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WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!

This page may contain explicit description of sexual activity between anthropomorphic characters. If you have not yet attained the age of majority in your jurisdiction, please navigate away from this page now. If it is illegal, in your jurisdiction, to read this sort of material, please navigate away from this page now. If you are offended by reading material of this sort, what the hell are you doing here anyway?

DISCLAIMER! DISCLAIMER! DISCLAIMER!

This is a work of fiction, total fiction, and absolute fantasy. Nothing that takes place herein ever really happened. Some of the things that take place in this story are (physiologically) wildly improbable. Nevertheless, please do not read this. The consequences of reading further include, but are not limited too:

1) Death

2) Blindness

3) Growing hair on the palms of your hands

4) Acquiring a taste for Brussels Sprouts

The aforementioned consequences will not necessarily accrue to the reader in the order stated.

PROCEED FURTHER ENTIRELY AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Now that we've got that out of the way...

Thank you in advance for taking the time to read my story. I hope you derive as much pleasure from reading it as I did from writing it.

I welcome any and all comments, constructive criticism, and specific suggestions/requests.

Without further ado, on to the story:

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BEST. BLIZZARD. EVER.

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"Do you want me to stop?" Keith whispered.

His voice was so quiet, barely shaping the sound of his breathing, that it would not have awakened me if I had been asleep. But I was not asleep.

We were at his house, alone, because our mothers were stranded by a blizzard in another town. We were in his bedroom, because unfolding the bed from the sofa in the living room was too much trouble. We were in his bed because he suggested it.

Keith was a fox, almost fourteen, and my hero. I was a (barely) nine year old otter, Tommy by name, remarkable (in my own mind) only for being blue-furred.

In bed, we talked for a little while. Before long, our conversation tapered off, and I must have briefly drifted to sleep.

I awakened to the gentle feeling of his hand stroking my flank. His touch was very light, but not in a way that caused a tickle. At first I thought it might be accidental contact, but his strokes did not stop. As I continued to feign sleep, his hand roamed farther, onto my tail and the outside of my thigh. The feel of his hand on my body was intoxicating, causing a wonderful fluttery feeling in my belly.

His hand roamed further, moving onto the front of my thighs, and the fluttery feeling in my belly became a fullness in my sheath. His hand roamed toward the inner surface of my thighs, but my legs were together preventing his touch. Still feigning sleep, I rolled toward him, partially onto my back, opening my legs slightly in the process.

His hand froze. Fearing that I had broken the spell, my heart sank. Then he asked the question.

"Do you want me to stop?" Keith whispered.

I ran through the choices in my mind. I could say yes, and I knew without a doubt that he would stop. I could continue to feign sleep, and hope that he would resume his caresses. I wanted neither of those.

"Please keep going." I whispered, my voice only slightly louder than his.

"Very cool." he said, his words as warm a caress to my ears as his hand was to my body.

I rolled fully onto my back then, my legs parting to accommodate my tail. He rolled a little more onto his side, so he could reach completely over my body. Then he granted my request to keep going.

His touch was magical, moving delicately over my legs and belly, tracing the outline of my sheath through the fabric of my pajamas, bringing me fully erect.

"Feels good, doesn't it Tommy?" he said.

"It feels awesome," I said, "but why are you doing this?

"Because I know how good it feels when I do it to myself." He said, as he continued to stroke and stimulate me.

Several pleasurable minutes passed, punctuated only by the sounds of heavy breathing, his and mine.

"Do you want it to feel even better?" He asked.

"Sure." I gasped.

"Good." He said, "Then you need to take off those pajamas."

"But..."

"When we play like this, Tommy," he said, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Ever."

"I want to," I said, "but I don't want to be the only one who's naked."

"Well I can fix that little problem." he said, rolling onto his back.

Putting his hands under the covers, he briefly wiggled around, lifting his hips and then his legs. Unlike me, he had come to bed wearing only a pair of briefs. After a few moments, his hands emerged, holding those briefs. Then he tossed them across the room.

"Right now," he said, "*I'm* the only one who's naked."

"Keith, can I see what you look like?" I asked.

"Sure!" He said. "Can I see you too?"

"Okay." I said, and reached under the covers to begin undressing.

"Wait." He said. "Let's go stand by the window so we can see better."

