Request story for @Mousarchy, story by @Thaddeus

	The smoldering ruins of toast went into the sink.  The charred remains didn’t even go mushy under the running water, but instead guttered for several seconds before dying with a venomous hiss.  Gauzy curtains of acrid smoke fumed up from the crumbling mass and hung over the tiny kitchenette.  It singed the nose and obfuscated Van’s aromatic herbs and spices, and other, more delicate scents.  Just such another delicate sent pervaded the studio apartment now, growing over the last couple nights with the blooming of a new flower.  It rose thick and billowing like smoke from the toaster.  Archie Day adjusted her hoodie.  It was awfully hot.
	She lamented the loss of breakfast and the premature death of the toaster while she put the butter into the fridge.  Maybe next time, she thought, she would butter the toast after it came out of the toaster and not before.  And probably not on both sides, either.  Archie wished this was only the first time she’d burnt bread in a toaster, but such is the culinary ineptitude and lack of foresight of the adopted nine year old aardwolf.  How many unique ways had she torched bread?  She numbly cleaned crumbs and blackened, congealing grease from the counter with a damp sponge; she was still scared by the ominously smoking toaster.  It was at least four, five, if you were counting the grilled cheese incident from last month.  
	Archie ground her thighs together, unconsciously making herself look smaller as her dormant, hydra-like anxieties reared its ugly heads and plucked at the delicate harp-strings of hard-won self-confidence that her adoptive father and brother had built up in her as she appealed to the heavens that the fire alarm in their little apartment would stay quiet.  If it did, hopefully it wouldn’t also necessitate the acquisition of a new utensils and cooking top like last time.  She frowned.  What a horrible day that had been.  The memory made her burn with shame.  Archie struggled with the footstool, wrestling it over to reach the high window and crack it open and get fresher, cooler, less smokey air into the room.
	Mission success!  A draft ruffled the stolen hoodie and visibility gradually increased.  The kitchen did not cool as crisp autumn air whisked the dull gray miasma out.  Archie examined the toaster; the filaments were no longer orange hot and on fire, but dull silver and crusted over in a brittle, black crust.  Maybe she should clean it.  But then, she remembered, why this was a problem in the first place; she was not to touch the appliances without supervision, under any circumstances.  Coming clean to daddy though, was mandatory, and would need to happen soon, unless she wanted to get in even worse trouble than she was already.
	Unable to tolerate the heat any longer, Archie flung the hoodie onto the back of a chair as she passed out of the room.  She wore nothing underneath; the cast off clothing had gone to her knees.  Dibs and Daddy walked around naked all the time, but she was still weirded out by and anxious about being nude herself; she didn’t look like they did down there, and didn’t like the way that made her ears burn whenever she noticed the difference.  Van wasn’t stingy with the anatomy, sex ed, and bodily health information.  What he didn’t answer straight away, Dibs would tell, usually in an obnoxious but practical way, much to her embarrassment, but also to her growing curiosity.  Her other half left her messages about it sometimes too, warnings like, ‘Say no to Dibs’, ‘Watch out for your first heat’, or ‘Stay away from that girl down the hall that you like’.  She didn’t really understand most of those messages, but they never steered her wrong before.  
	Archie rubbed her thighs together again.  It was sticky around her crotch and in her armpits, and the smell was getting pungent and unpleasant, and she hadn’t noticed it under the stench of burning.  She peered from the kitchen towards daddy’s bed.  She wanted to come clean about the burnt toast right away and clear her conscience before her shower.  He was awake, but he wasn’t alone; Dibs was beneath him, his mousy muzzle open in a wide, silent O and drooling, his long, bald tail contained but writhing beneath the sheets and between two sets of legs that poked from under them.  Van moved more subtly on top of him.  Her cheeks exploded and she fled to the bathroom, hotter and dirtier than ever.   

