Yearning to Ache
Dewch a edrych tu fewn fy nghalon. Dewch a 'weld y gwir, rhowch eich cariad I rhywun sydd mewn anghen ofnadwy. Os 'na unrhywun yn y byd yn ei weld yn y ffordd y 'dw i ?
What you're about to read is based on a true story. I've used vulp instead of fox or vulpine in some parts of the story. Just moulding a colloquial British slang from deep inside my head. The main character Fere Ermelyne is my alias (Fere is pronounced 'FEER' - it's Middle English for companion), and the rights to that name are mine. By the way, all place names, numbers etc.. are either concealed or literarily distorted to protect my identity. Do have a read, and let me know what you think. The yiff is there, trust me. Don't rush, take your time. I love to hear from fellow furs. Drop me an email if you'd like to know a little more. This is going to be the first part of a series. I was going to make it only a 2-parter, so I'll only do extras if you really like this one.
September was boring. Up to the point university started all over again, when friends were reunited and when discussions were worthwhile.
"Fuckin' lift" he muttered under his breath, hammering at the button with his... well not his free paw, his nose for God sake. After five minutes of waiting impatiently, Fere uttered another obscenity and began the long climb up the nine very familiar flights of stairs. So he'd had to lug his stuff up to the top floor of the halls of residence... again! With a box of books in one paw, a bag of clothes in the other, fumbling around for the keys in his left pocket wasn't ever going to be easy. Something had to give.. and it did. It was the box that went first, and then Fere's patience.
"Oh for fuck sake, you fuckin' stupid vulp", yelling to himself along a corridor that echoed and bounced words just like the prick next door and his god awful music. Typical of a husky. No taste, no respect and eventually no hearing. The decent thing he could is actually learn to sing, Fere thought to himself. But having heard canine rock music he concluded that he certainly wasn't missing anything, and that it belonged to near brain-dead, alcoholic louts.
The smell of burning toast and disinfectant infiltrated every inch of the air you could bear to breathe, ... ask any student, they'd concur. The smell, the atmosphere and everything about the hall's tight, prison-like corridors left the fox feeling rather cramped and squeezed. And yet it was strangely comforting and cosy to Fere, even though HMP Whitemoor was almost a carbon-copy by layout.
He sighed, drooping his head downward. But Fere eventually plucked up the courage to gaze back at the plain navy-blue heavy set door, and drive his worn keys toward the Yale that sat next to the ever-fading number 915. God that number was engrained deep inside the fox's head, ever since he'd started Uni in '03. Fere chuckled as he caught sight of the scratches on his door, evidence of the drunken wolves who one night last year had decided to sleep against it, thinking that his cosy little flat was the off-licence. Every deep gauge, every faded strip of paint, every stain that he'd rather not know about, told stories of his time here. And Fere had enjoyed it,.. and he'd miss it terribly.
This would be his third and final year at uni, his thesis year, where Fere could count down the days to when he could say that he'd done his 17 years of hell, jammed into the system like so many other rubbed-steel spanners. Thank fuck for that.
He picked up the box and rammed it against the now unlocked door, and pushed his way in over the vast pile of flyers and useless trashy post that had piled up below the post-slot. Bound to be a pile of utter shit.... 'Dear Mr Ermelyne, Have you thought about your pension?', 'Dear Fere, Need Money?, 'Hey Student, Get smashed for a £1 on all-foxes-go-almost-free night @ the Oak'..... for God sake, it was the same every time he came back from holiday.
Needless to say, he left the pile on the floor, locked the door and collapsed on the yet unmade bed. The blissful quiet of a halls in early term. No rowdy confidence of 1st year idiots, no drunken twats banging on the wall at 3am.... for now. It wouldn't last. Fere was exhausted and lay flat out on the unkempt duvet, the whole flat smelling remarkably fresh, of the smells of lime green paint that had seemingly not yet dried daubed so regimentally on the walls.
He began remembering his Summer, a beautiful relaxing time when he'd been able to spend time with his family, catch up with his writing and authorship that he'd so badly missed... and had the time to think about her.
