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Special Delivery

Based on a true story, told to me by someone special

At twenty-five, Marie Claire, a black and white feline of French descent, was still living with her father in the house he had bought when she was born. It was in a quiet, prosperous suburb of Montréal on a street that was once filled with children. Now all of the children were grown and most of them had moved away, except for Marie Claire and her cousin Joseph, who lived at the end of the block in his parent's basement.

Her mother died of cervical cancer when Marie Claire was sixteen. Because the doctor had misdiagnosed the symptoms until it had spread through her body she went quickly, but not easily. When she died, Marie Claire lost not only a mother, but a friend as well, for unlike many teenagers she was not rebellious or disdainful towards her parents. Since she was thirteen, she and her mother had shopped together, done brunch downtown together, and joked about boys together. Her mother's last words to her were: "What I regret most is leaving now, just when you are getting so interesting."

Her father was helpless, having lost his anchor, and clung to Marie Claire desperately. Marie Claire was still in high school, but due to enter CEGEP, the province's public post-secondary collegiate system, the following year. She changed her plans to board at a CEGEP in Quebec City and found one that offered similar courses that she could commute to from home. She stayed to take care of her father for a few years.

A few years stretched to nine. Her father liked having her around, and she had nowhere else to go. She did not enter university after CEGEP, but worked for the city of Montréal instead. The arrangement with her father meant that she could afford to spend the weekends clubbing with her more prosperous friends. Friday and Saturday nights would find them dining in the better restaurants and hitting the upscale clubs from Montréal's old port to the ski resorts at Mont Tremblant.

Marie Claire fit in well with the rich crowd. Slim and pretty, with small breasts, narrow hips, and a long sinuous tail, she had a model's body. On the dance floor she moved with sensuous ease. She would dance all night, drinking only a little, often exhausting would-be lovers. Few and far between were the males durable enough for her to accept their offer of a ride home. When she did, her more promiscuous friends would hoot and whistle and wave goodbye as she was escorted out the door. They knew that she was picky. What they did not know, however, was that at twenty-five Marie Claire was still a virgin.

It was not because she shy, or because of any religious conviction. Her mother had convinced her, on the few occasions that they had to discuss the subject, that chastity was overrated. It wasn't that she was frigid either. In fact, she kept a collection of vibrators hidden in her room and used them often. She had found all the good spots and could bring herself off in minutes if she wanted a quick tension breaker, or linger on the edge for an hour if she had the time. She had even had a few orgasms with the boys and men that she had let take her home, but up until now she had limited their activities to dry humping and mutual masturbation. The male inevitably suggested that they continue from that point at their next meeting, but Marie Claire never left her phone number, and she would avoid that club for a few months afterwards.

She had read that most people had their first sex with someone familiar, someone they saw every day at school, at work, in their church, or even - ugh - in their family. That was one religious and social tenet that Marie Claire did believe in, and that was part of her problem. Her parents had been the first to move onto this street and soon alerted all of their brothers and sisters about the choice location. Being catholic in Quebec in those days, there were a lot of siblings to alert.

Growing up, most of the other kids on the street had been first or second cousins. They all went to the same schools, the same church, and the same vacation beach in Maine. If Marie Claire wasn't with a relative there was sure to be one within sight, ready to run home and gossip about whoever she had been with. It didn't help her develop outside relationships.

After her mother died she simply did not think about sex for a few years. She went to CEGEP by metro every morning and returned immediately after to prepare dinner for her father. After cleaning up and doing her homework she would often flip through the family photo albums or watch the videos her father had started taking the day she was born. Mostly she thought about her mother. By the time she was out of school and working her social circle had shrunk to three of her old girlfriends, her club buddies. There were only four males she saw regularly: her father, her cousin Joseph, her boss, and Mister Ferguson across the street.

Her boss was an obnoxious boar with smelly tusks and bristles that poked. He had made no secret of the fact that he would like to be her first sexual experience, or ninety-first, for all he knew. Just the thought of his halitosis laden panting on her face during sex was enough to make her consider entering a convent.

Cousin Joe was little better. Taller than her, he was also overweight, due to spending so much time playing online games in his basement room. His fur was unkempt, his teeth needed a good scraping, and he had a disturbing way of staring at her; at any female for that matter. At least he had never come on to her, but Marie Claire was fairly certain that he was fantasizing about her just from the way his eyes rolled over her whenever they met on the street.

