FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Brother and sister idly sat on the couch as they watched their parents bustle about.

"Have you seen my tie?"

"I put it on the bathroom doorknob just like I told you five minutes ago."

They had learned to keep quiet and keep to themselves during the last-minute rush.

"You packed the fliers?"

"Yes."

"What about the centerpieces?"

"Already in the car."

"You put them in the back-seat, right? They're fragile."

"Yes, yes, yes, I know."

"Don't get snappy at me."

"I'm not getting snappy, I just..." Their father took in a deep breath, smoothing the air with his hands. "We're just a bit late, and I promise I had everything ready since last night; it's my job for crying out loud."

"Well, it's my job to double-check your job," their mother quipped as her heels tapped upon the tile with every step. She approached the living room, looking in. "Okay sweet-peas, we're going to head out," she told them, amidst the wheels of their father's rolling-luggage clackity-clacking over the grooves toward the door.

The two kids hopped up from the couch.

"How long are you guys gone for, again?" Their daughter asked.

"The conference is three days, but we'll be gone for four." The father said, his polished shoes tamping with each step toward his wife. "But, we're only going to be a few hours away, this time. So, you'll see us that night."

"Hopefully we aren't gone too many times this summer," the mother lamented. "Whatever will you guys do?"

The siblings exchanged glances.

"We'll find something," their son said.

"Well, if you want to go over to a friend's house, just give us a call. If you can't get one, try the other."

The son nodded. "Hope the catering goes well," he remarked.

The mother took in a breath. "Oh, honey... Shoot!" She stamped her foot. "I forgot to... Ugh!" She stamped her foot again. "Ow..." She whimpered, the heel starting to hurt.

"I called," he stated. "They'll be there by six tomorrow, and they do have vegetarian."

She sighed. "I'm sorry, I..." She shook her head.

He smirked. "It's my job," was all he said. "As for you," he squatted down, facing his daughter, "c'mere an' gimme a 'ugg-g'bye," he requested, spreading his arms.

She giggled, hopping over to him and falling into his arms, the skirt of her dress draping down with how far she leaned over. He picked her up and spun her around once, the skirt ruffling, before she was gently set back down on her feet. "Now," he said, pointing his finger and tapping it on her nose; "what did you promise us?"

She rolled her eyes, sighing. "I promise I won't try to potty-train the dolphin," she said, her words falling into a slumping rhythm of annoyance, as children sometimes do. Then, she added; "...again."

"Okay," he stood up, looking to his wife. "I look good. You look decent," he said.

She lightly batted him with the back of her hand. "Let's went," she declared, heels announcing her direction toward the door.

"Bye mommy, bye daddy!" The children bid.

"Bye kiddoes," the dad bid in return, pulling up the handle on the luggage, opening the door for his wife. "Call us if you need us."

The kids walked to the door, peeking out as their parents went to the car, and giving a final wave when it started up, the lights flashing on.

They receded back in, and the car's engine puttered away.

Without a word, the older fox boy walked toward the kitchen, his sister in tow. He picked up the egg-timer from on the counter, and twisted it.

She heard it starting to tick rapidly when he set it back down, and watched it.

The top of the egg twisted very slowly, the red line at the bottom passing over the little black dots that marked every ten seconds. It's clicking was incessant in her ears; metronomic.

The red marker touched the number 9.

Her brother went to the dishwasher, pulling it open. He started gathering the items from inside. Plates clapped as he pinched them together, lifting them out in batches to put them into their cabinets.

The red marker touched the number 8.

He plucked the cups up one at a time, their brims tinkling against one another as he lifted them from the holding-pegs. He placed them into the cupboards, the hinges of the doors squeaking as he opened and closed them.

The red marker touched the number 7.

Metal tinkered against metal as he grabbed the silverware by the handful, dropping them into the sorting trays. Big spoon, little spoon, big spoon, little fork, big fork, little spoon, big fork, little spoon; he could tell just by the width of the handle. He then plucked the dinner-knives from the silverware tray, plopping them into their place all at once.

The red marker touched the number 6.

He then started on the odds-and-ends. Mixing bowls, measuring cups and spoons, the ice cream scooper that he rapidly squeezed to make it open and close as he walked it to the drawer. He did similar with the tongs.

The red marker touched the number 5.

Turning on the sink, he washed his hands, and felt the water get warm. He picked up the dishes from their recently-eaten dinner, scrubbed the leftover bits of food off with the brush, and set them in the recently-emptied washer.

The red marker touched the number 4.

He washed his hands again, and wet a paper-towel by drying them on it. He then ran the paper-towel along the counter-top, cleaning up the crumbs and small spills from the dinner preparation.

The red marker touched the number 3.

He dropped the paper towel into the garbage, and saw that it was full. He pulled out the current bag, and tied it securely. He retrieved a new bag, whipped it open, and fitted it into the can.

The red marker touched the number 2.

He picked up the full bag, his muscles taught as he flexed to heft the heavy bag, for he didn't quite yet have a height-advantage to keep it steady and balanced. He walked it to the door, and slipped outside.

The red marker touched the number 1.

The door clicked as he shut and locked it, and went back to the sink once more to wash his hands again. He then wandered to the living room, where he picked up the remote, and started looking for something to play.

In the kitchen, the egg-timer rattled on the counter as it rang, announcing that the red marker had touched the number 0.

Then, it was abruptly snuffed, and the girl squealed just as loudly. She ran into the living room, just as her brother selected a song and it started to snap and pop over the speakers.

She grabbed the hem of her dress's skirt, and stood upright, whipping it off and tossing it aside. Just like that, she was completely in the buff, having not worn any underwear on underneath.

She bounced and then pranced, running about the downstairs with yips, squeals, and giggles as she streaked through the rooms. The wind against her chest, tummy, and between her legs was tickly and tingly, a delight she had been pining for ever since she heard mom and dad were going to another conference the other day.

She ran a circle about her brother to end her nude trek about the house, and then started dancing to the bubble-gum pop he had selected. Her tail swished hither-thither as she twirled and swayed her hips. Then, it bobbed and bounced as she turned her back to her brother, and leaned forward, twerking at the apex of the song's final chorus.

She looked back with a smirk, seeing the blush on his face as he watched her rump shimmy and shake. Sh could also see the straining in his shorts, which made her stop just as the song wound down.

She skipped over to him, and grabbed his shirt. She tugged it up, meeting no resistance from him. Her hands then went to his shorts, snapping the button free and unzipping the fly. She took them down and got to her knees in one motion, leaving them at his ankles. Her eyes leveled at the tent in his boxer-briefs, and she pulled the elastic band away to tug them down as well.

His stiff foxhood stretched with a throb as it was freed from the confines of his clothes. But then, it was quickly confined once again, this time in a much more pleasant place.

He let out a murmur of pleasure as her lips sealed around his tip and pushed down toward his base.

She held his legs steady, as they usually got a bit noodly when she did this to him after not being able to for a few weeks at a time. She hummed as her lips touched his sheath, and her eyes went lidded.

A slow song started to play, one their parents liked. Normally they would groan and skip it, but right now it seemed to fit their mood--plus, they didn't want to move.

As the slow notes drifted about the room, his fingertips drifted to her hair. He squeezed the buns, held in place by her bows, while his thighs and tummy twitched at her gentle suckling.

She pulled back, leaving just his tip in her muzzle, and then went back down, suckling him in inches at a time. When her lips wrapped around his base, she would hum to tickle his tip deep in her throat, and the tip of her tongue snuck into the crease of his sheath, finding sensitive spots that were not often tended to.

She had learned the tells of when he was close. His soft whimpers took on a different note toward the end. His knees bent out slightly, to widen her access to his groin. Her buns were squeezed without relent.

But the biggest tells were in her muzzle.

He got warmer and more fluttery. His firmness softened just a little bit to her tongue. And he got slightly bigger.

She pulled back, leaving just the tip once again in her muzzle, and started to suckle more urgently.

He let out the yip that signaled the oncoming squirt.

It spurted onto her tongue, and she suckled to draw it out. He twitched and throbbed against her tongue, spilling more and more of his love over her buds. She slipped him in deeper, her lips touching about halfway, and suckled more as his twitches started to weaken. She drew out all that she could, managing one final throb a few seconds after it seemed he had stopped offering.

She then pulled free of his foxhood, her spit clinging onto his tip for just a moment before breaking and dribbling down her chin.

Legs wobbly, he stumbled back onto the couch. The rush of pleasure dripped away, leaving him a bit weary. He was startled back to alertness when his sister pounced, straddling his legs and touching nose-to-nose, looking him in the eyes with a coy smile on her muzzle.

She sat up straighter, her muzzle drifting away, and then opened her mouth.

Normally, she would not do this, as she had been scolded by her parents it was rude to show her mouthful to others. But, one time, her brother requested to see her mouth after his orgasm, and he found that he rather liked seeing the white streaks of his seed resting on her tongue.

