Client Number Five
Typical Disclaimer
This story is a work of erotic fiction, featuring anthropomorphic (furry) characters. If that disturbs you, don't read it. Any resemblance between characters portrayed here and people or characters elsewhere is both unintentional and coincidental
Preamble
From conception to completion, this story took about 15 hours to write and is a bit of an experiment, in that it's an intentional departure from my regular style. In particular, there is an absence of character descriptions. Age, build, species, and physical characteristics are left to the reader's own preferences.
Originally titled To the Girl at My Door, this story featured the secondary character as explicitly female, but at the last minute she was remodelled to be gender neutral within the text - again, you are quite free to impress your own preferences upon the story. In fact I'd love it if you do, then tell me what you chose :)
Client Number Five
It's nine o'clock exactly, and there's the knock on the door. Exact, always perfectly on time. I smile, padding around the counter of the breakfast bar, setting the oven gloves to one side so that I can find the keys in my pocket.
And there you stand, smiling and bubbly and radiant. You've chosen a country look today; a white hat putting floating over your grinning face; a checked shirt knotted just below your sternum, showing off your toned and softly furred midriff; full length tight jeans - you know I think of the classic hotpants as a little too blatant, that you'll get my interest by concealment more than display; brown suede boots rising up to the middle of your calves, tassels hanging from the brim to your ankles.
You laugh as I surge forward and hug you, your arms wrapping around me, your hand petting the back of my head as I hang my chin over your shoulder.
"You look wonderful," I tell you, and your embrace tightens as you thank me. You tell me I look good, and I realise I'm still in my office clothes, creased, and with a dash of photocopier toner across my left cuff. I was working late again, I apologise. I ask if you'd like me to change, but you shake your head, your cheek pressed to mine, and tell me it doesn't matter. After a few moments you nudge me gently, and I step back, blushing a little as I invite you in.
I've bought you flowers, even though it's you who's come to my door. I just like the way you look when you take them from me, how your eyes shine with affection as you lean forward to kiss my furry cheek, pressing your nose against me for a moment.
"Dinner's about ready," I tell you softly, and you smile, leaning forward, your muzzle close to mine, your breath warm against my lips before you kiss me. Gently, lightly, just a warm little contact to remind me why you're here.
The candles flicker between us as we sit. I've dimmed all the other lights in the room to minimum, so that we're both cast into shadow at our backs, faces illuminated and highlighted by the little flames. You pause, inhaling the aroma from your plate, savouring the smell for a moment before you pick up your fork. It's good, you tell me, and I relax. I've never been much of a chef, but having someone to cook for seems to bring out the best in me. Or maybe I just care more, now.
"It's low alcohol," I tell you softly as I catch you looking at the wine bottle on the table, just a crisp white, nothing that will fog your senses. You smile at me, and I pour your drink, and then mine. We tap our glasses together and say "cheers," and both drink at the same time. Your free hand finds mine, squeezing my fingers gently.
As silly as it sounds, I enjoy watching you eat. It's not that I have any wish for you to round out - you're perfect as you are, slender, but not angular - but just that you seem to take genuine pleasure from it. For me, it's always about throwing something down my neck quickly so I can get on with something else, but you... you take your time, you savour every bite, you let the flavours and textures impress themselves upon your senses, eating for the act of eating, not for the sensation of fullness.
I ask if you'd like seconds, and you smile and shake your head. You catch hold of my tie as I rise to take your plate, pulling me down to your level to press your lips against mine. I feel your tongue against my lips, and I loosen my jaw, meeting you in the confines of our muzzles, sighing softly as your hands find my waist. As we break apart, your eyes sparkle in the candle light, and you tell me you'd rather have dessert.
Well who am I to refuse?
The plates land on the table again as you stand, your hands on my flanks, pushing me backwards from the kitchen-diner, along the corridor, and into the living room. Positioning me in front of the sofa, you push, and I flop onto the cushions as you move to the window. It's dark outside, and three miles of street lights shine out across the valley. You pause, looking out, and I stand to move behind you, my arms around you, my chin on your shoulder. Feeling you sigh softly, I ask if you're ok, and you smile and nod, saying that of course you are.
