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Tongue Tied

A young red fox sat on the edge of the stage in the darkened high school auditorium and contemplated the unfairness of life. Just turned seventeen, the fox had experienced a series of let-downs and disappointments that, while not making life a living hell, made it unpleasant to say the least.

He did not fit in well in High School. He supposed that most kids felt the same way, but his case was unique. For one thing, his parents, Larry and Donna Muzzle, had decided to name him 'Gray', after his Uncle Dorian from New Orleans. Apparently they owed him money. The name was rare, and that would have been enough to draw a few snide comments, but then there was the fur problem. Gray muzzle, aptly enough, suffered from early onset achromotrichia, also known as premature grayness.

A dash of Gray on the sides of one's muzzle and on the temples looked debonair .... when you were forty and had the looks of that Scottish badger who had done the first few Bond movies. But on a gangly seventeen-year old Connecticut Yankee it was just ... wrong. Especially when a substitute teacher called the roll in class. "Muzzle, Gray? Do we have a Gray Muzzle?" The giggling and chiding made him melt into his chair every time. Gray would rather have been stricken with severe acme. At least then he would have some companions in his misery.

There was nothing physically wrong with him, and he had once dreamed of making to the big leagues, like Bobby V, a distant relative a few years ahead of him in school who had gotten a baseball scholarship and actually got called up to the majors. But whenever Gray showed up for trials or athletic competitions Coach Shanen would take one look at him and send him for a medical evaluation. He passed each time, but by then it was too late to try out, the teams had been picked. The only option they gave him was to wear the school mascot's war bonnet during their games against their arch rivals from across town, the Black Knights. Gray refused, maintaining his dignity but doomed to make his way from his Freshman year to Junior class by way of the chess club, debating team, and the lonely corner table in the cafeteria. Throughout the journey the Jocks harassed him, the rich kids laughed at him, and the wanna-bees ignored him. Gray thought that he would like to be a lawyer some day, just so he could sue the tails off every kid that ever bullied or ridiculed him when they grew up ... if they grew up.

Needless to say, the closest thing to a female that Gray had ever been with up to that point was when his cousin Sophie, who barely qualified, took him as her date to the Junior Prom last year. He did not even get to first base with her, not that there was much of a first base to get to. Gray had been hoping to at least get to take her there in her father's '69 Pontiac Firebird, but he had to use his dad's '62 Ford pick-up instead. The let-downs just never seemed to cease, and today had been the latest stage in the parade of humiliation.

The Junior class play this year was based on the 1955 film, "Rebel Without a Cause", starring the fox, James Dean and Nathalie Wood, a wood chuck, but a very cute one. As a car fan, Gray had loved the customized vehicles in the movie, mostly Fords and Mercurys. And he loved James Dean's image and his association with cars. He fantasized regularly about being James Dean, casually lounging against his Porsche Speedster as gaggles of leggy poodles, afghans, and salukis in short skirts and translucent white blouses vied for his attention. The fantasies usually ended there because, other than vague descriptions in his father's male adventure magazines and some pictures in the Anthro Geographic, Gray had no firm idea of what came next. He assumed that it involved lips and breasts and that mysterious area under the skirt, but he never got farther than the lips and breasts part before climaxing, staining his sheets and pajamas. So other than learning how to do the laundry his sex education was stuck in neutral.

Despite this, and the wariness that comes with years of mortification, Gray had decided to try out for a part in the play. And not just any part. Gray wanted to play Jim, the hero, the role that had made James Dean a teen-idol twenty years prior.

Waiting with all the other students in the auditorium for his turn to audition had been bad enough. All the cool kids sat at the front. Gray sat in the back with the nerds. The other nerds assumed that he was there, as they were, to join the lighting crew or the prop department. Both jobs had their merits: lighting crew was good for an Audio-Visual credit; prop department was good for getting a glimpse of the females changing costumes back stage. When he boldly stated his intent to audition for a part they asked if he was thinking of trying for one of the antagonist's comic-relief cohorts, Goon or Crunch. Gray held his tongue as his face burned under his fur.

The apex of his humiliation came when he had to stand on stage, in front of all the others, the jocks, the rich kids, the in-crowd and the hangers-on, and announce that he was reading for the part of Jim.

First there was a sudden, shocked silence. Then the room had erupted in laughter. Bellows of laughter. Great guffaws of laughter. Belly ripping, eye watering, gut wrenching laughter. Gray had expected such a reaction from the crowd down front, but he saw that his fellow nerds were giggling and chuckling behind their paws too. Even the Drama Teacher was shaking with silent laughter as she handed him a script.

"Page ... page six." She said as she struggled to compose herself. "Quiet down the rest of you!"

Gray remembered looking down at the script in his paws. The first line for Jim on page six read "Stop tearing me apart! You say one thing and he says another and then everybody changes back". The odd chortle disturbed the silence and he could see the kids in the first row smirking and poking each other in anticipation. Gray ignored them, as he studied the page, tried to compose himself, and summoned his best debating voice.

He had opened his mouth to speak the line, but all he managed to get out was "Stop" in a high-pitched squeal before a fresh wave of laughter drowned him out. At that point he dropped the script on the stage and ran.

