18+ ONLY

You and your boyfriend were snuggling up together under the covers, getting ready for bed. You waited for him to turn the lamp off, but you felt him grip your arm, and he looked at you with big puppydog eyes.

"Again??" you asked. It was nonstop with him lately.

He glanced away, embarrassed. "Please," he said, "I just really need you right now." His words and the desperate way he said them had your tcock instantly throbbing.

"Don't forget I have to work in the morning…" you grumbled, but you pulled him closer. He responded by fitting his mouth to yours and groaning into your parted lips. He crawled on top of you and fit his hips against yours and rolled his hips to rub your tcocks together through your boxers. You groaned when you felt how hard he was already, he really needed this. Your bodies were pressed so close together, you groaned into each other's mouths and pulled each other closer as hips moved with hips. You whimpered underneath him and your tcock throbbed as he pinned your shoulders to rut against you even harder.

You clumsily stripped each other, unwilling to let each other go but desperate for your cocks to touch. You moaned out loud and gripped the sheets when he fucked his tcock against your hole, slicking himself up and spreading the wetness up to your own aching cock, then bucking his hips and rubbing your cocks together until you were both whining loudly and desperately rutting against each other. It felt so good, your cock was pulsing so hard every time it slid against his, everything was throbbing hard and messy wet. Even though he was the one who begged for this, now you were the one who was getting too close too fast. He heard you gasping, getting louder. He groaned in your ear, desperate, "Good boy, are you gonna cum for me?"

"Please cum with me, please," you begged. You both came so loud and hard for each other. You did your best to muffle your cries of pleasure into each others' shoulders and hoped that the neighbors weren't paying attention. Then you just laid there panting together with both of your brains buzzing and exploded. His body felt so comfortable and heavy lying on top of yours, easily lulling you back into sleep—until you felt the slow thrusting of his hips, and heard his bitten-back groan of exhausted pleasure. His tcock throbbed against yours, making yours respond in kind, making another little whine escape you.

"Can we keep going…" he groaned.

You and your housemates are throwing a party tonight. It started out as just a small thing, but it always goes like this with these kinds of events, word gets out, people bring their friends, friends of friends, and then suddenly the house is way too crowded and loud. You don’t even know half the people here at this point. You and the werewolf—one of your housemates—are standing together in the corner, holding tight to your plastic cups, trying to get out of the way of all the milling bodies. The werewolf is the biggest person in this room, and even he managed to get swept aside. You always find his large awkward presence comforting in these situations. You wonder if he’s noticed how you always seek him out.

Then the front door opens again, and in through the doorway comes the last person in the world you want to see. Your stomach plunges. Who the hell invited him? You take a second to decide if you’re brave enough to stand your ground, and you decide that the answer is no.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” you say abruptly. You turn and force your way through the crowd, down the hallway and into your room where you slam the door shut. It’s not far enough away. You wish the house had a staircase you could crawl up.

You sit down on the bed and feel your heart pounding uncomfortably with shame and fear. You hate having him here.

There’s a knock at your bedroom door.

“What?” you call out, irritated.

The door opens, and a large furry head pokes itself in. The werewolf steps halfway inside, blocking the half-open door with his large body, and stares at you where you’re sitting on the bed.

“Uh… are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” you say, annoyed and embarrassed.

“Is it that guy who just came in?” he asks.

“Uh…… yeah.” Whatever. You decide to just tell him. “Remember when I told you about that guy, who like… did stuff to me?” You stare down at your fidgeting hands, trying to figure out how to say the rest.

“Yeah…” says the werewolf. “Okay… Stay here.”

Before you can say anything else, he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. You get up and go to the door, cracking it back open just enough to hear him over the noise in the other room, saying, “Hey, you need to leave right now.”

You hear the angry reply—“What, man?”—in that stupid, annoying voice.

“Get the fuck out.”

A medium-sized commotion follows, in which you can hear some of your other housemates getting involved, and for a minute you’re afraid there’s going to be a fight. But it sounds like they manage to get him out the door, spitting angry but leaving nonetheless. You would be lying if you said that this didn’t make you feel extremely happy and smug.

You sit back down heavily on the bed and drain the rest of the contents of your red plastic cup. Your housemate pokes his snout back through the crack you left open in the doorway.

“Hey…” he says, leaning around the door jamb. “He’s gone.”

