I looked at the door before me, holding its key in my paw.  This was it – the start of a new life.  First day at college.  A new state, a new city – as far from my family as I could reasonably get.  And, apparently, a new roommate. When I’d applied, I’d known that the dorms had a mix of singles and doubles, assigned by lottery.  The RA who’d handed out keys – after a brief muddle of trying to direct me to the mens’ hall instead – had broken the news that I’d be sharing as if expecting an argument, and seemed pleasantly surprised when I’d taken the key without comment.

I’d never had a roommate before: I’d always had my own bedroom growing up.  I’d shared a cabin at summer camp but that was a group. Never one-on-one for a long period.  Still, I was sure it would be fine…

It looked like my roommate had already arrived: a sheet of paper with the name ‘Maisie’ had been attached to the door, decorated with hand-drawn flowers and stars.  

I knocked once, then slid the key into the door and opened it a crack.  “Hey,” I called in, “New roommate!”  

“Come on in!”

I pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped in.  

“Hi… Oh!”  The room’s other occupant stopped halfway to the door, hand flying to her mouth.  “You’re a rat.”

I was.  And she was a mouse.  And our two kith did not, historically, get on.  A fairly ridiculous state of affairs, in my personal opinion: one rooted in old grudges and misunderstandings.

“Actually, I’m a camel.  In disguise.  Witness protection program. Please don’t tell anyone.”

Presumably-Maisie stood frozen for a moment processing that.  I took the opportunity to sneak a glance round the room.  One half, mine, was as yet bare apart from the furniture.  The other was tidy but cluttered: cushions, soft toys, posters, pictures, books, plant pots.  And on one wall, overlooking the bed, the stern bronze mask by which fervent believers often represented The Gods Above.  

The mouse-girl let out a nervous little giggle and dropped her paw.  “Oh, I’m so sorry: that was very rude of me.  Hi.  I’m Maisie, Maisie Morton.”  She held out her paw to shake.  

I took her paw in mine.  It was an odd experience, I was used to being the smallest person in most social situations, but Maisie was tiny – inches shorter than me.  She did, however, make up for lack of height in generous curves which were almost entirely absent on me.

“Hickory. Hickory Watson.” 

She left her paw in mine for a moment, cocking her head.  “That’s an unusual name.”

“It’s not what you’ll see on my paperwork.  But I really do prefer it, so…”

“All right, Hickory.”

Letting go of her paw, I nodded towards the mask on the wall: “I should probably give fair warning, since you’ll find out sooner or later: not only am I a rat, I’m not particularly religious; I also date outside of my species, date both men and women, and I will not qualify for a wedding in Spring.  If any of that is going to be a problem, please let me know before I unpack, so we can go talk to the RA.”

“What?”  She turned and her gaze followed mine.  “Oh!  No, don’t worry.  My parents wouldn’t go until I put that up.  But, I’m not… I mean, I am a believer… but I came to college to get away from that kind of thinking.  It’s not my place to judge someone else.”

“Guess I’m staying then.  Thanks!”   I eased my rucksack off my shoulders and onto my bed, which creaked alarmingly under the weight.  

“Are your parents following with the rest of your stuff?”

“Huh? No. Everything’s in there. Parents definitely not following.”

Maisie seemed almost distressed at the thought, wringing her paws.  “Everything? In one bag? But…”

“It’s OK.  I do a lot of camping and hiking so I’m used to making do with only what I can carry.  And I’ve got a budget to buy anything I’m missing.”  ‘A very small budget,’ I silently amended to myself; finding a part-time job was definitely on my to-do.

“If you need anything I’ve got, just say; you can borrow it!” 

“Aw, thanks Maisie – you’re a sweetheart.”  The affection was casual, but I thought I saw her ears pinken just a touch at the term of endearment.

* * * * *

That first night, the weather was far warmer than what I’d left behind in the town where I’d been raised; warm enough that given my choice I’d probably have slept bare.  That didn’t, however, strike me as something that would be comfortable for Maisie, so instead, I’d gone to the bathroom and returned in a loose crop-top and boyshorts.  I was glad of the choice when Maisie made her own return, clad in an honest-to-gods nightgown, covered from neck to ankle in billowing fabric.

“Aren’t you going to be over warm in that?” I asked, sprawled on top of my covers.

