FSE

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Aeon pulled himself forward a little bit until he could drape his arms over the side of the couch, head propped up on the layer of cushioning molded around the support there. With one paw hanging down, the hyena-fox tapped through his phone, checking to see if he had missed any messages; the other swung back and forth for a bit and then came up to slide beneath his head, giving himself something a little more comfortable on which to rest. Seeing there was nothing – good, he thought, I’m not ready to leave yet – he nodded to himself, let his phone drop the remaining half-foot to the carpeted floor, and then turned to the side to look at the TV.

Heavy, warm paws drummed gently along his lower back, his hips resting over the lap of the full-blooded hyena underneath him. Her scent pervaded everything throughout the house, warm and rich and a little dry, not unlike the airy touch of dust that wafted off a sheaf of freshly cut, dried tall grass. Occasionally those fingers ran across the small of his back where his spine dipped back inward, just before where it poked out again at the base of his luxurious tail – and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth, dig his claws into the fabric of the couch, and lift up a little bit in response to the touch, like the reflexive shiver from having claws scrape along the back of his head, or teeth along his shoulder, or…

“Is that a good spot?”

One of his ears flicked sideways towards her voice. Aeon relaxed, wet his lips, and turned the other way, belly-down on the couch draped across Fyra’s legs, his own footpaws hanging off the other arm.

“Yeah,” he said, and settled back in. The hyena flipped the hem of his shirt up and gave his pants a little tug so she could reach that spot more easily. “That’s – ooh. Uffh. No, you’re… gonna make me kick…”

Fyra sat back a little bit. “Huh. Look at that.” Both paws teased into that spot now, the pads of her thumbs pressing into short, soft fur, squishing at the skin underneath, rubbing across nerves and muscle and bone. Aeon turned his muzzle towards the couch and pressed himself into the cushions in trying to suppress the little noise of enjoyment. “That’s definitely one to remember for later, considering-”

“-how often I’ve got my back to you and tail up?”

“What was that?” She leaned in across him, compressing the smaller vulpine between her lap and her body. He squirmed again. “I couldn’t quite hear you, dear.”

“You’re squishing me!”

“Never heard that complaint before. I suppose there’s a first time for everything, though, isn’t there?”

“Well, you don’t-” But then she slid her paw up underneath his shirt, fingers splaying around the line of his spine and scratching upwards along his fur. Sweet, delicious shivers ricocheted out from those points, forcing him to shudder and jerk and groan with delight. When he next opened his eyes towards the TV, the picture seemed to swim and swirl for a moment.

In the months since the two had started talking, his visits to Fyra’s place had become more frequent, and also tended to last longer too. Several days of conversation ramping up into hot, heady expression and sharing of first fantasies, and then photos, and then videos led to a shy, nervous first encounter here, but in person she was… the hyena-fox shifted over her lap again, once more getting into a comfortable position. Her paws lifted briefly and then lowered back down, one teasing at the base of his tail, fingers idly playing with the soft fur there, while the other rubbed up and down his back, this time outside of his shirt.

She was… more than just what her messages had made him think. Everything she did, she did with his comfort and well-being in mind; “look at you,” she often said during their sessions together, “you did such good work,” “is that alright? Do you need me to go slower?”, “How’s that? Is this okay?”, “Slowly, now, get used to it first, I know you’re eager…” “good job, oh, you’re such a good fox…”

Aeon wrenched his eyes shut again and tried to will those thoughts and memories away. He squirmed again, trying not to make his wandering mind too obvious there in her lap. Fyra tapped her fingers along his rump again, now moving back towards the soft, plush cushioning alongside his tail; she squished in there, gripped, squeezed, released, then tapped again, idle and affectionate while she watched the movie on the TV. It was one that Aeon had picked, an old favorite that he had seen a couple of times before, and even though he had spent some half of the runtime so far with his face mushed in between the couch cushions due to Fyra’s idle touches and little ministrations, he still knew exactly what was going on.

