Who's a Good Boy?
Whump! My forehand is decent. Well, it's been getting better since she's been helping me out with it lately. Down to the far side of the court the ball zooms and I can see her long ears flatten out in concentration like they always do when she lines up a really good shot.
It's a blistering day, great for tennis. The long green court is painfully bright and I can swear I see heat mirages casting silvery flashes at the far end. I'm hot enough in just my athletic shorts, having stripped my tee-shirt because of the oppressive air, but I can't imagine having such a sleek, jet black coat like Constance in such weather. It must be those tall ears that keep her cool; she doesn't seem fazed by the temperature at all. It was really good of her to get me out of my room from studying and out to be active for a while, it's the weekend but I've been really worried about finals next week, and afterward, long-awaited, blessed summer.
She's winding up for the return now. Gracefully her knees bend as she sinks her weight down into the turf and pulls her racquet back. She looks like a pro; sometimes I think she takes this game a little too seriously for my skill level. Whap! Her aim is superb, the ball is flying back to the right corner of my courtâ€"my bad side. I rush over to the other edge of the court, knowing that being left-handed I'll be forced to make a successful backhand (which I'm terrible at) to save this volley. Rather awkwardly, I skid to a stop, bend over and turn my waist to wind up my backhand, whip my arm around, and swing for the ball. Thwap! Amazingly my racquet connects with the ball, but before I can feel proud of myself my balance gives and I crumple over face up on hot asphalt. Squinting at the sun I take a deep sigh as I hear my opponent running up toward the net, I guess my swing didn't have much strength behind it. Pushing off the ground with my hands I swing my legs above and behind me to roll back onto my feet just in time to see her swat the ball high into the air, giving me a little time to recover before it comes back down.
"You're toying with me, Connie!" I laugh and rush forward to try and aim for the ball, but the sun still stings in my eyes and I miss terribly. Thwarted, I half-collapse into the net, slump my arm over the other side, and pant, "It's just as well, I'm bushed." Connie's coming toward the net with a grin, playing with the wristband on her racquet arm. She still looks as limber and energetic as ever.
"And you were doing so well, too," she says cheerfully, "especially at the beginning."
"I just don't think I have your endurance is all, you're in great shape," I reply, slowly catching my breath, "but thanks, it was a good game!" She had gone over to the bleachers to grab our towels, throwing mine to me.
"Well Rupe look on the bright side, you're still a better swimmer than me." Catching it, I pat my face and arms down to dry them. I stand up straight and roll my shoulder, still feeling kinda gross but glad to get some good exercise. From the other courts behind tall fences echoes a soft bouncing ambience of other games in progress, accompanied by the grunts and outbursts of the players. After a moment Connie suggests, "Hey, wanna take a dip and get a smoothie? I still haven't told you what's going on tonight!" I agree.
Behind us stands the school's athletic center, a giant steel and glass edifice that twists up into the clear blue sky. It's reputed to be one of the largest college gyms ever constructed, and it still looks very new and shiny. Connie and I gather our bags and traverse the sidewalk behind the courts to the doors of the gym. The path curves around the glass walls of the racquetball courts and the railing over looking rows and rows of cardeo exercise machines below, all whirring in use.
"So what is it that's going on tonight," I ask, "Is it another Linwood party?" Parties at one of Connie's friend's house, who lives on Linwood St., have come to be known simply as ‘Linwood parties.'
"Actually yeah, it is! You really should come to one, I've talked about you before and they really wanna meet you now." Connie has always been more of a partier than me, and the Linwood house always seemed a little too... well, out of control for me. Her stories of rather eclectic drunken shenanigans have made me apprehensive about joining her to witness them. Still, Connie always tells me what a great time she has when she goes. Somewhat tentatively I ask,
"Is it another theme party?" Sometimes they get especially wild and throw parties with themed attire. She laughs, shaking her head,
"No, not this one, but those are great too. Oh! And I almost forgot the best part, last time I was there I met this guyâ€"have I ever talked about Nancy before?â€"well anyway, she has a friend from work who I met at the last get together and I think he's just your type!" Is that so, I think to myself. Connie knows my type very well, and I trust her judgment on this issue. She knows I'm into masculine guys in general, but especially big, beefy guys. Being very submissive sexually, I enjoy being with men who make me feel safe and protected, which might also explain my interest in older men.
"What's his name?" I ask, genuinely interested, "What's he look like?"
"I can't remember the guy's name right now. I know it starts with a B..." She looks uncertain. "Doesn't it?" I start down the central stairs toward the pool, grinning back at her,
"Well anyway, what does he look like?" The suspense is mounting. She bounds down after me and leans in,
"Okay, so he's built, right? Looks like he works out a lot. Just a little bit taller than me, but the guy looks huge, he's a got a big presence, y'know?"
"What species is he?"
