Summer Lovin'
#2 of Sheila
Aaaaaaah, summer, thought Sheila, curled up on top of a blanket laid out on the patio behind her house. She was basking in the warm sunlight that was turning the concrete beneath her blanket into a frying pan. Her only neighbors were creaky old people, and the fences between their houses were high enough for her to feel safe in her PJs: a long T-shirt and her panties.
The birds were chirping, the breeze was blowing, and she was purring softly to herself, her tail lazily flicking from side to side. She was so glad to be rid of school, and all the drama that went with it. The books, homework, and classes she could handle, but the constant, "he said, she said, blah blah blah," drama, the posturing, and the backstabbing. It was too much for the young kitten. Her best friend for three years suddenly decided to just not be her friend, and started spreading nasty rumors about her. Sheila had cried all day when that happened, fell asleep on a soggy pillow, woke up the next morning, ate some Cheerios, and then started crying again.
But that was months ago. Now it was summer, and she didn't have to deal with any of that. She'd gotten used to not having a best friend, and was doing alright on her own. Her birthday sucked a bit, because she lost touch with all those sort-of-friends that she would have invited if it hadn't been during the summer, but she had a good time, anyway. One of the more exciting presents was given to her by her own body: she was finally starting to develop breasts. They were little more than lumps on her chest, but they were breasts none-the-less. Her mom even took her out to get training bras, but that was probably because her nipples started to show through her shirts if she wore anything thinner than a sweater.
She heard the garage door open, and her dad shuffle out. She felt sorry for her dad sometimes. He was the only man in a three-woman house. The only place he had to sit back, put his hands down his pants, and let the farts fly was the garage, which he had turned in to his own personal sanctuary.
The door opened behind her, and her father poked his head out.
"Sheila? I'm heading off to work."
"Alright, dad," she said with a wide yawn, not looking up.
"Your mom should be back from work in a few hours. I'll let your sister know. Remember, no boys in the house when there are no parents, okay?"
That was one of the perks about turning thirteen: she could go out on dates with boys, but only when there were other (girl) friends around, and only if the parents knew about it. She looked up at him. "What about Hellen's friends," she asked, knowing that it would trip him up.
"Okay... um..." he paused a moment to think it over. "She can have boys that are friends over, but not boyfriends... I don't even think she has a boyfriend..." he trailed off to mumbles - something about how when he was a kid - but then he caught himself and put himself back on track. "You can't have any boys over at all."
Sheila let out a grumpy little huff at the injustice, but the truth was she didn't have any boyfriends, or even friends that were boys, anyway, so it all didn't matter much. "Okay, dad. I don't even have friends that are boys anyway." See?
"Really? I'd think that a girl as pretty as you would have all the boys flocking to her."
She let out a soft mew. "Thanks, dad."
"Any time." He looked at his watch. "Damn - I mean... crap. Gotta go. Later, sweetie."
"Bye, dad," she said, settling back down.
He shut the door and she listened to him walk through the living room, out the front door, and then start up his car and drive off. Soon sleep came over her.
She woke up to the sounds of her sister yelling at her from a distance. "Sheila! Can you get that?"
A second sound filtered through the mists of sleep: knocking on the front door. "Why don't you get it?" she called back up.
"I'm going to the bathroom!" yelled her sister, perhaps a little louder than she meant to.
Sheila sighed as she got up and stretched out. She padded her way over back in to the house, across the living room, and to the front door. She realized she was still in her PJs just as she was opening the door, and under her fur her face burned red with embarrassment as she came face-to-chest (She was short) with Mike, a tall, sturdy fox.
"Hey, Sheila," he said with a cheery smile and a wave, "So, your sister's pooping, huh?"
The urge to lay her ears flat, put her tail between her legs, and press down her shirt to make sure it was hiding her panties was overwhelming, and it was then that she realized she was missing her training bra, and her nipples shown through her shirt like paper over BBs, but she forced herself to be calm, and tried not to pay attention to her rising heart-rate.
"Uh... yah." She forced a giggle. "Come on in."
Mike nodded and stepped in. "Thanks." He walked over to the couch and plopped down. "Ugh, it's getting too hot for me. Soon, I'm gonna be sweating and panting and slobbering all gross-like."
Sheila nodded, but said, "I like the warmth."
Mike chuckled. "That's because you don't sweat through your tongue." He sighed and smiled at her. "So, how are you?"
"I'm good," was her automatic response. "My birthday was last week."
"Oh! Happy birthday! I'm sorry I didn't get you anything... you're what, fourteen now?"
Her heart both rose and sank: he didn't know her age - thus the sink - but he thought she was older than she really was. "No, I'm thirteen."
"Oh! Hey! The big one-three! You can date now, right?"