Mister Ferguson was a strange one. He was a grey wolf, one of the few canines and non-relatives in the neighbourhood. He and his wife had lived across the street from them for almost as long as Marie Claire had been alive. The wolf couple had always been friendly, although not particularly outgoing. Her mother and Missus Ferguson chatted in the street often and visited each other occasionally. Mister Ferguson and her father discussed lawn care, snow removal techniques and, of course, how the Montréal Canadians were doing in the National Hockey League. His wife had died a little over a year ago, from the same type of cancer that had taken her mother.

Since his mate had died, Mister Ferguson socialized even less, spending all of his free time working on his property. He had taken over his wife's vegetable garden in the back and doubled it in size. He had planted bushes and hedges, created a rock garden, a pool for fish and water plants, and trimmed the lawn until you could golf on it. Her father said that the their neighbour was doing all of the projects that he and his mate had never gotten around to doing when she was alive, and that Mister Ferguson was a very lonely wolf.

It was hard to judge Mister Ferguson's age, since he had always been grey and only recently had started going greyer. Indeed, it was hard for her to describe him at all because when he was outside he always dressed in the same outfit: baggy blue jeans, a loose green sweatshirt, rubber boots and a floppy felt hat. He wore the all-covering combination no matter how hot it got, his only concession to the weather being to don a slicker in the rain or a parka and gloves in the winter. Marie Claire could not honestly say whether he was fat or thin, stocky or slim. She was sure that he had a job, some kind of shift work she believed, but she could not recall ever being told what it was he did.

All in all, there was not much to pick from around here, and that's why she went clubbing. She wanted to find someone to be intimate with, but she didn't want to give it away to just anybody. Until now she just never found anyone that she wanted to go any further with, and liberal use of the vibrators ensured that she did not go unfulfilled. So that was why this rainy Saturday morning found her in her room, on her back in her bed, with six inches of vibrating plastic between her legs.

Marie Clair had three vibrators. She called them Huey, Dewy and Mary. Huey was huge; ten inches long and powered by four 'D' cell batteries. It had various speed settings and could bend and twist. Huey was for when she wanted it bad and needed it quick. She kept Huey tucked far under her mattress.

Dewy was her compact traveling companion. It was shaped like a bullet, chrome coloured, four inches long and driven by a brace of 'AA' batteries. Dewy was perfect for keeping in her purse, for an overnight at a friend's, a weekend at the ski lodge, or the office; she did have the keys to the store room. But Mary was her favourite.

Mary was six inches high, moulded from cream-coloured plastic, and also used 'AA' batteries. It only had one speed, but it could light up as well. From one side, it was a statue of the Virgin Mary, with veiled head, arms demurely crossed, and flowing robes. She even had a little lamb crouching at her feet. Seen from the other side though, it looked like a typical penis, with a bulbous head, foreskin and veins. The folds on the veil and robes blended in with the foreskin and veins on the other side. The little lamb was placed right where it could make contact with the clitoris. When she had seen it in the sex shop on Sainte Catherine Street she had blushed at the sacrilege, but she had bought it. She kept it on a shelf above her bed, where anyone could see it, and even demonstrated to her father how the figurine could light up, being careful not to start it vibrating by mistake. She told him that the little statue of Mary helped to comfort her in the night. He thought that it was very devout of her.

Today Marie Claire had the house to herself. Her father was out for the day, golfing with his brother, uncle Benoit, Joseph's dad. No males had made the cut at the club last night, so she didn't even get a paw in her panties for her troubles. In fact, it had been a couple of weeks since she so much as fingered herself, and she was due for a long, slow, satisfying orgasm. So Marie Claire had removed her top and panties, pulled her short yellow skirt up out of the way and lay back on the bed. She had also spread a fluffy towel; this was going to be a wet one. Then she had reached up and taken Mary down from the shelf.

The steady vibration was pleasant as she rubbed the hard plastic against the lips of her vagina. It made her blood flow, which made her mons swell and become more sensitive. It was not long before the inner lips became moist. The vibrator was warm from her heat and slick from her fluids now. Marie Claire pressed it harder, parting the entrance to her, but continued to rub it up and down outside. She could feel her clit responding each time the tip passed over that area. She bore down a little harder there before continuing.

