Sensual Checkmate
Sensual Checkmate
by Korpse_Infested_Karnival
(KIK)
(Author's Note: Well, I slipped one in before the turn of the year, and goodness, how interrupted this process had been. I wanted to deliver far more in terms of exposition, as I sometimes wish I could turn on the 'awesome switch' at will. There wasn't even enough time to do a proofread! But, regardless, this is an experiment as well, if not a bit lacking, as the characters remain nameless throughout the whole of the story. I wanted to see how good I could do without having a title to fall back on. I hope you guys enjoy it, and I'm sorry for not having a few more pieces this month.
-KIK)
These sultry pattern games, these exquisite carnal experiments. Always, every week in and week out, new ones were made, new ideas tested, new senses explored. Life could be colored with a slate ink of gray, but her thoughts, her musings of fleshy delight, oh, how they made things exciting. Wait, not exciting, for that was a great understatement. Something else. Something that flooded one with raw adrenalin and eager lusts. The idea, so fragile, you would take it with trembling hands, breathing heavy, panting, deluged, smothered, an iron fresh from the molten heart.
Why would she do it? Why would he listen? A scoff. Reasons were frivolous here. Logic was superseded, cast aside. To ponder it brought the excitement down, exiled the passion, and confined desire to algorithms and equations.
Mice may seem nice, but they have little quirks and whispers you don't here. You think them demure, bashful, shy little creatures, but you'd be wrong. Especially, you imagine, in the female, the girl, the brazen eyed beauty who might wiggle her whiskers and giggle little meeps, but it is nigh. There's more to the picture. There's more to it, because she thought of it all (most of the time). She started the blazing hunger. She thought of all the kinks and geometrics. Very, very soft and cuddly on the outside, but let her think, let body shiver with feverish rodent cognition, and you'd have the end result of a most delightful outcome.
Openness, a flexible imagination. He'd always picked up on it. His fennec ears to her direction, absorbing every fragment of her, just as he did so with his eyes. Bush tail flicking, arms crossed, he knew her ins and outs. Bring up something you consider outlandish and outrageous, and she'd listen. Keen intelligence, perhaps. Maybe an appetite of the body even greater than his. But they were games, and they were games well played and enjoyed. As they said, reasons were frivolous.
So the fennec fox licked his chops in a kind of prelude to what was to come. The firelight bathed over his honey-amber fur and allowed the stripes of cream running down his chest to stand aglow. His large ears were lax, idle, not doing much but balancing out the predatory narrow features of his masculine face and muzzle, black vulpine lips stretched in a half-smile. Blue eyes of his, darting and dancing about, searching, a slither of impatience, a tic of his swelling eagerness, the unfed hunger. He kept his arms rested on the couch face, tapping one finger, scratching fabric with one charcoal claw. His tail thumped, his body nearly bare, savor for that one raiment of jean-shorts, only in place out of necessity, to keep the moment tender and untarnished.
She had to have her moment of entry. Not a strut, not something that was to be overdone, but a sneaky little element, a surprise that the mouse could deliver, and the fox was pressed to wait, engulfed with anticipation.
It was always worth it. He knew it would be.
First was the light gravity of something that fell upon his shoulders. Different feeling, unique, soft digits rumbling over his collar and giving but a tender scratch to the back. That was her, as it would seem.
The fennec was allowed to look up, to catch a glimpse. Careful he had to be, of course, for to see things too hastily and the moment was ruined.
Oh, she was more intriguing this time. Little feminine features all aglow and beaming at the vulpine, her eyes this very peculiar but elegant shade of violet. Her hair? Well, it never stayed to one state of color for very long, as she had dyed her silky bangs with the cool vibrancy of jade green, as rich and precious as an emerald. Her lips? Ah, she had done the same, same tone and hue as her hair, glossy, soft lips curved into a sweetly devilish smile.
Whiskers a twitter, she kept tapping at his shoulders, the light of wood-fire now sprayed over her smoky gray fur too, as they stared, watched the other, amused, excited.
