FSE

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Once again, I submit to you another story from my Playfoxx commissions. This story was written with extreme requirements of no more than 1,000 words. I didn't quite make it, running over by about 200 words. Also, this was not selected for publication and/or pairing with a photo shoot. Oh well, I enjoyed writing it anyway.

Vertical Expressions

&

Horizontal Desires

By: Heuvadoches Naumova

The city's night traffic slogged by Killarny's Pub through wet streets. From the loft above, the scratch strains of a classical Austrian Waltz dripped down with the warm rain from partially open windows. A bedraggled house-feral huddled under the meager shelter provided by trash piled beneath the lid of an open dumpster. It stared mournfully up at two figures whirling close together in silhouette across the manila screen of drawn blinds. A burst of drunken, chortling laughter followed an empty hooch bottle thrown from a weaving car. It shattered against the building, scaring the homeless animal deeper into the dark alley.

Hot in the way that a large city can only be on a rainy summer night, the pair continued their dance, oblivious to the weather, the traffic, and the temperature. The interior contrasted sharply with the neighborhood's worn-down appearance. Ornate candelabras sat in front of heavy tapestries, showing off intricate patterns and designs. Masterful artwork in carved wooden frames decorated the spaces between the fabrics while a matched pair of chandeliers dripping with crystal hung from the high ceiling.

A single, red rose sat in a vase next to the Victrola on a small wooden stand as she danced close with her partner. She spun away and then snapped back into place with elegant, practised grace. His long tuxedo coat, split at his bushy tail, flapped slightly as he pranced around with his vixen. Every move, every gesture, every glance and step, all choreographed down to the twitch of a whisker, and though they'd been dancing for more than both sides of the current record, neither showed overt signs of tiredness.

The waltz ended and they broke apart. "My dear Irene," he said with a toothy smile. "You are positively have to be the best dance instructor I've ever met."

Irene giggled. "Vernon, I'm the only dance instructor you've ever met," she said returning the smile, heading for the Victrola.

"Touche," he returned, following and watching her waist sashay. "But did I also mention you are the loveliest vixen I've ever met?" he asked in her ear, his paws groping lightly across the rump he'd been admiring.

Irene hid a smirk by looking down and making a bit of a show out of selecting a different record. With a delicate touch, she set the needle on the spinning platter's lead-in. With fast fingers, she whipped the rose from its vase and set it in her teeth, turning quickly in Vernon's arms. The unmistakable grinding tones of Argentinian Tango strutted from the gramophone's trumpet.

"I don't know tango," he said with wide eyes.

"It takes two," she said huskily, tracing a finger up his crotch. "Improvise." Her nimble fingers parted the two buttons holding her partner's dinner jacket closed.

With an evil twinkle in his eye, Vernon danced her to the middle of the floor, pausing a moment with the beat to lean in and nip at the stem of the flower. She snaked her hands up his chest, parting the jacket across his shoulders. It slipped off quickly as he changed grip on her body, tugging at the strings holding her gown in place.

She swooned back with his arm about her waist, his other paw brushing against her crotch, tracing up her body to the bodice of the dress. Pulling her back up, Vernon pushed her arms to her sides and gave a yank on the sleeves. The dress folded open like a pearl studded flower, revealing the naked and lovely form of the vixen shaped stamen. Lifting her arms, she looked down with half-lidded eyes at Vernon's kneeling form, his muzzle inches from her musky, quivering slit. The effect was near instantaneous. Standing quickly, Vernon shed his shirt, tie, cummerbund and pants as fast as possible, though far less gracefully, and completely off tempo.

Taking the rose from her mouth, Irene snickered slightly before saying, "Control, darling. Dancing is about control." The petals brushed across the floor as she bowed backwards again, slinking her leg up Vern's outer thigh.

A blind man would have seen the cue. Vernon rocked his hips slightly and then forward; his throbbing rod finding its home in her pussy. She gasped, curling the leg around his hip as he slowly hilted into her contorted body. Trusting her partner completely, she lifted her other leg, lowering her shoulders to the shellac. Victor rocked his hips gently, holding Irene's waist as his knees slowly sunk to the wood. He leaned over her body, caressing her ribs and breasts gently before placing his paws flat on the floor and thrust hard forward. Both fennecs' backs arched at the powerful tingle, tilting their heads back; one to the sky, the other along the floor. He eased his nose down, snuffling along her neck and nipped gently, feeling the twitches of her body through his fleshy probe. He shifted his hips again, lifting his muzzle and licking across her breasts.

The rose fell from her open mouth, her tongue lolling to the side, almost scraping against the wood. Her claws dug into Victor's side, ploughing deep furrows in the fur and scratching into his skin. She kept her legs wrapped firmly around his waist, refusing to release his thrusting hips until ... She gasped and then moaned loudly, squeezing her legs and rippling her inner muscles against his shaft. At the edge of the dance floor, the forgotten record warbled on, but slower than it was before.

Victor pulled back against the tugging muscles, hissing as he inhaled sharply. Fighting against the feeling, not wanting to cum yet, his claws dug into the hardwood as his eyes pinched shut. His balls spasmed and a pulse of thin precum dribbled into Irene's flexing slit. "Ooh ... ho! ... ooh!" he gasped, holding in place for a moment as his expanding knot began to batter at her hole.

"Yes," Irene groaned, arching her back again and shoving his trembling rod deeper. The swollen flesh ground against her sensitized channel. With a soft whimper, she released to the sensations, her legs quaking in time to orgasmic pulses flooding from her nether regions.

The final thrust and fluttering of her muscles completely took Vernon by surprise. Too late, he tried to clamp down and stem the flood, but the dam had burst and there was naught to do but ride the wave. Grunting while jet after sticky, hot jet of semen flooded into his lover's channel, his knot sealed them together. Panting loudly, he collapsed against her body as the last few spurts splashed from his shuddering tip. "Ghahh," he mumbled, shivering as she squeezed his cock again.

Irene shushed him softly, petting along his back while she licked the side of his muzzle. "Yes. Control. Must work on that," she giggled.

Outside, the rain re-intensified with a white flash on the horizon. The low growl of distant thunder slowly blended in with the static hiss of the falling drops and the louder blasts from the pavement. The house-feral blinked at the shades before shaking water off its whiskers and huddled farther back into the softly rotting trash.