"Oh! He's one of thoseâ€"you know, whatsit, not much fur, green skin, tusks, pointy earsâ€""
"Wait, what?! You mean he's an orc? No way!"
"Yeah yeah! Now that's interesting, huh?" It is interesting... not only is he a jock, but an orc too? I always had a thing for jocks. The type of guy who isn't too defensive or douchey, but still isn't afraid to beat his chest every once in a while. I can tell you, finding a guy like that that isn't straight is no easy feat, but maybe my luck's about to change. I ask Connie to go on about Mr. "B."
"Well, let's see, he's got a shaved head but has a thick, round goatee and a fair amount of body hair, and it's all a deep auburn. His skin's not very brightâ€"you know those kelly-green orcs?â€"this guy's more of an ash-olive shade of green. Oh, and bright red eyes. He's not really shy, but he's mild-mannered." I laugh at that as we round the bottom of the stairs and start toward the pool. On either side of us people rush past along the brick walls to go to the locker rooms or play basketball in the huge court to our right.
"Mild-mannered," I repeat, jogging an eyebrow incredulously, "like Clark Kent?" She bats my shoulder,
"Hey, don't get smart, you know what I mean! He doesn't talk a whole lot, but that might be just my first impression; hell, I only talked to the guy for like a minute." We had reached the glass doors to the pool's entryway, and now stand in front of the locker rooms. Behind us, a sloping wooden ceiling connects to the two sauna rooms next to the recreational pool. As we stood for a minute before going in to change, I shrug and admit,
"Not gonna lie Connie, he sounds pretty hot to me!"
"So you'll come to the party then? You have to get your snout out of those books Rupe." She looks expectant, but to be honest I'm not feeling very confident about the whole thing. I mean, what's to say he won't just end up being straight and that's it? It's a common problem I seem to run into a lot with my taste in menâ€"but I don't tell her all of this. And well, she's heard it before.
"I'll go for your company, Connie, and to take a break." She looks positively relieved at my answer, and I wonder if I've really been that worrisome lately.
Our swim had been short and refreshing as usual, and our dip in the hot tub very satisfying. After that and a smoothie at the gym's café, Constance had gone home to get ready for the party, saying she'd come over and we'd leave from my place for the party. She lives with a couple girls off campus to the north, and I live in a dorm single room on north campus, so our places are close to each other.
I decide to take a shower to try to wash some of the chlorine out, and as I wait for Connie to arrive, I sit down at my desk. I clear off a clutter of textbooks and half-remembered notes, plug the speakers into my laptop, and put on some light jazz; you know, music to get dressed to. As the drum beat sets in I look around at my room, zoning out. The white brick walls are peppered with posters relating to various interests of mine and pictures of family and friends, mostly from last year. On top of the microwave sits a small ivy plant for a little bit of green in the room, I think it actually improves my mood just to look at it every once in a while. From behind the ivy the sun peers into the room, a succinct red fireball hovering just above the skyline. Looking back at my desk my eyes rest for a moment on a newspaper clipping with a combined male and female symbol on it representing gender nonconformity.
I yawn, realizing that the hot tub has made me sleepier than I thought. Getting up slowly I make my way to the closet, which is really just a protruding wooden frame from the wall with a mirror set beside it. Not feeling too daring, I grab some tight, bright blue jeans, a pink tee-shirt under a black chalk stripe vest, and my favorite green walking shoes. For a little extra sparkle I put on a couple silver rings and three simple buttons on one side of my vest, arranged in a triangle. Looking in the mirror I feel confident. It'll do. Just then there's a knock on the door and Connie steps in.
"Wow," I remark, seeing her, "girl, you look gorgeous!" And she does, wearing a matching bluish-violet vest and knickerbockers and a poppy red tee- shirt. Around her neck on a silver chain sits a beautiful step cut piece of some bright green opaque stone.
"Thanks!" she replies, pushing out her cottontail out at me playfully, "ooh, you look cute, too!" As she walks in, her ankle boots clack stylishly on the tile floor; they're tipped with steel on the heel and toe.
"D'you like these boots?" she asks, "They're a tad heavy but I feel ready to kick ass in them!"
"Yeah, they look great!" I look back at my reflection and frown slightly. "Do you think I'm missing anything? I feel a little lack-luster." She comes across the room and looks at us through the mirror.
"No makeup tonight?" I shake my head, I'm not feeling that brave. "Well," she goes on, "maybe wear your glasses? I think they're cute on you." Oh yeah, I think those might be nice, they match the pink in my hair. As I fish through my drawer to find them, Connie sits down on the couch. I ask her,
"So, are you staying the night there? I think I remember you telling me you did last time."
"I dunno, I think that depends on how the night goes." She pulls down one of her long ears and plays with it. "There's this guy there from last time that I'm interested in too."