"How did you know that," she asked, her heart doing a little flutter.
"Because years back, I was all excited about your sister being able to date." He gave a half-hearted chuckle, "I had a huge crush on her back then."
Her heart plummeted. "Why didn't you two go out?"
"She didn't want to ruin such a 'good friendship,'" he said, lifting two fingers on each paw and putting quotes around his words with disdain. "Really, I think she just had too big of a crush on Eric to notice anyone else."
Sheila knew all about Hellen's crush on Eric; once, while rifling through her sister's things, she found a tape beneath her sister's bed. She sat and raptly watched as a wolf mated with another wolf three different ways. She brought her at-the-time best friend over to watch it, too, and they sat and watched as the lady on screen seemed to intensely enjoy taking it up the butt. It was three days after the porno that her friend said that she was no longer her friend... but that's for another story. "Oh... so, do you still like her," she asked, defeated.
"Haha, heck no. I mean, I love her as a friend and all, but I've known her too long to like her like that." He twirled a finger around his ear. "She's got a few of the crazies, if you know what I mean."
Sheila giggled. She did know what he meant.
"Hey! I heard that," yelled Hellen, stomping down the stairs.
Mike shrugged his broad shoulders. "What can I say? You're nuts."
Hellen giggled, too. "I guess I am... Jerk."
"You ready to go?" He asked, hopping up off the couch.
"Yup," she said, dangling her purse and lifting her shirt slightly, revealing her modest one-piece, brown bathing suit.
Mike nodded and grinned a mischievous grin. "You have a good poop?"
Hellen rolled her eyes and huffed out a sigh. "Come on, let's go."
"Where you going?" asked Sheila.
"We're going over to the public pool to do some swimmin'! Beat this heat. Beat it with a baseball bat."
"Oh. I should have guessed. Okay, have fun," she said, a little longingly.
Mike looked at Hellen like she was going to hate him for what he was about to do, but went on and did it anyway. "You wanna come along?"
Sheila's heart did another flutter. "Yah!" and then plummeted again "Oh... I don't have a swimsuit that fits me any more."
Mike frowned thoughtfully, but quickly brightened up. "Okay! Along the way, I'll buy you a new swimsuit. Your birthday gift from me."
Sheila mewed, "Really?" looking up at him with her big kitten eyes.
"Sure, why not?" Then he looked over to Hellen, and saw why not. She had her fist raised and was shaking it at him - threatening him with the fiery wrath of doom. He grinned sheepishly, then ducked out the door, bolting for his car.
Sheila lay in bed, unable to sleep, her mind buzzing excitedly. When she modeled swimsuits for Mike, he kept calling her nice things, like beautiful, pretty, and lovely, much to her sister's dismay. If that wasn't enough, when they got to the pool she got to see both Eric and Mike without a shirt on, which had reduced her to a giggling, blushing mess before she could pull herself together.
And then the impossible happened: Mike dove off the diving board, hit the water, and slipped beneath the surface. The impossible part? His shorts didn't go with him. They slipped off on impact, and he didn't realize it until he had climbed halfway out of the pool, giving Sheila a nice view of his groin, and when he slipped back in the water, almost visibly burning red with embarrassment, she got a good look at his ass, too.
Unfortunately, some kid got to his shorts before she could, and the little jerk gave them back to him before she could see any more, but she saw his sheath, and that was almost too exciting.
Sheila had already been through sex education at school, and - perhaps even more informative - had secretly watched the porno tape her sister kept hidden under her bed. Even though the tape only had a wolf in it, and the sex ed class didn't teach about fox penises, she used her imagination. The thought of Mike, naked, with a hard penis, wanting her, calling her nice things was so exciting that she ended up with a slightly darker patch on her dark-blue panties.
She tried to fight the feeling slowly creeping through her body, but finally caved and scrambled to the edge of her bed, leaning over it and reaching under. She moved a couple of books and a stuffed tiger she could never bring herself to get rid of, and revealed the back massager.
It was a strange object to look upon, seeming almost alien in design. One main sphere served as the housing for the batteries and on/off button, while three other, walnut-sized spheres formed a triangle at the bottom. She grabbed it and straightened up, pressed the on button with a look bordering on reverence. Immediately the toy sprung to life, the three bulbs lighting up in the darkness with an eerie purple glow.
"Oh, wait... the towel," she mumbled to herself. She clicked the massager off, plunging her into darkness, then reached down beside her bed and brought up a rolled up, pink towel. She unfurled it, folded it over once for extra thickness, then lifted her bum and waggled her tail as she placed the towel underneath her. Then she lay back down, got comfortable, and clicked the massager back on.
