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.
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First Times & Heat Rhymes
Part One
Still and quiet, the grey wolf embraced the night.
She perched upon a flat rock beside the river, hind paws dangling over the edge to dip her bare toes in the water. Her sandals sat on the rock behind - a bold style choice for a young lady of her time - within her reach if needed. Staring down into the water, she swept her hair over her shoulders, letting it fall in a shimmering, black curtain down her back. Lined with willow trees, the trickle and burble of the river was soothing to her twitching ears and she relaxed as the minutes dripped by, leaning back on her paws to cast her gaze towards the star spangled sky.
So much bright...
Had she been rash in her choice? The wolf shook her head, trouble gleaming in her eyes. It had been a simple enough thing to accept an invitation. It could even be said to be impolite to ignore an invitation from a good friend without fair reason, especially for a young lady. Yet she questioned her choice. She blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the repetitive action, the physical sense of being. Whereas she had pursued the quest of knowledge in her young life, travelling to countries on the nearest continent to her home soil, England, it was not an interest in yet another summer study retreat that made her toes curl impatiently.
She blushed, raising a paw to her cheek to feel the heat seeping through fur, invisible to all but touch.
No: hers was a far sweeter concern.
A bush rustled and she sat up, tail stiff and ears pricked to catch the faintest noise on the breeze. The bush - a small, green shrub of approximately waist height - shivered with mirth, a chuckle bursting forth. Knowing 'it' had been caught, the culprit of mischief himself leapt from it, leaves and twigs tangled in his mop of brown hair, a mangled tuft atop his head.
The wolf shook her head, heartbeat returning to something akin to a normal pace. Though she could never be truly relaxed around this bat, oh no.
"Hans," she murmured. "You followed me from the house."
"I would not have followed you from any other location, my dear."
Too quick for her.
He bowed with a flourish, sweeping a winged arm across his stomach in the most gentlemanly pose he could muster. Against her will, the wolf giggled, the sound loud under the cover of darkness. Yet there was no one near enough to hear them; even the lights of Hans' brother's house were snuffed out in the distance, candles and lamps quieted as the household slumbered. Only the youngsters were awake to cause trouble this silent night.
The wolf paused, wanting to say more, but was unable to stop greedily drinking in the bat's form with her eyes. Garbed in a thick coat, his flannel sleeping trousers fell to his ankles, boots unlaced and messy. She flushed at the thought that he had not even wanted to wait to tie his laces before following her outside. She had made sure he had seen her leave, after all, and his haste pleased her.
His leathery wings creaked as he stood up tall, brown fur bristling along the line of his short muzzle, which was tipped with a flat nose.
"What has possessed you to come out here on your own, Bethany?" Hans frowned, shrugging off his father's overcoat. "You shall catch your death."
"I do not feel the cold, you know this, Hans. And I was not the one hiding in a bush. Could you not find a more suitable hiding place? We are no longer pups, after all."
"Bethany." His eyes were stern as he held out his coat to her, offering it in one paw. "Please. I will not see you chilled."
She signed and took the offered coat, rising to her hind paws in order to put it on. Hans stood an inch or two taller than her, otherwise matching the charming female perfectly in height. Clad in a simple nightshirt, he shivered, short fur fluffing up as he strove not to show Beth that he was indeed cold. The wolf's lips twisted and she faced the fleeting thought of wrapping her arms around him, pulling him close so that he could share the natural heat of her body.
The cold never bothered me anyway...
She crossed her arms over her chest, pressing the thin night shirt close to her fur.
"You can call me Beth, Hans. You are always so formal with me. Why is that?"
"My..." He rubbed his shoulder, fingers dancing away an itch. "You are direct tonight...Beth. There is something different about you. I shall be damned if I can put my finger upon it though."
Beth turned her muzzle away, hiding a smile. She did not want Hans to think she was laughing at him, the way he still ever so slightly mixed up his words. A German accent was difficult to hide but his skill in speaking English was incomparable to any other English second language speaker she had come across thus far. It never ceased to amuse her and made something in her heart flutter like the wings of a trapped butterfly.
The bat stepped closer. Beth imagined she could sense the beat of his heart, tap-tapping like a drum as it pumped his life blood through his veins. Her mouth watered and she blinked, chasing away the notion with a scowl. No, not that. It was not proper for the moment. Mother had said so. She would not say anything serious without rhyme or reason to her cautions.
