Losing It
It was Pole Day. The day before the race, when qualifying took place. In this case, a Friday afternoon. The air hot. With slivers of clouds. With enough sun and heat to make the track a bit slick. But, all the same, the speeds were fast. And the cars glinted in the light.
Including Lumba's. Her sea-green and white car. Running in the middle of the track going down the front-stretch. And moving lower, toward the apron nearer the white line and the grass ... heading into turn one. Zipping through turn one with a purring roar. And through turn two. And in a steady, streaming line down the backstretch.
Qualifying at this track consisted of two laps. The best of which ... would be taken and posted as the driver's qualifying speed.
She neared the opposite end of the track. Turns three and four. Exiting four with a high line, a few inches from the wall. So that the shadow of her car could be seen on the white SAFER barrier (which absorbed any possible impact ... and lessened the force of crashes).
Down the front-stretch and across the finish line. One lap down. One to go.
Welly was watching from the pits. With headphones on. Squinting in the sun. He'd been fired (officially) this morning from his newspaper job. As he'd expected. For both failing to turn in his story by the deadline, and for "compromising his journalistic integrity" ... by getting involved with Lumba. But he didn't care. He was just glad to be with her. Just glad she'd understood.
The skunk smiled. Watching the in-pits monitor (which was hooked up to various outlets). Squinting, he watched the femme of his dreams, his love, go down the backstretch. Nearing the end of her qualifying run. She was running a good enough speed to be in the first four rows. There would be about twenty-four, twenty-five cars entered in this particular race. To start in the top eight would be pretty good. Would give one a bit of an edge.
Turn three. Running a low line. A bit too low. Enough to give a bit of a wobble. Enough to throw off her line going into turn four. Causing her to miss the low line, and to run up, up. The car steering, veering hard. Down low, to the left. Trying to get out of the marbles. But the right-side tires, front and back, couldn't be kept from skimming the barrier. Leaving rubbery, black streaks on the white of the walls, and sending the car into a side-ways spin at two hundred miles per hour ...
... heading into the front-stretch. Squealing up clouds of smoke. The back end of the car swung around, and by now, the car had lost all traction. Careening for the inside patch of grass. Skidding into the grass, bobbling, tires leaving the ground and coming back down. The front wings bent, and then breaking off front the impact. And without the wings to maintain the down-force, the speed of the car propelled it into the air (like a plane taking off). Where it tumbled end over end and into the fence. The fence shuddered hard but kept the car from going any further.
And the smoking car, burning a bit, was upside down. On its spine. Open wheels spinning. One tire having been torn off and rolling through the grass, and then toppling over. And the safety trucks were already there. The safety furs, in orange fire suits, jumping out. A crane on one of the trucks being hooked to the side-pod of the car. To turn it back right-side up.
Welly, in the pits, quivered, sitting down. Swallowing. Trying not to look at the monitor, but unable to look away. The radio had gone dead during the impact. The pit crew told him, immediately, that it was normal for that to happen. That the in-car video and telemetry would die off upon impact.
But the worry was sudden. And fierce. And making him sick. It wasn't until he saw her get out of the car, and saw her take off her helmet and throw it (with frustration) to the ground ... that the skunk breathed a sigh of relief. And tore on out of the pits for the in-track medical center (where she would undoubtedly be taken).
She was released from the med center a half an hour later.
"You okay? You're okay, right?" Welly asked, at her side as soon as she was outside the door.
"I'm fine," she said, a bit dejectedly. Disappointment in her voice.
The skunk sighed heavily. "What happened? I mean ... did something break on the car, or ... "
"I went too deep into the apron. I got off the banking, and ... I wobbled it. It was furry error. Not mechanical." The otter started to walk toward the pit area.
"Wait ... Lumba." The skunk caught up with her. And held to her arm to slow her down.
She winced a bit.
"Hey," the skunk whispered. "Look at me."
The otter did. Rich-brown eyes a bit limp. Around them, the sound of a car purring, revving up, and rumbling out onto the asphalt. The wreckage from Lumba's accident had been cleaned up by now. And qualifications were set to resume (after a brief practice session).