Gray's unfamiliarity with the backstage area did not aid in his escape. He rushed between curtains, backdrops and old props until he came to a wooden door. He wrenched it open, stepped through, and ran right into a brick wall. It was a prop from some past production he realized when he recovered his wits enough to look around. Worse, from there he could see that there was no exit on this side of the room. The only way out was back across the stage, where the Drama teacher was still trying to calm the laughter-stricken students. Gray had trapped himself.

That had been four hours ago, and Gray had been forced to listen to a dozen other kids audition for the part he had wanted so badly. Half of them had included a falsetto "Stop!" somewhere in their reading, much to the delight of their friends. Each one made Gray shrink further back against the brick wall until he wondered if he would not go right through it.

The auditions had finished almost an hour ago, with only one other student suffering similar embarrassment, but Gray had waited another thirty minutes before coming out of hiding. He did not want to run into anyone who had been in the auditorium, not for the next twenty years if possible. Since coming out he had been sitting on the edge of the stage, trying to work up the courage to make the long walk through the school and catch a bus home.

Gray was just pondering whether being a Presbyterian would disqualify him from entering a monastery for the rest of his adolescence when he heard a noise from behind him. He turned his head quickly and placed his paws on the stage, prepared to make a run for the exit if it was one of the other kids come back to taunt him. But his initial tension faded into wonder at the apparition that was approaching him.

At first it looked like an angel, dressed all in white, fuzzy and glowing around the edges. It took Gray a moment to realize that it was only because whoever it was was silhouetted by a stage light behind it. Still, the effect was soothing, removing all sense of threat from the figure.

As it neared Gray could make out more detail. The angel was a female, and a very curvy one at that, with a narrow waist and broad hips. She was not dressed all in white, as he had supposed, but rather was wearing a light gray blouse and tight cream colored shorts. The fur on her arms, tail and legs was white, however, and clipped short, right down to the skin, except for tufts at each wrist and ankle and the tip of her tail. It was a poodle, he realized, and she had particularly impressive breasts rolling around inside that blouse. When she turned sideways a bit he could see those globes outlined through the translucent material of her blouse.

She stepped out from in front of the light, and in the moment that he was blinded by it she stepped over to where he sat and plopped down beside him.

"You twied and faiwed too, eh?"

Gray recognized the voice before his eyes adjusted enough for him to make her out, but he held his tongue until he was certain. The solidifying image of the female sitting beside him resolved into the person he suspected, Stephanie Caniche, the daughter of the founder of the town's biggest law firm: Caniche, Gaylord, Chamberlain and Bethel.

Stephanie was tall for a seventeen year-old, 5'6", and slim, except in the chest department, and she had big brown eyes. Her father was a black poodle, a descendant of the French colonists that used to live in the northeast, but her mother was pure white and from Paris itself. Stephanie was a bit of both, a mix referred to as a party poodle. She was mostly white, but she had black freckles on her snout and the fur on her head and ears was dark. She wore it bobbed, even though the popular style these days was big hair, like the golden retriever actress Farah Faucet. Afros were also popular, no matter what your fur color.

All in all, a girl like Stephanie should have been way out of Gray's league. With a perfect body and a moneyed pedigree she should have been one of the cool, popular, trend-setting kids that regularly turned their noses up at the likes of Gray while driving their daddies' cars to the popular hangouts. And she would have been, except for one thing, Stephanie had a deformity. Stephanie had macroglossia, an oral growth deformity related to Beckwith-Wiedemann Syndrome, of a type known as "Long Tongue". Gray knew this because of a paper he had done in biology the previous year, he recognized the symptoms in her the first time he saw her up close, which was a rare event in itself.

No one had seen the daughter of the law firm owner since she was a pup. Teased by her peers for her overly large tongue her father had sent her away to boarding school for the formidable years. Between semesters she joined her parents in the seclusion of the mansion or on extended vacations, and so was never seen in town. Until last spring, when she suddenly began appearing in the public library, at the local café and at other public venues. It was rumoured that she had been kicked out of the boarding school in disgrace, and that no others would take her. That seemed to be confirmed when she had been enrolled in the local high school for the upcoming Junior year.

Gray's first real look at her had been at the town beach just last summer. Normally a girl like Stephanie would stick to the pool at her daddy's mansion, but for some reason she had decided to make a public appearance. It might have had something to do with the attributes that had popped up while she was away at boarding school, those aforementioned jiggly globes and other curves. She had certainly been a sensation in her little red bikini with the yellow roses. It outlined the firm contours of her tight body, leaving very little to the imagination. She had immediately been surrounded by the guys that hung around the beach just to meet such lovely creatures.

Yes, she had certainly been a sensation ... until she opened her mouth.

Most of the canines had long tongues, of course, especially the poodles. And there was something sexy about the way they hung out of their grinning mouths when they were all sweaty after a run on the beach. But while it was common to see one of those leggy breeds licking their chops appreciatively over a muscular boxer boy or steroid-enhanced mastiff it was highly unusual to see one cleaning their ears with their oral appendage. And not only did it wander into Stephanie's ears while the astounded beach beasts watched in shock, it also wrapped itself twice around her snout, toyed with the straps on her bikini bra and scratched her between her shoulder blades.

It seemed that Stephanie lost control of her tongue when she was nervous, in a way very different from the typical tongue-tied teen.