Marie Claire had her knees up beside her breasts now. She squeezed one breast and rolled the erect nipple between her digits. Her juices were flowing freely as her gap opened. The lips were protruding enough to almost encircle the vibrator as it slid up and down between her legs. Marie Claire switched her grip to take the base between two digits and her thumb. She extended her arm, rotating Mary so the head of the statuette was poised at the opening. Twisting it back and forth slowly, she drilled the vibrating shaft into her cunt.

When it was fully seated the little lamb came up against her hardened clit. By turning the base back and forth the lamb went from one side of her clit to the other. It felt delicious, transferring the vibrations directly to the centre of her being. She let it linger there until her clit started to go numb, and then she withdrew the vibrator. When the head popped out she rubbed the shaft against her opening again before plunging it back inside. She kept that up for a few minutes. Sinking the warm plastic deep inside her, twisting the lamb against her clit and then pulling it out again. The sensation was pleasant and it slid in and out easily.

Marie Claire had pulled the blinds and drawn the curtains before getting undressed. That had made the room dark and she had turned on the bedside lamp to light the room. Now she gripped the base of Mary and turned it a quarter turn to the right. The vibrations ceased. Another quarter turn and Mary lit up, the battery power having been redirected to the light inside. It shone through the translucent plastic, giving Mary an ethereal glow. Marie Claire sat up, bracing herself on her elbows, reached over and turned out the lamp. Now Mary provided the only light, and that only illuminated Marie Claire's thighs and the fork where they joined.

Marie Claire slid the head of the vibrator into her. The extended lips of her pussy were lit up like a rose at dawn. She drove Mary deeper into her, fascinated with the way the light seemed to shrink as it disappeared inside her. When only the base remained outside her the light inside her made her vagina glow a dull red. Marie Claire pulled it out as slowly as she had pushed it in, and the light between her legs grew back.

The light shrank and grew, shrank and grew, as it serviced her hungry pussy. Marie Claire wasn't sure why watching it excited her so much, she had read that males were the ones who were into visual stimulation. But excite her it did, and soon she could feel the tissues inside her swelling in response. She was ready for home stretch anytime now, but she could hold herself at this point for a while if she desired. She decided not to wait. She had all day ahead of her and could do this again later, maybe with Huey and some Crisco oil next time.

She lay back on the bed and put her feet down on the mattress. Pressing down, she brought her hips up off the bed. A quick twist of Mary's base and she was left in the dark, but the vibration had returned. Angling Mary upwards, she probed the interior of her sex until the vibrating tip touched the pad of sensitive flesh in there. Marie Claire caressed it with the end of the vibrator, alternating hard and soft pressure. The pad swelled and sent a vibration of its own out through her body. She put one digit of her free paw on her clit and began to rub it frantically, sending out more waves of pleasure.

Her breath was coming in short sharp gasps now. Her eyes were shut tight as she fought to hold this feeling as long as she could. Her hips were bucking instinctively and she mumbled encouragement to her plastic lover as her toes curled tight, the last sign before the release. It was coming ... coming ... it was ...

"ding-dong."

Marie Claire froze in shock. _Goddammit! Who the hell's at the door? _

Marie Claire held her breath, the vibrator poised just inside her. Maybe they'll go away. _ The doorbell rang again. She felt the blood drain from her, flowing back to power the organs necessary for responding to doorbells. She switched off Mary resignedly. The moment was gone. Even if whoever it was left now she couldn't continue, not for a while. She got up, smoothed her skirt down over her lap, and reached for her tube top as the bell sounded a third time. _Persistent bugger.

She could see someone in the brown uniform of the parcel delivery company through the glass panels of the front door. She threw the door open, still upset at being interrupted.

"I thought that you guys didn't deliver on weekends?" She snapped at the bloodhound standing on her front step.

Startled, the dog almost fell back off the stairs, but he caught himself and regained his balance.

"Sorry madam, I had a special delivery on this block so I thought that I would do the whole street, if anyone was home that is. You're the first one I've found in." He consulted his clipboard. "Does Mister Dulac live here?"

"That's my father, but he is not here now, sorry."

"Oh, that's okay. You can sign for it. It's not registered mail or anything. Just some parts from an electronic supply house." He held the parcel and his clipboard out hopefully.

That sounded like her father. He was always tinkering with radios, recorders and remotes. He had even offered to build an AC adapter for her little illuminated statue of Mary. She had talked him out of it.

