Fall Around Me
"It's flurryin' out there," the otter said, quietly. Loud as a whisper. Her brown-furred muzzle mere inches from the window. So close to the clear, cool glass that her warm, washing breath fogged a sizable portion of it.
"I saw it when I went an' got the paper," Orinoco replied, nodding, engrossed with his bowl of cereal. And the sports page.
"They melt on your nose and eyelashes? The flurries did?" Rhine teased, giggle-chirping. That bright otter-sound. Her whiskers gave a singular twitch. "Mm?"
He didn't respond, though a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He continued eating and reading.
She chirped again, lingering at the window, looking out at the endless, rural scenery that was their backyard. Fields of harvested, cut-down corn stalks and such. Dull-green pastures and scattered patches of deciduous trees. All by the riverbank. The river-water couldn't be seen or heard from here, of course, but she could so clearly imagine it. Feel it. Taste it, even. Water was in her blood. Literally and figuratively.
Eyes scanning, she soaked in the sight of the rusty, pumpkin-colored leaves that were clinging defiantly to the nearly-naked trees. The big, mottled, chalky sycamores. The ones where, if you hugged them, you'd come away covered in bark-dust. The ambassadorial tulip trees, too, not so stately as they'd been in July. And the more common oaks and maples. Everything was, it seemed, finally settling in to that mandatory sparseness that was so cyclical in temperate lands. Where everything had to be emptied before it could be made full again. No, it wasn't California here. But thank God, Rhine thought, it wasn't.
Breathing even closer to the window, the otter was still fogging it up. Eventually prompting her to raise a paw, to rub the haze away. The squeaky rubbing sounds of paw against glass. Her furry fingers moistening from the chill. And, arm lowering back down, she audibly observed, "It's that 'almost' kind o' snow, y'know? Just little, stray flakes. Makes it all seem a bit more greyer." A pause. "'Greyer' a word?"
"I think so."
"Well, then that's what it is, then," she said, with more certainty this time. A little nod. "Mm." Their old, rustic farmhouse by the Kenapocomoco River (the 'Eel,' or 'Snake-fish') felt a little sleepier than usual. Just the air in here, and how it seemed heavier. How things were so quiet. So covered. Such a shrouded slate-shaded Saturday. And it wasn't even mid-morning yet. Perhaps the whole day would be like this. Perhaps they would be prisoners of the sky. Perhaps they would ...
" ... not s'posed to be above forty today," Orinoco told her, unintentionally breaking her internal revelry.
"Yeah." Rhine blinked a few times, nodding quietly, eyes wistfully watching the winter prelude. Sighing, she left it, turning around, padding just a step or two, her bare foot-paws scuffing so slightly on the linoleum of the kitchen floor. The tip of her rudder-tail dragging along. It was such a soft, background sound. Something you heard every day. But something you never really noticed. Just the simple sounds of movement, of the kinetic body.
"You alright?" he asked, looking up. Craning his neck as she disappeared behind him.
She nodded, moving behind his chair. Leaning over him. Gently guiding his neck back down, and resting her chin atop his head. Lazily wrapping her arms around him. "Mm-hmm." Her eyes went to a close.
The male otter, finished with his cereal, pushed the bowl aside, toward the center of the table, the leftover milk sloshing around as he did so. Sloshing, but not spilling.
"Ori," she breathed, almost in a curious, questioning tone.
"Mm?"
" ... I, uh ... last night?" she said. A pause. "I didn't mean t'snap at you."
A deep breath. "It was my fault."
"No ... "
" ... I shoulda gotten up with you. Alright? You were tired."
Rhine tilted her muzzle, her nose in his head-fur, now. Her whiskers dragging against him. She breathed in. Getting his familiar scent, one that stayed with her even in dreams. A scent of safety and comfort. The scent of their bed-sheets. She held the breath, savoring it. And exhaled. " ... well, I just ... " She trailed, not really knowing what she was wanting to say. And if anything even needed to be said.