"Oh, hi there stranger," she says, cheerfully, tone-squeaks ministered in her voice.
"I didn't know you liked couches too," she went on, tilting her head, adding scratches through her finger movements, playing this game she once nicknamed 'sex tag.'
The fennec fox feigns a glimmer of surprise. His part was the bashful one, playing the innocent one, the helpless fellow about to be pounced upon (how so ironic a mouse was to do this).
"Sure," he replies sheepishly, shoulders now so lax from the mouse's paw-massaging and fingers. "I like them. I visit them often,"
Her dainty mouse paws weren't in the act, weren't part of the game. They traveled to the fox's neck now, roving over tufts of his sandy-brown coat. She smiled again, and yes, how the fox was hungry for those lips, that muzzle mouth of luscious green lipstick.
"Really?" she inquired playfully. "So do I! I think they're wonderful! You can do so many things on them, mm?" she adds, with graceful hints left to the imagination, to idea and concept.
The fennec found his ears practically tickled by the so very sugary and bubbly tone that kept a-licking' his hearing. This foreplay. It drove him mad.
"It's such a good couch too," the mouse said, taking one delicate hand and patting the cushy-couch exterior. "Would you mind if I sat with you?"
Now things began to pick up. The pace started to increase, as she was making her move. Not too swiftly could things move, but not too slowly, either.
"Oh. Of course," responded the vulpine, attempting to retain a big, toothy grin. He adjusted himself, moving over on the couch to make room for the girl, open up the pocket.
In a catch of a moment, she disappeared, out of his sight (though not his hearing). In that same, however, she became visible once more, with mousy quickness, rodent-esque stealth, similar yet different to the vulpine's very own.
Her haunches wiggled comfortably on the couch when she sat, jittery tail so carefully roping in coils on her curvy legs. This of course was the best time to savor her image, because she left quite little to the process of daydreams, yet snug things oh-barely and oh-so teasingly. How could the fox not look? She was in quite the seasonal attire, after all, as December allowed new quirks and curiosities to arise for exploration.
A jolly red 'coat,' if you could label it such (which you couldn't) with cuffs of snow puff white at the wrists and sparkling gold buttons covered her delectable torso, and the word covered is used quite loosely here. The thin grasp of the fabric was pushed to its limits, the bosom of the mouse girl clearly sculpted and visible amidst this ambush of scarlet, pert and pointed nipples softly tapping at the tethers in silent plea to be released. Still so, the jacket was also cut severely short to be anything considered prudent, a minute centimeter above her belly-button, where the wandering eye found grandiose magnitudes of exposure, the rapture of smoky fur mixing in with the wash of red.
What was that? The fennec had to gulp, and felt his finely angular features rush with the glow of blood. What was it? Why, but a simple little panty of frilled white, fragile and hapless as it hugged against her succulent hips, tenderly kissing that pleasant mousy rump. Nothing else, good lord, nothing else on those girlish legs or swaying thighs.
Violet eyes found him. His blush was real, that was for certain. He couldn't possibly act something like that out. A sly grin, a lusty glance, and a petite, cute smile. Her whiskers twitched, whilst the fennec felt a slow tightening, if only just so, in his nether region. She knew she was getting to him, that he wasn't so good at maintaining control in their foreplay checkers, and that tickled her senses and intellect.
"So, what are you doing here?" the lovely mouse femme asked, ears steadily focused to the vulpine male.
He had to clear his throat, get the tight grip off of it.
"Ah, well, I'm waiting for someone, a very special friend of mine," he answered, with frail attempts to pull together some composure before the. . . fun.
"Oh? A friend?" probed the dainty rodent, pressing him on, pulling out his words.
"Yes. We're, uh, quite close, she and I. We have something special planned." further mused the fennec, a free paw rubbing his brow, this physical tic of his 'shy and embarrassed' character.
"You do?" said the girl with a turn, the weakness of her coat tether allowing for a gracious, joyful bounce of her feminine mantle, purposefully assailing the fennec with this delicious view.
