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Jesam – Somnophilia

Jesam stirred, rolled over, floated briefly in the warm pink half-consciousness of being not quite asleep, then promptly drifted off once more. It felt like smoothly riding the swells in one of those water park wave pools, or like floating along the lazy river… and there they were, arms draped over the sides of one of the inner tubes, bare legs and footpaws drifting through the water behind their movement. The fox felt their long, brushy tail swept along in the flow, warm and gentle and pleasant; they tilted their head back, let their mouth fall open, and breathed in the savory, chemical scent of the chlorine, oddly pleasant.

There were noises around, but they didn’t hear them, and neither did they really notice that they didn’t hear them. There was just the sensation of the pool, the sweet, soft movement; they bumped up against one of the walls of the lazy river, and then instead of the river they were in a corner of the pool itself, but that seemed just fine. Jesam straightened up a bit, felt themselves turned within the inner tube, lifted an arm to reach out for the edge of the walkway, and then pulled themselves forward, rubber float suddenly gone. They rested their arms along the edge there, pulled themselves forward, pressed their chest to the sun-warmed brick – felt it tighten in against them – then sighed, closed their eyes, dropped their head to their arms… and then felt the jet pushing out between their legs.

It began as a small tickle, then quickly grew into concentrated, focused pleasure. Jesam bit their lip and grinded into it, distantly aware that they floated in this pool naked, with the constant, turbulent flow of the underwater jet drumming across smooth, soft fur, and now teasing across the sensitive lips of their sex. The fox gasped, sighed again, straightened up, leaned back – but still the brick of the edge seemed to squeeze against their chest – and spread their legs into the sensation. It dug away at them, spreading their lips first, then pressing in, jetting up inside of them, filling them out, and then spraying away again, almost like a pair of fingers circling around, swirling deep.

Panting softly, they lowered themselves down a bit, moaned out as the jet then focused in at their clit, and briefly slid awake once more. No pool, no water, no jet, but lying sideways on the bed with the weight of a warm arm around their bare chest, and…

...and then the pressure around them lifted, and they were back in the lazy river again, floating along, rolling around to their other side. But still Jesam could feel the jet, dragging along between their thighs, circling around their clit, slipping inside now like a tongue, and – they gasped, shivered, clasped onto the edge of the pool where they floated again, and felt the rim of the jet itself seal against them while the pressure sank inside, swirled around, drew back out. Sucking, slurping, dragging across them, now teasing down to their tailhole, now dragging all the way up across them again.

The pressure inside of them continued to grow, the little ember sparking into a sweet, delicious flame, coaxed along by the constant attention. The water park fizzled away to late night, or early morning, or something somewhere in between the two; and in the half-aware space between dreaming and wakefulness, Jesam pressed a footpaw into the mattress, lifted up against the source of the pleasure, ran a paw down their own body to now touch and feel and finger, and slid across fur slick and sticky with prepared arousal.

The fox swallowed, rolled their head to the side, moaned out again when two fingers easily plunged inside of them, with a third to follow. They rocked their body back and forth with their self-enjoyment, digging deep, holding inside; they groaned out, jerked, lifted up, shivered… drifted back off again, except now they were reclining back on one of the poolside lounge chairs, warm sunlight dancing across their bare fur.

They looked down their body, saw their nakedness, their spread legs – the person climbing up on top of them, the way he eyed them, how he licked his lips, how he chuckled nervously, how he angled his hard shaft down towards them. Jesam nodded, reached for him – they recognized who they were, but this didn’t matter amid the dream – and drew him forward into them, both of them gasping out and arching their bodies as he sank deep inside luscious, velvety wet flesh, their pleasure paired and thrumming together, him quickly settling into a rhythm, working his hips, grinding in against them, thrusting deep. His breath puffed against their shoulder, his muzzle nudged against theirs-

-and Jesam stirred foggily awake with the sensation of him burying himself deep, his balls sagging down across their tailhole and tensing, twitching as he unloaded deep inside, his breaths coming in quick, tight gasps across their shoulder. The otter shuddered, throbbed inside of them again, shuddered once more, draped his weight across them… and then after a moment lifted himself up to look down at the fox underneath him. The fur around his lips was smeared and slick with gathered wetness; as he smiled nervously down at them, Jesam felt their nose twitch, lifted up, sniffed at him… recognized their own musk across his muzzle.