She really felt, sometimes, that certain things could be conveyed through touches, through kisses and hugs, through little, baited breaths. Without words. She wasn't exactly a distinguished speaker. The otter knew she had a pronounced rural accent. One that had character, true, but not sophistication. At least not according to any city-fur's definition. But, then, she didn't care much for city-furs, and was fiercely proud of her rural heritage. But, when she tried to say elegant things, they didn't always come out as she intended. With the sort of poetry she felt her in her heart. In such moments of great vulnerability, there were better methods of communicating than mere speech.
" ... you kissin' my nape?"
"Mm-hmm," was her soft, silky breath, mouthing and sucking on the back of his neck, moving to the right side, then up to his cheek. Where she stopped. Saying, "But, I mean, I really was just ... "
" ... is this still 'bout last night?"
Last night, or very early in the morning, rather, they'd both been jarred awake by their son, three-month old Wabash (or, as Rhine had taken to calling him, 'Wobby'). He'd wanted feeding. Naturally, Rhine's body had the food. But, being groggy and a little bit flustered, she'd verbally lamented the fact that she had to get out of bed and Orinoco didn't. She'd called him, in an irate, emotional voice, 'lazy and rudder-brained.' Something she'd instantly regretted. For her husband was neither of those things. He was hard-working, thoughtful. He was just a heavier sleeper. And, so, hadn't been as quick to wake up when the crying had started.
"Mm?" he prodded.
"I was just in a mood, y'know?" was her eventual response. "Anyway, it's not like you lactate or anything. Not that I know of." A quiet chuckle. "Nothin' you could do ... "
"I could've rubbed your shoulders and kept you company," he insisted. "It's not a problem, darling. Next time, just gimme a shove."
"Yeah?"
Orinoco nodded. "Yep."
"But y'don't have t'do that. You'll be tired, too, when it comes to morning." She scrunched her features. "I mean, I was just cranky, an' ... "
"Rhine, just don't worry 'bout it. I had too much sleep in my eyes to take offense, anyway ... 'sides, I probably deserved your crankiness." A smile.
"You didn't," she told him.
"Not even a little bit?"
Rhine giggle-chirped. "You want me to start gettin' on your tail 'bout things?" She hugged him tighter. "Mm. Y'know, I know he's a paw-ful an' all that, but I think Wobby's just ... " She wasn't sure of the word she was looking for. " ... the best thing," she finally said. "Like, I can't even word it. How much a blessing our baby is for us." Saying it genuinely. They had tried to have a baby for the past two years. And, after many failed attempts, had finally succeeded. "I see you in him, y'know, when I look in his eyes. I think he's got more of you in him."
"He has your demeanor. When he's not cryin', that is."
Rhine had to smile at that. "I think it's too early t'say who's demeanor he's got." A sigh. "It's, like, in a way, I can't really think of what it was like b'fore he was here. Does that make sense? I mean, he's always in my thoughts, and he makes me feel such ... " She trailed, and then picked back up with, "Well, love does this thing to your memory, y'know? Like, it's where ... like, where," she said, "I can't hardly remember what life was like b'fore you."
"I'm sure you do," he assured, quietly.
"Maybe," she had to admit. "Alright, I do. I remember lots o' things from lots o' times, but they aren't worth rememberin' without you." A sigh, closing her eyes as she leaned over him from behind. "It's like that with Wobby."
"Are we callin' 'Wobby,' now? His name's Wabash." The Wabash was Indiana's biggest, most renowned river. And the Kenapocomoco, which the two otters resided by, fed into it. So, with otters usually being named for rivers, it only seemed an appropriate name for their son.
"'Wobby' sounds so cute. Don't you think? My little Wobby ... "
Orinoco had to chuckle. "I guess it does, yeah. Mm ... " A few moments of silence. As much as a minute of it, with him sitting, her standing. Her arms around his neck, and her chin back on his head again. Her muzzle beginning to tilt, beginning to stray. Beginning to open. Her teeth giving a few, playful nips to his roundish ears.
An errantly-sighing Orinoco broke the silence with,"You gonna get dressed?" He turned his head, twisting to get a look at her. Eyes sparkling in some way.