	A cold shower would do her good.  She averted her eyes from the body mirror on the back of the bathroom door.  Her naked body exacerbated her multitudinous body image issues.  She hopped under the spray to escape its oppressive presence, then vaulted out again, screeching and knocking her shoulder into the shower door frame as blades of ice water slashed through her fur like knives.  Cold and shivering, a throbbing pain building in her shoulder, she coaxed the water towards luke-warm.
	She slipped under and sighed, the pain dying to mere embers beneath the massaging spray and made uncomfortable eye contact with herself in the mirror through the glass shower door.  Nervousness, never far from its home in her during the day, was evident in every aspect of her demeanor: she was hunched, knees slightly bent, tail curled around her legs and covering herself even though no eye but hers were upon her, and a certain twitchiness about her ears.  Combined with here compressed wet fur weighing her down like a lead blanket and drooping whiskers, she was a sorry sight.  She used the mirror to examine her shoulder.  No blood.  Fur made it impossible to see if a bruise was forming at this distance.  She observed her body with unusual keenness.  Followed downward curves she wasn’t sure were there last month, down towards that part, and let her tail fall out of the way.  
	The door slammed open and Dibs barged into the bathroom and flipped up the toilet seat.  
	“Heya sis!” he said, aiming his semi-hard penis towards it.  “Everything alright?  We heard yelling!”
	“Dibs!  Get out!”  Archie screeched, ineffectually covering her nipples and crotch with her arms, hands, and tail, and trying to look anywhere other than his genitals.  But she found them impossible to look away from.  Her brother eyed her back, but with greater candor.  Blush rose in her ears like mercury.  
	“When nature calls,” he replied flippantly.  A drop of cum clung to the tip of his half-chub.  It fell onto the rim.  He aimed, grunted, let loose.  His glans swelled as he pissed.  
	“Gross!”  She turned away and covered her ears to avoid hearing him urinating, and tried to ignore the possibility that he might be staring at her butt while he did it.  She hated the way he scrutinized her sometimes, like he was drawing some kind of amusement from her by staring.  But her belly tingled in a distracting way.  Was it because he might be looking?  She turned her focus onto it, and her inflamed crotch, but the tingle escaped before she could grab it and examine it in the light of conscious thought.  It slipped away like an eel, leaving a nasty, slimy sensation in its wake.  The water no longer did anything to soothe.
	“So you tried to make something without help again.” he said as the pissing dwindled to a trickle, then ceased altogether.  “What was it this time?  Eggs?  Pancakes?  Toast again?”
	Archie mumbled.
	“What’s that?”
	“It was toast!”  She turned around and slipped, her sodden tail overbalancing her.  She grabbed the shower bar to steady herself.  Dibs was digging at his butt with a damp washcloth.  His penis was erect again, foreskin peeled back, balls dangling between his legs like a pair of hypnotist’s pocket watches, and he winked, looking her up and down again in return.  The feeling flared up again, and it was so, so much worse this time.  She felt like toast.  Her toast.
	“Dad can smell it.  He ain’t happy.”
	“Yeah, well, I was hungry.”  She said bravely.  She crossed her arms and turned away more carefully.  “And you two were busy.”
	Dibs laughed.  “You coulda joined.  The way ya smell right now, I bet you need it bad.”
	“What’s that supposed to mean?!”  She whipped round again.
	“The toast isn’t the only thing on fire this morning, is it?”  
	“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”  Archie turned away again, remembering to be self-conscious under his penetrating gaze.  Now she was feeling like a revolving door.  “Will you just go away?!”
	Dibs laughed, and she glanced over her shoulder.  “Let me know when you’re out.  I got a friend coming over soon and I wanna take a bath before he gets here if I can.  You’re welcome to join, ya know.”  He jerked his cock a couple times and winked, then, chuckling, turned and left without flushing or wiping the jizz off the toilet, and leaving the cum rag on the floor.  At least he had the decency to close the door behind him.  Her own reflection glared back at her.  