Lukas swallowed and then did so again, still hilted inside of them, still throbbing with the remnants of his finish. His little ears flicked back, and he glanced away.

“S… sorry,” he panted, and gave that same nervous giggle. “It’s just, you were… grinding against me, and I got worked up, and… and you grabbed my paw and dragged it down, and then I was… um…”

Jesam blinked, vision still bleary, and reached up for his shoulders. The movement made him gasp and twitch again, and the fox wrapped their legs around him, pulled themselves up, churned their hips with the otter still buried deep.

“I was…” They paused, floating along the pleasure, yet again like a wave in a pool. “At a water park…”

RussetPotato – Somnophilia

Shekh grunted and gave another slow, indulgent thrust forward, the slick warmth slipping further back around his half-hard shaft. The nightstalker swallowed and tasted the cool nighttime desert air layered over something sharper, fresher, a little bit deeper, like… the aroma of sharp sweat wrapped around a distinct musk, wafting up all around him. He blinked, then did so again, and ended up closing one of his eyes so that the other, more night-accustomed one could see uninterrupted, and – saw just about nothing, at first.

But then the shape in front of him, draped gently around him, stirred a little bit, and returned that forward thrust. The sleek, almost tacky heat wrapped around his nighttime arousal sank further towards his sheath, canine shaft buried amid that delicious, invigorating sensation, and making him squirm and shiver and thrust all over again. In front of him Dusty murmured in his own sleep, the full rattlesnake shifting a bit; one thick, muscular arm draped across the nightstalker’s body, his wide hand tugging at Shekh’s waist just above the base of his tail.

Where am I? Shekh thought. He flicked his tongue out across his lips, tasted the air again, picked up what was certainly his own musk twisting and dancing there, then also tasted a sharper, less familiar swirl swelling about him as well. It definitely fizzed from further down, and as he reflexively tugged his waist back and then pressed forward again – Dusty shifted and sighed in his sleep – it strengthened, then weakened… then strengthened again as the other male grinded in against him, and-

And Shekh blinked again, both eyes flashing open, trying to focus in the half-light beneath the vast, open sky, blue-black velvet studded with pinpoint silver dust. That arm tightened; the rattlesnake here in front of him, so close, nudged in closer, lifted a leg over the half-rattlesnake’s body, tugged himself closer, and squeezed – and there was that sleek, slick warmth again, snug around Shekh’s growing arousal, now fully hard and buried, he realized, within Dusty’s genital slit.

Did I start this? Did he? We crossed the river just as the sun was setting, and… that’s right, he slipped and dropped into the water, and… The nightstalker lifted his head and looked over his shoulder, the movement causing him to shift within folds of succulent, luscious inner flesh, the half-firm weights of Dusty’s still slitted shafts squeezing so snug around him. ...and he’s fully coldblooded, so we decided to huddle for warmth, and…

And the way Dusty had looked at him as Shekh had also undressed had set his tail rattling. Sharp eyes dancing up and down the nightstalker’s body, following the line where sleek leathery scales gave way to smooth, soft coyote fur, cresting along his chest and then diving back down over the smooth shapes of thin, streamlined muscle, down across his belly, his waist, his thighs. They had each faced away from one another as they had pulled the single dry blanket up, everything else hanging on a line stretched between the nearby Joshua tree and a suitably sizeable rock, but Shekh could have sworn he had felt Dusty’s rattler nudge up against his as he had fallen asleep, and now-

-and now the other rattlesnake stirred again, shifted and stretched a little bit, and then tightened his grip on the other male’s waist. Shekh gasped as that genital slit squeezed down around him again, the accompanying throbs within both of Dusty’s cocks sucking tight; the nightstalker couldn’t help but lurch forward, his sleek snout nestling up against the smooth-scaled neck, while his nostrils flared with the quick gasp of sensation.

Then he did so again, and again, and then that hand on his waist reached down, down towards the base of his wide snake’s tail. On reflex the nightstalker shifted and raised his leg in response, nudging it up against Dusty’s; the full rattlesnake leaned in closer, breathed a shivering sigh into his ear, and continued grinding against him, hips moving with liquid fluidity as he rode along the contours of one canine shaft buried between two serpentine.