He slipped out of the bed, took a few steps, and stood in a puddle of moonlight. I was entranced by the silver light reflecting from his red fur, the way the white tip of his tail seemed almost to glow, and the mysterious way that his hands and foot-paws seemed to fade because of their black coloration. He faced the window, turned three quarters away from me.

"Come have a look." Keith said, over his shoulder, beckoning me with a gesture of his snout.

I rolled out of bed then, and moved toward him. As I stepped into the light, he turned and faced me, raising his arms and putting his hands behind his head so I could see all of him for the first time.

He was beautiful! Slender, but with just the first hint of broadening in his shoulders. The white fur that started under his chin spread down his neck to the full width of his chest. The fur on his chest and abdomen was bright white, but thin enough that it did not hide his nipples, nor the contours of his flat belly, nor the hollow of his navel. And it made a perfect background for his fully erect foxhood.

"Wow!" I said. "You're really big."

"Believe it or not," he said, "I'm the smallest fur in my grade at school."

"But you're way bigger than me." I said, my eyes fixed on the rigid pink shaft before me.

"I'm almost five years older than you, Tommy." He said, turning slightly from side to side, letting me see more of his shape. "But the other furs my age have already started to grow up, so I'm smaller than they are."

"You still look great to me." I said.

"Thanks." He said, letting his hands drop to his sides. "Can I see what you look like now?"

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"I absolutely promise." He said, earnestly. "If this quits being fun for you, we'll stop right away. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Tommy."

"Here goes then." I said as I unbuttoned and removed my pajama top.

"I love your blue fur." He said. "It matches your eyes."

"Except for the white part on my front." I said.

"It's a nice contrast." He said, "And I like that we both have two-tone fur like that."

He stopped speaking when I loosened the string that held up my pajama bottoms. I hesitated a moment and met his gaze.

"Please." he whispered.

I quickly pushed the waistband down to my knees, then stepped out of the last clothing on my body. I stood before him and imitated his first posture, with arms raised and hands behind my head. In the nine years of my life I could never remember being harder. My otterhood stood full length, showing plainly against my white belly fur, lit by the silvery white moonlight.

"Awesome!" He said. "Your otterbits are blue."

"You really like it?" I said.

"Yeah, " he said, "It, umm, it matches your eyes."

"But your... foxbits are pink." I said, giggling.

"My colors are totally boring, plain, normal for a fox." He said. "But you..." He shook his head. "Different is cool." Then nodding and looking right at my erection, he said "That kind of different is *way* cool!"

I was thrilled. Keith had been the object of my hero worship for as long as I had known him. For him to admire my difference with such enthusiasm filled me confidence, but left me speechless with gratitude.

"Let's get back in bed now," he said "so I can show you how much better it feels to mess around when we're both naked."

I practically jumped into bed, with him only half a step behind me, both of us giggling. He rolled over to the clock sitting on the nightstand beside his bed and pressed a button that caused the display to get much brighter.

"What's 'messing around'?" I asked as he turned the clock so we were illuminated by the red glow of the numerals.

"What we're doing right now." He said. "When cubs like you and me play like this, it's 'messing around.'"

"I like it." I said.

"Not nearly as much as you will in a few minutes." He said with a foxy grin. Then he pushed the sheets and blankets down to the foot of the bed. "If it gets too cold we can pull them back up, but for now I want us both to be able to see everything we're doing."

I lay back, in the position I had been only a few minutes before. Bare now of any covering, I waited for him to resume his delicious ministrations. He did not disappoint. Spreading my legs, he sat on his haunches between them, facing me, straddling my tail. With both hands free to stroke nearly my whole body, he quickly showed me just how much pleasure I could gain through my skin, and he continued that demonstration for several minutes.

"If I said I could make you feel even better," he said, "would you believe me?"

"No way."

"Way." he said. Then he bent forward, leaning down so the top of his head nearly touched my chest, and slipped the full length of my cock inside his mouth.

I gasped, stunned by the overwhelming sensation. He briefly enclosed me fully, lips and tongue working to make a perfect fit around my straining cock. Then he pulled off.

"Do you want me to stop?" he said.

"Isn't it gross?" I asked, when I found my voice.

"No way." he said. "You took a shower just a couple hours ago. You're clean. You taste good."

"Oh my gosh..." I said. "Keep going."

