You start slow, unused to this awkward angle, still not quite sure about this whole bargain. You didn't come out here intending to have sex, after all.
But the fox man has no such inhibitions. His hips are grinding eagerly against yours; and his hands possessively explore your body. You feel his maleness throb and push back against your own. It's so hot... You feel like you could just relax in his heat, and let him pleasure you. But...
“You are so passive… so compliant... Are you certain you want me to be the woman?” The words echo in your mind. It's a warning, you realise. Which one of you winds up as the vixen isn't predetermined -- it's based on your performance. In fact, feeling the fox's powerful body thrust against yours, you understand that he has every intention of remaining male, and making you the vixen.
You're playing with fire. If you don't want to be burned, you must become fire yourself. You can't just casually stand there and "have sex." This is a prize that you're going to have to fight to claim. You need to fuck like the fox.
But -- you moan as the fox nuzzles down your neck to lick at your chest again. Is the passive side really so bad...? Maybe... Your gaze trails back to the vixen in the picture. Maybe I could just let him...
Take me...