You reach out to close the curtains before turning in my arms, hugging me, leaning your head against mine for a long moment of closeness. You're so soft and sweet sometimes. And then there's times like now when your hands take a dive south and end up slipping behind my belt, gripping my bottom firmly. My nose presses against your neck, inhaling the warm smell of your fur as your fingers spread across my buttocks, holding me possessively for a few moments before retreating, tugging my shirt loose from my trousers as you lift your hands.
Your kiss is fiery, passionate, your tongue battling against mine as your fingers find my belt buckle. I step back as you push, following your guidance until the backs of my knees find the sofa and I topple onto it. You follow my fall, pushing my pants down my legs, bunching them around my ankles, leaving only my shirt to preserve my dignity as you kneel over my lap. Softly, gently, you hold my head against your chest, your hands running over my fur, petting my ears, murmuring quietly to me, telling me to relax, to trust you, to not worry.
I do trust you, and I relax, holding you tightly, resting my head against your body. Your finger under my chin brings my lips up for another kiss, softer this time, slower, and I fight back a soft moan as you push your hips down against mine.
Your grin reaches almost to your ears as you lean back. Kissing my nose softly, your hands find my tie, letting it fall over the arm of the sofa. I'm panting as you unbutton my shirt, exposing my chest to your eager hands, running over my fur, stroking, petting, caressing. You keep your hips pressed down firmly over mine even as you drag my shirt out from under us, pulling it down to my elbows, binding my arms to my sides. Leaning forward, you place a soft kiss on my forehead, your hands gently petting my flanks as I push my hips up under you.
I want you.
And you know it.
"P-please..."
Your eyes sparkle as I let you know you've got me where you want me. I'd do anything for your, right now, all you'd have to do is ask. But that's not part of your plan. Dipping your nose, you let your lips brush mine as you ask if I'm ready.
You don't even wait for me to nod as you slide back along my legs, your hands stroking my fur all the way down from my shoulders to my hips, your gaze never leaving mine as you kneel at my feet.
"I haven't showered," I realise, blushing, and you smile gently, telling me that's all right. Reaching into a pocket, you pull out one of those little packets of baby wipes, and I laugh, nodding. You start gently at my inner thighs, close up to my body, ever so gently running the moist cloth against my fur, teasing me with it, dancing up to my tummy, diving into the crease at the top of my thigh, before finally, finally moving across naked skin. I gasp as the cool sensation passes across my aching erection, tenderly cleaning. Cold air makes me shiver as you blow gently over me, your cloth now caressing my testicles.
You're on me almost before I'm dry, your tongue finding the edge of my furry sheath, dragging warmth all the way up my shaft, pressing me against my own fur until you reach the tip. Carefully you tilt your head over me, taking me into your muzzle, wet heat surrounding me and my hands clench tight. Without hesitation, you push yourself down my length, and I tremble as I watch inch after inch disappear into your tender care. Your nose touches my fur, nuzzling me as I pant fast breaths through pursed lips.
Your tongue drags against me as you pull back, your gaze rising to meet mine as I put a hand to one of your soft, soft ears, gently stroking you. Sitting back a little, you lap your tongue over my tip, making me shiver as you ask me how long. Biting my lip, I tell you a week, and you smile understandingly, wrinkling your nose cutely. And then you're on me again, long, slow licks from my sheath to my tip, each one making my breath catch in my chest. One of your gentle hands is between my legs, holding my softly furred testicles carefully, caressing, ever so lightly squeezing. The other finds my tail, petting, raking fingers through the fur, reaching almost - almost - up underneath my body, teasing, threatening, but never touching the vulnerable skin there.
I push my head back into the cushioned sofa as you move over me once again, one inch, two, three, down all the way until your nose meets my fur. I can't last long, and you know it, bobbing your head gently, your expression letting me know that whenever I'm ready is ok.