"It only gets better." He said, as he leaned forward again.

I was small enough that he could hold my entire length in his mouth. With his lips just meeting the fur of my sheath, he treated the whole surface of my cubhood as a playground for his tongue. The fluttery feeling in my belly grew to an intensity I had never before felt. Then he pulled off again.

"I want to make you cum." he said. "But I've gotta warn you: right before it happens, you might feel like you need to pee. Don't worry, you won't. I promise. Just relax and let me make you feel good... Please..."

"Yes!" was all I could say.

Again he curled down and took me in his mouth. Again his flexible foxy tongue danced on my shaft. Again he brought me to the brink. Primitive parts of my brain took over as the experience of my first climax drove all rational thought away. My hips bucked, my back arched, my tail curled. I moaned.

As the spasms passed, he became as still as I, no longer swirling his tongue, but holding me gently in his mouth. He waited, patiently, as my senses returned. Just as I became able to speak, he sat up. Gently stroking my flanks with his hands, he smiled at me.

"Wow..." I said.

"Yeah," he said, "that was cumming."

"Cumming?" I said.

"If you want to sound like Tommy-the-science-teacher you could say 'orgasm.'" he said.

"I don't care what it's called." I said, savoring the afterglow for several long moments. "It was awesome."

"Never gets old either." he said.

"Can I make you cum now?" I asked.

"I'd like that, Timmy." He said. "But you don't have to if you don't want."

By way of answering, I sat up and reached my muzzle toward his shaft, my mouth wide open. He stopped me.

"If you really want to make me cum too," he said, "I want you to do something different than I just did for you."

"Whatever you want." I said.

He moved out from between my legs and lay down on his back.

"I want you to use your hands." He said. "Paw me off, please."

"Paw you off?"

He just grinned and rolled over a bit to open the drawer of his nightstand. Then he removed something like a tube of toothpaste, only it was too big.

"Hold out your hands." He said, as he unscrewed the cap.

I did as he told me, and he squeezed out a long bead of a clear gel onto both of my palms.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's mostly water." He said, as he put the cap back on the tube and set it aside. "But it'll make your hands nice and slippery."

He lay back down, and spread his legs a bit further.

"Spread it around on your hands, then take hold of my cock." He said.

He was perfectly patient with me as he explained how to give a great paw job. He eventually coached me so that, with my left hand, I had a tight grip on his shaft below his knot, just above his sheath, while with my right hand I pumped the top of his shaft, coming right to the head with every stroke. After only a minute or so of that, he stopped me.

"Don't let go," he gasped, "just be still for a minute."

"Are you okay, Keith?" I said

"Fine." Then after a moment he went on, "You're doing great. You're gonna make me cum really hard, really soon."

"Good." I said

"It'll be different from when you came." He said. "I'm gonna squirt some stuff out when I cum. Promise you won't quit pawing me until I stop you."

"Okay."

"Cool." He said. "Now start again just like you were doing a second ago."

I did, and before long he was groaning with pleasure beneath my paws. He began thrusting his hips, matching the rhythm of my strokes. Suddenly, a jet of nearly clear liquid spurted from his cock, landing on his belly. Then another, stronger, hitting high on his chest, almost under his chin. With each squirt, he emitted a high pitched gasp that sounded like "Yiff!"

Each squirt after the second was a bit smaller, until after six or eight, the liquid just dribbled over my fingers as I stroked him. Ten or twelve strokes after the squirting stopped, he put his hand on mine, signaling me to stop. I continued to hold him though, watching in amazement as he recovered from the pleasure I had inflicted upon him.

"Wow." I said, many seconds later.

"Way wow." He said. "You're good."

"Really?"

"Really, really good." He said, touching a finger to the little pool of cum that had formed in the hollow at the base of his throat, between his collar bones.

"Well, you taught me." I said.

"You're a natural." He said. "I only started squirting about a month ago, and I never shot this far before." He looked at the drops of his cum on the ends of his fingers then licked them clean.

I was immediately fascinated by the magical substance he had produced with such great pleasure and my assistance. He lay on his back and let me investigate the streaks of liquid on his chest and belly. Feeling, smelling, tasting...

"What do you think?" he asked, after I had licked my fingers clean for the second time.