"Okay, sure. Hand it over." Marie Claire balanced the parcel and the board and tried to find the signature box. "Nobody else home today?" She said absently.

"Nope. I only kept ringing your bell because I could see the cars in the driveway." They had used uncle Benoit's Cadillac to go to the golf course this time, she guessed. "I had one for Joseph Dulac down the street ... say, another Dulac! He wouldn't be a relative by any chance?"

Marie Claire knew where this was going. "My cousin. Would you like me to sign for his too?"

"If you could." He handed her the clipboard again and a second package.

"Was that your special delivery?"

"No. That's for a Mister Ferguson across the street, but he isn't home at the moment either." The bloodhound shock his head sadly, it made his large ears flop comically. "I'll have to come back and try again this afternoon. Damn shame with the day shaping up to be so nice, and this my last special delivery parcel."

"He's usually here but maybe he went down to the garden centre of something." Marie Claire noted. "Maybe you could wait?"

"No. I'm not allowed to keep the truck out too long. They need to load it for Monday's morning deliveries." His ears drooped. "I'll just have to take the pups out to the park next week, if it doesn't rain."

"Can I sign for it?" Marie Claire sighed.

"Oh! Would you?" The hound's face lit up. "That would be great! Just be sure to tell him when we dropped it off, so he knows we delivered it on time as contracted."

"Sure, sure. Hand it over." Marie Claire signed for a third time. She excused herself and turned to take the packages inside. The dog held the door open for her, letting it close when she was inside. He lingered on the front step.

The bloodhound had seen a few things over the years, and had an experience or two with the ladies he delivered parcels to. If his nose was not mistaken, he had interrupted a rather intimate moment. It had taken all of his control to keep from getting an embarrassing erection from the scent of her arousal. His sensitive nose did not detect the scent of a partner though. Turning to leave, he wondered if she was going right back to what she had been doing, and idly wondered if she might enjoy some company. He stopped at the door of his delivery van, one foot on the step, the other on the sidewalk. No, he decided, pulling himself up into the cab, better not press his luck. He needed this job. He put the van in gear and drove off down the street, rubbing his groin and fantasizing about the cute little kitty in the yellow skirt and tube top the whole way back to the depot.

Back in the kitchen of her home, Marie Claire examined the three parcels.

Her father's parcel was, as the dog had said, nothing special. He received stuff from that on-line supplier regularly. She left it in the centre of the table where he would see it when he returned.

The package addressed to Joseph was about the size of a magazine and several centimetres thick. It was flexible, like a pile of magazines would be. It was wrapped in plain brown paper and had no return address on it, only a customer code. It was not a professional job, the address was hand-written and the folds were sealed with scotch tape. One end of the wrapping had come undone and the contents were visible, if you pulled the paper apart and lifted it with a claw perhaps. Marie Claire couldn't resist a peek. It was indeed a stack of thin magazines. She slid them out of the open end of the parcel. Let's see what kind of porn cousin Joseph is in to, she thought.

Oh my God, she could not believe her eyes. She had expected porn but this was too much. Each magazine depicted the sexual adventures of the same type of fantasy creature: fur-less, scale-less, tail less humans. Joseph was into skinny porn. She had seen an episode of CSI (Canine Scent Intervention) that had dealt with skinnies and skin suiters. She could just see Joseph, dressed in a skin suit, traipsing around the basement of Uncle Benoit's house, cruising the skinny sites on the Internet , giving himself a 'hand job' ... yeech! She put the parcel aside. She decided to re-tape it and let her father drop it off the next time he stopped in to see his brother.

Mister Ferguson's page was rectangular, about two paws wide and deep and four paws tall. It was stamped "This End Up", "Caution - live plant", and "Special Delivery - replant within 24 hours". It must be some sort of exotic addition to his rock garden, she guessed. She wondered how long it had already been since it was put inside that box, and how long before it was too late to replant it. It was strange that Mister Ferguson was not here to receive it.

Mister Ferguson's had been out working on his lawn this morning, she had seen him there before going up to her room for her session with Mary. He had been dressed in his usual baggy jeans and sweatshirt, and covered in dirt. But his property went so far back, he might have been too far away to hear the parcel guy at the door. Or he might have gone down to the garden centre for more mulch or something, she supposed. Marie Claire decided to take his parcel over right away. If he wasn't around she could leave it inside.