	He was right though, at least on one account.  A fire she had never known before consumed her, and as he cleaned himself up she connected the dots at last.  Archie studied herself in the mirror.  The inflammation in her vagina made sense now.  But how could she be in heat?  She didn’t look any different.  Weren’t there supposed to be some kind of changes in her body, like breasts or something first?  None of her nipples had changed that she could tell.  She cupped them, poked them, pinched and yanked them, pulling them away from the flat plane of her chest and belly one by one, but aside from a faint tingling response to the abuse in her nethers, nothing happened.  They didn’t inflate to double D’s.  
	Archie Day looked back in the mirror.  She was nervous and confused, but her face was set in an alien smirk.  Something distinctly not her lurked behind those reflected eyes.  Was it her other half?  Then it was gone, leaving her with with an awful ache in her belly and sore, reddened nipples.

	Archie Night sensed it coming a week before the first symptoms manifested.  It was that pervasive feeling of being “off”-almost, but not quite-sick.  She didn’t know what it was for certain until the changes became apparent.  Of course she went on the prowl for sex, but there were only boys in this house, and she was now grounded for a marked increase in aggression the last few days, leading to the harassing of another girl in the complex.  It was her loss, she believed, not getting in on the proffered action, though it was clearly hers, as she no longer had a way to work out the sexual tension building up in her.  There would be no tribbing or getting her pussy eaten like a watermelon to take the edge off.  No hot lesbian sex for her to satisfy needs with.
	When it finally became too much, she only had her fingers for fucking her brains out, so that’s what she did, not caring where she was or who might walk in on her doing it.  The trip to her bed wasn’t long, but her patience, like her temper, was even shorter when horny.  She hoisted herself up with the step-stool onto the counter next to the toaster then and there, discarded Van’s hoodie, and viciously attacked her sensitive and gluttonous clit.  As she spread her legs and dug in, pussy juice leaked everywhere.  She clenched her teeth and gurgled as she slammed into a quick and fiery orgasm that matted her thighs and spayed over the counter and onto the kitchen floor.  Archie Night took pride in the mess as she sucked her wet fingers clean, luxuriating in the stickiness between her legs as it tricked towards her anus and down her calves.
	“Gross!”  Dibs said,  stepping around the spots of girl cum to reach the sink.  “Dad preps our food there!”
	“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.  You’re naked, I can see you getting hard.”  
	“You’re going to clean that up, right?”
	“I’ll think about it.”
	Dibs grabbed a glass from the drying rack.
	“You thirsty?”  She asked, spreading her legs and labia wider.  Dibs watched her vaginal canal contract in a post-orgasmic spasm.  
	“That’s even grosser!” he said, holding his glass up under the faucet.  “The hell is up with you right now?  You hate dick!”
	“I’m just horny, okay?  A girl can be horny if she wants to be.  Just because you’re a total frickin’ fruit doesn’t mean I’m not allowed.”  The heat haze was already closing in on her again.  If an orgasm only bought a few minutes of relief, she worried for how it would affect her poor, anxious, and naive other half.
	“Yeah, but you’re even fruitier than I am at night.”
	“Nuh-uh.  Am not!”
	“Uh-huh!  You are too!  You’ve been here almost a year.  How many dicks have you taken?”
	“None, unlike you, you fruit-cake!  It would take four women a week to take as much dick as you take in a single evening, Mr. DJ Slut!”
	“But I’ve-”
	“The heck is going on in here?  Archie, why are you masturbating on my counter?  Dibs, can you not antagonize your sister for half a minute?”  Van sighed.  “I swear...”  
	Archie and Dibs fell silent while their father studied them.  Abruptly, he turned and walked out.  “You know what, never mind.  Have fun.  Clean up after yourselves.  And make sure at least one of you eats a special muffin before someone does anything they might regret.  You know which ones Dibbun.”
	“What’s that supposed to mean?!”  Archie demanded as he disappeared into the other room.  Dibs shook his head.