When he had a ripe-red blush on his cheeks, she closed her muzzle, and lifted her chin up to swallow, her demure Adam's apple seen sliding with her throat's movements only because of her bearing it to him.

She then licked the traces from her lips, and rested her nose to his once again. "Thanks for dessert," she said with an oddly sultry voice for her age, before pressing her lips against his.

He closed his eyes with the kiss, and tasted hints of his own slightly-salted passion when her tongue slipped its way into his muzzle and began seeking all around.

One hand held her side, the other touched her nipples. He cupped the latent breast, the shallow swell due only to baby-fat and maybe a few extra sweets every now and again. Though she didn't desire it as much as between her legs, touches to her chest and nipples were nice, and sometimes relaxing.

Even while kissing, her brother's maw opened wide in a yawn. She drew away, donning a pouting look on her face. "Every time," she grumbled, having observed that he always got a bit tired after squirting his cum.

"I just need a few minutes," he mumbled in response, closing his eyes. He was coaxed to lie down, and so he flopped over onto the couch with his legs still in sitting-mode.

"Ugh, c'mon," she huffed, slipping off the couch to slide his legs up. She grabbed the remote to pause the current song that was thumping over the speakers, so that he could rest in quiet.

She then lied back down on the couch, wrapping her arms around him. Her nose sought the hiding spot in the crook of his neck, while her front pressed against him, feeling his warmth soften and recede.

She let out a disappointed whimper.

Her dissatisfaction was quick to flee, cuddling with her brother quickly sufficing.

She loved everything about it.

Being naked, getting a little bit chilly.

Being close to warm up.

Rubbing and touching to feel the tickles and tingles.

Using fingers, mouths, tongues, or best of all their privates together, to achieve that rushing, fluttery bliss.

Between her legs, her pink was tickly and started to get damp. The familiar signs she was getting ready to let her brother push his neener into her pocket. The preparation happened often, even when they absolutely couldn't because mom and dad were nearby.

She squirmed. The tickling started to agitate her. The damp feeling between her legs started to muss the creamy-white fur on the inside of her thighs.

This had been happening off-and-on every night since their first time on her bed, when she rode him like a horsey. But usually it happened when she was in bed alone, her brother nowhere near to help soothe it.

She had learned a spot that calmed it. It took a night or two of frustrated fumbling, but her fingertip had discovered a spot surprisingly far away from the entrance to her pocket; which she attempted to stick her fingers in to settle her down. But, since they were so much skinnier and shorter than her brother's neener, that hardly worked at all.

Starting at her belly-button, and going straight down, just when she barely touched her pink. That was the spot. When she spread herself to look in the mirror, she pictured her pink like a water-droplet, and it was right at the top where the droplet got smaller and to a point.

It was an odd spot to her touch. The furless skin was folded and wrinkly, as best she could tell. Maybe a bit like the petals of a rose, toward the middle. When she rubbed from her belly-button toward her pocket, she went with the wrinkle, smoothing it down. In the opposite direction, her fingertip would catch the wrinkle, pulling it up and away.

After she got just a little bit tingly and her pocket started to get a little wet, that spot became so much more sensitive. So sensitive that she went limp for a moment, if she rubbed it too firmly or for too long.

It gave her almost the same feelings as when her brother was deep in her pocket, pushing in and pulling out over and over again, filling her and stretching her snug tunnel so pleasantly taught.

She felt guilty, that she could make herself feel this way without her brother. When she confessed to him about it, hoping he wouldn't be mad or upset, he smiled and told her he did something similar.

She lifted her leg, resting it over her brother's waist. Her pink was bared to the open air, and she felt it cool. She used her leg to pull him close, shimmying and nudging a bit to get herself in the right spot.

She let out a soft sigh when her pink settled against his sheath. His balls rested in the crux of her thigh, the fuzzy pouch relaxed because he was warm.

She used what little room she had to move a little bit up and down, grazing her slit across her brother's sheath. Her juices began to dribble out, dampening both their groins. Her breathing fluttered as she concentrated, getting his fuzzy, downy fur to brush her sensitive spot.

A rustle from him made her pause, and open her eyes. She smiled at him, meekly, staring into his brown eyes. She fought a smirk as his fingertips ticklishly traced down her body: from her collarbone, over her left nipple, dipping into her belly-button, and finally settling just where her groin was pressed against his.

Reluctant due to how warm and comfortable she was, but more excited at what she knew her brother sought to do, she relaxed from pressing so firmly against him, giving his hand purchase to slip between them.

She closed her eyes and let out a weak, cooing moan. Just the touches of him seeking her pocket sent twinges of pleasure down her thighs and up her tummy. She parted her thighs more, giving him a pleading whimper, which melted into a hum of satisfaction as his fingertip found her little hole.

Even though they weren't as long and thick as his neener, they were his fingers. She had no clue what they were going to do, so every touch was a surprise to her supple and tender flesh.

He went in as deep as he could, and pressed his fingers against her anterior wall, giving small strokes inside of her. She squirmed and shimmied at his movements, as if trying to shy away from them; but there was no stopping him. He stroked her, admiring the soft, silkiness of her walls, slippery with her juices.

He started pushing more firmly, and stroking more broadly, bending his knuckles. Fluttery whines spilled onto his chest as she nuzzled him, toes brushing his ankles and shins as she squirmed and twitched in response to his strokes.

Soft squelches began slipping out of her; they were embarrassing, but also a delightful sound. It was one thing to feel his fingers nudging and rubbing within her. It was another to hear them, as that made their naughty activity even more evident to her.

"Hmmmmaohhh..." She let out a solid moan, the first one of the night. His thumb rested upon her sensitive spot at the top of her pink, and his fingers firmly pushed upwards.

With this firm, hooked grip, he began moving his whole hand toward her, and away.

"Hhhhhaggghhhha!" She groaned, his touches putting pressure on her in a way that made her go limp when his thumb passed over her spot, and his fingers tugged her tender wall up.

Her moans became louder, more urgent, her breath fast and shallow in between them. She tried to widen her groin, but her legs were weak and tingling with pleasure, unable to move.

The pleasure began bubbling up her tummy; he gripped more firmly, grazed more directly, rubbing his thumb in a light circle around the spot while his fingers braced against her wall to keep steady.

Her pocket got warm, and for a second relaxed, before the smooth walls began contracting, firm squeezes countering the press of his fingertips.

The moan of her blissful rush vibrated against his heart, skipping its beat. The squelching was now almost like a suckling, wetness from her pocket trickling into his palm and over his knuckles.

She gave one final, aggressive squeeze in her loins, with gritted teeth and a strained grunt, before her entire body went limp with a quick sigh.

Carefully, he slipped his fingers free from his sister's now relaxed pocket. The walls fluttered lightly when his fingertips grazed her latent g-spot, adding another dribble of her nectar onto his palm.

He brought his soaked fingers to his nose, giving them a sniff.

The smell worried them at first. It was pungent, and musky. But they worked together to clean up after themselves, and with that the scent was gone.

So they started to like it. When it was in the air, they knew what it meant: they had done something naughty. It kept them aroused; kept his foxhood peeking out of his sheath, and kept her vixenhood drippy. Even now, as he appreciated his sister's scent, his neener began to swell, emerging from its slumber and desiring to squeeze its way into a small, snug place once more.

Suddenly, over the living room speakers just a few feet away from them, the ringing of the telephone burst into the room.

Startled from her reverie, the vixen squealed, flinching and tumbling off the couch.

Heart skipping a beat, the balls of his feet smacked against the tile as he dashed to the phone, picking it up from the cradle. "Thomas residence, Aeden speaking."

His sister flopped back onto the couch, kneeling on the cushions and watched her brother's charcoal-tipped ears as they subtly parted wider with annoyance.

"I'm sorry, we're not interested at this time; thank you." He spoke, after a moment of silence, before the soft beep and the light thack when he set the phone back in the cradle.

"What was it?" His sister asked, as he stepped through the open threshold from the kitchen to the living room.

"Hi, we're calling about the results of the recent bond-issue, would you like to participa--" He stopped speaking when she covered her eras with her hands and disappeared from his view, plopping back down on the couch. "Yup, that's about how I felt," he chuckled.

"They ruined our mood," she grumbled, looking up at him as he approached the couch. Right away she reached for his neener, cradling his balls and supporting his length with her thumb.

He covered her hand with his own, letting out a thoughtful hum. "I think I should probably do my project," he mentioned.

She whined. "Nooooo," she lightly fondled him. "It's snugglycuddlyyiffy-time," she said, bringing her cheek to his foxhood and nuzzling it. "You got all summer to do a stupid project."

"But, if I get it done now," he reasoned, patting the other cheek, "and it won't take very long; then, we can have sugglycuddlyyiffy-time for the rest of the summer." His finger pushed on her nose, then lifted when he added: "When mom and dad are out, of course."

She scrunched up her face in a pout. "Whassa stupid project?" She asked, her hand continuing to cradle him even as he sat down.