Shekh reached up, hooked his arm beneath Dusty’s, tugged his traveling partner closer. The two had been on the road for some three weeks now between settlements, with only their packs, their mounts, the vast wilderness around them, and of course one another for company; having never shared a word before and hardly more than twenty or so across those three weeks, the serpent had been rather hard to track.

But then that distinct look before bunking down for the night, and Shekh could have sworn he had seen two little pinpoints of succulent reddish-pink flesh protruding from Dusty’s slit as he had climbed in, and now this scent wrapping around him…

The nightstalker sighed softly, rolled Dusty more fully on top of him, and clutched at his back as he rode into the thrusting, the tension within the snake’s slit continuing to grow.

“Are you awake?” he murmured, keeping his maw close to the other’s ear… but to no response other than the continued grinding, the soft panting, the occasional hiss of a twitching rattle. “Dusty…”

A breathless gulp, a soft murmuring groan, another twitch and squeeze leading to shuddering, indulgent trembles – and hot wetness squirted out around Shekh’s buried cock, forcing him to moan out and push forward, then tug back. That extra slickness aided in the movement, allowing him to easily push forward between those steadily stiffening lengths as they began to slip out around him, pushing against his pubic fur, rolling back the supple skin of his sheath. He dropped his paw along Dusty’s back, fingers running over the lines of muscle, sliding down towards the base of his tail, and there returned the touch and squeeze and little nudge, to bring the rattlesnake more fully on top of him-

-and then those eyes flashed open, blinked among sleepy confusion. Dusty swallowed, licked his lips, squirmed around a bit, then shuddered with in recognition of the sudden pleasure swelling around him.

“Oh,” he murmured; “_oh, _gosh, Shekh, you… ah – hah…”

“Mhmm,” the nightstalker rumbled back, and tightened his grip. Dusty trembled with delight as his slit was once again pulled down around full, throbbing canine cock. “How’s this for warming up in the night?”

lomidepuzlo – Oviposition

Nora gritted her teeth against the palpable pressure, both paws running across her swollen belly, squishing into the soft skin and folds of flesh underneath. Maybe I went too far, she thought, and worked to beat back the rising wave of nervous uncertainty; maybe this is too much, and I need to stand up and go draw a bath, and… but then, fingers squeezing into the soft give of her belly, she felt a distinct semi-firmness lurking inside, and her heart skipped a beat.

The vixen swallowed, sighed with pleasure, rolled her head to the side, and pushed out just a little bit, just enough so that she could feel the now-familiar strain of the stretch from inside. The towel underneath her had gathered quite a bit of the lube in a thick, sticky puddle settled just between her thighs, and still she thought she could feel more of it trickling out of her; she had, after all, stretched herself open with two fingers, pushed the end of the bottle inside of herself, and then gave three good, hard squeezes for good measure. That on its own had been a hell of a sensation, the cool liquid squirting up inside of her, coating her inner walls as she rubbed it in further, and then… and then working it even deeper with the first of the egg toys, pressed in tapered side first.

She squeezed at her belly again, able to feel its shape lodged there inside of her like a thick, dense lump layered beneath skin and fur. Of course she had started with the smallest one, and that on its own had been nearly enough to make her cum at the widest point; she ran one paw down between her legs, traced her fingers over sensitive lips made slick and wet with the excess lube, then poked in between – and of course felt the blunt, smooth surface of the last one she had put in, still wedged firmly inside of her, trying to squeeze its way back out, lifting at the sides of her sex. If she relaxed she could feel it pushing out and drawing her forward, yet she knew that it would take a deliberate, focused push to actually get it out of her, and until then she could circle a fingerpad around her distended clit, held up along the surface of the toy.

Or… Nora teased at that push, muscles tensing, abdomen tightening. Or maybe I could go one more… The pressure grew, stretching, pulling – and she caught the base in her palm as soon as it squirted out of her, and with one leg coming up further started to push it right back in. She clenched her jaw, wrenched her eyes shut, held her breath as pleasure swelled into slight discomfort, and then – jerked, gasped, moaned out once more when it resumed its original place inside of her, pressing out at her insides, nudging up against the others.