"Darling," the skunk whispered, putting his paws on her arms (which were covered by her fire-suit). He wished to run his fingers and paws through her brown fur. Instead, he just held to her arms. And then put his paw on her neck. Tracing through the fur there. And then to her cheek. "Hey," he whispered. "You okay? I love you, you know ... "
"I know," she whispered, closing her eyes, taking a few breaths. And slowly moving her head ... so that her forehead was leaning against his. Both of them standing in the relative open. Beneath the sun.
"Did you get hurt at all? I mean ... you winced when I touch you."
"I have some bruises. I'm a bit sore," she admitted, "but, uh ... nothing broken. No concussion or anything serious."
The skunk moved his nose to her cheek. And breathed in. "Mm ... I ... I've never seen you crash before."
"That's because I haven't," she said. "Never crashed in this league before."
"What are you gonna do for your qualifying? Can someone else take your back-up car out there ... "
"I will take," she assured, "my back-up car out there. Later. Probably as the last qualifier." She let out a breath.
"Wait, wait ... wait, if ... if you're all bruised, can't you let a back-up driver do it? I don't want you to get hurt. Maybe you need some rest. Maybe we should ... "
"This is what I DO," she said, sighing, pulling away a bit.
But he held to her arms. Not letting her go.
"Do you know why I'm racing in this series?"
"Because you're a good driver."
"Perhaps," she said. "But, no, they ... they brought me here because of Adelaide."
"Adelaide?"
"Yes. Her popularity, her success ... the results she's given thus far ... they wanted to duplicate that. They wanted another femme. But not another American femme. They wanted an opposite. Some-fur who was more ... exotic. An outsider. To contrast her, but also ... capitalize on her success." The otter cleared her throat and swallowed. "So, they found me. Down in Brazil. And they saw that, at the level I was at, I was doing well ... so, they gave me a ride. That's how I got this ride. But ... you look at the other furs, and ... even the fans, and they choose Adelaide over me. They like her more. I like her, too. I talk with her. We're casual friends, but ... " A sigh. "I'm NOT her. Darling," she said, trying to explain how she felt. It wasn't something she'd really talked about with him yet. "I need to make an identity for myself ... out there. I ... " Another sigh.
The skunk listened. Full of concern. Ears cocked, swiveling. He swallowed.
"Darling, I ... I may be bruised and battered from that crash. And my confidence may be down, but ... if I just decide to REST, and let a back-up driver get in MY car. What if he does better than me? And what if the voices get louder? The otter's not good enough. She's just a rookie. She's not got the experience, and maybe she'll never truly break through. I will NOT give any-fur the opportunity to question my talent and my mettle. This is MY ride, and ... I ... I'm not giving up," she whispered. "I'm going to get in that back-up car, post a time, and tomorrow night," she whispered, "I am going to contend." She paused, meeting his eyes. "I'm not going to be an also-ran."
"I understand. I do. But you're made of fur-and-blood, darling," Welly responded. "Not steel. I don't want you to risk your health and safety just because you ... you're ... "
"Stubborn?" she asked, eyes smiling just a bit.
"Driven," he said. Nosing her cheek.
"I can't stay out of the car," she told him again. "I have to do it. If I were truly injured, I would sit out, but ... I can DO this. I can manage it. And ... "
"It's alright." The skunk slid his arms around her back. Still standing in the sun. The both of them hot. "It's alright," he whispered into her ear. "I just worry ... "
"I know." She nuzzled his nose. Nose-to-nose.
The skunk said nothing for a while. "I guess ... you got a lot of work to do. Only have a few hours to get back out there."
The otter nodded. "Yes, but I'd ... like for you to be nearby. You make it not so bad."
"Make what," the skunk asked, "not so bad?"
"The fears. The doubts. A crash is ... the worst thing that can happen to a driver. It calls into mind ... many, many questions. Many what-if's. Having you here, it ... it lessens all that. It's a great comfort." She took a deep breath, and leaned against him. "A great joy."
