The animal within
The outside of the temple was plain.
It'd been constructed from stone hundreds of years ago, and the outside walls were plain. No decoration, no carvings, no ivy or other plants growing up the sides.
The interior, however . . . The interior walls were a different story. Every single inch of the inside walls was covered with artwork of some kind - there were paintings, there were tile mosaics. There were tapestries. Some of the walls had a scene or an image painted directly on them. All of the artwork celebrated males - male feral animals and male anthros. Some of the artwork featured fully clothed anthros, while some of it depicted naked males of all types (there were naked anthro canines, felines, deer, rams, goats, on and on and on).
In one painting, for example, a large anthro ram sprawled naked on a couch. His body had been slicked with some kind of oil, and his large horns stood tall and proud.
There were ferals, too, and some of the artwork that depicted them was quite innocent - or, perhaps _natural _is the word I'm going for. There were ferals posed in forests, ferals at play, ferals napping, ferals standing posed in front of stark backgrounds. All of those ferals, I soon noticed, were male. Some of them were, um, obviously male, while others were less noticeably so. You had to look closely in order to catch a hint of a sheath, which was often semi-hidden behind a limb, or some object.
Some of the artwork decorating the walls was erotic. There were ferals mating, anthros having sex. There were couples, there were groups. A few of the pieces showed ferals and anthros mixing freely, either in couples or groups, engaged in various lusty sexual acts.
I turned yet another corner. This place is like a maze! I marveled, not at all displeased. I was enjoying the walk, probably because of the artwork.
On my left, a tapestry showed a feral lion mounting an anthro fox. The fox was gasping in pleasure, and his tail was unrealistically, unnaturally long - so long, in fact, it was wrapped around one of the lion's legs. On my right, a photograph - one of the rare, few photos in a temple whose walls were covered in art of every other kind. This photo showed a young, naked deer - halfway out of his pants, he smiled at the camera.
I arrived at a door. To the right of it, a large mirror.
I looked into the mirror, gazed at my reflection. There I was. I'm an anthro Dalmatian, fast approaching thirty. Average height, slim build. I wore a black t-shirt, loose-fitting jeans. Slip-on shoes. The short sleeves of the tee revealed the black patches of fur on my left forearm. My right arm only had a patch on my shoulder. In some ways, I suppose I'm a typical Dalmatian. However, there are parts of my body that have no black patches, or just a few. My right arm, for example, which has just the one, and my left leg below the knee. My tail, as well, is completely white,
I looked at myself for a moment. Did I look like what I was? A PhD student who spent a lot of time in the library, or in the classroom. I'd been teaching for a while, and - since I was so close to getting my degree - I was looking for a full-time teaching job. Did I look like someone who spent most of his time cooped up with books, someone who frequently exercised the "muscles" of his brain, while too often ignoring the needs of his body?
I looked at my slim build, in the mirror, and I looked down at my body, surveyed myself. I did go to the gym, though not often enough, that's true. My biceps were getting bigger, somewhat, but I wasn't interested in getting all muscular, or anything. I did like staying in shape. I liked feeling good about myself, physically.
I went through the door . . . and . . . found an intersection, with signs telling you where to go to find which rooms. A long hallway stretched off to the right, and another one stretched off to the left. Directly ahead, another hallway - one I could not see the end of. Room 126, that was the room I was looking for. The sign said go left, and so left I went. Once again, I started walking. Once again, the walls were covered with erotic artwork.
I had questions. Who would be waiting for me in room 126? That was the biggest question. The monks of the temple claimed that they knew "exactly" what I needed - they claimed that they were always able to tell what each and every visitor wanted, needed. However . . . they didn't explain how they knew. They'd only asked me a few questions. The whole thing was mysterious, and I had an intense urge to try and figure it out.
I also, I admit, wondered why this whole thing was free. Visiting the temple was free, of course, and that made sense. Anthros could come here to find peace, or to pray, or to - well - take a break, or whatever. They could mingle in one of the courtyards, or one of the gardens. They could also talk to one of the monks, get some advice. All of that was free, of course, just as it should be. However, if you told the monks that you wanted to go to one of the many "special" rooms, that too was free. All the monks asked was that you - at some point - either donated to a charity, of your choosing, or spent a day doing volunteer work for some charity. So, I wondered, how were the monks able to keep all of this going?
