The Sweater
#30 of Complete Stories
It seems like a harmless gesture of kindness, right, to give an unwanted sweater to a shivering kitsune spirit... But it begins to be so much more than that - she is pleased with this gift. Very pleased.
F (Fox/Kitsune) x M (Elk). Sanity doubts, casual sex, implied consent, oral, fellatio, vaginal, creampie, pregnancy risk, cuddling. 7348 words in 1 chapter.
Featured cover artwork by Thesociallyawkwardpinguin. Used with permission.
Background artwork by Winslow Homer, 1877. Courtesy of the US National Gallery of Art.
Chip sighed as he looked around for more dead wood to cut. He'd thought that getting out of the cabin and doing some rough physical work would force him out of the funk he'd been languishing in. He was a big, manly elk ... right? At least in theory. Doing stuff like this should have made him feel better about himself.
It didn't.
It was just like his whole trip up here. He'd thought that getting out here in nature, seeing the changing leaves by the lake in his parents' old cabin, and really getting back to his childhood roots would have given him the inspiration he needed to finally make some good art.
It hadn't.
He'd painted the golden-leafed trees, the dark and glistening lake, the cozy and warm inside of the cabin, the rustic outside of the cabin, the long and leaf-strewn dirt driveway heading in... Everything was trash. Absolute trash. Trash he could probably sell, sure, but none of it meant anything. None of it would be anything he was proud_to show anyone. And none of it came anywhere close to justifying the time and expense of coming all the way out here to this old lake cabin in the middle of nowhere. All his works here so far were banal, derivative. He could hear his old art teacher in the back of his head right now: 'You're painting what you see, but you need to paint what you_feel.' But what could he paint if he felt nothing?
Maybe he was washed up. Maybe all his best work was in the past. And maybe the real reason he'd needed to come out here just to run away from that.
Whatever. Better keep looking for firewood. These autumn nights were starting to get chilly. If he was going to be depressed alone in the woods, at least he could be warm while he was depressed alone in the woods. He decided to go farther than he had before, following the overgrown path around the lake. Carrying the firewood farther would be a pain, but he'd already used up most of the decently dry firewood close by. Maybe a hike that was a bit more strenuous would give him some kind of inspiration...
All it gave him was aching feet, bits of leaves and vines stuck in his fur, and precious little firewood. There were trees everywhere here - how could decent firewood be so hard to come by?
On the third trip back and forth, he actually made it all the way to the next cabin. There weren't many cabins on this lake - it was awfully remote. He was pretty sure that none of the other cabins were occupied right now. Summer was the busy season around here. Nobody came all the way out here for the fall.
And there was certainly nobody in _this_cabin. It had been partially burnt down years ago, it seemed, and looked like nobody had repaired it since. Barely any of the windows still had glass, and the front door was lying crookedly on the unsafe-looking front porch steps. Probably completely empty in there, right? Well, it wouldn't hurt to take a look, would it? Since he was already here and all. Maybe he'd find a whole stack of old firewood. Or maybe something else useful or valuable left behind. Or at least maybe the experience would give his feckless artistic inner eye something new to work on.
The front steps were actually sturdier than they looked. Mostly it was just the finish that had worn off, leaving the wood bare and splintery, but still sound. It only creaked a little as he squeezed his way around the skewed front door and up onto the porch. He could have simply taken that door off of the steps to make the way up easier. Somehow, though, it didn't feel right to change_anything about this place. Kind of sacrilegious, right? There was a sort of beauty about how completely neglected and run-down the old cabin was. To do _anything to improve it or make it more convenient would be to mar this odd type of decrepit perfection.
Inside, it was mostly empty, to his disappointment. Somebody must have moved most of their stuff out after the fire. It smelled of mildew, bugs, and still a hint of charred wood and plastic. A lot of the falling leaves outside had found their way inside ... for multiple years. Some of the leaf piles had already grown thick enough to have small weeds growing in them, weeds that were now brown and wilting. Already getting too cold for them at night, probably.
He breathed a deep sigh. Then hoped he wasn't breathing in anything too toxic. Looked like this cabin only had one other room. It wasn't a big place. Might as well see if anything was in there.