The skunk let out a breath. And breathed in. And his heart swelled a bit. "My mate," he whispered. Stroking the fur on her cheek. Her neck. "My love." He tilted her head and put a soft, soft kiss on her lips. And then broke it. "We should get back to your team. They're probably worried about you, too."
The otter nodded. "Just hope they're not mad at me for totaling one of their cars." A guilty little giggle.
"I'm sure they'll understand." A smile. "Now, let's go get you into tomorrow's field."
"She okay?" Adelaide asked Field.
"Yeah. They let her out of the med center a little while ago ... "
"Mm. That was a nasty crash." She had seen the replays. The pink-furred bat was about to go out, herself. To make her own qualifying run.
"Be careful out there?" the mouse asked.
"Promise," she whispered back, showing her teeth in a bright, pink grin.
Field giggle-squeaked. Her smile was so bright. And, when she showed her fangs like that, it was ... such a playful action. And, of course, he associated her fangs with sensuality, so ...
"I'm gonna do this, Field. I'm gonna get on the pole." She was pacing back and forth. Back and forth in the sun. She crossed her arms for a moment, and stopped. Letting out a breath.
"You've been on the pole before. Twice," he reminded.
"Last season," she added. "And the best that came of those was a third-place finish ... for ONE of those poles. The other time, I had that engine malady. Faded all the way back ... "
"Well ... "
"Well, I have a good feeling."
"Well, just don't be so demanding of yourself."
"But every other fur is."
"I'm not," he promised. "I won't be. If you qualify first or twenty-fifth, I'll still be proud of you," he whispered. "Either way."
The bat beamed brightly. Swallowing. And opened her wings. And wrapped them around the mouse. "Mm." Her eyes watered a bit. "Mm ... Field." She nuzzled him. "Hey," she said, with an eyes-bright smile. "Hey, you gotta see something, okay?"
"What?" the mouse asked, a bit confused.
She tugged at his paw. "Come on. You'll love it."
The mouse followed her, thin, silky trail trailing behind him. "I need to put sun lotion on my tail and ears," the mouse said.
"We'll do that in a minute. First, I gotta show you a change I made to the car."
"A change?"
"Mm-hmm." She padded with him to their pit-box. And she clambered over the little wall. Into the open pit area, where her car was parked. The pointed, needle-like nose, and the tail that stuck up from the back. The snug cockpit, as it were, of the car. The seat of which was molded to each driver's body. To keep them as snug as possible. So that, during a crash, the driver's body wasn't thrown around. Was kept buffered. The perimeters of the car could disintegrate from an impact, but the middle of the chassis, the body, would hold up. But the driver's legs were up toward the nose of the car.
The mouse blinked, looking the race car over. "Mm?"
"Well, don't you see it?" she asked, giggling. A few of her crew-furs chattered about. Her team owner was back there somewhere ...
Field squinted. He was good at noticing details, and though it took him a few seconds, he saw it. And giggle-squeaked airily.
"I thought you'd like that," she said.
"I do!" he insisted. With another bright giggle-squeak. And his nose sniff-twitching. His tail wavered about. On the nose of the car, toward the front, mouse-whiskers had been painted on. And the two rearview mirrors on the sides of the cockpit ... had been painted the rosy-pink color of mouse ears. "That's ... awesome," the mouse whispered.
"Mm." The bat sidled up to her mate. Putting her paws on his hips. And working them a bit under his button-up t-shirt. So that her fingers sank into the fur on the sides of his trim, slender belly. "Glad you like it." Their eyes met.
"Do you two need a room?" asked Kyo, the coyote. One of the crew-furs.
"Not yet," Adelaide responded quickly. Still looking at Field. And still grinning at him. "I think we can control ourselves ... for another hour, at least. Until I've qualified."
Field giggled, flushing a bit. Always the shy one.
"Guess I should get prepped up ... and all that," Adelaide continued.
