FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Field slowly strolled through the aisles, golden paws gripping the red, plastic cart-handle, trying to keep it steady. One of the wheels was wobbly. Creak-clunk, creak-clunk! Making the metal frame rattle every second or so. He tried to ignore it, hoping it didn't make everyone stare at him. I should've tested the carts before I grabbed one. Why am I always in such a hurry?

It was the middle of May, a Friday evening, and he was grocery shopping by himself. And, unfortunately, he was a very hungry rodent! It was never a good idea to shop on an empty stomach, of course. He knew that. You were apt to buy more. But it was unavoidable. Adelaide, his mate, had planned a 'girl's night out' with her squirrel friend Ketchy, and he was just wrapping up four straight workdays. The cupboards at home were getting bare. The refrigerator down to almond milk and apples. And half a head of lettuce. And a bottle of root beer. Sustenance was needed. Couldn't really wait 'til tomorrow. Not if they wanted something nice for breakfast.

So, here he was, moving down the bread and grains aisle. Putting a box of pasta in the cart. Rotini. Tri-colored. Also, a jar of marinara sauce. A bag of mixed wild rice. No, no, nix the rice. I'm tired of rice. It never goes down well. I want quinoa. More protein. More filling. Also, wheat wraps for lettuce and vegetables. What else ...

Next aisle.

Chips and snacks. Pretzels. Seeds and nuts.

I must have twenty, thirty dollars in my cart already, he realized. More than that. Forty. And I'm not even shopping at a fancy store! This is just a regular supermarket. He counted his items again. More almond milk. Some juice. Had yet to hit the vegetables. Fruit, eventually, would come from work. But not quite yet. Nothing local was ripe yet. Winter had been brutal, and spring had been late, throwing the entire growing season off. Adelaide wants strawberries, though. Remember that. And granola. I need granola. I want the vanilla/almond kind. The crunchy stuff. But Adelaide wants it with cranberries and raisins. Hmm. Too expensive to get both, isn't it? I guess I'll go with her kind. This is why you need to make lists, Field.

Blue corn tortilla chips.

Whole-wheat pretzels.

Pistachios and hazelnuts.

I don't need a list.

And before he knew it, there was fifty-five dollars in his cart! And he hadn't even hit the cereal and breakfast aisle. I'm not gonna get out of here dropping less than a hundred, am I? It just doesn't work. Food for two furs? For a week? Not to mention incidentals like toothpaste or whatever. It's not that I'm irresponsible. I'm not an impulsive, casual spender. Not more than anyone else, anyway. No, I like to eat healthy and I'm just plain poor. A sigh. This sucks. This was also when, halfway through shopping, he'd go on a guilt trip and try to put everything back on the shelves. But why should I do that? Every single item in the cart so far is necessary. I haven't gotten any ...

... extraneous ... sweets?

Aisle.

Of sweets!

His blue-grey eyes widened, whiskers twitching.

Keep walking, keep walking, keep walking!

Calm down, Field. God. It's only food. Well, candy. Candy's food. I mean, why can't I just look? What's the harm in looking?

Well. Okay. Maybe just a peek.

Biting his lip, he glanced both ways. Then ahead. And inched forward, secretively.

Cookies on the right.

So many cookies!

Chocolate chip. Thick and chunky. And wafer-crisp. Sandwich ones, too. Chocolate with vanilla filling. Mint. Peanut butter. And then golden ones with lemon, strawberry, and even watermelon cream. Ooh. Watermelon cookies? He snatched them up, turning the package over. Never seen these before! He started to put them in the cart and then stopped. No. No, no, no! We already have cookies! The regular golden-vanilla kind, remember?

Yeah, but ...

It's only one package!

And, look, it says 'limited edition!' This may be the only chance you have to taste them. Like, ever.

So, what, on your deathbed your last regret will be not trying watermelon cookies? Put them back.

Now.

Sighing, he frowned and grumbled. "Fine ... "

Pushing his cart forward, he looked to the left. More. Gourmet cookies, now. The fancy ones. With high-class names. Like Montauk and Tahoe. He could almost smell them through the packaging. Mm, so good. But, no. No. He shook his head, slowly. Just keep going.