It was coming up to one of the best action scenes soon. Anticipating this, the fox squirmed and shifted his arms underneath him, tail lifting at the base to sway around; he felt Fyra shift away from the oversized feather-duster, then finally reach over and hook it over her shoulder. The last time he had come to visit last weekend, she had been the one lying down on the couch with him straddling her lower body, smaller paws kneading at her bare back, counting the spots and speckles and splashes of darker color throughout her fur. At one point he thought she had fallen asleep, and then he couldn’t resist reaching down, sliding his thumbs beneath her tail, squishing the soft yet firm give of her rump in his paws, and spreading her just a little bit…

…just as she did to him now, thumbs climbing up into the space between the waistband of his pants and where the base of his tail hooked over the top. Reflexively the fox twitched, tail giving another sway; Fyra hooked her paw around the base, lifted up a little bit further, and then slid the side of her thumb down along the valley there, so that she could then give him a good, firm squeeze. Then again, and once with the other paw alongside it, and both at the same time, kneading his plush rump like good, warm dough.

The movie was lost to him again; his eyes fluttered shut, his mouth fell open, and the low rumble began within his chest, his hind end lifting up into the deliberate, concentrated touch, smooth relaxation threaded through with that persistent spike of arousal each time she brushed beneath his tail. And she was definitely doing it on purpose, squishing his rump with one paw while the other slid up beneath his tail again, thumbpad brushing just over the rim of his tailhole pucker, his pants scooted slightly down his waist from the position.

And he could swear that the longer he lay here, the longer that Fyra kneaded at his rump, the further down they came – and sure enough, right before the upcoming action scene began, strong hyena paws gripped his waist, lifted him up just a little bit, and then slowly, smoothly slid his pants and underwear down, halfway to his knees.

I wish I could see myself from the TV’s point of view… Aeon thought, rolling his head over onto his arm. Fyra hoisted his hind end a little more sharply upright over her lap, plying her big paws along the doughy softness of his rump, still squishing and pushing and molding and shifting, and now more often slipping her thumb into the space in between. Every time she did so, he couldn’t help but twitch – clench, briefly tugging against the pad of the thumb in place – and lift himself up against her, his tail arching at the base.

The longer it went on, the more she did so, until finally both thumbs remained nestled there along the center of his pucker, kneading at the tight ring of tense, wrinkled muscle. The hyena gently worked his tailhole, never trying to push inside of him, but instead just poking and rubbing and massaging: she slid her thumbs down around the rim, dug in until he reflexively clenched again, then braced her pad against the center and tugged, drawing some of the wrinkled skin out.

She knew that he couldn’t resist pushing back against her just for the chance of getting that thumb pressed inside, and he knew that she knew. Eyes closed again, lips parted open, Aeon braced himself against the arm of the couch and rocked his hips in rhythm, squeezing his knees up against her thighs for support, deliberately swinging his tail up and leaning towards the hyena, so that she could more easily see the results of her work.

To his delight, his little ploy seemed to work. Right as his ears perked up towards the TV with the sudden change in volume of the scene, one of Fyra’s paws scooped around the base of his tail from underneath while the other spread down between his spread rump, fingers splaying across first his bared tailhole, then the ridge of firm flesh underneath – which naturally made him flex and throb again – and then further down, tickling over his balls. There she turned her paw to the side and wrapped first her thumb and then one, two, and barely three fingers around the base of his sack, massaging and rubbing there, too, until she could actually tug.

Aeon grunted, again lifting up a little bit. The pull from behind there tugged at the base of his sheath, slipping supple, succulent skin slightly back along his already half-hard shaft, and yet again he couldn’t help but throb in response. Above him Fyra chuckled quietly and tugged again, running her fingers across his balls, sliding through the short, soft fur there; then she released him – he sighed with the relief of the tension, sheath again slipping forward – but then continued down, first cupping his balls in her fingers, then letting them drape down into her palm.

Then the hyena spread her fingers around the base of his sheath from underneath, digging into soft, sensitive skin. Aeon swallowed, sighed out, and rotated a little bit, partially lifting one leg, reaching out to push his footpaw against the other arm of the couch; Fyra leaned forward a little bit further, murmured something – he couldn’t quite hear what – and then continued rubbing at him, squeezing his sheath back, letting it naturally shift forward, then squeezing again.

“Fyra, that’s…” The fox swallowed again, shivered, and dug his claws into the fabric underneath him. Eager warmth sizzled throughout his lower body. Every time she tugged his sheath back, he just had to thrust forward a little bit, the slight bulge of his unswollen knot further back beneath the supple skin grinding into her palm, his balls spreading around her wrist, certainly with little sprays of loose pre jetting out across her leg. “You’re gonna make me… want to…”

“What? Don’t you wanna see the movie?” As she spoke she leaned in over him, squeezing him a bit more firmly in her palm. Aeon groaned again, stretched himself out, and pressed down: his sheath remained in place between her fingers while his shaft slid out from inside, the natural interior wetness gathering at the rim, smearing across sensitive flesh as it came.