She gave me a shy smile, “If anything, I’ll probably be cold.  At home, me and my sisters shared a bed, so I’m used to being snuggled up.”

“You had to share a bed? You and… three... sisters you said?”  

She nodded, “Yep, then of course my brothers had a separate bed to share.  It’s why I’m glad I got a double room – it would be strange being all alone.”

There was a momentary silence.  I glanced up from my book, to see Maisie looking me over.  I flicked an ear questioningly at her.  

“Uh, this may sound weird, Hickory, but could you flex your abs for me?”

“Sure?”  I half-rolled over and tensed my muscles.  

“Wow. You are in really good shape.”
“Thanks. I think?”

She suddenly covered her eyes with her paws.  “Oh gods,  I knew that was going to sound weird but I’ve just realised how weird it came out.  I’m sorry!”

“Hey, it’s OK. I don’t mind.”

“It’s just – um – could I draw you sometime?”

“Draw me?  Oh, like for one of your art courses?”

She nodded enthusiastically, in relief.  “Yes!  We’ve got to do life drawing, and a lot of it’s about getting musculature right, and yours is really well defined for a woman, and having someone I could practice with outside class would really help.”

I couldn’t resist:  “Nude?”

Maisie dissolved into a torrent of embarrassment and confused verbiage, until I assured her I was only joshing, and she in turn assured me that nudity would not be required.

I bade Maisie goodnight, slipped under the sheet and turned off the light on my side of the room. Eyes shut, I could hear Maisie move around a little, and then quiet murmuring.  I couldn’t make out words but I didn’t need to: from my own childhood, I recognised the rhythm as nighttime prayers.  Her own light clicked off and I heard her climb into bed.

It took a while – new room, new bed, sounds of someone else – but I was starting to drift off, when a new sound dragged me back towards wakefulness.  Maisie’s breathing had hitched, once and then again.  Then the tiniest of sobs.

“Maiz? What’s wrong?”

“I’m <sob> sorry.”

“Hey, it’s OK.  What’s up?”  I rolled off my mattress and padded across the short distance between us, crouching on the floor next to her bed.

“It’s… <hic> You’re going to think I’m so silly.”

“Promise I won’t.”

“Every night, last thing, my mom would come in to say goodnight to all of us.  She’d say a little rhyme and then she’d kiss us on the forehead.  And I’ve never slept away from home, and <sob> I just realised that she’s really not here and I’m not going to hear that again for months and, and…”

This, at least, I knew how to deal with.  I’d been a junior counsellor at summer camps.  “Shh, shh. It’s OK.”  I reached out in the dark cautiously and found Maisie’s hair, patting it gently.  “What rhyme would she say?”

Maisie calmed a bit under my touch.  “Always something a little different <sniff>. She loves making up poems.”

“Would you like me to try and do it?  Or would you rather call her?  You can borrow my phone.”  I’d been shocked to learn that Maisie didn’t have a cell phone.

“Could you?”

“Sure.”  I thought quickly.  “Good night, little mouse, snug in your little house.  Cosy and warm, safe from harm, through the night 'til morning light.”  I hesitated for a moment but then leant in and dropped a little kiss on Maisie’s brow.

She gave a startled little giggle, cut off by a yawn.  “Aww, thank you, Hickory.”  She yawned again, took a deep breath and from one moment to the next was fast asleep. 

* * * * *

By the end of the first week of the semester, Maisie and I had settled into a comfortable routine, a little bubble of domesticity in the hectic pace of beginning academia: registering for courses, joining clubs, going to social events…  

It turned out that we were both at college because we wanted to become teachers, Maisie an art teacher, PE on my part.   

I still sent Maisie off to sleep each night with a little rhyme and a kiss.  I had discovered that I didn’t need to come up with something new every night – I could get away with about three snippets of doggerel on rotation.    

During the day, true to her word, Maisie drew me, constantly.  Other things and people too – her side of the room rapidly accumulated snowdrifts of paper covered in sketches of trees, people walking in the quad, flowers, but the convenience of having a willing model on hand meant it was mostly me. Not recognisably so unless you looked at them all together – it was mostly close ups, as she worked to get a particular facet down: a page of ears here, eyes there, the line of my arm as I sat, or outlines of my sitting postures.  I had even started a little game with myself of sitting in weird ways to see what might provoke her to pick up a pencil. 

