FSE

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Devoted readers, I hope that in the time we have spent together that the impression of me that you carry in your mind is not that of a deviant man. I am no pervert, no skulking predator of the dark alleys who preys upon the delicate femininity of the populous. I am strictly a being of unfortunate tendency, and this point I shall forever stand firm upon, despite all the suggestions to the contrary.

Having said this, I must admit that even my own doubts were brought boiling to the surface in the situation I found myself: clad in but the framing elements of what would likely be a most impressive dress once it were finished, providing no protection against prying eyes. Those eyes belonged to the daughter of the seamstress who had taken her leave quite suddenly, and left the budding Seraphine and me alone in the tiny room above the store. She stood and watched me, the only movement the slight rise and fall of her chest, eyes wide.

How does one respond when faced with such a situation, reader? I suspect in the girl's position I would have been much the same, the very archetypical deer spotted by the hunter and locked in that moment of indecision. I found myself examining my unexpected companion, from her pale hair cut close to the line of her muzzle, framing her widened eyes and sharp cheeks delicately adorned with a splash of color to make them stand out in the fashion of the day. Lips parted and closed in a gentle cadence with each breath. Her dress hid away any glimpse of more than the suggestion of her form beneath layers of cotton and linen; if her mother were any indication, then a most gifted future lay ahead of her. For now though the deer wore the last trappings of youth like a shawl, wrapped about adolescence as if it would somehow hide it away. She certainly would be beautiful...

Seraphine's tiny cough brought my attention back to reality with a jolt. Where before her gaze had been locked upon me, she was now turned demurely away, nose tucked towards her chest as if hiding from something or someone. I turned away with a burn of shame at having stared in such a manner--I had practically leered at the poor girl, as if she were a piece of meat being hawked on the streets below!

The gentle grazing of fingers against my arm brought to my senses quite suddenly, the second time in perhaps as many minutes. Seraphine had moved closer, holding my wrist in both of her small hands, smiling softly at me.

I fumbled for words briefly. "I am so very sorry, miss...I--" One of Seraphine's fingers, capped with a bit of hardened hoof-nail, pressed against my lips and she shook her head. I tilted my head in confusion and started to protest but the girl's attention had left my voice and had instead shifted to the fabric that still hung from my arms in an arrangement that could be considered a gown if one were feeling particularly generous. This is no slight against the craftsmanship of the femme I'd become a surrogate mannequin for. As a matter of fact, young Seraphine easily rivaled her mother's dexterity, piecing together what to my untrained eye were merely scraps with an effortless grace. Perhaps it was for the best if she were here in Evangeline Mayeaux's shop, and not about on the streets lifting purses from unwary passerby...

I have no idea how much time passed while the two of us were in the throes of dress assembly. The room was windowless, and even if I could have seen outside the cold gray skies of England would be a poor time-piece indeed. Instead, I occupied myself with standing about and observing Seraphine's technique, how needles slipped into the fabric and vanished away between the folds, how each segment suddenly bloomed from a textile cacophony into a work of art all its own and how those small bits of beauty linked into a greater result. Our only interactions were the few moments when the young tailor-cum-artist would adjust my arms or lift my tail out of its natural position to reach a particular seam. Under most circumstances the whole process may have been off-putting; Seraphine never spoke a word--for obvious reasons--and I chose not to have a one-sided conversation to avoid distracting her for no particularly salient reason.

We continued the sort of dance, the artist and her tool working hand-in-hand together to create a masterpiece. It was a dance that had been performed since time immortal and I hope in my heart that it never ceases. But my role required very little effort on my part, and before long I found myself drifting away, letting my muscles relax after a long day's walking about the city. It had certainly between the effort, and I would have to remember to thank Davis when I found the opportunity for suggesting--perhaps a bit more bluntly that necessary--that I chose to see the sights of Norwich rather than linger about Victoria like some lost child. What a day it had been, and it was not finished yet.

Ah, Victoria. I chided myself as I did most every hour of every day for allowing myself to become quite so smitten with the lovely lynx; she was, after all, my employer and I merely one of her staff. I daresay it would not be exaggerating to say I was a servant, of the same category as the housemaids or the kitchen staff. This entire...arrangement still brought me no end of concerns. It all felt like some great deus ex machina to allow me closer to Victoria, to involve me in her affairs, and perhaps even as a catalyst to place me constantly escalating situations that seemed beyond the ordinary.

I laughed inwardly. Of course that wasn't the case. That was the sort of thing that only happens to characters in poorly written stories that no person of any respect would have in their libraries. I certainly was_not_ one of those.

The sound of movement about the room brought my attentions back to land. I let my eyes flutter back open to the sight of Evangeline, freshly returned from the lower floor. She spoke to her daughter at great lengths, though about what I could not make out through the hushed whispers of conspiring women. I presumed it was about me, or perhaps it was something that had taken place in the store during the elder deer's absence. In any case, I allowed myself to drift away again into day dreams of dancing felines and bellicose boars.

If Seraphine had been impressively skilled in the art of the dress, her mother was the grand mistress of the art, with fingers so astonishingly fast that it appear as though the material was bent to her will. I could see no thread or feel no needle move about and yet as surely as anything they became bonded, two fragments turned to one. Back and forth the pair chattered. Master shared insight with apprentice in a dance performed a million times throughout the aeons. It gave me a slight pang of pride to have been a part of it, even if my role were merely...peripheral.