When her mother would visit, before Missus Ferguson had died, the front door was never locked. Marie Claire had been dragged along a few times when she was still a kitten, and she remembered that there was a table just inside the front door, for throwing gloves, car keys, and the mail on. She could leave the package there for Mister Ferguson.

She briefly debated whether to clean up and change before going over, or at least put on some panties, but decided not to bother. It would only take a minute to run over there, and then she could go back to her room and carry on from where she had left off. She grabbed the parcel, slipped on her sandals, stepped out the front door, and strode quickly across the road to the wolf's house, her yellow skirt bouncing in the breeze.

At Mister Ferguson's house she walked across the front of the property from one side to the other, so that she could see in the back. His wheelbarrow was sitting there by the edge of the vegetable garden but there was no sign of him. The garage was closed, so there was no way of telling whether his car was inside or not. She approached the door and rang the bell. A muffled gong sounded inside.

She waited a minute, but heard no sounds of response. She rang the bell once more; still nothing. Marie Claire grasped the knob and turned. The door opened. She peered inside. There was the little occasional table that she remembered, but it had been moved further down the hall. Marie Claire stepped inside and heard the front door close behind her as she stepped over the table and set the parcel down on it. Just as she did the door beside it opened and Mister Ferguson stepped out into the hallway, naked.

Marie Claire was frozen in shock, standing in the wolf's hallway with her paws still on the package she had placed on the table. Mister Ferguson did not see her at first, because he had a towel over his head and was rubbing his fur with it. The rest of him was damp. He must have been in the shower and missed or ignored the door bell, she realized. A shrill squeak escaped from her lips just as Mister Ferguson was about to walk into her.

The wolf almost hit the ceiling, he was so startled by the sound, but he recovered fast. His paws short out and grabbed her by the forearms, trapping them in a grip of steel. He shook his head to fling the towel off it and stared at her. Eyes wide in panic, Marie Claire stared back.

He thought at first that he had captured an intruder. Then he recognized the girl from across the street. He glanced down and saw the parcel on the table, the parcel that he had been expecting. The delivery van must have come while he was out back or in the shower. The feline, Marie Claire, he remembered now, must have brought it in. He suddenly realized that he was naked, wet and holding a strange female in his hallway. He should let go and grab the towel, but something was keeping his paws on her. His nose twitched. He was no bloodhound, but unconsciously he was responding to the faint traces of scent that still clung to her.

He looked down at her. She was looking back up at him, golden eyes wide, their lashes long and thick. Her lips were parted just a bit. The fur on her shoulders was smooth and silky. The tube top hugged her tiny breasts tightly, outlining the nipples. He stepped back and held her at arm's length. She wore a short yellow skirt, attached just above her long sinuous tail. The fur on her exposed thighs looked damp, and the scent that rose from there was unmistakable now. Mister Ferguson felt his groin stir and he looked back into her eyes.

Marie Claire wanted to break free and run, to flee this embarrassing situation, but she was frozen in place. At first she looked down, but his limp cock and balls seemed to fill her field of view. She looked at where he gripped her, saw how the veins stood out on the backs of his paws and on his arms. She followed them back to his shoulders, very broad shoulders, and to a muscular neck. She raised her eyes to his face just as he looked down at her. She saw uncertainty there.

As his gaze traveled over her she dared to look at him again. When he stepped back she got a better view. She was surprised by what she saw. Mister Ferguson was trim and fit. His arms and chest were thick with muscle. His abdomen was not tiny, like a gym jock's, it was hard and ridged, like a weight lifters. His legs were sturdy, his thighs massive and hard. The baggy clothes had been hiding the body of a gladiator. His penis was not so limp as it was before either.

She looked back up hastily, to find him staring back at her. The look of confusion was gone, replaced by a lonely longing that made his dark eyes into bottomless wells. His paws relaxed on her arms. Now was the time to go.

Instead, she tilted her head back and opened her mouth. One paw went up behind his head and pulled it down. The other went behind his back and pulled him in to her as she stepped up to him. She closed her eyes as their mouths joined and their bodies sealed together.

Mister Ferguson did not know what was coming over him. The girl was an adult, he knew that, and it had been a long time since his mate fell ill, and he had not slept with anyone since then, but his kissing his neighbour's daughter just felt wrong. But if it is so wrong, a part of his mind said, why are your paws doing that?