In addition to its silent wanderings, it was so large that it interfered with her ability to speak. She sounded she was talking with a mouthful of cotton at the best of times, and the letters R, L and S were practically impossible for her. Her attempts at idle chit-chat soon had the surf and volleyball crowd reduced to tears of laughter. Stephanie was merely reduced to tears.

From then on Stephanie was a loner. She was dropped off at the school each morning by her father and picked up each afternoon right after the dismissal bell. She never spoke to anyone if she could help it, and only spoke in class when forced to by teachers who thought that they were helping her build self confidence. It might have worked if the same teachers had enough of a grip on their classes to keep the rest from laughing at Stephanie's attempts to describe the "wadah thyquell" or argue whether "Amewican fowk muthic" had any influence on "Wock and Woll"

Gray wondered why her rich parents had never taken her in for a tongue reduction. Still, her body, or what he saw of it that day on the beach before she ran back to the parking lot in tears, was of such high quality that she joined the legion of female forms that Gray fantasized about regularly. Many a load of laundry was done after midnight because of that red and yellow bikini.

But her body was not her only attraction for Gray. He would like to get closer to her father too. As the most prolific lawyer in town his endorsement would go a long way toward getting accepted in a good law school. Also, her father had two of the most cherry cars in the state; a 1960 Corvette, that was painted candy apple red with silver trim, and a Nova SS Convertible. The corvette was rarely seen but the Nova, a '63 painted jet black, was the car he or one of his minions usually dropped Stephanie off at school with. The word around town was that he had refitted the Nova with the '65 327 cubic inch V8 "Turbo Fire" engine and the four-speed manual transmission. Rated at 300 horse power the larger engine was enough to make the light Chevrolet jump when he pulled away from the curb with a throaty roar.

Speaking of throaty, he realized that he had yet to answer her, and had completely forgotten the question.

"Sorry. I missed that."

"I thaid, you twied and faiwed too, huh?" She said with the patience of one used to repeating herself. "Why did you do it?"

Gray looked at his shoes. "I guess, because I thought I could. I proved myself wrong, didn't I?"

"You pwoved that you awe vewy bwave, going on even aftah they waffed at you."

It took Gray a second to translate that into "You proved that you are very brave, going on even after they laughed at you".

"Thanks." He said, raising his head to look at her directly. "You were brave too. Trying out when you saw how they treated me. Which part were you trying for?" He suspected it must be for the part of Helen, one of the female members of Buzz's gang, the one with the lisp.

But Stephanie surprised him. "Joody. The hewoine. Jim'th gi ... wove." She said. Gray noticed that she avoided the word "girlfriend". He wondered how she would have handled lines like "I'll bet you're a real yo-yo".

"That was, uh, brave of you." He could not think of anything else to say.

Stephanie shrugged. "I wathn't going to twy, but aftah you did I had to." She placed a paw on top of his where it rested on the stage and rubbed it softly. "You gave me Thwength."

Strings, he thought? No, wait! "Strength? I gave you Strength?"

"Yeth. Thwngth."

"Gee." Gray rubbed the back of his neck with his free paw, savouring actual physical contact with a female. "That's the nicest thing anyone ever said to me."

To Gray's disappointment, Stephanie drew her paw back and hopped down from the stage to stand in front of him. But the view down her blouse made up for the lack of paw holding.

"Need a wift home?" She asked. Her brown eyes were wide, deep and friendly, longing even.

Gray nodded. "Sure. Your dad here?"

"I got my dwivah pawmit last week." She said as she dangled a set of keys between them. "Daddy wet me bowwoh the Nova."

The Nova! Gray thought. Not as sweet as the Corvette but, hey, a nice ride all the same. Gray was slightly jealous as he had only just received his learner's permit. Maybe she'll let me take the wheel for a block or two, he wondered.

He decided to play it cool, like James Dean. "Sure." Was all he said as he dropped down of the stage.

Stephanie turned and headed up the aisle to the exit. "Come on then."

Gray admired the way her backside rolled and the way her tail swayed as she walked. He could even see the edges of those huge round breasts peeking out on each side of her chest. He felt a drop of moisture on his chest. Looking down, he realized that he was drooling.

The school was deserted, thankfully. Gray did not think that he could take the taunts that seeing the two of them together would invoke. They both walked faster as they traversed the hall and exited into the student's parking lot. The Nova was parked just a few spaces away, gleaming black under one of the lot's few arc lights. Stephanie got in the driver's side and slid across the seat to pull the lock on the passenger door. Gray opened it and got in.

The inside was as clean and as shiny as the outside. The metal of the dashboard gleamed and the chrome around the instrument cluster shone. The interior was red, and the seats were leather. It was a bench seat, but with a split back so you could recline them separately. It smelled of polish and leather cleaner. Gray ran his paws across the seats appreciatively. When she turned the key the engine came alive with a muted roar and the he could feel the surplus power vibrating through the body.

"Whewe do you wive?"

"Huh?" Lost in his admiration for the car, he had not been listening.

"Wive. Whewe do you wive? Your houth? Whewe?"

"Oh. Cedar Heights. On Finch, off Dunn."

"Okay then."

Gray took his eyes of the car for a moment to steal a glance at Stephanie. It was amazing how normal and confident she sounded when she used words without difficult letters in them. She also looked confident in the way she checked her mirrors and looked around before backing out of the parking space. And she looked good, all white against the red interior of the Nova. She shifted gears and the car rolled out of the parking lot headed for High Ridge Road. She turned right to head up the hill toward his neighborhood.

