It had been another long day for Marion. The previous day had been quite a bit simpler, and she knew that the following day would be that much worse, but she was quite exhausted from the day she'd just gone through.
Marion was going through something that all young vixens go through, something that came around every few months like an unwanted friend. She had heard that other species had things much harder than vulpine women, but she found it quite difficult to believe. Some species mated only when they wanted to and their natural cycle consisted only of the body cleansing itself with a burst of blood and other unwanted discharge. Other species mated once a year for two weeks straight and could time the start and finish of their cycles to the exact minute and day. Not for vulpines, oh no. That would be far too simple.
Marion was in Heat. Heats came around once in a while, regularly plaguing vulpine women at irregular intervals. The stupid things would come on unpredictably, though never more than once a month, and usually no less than once every six. It was outrageously irritating how they worked, she felt. Vulpines were generally excitable to begin with, usually quite monogamous, and always quite capable. Every once in a while, however, the Heat would hit.
The first day was always quite deceptive. Senses were slightly more sensitive, particularly in the erogenous zones, but not so much so as to immediately set off warning signals. It was nothing particularly unusual, and she'd had many simply excessively hormonal days that were just as bad as the first day of a Heat. It wasn't until the end of the first day that she was ever able to realize what had started and this time was no exception.
By the end of the day, she was finding every male around her attractive. Not to the point where she could think of nothing else, but certainly to the point where it became noticeable. She found her eyes wandering to the crotches and rumps of men who were passing, regardless of whether or not they were vulpine, feline, canine, or otherwise. When simply hormonal, her thoughts usually turned to her love, Robin. When in Heat, her thoughts turned to whoever was nearest.
Which wasn't to say that Robin didn't come up in her mind during her Heats. He was always the first in her mind and the only one in her bed. She loved him quite dearly and, to date since she'd first met him, he'd always been available during her Heats to take care of her urges during the second and third days.
The second day was always worst than the first. It became harder to think about anything short of sex, and every male voice sent shivers along her spine to the tip of her tail. It was because of this, and the simple fact that Robin was unavailable, that she had been keeping herself so busy. It was her light sparring practices in the morning, soon followed by intense studying of England's history and monarchy, and an evening few laps around the woods.
She was in Sherwood, as she often was, though a part of her mind was warning her that it was a very poor decision to be there. The third day was always worst than the previous two, and usually the day in which she kept Robin busy from daybreak until nightfall. Nonetheless, it would have been incredibly difficult to keep herself so physically occupied at her home keep and the men of Sherwood Forest were much less likely to take advantage of her condition than the noble men of her home.
With the thought of naked men dancing through her mind, Marion made her way to the bed that she usually kept and curled up into it, still fully dressed. She'd exhausted herself intentionally and was hoping quite dearly that the next day would consist of so much more exercise that nothing unforeseen could happen.
When she awoke, it was with an erotic dream still fresh in her mind. She had been surrounded by men, all holding their erections out for her attentions, and she'd been trying her best to please them all, to satisfy them all. It was a futile attempt, however, as each male that she'd satisfied only produced another to take his place... and throughout her dream, it was wonderful.
On waking, she found the dream at least marginally upsetting. While she did only love Robin, her Heat was more than willing to convince her that a sexual dalliance wouldn't be quite as destructive as forgetting about him. Even with her Heat in full force, however, the concept of a full orgy, with her as the main centerpiece, was disturbing to the young vixen. Foxes are well known for their monogamy and, while her hormones were fighting the true sense of the word, more than a single partner was uncomfortable and foreign.
Her crotch was quite wet, however. She discovered this little fact as she rolled to a seated position, the fur between her legs chilling as the air reached to her. Carefully and slowly standing up, Marion checked to ensure that her petticoat and other undergarments had kept the moisture from leaking through to her skirts and was pleased to find that it had.
"If only," she thought, "I could find something to plug myself up with."
Marion blinked a few times at her own perversion as throngs and a veritable menagerie of options came to mind. Shaking her head slowly to clear it, she carefully started to remove her unclean underclothes. It would have been tremendously unclean and uncomfortable to keep them on, and the Heat-diseased part of her mind reasoned that undergarments were foolish and pointless anyway.
Taking a deep breath and trying to clear her mind, Marion poked her head out from her small interim bedding area in the forest. There was no one in sight, the sun still only barely cresting the horizon. Gently, undergarments tucked under an arm, she started to slip out and make her way to the river.
"With a good cleaning," she thought, "and a cool bath, I may be able to still my urges." With a half-smirk on her muzzle, she added to herself, "And if not, I may be able to take care of them myself."
Slowly, stealthily, she started to make her way down to the riverside, hoping with one side of her that no one saw her, and begging with the other side of her to find someone. Anyone, just so long as they were male... in fact, she noted with dismay, her Heat was becoming strong enough that even that little factor wasn't a necessity. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the side of her you asked), it wasn't long before she ran into someone. A male someone, nonetheless.
Friar Tuck was sleeping not too far away from her home, right in her path to the river. In fact, it looked like he was just waking up, gently stirring in his sleep. His robe had started to come slightly undone, and Marion's eyes immediately went to his center, eagerly peeking for a look at his crotch.
In shock, she jerked her eyes back away from the Friar, quickly hurrying to get past him. She was appalled at herself for her attempted voyeurism.
"He is a holy man, Marion!" She chided herself, "Shame on you! Shame, shame!"
A half-thought later, she added, "How exciting to have a virgin, though..."
Eyes widened, she redoubled her pace to get to the river as soon as she could.
Once she had reached the river, relief passed over Marion, her muscles already starting to relax. To think, she had actually considered for a moment having sex with the Friar, a man of God and speaker of virtues. Shaking her head in bemusement, she started to lay out her clothing on a rock in an effort to discern which garments were the worst and where everything needed the most attention.
Most of her garments were soaked through. She found it difficult to believe that she'd made such a mess during her sleep. Her inner thighs and crotch weren't anywhere near as bad as her clothing had become, and she found it a bit of a miracle that her outer dress wasn't showing anything. The purple of her dress would certainly show any discoloring quite prominently.
Sex was still quite strong in her mind, and her own scent on her clothing was making it at least somewhat unbearable. Without thinking, her paw found its way along the front of her dress, gently pushing the fabric inward and against her mound. She ground her hips slightly against her paw, eyes closing as she did so.
Slowly, a soft sigh escaped her lips. Oh, she was most certainly going to masturbate herself into exhaustion. It's what she'd done before she'd met Robin, and she saw no reason why it wouldn't work now. Though... though, of course, now that she'd seen a cock before and had felt one inside of her, fingers weren't quite the same...
"But they've worked before, and they would certainly work now," she told herself.
Marion blinked her eyes back open and glanced around to see if she'd been noticed. In shock, she sucked a small gasp between her lips. Resting with his back against a tree was Little John, looking directly at her. She quickly removed her paw from her crotch and scowled at the bear, furious with him for watching her as she pleasured herself, even if it was still mostly innocent. She was about to speak when she realized that the bear had not, in fact, been watching her exhibitionism, but that he apparently had simply fallen asleep beside the river. Cocking her head gently to the side, Marion let her eyes slip down on Little John. He wasn't the Friar, she told herself. Nor was he even remotely close to being a holy man. He was a sweet, dear man, however. And large. Quite large.
.... There is more of this story ...