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Chasing Tail

It's really not a matter of genetics. We're only a tiny bit animal, honestly. Furs are still more human than some folks really want to admit. Genetic engineering is a fun thing once you get it to the point of being able to custom modify people the way some folks mod computer cases. Little bit more involved than that, but you get the idea.

So none of us can really say 'it's in my genes' or 'it's just instinct' when we do something animal. It's learned behavior. It might be deeply ingrained, but it's still not genetic or instinctive. That said, man. Hunting by is a rush.

Jogging isn't exactly fun, but it's a good thing to do. The geneticists who specialize in fur packaging do good work, but there's only so much a meat heavy diet and good metabolism will do. The rest you have to earn, and keep earning. Sedentary lives don't leave you much to work with, and despite having a desk job that pays damn well, I want to look good, want to feel good. The whole wolf thing is a couple generations back, now. Grandpa's a wolf, grandma wasn't, but they chose puppies rather than babies so… I was raised like this.

And you can't get raised as a wolf and not pick up on the mythology. Pack hunters, pursuers, chase and catch and kill. I'd never gone hunting myself, cities are remarkably poor places to find game after all. But the idea was there, all the way down to the bones. From about ten years old, I had the image in my head of chasing and catching and… well, you get the drift.

But jogging is how the pack hunting thing works. You're not racing to the finish, you're looking to outlast your prey, not outrun it. So I jog, and I do it every morning, rain, snow, or baking heat. That last one's a killer, this fur coat is not happy about summers, so those jogs are shorter, but winter? Oh, winter is perfect for me.

It was early March, the first time I saw her. I don't wear an awful lot to jog in, even once it starts getting cold. Shorts, and paw-shoes. Small things, I don't do the whole-foot-on-the-ground thing that humans do, but enough to cushion some of that pavement. She was quite a bit more dressed. Long pants, sneakers. A track suit, really, though might have been another layer underneath, or two. Black hair, too, done up in a bun. Nice hips. Couldn't get much more than that, she was ahead of me and stayed there. She outlasted me, I never even got close enough to ask her name.

I started seeing her more consistently over the month. We took the same route mostly, and whatever else there was about her, she was an early riser. I typically start around 6, and every time I saw her, she was already running, ahead of me. And I could never catch up. One day, 3 weeks after I first spotted her, I chased her for a straight hour. Every time I tried to put on some more gas and catch up, she just pulled further away. It was maddening.

Maybe I was getting a little obsessive, but around then I started going on jogs in the evening as well. I didn't see her, those times, but catching her had gone from a 'maybe' to a 'must'. It wasn't enough anymore just to keep in shape, I had to get faster, had to go longer. Running 14 times a week will sure put a dent in your grocery bill. I shouldn't complain, though. I make enough to afford good food. Eating more of it is a pleasure.

It took me until April to even get close enough to her to get a good look. Well, the nice curve on her hips persisted throughout. She wasn't overly well endowed, but… very fit. Tight, trim, there's a lot of words for a figure like that. Not short, either, she was a runner, and had that physique, too.

Of course, by the time I caught up to her I was too out of breath to ask her damn name. But the look on her face said it all. She was playing with me. And that grin as she put on a little extra and left me in the dust (mostly pollen, April is an awful time of year) again.

Half the reason Grandpa gave for picking this whole fur thing was that he liked the look, and Grandma really liked it. I'd noticed, more than a few times, that predator types get that look from others. The question of 'what'd it be like to get eaten alive by that?' comes up now and then. Not in a food sense, mind you. No, all that fear and aggression tends to come out in the bedroom. Or wherever things like that happen, elevators, cars, janitor's closets, wherever.

So it wasn't exactly a surprise that she might be interested. The next morning put all of that right on top. I found myself behind her again, as usual, but there was something different about her top. It took me a good twenty minutes to catch up enough to get the hint.

If you can catch me, wolfy, you can have me. Written in marker on the back of her damn shirt.

Right there. Well, I knew she was playing, for sure. And I knew what the stakes were. Do it, and… I could just imagine. That kind of fit, strong person wouldn't be lazy in the bedroom, that's for sure. And she wanted to play games. Games are good. Can't just be all about the fucking, you have to play, too.