They rode in silence. Gray guessed that she avoided idle chat because of her condition. For his part, he just couldn't think of anything cool to say. She was sitting directly behind the large steering wheel, and he had centered himself in his portion of the split seat back. He wondered if he should put his arm up across her seat back, just casual like. Not touch her or anything, unless she braked suddenly and his arm came off and accidentally dropped onto her shoulders, maybe far enough for his paw to touch one of those ... Stephanie made a sharp right turn that made him slide closer to her on the slick polished leather seat.

"Uh, you should have turned left onto Cedar Heights." Gray said when he realized where they were. "This is Turn of River Road. You're going the wrong way."

"Oops. I'wah turn awound at the induthtweal pawk." She said. Gray thought that he caught a teasing note in her voice, but how could that be?

She followed Turn of River Road, a dumb name as far as he was concerned, up the ridge that the High Ridge Industrial Park was named after. There were at least a dozen places to turn around before it hooked around the top of the ridge and entered the industrial park itself, but she motored steadily on.

The industrial park itself was fairly new, with three uniquely shaped buildings arranged around a circular concrete pond. Gray had never been here, but he had heard about it. The road curled around the central installation, and he could see that several more buildings were in the early stages of construction on the outside of the spiral road. The land between the buildings was arranged like a park, with trees, grassy areas and well lit pathways. Parking lots were dispersed discretely around the site. At this time of night they were all deserted.

Stephanie ignored the first couple of parking lots and pulled into one that was surrounded by sheltering pines. As she maneuvered the Nova in a wide circle Gray noted that the pines cut off the view of the circumference road and the nearby buildings. They also blocked most of the street lights, and the lot itself did not have any, having been designed for daytime use only, he supposed. No big deal, he thought. Crime is low in this end of town and who was there to mug or be mugged this late anyway?

Just before they exited the lot to head back toward his neighborhood Stephanie surprised him again by continuing to turn the car in a full circle and heading for the back of the triangular lot. She angled the Nova into a parking space in the back corner. From there Gray could see the well lit pond, and its reflection in the dark building on the opposite side, but not much else. The trees blocked the view to either side to the extent that anyone in their line of sight would be too far away for Gray to make out any detail of them; or for them to make out any details of the Nova's occupants, he realized, if they could even see such a dark car on a moonless, overcast night like this. He was having problems just making out Stephanie on the seat beside him as she turned off the engine and swiveled to face him on the seat.

Make out? The words reverberated in Gray's head. Make out details, make out like a bandit, make out or fake out, make out with .... Oh my God! Did she want to ...?

Stephanie slid closer to Gray and put a paw on his left thigh, high and inside, like a good fast ball. Gray stiffened all over and managed to scoot four inches to the right without actually moving a muscle. Stephanie followed, cutting off any avenue of escape.

Gray's heart was racing and his mind was a blur. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? Was the only thought that he could produce. The paw on his thigh moved back and forth across his thigh soothingly, but he was not soothed. On the contrary, it just made him more nervous.

"Gway, ith Gway, wight? You wike me, don't you Gway?"

"Uh, sure. Yeah. I wike ...like ... like you just fine ... Stephanie."

"Caw me Thteph. You think that I'm pwetty?" She rubbed his leg harder, getting her paw right between his thighs. Her great tongue rolled out of her mouth and started rearranging her hair.

"V-very pret-pretty, uhm, Steph." God, it's like the giant squid in that Disney movie, Gray marveled. Any second Kirk Doglas is going to appear with a harpoon. The thought made him look around desperately, in case someone was sneaking up on them in the darkened lot.

"What awe you wooking foh?" She asked, looking around also.

"Just checking for ... in case ... I just want to make sure that we're alone."

"Oh, we'weh awone awewight. Stephanie said as she slid over to his half of the bench seat and wrapped one long arm around his neck. "No one cometh heah aftah dawk." She toyed with the buttons on his shirt with her other paw. "And the powice don't do theh woundth befoh midnight. Tho, we have pwenty of time."

Things were moving too fast for Gray. She wasn't giving him a chance to be moody and aloof, like James Dean. She wasn't letting be cool and take the lead. She wasn't doing anything to prevent the sudden aching in his groin.

"Tho." She said when Gray failed to produce a glib line of patter, or any sound at all. "Do you wanna?"

"Wanna ..." Gray was going to finish his phrase with " ... what?" but as soon as the first word was out Stephanie drove her open mouth onto his, and impaled him with five pounds of inquisitive oral muscle.

Gray sucked air through his nose in desperation as her tongue quested around inside him. He wanted to gag but the spasms just drove his lips harder against hers, encouraging her to dive deeper. He could barely feel her arms around her neck or her breasts against his chest, and that was just not fair as far as he was concerned. One's first French kiss, especially from a French Poodle, should not make you feel like you had over indulged at the all-you-can-eat Squid Fest.

She must have sensed that something was wrong, because she pulled her head back, allowing her mouth serpent to slide out and busy itself by exploring Gray's ears and nostrils.

"Sowwy." She said. "My tongue tendth to wandah when I'm newvouth."

