FSE

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An October afternoon.

Blue skies and a blustery breeze.

Removing the steel hitch pin that connected the soil-caked plow to the tractor, Emerson climbed back into the cab and slowly moved the big, green machine away.

The gold-and-cream harvest mouse then glanced over his shoulder and shifted to reverse. At a cautious putter, he spun the wheel and backed the tractor toward the red, wooden barn.

The sliding door was already open …

Huh.

Had he forgotten to close it when he left?

Once inside, he shifted to park and toggled a few switches before shutting the tractor off. Removing and pocketing the key, he glanced at himself in the rearview mirror.

Mm.

Tilting his big-eared head, he rubbed his cheeks and groomed his twitchy whiskers.

That looked better.

Right?

Well.

He gave up and waved a paw at his reflection.

Opening the cab door, Emerson descended the metal ladder-steps, long, ropy tail zipping about as a counterbalance.

Once on the ground, he closed the door, turned around and—

“Bout time you got back, mouse-o!”

“Charlie!” the mouse squeaked with a start, placing a paw over his heart. He looked around with wide-eyed bewilderment. “Where’d you come from?” And why hadn’t he heard her?

They say hearing is one of the first things to go as you get old!

His whiskers twitched.

Was it time for a ‘mid-mouse’ crisis? _ _

“Aw! Didn’t mean to scare ya. Come ‘ere!” his mate said with a cheerful, bucktoothed smile, spreading her arms.

The Canadian fox squirrel, a rich blend of silver and bronze (with ‘speckles’ on her back and tail), was a tad bigger than the mouse. In both weight and height. She was also nine years younger (27 to his 36)

Whether her irrepressible, manic energy came from unchecked, rural youth or simply being a fox squirrel itself (the most rambunctious of squirrels!) was an open question.

The townsfolk referred to her as a ‘ball of fire.’

Emerson went to her.

How could he not?

Like opposite magnetic poles drawn together by elemental forces of nature, they met in the middle. Hugged and kissed. Nuzzled and swayed.

Charlie murmured against his cheek, “Was in the house making apple butter and saw the tractor comin’ down the road.”

“Mm, so you opened the barn door.”

“Aren’t I considerate!”

Emerson answered her with another kiss.

Charlie giggled, touching her nose to his, their whiskers faintly brushing. A delicate, shivery feeling. “Missed you.”

Emerson, flattered, nonetheless pointed out, “I’ve only been gone since lunch.” He’d been plowing over some harvested corn fields. They still needed another pass, but he wouldn’t be able to finish before nightfall. Maybe tomorrow, if it didn’t rain too hard tonight.

“And that was hours ago!” Charlie said. “In my condition? That’s, like … forever.”

“Huh? What condi—”

Grinning as he stopped mid-sentence, her tail swished.

“You’re … you’re in heat?” he realized, nose tingling.

“You should know my schedule by now, silly.”

“I do, but … ”

Had it been a month already?

Emerson sniffed at her.

Time flies.

Cue ‘mid-mouse’ crisis.

The squirrel bobbed and swayed, unable to keep still. “Started to feel it this morning. By tonight, it’s gonna be a full rager!”

“A rager, huh? Like a party in your pants?”

“And you’re invited!” she said.

Emerson laughed. Blinking, he pulled back and asked, “What about … where are the pups?”

Azalea and EJ, their seven-month-old twins.

“Kits!” she countered (as usual). “Queenie picked ‘em up an hour ago. She’s gonna keep ‘em ‘til I’ve cooled off.”

Queenie was ‘Seldovia,’ a sultry, albino/purple skunk. She was Emerson’s age. They’d gone to high school together and had hooked up a few times (not serious enough to be ‘exes’) before Charlie had crashed his world.

Charlie had taken an immediate interest in the skunk and had made it her mission to have a threesome with her.

And they had!

Not only that, but it had gone well enough to become a regular thing.

“Really? That’s sweet of her,” Emerson said.

“Well, she’s running for mayor! Kissing babies and all that.”

“I’m pretty sure she has our votes already,” Emerson said, before correcting, “Mine, at least.” Charlie couldn’t participate because she didn’t have US citizenship. “Can she handle them? They’ve been so cranky lately. The twins, not the voters.”