But after months of not even knowing her name, not even knowing whether it was simple chance that we were taking the same paths or not? She wants to play chase. Simple as that.

And I still didn't know her name!

Wolves and dogs aren't all that different. Wolf and dog furs, even less so. We get the majestic, lords of the forest looks, they get wagging tails and floppy ears. I'm not biased or anything, perish the thought. But we all have pretty much the same reaction to a game of chase. We have to win. Whether chasing our own tails as kids or chasing tail in general, when we're older. It's instinctive, we just have to go for it. Well, as close to instinct as furs get, anyway.

That was April. Heading into the worst, most brutal time of the year for jogging, and now I have that single offer. If I can catch her. Oh, I wanted to have her. As single minded with that as any dog chasing his own tail. Any time I started to lose motivation, or strength, all I had to do was picture her in front of me.

The first Saturday in May came around, and I put on my shorts, laced up my shoes, and headed out of my apartment building, taking my usual left to start the jog. About twenty minutes in, I came around a building and there, almost exactly as I expected, was she. Sports bra, shorts, shoes, and a grin. She was waiting for me. Waiting for me to notice her. And as soon as she saw that I had, she took off.

I chased. What else was I going to do? I didn't know if we had anything else in common but these runs. Didn't know her name. Nothing, except that she wanted to be caught, and I wanted to catch her. And that she wasn't going to make it easy.

There's a spot in our usual route that goes through a park. Big one, a half dozen city blocks all groomed and tended. This early in the morning, not many people there. I figured that was the best place to try and overtake her. So as she started up one of the hills in the trail, I pushed from endurance running to full out sprinting.

Closing distance, I got to… maybe ten feet behind her before she noticed that I was gaining, and put on the gas herself. At that point, it was just a matter of who lost steam first. It might have been funny, from the outside, the two of us sprinting through the park, rounding corners as fast as we could and pounding out the yards with single-minded determination. For me it was grim determination mixed with vibrant anticipation. I could see the muscles in her legs moving, the strength there. I was close enough, finally, to actually smell her.

Perfume just doesn't do the job. Who puts it on to run, anyway? And after more than an hour of sweating, the only scent left is you. And I could smell her and it was… intoxicating. If you don't have a wolf's nose, you can't imagine the scent, but I'll try. Exertion, sweat, intensity. Lust, too, excitement that went well beyond simple adrenaline. But really, after months of this? Six months of chasing her, only one of those mattered, and my nose fixed on lust, and my mind held on to that.

She wants this, I thought, and so do I. A human who gets off on the chase? How'd I get so lucky?

Was it luck, really? I'd never seen her before, until November. Had she seen me? Decided to lay her bait and see whether I would take it? If so, why keep it up for six months? But we'd never been introduced before, I was sure of it, and I'm not one of those rich and powerful folks who winds up on magazine covers, or interviewed in the newspapers. I'm just a desk jockey who jogs.

Another drift in the wind put her scent right up my nose again. What does it matter, the why? I decided. Worry about it later.

There's a little grove of trees in a dip in the hills that the park designers landscaped in. A dozen or so, half of them evergreens, the rest maple. Right there, coming down the hills next to that copse is where I finally caught her. Just enough to lay a hand on her shoulder. And we both kind of lost it at that point, exertion and the slickness left by that morning's dew combining to send us sliding to the bottom of the hill.

She recovered first, getting up far enough to move over to me, plant each hand on ground to either side of my head, and grin. Eyes were blue, but so washed they were almost gray. And beautiful. Wasn't just those lovely post-race endorphins either, she really was- is, I should say, beautiful.

“What took you so long, Wolfy?" Panted out, she was as out of breath as I was, but her voice was low enough, husky, and sent a shock right down my spine. Well, ears and nose and eyes had agreed, we all wanted her in a most animal way.

“Ha! You weren't making it easy!" The grin usually gives us away, all sharp fangs and leer, but she didn't even blink when I smiled, and put a hand on her hip. Tentative. I wasn't, honestly, sure whether she was as aware of her scent as I was, or the causes of it.

She dispelled any notion of that in a rush, one of her hands on my chest while the other went right down into my shorts. “Oh yeah. I am not gonna be sorry. I think my place is closer than yours."