I was reading a book to the now customary background noise of her pencil moving across the paper when I noticed her stop, start again, stop a few moments later, restart and then make an inarticulate noise of frustration before throwing down the pencil.

“Whoa, there.  What’s wrong? Need me to move?” 

 “No!” She snapped, before shaking her head and taking a deep breath.  “Sorry.”

“S’okay.  Can I help?”

“It’s your fur,” she said, as if that explained everything.

I glanced down at my white pelt.  I couldn’t see anything wrong with it.  Sure, I could do with using conditioner more often, but…

“What about it?  I draw the line at shaving it off for art.”

That got me a small smile.  Maisie inhaled deeply, let it out in a sigh.  “When the fur on two different parts of the body meet, like the arm and the torso, it produces a little ridge line.  I’m trying to draw yours, but it keeps coming out nothing like what’s in the books.”

“Can I see?”  I asked and, on receiving a nod, padded across the room to look at the sketchpad and the reference book.  “I think I see the problem – it’s not shown but the guy in the book’s not wearing anything, so the fur’s lying naturally.  My bra’s messing up the line at the shoulder and my shorts are doing the same at the hip.  Want to see?”

The last bit was intended as a joke but Maisie, completely caught up in the art, just nodded seriously.  “Could you? That’d be great.”

It wasn’t like I objected.  In two swift moves I shucked my tops and dropped my shorts before kicking them over to my side of the room.  I turned sideways on, fluffed the fur on my shoulder with my fingers and let it settle back into place.  “See?”

“Oh, that’s perfect!”  Maisie’s pencil was already moving across the paper again.  “Could you stay like that for a moment?  Maybe bend your left knee just a little?”

Trying not to laugh, I followed direction and held the pose while she dashed down several quick studies of my fur.  After the fourth sketch, she set the pencil down again, neatly this time, and sat back with a satisfied sigh.  “Thanks, Hickory, you’re -”  she emerged from hyperfocus and actually looked at me as more than a collection of artistic references, “- n-naked. You’re naked.” She squeaked and buried her face in her hands.

“Sure am.”

“You d-don’t mind?”

“If I did, I’d still be dressed.  When I offered to model nude back on the first day I was teasing, but I also wasn’t joking: if me stripping off will help your art, I’m more than happy to volunteer.  The only consequence is that I’ll probably stop being so careful about getting changed in the bathrooms, so you’ll see more rat than you would otherwise, even outside of art.”

“Really?”

“Yep.  Your call.”

“It would be a big help.  And, and, I know you’ve been looking for part-time jobs:  one of the art profs was complaining that its really hard to get a reliable model.  The pay’s pretty good!  I can give you their email.”

“That’d actually be great.  And I guess your agent’s commission is getting your own private modelling sessions.  Want me to get dressed for now, though?”

Maisie’s large ears were practically glowing red, but she did peek up out of her hands at me.  “Maybe? Please? But…” Her voice trailed off into a mumble that was indiscernible even to my own oversized ears.
“What was that last bit?”
“You’re-really-pretty-OK-I’m-going-for-a-walk-bye!”  As the torrent of words spilled out, she leapt to her feet and dashed through the door, giving several surprised passers-by in the hall an eyeful of me before the door swung closed again.
* * * * *

Time passed and the dance of attraction between us found a new momentary balance.  At least, I knew I found Maisie attractive.  I thought it was mutual.  She had never repeated her comment about me being pretty, but she had gotten a lot more comfortable with me being dressed only in fur.  And I couldn’t help but notice that whether I’d gotten naked of my own initiative or at her request, me lounging about bare always seemed to provoke even more sketching than usual.  On the other hand, Maisie still guarded her own modesty closely, such that there were whole swathes of her fur that I’d never glimpsed. And even her nude sketches of me only hinted at nakedness:  subtle lines implied the presence of what little bosom I could muster but there was no sign of the prominent perky nipples that capped them in reality; shading might suggest the thicker tuft of fur between my legs but certainly no more.  In Maisie’s sketches, I was as sexless as a plastic doll.