"D'ya really want me to?" she responded, chin lifting, body standing up straight. She was wearing very little. Just a t-shirt, in fact. One of Orinoco's extra-large t-shirts, which hung on the curves of her breasts, not hiding the outlines of her nipples at all, and ending a few inches below her waist. Just long enough to conceal her feminine areas. He found it pretty erotic, actually, to see her like that. In just one of his shirts. Made his pupils dilate noticeably.
"No," he therefore decided. "I don't want ya to."
A small smile. "Mm. Thought so. Anyway, no point in puttin' a bra on if I'm just gonna have to take it off t'feed Wobby when he wakes."
"Have you even worn a bra in the last two days?"
"Haven't had to leave the house, have I?" she responded, with a toothy grin. "Besides, Wobby's not the only one I'm feedin' ... " A teasing, insinuating trail, running a paw down her husband's nape, down the outline of his spine. " ... am I right?" Her rudder-tail began to steer behind her, to the left. The right. And then stopping for a second, before lumbering back into motion.
"Rhine," was all Orinoco said, sheepishly. A sudden bashfulness in his voice.
"Mm. Not often I get you at a disadvantage, is it ... " Ever since she'd started lactating, the male otter had been suckling from her. It had started as sweet foreplay a week after she'd come home from the hospital. And, from there, had become an almost-daily indulgence. " ... anyway, not been goin' anywhere, so I leave it off," she said, of her bra. "Better than puttin' it on and off six times a day."
"You go outside, though," he reminded, composing himself. "You go for walks."
"Not that they're helpin' much," she said, sighing. She still weighed six pounds more than she had before she'd gotten pregnant. Weight she hadn't been able to shed. It wasn't all that noticeable. So Orinoco kept telling her. He thought she looked beautiful, supple. Lively. But, turning herself around in front of the bathroom mirror every night, Rhine couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious. As if those six pounds represented a sudden decline in her body and metabolism. As if those six pounds were just the beginning. Not that she was vain. She wasn't. But, still, she wanted to look nice.
"I tell you, you look good enough to eat up. And I do eat you up," he reminded her, "every day. You're lovely." A breath. "Anyway, when the spring comes, and when we can get outside more, and can start swimming? You'll be able to burn 'em off. We haven't been able to swim since Wabash was born," he reminded.
"No, we haven't," she said, nodding. "Mm. There's always the indoor public pool in town, I s'pose, but ... y'know, swimming's a spiritual thing to me."
"I know."
"I mean, we're otters. Otters an' water? It's like birds an' sky, an' ... an' mouses an' cheese," she insisted. "God just made those things t'be together." She breathed in deeply through her black, diamond-shaped nose. "Bein' underwater. No sounds. Just ... no sights. Just moving through that space, and it's, like ... there's always too many furs at those kind of public pools. Swimming's not an art to them. It's just a way to kill time. A way to socialize or somethin'."
"Well ... " Orinoco sighed, not knowing any alternatives to suggest. Only, "You can come fishin' with me. Though you can't really swim when it's this cold. But it's still bein' in the water."
"Fish with you? And forgo the fun o' watchin' you catch those things?" Some helpless giggles. "Eh, you're a better fisher than I am," she said, more seriously. "You're quicker, an' ... I don't know. You seem to know where they're gonna go. How they're gonna move. I always guess wrong, an' I grab and lunge at nothin' but wet."
"I keep tellin' you I'll teach you."
"An' I keep tellin' you," she responded, "that some furs have natural talents for some things. You have your talents. I have mine. Fishing's not one o' mine, an' no amount of teaching is gonna make me a great fisher of an otter. Just like no amount of teaching's gonna make you good at singin'." Rhine had a beautiful singing voice. At church, she often sang solos in front of the congregation. She knew a lot of those hymns by heart. She'd also taken to cooing lullabies to Wabash while she rocked him to sleep.
A slight face from him, because of her 'singing' comment. "I'm not that bad."
"Worse, maybe," she teased, giggling. "Mm ... eh, anyways," Rhine said, not letting him expand on the subject, and starting to feel a friskiness coming on. "You know I like to have some good sex after a swim. Even durin' it. Can't do that in a public pool."
Orinoco chuckled heartily. "Heh ... Rhine ... "
" ... it's true, isn't it?" she said, rubbing his shoulders.
