Let's rent a porno!
Loud groans and moans were the first thing I heard this morning; first thing I heard every morning. Feral, and lustful in nature; erotic nearly. The kind of sounds you feel like you could never make. I wake up almost startled by it, despite its regularity, as the empty room and blank walls serve as a fantastic amplifier, and the whole lot seems to shake. I jump awake, ears perking, eyes wide, looking back and forth.
But nothing is new, and nothing's changed; the sky is a delicious early-morning purple haze, and the birds chirp-chirp the world's most awful rock power ballad just outside my window. Damn you, birds. Damn you all to little bird hell.
Those moans, from earlier?
They were me, again.
I looked up to my bare ceiling, arching my back and letting out a yowl, hoping that the birds found me irritating too, but that was only half of it; in truth I was frustrated. Sexually? No, absolutely not. I'm a virgin. I'm barely into college. I don't need sex on my mind. Carnal pleasures and kittens can come after a thankless degree in English, which, for all the love and adoration I put into it, nobody hesitates to tell me is only useful for going back to school and teaching more English. Damn all of you to little birdy hell too, where the birds will chirp-chirp at you until your heads explode.
No, that's not why I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated because I can't stop HAVING these dreams. I can't even remember them most of the time. Nameless sillhouettes all around me, doing things to me I can't imagine because I've never done it before. Squirming masses moving in and out of view, each taking their turn. Or perhaps it's one mass, moving in and out of view. What a strange fetish I must have, if I'm fornicating with yo-yos.
So, I climb out of bed after being certain to tell the birds off, which they hurriedly acknowledge by ignoring my commands completely, and stand before the mirror, where no doubt nothing has changed either.
And there's my image, staring back at me, looking as frustrated about birds on her side of the mirror as I am on mine. Blurred by my missing glasses, but still unmistakeably plain. Unfortunately, the soft squint that my mirror me returned came across as spiteful. I try to correct it, hurrying quickly to my bedside table, retrieving the glasses and coming back with them on my face. That should make mirror-me happy.
Unfortunately, it didn't, and her spiteful glare was only enhanced and sharpened. She sighed with me then, deciding probably that we should both just lighten up and get on with it.
So I gave her a good looking over, pinching parts of fur where my body was perhaps thicker than I'd liked. And I am thicker than I'd like to be. Not to say I'm overweight; I have an appropriate sensibility about my body. I am normal. Much to my chagrin, that also means I'm not super sexy, and I will never look good in a two-piece comprised of less fabric than a sheet of tissue paper. So I let out a soft growl, and give the girl in the mirror a tsk of disapproval.
"You should go on another diet," I advise her, to which she sticks her tongue out to me. We've both tried lots of diets, she and I, none of which came to anything. It seems that the food pyramid is useful only when you want to be normal.
So, screw it, she and I say together, brushing our paws down our furred sides, across our lightly fuzzed mounds, and letting them rest at the sides of our tiger-striped fur. I sleep nude, which is fine; that doesn't make me a pervert. That doesn't make me a sex fiend. No desire to have sex does not equate to no desire to feel pretty or sensual, and as it happens, dozing with the sweet release of no clothes fulfills that very desire.
I tried to leave the girl at the mirror first, tossing my head a little to make my long, auburn, feathered hair flit dramatically, but out of the corner of my eye I saw that she had the same idea, and walked away in the same direction I did. Prat, I thought to myself. She's not cool.
Unfortunately, she isn't big, either, I think to myself, as I pass the portal of my bedroom door, where notches extend years back and reveal that I haven't grown an inch since eighth grade. Tigress' should be big, shouldn't they? I should be she-hulk, for crying out loud! Then you'd think twice before chirp-chirping at my window like that, wouldn't you, you crummy winged half-wits?