Each time the fox shifted she could feel all of them inside of her, filling her out, pressing along sensitive nerves, straining her muscles. Try as she might to tense around them, she could only do so much; the egg toys had seemed so squishy, so malleable in her paws, but inside of her they seemed so much firmer, so much more present. Not that that was a bad thing: the fox rolled her head to her other shoulder, licked her lips, let her jaw hang open, and once again relaxed to feel that strange, delicious pull and sag from inside.

Already she had wondered what it might be like to go about her day with these four – or is it five? – shoved inside of her, sloshing around, weighing down her belly from inside, constantly tingling and firing at all the spots that made her knees weak. This puddle gathered across the towel was more than just the lube, of course; the fox swallowed, pressed her other paw to her muzzle, and suppressed a quick, gasping moan as she continued rubbing at herself, grinding the little nub of her clit against the wall of the toy inside of her.

Just a little bit of an extra push, and then she felt that also-familiar tingling heat of the stretch reaching its peak. Nora groaned again, squeezed her eyes tighter, and now pressed her legs together around the emerging egg, loving the sensation of it pressing out between her thighs, parting her open – and then let out a breathy moan of relief when it popped fully free, the force of the tension shooting it nearly down to her knees. Finally she relaxed again, muscles tingling, lower body trembling; the fox swallowed, slid her paw back down, easily plunged four fingers into herself… dug a little deeper, and felt the same surface of the next egg inside of her.

Moaning softly, tail swishing underneath her just out of the puddle of sticky slime, Nora took a moment to catch her breath and then pushed again. Inside of her, those silken wet walls swelled out, bunched up, sleeved around the second egg as well as her half-buried paw; luscious slickness squelched and bubbled, she paused to catch her breath and then pushed again, and this time she managed to work her fingers around the egg as it came. Soft flesh stretched to taut firmness pulled around her, the moisture of her arousal soaking through her fur and smearing across her fingers; she grunted, bore down again, pushed harder, felt her tailhole crest and swell with the extra exertion.

Then the pressure grew again, and peaked – and with another gasping sigh this egg dumped out into her palm, along with another squirt of lube and spray of wet warmth, arcing out across the bed. Already she felt far emptier than she had before, despite the number remaining inside of her; for the moment, though, Nora lay back along the bed, eyes half-closed and mouth half-open, chest rising and falling in somewhat unsteady breaths while she simmered in the lingering relief.

She felt free, felt open, felt loose, in a few senses of the word. Idly she ran the back of her paw between her thighs, further smearing her fur in sticky slickness. Two more, she thought, and with effort lifted herself up to her elbows. Or three. Or, I could… push each of these right back in…

Burlington – Oviposition

Kaysee rolled over again, tugging the blankets up to her chin, halfway pressing her muzzle into the soft down of the pillow… but then the twinge, the ping, the sensation vibrated up from deep inside of her yet again, this time sending a reflexive kick down through one leg. The Australian shepherd blinked her eyes open, staring out at the far well of the darkened bedroom; she swallowed, cleared her throat, swallowed again, then snuggled back up, trying to grab onto the escaping wisps of sleep before they were gone-

-but then that pulse zapped through yet again and she groaned, curling up a little bit, one paw sliding down the sleep-ruffled fur of her belly. Warmth – heat, searing up from beneath the covers, tingling out across her abdomen, her thighs, down across the underside of her tail; the dog rolled over onto her back, sighed and groaned again as the movement of the sheets across the front of her panties sent an unexpectedly sharp shiver of sensation through her, and pushed her paw further down… and had to physically peel the material of her underwear away from the plump lips of her full spade, still swollen out with constant arousal, thick sticky wetness clinging to the padded interior.

That explained the dream she had, then. Kaysee swallowed again, glanced over at the clock – just past three in the morning, the dim green numbers read – then threw the blankets back in one smooth, wide toss. When she sat up she felt the puddle that had dribbled out beneath her before she saw it, the uneven circle of dampness darkening the mattress between her thighs; she shivered, tilted her head, scooped her paw a little bit further into her underwear to tug the similarly soaked fabric away, and then carefully, gently, teased two fingerpads in towards the inner rim of her spade.