	“They’re a special, fast-acting, consumable prophylactic.  He knew this would happen soon.  He made this batch special.”  Her face colored at the implication.
	“The frick’s a proppi- propha- Uhg, whatever you called them!”
	“You know what?  Don’t worry about it.”  Dibs did a jig backwards to the fridge, filled with self-satisfaction and grabbed a muffin from the top shelf.  “I wanted a snack anyways.”
	“You smug little fruit!  If you won’t tell me, I’ll fuck it out of you!”  Archie launched herself off the counter and at Dibs, tackling him against the fridge while he stuffed his face with muffin.  
	Archie allowed him the courtesy of finishing it, but only as he made no effort to impede her as she molested him.  His cock fit nicely into her hand.  It was just like any number of toys she’d used, except it wasn’t ribbed or silicone.  
	“Uhg, boys are so gross.”	
	“Says the girl playing with my dick.  So what’re ya gonna do with it?”  Dibs asked, smirking.  “You even know how to use one of these?”  
	Archie glared at him and squeezed his penis hard.
	“Hey, careful with that.  Maybe you should try sucking it instead.”
	“Frick no, you perv.  I wouldn’t put any dick in my mouth, let alone one as pathetic as yours!”
	“And yet,”  Dibs said with the smug satisfaction of the rat that got the cheese, “You’re gonna put it in you somewhere anyways.”
	Archie sank to her knees, and took Dibs with her.  When he was sitting with his knees up, she thrust him onto his side on the floor and rolled him onto his back.  He flailed and almost smacked her by accident, but she took a certain satisfaction in throwing him off-kilter.  He regained his composure, thrust his hands behind his head and grinned up at her like it never happened.  His cock was fully erect, foreskin peeled back.  It laid heavily on his belly, with his pert balls sung under it.  It inspired need.  
	“I’m doing this for Day,”  Archie rationalized to herself as she took Dibs’s cock in her hands and angled it at her face.  It was like looking down the barrel of a fleshy gun, and she didn’t like it.
	“Sure ya are, Archie.”
	“No, I’m serious.  I’m doing this, but you better be nice to us after she comes back.  Do you here me?  I.  Will.  Cut.  These.  Off.”  She grabbed Dibs’s balls hard enough to make him wince, “if I’m given any reason to expect you took advantage of her.  Of us.  You get me?”
	“Way to ruin the mood sis.  But I ya, I get ya.  Won’t even touch her.  I’ll leave any such relief to Dad.  I can go to the Rat Den if I need pussy.  Good enough for you?”
	“Those girls are whores.”
	“Makes no difference.”
	“Asshole.”  

	Archie stepped out of the shower steaming but distinctly unrefreshed.  Constant arousal and Dibs’s intrusion had robbed her of that.  Experimental touches had elicited unique pleasures, but they were both fleeting and confusing.  She desired more, but seeking or asking for help gave her pause.  
	Fully drying was a fools errand and only dirtied her towel.  No matter how dry the rest of her got, between her legs stayed damp and trying only spread it around.  Every pass she made of it caused her to shiver and made things worse.  She threw the towel on the floor next to Dibs’s washcloth and fled the bathroom.
	 And directly into an annoyed Van.  The bathroom opened directly onto the kitchen, and she ran out, naked, steaming, and damp.  Impossibly strong, he grabbed her by the elbow as she squeezed passed, the other continuing its scraping of charred bread from the toaster.  He remained silent and impassive, not acknowledging the capture as the scraping of filaments grated on already frayed nerves.  Archie was trapped.  She stammered into the quiet, pussyfooting around until her nakedness caught up to her and she snatched the hoodie from the chair where she had left it.  Dibs and another boy snickered as they passed to the bathroom.  She tried not to listen as the pipes began vibrating, then to the boy’s moaning as the inevitable began.