"I need to do a science experiment that follows the scientific method. I have to come up with a problem, hypothesis, conduct a test, come up with a conclusion; the whole nine-yards."

"Easy," she said with a grin. "We can do an egg-spearmint to see how many times you and me can cum in a whooooole day," she carried her hand from sunrise to sunset as she elongated the word. "I hippopotamize that we can cum at least a thousand times, especially if we do some warm-up yiffing tonight, and get an early start tomorrow morning, and stay up suuuuper-duper late."

"Okay, first off," he said, while reaching to squeeze one of her bows to settle her down a bit. "This is for school, and I think if I did a report on how many times we got happy with each other, I'd get in some pretty serious trouble. Second," his eyes bulged at her. "A thousand times? My neener would probly shrivel up and fall off way before then; I get sore the next day after maybe about a dozen."

"Noooooo," she whimpered, holding him with both hands. "Neener stays on!" She told him. "And in," she added, lifting up her leg to show off her pink, which was rather blushed and the fur slick with juices.

"Well, first, let's get this project outta the way," he told her, standing up and coaxing her hand to let go of his loins. "You can help me. Besides," he pinched one of her chocolate-dipped ears, "I think once you see the experiment I have in mind, you'll be okay waiting just a little while for snugglycuddlyyiffy-time."

"Kay, fine," she huffed, standing up with a stomp. "Long as it doesn't take all night."

"I don't think it'll take us more than an hour," walking toward the front door, where they had left there backpacks to rot since the last day of school, on the top of the shoe-rack. Within, he pulled out his binder, and dipped his hand into the side pocket for his calculator.

Humming to show her disinterest, his sister followed him into the kitchen, where he set his things on the counter. She followed him with her gaze, leaning against the counter as bored-looking as she could, while he retrieved the step-ladder and opened it up.

"Five," he counted, stepping up on the stool. "Four," he said, opening a high cupboard with a creak. "Three," he reached up. "Two," a crinkling and crackling complimented his counting as he clutched his interest with both hands, and pulled it from the cupboard. "One," he said, setting the stacked packages down on the counter.

She gasped, rushing over to them. "O-Cookies!" She exclaimed, seeing that there were three whole packages of them.

But, just as she had touched the packages, her brother's hand rested on top of hers, both actions causing the plastic wrap to crinkle. "These cookies for science, not for eating," he told her. "Not yet, anyway," he added, closing the step-stool.

"'Yet' means 'soon,' though, right? Steph gets to eat O-Cookies soon, yes-yes-yes?"

"If Steph helps her brother with his experiment," he replied, coaxing her hand from the packaging. He opened up his binder, clicking a pen, and began writing on some free notebook paper.

"One package... Regular... O-Cookies," he said, the pen-tip scritching and scratching as he started taking notes. "One package... Double-Cream... And one... package... Crazy-Lotta... Cream," he listed, lifting each package off the stack and setting it down. "Okay," he set the pen down, "I need--"

"Aprons?" The vixen piped up.

"Nah, I think we can stay naked," he replied with a smirk. "But, I do need a bunch of applesauce cups, and the scale," he completed his earlier statement.

"I got the cups," she offered, her tail swishing as she dashed to the cabinet where they kept cleaned applesauce cups, which they often used for laying out measured ingredients.

For a moment, he eyed his sister's rump as she bent over, her tail lifted, showing off her tailhole and trickling pink. He was pretty sure she had flashed him on purpose, but then again she had been distracted by the cream-filled sandwich-cookies.

Realizing he was getting distracted, himself, he walked to the drawer where they stored a few miscellaneous things, the scale among them. He pulled it out, and the button clicked as he depressed it. The digital numbers blinked their startup-sequence, and then the scale showed 0g.

The batteries were good, at least.

He met his sister at the counter, stack of applesauce cups landing on the granite counter-top with a plastic clack.

"This enough?" She asked, splitting her stack of about a dozen into thirds.

"I think that's plenty," he replied, "oh, and toothpicks," he muttered, quickly dashing to get the small box of toothpicks. "Okay, so..." He started to spread everything around as he explained.

"For my science experiment, I want to find out if the Double-Cream cookies are actually double the cream as the regular cookies," he explained, moving each package forward and back as he mentioned them. "Then, I want to see how much the Crazy-Lotta Cream bag is." He retrieved the pen, going to his binder.

"Before we start, let's come up with a hypothesis. What is your hypothesis about the regular, versus the Double, versus the Crazy-Lotta?" He asked.

"Um.... I hypothermize that I will eat at least all the cookies," she said with a nod. "Yup, that sounds good."

"Okay, well, I'm going to hypothesize..." He started writing as he spoke aloud. "That... The Double... Cream... Is two-times... The cream... As... The... Regular," his hand scribbled down the notes in a bubbly cursive. "And that... The... Crazy-Lotta... Is... Three-times."

Her tail swished excitedly as he set the pen down. "So when do I get to eat the cookies?" She asked.

"At the end, I promise," he reminded her, wrapping his arm around her. "Now that I have a hypothesis, I need to gather some data." He moved the package of regular cookies in front of him, and plucked an applesauce cup from the stacks.

"Can't we do a one-for-me, one-for-you, thing?" She pleaded.

"Nooooo," he said in a silly voice, "You're a big girl; big girls can be patient."

She whimpered, bouncing on her heels. "But, but, hey! I know! We can, cuz you can just divide the cookies in half, and then use whatever math to guesstimate, right?"

"Mmmmmmmexcept," he said, rolling his head around before his gaze landed to her as he retorted her suggestion, "Science requires accuracy, and I want to be as accurate as I can be; so, I need all the cookies. So... Pinkie-swear you won't eat any until we're through?"

Her upper-lip wiggled at her brother's proffered pinkie, but then she took in a deep breath, and let out. "Fiiiiiin-uh," she gave in, hooking her pinkie to his and bouncing their hands down once.

"Okay," he pulled up the flap of the tab on the package of regular O-Cookies. "To start, we gotta get a baseline," he pulled, the seal popping and the flap opening up all the way. "But, there's a problem," he plucked a cookie from the tray, holding it between them. "What I want to measure is the cream, but the cream is stuck to the wafers," he explained, tapping the thin, chocolate wafer with his finger."How do you suppose I measure the cream?"

"Oh, oh! I know this one," she said, proudly. "We can twist the cookie apart, and that way the cream is on one side and the other is plain. Then, we measure the graham-crackers of the plain one, and of the one with the cream still on it, and subtract the graham-crackers of the one without... Uh..." She looked up. "Or was it... No, no, yeah that's it."

"Graham-crackers?" He asked.

"Yeah! The little g," she said.

He shook his head with a chuckle. "Those are called grams, silly; they're different from graham-crackers."

She wrinkled her nose, but she wasn't mad at her brother for breaking it to her she was mistakenly associating the homonyms.

"You're on the right track. We will need to do that, but we don't have to do that for the cookies," he remarked, twisting the one he had in his hand to separate one of the wafers from the cream. "I'm not really sure if this will work, but lemme show you what I think we can do to measure the cream," he said, poking a finger into the toothpicks box.

They tinkered around until he singled one out, lifting it up. Hovering the cookie over the applesauce cup, he held it at the edges on either side with one hand, and slipped the point of the pick into the cream, against the wafer it clung to.

His sister shuffled to his other side to watch as her brother worked the edge of the cream free of the wafer all around, and then slid the toothpick along.

The cream dropped into the cup with a soft plop, perfectly preserved in a circle.

It had only taken him a second or two.

"Hey, it worked!" He said with a grin.

She smiled and giggled. "Cool! I never thought about just getting the cream by itself," she remarked.

"Yup, this way we can measure just the cream all by itself, so we'll be super accurate." He started pulling out the rows of cookies, the plastic tray grumbling as he did so. He set the cookies in small stacks. "So... Can I trust you to twist the cookies apart while I separate the creams?"

"Yup!" She answered with a nod.

"And not eat any?" He teased, leaning toward her and tilting his head so that their cheeks bumped together, his right eye peering into her left.

"Eep!" She stepped away. "I promise! We pinkie-sweared, 'member?"

"Yes, you did sweared," he affirmed, picking up a cookie. "So, mind twisting all these apart? You can put the wafers back in the tray."

"Okay," she said, picking up a cookie. She twisted it along with her brother, and set the cream-covered wafer on the counter. However, while her brother put the clean wafer back in the tray, she popped hers into her mouth.

"Sis," he shook his head.

"Whuh?" She questioned, looking shocked. "You sai' you o'ey 'ee'eh 'e cre--"

"No talking with mouth full," he admonished, focusing on his wafer to coax the cream from it with the toothpick.

She gulped. "You said you only needed the cream, but you never said you wanted the cookie-part, so I thought it was okay to eat..." She said with a bit of fluster in her voice.

