FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

>You stare into the flame your stove emits.

>You peer into the pan currently above said flame.

>You check the book in your hand for the 30th time in the past 5 minutes.

>You look to the dial on your stove and set it just a single tick lower.

>That should be good.

>Usually when you cook you aren't so picky about things being exactly as instructed.

>But you aren't cooking for just yourself today.

>You invited Mirabelle over to your place for a dinner date.

>It's currently some time in the middle of January.

>You've been dating for a good couple of months now.

>She's even met your parents, so both sides have been introduced.

>Your parents actually surprised you by coming home for Christmas.

>So while they were home you decided that it was a good time for them to meet Mirabelle.

>You had to let Mirabelle in on your little ploy and concoct a story to tell your dad on how you met.

>Since you couldn't explain that you met her and fell for her right after she knocked your block off at the Circle.

>It was just a simple kind of "I bumped in to her during school and had to get to know her" kind of deal, which Mirabelle backed up decently.

>She wasn't too into the whole idea of lying to your dad during their first ever meeting, but she did it for you.

>Your parents seemed to approve, so there was no problems there.

>Your mom was super excited, and your dad just had this look of relief.

>"I was a bit worried about you, son. I know I said you should focus on school, but never having you show interest in any girls, or even like anyone in general was a bit concerning to me."

>It took you physical willpower to ignore the fact that your own father either thought you were gay or some kind of asexual.

>But you got over it, because spending time catching up with your parents was a type of healing you didn't know you needed.

>Of course it didn't last long, because a week after the party they had for New Years had gone by, they were taking off again.

>No rest for the wicked indeed.

>"We'll be back right in time for your graduation though, don't you worry." your mother assured.

>So you saw them off, and once again you were alone in this house.

>However, you intended to pay Mirabelle back for the lie you made her tell.

>Which is what brought forth the idea for this dinner date.

>You're just about done, and she'll be showing up soon.

>You had asked her if she had any food allergies and she said she didn't, which gave you the possibility of cooking many things.

>However you didn't know any vegetarian food options, so you cracked open your mom's cookbook and found something that sounded decent..

>Walnut-lentil Bolognese.

>You had no idea what it was, but you chose it because it looked easy enough.

>You also made a fruit salad, and some mac and cheese, just in case she isn't all in on the main dish.

>The fruit salad is just blah you think, but hallelujah mac 'n cheezus!

>You had asked Mr. Warburton a few questions during class about things like anthro diets and such, because you didn't want to feed her anything offensive. You also wanted to look like you knew more than you let on.

>Mr. Warburton is quite knowledgeable on the subject(likely due to the subject he teaches and also the fact that he has an anthro wife), so you would spend time once in a while talking to him about various things you had questions about.

>The timer you set goes off. You click the stove off.

>It looks right. Let's hope it tastes good.

>You wash your hands and dry them off as you think about taking a bit to make sure it tastes any good.

>However fate has different plans as your doorbell rings.

>That's good timing you gotta admit.

>You hotfoot to the front door and throw it open.

>"My queen, welcome once again to my humble abode!" you exclaim in dramatic flair.

>Mirabelle giggles and returns your flair with a bit of her own. "Oh, my king. So gracious it is of you to invite me for a banquet of your own making."

>You step to the side and allow her to enter.

>You're about to close the door and follow her, but a loud, persisting honk of a car horn calls your attention.

>You look to the street and see one of Mirabelle's brothers, looking at you from his seat.

>Is that Rich or Pete? You can't tell from here.

>He leans forward into his passenger window, and even from here you can feel the death glare puncturing your life force.

>He gives a single solid point right at you, and lets it linger for a moment.

>Unmoving, he rolls the passenger window up, before pulling into a U-turn and taking off down the street.

>You thought the intimidation days were over.

>"You okay?" Mirabelle calls to you.

>"Yep!" you say a little louder than you meant to, and walk back into your house.

>Into the dining room, you bring forth the meal you made and fill plates with it.

>Some juice goes into cups, and dinner is served.

>You take a bite, and its decent to you, but nothing breathtaking.

>Honestly, you aren't one for rabbit foo- er uh, vegetarian meal choices. So you aren't too sure if you did enough to make it taste good.

>You followed your mom's cookbook, but those are really just basic instructions she writes down, and depending on her mood or how it's tasting so far she'll completely switch up what she puts into it.

>You glance from your food to Mirabelle, expecting the same "it's okay" look you probably have on your face right now.

>But you're surprised to find that she looks impressed, and is digging in with gusto.