Alas, I'm under average. Barely six feet. Ahem, did I say I was short? Well, that's relative, isn't it? And I'll thank you to mind your own business, as well, droppers of eaves. That's tiny. My father was eight. My mother nearly nine! Ours was a house of dignity, and pride, and riches. Erm, that is to say, it still is, but I wish a little that I too could duck smugly underneath the doors of others as I entreated upon their own entryways.
Suffice to say, my days always go like this. MOre or less bitter, depending on how frustrating it was to have startled myself awake. Luckily, however, through my friday riddled with classes and homework assignments and tests and faceless classmates, there's a single beacon of hope. That'd be my girlfriend.
Not in an intimate way, of course. I mean, friend, that's also a girl, girlfriend. Not that she'd say no; she's as promiscuous as the fawns and nymphs of the forests, but it's I that lacks that desire. I'm attracted to males, of course, biased somewhat to my own species, but who isn't? And to the end women are just left out. Of course, that doesn't mean I don't have the appropriate sensibility. If I could love another woman, it'd be Carmen. Did I mention that was her name, Carmen? She's the most adoreable little bunny girl in the world. She's a rabbit, too, in case I forgot to mention that.
I only mention her now, of course, because she's approaching me, and rapidly, in the way fluffy little poof-butts do; ears flapping wildly, her four-ten stature crouched low as she beats the wind at its own game, and plows into my midsection. I don't need to budge an inch, but I do of course to make her feel better, and wrap the girl in a hug.
"Hello there!" I say plainly, having absolutely no other way to greet her. She jumps at me so wordlessly. Should I say nothing? She does this so regularly, you'd think I'd be used to it.
"Whas'up, shmexy?" she replies, in an overly syrupy voice. The kind she uses when she's thinking terrible thoughts that have no place at a place of study, and with an accent reserved only for when she's intentionally pushing my buttons. As an English major, I've become spiteful towards drawling of words. 'Whas' is not in my vocabulary; 'What's' or 'what is', is.
So, I reply to her with a level stare and playful growl, and continue walking, this time with her in tow, her arms wrapped about my waist.
"I want you to come spend the evening with me and Troy!" she squeaks out, not waiting for me to ask her 'whas'up whichoo'. Troy is her boyfriend of some few months, and the most laughably tiny male I've ever met. He stands at five nothing, which may tower for bunnies, but for me I can barely help myself gathering him up and squeezing him 'till his eyes pop, cooing baby-babble at him all the while.
"I suppose," I respond in my best disinterested voice, though my ears are somewhat perked with interest. My nights are, predictably, lonely, so the occasional invitation to a social gathering is always welcome.
"Akay call you at six gottagolatebye-" and she's gone, leaving me standing on the sidewalk and wishing that I'd said more than just four words this afternoon, staring after her poofy little tail and smiling softly to myself.
Carmen and I have known each other an awfully long time, I ponder inwardly as I walk that evening to the house she and Troy share. Carmen and I have been classmates since grade school. We met somewhere in the middle, though, as I was in a hallway reserved for particularly bigger furs, and her classes were in a much more appropriately sized building for furs her age. It all generally evens out as we grow, of course, but back then, I could've smuggled her in my lunch box. Through those years, we were inseperable friends, though each other's polar opposite; though my build is lithe for my species, I was tall and muscular compared to her short petiteness. I loved little more than a visit to the library, and her only desire was to watch romantic movies and yearn for loves she'd never have. She has bleached-blonde hair, cut short between two long ears, a grey body with a white and enviably heart-shaped backside. I'm, well, tiger-striped, with pretty but largely unkempt hair, and a figure that says "I look pretty good in clothes".
Sometime during high school, she'd discovered the very thing which I'd spent all this time trying to avoid; sex. With a canine, no less. A handsome example of his kind, of course, and something of a friend of mine, but an end was quickly put to that when she rushed to me one mid-may morning with a glow to her cheeks I'd never seen before, talking on and on about carnal pleasures and activities I'd only ever heard about in dreary detail during health class.