"Oh? What's he like?" Connie's type of guy is very different from mine, she's into thinner, trendy guys, the type who you'd expect to be in an alternative band. I had also discovered that she's is into guys that are shorter than her, which wasn't too hard for her to find since she's pretty tall. Sometimes her height though, among other things, can scare them off. For instance, she's told me that she's very aggressive sexually. Quite the dominatrix, actually. Given the opposite nature of my own sexual habits, I've sometimes lamented that Constance is a girl, heh.
"He's really nice, his name's Trent. You know me, he's pretty lanky, long hair, very laid back. I met him with the guys out back smoking. But if things go well tonight, I'm gonna be smokin' him, if you know what I mean." She turned a little circle and popped her hip out.
"Yeah, that sounds familiar," I say, laughing. "Well, let's hope we both see some action tonight! I'm starting to get excited to go out! Thanks again for inviting me." Connie gets up and waves her hand dismissively.
"Are you kidding? I always love having you around, Rupe. Besides, our individual awesomeness is magnified when we're together." I laugh and nod enthusiastically in agreement. "Now," she throws open the door dramatically, "let's go knock ‘em dead."
The night's set in beautifully. As we walk down the residential street and chat I check my cell phone for the time: 10:26. A little early yet, but parties around here should get moving pretty quickly. It's a beautiful summer evening, dry and cool without clouds, and even though the stars are invisible with the city behind us, there's a dim twinkle above us. Perfect mood lighting, I think. As we turn down Linwood I can already hear a commotion, not just from Connie's friend's house but from many such house parties up and down the street. I already feel a little dazed as I watch shadowy figures stumble drunkenly behind windows and under streetlights, swaying to bad pop music and laughing with friends. There are a few people in front of the Linwood house, some of them playing beer pong while others are smoking, a few of them turn and notice us as we turn the sidewalk and begin to climb the porch stairs. A snowy gray bird approaches us from the yard and addresses Connie:
"Hey, girl!" As Connie chats with her for a moment I notice she's wearing a low cut bubble dress with slightly puffy sleeves and a beret. It's cute. "This must be Rupert?" she says, smiling at me, "it's great to meet you, I'm Nancy. Connie's talked about you before."
"Thanks," I respond politely, "nice to meet you too."
"Yeah! Well, you guys make yourselves at home, k? Connie, you know where the drinks are right?" She starts to go toward the yard, waving to another girl. Connie stops her for a moment,
"Hey Nancy, is that guy you work with here? The one you introduced me to last time? I wanna introduce him to Rupert."
"Whâ€"oh yeah, he's here, I think last I saw him he was in the back yard."
"Okay, thanks!" She waved bye to Nancy and turned to me. "How you doin, hun?" I must've looked a little pale or somethingâ€"there was a note of concern in her voice.
"I'm good sweets, I just have to get a drink in me. You know me, I'm just a little nervous in crowds." She takes my hand and leads me up to the house.
"It's okay Rupe, I understand; you don't know anyone here. I'll stick with you, k?" I feel reassured until we step through the front door and see the dark thumping entryway crammed with eclectic partiers. Inching past a few large dogs in the doorway, I notice that although it's not a theme night, they all seem to be dressed in leather. One of them, a shepherd, jabs his shoulder into me deliberately as I pass and gives me a slight growl. Just as I turn toward him Connie comes to my rescue: "C'mon, Jack, lay off." He leaves me alone. Across the way in the living room, a friendly-looking cat and gecko dressed in bright neon colors are looking at the laptop hooked up to the sound system, getting ready to change the music. Suddenly and thankfully the pop music switches off and they smile at each other as Daft Punk fills the house. Just as they go out of view I see they've put their beers down and begun to dance. Now we're down another hallway and a large gorilla holding a martini glass passes by us, I have to turn sideway so we can squeeze past one another. As our bodies momentarily meet, he looks down at me with an intrigued look and brushes my cheek with an outstretched finger. I can only blush in response, smiling slightly and following Connie farther in. Finally we're at the kitchen and stop at the stove in the corner. Furs are doing shots at the counter, Connie watches with a wide grin as they cheer a mouse on, he's downing something no doubt potent and shaking with pursed lips as it goes down. Constance rolls her eyes and looks back at me.
"Mojito?" Mm, that sounds good.
"Yeah, thanks," I reply, and she goes off to the counter to see if they have enough stuff to make us some. As she wades through the crowd, I lean back on the stove and look around some. I know Nancy lives here with a couple friends, it looks like none of them decorate much in common areas, probably because they have bid parties so often. There are large stacks of plastic cups on the counter along with cases of beer, bottles of cheap vodka, rum, tequilaâ€"is that jager? I'll have to ask if I can have a shot later. Idly I play with one of my buttons.