The cream dropped into the cup, and he then patted her shoulder, putting the cleaned wafer into the tray. "Okay... Yes, you're right, I don't really need the wafers. But," he picked up another cookie. "I have an idea I think you'll like when we're through, and we won't be able to do that if you eat all the wafers. So... You can eat some, but try to save most, okay?"

"Okay," she meekly replied, beginning her task of twisting the cookies apart. She got through several, when one cookie didn't quite twist right; it cracked, so the cream wound up stuck to one half-half wafer, and the other wafer that was whole. "Uh oh... Is this bad?" She asked with concern, holding up the wafers with the cream.

"Nah, that's not problem," he said, reaching for them. He took the one half-half wafer covered in cream, and quickly coaxed it off. Then, he deftly coaxed the rest off of the other full wafer. He put the full wafer into the tray, and handed her back the broken wafer. "You can eat the broken ones."

She did so readily, without guilt. "I wo' brea'g 'em jus'a ea'em." She told him, getting a quiet glance for talking with a full mouth again.

She had finished twisting apart the rest of the cookies rather quickly. Her brother still had at least twenty creams to free up, more or less, due to some wafers cracking.

He did those as they happened, so that she could eat them, and had also been twisting cookies apart instead of doing the ones she had already twisted until she finished.

So now, she watched him.

He repeated the process of gently prying off the cream from each wafer. They dropped into the applesauce cup, some crumbling halfway through such that he had to scrape them off a bit.

The toothpick began to get gunky, but he found scraping it along the edge of the wafer helped to clean it, the small flakes of cream dropping into the cup.

"Can I try?" She asked.

"Sure," he offered the toothpick to her.

Taking his place at the applesauce-cup-helm, she grabbed a cookie. Sticking out her tongue with concentration, she emulated his method, nudging the tip of the pick between the wafer and the cream. Although, with how dirtied it was, it didn't quite slip cleanly, and more pushed the cream up without fully separating it--something her brother had gotten used to without knowing.

So focused was she, that when she finally started to slide the pick down to slough the cream off, she forgot to make sure she was right above the cup. So when it fell, some of it still clinging to the wafer, it plopped right onto the counter-top.

She gasped and flinched.

He noticed her fur puff. "What's the matter?"

She let out a tense whine. "I'm--I'm--I'm sorry, I m-missed the cup and I did it all wrong and now I probably messed everything up and you'll fail your project and it's all my fa--"

"Sis, sis, sis," he said in a calming voice as her panicked slurring reached a feverish pitch. He held her shoulders, and shushed. "Breathe. Breathing good. In, then out."

She did so, calming down.

"Look, see?" He carefully put his fingers on either side of the cream, and picked it up just like it was a wafer. "It's all good," he plopped it into the cup. "And you can scrape off the rest."

Looking at the wafer in her hand, she hovered right over the applesauce cup such that there was no chance it would miss. She pushed the pick against the wafer, and started to slide it along like she did before, when it broke right in half and one fell in the cup while the other piece landed on the counter.

She let out another worried whimper.

"C'mon, no need to do that," he told her, picking up the wafer from the cup. "See? The stuff in the cup stayed in the cup, and this is still doable, lemme see," he said, holding his fingers for the pick.

She gave it back to him in earnest.

He carefully scratched it along the wafer, the flakes easily falling free. He then picked the other half up, doing the same, and handed both halves to her.

She took them, but didn't eat them right away.

"What's the matter?"

"Sorry," she said, sheepishly.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, resting his temple against hers. "You did fine," he reassured her.

"You do the cream part." She said, sheepishly soft. "I'll stick to just twisting the cookies apart."

"If you want," he said. "But you did a good job. And you are the best cookie-twister I know of," he praised, patting her shoulder. "I... Have a problem," he announced, looking at the cup.

"Wh-What?" She questioned, nervously.

"My applesauce cup is getting too high, too fast," he observed, seeing how the layers of cream stacked just above the lip of the cup. "I don't want to use too many applesauce cups, so... Hm... I wonder..."

She watched with bated breath as he retrieved one of the cleaned wafers from the tray. He set it on top of the separate layers of cream, the wafer covering about a third or so of the cup's mouth.

He lined the wafer's edge up with a the cup's, and flattened his fingers over it. Very gradually, he applied a gentle pressure, and the wafer began to lower.

She watched from the side of the cup as the individual layers of cream smooshed together, pressing up against the side of the cup.

"There we go," he said with a calm delight. "I can just use the wafer to force the cream to settle as I go."

She let out her breath.

It took him just over five more minutes to separate the rest of the cream from the remaining wafers. Most of the time was spent compressing the cream down so that he could continue, until for the last several he had to do it each time.

"I really don't want to use more than I need to, if I can help it," he remarked, just so it wasn't too quiet.

At last, all of the wafers were cleaned, and his sister was given the last cleaned one to eat, to celebrate the milestone.

She did so only a little reluctantly.

"All right, so now we gotta get our baseline," he said, dusting his hands. "So, remember what you said about weighing one thing, and then weighing another, and subtracting to get a real weight?"

She nodded. "Uh-huh."

"You know why, right?" He asked.

"Um... Cuz, if we just weighed the stuff in the cup, then the cup is also part of the weight, so it's not just the cream."

"Egg-zactly," he beamed, holding his hand up for a high-five.

She patted her palm against his softly, smiling at herself.

"So then..." He picked up the scale, and plopped it down in front of them. "Will you do the honors?" The button popped as he turned it on.

"You sure? I might accidennally throw the creamy-cup out the window," she grumbled.

"You'll do fine," he reassured her, patiently.

She plucked an empty cup and placed it on the tray. The digital display showed right away: "Five gees," she said.

"Okay, now, the cool thing about this scale, is," he hit the power-button again, and the five went back down to zero. "Subtracting the container's weight is called taring, and this scale will do that for us. See?" He took the cup off, and the scale indicated negative-five grams.

"Oh, cool," she remarked, picking up the cup with the cream in it. "Whoa," she paused, holding the cup in her hand. "This is... A lot heavier than I expected," she observed.

"Lemme see?" He requested, and the cup was set in his hands. "Oh yeah, wow," he chuckled. "Well, I guess we're about to find out how much it weighs." He proffered it back to her.

She took it and placed it on the scale, an act which seemed frivolous considering he was practically hovering it over the scale anyway.

They both looked as the numbers flicked up, then paused.

He picked up his pen. "One-hundred and ten grams," he jotted. "And one applesauce cup, five grams," he annotated. "Okay, now, let's set this aside."

"I know, we're not finished yet," she remarked. "You thought I was gonna be all whimpery thinking I could eat it now, huh?" She accused.

"I didn't say anything," he replied with an innocent inflection, sliding the regular package out of the way and the Double-Cream cookies in its place.

The tab was pulled, and the seal popped.

Getting a new applesauce cup and toothpick, he began pulling out the cookies to make stacks for his sister to twist apart.

She started right away, cracking the first one. Then the next. Then the next. She let out a whine when she saw her brother glance. "I'm trying not to, these are..." She slowly twisted the one in her grip, letting out a sigh as it eased apart. "Trickier," she finished, having finally not cracked a wafer.

"Yeah, they're kinda harder to scrape, too," he mentioned, demonstrating to her. "I'm having to scrape more," he showed, a bit of cream sloughing off, leaving behind a thin, but notable, layer on the wafer. He scraped it off with the end of the toothpick, gathering it along the wooden point, and then used the edge of the wafer to slide it off into the cup.

She managed to find a stride in twisting the cookies apart. Even the ones where the cream tried to sneak out of the cookie or came flush to the edge. She twisted one apart, and giggled.

"What's up?" Her brother noticed her smirk.

"It looks like a yin-yang," she told him, showing him the cookie-faces.

One wafer had all the cream, but half was dusted with the chocolate crumbs of the water. On the clean half, there was a spot of wafer-crumbs. On the other wafer, half the face had cream still clinging to it, while the other half was clean, save for a mirrored spot where cream clung to it.

"Oh yeah, it kinda does," he chuckled. "That's neat."

"I've been putting the halves with cream to scrape off over here," she mentioned, tapping a small stack.

"I saw, thank you," he praised.

They hit a stride, working quietly. Once she was finished twisting all the cookies apart, she watched her brother work off the cream.

He dropped the cookie a few times, and once the cookie quietly broke on him after he was done scraping it.

She started storing wafers that were still mostly in tact, nibbling only the little slivers that unevenly broke off.

There were fewer cookies than in the regular package, but the applesauce cup filled up much quicker. Even before he was halfway done he was already using a wafer to press them down. He found that the Double Cream wafers were more fragile, for some reason, so he switched to using the regular wafers to compress the cream.

She noticed that when he put the wafer down on the counter-top, it had warped and the edges curved down.

He filled one cup, and still had several cookies left to do. Just as he started on the next cookie with a fresh cup, the toothpick in his fingers broke.

Discarding it with the other, he retrieved a fresh one. "Hope we don't get a splinter," he joked.

