Midsummer Heat
by Kim McFarland
*****
"Mokey?"
She turned around. "Yes?"
Wembley was standing in the entrance of Mokey and Red's cave, looking self-conscious. "Boober wanted me to ask you what you wanted him to pack."
That has been the last thing on her mind. "Oh, hmm.."
"In the picnic basket. Though, well, it's not just a picnic, and he said he'll have to pack two baskets. You know Boober, he doesn't want anyone to go hungry, and—"
She interrupted, "Wembley! Are you nervous?"
He clasped his hands together and smiled sheepishly. "Yeah."
"Oh, Wembley." She held out her arms to him.
He came over to her, and they hugged. He breathed in her scent. For several days every year she had a special scent. It was delicious and fascinating, better even than the smell of fresh radishes. It made him feel a little dizzy, as if the blood was rushing away from his head for another destination.
Mokey felt lightheaded as well. She had just come into season, as she did every midsummer. Normally she drank yellowflower tea, a small cup a day, beginning when the flowers bloomed and until her season ended. The tea was a medicine of sorts, and female Fraggles who drank it did not become fertile. This year the family—all Fraggle Five—had made special plans. Mokey had not drunk the tea, and as a result the season was affecting her much more strongly than it had in the past.
Tonight she would join with Gobo, Wembley, and Boober in the Midsummer Ritual to start a baby. It was unusual for groups to participate, but she could not choose one over the other to sire their child. Since it would be raised by them all, it was only fair that everyone have a chance. And, she thought as she hugged Wembley, she felt eager enough to tire out all three. She touched her nose to Wembley's cheek and, when he looked up, kissed him. It began as an affectionate gesture, but intensified quickly.
Soon she felt the evidence that Wembley was as worked up as she was. She smiled down at him. Blushing, he said, "You know what it's like when Boober's planned a great feast, and he's spent days cooking and getting everything just right, and it's nearly time to serve it, everything's ready and you can smell it and your stomach's growling and your mouth's watering, but you still have to wait 'til the muffins are done?"
"Yes."
"That's how I feel right now."
Though embarrassed by his loss of control, he hadn't pulled away—and she didn't want him to. Softly she said, "I feel the same way. So…how about a little snack?"
"Can we
do that?" he asked, surprised.
"Why not?"
"Well—
sure!" She laughed softly and kissed him again. Then she let go of him and went to the stone shelf on which she made her bed. At one side it was just high enough off the floor that she could sit on the edge and lean back against a few pillows...
When she had arranged the bedding and herself she opened her arms to Wembley again. He embraced her, and his erection slid into her with the ease of long practice. This was a favored position for them both, one that was comfortable and allowed them both to move as they liked. Not to mention that the angle of penetration produced very intense sensations for her.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and closed her eyes, feeling his arms around her, his body against and within hers, his heartbeat as strong and insistent as her own. He made soft squeaky noises of pleasure. Her soft sighs were mixed with giggles. If they were in a more private place they could have let themselves get a little noisier, but the 'windows' of their room opened onto the great hall. Although recreational sex was considered healthy and not embarrassing at all, there was no need to broadcast it. Thankfully the room was high enough that nobody was likely to see them.
Wembley thrust into her slowly, wanting this to last. As worked up as he was, it wouldn't take very long, though. Still, he did his best to keep control. When he did go over the edge she burst into a giggling fit at the silly sounds he made. He didn't mind; he knew what she was laughing at, and it did sound goofy. He laughed too.
She told him, "I'm close."
"Mm-hm." He reached down and slicked his fingers with her juices, then began stroking her. She closed her eyes again and smiled. He knew what she liked. Of course he did; she had taught him. It wasn't unusual for him to finish before she did—in fact, it happened half the time—and when he did he brought her to her climax. Among Fraggles, that was simple good manners. After all, you wouldn't have dinner with someone and then take all the dessert for yourself, would you?
Plus, it was fun. Now that he was no longer addled by hormones he could enjoy watching her reactions. She made soft sounds of excitement as she breathed. Her face was flushed and her eyelids fluttered. Soon she leaned forward and, holding him tightly, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, shuddered. He wished he was still inside her; the way she gripped him when she peaked felt amazing. But, he thought cheerfully, there was always next time to look forward to.
"Mmm," she said, smiling lazily.
"That was great," he murmured to her.
"Yeah. I hope I didn't spoil your appetite."
He laughed. "Nah! Now I'll be able to last 'til dinner."
"Me too."
*
A little while later Wembley returned to Boober's kitchen. Boober was engrossed in the task of mixing the dough that would become the crust of a radish quiche. Wembley tapped his shoulder. Boober yelped and startled. As Wembley wiped a spray of flour off his face and shirt Boober said, "Where have you been?"
"I went and saw Mokey, just like you asked me to," Wembley answered.
Boober, fussing with the dough, did not notice Wembley's peculiar smile. "What did she say?"
"Huh?"
"You remember, I sent you to go ask her if she had any requests for what I should make for the ritual tonight!"
"Uh...I forgot?"
Boober turned and looked at Wembley. Then he shook his head and sighed. "Wembley, Wembley. You'd forget your own tail if it wasn't sewn on."
*****
Fraggle Rock and all characters are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