The balance was too delicate to last for long and the next bump to nudge us onward came as autumn started to fade into winter and the first real storm of the season blew in off the ocean.  It had been heralded by a bout of unseasonable warmth and rising humidity, leading to me wearing as little as I could get away with.  To track sports fixtures, I’d been keeping an eye on the weather bulletins, so I knew what was coming.  The life of an artist, however, was apparently untroubled by such things as meteorological forecasting.      

I had bidden Maisie goodnight before slipping bare between my sheets.  As I lay in the gloom, waiting, the soft sounds of Maisie’s breathing were gradually drowned out by the rising roar of the wind outside and the increasing patter of rain on the window.  A flash of lightning illuminated the room, even through the curtain, throwing stark shadows. With a thrill of anticipation, I started to count under my breath.  I only made it to three before the thunder struck, rattling the windows in their frames.

Maisie woke with a start and a squeak that was not quite a shriek.    

“Maiz?  You OK?” I called across the room.

“Hickory? What’s happening?”  Her voice quavered.

“Thunderstorm, Maizy-mouse. News says one of the biggest in a decade. Should be great!”

“Oh no. No. Nononono…”  Her voice trailed off into mumbling, although there was what sounded like snippets of prayer as the next lightning-flash lit up the room.   The thunder rolled again, louder, closer this time, only two seconds behind.  As it died away, I could hear Maisie whimpering.

“Talk to me, Maisie…”

“I- I hate storms,”  she was gabbling now, “Always have.  At home, I’d hide in the middle of the bed between all my sisters.  They’d tease me for it. But, but…”

I couldn’t pretend to understand – but I also couldn’t ignore her distress.  “Do you want to come in with me?”  

I’d expected that if she said ‘yes’, I’d get up and put some clothes on while she moved over. Instead her answer came, not with words but with the sound of scampering feet and the arrival of a small mouse at ballistic speeds, diving under the sheet to join me.  I hardly had time to scooch over next to the wall to make space.   

The dorm beds were singles, but they were sized for larger kith than rodents and there was room, barely.  I wrapped my arms around Maisie, initially to stop her falling out, but as I realised she was shaking, I hugged her close against me.  I twined my tail round hers and nuzzled into her hair, doing my best to soothe her terror.  

“It’s going to be okay.  I’ve got you.  You’re safe here.”  I softly whispered a litany of reassurance as I held her.  Gradually her shaking subsided, although she still flinched every time the thunder rolled, and her soft whimpers quieted as I kept telling her that she was safe with me.  

At last, as the storm started to move away, she fell asleep in the circle of my arms, exhausted from adrenaline crash and, gradually, with the scent of her hair in my nose and her warmth pressed against me, I followed her into slumber.

I woke the next morning to the feeling of a finger tracing slowly through the fur on my arm.  It was a delightful sensation that I hadn’t felt for a quite a while and at first I thought I was dreaming. As I took a small step closer to consciousness, I realised that it was quite real.  I was in my dorm bed, someone was with me and they were softly stroking down my arm.  Then from my wrist to my side, just below the ribs and with achingly sweet slow motions, downwards, over the curve of my hip and along my outer thigh.  Then the touch lifted and moments later started again at my shoulder, several fingers now, weaving slow patterns across my skin.  Still nowhere especially sensitive, just arm, side, leg; and then beginning again.

I cracked open one eyelid.  The dim light in the room was the grey of pre-dawn but it was enough to see Maisie.  She had evidently rolled over at some point during the night and was now facing me.  Head propped up on one hand and the other hand caressing me.  The sheet had fallen back during the night leaving me entirely open to her gaze; her hand was staying to safe areas, her eyes were not.  

I kept my breathing slow and regular while I considered my options.  On the one paw, I rather wanted to let her keep going and see where she ended up.  On the other paw, a mischievous part of me wanted to startle her by suddenly demanding to know what she was doing.  On the hind-paw though, if I did, she’d probably be scared off ever doing something like this again – and I did really rather want her to do something like this, but more, again.

I went for door number 3:  feigning a gradual awakening with no idea of what might have been occurring.  Fluttering eyelids, a slow yawn, a stretch, the whole nine yards.  It wouldn’t have won any awards for acting but Maisie, who had snatched back her hand from my thigh as soon as I started to move, was no drama critic.

“’Morning, Maizy-mouse.  Did you sleep okay last night?”

“Hey, Hick-rat.  Thanks to you, yes.”  She smiled up at me.