“She can handle anyone! Those pheromones?” Charlie said, of the skunk’s ‘spray.’ “Why do you think she’s so popular?”

“I can think of a few reasons … ”

“Heh. They’re just a bit fussy,” Charlie insisted, of the kits. “They don’t like bein’ weaned.” The squirrel put her claw-tips on Emerson’s chest, moving them upward like a spider. A teasing smirk and a singsong tone. “Must take after daddy.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not cranky.” The mouse brushed her paw away. “And I don’t need to be weaned,” he insisted, whiskers twitching.

“You’re not? You don’t?” Her emerald eyes sparkled. “You tried nursin’ from me the other day.”

“No! That was … I was just admiring your breasts.” He crossed his arms. “With my mouth,” he added.

“Oh, is that all.”

“Yes.”

“Admire ‘em with your paws,” Charlie churred, tugging at his wrists.

He uncrossed his arms.

“I’m not feeling any admiring going on!” Charlie chided.

“Give me a second, will you?” Emerson put his paws under her shirt, reaching up for her breasts (no bra; Charlie didn’t ‘believe’ in them, which drew a lot of customers to their booth at the farmers market in the summer). He cupped them. Lifted and caressed them. Touching every ample inch. “How am I doing?”

“Good.” Her eyes hooded. She rubbed his sides under his own shirt, making throaty purr-noises. “Such a rich, butterscotch pelt with … mmf. Creamy center. So sweet! Like candy. Like circus peanuts.”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“You’re talking gibberish.”

“No! It’s my favorite candy! You introduced me to ‘em.”

“I know that, but … ” He shook his head and went with it. “Those don’t even have cream. And they’re banana flavored.”

“What? No, they’re not!”

“Pretty sure.”

This only encouraged Charlie, who kept going. “Banana? Oh, hey.” She stuck a paw in his jeans.

“Eek!”

“Looks like you got one! A butterscotch banana.”

“Ha! Charlie … ”

“And it’s growing, too.”

The mouse squeaked, getting rapidly erect.

“Emmy.” She wagged her furred thumb over his glans. “I want you all up in me.”

“Ah! Ah. If I’m candy and I’m inside you … I’ll melt.”

“You didn’t melt last time you were in me,” Charlie insisted, almost pouting. She withdrew her paw from his pants, throwing her arms around his neck. “Or the time before that.”

“You weren’t in heat those times.”

Their noses touched.

Her paws played in his head-fur. “Knock me up again?” she pleaded bluntly. She almost sounded serious. Surely, it was just the heat talking?

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he breathed back.

“Yup!”

“It’s a bit tricky, Charlie.”

“Insert mouse into squirrel, stir, spill … bun in the oven!” She stepped back and spread her arms as if to say ‘what’s so tricky about that?’

“That’s not what meant. We can barely handle two pups.”

“Kits!”

The twins hadn’t been planned. Not being the same species, he and Charlie hadn’t bothered with protection when they’d first met. What were the chances?

Well … they’d won the fertility lottery.

They were lucky to have friends like Seldovia who’d lend a helping paw from time to time. Also, Charlie’s aging aunt and uncle, who lived half-mile down the road (and whose property Charlie was sure they’d inherit someday).

But that didn’t get into finances or living space (farming wasn’t the world’s most lucrative profession, and Emerson’s house was fairly cozy; the twins were sharing a room right now, but they’d probably have to build add-on space when they got older).

Among other things.

“We’ve already beaten the odds once,” the mouse told her. “Not sure how we stay afloat, let alone sane, if we manage to do it again so soon.”

She swooned into him and churred. “Look at you, being all sensible. Most males would’ve succumbed to my wiles by now!”

“Guess us harvest mice are more than just cute lays.”

“I dunno about thaaat,” Charlie drawled, reaching into her pocket and pulling something out. “Ta-da!”

“Now, who’s being sensible?” Emerson said, taking the square package and squinting, distractedly reading the wrapper.

‘Penis type: rodent. Special reservoir tip for copious releases!’

He huffed.

Rodents did have the biggest balls for their body size of any species. And they weren’t just for show!

He imagined pumping Charlie full of—

“Emmy … ”

“Huh?” He blinked. “What?”

“Better put that on before you lose control!”

