FSE

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Marc was a virgin, but not by choice. In fact, he was an incel, involuntarily celibate all the way up to age eighteen. So when the other high-school boys were talking about the "Senior Salute", Marc would have been happy just to kiss a girl before heading off to college, where his awkwardness around women would just perpetuate his dry spell.

It's not that he wasn't attractive. The bright-furred desert fox had bright, blue eyes and a lithe, muscular body, but his enormous ears had always caused girls to go "Oh, cute", rather than "He's hot." What the fennec wouldn't have given to never hear the word 'cute' again!

It's not that he wasn't popular. He played on the high school's ultimate frisbee team, got by with middling grades, and was friends with all the football players. He even crossed cliques with a few of the druggies, providing marijuana to people outside that immediate circle of friends.

Marc could only blame his lack of luck on his adorable ears, which looked three sizes too big, and made the young adult look like a cub by comparison. Well, that, and his fear of rejection. He stammered whenever he talked to a pretty girl, and after the first rejection in middle school, he'd figured out the solution: don't talk to pretty girls. He made friends with a few of the less appealing young women in school, trying to work up his nerve, but he never had any trouble talking with the ugly girls. They were nice and all, but not really his 'type'. He liked the thin little popular girls with the short skirts and big boobs, like on the internet.

He'd hoped Senior year would be different. He was older, had a car, and could buy cigarettes, so he thought for sure he could attract one of the freshmen girls, but he'd still had no luck. Part of the problem was the tradition at New Yorkie's Pierson Private School where the Senior boys all tried to make out with (or better, fuck) a ninth grader. The 'Senior Salute' happened every year, and it was just another way the popular alpha males prevented betas like Marc from getting any. Why would a ninth-grader date him, when there were so many other options? The age of consent in the state was seventeen, but girls age thirteen to sixteen could legally 'do it' with someone four years older.

By the time most of the pretty girls were tenth graders, the Senior who'd popped their cherry was off to college, and they settled for boys their own age. So Marc was outdone at every level, forced to paw off to free internet porn.

"Want to hang out?" Elise texted him.

Elise was a pig, literally and figuratively. Marc had befriended her in middle school to calm his nerves (to no avail), and she was pretty cool. Liked to play Halo, and was actually pretty good at it. But she was also 220 pounds, and no one in their right mind wanted to go out with a pig. So he'd always felt a certain kinship to the girl, since she couldn't get a date either.

"Sorry, busy," he texted back. He had other problems on his mind, not the least of which was losing his virginity in the next two-and-a-half months. He was browsing the school roster for the dozenth time, checking portraits to find a girl who looked hot enough, but not so hot that she'd already have been plundered by the alpha males.

"Woah," he gasped, noticing a face he'd never seen before.

Penelope Alvarez. She'd just transferred, it looked like, from Yorkie Public. The ninth-grader was a fennec like him, and he_at least could look past the giant ears that made her look like an eleven-year-old. _Shit,_he thought, taking a glance at her birth date. _Please don't be thirteen...

It wasn't listed.

Well, if she was thirteen, she'd be fourteen soon, and since she'd just moved, hopefully no one would have moved in on her yet. And besides, maybe he'd score some points for being the same species? He wished the school didn't block access to her schedule, but he'd ask around and figure it out.

The next day, he saw her in the hallways, walking quickly to her next class with three textbooks in her arms. She was cute, alright, and 'cute' was okay for girls. If they hadn't yet, they'd be all over her, so he had to pounce quickly. He started by catching her eye and giving her his best smile. To his great relief, she smiled back.

Her fur was a little darker than his, but they'd make a cute couple. That night, he pawed off to a picture of her he'd snapped on his school iPad. Now he knew what class she had first period, so he waited outside for a hint of her fur and then walked forward as if he hadn't been waiting around until he was walking side-by-side with her.

Glancing down at the ninth-grader, he said, "Hey."

"Hey," she said, wagging her fluffy tail.

This is going great!

"I haven't seen you around before. You new here?" he managed to say without stuttering, though he knew exactly who she was and when she'd transferred.

"Yeah. Penelope," she said.

"Marc," he nodded curtly. All the websites he read said to play it cool with chicks. Don't let them see that you're interested.

She walked in silence, glancing up at him out of the corner of her very blue eyes. It was starting to get awkward, which was when Marc started to really flail and bomb, usually. Thinking quick, he said, "What class you got next?"

"Study hall with Mr. Stanley."

"Lucky - he doesn't give a shit what you do in there."

She smiled. "I noticed. I don't even think he knows I'm on the roster yet."

Marc laughed, but he knew not to let this conversation run too long. Reflexively, he fell back on what he'd learned on the internet. "He probably thinks you're my little sister, Katie, you look a lot alike."

Penelope blinked, her muzzle wrinkling up, confused. Perfect,_Marc thought. That comment was a _neg, it was supposed to make her feel self-conscious, to make her feel vulnerable and want to impress him. But she did look like Katie.