	“Why?”  Van asked, still not looking but releasing her and upturning the toaster over the kitchen basket.  She shrank back against the refrigerator.  Black crumbs rained down into the trashcan.  Her mental state also fragmented into brittle little pieces and showered around her.  She stammered worse than ever.
	Van set the toaster on the counter and twiddled the knobs, plugged it back in, then turned to face her.  She cast her eyes to her paws, jaw trembling.  Archie shied away as he approached and reached for her, bracing for a slap, but received only comfort as she was drawn into his side and he scratched her back.  She sniffled.  
	“Oh Archie.  Whatever am I going to do with you?”  He chided.  “When will you learn you don’t have to prove anything to me?  I love you no matter what.”
	The tension popped and she sobbed into his bare hip, but it abated in only a few moments.  She looked up at him with watery eyes.  
	“I-I’m sorry,” she said, sniffling.  “I-I didn’t want to interrupt you and Dibs.”
	“Sweetie, sex doesn’t take that long.  You could’ve waited.”
	She dropped her gaze to the floor and dug at the spaces between tiles with a dainty claw.  “I-I know.  I guess I j-just wanted to be a b-big girl.  D-don’t want you to always have to do everything f-for me.”
	“You are a big girl, Archie.  And growing more all the time.  You won’t need me to do these things for you forever.  Soon, you won’t be a girl at all anymore, but a young woman, and will be able to do these things for yourself.  Those big changes will come slowly, and by degrees, but they will come.  No need to rush or force them, okay?”
	“Okay.”
	“One of those big changes is visiting you today, as a matter of fact.  Not the one I think you hoped for, but one nevertheless.  Maybe it was in part responsible for your poor judgment.”
	“Y-you mean my heat?”
	“Smart girl.  You got it in one.”  Archie preened.
	“Can you make it go away?”  Archie buried her nose into Van’s hip again, closer to Van’s crotch.  Its smell lured her.  
	“I can’t make it go away entirely, but I can bring you some relief, and ensure there are no undesirable consequences.”
	Archie rubbed herself against Van’s leg with a child’s subtlety, wetting it with arousal.  Every gentle grind bled away a fraction of the tension gripping her, driven in part by the muffled moaning from bathroom.  His penis poked, pink and moist, from its sheath.  She’d seen it erect before, but never so close that she could lick it.  Dibs’s, sure.  He paraded around the house with it, and took the greatest pleasure in teasing her when they went unobserved.  But his was small by comparison.  Daddy’s was so much thicker around and much, much longer.  She moistened her lips, then reached out for it, hesitating an inch from contact.  It’s warmth, even from there, sent a tingle up and down her spine to set the fur on the nape of her neck and tail on end.
	“C-can I?  D-daddy?”  She asked.
	Van nodded.  “Yes, you may, but be gentle.”  Archie encircled the tip of the penis with her hands and pushed back the sheath like she’d seen Dibs do in the past.  The penis she revealed wasn’t at all like her brother’s.  Where Dibs’s had a slight upward curve and was smooth-looking with skin that was milk white like his fur but for the little, rounded, pink tip, Van’s was red and ram-rod straight the entire length, with a pointed, rubbery looking tip which filled the palm of her hand when she cupped it.  Where her brother’s was short and skinny, Daddy’s was long and fat, veiny, with a big bulge at the base.  Where one hung out at all times, whether it was erect or not, the other hid away in this curious little pocket of fur until it was called for.  They were as different as night and day.  Up close and comparing them, she enjoyed a thrill of appreciation for them both and their differences, but at the same time was intimidated by the size and contours of her father’s cock.  Maybe Dibs’s would’ve been a better starting point.  
	It was warm to the touch, and had a faint musk that wafted from it that made her stomach lurch, stoking the fire that had been building up inside her since she awoke.  It was slick and dripping pre already; it wet her hands and matted the fur at her wrists where it was longer and thicker.  She’d never tasted a dick or pre before.  