Then I had to remind myself - I'm here for a __physical experience. I wasn't there to think, or analyze. I was there to feel, to do.
I was there to relax.
Inside the room would be an intelligent feral, I knew. All the special rooms had intelligent ferals. But which species? I assumed that certain species of ferals had, um, certain physical incompatibilities with anthros, such as body size (or the size of one particular body part). I wasn't sure if the idea of that scared me or aroused me. As well, I didn't really have much experience with intelligent ferals. I wasn't sure what to expect.
I opened the door of room 126.
Inside the room, a large, feral Doberman was sitting on the floor. I looked into the dog's eyes and saw intelligence - and something else, too. I couldn't place what that something else was, not yet anyway.
"Hello, Cooper," the Doberman said. "My name is Erion. Come in! Make yourself comfortable."
I closed the door and stepped fully into the room. Quickly, I looked around - there were a couple of chairs, for anthros, as well as some low tables. In one corner, I saw a tub full of water, and a stack of towels. There were many rugs, pillows, and thick blankets placed around the room, and they all looked comfortable and inviting. On one of the low tables, I saw a bottle of wine and some glasses.
The Doberman - Erion - followed my gaze.
"Help yourself to the wine," he said.
"Thanks. And, um, hello," I said, clearing my throat and trying to sound more confident. "It's nice to meet you."
"Likewise."
Erion was truly a large dog, I noted. For a moment, I looked at him. He had small patches of tan fur above his eyes, and large patches of tan on his wide chest. His long muzzle had some tan fur, as well, and so did his legs, and his paws. The rest of his fur was the color of midnight. His tall, majestic ears rose up from his head.
I realized he was looking at me, as well, checking me out. For just a moment, neither of us spoke, as we studied each other with our eyes. There was something about this big Doberman . . . something powerful . . . It wasn't just his size, I felt - in some way, the dog radiated power, and strength. It would be easy to feel nervous - if not scared - if you were face to face with a feral dog this large, I realized - with a true feral, that is.
I sniffed the air, getting just a hint of his musk, underneath layers of incense and shampoo.
"Take off your shoes, if you like," Erion said. "Whatever you need, to feel comfortable. I hear you're a teacher."
"Well, sort of," I said, sipping some wine. "I teach a class, while I work on my thesis."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course." I was a little surprised by the small talk, but I also felt grateful. Already, I could feel myself relaxing.
"It's kind of a big question, considering we just met, but I feel like it won't upset you. Are you happy? With what you're doing?"
"Oh." Again, I felt surprise. "Well, yeah, I am. Happy. I love my thesis subject. I enjoy teaching. I want to teach, full time, somewhere. Anywhere. So, yeah, as far as my job - my career - is concerned, I'm happy."
"That's good. Not everyone can say that. I felt safe asking you that because when you mentioned your class, and your thesis, your eyes lit up, and I could sense your enthusiasm, your . . . passion."
I studied Erion's face. He certainly seemed friendly, he seemed very warm and welcoming. Studying his body - ignoring his face for a moment - I got a sense of power, as I said, Physically, he radiated power, strength, toughness. However, looking at his face, gazing into his eyes, hearing his voice - I sensed an open sort of friendliness.
"Yeah," I said. "It's great to be happy with what you do for a living. Of course, work is not all there is to life . . ."
"Indeed," Erion nodded. "And that brings you here. And I know you're not here to fulfill a fantasy - some of the anthros who visit come here just for that. But not you. So, why are you here?"
"Well," I gathered my thoughts. "I want something that's just physical. No thinking involved. And that's because . . . Here's the thing. I'm a top, normally, and sex is becoming . . . it's turning into this routine, though I hate to say that. I'm always thinking, during sex, thinking about what to do next, thinking about all the ways I can pleasure the male I'm with . . . I notice what turns him on, and I figure out when and how often to do that. There's nothing wrong with any of that stuff. But. It's becoming, for me, almost clinical. Like, it's getting all cerebral. No emotions involved."