Even though she's done this a handful of times before, she still had trouble with the intensity of full-on contact without a buildup, so she placed the legs of the massager on her left thigh, forcing herself to breath slowly as she felt the vibrations flow through her. She left it there a while, moving it in small circles, feeling an exciting, muted buzz reach her lower lips. The dark patch on her panties grew.
She moved the massager up, having two of the spheres trace along her panty line, sending pulses through her pubic bone and causing her stomach to clench. She moved it up again, to the mound above her sex, slowly lowering it down so that the legs framed her slit, but didn't touch it. Her breathing grew heavier as she traced a finger around her sensitive, budding bosoms, causing her to shudder with pleasure.
She began thinking about the porn, with the wolf, pushing his throbbing penis into the female wolf, in and out, over and over again, and she pressed the a massager leg down on her slit. She felt a tinge of pain as the vibrating sphere parted her lips through the panties and had to stop.
"It's so big," she thought to herself, picturing the wolf's penis, "how could she fit that whole thing inside her?" She decided against trying to push the entire massager inside her, and instead focused on what Mike looked like naked, and began to rub the massager up and down her slit.
She imagined Mike rubbing his fully erect fox-cock up against her womanhood, smiling that winning smile and giving her a long, passionate kiss, causing a gush of her juices to flow out and make her panties wet.
Every time the massager got too close to her clit, she moaned lowly, and it seemed every one of her muscles in that area clenched with pleasure, sending a small stream of her juices to trickle down between her thighs and crack, and be absorbed into the towel.
Her breath got heavier as she traced her fingers around her hard, sensitive, little nipples poking out of her black fur. She moved the massager closer to her clit just as her fingers brushed across her nipple, causing her to shudder and another gush of her juices to squirt out of her womanhood and splatter on the massager and her fingers.
She pulled the massager back and caught her breath, letting herself relax. She only realized now that her eyes were shut tightly, and she couldn't remember when she closed them. She embraced it, though, and used the free darkness to regroup her thoughts. Mike, naked, kissing her... touching her... rubbing against her with his manhood... Before she knew it, she was rubbing the massager up and down her young slit again.
She was quick to build up speed this time, her fingers lingering longer on her nipples, the massager edging closer to her clit. She let out a low moan, bringing the massager on top of her clit and letting it stay there. The vibrations echoed through her body, making her mind reel with pleasure. Her body tensed, toes curled, and the insides of her eyelids went white, a blast of her juices soaking through her panties, splashing off of the massager and her fingers, and finally landing on the already moist towel.
When she opened her eyes, tiny lights danced in front of them. She lay there for a moment, basking in the glow of the orgasm, feeling at peace with the world, somehow.
She shifted to her side, and she suddenly realized how wet she had been. With a sigh and a push, she was up, stripping off her panties and throwing them on the wet towel. She was about to use a dry corner of the towel to clean herself up when she hesitated. Her paw slid between her legs, and her fingers traced along her lips, sending a shudder through her, and moping up some residual juice. She brought her fingers to her little nose and gave them a sniff. She lowered them slightly to her lips, and her tongue gave them a timid lick. It didn't taste bad, she thought, but it wasn't good, either... or at least... it shouldn't be... right? She licked her fingers again, a little longer this time, and decided that she probably shouldn't be doing that, which made her feel bad for wanting to do it more.
With a confused sigh, she cleaned herself with the towel, then the massager, and then bundled up her panties with the towel and snuck them off to the washer and dryer, which - thankfully - were in the next room.
The bed had a small moist spot on it, where the defenses of the towel had failed, but beyond that, it was dry and warm. She had slipped on new panties and a long tee shirt, crawled in to bed, and lay there unable to sleep. Her mind wandered and wondered, imagining what real sex must feel like, wondering if it was right to be in love (was it love that she felt?) with her sister's good friend, if it was right to like her own taste, or if it was right to even do what she was doing with the massager. She imagined confronting Mike, telling him how she felt about him, and how he might react - favoring the best-case scenario, which ended in a long, passionate kiss. She compared herself to the lady-wolf in the porn, and her mind went into a curious place.
On her nightstand, along with her modest alarm clock and snow-globe of fairies, sat the massager, dark and lifeless. She reached over, gathering her courage, and plucked it up, clicking it back on to its eerie purple vibrations. She turned on to her belly and climbed to her knees - the position the wolf-lady was in when she was receiving the rapturous-looking anal sex. Her arm reached back, and she lifted her tail, bracing herself. The massager landed just below her tail, and she gasped. She let a single leg of the vibrator rest on her pucker for only a moment before she quickly pulled it away.
The vibrator was hastily shut off, and thrown underneath the bed.
It had felt... odd... Too odd... She had enough things to sort out without that sort of complication. She settled back down and pulled the covers over herself, the thought of kissing Mike lingering in the back of her mind...