Well Bred By Moonlight
There was something to be said about having sex as a werewolf. Not that Frida could tell anyone at the moment as the lycanthrope atop her rutted her with reckless abandon. She was currently too busy moaning like a common whore as her bestial lover filled her completely. And he hadn't even knotted her yet!
The Wolf inside her howled in satisfaction as one particularly hard thrust sent Frida into a mini-orgasm, her hands gripping the tufts of grass in her hands in a white-knuckle grip. "Harder!" she snapped, snarling in need as her Wolf begged to be released. The werewolf fucking her brains out seemingly agreed to her request, sending his cock even deeper into her, battered her swollen outer lips with his knot with bruising force. The Wolf whined as the knot sent shockwaves of delicious delight running up her spine, and one quick climax later, she lost it.
The pain of breaking bone, the stretching skin, nor even the agony of shifting forms could stop the maelstrom of pleasure she was experiencing. And as the dark furred male claimed her, the female finished Shifting, her lighter coat and full, pendulous breasts showing proudly to any who could have been watching. And suddenly, as was the norm for her, the world became clearer to her. She could hear the frenzied beats of their hearts, the intoxicating feeling of their wet flesh slapping against each other, the scent of her heat mixing with his fierce musk; all of it drove them to greater heights.
And when he finally drove his knot into her, filling her completely, she howled in passion as she came hard, her mate following soon after with his own feral howl of possession. This willing bitch was his!, the howl meant. The bitch was his, and she would be proudly bearing his pups for all to see! As they rode through their passion, they began to mate again in earnest, with yips and growls mingling with playful and domineering bites and scratches.
When Frida next woke, she noted with glowing satisfaction that the fires of her heat had faded. Wrapped in the arms of her still sleeping lover, she pulled away from him as quiet as she could, his half-hard cock slipping out of her with relative ease as their combined fluids slowly trickled out of her. Licking her lips hungrily, Frida eyed the exposed spire and took it into her throat. Needless to say, her mate woke up soon after, and for the rest of the day, hunted and mated again. Many, many times.
Moons later, Frida sat by a roaring fire, stroking her swollen belly as Sinding, still in his beast form, nuzzled her midsection. Smiling tenderly, she stroked the deceptively soft ear of the werewolf and took a sharp breath as one of her pups kicked. "They are eager to join us my love," Sinding growled softly, resting his head against her to better listen to his children.
"Aye, and if they're anything like you, they'll be little terrors while they're at it," Frida shot back playfully. Life was good. She had a mate, a belly full of pups, and more than enough resources to stay out of the spotlight of Skyrim for several more years to come.
Yes, life as a werewolf was currently very, very good.