Her paws were wandering too, he noticed. They had managed to undo his shirt down to the beltline and were now exploring the soft fur on his sides and belly. As he watched in fascination she retrieved one of them and deftly popped the buttons on the light Gray blouse that straining under the weight of her breasts. She shrugged it off as she lifted one leg up and over his to straddle him. Then she eased his shirt over his shoulders and teased it down his arms while his eyes were locked on the first sheer silk bra that he had ever seen, and the twin protrusions that marred those perfect hemispheres.

Nipples, his mind conjured. Those are nipples under there. Hard, firm, pink nipples. His own tiny bumps hardened in response, and he opened his mouth to compliment her with the kind of double-entre Sean Connery would use in the spy flics.

"gah."

"You wike?" She leaned back and reached behind with both paws to undo the clasp. The bra slid off her arms and came to rest on Gray's ears like a double beanie. Gray didn't notice.

"gah!"

There they were! As big and full and round as he had always imagined, covered with soft down that had been clipped as short as you could go, and each one tipped with a perfect pink nipple.

"Gah!

"Kith them Gway." Gray frowned. Did she say "Kick them"? "Wap thoth wipth awound them and thuck them." Guess not.

Gray let out a little whine and leaned in, lips leading, until he had a mouthful of breast. His paws came up of their own violation to caress them and pinch the other nipple. He gave the one in his mouth a tentative lick, and felt it swell under his tongue. He sucked on it, sealing his lips around it and tickling the tip with his own oral appendage. Stephanie moaned, and Gray switched breasts.

She was sitting on his lap, and her hips were rocking in time to the licks and caresses that he lavished on her tits. She had spread her legs so that her thighs were almost in line, and her groin was right above his. A mound of hot flesh beneath the thin material of her shorts slid back and forth along the length of his fly. Underneath, he was growing and stiffening like one of those party balloons the clowns used to make animals with. And he felt ready to burst.

An odor filled the car. It was sweet, yet musky, and Gray could not tell where it was coming from at first. Then he felt moisture on his groin, and was afraid that he had been the source. But in a moment he realized that the dampness was seeping into his underwear from above, and, glancing down between her breasts in the dim light, he saw a dark stain spreading where her mound rubbed against his.

Stephanie was rolling her head back and forth staring at the roof of the Nova while Gray serviced her breasts. She held his head tight against her with both arms and used her tongue for balance. It whipped back and forth, sometimes brushing the fur away from her eyes, sometimes flicking the tufts at the ends of his ears, but constantly curling and writhing like a snake in ecstasy.

Suddenly she gripped his head between her paws and tilted it back so she could plant kisses along the edge of his mouth before descending down the line of his jaw to the hollow of his neck. Once there, she sucked her tongue in and sealed her lips on a bit of flesh where the fur was sparse and drew it into her mouth. She sucked hard and Gray felt the blood rush into the balloon of skin inside her mouth. Then she batted at it with the tip of her tongue, and Gray thought that he would faint.

Nothing, he thought, could ever feel so intense, and so good, as what she was doing now.

Gray was, of course, mistaken.

Stephanie released his neck and moved down his chest as she pulled her leg back over him and slid down to lie on the bench seat, propping herself up on her elbows. She licked his hard nipples, using the tip of her clever tongue to squeeze them each in turn before tracing a line down his abdomen to his navel. His stomach went tight as she cleaned it thoroughly, and it went tighter when she continued downward.

His cock was straining so hard to be free now that it had lifted the waist band of his trousers up half an inch from his belly and it had grown so long that the tip was peeking out. Gray thought that he had never been so hard in his life. It throbbed and swelled like one of those Looney Tunes dynamite bundles that always seemed to bulge a few times dramatically before exploding. He was sure that the slightest touch would set it off just like in the cartoons. Stephanie leaned dangerously close into the line of fire and that independent tongue of hers ventured under the gap between material and fur. The tip rolled slowly across the end of his cock.

Gray's heart and breath stopped cold. His balls clenched like once they did on an ill-advised mid-March dip in the Mill River. But after a moment that lasted a lifetime they relaxed, their load still intact. Gray sucked air and his heart raced to replenish his oxygen starved tissues. Fresh blood swelled his organ to new dimensions.

Stephanie wasted no time. She undid his thin leather belt and tucked the buckle and loose end out of the way under the first belt loops of his trousers. Then she slipped the button and clasp on his waistband and pulled her paw away as his rising erection forced the zipper back on its own. Thank God for thick cotton boxers, Gray thought as he wondered what kind of damage the brass teeth on the zipper would have done on bare skin.

Stephanie deftly maneuvered the thick organ through the fly of the boxers, freeing it to stand erect in the warm air of the Nova's interior. She stroked it, once, twice, and then stopped with her paw wrapped around the base. The feel of someone else's flesh on his sent a shiver through him. Then Gray could feel her hot breath on it as she lowered her head toward it. Then something hot and alive touched it and he would have come right then if she had not squeezed the base of his cock hard enough to make the knob at the top ache.

Gray realized that he had closed his eyes tight while she was freeing his prick so he opened them and gazed down. Stephanie's head was stopped, motionless, a couple of inches away from his cock. But her tongue spanned the gap with room to spare. He watched, fascinated, as it curled and wound around his shaft, wrapping itself twice around before beginning to move slowly up and down his length.

She let her tongue have its way with his cock for twenty slow, languid strokes. The rest of her remained stationary as she used it like a third arm. It was better than any of the times that he had ever pawed off, including the time he tried warm liver with cream cheese as a lubricant. For one thing, the heat of her tongue matched that of his cock. For another, the steady stream of saliva that dripped down from her maw kept it slick the whole time; cream cheese tended to thicken up after a while.