"'Scuse me." Someone behind me wants to get by, I glance back and say automatically,
"Oh, sorry." Double-taking somewhat conspicuously, I notice that the owner of the deep voice behind me is an large orc with olive skin, an auburn goatee, and red eyesâ€"he has to be the guy Connie told me about! I can't help but continue to look him over as he goes to the counter. He's definitely my type; his broad, round shoulders are his most striking feature, tapering down nicely into his hips, which are secured by faded blue jeans that fit surprisingly well. His chiseled frame easily doubles the size of my own. I had been admiring him so intently that I hardly notice him turn around and face me once again. He says,
"So... what's up?" Is... is he talking to me? After a moment I realize that he is, and I stumble,
"Oâ€"oh! Nothin, I just got here." He nods and takes a drink of the beer he's just picked up from the counter. For some reason, it still takes me a minute to make words. His tone is friendly, and I also suspect that he's had a few drinks already. I continue, "Having a good time?" He nods and smiles, and even in the dark kitchen I get a subtle glint of bright teeth behind sizable tusks. I notice he also has two rings piercing the ridge of his stout left ear, they glimmer in the low light too. He responds,
"You?"
"Gettin there, I just got here but my friend's getting me a drink."
"D'you come here with someone?"
"Yeah, do you know Constance?"
"Oh, yeah. She seems to know everyone. She's cool." People shuffle around us, moving from the kitchen to the living room, outside, and back into the kitchen. I wish the group would make up their mind, and one rotund hare among them has a loud, obnoxious laugh. Looking back from the crowd with a sigh, I notice that Mr. orc is looking me over for some reason. I give him a suspicious look,
"What, see something you like?" I can hardly believe I said it. His eyes shoot up to mine,
"Wha? Oh, sorry. Well... actually," his expression is coy, "I just realizedâ€"you're a guy... aren't you?" After a moment of surprise I laugh and lean on the stove,
"Yeah, that's right." I'm enjoying his confusion somewhat, at least it gives us something to continue a conversation. He looks like a real dude, but he's friendly enough.
"Oh okay," he chuckles too, showing more of those delicious teeth, "From behind you make a very attractive girl."
"Oh, thank you," I reply, genuinely flattered.
"Whichever you're going for, it works."
"So," I start, feeling bold, "Which are you into?"
"Guys or girls?" He scratches a massive bicep, "Girls." His reply is unconvincing: as he says it his eyes begin to wander over my person again. This is too good. Presently Connie slips back through the crowd and thrusts a glass in my direction.
"Mojito!" I smile and thank her, and she notices Mr. orc. "Oh, so you've met... god, starts with a ‘B' right?" He grins.
"Noâ€"well, there's a ‘B' in it. Toby. Who's this?" He looks at me again. She snaps her fingers, "Toby, that's right! This is Rupert." I hold out my hand and we shake.
"I'm Rupert, nice to meet you Toby." Toby and I look at one another for a few moments, the rest of the partiers seem to fade around him. Connie looks between us and then leans in to tell me,
"Well do excuse me, I have to go find Trent." I grin,
"Go for it man, see ya later." She bounds off into the mass of people and I turn back to the hot slab of man in front of me.
"So..." I search for something to say, "did you come here with anyone?"
"No. But these parties are always pretty fun by yourself too."
"Yeah, I usually have crowd anxiety but once I get a little loosened up," I take a sip of my drink and am greeted by a splash of minty lime goodness. "Sweet damn this is good!" He downs the rest of his beer, crushes the can in his fist, and pitches it. "Need another?" I ask him. The heat from the crowd has begun to fog my glasses slightly.
"Nah, I'm good thanks." He seems to lurch forward slightly, and I realize that maybe he's drunker than I thought. He continues, "Y'know, you're a nice guy Rupert. Connie's lucky to have such a nice guy." My ears perk up with bewilderment... did he just imply that Connie and I are together? "I gotta find a chick tonight, bud. Let's go in the living room." He's clearly not coherent, but I accept anyway, wanting to see how this would play out.
"...Sure, let's go dig the living room scene."
From there, the night dissolves into a swimming blur of spontaneous introductions and dulled senses, and I feel a friendship forming with Toby. First we head to the living room and slump on the couch across from the sound system where we meet Mort and Gloria, the friendly-looking gecko and cat from before. Toby slumps back comfortably in the couch as I lean forward and talk electronica with them enthusiastically. I'm delighted as Ursula 1000 comes on, followed by Nightmares on Wax. They have great taste! Falling back into the couch, I discover that Toby has slipped his arm across the back of the couch, catching me at the shoulder. He's got a goofy grin on his face, cocking his jaw to one side his teeth are slightly ajar. It's a difficult look to read, but I laugh and throw my head back, swigging the last of my delicious mojito and feel its effects begin to sink in. Now he's looking at my empty drink and back at Mort and Gloria, who've begun to dance a wild and tribal-looking gambol. He suggests we get another drink and go out back. I smile, leap up, and try to pull him up too, although he stumbles momentarily and I can't manage his weight. We careen back into the kitchen, discussing the now apparent fact that we're both lightweights, and reach the counter once again. I throw together a strong rum and coke, he grabs another beer.