I glanced down at myself.  She followed my gaze.  We both started to speak at the same moment: “I’m sorry-”  We broke off whatever we were about to say.  I took the initiative:  “I’m sorry I forgot to warn you when I invited you over.”

She shook her head, curls bouncing. “It’s not your fault!  I didn’t give you a chance to tell me!  And it didn’t matter; I just needed someone,”  she paused and then resumed, “needed you to hold me.  Thank you.”

“Any time.”  A phrase often used so casually, here meant so literally.  I wondered if she could tell.

For all the rest of the day, I could feel the traces of her fingers across my skin.

* * * * *

Maisie was as good as her word in putting me in touch for her faculty for life modelling work, and it was working out well all around: they were grateful to get a model who lived on campus, had a regular schedule to work around and who didn’t charge professional rates; I was grateful for the fact that even those rates were significantly better than most other student jobs, and often I could even get some reading done while I worked.  The problem was my libido.  Life modelling was distinctly less erotic than I might have thought, but my exhibitionist streak was wide enough that there was a certain thrill nonetheless.  But, other than Maisie, I hadn’t found anyone on campus I liked or trusted enough to fall into bed with – and whatever was going on between me and Maisie was not offering an outlet. In short, I was horny and getting hornier.  My fingers were not offering sufficient relief.

In the medium term, I made plans to see my sometime-boyfriend and long-term friend-with-benefits at the next vacation; in the short term, I invested some of my earnings into a small selection of mail order sex toys.  Nothing too exotic: lube, bullet vibe, and a silicone dildo, swirled in blues and greens.

The day they arrived, Maisie was out for the whole afternoon.  I gave my new treasures a test drive that culminated in my next-door neighbour banging on the wall and yelling at me to keep the noise down.  After that, the toys got a good clean before being chucked in the bottom drawer of my bedside cabinet, ready for their next outing.

* * * * *

It was an early morning some days after.  I was about to be late for class and hadn’t had any coffee.  I had my paw on the door about to run, when Maisie called over: “Hickory? Before you go, have you got any batteries?  My clock’s dying.”

I gave it a moment’s thought.  “Bedside cabinet, middle drawer, I think.  If not, check the other drawer.”  

“Thanks!”

“No problem. See you in an hour!”  I flung myself through the door and dashed down the hall.

“‘Top drawer.’  Not ‘other.’  I meant: ‘Check the top drawer.’”  A thought that did not occur to me until an hour later, when I walked back in to our room to see my dildo sat proudly on my desk, and Maisie studying it intently, shifting from side to side, turning her head to examine it from all angles.

“Uh…”  The door swung shut behind me, as my bag dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers to the floor.

Maisie cast a quick glance over her shoulder to me before returning her attention to her find.  “Hi Hickory,” she chirped.  “Class go OK?”

“Uh…”  My brain refused to compute what I was seeing.

“Why have you got a rubber willie?”

My lips were moving, but no coherent words emerged.

“Is it for pranks or something?  Or an art piece?  The colours are lovely.”  She wrapped her fingers round it and stroked it up and down a couple of times.  “Really good tactility too.”

I swallowed at the sight of her jerking off my dildo.  She had to be putting me on.  Or did she really not know?  It was worryingly plausible.

“I-it’s a dildo.”

“A what?”

“A sex toy.”  Maisie did not look any less puzzled.  I elaborated further than I would ever have thought necessary:  “For fucking myself with.”

Maisie looked from the dildo to me, eyes widening in realisation.  “It- You… It’s been inside... You?”

I nodded mutely.  She let go of the dildo as if it was suddenly red-hot.

“But why?”

I took refuge in absolute honesty:  “It feels good?  I mean, sometimes it’s nice to have something filling you up.  Although, most of time I’m more about the clit stimulation.”  I paused and studied her face. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

She looked at me, still wide-eyed and shook her head. Her tail was wrapped around her and she was clutching the end with both paws.  Which was, admittedly, an improvement over her stroking my toy.

I sighed and sat down on my bed.  “I’m guessing your school was a little basic on sex ed?”

“I don’t know.  My parents withdrew us from that class.”

I groaned. “Of course they did.”

“I know how babies are made.” She sounded slightly defensive.

“That is one of the more important bits,” I admitted.  “But, for example, do you know what an ‘orgasm’ is?”