“I heard,” you say, staring down awkwardly at your fingers again. “Um… thank you.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No… Yes. But I need another drink first.”

“Okay,” he says, and then disappears again. He’s gone for a few more minutes, during which time you just sit there staring into space and listening to the babble of the ongoing party. When he comes back he’s carrying a whole unopened six pack.

“Those are supposed to be for the party,” you say, laughing.

“Whatever,” he says, tearing the box open in his claws and handing you a beer. He sinks down to the floor next to the bed, making himself comfortable with his own can. It looks very small in his large paws.

You’re working yourself up to say something when there’s another knock at your door, and one of your other housemates pokes their head in.

“Heyyy…” they say, looking back and forth between the two of you, then settling their eyes on your face. “You good in here?”

“Yeah,” you say, embarrassed to be fussed over.

“We kicked that guy out.”

“I know.”

“Should we throw everyone else out too?”

“No no,” you rush to say. “I’m fine, keep having fun, I’ll just be in here.”

They leave to rejoin the party, shutting the door behind them, and then it’s just the two of you again, sitting in awkward silence with the loud hum of voices in the background.

“I know it’s stupid,” you finally say, “but I feel kinda bad for making you guys kick him out.”

“No way,” says the werewolf. “Fuck that guy. It’s your house.”

The two of you spend the rest of the party talking alone in your room. You go through the whole six pack together. You tell him a lot—too much probably—and you’re pretty happy with yourself because you don’t even cry. The noise of the party continues in the background, fading in and out, breaking into occasional cheers and exclamations as a game gets played, until you can hear it finally starting to wind down out there.

There’s something else you want to tell the werewolf. You might as well, since you’re already oversharing. You’re lying on your back in bed now, staring up at the ceiling, so you don’t even have to look him in the face.

“Is this a weird time to tell you that I have a huge crush on you?”

His large shoulders shake as he laughs. “It’s a little weird.”

“You like me too, don’t you,” you accuse him.

“Yeah,” he admits, still laughing.

You don’t think it’s very funny though. All the breath leaves your body in a heavy sigh. “So what do we do now?” you ask him. “I don’t know how to be intimate with you. It’s hard for me to touched… like that.”

“We don’t have to be ‘intimate’ with each other just because we like each other.”

“But don’t you want to?” you demand.

“Well—yeah,” he says, and you can hear him laughing again.

“Me too,” you say, sighing again. “That’s the problem.” You wish you could laugh with him, but you’re starting to regret all this oversharing. This isn’t a very sexy conversation. You’re suddenly worried that you’re scaring him away.

“Okay,” he says. “Here’s my idea.” When he doesn’t say anything else, you lift your head to look at him. He’s lying down on his back on the floor, spreading his long body out across the carpet. He reaches his arms up over his head, so that his large paws are resting near his ears, out of the way.

“I would just lay here like this,” he says, looking up at you, “and you could do whatever you wanted to me. I’d keep my hands to myself, and I’d do whatever you said, and I wouldn’t move at all unless you told me to. And like, maybe it wouldn’t freak you out so much.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, right now?”

“Oh. Well—” He looks a little taken aback by that, but his eyes hold yours shyly. He doesn’t move from his prone position and his paws stay where they are. “Yeah. If you want.”

You stare at each other for several seconds, him looking up at you from where he’s spread out on the floor, and you looking down at him from up on the bed.

“You’ll do whatever I say?” you ask again.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, laughing. “How do we, uh… how should we start?”

“However you want,” he says seriously.

“Right. Okay… Can you um, take your shirt off?”

He reaches down to grab the hem of his shirt, and then pulls it up over his head, wriggling out of it, tossing it aside and then placing his paws back on either side of his head—awaiting orders.

“Your pants too,” you blurt out, fighting not to laugh. You’re kind of messing with him. You want to see how far he’ll actually go. But he obediently lifts his hips and slides his pants down over his hips, wiggling out of those too and then kicking them off. He puts his paws back up over his head, in a pose that now seems unintentionally seductive. Almost all of his body is on display for you, all of his long limbs and interesting musculature, all of that short messy fur. Your gaze follows his down to his boxers, the only thing he’s still wearing, and to all of the interesting shapes suggested underneath the fabric.

“Those too,” you say.

