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Mike's shorts were uncomfortably tight. He lay sprawled shirtless over the leather sofa in the stifling heat, legs crossed, a desk fan roaring full-blast in his face and the TV a couple of bars below full volume. It might as well have been a mere murmur, for all the good it was doing. Anything to stop his mind from wandering, to give him something to occupy himself in this burning summer heatwave.

Who had thought that this would be a good idea? Two weeks down south with family; the most boring two weeks imaginable. What a way to end the summer: Mike, his Mum and Dad, Emily, her younger sister and her parents all crammed into one shack of a holiday house in the arid dustbowl that was Freida Maria.

Emily, it had to be said, was probably the silver lining of the entire trip. Nineteen, less than a year older than Mike himself, pink and white and, being a vixen, pretty damn foxy. She and Mike had been friends since childhood and she had always nursed a small soft spot for him, indeed as he had for her, although admittedly Mike was well known for nursing sometimes quite sizeable soft spots for a number of different girls. They liked him: well-built, a pleasant shade of brown, short spiked hair, a great sense of humour for a fox and not afraid to "hit the base" if the time came. There were professionals slower at "hitting the base" than Mike was.

But now, two weeks and, excluding Emily, not another girl in sight for the entire time they had been on holiday. On top of that it was a "family" holiday, which meant no mags, and this Godforsaken shack had nothing but a twenty five-inch television, the only native modern gadget Mike had seen on their stay, with an iffy satellite receiver that gave all of three channels, one being twenty four-hour news. In short, unless you found static and white noise particularly interesting, there was rarely anything worth watching. Aside from that there was no internet and the mobile reception was hit-and-miss; the perfect recipe for boredom and a black hole in terms of meeting other people. In the ten year old road atlas in Mike's parents' car, Freida Maria wasn't even marked on the map. Either it was yet to be discovered or, more likely, whomever had happened to drive through the area had found it too mind-numbingly dull to even be worth putting down on an atlas that boasted "The best coverage in Europe."

Over the mournings of a mother back in the capital who had put her cat to bed into a wheelie bin, then consequently lost the cat to the crushing depths of a rubbish truck and was now suing the council for four thousand pounds, Mike heard the clatter of the French windows as Emily returned from the brown, dying crematorium that was the back garden and hauled herself over to the kitchen sink. She filled a glass of water and tossed her rose-coloured hair back to down the drink, tugging at the top of her none-too-coy white shirt in the heat. Mike watched her left ear twitch now and again as if irritated, and her white-tipped tail follow suit half a second afterwards. It had to be said, with that perfect hourglass figure Emily was good-looking, very much so. She too was popular with the opposite sex back at home, and had a peculiar knack of being able to get boys to do anything she wanted them to; and now here she was, mere metres away from Mike, gasping and panting against the smothering heat -

Mike crossed his legs tighter and turned back to the TV. Now was not the time. Four more days and he'd be out of this hell-hole, back home with all his regular comforts in a heat that on average was less than twenty five degrees by day.

Of which today was no exception. "Twenty nine degrees outside, folks," the weather reporter said smugly from inside his studio air conditioned to a pleasant nineteen Celsius. How else would he be wearing that black suit? Mike disliked the wolf from the moment he popped up on air. "Which means it's hot, hot, hot! Be careful out there and be sure to drink plenty of water...high pressure will be bringing yet more warm weather for at least the next three days...hottest heatwave in fifty years...temperatures as high as thirty two degrees in places..."

Mike's concentration was drifting.

"But it looks as though these young girls from South Shore have found a great way to keep cool!"

A picture flashed up on the screen: several shapely vixens in bikinis having water thrown over them on a beach by delighted volunteers, most of them ripped males, and Mike suddenly became very aware of his inextensible blue shorts. Enough of this. Grabbing the remote, he blanked the TV and gave his best attempt at a normal walk into the hallway.

"Hey."

Mike suddenly snapped out of a reverie containing a beach and a lot of wet foxes of his own. Emily had just come through into the hallway from the kitchen.

