The full first draft (also NSFW) was posted at the beginning of the month.

Monday

I was in the middle of my mid-afternoon pawing-off when I was interrupted by a knock at the door. I tried to ignore it, and went back to the task at hand for a while, but the knocking went on for a good ten minutes.

I got up and answered the door, still stroking my dripping, greasy cock in a way I hoped would frighten off whoever might be soliciting. But it was only Arky, who rushed me with a hug, nearly knocking me over.

“Dude!” he said, holding me tightly. “We’ve been so worried about you—you haven’t been answering your phone or anything—and we were supposed to hear from you yesterday!”

“I got distracted,” I said, trying to find a tactful way to get him off me.

“I can see that,” he said, and rubbed his belly against my softening-but-still-wet member. “But you could still let your prospective mates know if you plan on beating your meat for thirty-six hours, no? It’s as bad as the time you turned yourself into stone for a week and didn’t tell anybody!”

“Hey now, are you guys ever gonna let that go? I told you, I didn’t think anyone would notice…”

“It was Christmas!” he said, burying his muzzle into my chestfur.

“Anyway, I haven’t been pawing off for thirty-six hours,” I said, trying to change the subject, and started dragging the clingy rat towards the couch. “I— where’s Flair?” I asked, noticing a distinct absence of raccoon muzzle around my cock as we sat down.

“He’s at work,” he said. “Some of us hafta make a living, you know.”

I ignored the jab. “I got another message from that human.”

Understanding mixed with disappointment covered Arky’s face. “I guess that means you won’t be settling for us, then…”

I hugged him to me, and he started crying. I didn’t know what to do, so I stayed quiet, holding him.