Suddenly we're descending the back steps, into the yard where a lot of hipster kids are gathered. We wave to Connie and Nancy, Connie winks when she sees I'm still latched onto Toby's hand. Next to her I see a very thin skunk with long hair and a low cut v-neck shirt who must be Trent. He is cute, and Connie seems to be getting along well with him. Just as I think this they laugh boisterously at something, which makes me smile unconsciously. I comment that the fresh air feels nice after the indoor air, packed with people. Looking up as I say it, I suddenly feel very lightheaded. In my happy haze the stars begin to spin, as though they're gossamer-garbed dancers on a giant ebony ballroom floor. I'm mesmerized by their movements, turning tossing partners in a faraway jubilee, they begin to fade... I feel displaced and very light.
Oof! I'm suddenly caught up with a huff. Massive arms are wrapped safely around me, a toothy grin looking down at me. With a swift motion Toby pulls me up into him, hand securing my shoulder as I remember where I am and where my feet are. I look at him thankfully, amazed that I haven't spilled my drink in my near-faint.
"You were saying about that air?" He asks jokingly. Now in close quarters, I can smell his subtle, burly cologne. It intoxicates me more than the drink. His warm breath rolls over me like steam.
"I think I might fall over," I dreamily tell him through slack eyes, taking another sip.
"Not anymore, buddy." Buddy... he says it just above a whisper in my ear, and I begin to feel my jeans getting tighter, my tail standing to attention behind me. Unfortunately I also really have to pee, so I excuse myself from his embraceâ€"he looks a little disappointed, which is so cuteâ€"and I rush to the bathroom.
The evening continues, and we alternate between going to the living room to talk to our new eccentric friends Gloria and Mort, grabbing a drink from the kitchen, and going outside to chat with Connie, Nancy, and her friends. All the while Toby's beefy green arm is securely around me. Each time we move to another place I grab Toby's hand, though it's so much bigger than mine it's more like he's grabbing mine, and pull him through the crowd, just like when Connie first brought me inside. He's always smiling, doesn't say much in conversation, but sometimes we talk to each other and discover mutual interests. For instance, he likes weird video games, he tells me, and we agree to play Silent Hill, one of my favorites, in the dark sometime. I mistook him earlier for just a typical jock, but he was really beginning to grow on me.
Now we're coming back in from our last trip out back, the conversation had been shorter because Constance and Trent had disappeared suddenly. Somehow I doubt that we'd see them again tonight. The party has thinned out somewhat, but the music is still going strong and everyone remaining seems to be enjoying themselves and carrying on. We stop in the kitchen and I look back at Toby, he looks a little distant and his smile has worn off.
"Hey, is something wrong?" I ask.
"No, I'm good. The party just looks like it's dying." His eyes dart to mine and down, I can tell there's something else beneath his remark. I decide to make my move.
"Well, you know, if you want to we could chill at my place. I live on north campus just a couple blocks over." His grin returns as quickly as it had left, and it makes me melt. The drinks are really getting to me now, I had made the decision to cut us off a long time ago, but now I'm also feeling really horny. The obvious question hounded me: is Toby bi-curious? He must be. I'm determined to find out.
"Sure, you wanna?" He says eagerly.
"Okay, awesome! Let's ditch." I take his hand and we start out, saying goodbye to people as we go. We leave Gloria and Mort, they've begun to make out on the couch. It's almost a comical sight, Gloria's scratching his back while he's on top of her. They make a cute couple. The dogs in leather are still at the front door, maybe they've been there the whole time. As I push my way through them I can't help but stick my tongue out at Jack, the menacing shepherd from before. He looks surprised and begins to bare his teeth, but recoils when he sees who my hand is attached to. Toby gives him a stare as he goes by, as if to say, "I dare ya." We burst forth into the warm night, bounding down the porch steps. I shake my fur of the condensation and sweat from the heavy air inside. I check my phone, it's almost 3 AM! Yawning, we start down the street toward campus, and Toby's arm slips around my shoulder.
"This is it." Toby trails behind as I point to my door and fish the key out of my pocket, amused with my lack of coordination as I use both hands to guide the key to the hole and turn it, leaning clumsily into and through the door as it opens with my weight. Feeling flush, I sigh and wipe my forehead looking into the dark room. I remember that I turned the AC off before I left, and the sweet and heavy summer night air crawls in sleepily from the window. I turn back to Toby,
"Sorry it's so hotâ€"" I gasp as I hit his chest, there's no space between us. Looking up into his face I see a very sobering and conflicted expression. His body is almost silhouetted; a stocky shadow against the bright corridor light. He silently lays his hands on my shoulders and steps around me, guides me away from the door, and nudges it closed. There's no light in the room now except for the orange streetlamp across the street outside, and no sound save the gentle tugging of wind on trees. My mind is cloudy, and I want to say something, but the seriousness of Toby's expression prevents me from speaking. All I can think about are the piercing red hue of his eyes, and the massive hands resting on my shoulders. Somehow they feel weightless and frozen, as if holding onto something one desperately doesn't want to move away, but that could shatter at any second. It puzzled me to think that this is how Toby could be feeling. Finally, as Toby opens his mouth to speak, I smile slightly and place my hands on his hips, and I feel his large frame tremble. He says,
"I don't know what to do." I can tell he's still drunk as he says it, there is something child-like and innocent in his enunciation contrasted by the deepness of his voice. The combination is somehow deeply arousing. I reply softly, sympathetically,
"What do you want to do?" He's still frozen to the spot.