Sleek, silken black flesh kept glistening wet throughout her nighttime arousal audibly parted around those probing fingers, thick strands of wetness draping from inside. She couldn’t see the fade to soft pink interior meat in the dimness of the bedroom from here, but still felt the distinct warmth, thick and heavy and dank, and… those sleek walls mushed easily around her fingers as she pressed deeper, and she trembled and gasped and clenched with the waves of enjoyment, and then, about two knuckles in, felt the smooth, semisoft surface of the weight filling her out from inside.

It had been a fresh new kind of hell trying to get to sleep with this thing wedged inside of her, the silicone egg’s shape pressing out at her most sensitive innards from every angle, slipping and sloshing and sagging every time she rolled over, pushing out at her belly from inside, slowly rolling within thick folds of succulent meat to lodge here or wedge itself there, and even now as she half-twisted her body with those two fingers scooped inside, teasing and pushing and trying to find purchase at its far side to ease it back out, the combined sensations made her shudder even more.

Frustrated, the shepherd let out a quick grumble, slurped her fingers back out of herself – the lips of her spade clung to the slickened fur and pulled briefly, then slopped back into place – and swung her legs out over the side of the mattress. She pulled herself forward, making sure to lift up a bit so as not to drag her protruding sex across the sheet and leave another glistening smear that would stain by morning, and then threw herself up to her feet… and immediately flumped back down as jelly legs refused to support her weight.

“Oh, come – on, give me a… god_damn_ break…”

She took a deep breath, winced as the shift in her lungs and chest pressed down against the egg toy inside of her and forced it to shift once more, then braced herself, tightened her muscles, clenched around it – which just squirted it a half-inch deeper inside all over again – and this time succeeded in standing up. Then step after plodding step across the master bedroom, which had never before seemed so large, towards the bathroom; she leaned her weight against the knob to turn it, caught herself on the counter inside, paused there to catch her breath, continued on.

At least she had left the toilet lid up from before. Still the lube remained where she had left it on the counter, and the stained, soaked towel by the foot of the tub, and the shampoo bottle that she had used as a kickstand for her phone. Kaysee pushed a paw against the wall, turned, dropped down onto the seat, and had barely begun to lean forward before she started pushing, eyes wrenched shut, jaw clenched, breath simmering in her chest. She pushed, and paused, and pushed again, then pushed, strained, forced-

-and couldn’t help but kick a footpaw as the toy finally started to make its way out of here, the wide, blunted base pulling out at her spade from inside, stretching the supple, plump flesh outwards, extruding it further, lodging there. Kaysee gasped, swallowed, just barely resisted a clench which would certainly shoot it back into her womb, then pushed again, and this time felt it move the rest of the way. As soon as it hit that midway point, the egg eased itself: lasting lube mixed with the natural slick wetness of her insides smeared across the sides aided its exit, and hot, delicious relief pounded through her as inner rings of muscle worked to force it out from inside of her, the squelching, slurping walls of sensitive meat sleeving forward, blossoming out, puttering noisily past the hefty thump and plop when it impacted the inner front of the toilet bowl and then rolled back into the water.

Heart pounding, head swimming a bit, Kaysee took a moment to catch her breath – her entire abdomen was tingling, and when she relaxed she could still feel that her canine sex hung loosely open, for the moment stretched to a slight, slack gape around the size she had used – and then rose back up. I’ll deal with that later, she resolved, shuffling her way back across the bathroom on wobbly legs. I’ve got work tomorrow. God knows I’ve already lost enough sleep as is…

Peegus – Paws

Sanya leaned back in the chaise, one leg crossed over the other, fully aware that this posture made the gossamer wisps of her dress draw back along her smooth, carefully maintained fur – but to her dismay and slight annoyance, the alchemist across the room maintained her air of quiet dignity, the lioness keeping her eyes downcast and her focus on the mixture she worked in the pestle. The pleasant scent of cool herbs and warm incense swirled about the dim space, the clear, sharp light of the desert sun slanting in through thick curtains drawn to just the right spot for the caracal in the lounge seat to look down across her own bare footpaws.

And she licked her chops, pursed her lips, smiled… spread her toes, rolled one of the rings around a toe, nudged one of the fine chains back into its proper place along the top of one footpaw, tilted her other so that the lacquer along her claws caught that light and glittered with the same rich, metallic gold. She slid her tongue across a sharp fang, tilted her head the other way, paused in thought, then glanced up to the alchemist again.

“Samira.”

“Yes, my queen?”

“Will this take much longer?”

