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Max was in the middle of a dream, but he couldn't really describe what it was about. It was one of those dreams that you know you had, because you must have had a dream, but you can't remember what it was about. You know for a fact you had a dream, of that much you're sure, but the details have flitted away in the fog of sleep, left behind forever as you part the mists and enter the realm of consciousness, and all that's left is a nagging sensation that you did indeed dream, and perhaps it was an important dream, but that's all.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. There was one way Max could tell he'd been dreaming, aside from the prickling feeling at the back of his head that reminded him of a now-forgotten dream. While most of his body was ensconced in the warm, smooth sheets, drifting pleasantly along in a sea of comfort, he was aware of a raging hard-on that was rapidly pulling him from his sweet slumber into the real world, a world of physical discomfort and aching muscles. Well, mainly just the one muscle.

Smiling, Max rolled over, intent on taking care of this problem the best way he knew how. He had lived in this body long enough to know not to ignore its needs, and when it was ready for action, it was ready for action, and it was best not to argue.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," the tiger purred, throwing an arm lazily across the femme next to him, the skinny, sexy bunny that shared his bed every night. "It's time to wake up."

Even stranger than the fact that nobody answered was the fact that his arm was laying limply on the bed, no rabbit cuddled underneath it. Still addled with sleep, Max twisted his eyebrows in an expression of concern and confusion, though mostly confusion.

Ahh, that was right. Felicia had gotten up early this morning to visit her...cousin? aunt? second grade teacher? He vaguely recalled a half-dreamt kiss goodbye as the girl loped away from his bedroom, promising to be back in a few days, reminding him to be good, to remember to take out the trash, and not to drink too much.

"Rats," Max thought, as he rolled over onto his back. "Isn't that typical? Just when you need 'em, they wander off..." Still, there were certain advantages to having the place all to himself. Namely, he could sleep as late as he wanted, hang around the house all days in his underwear, and have people over until all hours of the night, playing music and cards and video games. The next few days were going to be filled with sloth and gluttony, he was sure of that.

At the moment, however, there was still the matter of a massive and insistent hard-on sprouting from between his legs. Well, maybe massive was relative, but it was certainly insistent, and it was the kind of hard-on that refuses to go away until somebody takes the time to deal with it. Not, of course, that most of us mind dealing with these things.

Max was one of us who has nothing against a little solitary playtime once in a while, especially in those unfortunate circumstances in which no one else is available to help. Settling into the bed, laying on his back, Max let his eyes drift closed as he gently took his cock in his paw. Sighing happily, he wiggled a little to get comfortable as he began to stroke his malehood slowly.

Half asleep, surrounded by the warmth of the bed, his fuzzy paw wrapped around his dick, Max was just about in heaven, or at least something close to it. Sticking his left paw behind his head, he settled in and relaxed, enjoying the slow, rhythmic stroking he was giving himself, his straining member bulging in his grip, his balls lifting off the bed just a little each time he pulled upwards. Minutes passed, maybe, it was hard to tell.

Suddenly, a bright idea hit Max like a stroke of lightning. Sitting up in the bed, still gripping his member, though no longer playing with it, Max looked around the room, searching for something...then his eyes caught it. Aha! Leaping out of bed, the furre snatched up the object of his quest and hopped back into his warm, cozy nest. Good thing Felicia wasn't too tidy!

The rabbit usually picked up after herself, but she frequently forgot to grab up her undergarments, especially if they were stripped off the night before. A pair of lace panties had been lying lazily in the middle of the bedroom floor, like an exhausted pet, but now they were going to be put to use!

Bringing the panties to his nose, the tiger took in a deep breath, inhaling the thick scent his friend had left in them. The presence of the female's odors hot Max like a rocket, and as he buried his face in the silky garment, his paw sped up, gripping his cock hard as it jerked up and down, faster and faster.