You're doing good! You're halfway down the aisle.

That's when he saw the candy.

All the candy.

70 percent off! Easter candy only! Super post-season clearance!

Easter candy? But that was three weeks ago, at least. I wonder what they have left?

Curiosity piqued, he swallowed and went closer.

A lot of the usual. Marshmallow rabbits and birds. Chocolate eggs. More rabbits. "Psh," he went, rolling his eyes. Why does everyone want to eat rabbits for Easter? They're not the only ones who are virile. What about mouses, hmm? What about me? Well. I mean, not that I want to get eaten. Not like that! No. He rolled his neck around, feeling a little flustered. Ears getting rosy. Maybe more like how, a few days ago, after showering together, when he and Adelaide had done a 'sixty-nine' on the bed.

He sighed, wistfully.

So.

Anyway ...

He cleared his throat and picked up a package of chocolate 'bunnies.' You're allergic to milk. It'll burn your stomach. Yeah. What an awful aversion to have, he mused. One that had slowly gotten worse the last few years. He could sneak a bit of this or that every so often, but not too much. Hives and abdominal pains. I guess it's better to be allergic to dairy than wheat, but still, it made him feel left out, sometimes. No chocolate. Putting the package back, he scooted forward and ...

... oh.

Jelly beans!

He swallowed.

I like jelly beans.

So simple and colorful. Sweet and succulent. And in so many flavors! Lemon, lime, strawberry, grape, orange, mango, pineapple. And more! And, hey, they're seventy percent off! That's, like, less than a dollar per bag. What a steal. Come on. This is America! You can't pass up a deal like that. Can you?

He took a deep breath.

Hmm.

Well ...

"Field."

"Yeah?" he called, from the living room, on the comfy, blue couch. Only in boxer-briefs and shorts. Distracted by his laptop computer. His fleshy, ropy tail wavering with anticipation. It was the next morning, a Saturday. He'd been checking the newest posts on the Indy Car forum he belonged to. The Indy 500 was just around the corner! And, in fact, qualifying began this afternoon. He'd listen on the radio, today. And go down to the track tomorrow for the pole run, as was his tradition. He tried to get down to the Speedway three or four times each May. He'd go every day if he could afford it. And if he had the time.

"Come here for a minute."

"Hmm? Why?" He clicked onto another racing website. The speed! The spectacle! The sights and sounds! It was the best. Adelaide was only a casual sports fan, herself, and only because he'd indoctrinated her. She took an interest but wasn't one to live or die by the results. Wouldn't even go to qualifying with him ...

'You're a big boy. You can go places yourself.'

'I know that,' he'd said, making a face.

'So, ask Ketchy's mate, Kody. He'll go. Or one of your brothers.'

'Maybe ... '

'Don't be so clingy. I'm going to the 500 with you. We'll have that to share together.'

He'd ground his teeth together. He hated being called out on things. Am I clingy? No. I'm just sensitive. There's a difference. 'Yes, but this will be fun, too.'

'One race a month is enough for me,' she'd insisted.

'Qualifying isn't a race, Adelaide. It's to get into the race.' He'd shaken his head, incredulously. She knew that, right? After all these years in his company? She had to. She's just trying to get a reaction. He looked for a smirk.

'Uh-huh. Still." And there it was. A faint smile. She was egging him on. "Twelve hours at the track? That's all day.'

'So?' A squeaky huff. Even knowing she was doing it, he couldn't stop falling for it. 'A real fan doesn't notice.'

'Do you want a gold star for that?' she'd teased.

He'd tilted his head, considering. Then giving a stubborn smile. 'No. I'm golden already. It would only blend in with my fur.'

"Would you mind explaining to me why there are six bags of jelly beans in here?" Adelaide asked, currently. From the kitchen. The pink-furred bat sounded a little bemused.

"In, uh ... in where?" the mouse asked, blinking. Clearing his head. So hard to focus, sometimes. He finally closed the laptop.