And I'm ready.
Oh gods, am I ready.
I'm so hard in your muzzle that it almost hurts, every beat of my heart a clear sensation as you wrap your mouth tightly around me, drawing on me as if on a drinking straw. Closing my eyes tightly, I feel the snap between my legs, the unstoppable rush of pressure and pleasure, and I know there is nothing in the world that can stop what is to happen. For just one, shining moment, I know the future, in all it's inevitability.
And then the future is the present, and my control is gone.
Throwing my head back against the padded sofa, a wordless noise escapes my lips as my climax thunders through me, each surge passing along my shaft in a glorious rush of ecstasy. The world shrinks around us, and there is only the pleasure.
Your giggle sounds in my ear, and I embrace you as you settle across my lap. Your kiss tastes like white wine, and I realise I must have blanked out for a short while.
"You're so good at that," I whisper, my nose pressing up under your chin, nuzzling your fur, inhaling your scent. You laugh lightly, and say you know.
I hold you as we sit together, me naked against the cushions, you fully dressed atop me. It feels so good, just to hold you, just to be so close to you.
"I need a shower," I think aloud, and you nod, making me laugh. Sliding from my lap, you hold your hand out to me, and I take it, your warm fingers wrapping around mine, tugging me gently along the hallway, guiding me to the bathroom. Turning the water on, setting the temperature, you turn to kiss me, pressing me back against the tiled wall as my hands tug lightly at your top. Pulling back, grinning, you place a finger to my lips, quieting me.
I watch as you step back, stretching luxuriously, hands high over your head, smooth fur shimmering in the soft bathroom lighting. Grinning, you slowly, very slowly unbutton your shirt, teasing me as you reveal yourself to my eyes. Your boots must be somewhere back in the hallway, because your jeans slide down your toned legs easily, pooling at your feet as you step out of them. You didn't even bother with underwear.
Your naked chest presses against mine as we embrace, cheek to cheek. I can feel the restrained passion in your body, the way you tremble when I sweep my hand down from the nape of your neck to your soft bottom. I hold the shower curtain aside for you as you gracefully enter, following, wrapping my arms around you again, holding you tight under the warm water.
Your hands run over my body as you turn to face me, catching hold of a bottle of liquid soap from the shelf behind, lathering my back as we stand chest to chest. I loosen my grip as you move to my front, your soapy hands gliding easily over my fur, running across my stomach, up my flanks, under my arms, hooking behind my shoulders to pull me into a soft kiss. Taking the soap from you, I return the attention, gently rubbing it into your soft fur, caressing between your ears as you turn your back to me, washing out along the length of your tail.
We both try to kneel at the same time, and we laugh, hunched over and pressing our lips together for a moment, before you push me back upright. Your hands are warm and gentle along my legs, fingertips rubbing the soap deep into my fur, rubbing delicately over the sole of each foot as I stand on each leg in alternation, having to balance myself with a hand on your head. Mischievously, you glance up at me before pressing your nose to my sheath, licking hungrily over the top until my growing erection makes itself known.
Standing, you grin wickedly at me before passing me the soap, and I laugh. But of course, two can play that game. Hands on your shoulders, I turn you away from me, crossing my arms over your chest as your head falls back onto my shoulder. You hum softly as I nuzzle your neck, your tail batting between my thighs, lifting to press up between my legs.
You wriggle as I run my hands over the tickly places along your flanks, kneeling behind you, resting my cheek against your bottom for a moment, savouring the delicate softness of your body. I love the feel of your body under my hands, the way you tremble as I wash you, the way your breathing pauses for a moment as I brush your inner thighs, being released in a tumble of giggles as I suddenly switch track, lifting your foot, threading my fingers between your toes.
Hands on your hips, I turn you, kissing your lower tummy, seeing you smile down at me, your expression affectionate and tender. I dip my nose, pressing lightly against the pink skin between your legs, and you shiver. I can smell your scent, warm, and pleasing, and very ready. But not here. I want this night to be perfect.