Even before opening the rickety old door, he could tell something was different on the other side. The smell, more than anything. Like there was a bit of sunshine and spice in the air.
Inside, there was a chair, a cold fireplace ... and somebody in the chair!_A vixen, it looked like, wearing only shorts and a white tank top, huddled up in the chair, shivering. Who was she, and what was she doing here? She _had to have heard him poking around in the other room, right?
He froze, the door still only half open. "Uh, uh... I'm sorry! I thought the place was abandoned. I'll just go now."
Before he could go, though, the vixen suddenly looked up at him with a gasp. Before he could even back away, she'd leapt out through the broken window. Thankfully, there wasn't much glass left in that window. She'd probably be fine. But wow she was gone so fast! He only barely caught sight of her tails - Plural tails! Was it some kind of mutation or deformity? - before she was completely gone.
Had she been some kind of burglar or squatter? Maybe she wasn't supposed to be here either? By the time he got to the window, she was long gone, vanished into the forest.
Who would come all the way out here to steal stuff from a cabin that didn't have anything left worth stealing? And if she was a squatter, why didn't she at least block off the window so she wouldn't be so cold? It didn't make any sense to Chip. Then again, he'd have a hard time explaining to anyone why he was here. Which brought to mind: maybe he should get out of here before that vixen told somebody about him and got him in trouble for trespassing or something.
All the next day, that strange vixen was all he could think about. He'd like to assure himself that it was simply the mystery of it, that he just wanted answers. But some part of him also knew that she'd captivated his mind so much because she'd also been really pretty, with distinctive zig-zag patterns in the fur around her face, a slender build, and very delicate looking face. And ... other features. It was so bad that he hadn't gotten any painting done.
So maybe he ought to do something about it before dark. But do what? He had plenty of firewood for the next few days now, so he couldn't use that excuse to go over there. And he did need an excuse, especially if she decided to confront him and his trespassing ways this time. She _had_looked pretty cold and desolate. Could he maybe do something about that? Hauling firewood all the way there seemed like it would be too much, and who knew if that cabin's fireplace still worked or was safe to use anyway. What else...? Maybe some extra blankets, or... Oh! Of course! His Aunt Cinder had been the last one to stay in this cabin, and she'd left a bunch of her old clothes behind. She definitely wouldn't miss an old sweater or jacket or something...
There had been no sign of her at the abandoned cabin. For all Chip could tell, she may have never returned at all after running away from him that first time. Or maybe he'd been imagining her from the beginning. Could he be going crazy? At least that would be a decent excuse for why he couldn't make good art anymore. Or would it? Weren't artists supposed to get better at their art when they went crazy?
Whatever. He'd left the sweater hanging on what was left of the front porch rails. Maybe if she did come back, she'd find it. Then at least he'd have helped out a little.
And that seemed to be that. The long walk home was _plenty_of time to reflect on his own disappointment and to consider just how delusional he might be getting. Leaving clothing hanging up on abandoned cabins in the woods, where he imagined he'd once seen a weird fox girl? Pretty crazy. He was pretty sure at this point that nobody had been there at all. Just his mind playing tricks on him. That place didn't even have a driveway going to it. Who would be out there? Only somebody as crazy as himself.
Further evidence of his impending psychosis? He kept feeling like he was being watched. The whole way home. Obviously, there was nobody there. He even stopped to listen a few times, and he hadn't heard a sound. No scent either. And of course he'd never seen anything at all the many times he'd looked over his shoulder. Paranoia was definitely a symptom of mental illness, right?
Chip breathed deep, trying to absorb the atmosphere of the cabin's boat dock. The smell of the water. The sharp twist in the air that suggested it might freeze later tonight. The subtle little sound of the tiny waves lapping at the the dock pilings...
Maybe if he added a little silver fleck to the water there, to suggest a fish just under the surface?
No, stupid. That wouldn't mean anything. How would that tell a viewer what the air smelled like? Maybe he should have used a different color palette... Too late for that now. He'd have to start over entirely ... or else finish what he'd already gotten on the canvas and chalk it up as another sellable but uninspired piece from this wasted trip.
Screw it. He had enough of those already.