"And you want me to top you." Erion said, simply. It wasn't a question. Looking into his eyes, I saw lust starting to flare up.
"Yes."
"You want me to dominate you?"
"Maybe? Sort of?" I replied, feeling a stirring in my crotch. "I want to feel, not think. I want to relax, and just . . . um . . . get fucked. I know, that sounds selfish, like, it sounds like I only want to think about my pleasure. I don't. I want both of us to enjoy this."
"Cooper," Erion said. "Let go of worrying about that. I don't think you're selfish."
**
Then the Doberman stood up, slowly and gracefully. I couldn't help myself - my eyes traveled along his side, and soon I found myself staring at his . . . sheath. I hadn't even thought about that, yet. It's an obvious difference between feral and anthro dogs, right? It should've been the first thing I thought of - his magnificent sheath - it should've been the first thing I wondered about, felt curiosity about. With my desire increasing, I tried to imagine what lay within his sheath.
And then I remembered something else.
Feral dogs have knots. _I couldn't even imagine . . . what would that look like? I'd heard somewhere - or, more likely, _read somewhere - that the knot swelled up during . . . sex. Was that true? If so, how big would it get?
I could feel myself blushing. I think I was embarrassed to be so openly gazing at Erion's underside, thinking such thoughts, feeling more and more aroused. Even though I was in a place - a situation - where I was _expected _to gaze so openly, think such thoughts, and feel such feelings.
"Everything alright?" Erion asked.
"Yes, in fact, everything's more than alright," I nodded my head. Then, spur of the moment, I decided to reveal more of myself to the big Doberman. "It's funny. I'm almost thirty. I've been having sex since I was seventeen. I'm not usually shy about this . . . kind of stuff. Maybe it's because I just have this instinct to hide. It's just my first reaction. To hide what I'm feeling. To hide what I want. When I find myself looking at a beautiful male, I just want to make sure no one notices that I'm looking. I don't even think about doing it. It just happens."
"Well, you don't have to hide anything here," Erion said, with a smile - as much as a feral dog can smile, that is.
"So, how should we . . . start?" I asked.
"Well, I like to start with smells," Erion said. "What about you?"
"Touch," I said, simply. Slowly, gently, I knelt in front of the big dog. I reached out a trembling hand, which I placed on his long muzzle. Taking my time, I touched his face, his upright ears, his thick neck. I stroked the tan fur on his muzzle. An electric current of lust was beginning to run through my body. Just being next to him - combined with how it felt to hold him in my hands - was erotic. My stomach began to flutter, and my throat felt dry. Then I put my hands on his chest, and I stroked his short, warm fur. Gods, this dog was big, and muscular. I ran my hands along his sides, slowly, and then down his front legs. I could feel his large, hard muscles, taut under my fingers, and they felt powerful. Erion had the intelligence of an anthro, and he talked as anthros talked. But if I ignored both of those things - ignored them for just a second - I could revel in the surprise and wonder of simply being this close to a feral. It was something new for me - I'd never been this close to a feral dog, either a true one or an intelligent one. Obviously, I'd _seen _feral dogs before, but this . . . This was the first time I'd felt a feral's body heat pouring into me. The first time a feral's scent had so fully permeated my sense of smell. Four legs instead of two - the smell of his breath, the sound of his panting - that sheath, so tantalizingly close - all of this was new for me.
Erion, meanwhile, had leaned forward. He sniffed at my face, then started smelling my fur.
Quickly, I sat down on the floor and removed my shirt. Eagerly, Erion leaned in even closer - and he started smelling my armpits. Soon, he was sniffing at the fur on my chest. I think both of our tails were gently wagging, at this point. Getting closer, Erion inhaled my scents. I could feel his nose on my stomach, as he kept sniffing me.
I slipped off my shoes, revealing my furry feet to Erion. He had a sniff at those, too.
Then I leaned forward, and - very gently, very lightly - ran one single finger along the length of his sheath. First time I'd ever touched a feral dog that way. Erion shivered.