"It doesn't taste like much" I said, "Just a little salty, a tiny bit sweet... It feels weird on my tongue."

"That's why I wanted you to give me a paw job instead of a blow job." He said. "I wanted you to be able to see it and play with it before you got it in your mouth. Some cubs don't like it."

"If it's yours, Keith, I like it." I said.

His eyes got all shiny, then after a few seconds he reached up and hugged me. I melted into his embrace as he held me tightly to his chest.

"Tommy, you are too cool!" he whispered in my ear, his voice strangely husky.

"You're cooler." I said, speaking into his shoulder.

He held me for several wonderful minutes before he loosened his hold on me.

"Your turn again." He said.

I sat up and he looked at me for a moment before a grin spread on his face.

"We've both got my cum all over our fur now." He said.

I looked down and giggled a little when I realized how right he was.

"But this kind of mess is fun." I said.

He sat up then and playfully pushed me back onto the bed, laying on my back.

"I want to give you a paw job now, so I can watch your face when you cum." He said.

"Good, " I said. "That way I can see what you're doing. Last time I could only see the back of your head."

"There are ways to solve that problem." He said, as he put some of the lube gel on his fingers. "But we'll do that later. For now, put the pillows behind your head so you can relax and watch at the same time."

I did as he said, clasping my hands behind my head in a show of being relaxed. Then he scooted between my legs the way he had earlier, but this time he scooted closer and closer until our balls actually touched. The warmth of his scrotum pressing against mine, his larger balls rolling against my smaller pair, was especially thrilling.

"I already like this." I said, looking up at him.

He just smiled and began to paw me, which drew my attention to the motion and the source of the feelings building in my body. He used both hands, but only his fingers and thumbs. Still, that was enough to surround my small shaft. Very gently at first, but with steadily increasing strength of grip and speed of strokes, he quickly brought me near to cumming again. Then he slowed down a little, relaxing his grip slightly, keeping me right on the brink but not pushing me over.

"Sometimes it's really fun to just get close like this without finishing." He said, his gaze now focussed solely on my face.

"Unghh... right." I gasped, not able to string two words together in a row. "Feels... mrrr... really... ohhhh... good."

"I won't tease you for too long," he said, "I just love the way your face looks right now."

I didn't even try to speak this time, only watching as his black fingers, slick with lube, slid up and down my blue cubhood. He seemed to know exactly how much pleasure I could endure, because just as I thought I would go mad, he tightened his grip and quickened his tempo, pushing me instantly to the second orgasm of my young life. A dozen or more delicious spasms consumed me before it passed. He slowed, then stopped his stroking, gently holding me.

"That was amazing, Tommy." He said, breaking the silence. "You should have seen your face."

"How did I look?" I asked, finally remembering to take my hands from behind my head.

"I can't even start to describe it," he said, "I could tell how great it felt to you, but..." He shook his head. "You'll just have to do that to me some time, when you've had more practice pawing, so you know how to drag it out a good long time."

"I liked that part." I said.

"It can be fun," he said, "but that kind of fun is best when you're doing it yourself."

"It's your turn now." I said.

"Do you want to get a little more messy?" He asked.

"Yes, please!" I said.

He had me put the pillows under my hips then, raising them off the bed, leaving my back arched and my belly stretched as I lay back again.

"Remember how I squirted all over my chest when you pawed me?" he asked as he put lube on the insides of my thighs, close to my balls.

"That was cool." I said.

"This time I'm gonna cum all over *your* chest and belly." He said, grinning.

I watched fascinated as he lubed my scrotum and my sheath, then capped the tube and put it aside again.

"How did you learn about all this cool stuff?" I asked.

"I'll tell you tomorrow," he said. "I promise. For now, let's just play!"

I nodded my agreement as he lifted my legs and straightened them, pointing perpendicular to the bed. He pressed my thighs together then wrapped his arms around them, holding them close. Finally, he rose on his knees and carefully pushed his cock between my thighs.

"This is cool!" I said as I watched the end of his foxhood emerge from between my thighs, sliding over my balls and along my sheath. I felt his knot press against my thighs just as the tip of his pink cock reached the base of my blue shaft.

"Get ready for a mess." he said, and began thrusting.

I helped as much as I could, tensing my legs and pressing them together to squeeze his shaft as tightly as possible. With each thrust, he bounced me on the bed, but I liked the sensation; the demonstration of his strength felt just right. It did not take him long to climax.