"Et voilà. Il est fini." If I were modestly pleased with the outcome, Madame Mayeaux was positively beaming with joy. In my many years on this Earth, reader, I have never seen eyes quite so wide, a smile so bursting--it was an infectious euphoria, explosive and impossible to miss.

The moment faded quickly as agile fingers turned themselves towards the gown, unclenching the hidden clasps and pulling away secreted pins that secured seams, leaving me standing as bare as the day I had been born. Or perhaps as I was simply as nude as I had been but a few hours before, when Evangeline had set herself to task. The awkwardness of my sudden nudity drew me to instinctively cover myself again, if not from the prying eyes then from the creeping cold of the evening that oozed between the boards and seams of the building. The gown was draped over a worktable as the seamstress--no, the artist who had brought it to fruition gazed in satisfied delight. "N'est-il pas beau, Seraphine?" The younger deer nodded with a smile of her own, running a finger along a seam before turning to her mother curiously. "Oh, oui, oui. There is more work required, but for that we will need the duchess herself." Evangeline returned to me and stroked a slim fingertip along my chest, tracing the lines of the slim musculature there. "Monsieur Renard maybe has something of her slimness, but he lacks, how you say, la volupté féminine." I shivered as a draught found its way up along my legs and backside, creating a most uncomfortable coupling of warmth and chill.

The time had come to find my way back to the streets of Norwich and my travelling companions. "Madame Mayeaux, it is growing quite late, and I must rejoin my party. The train will certainly not wait for me." I added a slight chuckle as punctuation; the expression--and all of my words in general--seemed lost on the cervine, who seemed far more intent on stroking my belly, leaving soft furrows of white and red. "I--ah--must thank you for the delight of your company, and your--oh--your wonderful daughter as well." My eyes caught those of Seraphine as she watched my predicament giggled soundlessly behind her hand. "But first--Madame Mayeaux--ah--could you please let go of me?" For as light as her touches were, her grip was every bit as strong...

Evangeline shook her head, eyes glimmering with a mischievous flicker meeting mine. "Non. Seraphine! Quelle heure est-il, eh?" The younger doe paused for but a moment in thought before holding up seven of her fingers. "Ah, mon doux Maître renard, it is not so late, no? Plus de suffisamment de temps pour plus ... compagnie, oui?" I tried once again to protest the most...unusual treatment being given to me by Evangeline--a mother and a widow! I had positively no excuse to not dash away from such wanton advances, to dress myself quickly as I chastised the pair for their grave improprieties!

And yet I stood. The upstanding dignities of my mind had quickly lost a war they were not even aware was taking place within their very own domain against an enemy who approached as a ghost and struck with infinite might: the innate, primal lust. Perhaps one could blame the alcohol from earlier in the day, or the ragged edge of exhaustion after a long day spent walking about the city's high streets and pub lanes. One could accuse Evangeline herself--her closeness, her warmth, softness, the lovely scent of her would drive most any gentleman to distraction. No matter in which direction one chose to point the finger of fault, there was a singular unmistakable fact.

A fact which Evangeline Mayeaux was squeezing with one hand as it throbbed gently with my pulse. Embarrassment at the baser functions taking control did nothing at all to stem quite a burgeoning erection--in fact, reader, I would say quite the opposite--and with the aid of the dexterous fingers of a true and masterful artist, my willpower crumbled into the abyss forevermore.

Inasmuch as I stood stiff and flushed, Madame Mayeaux was considerably the opposite, her face painted in a sort of blissful intoxication, with a dream-like smile and gently lidded eyes. "Je pense que le beau renard d'accord avec moi,_Seraphine..." Evangeline pressed her face to my chest, cheek against the thick ruffle of fur that grew there in the winter. "_Pardonez-moi...it is...hard to remember my anglais when I am quite so..." The matronly woman seemed confused and off-balance for the first time since I had met her, though admittedly that had been but a few hours before. After a turn, she gave up on forcing the proper words out, and instead pushed away from me with both palms, turning to Seraphine and gesturing at the girl to come closer. The girl slipped behind her mother and vanished behind skirts and such, leaving only the barest hint of her shadow upon the wall as she set to whatever task she was undertaking.

With a great thump of heavy fabric and a whoosh of air, Evangeline's clothing was reduced from a heavy, conservative garb appropriate for such a woman to scarcely a thing at all. She took one step forward, allowing Seraphine to gather the bundle of cotton and linen before scurrying away. She may as well have detonated the powder keg for as much attention as I paid towards her movements. I was, for lack of a better word, transfixed upon the elder Mayeaux, who stood before me with arms swept behind her back and one hip cocked forward, clad in naught but a well-fitted corset, sculpting her impressive bust into mounds of softness, the white fur that lined the middle spread against the black material. If the ravages of age had visited her prior, their stay had been most kind, as she showed none of the typical ugliness of the elderly--no sagginess or unsightly fat was to be seen. Instead, a trim and firm waist lay above hips so broad as to defy belief, framing her bare womanhood in a sort of carnal triangle. With but a glance at her sex and its pouting, spreading folds with the glimmer of beckoning moisture, it became quite apparent what Evangeline had been trying to say.

"... excitée," I murmured, trying to find a bit of breath to keep my body from collapsing into a heap.

"Quoi?" The deer tilted her head slightly, making apparent that the girl had also released her mother's hair from its severe bun, letting it pour down her back in a wine-coloured wave.

I cleared my throat. "The word you want is excitée. Or...ah...aroused."

Evangeline laughed, moving back to me, catching my wrist with one hand placing it on her mound. The dampness and deep heat seeped into my fingers and palm quickly.