Cautious, almost robotic movements took the fennec. It was hard to remain in-character for this sensual little game, inner words becoming more clumsy, less and less civilized and more primal, starving for ecstasy. All he could really manage was a timid nod in response.
The violet-eyed beauty was beside herself with humor, close to a grin. She had him now, did she? Afloat, he was, afloat in hormones and seething desire.
"Is that so," she stated seductively, soft pink tongue licking the tip of her front teeth.
"You know," began the gray furred femme, "you should make sure you give her something nice. Maybe be certain she would like it, mm?" queried the rodent, one paw-hand going to the fox's ear with gentle touches, while the other rested on her succulent hip, a digit flicking at the hold of her lace panty.
Honey-amber fur all a-tingle, the vulpine remained intrigued at her suggestion, patiently waiting, hoping and yearning all the same.
"Ooooh," the mouse squeaked, chittering and flicking her whiskers, "Show me! Why don't you show me what you have planned?"
"I'm sure I can tell you if it's any good or not,"
Hm. Judging now, was she? Or, at least the fennec surmised. Truthfully, as witty and exotic her planning was, she continuously pressed the vulpine to be creative in his own right. In fact, this game in particular was more about what he was able to come up with, rather than her own playful mannerisms popping up in their sensual charades. Her part was to be desirable and cute, and his was to do the 'harder' work (if one can call this work). Still, he concluded she'd let him off the hook. . . if the end result was what she wanted.
"Well. . ." he semi-muttered, not out of hollow ideas, but more or less without clever wordplay.
"She has these wonderfully soft lips," said the male vulpine, turning to the interested and ever staring mouse, "so, I'd probably kiss her first, sweetly, because she loves to savor it,"
There was a tender throat-meep from the mouse femme, no doubt out of flattery, as the fox couldn't help but administer his own flirtations in the whole of this process. After all, he'd have to do something creative here, wouldn't he?
She came forward, slowly, in a sauntering rhythm. Emerald lips licked, muzzles coming a few inches apart. Those potent violet iris', how they engorged themselves from the fennec's own blue.
The moment so rich and unspoiled, the fox took one of is free hand-paws, finding a spot for it, settling it on the gray-furred femme's sides, taking a moment to feel the grooves and lines of her sweetly crafted form. So fortunate now, as their muzzle lips then collided, revolving about the other for the most productive position, the fennec recognizing that delectable gentleness her mouth always relinquished.
Closer, she moved in closer, her rodent tail swiveling about in the air, filling the gap between them, a cuddling heat swimming around them in an aura of their actions. A few loud smacks, a few lip-sucks, sounds of passion if not to soon become the sonata of sexual lovemaking. Their tongues were quick to follow this, lapping greedily and hungrily at the other, exploring deep into one maw, from the tip of the vulpine's teeth to the hidden pocket beneath the mouse's fleshy rug.
"Mmmmm. . ."
A quiet, subtle moan, like candy to the ears. It ushered the fox on, allowing his kiss to travel deeper, now using both his palms to rub across the femme's sides, caressing them, massaging every dive and angle that shaped her. His head starting to boil now, filled with new and strange ideas, for some reason taking the image of the mouse's shimmering emerald lips, so juicy and supple, nipping him at the maw, chest, lower, lower, to his loins. Oh, how he'd seen them at work around the shaft of a holiday treat or some such other thing, tongue splayed and flickering over whatever lucky object graced her muzzle.
They paused. Or did he? Someone managed to break it briefly, catching breath, exhaling heavily, bodies and minds ablaze with voracious appetites and smoldering heat.
Things such as these were quick to work on the manner of foreplay, the tone of acting. The fennec was more than ready now to give in to desire, and he could even glean a few cracks in composure from the usually giggling mouse. It wasn't a bad thing, per say, as the body reacted by rewarding the pleasure centers of the brain, yet still, steady pace was important, and all the more enjoyable.