"Above the stove."

"Oh. Well. Right." The harvest mouse stood up and peeked into the kitchen, shyly. "They were on sale?"

"So, you couldn't get just one? Or two?" She tossed a bag onto the counter, gesturing with a carnation-colored wing-arm. Her purple eyes widened. "Six?" she chittered.

"Just stocking up ... " Next Easter was a year away, after all.

"That's ridiculous, Field."

"Liking something isn't ridiculous," he stated.

"No. But you have hoarding tendencies, you know that?" she insisted. "You don't have 'pack rat' in your blood, do you?"

"I'm pure-bred harvest mouse," he insisted, proudly, standing up straighter. Whiskers, ears, and tail to attention.

"That's what your parents tell you, anyway," she needled.

"My parents and both sets of grandparents are harvest mouses."

"What about your great-grandparents, mm? Sure there's not a house or deer mouse in there, somewhere? Some illicit love affair that was covered up, mm? I can see it, now. Scandal in mouse town! Maybe a fruitful dalliance with a rat?" She knew how conservative Field's family was.

"There's no such place as mouse town. And I'm not a pack rat." He leaned against the wall, slouching a bit. Crossing his arms. His tail whipped about, whiskers twitching. "I just like to collect things."

"Furs don't collect food. Or candy. Not unless they plan to eat it."

"I was gonna share 'em!" he said, of the jelly beans. "Open a bag if you want. Have some. I don't care. Go ahead." He rolled his shoulders, tensely. And sighed. "So, maybe I can be a bit obsessive-compulsive ... "

"You think?" she said, shaking her head.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat, suggesting, hopefully, "But that make me more adorable? Sometimes?"

She smiled at him, showing her fangs. And snickered. "Maybe. It's a quirk. Luckily, I have a thick pelt." She could put up with most anything. "But, still! This is extreme." Back to a serious face. "I'm going to have to hide these."

"What? Why?" he demanded, leaving the wall. Bare foot-paws scuffling on the wooden floor as he went to the bat.

"Because you'll get into them."

"I'm a grown mouse!"

"You've also got the worst sweet tooth I've ever seen."

"Then how come I'm so slender?" he challenged.

"Cause you've got a fast metabolism," she countered. "And you keep active. Doesn't mean you can eat junk whenever you want." She collected all the jelly bean bags and scooped them into a plastic sack. "So, why aren't you wearing a shirt, today?" she asked, eying his chest with a look befitting pink lemonade. Zesty. Lip-smacking. "On strike from society?" He'd been trying to bulk up lately. Add some muscle. The extra pounds suited him. She'd always found him handsome. And cute. Obviously. You didn't mate someone if you didn't. But the attraction had grown even stronger as they'd aged. Guess that's true love, right?

"Uh, no. Cause it's gonna be, like, 85. Or hotter. And muggy. And we live in the middle of the countryside. And I'm not going anywhere. And I sweat easily." A half-shrug. "What's the point?"

"So, why not just go around completely naked?" she countered, eyes sparkling.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Not as much as you'd like me going around naked."

"Let's call that one a draw."

The bat chuckled

"Just give me my candy back, Adelaide."

"No. You had a cavity last time you visited the dentist, remember? That was an unbudgeted expense. And it wasn't from eating too many vegetables."

"I brush my teeth plenty," he muttered, lamely. She'd gotten him with the cavity point. Couldn't afford to keep getting those. Damn it.

"I'll ration it out. When you're good, you'll get some," she added.

"When I'm good, huh?" he said, giving her an angelic look. "I'm good all the time."

"Oh, really?"

"Mm-hmm," the harvest mouse insisted with a simple nod.

The bat grinned, toothily. "Then you have nothing to worry about. You'll get what's coming to you."

"Heh. Yeah ... "

"What?" she asked.

"You know what. The way you said that. You make it sound so ... "

"Kinky?"

"Lascivious."

"Is that a more romantic term?"

"It is."

"You just need to learn to control yourself, is all. There are plenty of sweet alternatives to candy."

"Fruit? I eat plenty of that," the mouse replied.