She smiled, and pushed her lips near mine, small arms around my waist. "That is...how do you say... tout un euphémisme." She pressed herself into a kiss, pillowy bosom flattening within its lace and bone confines; the corset was an immaculate production of pale turquoise, molded to her features with such accuracy that even in my somewhat addled state it was obvious she had built it for herself.

"Madame Mayeaux..." Ways of exiting the situation with my dignity still intact rifled through my mind. But it occurred to me: what was I doing that was so undignified, so improper? Had I forced Evangeline's hand? Certainly not! Was I taking undue advantage of another man's wife, violating a most sacred of institutions? No, sir, I was not! My mind formed itself together, and the decision was made within an instant.

"...you are truly lonely, aren't you?" Fingers stroked gently up the doe's arm, feeling the muscle shift under velvety fur. Evangeline nodded gently, her breath ragged pants through painted lips. "I am so sorry for such...injustice." Carefully I sought the ties to her corsetry, tugging the thin cord that held it in place between two fingertips, all the while coaxing the brimming heat from within her with gentle rolls of my other palm, pressed closely, encouraging a moan from deep in her lungs. "Allow me to assist you."

With but one more movement, the knot in the lacing gave way and the foundation that granted Madame Mayeaux a curvaceousness enough to suck the breath from a weak man's lungs was freed. With arms held to her sides, I eased it from her and placed it gently on the chair, turning back and stroking over the pressed fur of her sides. Where many a woman had worn such a thing to create a mere illusion of buxom, shapely beauty to catch the eye of any passing men, Evangeline had little need for such a facade--her hips flared dramatically even with the fabric vice removed, and her belly was soft but not flabby. And her breasts...reader, understand that I am but a man, a victim of his own wants and desires. It may cry of exaggeration when I claim that Evangeline Mayeaux may be possessed of the finest chest of any woman I have lain with, except perhaps that of Victoria herself--large enough to require both my hands simply to hold them, warm and firm, held high with the pride of a woman who had not let the loss of her youth diminish her confidence.

Evangeline's soft cry pricked my ears. Her eyes swam with need, the soft tip of her tongue tracing over her lips. I nodded, understanding full well her silent request, and guided the doe gently towards the bed. We landed together far less than elegantly, but neither of us cared, muzzles pressed tightly together, tongues lashing at the other's as hands explored bodies that were new to us but soon to become intimately familiar. It was awkward and groping, the polar opposite to the idea of a romantic encounter from one of the many smoldering novels Victoria kept in the library alongside Lionel's more studious material. Instead, we ground together like wild beasts, my engorged organ resting in the crevice of her femininity, gathering the forming honey with each roll of my hips. Evangeline's scent was intoxicating, thick and heady, filling the tiny room with the pure smell of desire. I could scarcely contain myself against such an assault.

I leaned back to catch my breath. Evangeline's eyes, wide and soft under the amber lights of the room, her hair tussled into a burgundy halo against the mattress. Broadly curved lips struggled and stammered out words that formed no sentence. I slipped my fingers through Evangeline's hair and cradled the back of her head, encouraging her to find calm.

"Monsieur le renard ... j'ai besoin de toi en moi. Ne pas me taquiner, je ne peux pas le prendre." In honesty, I am not completely convinced of what Evangeline said to me in that heated moment. But an accurate translation was not a necessity--I knew what needed to be understood. In a handful of moments, Evangeline Mayeaux had abandoned her lot as the_artiste_ of fabric and thread, exceptionally friendly but dedicated her craft, and dressed herself in the trappings of a woman given to begging, to pleading for the touch of a male after so long without, left empty inside in all senses, pressing plush hips to my own with an insistence that would not be denied. And I, the man who had stumbled into her grasp, was more than willing to aid her recovery.

With a lift of my hips, I positioned the crown of my cock at the deer's entrance, pressing with only the barest of force against her nether-folds, the warmth of our bodies enough to counter any chill before I pressed into her. Evangeline's eyes shut and her head rolled backwards against her pillows, the needy pout of her lips turning to a wide, dreamy smile as she was filled with searing muscle. There I rested for a moment, basking in the indescribable sensation of penetration. Should anyone ever insist to you, dear reader, that each and every coupling is alike, I suggest that they have coupled very little indeed and should close their mouths before embarrassing themselves further. It is like a fine wine--the texture, the scent, the softness and the movements all create a wondrous and unique experience that one should treasure. In the case of Evangeline Mayeaux, the libation was perfectly aged and tended to, welcoming my length into her depths with only the resistance brought from a sad period of loneliness.

There would be time for resting later, though. My task was not simply to indulge in the offering of a willing cunt, but to pleasure its owner as completely as I was able. Drawing back, I withdrew my member from her, eliciting a long and languid sigh, like music to my pricked ears. In and out, slowly but surely, we began a ritual practiced a million times over by most every being who walked upon the earth, our rhythms finding synchronicity...

But her face grew sour, eyes scowling up at me until her mouth could join in, teeth bared in an expression most alien to her features. "Reynard, I am not some frêle petite chose!" Her fingers grabbed at my shoulders with a ferocity that caught me entirely by surprise, tugging me closer until our foreheads nearly met. " Baise. Moi." Her legs wrapped around my waist as the exclamation point to her demands, thick thighs clamping against my belly like the corset we had stripped her of just minutes ago.

