Foxes in the Hen House

When many think of Fox and the Hen, they think of a menacing, older bushy-tailed creature slyly peering into a clucking vivacious home. They presume that the fox with his gleaming eyes gobbles the hens with great haste, causing an abrupt ending to the tale. In such analogy, it is always presumed that the foxes are older men and the hens are young girls. Yet, when I looked at my lover, all I could think of was myself as the Fox. We had met at an art gallery, him sitting quietly on a bench admiring an abstract piece, me admiring him. He had soft green eyes that silently bored into your soul, as though he had the ability to read every thought before the tiny mechanical creatures in my brain had time to type out my next inquiry.

His grey chest hair peeked through a plaid shirt, and his body gave off this overwhelming scent of pine. As my eyes followed the curves of his elderly yet highly virile shape, I could not help but become deeply ensconced within my desire for him. They say that men objectify women, and yet so shamelessly I was coveting him in the way that many men had to my sex for as long as there have been respective sexes. I imagined myself on top of him, gently moving my hips against his. I imagined the soft groans that such movement would elicit, the way that his dick would feel inside of me. Such ideas made my eyes glimmer and gleam, such as a fox's eyes did.

One thing led to another, and we did find ourselves talking. My desire for him was not in vain, for he felt very similarly about me. Yet, the way he looked at me was gentle, and loving. It was the kind of look that informed me about his touch, way before he put his hands on my body. The look was a kind and mischievous one, a look that conveyed everything that I needed to know. We first made love on a rainy evening, with God's teardrops pounding senselessly on his home's windows. He turned off the light, and we inched our bodies closer and closer together under the covers. I had many thoughts in that moment, but the reigning one reflected an idea of the privilege that I was receiving. Countless times had I ran past my parents' bedroom as a young one, and it had become terribly obvious to me that they never engaged in the act that I was about to engage in. They had to have made love once, for I would not be on this earth were it not for their bodily connection, yet it could be argued that their connection wouldn't be called making love but rather having sex. Their bodies connected, yet their souls remained apart.

I moved my body closer to his, my eyes taking on a lustful gleam in the darkness. His bed was so tremendously soft, his body was so close to mine. Suddenly I was overcome with this excruciatingly warm feeling, a feeling that I had not known until that moment. I needed him inside of me. Such urge was so intense that I felt as though I would die if it did not happen soon. I finally understood what those abstinence educators were so fearful of. There was some truth to what they had said, the second you put a man and a woman who are attracted to each other in a room, there is no going back. I was taken back to my 18th year on this planet, in health education class with Sister Cathy John. The sister had said, "you mustn't put yourself in the way of temptation, for when you are young it is too great to resist." I thought of Sister Cathy in this moment, how her words were so incredibly potent and vital. Yet, she had attempted to frame such temptation as bad. My temptation for my lover was overwhelming, and yet it was so incredibly beautiful. Like the good Sister had said, I was not going to stop myself. Yet, it would have killed me to stop, my body would have agonized me for eternity.

My lover and I could only hear our breaths interspersed with the tempestuous storm. How incredibly powerful it was to lay here so incredibly close to him, knowing that his hard dick could so easily slip inside of the beautiful wet well that laid at the heart of my core. Knowing that the slightest of movements could result in an incredible change. Yet, at the very same time knowing that I had the propensity to just lay there naked, enjoying the ways that my energy feeds into his. Do I dare to break the two slivers of energy that lie between us and join us into one whole?

I gently bring my lips to his, and it is as though I have shot a gun into the darkness. Our lips dance around one another in a beautiful waltz, slowly becoming more and more enmeshed within our souls. I gently place one of my hands to his chest. I am met with the delightful and arousing feeling of soft, grey chest hair. I press my nose to his chest and inhale deeply. I am pleased to smell woods, the deep pine and earth smell that attracted him to me in the first place. It is as though his smell is an aphrodisiac, for the second the scent particles made contact with my nose, the well within my core overflowed. My breasts felt heavy, my cheeks flushed with redness. My body was telling me that I was ready, ready for his extensive and passionate connection with my soul.

I inched closer to him, my body begging for any sort of contact with his dick. He knew this though, and purposefully drove his hips away from mine. He knew of my impatience as a nymph-like young person. He brought his hands up to my breasts, gently kneading and cupping the soft tissue. He rolled my soft nipples in between his fingers until they got hard. By this point, I could not contain my joy. Soft moans interspersed our kisses, before all that escaped my mouth were loud cries of passion. My body needed him, just as the way a man at the end of the day wants to be buried in a young woman's body.

I could not contain myself anymore, I gently gripped his dick and brought it to my slick warmth. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and reached over to his dresser, fumbling around for a condom. I grasped his hand and whispered to him that I wanted to make love like they did in the old days, that it was okay for our bodies to just be natural with one another. I gently wrapped my hands around his back, gently massaging circles into the soft tissue. In my massage, I hoped to coax him, to let him lay down and convey that it was okay to relax inside of me. Such massage appeared to truly relax him, as he brought his hard cock to my soaking opening. He cautiously slid inside, though appeared to completely relax and free himself of his inhibitions when he was all the way inside. With each inch of penetration, we both let out a loud cacophony of moans. His pleasure only encouraged me more, which allowed my body to accept his more and more. He gently laid on top of me, and we kissed passionately. He gently rocked his dick in and out, in and out, in and out. With each thrust, I got closer and closer to orgasm. His dick perfectly hit my spot, with each thrust feeling like a delightful poking feeling.

Recall when you were little when you were getting your reflexes tested at the doctors. You likely enjoyed the feeling of the gentle hammer butting up against your knees and elbows and whatnot, even though it may have been a strange thing for you to enjoy. Such a feeling was mimicked for me during our lovemaking. It finally got to a point where I couldn't take it anymore, I was going to cum all over him. I could feel him pulsating inside of me, his thrusts getting more ragged and agitated. He was getting close, I could feel it, and that only turned me on more. The fact that I was the agent of his pleasure, the fact that I was getting to make him feel absolutely delightful was so unbelievably arousing to me. He let out a final deep, intense moan and I felt him release inside of me, shooting his essence deep into me. It was as though his orgasm lit a spark inside of me, because the second I felt him release himself inside of me, I came on him. My pussy pulsed over and over, the feeling of his soft essence inside of me being too much to bear.

I loved the idea that I was the seductress, the one responsible for his pleasure. In a way, I felt like a fox in a henhouse, my lustful nature consuming his essence as much as I possibly can. Pressing my breasts against his flat chest, feeling his dick gently poke my insides, having him touch my body. We make love once a week, always unprotected, our bodies with no inhibition towards one another. We love the natural way of things, the way that making love is supposed to be. I will never be like my parents, only connecting once in their lives. Rather connecting with my lover is a wonderful privilege that I get to indulge in as an adult, something I would never give up to be a child again.