"Fruit, yes." A playful pause. "Amongst other things."

"Hmm." Dimples appeared on his butterscotch-furred cheeks. I see. "What about female bats?" he suggested. "I hear they're the sweetest."

"Oh?"

"I have it on very good authority," he whispered, passionately. He advanced toward his mate, putting his paws on her hips. Touching his pink, delicate nose to her snout.

She nuzzled him, affectionately.

And he kissed her on the lips, twisting into it. Smacking apart after a few seconds. "Sorry I get so, uh ... you know. Like however I get."

"Weird?"

"Some other better word. Like quixotic. Or charmingly eccentric."

"That last one's two words."

He nibbled on her neck with his buckteeth, playfully.

"It's okay, though," she said, tilting her head to give him access. "I like winding you up, sometimes ... "

"Understatement." Field looked up and kissed her again, twisting the opposite way. Then panting on her candy-colored cheek. So sweet, indeed. One taste wasn't enough. He wanted more. "Adelaide ... "

"You want sex, don't you?" "What? I don't want sex," he corrected slowly and modestly, "as much as I want, say, to make love."

"Oh. Right, right." She grinned, wing-arms covering his backside like living blankets. "How could I forget?"

"Are you in the mood?" he asked, hopefully, paws traveling to the small of her back. Before ending up on her rump. Holding her close. Grabbing and groping. And pulling.

She gave him an apologetic look. "Not really, Field. Though I'm tempted." A short breath. "I was teasing more than flirting just now. Was gonna go do some stuff outside for a few hours while you listened to your racing." Some walking, yard work, et cetera. "It's nice out. I don't wanna get sidetracked too much."

"Mm ... " His whiskers drooped.

"Maybe later?" She pecked a kiss to his soft, whiskery cheek.

"Yeah. Alright. It's okay," he insisted, smiling shyly. Bumping noses. "I love you."

"I love you, too, mousey." She beamed. And scooped up the six bags of jelly beans in her wing-arms and left the room. "And no snooping for the hiding place. I'll know if you've gotten into them."

"Yeah, yeah ... "

Hours later, mid-afternoon, and Field, now donning a button-up t-shirt, paused in the living room. "You're back?"

"Few minutes ago. Mowed the yard. Picked some strawberries from the patch. Got a bit of exercise. You were captivated by the radio and your computer. Didn't want to bother you." Adelaide was on the couch in front of the television. Legs, wings, and all. Sprawling.

"Oh." He nodded, biting his lower lip. And pointed with a paw. "What's that?"

"Mm?" She had a pint container in her lap.

"What are you eating?"

A smile. And a hesitation. "Sorbet."

"Oh? Ooh." The mouse's nose sniffed excitedly. "When did you get it?"

"Last night, when I was with Ketchy. We stopped at a place."

"Where? What kind is it? I mean, what flavor?"

"Field ... "

"What?"

The bat looked up, patiently. "If you keep asking, you'll want to try it. And if you try it, you'll want more. And then," she said, sucking on her spoon, "you'll eat the whole thing. It's like that book about giving a mouse a cookie. The consequences will be endless!"

"They will not! That book is slanderous."

She laughed.

"I haven't had that many sweets today, for your information," he replied.

"Yeah?" she challenged, stretching idly.

"Yeah ..." What was she watching? He squinted at the screen. Some cooking competition.

"Two cookies after lunch. A glass of cider from the orchard. I'm sure you snuck in something else, too, when I wasn't looking. Even after I hid all the jelly beans. I know you had some fruit. A peach."

"Peaches are good for you."

"A big peach," she emphasized, twirling the spoon in the sorbet.

"You had a banana, though. There's twice as much sugar in those," the mouse said.

"What? Really? Since when?"

"It's true. I looked it up." He padded closer to her. "So, how come I'm on a 'sugar restriction' and you're not, hmm?"

"Nice try, Field."

"What? I'm just piecing together the facts." He flopped onto the couch cushions beside her. "For instance, I eat a high-protein, low-sugar breakfast cereal. You eat a chocolate cereal. With bugs in it. Or am I mistaken?"