I stand, kissing you, and you moan into my mouth, your body flattening against mine as I reach out to turn off the water. Stepping from the shower together, we embrace, your hand snagging the cord for the heater, sending warm air gusting over us. I would be happy to just wait here until we dry like this, but you grab a towel from the rack, a look in your eye saying very plainly that you aren't prepared to stay here for long, and I grin.
We dry each other quickly, but tenderly, my lips finding your nipples, your fingers finding my tail, and by the time we tumble into the bedroom, we're both panting and flushed. For a moment, you push me to the wall, kneeling before me and wrapping your muzzle around me, sighing with satisfaction, holding me like that for several long seconds before you move again. You practically jump onto the bed, landing on your back, and I'm not far behind. Kneeling between your ankles, I lean forward, touching my nose between your legs, and biting your lip, you tell me that you want me. How could I ever say no?
Smiling, I crawl up your body, pressing my nose to your fur all the way, up your stomach, along your sternum, nuzzling into the hollow of your throat. You whimper into our kiss, your hips arching upwards, but I hold my body high, and you thrust against empty air. Leaning my head down, lips by your ear, I whisper my request. You nod, smiling, and twist yourself under me. Your tail caresses my stomach as you press your chest to the sheet, your bottom lifted, your hand under us, catching hold of my erection and guiding it to you.
We both moan softly as I sink into you, my lips nibbling your left ear, you chewing at a corner of the pillow. I pause, panting, trembling, as the warmth of your body embraces me, your soft bottom pressed tight against my hips. We allow our bodies to fall to the mattress, my chest against your back, my shaft held tight in the warmth between your legs. You spread your knees, arching your back for that better angle, and shiver as I gently thrust against you, my tip gliding over that special place inside.
I know you're worked up, I can feel it in the way you tremble and shiver under me, hear it in your soft whimpers, see it in your eyes as you look back over your shoulder. There's a growing tension in your body as I work myself against you, your hands reaching out across the mattress, bunching up in the sheets as you spread-eagle yourself under me. Each motion of my hips against you sends a visible shiver up your spine, and you mewl softly into the pillow, a rising pitch and intensity.
As I gently nibble the back of your neck, your control snaps. Your body tightens around me, as soft cry escaping your lips as your body locks rigid under mine. I hold you tightly, nuzzling you, murmuring to you, telling you how wonderful you are, kissing your neck and shoulders.
Panting into the pillow, you relax slowly, trembling as I hold you, petting and caressing. You draw your arms in, tighten your legs around mine, and I understand. Together, we roll to the side, your back to my chest as your weight presses down on me, and I hug tight around your waist. Your hands cover mine, gently tugging them away and you sit, turning, never losing the contact between us until you kneel over me, leaning forward until your muzzle touches mine.
You ask me how close I am, and I blush. Not far. Smiling, you kiss my nose, rocking your hips against me. Taking your weight on your arms, you give my hands free access to your body, running over your fur, your toned muscles and curves. You grin down at me as you push your hips against me, rising and falling in my lap, your expression showing that you know full well what this does to me.
And it's doing it fast.
Your hands find mine, pinning them tight against my chest, your weight bearing down onto me, leaving my no room for movement or choice. My pleasure is in your control.
As the tension inside me peaks, you fall against me, and I wrap my arms around you, my hips hunching up to fill you as deeply as I can. Your nose brushes my cheek as I surrender to climax, sparks of pleasure dancing across the back of my eyelids as each surge of warmth passes between us.
The room darkens as you flick the light switch by the bed, and I sigh contentedly, rolling us onto our sides, holding you against me as you cuddle me. I'm tired, and ready for sleep, and I know you don't mind. You never do.
"I love you," I whisper softly, and as your fingers caress my lips, I know it's a stupid thing to say. I know as I close my eyes, that you won't be here when I wake up. Nor will all the money in my wallet. But you're honest, and you never take more than we agree, even when I try to tip you.
In the end, you are companion number seventeen, and I am your client number five.
But you always take the flowers.