Images raced through the furre's mind. Pictures of his Felicia, nude or half-nude, crawling on the bed in front of him, or underneath him, or sometimes on top of him, stretching and cooing, rolling around, lifting those long, muscular legs invitingly, giving him glimpses of the hot pink slash between them. His breathing sped up.

More images, of Felicia rubbing her body against his, hard nipples on small tits tracing lines in his fur, sharp claws trailing along his back, the damp fur of her crotch pressing so softly against his cock, rocking back and forth, the bunny nibbling at his ear, tiny cotton tail twitching rapidly. His breathing sped up.

Yet more images, of the top of the rabbit's head as she kissed and sucked at his cock, of the warm, wet pussy facing him between her legs when she turned around, the exquisite feeling when he finally plunged into her, pistoning his hips back and forth, her small body bumping and shaking as he gave it to her, hard, animal-like. His breathing sped up, and he squeezed his eyes tight.

With the scent of the female enveloping his head, and memories of nights well spent dancing through his brain, Max lost control, and with a shuddering grunt, he let loose his passion, the hot, creamy cum flowing freely over his paw, his chest heaving as he rode his orgasm to its end.

Falling into a state of total relaxation, Max drifted off to sleep for a few minutes, until finally the call of Nature forced him to hop out of bed and make all haste to the bathroom. A shower woke him up, and by the time he had wandered into the kitchen for breakfast, it was lunchtime.

Lunch consisted of a sandwich and chips, since Max hadn't been shopping lately and he didn't feel like getting dressed to go get some fast food. Thus, the half-nude tiger sat in his boxer shorts chomping on some old peanut butter, watching TV with only mild interest. Yes, it was great to be his own boss. Felicia ALWAYS made him get dressed. She was so picky sometimes.

Of course, with no one else around, and nothing much to do, one can get bored pretty quickly. After lunch, Max puttered around the house for a while, absently putting things away, writing a To Do list that was almost certain to remain Not Done, and finally flopping onto the couch to play video games for several hours.

As the sun began to start sinking in the sky, Max put away the games and pulled out his cell phone; after all, he was willing to laze around all day, but he wanted to do SOMETHING tonight. A few phone calls and his plans were made: about seven, he would meet up with some friends, go see a movie, then hit the bars. A good plan, but it wasn't even close to seven o'clock yet. What was he to do until then?

Standing in the middle of the living room, he got an idea. A wicked, strange idea that embarrassed him just a little. He was hard to embarrass, but it happened every once in a while. As the plan formed in his mind, he felt the expected stirring in his crotch, and by the time he had made up his mind, his tool was ready for action.

First, he went and got the full-length mirror from the bedroom. It had belonged to Felicia's mother, and she had moved it into his place. The rabbit, generally immune to the vanity that sometimes infected the fairer sex, would sometimes spend long periods standing in front of it, brushing her hair, grooming her fur, and pampering herself to no end. Max had a different use for it, and he wheeled it into the living room, right in front of the couch. Checking to make sure the blinds were closed and the door was locked, he was back to get the second prop he needed.

The furre emerged from the bedroom with the bunny's panties once more pressed to his nose, the fumes wafting around his head, making him crazy. Taking a good, long sniff, he sat down on the couch, in front of the mirror, legs spread. This was going to be fun.

Max couldn't help but admire himself just a little in the mirror. He was a good-looking guy. Maybe he was a tad on the short side, but he was fairly muscular, healthy, proportioned just right. An athlete's physique, he thought to himself. Not bulky, like a weight lifter, but narrow and strong, a true hunting cat, lithe and agile. Sure, a lifetime of laziness and sloth had caused a little flab to appear over those muscles, but deep down, he was an animal, a predator, and as he snapped his claws out, he couldn't help but grin.

Staring at the mirror, one paw holding the panties, Max ran the over paw down his chest, watching the fur ruffle, the muscles tense and relax underneath his paw. Taking another deep sniff, he slouched lower on the couch, thrusting his boxer-clad pelvis forward, the tent in front a silent but obvious sign of his arousal. Reaching down, he watched himself stroke the bulge through his shorts, getting a weird rush from the act. Taking a deep breath, settling in, he fiddled with the trapdoor in the shorts until his smooth, hard cock poked out, and with delight he began running his palm up and down the shaft.