I nodded, and nothing more. Faced with the demands of a cervine gone nearly feral underneath me, there was but one response that would satiate her animalistic lusts--thrusting into her sodden slot as hard as my legs would bear me, like the strike of a hammer against metal. Evangeline's reaction was instantaneous--her eyes brimmed with fire, her spine arching to a most ridiculous height, pressing the swaying mountains upon her chest towards me as if extending an invitation. It was gladly accepted by both hands and mouth, the right teat greeted by my tongue, its nipple caressed until it stood as hard as diamonds against my assault. The other was pressed into my palm until the soft mass formed around my fingers, more than a handful by an appreciable amount. Evangeline moaned something unintelligible towards the ceiling, every slap of my manhood into her honey-pot pushing her deeper into the mattress and closer to the wall. The crack of the bed frame into the wall behind her head served as our lusty metronome, a timing bell for the meeting of our hips, folds and balls.

I pulled my head up from the mountains of delight I had buried my muzzle into, my nose thick with the heady scent of perfume and pheromone and my head dizzy. Madame Mayeaux clenched again as I forced the crown of my prick deep inside her canal, and I growled with building frustration, both at being held in place and the acute pain of strong legs pressing my ribcage into unpleasant shapes with every thrust of my own. I grabbed the russet knees near my waist and tugged with a sharp bark, teeth bared as the doe's legs were pried free of my waist and pressed upwards forcefully. Evangeline started, untangling her hands from the sheet beneath her and moving it to her face, biting into her knuckles as she watched through the haze of arousal.

I smiled at her as best I was able through my own hormonal bliss, attempting--perhaps pointlessly--that there was nothing to be worried for. "I...it is something I was taught by an Indian," I murmured, stroking along her inner thighs, teasingly grazing my fingertip over the crux of her mount and the pearl normally hidden away there. She relaxed and tensed in unison, coaxing me onwards with muscles unseen, holding my cock much as any hand would be able.

Planting my toes into the sheets behind me for leverage, I pressed upwards again, folding Evangeline much like one would a jack-knife, spreading her thighs apart to allow for more room. We both laughed, somewhat in surprise at Evangeline's surprising flexibility, somewhat at the pure euphoria of our coupling and the sudden change in pleasurable outpourings of our pulsing, sweaty flesh. The new angle pressed my staff into new corners of her wetness, pricking nerves left dormant far too long for any woman to bear. In kind, this new angle let me slam away into that canal with more power than before, my tail flagging limply behind every motion I made, the trail of mixed juices trickling down to the sheets and leaving them sodden beneath Evangeline's bottom. I only needed be careful of her hooves as they fluttered in every direction while she writhed in most blissful agony beneath me.

My jaw clenched, as did most every muscle of my person. Deer are the sprinters, not foxes, and the maintenance of a most break-neck pace had already left me breathless. I struggled to hold back the torrent building inside my balls, telling myself for the thousandth time that this was not an exercise in pleasuring myself but rather in the pleasure of the woman, the mother, the artist who I had stumbled into the grip of and was now quite intimately entangled upon, my dried lips pressed tightly to hers as her heaving bosom swayed hypnotically beneath me. Each cry and gasp sent my head spinning. The room stank of us, a delicious aroma that drove me onwards, and Evangeline's fingers twisted into the sheets until they tore from the strain. The bed would never quite be the same.

Long before the sharp scream reached my ears, I felt the doe's orgasm reach me. Muscles tensed and rippled, her eyes rolled back into her skull, and the muscles of her cunt clamped onto my phallus with a death-grip that brought tears to my tightly shut eyes. Up she rose, slowly at first, then higher, until I feared in some corner of my addled mind that she may break in two underneath me. But even as she moaned like a banshee in heat, I thrusted, harder and harder, fighting through a virtual barricade of tension that mounted such great resistance...

I overcame it, and came. Perhaps to you, reader, this sounds quite anti-climactic, but in fact--and I intend no pointlessly puerile pun to pad the pages of this publication; quite the opposite, in fact. The rush to my peak left my ears ringing, and for the briefest moments my vision faded into a white cloud. The only sensation I was sure of was the pumping and flaring of my member deep inside of Evangeline's sex, pouring forth my come as a gift to her. There we lay together, connected but lost to our own respective euphoria, flying on a cloud of satiated delight.

Time sat still as I unclenched my body, coming down from our lofty perches, vision clearing until finally I was gazing again into the eyes of Madame Mayeaux, my muzzle placed most ungentlemanly between her breasts. I could comment on the foolish grin painted upon her muzzle, but it would be foolish, as I am quite sure I bore my own; I simply couldn't see it.

"I certainly hope I haven't disappointed you, madam." Slowly, carefully, I eased her legs into a more natural position; the doe sighed languidly as her body melted into renewed comfort.

There was a soft giggle in reply, and I felt lips press against my own, soft and warm. "Certainement, mon renard." She stroked over the back of my head, and I wagged slightly, stirring the hot air above us. "But I hope you are not épuisé already..." Again she kissed me, the passion rebuilt and my arousal, which had only diminished slightly, pressing towards fullness again.

A shuffle and squeak from the far side of the room startled us both, and in unison Evangeline and I turned towards the sound. There, huddled against a wall, was Seraphine, both her hands pressed tightly against her skirts as she pleasured herself with wild abandon, her eyes locked firmly upon her mother and me in our post-coital bliss. I gasped and stammered meaninglessly--how had we forgotten the girl? Had I been so enraptured by Evangeline's offer that Seraphine's very existence had fallen out of my mind entirely? I fretted and fumbled, ashamed--

With but a handful of words, her mother convinced me that perhaps my concerns were unfounded.