"So? Bats eats bugs."

"Chocolate bugs?"

She giggled. "What do you want me to say?"

"That you eat just as much sugar as me. That you're no more perfect."

"I never claimed to be," she replied, shaking her head and taking another spoonful of sorbet. And put it in her fanged maw, making a show of using her long, dexterous bat-tongue to lick it all up. "Mm-h." She sighed through the nose. "Besides, I don't get cavities."

"Well, uh ... you ... " He cleared his throat. The way she was wrapping her tongue around that spoon. Very reminiscent of, uh ... focus, Field. She's trying to derail you, here. Don't let her win! "Bet that sorbet has much sugar as soda."

"It does not."

"Let me see the nutrition label, then."

A pause. "No."

"Cause you know I'm right!"

"Mousey," she said, moving from a sprawl to a sit. "This is stupid. This is a dumb argument."

"I'm not arguing. I'm debating."

"Well, I'm enjoying a cold treat and trying to watch one of my shows, so ... "

"You've probably seen this one." He glanced at the screen. "No one airs new episodes on Saturday afternoon."

She sighed. "At least I know when to quit, though. That's the real issue, isn't it? You get 'tunnel vision.' You get fixated on things. Foods, topics, whatever. And don't know how to pull back and take it easy. It's always full speed ahead. Scurry, scurry." More than sometimes. Most of the time. "If I weren't hear to keep an eye on you ... "

"What? I'd what?" His whiskers twitched. There was a kernel of truth to that. "Am I that oblivious? Or helpless?"

"No. You're just ... different," she decided, gesturing with her wing-arms. But, then, she'd always gone for unique things. She wasn't one for the status quo. Or dominant males. She needed someone pliable, someone willing to submit. To properly please her. She had that in Field. They'd had chemistry from the start. In spite of their basic differences, that was undeniable.

"I can't help who I am."

"I know," she whispered. "Nor can I." She was headstrong. To the point where she couldn't resist provoking others when given the chance. Especially Field's family. They'd been suspicious of her from the start, and she had a hard time letting that go. She held grudges. Was never lacking for confidence, which made her assume she was always right. If Field was too formal and serious, she was too casual and frivolous. She'd had more partners than you could count on both paws before meeting Field. He'd never been with anyone but her. "Good thing we balance each other out, huh?"

"Yeah. We do." He wriggled up against her, leaning his head on his shoulder. Welling with affection.

"Just relax," she cooed.

"I'm trying ... "

She nosed him for a moment, swirling her spoon in the bright sorbet and offering him some. "Here."

"Thank you," he breathed. Field took a taste, letting the cold, fruity treat melt on his tongue. He sighed. "Mm-h." Sweet. A light tang. The refreshing lift of citrus. Not lemon or lime, though, or any traditional orange that he was familiar with. "It's really good ... orange?"

"Blood orange," she specified. A glint in her eyes, as if daring him. "No vampire jokes."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He locked gazes with her. "What other flavors did they have?"

"Lemon. Some peach white wine thing? Blackberry. Prickly pear." She retrieved her spoon from Field's paw, placing it atop the now-lidded container. Putting them both on the coffee table in front of the couch. "This seemed like the best bet."

"Mm-h. It was. Good choice."

"Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked. "Mm?"

"No reason. Just wondering if I can taste it on your lips," he breathed.

"Well," she replied, easing toward him. "Only one way to find out ... "

He lifted his head, leaning his body even closer.

'Til they were pressed together.

The bat's wing-arms moving around him, possessively. "Mine," she mumbled before they kissed. The meshing of lips. A few twists and smacks, which led to suckling. And throaty noises. They 'made out' for a minute.

And when it tapered off, the mouse whispered into one of her angular, sweeping ears, "Yours." He began to unbutton his shirt. Top to bottom.

She fumbled for the television remote, turning it off. Helping him undress. His bare, furry chest exposed, toned beneath the pelt. She bowed her head, wily tongue searching for those little male nipples. Matting patches o' fur. "Butterscotch mouse."