One of his paws was under her skirt, gripping one ass cheek tightly. The other had worked its way under the tube top and was rubbing the already erect nipple with the pad. Neither of them had stopped to breathe since their lips had touched. He had his longer tongue wrapped around her short, rough one, and their heads rolled in harmony as they wrestled each other inside. She had one leg up and around his hip, pulling his hips against hers as she ground her pelvis into him. Only the short skirt separated them there.

Ferguson let go of her butt and put both paws under her top. He pulled them apart and lifted the tube of stretchy material off her breasts and over her head. He bent to kiss the nipples where they poked out from the downy fur of her chest, cupping the small globes, marvelling at their firmness. She dropped the paw from his back and forced it between them. She wrapped her digits around his cock, hard and tall now, and squeezed it hard.

He kissed her neck and dropped his paws to the back of her skirt. It had been a few years but some things you never forget how to do. An instant later he was able to pull the skirt out from between them. She sighed as the firm muscle of his thigh pressed against her groin. His nose told him that she was aroused again.

It did not take long after that. Marie Claire hooked both of her legs around his hips and wrapped her arms around his thick neck. Ferguson held her against him with one arm and lowered them to the soft hallway carpet. As soon as she was on her back his cock was inside her. He supported his great weight on his elbows and knees and thrust his prick as deep as it would go. Marie Claire gasped, his canine cock was longer and wider than the average feline male's, and it filled her like Huey, but it was so much more alive.

Their mouths never parted through the whole manoeuvre, and they kept kissing as he bucked his hips to drive his prick into her again and again. She matched his rhythm, rocking her hips to meet him thrust for thrust. Their needs were both great, their release overdue. Within two minutes he stiffened at the top of his stroke, holding her lower half off the ground while the burning skewer his prick had become shot wad after wad of hot semen deep inside her. It was enough to trigger a series of short, sharp orgasms in Marie Claire, and she matched them with a series of short, sharp cries as she pulled his mouth even tighter against hers.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ferguson let himself relax. He lowered them down and let some of his weight rest on her, pressing the length of his body against hers. His prick was still swollen and pulsing inside her. Finally, he broke away from the kiss they had started when they were upright and looked down into her eyes. Her legs were still wrapped around him, locked at the ankles. Her arms were still about his neck. She was panting, her eyes half open. She opened her mouth to speak ...

"shhhhsh." Ferguson hushed her. He put his massive paws behind her shoulders and brought his knees up. With a mighty heave he lifted her off the floor. Pressing her tight to his chest, he got one leg under them, and then the other. When he was standing he swayed for an instant, found his balance and then carried her into the living room. He laid her down on the couch.

The morning sun lit up the room through the gauzy curtains. Unless someone were to come right up and press their face against the glass they were safe from observation. She lay back along the couch, enjoying the heat from the body of the wolf above and inside her. Their mouths came together again naturally.

Ferguson kissed her tenderly and rubbed her ears. Marie Claire kissed back and traced the ridges of muscle on his back and shoulders with her claws. He shifted his weight and she unlocked her ankles to release him. She sighed as he pulled his prick out of her with exquisite slowness. His lips moved down to her throat, he sucked the flesh where her neck met her shoulder. He moved to her breasts next, nuzzling them and licking around the nipples, sucking on them until they grew erect again. Once done, he trailed a line of kisses down her belly, running his paws along her sides as he went.

He was half off the couch by the time his lips came to where her thighs began. He played his lips along the tender line of flesh there, sending chills through her. He tickled the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh with his blunt claws at the same time. Gently, he lifted up her leg and swung it over his shoulder. His lips and tongue moved lower along the line of her groin as his paws moved up. They came together where she was slit, and he brushed her opening with both, barely touching her, a whisper of a caress. The sensual waves it sent were almost too much to bear, and her hips rolled back and forth in response.

He parted her slit, still moist from their lovemaking, with two claws and ran the tip of his tongue along the inner edge. Her paws found his ears and began caressing them. He probed deeper with his tongue. She opened to him as the blood began to swell the lips of her vagina. His tongue lapped along the entrance, dove inside and curled around to her delight. He had a digit on each side of her mons, pressing down to open her up even more. She felt a new wetness as her juices began to flow again. Ferguson drank them down, sucking on her pussy, pulling at her lips with his, pinching ever so gently with his fangs.