“That’s when the man emits his seed,” she said proudly.  I waited.  She looked like she had covered all that there was to say on the subject.

“You do know women can have orgasms too?”  She clearly didn’t.  “Let’s go back a bit:  What is sex for?”

“To make babies.”

I pinched the bridge of my muzzle.  “Did, at any point, anyone mention that sex can – and should! – feel good?  For everyone involved?  And that a lot of people have a lot of sex for that purpose, without planning on having babies?  Or that you can, in fact, make yourself feel good in that way without someone else?”

She shook her head slowly.

“When people have – when I told you I had dated women and dated cross-species… What did you think we were doing?” 

Maisie twiddled her thumbs.  “I guess, kissing and cuddling and stuff?”

“That too,” I allowed.  “But also sex.  So, Sex Ed 102:  Sex is also for pleasure.  You can have it just for that.  And you can have it by yourself.  The toys are not required for that, but they can help.”   I took a deep breath, leant back against the wall, and closed my eyes, intending to try and forget that this whole, awkward conversation had ever happened.

“Would you show me?”

My eyes flew open.  “What?!”

“Would you show me?” She repeated patiently.  Then added: “Please?”

“You want to watch me…?”

“Sure.  You obviously know what you’re doing.  And it’s important enough to you that you’re willing to spend money on it.  And I want to know how to make yo-, er, someone feel good.”

I ran my fingers through my fringe, thinking fast.  I did like showing off.  And I liked Maisie.  And I had noticed her stifled implication that she wanted me.  And it wasn’t like the day could get more awkward.  Probably.

“Okay.”

Maisie’s face lit up.  “Really?”

“On one condition.”  She waited expectantly for me to name it. “I going to need you to get naked too.  Nude modelling’s one thing, but something like this just feels weird if the other person’s dressed.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” She fiddled nervously with the end of her tail.  “All right.”  She raised her hands to her throat and started to unbutton her blouse.  

I hadn’t entirely expected that to work.  But I was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  I rose from my bed and turned away to give her a brief moment of privacy as I started to strip.   I took my time for once, folding everything neatly as it came off and setting it to the side.  Even so, as I put the last piece of clothing down and turned back to face Maisie, it was to find her still in her underwear and just about to unclip her bra.  

I drank in the sight of more of Maisie than I’d ever seen.  Some might have called her plain: brown hair, brown eyes, brown fur.  I desperately wanted to see more.

She slipped off her bra, letting her full breasts sag gently.  Then she slowly slid her panties down over her thighs until they fell to pool around her ankles.  Her tail wrapped around one leg.  She spoke softly, “So, um.  This is me.”  

“Maiz… You’re beautiful.”

“Don’t tease me, Hickory.”

“I swear I’m not.  I think you’re gorgeous.”

She glanced up at me from under lidded eyes.  “Then you’re crazy.  But… thank you.”

I fetched out my bullet vibe and the lube before climbing onto my bed, putting my back against the side wall.  Then brought my feet up onto the edge of the bed, opening my knees.  Looking down at myself, I gently tweaked my tuft of pubic fur.  “You’ve seen me naked plenty of times now, but I don’t think I’ve posed like this for you before.”

I glanced up to see that Maisie had picked up my dildo and was proffering it to me.  “So, do you just stick this in now?”

My knees slammed together in horror.  “No!” I yelped.  Maisie looked startled at the vehemence of my response.

“Never ‘just stick it in’!  Don’t let anyone else ‘just stick it in’ either!”  I took a deep breath before explaining:  “Before anything goes inside you, you want your pussy to be wet.  You can use lube to help,”  I indicated the small bottle, “But if you prepare a bit, you’ll make your own.  And – good news – the prep feels nice too.”

“So, what do you do to get wet?”

“Well… everyone’s a bit different.  Most women like playing with their breasts a bit. Some squeezing or stroking.”  I made a circling motion around my tiny tits.  “I’m a bit underprivileged in that department.  But I make up for it by being very sensitive here…”  I tugged gently on my nipples, felt them swell under my touch.  “Start gentle.  You can always work up to a bit more rough if you want  – it’s harder to row back from hurting.”  I illustrated by giving my pink tips a little pinch, not quite suppressing a gasp of pleasure.