He hooks his thumbs under the waistband and slowly slides them off, and then he’s completely naked on your bedroom floor. You can see where his thick fur gets a little lighter and sparser over his lower belly and between his legs, where his testicles and his thick sheath are now visible, with the red tip of his cock just starting to poke out.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, but your voice is a little wobbly. You’re feeling a lot of pretty intense things right now, in lots of different places. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” he says, almost smiling.

“Do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath. “Can you, uh…” You can’t help laughing. “Can you feel yourself up a little bit?”

“Seriously?” he asks, laughing with you, a little breathlessly.

“Yeah, like… stroke your chest or something. I don’t know, is that too much?”

“No,” he says. “I’ll do it.”

He slides both of his large paws into the fur over his chest awkwardly, unsure. He gives you a helpless look and then you’re both laughing again.

“I’m gonna do it,” he insists, his voice husky, both of you still laughing. He starts to runs his paws through his fur, slowly stroking up and down his chest and stomach, self-conscious at first, but then you think he starts to get into it, and his breath hitches whenever his fingers graze the small nipples running in pairs up his stomach. Between his legs, his alarmingly red cock is starting to slip farther and farther out of its sheath. You feel mesmerized watching him.

“Is this good?” he asks breathlessly.

“Yeah,” you say. Your voice is rough around the edges. “Can you touch your thighs too.”

He laughs, embarrassed but obeying, sliding his large paws down his stomach and onto his legs. His fingers run slowly back and forth through the light fur on his inner thighs, obediently touching only where you’ve asked him to, even though his cock has slid most of the way out by now, long and thick and dripping. He’s almost teasing himself now, since that’s the most he can do, his breath catching as he runs his fingers along the creases between his thighs and pelvis. And the part that’s driving you the most insane is that he’s looking right at you as he does this, his head tilted towards you and his eyes looking right into yours as he waits for your next instructions.

“Do you want to touch yourself?” you ask, almost whispering now.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Do it.”

You watch enraptures as he teases himself through his sheath first, still watching your face, whining a bit, then shutting his eyes and groaning as he slides his fist around his cock, gently stroking around the base. He gets lost in himself for a little bit, and then his stroking fist slows, his eyes blink open and find yours again, breathing heavy as he watches you.

You have to clear your throat before you can speak. “Are you still okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and he grins hearing how his own voice sounds, how husky he sounds. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“You’re doing great,” you blurt out, and there’s this giddiness in your voice that has you both laughing again. “Me neither,” you clarify. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, keep, um… stroking it.”

“Okay,” he says, with another snort of laughter. But soon he has himself panting again as he works his fist over his cock, half-lidded eyes looking for yours but then falling shut, losing his focus as he strokes himself, getting himself closer.

“Don’t cum yet though,” you say.

“Fuck,” he says, laughing hoarsely. “I won’t.” His fist slows around his cock, and he whines as he gives it few more long strokes before stopping altogether, panting and staring into your face. You actually feel like you might overheat if you don’t go cool off for a second.

“I wanna go get some water,” you tell him. “Can you wait here?”

“I can wait,” he says.

“Don’t touch yourself while I’m gone.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I won't,” he says, and he makes a show of placing his long arms back up over his head, away from his throbbing red cock.

You slip out of the room, full of nervous energy as you sneak down the hallway to the kitchen. The place is basically empty now, but the evidence of the party is strewn around everywhere in the form of plastic cups, paper plates, pizza crusts, and forgotten jackets. The TV’s still on, and someone is passed out on the couch in front of it. You go into the fridge and pour a glass of water out of the filter. You drink it in one long pull, and then you fill it up again. When you close the fridge door, one of your housemates is standing there, smirking at you from ear to ear. They have clearly guessed what you and the werewolf are getting up to in your bedroom right now.

“Shut up!” you say, even though they didn’t say anything, and you race back to your room, fuming with embarrassment. But once you shut the door behind you, everything outside the room evaporates. There’s still a very large werewolf lying naked and spread out on your floor, with his half-hard cock out and his eyes looking up at you in patient expectation. You feel a twinge of something close to panic. Trying to ignore it, you kneel down next to him and hand him the glass of water. He takes it from your hand, but he doesn’t sit up to drink it.

“You can sit up,” you tell him, embarrassed all over again.

He looks embarrassed too, but he sits up next to you to drink the water. You suddenly feel very small sitting there next to his large body. You really did feel more comfortable with him on his back, that was a good intuition on his part. He thanks you for the water, wiping his muzzle with the back of his hand, and you think with unease about what’s going to happen next. Now that you’ve had a second to clear your head, you don’t think you’re actually ready for this to go any farther. But now that you’ve instigated this, do you have a choice? Will he get mad if you want to stop? Your mind starts spinning itself into anxious circles, but his voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Is it cool if we stop?”

