He always wondered how she would return time and time again with more fish than she could carry, a wistful smile on her face, proud of the impressive haul and providing enough food for weeks at a time. Maybe she'd found a special fishing hole? Or was she training as a secret apprentice? He had to know, so one day the persistent otter fellow traced her footsteps through the woods.

"Was that yours?" The alligator said in a calm, throaty rumble, sliding out of her and taking a long drag on his stogie. No, he knew exactly what she was to him. Maybe it was the sheer thrill that made her do it, that scaly groin slapping against her haunches and leaving her dripping and satisfied like no other could, or maybe this was how she repaid him for his angling assistance. Either way, there was no going back.

Each time she came home, her kiss would give him a taste of that hot, bitter smoker's breath. Her plush and silky fur returned matted from repeated couplings and dried saliva, delicate body still raw and trembling from the hard fucking she no doubt enjoyed during the course of her absences. He didn't mind, and with time, he even learned to enjoy it.