A Fantastic Vacation by Hammerstroke

A Fantastic Vacation

Hammerstroke, Bukkake, Bunny, Double-Penetration, Dream, Gangbang, Light D/S, M/F, Masturbation, Spooge, Stretching, Striptease

"But what will happen when you let go of my balls?" --Spike.

The Yiffy Episodes of Spike the Jackrabbit: A Fantastic Vacation

by [Hammerstroke](%5C)

(A/N: You know, you start out, hoping that this can be a short one; hoping that you can write something without resorting to drama, comedy-- NOPE. Longer than "[Mentality](%5C)," and twice as stained. It's somewhat more romantic, though. Enjoy!

P.S.: To iamthepumpkinking13 atta yahoo dotta comma:

I tried to email you back but it failed; no such e-mail or something like that. So, thanks!

-H)

Sunset.

Well, not really. Not yet, anyways. The sky, deep orange; hadn't faded yet, not like it should've. Mimicking the heat, really--both were hanging on like bad cases of the crabs, though without the itching. The surf, of course, never left the beach; according to their mentality, late nights meant rides that needed riding.

Great rides, they figured. Full bodied, curvy, sexy, fast and yet still, all at once; riding a great wave was like making love to a beautiful vixen, but everyone could watch, and some would even cheer. Orgasmic, stimulating, electrifying. And with many furres riding the same wave...

Those who didn't feel like surfing sat on the beach, playing loud music, singing, cheering, laughing. Someone was plucking away at his guitar, mellow notes floating like so many bubbles across the sand. A feline shrieked, having woken up to find herself entombed to her head in sand. Furres were on a first name basis, and some needed no names at all. The alcohol had already been broken out, but no one was drinking yet--not until night.

The breeze, gentle, cooling. Perhaps some of the heat was fading, and when one lives where it is perpetual summer, any loss of heat in significant. This typically atypical day was finally setting to a close--as the sun slowly dropped past the horizon and the shadows crept over the beach, fire were lit, little glows against the darkening sand.

Then came the alcohol, the partying. Though unsafe to surf now, there were still rides to be had.

Miss Breeze giggled, sitting beside Spike, and the sipped slowly on their drinks. Spike's paw rested carefully on her hip.

"You know you want to..."

She shook her head. "Not out here. You wanna play indoors, we can talk."

He pouted. "No one would notice, you've got your sarong." Spike knew the name of the clothing--it was his job, after all.

She turned to look at him, "Yeah?" her deviant smile returning. "And what about you? You willing to go nilly?"

He stopped short. Paused, considered. It had been a while. "It's not the same. You could take off your bottoms and still be covered. I'd be... exposed..." He shuddered. "Last time I went skinny dipping was a fiasco. Never saw so many old ladies at one time."

Paused, shuddered again.

"And why do you want me out of my bikini if I'm just gonna wear my sarong over it?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, you're the nympho, remember? It's just like going commando in that sparkly dress of yours, you know."

"Come to think of it, you weren't commando then, either. If anything, you owe me."

His ears slumped. Someone started singing at the nearest fire pit. This so totally was not how he'd planned this at all.

Had an idea.

"How about this? You and I... totally nude... swim out there? I'll do it if you will..." Winked.

"Well, I dunno." She played coy. "What's in it for me?"

"You get the opportunity to be naked in His presence," he said, referring of course to himself. "You get the relaxing effect of the water soaking every part of your sweet, curvy body..." He walked his paw up her hip, towards her bikini tie. "And you know you get off on that, right? Being naked with me, I mean."

The thought was obviously chipping at her defenses--enticing her, seducing her like so many deviant thoughts had. "We can't go swimming--not too far, you know, right?"

His paw left her hip, let go of the tie, and pressed against his chest. "Give you my word."

"Okay."

"Really?"

"No." She turned and looked at the sky, a sly grin forming.

Spike had one other option left.

Deep in the African jungle, amidst the sweltering heat and thick, humid, asphyxiating air, a guru adept in the most obscure of martial arts had spent a summer training Spike to become the most effective womanizer, the most seductive teaser, the most desirable bunny boy this side of the Sahara.

Well...

Not really, but it had taken a while to learn this particular technique. He leaned over, placing his head in her lap, giving her the cutest puppy dog/bunny/baby eyes he could manage. "Pweese?"

She melted like butter on his hot ass. "Aww... so cute! Okay, you win."

"Really?" He couldn't actually believe it.

"Yep." Pointed at his trunks. "You first."

Spike sat up straight, damned near hit her in the process. Faced with the actual prospect of pulling down his coverings... He looked around. Felt a tug on his arm, Breeze lifted him up.

Started having second thoughts. "You know, Breeze, I dunno-- AH --"

She pantsed him. Suddenly, there he was, standing out in the cooling air, dozens of furres around him, it wouldn't be long before someone noticed... He crouched low, before she pulled him back up.

"Oh, quit being such a baby," she whispered, grinning as she slowly turned to face away from him, to slide her bikini bottom down her rump. Bending over in the process, jutting her tail out towards him. Tantalizingly slowly, the fabric revealed sweaty, slick flesh, inch by inch. The sarong followed, along with the top. Giggling, she shoved him and ran out towards the water.

He gulped. Furres were looking at him, some at his nudity. He sighed and ran after her. He hit the water (or the water hit him.) Fell forward, splash! The water was still warm, caressing his naked body. He surfaced, only to have her body press against his suddenly, have her arms wrap around him suddenly, have her lips press against his suddenly.

She laughed, splashed him. He felt uncovered, hanging free. Somehow, it didn't feel too bad. Not that he was worrying too much about others seeing him: not only was it dark but he had other things on his mind, namely her figure as she danced and splashed around him.

They led one another to a lesser used part of the beach, romping and rolling in the surf, buff as ever. Soon as the lights of the bonfires and the music from the guitarist faded they stopped rolling and looked at each other, not smiling or frowning, not thinking. That look, that... deviant look in her eyes made him groan and roll her underneath him. His flesh pushed up against hers. The surf roiled and rolled around their hips.

He closed his eyes, grinned slightly. Pressed his lips to hers; he kissed her, tongue feeling tongue. Their paws roamed each other's body, rubbing water and sweat into the fur, sand too. He saw her, running naked, her breasts heaving with each leap, her rump waggling in the air scant inches ahead of him; the thought made him hard, made him want to prick her right there.

Somehow he held back, rubbing down her front, kissing her flesh, her breasts, each nipple in turn, making her shiver. Rubbed his paws down her arms, that made her shiver.

Shivers turned to groans, turned to moans as he licked lower, sliding his rough tongue down her stomach. She grabbed his hair, forced his head downward, though he wouldn't budge from his arduously slow path. She was willing to tease him nearly constantly? He'd take whatever he could.

His paws wandered from her chest to rub her hips, her legs. His tongue, drawing lazy circles around her crotch. He drew it out, making her moan, whimper almost. Soon her paws were too strong and he touched her inflamed clit, making her spasm and cry out. Her taste added to the salt and sweat, reminding him somehow of kiwi margaritas.

Spike lapped up her juices, flicking his tongue across her sensitive slit. Lick, lick, lick, slurping sounds spilled out around them as his tongue brought her closer and closer to another orgasm.

Listened to her moans, waited until she was all but begging, then pulled out. She cried out, in frustration, but that melted quickly when he leaned up and pressed himself to her entrance, pressed himself into her, pressed against every inch of her flesh. Her back arched, she took in a deep, stuttered breath.

Spike pulled out, listening to her pant and whimper. At the height of his stroke he pushed back in, out, in. His paws beside each shoulder on the ground, holding him up. One reached over and caressed her cheek, made her smile. He kissed her, in, out, in. She squirmed beneath him.

It was decidedly less frantic than normal, less... intense, perhaps. His muscles were pained, aching; normally, perhaps, they'd be in a difference position by now. He grunted, couldn't hold on much too longer. He kissed her again. Her breath was thick, sticky, sweet on his face. Licked her nose, then cried out. They arched their bodies together, pressing against one another as something within them ignited. A wordless cry, hearts seemingly stopped for a moment.

Then there was the gentle serenade of the guitar from somewhere else, the light from the stars, the moon. The sound of the water, lapping at their hips now.

The tide was coming in. Breeze took several deep breaths, smiled, her eyes twinkling something devilish.

They always were. He kissed her again.

Spike picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

It was Breeze. His ears picked up, so did his smile. "Hey, how's it going?"

She giggled, audible over the phone. "Great. My boss wants me to help represent our company to a client of ours."

"Really? That's wonderful!" He paused. "That is wonderful, right?"

She nodded, though he couldn't see it. "Ayep. The lodge is apparently quite the resort, completely paid for. Good ski hills. Should be fun."

"What's this?"

His ears drooped.

"We have to present our portfolio to them at their resort lodge. Um... Mountain Resort? Yeah, that's it. This will mean lots of money for us, new business, more..."