"Oh, hey." He tried to sound casual and focused.

"The others not back yet?"

"Still shopping. Yours still fishing?"

"Yep. I'm glad I didn't go with them, not in this heat." There was a barely detectable undertone of agitation to Emily's voice. Mike watched her ear and tail twitch again, apparently unconsciously.

"So we're home alone still?" Was that a note of significance in his voice?

"Yep. Just the two of us." It was returned. A sticky and - was it awkward? - silence hung in the humid air. Mike suspected it was something to do with the bikini-clad vixens that were refusing to budge from his mind's eye, but Emily herself appeared more provocative the further he surveyed her; or maybe it was the way she seemed to be leaning towards him against the stair rail. He could see her shape more clearly than ever: appealing bust, slim, uncovered waist and shapely hips supporting a small, black skirt that looked more of an annoyance than an item of clothing considering its length. The fur around her shirt collar lay slightly damp from the heat, and her mouth that bore a small smile was refreshingly moist from the drink she had just taken. It was like there was something smouldering just under the surface, a vitality that she was suddenly radiating today as she gave Mike an amused look over.

"You put on the wrong shorts today?"

Mike jumped and felt his face flare. Oh God. Had she noticed?

He stumbled. "Um - yeah, er, I'm a bit too big for them - no! I mean, they're to small for me."

Crap. Emily seemed fixated on him, an eyebrow raised. There was something other than amusement in that smile - if he didn't know better, and wasn't so excruciatingly focused on himself at that moment, he may have mistaken it for curiosity.

Mike saw her ear twitch again, twice this time. The tail followed.

"What's with the twitch thing today?" he blurted.

Unexpectedly, it was Emily's turn to falter this time. The smile dropped off her face to be hurriedly replaced with a guilty cringe. "Twitch? Am I twitching? That's nothing, really! Er - I mean, I'm just flustered. It's the hea- it's the weather."

"Well, that makes two of us, at least."

Another painful, muggy silence endured. As Mike watched something flashed in Emily's eye, like a passing phoenix, or the beginning of an idea. They both stood in the stifling hallway, avoiding each other's gaze. Mike was still very keen on the idea of making his escape from the vicinity as quickly as possible, but just as he made to creep away Emily leant forwards.

"Wait!"

He looked back. Emily had grabbed his bare shoulder half in desperation: the expression on her face had changed to one of yearning, of trouble. Even limited as he was to the confines of the house, some force inside Emily didn't want him to walk away from her.

"Look." With a heavy sigh, Emily threw caution to the winds. "You know as well as I do what's going on. We've been away for one and a half weeks, stuck here with hardly anything to do. We have needs. I know you're feeling them." Her gaze was unconsciously drawn to the front of Mike's shorts again, which he couldn't imagine could become any tighter. His heart had suddenly awoken with a vigour and his pulse coursed. Was this really happening?

"I've been longing the same way as you have." Emily was almost pleading now, her eyes alive with desire, locked onto his face. "There's nothing I can do. No internet, hardly any TV. I can't satisfy myself. Last night I shut myself in my bedroom two hours early with some Vaseline to see if I could throw it off until I can get back home, but it's obviously not been any use."

Their bedrooms were next door to each other. Either Emily was a materials researcher intent on stress-testing the cotton in Mike's underwear to the limit, or she wanted him bad. As far as he knew, Emily didn't work for Calvin Klein. Mike could almost feel her body yearning for him, taste the humid air she was panting, smell the perspiration condensing on the end of her nose that was now barely inches from his own. She tugged again at her shirt collar and his vision sharpened. Emily was staring into his eyes like they were the only things in the world that mattered, and the fingers on his shoulder tightened involuntarily, pulling him closer.

"Everyone's out. We're on our own." Mike felt he could read Emily's mind before she even spoke the words in her head, and a droplet of sweat trickled down his back as she moaned them. "We might not get another chance. I'm here, and I need it now. If you're as big - if your clothes are as 'small' as you say they are, I'm all in."

