This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
All work is fiction intended for fantasy only, regardless of content, and consent must always be acquired when engaging in any sex act with another adult.
Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.
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Long folds of white cloth draped down their bodies, the young man and his lover stepping from the rowboat with smiles on their lips. Jenniefer accepted his assistance gracefully, though there was an air of expectation in how she held his hand, delicately as if she was not comfortable putting her full weight on him. Her lover, similarly clad in easily flowing cloth, tied at the waist and bunched up at the shoulders, stepped easily from the boat, but was not the sort of man that would have been seen labouring in the fields or on a boat most usually, light and lithe.
All they were was the cloth that was called a "cloak" and their undergarments, needing no more than that in such a warm, comfortable climate. Matt sighed, glad to be back on stable ground again, though the island was not all that remote from the main body of land where they lived and worked. Their chain of islands, off the mainland of Greece, was a heartland and a peaceful abode in which to keep away from the bustle of city life, although it was fair to say that most there understood the pleasures of living. Even civilians like them, however, had to work hard.
It was not often that young lovers got to go away and experience the joys of something a little more delightful for themselves.
Matt held her hand, leading her up the sand away from the beach, waves lightly lapping at the shore. Her heart fluttered but, oh, she would not be wooed and won over so easily, not if she had her way about it.
"Oh, Matt, where have you brought me?"
He smiled, lips quirking, though the furrow in his brow was more telling of the knots of worry in his stomach.
"Somewhere special... They say that the rarest fruit in all the country grows here and I could think of no one more perfect to savour it than you, my sweet."
Jenniefer giggled faintly and blushed, ever so slightly mollified, though it generally took a lot more than that placate her. Still, if there was something so rare there, surely that was the reason behind all the rumours?
"I've heard stories of this place, Matt..." She murmured, holding his hand a little tighter. "Are you not afraid of encountering the beast here?"
He laughed out loud, shaking his head, but Matt turned his head, betraying his unease.
"No, no... No, of course not. There's nothing here. We don't live in the stories of the gods, Jenniefer, you should know that."
He was cocky, too cocky, puffing his chest up and strutting a little, trying to show off even without thinking about it. It was in every man's nature to peacock to some extent, whether they were royalty or a mere fisher boy, but Matt was a man who wanted to impress. The boat was secured on the shore, waves caressing its hull in a splash of seafoam, and he led her on and up into the ruins of time gone by.
The olive trees grew into the old, light-coloured stone, buildings that should have stood the test of the ages crumbled and broken. Statues dotted the way, seemingly present with no rhyme or reason to them, some frozen in expressions of horror, others missing limbs. Some even appeared as if they were running, one notable instance of a couple with their arms around one another, eyes shielded, catching Matt's eye.
Strange... Very strange. Who had lived there in times gone by? Pressing her fingers to the rough stone, Jenniefer took a small inhalation of breath, eyes wide.
"There must have been a great battle here... How would we know?"
But Matt wasn't thinking about the times gone by, all that may or may not have come to pass on an island that he had already forgotten the name of. It was remote, remote enough that no one would bother them there, no one else even fishing near enough to see their boat moored on the beach. He took her hands in his, holding them to his chest, and Jenniefer shivered, the pounding of his heart telling her more than his words did.
"You didn't bring me here just to show me some fruit, did you, Matt?"
Of course, she saw straight through him, a smirk on her lips and heart surging as her arms went around his neck, kissing him deeply and passionately, their tongues batting playfully back and forth between their mouths. Her lips moulded to his as if their bodies were made for each other, tumbling down in the middle of the grove, olive branches stretching overhead. The aroma of fresh earth mingled with salt from the sea, the leaves rustling gently against one another in an unseen breeze, though they were not as loosely hanging as ones on orange trees and the like, but tougher, like the life-sustaining olives that they bore.
The young couple thought of none of that, however, clothes removed, barely breaking from the warmth of each other's bodies to come together again, desperation in the lines of them. Yet it was Jenniefer who took control, laughing softly, pushing him onto his back and sitting astride his hips, her hair hanging darkly down to her shoulders. There could have been no greater beauty in the world than her, in any time, as Matt moaned, his shaft rising hard and wanton for her, pressed up against her thigh, just shy of the folds of her pussy.
"Oh, Jenniefer..."
"Quiet..."
He whimpered, a man at her knees, at her whim. Her will and whim was his command and he slipped between her legs, kissing up her thighs, the creamy expanse of her skin where her tanner skin faded to what was usually covered by clothing. Oh, it was a treat indeed to find himself in such a place as he moaned and dipped his tongue into her snatch, wriggling it between the folds of her haired pussy, for there was no convention there to clear the skin of hair. She was a woman and he a man and the two of them had needs that only the other, right then and there, could satisfy.
His tongue delved deep and flickered up against her clit, drawing her sweet juices from her, intoxicated by the moment itself. There was no other world for him, no reality where Jenniefer did not exist, though they were in it together, him and his lover. Her thighs squeezed around his head, drawing him in closer, panting softly, her breasts rising and heaving with the thrust of her hips, her body responding with electric tingles to his touch.
"Ohhh..."
She moaned, need rising. It was good, so good, but he had barely gotten started when she was up and on her knees, beckoning him to her, eyes fierce.
"Matt! Stand up!"
She gave him no reason for her sudden command, ignoring his whimpers at being denied the treat of her sex. Yet she mollified him slightly, even without meaning to, kneeling up to take his cock into her mouth while his mind swam in luxurious blankness, unable to think about anything else but how good her lips felt on his hard shaft. He panted and moaned, not even trying to be quiet as she drew his lust for him, more and more eager for the taste of him, his length neatly filling her mouth, though she could not take all of them. That, however, was not needed at all for the lust of a good time.
Jenniefer murmured around him, satisfied with herself like the cat who'd gotten the cream. His shaft drove into her mouth, but she held him in place, hardly even letting him thrust and express the needs of his body. There was no distinct offering or giving up of control in their relationship, but she naturally leaned into it -- and who could blame her? Swirling her tongue around the tip of his shaft, she played with him, exulting in the tiny twitches and thrusts he gave, prey to emotion even in a moment like that.
His moans rose, desperate for more, panting softly, but Matt could not hold back, trying to run his fingers through her hair, admiring, even then, the beauty of her locks falling down her shoulders. She'd worn her hair down for him and what beautiful hair it was, silken and smooth to such a point that he would have been quite happy to run his fingers through it again and again.
Jenniefer did not allow it though, sucking his shaft down, cheeks hollowing as her lips formed a tight seal around his girth. She wanted him but wanted him in her own way, bobbing her head, his fingers brushing her hair softly, not knowing what to do. He wasn't in charge and neither was he in control, groaning lightly, shifting his weight.
He wanted to cum, but she held off, softening the bobbing of her head every time he tensed up, wanting to thrust, to let instinct guide him. Pre-cum dribbled forth but was swept away by her tongue so quickly that one could not be sure whether it existed in the first place. Drawing back, Jenniefer licked her lips salaciously, eyes sparkling with wicked desire.
"You want to cum..." She whispered huskily, an edge of evil about her tone and the set of her body. "But I don't think you want to badly enough yet."