He'd stopped listening. "When do you leave?"

She stopped talking for a moment. "Friday. Well... probably Thursday evening, really. Gone for..." she was silent for another moment. "For about a week. Back Friday."

Two days left... his sighed. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. There something wrong?"

"Huh? No, just tired." Partly true, that. "You wanna go for a drink tonight?"

"Sorry, we've got too much work to do. Working late tonight."

"Yeah, right. Okay, that's cool. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah. Love ya, baby."

She looked up. He stood standing in the doorway, a suitcase leaning against his leg. She couldn't see his face, he was hidden in shadow somehow. Thursday already? She smiled.

"Thanks for coming."

He nodded. "Yeah, my pleasure." He stood for a few seconds before sighing and wheeling the thing in, hefting it onto the foot of her bed. "You need any help packing?"

She considered, nodded as well. "That'd be nice." She turned back to her things, small piles of clothing, most folded already. "He's coming at five."

She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes. And Drake was always on time.

They worked in silence, Breeze folding the rest of her things and Spike packing it all tightly into the suitcase. The clock ticked away, tick... tick... tick... It was a delightfully gorgeous day outside, with a strong wind from the ocean, but inside, it felt stuffy, thick, humid.

Breeze climbed up to reach the clothing at the other side. Spike looked from his work at the foot to watch her, smiled. She stopped, propped on all fours, one paw resting on the pile; looked under her draped shirt at his smirking face. Stuck her tongue out at him.

Six minutes. Breeze grabbed the rest and promptly folded it. Opened her mouth to ask him something, then thought better of it. Opened it again.

Deciding she had to say something, "Mountain Resorts is thinking of contracting us out to rent their cabins and snow gear."

Spike chuckled. "You told me, silly."

She frowned.

"We're getting a new line of swim wear... it's called, uh... Spicy. I think. Come to think of it, I went out with a vixen named Spicy once. Didn't live up to her reputation."

Breeze smirked, it was her turn. "Yeah, I know... you told me that already."

"Did I?"

She nodded, shoved the pile of folded duds forward. Finished, she sat down beside him on the bed and rested her chin on his shoulder. He set down the shirt he'd been holding and smiled at her.

"How long are you--?"

"A week. Just gotta make a presentation. We get free lodging, apparently."

He sighed. "And there's no way you can skip it, huh?"

Shook her head, grabbed his paw. Squeezed, said, "Not if I want to pay rent. And... I'd invite you to come but..."

"I know, but there's work..."

They finished in silence. Breeze zipped up the suitcase, set it on the floor. Three minutes. She looked over, saw him looking away, out the window, thinking about something. Probably her.

"Hey."

She touched his cheek, he barely flinched.

"I know. I'm sorry that I'm kinda... distant, I guess." Looked at her. "Just gonna miss you."

She kissed him, grabbed his paws again.

He was sweating.

She blinked.

"Are you gonna be okay?" She eyed him cautiously.

Nodded. "Yeah. Only a week, right?"

She pressed her cheek against his. "I promise. Ha! I'll even get you something." Stared at him, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

He chuckled. "No porn."

Hugged him close. Drake was late, according to the clock. She kissed him again, slightly more than a peck this time. His eyes were closed, his breathing choppy, stuttered. More than once she'd considered calling Drake, telling him she was sick, or something, but he'd only have given her some Echinacea and demand she come, should she want to keep her job...

Bastard, she found herself thinking, but that wasn't fair. Felt him slide closer, push his chest in front of hers.

She smiled, and pressed a paw to his lips. Shook her head.

"Sorry. He'll be here any second now. I know, I really want to... too... hmm..." She trailed her paw down his front, making him shudder.

Her apartment buzzer buzzed, Breeze damned near jumped.

He nodded and closed his eyes, hugging her. "Hurry home. I won't sleep without you by my side, you know."

She giggled. "Always the romancer."

The buzzer went off again. She hopped over. "Sorry, on my way," to the intercom. She grabbed her suitcase--his suitcase. She was borrowing it. "Can you lock up on your way out?"

He nodded.

She hugged him, they said their goodbyes, then she was off. Spike sat on the bed for a moment, reaching out for the door, then shook his head. Reaching out for her wouldn't make her come home faster. He hopped out to the balcony. Drake's car sat for a few minutes before pulling away from the curb.

"These are the new brochures Mountain's people have sent for us to look over," Drake's boyfriend and business partner, Snare, muttered, shoving a bunch of flyers in her face and avoiding eye contact. Breeze frowned, but tore her gaze from the lizard and glanced over the things.

Basic brochures, some decent pictures, some decent wording. She was no author, no photographer either. Seemed decent enough.

"Um, and here, uh, these too." He handed them over and hid out of sight in the front seat. Breeze raised and eyebrow but said nothing, giving this new bunch the once over. Bored, looked out the window at the decidedly different scenery. No sandy beaches, no tall palm trees, no salty air. It was only a couple hours in and already the trees were thicker, greener, taller, the landscape wholly forgotten, though not unfamiliar.

The road twisted and turned and groaned as the car flew over its bumpy surface.

"This resort can't be out this road... it's too rough," Breeze noted.

Drake spoke up. "It's not; they've got a nice highway. It's just out of our way."

She looked over his shoulder. The car was flying... doing ninety despite the seemingly-cyclonic curves. "Drive here often?"

Drake looked back, then at his boyfriend, steering all the while. Smiled. "Snare and I come out here all the time. Nice place. Good to get away from all that heat."

Snare smiled, too, and went back to crouching.

Breeze looked out the window some more, slouched against the door. The mountains, barely in view, were tipped with snow. During the winter they would be ideal for skiing and snowboarding... Breeze made a mental note to ask Spike to show her how to board. Properly.

Spike...

Not two hours into the drive and she was already thinking about him. Homesick, she decided--she'd been practically living with him for the past couple weeks, though it seemed longer--and she shrugged it off. Only a week, she reminded herself, and resolved to phone him every night. Under the guise of checking in on her apartment, of course... She smirked.

Besides, there were other things she could do, rather than spend time with him. The ski lifts, for one; the hot tub and spa and masseuse and, ooh my, the club... Even if she was in a no-touchy relationship (she assumed she was) she could still have some fun, tempt some horny high school students... She giggled.

Plus, there was always the phone, should she need some company. Inclusive? She planned on making good use of the long distance.

It wouldn't be so bad, she promised herself, as she leaned against the window, brochures and flyers utterly forgotten. And all she needed to do was make one lousy presentation. She couldn't even see him for a week! Leaned, nothing--she slumped and shut her eyes, scowling.

Spike sighed, closing the door and heaving groceries onto the counter. The frigging food had cost nearly half of his paychecks. At least it was Thorne's turn next time... He sighed again, looking through what he'd actually purchased, sliding things into the barren fridge, empty cupboards, and desolate freezer. Shivered.

He looked at the clock. It was a little after noon, Friday... so that meant... a week? Yeah, figured so. Only a week until he saw her again.

He'd gone more than a week between meeting her and actually going on a date, after all. He shrugged. Spike was not about to let this turn into a soap opera. He smirked.

Over in his room, beyond the door left ajar, glinting in the sunlight, was a wrist band, and surely the others were nearby. He shed his shirt, donned his collar, an inch wide, black leather, and spiked with faux-platinum inch-long spikes, of course. Matching it were a pair of spike wrists bands and a pair of ankle bands.

Groceries taken care of, he grabbed his sunglasses, locked the apartment, and walked outside.

Within moments the bristling heat assaulted his bare, furred chest. Sweat beaded around his neck, forehead, chest. He smiled. Steam poured out of windows, out of vents in the street; ripe with A/C, houses hummed like tanks. There was laughter; giggling and whistling and laughing as furres, young and old, but mostly hot like himself, ran and jumped and rode and walked around him.

Bustling, the boardwalk was, as he made his way down towards the beach. He couldn't be with Breeze? He'd swim, surf, and frolic, instead, and think of her and all the things he could do with her when she got back.

Breeze pulled her jacket tighter around herself and pretended to listen to the C.E.O. of Mountain Resorts, Inc. It was insufferably cold, though the others didn't seem to notice. Even Drake and Snare, both reptiles, cold blooded, seemed fine. In fact, they were having a ball. Joking, laughing, smiling. It felt like forty below!

She sulked, unnoticeable at the corner of the table she occupied. Her turn had come and gone, early. Now she only had a few more hours before she could go home and rest.

Well, go back to the hotel room. She still had a few days before she could go home.

The C.E.O. was, of all things, a big, burly black bear, who was, oddly enough, called Burly. Either his mom was a crackwhore or he liked the nickname--Breeze was tending towards the former. He and the others were pushing papers back and forth between themselves, pointing and dancing, it seemed, though maybe she was simply so bored that she was entertaining herself.