Having never watched himself masturbate before, Max found it both amusing and erotic. His eyes crawled over the mirror, watching his own face, his chest, his thighs, and yes, his meaty tool as it stood straight up, a fuzzy hand slowly stroking it. He'd always been a little fascinated by it, to be honest. The flaring head, the hard length, the soft sack underneath. As the pressure in his balls began to build slowly, he took one last, long snort at the silky panties and stood up, ready for phase two.

He took a moment to take in the site in the mirror, a good-looking tiger with an obscene hard-on sticking out of his shorts. How could anyone resist? He posed for the mirror for a few minutes, laughing to himself as he acted like a model, thrusting his crotch, turning around to bend over a little, and rubbing his chest and stomach all the while. He was hot, there was no doubt, he laughed. But enough foreplay (is it foreplay when there's nobody else there? Maybe its's twoplay). Time for business.

Max stripped off his shorts, taking a moment to enjoy the view of his nude body. Glancing nervously around, he seemed to hesitate for a moment, then made up his mind. He bent down and, with obvious glee, stuck his feet through the panties and pulled them up. He shivered as the smooth material slid over his fur, and nearly jumped as his hot dick came into contact with them. Turning his gaze back to the mirror, he surveyed his work.

Truth be told, he looked a little funny, wearing a pair of panties that were just a tad too small for him, a gross bulge in the front proving that they were made for someone else. But the material was so soft, so smooth on his body, and he had to admit, he looked hot.

He flopped back onto the couch, determined to enjoy this, and certain that it wouldn't be difficult to do. Legs spread wide, he ran his fingers along his inner thighs, claws trailing through his fur, creating goosebumps underneath their touch. Licking his lips, he pressed a palm against the bulge and began rubbing it in a circular fashion, finding it incredibly stimulating. His breathing became a little more shallow, and he couldn't help make "sexy faces" at the mirror, chuckling at himself as he did.

Time stood still, or maybe sped up. Max didn't frankly care about time. Fascinated by the feelings and images before him, he played with himself through the panties, thick paw pads and stiletto claws creating opposite impressions of pleasure. His head nodding slowly in rhythm, he decided he was ready for the final phase.

Sliding two fingers between the leg of the panties and his own leg, Max pulled it out from his body, and with his free paw reached in to fish out his aching cock, now fairly pulsing with blood. Hot to the touch, he wrapped his paw around it and began stroking it, with a firm grip. Without letting go, he reached his left paw in and pulled out his balls on the same side, and stroked them softly while he jerked off.

Soon the tiger lost all interest in watching himself in the mirror, and let his eyes drift closed, head leaning back, paw pumping forcefully. As his breathing got faster, he could feel the pressure rising, and he squeezed his balls tightly, rolling them in his palm. Biting his lower lip, his paw sped up, flashing up and down his shaft, bumping his surging balls at each downstroke, squeezing the sensitive head at the end of each upstroke. His back arched upward and he mewled with delight, his senses reeling.

And suddenly there is was, a rocking orgasm that would have knocked him off his feet if he weren't lying down already. His body jumped and hopped, but his paw didn't slow down, not for a while at least, not until he felt the hot cum splashing over his paw and balls started to slow down. He was forced to slow down then, simply unable to continue, and finally he was reduced to a puddle of fur and relaxation, paws still gripping his crotch lightly, his tiger love oozing down his front.

As Max opened his eyes, the image of an exhausted, but very satisfied, furre greeted him from the mirror. What a ride, he thought. Gingerly standing up, he blew his image a big, wet kiss and trotted off to the bathroom, to shower before he went out tonight.

"I hope Felicia comes back soon," he thought absently as he peeled the sticky panties off his body, throwing them at the laundry hamper with precision aim. "But not too soon."