Even with only two orgasms of my own as experience, I could tell when he was getting close. I lifted my head from the mattress to watch him cum.

His first spurt barely cleared the end of my shaft, landing on my belly. But, as before, his second spurt was much stronger. So strong in fact that, given my position, it hit me square in the face! I did not flinch, but clenched me legs even tighter. Several more squirts landed on my chest, and the last of his cub juice dribbled out, coating my own shaft with his hot, immature seed. He stopped moving for a few moments then shuddered as the last waves of his orgasm flowed through him and onto me.

Releasing his grasp on my legs, he carefully lowered them, then looked at me. His eyes got wide.

"Oh my god." he said. "Did I do that?"

"None of this is mine." I said, grinning from ear to ear. Then added. "I guess this is the messy part of messing around."

He laughed, and leaned forward, supporting some of his weight on his arms on either side of my chest.

"I'm glad you're not mad, Tommy." he said. "I really didn't mean to give you a facial."

"Facial?" I said.

"That's spoogeing on another fur's face." He explained. "Some like it, some think it's gross."

With that, he leaned forward and tenderly licked my face clean. When he had finished, he paused with his muzzle only inches from mine, our eyes locked. I lifted my head from the bed and put my lips against his.

"Yes..." he murmured, the action of pronouncing the syllable opening my lips as well.

He slid his tongue into my mouth, and I tasted his cum as we shared a long, deep kiss. I loved the feel, and the implied danger, of his long canines as I explored his mouth with my own tongue. Finally, he lifted away, and I rested my head back on the bed.

"Did I mention how awesome you were?" He said, quietly, breathlessly.

"Keith is the awesomest." I said.

He sat back then, with a gentle, happy smile on his face, surveying the evidence of his passion strewn over my fur and his own.

"Well, we need to get our awesome tails in the shower now." he said.

"No!" I said. "I mean... But... Does this mean we're through messing around?"

"Whoever heard of an otter turning down a chance to get wet?" He said, then grinned hugely.

"I just don't want to stop playing with you." I said, a little embarrassed now at my outburst.

"We're just moving the game to the shower now." He said. "But it might take a long time to get clean..."

"Now you're talking." I said. "Lead the way."

"Try not to drip spooge on the pillows... or the sheets... or the carpet." he said as he disentangled himself from me and climbed out of bed.

I just giggled as I did my best to follow his instructions as I too got out of his bed. We padded naked out of his bedroom and into the hallway. He did not turn on the overhead light in the hall, relying only on the glow of a small nightlight at about the level of our shins. He turned a direction I had not anticipated.

"Where are we going?" I whispered.

"We'll use my mom's shower." He said. "It's bigger and... well... you'll see."

Though it was just the two of us in the house, I took exhibitionistic pleasure from 'sneaking' around naked in someone else's house. We passed through his mother's bedroom in silence and darkness. He reached through a door and flipped a switch on the wall. The light that came on was only that of a heat lamp, shedding a dim red glow, but enough light for our fully dark adapted eyes.

I was too inexperienced to appreciate its full meaning at the time, but it still impressed me. The shower was the focal point of the room, and had easily 50 square feet of space within the enclosure. Two of the sides were clear glass, and the other two were mirrored walls.

"Cool!" I said.

"No." he said. "Hot. Because it never runs out of hot water."

I just giggled as he turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. We stepped inside and moved together under the center of the spray. He moved out after wetting himself down, but I indulged my otter instincts for several long moments, luxuriating in the flow of hot water. I looked up to find him looking through a collection of fursoaps. He opened one and sniffed it.

"This one isn't too girly smelling." He said, holding it out for my approval.

I sniffed and agreed.

"Can we take turns washing each other?" I said.

"Not so fast." He said. "First we paw ourselves off together, then we start cleaning up... slowly."

He positioned us in the spray so we were facing the angle where the two mirrored walls met, and suddenly there were not two, but more like eight naked cubs in the shower, otters and foxes, all with a happy hard-on in either blue or pink.

"This is like a circle jerk." he said, admiring our reflections.

"Circle jerk?" I asked.

"Three or more boy cubs pawing themselves off in front of each other." he said. "There's really only two of us, but the mirrors make it seem like a lot more."

