FSE

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As far as Irving was concerned, Sunday afternoons were made for relaxing, and as far as Bridgette was concerned, there was no better way to relax on a gloomy day than curling up with one of three different items.

As she'd gotten older, those items shifted in spectrum, and vibrating features were often a part of the arrangement, but the other two seemed a bit more innocuous: a good, thrilling book was the second, and the third was the controller of whatever video game system she could get her hands on.

Even before it was appropriate, she seemed to have a small fascination for wrapping the cords of a controller around her wrists while she played, but it wasn't until she was old enough to explore such ideas that she was able to put her own pieces together; as an adult, she was dating a nice, older gentleman that always seemed to notice when she was coiling those cords around her limbs, taking it as a sign that she was in the mood for something more engaging than a video game.

That particular Sunday afternoon, Irving was the one seated on the couch, eyes glued to the screen and fingers twitching over the buttons of the controller, but he wasn't going to be alone much longer.

He didn't have a clue what Bridgette was doing in the kitchen; normally, he would have been more interested in her decision to cook in the first place, but as she'd promised, the racing kart game that she grew up with was impossibly addictive, and Irving wasn't immune to the siren song of trying to beat every single one of her best times.

"Still haven't beaten my time on the easiest track, have you?" she called from the kitchen, the sound of her grin evident in her teasing voice.

It was rare that she was so organic or personable, but something about the familiarity of an old game brought out a sense of competition from her. She normally internalized that into something to use against herself, and in the gym and in her place of work, it showed in the form of impressive progress...but now that she was letting out against Irving, there was a new playfulness budding between them.

He was cautious about toeing the lines of teasing her, but he hadn't overcome any of her times yet, and knew better than to have pride before the fall.

"I got tired of trying on that one," he claimed, which was only half true. "I decided I needed something a little harder, so I figured I would try Fireball Castle."

For one of the first times that he could recall, he heard Bridgette giggle without being tickled...and further still, there was a hint of _arrogance_in the sound of her voice. "You must really wanna suffer if you're taking that kind of challenge upon yourself. I'm not sure I can let you go it alone!"

"What; you're gonna come and race me while I'm trying to beat your record?"

"Something like that."

The old adage about being as quiet as a mouse was true for Bridgette, who moved with an impressive amount of grace, simply as a state of being.

The sound of her pajama bottoms coming off, or the drop of her silky tank top upon them was easily hidden by the sound effects and clicking buttons of Irving's virtual efforts, but the most profound noise of all was that of his character driving off the course when Bridgette stepped around the corner of the couch in just her undies.

"You know you're supposed to stay on the track, right?"

She hadn't picked out anything too overt for the occasion: the cut of the panties was a bikini, and her brassier was every bit as functional as it was revealing, but the fact that she'd come to him like this of her own accord showed that she was truly beginning to trust him...and not only trust him, but actively desire him enough to initiate a sexual encounter.

It wasn't the first time that she'd done it, but as best as Irving could remember, it may have been the first time that she'd been the one to start things outside of an obvious lead in to sex.

"And I'm pretty sure you're supposed to wait for someone to finish playing before you jump in like this," Irving countered, rolling along with her and showing his greater level of experience.

Of course, Bridgette was getting better and better about keeping that momentum, herself: she wasn't swaying her hips or putting on a show, but her thighs were slightly parted, and she was moving closer on the tiniest steps she could take, letting Irving enjoy the show while she became used to the idea of being a show for someone in the first place.

"By all means, Irving...if you're afraid of the challenge, just say so, and I'll let you keep losing to my ghost files."

That was more than he expected from her. He didn't intend to take a pause, but her confidence was thrilling; where it usually came and went, it was taking hold of her this go-round and dictating her every move, down to the slow descent of her paws onto his thigh.

"This...t-this game probably is more fun with two players, isn't it?"

It was one of the first times Bridgette had seen herself as the more aggressive of the two, and hearing that stammer from her canine boyfriend, she couldn't keep a quiet giggle down.

"For most people, I'd say that it is...but I've got a pretty big leg up on you with this one," she reminded him. "So we'll have to make things a little more even."