>She hasn't said anything, but your mom has told you that if they don't have anything to say it's because it's so good they'd rather eat and not talk.

>So if that's anything to be believed, you did pretty well.

>You don't really think it's all that good. Maybe it has something to do with food that's made for you.

>Even a simple sandwich tasted better for some reason when it was your mom or your dad who made it for you.

>Dinner proceeds in silence and ends with a sigh of content.

>"You good? You want some dessert?" you ask. "My mom likes gelato, so there's still some in there that she didn't finish off before they headed out again."

>" Oh no way, I'm good. That was really good you know. Thanks for that." she says as she pats her tummy happily.

>"Well if you like it, I can pack up the leftovers and send 'em off with you."

>You grab the plates and rinse them off before tossing them in the dishwasher. You also pack the leftovers in Tupperware before repeating the same with the pots and pans.

>You put some solution in and start the dishwasher.

>God bless the ability to avoid doing dishes.

>"So whadda you wanna do? Movies? Vidya games? We got Smash Bruhs over there." you point to the living room.

>"Mmm. I wanna see your room." she declares after a moment's thought.

>"Oh. Uh. There's nothing interesting in there, but okay."

>She hadn't seen your room yet, the only time she was over was when she had met your parents the prior week and they sat you in the living room, talking to you two all day.

>It's only fair. You've been in her room so.

>Good thing you just so happened to clean your room yesterday.

>You walk up the stairs, turn toward your room, open the door and gesture for her to enter.

>She walks in and looks around, ready to scrutinize you as you did to her those few months ago.

>However, it is exactly as you described it to her when you saw her room back then.

>Very plain.

>Black bedsheets, black curtains over the window, white walls, Dark brown wood desk that also houses your computer. Bookcase with a bunch of books, a few manga that your mom bought you to sell the whole Anime Club lie, and some comics from a bygone age.

>The only thing you have in terms of decoration is a poster of the only anime you actually really like: Berserker.

>"It really is plain." she says.

>"What, did you not believe me?" you say with a shrug.

>She plants herself on your bed.

>You swivel your desk chair around to face toward her and sit down.

>"Well. At least that means it must be easier to keep clean." she says.

>You shrug again.

>You open your mouth to speak but you pause.

>You watch Mirabelle and she looks...

>Kind of strange.

>She seems a little unfocused.

>Or maybe too focused.

>Like there's something that's caught her attention, and she's trying to focus on it, or pinpoint it.

>She's looking left to right, kind of erratically.

>You look closely and her nose is twitching a bit.

>Is she alright?

>"Mira? You okay? The food not agreeing with you?" you say with more than a hint of concern.

>"Oh, uh no. It's, it's okay. I juuuust-" she begins, and then stops abruptly.

>You've never physically witnessed someone's brain shut down, but that's what seemed to just happen to Mirabelle.

>She holds this blank derp face for a moment, and you're moments away from taking her in your arms to get her attention before she moves.

>Her eyes shoot down to the pillows of your bed, and suddenly so does she.

>She faceplants into your pillows, and inhales deeply.

>...

>You wait.

>She exhales slowly.

>Is she like, smelling your pillows?

>She inhales again.

>...Yep. That must be it.

>Mr. Warburton actually mentioned this to you during one of your chats.

>"At some point as you spend more time together and her feelings develop, she might attempt to smell you or something you own that you interact with frequently. Try not to take offense to this, even though it might seem like a strange action. In fact, take it as a compliment, it means she likes you enough to enjoy your natural scent." is what he told you.

>Seemingly sated on your scent, she slowly raises herself back up, to find you staring at her.

>Your gaze seems to sober her from the slight high she was on and she stares wide-eyed, realizing what the fuck she's done.

>"Gah, this- I mean. I didn't- well I did, b-but it's! Y'know, your room smells like you, and the smell is strongest here, so like, sitting here just kind of overwhelmed me, and I kinda like how you smell, but I didn't mean to do something so weird I just couldn't control myself for a second there and I-"

>"Whoa whoa slow down there." you interject.

>Man that hundred-yard word dash brings back memories of when you first asked her out.

>"I don't mind, it's okay. In fact I'm flattered that you like how I smell." you follow up, trying to calm her. "It'd probably be more disconcerting if you didn't to be honest."

>She chuckles, glad that any awkwardness has been decently avoided.

>You two have been sitting here and chatting for a while now.

>Your conversation has shifted topics quite a few times, but currently it's on her family.

>Specifically her little sister Annabelle.

>"Yeah so she doesn't seem to want anyone to pick her up now." she says.