His tongue moved up toward the cleft that hid her clit. One of his digits replaced it, exploring the entrance momentarily before sliding inside where it was warm. The tip of his tongue found the opening in the fold of flesh that covered her clit and parted it. It circled the hemisphere of hard flesh, making her tremble. It flicked across, up and down, back and forth, before circling it again. Each change made it made it harden and stand out further. The digit inside her twisted around and caressed the roof of her cunt, pushing her clit harder against his mouth as his tongue worked faster.

He sucked her clit between his lips and brushed it with the row of short, sharp teeth between his fangs. She gasped and pulled his head into her. His mouth engulfed her as he pulled his digit out. His tongue switching from clit to cavern and back, dipping in and ladling moisture from her, spreading it around her responsive clit. The flow increased and Marie Clair could feel herself building toward orgasm. She reached down with her paws, searching for his prick, but came up short. She whined in frustration, and pulled on his fur, urging him to leave her cleft for now and come to her.

Ferguson did not stop licking her, but he did slow down as he shifted around to bring his hips closer to her. Now his tongue caresses were teasing, staying away from the most sensitive spots, keeping her on the edge like she liked to do with her vibrators. She reached out and ran his tail between her paws, grabbed it near its base and used it to pull him even closer.

Keeping one paw around his tail, she reached underneath with the other and cupped his testicles. They were large, like the rest of him, but she could roll them together as they hung in their sack. A gentle pull and his hip was right up against the couch by her head. She nipped the outside of his thigh and pulled again. Ferguson got the hint, and he lifted his leg up and over her. Now he was poised with one foot on the floor and the other on the top of the couch, his balls hanging over her face, his cock wobbling in the air above them. He lowered himself down until he felt her sweet lips on the skin of his sack.

Marie Clair wrapped a paw around his cock and stoked it slowly while she sucked one of his testicles into her mouth. She had to breathe through her nose as she sealed her lips around it. She rolled it inside her mouth, savoured its warmth and felt his pulse in the artery that fed it with blood. She released it and engulfed its companion, humming to herself as she did. Ferguson could not hear the tune but he could feel the vibrations, and he had to pause his licking, they were that intense.

Not satisfied with his balls, Marie Claire pulled his penis down on an angle, difficult because it was so stiff. She shimmied down a bit of the couch to get her head below the tip. She tilted her head back and angled his cock into her mouth. She had to stretch to take in anything more than the tip, but she sucked on the end and licked at the tiny slit there for a few moments. Then, putting a paw on each of his hips, she pulled him down, forcing his cock into her waiting mouth, and down her throat.

She guided him in and out, her mouth held wide to keep her sharp teeth from flaying him, her lips massaging his shaft as it plunged. She rubbed her rough tongue across the bottom of it, delighting when he jerked whenever she hit a sensitive spot. His prick filled her mouth and squeezed down her throat each time before withdrawing again. For him, it was a marvellous sensation, with her throat working the tip while her tongue wiggled against the shaft. He felt his balls swell in preparation for another salvo. He lapped faster and closer to her clit.

Her clit stood out hard and far and seemed to seek out his tongue. Her twat gaped and tried to swallow his nose where it rubbed against it. He could feel the heat coming off her there, and knew that she was close. He sealed her with his lips and drove his tongue deep inside her.

For her part, she was having difficulty controlling his thrusts as he became more excited. His cock and balls twitched as they fought to set their own pace. She could not believe how hard and large he had become. He would surely come in buckets deep down in her throat, but she did not care. She prepared to drown on his cum if need be, rather than release him.

Ferguson brought his head up with a cry and pulled his prick out of her so suddenly that it popped. With a snarl he spun about and grabbed her by the hips. Lifting her lower half up to his waist left her head and shoulders on the couch. With a paw on each buttock he pulled her to him, and his cock sank into her cunt without him having to stop to guide it. It slid in until the base came up against her pelvis and his balls slapped her ass below her tail. As he pulled back for the next plunge she hooked her legs around his hips again and helped drive him home.

It was better than she had ever fantasized. Her head and shoulders buried in the soft cushions of the couch, ass in the air, the muscular wolf leaning over her with his eyes shut tight and his teeth bared. His strong paws gripped her ass and squeezed as his steamy cock slid in and out of her, and she felt the walls of her cunt squeeze back in response. He was spreading her apart, turning her insides into fire, and she could feel each bump and vein on his prick as they passed over her clit. Her tissues were filling up. Like a sponge that had almost reached capacity, she would overflow soon.