"I think getting to play in the comfort of my pajamas is already an advantage enough," Irving suggested, his eyes shameless about taking in the brilliant contrast of the deep, cobalt blue of her undergarments against her fur. "But if you really want to guarantee that you're gonna lose..."

"There's not a damn thing you could do to guarantee that," Bridgette immediately countered, "But if there was one thing you could do to put me at a disadvantage, it would probably be blinding me so I couldn't see the track...I'd have no idea what was coming next."

"How could you possibly win like that?"

Leaving one paw on his knee and reaching back to grab a controller with the other, Bridgette pulled the cord taut, wrapping a little bit of the unnecessarily long slack around her wrist. "You just let me worry about that," she instructed. "Like it or not, this is probably the only way you're gonna have any chance."

"Uh huh...no complaining when you lose," Irving noted ahead of time, confident of his eventual victory. "Got any other handicaps you want to throw at yourself?"

Kneeling between his spread, open thighs and reaching into the slit on the front of his pajamas, Bridgette felt around until she was able to fish out his sheath, and all the while, Irving was too bewildered by her sudden show of aggression to do anything more than stifle a gasp when she leaned in close and let a warm, teasing breath roll over the opening.

"Just one."

She wasn't paying attention to the screen in the least, even when she heard Irving picking the track: the archaic sound of the course being selected still danced over her ears with the same magic and wonder it held when she first played the game as a little girl, and there was a giddiness to her smile as she sealed it over his opening, forcing the tip of his cock to emerge right into her mouth.

As much as she was connecting with her youthfulness, she was showing how much she'd grown, as well, as she continued staring up at Irving, trying to hold his stare. If she could keep him losing focus, she'd able to win no problem: she could remember every single track without looking, and as the karts took off from the starting line, Irving started banking to the right...but only after Bridgette did.

"Has anyone ever told you that you've got an incredible sense of memory?" he asked, sneaking little glances down when he could to watch the warm, canine length of his cock grow past her lips. "And a really...r-really tight mouth..."

Bulging her cheeks around his flesh and blowing a puff of air down to the base of his member, she looped some of the cord slack around the back of his shaft, angling it to her preference...all without missing a beat on the screen.

She'd have to navigate his cock without her paws, and so far, that was proving far more difficult than navigating the track without her eyes.

"Better start b-banking left...unless you w-want to hit that wall!"

Cocking a brow at the dog without pulling her mouth from his flesh, Bridgette felt the temptation to look back at the screen for a moment, but she knew the track better than he ever could: she'd simply flipped it over in her head, having looked away from the screen.

She didn't know just how fair they were playing yet, and with a greater sense of mischief than she usually carried, she couldn't immediately tell if Irving was trying to trick her.

"Narrow bridge! You might fall in!"

"Trunf mm..._mleh..._trust me, I remember where the bridge is," she claimed, having to arch her neck and lift her head clean from the tip in order to speak: her paws were too busy working the controller to play with anything else, but the long, thick node at the bottom of the controller was settled just above Irving's sack...and as she went over the bridge, the devious mouse was certain he'd feel the ancient delight of a vibrating controller against each of his orbs.

She went so far as to slow down, making sure each rattle of the old plastic had a chance to tickle his balls and take his breath away, even when it cost her the momentary lead.

"You r-really do remember...o-oh, hell! You know every inch of this track!" he tried not to cry out, but it was getting harder and harder to resist when her lips were right back to work, kissing the tip of his member and swirling her tongue against the deliciously canine flesh. "But you still can't see it, and that's why I'm g-gonna find a way to win..."

The one thing Bridgette couldn't account for was the presence of attack items in the game: she knew she wouldn't be able to see those coming, and when some of them had homing abilities, she was basically throwing the race by giving him the advantage of seeing such things coming.

It was only a matter of time before she was launched from the track by a missile or a bumper, but she wasn't all that worried about keeping up, and she scarcely had to try to do so.