>"Oh no." you say with a hint of disappointment. "My little buddy. I hope that doesn't include me, I'ma be lost if I can't get my doses of tiny adorable. Though maybe this is good, she had been getting a little clingy for a while."

>"Honestly. You know she'd get upset with me if I tried to sit near you while you were holding her? Some days I even expected her to try and run off with you when you went home."

>You think about that. "Might not be a bad idea. It's lonely in this house, having someone here might help my sanity."

>"Please do not kidnap my little sister." she says with absolute sincerity.

>As if you were honestly contemplating it.

>You weren't right?

>"Of course I won't!" you remark. "I'd have to deal with your dad, your older brothers, and your mom is probably worse than all of them combined. It would literally be a thousand times easier to do what she said and make my own, than it would be to steal hers."

>Mirabelle's eyes open a bit wider at that last sentence. "...Make your own, huh?"

>"Yes." you say with a curt nod.

>And then you realize what it is that you actually said.

>So you press it a little farther and edit the sentence a bit.

>"Make our own."

>Her ears perk up for a second before returning to their resting position.

>"Oh is that so?" she gives you that taunting grin you've grown so accustomed to.

>You don't reply, but you lean back a bit in your chair.

>A bit of another conversation you had with Mr. Warburton comes to mind.

>"Well, relatively easier. It apparently would be quite a bit more difficult for us to have children if we ever got to that point." you say as you fold your arms.

>Her ears shoot up again, but they stay put for a while.

>This particular subject has grasped her attention it seems.

>"What do you mean by that?" she asks.

>"Oh. Uh, well. According to information I have received, it is more difficult for human/anthro couples to conceive children together than it is for regular human or anthro couples." you explain. "So while it might take a normal couple just a few tries to get it, it would take us, quite a few."

>She listens intently, absorbing the knowledge you are imparting.

>"It's kind of like the hybrid situation anthros have. A hybrid has a severely more difficult time having children with one of their two species. Same deal. Oh, and a human with a hybrid anthro would have to win some kind of lottery to have a kid together. Tough break."

>You nod like a wizened old sage, after delivering your message to your queen on the difficulties of procreation.

>She looks deep in thought.

>"Sooo. What you're saying is, it's going to take us a bunch of tries to have any children once we get to that point."

>Going? Once? She speaks as if children are a certainty in your future.

>You don't mind that line of thinking.

>"Pretty much." you reply. "Normal reproductive periods would apparently help the situation a bit, I am told."

>"So what I'm hearing is. If we start a bit earlier, we'll probably be closer to having a better chance later down the line."

>...

>Wait hold on.

>That's not what you said.

>"But what I'm also hearing is. We also wouldn't have anything to worry about at the moment if we were toooo."

>She trails off, likely hoping you will follow her thought process.

>Oh you've been following it.

>And you like where it's going.

>But are you sure you want to pursue it? Like right now, in this very moment?

>"I, I mean. I wasn't insinuating anything when I brought all that up, y'know. I was just, being scientific." you say in a slight panic. "I don't want you to, like, if you aren't..."

>Your inner gentleman tries to find the words that express the idea that you can wait.

>You didn't want to rush anything before, you definitely don't want to now.

>"I know you weren't." she says, looking right at you, trying to catch your gaze.

>Your eyes have been darting around every which way, but as she spoke, they finally came to rest on her.

>"I was, kind of just, trying to give a decent excuse for us to... Take things a step further I guess. You love me, I love you. We've been together a while now. I don't see any reason why we shouldn't."

>You read somewhere that in a relationship you should let the woman decide when she's comfortable enough for these sorts of things. Sounds like Mirabelle is pretty comfortable with the idea.

>"Besides." she continues. "It's just you and me right now. In your house. In your room. Not another soul here. What better time would we get but now?"

>...

>Ya know, she's got a point.

>You fold in on yourself, thinking deeply, searching your mind for any reason as to why you should not commit to what this darling rabbit is proposing to you.

>Like, you weren't prepared for this. You don't have any condoms or anything.

>Though judging by what she was saying, that might not be too big a problem.

>But what if you hit the lottery, and a baby is in your immediate future?

>You said it was more difficult, but this is a probability thing, not a procedure thing.

>The numbers, the equations, the mathematical deductions continue to whiz by your eyes as you contemplate what you should do.

>Before darkness envelops your vision and breaks you out of the bullshit you were trying to trick yourself with.

>Whatever just blinded you...

>It smells nice.

>You reach for the offending assailant, and find it is soft, like fabric.

>You look at it.

>It's a shirt.

>... It's Mirabelle's shirt.

>Oh baby.