"Oh my," she said, eyelids half open, pretty face lit with the rosy hue of a heated blush. She had to sidle back a moment, taking slender fingers to rub her forehead, a few bubbly giggles escaping her. She didn't see it, but it made the vulpine male smile.
"Mm. Oh, I know she'll like that, it was wonderful," she complimented dreamily, referring to an old statement that the fox had always been a fantastic kisser.
A few wags of his tail, and he allowed the mouse a sight of his toothy grin.
"Great. I hoped she would. I thought of it just for her,"
The light gray-toned femme smiled, a tad out of her acting state, as she was always in appreciation of the fox's tender little 'word-kisses.'
"Goodness," she started, before the vulpine could add any more, "I'm quite hot after all that. I need to get out of these darned clothes,"
A spike of boiling hormones nailed the fox in his chest, allowing the rodent girl to raise herself from the couch so as to avoid a statement of hesitation, of retraction, as the game was getting bigger, more enjoyable and more well played.
She stood, letting the awe of her so deliciously sculpted body come into view by the horny gandering of the fire's eye. She let mouse paws come to the laced, cream white panties, beginning to yank them down, a jiggle of her hips and buttocks to tease the male, certain it would cause a stir in his pants (which, of course, it did). Even still, feigning that he wasn't there, she bent over, jutting her rear outward to more efficiently pull down her under garments from those shapely supple thighs and hips, the eyes of the vulpine explosive with a kind of 'oh-boy' eagerness.
She wouldn't let him see, oh, she dared not yet, but next was the strained red coat of holiday cloth, so quickly yet slowly taken off, allowing only exposure of her back to be seen as did subtle little dances of what one might call a 'nudists joy.' The mouse was entertained, so wickedly and teasingly, keeping her feminine prizes from sight, not letting the fennec rove his tongue over the tang of her pointed, delectable tits.
Now she was bare. The grip of the lucky laced panties around her tender buttocks was gone, and her hips were allowed to wiggle and sway without burden (whatever burden came from her exotic tethers, anyhow). And whilst her juicy mousy rump was ready to be groped and caressed, her bust was celebrating its freedom by jumping about at the whip of the wind, the sucking of gravity, any movement she provided causing her grandiose bosom to bounce about.
The fox had his teeth clenched, now fully erect, fully stimulated, teeth clenched and body at the breaking point. He didn't need foreplay to make himself bare, doing away without notice of the rodent to his jean shorts, adult foxhood stiff with blood, unsated. His long flat tongue was rounding about his inner chops with such hunger, now, member throbbing and searing, breathing more and more out of control as he wished his palms would snap to her and squeeze, pinch and pull, while he was allowed to fill out his desires. . .
It wasn't so far off now. The sweet, delectable mouse half turned her head so he could hear, whiskers stiff and tail roping about crazily. Her lust was so clear, now, so clear in the open, and the fennec was glad for it, as he couldn't stand another second of foreplay! Not even a fraction of such!
"Now show me, foxy, show me how special you think she is, mm?" said the beautiful rodent in a barely controlled phrase, all aspects of her shaking and quivering, from plush emerald hair to finely tipped mouse claws.
Then, oh gracious, yes, she went to her knees, lay her busty torso to the rug floor, tail set aside and curvy, firm buttocks swaying to and fro to coax the vulpine forth. Her teeth were at her lips, biting and nibbling in the way that mice would, iris' begging and pleading, hot bodied and hot minded.
The honey-furred fox wasn't much for words, even during their little sex-chess, but now even more so, only focused on silencing the urgent scream his nether region bellowed out.
Palms went straight to her taut rump, squeezing them and keeping it that way, as he was in no mindset for any kind of continued delay. The head of his genital then found its local, at the very slip of her inner walls, her slick, hungry loins needing to be filled, just as his own needed to be emptied.
"Oooooh. . ." she moaned out in delicate shivers, a few more wiggles of her haunches and hips to get the fox to hurry.