"Bubble gum bat." His big, dishy ears were already flushing with blood. Breath already baited. As he pulled at her shirt. Undid her bra.

"Aren't you gonna miss your race stuff?" she asked, raising those wing-arms. Feeling her breasts flop free.

"It's a break in the action," he mumbled. The radio, however, was still playing. Still on. Audible. From the porch. He tried to listen, but it was no use. All he could hear was his own heartbeat. And her breath. As her tongue found an earlobe. "Ah-h ... "

"Funny," she slurred. "Seems like the action is just about to start." And that tongue swirled around his sensitive, delicate dish. The thin skin. The capillaries beginning to show along the rims. She blew into his ear canal, softly.

He gasped and wrestled with her, kissing her again, again. On the neck, the cheek. Wherever he could press his lips. Belt loosening. His pants unzipped, hips slanting, rising, falling. Hers, too, against him, down her thighs. And those silky pink panties, much lighter than her vibrant fur. Begging to be removed. And, soon, it was. All of it. Everything. Nothing between them but emotion.

"Field," she breathed, arching her suddenly-naked body. Pushing him off the couch.

The mouse, forced to the floor, settled on his shins and knees. Paws on her thighs. Blue eyes dilated, he looked up at her.

"Indulge your sweet tooth ... " Her breasts were heaving with impatience. It wasn't a suggestion.

He knew it, too. And shivered as he glanced down. At her beauty. Her flower. Her feminine allure, drawn like a moth to flame, hunching, bending toward it, hooking his arms around her thighs, pulling her close. The world blurred. No time was wasted. The desire was too great. He dug in, muzzle pressing to her vulva, tongue scooping past the labia. Into the heat of her flower.

"Mm-h." Her head leaned back, muzzle hanging open. Long thumbs and tips of wing-arms playing up his back. Touching, caressing. Along his shoulders, up onto his head. Until she was fondling those ears and murmuring, "Good boy, Field." A shaky whine. "Good boy ... "

The mouse, hearing this, was turned on even more, ears pulsing, heart hammering. He began dancing his tongue on her clitoris. Slipping two furred fingers into her tunnel. Pumping. Slowly. Kissing her precious bud before drifting down and making out with her sex, sloppily. Sucking, mouthing, nibbling. Her scent making his nose tingle. And the sight and taste of her, his mate, making him incredibly erect. His fuzzy sheath retreating, left behind, mouse-hood rising, stiffly, between his legs. He fought the urge to stroke himself. Focus on her. This is for her.

The bat began to moan, increasingly, as the mouse withdrew his fingers and attempted to swirl his modest tongue inside her wet, steamy passage. Kissing his way back to her clitoris, pressing his lips around it. And humming. And sucking. And ...

" ... ah, ah-h! Ah!"

A paw on her thigh. Rubbing. Up to her belly. Reaching even higher, for a breast. Pinching a nipple.

She came. Missing breaths. "Oh-h ... " Her head lolled aside, tongue licking her fangs. Loins a-flutter and aflame, making her wing-arms stretch. She reached. Numb with pleasure. Falling limp and lazy.

Field stayed on his knees for a minute. Before kissing her belly. Looking upward, adoringly, as if he were her pet. Asking for permission. "May I take you to the bedroom?" What he really meant, of course, was 'may I take you?' It didn't really matter where. Could be on the floor, here, in the living room, but ...

She nodded, hotly. Recovering from her climax but in no way satisfied. Bedroom? Sure. Why not. More space to get comfortable. And crazy.

So, in a hazy, dizzy blur, they made it to the bed. Pillows. And sheets. And softness. All so civil. And torn completely asunder by their animal behavior. Neither could recall the specific moment of penetration. Just that it happened. Was happening, still, for minutes, and minutes more.