No, screw it, Burly was dancing! Oh, right--telling some damned story and was merely acting the part. What the hell was she doing here? She cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm not feeling well. Is there anything else you need me for?"

Drake leaned back, considered, "No, thanks for the help. Feel better."

But she was already out the door.

"Hey, big boy--you see something you like?"

Spike jerked his gaze back up to her face, and frowned. Shook his head, looked back at her melons, and pineapples, and mangos. He needed something plump, full, fresh. Needed something sweet, tangy, satiating. She shrugged and went back to misting her fruit stand, keeping the food fresh. He dug into his pockets, slumped.

"Sorry, money's at home."

She looked back at him. "Maybe we can work out some sort of deal."

Firm body, tight rear, poofy tail... he shook his head.

"Sorry," he said again, and left.

Spike left the irritated vixen and found a bench, resting his back against the sun-warmed wood. Sure, he missed Breeze; he had no trouble admitting that. But it wasn't that he needed her to live; it didn't seem like she helped him breathe or eat or anything like that.

He just... felt bored. Yeah, that was it. Sure, he loved surfing, and swimming and drinking, and even hanging out with Thorne. But Thorne was... busy, often, and drinking and swimming and surfing put him in uncomfortably hot proximity to the more... seductive members of his opposite sex.

Take Mango, and Kiwi, for example. Since going out with Breeze Spike had asked to be put on single shots for the next little while at F.M.S., or as a stand-in, so he could figure it all out. Needless to say, he was sure Breeze wouldn't be comfortable with his... part time work.

So, Mango and Kiwi had tried to get him to return to show business. A lot. Thinking about them made him hard, and ashamedly so. He winced, and slumped forward in his seat, brushing his paws forward to cover himself.

In any other situation, it would've been the sexiest day of his life.

He had been cleaning off in the shower set, when he'd felt two unmistakably female paws on his chest. He smirked but kept cleaning as her body pressed up against his, her breasts pressing on his back.

"Mango?" he asked, on a whim, knowing not only that she wanted him back in the studio but also knowing her paw prints.

She stood on her tippy toes and licked his ears, which he generously drooped. "Mmm. How's my little bunny boy today?"

He shrugged. "I've been better."

"You miss that girl of yours, eh?" she whispered in his ear, her breath hot on his flesh.

He nodded, and reached for the shampoo.

"But..."

She slid down his back slightly. "...this tells me you don't miss her too much..." Reached around, grabbed his stiffening member.

Spike grabbed her wrist and pulled her off. "No."

She huffed, then shrugged, and pressed against his back again, breathing into his ear. "What would it take to get you back? All we want is a little fun."

"Yeah," her girlfriend whispered, popping out of nowhere. Spike pressed his paws against the wall, leaning forward, the spray from the nozzle shooting down his head, back. He breathed thick, steaming breaths, snorting water from his nose.

"I said no," he whispered, thinking about clouds, waves, his collar, anything but the two curvaceous collies. Their paws were everywhere... He slammed his fist against the tiled wall, and whirled around. "I said fucking NO!"

They had jumped back, startled expressions. Had looked at each other, and had moved aside to let him leave the shower set. Spike slumped further in his bench, hoping he hadn't ruined their days, or made them worried. They weren't bad collies... Still...

He did miss her. He wasn't embarrassed, admitting that. At it was only Friday. He considered, fleetingly, about just ditching the weekend worth of work and driving up to see her, but thought better of it.

The weekend saw the expected surge of skiers, boarders, and wannabes attack the lodge and engulf the mountainside. As to why Mountain's people needed more business was beyond Breeze.

The skiers and boarders and wannabes didn't go to bed at a reasonable hour. Why should they? she wondered. If they wanted to party, they were more than welcome to. Breeze wandered around the complex, drawn to the loudest noises; squeals, giggles, hoots and hollers--hormones were raging. She thought of Spike, and prayed silently that he wouldn't mind her teasing a little.

Of course, she should've already made that decision before dressing like... like she had. She paused beside a window and looked in the reflection. If Spike could see her now... She giggled like a little girl. Black butt jeans, white tank top, both showing off her stomach. Not much else. Well, why not?

Her quest brought her to the nearest courtyard, surrounded on three sides by hotel. She looked over the garden; in the middle was a dirty great hot tub, and on her right was a full serve bar--she chose the bar.

Walked up to the bartender, one of the males, a big, hunk of a husky, and smiled. "Can you give me a Slow Comfortable Screw--Against the Wall?"

He looked at her, confused. "You sure you can handle something that potent?" he asked, referring, of course, to the drink and not his crotch.

She shrugged. "We'll find out."

She paid him and he fetched the mixes--a little vodka, some gin, some Galliano, and some Southern Comfort. "Last chance," he warned her, and she waved him on.

Mixed with a splash of OJ, he handed her the drink and off she went, looking around, drinking fast. The drink burned something fierce on the way down. There was loud music playing, some furres dancing, and the hot tub was frothing with animals splashing around, laughing and giggling and roaring all at once.

She turned and hit something, spinning sideways, barely holding onto her glass. Not something--someone, she realized.

"Oh. Excuse me," the tiger winked, standing up. "Did I hurt anything?"

She looked her body over, shook her head, "Nope! But thanks."

She turned to keep walking, but there was a paw on her shoulder. "Hold on," the tiger said, a quieter voice this time. "You want me to buy you a drink or something?"

She held up her Screw. "I've, uh, already got one."

"Oh." He seemed at a loss for words so she smiled and kept going. Poor guy didn't know how to pick up ladies, she decided, and she really didn't care. She looked back, watching as the tiger slumped and walked away--

Hit something, bounced back. Gaped, nearly gasped, before she caught himself.

Likely it was the tan-colored fur that did it in. He was wearing the same shorts, too.

"Spike?"

The rabbit glanced at her. "Screw," he corrected.

Held up his drink, pointing to the little stainless steel screw he'd added for fun.

"Excuse me," she said, blushing. "I thought... Never mind." She made to keep walking.

"Hmm," he muttered, watching her backside for a second.

She stopped, looking back, watching his wandering eyes. "What?"

"Excuse me," he answered, shaking his head. His voice was much lower than Spike's, too. "Never mind."

"Huh? Hey! Don't walk away from me. What are you 'hmm'-ing at?"

The rabbit shook his head again, chuckled. "I was about to say your ass was better than mine. Guess I was wrong. Sorry," he apologized again, and turned again.

Better than mine? " HEY!"

It was so hot out. Late at night, window open, fan humming, sun set hours ago, and yet there Spike was, sweating, panting, naked under only his sheets, wide awake, sweating some more. He rolled over; there was still a little cold patch on that side of the bed. He grunted, sighed, the room smelled, thick, humid, and hot... he blinked. It had been hours... he could remember every second he'd passed on that bed.

He swore, and swung his legs over the edge, sat up. The sheet fell down his torso, bunched around his hips. He sighed, looked at the clock... he was really starting to hate those red LEDs. Sighed again. Two shiny Coke bottles glinted beside his bed in the moonlight, one empty--stupid, really, drinking pure sugar like that before bed. And that other one ought to be in the fridge still.

He shook, stood, and paced for a while. Now it really sucked--he was both tired, and bored. Well, there was a quick solution to that last one--at least, one he usually resorted to. He looked over, saw his little book with all his numbers in it...

NO! he thought suddenly. Something was wrong with that thought. If he was going to lay someone, it would be Breeze... but she was miles away, in the mountains, probably having a blast without him. Bugger work, he thought to himself. Bugger it all.

He looked down. Thinking about her had him excited. This time, at least, it was legal too--not because of two conspiring collies, but his girlfriend. He hadn't pawed off once since going out with her... but extreme situations called for extreme measures... He stood in front of the window, taking advantage of any fleeting breezes that would happen by.

Somehow, the rabbit had lost her, amongst the crowd. Many, many rabbits--and more than a couple were slightly tan-colored. The bastard had left her standing there, trying to comprehend what he'd said. Better than mine? Fuck that, she thought savagely, taking strangely to protecting her bum.

"Find him, show him a nice ass." She stopped, leaned against a wall. This place was a freaking maze. "But on my terms," she decided, Spike thoroughly forgotten. She downed the last of her second drink and left the glass on nearest tray.

Someone brushed behind her, and before she could catch more than a glimpse of his tan-colored fur, the rabbit was gone around a corner. "Hey!" she called out, running after him. Down a brightly colored hallway, music playing that made her unfocused, blinking. It wasn't just loud... it was everywhere... Flash of a tail around another corner, she ran ahead, trying to catch the wayward ass-intimidator.

Sweat trickled down his chest, hips, butt. He pictured her, standing there. Mmm... he thought, as she hit the play button and started moving slowly to the music, never once taking her eyes off him. He stood there in his fantasy, mesmerized by her pulsing, swaying movements, her hips swinging back and forth as she fingered the button of her khaki shorts open, just enough to ignite a flash of fire from her ruby red colored panties.

