And so it began, a conversation of angst that ultimately progressed towards a promise to see each other that night.
I’m getting ahead of myself – I should explain the buildup behind this little encounter. I’d known him since high school, and there’d been a—spark between us, something built on our shared love of death metal and perusal of darker religions. I fell in love with his eyes first – a piercing ice-blue, they took my breath away and seemed to raze my soul each time I looked into them. Sounds childish, sounds crushy, but it was true. His hands were large, the fingers long and lovely. He was freakishly tall – or was I merely short? – and my forehead barely reached his collarbones when I hugged him after class. I began writing about him in my diary, in such lovingly explicit tones that it sometimes shocked me. I didn’t love him, but the physical attraction was there and it was tangible. I suppose I was young and stupid then, definitely too stupid to have hidden my secret writings in a better place.
My mother found my diary. That night, I was forced to read it aloud to my parents at the dinner table, while they took turns dissecting the writing and shouting at me about what was wrong with it, why I shouldn’t have written it, and what the repercussions of my diary would bring. I remember seeing my sisters cowering in the bedroom, my mother’s tearful face, my father’s disgusted tone, as he all but disowned me, his anger based on the awkward, hormonal rants of a teenage diary. It ruined me, and broke my friendship with my beloved wolf – for a year and a half I did not speak with him. And I stopped Continue reading
I would smirk looking down as I ran her fingers through the fur of the female infront of me, before I would open my mouth to speak. “Aren’t you my little cowgirl.” I would say with a slight giggle in my tone. The girl would wrap her lips aound the head of my engoreged futa cock, her eyes locked looking up at me as her head slid down then back up the shaft, leaving a coat of her own saliva over me before she would nod her head up at me. She began to bob up an down quickly, plunging my cock down her throat an into her mouth again and again. I began to push down, forcing the thick shaft farther into her mouth, the sound of the slurping of her lips sliding up an down would fill the room. I stood up, placing my hands on her head, holding it in place as I would thrust my hips. I forced my cock into her, watching her throat swell in places as the head would slide through it. Then with a quick pulse, an eruption of cum would splatter out inside her mouth, covering the back of her throat as it splashed inside her and up out of her nose, and down into her stomach making her look pregnant as the load of semen would fill her. Her lips still wrapped around the head as I would pop it from inside her mouth and let the last spurt of cum hit her face. As her eyes were rolled in the back of her head, a mixture of saliva and cum oozed from her chin and mouth, and then over her breasts. I wiped the cum from my cock through her hair and smiled. “Thats a good girl.. drinking her milk.” I sighed out. The girl would smile at the praise, the cum still rolling over her face as she would happily kiss the head of my cock, and ask me to please feed the next pair of lips.
*Note* I don’t think a sequel shall be introduced, but if I get positive feedback I might expand.
The handcuffs bit cruelly into Cimarron’s wrists as they held her suspended by a chain from the ceiling. Stretching her legs, she could feel the hot, sandy floor brushing against her hoof tips. Her shoulders burned and her chest ached under the strain of holding her full weight. Her legs were held apart by a spreader bar and ankle cuffs that were locked just above her hooves. Her clothes had been taken, leaving her completely bare to the fur. The air in the room felt hot and stagnant. Sweat rolled down her body, stiffening her fur and plastering her reddish-gold mane to the top of her head and along the back of her neck. She didn’t know how long she’d been here; hours, maybe even days. There was no light; no means of measuring the passage of time save for the seemingly regular visits of her ‘keeper.’
She had been fed and watered at least three times so far, or was it four? It was getting hard to tell. Each time her keeper had carefully slipped a tube passed her gag, pushing it almost gently down her throat before pumping some kind of thick paste into her stomach. This was followed by a brief flow of water that quenched her thirst. The tube was carefully withdrawn and she was left alone in the dark
Cimarron tried thinking back to how she’d gotten here. Her last memories had been of a bar near the campus. It was Friday night and she’d been celebrating the end of mid-term exams with a couple of her friends. Then nothing. She never drank to exc Continue reading