerness, with the kind of instinctual, unstoppable fervor characteristic to any kind of great performance art. He fucked himself with sightless, feeling pulses of his body, motions fed, fueled, and directed only by the intensely commanding sensation of riding a thick cock. He seemed to be inexorably driven by the almost ritualistic motions, riding the fat cock, gliding along tender spots inside him, massaging and tempting the fat cock to drill deeper. When the panther would met the bear halfway with a decided, forceful thrust, the bear would sound a soft, startled cry, then settle back down into the bed plugged deep with the panther's cock, his motions interrupted only momentarily before he returned to to bouncing on Mac's pole. When he burst with energy and slammed his plump ass against the panther's cheeks he seemed to burn with the brightness of a firecracker. When he slowed down to roll his hips sensuously, or hold onto his dick like a kinked hose struggling to keep it to only a fine dribble of pre, he seemed pensive and almost tragic. "Yes, sir," he said each time the panther told him to keep it easy, and each time the bear disobeyed, a blush of raw embarrassment breaking to his cheeks as the panther gave up and gave in to the bear's sexual drive.
"If you want it-" the panther began as he sat up, bone left buried, and pushed the bear backwards.
"Oh, Please, I do, sir," the bear said numbly, searching for where to put his paws as he was bowed backward, finally settling on committing them to holding his legs back.
"Well, then-" the panther said, and paused, and jammed his cock deep into Chester's slick hole. He slapped his nuts like pool cues against the plush pillow of the bear's ass, bent Chester backward and fucked him savagely, the always helpful bear keeping his legs above his head. Mac beamed with pride as he plowed his proud cock into the wanting hole, wanting so badly to hear that word "Sir," again, almost drunk off the cheap sense of power.
"Oooh," the bear would moan, and Mac would fuck him harder.
"Oooooh," the bear would moan again, and Mac would fuck him harder.
"Oooooooooooh, the bear would rejoice, and Mac would fuck him harder.
"Oooooooooooooooh, sir-" the bear would finally say in a numb ease, and Mac fucked him just that hard. Chester panted with passion, his soft innocent face polluted with the obvious curves and lines of unabated lust. His toes curled, his lips curled, his fingers curled into tight little fists holding nothing and threatening nothing as he filled the air with gracious, heated shouts. "Harder, sir," he begged, "Harder sir, harder sir, please sir..." he continued, not meaning to sound so pathetic, only wanting to be polite but unable to restrain his voice until each "sir," seemed to drip with need, the bear wholly knocked-over with lust, his fingers dug into his calves, his dick spilling pre onto his stomach, his throat raw from groans and yelps of pleasures that wouldn't end, only grow more hoarse as they became more urgent, and more urgent as they became more hoarse. Mac's body poured with sweat, his teeth bared and eyes shut as he concentrated on humping the grateful bear, every muscle thrown into every thrust, every joint contributing to the job of spearing the bear deeper and deeper until the panther, bent over and almost dazed with a light head, felt an unmistakable twinge in his gut, wrapped his arms immediately and tightly against the burly bear, stuffed his cock finally and defiantly deep into the bear's ass, and loosed a gushing torrent of cum. What felt like a flood to the panther poured out of him in spurt like the rush of burst dams filling the bear quickly until the panther finally pulled out, leaving Chester gratified and leaking.
Chester still writhed in his spot at the bed, humping insensibly at the air, his fingers wrapped around the base of his leaking dick. He moaned as if wounded, looking disconsolately as his corked cock. His nuts trembled with anxious energy, and a low grumble, a groan, a whimper, rumbled from his chest. Chester lifted his eyes to the sated Panther in a pleading, desperate gaze. Mac took notice and offered himself finally, taking hold of the bear's cock and slipping another finger into the loosened, battered hole. Chester rocked back and forth in abatement of nervous energy. He gripped the linens in his hands and shot his hips toward the sky as he erupted triumphantly in a thick, warm spurt that painted a stripe across his cheeks. Another jet of cum splashed against his chin, a few more pooled on his chest and stomach, and then his cock only pulsed insensate, leaking reserves of cum onto the stately black hand still wrapped around the stubby cock.
"Thanks," the panther cooed as he cleaned his fingers off.
"Thank you, sir," the bear replied gratefully, letting his cum soak and darken the fur where it landed.