	“Would you like me to take you to bed like your brother?”  Archie stopped ravenously slurping pre from her hand and nodded, ears flushed and flattened to the top of her head.  
	Van took her hand and led her to the family bed.  Tucked unobtrusively by the air vent in the corner of the main room and partially hidden from the rest of the studio by hanging plants and low shelves sporting pots bursting with growing herbs and lined with books, it lay directly upon the carpet and had a commanding view of the cityscape through the picture window that was the whole of that wall, right up to the kitchen.  Comfy, familiar, well used but firm, and steeped in the comforting smells of all three of them, Archie almost relaxed.  She recognized the smell of sex on it more keenly and consciously than ever.  It was like she was sensitized to it, and it excited her even while the idea of doing it tied her stomach in knots.  She arranged herself shyly at the edge of the bed by her pillow and waited for daddy to tell her what to do.
	Van sat next to her and reached for the hoodie, but she clutched it to herself and shook her head violently.  “It’ll get wet and smelly if you wear it while having sex.  Being clothed is rarely advisable.  Are you sure you want to keep it on, even though you’ll have to take it off to change after anyways?”  
	She nodded.
	“Alright sweetheart.  Just lay down for me, okay?  And relax.  I’ll do all the work.”  Van helped her lay back and placed a pillow under her head.  She guarded her chest with her arms, clutching the collar with both fists, elbows almost touching over her belly.  The hoodie covered her right down to mid thigh.  She kept her legs closed but not crossed, knees up, and she chewed on the pull-string aglets, staring at him with large, shimmering brown eyes that shone with nervous expectation.  Her nethers burned more than ever, and the longer he sat there, fussing over her, the worse it got.  The more she anticipated him starting, the more she feared he would stop arranging the pillows and blankets and start touching instead.  She bit her lip.
	“Okay hon,” Van said, reaching into the hood and petting her cheek with his thumb. “spread your legs for me.  Remember, and this is important!  If you don’t like what I’m doing, you have to tell me.  I can’t read your mind.  If you don’t say it, I won’t know it.”  She nodded and so he continued.  
	Archie spread her legs a fraction of an inch, and Van chuckled.  She shivered as her daddy put his hands on her thighs, just below the hoodie, and pushed her legs apart.  He was gentle and insistent.  Her heart raced and her body flashed red hot and trembled.  It wasn’t entirely unlike how her birth parents made her feel when they fought in front of her, or when she was bullied at the orphanage, only now she wasn’t scared-not like back then.  He was persistent, confident, caring, and he kept his eyes on hers, wide and soft and full of love, with a big smile that showed healthy, gleaming white teeth, whispering encouragement and sweet nothings to please and make her blush.  Cool air rushed in under the hoodie and tickled her privates.  Archie looked down and found her legs spread wide.  She looked up at Van and shivered.
	“It’s okay sweetie.  If you don’t want it, we can stop.  But you have to say it.”
	Archie stared.  Her mouth was dry and pasty, tongue thick, like a big wad of cotton had been stuffed in it.  
	“D-don’t…”  She turned her head aside, embarrassed.  
	“Don’t what, Archie?”  
	“Don’t s-stop.”
	“Are you sure?”
	Archie nodded, the sheet ruffling her cheek fur.
	Van rubbed his hands up her thigh, pushing the hoodie out of the way.  Just before he revealed her peach, Archie held the hem over her nakedness again.  
	“Oh sweetie…”  Van reset her hoodie and placed his hand back on her inner thigh and laid down next to her, trailing a finger up and under the hem, moving her cover as little as possible.  She didn’t stop him this time, though it was nerve wracking, feeling it creep closer and closer to her privates.  