"Usually... with a girl..." His discomfort is palpable and his breath comes huffing out, pushing his chest into mine. I feel our mouths pulling toward each other. Suddenly he breaks away and to my surprise he reaches down and gropes himself ceremoniously.
"I mean, I'm hard for you man! Is that weird?" Suddenly I'm beginning to feel in control and mischievous. In fact, the phrase "having your way with someone" comes to mind. Now that I now her wants me, I begin to have very naughty ideas about what to do with the big green hunk touching himself in front of me. I grin and turn from him, sweeping up my tail and looking back at him through demure eyes.
"Oh," I begin with dramatic surprise, "is that what you want to do to me?" I don't move as he stammers closer to me in clunking steps, holding his hands out defensively.
"I'm sorry bud! I've never done this before, you're just s-soâ€"" He stopped as I had taken one of his hands and licked the index finger. Now, watching him, I slowly slip it into my maw and begin to suck on it. It's thick, I wrap my tongue around it. As I feel him try to push it deeper in I slip it out and hold his hand steady. His eyes glaze over with lust as he finishes his thought.
"â€"Pretty..." His other hand steals down to play with himself again, chest still heaving. I look at him seriously. I feel the dominatrix in me begin to emerge, remembering stories of Connie's sexual exploits, and how she bent strong men to her dirty whims. I ask him with a straight face:
"What do you want to do to me." It's more a command than a question. He's hunched over and puts his hand on my cheek. There is power in his response.
"I want to fuck you."
Silently I slip his arm under mine and put my hand on his elbow. With my other hand I rub his huge bicep, feeling its density. After a moment I look up at his face, now millimeters away from mine, and I can hear each huffing exhale. His powerful jaw is slack. My tongue darts out and licks one of his tusks. I whisper,
"Strip." He fumbles his belt off, yanking it out and tossing it aside. With unexpected flare he tears his tee-shirt off effortlessly and throws it down. Finally he pulls his jeans off and his boots and socks with them, throwing them on the pile. Now only in boxers, I behold him. He's a giant of layered green muscle, thick neck and broad shoulders, stocky yet defined abs, ripped all the way down to his strong calves and feet. All down his center is a bold line of auburn hair, fanning out to his smooth sides and gathering just above the waist of his drawers. He's simply beautiful, the archetype of masculinity. To be the object of such a creature's lust is exhilarating... and though I've never given any consideration to BDSM before this moment I begin to imagine him bound in thick leather straps, spread out vulnerably before me, his bonds straining to contain his mammoth frame, held captive to my sexual desire. As if in surrender to these thoughts he drops to his knees and I see his hard dick sway forward and curve out against the slit in his boxers. I tell him,
"Underwear." He half stands up again and shucks them off, kneeling again on the rug. His cock is just as beautiful, average length and plump, curving very slightly upward, a little thicker at the base and culminating at a shiny soft pink head, hidden behind a hood of dark green skin. It juts out from a blanket of red hair that completely covers his ample nutsack and most of his inner thighs. I try to keep from drooling at the sight. Collecting myself, I remove my vest and drop it to the floor. Looking down at him, I say,
"Toby, you must be good and do what I tell you, and I'll let you fuck me. Understand?"
"I'll do whatever you say." Satisfied with his answer, I tell him,
"Toby, stay." He sinks back on his heels.
Ducking into the bedroom for a moment, I realize that my bed wouldn't be able to support both of us. However, I notice my giant fuzzy white blanket laying under the bed frame. Perfect. I toss my vest onto the bed and snatch up the blanket. Underneath it are my toys, seldom used in the past few months and stowed under my bed for the right time. Looking at them now I'd say that that time is now. I grab the stroker, a simple, clear-colored masturbator, the glass wand, a straight clear dildo, and a bottle of lube. I come back out into the living room promptly to see Toby obediently waiting for me. His skin has a sheen on it, he's begun to sweat, the poor thing. I throw the white blanket down on the floor beside him. Even in the dark it's reflective, like a patch of fluffy moonlit snow.
"Lie down on the blanket." He rolls over onto it and nuzzles it,
"Hmmmmm," he rumbles with his goofy grin. He spreads his legs out with bent knees, his cock rolls up and touches his belly button. He looks so cute and comfy... and drunk as hell.