"Anyway, see you around," Marc said, abruptly parting ways without another look back.

His heart was racing. That went better than he could have possibly imagined. All that planning had paid off! He huffed through his nose to avoid embarrassing panting, ducking quickly into the men's room to cool off. His next class was Algebra II, but there was a quiz and he'd spent all last night planning for Penelope.

With a shrug, he decided he'd just wait out the class in the bathroom. As long as he showed up fifteen minutes before the end of class, Mrs. Stewart would still count her present, and he could take the quiz tomorrow. He sat on the counter, playing Plants vs. Nazis on his phone. Other boys came and went, but as soon as the passing bell rang, he was alone.

But not for long. His large ear perked up when the door swung open. "What the hell?" he blurted out, when who was standing there, but Penelope Alvarez.

"Shhh!" she said, closing the door behind her. "I'm skipping class."

"In here!?" How had he forgotten how to be cool? He was rattled, and it was going to blow his chance with this girl!

The ninth-grader just chuckled. "I wanted to talk to you."

Still off his game, Marc stammered, "What if I'd been...you know..." pointing to the stalls.

Penelope rolled her eyes. She was a lot calmer than he'd have expected from a freshman. "Like I've never heard a guy shitting before."

"You have?" Marc asked, raising an eyebrow.

"God, shut up already," she said. "I just wanted to talk."

"About what?" he said, his heart finally starting to slow.

Now she seemed a bit out of her element. She paused, and said, "I just...wanted to know if you had a girlfriend."

_Ba-dump! Ba-dump!_His heart was racing again, and he dangled on the edge of the counter, almost falling off. "Yeah? I mean, no, I don't. Right now, I mean."

"Oh, good," she said.

"Good?"

Penelope took a deep breath. "Good, because I think you're hot, and I was wondering if you wanted to, you know...hang out some time."

Hot, not cute. Hot.

_Hang out?_Did she want to be his girlfriend, or was this some sort of freshmen booty call? Hell, he didn't mind either way, but it would be nice to know. He said, "Is this a...'Senior Salute' sort of thing?"

The young fennec cocked her head. "A what?"

Shit, she didn't even know. Now he had to explain it to her!

"Um, you know, it's a tradition in this school for Seniors to 'get together' with freshmen girls, to um...celebrate their impending graduation."

"Is that what _you_want?" she asked, ears upright.

Honestly, nothing would make Marc happier than having a long-term girlfriend. But everything he'd read told him that he should never admit something like that. Girls liked the 'bad boys' who treated them like sex objects. If he stuck to his cards, she'd be coming back to him long term.

"Well, yeah..." he said, barely restraining the urge to add 'duh'.

It worked _too_well. The cute fennec girl said, "Okay," and reached her hands to his crotch.

"Woah, hey!" he gasped.

Penelope cocked her head. "Don't you want it?"

Oops. He kept screwing up when surprised. "Yeah, but not right here. What if a teacher walks in?"

She just shrugged and said, "The stall, then."

His jaw dropped as the ninth-grader walked over to the handicapped stall. Thankfully, her back was turned, so she didn't see him looking dumbfounded. Was this what it was like at Yorkie Public? Guys getting tail in the public bathrooms? Of course he followed her.

Once their small modicum of privacy was established, she violated his, grabbing again for his jean shorts. He resisted the urge to stop her, letting the eager young vixen unbutton his pants, before he remembered the most important thing. "Y-you're not thirteen, are you?"

"No," she replied.

"Oh, thank God," he said.

Like that, she knelt and slid down his jeans and boxers, and Marc could hardly believe that he was standing in front of a girl with his half-emerged cock in her face. My dreams, literally, come true. Penelope flattened her huge ears, looking him over. "Like what you see?" he asked.

"You're a little bigger than I expected," she said, but no ironically, not sarcastically. It sounded more like an honest appraisal by a connoisseur of dicks.

"Have you...uh...done this a lot?"

"You be the judge," she grinned, reaching forward with her paw to cup his white-furred balls before plunging her muzzle down around his still-growing cock.

Now he couldn't hide the way his jaw dropped, the sudden, wet, warm pressure about ten thousand times better than his lubricated paw. He had no one to compare to, but she seemed like a wizard, curling her tongue and_slurping_ up and down his length until it swelled out to fill her small muzzle, bulging out her cheeks. Reflexively, he put his hands on the back of her head, but she didn't object.

She began to suckle him, wrapping her lips tighter and sucking on his cock. Marc kept one ear swivelled toward the main bathroom door, but he doubted he would really notice if it opened. He panted, moaning as she bobbed her head back and forth.

"Holy fuck, Penelope, did you learn that at Yorkie Public?"

She pulled away, her large, blue eyes looking up at him. "How'd you know I went there?"

Fuck!