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Waiting for Respite

A sharp, shrill bark rang out around the earthen confines of the den as the otter sow was overcome. Her body shook, her hind legs paddled and kicked in the open air as she lay upon her side, and her tail thumped against the compacted earth and mossy bedding below. Inside herself, within the intimate depths of her pussy, something incredible was happening. A feeling she had known before in prior matings; a fluttering, dizzying sensation that started between her hind legs and spread through her body like the exact opposite of the cooling rush which came from diving underwater. But, this time... indeed many times recently, that feeling had become so much more than it once was. No longer just a pleasant side effect of the natural impulse to breed. No longer just a potential outcome from submitting to her mate's courtship attempts.

Now, this feeling was a reason to enact that courtship in the first place. To seek it out. To demand it, and keep it going as long and as often as possible.

She came, she climaxed with an intensity that almost invoked fear in the sow with its sheer savagery, and as her nether regions clutched hard and repeatedly around the twitching length of her mate buried inside her, she felt the hot, wet rush of his own peak. The dog otter crowed and huffed while pumping thick ribbons of cum into his fertile mate, face buried in her neck, teeth against her throat as they writhed together on their sides. He shuddered, his hips and the length of his member itself twitching with instinctive urgency. Then, as the feeling passed, he let go. His body relaxed, though he did not pull away from her nor her away from him, the pair simply sagging against the floor of their burrow and against one another as they panted and whined.

That was the third time. Not since the dog otter had caught the scent of his mate's readiness two days ago. Not since dawn that morning. Not even since they had concluded the day's hunting amidst the river's reed-strewn banks. That was the third time they had experienced those incredible sensations since they had _resumed_mating, the last bout having started just after they'd finished consuming the last of the day's catch and having ended just as the sun's rays entering the top of their burrow's land-based entrance were beginning to turn reddish in hue.

But now, at last, they were satisfied. Their urges, extreme and overwhelming as they had been, were at last settled and spent.

And that truth remained as they lay together catching their breath, for all of about ten minutes.

It was the male who first seemed to find himself re-invigorated. Or rather, to at least find himself desperate enough that whatever fatigue remained was not sufficient to warrant any further rest. He felt his shaft twitching against the soft, damp fur of his lover's crotch. It had slid free from her in its brief moments of softness, but now it was hard and achingly tender once more. It longed to be soothed by the warmth and the loving embrace of her body, and thus wriggling and squirming the dog otter began to seek that entry once more. He rolled over, dragging the still half-slumbering female over with him so that for a moment she was lying on her back atop her mate, then further still until he was the one on top again. Shaky back legs scrabbled against the earth below, seeking purchase and soon finding it. He bucked more intensely now. More desperate to find what it was that he so needed. The comfort, the necessity of her body around his. And sure enough, a few more urgent searching strokes of his hips later, he found his mark anew.

When first wrestled from her slumber and thrown around until she landed upon her legs and her belly once more, there was a moment in which the female otter wanted to turn and snap at her mate for his incorrect assumption of her ongoing willingness. She was too tired for more. Too sensitive and worn out from his prior bouts. At least, that was what she thought was true for a matter of seconds. But then, as he began to grind against her and sought to find his way inside her pussy once more, the otter realised something. She felt her heart rate quickening. She felt her hindquarters trembling, and her back arching slightly as though seeking to raise the profile of her rear and provide an easier target for her mate. She felt a familiar ache. A need that was no mere twinge at the back of her mind, but a deep seeded hunger that though she had been certain was sated mere minutes before, she now realised had only been oh so temporarily quelled by her lover's seed.

This time, however, this time would be different.

This time, he would breed her right, and it would be everything that both of them needed to satisfy themselves and grant their minds respite from these intense and relentless urges.

But, it wasn't. It didn't.

He bred her hard and he bred her fast, but after five minutes as her body convulsed and pleasure surged through her, she felt him continuing and almost instantly any thought of peace and calm in her minds was replaced by renewed longing as though the orgasm she had just experienced had been but a fantasy. By the time the dog otter's cum flooded her once more, his body pressed tightly down against hers as he whined and lashed her depths with a load undiminished in volume by any number of prior releases, she was there again. Wriggling her hips back against his straining, spurting shaft until with a squeal of joy she felt a brief gush of her own liquid ecstasy flood out around his incoming tide.

That time around, they didn't even receive a moment of peace and calm. Their bodies separated. The male's cock, still hard, pulled out of his mate, but no sooner had he done so they both found themselves barking and gasping in shock at just how violently the need returned. The female otter turned to face her mate head on, whining and nuzzling against him, and she yelped as in the darkness of their burrow he flung himself at her, knocking her backwards in his eagerness to reciprocate her intimate, pleading desire for more.