"Seraphine, stop that. You will stain the material." The younger doe nodded and pushed herself up to something of a standing position, wobbling on her hooves as she slowly brought her senses back to function. I watched in a half-dream, expecting that she would perhaps depart the room and leave us to whatever physical exertion we chose to commit to next. It was only appropriate.

I should have presumed simply from the situation at hand that propriety had taken a holiday to a distant location and would not be heard from for some time.

Seraphine, rather than making any movement towards the door, instead pulled her bodice away from her shoulders, the entire garment falling away with but a shrug of her arms. While her mother had sported naught but a corset and her own voluptuous physique beneath the cotton and linen, the younger doe wore something more appropriate in the form of a rather modest sort of body-stocking. What was modest in any other situation, however, became something far less so when put upon the body of a squirming, panting, glassy-eyed young woman, barely able to hold the tide of her primal urges in check. Her juices had soaked into the material and created a broad dark space which caught the eye and locked it to her mound. I blushed to myself and turned away suddenly, feeling as some sort of pervert with his eyes upon a child.

Evangeline's fingers traced over my chin, catching my muzzle and turning me back to face the girl. "She has just reached seize ans..." I swallowed hard, enough that I've no doubt that both of my partners heard the sound, the ender doe laughing lightly to herself behind a hand. Breathing became a laborious task, pushing air past dried lips and throat. Evangeline did not particularly need to hold my gaze upon her daughter's figure as she writhed in place, tongue tracing over her teeth. I felt Evangeline move behind me as I watched in rapture, sliding her form behind mine as I sat upon the bed's edge.

Madame Mayeaux's teeth grazed my ear, making me hiss and cinch my eyes shut, pressing back against the plush landscape of her chest. A hand stroked along the surface of my chest and rolled fingertips through the fur there, thickened for the winter as nature's will dictated. "Do you know of deer and winter, renard?" I shook my head softly as her palm travelled lower. Fingertips grazed against my resurgent cock as she whispered to me a tale laced thickly with a lewd, smoldering hunger. A craving, if you understand, for something not put upon the dinner table. (In most households I know of, at least!) "As the cold comes and winter is at the doorstep, la faim primitive is its companion." The soft clicking of hooves against the floorboards triggered my eyes to open of their own accord, looking straight into the glistening eyes of Seraphine, her hands coming to rest upon my shoulders, sandwiching me between her own slim form and her mother's heaving bounties. I had never noticed the deep browns of the girl's eyes, almost a perfect match for her coat, dotted with specks of pale tan, so large and perfectly shaped that I feared I may fall in and drown within one. "Moi, I have tamed the beast. But Seraphine..."

"Have you...ever..." It was a hushed tone, as if we were afraid to be caught by disapproving parents bursting through the door to chastise our liaison with lectures of propriety and marriage and all such things. Seraphine did not respond, instead leaning forward to kiss at my muzzle, tilting her head and pressing closely to me. If this was her first kiss, perhaps she was a natural talent, warm and gentle, her fingers raking through my hair and scraping over my scalp. Her scent told me that experience did not matter, its rich heady aroma filling my nostrils and my mind in turn. Nature, you are wicked when you wish to be, and this November day seems to be quite dedicated to such debauchery...

Hands wrapped around my wrists and guided them upwards, pressing the palms into Seraphine's chest near the ties of her underthings. The heat rising through common linen was remarkable, like that of a fully stoked furnace, the poor girl's heartbeat like a marching cadence thundering against her ribcage. "Non, non, non. Elle est la mendicité pour vous." Evangeline led my quivering fingers like a child's to each knot in turn, coaxing and prodding until I untangled the lace and slowly dragged the girl towards sharing in our nudity. "Arrêtez de faire son attente."

Much like the young doe, I chose not to respond. Instead, I slid fingertips along the center slit of her clothing, feeling the immaculately groomed fur beneath the material. She rolled her head back as I teased upwards slowly, steadily, pushing the linen nightgown to the sides and away from her form. When dressed, I had thought of Seraphine as budding, within a few seasons of developing into degrees of pulchritude which would stop men's hearts in their chests and drive other women to indescribable levels of jealous madness. Now bare before my eyes in the amber light of the tiny room, I found to my startling pleasure that I had rather underestimated Seraphine's progress towards womanhood. Evangeline may have embraced the voluptuous ideal, heavy of breast and broad of hip, but her daughter was a qualified contender, rump and thighs spreading out luxuriously from her trim waist tucked below a chest carrying handfuls of soft bosoms that would surely explode into something from a male's midnight fantasy in due time. Those broad legs framed the tuft of fur that marked her womanhood, the white patch soaked through to glimmering with her need as it trickled down her thighs in steady rivulets. I could sense the mixture of youthful trepidation and mature pride in her body as I drank her in, unable to look away, only acknowledging her mother's continued presence in the room as she moved away, leaving our steadily engaging bodies to land on the mattress with a dull thump. We didn't care. I clutched Seraphine about the waist and pulled her close, clenching my jaw at the sudden sensation of soft deer fur against my cock as it pointed towards heaven. The tension was sucked away by the reappearance of Seraphine's mouth, kissing me with renewed vigor as I massaged her rump and tail, all sense of shame lost entirely...

For countless moments we rested against each other, so close as to share heat and heartbeats, her black hair everywhere against the sheets. Finally I broke away, resting atop of the girl--no, the woman--as she spread herself for whatever pleasures I chose to take of her, her cunt swollen and spread open like a beckoning gate to Heaven. Such a bounty, and so soon after her mother had offered herself to me! I wondered, reader, if perhaps I had passed into unconsciousness earlier in the day and this was but the blathering hallucination of a drunkard lost in his cups. If it were, then I was delighted to be its victim!