Never before had Emily looked so smoking hot and sexy as she was now, clinging with her fingertips in desperation, heaving against the summer heat. There was no way Mike was turning this opportunity down. Smiling at her torment, savouring the moment, making her wait just a little longer, he placed a teasing finger on the end of her perspiring nose.

"Then let's go."

*

Emily's bedroom was the last one, the furthest back and overlooking what the summer had left of the garden. Due to the age and relative disuse of the house, none of the bedrooms apart from the master had a carpet; the majority of the upstairs level was furnished simply with floorboards. The garden was west-facing and the sun's vibrant rays sneaked through the upstairs window to slide a bright tile across the floor as the hours went by, illuminating the dust that hung in the air and imitated the smothering humidity of the stifling afternoon. Mike and Emily had hurried up the stairs, both anxious to reach privacy with enough time before the family returned, and to allow the other to lead the way in an attempt to disguise their own voracity. Mike's blood was surging, soaked with testosterone and adrenaline, and he knew he needed this just as bad as Emily did; they had limited time. He wasn't going to take any liberties. They were going straight in.

The bedroom, fairly small, housed a medium-sized bed, light pink covers still un-made from the morning, a chest of drawers and a small wardrobe. The temperature inside was even higher than downstairs, socking Mike in the face as the door opened and enveloping him. The sun, grinning lazily in the single west-facing window, was dimmed to bathe the room in a sultry glow as Emily drew the curtains, and Mike reached to close the door. The key turned with a satisfying, isolating click. Silence. They were alone.

Emily sauntered over and placed a hand once again on Mike's shoulder. When she spoke a little of her breath still got caught back in the almost suffocating air, but there was a glint in her amber eyes that hadn't been there a few minutes before.

"You ready for this, big boy?"

Mike returned her sly smile and reciprocated the hand placement. "You know it." He drew her closer, sliding a few fingers sneakily below the collar of her shirt, feeling the dampness of her perspiration. "Question is, can you handle it?"

"Oh no." Emily's expression had turned mischievous and her eyes flashed brighter. Her hand began to move down Mike's body, caressing his strong and muscular chest. "You've got it wrong. The real question is: can you handle me?"

In one swift, fluid movement Emily's nimble fingers slipped behind Mike's waistband and pulled both his shorts and underwear, thrusting them to his feet to leave him all at once standing completely nude, free in the heat. Mike was a little shocked but, he had to admit, impressed.

"You've done this before."

"Oh, you underestimate me." Emily's breathing grew somewhat more prominent, her roguish smirk more intense. The agile hand found Mike's rear and rested there as she cast her gaze downwards. "And look who's excited. It'll just be all the more difficult for you."

"You want to bet?"

"Sure I do."

Not taking her eyes off his, Emily reached for the hem of her white shirt with both hands and began to draw it upwards, slowly, revealing more and more of her damp, white, fluffy waist and chest, Mike's pulse building with every inch. The smell of her perspiration, her scent melding with the sense of desire that was almost tangible upon the air, drifted up as a stench of pure temptation to his flaring nostrils. Mike felt something stir in his chest, around his navel, between his legs; a beast inside him was awakening, arousing, instinct mingling with the adrenaline flooding his veins. It was roaring, driving. He'd been cooped up for so long, kept the urges in, bottled them up, and now it was time to get off. He would ravage her.

With a final tug, Emily's head slipped sleekly out from the neck of the shirt. She drew her cranberry hair out delicately after it, shaking it loose, letting it cascade down across her shoulders and around Mike's hand that was becoming steadily clammier. Each strand glistened with Emily's battle against the summer fervor, a touch sticky, the tips shiny with damp. Her eyes locked into his, alive, golden and fiery.

The loose, now useless shirt dropped to the floor. Nerves tingling with anticipation, Mike made to reach for the clip of her bra, but quick as lightning Emily's hand clasped firmly around his wrist.