The female's back legs kicked and the toes upon all four of her limbs curled and clenched tightly as she lay on her back, mate astride her, and felt his cock rub up not just against her nether regions but _along_the length of her slit. It brushed between the delicate folds of her outer reaches, and a sharp, keening whine erupted from her maw as it struck something. Something small, but so intensely sensitive that it stole away not only her breath but all that the otter sow was. It left her as nothing more than a husk with but one goal. To be filled not only by her mate's member, but by his virile seed and the pups it would permit her to carry.

She wailed and yelped shamelessly in her joy as he sank into her from above soon after, and as he bred her ceaselessly through two of his own climaxes and a countless abundance of her own the female found herself simply staring off into the darkness, open mouthed and calling out constantly, greedily to her mate with the same manner of cries she might have let loose were she still seeking a mate. It wasn't that she was seeking to suggest that his current efforts were akin to her not having found a mate at all. Far from it. She simply wished for the dog otter to know unequivocally that her need for a mate was utterly undiminished, and that it was his duty to go on. And on. And on, no matter the cost.

At some point, they slept.

The pair may have been driven by urges that were beyond unnatural in their intensity and voraciousness, but their bodies were still limited by the amount of fuel they possessed within to run them. Thus, there came a time when no matter how virulent and overwhelming the continued desire to mate, the otter simply could not.

Even then however, unconscious and disconnected from the real world, they dreamed of sex.

They dreamed of floating with their mate through a river filled so thick with plump, meaty fish that they could barely move while catching them. Eating their fill until their guts bulged beneath the water, then simply playing with the fish. Diving at them. Hunting and snatching them out from the writhing shoals for fun, making their hearts race with the thrill of the chase and the kill no matter how easy, no matter how full they might already have been.

And then, even amidst the deepest recesses of their slumbering escape, they mated. They swam along with that infinite torrent of fish, belly to belly, and clutched at one another as they felt their bodies heating up. They let the current carry them as little arms and legs clutched tight at two trembling bodies, and were swept away as the male's member slipped into the female's depths. Tossed and poured out into an endless, infinite ocean as they floated together grinding and writhing beneath the surface, not caring how their lungs burned and begged for air, not caring for anything but the bliss of one another's bodies grinding and thrusting and cumming and...

They awoke with barks of shock, then of bliss as they realised what was happening.

They were mating. Sleeping or not, dreaming or not, they had begun to mate once more as they did so. The male stood over his partner as she growled and grunted in bliss, and as he began to thrust into her harder and faster with now conscious and purposeful effort it wasn't long before he felt that all too familiar tightness and tingling rise within him. A sensation that was ready to erupt and explode forth at any moment, and did so within both of them yet again.

That day passed in a blur.

At some point they ate. The otter sow recalled feeling her mate mounting her as she tore open the scaled belly of a freshly caught fish, his body still soaking, dripping wet and sleek from having just dragged himself from the water. His own dinner lay untouched, still flopping and twitching its last, but he ignored it. His hunger was secondary to _their_hunger. A shared need that went beyond food. Beyond all reason. He bred her as she fed herself, and when finally he stopped to eat his own dinner the dog otter was soon distracted as he found his mate whining and nudging at him, rolling over onto her back beside where his food lay, presenting her dripping, aching nether regions to his gaze as she writhed in renewed, immediately volatile longing.

They knew no more of why or how they were being driven as they were than they ever had. It still felt natural even in its most obscene and obsessively desperate moments. This was instinct. It was the urge to breed, to procreate that drove every thrust. But it was the feeling, the pleasure of the act that awakened and encouraged that urge. It was lust, physical and greedy, which provoked that instinct.

They didn't question it, nor did they want to. These feelings, as insanely intense and catastrophically overwhelming as they were, were the most enjoyable sensations either otter had ever known. Indeed, before these feelings it was as though they hadn't even been conscious, aware enough to truly appreciate the sensations that breeding could usher forth. They infused them with a heightened state of focus and awareness. They filled each otter with happiness, with joyous bliss at the knowledge that they were able to not only receive such sensations, but provoke them equally inside their mate.

No, there may not have been an end in sight. No rest. No calm. No peace for their burning bodies. But... perhaps that was okay.

Their bodies were drained. Their minds hazy and fatigued. But even in those brief moments when they physically could not continue, when sheer debilitating exhaustion stripped them of the ability to continue, it took no time at all for their bodies to once again long for and to demand what they had until so very recently been receiving in abundance.

If the choice was between waiting for respite from the pleasure or waiting for the pleasure's return, there was only ever going to be one outcome.

The otters' pleading cries echoed out around their dark, musky burrow amidst their weariness, and mere moments later their breeding resumed feverishly anew.

By Jeeves