I said something, I can't remember what, and I stood up. I wanted to make the moment - the anticipation - last. I drank some more wine. As the Doberman watched, with lust in his eyes, I slowly, slowly, unbuttoned and slid down my pants, which I kicked off towards a corner. Once again, I sat down before the feral dog, and he immediately began sniffing my crotch. At first, it was all quick sniffs, but soon he was drawing in deeply, inhaling my scent in great, deep lungfuls. As he did so, I slowly slid down my underwear, revealing my half-erect penis. Erion smelled my cock, my balls, he took long sniffs and his eyes revealed his need.
"You smell amazing," he said, as I leaned in towards his crotch.
Again, I reached for his sheath - but this time, I gripped it, tight but not too tight. I held it, briefly, marveling at the size and the feel of it, and then I ran my hand along the short fur. Continuing on, I brushed the fur of his balls . . . then I cupped them in the palm of my hand. Gently, I held them, almost (but not quite) squeezed them.
Being so close to Erion was turning me on, more than I expected it would. He was so - masculine, yes, that's a good way to put it. So big, as well, and so powerful. The Doberman was a large, muscular dog - I was growing more and more turned on, but at the same time I was a bit concerned. What would it be like, having him on top of me? I knew, then, what I wanted. How I wanted it. I wanted to be on my hands and knees for what was to come, true feral style. And yet, could I handle it? Having the weight of this thick, muscular dog on me . . .
"My turn for smells," I said. Moving my face in even closer, I began sniffing his sheath. The smell of his short fur had already been permeating my nostrils, of course, as close to him as I was. But now I was actively inhaling his scent, drawing it in deeper and deeper - and I'd started with his glorious sheath. I sniffed at his balls, and as I did so, Erion placed a paw on my chest. Gently, he began rubbing the fur on my chest, and my stomach. Slowly, oh so slowly, he ran his paw down from my stomach to my crotch.
As I began running my tongue along the length of the dog's sheath . . . as I continued to inhale the intoxicating scent of his musk . . . Erion placed a paw on my penis, which was almost fully hard by that point. Gently, he pressed my cock, then he ran the rough pads of his paw up and down my shaft. My balls throbbed, and I moaned in pleasure. I kept licking his sheath, and soon the tip of his penis emerged, red and glistening. Ignoring the Doberman's cock for a second, not even looking at it, I began licking his balls. I sucked them, held them in my mouth while running my tongue over those furry orbs. Being so close to his balls, I got a whiff of what lay beneath his tail, and the smell was sharp and sensual.
Eventually, I pulled my head back, studied the feral dog's penis. Not much of it had slid out, but what was there was beautiful. Thick, red, pulsating. Alien and yet familiar. My Dalmatian ancestors had cocks like this one, I thought. Feral cocks, concealed within sheaths until needed . . .Curious and greatly turned on, I ran my tongue around the tip. I licked the shaft, and I could feel more of it sliding out . . . As I took Erion's cock into my mouth, I felt a drop of pre hit my tongue. I wanted more of it. I started going down on the big dog, sliding my mouth up and down the thick shaft, getting more and more of it into me. More pre came out, it flowed slowly from the Doberman's penis and slid down my throat. I kept going, and Erion started moaning in pleasure. Eventually, my mouth was full of warm, doggy penis . . . At first, I went up and down the shaft slowly, taking my time, and I used my tongue, too - I ran my tongue anywhere and everywhere it could go. Pretty soon, however, I sped up, and I got my lips tight as I could around that meaty shaft.
And then Erion gasped, in pleasure, and I pulled back, and his penis slid free of my mouth. It was wet from my saliva, and I could see yet more pre coming out. His big cock was throbbing, and I think all of it was out of the sheath - except for the knot. That sweet mystery was still hidden, for now.
I lay down on the floor, on my back, and Erion began licking my stomach, coating my fur with his saliva. Taking his time, he moved down to my crotch . . . then my cock, which he began gently licking . . . pretty soon, he was applying more force, more speed, running his long tongue up, down, all around my fully erect penis. When my dick began quivering, and pre starting emerging, he eagerly lapped up the pre - and then he shifted his attention to my balls, which he started licking . . . Almost but not quite drooling on me, Erion lapped my balls with a startling, fierce passion. I inhaled his musk, realizing I could smell how turned on he was.