"Your liking to have sex? Or not bein' able to in a public pool?"
A cheeky grin. One he couldn't see, cause she was still standing behind him. But he could sense it all the same. And hear her as she said, "Both, I guess."
Still chuckling, he nodded. "Eh, heh ... yeah. Mm." A pause. "What happened to the polite, demure flower I first married?"
"I was never all that demure," Rhine replied, stretching, moving up to the tips of her foot-paws. Then settling back down. "I'd just been like a flower in a late spring frost 'til you came. You became my sunlight, an' ... with each passing year, I bloom more an' more."
"I can't argue with that," he whispered, with tender appreciation. A pause. "But, anyway, you haven't been wearin' a bra, even when you go outside."
"I wear a shirt and coat," she defended, casually. "Anyway, we're in the middle o' nowhere. Which is just how I like it." She kissed his cheek again. For about the tenth time since she'd come over to him. Each kiss getting a bit longer, a bit sloppier. Leaving his cheek-fur a bit wetter with her saliva. "Mm. And, if you're really wantin' my criticism ... "
" ... when did I say I wanted it?" he interrupted.
"You said you prob'ly deserved what I said last night, didn't you?"
"Doesn't mean I deserve the same today," was his reasoned, smiling reply.
"All the same, I think you're a bit sluggish in the head this mornin'."
"Sluggish?"
"Mm." Looking down at him. "Tellin' me I don't have enough clothes on? Since when is that a problem for you?" A giggle-chirp.
And he chuckled, conceding the point.
"Also," she added, between giggles. " ... also, you're not so covered, yourself." A heavy sigh, quieting down a bit. Her eyes not-so-discreetly traveling over his body, his bare, furry shoulders. Strong shoulders. His rich-brown fur. And his well-defined chest, and that belly. All those delicious masculine things. Those legs. He was wearing tattered jean shorts and white, cotton briefs. That was all. And his rudder-tail was extended through the 'tail-gap' in the back of his chair, trailing to the floor between her own legs, her knees knocking up against it. "Mm. Know what?"
"What?"
"I like a good tail," she breathed, sighing hotly. "You got a nice, thick one. Love that fur. Love that ... "
" ... tail, huh?"
"There a reason I shouldn't like it?"
"None that I can think of." A smile. "And, anyway ... 'bout the clothes: we only woke up twenty minutes ago, an' I don't got work today. And I got us enough fish for a while," he said. In the summer, they had a garden. Grew and canned many of their own fruits and vegetables. And, year-round, he would catch and freeze fish for them. Except for when the river had a solid layer of ice on top of it. Fishing became rather difficult, then. But growing and catching a good portion of their food helped save on buying lots of it over at the grocery in Logansport. " ... and the weather's a bit gloomy, so I was just gonna spend some time ... "
" ... stayin' inside bein' warm an' close," she said for him, sighing, nodding. "Sounds like a plan." A light kiss to the top of his head, mouthing his head-fur a bit. How many times had she done that? She couldn't remember. But she made herself stop, to breathe, "You gonna get out o' that chair, then? Or am I gonna have to push you out?"
He understood her line of thought, and didn't need to be asked twice. Didn't need any further hints. He simply scooted the chair back. It briefly scraped against the floor.
Rhine shuffled back, so that her toes wouldn't get stubbed. She felt, as she moved, a suddenness. As if the day was suddenly teetering over before it had begun. It was anticipation. That was the feeling. That made her paw-pads suddenly sweat, that made her pulse begin to race. It was such a visceral sensation, one she never tired of, and one her husband never failed to incite in her.
Making a throaty sound, he got himself up and turned around, paws wasting no time in moving gently to her sides, where they'd been many times before. Where his touch was greatly welcomed. And he finished what she hadn't. She'd stopped moving. But he forced her back into movement, shuffling her back, back, back ...
" ... heh ... hey, what are ya doin'?" she asked, a little breathlessly, giggle-chirping as she was wordlessly guided against the refrigerator. She glanced at the floor, hearing a clitter-clatter of plastic. "You're makin' me knock the magnets off." She said it was with an innocent seriousness, as if the magnets could feel pain. She said it in such a way that it could've made him melt. And, in a way, that's what he did. Right into her. Right against her.