"Wouldn't it be funny if you got the toothpick stuck in your tooth, and had to use a toothpick to pick out the toothpick?" His sister remarked.

He chuckled. "The super-villain of toothpicks."

"The Toothstick," she coined.

"Sorry this is taking so long," he apologized to her, as these cookies had been slow to get through. "I know you're really antsy to eat them."

"I'm okay," she reassured him, but with a tone and slowness to the words that showed she was teasing like she was actually suffering under her anticipation.

At last her brother finished the final Double Cream cookie, scraping off the last bits of cream and flicking them into the cup. He didn't have to bother with pressing it down as often, as it was only filled to about half.

"Time to measure!" He announced.

"I got this," she declared, pressing the button to turn the scale on.

He bowed to her and took a half-step away to give her room.

She set an empty cup onto the scale. "Five gees," she read off the display; "Same as before."

He nodded.

She punched the button to tare the number back to zero. Then, she looked at the cups. "Does it matter which one I weight first?" She asked.

"Either one," he replied.

She picked the lesser one up, and put it on the scale. "Seventy-five gees," she relayed.

"Seventy... Five, and the next one?"

She lifted the first cup off, and saw that the scale went back to negative-five, showing it was still keeping track of the extra five grams. She settled the next cup on. "Ninety-eight gees."

He punched into his calculator. "Seventy-nine, plus, ninety-eight, equals: one-hundred and seventy-three grams." He scribbled in his notepad. "Then," he tapped the A/C button several times on the calculator. "One-seventy-three, divided by, one-one-zero, equals... one-point-five, which is... Minus the one... Round... Wow," he chuckled.

"Huh?" His sister asked, peeking at the ugly and horrifying numbers he was writing down.

"So, the Double Cream is more like... Cream-And-A-Half," he told her. When he saw her sort-of-still-confused expression, he rephrased: "You ain't getting double even though it says double."

She wrinkled her nose. "That's a rip-off." She grumbled. "I'd get very upset with you if you told me you gave me two scoops of ice cream but you didn't."

"Exactly," he agreed. "Honestly, I was kinda thinking it wouldn't be quite double, but this..." He looked at the numbers again, and then back at the scale. He was sure his sister hadn't misread anything. "Now I'm curious what we get out of the Crazy-Lotta," he remarked.

"Me, too!" She scoffed. "Probably ripping us off again. I bet it's still not even double."

"Only one way to find out," he stated as he slid the package in front of them, and popped the seal.

Enthused, his sister began reaching and twisting apart cookies even as he pulled them out of the packaging.

He smiled, glad that she had found her own motivation to participate in his little experiment. If there was one lesson he didn't have to learn, it was to never rip his sister off when it came to her sweet-tooth; and doing so with cookies were almost a declaration of war.

He grabbed a new toothpick, and began scraping the cream off into a fresh cup. "Hey, these are pretty easy," he mentioned, for he only had to pry the cream away from the wafer across the top half before sliding the toothpick underneath. The cream came off more cleanly, too.

"They're easy to twist, too," she said.

"This is promising," he told her, pointing to the cup, which had a stack of five creams that already reached halfway to the top. "Look how full the cup is, and I barely got started." He used one of the clean wafers to press it down.

"Maybe I'm wrong." She pondered. "Hope I'm wrong." She twisted the next cookie, but then noticed that the cream had peeled away from the wafer a little, just like how her brother coaxed it. Experimentally, she used her fingers to work it free, and giggled with delight. "Hey look!" She turned to him.

He watched as she peeled the cream away from the cookie, holding it carefully. It retained its shape, and she was able to drop it into the cup, whole, stacking it on top of the smooshed mass her brother had just compressed. "I could get it off without the toothpick," she told him.

"Huh..." He picked up a cookie and twisted it, experimenting. With ease, his fingers worked the cream free. Though it broke in half, he was able to turn the cookie and work the other half free; the wafer was just as clean as if he had done it with the toothpick. "Well, shoot," he chuckled. "Wonder if we could've done this the whole time," he shook his head, setting the cream in the cup.

"Guess we'll never know," she shrugged, peeling another slab of cream off of the cookie she had just twisted, and placing it in the cup. "Gonna have to smoosh it, soon," she observed, seeing the cup getting full again.

"Eh... We're almost done, let's just stack them like this," he decided, placing his next slab on top of hers. "Heck, we could probably put these cookies back together, again."

"Take that Humpty-Dumpty," she smirked.

In no time, the siblings had the cream all separated, and in two cups, with the second cup's stack sticking up out of the top almost an inch.

"Beegin zheh vway-ink," her brother said in a silly accent.

"Yarrrrr," she replied, choosing a pirate-accent. She repeated her process, taring away the five grams from an empty cup and placing the two cups of Crazy-Lotta Cream onto the scale, reading off the numbers: "One hundred gees; ninety-one gees."

"A hundred on-the-nose, and ninety-one to close," he quipped. "Don't need a calculator to add that up."

"Uh..." She looked up. Then gently smacked her face. "Hundred ninety-one, duh."

"See, you can math," he praised, the keys of his calculator tapping as he entered in his numbers. "Wheyell, sissy," he spoke up.

"Huh?"

"You... Are... Correctamundo," he told her, as he finished writing his notes on the paper.

"Are you serious?" She questioned. "What the heck!"

"I know. More like Crazy-Lotta Nothin', it's only three-quarters more cream than the regular. But, I think I have a theory as to why."

"Cuz they're cheaters," she said with disgust.

"Eh... Aside from that," he smiled, in agreement with her. "I think it's because, while they are adding more cream per-cookie, there are fewer cookies in the tray," he proposed. "So maybe, the cream of each cookie is doubled, but the total amount of cream is not doubled because there aren't the same amount of cookies."

Her head cocked dramatically, falling to the side as his theory completely lost her.

"Aw, doesn't matter," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "That's for my report whenever I get to writing it. But now... It's your favorite part."

"What's that?" She asked.

He chuckled. "Now... We eat!" He proclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Oh, right! Yay!" She threw her hands up as well.

"So, I have an idea. Let's take all this to the table," he said, motioning over the cookie trays with wafers, and the cups of cream.

She carried a few cream cups, leading the way, while he carried the rest of the cups balanced on the three stacked trays.

They set everything on the dining room table, and he pulled out a chair for her. She thanked him, sitting down, though she winced back up when her bare bottom touched the slightly chilled wood. After the initial shock, she eased down onto it.

He took his seat, opened up the package of regular cookies, and put a cup of cream in front of them. "So, I'm thinking," he plucked a wafer from the tray. "We might be able to..." He pushed the wafer into the cream, and scooped some of it up. "There we go," he said, and popped the cream-laden wafer into his muzzle. "We can eat them like chips'n'dip," he told her.

She giggled. "Or, I can just eat these," she lifted one of the slabs of cream up from the Crazy-Lotta cookies, popping it into her muzzle.

He shrugged. "Yeah, you could do that." He agreed. "Can I have one?" He asked, reaching for the cup.

"Nnnnnyo!" She teased, sliding the cup out of his reach. But, when his arm remained there, fingers wiggling, she sighed. "Fine," she pretended to give in, and slid the cup back over to him.

He took a slab of cream and ate it. "Whoa..." He sat back and sighed. "That is pure sugar," he chuckled.

"It's pure yum!" She said, chomping down two more in one bite.

They at their dessert in relative silence, save for the sounds of their smacking muzzles and the scrape of chocolate wafer against applesauce cup.

"Oof, I've had all I can eat," her brother said, having almost finished one whole applesauce cup. "Man that stuff's dense."

"Okay, I guess I can stop, too," his sister said, rather quickly, with one emptied cup nearby and the one in her hand set down on the table. "Can we havesnugglycuddlyyiffy-time now? Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh can-we-can-we-can-we-can-we-pleeeeeeeeease?" She twisted about so that she was looking at him almost upside-down.

"I'll meet you in your room, just gotta put this stuff away," he answered.

With a gleeful bark, she shot out of her chair, ran a circle through the kitchen and around the living room, and then bounded up the stairs.

He sat still for just a second, partly steeling himself. But alas, if he kept her waiting she might get upset. He picked up the applesauce cups and put them into a baggie. He also consolidated the wafers into the tray that sealed the best, and set the other two on the counter to break down later.

"Great job, Aeden," he muttered to himself on the way up the stairs. "Get her all doped up on sugar before you romp. Guess you're in for another experiment, now."

"Hhhhhooooaaaaahhhhh..."

He paused at the top of the stairs, hearing his sister's moan. His foxhood slipped out of his sheath, hardening right away. He stepped up to her door, which was ajar, and pushed it open with the back of his hand.

She was lying on her back in her bed. Her knees were spread wide, like the butterfly-stretches she was used to doing as warm-ups for gymnastics and dance. The fingers of one hand were spreading her pink, while the others' danced and tickled about, rubbing up and down.