Leaving his easel and paints out - whatever, he'd clean it up later when he had more motivation and maybe a drink or two - he stood up and turned back toward the cabin.
And then he froze.
There she was! The fox girl! She was just standing there, where the dock met the lake shore. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her feet very close together. And she was wearing the sweater!
It ... it looked good on her. Surprisingly good, for a scratchy-looking old sweater left behind by his aunt. But what was she doing here? How long had she been there, watching him paint? He wished he'd been working on an actually good piece. Hated the thought that she might be judging his talent based on this painting. Why did he suddenly want her to think so well of him? He knew exactly why. And he refused to acknowledge it.
"Um ... hi!" he said, finally. He waved a little, but then immediately felt stupid for doing so. She was already looking at him. Staring at him.
And that's all she continued to do. She just stood there, completely still except for her tails flicking in the slight breeze, staring at him. She didn't even blink. Somehow, bizarrely, she seemed to _belong_there. Belong here at this lake. Far more than he did. Even when she was wearing jean shorts underneath that slightly-too-big sweater despite the chill in the air. Something about how her russet color went along with the hue of the leaves behind her. Or maybe the way she seemed so at peace, as if nothing in this place could possibly give her any kind of stress.
"Hi," he tried again. "I'm Charles, but my friends call me Chip."
Still nothing. She only stood and watched.
Starting slowly, afraid she might run off again, Chip headed up the dock, back toward the cabin ... and toward her. There was nowhere else he _could_go ... not without taking a very cold swim. Thankfully, she didn't seem interested in running away at all. She waited for him quite calmly. Still wasn't very talkative, though.
"So, um, do you live in that cabin?" he asked. Maybe a direct question would get some response?
It didn't get any response at all. Even when he came all the way up to her, close enough to reach out and touch her, she still didn't respond in any way at all. Okay, so he really wasn't the crazy one here, right? She was obviously ... 'touched' or something. Probably. Why else would she be acting so weird? He couldn't deny that it was electrifying to be so close to her. That slight whiff of spicy cinnamon in the air was definitely her own intriguing scent. There was such depth in her brown eyes. The intricate zig-zagging patterns intertwining on the curves of her face were clear to see now, and fascinating in their detail. He'd never seen anything else like that - he'd never seen anyone else like her.
Still ... it was awfully weird the way she was just standing there and staring at him, though.
He awkwardly side-stepped off of the dock, hopping down onto the rocks beside it, and then carefully walked around her, keeping his eyes on her the whole time.
She turned to face him as he went around her, but otherwise didn't react. She seemed to be ... smiling slightly? Yeah. She was grinning a little. The way somebody grins if they know something you don't. There wasn't even the slightest hint of anything unfriendly in her open, expressive eyes, but it was still a bit unnerving. What was she thinking? What did she know? And why wouldn't she tell him? This was going on too long to be some kind of weird joke. If she was going to suddenly start laughing at how he reacted to her and then be friendly and normal, she would have done it already by now ... right?
Slowly, looking over his shoulder as he went, he headed up the short, tree-lined path toward the cabin. He wasn't even sure what he was going to do there. The thought of getting slightly drunk while trying to work up the willpower to go back down and clean up his painting supplies ... that was completely gone. All he knew now was that he'd feel a bit more comfortable about things if he was inside. He'd never been that much of an outdoors person, despite the outdoors being the subject of most of his paintings. Even though he had only been in this cabin for a week so far, it felt like a familiar home to him ... and he was craving a bit of familiarity right now.
Though he'd thought she might just stand right where she was, the fox girl wasn't content to merely watch him go. She followed him. Right behind him. Right up to the cabin.
He was more and more nervous about it as he went. By the end, he was practically sprinting up the path. The vixen had kept right up with him, though. It didn't even seem to be a struggle for her. When he skidded to a stop on the cabin's back deck, she wasn't even breathing heavily. She just stood watchfully again, as if nothing at all had changed.
She also followed him across the large deck, straight up to the sliding glass door of the cabin itself. He was afraid that she was going to follow him all the way inside ... but she didn't. She stopped exactly on the threshold, looking at him expectantly. Even when he retreated further into the house, she didn't move. She stayed just barely outside the wide open door.