I don't know if it was because I was jealous, or if I was truly appalled, but I chastised her for it. I said it was a stupid mistake, and that she should tell her parents, and many other things that I later came to wish I hadn't said, because it should have broken us apart. But it never did; instead, sex just got pushed aside. I know she held more than her share of partners through high school, from other loud-mouthed sources, but she made certain never to tell me about them, for my own sake. She remained cheerful, and loyal, and my best friend, and that never made sense.
I mention this now, because when I walked into her house without knocking as I was by now accustomed to doing, I was extremely alarmed to hear her shout out "Let's rent a porno!"
"Excuse me?" I said in my mind, completely incapable of otherwise coherent speech I was in so much shock. Of course, Carmen and Troy both are bad at telepathy, but they managed to catch that one, probably by my expression, because they said almost at the same time, "or should we not?"
Here I take a look at Troy, to allow you a description, because it's a nice one; he's completely white. Wearing stonewashed jeans and a snug-fitting black T-shirt do wonders for his otherwise fluffy form, as it pushes against him and lets his taut muscles show themselves off. It's drool-worthy, if he weren't five feet tall and squeezably cute for it.
"It should be fun," Troy says, his voice far deeper than his size might otherwise indicate, as he offers me a comforting smile. That's always what he's good at; being comforting. "Carmen said you've been pretty uptight lately, even for you," he teases with a wink. "Why not wind down with something a little wild? I even bought us some drinks." It's here I notice several bottles lined on the coffee table. They're tall and vary in color from light pink to blood red. Wine. Alcohol? I'm only twenty! ACK!
Carmen takes this opportunity to push me forward, away from the door, and toward the couch. "We're going to get you a little drunk, and a little full, and then you're going to watch people FORNICATE!" she says excitedly, clearly more into this than I was, which wasn't surprising because at this point I still hadn't said a single word. My tail twitched back and forth, and my ears flitted this way and that, and my body arched backwards.
"I-I've never done them!" I said half-heartedly, more nervous about the alcohol than the porn. I konw what porn is, I'm not afraid of it. But with my best friend and her boyfriend? While -drunk-? That isn't even legal at my age, is it? I wasn't sure, because I hadn't even used the correct grammar when I blurted out my objection.
Carmen was having none of that, though. She sat me down on the couch (humorously taking all of her effort) and pushed one of the bottles into my paws along with a suspiciously pre-chilled glass. "You'll have fun," she says. She takes Troy's paw into her own and both of them collapse next to me, purring in a funny sort of rabbit way that's almost like purring but completely not.
"Wait wait, what porno?" I say quickly, my voice coming out embarrassingly high-pitched. At least, I tried too. After the second 'wait', Carmen had an opened bottle of wine tipped upwards against my mouth. My fear of getting wet vastly outweighed my fear of getting drunk, and so I drank a good mouthful or two before she put the bottle back down, giggling to herself. This is all happening so very, very fast, I thought to myself, as my tastebuds errupted with a hot, metallic sensation of alcohol, alarmed that wine doesn't taste nearly as fruity as its color offers.
And she kept doing it, too! Every time I opened my mouth to say an objection, she threatened to dump a bottle of booze into my lap. "No complaints!" she kept offering, and giggling, as her boyfriend turned on the television, moved to the pay-per-view menu and began scrolling through titles, reading them aloud.
"Back Door Bunnies 4?" he offers, sounding disinterested.
"Nah," Carmen says, having settled herself facing me on my lap and looking down (per se) at me, holding the bottle of wine up threateningly.
"What about 'Bitches'?" he offers again, this idea again shot down by Carmen, who despite Troy's growing enthusiasm with each title, also veto'd "Girls Under The Hood", "Yiff Mania" and "Fuck Me, Daddy", until finally she perks her ears and points.
"Do that one!" she offers, bouncing in my lap, then off of it, settling against Troy, suddenly holding him in a way that suggest whatever video she wants to see, they've seen before, and one of her paws falls down between his legs.