You blink up at him. “Yes of course. Are you okay?”

“Well, yeah, I’m fine…” He looks down at the carpet, looking embarrassed. “It’s not like I’m not, you know, enjoying myself. It’s just that…” He grins sheepishly. “I think we're both pretty drunk.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Do you wanna call it for now and see what we feel like in the morning?”

He looks at you with his big eyes serious, and his warm close presence still feels comforting and safe.

“Yeah,” you say. You look down at your fingers as you take his large paw in your hands. “But I don’t want you to go.”

“Can I sleep here?”

You grin at him. “Carry me to bed?” He grins back and slips his long arms under you and carefully stands, lifting you into the air, both of you laughing. It’s not the first time he’s carried you around like this—he’s very warm, and the touch feels familiar and safe.

you wake up all disoriented in the middle of the night. your girlfriend is sleeping next to you. she’s on her side, breathing heavy, eyes pinched shut. you hear a rapid shff shff shff and you see the blankets moving up and down over her hand where she’s touching herself under the covers. she opens her big pretty eyes and looks into yours, and when she sees you watching her, she rubs herself even harder under the blankets. she's moaning and you can hear the wet sounds of her fingers moving over her pussy. she starts to cum as you watch, crying out, holding your gaze for as long as she can before the ecstasy forces her eyes shut tight.

You wake up in the middle of the night. You’re lying on your back, sprawled across the mattress. You can’t move anything except your eyes. You can’t make it out very well in the dark, but you’re pretty sure a hulking shape is crouched at the foot of your bed. It’s absolutely still. It’s hard to make out any of its features down at the edges of your peripheral vision. All you can see for sure is a pair of branched and twisting antlers, alien and unreal-looking, rising up from the mass of shadow.

Two improbably large clawed hands reach up to wrap around your thighs. They slowly drag you down towards the foot of the bed. You’re powerless to stop it. You still can’t move. All you can manage is a frightened whine.

Horribly, a long low “shhhhh” comes up out of the large dark shape. It pulls you closer until your thighs are hanging off the edge of the bed, held wide open, and your bare cunt is exposed to the hot wet breath of an open animal mouth.

The heavy tip of a thick wet tongue drags up the slit of your cunt. Long sharp teeth scrape your sensitive skin. The large clawed hands hold your thighs spread wide as it pushes its dark head deeper between them, and the lengths and branches of the alien antlers fall farther into your view. The creature feasts upon you, and slowly your fear is transformed into unwilling pleasure. You have no choice but to lie there limp and enjoy the things this alien beast is doing to your cunt—its huge hot tongue lapping at you, stroking every nook and fold of you, clit throbbing, hole clenching with every wet stroke. The sharp tips of the teeth bite into your skin. The mouth feels poised to devour you. You still can’t move, but when you cum, a broken moan is wrenched out of your throat as the euphoria rolls over you, unstoppable and out of your control.

The creature pulls away from you. In a skittering movement that seems far too quick for its bulk, it crawls from the room on all fours, and disappears somewhere else in your apartment. You don't like that at all. You still can't move. All you can do is stare up at the ceiling and try to fall back asleep.

You wake up in the dark, uncomfortable and disoriented. A large black shape is looming over you. Somehow it’s on the bed with you. It’s peering down at you with a pair of enormous burning bright eyes.

Sometimes you see things like this in the middle of the night. You wait for your eyes to adjust, to make sense of the dark, but the vision persists. It becomes more real and alarming with each passing second.

“Don’t move,” it whispers. You won’t. You can’t. Your body is not obeying you. You realize the shape is straddling your hips. You can feel its unnerving warm weight. You can’t look away from its terrifying, mesmerizing eyes. The confusion and fear overwhelm you. You hear your own breathing turn ragged.

The blazing eyes blink down at you slowly. “Don’t do that…” says the whispering voice. Its clawed hand comes up to touch your face, brushing tears from your cheek. Its voice and touch are gentle. Maybe it’s not going to hurt you.

“What are you going to do to me?” you try to ask. But all that comes out of your throat is a wordless squeak. The shape responds as if it understands.

