Miata

Steam curls off the surface of the water in slow, lazy ribbons. Sunlight filters through the canopy overhead, dappling the wet rocks around the spring in shifting patches of gold. The air smells faintly of minerals and damp earth, warm enough to settle deep into your muscles the moment you sink into the pool.

You're sitting on a smooth submerged ledge, the hot water lapping at your chest. Your red robe hangs open across your shoulders, soaked through. A loincloth is all that separates you from being completely exposed.

Corvair is easy to spot at the far end of the spring. His dark blue woolly shape hunched over a small female fox, her legs wrapped around his thick waist, the water rocking around them in steady rhythm. He hasn't looked your way once since arriving.

The fox next to you has made no effort to keep her distance. Her arm drapes along the rocks behind your back, her free hand resting on your thigh beneath the water. Soft, heavy breasts press against your arm through the veil of steam. She nuzzles her short black muzzle against the side of your neck, breath warm and slow, her bushy tail swishing lazily behind you both. The little gold bell on her ankle jingles faintly every time she shifts.

"Aren't there any boy foxes here?" she mimics in a teasing falsetto before laughing, her golden-brown eyes half-lidded and fixed on yours. "Sorry, sweet-pea. Only girls here today."

Her claws trace a light circle on your inner thigh. You can feel the heat of her palm through the water.

The path through the valley opens onto a wide clearing ringed with tall trees. Steam rises from a series of natural rock pools terraced into the hillside, the largest of them big enough for a dozen bathers. Smooth stones line the edges, some flat enough to serve as seats, others worn into curved benches shaped by years of use. A covered wooden pavilion sits nearby, its interior piled with soft mats and folded linens.

It's quiet. Warm. A few female foxes lounge in the nearer pools, their conversations low and unhurried. One pair naps on a sun-warmed rock, tails curled together. Nobody pays you much attention beyond a curious glance.

Corvair was already ahead of you on the path. By the time you reach the spring's edge, he's waded in chest-deep and struck up a cheerful conversation with a slim fox near the center. His tail wags the way it always does when he's found someone new to charm.

A larger fox with dark hair falling over one eye watches you from the highest pool, chin resting on folded arms at the water's edge. Her heavy breasts press against the wet rocks beneath her. A small gold bell glints at her ankle. Her golden-brown gaze tracks you with a warm, patient interest.

Soft sheets bunch beneath your back. The covered pavilion filters daylight through wooden slats in warm golden bars, the air heavy and close with the mineral scent of the hot spring still clinging to your damp fur. Your legs fall open, knees bent, your cock jutting up from your hips with the foreskin still covering the head. It twitches in the open air, flushed and eager, a bead of precum already forming at the tip.

Miata settles between your thighs, her large bushy tail curling behind her for balance. Cream-colored belly fur brushes against your inner legs as she leans in, golden-brown eyes half-lidded and fixed on your cock. She reaches up with delicate fingers, the black-furred arm extending from her shoulder, and grips the foreskin between thumb and forefinger. She peels it back slowly, exposing the flushed pink tip beneath, and holds it there.

Cool air hits the wet head of your cock like a small electric jolt. Your toes curl instinctively against the sheets.

Miata leans in close, her short black muzzle inches from the exposed tip, and takes a long deliberate sniff. Her ears flatten against her head. A quiet chattering sound rolls from her throat before she pulls back just enough to speak.

"Mmmmm... you smell so good, honey."

She releases the foreskin. It slides forward on its own, pressing softly against her snout, and a bright giggle bubbles out of her before she peels it back again. This time she presses her nose right against the head and inhales deep, her tail wagging behind her. Warm breath ghosts across the sensitive skin with each exhale, making the dome glisten faintly with condensation.

"Such a pretty cock," she coos, letting her tongue drag a slow wet stripe across the dome. The wet heat of it spreads through you, every subtle ridge of her tastebuds dragging across skin that has barely been touched before. Your hips twitch upward involuntarily, and her free hand presses flat against your hip bone, holding you steady.

"Shhh, just relax for me, sweet-pea," she murmurs against you, her lips brushing the tip with each word. "Let me take care of you."

Miata straddles your hips, thick plush thighs resting on top of yours, your cock buried to the hilt inside her. The full length disappeared into her with a wet, obscene sound when she first sank down, and now she holds you there, rolling her hips in a slow lazy grind that drags your shaft against her inner walls. You feel every ripple of soft, slick flesh gripping you, clenching and releasing in a slow rhythm that matches the sway of her tail behind her.

Your arms are folded behind your head. Sweat darkens your peachy-pink fur from ears to tail, the air thick and humid around you both. Her heavy breasts sway over your face as she moves, nipples flushed pink and prominent, and when one brushes your lips you latch on without thinking, sucking gently. A warm trickle of milk hits your tongue, sweet and thin, and Miata's back arches with a soft yip of pleasure.

"Oh, good boy. Drink up, honey. You're doing so good for me."

Her hands brace on your chest, claws pressing lightly into your fur. The gold bell on her ankle jingles with each roll of her hips. Deep inside, you feel something new: a firm, rounded pressure pressing against the tip of your cock. Her cervix dipping down to meet you, the small opening seeming to purse and kiss against your cockhead before drawing you just past the threshold. The squeeze tightens, then softens, then tightens again in a gentle milking pulse that makes stars crawl across your vision.

"There we go," she sighs happily, her smug smile settling into place as she looks down at you through half-lidded golden-brown eyes. Her cream-furred belly rests warm and soft against your midsection as she leans forward, letting more of her weight settle onto you. "Just like that. Nice and easy."