He could_have gone back and closed the door. It seemed pretty rude to just slam the door literally in her face like that, but that was the obvious, reasonable choice. That, and maybe even calling some kind of mental health service. For himself, or for the fox? Whichever. Let _them_decide. He had serious doubts about his own sanity at this point. Was this weirdly silent fox girl with multiple tails even real? He might still be imagining this whole thing. She _seemed so very, very real as she stood there at the door wearing his aunt's sweater ... but paranoid hallucinations were _supposed_to seem real, weren't they? She could be imaginary. That sweater might be right where he left it, hanging on the front porch of the abandoned cabin up the trail. Had he even come out to his parents' old lake cabin, or was this all some fever dream he was having from home?
And ... what was he going to do now?
In the end, basic politeness compelled him. He cleared his throat. "Do you, um, want to come in?"
A sudden smile broke out on her face. She still said nothing, but she leapt_inside, making Chip recoil away slightly, more startled than afraid. Probably. The fox girl was so animated now, darting here and there, casting her gaze this way and that, and ... and was she _sniffing for something?
Moments later, he found out what ... when she found the kitchen.
His cabin wasn't huge, but it was way bigger than the abandoned one he'd first found her in. He'd stocked the modest and homey kitchen pretty thoroughly when he first arrived, since he'd been preparing to spend a whole month here at least. When the fox girl caught scent of it, she scrambled there, moving like a wild thing.
By the time he caught up to her, it was too late. "Come on! Not the pie!"
When he'd gone down to paint the lake again, he'd left a homemade pie cooling on the countertop for when he got back. Well, sort of homemade. With storebought crust and storebought pecan pie filling and storebought pre-shelled pecans. But he'd put it together himself! And it was the treat he'd set aside for himself for finishing a good painting finally today, which he'd totally intended to do.
But there she was, holding the whole pie tin up to her face and snarfing down the filling right out of the middle. She was chowing down on it like she was starving!
Maybe she was? Still ... she could have eaten something else, _anything_else. Or at least she could have been civilized and cut herself a slice. He'd been looking forward to that pie! Then again, did he really deserve it? It was supposed to be his treat for finishing a good painting, and all he'd done was abandon a half-done mediocre painting. Still though, it was the principle of the matter. Or something like that.
In shockingly little time, she finished the pie, crust and all. Licking her sticky lips clean, she started looking around for more.
Well, if she was that_hungry, he figured he ought to let her have some more. How long had she been living in that abandoned cabin? She must have been starving in there! She didn't _look emaciated or anything, just slender and fit ... but looks could be deceiving at times, he supposed. Better to give her something he cared less for, though. Or else he'd need to make a trip into town for groceries soon!
The perfect thought occurred to him. Quickly, before she could grab something else instead, he took the giant tin of popcorn from the counter and plonked it open. His mom had given him that on his way out, and he hadn't had the heart to tell her that he didn't care for popcorn that much. The bits always got stuck in his teeth. Inside the giant tin were four plastic bags of popcorn. Original, cheddar, caramel, and pumpkin spice, according to the tin.
He turned to the fox girl. "Do you like popcorn? Which kind do you like best? Original, cheddar--"
There was no point in finishing. The moment she saw the inside of the tin, her eyes lit up - almost a literal flash - and she lunged for it. She tore all four bags open with her fingernails and plunged her entire head into the huge tin, snout first.
Well ... okay. At least it looked like she liked popcorn. And there would be plenty of it...
Chip sat on the couch in front of the wood-burning stove, dazedly looking at the fire. How could she eat like that and still have such a slim figure? Even now, after eating half his pantry, she didn't even seem like she had a stuffed belly or anything. She was carefully licking her paws and face clean, grinning to herself. Apparently, she was finally satisfied.
What was he doing with a girl like this in his cabin? Why wouldn't she talk? Was it just that she didn't understand English? But she'd understood it perfectly well when he asked if she wanted to come in, hadn't she? Was it some kind of abnormality or deformity, maybe related to her multiple tails? He'd never heard of any condition like that, but there were lots of rare conditions he'd never heard of, he was sure. He was an artist, not a doctor.