He brought his paw down, still at the window, gripped his length, felt the sweaty, slick flesh wrap around sweaty, slick flesh...

She turned around, finally breaking eye contact. The sexy, buxom bunny opened her mouth in a frozen gasp, closed her eyes, tilted her head back, before hooking her fingers around the waist of her shorts, still swinging those full hips to the beat of this next song. Inch by tantalizing inch her shorts dropped; she leaned down, long legs kept straight, pressing her ass covered in lacy red panties out as she stepped out of the shorts. Between her thighs she looked at him and winked, that delicious look behind those shiny orbs.

Real Spike gasped, closing his eyes and almost losing his balance at the window. Soft breezes flitted across his chest...

Still turned away from him the lapine stood straight and slowly pulled her shirt up, even slower somehow than her shorts had dropped. A new song, a new, slower beat to bend to as she turned slowly, licking her lips. She bunched the shirt right below her bust, then slowly started unbuttoning her blouse from the top, one button, two, three, then the last--she paused, looking at him again and winking before popping that last one--it shot across the room and out the window Spike was leaning on as his paw moved faster and faster across the length of his penis, squeezing beads of precum out, drip by drip. By this time the bunny was shrugging her blouse off her chest and swinging her hips clad in only her unmentionables, only barely hiding her curves.

Fantasy Spike couldn't hold back any longer, and as he rushed over, bringing her into a passionate kiss, Real Spike realized he wouldn't be holding back any longer.

Breeze kissed back, licked his chin, nibbled his ear, while rubbing his collar. He murred, she licked his neck, down his sweaty front, biting softly on his left nipple. He stiffened, gasped, lost his balance, falling back on the bed, but really just leaned on the window frame some more, sure that someone, surely someone could see him right now. Breeze fell with him, pressing her bra- and panty-clad body on his sweaty self. It was so hot out... her body radiated heat like a furnace, like a boiler. Her fur stuck to his as they kissed again, her paws finding their way down to his raging iron.

Fantasy Spike gasped again as paws were wrapped around him, stroking slowly at first, together at first, softly at first, but soon faster, tenser, and in different directions at once. Real Spike pumped harder as he pictured himself playing with the clasp on her bra, popping the thing free and pulling it out from between them, tossing it somewhere, hidden, forgotten as they writhed together in sheer pleasure.

Gods, he needed her, as he gripped the window frame. He threw his head back and cried silently, his cock tensing and spasming and his world spinning for a moment. He shot his seed out the window, sent it flying. Gasped, but kept pumping, desire coursing through his veins, pooling in his cock as she brought her mouth around him, licking the tip, just enough to set off his fantasy self off. Howled, threw his head back to mimic his real world self, spooge slamming against her throat, all of which she greedily sucked and swallowed, what a slut.

There was a faint shriek from the street below but Spike couldn't focus on anything but his paw and his cock, molding together something powerful. Breeze hummed to herself, sliding back up, kissing him as one paw pulled her panties down to her ankles, kicked them to the floor.

He blinked, and tried to keep his eyes open and concentrate as she lay on top of him, pressing her chest on his, pressing her hips on his, attacking his tongue with hers. Murred, blushed, looked at him with those deviant eyes as she lowered herself onto him, pressed his cock at her cunt and slid around his meat. He spasmed, shooting juices all over his paw, the smell of her body driving him wild. Wet, white and sticky, he kept sexing his paw, his knees weak, his head dizzy. Gods, he smelled her now--his fantasy was becoming just this shy of reality.

There was nowhere to run now, the rabbit was in a long hall with a fire exit at the other end. Why the fuck is he running? If he'd only wanted Breeze's attention, he had it--he'd had it for several minutes now. He looked up, the first indication he even recognized her, noted her presence--he winked, pulling a key from his pocket.

The whole 'hide behind a locked door' thing, she decided--Not happening¸ she decided as well.

"Hey! Uh... Screw! Wait up!"

"Oh, hello. What are you doing here?"

Pretenses dropped. "What did you say about my ass?"

Stepped inside his room. She followed him in.

Shrugged, "I said that yours wasn't as nice as mine."

On my terms, she'd already decided. "Nah-uh. Nope."

The music filtered in, now that she wasn't running around, able to hear it properly. The window open, a gentle breeze fleeting in every now and then. Even for the side of a mountain, it wasn't too cold either--just... a nice breeze. His shirt flapped a little as he walked towards the window.

"I think so." He had an accent, too: foreign--continentally foreign, even. "But I invite you to prove me wrong."

Breeze squealed, as Spike grabbed her hips and started ramming her with his cock, hammerstroking deeper with each stroke. She sat up, riding his crotch, her eyes closed, her muzzle half open, her tongue lolling out, little blobs of gooey jizz on her cheeks. Erotically cute, deliciously deviant... Spike grunted and came, barely missing the window frame this time, shooting his bunny cream deep into her depths.

Spike gasped, throwing his head back, opening his eyes with a start--

Breeze opened her eyes, reached out towards the window, grabbing--

There was a paw on his shoulder; turned around, damned near fell over, watched his fantasy girlfriend ride him... but not him... The heat was really getting to him, but he wasn't about to let this fantasy end now, not when it was really getting fun... He slid forward, legs stiff and jelly all at once, cock in paw. Spike looked up and saw himself grabbing her shoulders, erupting in a wall of white over her chest, just as he creamed her hips again.

Breeze stopped panting enough to say, "Climb aboard?"

Spike considered. "No, I'd rather you cleaned me off, first--" and, in a moment of absurdity, added, "if you don't mind, good sir," looking down at himself. Spike shook his head no, and before they knew what was happening, their girlfriend was wrapping her paws around his cock and pulling his hips at her muzzle.

"It is a nice ass," he submitted, nodding. She bent over, sliding her paws down her rump with the motion. In time to the music, too--her slightly inebriated self had decided it was the proper thing to do. She stood, stretching to the ceiling, still not tall enough.

Breeze returned to dancing slowly for him, showing off her curves. She felt his hot breath on her neck. "It is a nice ass," he repeated, swatting it gently. "But, uh... mine looks better."

She tilted her head, confused. Turned around, watched his untie his shorts. He faced the window, dropping his shorts just enough to show his rump. True, it wasn't plump, like her rump, but for a male, it would've served just right.

Not that this was over just yet. As he pulled his shorts back up, she shook her head, stumbling slightly. "Fine!" she breathed. "I will show you mine. But only if it will shut you up!"

He threw up his paws in defense, shrugged. She sighed, and faced the other wall now. With a sigh she unbuttoned her jean shorts.

"Whoa--you are getting naked just to prove me wrong? You have spunk, my dear."

"Nope. I'm not pulling down my undies." She hiccupped, yanking her shorts down.

"You are... not wearing any."

She blinked. Something wasn't right here. She felt his hot breath on her neck again.

Breeze was a sticky mess. Down to the throat in cock, full to the brim with fresh loads at both ends, and up to the belly too, as the Spikes matched their speed, one pumping in, the other pulling out. She was so tight, both her muzzle and cunt. They groaned and grunted, crying out as one when each came, suddenly, powerfully, and Breeze gagged and keened and splurted goo from both holes. He frowned as globs of semen splattered on the other's face, who winced.

"Don't wanna do that too much... hold on." Breeze complied, paused for a moment, still grinding her crotch over his as she slipped the cock from her mouth, her tongue lashing out and licking the rest of his cream off his length. Once clean he moved behind her, lowering his body on her back. He pulled her tail out of the way, and whispered, "Get ready," into her ear.

She cooed through her mouthful, "I was born ready."

"Not for this," he chuckled, before shoving his cock into her already plugged pussy. Breeze cried out, coming instantly, trying desperately to stretch and fit two full sized cocks in her cunt. The Spikes groaned, generous layers of spooge creaming out between them, covering her crotch.

One Spike gripped the sheets below him, clenching his teeth while the other reached around her body, hugging her close, licking her ears, caressing her breasts, sticky jizz spreading all over her chest. Fantasy Spike reached over, grabbed a pencil. Tossed it aside, as their rhythms matched so when one pulled out the other shoved in, jackhammerstroking her, making Breeze cry out with each painfully large thrust.

Fantasy Spike reached over and grabbed a felt marker, shook his head, tossed that aside as well, while his other paw let go of her breasts to fondle her crotch, pulling, pinching, twisting her clit. Breeze sobbed, pleasure, pain, both at once, coming again and again. Fantasy Spike reached behind the real Spike and grabbed something a little more durable--a glass Coke bottle.

"Finally." He smiled and licked the rim, before rubbing spooge along the length and passing it to himself.

Breeze looked over her shoulder, staring at the bottle as he smirked, muttering something about his fantasies, and pressed the bottle against her tailhole. She cried out again, this time in fear, shaking her head. "Please, no," she gurgled. The Spikes looked at each other, still pumping in and out of her.