"And where do you think you're going?"

A smirk again; she was teasing him, and it was certainly working.

"I thought I'd -"

"Well you thought wrong." She cut across him curtly, almost giggling at his torment. "Too much of anything is not good for you, you know. You're going to have to wait your turn." A pause. "But don't worry, I'm saving the best part for you."

The strap clicked and the single item of clothing at their feet became two.

Emily now stood in front of him, nude from the waist upwards and the black skirt barely concealing what was below; the white track of fur cascading down to her waistline, her eyes sparkling with glee and her tongue protruding a little, tantalising, from the side of her mouth. Mike was beginning to pant; he couldn't help it. Emily was a temptress, an accomplished one, and she was playing with him like a thread around one of her beautiful, slender fingers. He wanted to pounce, to claw at her, to savage her and tear her apart, and she knew it. It was a game to see how far she could take him before he snapped, and she was loving every second of it.

Emily was surveying him too, every inch of his body. Her eyes, golden slits, fixed below his navel. "Good," she granted. "Pretty good. But I'm sure we can do better. Earn your stripes, Michael. You've got to suffer to deserve it."

Hadn't he suffered enough? "But - you - "

"Sshh shh shh." Emily's fingertip pressed against his lips. The trace of her sweat and her body twisted up his nostrils and his blood surged. The monster inside him was shrieking for consummation.

Eyeing him with an unbearably mischievous smile once more, Emily tiptoed backwards, creaking the dry floorboards, and slipped her fingers underneath the waistline of the cute black dress. She began to peel it downwards, excruciatingly slowly, allowing a couple of frills from her snow-white underwear to reveal themselves over the fringe. Her tail slid up over the hem from behind, her left foot delicately stepping from the boundary and her right extending to brush a toe sensuously over Mike's lower leg. The skirt, now free, slithered like a black mamba off the edge of her outstretched foot, falling still warm onto Mike's toes.

His stomach lurched like he'd just missed a step downwards. Swallowing hard to try and abate his parched mouth, Mike stood rooted to the spot. This was unreal. This was far too hot.

"Now it's your turn." Emily swayed playfully, almost completely naked, and beckoned Mike forwards. He could see the way her band of white fur narrowed and plunged below the frilled edge of her underwear, the contours of her navel obviously indicating what lay beneath. As he approached Emily's scent became stronger, almost pungent; provocative, arousing, urging him onwards, drawing him closer, mingling with his panting breath and longing tongue. She was full of desire, overflowing with lust, the passion exuding from her very pores into the sticky, smothering air around them.

At once he was in front of her. With the same tantalisingly mischievous grin, Emily clasped both of Mike's hands in her own and planted them gently, sensuously, on either side of her hips. She felt so soft, the droplets and traces of sweat from her mixing with his own clammy perspiration, the warmth of her blood coursing through her veins like a fuel to Mike's own hunger, resonating with his pounding pulse. She was alive, living, breathing within his touch, closer to him than ever before.

"Hard, isn't it?" Emily smirked, relishing her choice of words. "But you're getting there, eventually. You're closer." Her thumb slipped under the elastic of her knickers, gently, and she placed it between Mike's savouring fingertips. "Have a look inside, big boy." Her fingers encased his, guiding them down her front, squeezing them under the fabric, and Mike's rasping breath caught in his throat. The warm, almost dewy fur caressed his tingling nerves, moist with suppressed sweat exuded to fight the incredible heat of the bedroom. He could sense every contour, every curve, as Emily struggled in self-control against his touch, shuddering as he moved deeper further, checking herself, battling to control her insatiable desire. She strained, gasping in the oppressive atmosphere as his fingers explored, discovering her, caressing the inner edges of her thighs. It was all Mike could to to keep control of the beast, baying and snarling for release, clawing at his very insides.

Mike was almost kneeling now; his hands slid upwards, finding her rump, and Emily heaved forward with a moan, pressing her palms once again against his tight, muscular shoulders, brushing her cheek against his. Her dry mouth was gasping, warm, redolent, breathless against his ear.