"This is fun!" I said.

"This is a race." He said. "When I say 'Go!' start pawing off. The first one to cum wins."

"Wins what?"

"We'll figure that out later. Even if you don't win, you get to cum, so how bad can it be?" He said, grinning. "On your mark... get set... Go!"

I started pawing myself then, imitating the technique he was using on himself. With his free hand, he gestured to our several reflections in the mirror, so I looked up. It was hugely exciting to watch a whole bunch of Keiths and Tommies all stroking themselves as fast as they could. I felt that wonderful sensation building in my belly and at the base of my otterhood, and pawed all the harder.

But he won. There could be no doubt as several ropes of his fox juice arced through the air and splattered onto the tiles of the floor, only to wash down the drain. Still, I was only a few moments behind him, and I took no less pleasure from the third climax of my life for its having arrived several seconds too late for me to win an imaginary race.

"You know, you can do that *any* *time* you want." he said. "It more fun to play with a friend, but you can always play with yourself."

"I like playing with you." I said.

"Me too." he said. "Now, since I won the race, I get to wash you first."

"Oh, darn." I said, grinning. It was the last word either of us spoke for many, many minutes.

He took a palm full of the fursoap we had agreed upon and began to work it into my fur. He washed my head first, then carefully rinsed me so no soap got in my eyes. Then he started again at my neck, working his way down my body. It felt really good to have him washing me, and I gave in to it completely, even though it was shockingly intimate.

He finished his washing at my crotch, gently massaging my balls and stroking my shaft through a handful of the lather of the mild soap. Then he reached between my legs and very thoroughly and carefully washed my tailhole. I would not have believed it possible, but I got even harder as he washed me there.

He rinsed the soap out of my fur, carefully and completely. Then, standing behind me, looking over my shoulder, he reached around and very tenderly pawed me off. I watched our reflections in the mirror at first, but then closed my eyes and relaxed against him as he pleasured me. He supported me during the throes of my orgasm, then hugged me as I steadied myself on my feet again.

I took the fursoap from where he had left it, and returned his attention to me. Feeling no compulsion to be original, I followed his steps exactly. First washing his head and rinsing so he could watch everything that followed. I took special pleasure in washing his long tail, no longer fluffy for being drenched, but still fascinating to me. Even more fascinating was the careful, hands-on, examination I could make of his genitalia as I washed him. I reached between his legs and gently washed the furless pucker under his tail, marveling at the way that attention there could cause the lobes of his knot to swell even more than they already were.

Finally, I rinsed him. When the last of the soap had spun down the drain, I moved behind him as he had for me. Not tall enough to look over his shoulder, I stuck my head under his arm as I wrapped my fist around his foxhood. He relaxed into me as much as possible, given the difference in our sizes, only extending his left arm and bracing himself against the wall for that last bit of support. I did my best to bring him to climax in the same tender way he had done for me. My efforts appeared to be successful, as he too closed his eyes and surrendered to my hand. Leaning forward, as he was, to brace against the wall, the product of his orgasm flew clear of either of us, washing down the drain without any further attention.

When he again became steady on his feet, he turned off the water and showed me the drying booth. Neither of us spoke as we got in together, and the roaring flow of hot turbulent air made conversation impossible once he closed the door behind us. The drying booth performed perfectly, and we soon emerged dry and warm, though our fur was fluffed in every direction.

Still without a word, we left his mother's bathroom and he led me down the hallway past his bedroom to his bathroom. We brushed our teeth without speaking then went back to his bedroom. He turned the display of his alarm clock back to its night setting and deliberately turned the alarm off. We got into bed together, completely naked, completely relaxed.

He pulled the covers over us and coaxed me to roll onto my side, facing away from him. He snuggled in behind me, and I snuggled back against him, spooning to make the most skin contact possible.

"I want to make you come one more time." Keith said. His voice was quiet, barely shaping the sound of his breathing.

"Yes." I whispered.

"We'll go to sleep then and do whatever we want whenever we wake up."

I just nodded.

He licked his hand, wetting his fingers and palm with his saliva, then reached over my body and found my still rigid otterhood. It made for an unusual lullaby, but was no less effective for being wordless and indeed soundless.

I drifted into a blissful sleep immediately after I came, and dreamed sweet foxy dreams.