>You look up, and sure enough, there she is sans shirt.

>/ceasebrainfunction

>The blue of the bra she wears matches the blue of her eyes.

>So now there are two pools of blue to drag you in.

>"Your move." she says, nerves slightly poking through her words.

>The fabric gently slips from your hands.

>You rise to your feet before your brain even gives the order.

>You step forward and place a knee on the bed.

>You lean forward with a hand on the bed for support.

>You kiss Mirabelle.

>It's the same kind of kiss you've always shared, but it's different somehow.

>Not in technique, but. There's an energy that isn't like how it's normally been.

>It's more exciting.

>You bring your hand up, partly on her cheek, partly reaching for the back of her neck to pull her in. She accepts your coercion and leans into it even farther.

>You attempt to lean out of the kiss, if only for a short breath, but her arms shoot around your neck and drag you back in.

>You dive into her lips, and kiss her. Again. And again. And again.

>Once more for good measure.

>The sweet taste of her lips is intoxicating.

>But you won't get anywhere if her lips remain the extent of your focus.

>It's time to put some of your many hours of extensive internet research to practical use.

>You will yourself away from her lips, as you work your way to her cheek, and down to her neck.

>The little gasps and moans you receive as you plant kisses on her neck are the sweetest musical notes you've ever heard, and let you know that you're heading in the right direction.

>You bring your right hand from her neck, and trace it down, running your fingers through her short fur as you slowly glide to your destination.

>However an obstacle impedes you.

>You have zero clue how to take off a woman's bra.

>You didn't think this was knowledge you needed so soon, and your video reference usually has its women conveniently without those particular pieces.

>So you improvise.

>You bring your finger to the center and tug down on it twice.

>"This is in the way." the gesture says.

>Mirabelle glances down, and seems to understand what you're implying.

>As she unhooks her arms from behind your neck, her hands rest at the collar of your shirt, before she gently tugs upward at it.

>"This is in the way." her gesture replies.

>And she is right. Clothes are an obstacle to this plan that must be swiftly removed.

>With a bit of reserve, you bring yourself to lean back to pull your shirt.

>It gets a bit stuck in your haste, but you manage to pull it off and toss it to the side.

>You reach to chuck your pants too, but you freeze as your eyes take in the blessed sight before you.

>Mirabelle's upper half is bare and that snow white fur is radiant.

>The little pink nubs on her breasts call your attention most of all, like the cherry on a vanilla sundae.

>But take your time, no need to rush.

>She's reaching for the button to her jeans, but that can come later, you think.

>So much for the "obstacle to be swiftly removed" idea.

>You need more of her right this moment.

>You dive forward for another kiss, and the suddenness of it startles her, but not enough that she doesn't embrace the kiss herself.

>You bring your right hand back up and oh so gently take her breast in your palm.

>Like an appraiser admiring a perfect diamond, you're gentle and compassionate as you palm and squeeze her supple flesh.

>That gently stiffening bud underneath your hand can be ignored no longer.

>You take a single finger and teasingly run your finger round and round her areola.

>Her body lightly jerks as you do so.

>You break from the kiss, ready to give the other one your attention as well.

>She knows your plan, and speaks the first words since you've began.

>"I-I'm a little more sensitive than you'd think, so."

>So be gentle, you already know.

>You slowly graze your face against her and clamp your lips around her nipple.

You flick your tongue over it and suck gently as you continue your teasing motion on the other.

>Every few traces you'll flick your finger up or down, eliciting a quick moan or gasp from her, then return to the circling motions.

>Apparently this is pretty good for her, because you can notice the slight grinding of her thighs, showcasing her want, and the quick spasms of her body that follow whenever you hit a sweet spot.

>With a slight pinch of your fingers and lips together you part from her prominent pink buds.

>You're heating up and need more.

>There's a strange feeling filling you.

>Like a hunger that craves satiation.

>You look down at her legs.

>Looks like in your focus of her upper half, she managed to undo and wiggle out of her pants. They're down past her knees.

>But her underwear is still on.

>Now this you can handle.

>You gently place your hand on Mirabelle's shoulder and push her down just a bit.

>She leans back and rests on her elbows, looking up at you, sharp but even breaths passing through her.

>You bring yourself down, slowly tracing the sides of her body, from her ribs, to her waist, then her hips.

>You hook your fingers on the hem of her underwear and look up at her.

>She takes a moment.

>Then lifts her hips.

>Access has been granted.

>This is it. The real thing.

>Your heart is pounding like a war drum in your ears.

>You've got that mix of nervous excitement, like opening gifts on your birthday and hoping it's what you've always wanted.