“Well, yeah, but – I wanna-”

“Wanna what?”

Aeon squirmed, gasped, grunted again. Fyra circled the pad of a finger along part of his revealed length, gently coating herself in that clinging slickness, then with a smooth, slow movement, pressed up against the lip of his sheath, folded the skin down, and slid her fingertip inside. Aeon felt the extra presence when he throbbed again, sheath pulling just a little bit tighter. Slowly, carefully, she worked that finger deeper, pushing out against him from inside, tugging his cock downwards as the skin tightened.

She leaned forward a little further and gave his rump a light smack with her other paw. “Wanna lift up a bit for me?”

With exaggerated effort he did so, pulling himself closer together, pushing his elbows against the cushion, drawing his legs tighter against her thighs. Fyra drew her paws away from him, allowing his sheath to settle forward along his shaft and his sack to hang down between his legs, and then shifted where she sat: she, too, lifted up a little bit, thumbs hooking beneath the waistband of her gym shorts and similarly tugging, shimmying down.

The kind of woman that she was – specifically, a spotted hyena woman - practically demanded that instead of tight, restrictive panties with no cargo space of which to speak, that she opt for regular, roomy boxers instead. Looking down beneath himself Aeon watched as Fyra tugged her shorts and underwear most of the way down to her knees, having to lift the waistband up and forward at one point – so that the thick, overlapping meaty wrinkles of her pseudo-sheath had space to flop out. The sleek, slightly sweat-greased skin shimmered in the light from the TV, and with one paw still holding her pants out of the way she reached down, squished a forefinger and thumb at the rim of her sheath, and then rubbed back and forth, unsticking the skin from itself, digging around inside.

Aeon tilted his head a bit and took slower, deeper breaths, trying to see if he could wrangle a whiff of her scent. His own cock hung down above hers, tapered vulpine tip twitching, dripping the occasional spray of pre across her fur; Fyra sat back, sighed softly, and now moved her other paw to the base of her pseudo-shaft, squishing the folds of her sheath back so that the firmer, fuller flesh could begin to unfold from inside.

Forefinger still slick from its plunge into Aeon’s sheath, the hyena then did the same for herself: she circled her pad around the blunted end of her shaft, nudged against the valve-like fold at the end, and then smoothly, easily slid in to the first knuckle, and then the second, and finally to the base. A small shiver bounced through her shoulders, then: she rested her head back, breathed out a luxurious sigh, pumped her finger back and forth so that Aeon could see it churning within her pseudo-shaft, then drew back a bit, circled a second finger around, pressed that one in as well… and then drew them both back out, her fur matted down by her own natural slickness.

“Okay.” She patted his rump again. The other paw once more returned to his sheath, this time from the side of his belly: two fingers and a thumb wrapped around the back, angling his growing arousal downwards, towards the slightly-stretched end of her pseudo. “Lie back down, now?”

He did so, slowly, carefully, letting her do her thing… and felt his ears, his tail, his shoulders, his legs all twitch and jerk at the familiar sensation of supple, wet heat wrapping around his tip, then spreading to sleeve along the rest of his shaft. Fyra sighed as the smaller hyena-fox sank slowly into her pseudo, wiggling his hips as he went to press in, the folds and wrinkles of skin and flesh squishing up against him, smooching around his sheath, drawing him deeper.

This time when he bumped his forehead to the arm of the couch he remained there, lips parted, teeth gritted, breath coming and going in short, uneven bursts. Fyra’s paw stayed in her lap, though now when it squeezed her sheath swollen around his buried shaft, it also gripped his sheath as well, skin folded over skin, fur slick with liquid musk, heat and slick stickiness and dripping wetness. Even with the movie still playing and his ears cupped the other way, Aeon could still hear the thick slurps and slops as he churned his hips against her, pushing deep inside of her shaft, the luxurious meat sucking tight yet gentle around him.

“There you go…” she breathed softly, reciprocating his movements by lifting up a little bit every time he thrust downward. Still holding herself around him, Fyra returned her other paw to his rump where she squeezed and rubbed a little more aggressively, now directly running her thumb at the rim of his tail, pressing, and tugging him slightly open. “Can you tell me what’s happening in the movie right now? I looked away.”