“Then you can work down…”  I trailed my hands down over my abs to my pussy.  Hand on either side, I spread myself open to Maisie’s fascinated gaze.  “See the little bump at the top?  That’s the clit, and that’s where most of the pleasure comes from.  But it’s also sensitive – you don’t want to go straight in on it.  So, a bit of indirect contact.”  I matched word to deed, using my paw to rub myself in a circular motion, occasionally slipping one figure between my labia for a more direct touch.  My breathing sped up a little as the sensation started to build.

I paused and spread myself open again:  “You’ve an artist’s eye for detail… anything changed since I started?”
Maisie leant in for a closer look.  “The colour’s changed – you’ve gone from soft pink to more of a rose red.  And your clit’s gotten bigger.”  She sounded surprised.

“That’s because I’m getting turned on.  This is the point where I’ll give it some more direct attention.  I could use fingers,”  I brushed my clit with one finger in illustration, “But I like this little toy.”  Using one paw to keep myself open to Maisie’s gaze, I picked up my vibe in the other, clicked it on and brought its buzzing delights to bear.

I buzzed myself for a few moments before using a finger to slip into the opening of my vagina.  “Hear… uh… anything?” I gasped as I dipped it in and out.  It was getting harder to form coherent sentences.

Maisie’s ears flicked.  “Sounds wet.”

“Uh-huh.  A lot of the time I’d just finish myself with the vibe. But if I’m going to use the dildo, now’s the time…”  I held out my hand for her to pass it to me.

She started to offer it to me, then stopped, holding it to her.   “Could I? Please?”

“You want to put it in?  Sure!”  I pulled my knees back even further.  “Where my fingers were… gentle push, should slide in.”

Maisie came and knelt at the side of my bed.  Having her so close after so long, the faintest hint of her breath on my cunt, I nearly came right then.  She slowly slid the tip inside me, making a noise of astonishment as she watched my anatomy open to accommodate it.  

She slowly pushed about half inside me before hesitating.  “Should I stop there? I don’t want to hurt you, Hickory.”

I let out a pleasure-drunk giggle.  “You can get the whole thing in.” 

“But it’s so big!”

“We’re stretchier than you think… Trust me.”

She looked uncertain but did apply pressure and I felt the familiar sensation of being filled as the rest of its length went into me.

“What now?”

“Now, pull it part way out and then back in again.  And repeat… Try to follow the rhythm of my fingers.”  I started to massage my clit again, in slow circles, gradually increasing in speed; and Maisie followed instructions perfectly: gradually picking up pace.

I tried to hold off my building orgasm as long as I could but my climax was inevitable.  It came as Maisie overdid the out-stroke, the dildo slipped free and that sudden shift in feeling put me over the edge:  I clenched my sheets in my free hand and trilled a crescendo of squeaks, legs shaking, droplets of pussy juice flying.  

“Ah!  Ah. Ah, ohh….”  As the pleasure slowly ebbed, leaving only the shivery tingles of aftermath, I sagged down against the bed, trying to catch my breath.

“Are you okay, Hickory? Did I do okay?”  Maisie’s little anxious voice dragged me back to reality.

“Better than okay, Maizy-mouse.  That was amazing. A-Maisie-ing, even.” I let out a little chortle.  

She groaned.  “Well I know you’re okay if you’re making jokes like that.”  She put a hand on my thigh.  “You’re trembling.”

“When it’s that good, the comedown can take a bit.  On the ‘Pleasure a rat’ practical, you get an A+.”  I looked up at her as she rose to her feet.  “So, Maiz – think you learned enough to fly solo?”

“Well, not to criticise your teaching but I’ve always been a slow learner.  Maybe you could walk me through it… with a hands-on demonstration?”  She suddenly looked embarrassed and twisted her toes on the floor.  “Only if you want to,  of course.”

“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.  Come and sit down.”

Maisie perched on the edge of the bed while I pulled myself back together.  I sat close enough to her to feel her body heat.  Then, gently stroked my fingers through her hair. That gentle touch was enough to make her tremble as I moved down over her back, weaving a pattern of caresses over her spine, to the base of her tail.  “Okay so far?”  She nodded breathlessly as I slowly stroked her again.

“One bit of foreplay you can’t do with yourself…  May I kiss you, Maisie?”

“Oh, please, yes.”