>You slide them down, noticing the string of liquid excitement attached to them as they pass down her thighs, to her shins.

>In a motion more dexterous than you expected from yourself, her underwear and jeans come smoothly off of her and join her shirt somewhere on the floor.

>You place your hands above her knees and wait a moment.

>If she says anything, you don't hear it, the war drum effectively changed to a battering ram against your ribcage.

>You apply a bit of force to spread her legs apart, and she offers zero resistance.

>And there it is.

>Her womanhood is more beautiful than the Garden of Avalon and more enticing than the Fruit of Knowledge.

>However you can feel the embarrassment she has from being regarded so deeply, as her legs attempt to shut and block out your line of sight.

>You won't allow it though.

>That strange primal hunger returns to you.

>You feel like a nightstalker ready to ravage your unsuspecting victim in the dead of night.

>The heat in your head and heart is clearly flowing to your member and it is at this point you wish you had jumped out of your pants when you thought about it.

>But it can wait, this is more important.

>Mirabelle isn't saying anything, and neither are you.

>You lean forward, inch by inch until you can practically feel the heat emanating from her on your lips.

>You poke your tongue out and give a long, drawn out lick up her slit.

>You thought pussy was supposed to be madly sweet, since people call it things like a honeypot.

>It's sweet, but kind of not.

>Like tea with not quite enough sugar.

>But that's not important, it won't stop you.

>You gauge Mirabelle's reactions.

>She shivers a bit more and moans are escaping her as you run your tongue up and down her dripping sex.

>Oh, if she thinks this is good, your notes say she'll love this.

>You drag your tongue up one more time and casually but forcefully flick it against her clit.

>She jumps like you just hit her with a bolt of lightning and a squeak of surprise that could've filled your house escapes from her.

>She covers her mouth with her hand to prevent from making any similar noises but you aren't having that.

>You throw your hand up and reach forward to pull her hand away from her mouth.

>You want to hear everything.

>She doesn't protest.

>You return to the task at hand, throwing a few more experimental flicks of the tongue across her hot button.

>Her reactions say you've hit it big.

>You do it again and again, sending her hips lifting higher and higher.

>Then you bring your lips down on top of her clit and suck it into your mouth.

>"Gah! W-wait, that- not so-" she attempts to protest.

>But there is no time to heed them.

>You continue to lick and suck, doing your utmost to bring her pleasure.

>It's time for the final forbidden technique.

>The outer button is a fantastic place to bring attention to, but according to your eldritch knowledge and unending research, there exists an internal button, that when properly located and caressed will quite possibly send her into the stratosphere.

>Finding it may be the problem though.

>You take your middle finger and with a bit of positioning slide it in to Mirabelle.

>It's less like your finger slides in and more like she pulls you in.

>The feeling of her flesh around you is amazing.

>This is what it's all about.

>You continue to polish her precious pearl with your tongue as you curl your finger in the telltale "Come here" motion.

>It's getting some decent reactions out of her, and she's even begun to slowly grind her hips in an off rhythm motion to your movements.

>But you aren't getting anything that says you've hit the motherload.

>It's like hunting for treasure in a lost civilization.

>In truth you think this is good enough.

>The scent and copious amount of fluid pouring from her are a blessed wine that intoxicates you further.

>Your Lil 'Non is screaming for release from his prison and you ache to answer his pleas.

>Just as you're about to retrieve your finger, you hit one final curling motion, and as you do, Mirabelle's back arches like a bow and she screams out, in surprise to you both.

>You shoot up to look at her, and her eyes are open wide.

>She looks down at you, like you just shot her.

>"Wh-what, did you do?" she asks, a mix of confusion and admiration in her voice.

>You're about to answer honestly before her hips shoot up again and smother you with another mouthful of her flowing honeypot, a hand at the back of your head to bring you back in as well.

>"D-do it. Again... Please." she says.

>No further words are required.

>Your queen has requested, what fool would you be to deny her?

>You reach back in and try to mentally retrace your positioning to where the reaction was caused.

>You touch and sure enough, you've found the treasured point that every living being seeks to discover within their partner, judging by the sharp jumps her hips make whenever you prod there.

>She is now heavily grinding her hips into your face as you assault her weakpoints from two sides.

>"A-Anooon. I. Think. I'm. Getting close." she pants.

>And you'd have to agree, with the clenching of her walls and the strength of her grip against your head.

>So you double down, licking and sucking and finger fucking with just a bit more gusto.

>And her climax comes in waves.

>And you do mean waves.