Ferguson relished the feel of her ass muscles clenching in his paws as her twat gobbled him down. The lips at her entrance seemed to clutch at him each time he pulled back. He marvelled at the heat building inside her. Forcing his eyes open he looked down at her, her head rolling against the couch, her breasts high and firm, the pink nipples sticking far out now. Then he looked at where the two of them were joined, where his prick was pounding into her. The shaft was disappearing into the pink-edged cleft, burying her clit as it dove, pulling the lips back out on the retreat. Her fluids, mixed with the pre-cum that leaked from him, were being vaporized by the friction, sending an intoxicating aroma his way. He watched, fascinated, for several strokes before the combined sensations became too much for him to bear.

Ferguson drove into her one last time and stopped there, holding her against him. He came with a roar. Marie Clair felt it start at the base of his cock where the tube was squeezed between her pussy lips, and time seemed to stop as it raced down his shaft to explode inside her. It must have been what her body was waiting for, because it responded in kind as soon as his hot cum hit the back of her twat. A flood was released, momentarily swelling her inside before it escaped around the base of his cock. It squirted out forcefully, soaking his groin and bathing his balls. Her scream of pleasure matched his roar in volume and together their cries diminished to blissful moans.

Ferguson held her until his spasms stopped. He felt drained, more so than after their hurried session on the carpet. Then he swung her around until she could lie on her side against the back of the couch. Careful not to pull out of her, her rotated to lay face-to face on the couch with her. A few shifts and of their limbs and an untangling of tails and they were resting snugly against each other.

"I'm sorry." He whispered in her ear. "I couldn't help myself."

"It's okay." She murmured back from where her head was tucked comfortably under his chin. "It was wonderful, just wonderful."

"But we hardly know each other, and I'm so much older than you. You must think that I'm ..."

"Shush." She said, and wrapped a paw around his snout to quiet him. "I think that you needed me, and even though I didn't know it, I needed you too. There is no reason to dwell on that." She traced the line of one pectoral muscle, still firm and protruding from his recent workout. "One thing I would like to know though, where did you get this body from?"

"Gardening."

She lifted her head and glanced around the living room. She took in the framed certificates and photos. Young Ferguson in a blue uniform. An older Ferguson in a yellow slicker and helmet. A recent photo of him standing in front of a large red truck.

"Being a firefighter didn't have anything to do with it?" She teased.

"Well, maybe a little bit."

* * * * * * * *

That was the only time that Marie Claire and Mister Ferguson were together like that. They talked on the street, he invited her and her father over to see his gardens, and in turn they had him over for supper once or twice, but they were never intimate again. They did not try to avoid each other, but they neither sought the other out either.

It was like a blockage had been removed for her. That night Marie Claire joined her friends at the club as usual, but felt no pressure to select a companion for the night. She danced with several males, but then she noticed a cougar that spent the night sitting at the bar, sipping a single drink and watching her. At midnight she walked up to him and asked if he would take her home, his home. They made love for hours and she was back there the following Friday night. They went on like that for a few months, and then they parted as friends.

From then on she was more easygoing, more assertive at work, and more fun to be with. Her friends and her father commented on the change. She dated regularly, and started taking weekends alone at the resorts of Quebec and upper New York State. Sometimes she found company and comfort there, sometimes not.

She noticed that Mister Ferguson was no longer a shut in either. At first he started going out Wednesday nights, the night most hobby clubs and amateur sports leagues met. Then she noticed his car pulling out on Friday and Saturday nights as well. That Christmas she sent Mister Ferguson a nice card and a package of rare seeds she had ordered online. On New Year's Eve he invited her and her father over for an early drink and introduced them to Melissa, a sturdy golden collie who he had met at the Firefighter's union hall. She was a firefighter too, and Marie Claire thought that she would be a good match for the robust Mister Ferguson.

The following year she was a guest at the wedding of Mister Ferguson and Melissa. It was only when she heard the minister say "Do you, Gerry, take Melissa in holy matrimony" that she realized she had not known his first name.

When she in turn married, she introduced him to her new mate simply as Mister Ferguson, a friend of the family.