'Amateur Alley', it would seem, and the lights go out as soon as Troy orders it and hits play. Suddenly I feel small and alone, somehow; the two rabbits snuggle together, next to me but at the same time worlds away. I bring my legs up to the couch as well, cuddling my knees to my chest, as I take the bottle of wine on my own and take a very small sip. I just may need it.
Over the next thirty minutes my mind is torn asunder and purged of all its standard ideas of sex; of some tact and deliberate ritual used solely for mating purposes. With each passing scene, I began to grow more and more disgusted.. More and more interested, too, but I couldn't understand why. Two tigers (the female more attractive than me, I noted bitterly) engaged in hot feral lust, and it looked painful. That cat's penis was ribbed and spined, which I was prepared for, but it's SIZE... Each stroke made me feel squeamish, but somehow the attractive young girl on the receiving end seemed only to love it more and more.
The rhythm was bizarre, and broken, and I wondered whether the male was a drummer, because if he was he most certainly was terrible; each time that I thought they were going to settle into a pattern, they changed it, and it got more and more wild. He mounted her from behind at first, but then she rolled him over and bounced herself on top. Then he grabbed her by her neck(!), forcing her back down and pushing that... That 'extraordinary' length into her, harder and faster than before. And finally, after actually inserting it into the wrong hole and having his way like that, she seemed to willingly fall to her knees, and he stood, and he..!
On her face!? That does NOT belong on her *FACE*!
When I looked to the side, to see how my two companions were reacting, I was surprised to find them... Deeply engaged.
In lust.
They were having sex.
Somehow I hadn't noticed, but now my attention was focused solely on the small furry couple beside me. My ears splayed, and my tail flagged, and I almost gasped, but I couldn't bring myself to interrupt them, and I watched as they seemed to recreate every position we'd been watching.
Troy wasn't cute and soft and fuzzy anymore; he was a rippling mass, a fluid and brutal force of power. Or is that not him I'm talking about? It was his length... His shaft. Penis. *cock*, the alcohol helps me to dare say. It was.. Enormous. Relatively speaking, of course, but as it had appeared there on the screen, Carmen could not possibly be considering-
Nope, too late, it's in. With one stroke, the naked furs (how had they even stripped without my notice?) were bound, and his length penetrated itself fully into her petals. Sweat glistened on his fur as he looked down with obvious ferocity, and obvious adoration, to his impaled lover underneath him. Then their mouths met, as his hips reared back, and then forward again with frightening speed and force. Carmen tossed her head back, directing it straight toward me, though her eyes were closed, and thankfully so; if she'd seen my face it may have ruined the mood, and at this point, I... I didn't want that to happen.
I watched and admired this new activity. Carmen's breasts, small as they were, were supple, and bounced attractively with each generous thrust of Troy's manhood. Each time he pushed, she let out a soft call, a coo even, and Troy responded with a soft, almost comforting grunt. Back and forth they went like this, with a rhythm and passion that I supposed was the difference between amateur porn and love.
Presently, she had sat up and pushed him back. I couldn't see Troy from this position as Carmen mounted atop him, straddling his waste and lowering herself slowly on his glistening and slicked cock. When again they met in the most lewd way, I could only see Carmen's back, thrown into sharp relief by the television, her own sweat glistening off her body. From this view I was able to see how her backside responded, her muscles flexing and flowing, making it clear that this audible- palpable- pleasure was a team effort. She was clenching hard on him, I could tell, and he could, too; now it was him making the louder grunts, calling out her name, phrases I'd only ever heard on the street flowing as though it were the most intimate poem.
"Ahhh.... Ooooh... Yes, Troy..! Augh.. Harder, baby, fuck me harder," Carmen hissed, causing shivers to sprint up my spine. Troy responded in kind, almost, though not as thickly; his were only "Ahhh... Gods.. Baby, mm..!" as he did, in fact, fuck her harder. His paws came to her sides, and each time she lifted herself up, he was there to catch her, almost pulling her completely off of his flesh before slamming back down with a lewd splat, it seemed. The room grew heady with their sex, and that was affecting me far more than the wine ever could.