Stephanie leaned closer and ran her lips up and down one side of his shaft while her face snake explored the hole at the tip. It was like there were two separate entities working on his shaft, something Gray thought he would not experience until he saved enough money for a trip to Hamburg or Bangkok, or maybe Baltimore. He leaned his head back over the Nova's seat and moaned with pleasure. The sound encouraged her to wrap her mouth perpendicularly around his prick while her tongue circled the knob and gave it little jerks.

Stephanie removed her mouth to catch her breath, but her tongue never stopped. "Did anyone evah do thith to you befoh?"

Gray could not help himself. "My seventh grade teacher gave me a tongue lashing once, but ... ugh ... not like ... ahhhg ... nothing like this."

The meaty appendage stopped moving. "Huh?"

"Nothing, nothing." Gray said quickly, guiding her head back to his aching cock. "You're the first ... my first ... the first everything." She was still staring up at him suspiciously. "Uh, I love you?"

Stephanie smiled. "Oh, you'we tho thweet." Then she wrapped her tongue three times around his shaft and pulled it off like she was pull starting a gas lawnmower. Then she did it again, and again.

Gray had the resilience of youth, but not the endurance that experience would bring. He felt the load in his balls reaching critical mass, and he knew that this time her grip on his tube would not be enough to keep it down.

"I'm come ... come ... commmminggggg!" He cried as the dam was about to burst

"Not on the uphowsthtery!" Stephanie screamed. The seats of the Nova may have been leather but the dash, doors and convertible roof were lined with a finely woven material that was almost impossible to clean. Looking around wildly for a towel or a blanket and finding none she used the only thing she had available. She drove her head down and engulfed his throbbing cock with her mouth just as Gray erupted.

The sudden warmth and the tight squeeze as his cock entered the back of her throat set him off like Fourth of July fireworks. His whole frame shook as blast after blast of liquid heat shot through his cock and into her mouth. Stephanie swallowed desperately to keep the surplus from shooting out the corners of her mouth, and the movement of her throat muscles just made him come more.

After what felt like a full minute his spasms finally subsided. His body went limp against the black leather only twitching a bit when Stephanie licked the last few drops of spooge from the tip of his cock. Then she rolled over to lay her head on his lap and join him in staring at the roof of the Nova while she rested her feet against the driver's window. Her tongue hung limply across his thigh.

"You'we need thome time to wechawge."

"Yeah," he said with weary satisfaction, "like a year and a half maybe."

"I'ah give you five minuteth"

"Huh?"

Instead of explaining, Stephanie reached around him and pulled a lever on the side of the seat. The chair back that he was resting against dropped down, and he went with it. Then she repeated the action on the driver's side. The chair backs fell flat, matching edges nicely with the bench seat in the back. The interior of the Nova was now one big red padded leather expanse.

Before he could protest, or help, Stephanie pulled his loose trousers off. Then she did the same for his socks and boxers, his cock having conveniently retreated back though the hole in the front. As he lay there naked wondering what to do she rolled over on her back and slid her sodden shorts off, exposing a pair of thin, red panties with little yellow roses on them. Gray pointed one clawed digit at them.

"Say, isn't that ...?

"I have a whowe thet of them." Stephanie responded. "thowth, bikinith, pantieth, thongth, you name it."

Shorts, bikinis, panties and ...songs? What kind of garment is a song? Maybe she means a sarong, he wondered_._

While he speculated Stephanie pulled the wet panties off too, exposing a region that Gray had only seen in his imagination and in simplified cut-away diagrams on the wall of the doctor's office. This looked nothing like either. It looked better.

Most canines had sparse fur coverage down there, but Stephanie had obviously shaved too, because the skin around her mound was bare as a baboon's bottom. Not that Gray had studied many baboon bottoms, but he had seen a few in the Anthro Geographic. Just above, where the fur started to thicken, she had trimmed it into an arrowhead shape, pointing down at her vagina. Her sex itself looked like a pale peach that had grown over on itself so that a cleft ran through it. The cleft was slightly parted, and the flesh inside was as pink as a pencil eraser, and glistening with moisture.

She lifted his limp dick with one paw and leaned down to rub the tip against one of her still erect nipples. When that had no effect she kissed it and ran her lively tongue over it instead. Still seeing no improvement she bent over and sucked one of his testicles into her maw. That made his prick twitch. Stephanie smiled around his trapped ball and rolled it around inside her mouth.

With a push against the dashboard she swung around to lie beside him on the expanse of leather without ever letting go of his ball. Lifting her leg over him she came up onto her elbows and knees above him with her head buried in his crotch. She slowly stroked his flaccid but expanding member and took both of his testicles in her mouth. She rolled them around in the cavity where her tongue should be, but wasn't. It was hanging out one corner of her mouth, and it was ready for action again. While she sucked on his balls it tickled the sensitive patch of skin just below them, and occasionally explored the crack of his ass.

Gray was a little uncomfortable with the ass probing, and he instinctively tried to pull his tail up over it, but it was trapped between him and the seat. Meanwhile, the twin globes of Stephanie's ass were hovering just above his snout. Her tail was curved up over her back and the pompom on the end waggled back and forth eagerly as she gobbled his balls. Just below it he could see a puckered pink hole. Still father down, the clamshell of her sex bounced an inch away from his nose.