“Huh? Uh…” With even more effort he lifted his head and peered at the screen. Underneath him Fyra leaned forward, tugging her lap slightly away from him; he pushed down to compensate. “Y-yeah, he just… found the squad who infiltrated th-the place in the… beginning scene, with the title drop, and… now he’s…”

His tail jerked with the sudden sensation of a glob of hot wetness plopping down across his bared tailhole. The fox twitched, lifted up, and looked over his shoulder; Fyra glanced at him, her lips pursed, a strand of saliva hanging down from where she had spat. Her tongue flicked out to break that strand.

“Go on.” A pair of fingers rubbed that saliva around his rim…

“Now that he has the evidence he’s looking for, he-eeee…”

…and then Aeon’s back arched as both of those fingers pressed right on in, folding easily into the soft, pliable meat inside. The pressure swelled inside of him, and Fyra wriggled her fingers back and forth against wet, squeezing inner walls; one of his footpaws kicked, his tail lashed again, his now fully hard cock throbbed where it remained buried to the base inside of her pseudo, the rim of hers wrapped snug around the lip of his sheath.

Now that he was firmly hilted, Fyra moved her paw out from between them to press in against his lower back, nudging him even deeper inside of her. Buried that deep, he could feel the natural, rhythmic contractions of her inner muscles and the walls of wet, silken meat, along with the conscious twitches and clenches as well. She dug her fingers deeper, twisting up towards his back, giving a little tug, and then turned the other way again, to scoop out against his loins from inside.

“Uh huh? And?...”

“And… now…” He clenched tightly, or at least as tight as he could, around her buried fingers. “Now he’s… ah-”

_ _

“Who’s that?” Fyra slid those two back out of him, spread his rump once more, and now leaned down to deposit another thick glob of spit across his partially-stretched tailhole. “I don’t think I’ve seen that character before.”

“That’s his… sister, and… she… she’s…”

“Mhmm. I think I get the picture.” Then Fyra clenched around Aeon, his shaft still hilted inside of her pseudo – which made him clench and throb inside of her. “Ready for the best seat in the house?”

The fox blinked. That could mean any of… three or four things, he thought. He struggled to lift himself up, hard cock shifting inside of her, and looked back at the hyena right in time for her to wink, give one of her bright grins, and then clamp her paws along either side of his rear. Then she tugged at him in the same movement that she slid to the side towards the opposite arm of the couch: Aeon reached up, grasped at the back, pushed himself up with her, shivered and clamped his legs around her waist at the sensation of his arousal dragging wetly back out of her stretched pseudo with the supple skin shifting around him like a second sheath, just as warm, just as slick, just as velvety.

Then his balance went from underneath him, and his footpaws scraped along the couch cushions, and he wobbled backwards – but her strong paws and stronger arms caught and instead lowered him more gently back onto her muzzle, her nose settling up underneath the base of his tail, her chin already pushing down and providing a pedestal for his sack. A soft giggle in his throat, Aeon repositioned himself with one paw on the couch’s arm and the other on the back, dragged himself across the hyena’s snout, wiggled from side to side, lifted up a bit, pressed back down… and then immediately straightened up again with the powerful shiver that bounced across his spine, coaxed out as soon as the hyena’s lips parted and her broad, luscious tongue dragged across him from underneath.

She started at the backside of his shaft, drawing some of the tender, sensitive skin between her lips, suckling softly, then letting go. Then she continued up, pushing into the firm ridge between sack and tailhole, sucking there as well; and when she reach his already slightly stretched, saliva-slickened rim itself she pursed her lips, let a satisfied sigh out from her nose nestled underneath his tail, then leaned in, meeting him in a sweet, soft kiss.

He could feel her lips push in against his rim, muscle against muscle; Fyra swallowed amid the kiss, held herself there, tilted her head a little bit, pushed out from inside so that he reflexively clenched back again. Her large paws reached around his legs from underneath, seizing along his thighs, spreading him over her muzzle; then she slipped her tongue in, dancing between her lips first, trailing and teasing over the wrinkles and folds of his tail, tracing out the very extremity of his rim. Again and again he flexed against her, stuck halfway between settling his weight atop her head and trying to keep himself from crushing her, his legs shaking, his arm quivering where he held himself on the back of the couch.