There's much more to this young student fox than meets the eye. And Fere knew it. 20 years old and 5 foot 11, Fere boasted a bright swathe of dark auburn to rust-red fur that stretched from ears to paws, his face picked out in streaks of black and silver. His tail was the best part of 4 feet long, a fact which made him immensely proud. He had plenty of other things to be happy about. Fere was fluent in 6 languages and was doing excellently at university. A natural progression from his studies at secondary, Fere was now in his 3rd year reading Ancient Vulpic.
And yet as he lay there, shuffling to comfort himself in the rather chilly confines of his flat, there were secrets beyond the bounds of a young fox's mind that swore him to a pseudo-reclusiveness. Secrets that had separated himself from the conscious world, and from the narrow-mindedness of his family, were piling up in his mind.
Finding out that he was bisexual and clairvoyant all at the same time didn't really help either. Other things to account for, other things to hide away. But Fere was resilient. He'd never let other people's prejudices get to him and he never would.
He rolled over on the bed to lay stomach down on top of the duvet, looking gauntly at the headboard that sat in a cubist-juxta to the wall. Suddenly his mobile rang, so loudly as to make him jump, the quietness of the flat having lulled his eyes to half-close. Fere leapt from the bed and scrabbled around in his rucksack for the lump of plastic that was ringing it's head off. Finally, delving his right paw into the side pocket, he found the mobile and hit the 'Accept'.
"Hello, 915", he yawned, stretching at the same time.
"Hi Fere, it's Naomi", came a joyful response.
"Oh hiya. How are things?", Fere's tired persona flung aside for a moment as he began to converse with one of his best friends.
"Yeah, everything's fine. You?"
"I'm fine thanks. Freezing my tail off"
"Cold ay'?", Naomi laughed. "It's just a quick call really Fere. Are you coming to the Oak on Thursday night?"
"The Oak?", questioned Fere as he pondered it for seconds on end. "Oh right, yes yes, the Oak. Of course I'll be there. No probs"
"I thought you'd forgotten for a minute you daft fox", Naomi's sleek wolven voice jokingly teasing Fere.
"Are you kiddin'?. I need the money" quipped Fere, "Only if I'm buying"
"Oh that's great of you, that'd be wonderful. Will see you there then?"
"9 o'clock sharp. See you" Fere answered, and closed his mobile.
Naomi, a wolf of Fere's age, was on the same course as the young fox. Reminding him of the pub quiz on Thursday at the "Pollard Oak" which was just across the road, was a wake up call for Fere who was feeling absolutely knackered. Thank god for good friends. He loved being with his friends, chatting about the course, about sport, about anything really. Better than satisfying himself with the four walls of his flat.
Today was Wednesday, so he had plenty of time to relax before the night out. He knocks the switch on his radiator, gives it a kick with his clawed paw and sets about unpacking and organising his flat. Collapsing back onto the bed, he wrestles with the lock on the suitcase, the suitcase that he'd practically shouted up the stairs.
Various levels of obscenities would be heard from Fere's flat all afternoon through as first books went flying, then cables for the TV wouldn't work, then the radiator gave up the ghost, then the draft from the window blew his cash everywhere, then those books went flying again ! Poor old fox.
************************************
Finally, 4 hours after he'd arrived, his flat was back to it's clean, studious best. Well, a sort of organised chaos actually, but Fere was proud of his work. Reaching for a glass, Fere poured a generous Johnny Walker for himself and slunk into a cosy chair, the radiator finally giving him the heat he'd wanted. Everything was finally sorted.
But Fere was left with his thoughts yet again, those torrid thoughts of her. The silence was painful and Fere put his glass down and sat just staring, just staring into outer space... just thinking, just seeing her. His paw left his side and reached for his favourite CD and set it going, leaching the dulcet, mysterious tones of Clannad into the room's warm grasp. But this sent Fere even deeper into his trance, his eyes fixed on something in the room, the wall no longer a barrier to his powerful vulpine mind.
It was a change in octave, a change in track, a change in temperature that made Fere shake his head from his dreamy oasis, and grab his keys and make for the door. His head was still lulling over her body, over her sheer beauty... and he couldn't shake it. Not that he ever wanted to of course.