Then, a meep, a loud squeak, if you will. They both shuddered and shook intensively as the fox pushed in, met by the charitable warmth brought about by the mouse's vagina. The vulpine let out a hoarse gasp, a shockwave of dreamlike pleasures storming not just through his shaft, but near to all aspects of his flesh, a riot of buzzing nerve centers going absolutely insane.
No matter how many times they did this, the sensation was all the same, growing if not better every new penetration.
Of course, one moment of dripping sexual-honey wasn't enough. So well slicked they had become, the fennec retracted his loins with relative ease, a few translucent droplets of their nectar falling to the floor as he did. Then, once again, the conductor of his hasty drive directed another thrust, piston quick, not too hard but not too soft, pushing together the mouse's divine hips when his full length was in, desiring tightness, pressure.
The female's back arched, as the vulpine was quick to follow through with a barrage of hip thrusts, a piston of passion and lust, each 'strike,' if you will, causing them to moan, squeak, grunt, pant, and breathe out in singular, ineffable joy. She found herself bucking back if she could, salivating so very greatly, trying to rip and scratch at the rug for better position, if possible. Ah, she wanted it harder, she wanted it faster, so much more, more than could be provided.
Closer. The fennec fox male had to get closer, had to hold more of her, had to possess but another sensation. He let his chest clasp to her back, flexible and sinewy enough to continue his loin's movements but remain all the nearer to the mouse. He let the end of his muzzle rub at her ear, tongue now out and hanging, licking about her neck and back, breathing hard to let the volume of his lust fall in place with the enraptured 'squees' emitting from the volumes of the rodent treat.
His heated paws made exodus from the mouse girl's tight buttocks to lock on to her pert, fruitful mantle, through near-shut eyes able to see her breasts bounce with every locomotion he managed. Fingers, doing many things at once, rubbing and lightly pulling at her sweet velvety nipples, palms brushing and grasping the axis of her body to the best of his abilities, denying no thought or urge as their wildfire unity grew even hotter than the light that watched them.
Their juices and sex mingled together in grand, copious degrees, moments to minutes fleeing by, until, at the breaching point, they came. Explosive and heavy, the fennec fox gasped and let off a strained grunt, feeling his thick shaft suddenly empty itself out with pleasing drops of his seed to fill the mouse's thirsty cervical walls. Oh, and how she did as well, chittering and shuddering in joy as she tried to push harder on the vulpine's shaft, squeeze it with her taut rump, take everything from the experience and leave nothing.
He must have been holding his breath, for the fox let out a pleading few seconds of air, brandishing an exhale as he buckled and went to his bare haunches, buzzing as though he'd taken a few shots of liquor. The mouse kind of went to her side, then resting on her back, eyelids shut with pangs of physical phantasma storming through her. She was licking her lush, jade lips, an exploring paw but barely touching her clitoris as if to stir the event all over again.
"It was very nice," she rather half muttered abruptly, catching the fennec's attention. "But still. . . she'll want a little extra. . . she'll want a little taste, I bet,"
What was this now? She was still in character, and still wanting to go on. But how so? The vulpine hadn't really thought of anything else at this point. But, they both registered a great deal of stamina, and the honey-amber fox surmised he could go for at least one more round.
Otherwise, he'd lose another game of their sex-checkers.
"What do you think, then?" he queried back, slightly able to resume the entity of his acting as his mind had become a tad less foggy.
Instead of saying anything, however, instead of employing that rather fun 'dirty-talk' she sometimes would, the mouse femme decided it better to show him. She raised her lithe body from the rug floor and watched the fennec eagerly, smiling in her ever showing wiles of seductive mannerisms, and mounted the fox, nudging him tenderly to his back, massaging his chest with her dainty rodent paws.
For that instant, the fennec thought she was going to shower him with a flurry of feverish kisses and nips, yet, surprising him, she only wanted him on his back, as her position suddenly shifted to something quite. . . new.