With two fingers under her chin, I tilted her face up to meet mine.  Our breath mingled as our lips met.  Once, twice, three times I kissed her, holding it a little longer each time.  On the third kiss, our tongues entwined, and a thin line of spit connected us even as we parted.

“Hickory, please don’t stop.  I want more.”

“More kisses?”

“More touch.  Lower.”  

My muzzle crinkled as I grinned.  The little mouse was getting quite demanding as she got turned on.

“Lie down then.”  I moved back a bit to give her room.  She swung her legs up onto the bed, and I helped lay her down, head on my pillow looking up at me as I knelt between her legs, hovering above her.  

“So, ‘lower’ you say?”  I put my paws over her breasts, and squeezed slightly.  “Like here?”  I squeezed again before circling her areolae with my thumbs.   

Maisie gasped at my touch and gasped again as I caressed the tips of her nipples.  “Yes! Please, Hickory!”

I lowered my mouth to one breast and licked around one nipple before taking it into my mouth and sucking.  Maisie let out a squeak and shuddered beneath me.  “More? Lower? Please!”

With some regret I left her wonderful tits behind, and trailed my nose through the fur covering her soft belly.  When I reached the mound of her pubis, I looked up at her along the length of her body.  “There’s something else that most kith can’t do for themselves.  May I kiss you again – down here?”

“I trust you, Hickory.  Whatever you think best… Just please don’t make me wait… Eep!”  She let out a squeak of surprise as I suddenly lifted and spread her thighs, plunging my face into her cunt.

I took a few long laps with my tongue up and down the length of her cunt.  She tasted intoxicatingly good – or perhaps that was just when combined with the scent of her fur, the sensual shivers of her body under my touch and her moans as I licked her.   She was already very wet, and I focused my attention on her clit: teasing it with flicks of the tip of my tongue, drawing little circles over it, and as it swelled, suckling it between my lips.

Maisie’s squeaks as she came were an echo of my own from before; her thighs tightened around my head, trapping me – quite happily – against her.  I kept licking her as her juice flooded my mouth, propelling her through the peak of her pleasure, only easing up my attentions as her orgasm ebbed.

As she relaxed, I raised myself up on my elbows and grinned at her down the length of my bed.  “Was it as good as it sounded?”  I ran my tongue around my muzzle, savouring the lingering taste of her.

“I – huh.  Probably better.”  She sounded winded, but she did raise her head off the pillow and meet my eyes.  “Did – did you want to use your toy in me?”

I gave a little shrug as best I could, waving my tail in the air in an unbothered manner.  “I can – if you want me to.  But, honestly, I wouldn’t.”

“How come?”

“First penetration can be a bit uncomfortable.  Maybe you’ll want to do it later, maybe not.  But, I’d say: let your very first experience just be good.”

She nodded and her head fell back against the pillow.  “Can we cuddle? Like we did on the night of the storm?”

“I’d like that.”  I crawled up the bed and squeezed in next to her, between her warmth and the cold wall behind me, putting one arm over her.  Maisie rolled onto her side and nestled into me, burrowing her nose into the hollow of my throat.

“Thank you, Hick-rat.”

“Any time, my Maizy-mouse.”  A thought occurred and I laughed quietly.

“What’s so funny?”

“This is more like the morning after the storm.  When you were stroking my arm and flanks.”

She went suddenly stiff in my embrace.  “You knew about that!?”  Her voice was quietly horrified.

“Uh… yeah.  I didn’t know how to say anything without scaring you off.  And I really liked it! I wanted to do something like today ever since!”
“Oh, you beast! I thought you were asleep!”  She balled up a little fist and hit me in the ribs. Not very hard, but I let out an over-dramatic ‘oof’ nonetheless.  She was instantly apologetic, putting her hand over where she had hit me.

I pulled her into a tighter embrace against me,  “I’m sorry.  I should have said something.”

She made a little grumbly noise but snuggled back into me.  “I’ll forgive you. If you’ll promise to use your dildo on me next time.”

“If it means there’s going to be a next time, I promise.”

“There’d better be.  And more cuddles.”  She yawned.

“Anything for you, my mouse.”  I dropped a little kiss on her forehead as her eyes closed, and I felt my own grow heavy.  

And so, we fell asleep, wrapped in each others arms, tails entangled.  Mouse and rat.  Roommates. Friends.  Lovers.