After locking his door, the fox followed the smell of burning toast and pasta to find the student kitchen. It could only be one person who could make such a meal of cooking ...Lance. He was the tall, muscular grey wolf who lived one door down from Fere, and as such the two furs were the best of friends.
And sure enough, as Fere pushed himself against the heavy kitchen door and entered the smoky atmosphere of culinary chaos, there was Lance slaving, or rather swearing over a hot stove.
"Cook in 5 minutes my arse. Lousy stinkin' piece of sh...... FOXIE !", Lance looking up from his handy-work and bellowing his huge wolf voice so that everyone could hear... as usual. "And how is life treating little foxie this evening?"
Fere gazed at Lance and couldn't help but smile.
"Hi Lance. Life's treating me good. How 'bout you?", Fere answered with a jaunt in his voice, in joy at seeing one of his floor-mates again.
"Oh not so bad my vulpine friend, not so bad at all", Lance looking as confident and brash as he ever did.
Fere slunk over to his cupboard and pulled out a very mouldy loaf of bread.
"Oh Jesus Christ", he exclaimed, throwing the bread back into the cupboard and slamming the door.
"Chill out my young foxy friend", soothed Lance "I bought a loaf this morning from the shop across the street. You can have as many slices as you want"
"Oh, cheers Lance", Fere's ears perking up in happiness at Lance's kindness, giving a thankful wag of his tail in gratitude that there was some good furs left in the world.
"You'll find it in the top cupboard, next to the cooking oil", Lance wafting a paw in the vague direction of his stash of goodies, his head buried in concentration, murdering some good knows how many ounces of pasta.
Fere made a beeline for Lance's cupboard. But it was too high... and Fere's heart too proud to ask for help. And after five minutes of trying, Lance turned round.
"Havin' a bit of trouble fox?"
"No no... I've got it, I've got it", Fere now on the tips of his clawed toes reaching as high as he could. But that was never going to be high enough.
"Come 'ere shorty", Lance giggling as he strode over and undid the cupboard with ease, all 6 foot 6 of his massive frame not stretched or strained. He grabbed hold of the loaf and handed it down to Fere, now stood with his head down in embarrassment.
"Thanks Lance"
Lance just smiled a reply as he returned to his still fruitless pasta vigil. Fere gazed at his friend for not pointing out the obvious and his eyes drifted to the floor, catching sight of a small square of white paper that had flown out of Lance's cupboard when they'd reached for the bread. Fere stooped and picked it up, and began reading it aloud...
"04756 334 566 - LAURA - THANKS FOR LAST NIGHT"
The look on Lance's face as he realised that it was his piece of paper that his fox friend was reading out, was wonderful. Initially nodding, his delayed reaction was a gem....
"Where the fuck did you get that?" he yelled, his face a picture of surprise.
"It was on the floor mate", Fere replied slyly as Lance made a lunge to get the scrap back. But the fox was too quick, and snatched it out of the way and the wolf landed up on the kitchen floor. He tried to make it look as though he intended to do exactly that, stretching himself out on the cold floor and looking cutely up at Fere.
"So who's Laura?"
Lance sighed and got to his feet as his pouting wasn't working like it usually did.
"Ah Fere my friend, she is the most gorgeous piece of vulp I've seen in.... well, ever", Lance now off on his dreamy tangent as he did with so many of his conquests. And yes, that's 'conquests' plural. Lance wasn't obverse to having 3 going at the same time... and sometimes 3 all at once.
"Oh come on wolf. I've heard it all before."
"Yeah I know you have. But Laura's different"
"Yep.. there you go again" chuckled Fere, "Just like Rachel was different, and Carel , and that husky from the bank, and that,,....."
"Yeah alright alright." Lance glancing rather shyly up from his disastrous cooking, "But she still yiffs like there's no tomorrow"
"Uh huh, sounds fun", Fere reaching for the bread knife inside his own cupboard, "Should I go for a pillow over my head, earplugs or should I get the maintenance guys to fix me some new extra thick wall insulation".
"You sly little fox" joked Lance as he came over to Fere and fuzzled the auburn fur on his head. He paused .. "Go for the insulation"
The two friends both roared with laughter, Lance's antics in the bedroom having always been infamous for bringing the walls down.