"Guess so. I'll be back there," the mouse said, nodding to the umbrella that covered the team's television and radio equipment. Which is where Field usually sat and watched the races from. A bit out of sight, but ... able to still see the track, as well as monitor the bat's comm channel. And see the network feed.
"Well, hold on to your tail, mousey," the bat whispered, gripping at Field's rump.
The mouse squeaked and rose up to the tips of his foot-paws. Leaning right into the bat's sudden kiss. "Mm ... " His eyes closed.
The kiss broken, the bat sighed softly, happily. "Hold on to your tail," she whispered again. "Cause I'm gonna be movin' at warp speed."
A giggle-squeak. "Mm ... my pink bat, running fast in the Texas sun. A luminous sight," he remarked, "for any-fur's eyes."
"Mm-hmm." Another kiss, and she let him go, and slowly backed off, and then turned around. Rudder-like tail wagging a bit.
Field sighed and watched her walk to her team owner. And he squeaked a bit. Sun lotion. Well, he'd have to put it on his pinker parts ... himself. But no matter. Adelaide could help him wash it off tonight, in the shower. That would make up for it.
Field giggle-squeaked to himself. Feeling pretty good. And why not? He was alive, had a mate, and the sun was out. The air was warm. And race cars were humming and glistening round the track. A nice way to spend the day, this.
Adelaide's qualifying run did go well. Well enough to be on the front row, but NOT well enough for the pole. That, actually, went to Kokomo, the squirrel.
Dusky posted the fifth-fastest time. Maybe he had a faster car than that, but ... fifth was all he'd managed. And that was good enough for him. Today, that was more than good enough. And, anyway, he wasn't so concerned about his starting spot on the grid.
Normally, driving the car was the highlight of his day, but ...
... today, it was her.
And it was evening now. And they had wandered back to his trailer. Had just slipped inside.
"Um ... would you like something to drink?" the rabbit asked the doe.
Bell-Bell smiled shyly. "Um ... well, like, soda."
"Soda?" A smile.
"Yeah, why?"
"You just don't seem the type of fur that would drink soda."
"Normally, no," the doe admitted quietly, taking a seat on his couch. "But, uh ... feeling bubbly right now. Feeling in a good mood. Might be a treat."
The rabbit giggled lightly. "I guess so." He opened his fridge. "Um ... well, I have root beer, vanilla cola, and ... "
"Vanilla cola," she said.
" ... 'kay," he went, taking out a can. One for her. One for himself (though he took a root beer). And he went to her on the couch. Sat down. And let out a breath. Giving her the can of vanilla.
She opened it. The can making that tin clicking sound. And then the sound of fizz. The doe smiled, biting her lip a bit. "Mm ... you did a good job today. On your run."
"It was solid."
"No, it was good," she assured. "You're up front."
"Well, this is a fast track. The race is under the lights, so ... don't know how much that'll help me."
"I'm confident you can out-maneuver any traffic you come across."
Dusky was quiet. He just flushed. His tall, waggling ears flushing a bit on their pink insides. He sipped at his open can of root beer. "I suppose you'll be spending the race, though, in Adelaide's pits."
"Course. Yeah, and after the race, too. The press always mob her after a race. Especially if she does well. And then she has to do meet-and-greets and appearances for her various sponsors, and ... so, yeah, I'm afraid I won't be able to get to you after the race. Probably not 'til after eight-o'clock or so. But I'll come back to the trailer when I'm done with it all. That way," she promised, putting her can down (on the little table in front of the couch). She leaned against him. "That way," she whispered, "I can ride to the next track with you."
"I would hope so," he said, biting his lip. "I mean, we're mates. I want you with me every night," he confessed. "I mean, what's mine is yours now, and ... " He went quiet for a bit. Feeling that maybe he was being sappy. He wasn't sure. He wasn't used to being romantic. Was their any proper way? Or did it vary from fur to fur? Was their a standard for romantic behavior? Should he be doing something he hadn't done yet? What should ...
The doe nodded quietly, breathing in. Smiling. And her hoof-like hand squeezed his paw. "Mates," she whispered. And she swallowed, opening her eyes. And looking right up at him (from so close a distance).