>She clenches her teeth to keep from screaming out, both hands wrapped around your skull, slightly tugging at your hair to drive you further in to her, as she grinds her climax directly into your face.

>It's not painful or anything, but it's a little much.

>You're actually attempting to hold your breath, lest you risk actually drowning in the pussy.

>But she's still going and it's getting difficult.

>This wouldn't be the worst way to die, you think. But it would sure be embarrassing to have people know about.

>Eventually, she hits the bed spent, and releases you from her unconscious death grip.

>You breathe deeply, but no so deeply that you would let her know that she was suffocating you.

>You catch your breath, stand up, and lick your lips.

>You made her cum.

>Mission passed. Respect+

>Mirabelle is breathing heavily, and twitching like she just had a thousand volts of electricity passed through her system.

>Her eyes focus long enough to glance at you, or more specifically your face.

>"Sssssorry." she says weakly, noticing all of her pleasure covering your face.

>You drag your hand down your face, and lick your palm, hoping that looked sexy and not stupid. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

>"How. Are you so good at that?" she asks, more than a bit out of breath.

>"I am a man of science and research. Let's just say that I've put a lot of hours into my theoretical study, in anticipation of my practical application."

>That was science terms for "you've watched a decent amount of porn".

>You hope she's not tapped out or anything, you yourself are about to explode.

>Luckily she seems to recover enough to pull herself to her elbows.

>That was a quick recovery, you think.

>Her gaze travels from your face, to your bare chest, to your pants.

>She brings her feet up and rests them against your legs, toes barely hooking into the indents of your pockets.

>She brings her feet down as if she can remove your pants this way.

>"These are still in the way." she says.

>You've never gotten out of your pants so fast in your life.

>You burst out of them like those horrible creatures from those extraterrestrial movies, and suddenly you are standing stark naked in front of your first love.

>As you stand there, you notice her gaze is exactly where you think it would be.

>She looks...

>Well it's a look.

>Surprised?

>You aren't Mr. Mandingo, but you're no Peewee either, so it can't be that.

>The doctors took your hoodie near your entry to life, so you aren't worried about some kind of scrutiny in that regard.

>But she's just gazing. Kind of like you did with her.

>You kind of shrivel under her gaze though.

>...M-metaphorically not physically.

>She sits up though, and brings herself into that W style sitting position, eyes firmly locked on your Lil 'Non.

>She brings her hand up as if to reach for it, but pauses.

>She finally breaks her gaze to look up at you.

>And her eyes pose the question.

>"Can I?" her eyes ask.

>It occurs to you that all her previous bravado and boldness have effectively disappeared out the window at some point.

>She's acting unbearably cute, it's a different kind of innocent cuteness that you weren't prepared for.

>Honestly it kind of excites you even more.

>You look back at her.

>"Absolutely." your gaze returns.

>Her hand comes up and gently, yet firmly wraps around your manhood.

>She strokes it slowly, feeling it in her hand for a while.

>This is nice.

>It's a thousand times better than your own, that's for sure.

>The proof of your own excitement is leaking through, and she can tell.

>She brings her face closer to your member, and drags her tongue from the base right up to the tip, before wrapping her soft lips around the head and planting a gentle kiss on it.

>That entire motion sends a powerful chill through your spine.

>Her lips return to the head, and oh so slowly she begins to take you into her mouth.

>As she focuses her mouth and tongue on the head, she gently pumps the shaft with her hand.

>It's warm. It's wet. It feels great.

>It gets even better as she removes her hand and hooks them behind your hips to reel you in.

>She takes more and more of you into her mouth, and with every retreat, she dives back in and takes a bit more.

>The movements are a bit clumsy, sure, but you weren't an expert either.

>However, the feeling as she works her tongue over you is unlike anything you thought you could feel.

>It's so good, you're having some trouble keeping it together.

>You feel light, almost weightless.

>You're taking off into the clouds.

>But there's a sort of pressure building in you that lets you know that the stars are your destination.

>You take a breath, hoping to bring yourself back down.

>But then she tilts her head to the side and stuffs her cheek with you as she glances up into your eyes.

>Ooh buddy, that gets you going!

>Launch in T-minus 10...

>...

>No wait wait, abort the launch!

>You place your hands on Mirabelle's shoulders and pull her backward to cease her heavenly oral assault.

>She pulls back and looks up at you.

>"Oh god, it was almost over before it began." you tell her.

>She laughs a bit. "I guess my own, 'theoretical study' was pretty useful then."

>You can't wait anymore.

>The final frontier calls to you.

>You nod at the pillows. "Into the bed." you tell her.

>She wastes no time, and neither do you.