“To hell with that," I replied, and put both hands on her ass, squeezing those very well muscled cheeks. Prickle of claws, too. She responded with a little gasp and a shiver. Well, she wasn't likely to say 'hey, be gentle' after all.

I rolled over, taking her with me, and rested on an elbow, over her. Head down under her chin, giving those delicate little nips that tell me just how rough I can get. Her chin lifted and she gasped pleasure for every touch of teeth. Oh, she was going to be a fun one. “To hell with going home. I'm a wolf."

Up off the ground, then back down to lift her up in my arms. Bridal carry, not that over the shoulder nonsense you see in bad werewolf movies. And into that copse of trees. Hidden from outside, more or less, and it was just as good inside. The manicured grass had been left to grow in here, but it was still that soft, thick carpet, no rocks or stumps or roots. She laughed, then turned that lovely pink humans do when they blush. On her, not just the cheeks, it went all the way down her neck, too. I wanted to see how much further it went. I wanted to know badly.

Almost too badly, because the instinct, as I put her down, was to just… tear off her top, bare her so I could see what I had caught. Thankfully, I didn't have to. Almost as soon as we were out of sight, she'd pulled the zipper down on the front. Like I said, not overly curvy, being a runner tends to take fat reserves away. But so fit, and that blush, or flush of excitement, carried down far enough.

Out of sight, why even pretend not to be interested. I licked her, from navel to chin, just dragging my tongue up, tasting the salt of her sweat, the heat of her on my nose, filling with her scent. Under her chin, I bit. Not hard, but that grip of teeth around her throat. She shuddered at that squeeze, one hand on the back of my neck and the other on my belly, pushing down toward my shorts.

I stopped her, taking her wrist in my hand, and put it back up to join the other, on my neck. Then tucked my thumbs in her running shorts and eased them down while I held her throat in my jaws. I couldn't see, of course, but I didn't have to. There wasn't anything under those shorts. No wonder her scent had been so clear.

I let go that gentle grip, then looked down. Shorts around her thighs, and not a bit of hair, either. I don't mind it either way, this tongue was made for licking damn near anything, but in this case… “All the better to taste you with," I rumbled.

“Oooh yes, that. Do that!" She dropped a hand to push her shorts down, and let them drop around her ankles, then stepped out of them, leaving just… sneakers. Who cared, at that point, there wasn't anyone to laugh, and I knew exactly what I wanted, I laid her down on the grass, on her back, and started to just… lick. Salt sweat, excitement, that overpowering scent and taste of lust, on every inch of her.

Her body was a temple to be worshipped. And then, like any good invading army, probably defiled in creative ways. And she was not in any mood to say no. “God dammit, Wolfy! You gonna tease me all morning?"

“Do I get that option?" I wasn't planning on it, I could feel complaints from my own shorts. Things like pressure and impatience. But they don't run things, I do, and foreplay is way more important than just getting off. “Because I've heard that teasing can be a fun way to spend, oh… a few hours."

“Or," I looked up the length of her body, close enough that my breath was on her mound, “I could just have you for breakfast right here and now." She gulped, maybe a little fear? Did I sell it that well? But even there, she nodded. Eagerly!

So what else could I do? I'd made the offer, time to go through with it. One hand to push, put her shoulders down on the ground. Both hands to pull, get her hips off the ground, up where I could reach more easily. Her knees came down, to either side of her face. I could see that, too, see the expectation, and see the bliss when I started working my tongue along and between her lower lips.

Those scents and tastes were stronger here, overpowering. If there's any true instincts out there, the deepest of them has to be the way that certain smells seem to skip the brain entirely and wire straight into the body. No thinking required. This was the scent, the taste, of a woman who had been chased, caught, and wanted exactly those things. And who knew what a wolf could do to her. She knew, or suspected, and it would have been simply ungentlemanly to deny her the chance to find out.

We've got strong tongues, wolf furs do, and the way mine was diving in and dragging back out along the front of her tunnel was getting some very, very interesting sounds out of her. Little ones, half stifled 'Oh!' and 'Hah!' noises, some even less articulate than that, mere explosions of breath, untrammeled by any attempt at speech. Sound, maybe less important than smell and taste to me, but still very, very good stuff. That she couldn't manage to speak likely meant I was doing something right.