“Me? I’m not going to ‘lose control.’ You’re the one in heat. I can … handle myself … just fine,” he said, words breaking apart like melting glaciers as he watched his mate casually strip.

Charlie folded her arms over her head and arched her body. Tail fluffed! Her shirt came off like it was nothing. An Indy 500 logo t-shirt. Was that his? Maybe. Probably. Yes, it was. Who cared? Boobs! Her bouncing breasts were all he could think about.

“You were saying?” she asked.

God.

Those tits!

He did want to suckle on them, and he no longer cared enough to be embarrassed by it.

Charlie grinned, loving the effect she was having on him. It made her feel powerful, attractive. Like a goddess! It also fed her heat-fueled desire for him.

The tomboy shook her hips, wearing faded blue jeans (holes at the knees, hems frayed).

Blushing, Emerson reached out. Cupped those breasts, fondling, squeezing them again. As before. Only, now, with her shirt gone, he could lean in and kiss and mouth at them, dance his tongue across her nipples.

She gasped as they hardened up.

“Mmm,” the squirrel went, pulling at Emerson’s shirt.

He lifted his arms.

Up, over, gone.

Emerson quickly wriggled out of his pants, kicking them (and his underwear) under the tractor.

Charlie, hopping in place as she tried to get out of her jeans, almost fell over.

Emerson caught her and helped get her naked.

Taking a deep breath, the squirrel chirped her thanks, eyes dropping downward. To the throbbing, attention-standing prize he’d been hiding from her. Her voice took on an approving, husky tone. “There’s my mouse-o.”

Bathed in bold, autumn light (slanting through the westward facing doorway), the randy rodents came together for more hugs. More kisses. More!

“Mm. I’m on fire, Emmy,” she panted against his face. “Its … ah, it’s getting worse. You gotta put it out! Please!” It wasn’t a question as much as an outright plea. “You don’t know what it’s like … ”

It was all ‘fun and games’ for males, but to actually be in heat?

Sure, it was awesome when you were actually getting laid! The rest of the time (which was most of it) was madness, a frustrating, ever-shifting kaleidoscope of feelings and urges that stalked you into your dreams.

“I need you so much … ”

The mouse answered her by carefully opening the condom, removing it, and rolling the ringed, clear ‘sheath’ down the length of his shaft.

Charlie was practically salivating as she watched.

“Where we gonna do this?” Emerson asked matter-of-factly.

“Out here!”

“I know. But, like … where out here? Last time we had sex in the barn, I had a massive sneezing fit from the straw dust,” the mouse reminded.

“That was in the loft. And someone rolled us off the blanket!”

“You were making me wriggle.”

“I have the effect on guys. And girls.” She licked her buckteeth. “Had Queenie squirmin’ all the sheets off the bed last time she stayed over.”

“We both did,” Emerson defended, adding, “You didn’t bring a blanket this time.”

“Don’t need one.” The fox squirrel took his paw and led him to the tractor. “Where’s the keys?”

“In my pants.”

“Heh. Pants.”

Emerson didn’t know why that was funny, but he giggled, too.

Dropping to fours, wavering and whooshing her floofy tail about, the fox squirrel reached under the tractor for his jeans.

The mouse exhaled, the sight of her rump and her pouty sex (oh, he could see she was wet) making him light-headed. He had to hold onto one of the tractor’s large, treaded tires to keep from falling over.

She purposely brushed her tail across his face as she popped back up, dangling and jiggling the tractor keys. “Wanna take a joyride?”

“Charlie, no, we’re … I’m not driving while—”

“Who said anything about driving?”

“You did.”

“I said riding. There’s a big difference!”

“Oh.”

She gave a lascivious, bucktoothed grin as it dawned on him, adding, “Keep the tractor in park. But,” she demanded, holding up a clawed finger, “I want the engine on.”

“Why?”

“Mmf. Gets me goin’.”

“So, you think my tractor’s sexy?” he asked.

“Hey, all songs are based on truths!” Charlie started to sing it, whisking her tail and shaking her hips, “She wants a little farm and a yard full of kids! And one more teeny weenie ride before I take her home! She thinks my tractor’s sexy! It really turns her on!”