Real Spike shrugged. "Not like it's real," he muttered, pressing the bottle against her hole and forcing it in, pressing as hard as he could while Breeze cried out, juices pouring around their cocks with each inch.

"She says no--huff--but sounds like she loves it--huff," the other Spike huffed, shoving into her and spasming, filling her stretched-to-the-limit cunt some more, as she moaned and grabbed hold of his shoulders, throwing her head back, pressing her cheek to the other Spike's muzzle.

Breeze grabbed the other Coke, hitting the lid off on the wall and chugging the drink, spilling most of it down her front. "You're right," she gargled sluttishly, spilling the rest, "I love it. I need it! FUCK ME!" she cried out again, her crotch squeezing around two cocks and a Coke bottle.

"I'm almost out," Real Spike offered, panting, and the fantasy Spike nodded. The heat was making edges seem blurry, and most of Breeze's front was a blob of white, tasty spooge, mixed with some sticky, sweet fizz. They cried out, shooting a considerably thicker load inside her, most of which simply oozed out onto Spike's abdomen. "One more facial?" He asked.

"More than one," the other agreed.

Suddenly her cunt was empty, as the Spikes pulled delirious Breeze off their cocks. They stood before her, lowering her down onto the spare Coke bottle while they offered her their bulging members. Despite the painful stretching the fantasy reached out and took one of their members in her mouth, licking and sucking, making his legs wobble. She ground and rode the bottles, pressing them as deep as she could, even though her hips wouldn't let the last inches in. Juices filled the capless pussy bottle, along with a lot of spooge left over from their penetration.

Her shirt shoulders, around her upper arms. She lay on the floor, dizzy, blinking hard as the rabbit smiled above her. Fuck, she realized, though there was no stopping it now.

He smirked. "You win. Your ass is nicer than mine. You know what I am going to do to thank you for educating me?"

She shook her head. Gods, he looked just like Spike, too. He'd hung above her too, just like that, once, before plunging into her like this rabbit was about to. She missed him so bad, too. Fuck. He brought his lips down to her. She clenched her fist.

Wait.

No, she wasn't clenching anything. In fact, she was so drunk...

He kissed her, and her mouth submitted, and he damned well tasted just like him.

He pulled back, a slight anchor of spittle trailing from his lips to her tongue. She panted. "Spike," she muttered.

"Fuck," he muttered back, smelling her breath for the first time, making a face. "I did not know you were that drunk. I'm so sorry."

"Wait... You're not going to... We won't... Huh?"

He shook his head. "No. You are drunk--I mean, what if you even have a boyfriend or someone back home? Gods, that would be bad for both of us. Here," he stood, offering his paw. "Let me help you back to your room."

Breeze keened and murred, popping the cock from her mouth and pumping it with glee while the other Spike shoved his cock at her muzzle, roughly thrusting it past her lips, spooge flowing out slowly while he grit his teeth. Breeze choked and swallowed and was rewarded with a warm gush of jizz over her left cheek.

"MRRrr!" she insisted around her mouthful, pumping his cock harder, twisting, and he agreed, crying out again, shooting another load all over her cheek and neck. "MRRrr! MRRRR!" Again he fired, more and more runny jizz flowing down her chest in thick, ropey gobs. Spooge flowed down her front, over her stomach, down her crotch, covering the front of the pussy bottle, as she ground and rode and humped the bottles for all their worth, crying out again and again. Her eyes closed, her tongue doing its damnedest to suck and lick the spooge out of real Spike.

" MRRRR!"

The other Spike shrieked, collapsing on Breeze, smearing spooge between them as his cock gave one final load, a great one this time. He kissed her, carefully avoiding the thrusting cock at her muzzle. Breeze sobbed, feverish with pleasure, somehow fitting that last inch inside her with every thrust.

The heat... her sucking muzzle... the stench of liters and liters of spooge flowing down and out of her body... He knew the end was near. Real Spike howled, letting go and pouring a gallon of spooge, at least, down her throat, making her gag, choking up more and more cum with every suck. As he fell down, the other Spike vanished; as he fell down, his cock unloaded the last of its cream down her front. He held the trembling Breeze in his embrace. It was technically all his spooge, after all.

Actually, she was still writhing, silently, and Spike frowned, trying to find the source of her torture, before smacking himself on the forehead, SPLAT, and pulling the bottles out of her cunt and ass. Juices spilled out, and Breeze fell forward into his arms, crying and sobbing, sticky, spent, needing him--just the way he liked it.

They fell back onto the bed, the bottles tipping and pouring out his spooge and her cum, all over her back, somehow. The thick layer of spooge between them, the cum on her back, her hips, thighs, shoulders, chest, and pretty much everywhere else... Spike kissed her and prayed he wouldn't have that bad of a mess to clean up when he woke up next morning.

His head was pounding; his sheets, a mess. He groaned, rubbed his face and looked over at the night stand. Beneath the Cokes, one empty, one full, the clock read... way too early. Still, Spike had to work today. Bugger work, he decided. Bugger it all.

Her head was pounding; she burped, a stinky, alcoholic burp, and rolled onto her belly, feeling the sheets all twisted and messed up beneath her. Breeze swore loudly, then clamped her paws on her ears, and swore again.

Fuck work, she decided. Fuck it all.

Actually, Spike's week went rather quickly after that--all the way to Thursday before it happened. Breeze, of course, after her little incident with Screw, had the lousiest week on record so far, and was positively seething that Thursday evening.

Not that she had really expected anymore.

And, oddly enough, it was Screw, and I suppose Breeze's counterparts too, that really screwed both their weeks for good.

"I hate shopping for groceries," hollered Spike at the sky, and within not seven seconds the roiling black clouds above answered. Shit, he swore silently, grabbing his bags and booting it to his car. The only downside to little shops everywhere? He had to go to no less than seven different places for all the food. Now he was paying for it.

The beach was empty now--most furres had already decided the weather would be too crappy for anything even remotely fun. Oh, sure, there were some out and about, but mostly fifty-something geezers looking for shells.

Only on this atypically bad-weathered day.

In any case, Spike was soon soaked, his fur matte, sticky beneath his clothing. Fortunately, his spikes were at home, safe from rusting, but the groceries would not survive the onslaught--Spike was nearly there, in fact, just within a minute of his car, when something flashed in the corner of his eye.

Whirled around. "What the FUCK!" Tripped, fell on his back, sliding a foot. Thud , hit his head on something. The groceries, somehow, miraculously survived the fall, rolling and tumbling towards the edge of the boardwalk before stopping, even more miraculously, right at the edge.

Oddest of all, Spike didn't even seem to mind.

"Oh my God," she cried out, rushing over to him. It didn't help at all that they sounded the same. "Are you alright?"

Looked up at her, squinted, rubbed his eyes, and squinted some more. "Breeze? The hell are you doing home already?"

She frowned. "Who is... ah, I think you hit your head pretty hard there. My name's Emerald--actually."

"Emerald? Oh, right, sorry." He fumbled, picking himself up as she steadied him. Her paws were reassuringly warm against his sopping fur. He chuckled. "Thanks."

"No problem. Um... do you need to dry off? My place isn't far from here."

He looked at her. She looked just like Breeze... though maybe he simply had hit his head. And, though he didn't like the idea of going into some hot bunny's room to get dried and warmed up--at least, he didn't like the idea of it not being Breeze's room--he wondered if he ought to be driving home now. His head pounded like it had early Sunday morning.

"Uh... yeah, sure, if it's not a problem." Just because she was cute didn't mean she wanted a yiff.

The sky above them roared, as the wind picked up. She had a sickeningly cute cry. "Come on! My place isn't far!"

Paw in paw, she led him out of the rain at a hurried pace that turned into a run, groceries utterly forgotten.

Bunny-hunk Screw was out again. He was chatting it up with several arctic vixens. For some reason, right then, Breeze had the urge to turn the other way, to remain unnoticed. The arctic vixens, and she wondered idly if they were sisters or even twins, raised their eyebrows and smirked. She glared at them but said nothing as she wandered past, not wanting to be rude.

Screw, however, had other ideas. "Hello! You!" he called over, motioning towards her.

Fuck.

She plastered a big, fake smile on her face, which she was sure made her look even more air-headed than the vixens, and turned and walked over. It didn't help that he still reminded her of Spike. Breeze remembered, just before opening her mouth, that Screw had been rather considerate that night, considering he'd wanted to shoot his wad down her throat, probably.

"Hi. Haven't seen you for a bit. Doing well?"

"I certainly am."

"I'm sorry, I have it in my head your name's Screw--is that right?"

He smirked at the vixens for a second before nodding. "Yes, that is what I had you call me that night."

She blinked but kept her fake smile. "Well... see you."

"Indeed," he smiled, turning back to the pair.

The incident would largely have gone unnoticed had she not had good hearing, too, but like I said--Screw screwed her week royally. As she turned to walk away, "That is the bunny I was telling you about. I do not like to brag--" she heard, and paused, her jaw set, "but when she gets drunk there was nothing she wouldn't do."