She tensed her lower tummy, pressing her fingertips to that peak at the top of her pink; her flexing fluttered and relaxed from the pressure of her fingertips against the sensitive spot, and she let out another soft moan, resting her cheek upon the linens.

There was a subtle shift in the mattress, and her eyes flicked open. She lifted her gaze down her body, where she saw the brown eyes of her brothers' meeting hers.

She went limp as he slithered closer, his nose disappearing below her line-of-sight, her own tummy and mound blocking the view. But it bumped against her knuckles, insistent and nudging.

Her hands fled, and she was vulnerable to her brother.

Despite this moment of opportunity to have her as he pleased, all he seized was a light kiss upon that spot she had told him was so sensitive.

A spasm wracked through her body, escaping out of her throat as a squeak. She let out a giddy whimper when her brother's hands pinned her thighs down, and his thumbs helped to spread apart her pink.

A pulse of warmth flushed her tummy, chest, and cheeks when his hot breath drifted over her tender flesh. She closed her eyes, anticipating the next touch, clenching her fists and tensing her tummy.

From below her pocket the warm and wet touch started. It dragged upward, dipping into the hole and snagging upon the soft ceiling of the entrance, tugging it up before it could quickly go no more. The slippery muscle pressed firmly as it passed over her urethra, and once again found itself snagged, this time beneath the folds of skin that made up her clitoral hood.

She let out a long, crescendoing moan as her brother's tongue applied firmer and firmer pressure just below that sensitive spot. Then, a startled yip peaked the moan when his tongue sharply flicked up, nudging into that small swaddle of wrinkled skin, grazing the nub hidden beneath.

His tongue dragged back down, and slipped into her pocket.

She squirmed and wriggled, letting out soft hums and whines as her brother's tongue licked and slurped inside her pocket. He tilted his muzzle toward one thigh and the other, and widened his mouth to slip his tongue as far as he could go.

He tasted her musky nectar, a flavor that made his tongue tickle lightly like several moments after having a sour gummy. Occasionally, he pressed his muzzle fully against her and lightly sucked, making a slurpy-kissy noise as the suckle eased free.

Her moaning was delightful. He had no regrets telling her that he liked to hear it, if she liked to let him hear. She had to find the right balance: he did warn her that there was a point it was a little over-doing it. But right now, it sent his heart racing as he sought out all the tender spots of hers that he had started to learn.

Then, after a few moments more, came the tell-tale moans.

"Ah-ah-ah-ah--ah--ah--" She sucked in a breath, her body went tense and still for a few seconds, and the walls of her pocket flushed with warmth, before: "Nnnnnnnghuhaaaaa!" She let out a guttural moan, her pocket fluttering and twitching around her brother's tongue, timidly relenting when he strongly fought her weak attempts to contain it and keep it still.

With heavy breaths, she went limp, her body flustered and blushing from cheeks to cunny.

The mattress shifted and creaked as her brother moved over her, and slowly laid upon his sister.

She shivered from his weight pressing her down. Her shoulders shimmied when his hands pinned them to the bed, and she opened her muzzle to receive his kiss.

The tongue that had just pleased her pink now wrestled with hers. She tasted hints of her nectar in his saliva.

His tongue vibrated from a needy coo that rose from her throat. His foxhood twitched at the touch of her fingers. He was guided, his tip brushing along the damp, downy fur below her belly-button and between her thighs.

Her breathing paused when she positioned his pointed pecker to peek into her petite pocket, poised to pleasantly penetrate with a practiced push.

Resting at her entrance, he throbbed. A spurt of pre excitedly squirted from him, mixing with the saliva and post-climactic passion that already had her sopping wet.

Twitching earnestly, his neener began to slip in.

The first dip always made her eyes cross and her forehead tingle. The slow and gradual stretch by the virtue of his stiffness lulled her body to relax and let the tingles and warmth trickle down her chest and legs.

Wider and wider her tunnel dilated, snugly accommodating her brother's girth. At halfway, he was already soothing that agitating tickle that nothing else but he could reach; she tried with a few different things when she was desperate and dared, but what was able to reach that far was not thick enough, and what was thick enough could not reach that far.

But he was thick, and deep, and when his boyberries rested against that spot just above her tailhole, his tip snugly nestled and twitching within her pocket, she finally released her held breath in a satisfied groan.

The kiss broke. Warm air puffed from their muzzles as they panted, pausing to let the fullness and swaddling in and of their sexes settle.

They both cherished the first snuggle after their parents' leave. After being pent up and frustrated for a couple weeks at a time, or more, unable to do more than dry-humping or the occasional stealthy touch over clothes, they delighted in this moment.

To the point they had started staving it off just a bit longer, even after their parents left, to make it that much more relieving when it finally happened.

But, eventually, they acclimated to the stretching and enveloping of their loins. Once that happened, it was time to stir into motion.

The first time his neener and her pocket got acquainted, she rode him like a cowgirl riding a pony. She enjoyed the control, able to set the pace and used her brother to satisfy her desire to feel him rubbing along and filling her up to her heart's content.

But, since then, she much preferred him being on top.

Lying on her back beneath, he could get leverage that she couldn't when squatting over him and raising her hips. Where her main ally was gravity to help her slide down, he had all the vantage of his hips to thrust fully and deeply.

He started off gently, of course. Warming them both up with a slow churn. He drew out only about halfway, before sliding back into her slippery and snug chamber.

Wet whispers of their motions tickled their ears, as well as along her supple walls. The naughty noises teased their ears, pushing any doubt that brother joined with sister further away.

Keeping the same, gentle pace, he began to draw out nearly all the way, before dipping back in until his sheath pressed firmly against her petals.

She let out soft murrs. Her hands and fingers twitched, and gripped the air to help work through the pressures his sheath and tip put upon her sensitive spots.

After several moments of steady strumming, he drew back and paused.

She gazed up at him as he adjusted his posture. His right hand rested upon the bed just above her knee, ready to brace himself. She shimmied up on the pillow, having sagged against it over the course of his build-up, and raised her heels up off the mattress. She held onto his forearm as his other hand touched her cheek.

"Hhh-hg," her breath left her, as he pushed in, and pulled out; then, back in again. Her toes made smaller circles as his pace hastened. The wet whispers were now light squelches within her tunnel, his boyberries gently patting against her perineum with each thrust.

"Ahhh... Haahhh... Oooah..." The moans slipped out of her throat, especially each time her brother's tempo sped up a little more.

"Mmmmh-hh-hh-hh-hh-hh..." He began to pant, letting his muzzle part and his tongue loll out. His sister's pocket was so yielding and fluttery, but could do nothing to help how snug it was against his girth. He was big brother, and she little sister, especially when it came to their privates.

This was most apparent to him when his knot formed. Eventually, it took the place of making the soft patting noises against her, leaving his sac to sway free with his thrusts. When it pushed against her, the pat was wet, and even made a quiet sucking-noise as it began to part her petals and that made a tentative seal.

His instincts picked up. His thrusts were more urgent, drawing back less and pushing in more, getting his tip as close to her little tummy as possible. His knot impeded his yearning for that depth, and his primitive mind tried to wedge it in.

And just as every time it had tried before, the brother in him held it back. It was a struggle, though. One that was getting harder and harder with each naughty cuddle they shared. It pushed the boundary as much as it could, tempting him to press just a little harder with each grind.

She loves it, it would say. Can't you hear her happy whimpering rising in pitch the harder you push? Can't you feel how her body shivers and her legs widen? She's opening up for it to go in, you know.

She wants it.

Give it to her.

"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah--ahhhhhhh!"

The bulb of his knot slipped in the farthest it ever had, yet. Only enough to feel a slight pressure squeezing against the very top of his bulb. Her squeal made his heart race with a slight panic, but her shuddering and wriggling were familiar, and her squeezing was all too pleasing to his neener.

He yipped softly with each throb, a rope of his semen squirting out into her fluttering tunnel, captured with each of her contractions as she milked him for more and more.

The orgasms in her pocket always lasted longer than from her muzzle. Despite how he enjoyed her suckling out his seed, the way her pocket massaged him so tentatively and gently kept him throbbing for several moments more, until he finally went limp and rolled to the side to keep from falling onto his sister.

There was a soft pop as the tighter seal his knot made broke free. She twitched at the feeling, and then shivered when her brother's cum started to shift, and trickle toward the entrance of her pink.

For a few moments after their passion, there was always a quiet rest. Though she merely caught her breath, he always seemed to lightly doze off; his eyes closed, and she had to nudge him a few times to wake him up.

Which, eventually, she did.

He grumbled from his power-nap. His eyes slowly pried open, blinking a few times. He looked to her, and smiled, before sitting up to yawn and stretch. "How'd you like that?" He asked, scratching his chest.

"It felt really good this time," she complimented, rolling onto her stomach and hugging her pillow, her feet kicking in the air. "Except..."