He was abruptly given a most enjoyable view of her moist nether region and shapely haunches, the nectar of her lower mouth only a trace few inches from his muzzle. As for herself, the mouse had found a comfortable 'seat' at the nub of his shaft, where, oh grand victory, her soft lips and supple tongue seemed quite intrigued by his endowment.
Now he realized, if but a few seconds late. He'd heard of this before. But, gracious, hearing and doing were two severely different things, as he was soon to find out.
"Nnnh. . . yes. . . just a little taste. . ." said the mouse, quietly, more to herself than the fennec.
His large ears were flicking for something, a sound, mayhaps, that would cue him to do something, but he didn't hear any sort of signal. All he knew, though, was that the rodent beauty was getting him hard once again, stroking the top-flesh of his shaft with a finger, breathing on it, applying the smallest of licks to the tip of it, which was met with quite a deal of success, as he sensed.
A sharp breath took him by the throat. A sultry moan emitted from the mouse's throat and her shimmering, emerald lips smothered the head of the fennec's member, a cool softness that was actually very welcome to his heated loins. She took a few moments there, a few prolonged and steady seconds to suck and pull at the vulpine's tip, letting teeth carefully touch his sensitive area whilst her tongue lathered and dripped about the fleshy mast, tasting both his productive seed and her own, female juices.
The fennec was panting now, slowly, if with uncertainty, but was not about to be outdone. Still with ties to the canine families, he pressed his muzzle forward and allowed his long, flat tongue to hang out, applying one, steady stroke of it to the rodent's clitoris. A little giggle-squeak was the voiced reaction by his act, and he was pleased, knowing he had found his area of focus. Almost as though a pet to its water bowl, he, with a gusto and almost professional mannerism, allowed his maw's moist rug to lick away at the puckered, heat-swollen nethers that the mouse had sought to literally 'shake' at him.
Now both of them were suddenly falling in sync. The mouse was now more than happy to lap down greater amounts of the fox's hardened genital, sinking her head and stroking the member with her tongue, even so much as to allow her dainty hand-paws to fondle and cup the vulpine's testes to further get a more elaborate reaction from him.
What coaxing did he possibly need? His palette was more or less assailed with the tangy honey that was a mixture of his own seed and her flowery aura. He could even get more of it by but barely gracing the entrance of her inner thighs with his skillful licks, and then to penetrate even deeper with flits and exploring tongue-whisks.
For them, it was perhaps one of the longest, sensual copulations they had performed, even so without being inside or felt by the other. It was almost a competition, cute mousy ways bringing the fox near to an orgasm and then letting him fall back into a state of calm, the honey-furred fennec retaliating by doing near the same, or taking his fingers and so tenderly and carefully touching her nethers, but without the satisfaction of giving her any more of his lavish lapping.
They didn't dare keep it up for long, however. Hunger and desire were quick to take over their attempted prolonging of the wanted, as the gentle kissing of loins finally ran its course to stave off. In one, fluid matter of a minute, they both increased their pace of things simultaneously, again with the tender tones of moans and humms, grunts and strained breaths.
The mouse brought it out him quite easily, at the very peak of his orgasm keeping her soft mouth situated at his tip, in place to taste every drop of semen that he quickly produced. Her rump shivered a tad as she came, and the fennec was there to receive, nose infiltrated with a vast cascade of smells, so many in fact that he was almost dulled to the nose.
It was not explosive or violent, per say, not incredibly intense like a nuclear fission breakdown, but rather soft and tame, a little dessert after the main course to sate the two completely and end their peculiar but wonderful holiday game.
From there it was a matter of normalcy. A moment to rest, catch wind, let their bodies settle and not let desire get ahead of physical limitation. Then, a few words, tired chuckles, extra kiss, and off to the shower to get clean and 'civilized,' or as the mouse would suggest, returning to sanity.
That would be all for them, at least on for this day. A nap, more sleep, as they cuddled and hugged together, drifting to sleep, most likely to awake again for food and nourishment. Little creatures of honey-amber orange and slate, cream gray, keeping the secret of their games and wondering what the next week might bring.
Checkmate.
= END =
(KIK)