Coming back down from their fit of the giggles, Fere set about making his sandwich still chuckling now and then at his friend's consistency.
"She's really that good eh?" Fere asked
"Oh you better believe it, hot little vixen with a rump that'd make you cry" Lance now remembering 'last night' with a fondness borne only of experience "And I popped her too. She was wild"
Fere looked up from his food...
"Popped her ?"
"Yeah, you know?"
"No what?"
"Oh come on fox, you're havin' a laugh aren't you?"
"No really, what do you mean?"
Lance frowned and then a broad smile streaked across his lupine face.
"She'd never had C O C K"
"Oh", an almost inaudible reply from Fere, sparking Lance's infectious laugh yet again.
"But now she's had mine, she won't ever want for anyone else's" he boasted.
"Oh and I guess that's why there's a great big crack in the plaster on my ceiling then" ,Fere inquired jokingly.
"Well make sure you don't fix it fox, 'cos she's comin' over again tonight" Lance now grinning so sinfully it was hilarious.
Fere now tucked into his sandwich, and sat himself on one of the tall kitchen stools to watch on as the wolf scrambled about, cursing at every mortal thing. The kitchen was gradually filling with steam from the boiling saucepan, and Lance's patience was wearing very thin.
"Oh geez'. Are you any good at cooking pasta fox ?", a final submission of defeat leaching from a very tired and frustrated wolf.
Fere looked up and smiled.
"And I can even speak Italian" he replied, getting down from the stool and walking over to inspect his friend's efforts.
"Oh God Lance, half of it's stuck to the pan!"
"And that's bad?"
"Hell yeah! Unless you intend on eating the pan with the pasta"
Lance blushed under his fur, and hung his head.
"Hey hey, no matter" Fere replied seeing that his friend was at his wits end, "I'll deal with this mess, and you start afresh with the pasta I've got in my cupboard. You gave me the bread, and so I'll return the favour"
"Oh thanks fox", Lance at a loss with his cooking, now finding someone he could finally trust.
But Fere noticed that something was wrong, and whilst cleaning the pan he saw that Lance was close to tears.
"What's wrong wolfie?", dropping the pan in the sink and walking over to comfort his friend.
"Oh Fere" sniffed Lance, "It's just that you're such a good friend, and we can always have a laugh together and ..."
"It's that husky next door to me isn't it?" Fere interrupting, instantly knowing what was troubling the seemingly untroubleable lupine romeo.
Lance nodded slowly.
"He came over early this morning" Lance began, "and said he was fed up with hearing me and my vixen-friend going at it, and that he would..., he would..."
Lance was now as close to sobbing as he could ever get.
"He would what Lance?" Fere asked sternly
"That he would, do something with the knife he was holding to me at the time", Lance putting his head into Fere's neck fur and whimpering in sadness.
"Oh for God sake Lance. Have you told anyone?"
"Are you kiddin'?"
"No I'm not wolf, this isn't the time to be joking. He may be the same height as you, but it doesn't mean you have to fight him one on one like the last time" Fere continued, "The dog didn't have a knife back then did he?"
"No" came the feeble lupine reply
Fere stroked the back of Lance's head and heard him murmur with happiness. The fox looked blankly at the wall and rapidly came to the conclusion that the wolf needed a cure not an argument.
"Tell you what" Fere begun "I'll get in contact with a couple of friends of mine and they'll sort him out for you"
"You'd do that?" Lance looking up at the fox in shock.
"Of course I would. The husky won't know what hit him... or rather, what fucked him"
"Oh, so they're.."
"Yep. A good hard fuck will sort him out"
"But you said they were... you know.... bent"
"Yeah. So?"
Lance cracked his sad tearful face, and laughed with his friend again.
"Now are we going to do this pasta or not?"
"Let's do it fox", Lance soon back to his usual self.
The wolf was a sensitive and kind fur who wouldn't hurt anybody. He just enjoyed having company. Just a bit more company than the usual wolf that's all. Unusually for a wolf of his gender and character, he was never afraid to show emotion. Fere really respected that, and found it rather.. rather..... attractive.