“Alright, alright,” Emerson pleaded, holding up his paws. “You win.” Opening the tractor door, he ordered, “Get in.”

“Gosh, you get so dommy when you’re super horny!” she said, obliging and getting into the cab.

He followed, then realized, “Wait! I, uh … I probably should’ve got in first … ”

“Ha! That’s what happens when you think with your dick.”

“Aren’t you wanting me to think with it right now?”

“Oh. Right.”

Emerson thought a moment and said, “I’ve gotta sit on the chair. You’ll be on my lap. Unless you had something else in mind?”

Charlie shrugged, insisting, “I just wanna fuck!”

“Mm.”

They wriggled around each other into their positions.

“Watch it … ah … ”

“Scoot … no, the other way … ”

“Hah, what just poked me? The shifter or your penis?”

“Charlie, no, leave the door ope—"

The squirrel grabbed the door handle and pulled it shut with a heavy click. Then she turned on the engine, flexing her arms and mouthing, “The powerrrr!” Everything vibrated with idle force. And her scent? In the enclosed space with the air on?

Emerson was practically high on her.

Charlie booped his cute, pink nose with one paw and gripped his cock with the other. She gave it a few pumps, slowly removing the condom. She flicked it to the dusty floor and turned around.

Emerson was so addled, he hadn’t the willpower to object. He needed her as desperately as she needed him. Starved and thirsty at the same time.

Loosely furling her bushy tail around his neck, she sat on his lap. Facing away from him. ‘Reverse cowgirl.’

Emerson hugged her belly, burying his nose in her nape.

She began to move. Bronze hips, silvery ass. Grinding and pressing. Fur rubbing his blunt, sensitive glans until his cock was throbbing, dribbling. The squirrel finally rose up and reached down to grab it, aim it … and when she sank back down?

Her wet, needy pussy swallowed it up.

To a hilt.

Hot, wet, wonderful.

His fuzzy-white balls were nestled to her body, swelling, drawing tight.

Emerson squeaked!

Before she started bouncing, Charlie pushed the throttle level as high as it could go. The tractor, still safely in park, got much, much louder. It was shaking!

“Yessss … ”

Now, she could ride him.

Bounce, bounce, bounce!

“Oh, oh … ohhhh,” the mouse moaned on her shoulder, buckteeth jutting.

“Play with my tits!” she cried, eyes closed, muzzle tilting toward the ceiling.

Emerson did so, paws drifting upward. He kneaded her mounds and pinched and rubbed her nipples.

“Suck on ‘em!” she cried, reaching down for her clit, rubbing it furiously.

“H-how … how can I do that?” he panted deliriously. “I’m behind you.”

“Damn!” The squirrel slowed her pace. “Hmm.”

“Don’t stop, Charlie. Just … ah. Keep going!” he urged, his cock tingling with a pleasure so strong he could feel it in his extremities. His fingers and toes. Even his whiskers.

“Will you suck on ‘em later?”

“Yes, yes. Anything! Just … mmf.” Charlie instantly resumed her vigorous bouncing, and he sighed, eyes squeezing shut. “Oh, yes, yes … hah, ah!”

She chittered, paws reaching for the steering wheel and turning it at random.

No more words.

Just squeaks and barks.

Wild, feral breeding.

Desperate and lewd.

The tractor rattled with loud, barely harnessed power, strands of their fur (gold, silver, and bronze; a winning combination!) shedding, swirling about in the wake of her swishing tail and the air vents.

She barked, chirped, grunted. Her array of ‘squirrel sounds’ was, on the surface, much more diverse than his mousey noises. He squeaked and squeaked! But each one had a different pitch and length. Hundreds of subtle variations.

Charlie, if she noticed, didn’t acknowledge it. She just thought it sounded fucking cute, and it turned her on when he got noisy. And, boy, was he noisy today! The squeaks were giving way to louder moans.

He must be close!

But she was closer.

Dropping down, grinding against her mate’s balls, the squirrel’s dripping, dark pussy clenched.

She cried out as she came.

Endless, crazed chitters as shockwaves of pleasure coursed through her being! Body sizzling, electric, charged with an elemental, vital bliss. Being in heat may have been a recurring pain in the rump, but the orgasms? They almost made it worth it.