He met he gaze.
She blinked shyly, looking at her soda can on the table. The condensation on it. How the light glinted off the colored aluminum. The light in here was all natural right now. The sun was setting, and its light was filtering through the windows. Dimly illuminating the trailer's interior (and their fur) in an orange, golden glow.
Everything was quiet. Even outside. Right now, it was quiet.
Except for her breathing. And his heart.
"Dusky," she whispered. Very, very quietly. Almost inaudible.
"Mm?"
"I think it's ... I'm ready. I think we should ... " She trailed. Not really being able to word it like how she'd wanted.
But the rabbit understood. And his heart picked up a bit. Patter-pat-pat. And he nodded quietly. Realizing, "You're nervous ... "
"Aren't you?" was her honest counter.
Come to think of it ... he was. He'd done this before. With many furs. But he'd never really THOUGHT about it. The act. The consequences. With her ... well, they were mates. And he loved her. Would it feel different? Yiff done for love ... would it feel different? He didn't know, but ... he WAS nervous, too. Worried about making it feel good for her. Not worried about his own pleasure. Worried about hers. She'd never done this before. Not with anyone. Dusky felt he didn't deserve it ... to be the one ...
The doe breathed quietly, holding to the rabbit's arm. "What should we do first?" she asked quietly.
"I, uh ... find it's best not to plan it. Just ... start with a kiss, and let it go from there. Part of the, uh, beauty of yiff is ... the very same physical act, you know, even done a hundred times over," the rabbit said, "feels unique every time. Feels different. It never gets stale. Just let your instinct dictate the flow, and ... "
Her exhale was shaky. "Well, I don't know ... "
"Trust me," he offered. "I've trusted you, and ... "
She nodded. "I'll trust you, too." A pause. She bit her lip a bit, and then licked her own lips (out of nervousness more than anything). "Just be gentle ... please," she whispered.
"Of course," was his promised response. Also at a whisper. "And, hey," he added, putting a paw on her chin. Directing her gaze to his own. He blinked a bit, almost faltering. Almost not feeling good enough to look in those light-blue eyes, but he held the contact. "Hey," he cooed again. "I know how special this is ... okay? I'm not gonna make it JUST instinct, you know? I know how much this means to you, and ... it means a lot to me, too," he told her.
She smiled warmly at his words. And nodded, taking a few more breaths before saying, "Okay. Mm ... " She lightly cleared her throat. "Just ... take the lead?" she said delicately. Innocently.
The rabbit nodded. And put his nose to her cheek. And breathed in. The soft, furry scent of her. The slender, feminine deer. The spiritual, caring doe. Probably more genuine and worthwhile than anyone he'd ever had a chance to know. And he breathed her in. And closed his eyes. And kissed her cheek. Once, twice ... and more and more. Peppering soft, little kisses to her cheek. To her chin. To her neck. And then moving back up to her lips, where he tilted her head, and slipped an arm around her back. And pulled her to him ...
... as their kiss went on and on. For seconds. Wet and locked. Eyes closed.
Until it broke.
And they both audibly breathed. The hot breath of each ... evident on the other's muzzle. Raising their temperatures.
Their noses started to nuzzle, at that point.
And Dusky, again, went with kisses. To her neck. While his paws delicately fumbled at her clothes, delicately undoing the buttons.
She tugged at his shirt, and he wriggled.
Until they were both bare from the waist up. Except Bell-Bell still wore a bra. Which the rabbit gently unbuckled.
The doe's cheeks were warm beneath her fur. Flushing. As the strap of clothing fell away. As the rabbit set it aside. As he whispered, "Beautiful ... " ... and proceeded to put his paws on her belly. Massaging. Gently guiding her backward.
She followed his prodding. And laid down on her back. And he slowly wriggled atop of her, foot-paws bumping her hooves. Her hoofed feet.
Her eyes, half-open, looked to him with trust. With anticipation. With that lingering sense of nervousness. Maybe it would hurt. Maybe she wouldn't do it right.