" ... mm," she responded, her cheek sucked on, his bare chest pressing to her bare, hanging breasts. Both of them naked in the kitchen on this chilly day. And neither of them noticing the chill at all. Her lips barely parting, she tried to say something. "You, uh ... " A weak clearing of her throat, the sentence failing. And she couldn't remember what it had been, so she just let it drop.
" ... you wanted me out of my chair, didn't ya?" he panted, smiling, slipping his paws under her shirt. Or, rather, his shirt that she was wearing. And running those paws up and down her sides. The soft, rich, nutty-brown fur. Such a lovely pelt. He never tired of feeling it. Never tired of feeling her.
"I did," she whispered.
"Well, I'm out of it. Just tell me what you want from me, darling ... " His muzzle tilted, lightly locking with hers. In a sweet, lip-loosened kiss. A few sucks, and a smack-smack. Lasting for a second or so. Him breathing, their saliva stringing and then breaking. "Just ... just tell me what you want ... "
Perhaps it was because she was hazy-headed. Maybe that was making her nonsensical. Maybe she was too swoon-ful (as if that were even possible). But the first thing that bubbled up, that came to her conscious mind was, "Fall around me, Ori. Just ... fall all around," she breathed, "me."
He felt a shiver as she said this. He didn't know why, but he did. And, gaining his bearings, he began to do what she asked.
" ... Ori," she breathed. It was almost a plea.
He nodded, moving faster, pinning her to the refrigerator door. "Don't you worry," he said, voice coming out as a hot, little huff. Forced to remove his paws from her belly, in order to reach below and undo the button to his jean shorts.
She closed her eyes and heard his zipper going down. Her cheeks were burning beneath her fur, and her whiskers felt like they were going to wilt right off.
He licked his lips, panting, shorts and briefs going down. The rustle of fur and fabric. Clothing past knees, now, to ankles, where he kicked it all aside. Briefs stuck in shorts, the pile slid across the floor and to a stop.
Rhine, opening her eyes, pupils fully dilated, nodded weakly. Yes. Yes, keep going, she thought. Silently urging him on. Her husband's bare, furry body so close and visible. She could feel the heat coming off him. Could smell his fur. Could see, as eyes glanced down, his fuzzy sheath "That's ... "
" ... more like it, huh?" he supplied for her, gently lifting her shirt.
A dizzy nod, raising her arms. "It is. I don't know," she said, "why ... why we even got dressed this mornin' at all. Just shoulda ... stayed naked, and not even gotten outta bed," she managed, the shirt falling away with near-silence. It felt so good to be bare. To be in the fur. To have her uncovered body mingling with his, and to have the house-hold air snugging around them like an invisible blanket.
"We got outta bed cause we're not bone-idle. We got dressed cause I had t'go get the paper from the box, and you're too polite to go round with no clothes on all the time," were his answers. "And we wouldn't have been able to get through breakfast for the sex we would've had, and our stomachs would've been growlin' the whole time we made love. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
"Heh ... well, hold on a minute, though. I'm polite?" she asked, tilting her head, eyes half-open.
"Mm-hmm."
"Since when?" she joked.
"Since always," he assured, standing right in front of her, belly pressing against hers. Their fur meshing, both furred that rich, earthy brown. His paws, as they'd done before, roving up and down her sides. Relaxing her muscles, loosening her posture.
"Well ... "
" ... you're gettin' silly," he told her.
A broad smile, head lolling to the side.
He kissed and licked his way down her cheek, her chin, the underside of her neck. To where her collarbone was. Leaning against her, one paw flatly pressed to the cool, white door of the electrically-humming refrigerator, and the other lightly patting at her exposed groin, giving playful, little gropes.
Rhine gyrated her hips, purposely trying to grind against that so-familiar paw. To get some kind of contact between her hooded clitoris and his paw-pad. Getting a few brushes, a few bumps. Breathing in, sighing out.