And what was he going to do with her now? He'd been more than gracious enough as a host, right? He'd invited her in, given her _tons_of good food. But he couldn't just ask her to leave, could he? Did she even have anywhere else? It was already getting dark outside, and he was sure it would be cold tonight. It had been overcast and chilly all day. There'd probably be frost on the windows in the morning. Maybe even a bit of early snow. Asking her to leave, to just walk out into that ... it would be terrible.
He couldn't offer her a room here, though. It wasn't his_cabin, strictly speaking. It belonged to his parents. He was just a guest here himself. Mom hadn't explicitly said he couldn't have visitors over, sure, but he already knew well enough that she'd disapprove. She _always_disapproved when he had a girlfriend over or something. Sure, he had a reputation of picking crazy girls and his relationships never tended to last very long, so maybe Mom had a point ... but still. And if he did offer this fox girl a place to stay, who knew how long she'd try to be here. It could get messy, right? Mom would _definitely disapprove of inviting in some half-crazy vagrant girl who didn't talk. He could just hear the lecture starting now...
His mom's imaginary lecture was quite abruptly interrupted when the fox girl casually came over to the couch, sat down next to him, and leaned against him. She even nuzzled her face into the fluffy fur around his neck!
Luckily, she seemed pretty good at cleaning herself off. There wasn't the slightest trace of any of that food left to get stuck in his neck fluff. But ... but what did she think she was doing? Just innocently cuddling with a stranger? What kind of girl was she?
But she closed her eyes so peacefully, cuddled up against him. It was so warm with her by the fire...
He put his arm around her back and settled in. What else could he have done? At least she seemed happy, and she wasn't currently destroying anything.
The fire was getting kind of low, but it still bathed the two of them in flickering reddish light and a fair bit of warmth. He knew he'd have to get up and tend to it eventually ... but how could he bring himself to move and wake up the vixen soundly sleeping up against him?
She'd slumped downward a bit as she slept, her face dragging down over his chest and almost into his lap. He still sat stiffly upright.
Stiffly in more ways than one, because it had been kind of a while since he'd been this close with any girl, and because he could distinctly feel the bulge of her breast against the side of his body, even through the thick sweater. She had quite a nice pair, after all. Even through that ugly sweater, the memory of them was awfully enticing. Visions of her kept playing over and over again in his head. The way they pressed outward between her arms when she held her hands together in front of her. The way they bounced when she darted back and forth around the kitchen. The way they'd jutted out so prominently when she'd stretched her arms upward a while ago and then gone back to sleeping against his body... And having her right there didn't help either. So easy to imagine her nuzzling in a little closer and...
Crap! His cock was twitching again! He was sure she'd be able to feel it. It was practically up against her face, with only his flannel pants in between.
She stirred awake. Crap! She had noticed it!
"I... I can explain! It's just..."
Her hands came up, working at the button of his pants.
"Hey! What do you think you're--?"
Chip gasped as he felt the warmth of her mouth around the tip of his cock. _What?_How could she just do that so casually? She'd just pulled the front of his pants down and taken him into her mouth like it was nothing...
But she had. And wow ... she was good_at it. Her tongue slid up and down his length so tenderly. The suckling motions of her mouth around him were heavenly. And she even reached one hand further down into his pants to caress his big fluffy balls. Before he knew it, she was taking his length _all the way inside. Like most elk, he wasn't exactly _huge_down there or anything, but it was still impressive that she was able to take the whole thing ... and without even the slightest hint of discomfort, either.
Still unsure if he should be stopping her, still unsure what was really going on here, all Chip could do was shudder in place as he unexpectedly received one of the best blowjobs he'd ever felt. What was she thinking, going at him like that? What was he thinking, letting her do it without the slightest protest? It felt too good, though. He'd be insane if he asked her to stop.
Maybe he was insane anyway? Could he still be imagining all of this? No way. He never could have imagined this. The pleasure as she bobbed her head on his cock was too intense, too powerfully real to deny.
Still... He had to say _something_didn't he? What if she thought this was the price of a meal and a place to stay? There was no telling what kind of circumstances she'd come from. What if she thought that kind of thing was normal? "You ... you don't have to do that," he choked out, his voice wavering. Secretly, he fervently hoped that she wouldn't stop.