“No, my queen. In fact, the salve is nearly complete.” There was the distinctive clink and tump of stone first on stone, then on smooth wood. “All that remains is activation, and then… oh, five minutes, and I will no longer occupy your time.”

“Mm.” Sanya tilted her head back and now shifted, reaching one leg out towards the edge of the chaise. “And how was it you said that works?”

Samira hesitated. “I must… chew the mixture, as the active compounds in saliva serve to-”

“Activate it. Yes.”

“Unless you would prefer to do it yourself, my queen?”

“Oh, no.” More jingling of delicate jewelry as she waved a paw. “I could not deprive you of your duty, Samira. I do… so ache, and seek this relief…” For show she stretched out her pawpads again, toes stretching apart.

The lioness’s green eyes, seeming to glow on their own in the dimness, flashed down to the tender pads and then up again. She scooped the medicinal mix out of the pestle, bunched it into a ball, then nestled it into one of her cheeks and began chewing. Even from here the queen could smell the cool, sweet herbal aroma, mint and rosemary and a little bit of anise, and then that touch of alcohol and oil… Samira rolled it to the other side of her mouth.

“Would you prefer the willow or the birch, for the application?”

“Mm.” The queen licked her lips again. “Apply it manually.”

“My queen?”

“It’s already in your mouth.” She stretched her toes again. “Use your tongue. And your lips. Everything you need to ensure full coverage. I trust you, Samira.”

A brief pause in the chewing – and then the lioness dipped her head again, stepped around the counter, and approached the caracal queen. She hesitated for barely a moment before then dropping down at the foot of the chaise, one paw coming forward to lift Sanya’s footpaw by the ankle; the queen purred softly in her throat and leaned into the motion, pushing downwards, stretching her toes apart.

“Don’t be shy, now…” And she lifted herself up a bit to get a better angle. Samira, still chewing, knelt down at her feet, paused to lift her hood back – sleek, silken fur glittered in the shaft of sunlight – then paused again as she shifted the activated mixture to the front of her mouth.

Then another moment in spreading it across her tongue, and she opened her mouth, draped the tender pink muscle out, glanced up at her queen once more, and then with one paw gently clutching the royal footpaw, leaned in. First her nose nestled between spread toepads; Sanya thought she felt the slight of soft inhalations, gentle breath tickling at the sensitive fur in between, and then the lioness’s sandpaper tongue came in and pressed against her footpad – and she couldn’t help but roll her head back on her shoulders and sigh out in sweet relief.

Another breath puffed between her toes; she realized that, on the first contact of the cooling mixture to her sore paws, she had squeezed her footpaw against the lioness’s muzzle – and as such the queen pressed down against her a little bit more firmly, grinding in against Samira’s chin, pinching around her nose. The lioness brought her other paw up to better support the queen’s footpaw while she worked, tongue dragging across plush, supple pads to smear the mixture into place, then dipping back into her mouth to both rehydrate and to prepare the next portion.

As she moved away from the main pad of the caracal’s footpaw, firm yet surprisingly gentle fingers came up to massage the mixture better into place, squishing and squeezing at the soft flesh. Samira sighed out, her breath warm and humid against the cooling sensation of the medicine; green eyes briefly focused in along metallic jewelry, studded bands, hanging chains, and lacquered claws, and then she swiftly and decisively drew one of Sanya’s toes into her mouth, subsuming the digit in sweet, delicious damp warmth. The queen covered her mouth with one paw, eyes closed, breath catching in her throat: this time that deft tongue danced all around instead of just across the pad, rolling that ring back into its initial orientation and then even slipping underneath, tugging it briefly upwards.

Sanya couldn’t help but curl her toes downwards, digging that lacquered claw against the flat of Samira’s tongue. The alchemist swallowed around her toe, held there for a moment, and then drew back, letting her tongue fold around the claw as it went. Green eyes glittered again; Samira straightened up, tilted her head to find the next bunch of mixture, and then leaned back in to continue.

She’s used too much, Sanya thought, somewhat breathless as she watched. She stretched her toes apart. She’ll have to prepare more. Does she know that she-

Then another drag of sweet, cool sandpaper tongue, this time between her toes as well as across the pads, and the queen’s head rolled back on her shoulders with a soft purr rumbling in her throat.