"Oh," he went, breathing as deeply of her as she was of him, and feeling her shifting her body to counter his own. Mouthing wetly at the mounds that were her breasts, he felt himself losing his capacity for rational thought. "Mmn." His knees were bending, his posture becoming unwieldy. He couldn't hold this half-stand for very long without his stance buckling. So, paws reaching up, he gently pushed on her shoulders. Bringing her down with him. If he was going to the floor, so was she.
Rhine drew in delicious air as she sank, the kitchen fresh with the promise of pleasure, of furious intimacy. Of ultimate knowing. She went, carefully, to her rump, her rudder-tail jutting off almost perpendicular from her. Almost, but not quite. Her upper back now against the fridge, rump on the linoleum. Not realizing she was doing it, she reached for him, whimpering as she did so. A sound of need.
A sound he couldn't get enough of, one that filled his small, roundish ears as he licked her breasts, mouthing them wetly. Tongue matting and messing her fur, lips wandering. Wandering.
Her paws found themselves on the back of his head. Fingers splaying. She held him close to her bosom.
And his lip finally slipped over a nipple.
"Mm ... " Rhine's toes curled for a second. Until she had to uncurl them when her muscles tensed to the point of straining.
Orinoco was using his teeth. Carefully, gingerly teasing her nipple, coaxing it hard, before relaxing his innocent bite and slathering the nipple's flesh with the tip of his wriggling tongue. Taste buds detecting a bit of milk leaking from her. The taste. Wasn't enough. Soon, he began to suckle.
"Hmm." A deep breath. "Mm ... " Sighing, Rhine continued to hold to the back of her husband's head. Relaxing. Oh, she felt so relaxed. Had she ever felt so relaxed? Oh, she cradled him, feeling him gently suck and tug on her nipple, feeling the trickles of stray milk leaking and dripping off his lips and down her breast-fur.
He sucked and swallowed, with little slurping sounds, with hot exhales through his diamond-shaped nose. Getting drunk on her scent as well as her milk.
There was an intimacy to this moment that she couldn't quite understand. And she didn't try to. It felt too nice. She just daintily scratched his head-fur, keeping her eyes closed. Swallowing now and then, her throat a bit dry from all the panting she'd been doing. "Mm ... mm-mm," she went, purposely clutching his head-fur.
He picked up on the cue. And, as she wished, switched nipples, assaulting the other with his tongue. Doing the teeth-teasing, as well. Sufficiently hardening her and pleasuring her before eagerly feeding.
"Ori," she breathed, just to say his name. Just to say something. Just to make some kind of coherent sound in the midst of incoherency.
Another minute went by, before Orinoco slipped off her nipple, muzzle pulling away from her breasts, sniffing, sniffing. Something good to his male instinct. Her sex. Had moistened. Heavily. "Uhn ... " A masculine grunt. He swallowed, sucking air, breathing in. In. Oh, in through the nose, making the breath go on until his lungs were filled. Then he huffed all the air out, following his desire.
Rhine gave a dizzy, half-realized nod as her husband began sliding further down her bare body.
He shivered, at a shimmy, puffing for breath, sliding back, back, down to his own belly. Going for between her thighs. Going for her physical essence.
Rhine chirped weakly, legs sliding apart, body pulled at. Her husband moving her away from the refrigerator and to the middle of the kitchen floor, between the table and the sink. In the open. Where he haphazardly wrapped his arms around her thighs, keeping them apart. She gave an otter-bark. For no real reason other than she felt like it. It was the only expression for this. So, she did it again.
The male otter, not bothering to show restraint, had already plunged his muzzle into her femininity, sniffing, pressing, panting. Nose and lips in contact, and his hot, moist breaths washing over her pouting flesh. His lips peppering kisses and little sucks all around her labia. Actions coming, now, quickly, sharply. It felt as if everything were disjointed. Like linear time had ceased and all that remained were flashes of being.
Rhine simply laid there, breasts rising and falling with an increasingly erratic rhythm. Feeling his tongue worm itself into her vagina. Feeling it slurp its way back out, run its way up, up her vulva, leaving a trail of saliva the whole way.
Orinoco, almost to her clitoris, was momentarily jarred from the animal passion when he was bumped in the nose. Bump, bump, Rhine suddenly bucking her hips with desire. Almost involuntarily, chirping randomly as she did so.