For a moment, she _did_stop. She pulled off of him and looked upward, grinning at him with wet lips. A moment later, she plunged her head back down and went right back at it, more vigorously now, really pumping her muzzle up and down in his lap.
Chip tensed against the couch, his legs shuddering out in front of him. Wow! She really knew what she was doing, didn't she? Who was this fox? He stared down at her...
And he stared and stared. Some vagrant vixen from an abandoned cabin had no business looking this good! Chip let his hand rest down on her back again, tracing her smooth curves through the scratchy sweater. His other hand gently stroked the little tufts of fur on her cheeks. He was careful not to push on her down on himself or anything, though. Even with as enthusiastically generous as she'd been with the use of her mouth, he wouldn't want to presume to do that, especially not to any girl this nice.
Did she want him to be rough like that with her? She leaned into the touch on her cheek and added her other hand into the mix, pumping the base of his cock with it while still hefting his huge balls with the other hand. At least he had that_to be proud of. Elk guys never had monstrously large cocks or anything, but his massively hanging balls usually took most girls' breath away when they first caught sight of them. He couldn't assume she was into anything rougher, though. Not with her being apparently unable to speak and say so. It would feel so _good to take control and set his own pace ... but he didn't dare do anything that might make her upset and bring an end to the experience.
But maybe there was something else he could do... Beyond the graceful - and half-hidden behind the sweater's bulk - curve of her back, he could see her small jean shorts, her multiple tails sprouting from just above the waistband. Each tail seemed to be waving happily ... and independently. And under those tails, if he leaned far enough over, he could just see a bit of her ass cheeks showing beyond what the shorts covered.
Normally, he was more of a boobs kind of guy. But he had to admit, she had a fantastic little ass, so round and tight. She'd probably feel really firm underneath her short fuzz...
Did he dare? Well, she'd just started sucking him without the slightest hint of asking first. If she could do that, he ought to at least be able to touch her a little.
Still, he hesitated as he slid his hand further down her back. She was doing such_an amazing job with his cock, slobbering all over him ... what if she didn't like him getting grabby and that ended up being the end of things? There was no point in asking permission, was there? She couldn't - or wouldn't? - say yes or no. He knew he probably shouldn't ... and yet it was just _too tempting. A bit lower, and his fingers brushed the rougher fabric of her jean shorts. He could already feel a bit of her ass cheek's curve. There was no going back now. He needed to feel her!
Impulsively, before he could second guess himself, he slid his hand the rest of the way down, over the amazing curve in her shorts, all the way _past_her shorts, until he felt the bare fur where her cheeks slipped out from the bottom. Oh yeah... Wow... She was a bit softer than he'd expected, but still firm enough to make a very satisfying squeeze. He rubbed and squeezed all the exposed fur under her tail that he could reach ... and then even ventured in between her cheeks. The fabric of the jean shorts was rough and thick, but he could still feel the slight bulge of her pussy in there ... and the intense heat coming off of it.
The fox girl _did_stop sucking him then, and he was sure that he'd ruined his chances at finishing with her. She got completely up from his lap, upright on her knees on the couch next to him.
But instead of telling him off or slapping him or something, she just unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them down. Her pair of plain white panties came along with them.
Chip's mouth gaped as he stared at her pussy, just barely visible below the hanging hem of the sweater, but undeniably and powerfully there. So pert and small, perfectly shaped ... and already _dripping_wet. He only got to look for a moment, though, before she bent back down and resumed sucking his cock in slow, sensual strokes, her shorts and panties down around her knees.
This time, when Chip reached for her, he didn't hesitate in the slightest. It was obvious what she wanted.
He went straight for it and grabbed a huge - and _extremely_satisfying - handful of her ass. Was it just his imagination, or had she plunged especially deep on his cock when he did that? Did she like this touch? Was she rewarding him for it? In any case, grabbing her lovely tush was its own reward. He kneaded her barely-yielding curves hungrily, exploring every bit. Her tails wavered and twitched, sometimes brushing his wrist.