"He's just jealous, you know that don't you", Fere breaking the sound of the renewed bubbling of water that hailed culinary success rather than failure.
"Yeah, I know" Lance replied, an inevitable tone in his voice confirming to his friend that he knew very well of the fact.
"Of course you realise that he's jealous of not just the company you keep" Fere continuing whilst burying his concentration in slicing some irritatingly strong onions, "it's also because of your body".
Stunned silence met the end of his sentence.
Fere didn't look up, afraid to catch the stare of his friend. Lance was the first to venture a reply
"Oh I ...um... thanks" said with a frown of confusion, a frown that signalled his intrigue rather than his anger at his friends observation.
The two friends carried on silently, until Lance and Fere were both sat at the tiny table set in the centre of the kitchen ; the wolf with his dinner, and the fox with a glass of iced water.
"Sorry if I made you uncomfortable about the um... about the body thing" Fere swallowing hard from a simple sip of his drink.
Lance put his fork down and stared at his friend
"Don't be insane" he replied, "I've never been uncomfortable with me, and you'd be the last fur on earth to make me feel uncomfortable. I really like you man"
Fere smiled at his friend and took another sip.
"That was wonderful" a clean plate on the table and one satisfied wolf rubbing his lean stomach was the sight that greeted the young fox, "fox, you are one top cock.... I mean cook, cook ! Sorry, I've got vixen on the brain"
Fere stared at him almost lovingly, not knowing how to respond, just giggling vaguely at his Freudian slip... or at least he thought it was a slip. Wasn't it ?
With that he got up off his stool and made his way to the sink. And it was then that it hit Fere even harder, not just in his head, but inside his underwear too. The young fox gazed longingly at the wolf's gorgeous hind, his rump hidden beneath some worn jeans, his wonderfully huge silver-grey tail swinging and wafting in the air. He played his paw around the rim of the glass, imagining his paw circling Lance's tailhole, dreaming of his naked furred body in utter surrender to him.
Fere felt his cock stir in it's furred sheath, his paw gradually moving from the glass to rest on his knee, inching up his leg,... and it was at this point that he shook his head and suddenly leant both paws back on the table. Lance turned around and shuffled his shoulders awkwardly.
"God it's stuffy in here" the wolf looking around for some relief "Bloody fan isn't working and the window's fucked. You don't mind if I take my shirt off do you?"
Fere was just staring at him dreamily without even knowing it.
"Fox? I said..."
"Sorry, what?"
"I said, would you mind if I took off my shirt"
"Oh, yeah no problem. Go ahead", Fere immensely embarrassed ; his turn to blush couldn't have come at a more awkward moment. He just wished he could go up to Lance and offer his help in taking a little bit more off than just his shirt.
The wolf reached down and caught his shirt with one paw and helped it over his head.
"Oh yeah... that's much better", slinging the garment onto the work surface and turning back to the washing-up.
Fere sat there on his stool, his drink ignored now, and fixed his eyes on that amazing muscled lupine back. From his toned neck, down and across Lance's mid-back sweated ever so slightly with beads of saline effort... he was perfect in every way.
Further and further did the fox's eyes stray, taking in the wolf's aura, slipping naughtily to the very top of his jeans. The young vulp stared in a sickening angst at the tight waistband of the wolf's underwear that showed itself above the line of his belt, and just wished, and just pondered, and just lost himself. For he knew it could never be. Tied by a family who would never understand, by a society who would never accept him for who he was.
Behind every fur that expressed hatred and stereotypes, Fere knew there was another fur crying for release with the trigger only half-pulled and the bullet only half as sweet.
Fere wandered his gaze lower, all the while Lance whistling gleefully through his dish washing. But the fox couldn't help it, he couldn't help but stare and fantasise about what lay beneath the wolf's jeans.
"Want another drink foxie?", Lance turning round to face his friend, the fox sighing sadly but keeping up the pretence.
"That's alright Lance. I'll get it" Fere answered with another bright refreshed look on his face. Because he knew damn well that the only way to get another drink was to sup at the tap that lay over Lance's sink.
The fox waited for Lance to return to his washing, before rising from the table. He knew that his cargos had tented with his ceaseless drooling over the wolf's body, and had to cool his ardour before taking his drink from the tap.