>As soon as she's on her back, you're there over her.

>You're ready and so is she.

>You take a few deep breaths and guide yourself to her waiting entrance.

>You give her one more affirming glance, searching her face for any signs of denial or anything that states she wants to stop.

>Of course you find absolutely none, but the gentleman in you demands thoroughness before he shifts to his dark persona, the Ungentleman.

>She smiles and nods at you.

>There's nothing more to say.

>You guide yourself in, slowly, gently.

>She gasps and so do you as you feel with acute clarity the feeling of her walls parting to allow you entry.

>She clenches around you, and shuts her eyes. You see tiny tears forming in the corners of them.

>All the foreplay was to mitigate this part, though try as you might, it's apparently always going to be there for the first time, no matter what one might do to avoid it.

>feelsbadman

>But she opens her eyes and sees the concern on your face as you look at her.

>"I'm okay." she assures you.

>The gentleman in you tries to tell you to pause, to let her adjust to the invasion she has just suffered, but he is already losing himself to the dark side.

>Your human brain and even your monkey brain have both gone totally silent, and the only sensations left are the warmth directly beneath you, and the heat in your loins.

>Seriously this feeling is fucking amazing.

>You draw your hips back, and Mirabelle lets out a shuddering moan.

>Then you dive back in, and once you're fully inside her the moan is sharp and breathy.

>No thoughts, head perfectly empty.

>Her hands are placed on your chest, but as you begin to thrust slowly, she moves to wrap them behind your back and draw you closer to her.

>Her moans in your ear fill the empty space in your skull.

>And then something else exits her lips.

>"Anooon." she croons.

>And the sound of your own name entering your ears from that melodious voice shatters every last thread of restraint that you were barely holding on to.

>Your pace quickens, and the strength of your thrusts increase.

>She moans and calls your name with no reservation now.

>This is what it feels like to fuck an angel, you understand now why those stupid farmers tried to ransack that guy's house in the Bible.

>She's clamping down harder on you.

>She's getting close once again.

>Time to kick into maximum overdrive.

>You pound relentlessly, the sound of your hips colliding almost overtaking the sounds of her moans and squeals.

>Her flesh contracts and threatens to milk you dry.

>But it's less of a threat and more of a promise.

>You're so close you can see the event horizon, but you still have the decency to tell Mirabelle.

>"Mirabelle! I'm gonna -"

>And she cuts you off with her own "D-do it! I want it!"

>Not like you could probably escape anyway, at some point she managed to wrap her powerful legs around your waist to draw you in further.

>However, she asked, so you deliver.

>With almost perfect synchronization, she clamps down and an orgasm rocks her very being.

>That final jolt of pleasure sends you over the edge, and like a burst pipe, you rupture, filling her insides with more of you.

>Now you feel like the one with a thousand volts passing through you.

>Your seed flows and you continue to thrust, demanding every last iota of pleasure for you and Mirabelle.

>However, you expected her climax to be finished, but you're surprised that she's still shaking and clenching.

>It must've been a real good one.

>That electricity is concentrated in your crotch and strikes like a lance straight through your spine.

>You both slowly come down from the high and you rest your weight on your elbows and forearms, attempting not to collapse right on top of your tiny rabbit.

>You breathe heavily.

>She is doing the same.

>Holy fuck, that was the best nut you've ever had in your life.

>You take a few moments more to catch your breath, still firmly rooted to Mirabelle.

>As much as you don't want to, you should pull out.

>But before you get the chance, Mirabelle moves violently.

>A twist, a jerk to the left, and suddenly you are on your back.

>How the tables turn. Like they always seem to do.

>Mirabelle is looming over you. A strange almost predatory look in her half lidded eyes.

>"Uhh Mira. You okay hun?" you ask.

>She answers you with a minor grinding of her hips.

>You thought you were spent, male orgasms are usually a one and done kind of thing, at least for a handful of minutes.

>But those gentle circles she's grinding in rebuke that piece of shit rule and call you to action once more.

>Lil 'Non reporting for redeployment.

>"More." she says, heavily and full of a deep desire.

>"Excuse me?" you feel the need for clarification.

>She grinds harder.

>"More." she says again.

>She bends forward and grabs your open hands, interlocking your fingers with hers.

>Oh no, the madness.

>She grinds her hips on you even more, and starts bouncing up and down, jumping immediately into round 2.

>You're still a bit sensitive, but you will yourself to tough it out.

>You've awoken this beast, so it is your duty to lull it to sleep.

>You give her control and she definitely takes it.

>She rides you like a woman possessed.