	His fingers left a tingling trail up her leg that got more and more intense as they got closer and closer to her vagina.  Just when she was sure he would touch it, he stopped and pet her thigh.  An irrational frustration gripped Archie, and she seized his hand and jammed it between her legs, pressing his palm between her legs.  The alien touch on her pussy blasted the cloud of lust that settled on her back.  She shivered, worried in her moment of clarity, by the whirlwind of activity, the startling newness of her situation, but the heat haze, closing in around her already, suffocated aggravated nerves.  She couldn’t resist the urge to grind into his hand as he cupped it, spreading her juices over it and turning the space under the hoodie into a swamp of fetid sexual arousal.  It was like some other, wilder animal possessed her.  She held it captive, pressing into it, grinding on it; she squirmed and bucked, maximizing contact across every part of her labia.  Van chuckled, and let her do her thing.  
	Archie’s belly ached, muscles cramping; she had to slow down.  She didn’t want to, the urge to rub and grind was incredible, but it wasn’t satisfying, and it frustrated her that whatever it was she thought should be happening wasn’t happening.  A mighty, needful convulsion wracked her and she gave up.  The burning in her hadn’t decreased in the slightest.  If anything, it was even worse.  She let his hand slip away and covered her face with a pillow.  Van kept his hand where it was, and nuzzled her neck, knocking the pillow away.  
	“Just relax honey.”  Archie fought the urge to close her legs as daddy began rubbing her vagina again.  Deluges of cold anxiety and ripples of fiery need spread through her, almost in perfect time with the soft grazing of the hand on her intimates.  Every two seconds she wanted to clench her thighs and hold him hostage again, and then threatened to push it away.
	The way her knees shook as Van touched her like nobody had ever touched her before embarrassed her, and made the desire to stop him worse; but not getting any relief was untenable.  The edge was starting to come off now that he had liberty to do as he thought best.  She turned her face away, closed her eyes to be sure she couldn’t see what he was doing beneath the hoodie, and buried her hands under the small of her back, right above the base of her tail, to keep from stopping him.  It made her feel so vulnerable.  
	Archie took a deep, steadying breath, and focused on the way he touched her, on individual touches and the sensations they invoked.  She listened to the sounds of the apartment.  She could just hear the boys in the other room.  It was little less scary somehow, now that she could focus on what was happening in this way.  His finger entered into her and she bit back a gasp, then it was gone.  It was just a tiny poke, but it had felt like a monstrous intrusion.  The finger traveled up and down the length of her pussy, then slipped back in a second time, a little further, but gone just as quickly.  A muscle in her side spasmed, and her tail twitched involuntarily.  
	His fiery breath on her neck before his lips touched her there, just below her cheek bone made every muscle in her body clench and release.  The finger entered her again.  This time it went deep; another unexpected bout of clarity pervaded her and she counted two knuckles.  It left, then there were two fingers inside her.  Archie grabbed Van and pulled him into a hug, and his fingers slipped out of her.  She had the feeling he could reach there with them if he wanted, but something else prodded that spot instead.  It was much larger.  
	“Just relax baby, take deep breaths.”  Archie took a deep, gulping breath, and let it out in a rush.
	“Yeah, just like that hon.  Keep doing it.  Breath in-”  She did “Breath out-”  And she exhaled.  “Again.”  She inhaled and a frightful shock wracked her core as the tip of his penis spread open her vagina.  Her breath caught in her throat.  
	“Come on Archie, keep breathing, deep breath.  Exhale as it comes out.”  
	Archie struggled to regain her breath.  Van didn’t move, didn’t go deeper, didn’t exit, until she exhaled again.  With the rhythmic breaths, it slid deeper, and on exhale it retreated, slow and rhythmic.  Each time she got fuller and hotter as if she was both bellows and fire, stoking and being stoked, until both the heat and the fullness became unbearable and she burst and was consumed in the conflagration.  Great flaming contractions licked out from her core in blissful waves that seared away conscious thought.  Distantly, she heard her own moaning through the roaring flames.  The arching of her back as she came for the first time was surreal.  He pulled out and cum dripped from her, but her orgasm kept going and going until she was nothing but a dying, smoldering ember crumbling into ash.