Armor
Everything has a start but, people seem to have a hard time finding theirs. All of our lives we are told things and as we get older, get told more things, it's harder to trust what we were first told. Things taken for granted are later hard to define and the answers you seek are hard to accept. I've feared my answer for as long as I've known it. I have refused to live by it and only acknowledge it in the deepest part of my heart and mind. By telling this to you I hope to mold this little part of myself and wear it as an armor. To bear it proudly and not care about what any others may think. My life has been troubled by doubts and indecisions. Only since I've gotten older, now in my thirties, have ever been comfortable as "myself." Now, I will find my start...
I look at the screen, at these letters that I so hope to be true, regardless of the fact that I was the one who wrote them. I sigh as I stand up from the table, stretch and decide to go to my bedroom, turning out the lights as I go. There's no one else here who would need them. It's not bad, you know, living solo. I get to keep the thermostat at that oh so slightly chilly temp I like, no complaining to listen to. Anyway, bedtime. Off go the clothes, covers go on, alarm set... Queue the errant thoughts, dreams of the actions I'd like to take. Quit that job, taste some freedom and find something that makes me happier... Happier... Oof, loaded word there. How does that even work, is there a plan to follow? A map? A guide? Oh, here we go, my thinker ain't gonna stop soon. It never does when I get thoughts like these.
This calls for a bathroom break. Oh no mirror, will you ever be my friend? Well, there I am. Tallish at 6' 3" or so. Fat, though, taller than I am wide at least. The face bearded, not fashionably, just lazy. Not enough to cover the bald patches in my facefur either, thank you genetics. Other patches in other places too... Ugh... That particular variable has come up many times in the happiness equation. Average canine otherwise. Enough of that, not helping the mindset. Getting moodier over myself isn't going to help me sleep.
Back in bed; I stare at the ceiling. Thinking thoughts that are a bit less troubling, a bit less defined. Mostly an uneasy chattering in the background like, being in a large room with people in it. Lots of different conversations trying to find a solution to a problem but, here's the thing, no one knows what the problem actually is. It's hard to sleep with the chatter. Maybe I'll choose some music to listen to, follow the words like a conversation. Focusing could help drown out the background. Focusing on something else may help too...
Light strokes, like a tickle really, as my paw wanders lower. Grazing my sheath just lightly enough to make me shiver and nibble my lower lip. Oh yeah, I like this better than music already. I trace my fingers down my sheath and around my balls, feeling them retract slightly at the tender stimulation. The other part does the opposite, drawing itself up proudly at the attention. Still trapped in its warm embrace, the growing rod starts to strain slightly at its softly furred residence. Though they're my paws and my fingers, my mind shows me a vision of another's paws, another's fingers. I feel them pulling my sheath back and gasp lightly at the at the chill air on my exposed cock. One hand at the base just behind the still small knot, the other gently rubbing just beneath the tip, coaxing out some pre. As I begin to spread it over my length I imagine a head between my legs. He gives me a slight wink before he takes a small lick at my shaft.
While this fantasy of mine isn't anyone I actually know, he does feature prominently during nights like these. He reeks of masculinity. Not in the smelly way but, in the strong jaw and the deep rumble of his voice. In the way I imagine he would be outdoorsy, not afraid of getting dirty and exuding a hint of wood smoke. How I see him broad shouldered and strong but with paws so gentle. I react to his familiar image with a rapidly swollen knot and a spurt of pre that lands on my chest. I see him take my cock into his maw and give it a tongue lashing that would give cherry stems wet dreams. His head bobbing but his eyes always meeting mine. I moan at the attention and he smirks and starts to hum. It's a deep hum that makes me tremble as it vibrates me right down to the base. I feel my muscles tighten as I feel the end nearing, ragged breaths stop as my shaft jumps in my hand.
My eyes snap open as I feel the ropes of cum land on my chest and heave a great sigh of satisfaction. Melting into that soup of relaxation and release I idly swirl my fingers in the cum on chest and stomach before I scoop up what I can. I manage to successfully keep it from spilling on my bedsheets as I grab the small towel I keep beside to bed. After wiping myself off as best I can, I let it drop to the floor.
As sleep finally overtakes me, I have a final thought for the day. It's about how I regret that I instead of wearing it, can only look at that "armor" before placing it gently back in the closet for another day...