It was wet. And the sweet, thick odor was still coming off it. There was something else too, something metallic almost. It was coming from inside her. Gray could almost taste it in the air. It made his mouth water and brought fresh blood rushing into his penis.

Gray stuck out his tongue and gave the source of that tantalizing smell a tentative lick.

He was rewarded with a wiggle and a moan from Stephanie. The wiggle brought her twat closer to his waiting mouth, and the moan made his balls vibrate in a most pleasurable manner. He hoped that she would do it again. He slid his tongue along the length of her gap to see if he could elicit another.

It worked, but a moment later she spit out his balls and turned to regard him over her shoulder. "Thewe ith a button in thewe. Up at the top whewe the awwow pointth to. Find it and you get a weward." Then her tucked her head back between his thighs and recommenced sucking on his sack.

Gray reached up and put his paws on each side of her mound. He pulled it apart, gently, and was amazed to see two pink wings emerge. He could not see the button she referred to in the dim light, but there was s fold of flesh near the apex that could be covering it, so he wiggled the tip of his tongue around inside until he felt something different. Judging by the twitching and moaning it produced just the act of searching was bringing her some pleasure, so Gray drove his tongue deeper, examining every nook and crevice in his quest for the elusive nub.

Suddenly he felt something hard and slippery, but then he lost it. Feeling around again he found it, right up at the top of her slit, buried between mounds of swollen flesh. He flicked his tongue over it a few times and then circled it to fix its position before running the full length of his tongue along it. But it seemed that the more he rubbed it the deeper it receded. He used his digits to pull her cunt wide and tried to isolate the button of flesh by opening his mouth and pressing it hard against her. That seemed to do the trick. He had the little bugger trapped, and Stephanie was grinding herself against his face to maximize the contact. He began working his tongue faster than on a soft serve cone in hundred degree weather.

At the other end of the seat Stephanie had abandoned his balls to take his growing cock in her mouth. Her tongue was still outside, wrapping itself around his testicles and occasionally trying to invade his poop chute. Thick ropy saliva hung down from her face and it used it to moisten his tail hole before tickling him there. Gray had to admit that the sensation was making him harder, but he wasn't quite ready and willing enough yet to unclench his cheeks and spread them for a full proctal exam. Having his joint swallowed again was enough for now, especially with the moaning and the grinding that his oral ministrations were bringing to the mix.

By the time that he was as hard as he had been earlier, but without the achy sensation, Stephanie's twat was leaking like a sugar maple in spring. Gray slurped up the sweet nectar as fast as it was produced, but it seemed like there was more to come. His tongue tiring, unused to all the work, he stiffened it by rolling it into a tube and jammed his mouth against her. Then he rolled and rocked his whole head to keep up the pressure on her love nub. After a minute of that Stephanie began to shake and shudder uncontrollably. The little button tried to retreat to the safety of her fleshy mound but Gray pursued it relentlessly

She sputtered and gagged on his cock as she tried to cry out around it. She finally had to release it to raise her head as a scream was torn from her. "Ohhh Gway!"

Gray was startled by a sudden splash of hot fluids. Some went down his throat and some ran down his face to soak the thick fur around his neck. At first he thought that she must have lost control of her bladder, but all he could smell was more of the metallic odor that had driven him wild earlier. Abandoning caution, he slurped it up, flicking the nub of sensitive flesh some more as he did.

Stephanie jerked each time his tongue touched the button, but he shifted his grip to her hips and held on tight. She laughed then, and slapped his paws away so she could climb off him and turn around. Gray guessed that the show was over for the evening but he was wrong. Instead of laying down beside him she swung her leg over his hips and deftly guided the tip of his erection into the slippery slit. Then she sat down on it, hard.

It was another new sensation for Gray, his cock encased in a tight, wet glove. It felt so warm and welcoming as it slipped down onto his prick. And when she flexed her thighs to rise up again it sucked at him like it was reluctant to let him go. A few repetitions of this was all that he needed to realize what all the fuss was about. There was nothing he had ever dome to himself on those lonely nights in his room that could compare with it. Even her earlier tongue job paled in comparison. Oh, it had been good, but this was better. It was, in fact, fucking marvelous.

Gray lifted his paws and placed them under her butt to help her. Because the Nova was not too tall she had to hunch over to keep from banging her head on the frame of the convertible roof at the top of her stroke. This brought those wonderful tits within range of his long snout, and Gray only had to raise his head a bit to suckle them again.

"Oh, yeth, Gway. Thuck on my Titth. Thuck on them hawd." Eyes closed in contented ecstasy, Gray tried to oblige. Something smacked him on the cheek and his eyes flew open in surprise. He saw Stephanie above him, her arm cocked back as if to strike him again.

"Hey! What's going on?"

"Thowwy. My paw thwipped." Her ass never missed a beat as she lowered her paw to caress his chest gently. "Wet'th thpeed thith up."