I felt a slight pressure against my shoulder, turning to meet Evangeline as she pressed a small square into Seraphine's palm. I raised my eyebrows at the elder deer, eliciting a laugh. " Un préservatif, mon renard. As you Englishmen say, 'an ounce of preparation...'" I couldn't help but laugh myself, or I would have, had I not been forced to gasp for breath as the rubber was rolled against my manhood and down its blood-swollen shaft. I swore to whatever heavenly body was listening to my pleas for a return to the days before we males were tasked with wrapping our most sensitive flesh in sheaths of lambskin or rubber. I suppose, reader, that the benefits outweighed the drawbacks, and the delightful sensations of Seraphine's tiny fingers against my turgidity brought a delighted smile to my face and a pronounced drip to my cockhead.

The doe would hardly be satisfied simply to touch my member. No, that would not do at all the look on her face told me. Her eyes were washed in delirious need and her fingers refused to let go of me, squeezing perhaps a bit tighter than was comfortable. I reached between her lovely thighs and slid my fingertips up to her mound, parting the wilderness of her muff to feel the heat of her cunt as it beckoned to me. So lovely, pink and swollen, a fine specimen of womanhood that would only grow better as it bloomed...

Seraphine pressed against my chest and urged me to move. Her patience was wearing quite thin, and her mother was quite correct--I should cease delaying the inevitable. An idea crossed my mind with a small smile in the corners of my mouth. Clutching slender shoulders, I pulled Seraphine to me, rolling us over, placing her smaller form atop of me, thighs straddling my belly with the pillar of my erection against her belly. She rolled her hips instinctively, grinding the seam of her gash against me greedily, moaning silently at the wonderful new feeling. Her eyes opened again and met mine with a questioning glance...

"I am your first, yes?" I did not wait for an answer. "The lady should lead the first dance." My palm stroked the curve of her backside as her tail flicked furiously. "Please. It's my pleasure."

Painted lips curled into a smile and a slim snout nodded several times in understanding. Ah, sweet virginity--if only we could repeat our first time, hmm? That mostly lovely bottom rose away from my ministrations as Seraphine shifted and stretched; the position, I had found, was most appropriate for a smaller female, as it let them not only set the pace and control depth, but it helped to accommodate for height variances, though it was barely a third of a meter from the points of my ears to her own. Still, I wanted to allow the lovely doe to have control, watching in undisguised bliss as the opening to a special sort of paradise rested itself against my cockhead, droplets of crystal smearing against the dome and trickling down the side, making it look not unlike a rather perverse candle...

There was a pause suddenly and a look of frustration crossed Seraphine's face. Even in my addled state, the reason was clear. I offered a small nod up to her, though if she could see anything through the stars in her eyes I was unsure, and put my palms to her hips, clutching strongly, feeling the soft flesh give under my grip. Together in our efforts, I pushed past her maidenhead, the tiny spattering of darkness on my cock a sure sign that the darling deer's virginity had been claimed. There was no crying or face crossed with agony; it had been but a minor obstruction, a temporary delay in reaching the peaks of ecstasy. It is a quiet worry of any male that the pain of penetration will be too much for their chosen consort to cope with...

I should really have not worried quite so much for my carnal partner's well-being and comfort. Her more demure mood lasted but the few minutes she needed to grow comfortable in her new position, soon replaced by the re-emergence of the needy animal inside. Deep brown eyes grew wide as she pushed down, spearing the first sixth and more into her quivering quim, grunting and gurgling through her slack-jawed mouth but refusing to slow her descent. I gripped the sheets tightly in both fists and sucked in my breath, screwing my willpower with all my might. Where her mother had been akin to penetrating a tunnel of velvet--soft, yielding, and warm--Seraphine was as snug as a gripping fist, dragging its hidden musculature along my shaft with friction only dulled modestly by her most abundant self-lubrication. But have me inside her she would, complete and whole.

And have me she did, finally pressing the plateau of her groin against my own, the entirety of my phallus buried inside Seraphine Mayeaux, throbbing from the tightness even through the sheath wrapped about it. The cervine panted and hissed breath through her teeth, eyes cinched until tears welled up in the corners. I stroked along the length of her thigh where she sat squatted over me, pressing her palms against my chest, digging hard fingertips into the skin until I feared she would tear chunks of white fur away. No such horror happened, as I counted my blessings yet again. Instead, strong hips rose, more confident now, having found comfort around my cock's girth, slowly relaxing around it as her body found a natural rhythm to fuck itself into unconsciousness.

Good God in Heaven above, I thank you for providing we unworthy men with young women, freshly flowered into lusty beasts that shatter hearts, minds, and beds. The younger Mayeaux became a living, breathing machine, a slathering beast of carnality that threatened to destroy my skeleton with every slamming stroke of her pelvis. What should have I expected, though? Pleasant, slow sex, the kind of love-making written about in well-steamed romance novels hidden by shamed housewives? I had invited a beast to use me as she saw fit! Perhaps common sense would be rattled back into my skull.

Seraphine seemed quite intent on rattling me, regardless of the results upon my poor frame. How could such a tiny creature, perhaps a meter and a half and eight stone if she were soaking wet, prove to be so voracious? Evangeline had not been understating the beast of winter, her daughter poised over me with foot-hooves pressed into the shuddering mattress to each side of me as she bounced in resplendent glee against my aching phallus. It was all I could do to hold on to her and listen through folded ears to the slurping, fluid sounds that echoed around the tiny room and I feared into the streets below.