Another passionate moment of love making, and again they switched it up; Carmen turned around and adjusted herself on all fours on the couch, and this time, her eyes were definitely very open when she looked into mine. Her breathing was harsh, and her tongue ran along her lips very deliberately, and not once did her gaze fall from my eyes. Troy took a position behind her, and I couldn't see directly, but new well what he was doing. His paws rested on either of her side of her generous rear, kneading and moulding at them until he gently pried them apart. With a slowness and delicacy I would certainly not have expected of a male in such a position, he penetrated her ass.
That much I could see on Carmen's own face; her eyes rolled backward, and her jaw dropped in a noiseless scream, and she shuddered, and she moaned, and then-
Back and forth like a piston he fucked her, like there was some untapped prize deep within her body he strove for. Like it was the very last time they'd ever be together. His hips hit her rear hard, pushing her so hard that she nearly fell into my lap, or so I thought, with every stroke. Her chest lowered to the couch, so weak she apparently couldn't hold herself up, and her heart-shaped ass was raised high for Troy's pleasure, and for mine, though she would never know that's where my eyes were fixed, now...
No words passed between them when finally she dropped and rolled herself quickly. Somehow, they both together just *knew* that the time was approaching, and as he slid out of her his paw quickly came around his shaft, pumping himself vigorously. I was extremely surprised to find Carmen resting her head on my thigh as she screamed out to her boyfriend, coaxing him to cum, hard, to spray his seed on her furry body, to drench her in front of me(!).
It took no more than that. Troy tilted his head back and let out an unearthly and un-rabbit-like roar, as that huge, pulsing cock in his paw seemed to lurch right before unleashing a torrent of warm, sticky seed, and to my surprise, there was a LOT of it. Within the first second he'd managed to cover her in three long ropes of spoo, gaining such distance that it stretched from his glistening, furious cocktip to my thigh; he'd managed to cum in my lap! Of course, I was far from minding by this point, and couldn't take my eyes off the amazing woman underneath him, so covered in such a binding mark; she did not look used, she didn't look angry or upset, but rather she looked happier than I'd ever seen her, save the one time; with that unexplainable glow, and for the first time, I could understand it, just this love for this intimacy that you can't get any other way, except with someone so close to you that-
...
Well, that you'd lay your head in their lap while your boyfriend laid stripes down your body.
And it seemed never to end. He moaned, and groaned, long and loud and lust-filled, and the scent filled my nostrils and the sound filled my ears, and she screamed out with pleasure, and I couldn't help but put my paw between my legs-
-and instantly woke up.
Jerked forward, breathing heavy, reverberations of my dreams slamming against my empty walls like the inside of a drum, so that it nearly drowned out the chirps.
I looked down at myself, to see what had changed, and this time, something most definitely had. Never before had my blankets been so twisted and pushed down to the foot of my bed. I was exhausted, in the most amazing sort of way, and my paw.. Oh.. My paw was drenched. My lap was nearly drenched. My sheet was going to need changing; and for the first time, I didn't feel FRUSTRATED.
I looked out the window. The sky was a deep velvety blood red far off on the horizon, and the stars were visible straight above me, and then the phone rang next to me. I'd fallen asleep, somewhere, late in the afternoon, after I'd come home, to burn time before I was to visit. As though on queue, then, my phone rang, trilling sharply three times before I picked it up with an embarrassingly messy paw.
"Hello?" I said, knowing exactly who was calling; it was just about six in the evening. "Carmen, hi," I responded to the voice, nodding several times though she couldn't see, and humming a soft agreement to her suggestions, and then I interrupted her. "Hey, Carmen," I said, hesitating briefly, and then my ears lifted, and I sat up a little straighter. "Let's rent a porno!"