But his young, rabbit smile eased her concerns. He really did have the most handsome smile ...
... which he kept giving her as he sat up a bit. As he started to undo his pants. As he managed to get out of them. And, finally, his briefs.
Her eyes traveled down (unable to help themselves). She swallowed. His buttery, off-white fur was more a pure white on his belly. And on his groin. Where his fuzzy sheath hung. Rabbit-hood swollen a bit inside. Where his sac hung loosely.
Dusky blushed a bit. Not normally something he did when naked in front of another fur. But, again, normally ... he didn't think about it. He just did it. And, around Bell-Bell, he realized he had some sense of modesty. Even though they were mates.
"As I've said ... you're very handsome," she told him, smiling, blushing. "Guess it's my turn." She cleared her throat, and then started to wriggle out of the rest of her clothes. Until they were hanging from her hooves. Until she kicked them off.
Dusky eyed her. Her fur, most of it tan, had white spots on her thighs ... her belly was white. The same white as her flickering deer tail was (the underside of it, anyway ... the upper part of her tail was tan, like her back was; but the white spots were on her back, too ... random spots; not like a cheetah's or anything; not so numerous as to be patterned ... but there, all the same). Her legs, soft, slender ... and the thin line between them. Holding her femininity.
"You're very lovely," was the rabbit's response. But he hadn't needed to see her undress to know that. And he told her so.
She flushed. "Thank you," she mouthed, leaning back. On her back again. She swallowed, and he wriggled back atop of her. Their bodies were both bare, and they took up the whole length of the couch.
"We could move to the bed," Dusky whispered, nose on her cheek.
"I'm too light-headed," she confessed, "to wanna walk now."
"Then I could carry you."
A giggle. Eyes darting. "Um ... "
"Come on ... "
"Dusky, what are ... "
But the rabbit was already on his foot-paws. Strong, slender foot-paws. And strong legs. Built for hopping and running. Built for bolting. Built for endurance. He had no problem holding her weight. Anyway, he was an athlete. He was fit. He put an arm beneath the bend of her knees and one beneath her back.
She giggle-squealed. She'd never been, in so many words, swept off her hooves before! She clung around his neck.
And he carried her to the bed. And gently set her down. Letting her wriggle into the middle, on her back again.
And he crawled up after her. The pink tip of his rabbit-hood exposed. The length of it slowly sliding out. His heartbeat ramped up.
Her own heart was beating at an equally high pace. As the rabbit kissed over her body. "What, uh ... let me do ... "
"Hey," was his gentle whisper, paws caressing her belly. Paws fondling her breasts. "Hey, you needn't do anything for me. This is yours, okay?"
"But ... "
"We'll have plenty of other times, but ... this is your first, and ... it's about YOU," he stressed to her. "I want you to feel good. Just relax, and ... and let me take care of you," he offered. Never before had he asked to take care of anyone. Never before had he wanted to. And never before had he even FELT he COULD. Everyone was always having to take care of him. No one had ever trusted him enough ... to be under his care.
But she was willing. She was wanting. And she nodded quietly, taking a deep, stabilizing breath. And letting it out. Her breasts rising and then falling with the action.
By now, Dusky was hard. Very hard. And his nose was flooded with the scent of her bare fur. Deer fur. He'd never ... never been with a deer before. She smelled so sweet. Smelled like prey, but ... not quite. His nose drank of her scent. Of the air around the bed. And he planted kisses on the side of her head.
She giggled a bit. His whiskers, as they brushed over her nose, tickled slightly.
Dusky smiled. Smiled at seeing her so happy. Smiled at finally knowing what love was. And what it meant. Smiled just ... well, just because.
"I'm gonna go real slow at first," he told her. At a whisper. "Let you get used to it. It might a hurt a bit ... since it's your first time. But that's not how it's normally gonna feel. Just ... just relax. Okay?"
She nodded. Weakly replying, "Okay."
"I'll take care of you," he repeated, feeling a flush of ... was it pride? That she was his mate. Gratitude. That she'd seen something in him that he'd never known about. So many feelings. And her hoof-like hands clutching at his fur. Oh, the touch and breath of her! The sight!