My vision was filled with raven locks a brief moment before Seraphine's mouth met mine in a kiss on the opposite point of the scale from our previous. This was not the begging, smoldering embrace of a girl who needed satiation; this kiss burst with flames of passion, billowing forth from deep in her loins to stream from every orifice. Tongues wrestled together sloppily, fingers knitted together tightly, her chest pressed to mine, modest breasts cushioning the impact. For Evangeline, the view must have been quite a paradox--upper bodies close, cradling and kissing like passionate lovers, while below our more unspoken-of elements committed acts unmentionable, staining the sheets and each other with the heady smell of musk.

So enraptured was I in the moment with the thrashing Seraphine that I had forgotten we did, in fact, have a partner in the room with us. Forgot, that is, until the broad damp surface of a tongue dragged itself across the surface of my ball sac and up the base of my shaft in one smooth stroke. Beyond Seraphine's face and chest I could scarcely see anything but the walls of the room, but each swipe of a warm lingua and the shift of a shadow gave away Evangeline as she crouched beneath us, cleaning away the fountain of mingled juices. The 'fawn' raised her head back up and rolled it backwards on her neck, arching her spine and howling silently towards the heavens as she came for what must have been the eighth time, each climax more explosive than the one before it. None of them slowed her down--in fact her pace had become more intent as she rode me like a horse, both rider and stallion working up a lather.

The dam of pleasure broke with a sudden jolt, Seraphine's body going rigid. Her thighs tensed around and clamped to my torso like a vise as her puss did the same in kind, grabbing my cock and holding it in place as waves of euphoria crashed out of her and over us both. The rush of hot juice against my belly was unmistakable. I held the woman's hands as the first real orgasm she had ever experienced rushed through her blood stream and carried her to a special place, all the while being tongue-lashed by her own mother...

There were words. I cannot say for sure what they were, my ears ringing from the blood pumping through them, my face flushed and eyes dry. Seraphine turned and looked down, rolling away suddenly, freeing my still rock-hard cock from her depths with a loud pop and a splash of fluids. The girl winced at the sudden feeling of emptiness and the angered response of sore muscles for a heart-beat before dropping to the floor. I leaned my head upwards to try and steal a glance, falling back along the sheets as the sodden condom was peeled away and a draught cool winter air brushed over the intensely sensitive nerves. The chill was bracing, but the feeling of lips and tongues cleaning away the pre-come from my length was tenfold more intense.

Pushing up on my hands, I managed to raise my head and body to a sitting position, looking down at the two cervines as they polished my manhood with an intense reverence. "Ladies..." I murmured, having only a bit of voice to provide before Evangeline's mouth swallowed me whole, clamping her lips down and suckling away until I forgot how to breathe properly for a moment. As quickly as the warmth enveloped it pulled away, tendrils of saliva hanging limply in the air before falling away. The matron deer gestured to her daughter, who leaned in and copied her mother's efforts, twisting her tongue around the crown of my cockhead and kissing the very tip, drinking of salty pre-come nearly as fast as I could make it.

Evangeline looked up to me as Seraphine fellated me with a natural talent; though not the expert cock-sucker that her mother had developed into with much practice, the broad surface of her long oral-digit was put to more than effective use, drawing circles about the base of my member as she nosed through my pubic ruff. "Oui?" she asked me with a wicked smile playing on her face.

"I...won't last....long..." It was no understatement. My stomach was tensed as tightly as I could manage, barely holding back the urges building up within my belly. I must have looked a fright, but it did little to dissuade the deer.

In fact, it may have stoked their lusts even higher. Evangeline gave me but a little quirk of her eyebrow before turning to her child and wiggling her fingers in a sort of signal that I had no chance of ever decoding. Perhaps it meant something in the part of France they hailed from? A question for another time, a time when two lovely examples of female beauty--one matured, developed; the other young, just coming into its prime--kissed and licked from the base of my shaft to the head and down again, meeting near the very top to kiss each other, something blending between chaste and intensely erotic, stopping my heart dead it in its chest.

The first jet of seed splashed against their chins as they came together one last time, another finding its way to Seraphine's cheek, dripping slowly through the groomed fur there, streaking against the deep black of her hair. More come rushed through me, painting the divine pair with thick lines, marring their beautiful faces. Both reveled in the discharge as it if were some kind of gift; Seraphine giggled and tilted her mouth closer to my cock to catch one of the last arcs of spunk between her lips, while Evangeline gathered a portion between her fingers and made a theatrical presentation of licking it clean from the brown fur there.

Finally, I fell backwards, my cock growing limp as the blood rushed away from it. I felt Evangeline's hands cup the base and lift it upwards, both taking equal part in cleaning away the remaining droplets that fell from the tip until nothing more was to be had. Their job complete, both Mayeauxs climbed upon the mattress with me, one to each side, and pressed themselves closely to my dazed form, fighting away the fog of sleeping encroaching from all sides.

The sound of a bell, loud and sharp against the heavy silence of the building, woke us from slumber. I pushed myself up to a half-sit, eyes bleary. "What in the world was--?"

Evangeline and Seraphine both shot to their feet as if a hunter were at the threshold. "Mon dieu...we slept too much! Merde!" Seraphine darted to-and-fro about the room dressing herself adjusting things before her mother threw the window open wide, fanning the sheets.

