The Fan- A Gray Muzzle Story
THE FAN- A GRAY MUZZLE STORY.
I'm a Fennec. I thought I'd get that out of the way up front. After all, it's had a big impact on my life. Like respect. Think it's easy being the 'cute little fox'? Sure, ladies will talk to you, but when 2 am rolls around, who do they go home with? Not the cute, little ones I guarantee.
I live in Key West. I hear the gears turning; 'You're a Fennec- that's a desert fox' I know. Want to know how many times I hear that? There was this woman, well, you know, the kind you can't get far enough away from? Anyway, I headed East, and kept going until I ran out of land. That's Key West, brother. Nice enough though. Small. Tolerant. A place where you can just appear, and folks don't ask too many questions.
You see, I'm a writer. Actually a writer-artist-cartoonist. In another life, I wrote serious things, for serious people. When things kind of fell apart, I started to write furry yiff. Unfortunately, no one actually pays for the stuff. So, I branch out. Taught myself to draw. Do cartoons. I'm not in need of an investment advisor, but I eat. And I found this great place. A little cottage, where I have the whole second floor. My drafting table is by the window overlooking the ocean. Yeah, I'm old school. Pencils, charcoal, pastels, oils. Sure, I've got a MacPro with all the goodies, but that's not art, really. All things considered, life is pretty good.
Except for the loneliness thing. You see, since I left Phoenix, I haven't....how do I put this....'been' with a female. Not that that interested me for a long time. When I was finally over it, I was out of practice, and out of the whole singles thing. Frankly, most days, the work of living just seems a whole lot more pressing. What social needs I have are met by the Rusty Scupper. Now, when you come here as a tourist, there are lots of bars to choose from. The 'Scupper isn't one of them. This is a local place, down a side street, where 4 p.m. sees the same butts in the same seats every day.
Anyway, my stock in trade is big cats. Artwork of 'em, anyway. Big, sexy, horny, jungle kitties. I'm not bragging, but my work has it's own following. Got people all over the world who hire me for commissions of big, female pussies doing the strangest things you could imagine. That leads to some strange calls. But none stranger than the one from her.......
I'm sitting at the board one morning, and I get this call. Wants to meet me. Now, understand; I do some strange work for some strange people. I don't go around meeting them in person. So, I tell her to write me with her needs, and I'd get back. I figure that would be the end of it. Or should have been. Might even have forgotten all about it, 'cept for one thing; that voice. If I live three lifetimes, I'll never forget that voice- sweet, soft, dripping with magnolias and Spanish moss. .Any way, I hang up, and go back to work.
I never did get anything from her. Not in Email, or regular mail for that matter. But a week, ten days maybe, I get the same call. This time, I'm a little rude. 'Look, lady,' I tell her' I don't deal face to face. Send me your pitch, and I'll get back to you. . Same thing happens. Nothing. Again, I forget all about her.
It was probably two weeks before she calls again.
"Gray?"
"You know who it is."
"I want to meet you..."
"Listen, we've been through this before..."
"I'm serious. I'll make this meeting worth your while. You decide when and where. I'll be there."
"If.....I were to agree, how long do you need to make travel arrangements?"
"I'm in Key West. Anytime."
I look at my watch. It's almost 3:00. In an hour, I'll be down at the Scupper. I don't know why I faltered, Maybe the voice....
"4. At the Rusty Scupper. Know where it is?"
"I'll be there."
Then the phone goes dead. I look down. I've got this raging hard on. Guess it's been longer than I thought. And that voice.....
I try to get back to work. I make a few half hearted attempts, but it's just not coming together. So, I slip on some cargo shorts, and put on a Hawaiian shirt, and get ready to go. I forgot to mention I usually work in the nude. Hey, it's the tropics, I live alone, so why not? I slam the door without locking it. I'm sure I have a key somewhere, but it's been so long I just can't remember. Once I hit the street, it's a different world. The sun, the sea, it's why I came here to begin with. The couple blocks to the Scupper were no sweat, even in flip flops. Within minutes, I'm there.
The Scupper is a special kind of bar. It's not a memorable place; it's a place people go to forget. The entire interior has a well groomed sense of decay. Though not at all uncomfortable. I take a seat at the end of the bar. Nina smiles. A young Husky; sexy in a curvy kind of way, she's as close as I have to a friend. She's my primary source of conversation, and a lot of my contact with the outside world. She wears this kind of comiic book version of a pirate wench outfit....low cut peasant blouse, with poofy sleeves, a tiny little skirt, with ruffled panties underneath. That ass is so round, so fluffy, so perfect, I've had lapses, and grabbed it a time or two....
SMACK!
"Look, Gray, You're a nice guy an all, but don't do that, OK? It gives the others ideas...."
I understand. Nina goes back to washing glasses; I go back to the bourbon she's laid down in front of me. For the next thirty or forty minutes, I occupy myself with watching the bar TV, or sketching on my napkin. I hear the door swing open.
In most of life, fitting in is a virtue. There was no way she fit in. But that was in no way a bad thing. She was a white Lynx, compact, and well proportioned. She was purest white, and carried the most perfect set of black spots I'd ever seen. She wore a simple black dress, perfect in every way, except for fitting in at the Scupper.
"Gray"
"I'm afraid the advantage is yours." I replied, taking in the whole package.
"I'm so sorry" she said, offering her hand. "I'm....a fan."
"The least I can do is buy a fan a drink"
"Scotch. Neat."
I like that; a babe who can handle hard liquor. Her stock was going up already.
"What's that?" she asked, snatching the napkin from under my drink.
Now, I was a little embarrassed; I sketch constantly. While I waited, I'd been drawing the more 'interesting' parts of a snow leopard.