But Fyra just tugged him down against her even more firmly, especially as she dove deeper into the contact. Her jaw began to churn underneath him, lifting up between his balls, grinding against him, settling back down as she licked deeper, the flat of her tongue dragging up across his pucker. Aeon’s head tilted back and his mouth fell open; he couldn’t help but clench and clench again each time her tongue teased up along his rim, his hard shaft swinging up towards his belly, skin glistening with streaks of sticky slickness from pumping inside of her.

The hyena’s paws shifted a little bit, coming closer to his waist. He leaned back and risked resting his elbow on the arm of the couch; Fyra swallowed again, took in a breath that hissed between his legs, then parted her lips, sighed across his tailhole, tilted her head, and finally clamped down around his rim, and this time began suckling at him, tongue still swirling, digging, dancing. Aeon’s footpaw kicked and his tail lashed; he pushed himself down against her, letting his weight settle down as he squeezed against her from inside as well, rim parting for her tongue, walls of slick flesh inside bunching together, squishing against her.

She met nearly no resistance in finally slipping up inside of him, where he could feel the strong muscle dancing around like another two fingers. Or maybe three, it felt more like: the fox felt his insides shifting and shaping around her exploration, soft meat sleeving around her tongue, squishing down, slurping and slopping in response to her movements. And she huffed away at him as she worked, taking in deep, urgent breaths through her nose, air tickling along the base of his tail, and then letting them back out from the parted corners of her mouth, swallowing open-mouth, occasionally curling her tongue back into her maw just so she could scoop another mouthful of drool against him.

She always gets like this, he thought, leaning forward, trying to find something else for support, failing. His rump fell away from her muzzle for a split second before Fyra’s paws tightened on his thighs again, yanking him right back down: another drag of the tongue, another quick series of kisses, another full-mouthed grasp and suck, drawing him out against her, curling her tongue inside. It’s as much for her as it is for me, and… I’m…

Grasping the arm of the couch, rocking slowly forward and back as he rode her muzzle, Aeon slid his other paw down between his legs, lifted his sack from her chin and let it drop back down, then gave his sheath a squeeze. Then up a little bit to push the skin back a little bit, and then he gripped himself, stroked towards his tip, squeezed again, stroked back – and then froze in place when one of the hyena’s paws seized his wrist, then pulled him away.

He groaned in response, wanting to get himself off, loving the sensation, but then felt the way her tongue flicked, curled, and pressed inside of him. Again his hard cock bounced up towards his belly, and he gasped; then again when she did the same thing, then yet again once she started to pulse and churn the buried muscle against him there, pushing up against the wad of pure pleasure buried just inside. Better than fingers, better than some of the other tops he had tried out before.

Fyra had been getting her practice, and it showed. Aeon leaned back, pressing himself more fully against her, spreading his legs so that she could reach that spot a bit more easily. Settling into the treatment, he again draped his other arm over the back of the couch and now looked down between his legs to watch: every time the hyena’s tongue scooped up inside of him, his shaft shifted and bounced, nerves firing, muscles naturally, reflexively tightening in response to the motion.

Recognizing his acceptance of her idea, she too moved her paw away. One still gripped his thigh to keep him in place, dragging him against her tongue like a piece of candy; the other pushed down her body, flipped the hem of her shirt up – Aeon focused in on the lines of sleek, tight muscles visible beneath the short fur of her belly – and squeezed in at the base of her pseudo.

Again like a regular sheath, the wrinkles, the folds of slick, supple skin bunched up together, slid across one another, squished together into a greasy, warm pile. But she kept on going, slipping her paw along her length, squeezing along herself; harder than a soft cock but softer than a hard one, she could easily fold herself between her fingers, squish up towards the blunted tip, and then once there, work first a thumb around the slightly stretched opening at the end, then press in to the knuckle.

Riding her muzzle still, the fox clearly remember how it had felt to have his arousal growing inside her pseudo, and he clenched and throbbed again. Fyra tightened her grip on his thigh, paused to swallow and catch her breath, and then resumed her work, holding her shaft in her fingers, pumping her thumb in and out of herself. More soft skin than firm flesh – though with more than musculature to have a hell of a grip, Aeon knew – she swirled her thumb around and around, paused to give herself a few strokes, pushed back in until her length began to squish in along itself, slid back out again.