"Now pull them down. Take them off."

He had found the base of her tail and the hem of her underwear. Squeezing Emily's rear with his fingertips, Mike placed his left hand on the outside of her pants and, as slowly and luxuriously as he could, drew them downwards along her legs. His eyes widened and his breathing quickened as they fell, revealing more and more of Emily's sumptuous body, contorting and pressing against his touch, and she cried out in passion, gripping his shoulders tighter.

"Ohh, that's right. All the way down."

The cotton slipped past her quaking knees; it was all Emily could do to keep herself standing, gasping, pressing on Mike's body for support. Her fur was sparkling now with new perspiration, sweating against Mike's stimulation, the scent fuel to his ravishing, flaring nostrils. Her contours were there in front of him, her body flowing like a dream, hungering for his desire.

The underwear finally resting at her feet, Emily stumbled backwards and Mike held the slightly damp material, drawn by an insatiable appetite towards the scent, raw passion, drive, radiating Emily's urge for gratification. He raised it towards him, the beast inside growing, bursting, the odour redolent and arousing -

At once, the cotton was jerked out of his hands. He blinked, confused, annoyed, craving. Emily's voice, barely able to keep pace with her breathing and yet still stalked with a dizzy giggle, whispered in his ear.

"Taking liberties, Michael?"

She was still taunting him. She was still in control. How?

Emily straightened up, dangling the dull white, frilled underwear tantalisingly above Mike's head, one hand on her hip, her naked body teasing him. He tried desperately to grab them but at once they jerked out of his reach. Her amber eyes flashed in glee.

"You want them?" Emily's stare fixed itself once again between Mike's legs and she chuckled. "Wow, you do. You really do." Her eyes narrowed. "Well come get them."

Mike didn't let her finish speaking before he pounced, but Emily was ready. She danced backwards, upwards, and his hankering hand closed on nothing more than thin air.

"Too slow, Michael!"

This was torture. He jumped up, stretching his arms out, but again Emily leapt out of his reach, flaunting her body, swishing her tail. She was closer to the bed now, laughing, her free hand resting on the headboard, the other still dangling the knickers, teasing Mike to bursting point.

"You're going to have to do better than that!"

Again he pounced and this time Emily bent over, whipping the underwear to the floor, her head giggling between her legs and her fluffy white-tipped tail flying upwards in-between Mike's, brushing and tickling. He gasped, struggling with all his might to contain the beast that had just thrown itself against his insides. Falling to his knees once again, Emily was in full view: her tail curling upwards against her back, her bare, exposed rump the perfect image of his desire, just begging to be ravaged; her face upside-down, her eyes bright with passion and her voice breathless with laughter.

"Got you there! Here, catch!"

Before Mike knew what was happening, Emily had tossed the underwear between her open thighs to land perfectly, still warm, over his muzzle. He buckled immediately. The odour was overpowering, igniting his nerves, stretching him to breaking point, the beast scraping, howling, yearning, his muscles heaving, but mustering all his strength Mike managed to hold on. His breath was hard and fast, his mouth parched, his whole body aflame. He wanted her now. He was either going to tear her apart, or very soon something else would happen instead.

"My, you're a strong one."

Emily was still smirking at him from between her legs, having witnessed his torment. Then, to Mike's enormous relief, she crooned the words he'd been longing to hear.

"I think you're ready. Let's do it."

In an instant Mike was up on his feet. Emily crept over onto the un-made bed, the blankets marvelously complimenting her alluring body, facing him, exposing herself. It was time, and he wasn't wasting a second.

The beast was in control now. Blood pounding, Mike leapt like a bull towards her. His hands latched onto Emily's shoulders, savouring her warmth and her touch, his body drinking in her sensuality, relishing the contact. His arms reached around her back and his chest drew close to hers, fur upon fur, at last, his dream come true, his lust a reality in front of him. He could smell her scent, stronger than ever before, mingling with his own musk exuding unstoppable from his pores, her sweat dampening his coat, their eyes locked together.