There was one place he hadn't explored with his hands yet, though... Did he dare? Well, she'd taken her panties off for a reason, hadn't she?
Touching her pussy was like a religious experience for him. So wonderfully plush and warm ... and so wet that his fingertip slipped inside her almost by accident. But what a happy accident! In a slow, careful movement, he slipped inside her all the way to his knuckles, feeling her tight, hot tunnel squeeze around his finger. She buried her snout against his crotch, her lips kissing his sheath, and she pressed herself there, seeming to savor the moment. Would she be moaning right now if she had the voice for it?
It didn't last for long, though. Soon, she lifted entirely off of him again. He was even forced to slip his finger back out of her and let go of her as she shuffled off the edge of the couch.
Chip didn't mind letting her go. He had a feeling about where this was headed, and the way she pulled her shorts and panties the rest of the way off her legs confirmed it. Quickly, he dug into his pants and pulled out his wallet. Thank goodness his trusty 'emergency condom' was still in there! He set the wallet down on the table next to the couch and tore open the condom package ... just in time. The fox girl was already coming back to him, spreading her legs over his thighs and straddling him.
She grabbed the condom from him, package and all. He'd thought she was going to put it on him... He was wrong. She shook her head 'no' slightly, then tossed the thing on the floor somewhere behind the couch. Chip's eyes went wide. She couldn't mean...
That was _exactly_what she meant. Before he could even register what was going on, she nudged herself up and forward, pressing the pointed tip of his cock against her entrance. Between her exuberant wetness and all the slick mess her mouth had left on his cock, there was no resistance whatsoever. When she lowered herself onto him, his cock glided into her smoothly and easily, all the way to the hilt.
For a long moment, both of them stayed still, holding that wonderful position. It had been _years_since the last time Chip had done this kind of thing without a condom. He'd forgotten how much better it felt. Or was it just because this vixen was so delectably warm and tight? He could feel everything, every slight twitch and pulse of her pussy around his shaft. And she seemed content to rest there, her body slowly accommodating to the shape of his cock inside her.
Eventually, as if only by reflex, Chip slid his hands up her fuzzy thighs, feeling the perfection of her legs on his way back to her lovely little ass cheeks.
All of her tails flicked behind her, and as if the grip of his hands had been her signal to start, she began slowly rocking her hips back and forth, grinding her pussy against him in slow pulsing motions that drove him absolutely wild. How could she know that was exactly how he liked it? Had it just been a lucky guess, or could she read him somehow?
Even though he could already barely breathe, Chip slowly slid his hands upward against the strangely alluring vixen's body, reveling in the silkiness of her fur and the suppleness of her curves. Even the scratchiness of the wool sweater against the back of his hands didn't bother him. After all, he did have a particular destination in mind ... and his hands were soon underneath her smooth white tank top instead of the sweater.
She never stopped moving her hips and pleasuring his cock. Though she must have known what he was doing. That meant she approved of it, right? He would have wished that she could actually say so, but she must have been okay with it... Who would be okay with everything they'd already done together and not be okay with just a little touching? Still, it seemed a bit iffy, since it was him initiating it this time. If she made the slightest move to stop him...
She didn't. She only smiled down at him and gave an extra close squeeze of her hips against his when Chip's hands reached her chest.
This vixen apparently didn't care for wearing bras. There wasn't one underneath her simple tank top. His hands found nothing but the bare fur of her breasts ... and the wonderful, yielding softness below. Woah... They were even better than he'd been imagining. He hadn't even known titties _could_feel this firm and perky and yet still so plush and inviting. It was really opening his eyes to what he'd been missing all this time!
His eyes _really_opened, though, when she paused her rocking motions just long enough to reach down and grab the bottom hem of the sweater, crossing her arms in front of her. Was she really about to...?
It stole Chip's breath away ... what little breath he had left to spare. His cock throbbed hard_inside her as she lifted both the sweater and the tank top over her head, revealing her gorgeous tits right in front of his face. They looked even _bigger when they were bare and right in front of him like that, each one more than enough to fill his hand, fingertip to outspread fingertip. And so perky! Even when he relaxed his hold on them, they only dropped downward ever so slightly. Their wondrous curves flickered in the red light of the fire.