The rabbit's body was SCREAMING at him. He was a rabbit. His doubled yiff drive was pulsing, pounding ... it didn't WANT him to take his time. It wanted him to fuck like a bunny: with abandon. But he fought those instincts. He was going to be very slow and sensual with her. Slow and ... sensual. As he slid his tip against her pussy-lips. Just against them. Not pushing between them. And he sighed as he did so.
The doe's nipples hardened against his chest. She spread her legs a bit more. Fearing she hadn't given him enough access.
"It's okay," he whispered. "Here," he whispered. "Maybe, uh ... maybe I shouldn't start you out on missionary ... "
"Why not?"
"Well ... I, uh ... wanna rub at your clit. I can't do that when I'm lying flat on top of you."
"Oh." A flush. "Yeah ... "
The rabbit gave her a soft smile. Shifting to his knees and his shins. "Here," he said, helping to raise her legs up and off the sheets. "Put them around my sides." She did so, and he held to her thighs, and ... slid his tip a bit more into her. And his member a bit deeper. Two inches. "Hah ... ah," he breathed. She was wet. Very warm.
She winced a bit.
He stopped. Whiskers twitching.
"No, no ... don't stop," she asked him.
"But ... "
"It kinda feels good ... it's ... " She flushed with embarrassment. "It's a lot bigger than ... than my fingers," she confided (of his rabbit-hood).
"Did you ever use toys ... on yourself?"
She shook her head. "Too embarrassed to buy them."
"Hey, it's okay, Bell-Bell," he told her gently. "Really. Just ... just relax. Relax," he whispered. And he began to slide back into her again. Softly, softly. Inch by inch. Until he was buried in the slick pouch of her pussy. The wall of her vaginal canal creating the most blissful friction. And Dusky massaged at her belly. Tweaked at her nipples a bit, and finally put his paws down at her clitoris. Which he rubbed very softly. Which he tapped a few times.
The doe's breathing got a bit heavier. Her eyes closed.
And, still rubbing her clit, still sitting up, the rabbit pulled his penis back. Revealing the slick length as it left her vagina. Pausing. And sinking it back into her sheath-like muscle. "Mm ... " Pull-back. Slide. Pull-back ... rub, rub.
"Huh ... "
"Yeah," Dusky huffed. He nodded. Seeing she felt it. And, oh, HE felt it, too. Did he ever. It was all he could do to keep from humping and rocking her against the sheets. Rabbits had great stamina. They were also, when they wished to be ... well, vigorous. It wasn't in his nature to go THIS slow with anyone. He'd never had to. But, still, he maintained his very easy pace. Slowly pulling back. Slowly sliding in. Pausing for nearly a minute. Just to let her feel herself being filled with his organ. And still rubbing at her clit.
"Huh ... " The doe writhed a bit. It didn't hurt anymore. That dull pain at the start ... it was starting to melt away. Replaced by a warmth that promised to well into a pure heat.
The rabbit saw she was ready. Ready for more. And he slid back into his missionary position, between her legs. Over her breasts. Atop her body. And ...
... hump.
"Uh ... "
Hump.
"Uhn," the doe let out. She clamped her muzzle shut.
"Hey ... hey," the rabbit panted. "Don't be ashamed of your ... your sounds. I wanna hear them." He caressed her sides. "Let it out, okay?" He nuzzled her neck, buried in her. He was lightly sweating beneath his fur. And his ears were gorged with blood. He swallowed.
She nodded, opening her muzzle. Huffing a bit. "Oh ... Dusky," she breathed, wrapping her hoof-like hands around his back. Holding onto him.
"That's it," he urged. Hump. "Uh ... uhn," he groaned. Hump. Her body rocked back a bit. The way she reacted. The way she felt. Very inexperienced. Very innocent. The rabbit felt a certain thrill at being the first to breed her. He felt a swell of pride. And it made him go faster. Hump, hump ...
