Take a piece of him for yourself

Your hands grip the bottom hem of your shirt and you haul it off, tossing it on the ground alongside you. You're bearing your whole body for him to see; your glorious amber mane, darker than the soft golden fur covering the rest of your body, the thicker and darker tufts of hair in your armpits and all over your chest, especially bushy above your crotch. You notice that his eyes are all over you, almost unable to tear his attention away from your toned abdomen.

Smirking, your hands shift instead to your waistband. You drop your jeans and step out of them comfortably, quickly followed by your briefs. Your thick, golden-furred sheath and your heavy balls beneath them are borne in the air, for the fox-boy to see as much as he likes.

You lean forward and let your paw drift over his lower back, before resting right on his tight, lean ass. You give him a rough smack, just hard enough to leave a nice red welt. The fox cries out softly, but his cheeks are burning in a blush, and he seems to be smiling ever so slightly.

He's yours.