Getting ready for work with Luna around was… awkward. After our brief discussion the previous night before bed, I still felt like I hadn’t gotten to the bottom of her feelings, but, instead of digging deeper, I ended up avoiding the subject as much as possible.

  Regardless, I felt bad saying goodbye to Luna, even if we would be seeing each other in another couple of hours, and that feeling lingered on the commute in to work, all the way until I opened the door to the studio we’d be working in and realised what it was that I was about to do.

  Emily was chatting with one of the camera crew, a strong looking butch that seemed much more invested in the conversation than Emily was – not that Emily wasn’t amicable or engaged, but rather that her conversation partner was especially interested.

  All of that fshed through my mind in a split second, in the time it took Emily to register the sound of the door opening and turn, an even bigger smile breaking out on her face when she saw me. And that’s about where my thoughts ended.

  I registered the disappointed look Emily’s friend gave me as Em dashed towards me and pulled me into a hug, but I didn’t have the thoughts to process the implications. I heard Emily greet me, and I exchanged ‘how are you doing?’s with retive proficiency, but it was all some little critter in my head managing the bare minimum of interactivity.

  There was only one thought in my head: oh my… she’s going to be inside me in less than thirty minutes…

  I had never cimed that I wasn’t a sexual being. Even as I’d grappled with my sexuality, I’d never felt anything beyond the normal amount of shame about my fantasies and habits – at least the ones that didn’t involve people I knew.

  But it was one thing to accept that I liked sex, to accept that I was attracted to women, and it was another entirely to have my body entirely hijacked by looking at Emily. And she wasn’t even naked yet! She was wearing a tank top and joggers, but every inch of her skin that was showing drew my eyes in and snared my focus in the process.

  “What do you say, Sarah? Does that sound good?” Emily’s easy smile beamed down on me, shaking me out of my lusty haze.

  “Wha?” I managed, dragging my eyes away from her shoulder and back to her eyes.

  “I said,” she started, leaning in and pcing a hand around the base of my neck, “are you okay with me getting a little rough?”

  You could do literally anything you want with me.

  The thought passed through my head, but thankfully I didn’t have the breath to say it with, buying me valuable time for my mind to catch up. “What do you mean, specifically?” I asked, trying to stay coherent and professional.

  She tilted her head, adopting a more serious tone, “Well, I guess there’s two parts to it. First,” she said, holding up one finger, “is the overall speed and intensity of our scene – the tone, if you will. Other options would be tentative and exploratory, silly and fun, romantic, or taboo. Obviously it’s more complicated than that, but we should at least have some consensus about what kind of atmosphere we’re trying to create so that our performances match up and the editors have something coherent to work with.”

  I nodded, following along so far.

  “And secondly,” she held up two fingers, “I’m asking if you’re comfortable with rough treatment: spanking, choking, biting – that kind of thing. I’m not willing to take any of those things very far – especially not here,” she said, waving a hand across the room, “but if you’re interested, I could incorporate it a little.”

  I continued nodding, gathering my thoughts.

  “I guess I kind of assumed I’d be leading – but if you wanted to…” she trailed off, showing a hint of uncertainty.

  “No, I’m happy with you leading – you’re more experienced, and I definitely prefer being on the… taker end of things,” I said, staring at the well-lit bed in the middle of the room. “As for the other things you said, I’d be interested in something along those lines – but what if instead of rough we did passionate?”

  Emily twisted her lips and then began slowly nodding. “Yeah, I see what you mean… I like it!” she smiled, not at all visibly flustered by the idea of passionately having sex with me.

  I blushed at her acceptance, despite the fact that I’d been the one to suggest it. “Okay, that’s good.” I paused for a moment, thinking, “I’m okay with spanking and biting, as long as you keep it pretty light – but no choking. I’m not sure how much either of those will come up, at least if you have the same idea of what passionate means that I do.”

  She nodded, “Yeah, you want me to be desperate, to frantically pound into you while I entwine all ten of my fingers in yours and bring our lips together so we can moan decrations of love in each other’s mouths – right?” she raised an eyebrow, self-assured.

  My skin flushed and sweat, every bit of my body muggy and wet except for my parched mouth. I let out a shuddering breath and nodded, desperately trying to get my racing heart under control.

  Emily reached up and ruffled my hair, brushing between my twitching ears. “You’re such a good pet.”

  I couldn’t help but think back to the dream I’d had a while back, before ever trying out the fox features. But even that – a literal wet dream – couldn’t compare to the thigh-quivering intoxication of having Emily seduce me in person. I didn’t even care about the job anymore – I just needed her inside me and the nearest bed happened to have a bunch of cameras pointed at it.

  —

  Unfortunately, filming is not a spontaneous process – at least not at this level of budget. Emily and I had to wait for the crew to talk and shuffle lights and microphones around – all while I clung to Emily and rubbed my face against her arm while she watched with a knowing smile, giving me the occasional comment to keep my arousal going.

  That wasn’t to say that the time before our shoot dragged, however. Emily was charismatic and enthralling, and once she figured out that I was done with conversation, she dragged me around the room while chatting with each of our crew, most of which she was on a first-name basis with.