"Interesting" she observed. "I think you need a good model, though..."
I turned to look. She had turned toward me. Her skirt having ridden up, I could see her point. There was much for me to learn about the big cats. She was pure white, where that was called for, and deep pink, where, well, you get the idea.
"Excuse my directness, but what is the nature of your business."
She smiled, then took her time to answer.
"I have my vanities, Gray. I'd like some pictures. Special, intimate ones. I searched, and you're the one I want to do them."
'Could be expensive." I offered, feeling her out.
'Not an issue. Can we...go someplace more conducive to conducting business?"
"You have a place in mind?'
"Indeed I do."
With that, she got up to leave. And I followed. There was a horse drawn carriage at the curb.
I'd never ridden in a carriage before. It's a tourist thin. Can't say that it was an unpleasant, though. The short ride took us to the other side of town; the one where starving artists don't live. The house itself was stunning, by Keys standard. A two story federal, with a circular drive, it was a vision in white. Dismounting the carriage, I got another reminder that I needed to work more with live models.
She didn't believe in locks any more than I did. Not unusual though; most Keys people didn't. We entered the house. I looked around. Not new. Old money. A little decay. Patina, they call it.
"Drink?"
She poured a few fingers of something dark in a glass. I didn't care. At this point, my mind was racing, in anticipation of what might be to come. I followed her into the next room. It was the bedroom.
"I'd like...a series of pictures." she said, slipping off her low heels, then fishing the zipper of her short, black dress."
I watched in rapt attention.
"Something erotic, yet tasteful." The black dress fell to the floor.
"For...a friend, perhaps?"
"For my own pleasure" By the time she spoke, she had crossed the room, facing me. She began to undo the buttons of my shirt. Having done so, the shirt fell to the floor. One button, and a zipper, and my shorts joined them.
"Now, lay down on the bed, and get comfortable..." That voice. I was under her spell. She could have told me to leap from the roof, and I would have done it. So, I just gave in. Laid back. Closed my eyes....
"CLICK"
I opened my eyes. I was handcuffed to the bed. She was kneeling over me.
"Now, just relax, Gray. We're going to have some fun. But I'll need your help."
"Do I have a choice?" I asked, looking at my arm, handcuffed to the headboard.
"Oh dear, I suppose not."
No sooner had she said this, when she slipped a mask over my eyes, and I felt what must have been a ball gag slip into my mouth.
I felt my cock being encircled by a soft, furry muzzle. The licks were so, small swift, ....catlike... they were unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Cat tongues are small and rough. Nothing like this had ever encountered my penis before. I was out of my sheath, at full attention Without bragging, for a Fennec, I pack quite a package. She was in no hurry, though. She teased and teased, taking forever to put my whole length down herb throat. And I'm not ashamed to say I was a little uptight. It took a while for me to go with the experience, as hot as she was. I was within inches, when....she stopped.
I lay there a while, wondering what was next. I could feel the gag being removed. Even before it's arrival, I knew what was coming. She had this scent, this...aroma that could drive you wild. I'm no cat, but I could swear she was in heat. When her sex finally lowered to my tongue, I knew my suspicions were justified. There was this raw, salty taste to her, almost like a fresh oyster. There was a sweetness, that just drove me wild. As her sex touched my lips, I had a picture in my mind of the sex I had seen earlier. White, spotted, Pink lips, swollen and wet. I ran my tongue up her, cleaving her folds. I could hear her sigh. Open, I went straight for her clitoris, giving her the same fleeting tongue that she had used on me. Changing up after a time, I went to broad, flat licks of her entire perineum. Then, a change up. Licking her warm crotch, I slid a moistened finger into her anus. She stiffened, then relaxed. As her as relaxed, I coaxed a little more finger inside her, as I continued to lick at her shivering sex.
The sex went on like that for hours. I don't know, one, three? Not that it mattered. She was insatiable. And I suspect that it wasn't the first time she'd played this little game.
"Uncuff me!"I ordered.
This seemed to take her by surprise
"Why?" she asked
"I have things I need to do. " Though, in reality, I had no idea what I'd do if she complied.
To my surprise, I felt the cuffs release from the bed. Just as quickly, I felt the cuff click down hard on my other wrist. The ball gag returned to my mouth. There was movement on the bed. Leaning forward, I could tell she was in front of me, on all fours. Struggling to my knees, I pressed my sex to her backside, I found her ass. Not to be denied, I leaned into her asshole. Slowly, it yielded. A little at first, then more. Desperate for relief, even with the lack of arm support, I rode her ass hard.
Now, a bit of explanation. Key West is a very freaky place. I'd never have bareback sex with anyone. Just too risky. But I was half crazy with lust. After this amount of time, I'd have fucked anything. Not that I'd had any complaints. She was a skilled, and talented lover. But I needed relief. Bucking as hard as my handcuffed hands allowed, I bumped her furry ass hard. She moaned, and I balanced as best I could on her furry backside. Once balanced, I fucked hard and fast to get the relief I craved. One more thrust, and I poured hot cum into her waiting ass . We both fell to the soft bed.
When I awoke, I was uncuffed. And she was gone. Looking around, there was an envelope on the nightstand. I opened it, and I found more money than I'd seen in many years. And there were....pictures. Some would help me draw the pictures she requested. Others....would stay in my nightstand. I got up, and found my clothes. Walking out the front door, there was a horse and carriage, waiting to take me home.
I'm home now. I'm back at the drawing board. The pictures I'm doing are some of the best work I've ever done. That's important to me. I want her to be impressed when she comes for them. You never want to disappoint a fan......