Aeon’s legs shivered; his heart pounded in his throat, his eyes rolled up, he clenched, and clenched again, and then again, muscles straining, abdomen trembling. Now he couldn’t help but jerk himself forward off of Fyra’s tongue and then push right back onto it, tail hiked, rim shivering; she slurped and sucked at him, paw coming up to his waist, fingers spreading around his hip. Her breath puffed against his tail, her saliva dripped down the back of his sack; he gasped, shuddered, felt the fire simmering from inside-

-and then the next thing he knew, he was using his leverage on the couch to grind himself down against her instead of try to keep himself upright. He felt himself throbbing against her chin, felt his tailhole clamp around her tongue, felt that wad of sensation inside grow tight and pulse, pulse, pulse – and he bucked, and bucked again, and twitched as a stray spurt of his load smacked against his chin with the way his shaft swung in the air between his legs, painting the hyena’s shirt in loose, sticky ropes of white.

And Fyra continued to suck and swallow, pulling every bit of sensation out of him, his tailhole puckered against her lips, her tongue swirling around within the straining rim, then coming free, dancing across the stretched wrinkles, pressing back in. She slopped up the globs of saliva left there, swallowed again, leaned in for another kiss, and then finally released her grip on his waist to let him slump forward, all the while still sliding her thumb in and out of the end of her pseudo.

“Good dog… that’s a good pup,” she purred, her breath warm underneath his tail. Aeon continued slumping until he had fallen completely forward, his legs sliding by her shoulders, his muzzle planting sideways on one of her legs. His nose tingled with the scent of his peak, cool and rich, wafting atop her own stronger, sharper scent; he swallowed, mouth dry, and managed to focus along the sleek, full length of her own shaft, now pumping along one paw. Fyra patted his rear with her free paw. “You did such a good job, didn’t you? Look at all of this…”

“S-sorry…” he managed. “I made… a mess…”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Fyra squirmed a bit, shifting the fox into a more comfortably position halfway sprawled across her leg, and lifted up. Now one paw stroked the end of her shaft while the other squished her pseudo-sheath in against her body, unfolding the dense wrinkles of dank skin… Aeon swallowed again. The hyena continued here for a moment longer, then slid both paws up towards her tip, squeezed, and finally released herself, so that the firm meat swung back and thumped across her stained shirt. “What do you say we cool down for a bit, and then go take a shower? The movie can wait.”

“Yeah, I’m…” Aeon pulled himself forward, one paw on her other thigh, the other coming in to scoop between her legs. Fyra twitched with the surprise touch, then quickly realized what he was planning and setting into it: she spread a bit further, lifted up, and pushed down, bringing herself closer to his muzzle. The fox scooted in, mushed his paw against the base of her shaft, and squeezed there, bunching the folds of skin together, lifting up; he licked his lips, swallowed, sniffed at her, and then finally closed the distance, first taking a moment to drag his muzzle around and draw in her scent, and then slipped his tongue in between those folds. “Let me… just…”

Above him Fyra relaxed back over the couch’s arm again, her breath leaving her body in a smooth, relaxed sigh. Like with everything else about it, her pseudo-shaft felt so close to the real thing, yet slightly, subtly different in its own intoxicating way. It was different in the way the wrinkled skin molded and folded against him, and how the thin layer of greasy scent transferred to his lips and tongue; the scent was fully, undeniably her as well, rich warmth struck through with what was undeniably female hyena; and when he closed his eyes, lips wrapped around the underside of her shaft, tongue dancing back and forth across the surface, his paw dropped down in expecting to feel a full sack underneath just through habit, but instead squished up against more soft, overlapping folds of spare skin.

Still he hooked his thumb around her shaft, tugged her down to him, and continued up, dragging his tongue around her as he went, pulling in shaky, unsteady breaths tainted with her scent and taste. Here was the soft line of a vein snaking around to the side; here the rim of her head, where the skin bulged out around the slightly firmer, tighter ring of muscle, which he knew from experience could lock so deliciously behind his knot and keep him snug, often through at least two separate peaks if Fyra really wanted it; and here right at the end, along the gentle nub of the tip, was where the skin folded back over to hide the entrance, where the walls slid in along one another for the sleek, snug lips, soft and supple, always slimy-slick on the inside…

…and warm and welcoming for the tip of his tongue to swirl in, easily pushing those walls aside, slipping the skin slightly back. Aeon swallowed again, pulled himself forward, and squished his paw up along her shaft, yet again bunching the loose skin against himself so that it crested against his lips, folding up where he held her head in his maw. His chin churned with his tonguing, digging steadily deeper inside of her silken shaft: he could taste himself just faintly, his own musk layered underneath hers.