"Mmmh, 'cept what?" He asked, in the middle of stretching a crick in his neck. After lacking a response throughout the stretch, he opened his eyes, to see a display that made his jaw fall limp.

She had raised her rump up, shins resting upon the bed. Her little black pawpads were temptingly bared for a tickling, but he was too mesmerized to even notice the opportunity. Her tail was raised up high, presenting the cream-white fur of her bottom that surrounded her naughty bits.

She gazed back at him, hugging her pillow. His semen was beginning to approach the entrance of her pink, which was oddly puffy and loosely opened up.

He watched as the white cream gathered at her entrance, and then began to trickle over, coating her clitoral hood. Drops started to fall upon the sheets below.

"It won't stay in." She mumbled into the pillow.

"Only cuz you're letting it," he told her. "If you laid back and pointed your fee--"

"Nuh-uh! It's cuz you're letting it!" She said, with a surprisingly harsh tone.

His throat tightened.

She squeezed the pillow, letting out a whimper as she closed her eyes.

A dollop of the cream he'd put into her dribbled out, landing in the small puddle that was forming on her sheets.

"It wouldn't leak... If you'd push your knot in..."

The tightening in his throat crept down into his chest. "I don't... Wanna knot you, cu--"

"Yes you do!" She barked back, lifting her muzzle from the pillow so her words were clear, before dropping back down. "You're gonna say, 'cuz you don't wanna hurt me,' but I can feel it."

He watched more of his deed trickle over her mound.

"You said it's supposed to go in," she reminded him. "You keep pushing harder and harder, like you're going to, and it feels..." She closed her eyes again, letting out a fluttery whimper while she squeezed the pillow, her body tensing.

The contraction in her loins caused yet more to spurt out.

The musky smell was now pervading the room, stirring his loins to attention again.

"E--Even if... If you w-want to," he stammered, his foxhood tingling with desire. "W-W-We can't. If-f I h-hurt you, then m-mom and dad w-will find out, an-nd I'll be in t-teep drouble," he said, then corrected; "I m-mean, deep trouble."

There was a quiet pause as she went still. Then, her muzzle lifted from the pillow, and her eyes took on a curious lucidity. She let out a sigh, and when she spoke, her tone was strangely different from just seconds ago.

"So, Aeden was working on his science project and I got bored. I started to practice some routines. I know, I know; I'm not s'posed to unless someone's spotting me. But I thought, he's just in the other room. Well... I was doing fine, until I messed up a landing, and I tweaked a muscle. It's not a big deal, Aeden came right away and he helped me with ice packs and a nice hot path. It doesn't hurt as bad as it looks, I'm just scared of tweaking it again."

He was actually impressed. She had twisted the story of their activities so promptly. Her inflection was so honest, he almost believed it even though he was present for what actually happened.

"Sis," he still found a thread of retort, "let's just... Think about it, for a bit."

"I have thought about it!" She barked, lifting up from the pillow again. "A lot."

His fur settled in the quiet pause.

"One time. Just one time, I wanna try it. If it doesn't work, or it hurts, or... Whatever..." She rested her cheek back on the pillow. "Then... Okay," she said, her resolve softening. "But I wanna try it, at least once. Don't pretend like you don't wanna, neether."

Her tail bobbed, and another dollop of his cooling passion dripped out of her passage, which was slowly closing as it relaxed.

He swallowed, his knot already forming without even doing anything. Pre started to coat his entire length as it welled up and spilled from his tip.

"Pretty-please?" She whimpered. "With sprinkles, chocolate syrup, and a cherry on top?"

He let out a whine of uncertainty, the beast within gaining leverage over the big brother, aided by the very one the big brother thought he was restraining the beast for.

"If... If you really... Really want to," he said, closing his eyes and dipping his nose in acquiescence. He flinched, when a touch brushed his cheek, and his eyes flipped open.

She stared into them, hers green like jade. There was a soft smile on her muzzle, trying to keep calm despite an eruption of excitement popping off inside of her. Her lips brushed his, before she pressed them to his in a kiss.

It was a quick one, her tongue dipping in to lick his only once, before she pulled back to break it, toothy grin smacked on her muzzle.

He gave a reluctant smile back. Then, tentatively took her hand. "C'mon," he told her, sliding off the bed.

She cupped her mound, for they didn't want his semen to drip all over the house, and clumsily stood to her feet. She followed her brother out her door and into the hall, which they only briefly visited before he opened the door to his own bedroom.

His room was generally kept tidy. His parents didn't ask him to clean his nearly as much as they did their daughter hers. Though, it was the summer and he was a bit lazier, so there were a few articles of clothing on the floor.

His sister followed him to the bed, where he clambered on hands and knees, reaching across to his nightstand. She smiled as she saw his boyberries dangle between his thighs, bobbing and drifting with his motions.

The drawer was drawn with a woody yawn, and his hand went right for what he wanted. The drawer then smacked its jaw shut when he closed it with his knuckle.

The picture-frame on the table wobbled from the force, and he was swift to steady it.

Her eyes followed his foxhood as he turned about, bouncing lightly on the mattress. She approached him while he scooted up to the edge of the bed, her eye drawn to what he rested on his knee. "What's that?" She asked.

"Lotion," he replied, turning the bottle. He usually had a bottle or two going, as they helped keep his fur and skin from getting too rubbed and chafed from having to wear a jockstrap, or the shin- and elbow-guards.

But, before he and his sister began using each other to exercise their urges, he had an epiphany that he could use the lotion to keep his hand from rubbing his neener raw.

"What for?" She asked, innocently.

He was able to go several nights in a row once he learned that trick.

Squirting a healthy amount onto his hand, he then wrapped it around his boyhood. "I'm hoping... It'll make things move around easier," he told her.

"Heeeeeey!" She narrowed her eyes, and held his hand still.

He looked up, a bit disheartened. "I just want to be careful," he tried to reason.

"I get ya," she agreed. "But... But..." She coaxed his hand to let go, and wrapped her own around him. "I wanna do it..." She told him, giving him her bribery-gaze.

He held up the bottle, and she held out a hand. "Get it all around the knot... Behind it, even in the sheath," he instructed.

"Got it," she said, her fingers roaming all about him. She licked her lips, touching that bulb all over. She snuck tentative squeezes and presses, and her pink started to flutter when she discovered just... How... Solid... It was.

Whereas his stiffy still had some yield to the squeeze of her fingers, his knot was like a tennis ball. It did send a twinge of nervousness to her privates, but then the wetness that trickled out tickled and agitated her petals.

"Is that good?" She asked, her fingertip circling around in the snug space behind his knot and even inside the tender fold of his sheath.

"Feels weird," he admitted. "Let's just do a bit more, to be safe."

"Whatever you think," she said with a smile, holding up her hand for another squirt of lotion. "I kinda like rubbing all over your neener. It's like I'm giving it a makeover."

"I..." His ears flatted, and he looked away, bashfully. "I like it, too," he mumbled.

There was enough lotion now that her hands made sloppy, squishy noises, and she was more or less just moving a collective glob of it up and down. She used the fingers of one hand to wrap around his tip, and pushed it down.

He tensed, watching the circle of her fingers. She was closing them tightly, a gentle squeeze; it was a familiar tension all around him. The lotion gathered at the head of his knot, her knuckles butting against it. His muzzle went slack, and he let out heavy breaths.

Her finger-ring pushed against the knot, testing it. She tried to keep her tension tight, but then it slipped down, and she flinched when her brother let out a yip. "I'm sorry," she said right away.

"N-N-No it's... It's okay," he held her by the shoulder to keep her from balking away. "C'mere. Sit on my lap, like when we watch a movie," he told her.

She turned about, and rested her hands on his thighs while he slipped his beneath her armpits. She shimmied up, his neener brushing along her left butt-cheek before he helped to lift her high enough. When she settled back down, she sat between his tummy, and his neener, the top of his sheath already getting dampened by her excitement dribbling from her gently-parted petals.

"Ooo!" She cooed, looking down when his fingers snuck beneath her, touching her over her pink. They were slippery, and she felt the gooeyness of the lotion right away. She blushed. "It does feel really weird," she told him, squirming from the squishy movements his fingers made at the entrance to her tunnel.

"Just want to use a little, don't need to get it all up in there or anything," he told her. "I wanna make this as slippery as we can." As if to put assurance behind his words, he stopped rubbing the lotion around and within her pink.

Gingerly she raised up.

"Easy, easy, easy," he cautioned.

"I know what I'm doin'," she grumbled back. "I done this before the other way around, remember?" She was braced by his hands, which gave her the opportunity to use her own to line his tip up with her pocket. "Ooooooooooo," she uttered, which was not a moan but a protest at the lotion adding a squishiness to his penetration. "Ohooo-hoo-hoo-hooo," she squirmed and wriggled, petals resting on his knot. "Do we have to do it like this?"

His ears flattened, and he looked embarrassed and ashamed. "I'm... I'm sorry, I-I just... I--"

She let out a whimper, and then nuzzled her cheek underneath his chin. "I didn't mean it," she retracted, "it's okay, it's fine; it's just... Different... That's all..."