"What are you doing?" I asked, clutching my hands about myself as the night cold hit me with the force of a fist.

"This room, it has the stink, he will know what we did!" Evangeline started to dress herself as well, looking in abject frustration at the soiled sheets. "Oh...oh I did not think...I am such an idiot..." With shaking hands, she gathered as much as she could and tossed it out the window to the alleyway below.

I moved from the bed and went for my own suit. Getting dressed seemed to be the proper thing to do, particularly if these hysterical women were to allow Jack Frost to climb into bed with us. "What are you gibbering about, Madame Mayeaux? Slow down! Wait!"

Evangeline grabbed me and tugged backwards, pulling me back to the bed. "Non! You cannot wear those! He will have questions and...oh oh..." The woman was in a genuine panic now, wringing her hands together, looking about the room as the bell rang again below.

"For God's sake, woman, what in Heaven's name are you going on about? Who is 'he'?"

Madame Mayeaux turned to me, fear burning in her eyes. "My husband!"

I stopped cold, the blood pouring into my feet and my tail exploding into a brush the size of Seraphine. "You told me he was dead!"

The deer shook her head hard, sending her red hair in every direction, her head a mess of unkempt hair and smeared make-up. "Non! Mon coeur, he has passed on, but..." She struggled for words, trying to adjust her dress back into place as Seraphine wrinkled her nose at her body-suit, the scent of randy deer unmistakable upon it. After a moment's thought it too flew out the window, fluttering to the street below.

"But--" It dawned on me, rather like the blow from a vicious husband who does not enjoy a collegiate fox taking advantage of his daughter's virtue. "You remarried?! Why didn't you_tell me_?"

Evangeline fretted and shrugged, looking to the door as footsteps echoed from downstairs. "I thought we would be done before--"

Both of us stopped, frozen in place as yet another bundle of clothing whipped past us, before turning to look astonished at Seraphine.

"That was my suit!"

The young deer nodded, chewing on a finger-hoof.

"What in blazes are we to do now? If your husband comes up here and I'm as bare as a babe, he'll certainly know what went!"

Seraphine paused a moment, looked to her left, and held up a hand.

"She has an idea," Evangeline said, unsure of what was about to come.

"I am désolé...I was _tres impliqué_on a gown...I could not come downstairs..." Evangeline was still making excuses and pleading as both Seraphine and I had listened nervously in the stairwell. Madame Mayeaux had met with the figure she said was her husband in the store downstairs. He had not said a thing of his own, not that we could hear.

"But I believe things are in order now. Seraphine, venir ici se il vous plaît, tout de suite!" The younger deer looked to me and tried to hide her trepidation. It did little good, but out into the shop we strode, wincing slightly at the much better light provided there.

And there I stood before another cervine much like his wife and step-daughter, wearing the purple ball gown that Madame Mayeaux had just finished assembling before our conversation had become far less of a polite Endeavour. My tail curled around my ankles, but thankfully he could not see through the heavy layers of purple skirting wrapped around my waist and legs, forcing me to stumble about as I moved. Seraphine did her best to guide me as I went, but it had been many a year since I had worn women's attire for any purpose, and it had never been anything so complicated and constricting as this! Make-up as well had been applied, perhaps a bit excessively, to drive home the implication that I was one of Hind & Hart's patrons, simply performing a bit of acceptable custom, and a wig hopefully completed the image. I'd not been allowed to view myself in a mirror--there had been no time, Seraphine had insisted, tugging at my arm...

The stag looked me over as one would a small child found poaching desserts from the tray while he thought his parents distracted. I withered under his attentions, avoiding eye-contact. Monsieur Mayeaux was, by any standard, a massive creature, his rack of antlers nearly scraping against the ceiling.

Finally, after more moments than I thought remained in my life, he huffed, the hot air blowing the wig out behind me and making the already excessively warm gown that much less comfortable. "Fine work. She'll be the talk of whatever to-do. Though..." He rubbed at his chin and squinted his eyes, deep in sudden thought.

Seraphine fidgeted next to me. "What is it, Henry, darling?" Evangeline gave me a glance that Henry wouldn't be able to see, apologetic and as nervous as I.

Henri stood upright again. "Hmph. Really pretty. Nice feminine face." That said, he was off upstairs without a single other sound, squeezing through the doorway to the bedroom.

Evangeline and Seraphine both grabbed my shoulders, pushing me towards the front doorway. "Now! Now! You need to go now!"

I pushed back, glancing at both of them with embers of anger in my eyes. "Not like this! I need my clothes! I will not walk about a civilized city like...like this!"

"Eve?" We all three turned our heads in perfect synchronicity towards the rear door.

"...y-yes, Henry?"

"Why's the window open?"

I started tiptoeing towards the exit, hoping my footsteps wouldn't be too noticeable. Perhaps discretion would be the far superior choice in this situation, lest I--

"And why the hell's the mattress smell like fox?!"

The next five minutes of my life were spent running through the darkened streets of Norwich as if they were the last I would have to experience, the angry bellowing of Henry Mayeaux ringing off the stones behind me. I surely had lost him after the first moment of stumbling over my skirt, but convincing my feet that we had achieved safety was beyond any possibility at the moment.

Finally I stood panting against a wall, catching my breath and adjusting my wig. These were not meant to be used during foot races, I had come to realize.

What else I had realized: I was completely lost within Norwich, wearing women's clothing, in the middle of the night.

I hoped in the very deepest pit of my lurching stomach that Victoria would wait for me...

To Be Continued Again!