Acting without hesitation, purely on instinct and desire, Chip squeezed her glorious breasts together and planted his lips against one tiny pink nipple, then the other.
Did she like that? It certainly got her moving and grinding against his lap again...
And oh damn... He knew he wasn't going to last long now, not like this. Not with her snug pussy gliding so perfectly against his cock, not while worshiping her unbelievably perfect tits as they filled his face and his hands and his whole world, not with the subtle sounds of her increasingly desperate breaths - the only sound she'd made so far, and yet it perfectly conveyed how she was feeling. He felt the same way...
"Gotta ... pull out!" he groaned. "Gonna cum!"
She pressed her body tightly against his, pinning him to the couch. Her pussy was already spasming and squirting a little; her smooth belly twitched against him. The fireplace burst into bright light behind her, pulsing to the rhythm of her body. Oh fuck ... she was already orgasming ... and he absolutely could not hold himself back, not with her pussy milking him like this...
Raging just like the fire, Chip's orgasm hit him mercilessly. He squeezed the vixen's tits tightly - probably too tightly - but he just couldn't help himself as his body and his breeding instincts took over. His cock throbbed so hard inside her that it hurt, but there was no stopping it now. This was a big orgasm, he could tell, even by elk standards. So much pumping into her! Even _he_could feel the warmth of it spreading and filling her ... and eventually spilling out in excess, soaking his big overproductive balls and the couch beneath.
Finally, when it was over and his cock had softened, it slipped out of her, followed by yet another gush of cum. He _desperately_hoped she was on some kind of birth control or something, but he had no way of asking... Even after it was all over, he still squeezed and caressed her glorious tits, not quite believing they could be real, despite the true-to-life softness and jiggle to them...
Together, they spooned on the couch, both of them naked except for the fluffy orange and brown patterned blanket covering them both. Chip's hand rested between her lovely breasts - he was still unwilling to let go of them for even a moment. What if he never got another chance to touch her? He was hoping she'd stay with him ... but how could that really work, anyway? What would people think when they met his new girlfriend, the strange multi-tailed vixen who didn't talk?
Even in her sleep, the vixen instinctively pressed her tight and firm little butt against his crotch, as if daring his cock to slide out of him and slip into her pussy where it was pressed directly against his sheath. His cock would never even touch the air in between... Not much danger of that happening just yet, though. That huge orgasm had taken a lot out of him.
The subtly twitching fluff of her tails filled the space between their bodies. Maybe that was what was keeping him awake? Better than than thoughts and worries about his future with her. She wouldn't disappear from his life as quickly and mysteriously as he'd entered it ... would she?
He stared at the dwindling, red-glowing coals of the fire. What had made it flare up so brightly when she'd orgasmed? Had a log fallen down and happened to stir things up at that moment? So strange... He knew he'd have to get up and add more wood very soon ... but not yet. It could wait. He could cuddle up with his enigmatic vixen for just a little longer first.
With one last masterful stroke, Chip finished the latest painting he'd been working on. A good one, finally.
He'd always considered himself a landscape artist, but maybe that was exactly what he'd needed to change. A change of pace - a change of subject matter - could absolutely revitalize an artistic career, after all. Many of the great painters in history had done so. Chip hadn't done any portraiture since his college art classes ... and even then, only when it was absolutely required.
But this piece... Wow. Who knew if anybody else would see what he saw in it, but he could tell that at least for himself, it worked. The many-tailed vixen wearing only a wool sweater and looking back up at him from the canvas _perfectly_captured the way she made him feel. If others looked at it and felt even a tenth of what he felt, this piece would be hailed as his greatest masterpiece so far.
And he wasn't done yet. When inspiration finally strikes, you have to ride it as far as it will go. He'd keep painting her until he ran out of paints. And then he'd break out the old charcoals or pastels he hadn't touched in years!
He still wasn't sure if he'd be able to stay with her for good ... so he'd capture her on the canvas at least. As many times and in as many ways as he could.
Hm... Maybe a nude next? Tasteful, of course, yet seductive. It was getting pretty cold outside. Would she object to posing in front of the lake? There were just so many new options opening up in front of him, and she was the centerpiece of every single one.
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