Field was grunting airily, chittering in high, frantic pitches, slender, golden hips slapping against hers. Fur on fur. Gold on pink. Her on fours. Him behind her, mounting like a feral, fucking wildly. Bumping, humping. It's all he could do. All he wanted to do. It felt so perfect, so right. Their bodies in synch, like perfect rhythms. Her pink pussy pouting with blood. It was so soft and velvety, so warm and wet, so juicy, slick, and scintillating. Sweetness! Better than sugar. He was so familiar with the taste. Just as he was familiar with the feeling. And, oh, what a feeling! Never old, always new, always better than before. He wanted to sing her praises verbally, in words, in poetry, but he couldn't speak. Only moan. And squeak. Showing her would have to suffice.

"Uh-h, uh ... oh, f-fuck ... " Her bare breasts jiggled. She abandoned herself to the feelings, the moment. Lowering her head toward the mattress, which creaked and bounced. Rump raised. Short, rudder-like tail angled to the side. Everything sizzled with pleasure.

His thrusts, once possessing a practiced grace, began showing signs of sloppiness, growing shorter, deeper. More grinding than thrusting. Hilting himself, deeply, the mouse gasped as a wonderful tingling erupted in his loins. It was too much. He ejaculated with no further warning, filling the bat with mouse seed, painting her walls. Leaving nothing untouched. All was bliss.

She let forth an echo-burst, the sounds bouncing. Off the bed, the walls. Off Field's golden figure. Back to her ears. Her brain translated the information. Even with her eyes closed, she could see him behind her. Doing what he was doing. And, oh, it set her off. Loins so hot and needy, clenching, tightening around him. She had her second orgasm. Somehow stronger than the first. Squirting a bit. Soaking the mouse's furry sac. And where she'd been numb from joy before, she felt light-headed this time. Slumping, huffing. "Oh ... god ... "

He stayed on her for a minute. Two, three. Unmoving. Until he'd begun to shrink inside her and was forced to dismount, collecting himself on all fours behind her, eyes catching the mix of seed and nectar now dripping from her freshly-pollinated flower, collecting on her pink thigh-fur. And pooling on the bed-sheets. He blushed. I did that. We did that. Such a beautiful mess, he mused, before easing forward, crawling beside her and flopping onto his chest and belly. Panting. Fur matted with sweat.

She rolled onto her side, draping a wing-arm around him. Afterglow setting in. "Mm, so good."

"Yeah," Field murmured, happily.

She smiled. "Thank you, mousey." She kissed his face. Several times. "I love you very much."

"I love you, too." He eyed her, devotedly.

"I'll be right back," she promised, beginning to sit up. Swinging her legs off the bed and standing. Stretching. Sighing again.

"Mm, where you going," he breathed, staring at that short-tailed ass. Pink, furry. Soft. With those wings, she made such an exotic, beautiful figure. He reached a paw out to her.

She brushed her wing-arm to his arm. "To get that sorbet," she said. "We left it on the table. Don't want it to melt."

"Oh. Forgot about that," he admitted, turning onto his back as she left the room. His ears, still flushed with blood from the lovemaking, swiveled on a pillowcase. The radio. He could faintly hear it. Qualifications had resumed. He could hear a car roaring around the track. I wonder who it is? I don't think I missed that many attempts.

"You look like you're gonna fall asleep," came Adelaide's giggle upon return, from the doorway.

"Mm?" He hadn't heard her come back. "No, I'm ... I'm up, I'm up," he insisted, getting out of bed. Wobbling some.

"Careful." She steadied him.

"Blood rushed to my head," he mumbled, bashfully.

"S'okay."

He followed her into the bathroom.

Turning the shower on, Adelaide let the water warm up. While waiting, she touched her snout to his muzzle. Hugging him. Swaying left to right. "What are you thinking right now? I know you're thinking about something. You always are."

"I'm thinking about you."

"Yeah?"

"How I crave you, still. In so many ways. As a friend, a lover, a mate. You fill every role on the stage of my life. You're so much more potent than a sugar rush."

She pressed her nose to his shoulder. And breathed in deeply of his scent. "Let's get clean, my sweet-talking sweet-tooth." She pulled him into the shower.

Field giggled, closing the curtain behind them and then squeaking in surprise after a moment. "Hey!" The curtain jostled. "Where are you going with that soap ... "