A grunt from him, blinking a few times. Hazy-headed, he increased his hold on her body, keeping her down. Keeping, keeping ...
... keeping her gaze upward, the femme otter watched the ceiling through half-open eyes as her clitoris was teased, sparking and radiating a rising, warming bliss to all parts of her. A moan, and another, paws weakly opening and closing on the floor, trying to grab at her husband's head. But missing. Trying again. Finally succeeding, as she panted, as her cheeks went so, so hot, and everything spun, everything ...
... shook. Her muscles quivered and shook. He felt the tremors against his muzzle. Felt the searing heat. Felt the dribbling, liquid release.
" ... ohnn ... oh, ohh," Rhine moaned, overcome, in orgasm, desperate for breath. Everything just out of focus. Everything pleasure. Pleasure. Everything.
Orinoco, feeling like he was on fire, squirmed forward. A few inches, a foot. And flopped down, trying to regain his breath. Laying his head on his wife's bare belly.
Rhine couldn't move, it seemed, for nearly a minute or so. Until she finally put her paws on his head. "O-ori," she managed.
"Mm?" His eyes were closed.
A playful, otter-perfect smile melted on her muzzle. "I love sex," she blurted. "N-next time I pray, I gotta ... t-thank God again," she said, "for sex."
Orinoco chuckled warmly, finding her comment hysterical. And the fact that it was a genuine comment (and not just her being goofy) made him chuckle more. He loved her brightness. He loved the warmth of her personality.
Calming down just a little bit more, she continued, "I love you so much. I just ... Ori, I love you so much." She regretted that it sounded so simple. That the words sounded so plain. But there was so much emotion and passion behind them, in the very tone of her voice, that she knew Orinoco didn't care if it was poetry or not. An 'I love you' was an 'I love you.' And, if your heart was alive and working, it was beautiful no matter how fancy the wording.
He breathed back at her, with such protective, tender presence, "I love you, too, darling. More all the time ... more an' more."
A flushing nod. And a few seconds of silence. " ... y'know, that felt," she eventually continued. She shook her head. " ... it felt so good that, if I were, uh, one to use curse words, I'd use a curse word. But I don't, so ... I just gotta tell you it felt ... " She sighed, licking her lips. " ... fantastic." The word was barely heard. It barely made it out of her muzzle.
Because he was sliding up her body, fur against fur, form against form. Hitching himself upward, whispering, "W-what makes you think ... we're done? You got an orgasm? Don't I get one?"
A happy chirp, giggling with dizzy, glowing mirth. "Heh ... like I'm gonna let you leave this kitchen without an orgasm?" she said casually, the pleasure having loosened her playfulness. Not bashful about the topic of this impromptu conversation. "Best part o' sex is havin' you in me. All the best orgasms I've had, it was when you were in me ... "
" ... mm. Rhine ... "
" ... just ... am I talkin' too much? W-what ... "
" ... just ... oh. Hmm. Hnn ... " He couldn't wait. His expression, which was seriously passionate, seriously sensitive, soon turned into an expression of sighing pleasure. As his throbbing, seven-inch otter-hood, having long been out of its sheath, dribbling beads of pre from the slit, dangled as his hips settled into position, coming forward, down and forward. Down and against. A vein showing on the shaft, which throbbed with need.
Rhine sighed, spreading her thighs further. More than ready for him. More than waiting. Her legs and arms trying to wrap around his back, trying to latch around him.
The head of his otter-hood went past her petal-lips, right to her entrance, ready to sink in. Ready, and doing so, and sliding, sliding, inch by squelching inch.
"Oh, g-gosh ... " A tingle went up her spine at the sensation of being filled. Such a satisfying shiver that she could never hope to detail it.
The male otter was, already, swimming in bliss, his member buried in hot, raw muscle, snugged and scintillated on all sides by her slick, steamy walls, like her body was marinating him. It felt 'sizzling.' Felt 'succulent.' His rudder-tail steered back and forth, back and forth, swishing lightly through the air. Seeming to stir the already strong scents.