" WHAT?!" she shrieked.

Screw whipped around, pulled her close, whispered, "Alright, I know you and I were... separate that night, but just play along. I did you a favor, you were not really resisting me either, so..."

He looked at her, raising his eyebrows, and though she felt like slapping him, she nodded, resigned, though she would really rather have been snarling. Breeze turned around and slumped.

"I'm not a steady drunk," she conceded.

"I agree," Screw said loudly, "though once I had you by the shoulders you balanced rather well."

Breeze was not stupid, either--the only thing she did wrong was letting it get as far as she did. The vixens, somehow, had approving looks on their faces, though the looks they gave her were condescending, what-a-whore looks.

"Watch it," she muttered, looking away, wishing she was somewhere, anywhere else, just not here.

He ignored her. "And her face looked so pretty, covered in my--"

Screw never got the chance to finish his sentence--a paw sailed through the air, open palmed, attached rather firmly to Breeze's shoulder.

SLAP! Growled Breeze, "You son of a bitch." He spun, his knees hit the ground.

SLAP! Breeze felt the sting reciprocated on her cheek, but not from the rabbit. One of the vixens--she couldn't yet tell which one--snarled just as menacingly. "Don't touch him!"

"I'll touch whomever the hell I want, bitch." Her eyes, shooting daggers. Snarled again. Furres were stopping, looking. This was going downhill fast. Screw groaned slightly, standing up again. Breeze took the opportunity to--

SLAP! him again. He fell, again. The vixen closest grabbed her by the hair, pulled hard; she cried out, and whirled around, fists out, trying to reach flesh, anyone's. Things quickly went from bad to worse. Before they were pulled apart, the arctic vixen had a pawful of Breeze's top; Breeze had reciprocated with a pawful of her hair.

They stood there, panting, snarling, sweating, with a crowd hollering, hooting around them. Breeze held her top up and glared at the vixen before turning and, with a smirk, left. "Stupid bitch."

Gods, why did he have to look just like Spike, anyways?

Emerald fumbled with her keys; the moment they heard a click she shoved the door in and they hid from the rain. The sky was really dark; looked like a tropical storm had found its way to their little nook on the beach.

She panted as they slumped down on the chairs in her seating area. Spike blinked, his head hurt, and he realized she was looking at him rather strangely.

"Huh?" he wondered.

"You're bleeding," she said, matter-of-factly. Stood, left the room, presumably to find some bandages. Spike looked around, taking it in; the bunny, who reminded him startlingly of Breeze, had some eclectic tastes. There was a vase from the orient, some western statues, tropical carvings, and an old, wood stove, somehow--not that it was ever cold enough to need a wood stove around those parts.

"Here..." her voice floated over to him. He turned to look at her as she pressed a cloth to his forehead--it stung, a little. He winced. She finished, pressing the bandage to his forehead, "...there. How's that?"

He shrugged. "S'okay. Um, thanks, uh... Emerald, but I have to get going. I'm supposed to be getting those groceries home..."

He looked out the window. Emerald, following his gaze, "But what about all the rain?"

Spike shook his head, "Shouldn't be here," whispered.

She didn't seem to hear. "Would you like something hot to drink? Might warm your soggy body."

Spike tried not to look into that too deeply. Shrugged, "Sure." Emerald certainly didn't seem too interested in letting him leave--why, he couldn't say.

Again the bunny left the room, letting Spike gaze aimlessly at her odd furnishings. He heard the clank of glass on glass, then one of metal on glass, then her near silent pawsteps as she returned. In her paws she held a mug of steaming... something; hot chocolate, peppermint flavored. Spike thanked her, smiled.

"You know I have to get going right away, though--right?"

Emerald winked; he frowned, but sipped anyway. She was right--the drink did seem to spread warmth to all the sopping, soaked fur covering his flesh. Speaking of sopping fur... Emerald seemed to realize it right when he did, and she reached over to spray some air scenting stuff, smelled like flowers, he decided, shrugging. TSISS. Better than wet fur.

This is odd... Spike wasn't a connoisseur of fancy cocoas, but... something was in it, it didn't taste right. "What is this?"

"Special blend," she answered vaguely, waving her paw, wafting the steam. She had a similar concoction in her other paw. He frowned, wondering if he ought to be drinking it. But... she took a deep sip, and he could see it draining down her throat... His moment of paranoia passed, he sipped, breathing in deeply to cool his mouth.

No, fuck, something's in it. Spike set the mug down on the floor with a clank, spilling a little. She looked... damn hot right then, far more than earlier... had she put something in the chocolate after all? Some sort of stimulant? Panic gripped him for a moment, before the raging four-legged, sharp-fanged, black-eyed beast with a mammoth erection rose within, trying to squash his resistance. Emerald wasn't fighting it--a quick glance away from the swaying floor to see her breathing deep, panting, her paw dangerously close to her crotch, barely restrained from ripping her skirt off.

His paws shook as chemicals flooded his blood stream... he took a deep breath, making him dizzy. Now he was panicking. And... his crotch seemed about three sizes larger, his pants three or so times tighter. She was standing now, pressing herself to his chest, and damn--she looked just like her, too. Would it really be cheating if it was a clone of his girl? Something, strangely wise-sounding, seemed to think it wouldn't be. She reached around his neck, pulled him into her, pulled his muzzle inches, less, to hers. He closed his eyes, something willing him to fight it, something inside screaming to smack her, fall out from her embrace, just do something, something other than this.

But he didn't, and he kissed her, and she tasted just like Breeze, and the little devil on his shoulder laughed in her ear as he took deep, steaming breaths, loaded with fragrances, the unmistakable scent of lust--the one that even virgins, fresh out of sex ed., can recognize. His cock poked and pressed against his pants and her paw pulled him tighter, pulled him closer, and their tongues met.

She pressed against him, probably under the same influence, making him fall backwards. He hit the ground, smacking his head again. Shit, he thought, though the impact shook his vision for a second and he saw her as Emerald, not Breeze, and in that instant he held his breath and shoved her off his chest, pushed her paw away, tuft of chest hair and all. He scrambled up, barely looking back, stumbling and landing on the air freshener--

TSISS

--sending a blast of scent straight up his nostrils.

There was a brief instant when nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and he couldn't hear anything; then there was another, when everything made perfect sense. Then his world started spinning, there was a blast of heat through his body, and his crotch got tighter; and he threw himself out the door, down the hall, out of the building, into the dry air outside, panting and drooling slightly. The rain had stopped--for a moment Spike felt no drips of water on his fur, and he spun and his vision blurred for a second and he started panicking again, this time seriously.

He ran down the road, heading somewhat towards his car, barely missing a couple of wolves on the boardwalk. He had a severe case of tunnel vision, too--couldn't see anything but his car and the route to get there, till--

BAM!

He ran sidelong into something furry. Head pounding, cock swelling, vision spinning, he looked up, saw another girl leaning over him, looking very odd indeed. Oddly familiar, too--if he hadn't already done so he'd've assumed it was Breeze. He knew better. "Get away from me, Emerald!"

She frowned. "Who is... ah, I think you hit your head pretty hard there. My name's Breeze--actually." She stood above him.

The so-called-Breeze looked down at his crotch and licked her chops. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Spike stared, and tried to roll out from under her but she had already lowered herself onto him, and was shrugging off her shirt as he watched. No! he thought, shoving her off. With a grunt he picked himself off the ground, just out of the girl's reach, and looked around wildly.

Dozens of them--they all looked like Breeze, too, and some were eyeing him with savage interest. Some seemed to be pawing at their tops; others had their paws in their swimsuits. Spike's jaw dropped a little and he spun around and ran.

Thorne was humming to himself when he heard an atypically loud slamming of the door. He looked out his room, watched as Spike sank to his knees with a thud. Pretending not to notice the painfully large bulge in Spike's shorts he ambled over.

"Oh no. Has Spike gone and drunk himself stupid again?"

Spike looked up at him, a look of terror on his face, and shook his head no.

Thorne frowned. "God, Spike, you smell awful."

Spike managed a few words. "Air... freshener..." he gasped, sinking down to the floor again.

"No, smells more like sex."

He nodded frantically. "Bitch tried to poison me, I think."

"I thought Breeze was gone for the week."

Spike rolled over on to his back, took deep, steadying breaths. "Was someone else. Bitch..."

"Yeah, you said that already."

"Thorne..."

He raised an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

"I need you to drive me to that resort. I need to see Breeze."

"Huh? No! She'll be home, what, tomorrow? I'm sure you're horny as hell--you always are--but I'm not going to drop everything just to get you laid, bunny."

"Thorne! Fuck, can't you think of anything but sex?"

Thorne stopped.

"I need help! I need to see her! NOW!"

Thorne bit his lip. Spike rarely shrieked.