The doe hung on, ears cocked. Lips open. Huffing. "Ohh ... "
The slick friction of vagina and penis became slightly audible. Little squelching sounds. Comforting sounds of their bodies rutting. For the rabbit's motions had, by now, become rut-like. He'd lost it. Completely lost it. His instincts had been clamoring for control the whole time, and he finally broke down and let them to the fore.
The doe felt his power. The rabbit's hind legs and foot-paws, built for speed, were strong. And they dug for purchase on the bed, and they helped PUSH his hips against her. Grind, grind, grind! Pull-back. Grind! The bumping, the sweaty writhing ... so close, so intimate. Both of them moaning. Both of them clutching at fur.
"Ohh," Dusky huffed, moaning out. By now, his cock was absolutely marinated in her fluids. And he was leaking pre. Was throbbing. Was so, so stiff. So sensitive. Every motion, every buck of his hips was a pinwheel of pleasure. Spinning upward, upward ... all of it building, he knew, to a firework.
Bell-Bell felt the sheets sticking to the matted fur on her back. She was sweating, too, and the scent of them, of their furry selves ... and the sound of it. The feel of it. The pleasure. To think that the bunny's erect organ could do this! Bestow this pleasure, this ... oh, oh ... the weight of his body atop of hers. She felt so, so safe. So, so hot. So WANTED. So NEEDED. The yiff, to her, was as emotionally satisfying as it was physically satisfying. And, that, to her, was so key ...
And Dusky felt it to. Not just the physical pleasure. Not just the lust. But the love. The trust. Something he'd never felt before. And, he didn't know how, but the knowledge of all that, of all those good, emotional things ... it made the physical pleasure more palpable.
"Huh ... uhn. Uh, uh ... "
"Mm ... hmm ... ooh, uhh ... "
The rabbit, fucking the doe like an animal, began to yip. Rabbit-barks. Penis a pink piston. Ball-sac slapping on her fur.
Bell-Bell moaned into his ear. Panting, starting to writhe. Her limbs tingling. She'd never felt so LOST in anything. So swept away. She'd never felt anything like yiff!
"Huhh ... uhhh, y-yeah," Dusky grunted. "Ooh ... ooh ... " His muzzle twisted into a glazed look. He was, the doe knew, in orgasm. His penis twitched, shot seed like a canon at her womb. Spurt, spurt! Twitch. Each twitch an electric jolt of pure, male ecstasy. "Huhh ... huh," the rabbit huffed, having to close his eyes. But not done humping. As paralyzed with pleasure as he was, he kept fucking.
"Huhn," the doe huffed.
The rabbit DID have stamina. He drilled his doe.
Her breath caught. Her body tensed, and then ... went lax. Went ... squeal! She squealed. Pussy-walls clamping on his penis, quivering, sending blissful ripples racing through her nerves. "Ohhh ... ohhh," was all she could go, turning her head this way and that, gasping. Until, heart pounding, she managed to still herself. Managed to blink back her vision. Seeing Dusky's panting, smiling muzzle. "Huh ... heh ... you, uh ... look like the proudest boy in the world with that ... mm ... mm ... grin ... "
"I am ... the proudest boy, the proudest bunny, and the proudest fur in the whole, wide world," he told her. And he kissed her. Several times. "I am," he repeated. "I've just given the new love of my life her very first breeding." He glowed. "I've just made love with my mate."
The doe smiled. "Mm," she went. "It was great, Dusky. You were GREAT ... " She hugged him from below, shutting her eyes.
"Well, I ... thank you," he told her, flushing a bit. "Thank you for giving me your virginity. And your heart. For helping me. I mean, you know, I ... "
"I know," she whispered. "I'm just glad I found you. I'm glad that we've made this work. Despite everything ... I know we'll have a long life together." She gripped him. And sighed with contentment. "Mm ... it was really was great, Dusky," she cooed.
"Oh, it's not over yet, darling," the rabbit teased softly. Nuzzling her nose. Still inside her.
"No?" she asked hopefully.
He put his muzzle to her ear, whispering with a happy grin, "Not even close."