"Have you ever fucked an ass before?" I ask him. He looks at me and shakes his head. "Well, then I'm going to show you what it feels like." He watches as I procure the masturbator and give a thick squirt of lube inside it. I slide a finger into it and coat the inner walls of the "ass" with slick goo, making sure to make sloppy sounds as I finger it. His cock has swollen with fascination as I pull the finger out and kneel between his burly legs. He scratches his goatee with wide eyes. Slowly I slip his dick into the sleeve. He gasps and thrashes one of his legs, and I stop quickly.
"Ah. Stay still." He pulls his leg back up and frowns remorsefully. I resume my torturously slow pace, slipping more of his cock into the sleeve. Finally, his head, still enshrined in his foreskin, emerges from the hole on the other end as I push it down to his pubic hair. Holding it there I take the lube bottle and hold it over the head, squirting it right into the hood. He grits his teeth and puts a hand on my arm, suddenly I feel his big feet on my legs, clenching them.
"Toby." I stop, but don't look at him. "Stay. Still." Chastised, he relaxes his body. I put the bottle down and put my finger into his foreskin, spreading the lube around and pulling the skin back, all the while watching him shudder as I bare his most sensitive part and play with it mercilessly. Finally I pull the sleeve back up over his shaft and the head is pulled back into the foreskin. Beginning to jack him up and down, I put my hand on his hairy belly and stroke it, feeling him quake under my touch. He sighs deeply with delight.
"Thrust into it," I order him. I pull it up and hold just the head inside it, and he shifts around to get a good angle. Lifting his smooth rump from the blanket he pushes with his hips, sinking that beautiful dick into and through the wet tunnel over and over. His thighs are slick with his sweat, drops of it form on his pubic hair and are mixed with thick drops of lube seeping out from his pumping shaft. I coo, "Good boy. That's a good boy." He grunts and plants his feet on the floor, massive legs bent as he thrusts harder into it. Shluck, shluck, shluck. I can see his contracting hole underneath him now.
"That's enough," I tell him, having another idea. Thump, he lays down again somewhat reluctantly. "Now... turn over. Hands and knees." He gets on all fours. I kneel and rub a hand on his back. "Such a good boy." He watches me as I stand over him and pull my shirt over my head, revealing my much smaller frame. My white belly fur casts the same glow as the blanket. I undo my jeans pull them off with my underwear, and I am completely naked to him. The moist air hangs on my fur and excites my skin. Toby is transfixed by the sight of my penis. Seeing his piercing red eyes staring at my privates make it twitch and rise from semi-hardness. His tongue licks a tusk hungrily. I kneel and lean in to put the sleeve by his dick. He sighs, instinctively thrusting it in. His abs tense with his thrusts, and I can see the strong angle of his jaw beyond his bulky arms in the dim light. There's something so purely animalistic in his fucking. I move beside his legs and press the length of my peter against it while pumping the sleeve with my hand. Unseen to him I grab the glass wand and spread some lube onto it. After a few more minutes of thrusting he moans deeply and starts to tense up all over.
"Buddy... you're gonna make me..." With that I pull the sleeve off immediately and say,
"No no, you're not going to yet." I press the wand between his smooth green hams, twisting it into his hole. He recoils from the motion, gasping in surprise, lifting one leg and placing a foot on the ground. "No," I tell him firmly, "be a good boy now."
"Owhh...!" He moans, "Uhnng..." I wrap an arm around his lifted leg and kiss his calf, still twisting the dildo up into his butthole.
"Shhhh, it's okay. Easy now boy." His hands grip the blanket as I abuse him, brutally wrenching the rod in and out, but after a few moments he starts to lift his leg to put it back down behind him. "Goood boy," I tell him, beginning to pump his cock again as I thrust into his virgin ass. "That's it." He groans in discomfort but begins to move his hips again. I duck under him and continue my work, putting my nose up into his balls, lapping at his tightening sac. He cries out helplessly and begins to tense up uncontrollably again; I can tell I won't be able to stop this beast from cumming soon. I stop all my ministrations and he loosens. I scoot up to rest just under his head, looking up at him. He seems exhausted but that hungry look in his eyes remains. I say,
"Are you ready to fuck me? I'll let you do it soon." He gives me a tired grin. "Roll back over," I tell him, standing up. He slumps down on his back. I grab a cushion off the couch and put it behind him to prop him up, he sits with legs bent on the floor like before. I stand with my legs on either side of him so that he's looking up at my dick.
"Have you ever felt an ass before? Inside?" He shakes his head. "Well, before you fuck an ass you're going to feel an ass. Suck on your finger." Pulling up a meaty hand he puts his own finger in his mouth and coats it with his viscous spit. Then he looks questioningly up at me again. "Now," I begin, crouching down on top of him, resting my knees beside him, "Put it in." He reaches behind me and squeezes my buttock with his other hand, feeling my fur. Then with his wet finger he traces my tail back to the base, finds the warm softness of my entrance, and presses against it. It slips in and I try to open myself to him, but his finger is quite thick. I can feel his other fingers feeling around my butt and his other hand is petting my tail. He retracts his finger partway and then pushes it back in further, as far as it will go, and I rest my head on his chest as he fingers me gently.