"I can... I can wash it off... And..."

"No!" She barked, her hands landing atop his to pin them down on the bed. "We're already here, it's just a little goopy, that's all." She threaded her fingers between his. "You said it's s'posta go in... So it goes in; you just want it to go in easier, I saided stuff before I thunkded stuff."

He sighed, his fingers tightening around hers, and bringing their hands to wrap around her. He squeezed, giving her a hung, and nipping at her ear.

She giggled, shimmying in his lap, a pulse of warmth rising up her tummy since her clit was getting nudged by his knot. She moved her hand down to touch the bulb with her fingers. "He goes in, now?" She pleaded.

Taking just a few precious seconds to steel himself, he rested his hands upon his sister's hips. "You sure you're ready?"

"He goes in, now!" She playfully ordered.

"Okay... Count of three..." He shimmied, parting his knees a bit so he could plant his heels. "Th-Three... Two..."

"One!" She finished with him.

He pushed down on her hips, and up with his.

They grunted.

She closed an eye, her legs going limp as wet noodles. Twinges of pleasure and discomfort speared up and down her tummy and legs as the dense bulb of flesh began grinding against hers so delicate and tender.

After just a moment, he relented, his efforts faltering.

They panted together, and she felt the heat of his breath against her right ear.

"You didn't go in at all," she whined with disappointment.

"I... I... I didn't... Wanna f-force it," he panted.

"But you used the lotion... You said that would help."

"I thought... It might..." He softly corrected. "If the lotion wasn't making it slippery, I probably would have 'stuck' to you, like what happened earlier. That's about how hard I was pushing."

"Well that's the problem!" She grumbled. "Push harder," she told him.

"I'm scared to push too much harder; you might b--"

His words were cut when she closed her hand over his muzzle.

"It. Goes. In." She softly, but firmly, declared.

A shiver ran up his spine, and back down again. He throbbed rapidly, excited, pre spurting freely into his sister's passage.

She adjusted her seat in his lap, spreading her legs, and her groin, a bit wider. Her hand went downward, fingers slipping behind his knot, her knuckles resting against his fuzzy sheath. She braced it with her fingers, curling them up to hold him steady and against her.

"Three..." She counted. "Two... One..."

On the next beat, the both sucked in a breath.

Closting their eyes, all focus was on their efforts against her puffing slit.

He started off pressing her down as hard as before, but gradually went harder. He pushed up with his hips, coaxed more by her tugging his knot closer to her.

They started to see sparks in the blacks of their eyelids. They started to lose feeling in their toes.

Then, there was a soft thump, like neither of them had ever heard before.

She yipped. The fullness in her was doubled, and the slight stretch was now almost too much; it just barely stung. But there was something else, as arms wrapped about her.

Like a wave crashing over her, the pleasure of her orgasm hit. It throbbed from the sensitive spot at the top of her pink, and trickled all around where she barely contained her brother's knot.

Then, just as the pleasant rush was taking hold, another hit.

She let out a strained groan of pleasure, defenseless as yet another strike of pleasure hit her.

Another.

Another.

Another.

Another.

Another.

"S-Sis, a-arhhhhhhh," he tried to ask, holding tightly his shuddering sister. But much of her shuddering was due to the how strongly she was bearing down on him.

He had grown to love the fluttery feeling of her pocket squeezing and twitching around his length. But this was a kind of squeezing he had never felt before; a contraction that made his whole body go numb. She even tugged him up, as if trying to pull him even deeper than he already was.

So pleasant were these passionate hugs of her loins around his, that his words of concern melted into his own moan of white bliss.

Another.

Another.

Another.

In a pitching storm of rushing pleasure, she was tossed about like a leaf. Despite all of her senses slipping away from the numbing pleasure, she was acutely aware of him.

Her squeezes were compulsive and strong; she tried desperately to flex like a muscle, to hold him firmly throughout her throes. But, her body quickly went weak before gaining strength to constrict again.

When her squeeze was strong, she absorbedhis every twitch, throb, and beat of his heart. She knew his firmness, his shape, his contour, his size, his depth within her.

His muscles fluttered, a light and rapid quivering.

She sensed its meaning, and just as the tempest of pleasure in her started to see a crack of sunlight in the sky, a warmth flooded deep within, taking her back under.

He barely managed to moan. The only muscles in him that had any strength were now working doubly to squirt rope after rope of semen against that soft little dimple his tip had nestled into.

He lasted much longer than he ever had before. She spurred him on, kept him going. Even as his body tried to relax, her firm squeezes milked him, as if pleading for him not to stop.

Then, all it once, the thundering softened, and the skies quickly cleared.

They were still for a few moments.

Unable to move, unable to open their eyes.

They were slumped forward, kept balanced purely by accident, for very soon into their respite, she started to slip.

They grunted, and he caught her, his arms trembling.

With a burst of movement, she managed to hook her arm behind her brother's back, only lightly bapping him with the back of her knuckles on the way; it was an accident.

One leg slipped from his grasp, and she managed to sort of twist and lean against his other supporting arm. Her lidded eyes gazed slightly up into his, likewise.

They matched each others' breaths. Their noses neared, and their eyes closed.

The kiss was weak. Their tongues started to move as if to wrestle, but then limply toppled over one another between their mouths.

Amidst the kiss, he let out a meek groan.

He throbbed in her, slowly. She felt another warm spurt deep within. It splashed right against a tender spot she had never felt before, and her pocket shivered as she returned a timid groan of her own.

Their kiss cracked, slowly parting.

A puff of air left both of them as he fell back, and swung his legs up onto the bed. He rested an arm over her, holding her tightly against him.

She squirmed with delight, for the sudden motion dribbled more warmth from her brother out into her pocket. She regained full acuity of her hands, and her fingertips gingerly sought out her pink.

Her breaths slowed; she held onto each one for a second, before releasing it, and taking in a new one.

She felt bulged between her legs. Like how she could feel her tummy a little, if she ate too much; but this, she could feel a lot. Her pink was warm, and when she touched it she felt a bit numb. Her fingertip neared the sensitive spot, and then receded when she found it too sensitive to go anywhere near. She then touched a finger toward her pocket, sneaking it between her petal and her brother's sheath.

Her breath held.

She touched it. That big, taught bulb. As if this was the act of confirmation she needed, it finally sunk in that it had sunk in.

She quickly snared her brother's arm in her own, using it to proxy-cuddle her brother as she shimmied against him, cooing with delight.

He chuckled, wearily, and then let out a soft grunt of pleasure as his muscles throbbed once again, another spurt of his cum passing through his shaft. A tingle of relief and satisfaction draped over him like a comforter after the act, but it left him with a twinge of discomfort in a spot below or behind his balls.

"It feels nice," she told him. "Maybe a little like I overdid the Chinese-splits... But, I don't think I'm hurt or anything."

"Hmm..." He hummed with relief.

"What about you?"

"Hmm...." He hummed with reassurance.

She giggled. "What's the matter with you?"

That twinge near his balls tightened, and he closed his eyes. The muscles felt weak, but they worked nonetheless. The dollop of his cum nudged along his urethra, until it trickled out of his tip amidst a sigh of relief.

"Hey," she reached up, patting his cheek. "You all right? Bro?"

"'M'f'n... 'M'f'n..." He muttered. "Just... Hnnnh..." The urge came again, and he offered another spurt to her.

"Are you... Still cumming?" She asked. "I can feel little squirts, still," she observed.

"N-No, I-I-I dunno," he mumbled. "N-Never f-f-felt like... Hnnngh," another spurt, "l-like this before..."

She let out a concerned whimper.

"Shh," he hushed soothingly, pressing his hand to her tummy and rubbing. It was taken, and she held it, squeezing.

"So... Uhm... What happens, now?" She asked, amidst receiving another droplet of warmth. "You're... Uhm... Really... Wedged in me," she said with a blush, her pocket twitching at the naughty admission, as if once again admiring the very nature of it all.

"It'll... It'll soften," he reassured. "M-Might... Mmmh... T-Take a bit."

"I don't mind," she told him, snuggling back against him. "I like this... It's... I dunno... close-y," she tried to explain.

He slipped his other arm underneath her, squeezing her lightly in a hug.

"Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed.

He gasped, suddenly alert, and the excitement coaxed another spurt to slip free, though without his notice. "Wh-What?"

"Nothing, just," she freed a hand to reach down, touching a finger to their join once again. "I told ya... That it'd go in," she said, smugly, while scooping a dollop of cream onto her finger.

He watched as she then popped it in her mouth victoriously, adding a squeaky suckle to the gesture. The words that entered his brain lagged behind his tongue: "Uhm... S-Sis, that's not..."

A grimace of regret crossed with disgust wrinkled her face, and her muzzle opened wide as her tongue twitched from the bitter, oily taste of lotion that spread over her buds.