Drooling, she groaned as she slumped back against her mouse’s chest, an arm reaching around his neck.

Hugging her possessively, the mouse grunted.

“Uhh … uhhf.”

“Emmy!”

He bucked his hips, jostling her rump. He could feel, hear her cumming.

Almost, almost …

Almost!

There.

Ecstasy surged through him as he slumped in the seat, head rolling aside, maw gaping as he shot thick, pearly ropes of mouse seed straight into the squirrel’s waiting womb.

How many spurts?

Five, six, seven? More? He lost count. But her body, milking him, couldn’t get enough, and he couldn’t stop from giving it.

More than that, he lost his sense of time and place. For a few seconds, time stopped. Their bodies were fused. They were one. A closed circuit.

Squeak!

And then, panting, he came back to himself, slumping in the driver’s seat and reaching to turn the engine off. He fumbled with it a few times before successfully doing it.

Silence.

Except for their pants and puffs.

The mouse nibbled at her neck, her cheek. Drawing closer to her lips, turning her head with a paw so he could latch to them. A kiss, passionately awash in afterglow and emotion.

His prehensile tail vined around her ankle.

She chittered lowly. “Heck!”

“Mmhmm.”

When they’d finally settled down, Charlie continued, “You doused my fire, mouse-o. I almost feel normal now!”

“It’s only temporary. You know that.” He gently scritched her belly, kissing her shoulder. This was merely the ‘eye of the storm’ in her Hurricane Heat. Nature would stop at nothing to leave them with another pup/kit. Speaking of which, “You, uh … you gotta take an ‘after’ pill, Charlie. Just in case. I know the odds are lower for us, but we really can’t afford to chance it right now.”

“I know.” She nodded, turning to look at him. Green eyes to blue. “I know … I just … ” She trailed off, taking one of her paws in his. “Felt so good to imagine you might knock me up again, y’know? Made it more intense!”

The harvest mouse nodded. “Mm, yeah, it did.”

“I want a big family.” She paused. “Don’t you?”

Fingers lacing with hers, he said, “Until you got pregnant, I never thought I’d be a father. Never thought about kids … but now? With you?” Being steamrolled by a fox squirrel definitely changed one’s perspective! “We’ll try for another someday.”

“You promise?” she cooed. “I think four sounds good!”

“Four?” His eyes widened.

“We’re already halfway there!”

“True.” Emerson, unable to say no to her (especially when he was still inside her!), nodded and said, “When the twins are a little older and don’t need constant attention, we’ll, uh … yeah. You’re still young enough. We’ve got plenty of time.” Hopefully, their income would increase by then.

“Mm. Sounds good … daddy.”

Emerson had to laugh, giving her a harmless, little nudge. “Get off, mommy.”

“Kinkster!”

Emerson rolled his eyes. “Wanting to have sex in the tractor? That’s kinky.”

“Nah, just means I’m a good an’ proper farmgirl.” The squirrel casually dismounted, dripping seed all over her thigh, his lap, and—

“Don’t get it on the seat!”

“I’m not.” Charlie giggled, opened the door, and hopped out.

Emerson followed woozily, grabbing the discarded condom and the keys. Did he have everything? He didn’t know. What a whirlwind. Gathering his clothes, he tucked them under an arm.

“Gonna walk back to the house naked?” Charlie asked.

“Might as well.” It was a short enough walk. The likelihood of being seen was low. Their gravel road wasn’t heavily traveled, and their nearest neighbors (her aunt and uncle) lived almost a half-mile across the fields. “I’m taking a shower as soon as I’m inside.”

“Can I join?”

“You gonna behave yourself?” Emerson asked as they left the barn, sliding the door shut behind them.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“You promised to suck my tits!”

“I’ll do that later,” he swore. “After supper. When your heat comes storming back.”

“Saving me for dessert, eh?”

“Might as well. You’re loaded with sugar, my circus peanut.”

“Hah!” She took his paw. “That my new nickname? That mean I’m sweet?” She stopped and faced him, demanding a response.

“Let me see … ” Emerson leaned in for a tender, twisting kiss, pulling back and licking his lips with a nod. “Yup. The sweetest.”

Happy to hear it, Charlie tugged him indoors.

Whether it involved riding or not, there was still more joy to be had.