"That's good," I tell him, lifting myself up, close to his face again. He's flushed and drenched in sweat, I can see the desperation in his eyes. It says, I NEED to cum. Ah well, enough teasing I think. Well, nearly enough. I tell him to pull his finger out and I back myself up so that my hole it resting on the very tip of his beefy cock. His hands are on the floor, he watches my every move intently. I lick my own finger now and stick it into his foreskin. He writhes as I rub the very underside of his soft head, right under the slit, with my finger in small circles. He whines and squirms under my touch, clenching his teeth in protest. I can feel him flex his buttocks and try to drive his tool home into me, but I pull myself up to prevent him.
"No. Bad boy. Not yet." Practically screaming, he lifts his feet slightly off the ground and his toes look like they're desperately trying to cling on to something. Tears have begun to well up in his eyes, and I continue my torture, pressing my finger into his cock-slit. His eyes screw shut, his nostrils flare, and his tongue hangs out coating his mouth in slobber.
"Please," he cries, "PLEASE let me fuck you!" I move my fingers down to his shaft and jerk it quickly, the head is planted right on my asshole. His feet scramble up and his frenzy intensifies, I see fire in his eyes.
"I'm cumming," he shouts bestially, "I'm cumming, I'm CUMMING!!! Haannh, AAAAnng GAHHHH!!"
I feel the pulses through his cock, and the foreskin begins to swell. My finger is coated with warm goo that fills up the fleshy cock hood inside and oozes out all over the shaft. Toby continues to cry out and thrash madly as the oozing continues and I watch him in wonder, stroking my own dick. Then, in a flash, Toby slams his feet onto the floor, throws his head back, and with a mammoth thrust buries his big orc cock all the way into my ass. I arch my back and bark in pain as he lifts me off the floor. His foreskin is pulled back inside me and I feel him inject me with warm, copious semen. With each burst of ejaculate his penis flexes, pushing it and his cum further into me. As the waves die down he thrusts a few times with his hips and then falls back onto the blanket, looking up at me through grateful eyes.
Seeing his magnificent climax pushes me to the edge and I whine, pulling myself off of his dick while quickly stroking my own, moving up to his mouth. He holds me by the butt as I put my meat right between his tusks and he sucks it in with his tongue. He sucks sloppily, drenching my cock in his drool. I feel my balls begin to pull up and my mind reels from the impending release. He pulls my dick in further and stretches his tongue out to lick my contracting balls. Right as I start to cum he wriggles his big index finger into my ass, making me cry out as I fire my seed onto his tongue, coating his mouth, sloshing on the way down his throat. My climax is complete bliss, pouring out in crashing shocking waves into this beautiful orc's mouth. My orgasm subsides, and I crumple into Toby's arms, sated. He breaths are shallow, he's still recovering too. My eyes open slowly, and I begin to feel a little guilty about what I'd done to him.
"Listen Toby, I'm sorry about all that... That's not... usually how I..." I couldn't find the right way to explain to him how entirely out of the ordinary my behavior had been. As suddenly as it had come, my desire to dominate seems to be completely gone from me now, and the roles were reversed, being held gingerly in Toby's arms. To my relief, his mouth broke into a familiar goofy grin.
"Looks like I have you at a disadvantage now." He seems to detect my uneasiness, and tries to reassure me, "Hey, you know I let you do all that to me, didn't I?" I smile tentatively and put a hand on his chest.
"Yeah, but in retrospect I feel like I mistreated you." Toby considers this and licks his lips.
"Mistreated? I guess. I've never done anything like that before, but it turned me on." After a thought, "It was pretty rough of you to ram my ass like that though."
"Heh, I was just trying to expand your horizons!"
"Expand he says... yeah don't remind me, my horizons are still sore, buddy." He leans in and gives me an evil leer. "But I got you back good, didn' I?" I shuffle on his lap uncomfortably, needles of pain still rip through my insides.
"Ouch, you sure did... that hurt." I blush and wrap my arms around his waist, beginning to feel very drowsy. "You know... watching you cum was breath-taking. Orcs are such virile beasts." He puts his arms around me and hugs me tight. I ask him, "So... wanna do this again sometime?" With a great yawn he pulls me back on top of him and lies down on the blanket. I yawn too and begin to drift off. He tells me,
"Yeah. But next time, I'm on top. And I'm gonna fuck you harder." He chuckles, making both of our bodies tremble. I nuzzle his chest and smile, and as we fall asleep naked and drunk on the floor together I think to myself,
that sounds fair.
End