  When all of the cameras were set up and the lighting was perfect, however, it finally began with a touch.

  Really, that was the only way it could begin – it being our performance. They still weren’t asking me to do some terrible acting beforehand, so the beginning of our dance was necessarily, by definition, the point at which we first touched.

  But what a touch it was… Emily, unlike Alice, had a way of making me forget the audience. She stared into my soul and smiled at whatever it was that she saw, bringing her hand up to cup my cheek and pull me in, below her head, so she could lean over me and drop a soft kiss on my lips. We were kneeled on top of the sheets, our knees pressing together as we leaned out over the space between us to come together.

  Her gentleness, however, could never be mistaken for passivity; there was no doubt who was in control. No, it was abundantly clear to me, and it would be abundantly clear to the audience as well, that her movements were born from a deep, unabashed love – at least within the fiction of our performance. She rubbed our noses together and giggled in between kisses, her hands unafraid of grabbing onto my body, yet completely unhurried in their exploration.

  Even preparing myself for the moment, talking and pnning it out with her, I could not stop the warm tingle that cascaded down my skin, nor the happiness welling up in my chest. My arousal had been soothed, coaxed from a violently boiling liquid into a viscous syrup, each of Emily’s caresses and pecks sweetening the feeling deep in my gut.

  She drew me in so effortlessly, so completely, that I hadn’t even registered the fact that we were still clothed – a difference from my experience with Alice. Once I noticed, however, it became painful in its obviousness, a gring issue that stung and prodded at me every time her hands brushed over my clothes instead of my goosebump-covered skin.

  As we worked up our tempo, Emily began to py into how I’d been rubbing my face on her; each of her kisses preceded by a swipe of her mouth and followed by continuing the motion, dragging the soft skin of our faces together, or our lips on each other’s cheeks. Each movement was part of a never-ending spiral, a pattern that was flowing and fluid, only showing her desire for faster, harsher movements under the surface.

  Even as my nervous breaths gave way to panting and I surrendered my body’s weight to her arms, she still never teased or groped, her eyes insisting just as much as her actions that her intentions were pure and sexless, despite the surrounding context.

  Of course, that couldn’t st forever; eventually our clothes had to fall.

  But, rather than the pretences of her nguishing adoration dropping in favour of more scivious and crude movements, her stare remained pure and her movements started to show the first signs of passion.

  She started by taking off my shirt, and, despite the simplicity of the action, the way she gripped the hem and pulled up, her fingers remaining respectful but not unfamiliar…

  I ached my back and sighed at the ceiling, my body naturally giving way to Emily’s desires. We did not coordinate the way she held me upright by my bare abdomen with one hand while the other removed my bra, nor the way my arms remained above my head even after she threw my shirt across the room – and yet, despite the ck of coordination, it all came together in a perfect py, a set of actions so natural that even from inside my body, I could not honestly call what I did acting.

  She kissed my neck and snaked her arm around my lower back, just above where my tail protruded, and the needy whine that escaped my mouth was as authentic as the smile that followed it. When she cupped my breast with her other hand and kissed my nipple, the way my body shuddered and tensed was not for our audience, but for Emily – to communicate to her that I loved everything that she was doing, that I was deeply comfortable with her touch, and – even if only in the subtext of my wordless confession – that I wanted more, not just in the scene, but in reality.

  Thankfully, that thought was quickly washed away by Emily, who had finally gotten around to removing my skirt, requiring me to turn around and lean my body back into her so she could raise my hips and pull the fabric down. My soaked panties soon followed, and my naked body and wagging tail were fully on dispy for her to take in. I rexed, enjoying leaning back on her while her hands ran up and down my torso and her lips peppered kisses on my colrbone, but my hunger for more drove me to spin around and pull at her clothes, giving her an exaggerated pout.

  She ughed and threw off her tank top and sports bra in two quick swipes, exposing her toned chest. I’d technically seen her naked before, but the person I was familiar with might as well have been a distant retive given everything that had changed – her body hair was thin, soft, and almost invisible, her chest was rounded and tight, and her waist pulled together in mouth-watering slopes and curves.

  I could’ve spent days staring at her, memorising every little bulge of muscle and packet of fat, but the theme of the day was flow, and my eyes couldn’t stop themselves from flowing down, towards the next area to be revealed.

  I hadn’t put much thought into her penis – having assumed there wasn’t much to think about, given that I’d spent time with it before – but that was a miscalcution, because when I finally did stare at the bulge in her joggers, when I saw the feminine curve of her hips combined with the aggressive tenting of her pants, I damn near came right then and there. In my defence, I’d been on a hair-trigger for hours, the anticipation building for days, and the thought that I could just reach out and grab it, that it would soon be inside me, it was almost too much.

  But, even as I clenched my thighs and quivered, I persevered, reaching down to cup her package while staring up into her eyes, letting the lewd expression on my face speak for itself. Her lips pressed themselves into mine again as my hand gripped and my fingers began groping, taking in the pulsing heat down there and comparing it to the warm breeze that was our kiss.