“I’m collecting genetic material from you. I’ve paralyzed you.” Its whispering voice sounds loud in the silent darkness. “It won’t hurt as long as you don’t move.”

None of this reassures you. You try to make sense of the sensations around your hips, where the creature is sitting on top of you. You have the creeping feeling that your bodies are connected more intimately than you realized. You can’t lift your head to confirm. Maybe you don’t want to know.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up…” More tears are brushed from your cheeks by the large clawed fingers. The luminous eyes feel locked with yours like magnets.

A new sensation begins to slowly radiate throughout your body, spreading from your hips outward into your extremities and up into your brain: a low rhythmic pulsing and tingling, pleasant and at odds with the rest of your frantic thoughts and feelings.

“Since you’re awake,” whispers the creature, “I’ll make it pleasurable for you.”

Its enormous eyes, overwhelming in the dark, stare down at you unerringly. Your fear and bewilderment slowly ebb, forgotten in the face of the sensations building up inside you. Your loins are now pleasantly swollen and throbbing beneath the creature’s warm heavy weight, but the feeling goes beyond that. It pulses through every inch of you. It feels incredible.

“Is that better?” asks the gently whispering voice. It’s not enough. You want more. You’d let it do this to you all night if it wanted.

The feeling finally crests into a kind of sustained mind-numbing orgasm. You still can’t move, all you can do is lie there paralyzed in ecstasy, a long hoarse groan pathetically drawn up out of your throat, staring up into the huge glowing eyes with a kind of confused adoration and love.

You need to get off every single night, or else the next day you get so horny you can’t think straight. You’re the exact opposite of your boyfriend in this regard, but he doesn’t mind because he loves making you cum. Every night when you crawl into bed together, he tucks your body against his, reaches between your legs, and jerks you off to completion. This is such a routine now that you start to get wet as soon as you get under the sheets. He doesn’t tease you or make you work for it, he just strokes and rubs your lips and clit and murmurs in your ear until you cum on his fingers. He just loves how soft and wet you get for him, and your cute little whimpers and your gently rocking hips.

But touching you like this night after night eventually takes its toll on him. Over time his grip on you gets less gentle and more possessive. His soft endearments turn into lewd, urgent whispers. Now he starts to really play with you, rubbing your cunt until you’re close but then stopping just shy of the edge, letting you come back down twitching and whimpering, over and over until you feel completely melted. His cock twitches against your thigh as you moan and gasp through every close call.

“Fuck I need this pussy,” he moans in your ear, sounding desperate now, “I need this pussy around my cock.”

You would do anything to get him to fuck you right now, but instead he takes himself in his own fist and starts to urgently play with himself, while his other hand continues to stroke and tease your silky wet lips and clit. He stuffs his fingers into your pussy and feels your wet walls pulsing tight around him and strokes his own cock harder, imagining the way your pussy would feel around his cock.

“Fuck you feel so good baby, your pussy feels so good… I’m gonna cum,” he gasps, “I’m gonna cum.”

“No, no, please,” you beg, “inside me, cum inside me—”

“I’m cumming—” he groans as he unloads into his own hand, cum squirting uselessly through his fingers, and while he's cumming he fucks you as hard and as fast as he can with his other hand, moaning lewdly into your ear and making you cum so hard you see stars.

Your girlfriend just walked in on you while you were masturbating. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal, except you were sucking your thumb while you did it… You didn’t want her to know you did that… She’s gonna think you’re a freak. But sometimes you just can’t make yourself cum without something between your lips.

“Poor baby,” she says, giggling. “Let me help you.” She pulls her tshirt off over her head, letting her heavy breasts swing free. Then she crawls on top of you and presses one of them right into your face, offering her nipple to your swollen lips.

This is not the reaction you were expecting, but you don’t think twice before hungrily wrapping your lips around her nipple, groaning hoarsely into her breast as you start to gently suck. She smiles down at you, pleased, and she presses her hand over yours where it’s still resting between your legs.

“Go ahead, baby,” she says, encouraging you to keep touching yourself. Without another thought you go back to stroking between your legs. It feels twice as good as before with her breasts in your face and your lips around her nipple, greedily sucking, and you can’t help pathetically thrusting your hips. Your needy groans are muffled into her breasts, and your hips buck uncontrollably into your hand. You’re gonna cum, you’re cumming, arching your back, moaning loudly into her nipple, your sounds of pleasure softly muffled with both of her breasts smooshed into your face.