And then he stopped, and stood over me, panting softly. I sat up, and once again I placed my hands on his muzzle. I started licking it, then, his tan muzzle, enjoying the feel and the taste of it. I brought my tongue to his lips, and his own tongue slid out, and soon our tongues were together. We brought our muzzles together in a kiss, feral muzzle on anthro muzzle . . . we'd had our mouths all over each other's genitals, and now we were kissing, mixing together saliva and those few drops of pre cum not yet swallowed. It was hot, and messy, and intense.
I felt his long tongue exploring every inch inside my mouth, and I tried to give as good as I was getting. We pressed our bodies close together, fur rubbing on fur, and Erion had one of his front paws on my thigh. Eventually, we reluctantly, slowly, ended the kiss - but we kept our muzzles close together. Both of us were panting, thrilled and throbbing in pleasure.
"Are you ready?" Erion whispered in my ear.
"Yes."
"Choose one of the blankets - or one of the rugs. Whichever you like," Erion said.
I stood up, looked around, and eventually grabbed a thick blanket. I placed it in front of the Doberman, and then I got myself on my hands and knees.
"This is how you want it?" he asked, his voice thick with lust.
"Yes."
"When I'm on top of you," Erion said, running a rough-padded paw along my side, slowly, "When I'm inside you, when I'm _fucking _you," And here he paused to sniff my tingling fur, sniff my armpits, sniff my crotch, run his paw down my leg . . . "We will be just two animals, rutting and raw, yes? No civilization, no politeness. Just our need. Just our hunger. We'll be like our ancestors. Two wolves, in a forest that covers the entire world . . ."
I looked at his cock, so long and thick, so red, and saw that the knot had slid out - a large, pulsating knot that I couldn't wait to feel inside.
The big Doberman moved to my ass, which he began sniffing intently. Soon, his long, rough tongue was probing my pucker . . . and then it went in, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Erion started rimming me, fiercely, getting his tongue in as far as he could. I could feel his saliva coating my fur, running down my leg. Waves of incredible pleasure rolled through me, and my dick throbbed, my balls swelled and tightened. When Erion pulled back, I was completely soaked, the fur on my ass wet and matted.
And then he mounted me - he placed his paws on my lower back and brought the tip of his meaty cock right up against my ass. Erion was a big, heavy Doberman, and now I had the weight of him on top of me.
I could feel the head of his red, tapered penis sliding easily into me . . . the big dog had thoroughly lubed my pucker, using his saliva. Erion moved his front paws, he placed them on my hips, and he slowly moved forward. A bit more of his cock entered me, and already I began moaning in pleasure - just from the small amount of feral dog cock that was inside me, I was already quaking with lust and heat. Any doubts I'd had about being able to handle his knot were chased away by two things - pleasure and need. Already, I was swimming in pleasure. And my need . . . my need to have Erion inside me, fucking me, was growing and growing.
The Doberman pulled back a bit, sliding his cock almost all the way out. Then, he thrust forward. Then, back out . . . and forward again. I could feel more and more of his penis pushing into me, as Erion started fucking me - still (for now) taking his time, he developed a rhythm, nice and steady. It was like he was easing his way in, getting my ass accustomed to his thick, canine penis . . . It felt incredible. I loved the way his cock felt, inside, as it stretched me open, slowly but surely. I loved how the length of it slowly went deeper and deeper into me, as Erion got more and more of his penis inside with each thrust forward. I also loved how Erion himself felt - on top of me, his weight sinking into me, his fur on my fur, his back legs very close to my legs.
It felt so amazing (and, I realized, so right) to be on my hands and knees, with this big Doberman on top of me, with him between my legs.
Erion moved his front paws, again, this time bringing them to the front of my hips. He was now gripping me tightly. I'd never had a cock this thick or this long inside me before. Sure, there was some pain. But all of the different kinds of pleasure I was feeling sort of . . . got together and . . . transformed the pain into a different kind of pleasure.