>Her hips roll in circles as she bounces up and down, first in front to back motions.

>Then she transitions to clockwise rolls.

>The product of your previous coupling is making things even more messy and exciting, yet even with that, her flesh clings to you with unnatural might.

>She hits her climax again at some point, evidenced by the jittery motions and rhythm she lost.

>The constriction of her walls brings you closer, but not quite there.

>However that's no problem for her, as she continues riding you like you are the only thing keeping her heart beating.

>Eventually, your manhood gets that familiar build up of an imminent release.

>No need to announce the next one, not like you probably could.

>Who would've thought such a small girl could effectively slam the voice right out of you.

>You erupt for a second time, and the sudden release pushes her over the edge for her fourth time.

>And man, this one must have hit her hard.

>She freezes and locks up for a bit.

>She grinds her hips to drain the final spurts from you, then falls forward and collapses onto your chest.

>You both suck in precious oxygen like you haven't had it in months.

>You lay there with her over you.

>A bliss creeps into your muscles and bones, and you're about ready to pass out.

>But a stirring in your loins brings your attention right back.

>Even in this huddled position, she's still rocking her hips on you.

>Oh no. Oh no no no.

>She lifts her head and gazes straight into your eyes.

>A thousand times you've almost drowned in those blue eyes.

>But this time, they're about ready to devour you.

>You dread the singular word that prepares to leap from her mouth.

>"More."

>You briefly consider the fact that she is a rabbit, and they are one of the species known for insane stamina.

>You also briefly consider once again, that her parents have ten children.

>Haha, you're in danger.

>Lord have mercy on your dick, for she will not!

>It is significantly later in the day.

>You're huffing and puffing and gasping for air, drenched in sweat like you just ran ten miles in 120 degree heat.

>Hell you nut like four times, but everything after the second was a literal uphill battle.

>It almost wasn't worth it, but filling your senses with Mirabelle, and the look on her face, the sound in her voice as she seemed to be having the time of her life.

>That made it worth it.

>You're looking down on her, still connected after having finally tapped her out.

>She's not asleep, but she is breathing deeply and heavily, lust finally sated.

>She also looks worn ragged, her fur is matted to her skin beneath, soaked in the sweat of passion.

>Your vision isn't too clear right now, but you think you can almost see a slight bulge to her gut from all the spunk you poured in to her.

>You're afraid that any movement will probably set her off again.

>But it's probably more dangerous to stay this way.

>Besides you're ready to fucking collapse.

>You gingerly remove your hips from the carnal connection they've been glued to for the last few hours.

>Once you're finally free from the flesh prison you were incarcerated into, you flop over to the side of your bed, one hundred percent spent.

>Mirabelle laments slightly at the newfound emptiness she's been given. but closes her legs and rolls over on her side to face you.

>She opens her eyes and peers into yours.

>You do the same.

>She scoots a little closer to you.

>You plant a kiss on her lips.

>You two lie in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking.

>Well, her afterglow, you suffered a bit.

>She finally decides to pose a question to break your tranquil silence.

>"So." she begins. "How many kits do you want?"

>That.

>...

>Is a good question.

>"Well for one," you tell her. "You can't call them kits, it is entirely possible that if we did have children, they could be born human."

>This gets her attention.

>"They can either be entirely human, or entirely anthro, no in-betweens though." you continue. "But to answer your question."

>You give it some thought. You remember how lonely you've felt at times being an only child, but also how you've heard people talking about how often their siblings got on their nerves.

>"Maybe two, or three." you say after some deliberation.

>"Hmm. Okay." she says, accepting your answer. "That might not be too bad for a first litter."

>So she's okay with- wait. First?

>She plants a kiss on your lips this time.

>"We should probably get cleaned up." she tells you.

>You want to protest, but she is right.

>You watch her slowly crawl out of your bed, and you reluctantly follow suit.

>Showers are indeed necessary.

>This is your queen, you think as you grab some towels from your hall closet.

>You would do anything for your queen.

>You may need to do some extensive internet research on keeping up with the stamina of your queen, but you will do whatever it takes to keep her happy and satisfied.

>Long live the queen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Notes:

Here we are again, at the end of another story.

I couldn't call myself King Degen if I didn't follow that wholesome story with some goddamn lewd. But I decided to keep it separate in case people prefer their lewd in a different space from their wholesome. So I think I'll continue to do it this way, a normal story followed by a sexy sub story, or something. If my mind decides to deliver on worthwhile content.

No music this time. Only fuck.

Hopefully it tickled your fancy.

I will see you on the horizon, my fellow degenerates.