Mike regarded Emily's for a brief moment, still sparkling, still gleeful. She loved his touch, adored his playful hands around her, hungered for them, needed them, invited them. He paused. She wanted them, and wanted him. 'I need it now.'

Leaning forwards gently, Mike whispered into Emily's ear. "Are you ready?"

She giggled softly, pulling him closer, warmer. "Can you handle it?"

"Oh no." Drawing his hands out from underneath her, Mike placed his fingertips delicately around the back of her kneck, pressing against her firey pulse. "The question is: can you handle me?"

He drew his fingers around to the front of Emily's chest, tracing a heart-shaped symbol into her dewy fur that encircled her. His gaze fell on hers once again, and her eyes narrowed the tiniest amount, almost in recognition. Her left ear gave a small flick.

"You -"

"Ssh." Mike raised a finger and touched the front of her lips, luring it down her quivering throat and drawing his other hand between her bosom. He felt her intake of breath. "You're a big girl. You know what you're doing. But even you underestimate people."

Mike's powerful legs pressed against the insides of her thighs, forcing himself closer, rubbing sensuously, suggestively against her, and Emily gave a tiny yip, her voice impeded by the smothering summer air that convulsed inside her.

"You've got to earn it." Mike's voice was deeper, huskier, tempered by overflowing testosterone, dredging into her. "Just like I have. You always were one for gender equality, weren't you?"

His hands played upon her front, massaging her, galvanising her tingling nerves, exciting her heat. Emily tried to speak, to fight back, but her breath was catching in her throat.

"I - ah - you can't - I was - aah!"

She cried out, shoulders tightening against Mike's inquisitive hands, head straining backwards. He pressed harder, rubbing, searching, stimulating, probing deeper.

"How does it feel to exchange some control?"

Emily was panting now, gulping in the saturated air, helpless against Mike's command. Her hot breath flowed over his face, enlivening his nostrils, driving him forward. Mike's hands scuttled downwards towards her navel.

"I'm not coming in yet. I'm going to play with you a little longer. Got to earn your stripes, babes."

Pressure on her sides, above her hips, above her bladder, fingertips slipping further, pressing, down between her legs, rubbing, tracing. Mike could detect Emily's muscles palpitating, shuddering, tingling; she convulsed and wailed out loud, unable to help herself.

"You like that?"

Emily was gasping, eyes closed, heaving against him.

"Oh my God - Mike - you're - you're so - "

"Big?" Mike clasped his hands around the base of Emily's back and tail, trailing his muzzle down her chest and across her navel, pressing into her glistening fur with his nose, drawing her right leg up in-between both of his; breathing, drinking her pungent scent, relishing her pleasure. The beast inside him was purring, cackling, loving every moment of it, how he was torturing her, feeding her her own medicine, making her moan and cry and wail in the stifling heat. He pulled her even closer, slithering back up her body, placed a leg either side of her chest and slid down once again, squeezing her, stimulating her every smouldering nerve. Emily strained, convulsed and shrieked.

"Oh please! Oh God, please! - "

Mike's head was level again with hers, her teeth grinding, tears of lust squeezing out between her tight eyelids. He growled, deliberately allowing his warm breath to flow around her neck and his chest to resonate with hers.

"You want it?"

"Yes - God yes, yes!"

"You sure?"

Emily's hankering voice screamed the single word out into the heavy afternoon air. "Yes! Yes!"

"Then you got it."

Mike positioned his knees either side of Emily's quivering navel and surged forward, further, hearing her cry and pant. He was truly in now. He could feel her on the inside, like he could touch her soul, embrace her nerves; the beast was gaining control and instinct was taking over, driving him, overpowering him. Mike felt the swell straining against Emily, and judging by her voracious howls she certainly could too.

