From Beneath My Bush - original fiction [NSFW] exclusively for Steemit

I was in my wood the other day, just jacking around, checking on things, when I heard footsteps. Quickly I hid under a small bush, you know, in case it might be dangerous, although I didn't feel any fear.

This little bush was next to a small clearing, a patch of grass, and suddenly right next to me was this girl. She had on summer sandals, with leather thongs tied around her ankles and calves. Her legs were bare and I could see, from under my bush, up underneath her skirt to a flash, a blaze, of white panties. I held my breath. I was not frightened now, but wanted
this moment to last and last.

But then it got better!

In one movement she hitched up her skirt, pulled down her panties and squatted right in front of me. My whiskers twitched, I can tell you, my whiskers twitched! She was facing away from me and, heavens be blessed, she let out a sweet golden stream. Oh, the smell, the scent, the perfume of it!

When she had finished her hand came down into my view and she wiped herself with a square of white tissue, folded it once, and then wiped again. I ceased to be a fox and became only eyes, my body pressed into the damp earth beneath the little bush ceased to hold me and I travelled that short distance to swim about in the waterfall of beauty that fell down from her squatting body.

Maybe she felt my arousal, because I sensed her pause, as if to look behind her, and if so then what she did next was a gift freely given to me, a little furry observer. She pressed the folded tissue into her crease, the gorgeous musky lips, and moved her fingers from side to side, lowering herself further, deeper, gently widening her legs, her thighs, her knees.
Then she moved her hand slightly forward and started to rotate gently on that small sacred mountain. I heard her breathing start to become shallow and then came a small moan.

She stopped, seeming to collect herself, as if she had crossed too far some personal barrier, and stood, pulled up her panties and walked quickly off.

A few minutes later I heard a car start and she drove away from the wood.

I should introduce myself. Paul A Fox. I really am a fox, but I guess I am a special kind of fox, the fox who types, the fox who has magical powers, the fox who never gets caught. I have lots of stories that I want to tell you.
Lots of stories.

Paul A Fox. In fact the A is not really part of my name. It is there to mean either “Paul is a Fox”, or to be misread as Paula Fox, so that I can write stories from the point of view of the girl, and my clever readers might be able to persuade themselves that it is not a male fox whose words they are devouring:

As she drove away the girl wondered who had been watching her and felt the dampness between her legs. She hoped it would not leave a telltale mark of wetness on the back of her skirt. Paula Fox.

And you might think that as she drove away I would be filled with disappointment that this beautiful generous girl and left my life forever, that I would never see her again, that that was all. No, I am a fox. The story of the shark sensing blood across miles of ocean, that is a well-known story. My nose is of the same sensitivity. I would be able to follow her and find her later, perhaps after dark. I would do this, I will tell you, because of course I wanted to learn more about this fascinating creature That is why I didn't quietly follow and spy on her, take her number, gauge her destination.

I crept from beneath my bush, looking around my to check that I had not been transported to some paradise, a Greek Island peopled with naked goddesses and their servant girls. The wood was as normal, the oak, the clump of hazel, a mess of thorns and elder, the spring blossom now tired as the summer grew. It was as normal, apart from this new jewel in the middle of
the sunlit patch of grass, this folded piece of white tissue, loaded with the scents of a real earthly goddess.

Slowly, carefully, I moved my nose closer and closer. It was overwhelming, the rawness of it. The damp dark woodland floor, the decaying leaves and crawling fungi of decay, the musky dangerous secret life of it all, that was
commonplace. But here was something else. My nose read the girl.