Her own tail rose and fell a bit, slapping the kitchen floor. Her hips and body being gently rocked, now, as he filled and refilled her loins. As he angled his thrusts to make sure their hips fully met, to grind his pubic bone against hers. Indirectly stimulating her clitoris. Her arms hugging round his back, holding on. She panted and held on.
Grunts and otter-barks, pulling his hips back, sinking them in. A biological friction as old as life, as old as time, but a pleasure that never dated itself. It felt just as good every time. This time as the last time as the time before that. To share such pleasure with the one he loved.
Rhine beneath him, just panted and gurgled. Limply enjoying the heck out of it.
He lasted a few more minutes before his thrusts became erratic, before his muscles began to tense. Before sensations began to tumble and careen into each other, everything leading to an explosive spark of pleasure that shot through his body with each climactic ejaculation. "Uhn, nuhh ... uhh." He huffed with relief, sighing, so hot and hazy as he layed atop his wife. Feeling the residual jerks. Feeling her vagina ripple around him, feeling her nectar trickling down his shaft to his furry, tufted sac, which was tightened, the orbs swollen. So many actions and reactions, so much push-and-pull between their bodies.
Rhine's second orgasm was quieter than her first. Not because it was less intense or less enjoyable. It was equally so. Mainly because, at this point, she was so hazy-headed and relaxed that the sounds just weren't making it out of her muzzle. As if the energy had been waylaid, leaving her to operate on air. Just soft, panting chirps, and fierce, flushing shudders, helplessly floored. In more ways than one.
"Mm. That was," Orinoco eventually breathed, when they'd both regained their faculties, "beautiful. Mm ... " A sweet, audible kiss to her lips, sighing as he pulled his hips back, pulling out of her. And he got to his knees, hanging his head. "Eh, I'm dizzy."
"Heh." Rhine, still lying on her back, tilted her head up. "Your blood's all still down in your ... "
" ... mm?" he interrupted, giving her a playful look.
"Well, it is," she said, grinning a toothy grin. She stretched, pushing herself up to a sit, sniffing the air and looking around. "Gonna have to wash the floor," she realized, furrowing her brow. "An I got your seed drippin' down my thigh ... " She wiped at it with her paw.
"Looks like it," Orinoco agreed, meeting her eyes.
And something about the look she was giving him made her burst out with laughter. "Will you stop it? Makin' me ... all happy," she breathed, beaming. Fully enveloped in the afterglow of their love-making. "Don't stop it, Ori. Keep doin' it ... "
" ... I plan on it," he whispered, nodding warmly.
She bit her lip and closed her eyes. "Oh, no."
"What?"
"Y'hear that?" she asked, opening her eyes again. "Give it a few seconds ... one, two ... "
... and the crying became audible.
Orinoco raised his brow.
"Babies always got that delay thing, y'know," she said, grinning. "They open their little muzzles to scream, and it's, like, they just gape for air for a few seconds before they can get the sounds out ... " A giggle, forcing herself to stand. Using the refrigerator door to help her keep her balance. "Ooh," she went, leaning her head against the freezer for a moment. "Ooh, okay." She swallowed, and then looked down at her husband. "When you're done playin' on the floor, will you clean this mess up?"
"Yes, ma'am," was the teasing response.
"After I settle Wobby down an' give him breakfast, we gotta shower ... "
" ... I'm aware o' that," he insisted, making a throaty stretch-sound as he stood, as he meandered toward the sink. As he soaked a dish-towel in soap and warm water in preparation for cleaning up the floor.
Rhine, padding away, paused. And lingered, bare, in the kitchen doorway, her rudder-tail swaying happily. She watched her husband at the sink. And listened to her child calling for her from his crib in the other room. And she saw that, outside, the sparse flurries were still swirling, caught in the grey of this stay-indoors Hoosier day. And, with a sigh, she thanked God. Thank you, dear Jesus. For life, she realized, is truly falling all around me. Life, love, family, hope, meaning, purpose, art, beauty, faith, taste, color, sight, and sound. And whatever else existed. All of it falling around her.
Absolutely drenched in it, she went to console her child. Hoping that, one day, he would understand and feel the very same joys.