It was so fucking hot out. Late at night, window closed, fan humming, (heater broken, of course,) sun set hours ago, and yet there Breeze was, sweating, panting, naked but for her panties, under only her sheets, wide awake, swearing some more. She wanted to open her window but then the snow would get in. It wasn't that she wasn't tired--she'd lay awake for hours, normally, and didn't mind. The heat? She lived at the beach.

Breeze rolled over, pressing her breasts against the bed, her tail unconsciously lifting in the air--the room seemed to sigh in appreciation. If only Screw really had been Spike... if only he were here, somehow, mysteriously, as hot and sweaty and horny as she was. She was both screwed and unscrewed. That bastard with the stainless steel screw and the hussy arctic vixens had fucked with her vacation, and yet--

And yet--

Breeze slumped. And yet, she couldn't see any way of getting back at them. She was due home tomorrow, but that would be the evening, and she'd be so tired if she stayed up tonight plotting and scheming. No doubt the plan would involve a certain amount of seduction, on her part, and some nekkid embarrassment, on Screw's part. She'd also likely end up with a considerable amount of clothing torn from those vixens.

Breeze's ruined shirt lay crumpled in the waste bin. Swore under her breath. It was, unfortunately, not worth it. Who's to say that Screw had not already gone home? Which rooms were the vixens in? Getting that info would likely require some sort of disguise, and probably some cross-dressing in the end.

She blinked.

That was it! She could go out, buy some stuff at the gift shop, new clothing, maybe a little pair of scissors, then go up, get the room numbers, a little snip-snip! and the girls would be locked out of their rooms without tops, and then she'd go after Screw--

Slumped, flopped back down on the bed, huffed. That particular plan, and most others, Breeze decided, would require effort, something she was not fond of in this heat--despite the frigid snow outside.

And he had looked just like him, too!

Well, she was back on that thought again. She groaned. _Yes! Fuck! I know he looks like Spike!

And YES! I know I wanted to fuck him!_

The thought hit her like a fist in the crotch. Under the influence of a little Screw of the alcoholic nature (more than a little, actually,) she had wanted a little Screw of the hefty, meaty physical nature as well. Well, maybe not Screw himself, but Spike, right?

"Argg!" she cried out, leaping out of her bed, grabbing at her head. "This makes no sense!" The only thing Breeze knew for sure was that the next day would not come quick enough. The heat was unbearable; she shucked her panties off, letting her bare flesh sweat in the open, still, humid, stuffy, sweaty air.

Sexy, too. She closed her eyes, sniffed the air, knew that smell. The air was laced with her lust, and without the fabric between her nose and her crotch, there was nowhere to go but downhill. She blushed, even though she was quite alone in her room. The sudden thought of Spike had her... well, rather horny. She hadn't been in heat for quite some time, but she found it unlikely that her natural cycle would happen to hit her right when she was alone like this, in the mountains, like this.

Of course, given her string of luck this past week, it made perfect sense. Loses her boyfriend for a week and then some, only to tempt her over and over with hot bunnies, all of which wanting to screw her silly.

Fuck. This blows.

Breeze flopped back down on her bed, and cried out, feeling a strong pair of paws on her shoulders. Her eyes flashed open but she had the sheets draped over her head. The paws gripped her sweaty flesh and held her fast against the bed, she could barely breathe. She pushed back, trying to throw her attacker off balance, but the paws were too strong. They pressed her deeper and deeper into the mattress, somehow she kept breathing, kicking wildly, trying desperately to get out of his grip--the fur certainly was a he, the paws were too massive otherwise.

There was a sudden weight on her rump as he sat down, pressing his forearm across her back to subdue her completely. There was a slap of flesh against her back. Breeze wasn't struggling anymore, she could barely scream. Her mind was quickly turning to mush--she kept trying to think of things to throw at him, forgetting at least five times in the span of so many seconds that she couldn't move her arms.

Suddenly there was air all around her: she had been rolled around, she realized: there was no longer any weight on her back, but had had something tied around her eyes, blinding her. It had only lasted about ten or so seconds, really. She lay there for all of what seemed like an hour before she realized she should be screaming, but as soon as she made the motion Breeze felt something hot on her lips.

Breeze panted through her nostrils, before realizing exactly what was holding her mouth shut--the bastard was kissing her, roughly, and she realized she knew that muzzle. Screw pressed his body down on hers, he was already naked, his hips on hers, his chest pressing up against her bust, and she flailed again, trying to kill the asshole.

Something sharp raked against her neck, and instantly she froze, although it was a moment before she realized just how frightened she had become. Some sort of knife--No, idiot! His screw! The little stainless steel screw he'd had with him each time she'd seen him, and it was pressed against her neck, not really painful but terrifying all the same.

She froze, tried not to move, willed him to hurry up and finish, and for a brief moment of absurdity she considered helping him get off, if only to get rid of him so she could call the cops and finally get rid of this bastard. Another poke--she wondered if he could read her mind.

And another poke, somehow, and suddenly it occurred to her, as his member twitched, pressed against her stomach, that there were too many little screws, they moved as he did, like he wasn't holding them but rather wearing them--

OH MY FUCKING GOD...

She reached up and tore the blindfold off, staring into familiar, comforting eyes, feeling the collar just to make sure; then Breeze pushed his chest away, SLAP ped him and pulled Spike back into a deep, sensual kiss, rolling him over and running her paws all along his body, feeling his leg wrapping around her, feeling his tough chest beneath hers, feeling his spiked collar, with its inch-long faux-platinum spikes--

They were a flurry of paws as sweat dripped down their bodies onto the bed, lust spreading through the air. Spike had a raging hard-on; it pressed between their bellies and was wet, slick with oozing precum. Gasped; felt their bodies mold together, closer, feeling his fur ruffle with her; Breeze licked his cheek, chin, ear, neck. He panted, his tongue lolling out like a puppy, so cute! She giggled, scratching him behind the ear; he grinned, and although they were both naked, and although they were both wet with sweat and sex, both panting, both hornier than hell, it was a sweet moment.

Just a moment, mind you; she closed her eyes and trailed her tongue down his chest, arching his back, making him gasp. He swore; she licked. Breeze slid her body down his front, wriggling her bust around his swollen head, leaving a slick trail down her front, from her crotch up to her neck. She felt his swollen tip press against her neck, below her chin. She leaned closer, and licked the tip, getting a wonderfully wicked idea.

Spike whimpered; she'd stopped licking and was looking at him with that look he went crazy for. He was panting, sweating, blinking as if trying to get something sharp out of his eyes, both of which were glazed over at the moment. She waited, very impatiently, for him to rouse himself.

"What... Why'd you... Breeze?"

Right eyebrow rose. "Why'd I... what, baby?"

He pouted. "You know what I mean." He was coming back down to earth, apparently aware now that she wasn't going to surface his periscope.

She shrugged. "You expect me to just drop everything and let you screw me silly?"

Arm muscles readied.

Spike seemed confused by the question, though she knew his answer before he even spoke. "Well... yeah. I mean, you smell like you need a good fuck! Don't deny it. We're not just about sex, you and I, but tonight..."

Breeze smirked, looking away for a moment. "Well, normally, but you nearly suffocated me back there."

Spike suddenly looked like a hurt puppy. She rolled him back over, hanging her crotch over his, teasingly close. Oh, how she wanted to close her eyes and just let go... Oh...

"So--"

She expected him to just launch forward and grab her, fuck her right there, pull her onto his lap--and he tried, too. His arms shot out from nowhere, grabbed her hips, but she was ready, and in a flick of her wrist she had him pinned, one arm holding his paws at bay--and the other grabbing his testicles. He froze very much immediately , a look of genuine fear flashing across his face.

" SO..." she began again, letting go of his arms but gripping quite firmly his rubies, "I don't think you get to finish the race tonight."

And, surprisingly, he gave up quickly, frowning and looking quite resigned. "I see. And... this is your will, Miss Breeze?"

"Damn right, not a drop, and you'll stick to that 'Miss' business if you know what's good for you."

"Of course... Miss Breeze. But what will happen when you let go of my balls--Miss Breeze?" he asked with an unconvincing sneer. Oh well, at least he's trying.

"I won't. Not yet, anyways."

He whimpered--that was convincing. "I... I see. I--I am at your service."

"Good. Now, when I tell you to do something, you will answer, 'Yes, Miss Breeze.' Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

SLAP

"Yes, Miss Breeze," he corrected himself, rubbing his cheek.

"Good. Now roll us over again."

"Yes, Miss Breeze." He grabbed her by the shoulders, and, making quite sure not to pull the arm holding his testicles, rolled her onto her back again. Waited. His cock was visibly twitching above her flaming crotch. Sweat dripped down his body, dripped on her, dripped on the bed. Soon, switching paws twice, she was kneeling behind him.

She smirked. "You remember our little agreement, earlier, Spike?"

He nodded. "Yes, Miss Breeze."