  And, as much as I loved how gently she was treating me, how well she milked me for minutes of gasps and whines, I needed more. My hand didn’t stay outside her pants for long, nor did it bother wasting time in the intermediary step of teasing her through her underwear. No, I quickly dove in with both hands, one brushing down her inner thigh while the other fondled her cock, teasing out the first of many twitches.

  Little splotches of pre-cum lubricated my absentminded strokes – my mind having melted off into thinking about my dream again. I hated to add another thing to my already-long list of kinks, but the idea of her pumping me full of her seed – and the way my heart raced at the thought – was enough for me to finally accept I had a bit of a breeding fetish. I didn’t even know if I could get pregnant for sure, given how untested and unexpined my powers were, but the combination of Emily’s loving demeanour and my ravenous arousal could have easily driven me to try and find out.

  I whined when Emily pulled me off of her for a moment so she could remove her pants, not wanting to let go for a second, and once she was naked I pouted at her pulling out a condom and rolling it down her long shaft. My disappointment didn’t st for long, however, as Emily was just as ready as I to move on to the main event. There was a moment of confusion where I wasn’t sure what position we were going for, until I let her take over, moving my body to where she wanted – on my back for missionary.

  Unfortunately, as ready as our minds were, my body was not. I was tight, and when Emily tried to enter me she quickly ran into problems, despite how lubricated everything was down there. She leaned over me and whispered in my ear between kisses as she used one finger to coax me wider. “C’mon pet, rex,” she sighed, following it up a moment ter with, “That’s it, don’t you want me inside you?”

  Contrary to her expectations, that comment, and others like it, let me get in my own head, causing me to clench harder with worries that I was dead weight for Emily or that I was doing something wrong. Thankfully, after a few minutes of careful fingering – making sure she didn’t go too hard and let me come early – I was finally ready for her.

  This time, she pressed inside with one fluid motion. I tried to cover my face with my arms, the feeling of her eyes staring down on me too much to handle, but she pried them away, entwining both of her hands’ fingers in mine and mouthing ‘passion’ at me as she bottomed out.

  She waited there for a moment before squeezing my hands and pulling back for her first of many thrusts. As she found her rhythm, starting off with a long, steady pace, my mind was free to roam untethered from my body. My hands were in hers, my weight supported by pillows, and my legs were locked behind her back, so there was nothing demanding my attention other than contempting the feelings between my legs.

  There’d been a lot of firsts I’d experienced recently – even if they weren’t ones that were usually observed or noted. Just being in a woman’s body could make the most mundane activities feel completely novel.

  And what I was doing with Emily was nothing new. I’d had sex with Alice with this body – at least minus the tail – I’d already had sex with Emily before our respective transitions, and I’d even already experienced penetration, using a toy for one of my solo films. And yet, why was it that I felt like my life had just started the moment she began moving inside me, that everything before had never been anything but memories and that this was the first thing I’d ever experienced?

  I could not say, nor could I say when my orgasms happened or how many there were. Emily was inside of me, around my hands, and on my lips. Her chest was pressed to mine, our sweat mixed, and our skin burned against each other. Before that moment I had never understood the metaphor of ‘becoming one’ with someone else. But then, in the seconds that stretched across minutes, we were one.

  At some point she’d increased the tempo, spping her flesh into mine with no sense of exhaustion – only desperation. The mattress bounced underneath me, the damp pool of sweaty sheets under my back unduting with each hit. My tail had squirmed off to the side, permanently tense and frazzled as it struggled to keep up with the rest of my emotions. Moans and cries escaped me, each distorted by the never-ending frantic dance – my own wordless yells echoing back at me against the ceiling.

  Before long I realised – from a handful of indicators – that things were about to end soon. Emily twitched inside of me, my own walls clenched and prepared for my biggest climax yet, and the cheap bed – driven well past what it had prepared for by Emily’s prowess – scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as it slid in the direction of the headboard. Any one of these things might’ve ended our performance, or all of them could’ve come together for a suitable grand finale. What happened instead, was so much more surprising.

  There, in the endless moment right on the edge of realisation, Emily spoke for the first time.

  “I love you, Sarah,” she said with surprising crity, given the sweat pouring down her face. Her eyes stared into mine, none of her usual pyfulness hidden there for me to see and for the audience to miss.

  Who is the audience? Is it you? Or is it me…?

  Then everything else came crashing down. Something in the bed snapped – the mattress sagging slightly – my final orgasm finally peaked, driven higher by Emily’s words, and Emily herself finally came inside me, our pelvises pressed together as she twitched and shuddered.

  For a long moment we stared into each other’s eyes, panting to try to catch our breaths.

  Then, she fell back onto the snted bed away from me, pulling her bulging condom out in the process, and made a chopping motion with her hands, calling out, “Cut!”

  And, as much as I would’ve loved to bask in the post-sex euphoria, there was something more pressing to deal with. As Emily lifted her head and gave me her usual friendly smile before climbing out of the bed and disposing of the condom, I realised a horrible truth.

  This doesn't just feel like a stupid crush...