Adjusting his cock inside his underwear, he breathed deeply and let it slip back into it's sheath... for now. God that hurt, he thought to himself. He'd made himself so hard just thinking about Lance, that he'd had to manoeuvre his member outside of his briefs to give it room to grow. The restriction was a pain.
He made his way over to where Lance was washing joyfully, and slunk his glass under the tap to catch another drink. The fox did it so quick, and he regretted it. He glanced so quickly sideward, taking in the wolf's flat stomach and the fact that he had left the top button of his jeans so wonderfully undone.
Just that sneek peak at the wolf's body, made Fere whimper in sheer desperation, in pure angst.
"You OK foxie?" Lance hearing the fox's delighted moan.
Damn... he'd heard. Fere began blushing again.
"I'm fine Lance" hanging his head down and away from the wolf, "thanks"
"You know you can tell me anything right?" assured Lance
"Thanks wolfie. I'm OK, really", Fere's smile hitting home, as he made eye contact with his friend.
Lance smiled and got back to his scrubbing.
"Ooogh... agggh..Stupid...acchh,..... no good ...aaah...muther fuckin' pasta"
Fere couldn't help but laugh at the wolf's attempts at removing dried-on pasta.
"You really baked that pasta on good. You'll scrub the non-stick coating if you're not careful", Fere joked, Lance just continuing in his swearing, a nod of agreement the only response.
The fox slurped down his drink and was about to bid farewell to his wolven pal, when Lance turned, picked up the dry tea-towel and leant back against the sink.
"Heh foxie?!"
"Yeah?"
"I don't think I've ever heard sex screams from your flat. With anyone at the minute?"
And it was the question the young fox dreaded, his heart sinking to his shoes, the wolf's innocent question making him feel so small.
"Oh.. um...,well, I'd hate to be in competition with floor nine's number one female-charmer", Fere responding nervously, searching desperately for a plausible answer.
"Ah don't be silly. You know what I mean. Who's the lucky girl then?", Lance never having been one to be sweet-talked out of a compromising situation.
Fere stood there, still as a rock, frozen by his words. And suddenly the nice yiffy feeling he'd had when looking at his body had evaporated. It took him an age to answer, his mind swelling and swimming in it's own doom.
"There was once Lance... once. It was a long long time ago"
"Still in contact?"
"Uh... no"
"Didn't work out then I guess?"
"Oh it worked out alright..., just that"
"What?"
Fere knew his worst nightmare was coming true and that Lance wouldn't stop. He drew a deep breath.
"We were out on the town. We'd just left the restaurant when someone knocked me over and began kicking me. They kicked me so bad that I was out for ages. But when I came to...."
Fere hesitated in what appeared to be pain.
"When I came to she was just lying there, blood everywhere. I managed to crawl over to her and I held her until... until she died"
Fere was a strong fox and his tears were there, but he held onto them like he had held onto his mate on that one fateful night so many years before.
"Oh man Fere, I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to..."
"No it's not your fault,... you didn't know"
And the evening's conversation faded away in that instant, with Lance feeling immensely awkward, feeling terrible inside. Fere looked at his friend and managed a smile.
"Anyway, enough of my problems. I've got to get back to work Lance. See you tomorrow?"
Lance stared at his fox-friend
"Yeah see ya' tomorrow man. Sleep well"
Fere looked once more at the wolf, reaching for his shirt with a dry, bland look on his face.
"Lance?"
"Yeah?"
"She was a great yiff too"
That brought the smile back to Lance's evening, knowing his friend was cool about his unfortunate question. And with that, Fere left his friend to finish his kitchen cleaning and headed back to his small flat along the corridor.
***************************************
"Oh that was never offside you prick"
Fere had settled down and had turned his attentions to Match of the Day on BBC1, throwing his anger at yet another bad decision. When you're an Arsenal supporter, you never seem to get the breaks. Needless to say, Fere's TV was getting a verbal battering.
Once the football had finished, he turned his attentions to his uni work... but that wasn't such a good idea at such a late hour. And a calendar picture on his wall caught his attention. A beautiful vixen wearing nothing more than a smile. He sighed at such a gorgeous sight. But it had stirred images of her again, his lost mate, of that night.