I don't know how long he fucked me at a slow, steady pace. There was a nice, even rhythm to it, as I mentioned. I'm not sure that I noticed when he sped up - not at first anyway. After maybe a few minutes, or maybe a few hours - who knew? - he sped up. He leaned forward, and began fucking me faster . . . then faster. Then . . . faster. Eventually, his chest was pressed against my back, and I could feel - oh, gods - I could feel his incredibly warm body heat, soaking into me. I could hear the big dog panting. As he got faster, I could feel drops of his saliva hitting me, wetting my fur.
The full length of his feral penis was ramming into me, by that point, and eventually I could feel his thick knot crashing into my ass. As the Doberman fucked me, humping faster and faster, his hips moving like a machine, his knot . . . with each thrust forward, his knot would slam into me, then recede back as Erion pulled out a bit, and then with the next thrust it would slam into me again. It felt gigantic.
I loved the feel of Erion's fur rubbing quickly on my fur. I loved the way his rough front paws felt, holding on to me so tightly. I was so close to my orgasm, and I wondered how long Erion would last. I lost count of how many times his knot crashed into me, as he fucked me with a raw, hungry power. He was going so fast, and it was . . . amazing? Yes, but more than that . . . erotic, yes, hot, yes . . . It's possible there's a better way to describe it, but it's also possible that there are no words to describe how overcome I was - with lust, with need, with the scent of his musk, with the raw sensations of the intense fucking, with his sexy canine penis filling me, stretching open and expanding the walls of my anus. Erion panted, and drooled, and it was almost like he was a true feral, a true feral dog, fucking fast and wild and fierce.
He'd said something about two wolves in a forest. Our ancestors. This wasn't about mating, or being mated, I realized. It wasn't about breeding, or being bred. It was just about our needs - my need to be fucked, Erion's need to fuck. I pictured those two wolves, I felt - rather than thought about - the animals within both of us, animals who were now joined in a fierce display of passion and need.
When Erion's massive knot was pushed into my ass - when the big Doberman was ready to come, and the momentum of his forward thrust brought his knot inside me, breaching my pucker and stretching my ass open even further - I felt a wave of pleasure and pain electrify every nerve, every follicle of fur, every inch of skin, every organ. Yelling out, I came, and my semen shot out and splattered on the blanket. My body clenched up, then relaxed.
Erion pulled me into a fierce hug, his front paws still at my waist, his thick chest still pressed into me. His muzzle clamped around my neck, and his saliva now ran freely out of him - it soaked my fur, it dripped and dropped down to the blanket. He stopped thrusting, he clenched up and became still. I could feel his balls tight up against my own balls, and that alone was almost enough to get me hard again. With his knot inside me, he started coming - and his spunk . . . it was shooting out of him, pouring into me in a deluge of warm, doggy seed . . . I could feel his semen coating my insides. I could feel his knot, swollen and pulsating, stretching me open further than I'd ever been before, as Erion's orgasm rocked his body.
And his semen kept coming (pun intended), for a very long time. It just . . . it was just a flood, much more than I'd expected. And then I did get hard again, and I took a hand off the floor, so I could masturbate. I had to be quick, I needed both hands on the floor to steady myself. I also had to be quick because, gods, I was still so overwhelmed with lust, even though I'd already came - the weight and the warmth of this big dog on top of me, his swollen penis and throbbing knot firmly inside me, the long, rough and glorious fucking I'd just gotten from the Doberman . . . all of those things and more demanded that I come again.
Quickly, I jerked off, and once again my spunk shot out to the blanket. Erion had stopped pumping his semen into me, and he had completely relaxed. His front legs hung down at my sides, and he sank into me, tired and content.
We were tied together for a long, long time. My arms and legs started shaking, and I kind of went into a trance or something. I just felt so good, every part of me felt so good. Eventually, who knows when, Erion slid out, and as he did so I slid slowly down to the floor. He went down with me, and there we remained for a while, our furry bodies tangled up together. When we looked at each other, we could tell from our expressions that both of us were deeply satisfied.
"At some point," Erion said, quietly, slowly. " . . . when we can walk again . . ." and we both laughed, still kind of high from the sex. "Would you like to take a bath with me?"
"Yes," I replied, barely able to speak. I rolled over, so that we were face to face, chest to chest. "I'd like that very much."