She smirked, leaned forward, pressed her chest to his back, and started pawing him off, her right paw wrapped around his unsatisfied cock, the other grasping his balls. Spike stayed very silent, hardly moving, barely breathing, and as an afterthought, Breeze added, "You may make as much noise as you want, Spike. In fact, you may do anything you want, except come. Do you understand?"

He gasped out, "Yes, Miss Breeze!" nodding frantically. Soon the room was full of his moans and groans as he struggled to hold himself at bay as long as he could. He buckled back and forth, trying stupidly to help her paw--Breeze rested her clit on the base of his tail and rode him as he buckled, keeping her paws either busy or clenching. She was quite wet already.

Spike cried out, and stopped moving, stopped breathing, held his breath, clenched his muscles. His tail base stopped fucking her clit; she cried out in frustration, "Don't COME!" and pumped him faster. He nodded, gasping again, but not moving again. Breeze felt his balls lift a little and she stopped pumping him for a second, gauging his reactions.

"Miss... Breeze..." he panted.

"Mmm?" she asked sweetly. He couldn't hold on any longer. Breeze wasn't about to let him off so easily, so after about ten seconds rest she stared pawing him again, this time massaging his balls at the same time. Spike grunted and said nothing, the only sounds coming from his nostrils as he took deep, stuttered breaths. She watched little beads of sweat pop all over his back, dripping slowly down his sides.

Breeze stopped suddenly, letting of his raging iron but not his testicles. "How was that?"

"It was wonderful, Miss--"

SMACK

"Don't lie to me! How was that?" she asked again.

He snarled beneath his breath, "I hated it, Miss Breeze." His fists were balled, gripping at the sheets. He hadn't spilled a drop; she could feel his cum-filled balls rocking slightly like Ben Wa Balls. She giggled beneath her breath.

"Good. Turn around."

"What about...?"

She SLAP ped the closest cheek she could. He yelped, but kept his muzzle shut after that. He was a slow learner, apparently. Breeze forced her grin into a frown. He had a point--how would she do this without letting go of his billiards? She didn't trust him to simply obey under threat... His ears...

"I said, turn around!" She grabbed his ears with one paw and pulled tightly, and released her hold on his balls. He didn't notice, closed as his eyes were, wincing as he was like that. "On your knees!" He fell to his knees so fast she thought he was about to topple over, but her grip on his sensitive flesh kept him in line.

Where's a leash when you need one? Oh, there we go, she thought to herself, grabbing the leather thing that was on her bedside table. Clipped it on his collar, watching his worried expression.

They were turned so her back was to the wall, the foot of the bed beneath Spike's ankles. Breeze was kneeling in front of the on-all-fours-Spike. She glared. "Lick!" she cried out, pulling on his leash. All of a sudden his wet, rough, surprisingly agile tongue was shoved into her cunt, lapping and licking at her inner walls.

She cried out, "No!" and SLAP ped him. He whimpered, withdrawing. "Properly!"

He nodded, keeping his eyes closed. This time his tongue was slower, as he licked her belly button. She closed her eyes, smiling. Spike left her navel and slid lower, licking through the tiny tuft of fur above her bunny. Wet with spit, sweat, she slid her front along his face, trying to guide him. His paws were on her ass, holding her in place, but his fingers started doing wonderful things to her sweet spot right below her tail. Her hips, knees felt weak, and she leaned into his muzzle, pressing his nose right against her clit. She pulled him close, tightening her grip on the leash.

He snorted, blasting a jet of cool air on her button, making her tremble. She stayed quite still, made little noise, but a great big part of her wanted to fuck his muzzle right there. His paws... one finger, slick with sweat, pressed itself against her pucker, while the other paw began tickling her right between the legs, teasingly close to her cunt. Breeze murred.

His tongue pressed out again, touching her lips, massaging the flesh with gentle pressure, licking the salty tasting sweat. Spike snorted again, pressing his nose harder against her clit. Shaking, trembling, Breeze couldn't hold back any more--she moaned, and again, and soon the room was filled with the sounds of his pleasuring.

A finger, then another, pressing into the lower part of her pussy, while another finger on another paw slid inside her rear. Breeze was so close, feeling tiny jolts of warm, honey goodness each time he did something, anything. His paws were so talented, and his tongue--he was back to sliding in and out of her cunt with it, but this time she was so much more aroused by it, so much more sensitive to his touch.

She arched her back, crying out suddenly as she came, sticky juices coating his muzzle. He didn't stop, neither--she wouldn't let him stop--he kept licking and fingering and pawing, jacking her off. Seven minutes later, another orgasm, this one louder and more drawn out that the last, and he didn't stop to let her rest. Kept fingering her. Breeze had two fingers in her ass now, and his paw was rubbing her sensitive flesh while his tongue tasted her snatch. Another few minutes. She came again, this time losing her balance and falling back on her pillows, pulling Spike by the ears with her. He landed between her legs and after whimpering for a second he continued his torture.

Seconds slowed to minutes as Spike fucked her cunny, the delightful sounds of slurping and licking floating heavy around her. Soon she'd let go of his ears had was pressing his muzzle deeper, harder. His technique, far from becoming more and more refined, was getting sloppy, unpredictable, and although for a few minutes it kept her surprised, she decided after her fourth (or was it fifth?) cunnilingus-induced orgasm that he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. She gave a gentle tug on his ears and his leash, slightly dizzy, and he slid his body along hers, bringing himself to eyelevel.

"Yes, Miss Breeze?"

"You've done well. Would my Slave like his reward?" she asked, her voice full of lust, honey.

Spike nodded, panting. "Yes, Miss Breeze."

"And what would you like that reward to be?"

He looked at her, something glinting in those eyes, and though he was doing his damnedest to remain stoic, his nervous panting betrayed him.

"Answer me, Slave!" She flexed her paw.

Spike hung his head, and muttered something.

"What was that, Slave?"

He whispered, slightly louder, and this time totally audible. Still, she feigned deafness.

"Louder."

He said it again, loudly, still looking away.

"Louder!" SLAP

He glared at her, fire in his submissive eyes, cried out, " IWANTTOFUCKYOU!" very fast.

"How do you wanna fuck me?!" she cried out, panting. She knew the answer before he could bellow it out.

" LIKE THE ANIMAL I AM!"

She batted her eyelashes, all innocent-like, cooed, "Then what are you wait-- AIEEEE!" and he was in her before she could finish her command, and judging by the sudden rush of warmth spilling into her belly, he'd came just as suddenly. He humped like a rabid dog, and she fucked back with reckless abandon. Little thought made to the noise, they moaned and squealed like never before. Again he came with a holler; the cum he'd built up over the torturous hours of pawing and licking blasted out of his cock, coating her insides with sticky heat, and some spilled onto her front, and yet...

And yet...

And yet, against the orgy exploding from their hips, a cooler, more subtle fury erupted from their muzzles, as Spike looked back at her with contagious warmth that clashed with the ache in his face. He strained to keep his arms from buckling, strained to keep his hips hammerstroking hers, strained to keep his eyes open--but all the while his exhausting smile never left his muzzle. He kissed her. He tasted like cinnamon. They came together, a moment of quiet passion marred only by the din of two exhausted lovers.

Breeze woke up to the sound of a dizzying ringing in her ears, and discovered to her dismay that it was already noon and that there was a phone call. Likely just before whoever it was was about to hang up, she tore the phone off the receiver, "He--hello?"

"Hi, baby."

Spike... "Hey." She blinked. "Where are you?"

Spike was silent for a few moments. "Um... at home?"

Sighed. Of course... "Right, right. What's up?"

Breeze walked in, dropping her suitcase somewhere. She closed her eyes and felt her comfy, familiar bed rush up at her. She smiled, inhaling the familiar fragrance of sea and salt--the comforting perfume of the beach. Her fan was already running, a cool breeze wafting over her. She rolled over and smiled, then realized she ought to let Spike know she'd gotten home safely. She called him over.

Images of her hauntingly real fantasy from the night before rushed over, catching her off guard. She had physically hurt him and yet she'd loved every moment. She didn't bother hoping it was just a sick dream, or that it was a phase she could fall out of.

Breeze only hoped Spike would be willing to... Well. He'd looked hot wearing that leash, anyways. He did already have the collars and anklets and bands. Her breathing was rough, ragged already. He really ought to wear that cock collar of his more often. Perhaps the only real trouble would be approaching Spike the right way. She certainly didn't want to tie him up the moment he walked in the door.

Spike was knocking, she realized with a start several minutes of contemplation and scheming later. "It's open!" He walked in, twirling an empty bottle in his paws.

Thirsty. "Ooh! Any left?"

"Oh, this?" He smirked, tipped it over, nothing came out. "Nah, I just... had an idea on the drive over." He looked guilty for some reason.

Notes: This one was long! I hoped you liked reading it as much as I loved writing it.

-Hammerstroke

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