But it wasn't the night she died. It was the night they'd first mated, the night they'd first so passionately made love. Fere felt his cock tense up, and he had a need rising within him... a need to honour her, to honour her memory. Images flashed in front of his eyes, as clear as if it were yesterday,... her haunches, her tail, her sopping wet glands that sent him so wonderfully wild. The smell of her cunt as he'd buried his nose inside her, her cries, his cries, the heights they reached, the sweat they sweated to one another... that moment of sheer frenzy, moving so fast together, his cock bursting, her clit teased to insanity by his girth. They'd found paradise that night, hidden inside his cosy home, deep in each others' paws, their sleep never ending, joined, never to be parted, never wanting to wake.
And that was it. Fere almost leapt to attention, to the orders of his loins that were now burning for release. He wanted to paw off and he wanted to do it right now. But he slowed himself down, because he knew that it was now only his movements that could arouse him to taste ecstasy.
Feeling thoroughly dirty, the young fox drifted to the bathroom light and switched it on. He dashed his paw against the shower button, and began running it to a lovely warm steam.
Turning from the bathroom, the thoughts of his vixen drove him to growl at thin air as he ever so slowly untucked his shirt and lifted it over his head, exposing his lean upper body to the cool atmosphere of his flat. Fere had a generous splash of pearl to off-white chest fur, with streaks of bright rust-red running down his sides.
The fox moved to the bathroom and dipped his paw into the stream of shower water, a sly smile stretching across his face realising that that time was here.
He closed the door, and ran his paws down his own chest, slowly, carefully arriving at the top button of his trousers. Equally slowly did he undo the button and tease his fly-zip all the way to it's base, now letting himself whine with an instant shock of excitement.
First, Fere let his cargos drop to the floor, leaving him standing there in just a pair of white briefs, his bare back feeling the damp walls with the moisture created by the shower's heat. His cock was aching, hot with a sense of impending pleasure. His briefs wouldn't hold out for long, the cotton stretching and tenting, a huge moist stain pooled around where the head of his dick now poked out of his sheath.
Fere had always had a huge turn-on from having his tail chewed and bitten, and he had wasted no time in wrapping his tail around himself and chewing delicately on the tip, moaning into his fur.
His eyes widened, never shifted, intent on making tonight special, on making this night run his body to heaven and back.
The young fox whined again, before releasing his tail, it's now taut length springing back around to his hind, and running his paws around the inside of the waistband of his briefs. The cotton rubbed teasingly at his cock, making him grow harder, his penis steadily lengthening.
And with one shift, Fere ran his briefs down to his ankles and stepped out of them too. He could now smell his arousal, the gorgeous aroma of a fox at a nearing peak of his sexual angst, sending his mind into a spin. He first coaxed his balls to tighten, rubbing and rolling them in his two warm paws, gradually working upward across the base of his disappearing sheath and stroking the growing knot that he so desperately wanted to see. His right paw couldn't take it anymore, and Fere drew one of his claws so lightly from the base of his hardening shaft to the very head. Flicking and teasing his cunt with the palm of his right paw felt so good, sending copious amounts of precum across his paw and wrist.
Fiddling and stroking the central vein of his now fully stiff cock, Fere coated his paws, drenched himself in his own pre and began feeling his knees shaking, his legs giving way. His sweat began pouring, trickling agonisingly down his chest fur, his groins dripping mixes of pre and gland-wetness to the floor. All the time, the young fox was starting to lose it, his hips began thrusting against his own paws, his mouth open and aghast at such incredible sensations.
With a gasping need to finish himself off, the fox jumped into the shower stream and thoroughly soaked himself in the wondrous warm water. He leant against the wall, all 8 inches of fox-cock stretching and begging for his paws to give it the attention it and he so badly needed.
Fere grabbed his thick red shaft and began running his paws up and down it's length, from the ever-engorged bulb all the way to the fattened crimson-purple tip. Precum fell from his penis as rapidly as the shower fixture spat warm water, Fere feeling the warmth to his chest and his wet, flattened fur. His tail drooped and began bobbing tensely, Fere gritting his canines, snarling loudly in his intense heat. Swinging his weight across the shower cubicle, he put his left paw against the wall and pounded his right along the solid length of fox meat erect and ready between his trembling legs.