"Mmhm," she whispered, her voice losing breath and finding arousal as she opened wide and took the tip over her tongue once more. She was guiding her way down, tracing the outline of a throbbing vein and tickling the sneaky tip toward the base of the shaft, but all the while she was doing it, she was keeping up with Irving...and even taking the lead.

How the hell can she do that when she can't even see where she's going?

The levels were relatively short, and three lap races went by quick: Irving picked up on how someone could lose entire days and weekends to such an addictive game, but the added presence of a blowjob wasn't the kind of thing that either one of them would have integrated into such an experience before.

Now that they'd had a literal and figurative taste of it, they'd find it hard to play games any other way...and Bridgette was already thinking of ways to play her mobile console in his lap, right behind his cock, so she could combine two of her favorite habits while her boyfriend was on the computer, playing his own classics.

She'd have to get used to settling on the base of his shaft so that she could see the screen, but didn't see that as a problem to be solved, as much as a cost of doing some very worthwhile business.

"Almost done...w-with the last lap," Irving grunted through the words as Bridgette kept the same pace in the game, but picked up the pace with her mouth, moving his length into the back of her throat and swallowing against the tip with the kind of practiced precision that was fun on a toy...but didn't have the same warm, affectionate response as the organic being that she was playing with. "And I'm g-gonna...nnf..."

His voice trailed off, leaving Bridgette in the dark about what she should expect next: without seeing the screen, she couldn't know if she was winning or not, but she had a feeling she was at least in league with her boyfriend, if not outright crushing his time.

Truth be told, she'd been knocked off the track, and thanks to the rapid, eager bob of her mouth up and down the inches of his cock, Irving had forgotten to say anything...and it didn't feel fair to beat her when she couldn't have known that she was going the wrong way.

It only corrected itself when she'd literally wrapped around one section of the track, creating an unintentional shortcut that she was back out in front, but Irving's focus was broken well before then, and his body was about to give her plenty of evidence of that, even when his voice was failing.

She knew the pulse of his orgasm well, by then: she was swallowing even before the thick, salty load hit the roof of her mouth and spilled toward her throat.

"Fuck...f-fucking hell, Bridgette!" he groaned, still doing what he could to keep his impassioned moans under control...but her apartment was large and the soundproofing was fantastic; he could let loose a chorus of moans if he wanted, and she was determined to bring it out of him as she went over the bridge again, keeping the buzzing tip of her controller right in place on his balls. "O-o-o-oh damn...that's just n-not fair!"

Gulping her way through another pair of pulses, Bridgette was already wearing a half-smirk before she pulled back, but in her haste to do so, she ended up wearing a long, slick streak of cum across her muzzle, as well.

"You wanna talk about fairness, when I wasn't even looking at the screen?" she asked, but as her character crossed the finish line, her ears perked to the victory fanfare, and her eyes rolled. "...And then you had to go and let me win..."

Setting the controller against the base of his orbs was like a lie detector: as the plastic rumbled against his sack, she held the key to a merciful finish, once his body became too sensitive to keep going any longer.

"Y-yes; okay, okay! I miiiiight have let you slip by me at the end," he admitted, and as soon as he did, she eased the controller back and rubbed the excess mess from her face, gliding her tongue over her knuckles. "But can you really blame me?"

"There's plenty of places I'd be fine with you going easy on me, but when it comes to video games, never let me win if you know what's good for you," she warned him.

It was rare that her gaze was so intense that Irving wasn't sure how serious she was, but her grin was offset by a narrowed, predatory glare: he was mildly fearful, but so much more than that, deadly curious about what she'd do if he let her win again.

"Duly noted," he whispered, catching his breath and picking another track. "Wanna look at the screen this time?"

"I should probably finish cleaning this mess, first," she insisted, kissing the tip of his still twitching member and catching another drop of his seed. "You canines just never stop cumming, I swear..."

Sealing her lips just around the tip and holding it as he continued filling her mouth, a pair of steaks sat on the counter in the kitchen, getting colder and colder...and further from her thoughts.

After a blowjob like that, of however, Irving wouldn't have cared all that much about the forgotten steaks...