Aeon shifted back along the couch to settled between her legs, now turning himself slightly to the side, running a free paw down his body, pushing at the base of his sheath, his still-swollen knot, his sensitive shaft. Tongue buried practically the root inside of her pseudo, supple skin mashed together within his mouth as well as against it, he swallowed again, suckled away at her, and then began to bob in rhythm.

Fyra shivered and lifted up into his mouth, rolling back a little bit further, pulling his tongue deeper into hot, humid depths. Her shaft clenched around him, then did so again, and again, before she settled back down.

“Oh, gosh…” she breathed, wrapping a leg around his. “Your practice is… paying off, pup…”

Amid his work Aeon smiled, then pushed his tongue out at the bounds of her interior. She shivered and clenched again, and he resumed his original rhythm, now pumping his paw along her length just as he would any other. It worked just the same, too: with each stroke Fyra tightened up, tensed, and then shivered as she relaxed, all the muscles in her lower body shifting accordingly. Her eyes gradually shut, her mouth fell open, her chest rose and fell in breaths becoming steadily less steady.

“Little bit… deeper,” she purred at one point. Aeon opened his eyes, looked up at her, swallowed once more, then drew all the way back, until just her head remained between his lips. She returned his look, smirked a little bit, and reached down to pet between his ears: the fox closed his eyes, sighed through his nose, and then finally did as told, swirling the tip of his tongue to guide the way inside of her, plunging deep until the caught froth of spit and natural velvety wetness welled up into his mouth.

The paw on his head gripped, tightened, nudged him further. He followed the direction, again rolling over so he could pay full attention to her. Aeon’s breath came and went in short puffs through his nose hovering just above the base of her pseudo-shaft, tickling with her scent: against his lips the exterior of the sleek, soft skin bulged out with the movements of his tongue, stretching from inside, sensitive flesh and muscles pushing against him, tightening, relaxing, again and again. He continued to bob his head, pulling her warmth into the back of his throat around the wide base of his tongue, trying to wriggle it deeper, further, wider.

Fyra shuddered and then began to clench again, this time from deeper inside. Her fingers squeezed on his head; her legs tightened around his body; she leaned forward away from the arm, and shivered, and groaned – and then all of a sudden, all at once, she bucked upwards, jerking into his throat, pumping against and around his tongue. Her pseudo throbbed within his mouth, squeezing so tightly around his tongue that he felt the interior walls quickly push him back out.

Letting her breath out as another tight, tense moan, Fyra thrust up alongside the fox’s muzzle, then did so again, and again, her hard shaft twitching against him, bouncing upwards through the throes of her finish. Her hips pumped, her toes curled and uncurled, her chest heaved… and then she dropped back down to the couch, panting.

After a moment her eyes flickered open. She turned her head, looked down to Aeon, licked her lips, and reached for him; he smiled, lifted up with effort, and crawled forward to flop down atop her.

“You’re… right,” she breathed, one arm wrapping tight around his body, fingers grasping the side of his hip. Even just that little touch was enough to tug at his sheath from the base, giving him another irresistible throb. “Shower can… wait a little bit. I’m gonna need to… catch my breath… you did such a good job, though, Aeon, good work…”

He nuzzled into her grasp, arousal still twitching, tailhole still tingling from her thorough tonguing. Something on the TV made his ear flick. “Don’t be modest,” he panted; “you did, too.”

“Oh, I know I did. The evidence of that is – God, soaked into my shirt…”

“Again.” Aeon found the energy to reach up and poke at one of the streaks. “Sorry about that.”

“No, no problem. It’s not as bad as the last time.”

“I mean, I’m still…” The fox grinded into her a bit. “If you wanna change that?”

“Save it for the shower.” She squeezed him against herself, once more wrapping him in her scent. “I’ll have a little bit more for you then, pup.”

That was another thing about the hyena that kept on bringing Aeon back: so far he found that he was always in the mood for seconds. He giggled softly, pushed up into the ruff of fur underneath her neck, and turned to see what was happening in the movie, waiting for his heart to stop pounding and for his legs to re-solidify.

And to think that we still have the rest of the weekend…