The water fell, Fere began crying out, echoing his pleasure around the shower's cosy hug, his right paw and wrist grasping and rubbing his cock to the first spasms. Pre began giving way to something whiter, something thicker, something that made Fere yelp and pump his paw even faster. He leaned more of his weight into the wall, his voice climbing and climbing, not caring who heard him, his dick fully lubed, blood running hotly to his knot in glorious abundance.
And Fere stopped, just once, grabbed and teased the swollen knot that hid his tight sac, before once again rushing the pad of his paw to the tip and squeezing back down the shaft. The fox let out a huge booming bark, his tail stiff and rigid, as his cock gave in and gave out, a vast spasm firing the young fox's potent cum up the wall of the cubicle. A huge tearful sigh of unfettered pleasure burst from his mouth, as his paw just wouldn't stop stroking his overflowing dick, huge shots of ivory-white fox seed coating his ecstatic and shaking legs.
Subsidence of Fere's frantic pawing-off came with frissons of joy that shot through his wet body, moans and groans of a vulp in the arms of his own corporeal delight shuddering through the moist air of the bathroom. Long drawn-out drips of off-white cum still poured from his cock, the wall well untruly painted in Fere's liquids, the fox pushing back onto the wall in a happy exhaustion. The stream of shower water was still running warm and he bathed his tired, hot body at the very centre of it's sprinkled release.
A mix of orange-red fur and fox cum swirled in an aqueous syrup around the shower drain as Fere reached for the soap and ran the golden-yellow bar through his chest fur. Chasing the aromatic lemon suds between his legs, stroking happily at his swollen perineum, giggling to himself as the pleasure of his rather sinful evening fell to a comfortable end. The fox watched his dick retreat back to it's now sodden furred encasement, the warmth of the water and the lather delicately cleaning his enraptured and satisfied loins.
Turning off the shower tap, Fere climbed out and wrapped himself in his huge blue towel, rubbing his fur and his tail to keep himself warm. He reached down to pick up the briefs he'd thrown off in a fit of self-passion, but decided against re-clothing himself. Instead, he turned off the bathroom light and tip-toed over to his bed. He had to ask himself something, had he pawed-off to thoughts of his mate... or was it someone he'd conversed with earlier ? Lance ? Surely not. Could it have been ? He'd gone through a sheer moment of bliss not knowing who he was thinking of. His mate had set him off, turned him on... but who had finished him ? It had to be. Yes... it had to be. But could he ever tell him.
Flinging thoughts of this nature aside, under a heavyy burden of tiredness, Fere unwrapped himself from the towel's rather wonderful volume, folded it thrice, and then slunk into bed. Curling himself into a foetal position, he cuddled his plushie fox close to his chest and fell half-asleep, the cosy warmth of his big bed so utterly addictive.
But the troubled young fox hadn't left behind the thoughts of a few hours previous, of the time he spent with Lance, of the mention of his mate, of the fact that he felt in himself trapped by circumstance. Even his amazingly sweet pawing-off that had given him the best orgasm he'd experienced for an age, wasn't enough to prevent him rolling onto his back and staring at the slate-grey ceiling, pierced now and again by car and flickering street lights.
Those thoughts haunted him, and he hugged his plushie closer and closer for comfort, in some way wishing that the stuffed fox could offer verbal peace. But no. Heaven was a long way off. He may have taken himself to paradise, but as sure as hell, he'd come back again.
He missed her that much. He couldn't see her, but he could feel her, feel her presence about him. He whispered that he loved her deep into the dark of his flat... but of course, no answer but the rush and squeal of traffic outside. Fere couldn't help feeling. Fere couldn't help thinking about her.
A tear trickled down his soft cheek, and no sooner had he wiped it away, then the poor fox was overcome with a grief that had welled-up and that was long overdue . In a flood of tears, did he whimper and cry for her, before he finally cried himself to sleep in the now strangely cold flat that only served up bad memories, and of the thoughts of Lance and other things that could never be... or could they?