"Oh my God - it's so - you're so - "

Mike didn't wait for her to finish; the monster inside him was clawing for release and he pulled Emily closer to him, thrusting them both together, further in, contorting his body in yearning. He had no control over himself now. It was only the beast driving him, coiling itself to leap, to pounce, his blood pressure rising, his heart racing along with Emily's, higher, stronger. He was closing in, he was almost there, mounting, surging to bursting point, his nervous system on fire. Mike's hands were frantic, straining against Emily's back and rump, and at that moment she was tingling, quaking, shrieking; she shuddered and convulsed, tightening around him, and that was all that he needed.

Mike's heart leapt, the beast pounced and his brain flooded, and that was it; he was off, in heaven, in orbit, clawing and squeezing Emily, the girl who started it all, the girl whom, after a week of longing, he was finally spurting and squirming full of nectar, his face buried in her luscious strawberry hair, his arms tight around her fantastic waist. They were melding together, becoming one, and she was squeezing him in the light, in the brightness; her face lay warm against his neck, her sweet syrupy scent absorbing him, pulling him under, turning day into night. The nectar was flowing, coursing, forever, and he loved her more than anything; that girl, embracing her, enveloping her, thanking and rewarding her; he loved her more than anything else in the world.

They could almost have been alseep, him and her, bathed magically in the afternoon glow, grasping each other; slowing, breathing, resting, sleeping. She was so warm, so incredibly soft and comforting, Emily, purring gently in his ear with her eyes closed, still holding him as he was holding her. Her chest swelled as she murmured contentedly into his fur and Mike groaned back, nestled in her redolent, silky locks of hair, and he knew she loved him just as much as he loved her. He would never let her go.

Not that he could if he tried. The two of them lounged there, Mike still oozing gratification and, as usual after such an encounter, joined at the waist as if by glue. Mike breathed deeply, savouring the moment that drifted slowly as if on the turn of a tide. This was different than usual. Normally he would be able to feel the mood slipping, draining away, but not now; then again, normally he would have used some lubrication. He wasn't usually the one to stick around.

But this time was indeed different. Endorphins were still flooding his brain, he could still feel every inch of Emily clinging to his muscular frame, every coated inch inside her, every movement she made and every breath that she took. His tail was wound in-between his legs, around her, and she was so warm, and safe, and adoring, cuddling him, sighing, moaning into his neck: "I love you, Mike. I love you."

And he was purring back: "I love you, Emily."

It wasn't just the aftermath, he could tell. The feeling wasn't slipping and dying; it was growing, building up, it was true. He did love her. Not just for the gratification, for the experience, for the wonderful, fantastic, amazing sex: he loved her because she was Emily. She was cute, funny, intelligent, smoking hot, and here he was buried in her fur, actually buried inside of her, unable to let go, sharing the most intimate experience in existence.

All of a sudden, Mike noticed the fur on the side of his neck was warm and wet from Emily's tongue. She licked him a couple of times, nuzzling her nose into him and purring.

"Oh, Mike, that was fantastic."

He couldn't help but purr back. "Absolutely fantastic."

"But it's true." Emily placed her head delicately on the pillow beside Mike, gazing at him with those gorgeous, amber eyes of hers, her voice filled with passion. "I do love you. I sometimes suspected it in the past, but I never really knew for sure. I do love you, Mike." Emily gently caressed his cheek with her fingertip. "Ever since college when I saw you with all those other girls, I knew they'd never feel the way I do."

"They never did." Mike was surprised by his own voice. It was deep, crooning, awash with longing. "I never found the one. It was all just sex, really."

"Just sex." Emily smiled, radiant. "And what happened with us; was that 'just sex?'"

"No, babes, that was making love. It's much, much better."

"How much better?"

"Well." Mike grinned. "If you're talking that tight, my shorts didn't even come close."

Emily giggled; her beautiful, crystal amber eyes, bright jewels in the enshrouding afternoon dusk, narrowed in desire. "Oh you naughty, sexy boy," she crooned softly. Her warm, gentle hands caressed him. She wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer for the final time, and their mouths met.