Stephanie lowered her torso until she was lying on his chest, her big breasts forming a cushion between them. She slid back and forth along his body, arching her hips at the same time to maximize the contact between them. As she slid up she lifted her hips to draw his length against that excited button of flesh. And when she slid back down she lowered them so that the tip of his cock rode across a spongy spot inside her twat a couple of inches up from the nub. She seemed to like this, and Gray was enjoying it as well. In fact, he was enjoying it so much that he was afraid he would come again before she was done, and that would not do. In his dad's books couples always seemed to come at the same time, so there must be something he could do to hold back the fireworks.

Stephanie was moving faster and faster on him, her hips rocking like a jitterbug on acid. Gray remembered how she had stopped him from ejaculating earlier by squeezing the tube at the base of his cock. He could not reach to do that himself, but maybe, if he could clench the muscles there in a similar manner. He concentrated as hard as he could. Harder than he ever had to in school, and imagined that he was sucking his balls back into his pelvis in a form of reverse puberty.

It worked. Whether it was the distraction of concentrating or the tightening of the tissues there he did not know, but it worked. Above him Stephanie was almost in a frenzy. She had put her arms under his and had her paws on his shoulders and her feet dug into the crack between the seats in order to get better traction as she drove herself back and forth along his shaft. Her head was alongside his, her ear pressed hard against the side of his face, and he could hear her swearing in her strange lisp, cursing him as a "God-dammed thon of a Bitch, mothah fuckah pwick"

But neither Gray nor Stephanie could hold out forever. With a final entreaty of "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" that came out as clear as a bell, she raised her hips one list time until just the tip of his cock was touching the outer edges of her sex then she dropped down on it and ground her hard nub against the bones of his pelvis. The floodgates inside her released again, and Gray let himself go too. His hips rose to meet hers as he shot wad after wad deep inside her.

The combined thrusting was too much for either to contain, and they found themselves rolling about on the expanse of leather, limbs flailing. Gray's paw hit a door handle hard. One of his feet got caught in the steering wheel and he thought it would break off as they tumbled the other way. Something sharp cut into his cheek. The smell of hot blood joined the other bodily fluids infesting the Nova's interior.

After an indeterminate amount of time they lay still, tangled in each other's limbs. They stayed like that for several minutes, too exhausted to move. Finally, Gray untangled an arm and pushed himself up on one elbow. He looked down at Stephanie where she laid, her white fur glowing against the red leather. Her head was turned slightly away. Her long ears were spayed to either side. She had a dark spot on the edge of her mouth that he could not identify, but for once her tongue was nowhere to be seen. Her breasts, however, were in plain view. They were slightly flattened as she lay on her back, and had had rolled to each side of her chest, but the nipples were still straight and hard. She had one leg straight out, and the other slightly bent, just enough to hide her sex. It was an alluring pose, and Gray fell in love at that instant.

Perhaps it would have been better if he had not.

He felt something dripping down the side of his snout and he wiped it with his paw. It came away sticky and dark in the dim light. Sniffing it he discovered that it was blood. Looking back at her he realized what the dark spot was.

"Did you ... bite me?" He asked tentatively.

"No ... yeth. It wath an acthident."

"An accident? How can you bite someone by accident."

"Not an acthident, an ewwah, a mithtake." Stephanie sat up and took his head between her paws gently. "It'th thomething that you awe not weady foh yet. But bewive me Gway. A bit of pain with your pweasuwe makes thingth even bettah."

Gray tried to absorb that but was distracted by the tender kisses she was imparting at the moment. That and the image of her laying on the leather, spent from sexual indulgence, reminded him that he was in love, and that this was no time for rational thought. Not if he wanted to see her like that again.

"I think that we awe going to get awong jutht fine, Gway." She said as she began gathering up their clothes. "You awe going to have to come ovah to the houth thith weekend and meet my fathah. He wikes to show off hith Cowvette to vithitahs. And aftah," she reached over and tweaked his balls playfully, "we can take the Nova out foah a thpin again."

Little warning bells were going off in the back of his head, but Gray suppressed them.

Stephanie passed him his clothes and he began to dress while she tidied up the Nova. She pursed her lips at the sight of a large wet spot in the middle of the passenger seat, right about where his ass had been for the finale. She dug around in the glove box and between the seats looking for a rag to clean it up with but found none.

"And the twunk ith empty too, I gueth." She mumbled with a frown, but then she saw Gray pulling his shirt on and she smiled. "Gway," she pointed at the puddle, "be a sweety, huh?"

Gray paused with his shirt half on and looked down at the mixture of sweat, blood, spooge and feminine fluids and licked his chops uneasily. Stephanie turned her smile up another 50 watts. Gray hung his head and pulled his shirt off again.

* * * * * * * *

Stephanie dropped Gray off in a shadowy spot near his home and zoomed off into the night. He looked at his house and saw the curtains in the front room twitch. His parents were waiting by the door when he got there and they pulled him inside least the neighbors see their honor student son disheveled and shirtless on their stoop.

His mother cried when he refused to tell them why he was so late, why he was bleeding and how he lost his shirt. She asked him what the funny smell on his fur was and he was tempted to tell her that an old friend had come across him unexpectedly but his tongue tied itself in defensive knots and she cried some more at his silence. His father yelled, because that is what fathers do when confronted with rebellious teenagers, and Gray fled to his room.

He pulled off his wrinkled and dirty trousers, shorts and socks and threw them in the laundry hamper after pulling on a pair of ripped and faded blue jeans and a plain white tee-shirt. Then he lay down on his bed and fell into a deep sleep, feeling more like James Dean than ever before.