And god, how she tasted! It was ambrosia. Though I suppose if this was what Greek gods drank, that would explain a lot about Zeus. And raise interesting questions about Hera. I could have stayed there all day, made her my breakfast, lunch and dinner. But she had other plans. To be honest, so did I.

But first, I stopped those long drags to focus on shorter, firm lapping. Washing over her clit, over and over, while claws prickled on her thighs and ass. She reacted so strongly to those little digs of claw. Shudders and twitches, muscles spasming in reply. No conscious thought to those reactions, really. The sudden tension in her, everything wound up while I licked was followed by a loud cry. Orgasm, loud and unrestrained, and her taste changed, her scent thickened in the air. She was all I could smell, the sweat and lust in the rising May heat. It put me off guard.

Which she took advantage of, still panting from her fun. She pushed, and I toppled onto my butt. And then it was her turn, she pushed me down, and straddled my chest, laughing. I couldn't help but laugh as well, hands going to her hips with a mind of their own. It was, really, the first time I stopped and looked at her.

That black hair had come undone from the bun, and fell over her shoulders, framing a face more sweet than beautiful. Not someone's classical painting but who cares? Perfect symmetry and angled cheekbones and that shit, means much, much less than the look in her green eyes. Lust. Joy. Excitement. She got just what she wanted, playing this game. Nice breasts, too, under that tangle of hair. Small, handfuls but perky. Just like her, a perky, mischievous handful.

As I was busy staring, she was busy moving, a hand between her legs to line me up. Not inside, she just pulled my dick out of my shorts, pushing the waist down enough to lay it against my belly, and then settled on top, heat and wetness pressed against my shaft. She was as hot as the day was going to be when the sun finally peaked, and far more inviting, grinding herself against me. Hands in the thick fur on my chest, gripping tight.

Back and forth, sliding her pussy up and down my shaft. It was goddamn good, but still teasing, so maddeningly teasing, especially every time she slid back and bumped against my knot. I tightened hands on her hips, clawtips pressing into her cheeks, and pushed, holding her down against my knot. Not that that stopped her from teasing, she just started rolling her hips back and forth, slicking me up even further. I could only stand so much teasing. One hand stayed on her hip, and the other came up to her throat, grabbing tight, squeezing a little, and I watched the flicker of emotions. Shock, a momentary fear, and then a surge of intense lust and pleasure.

That grip, and the one on her hip, let me turn her, flipping her onto her side, and off of me. I kept going, though, rising to my knees and pulling her up by the throat, her back to my chest, on her knees. A careful moment, to slide myself between her legs. If I were inclined to let her look down, she would have seen my shaft poking out in front of her, between her legs. She could certainly feel it, and was grinding against it again, trying (and succeeding) to drive me mad.

"You're a fucking handful," I growled in her ear, still keeping my grip tight against either side of her throat. Careful not to keep it tight more than a few seconds. I wanted to fuck with her head a little, not hurt her. Well, not harm her. There's a difference. But that panic reaction as oxygen gets restricted and the brain's not getting quite enough? She seemed to be really, really enjoying that. Between that and my hand sliding down her belly, two fingers pressing and rubbing against her clit in slow circles, little strums, she was winding up and tense again.

"Eager, too. Tell me what you want, dirty girl." I relaxed my grip on her throat a little, and lowered my head to bite at her shoulder and the back of her neck.

She didn't speak, for a moment, one hand coming up to hold my wrist, the other hand going down to do the same. Not stopping or pulling, just touching. A signal of approval? "Do this. Do this more. Fucking take me, wolfy!" If there was any doubt about her enthusiastic approval, it was well gone, too. And possible someone outside this little, secluded stand of trees had heard her shout.

Nothing for it but to do as she asked. Two fingers hooked up, inside of her, and put my palm against her mons,holding and rubbing. Hand tightened at her throat, again, restricting those pounding heartbeats a little. "Your wish, my prey." Up, I pulled her, leaning back a little to arch her body, taut like a wire, and up far enough to let me angle up underneath her. Then down, slowly, just a little. I let my fingers out, and my tip in, and just held her there. Two could play at teasing, and just being bigger than her let me do quite a bit of it.

I held her like that for oh... a handful of seconds, then slowly let her down. She was wonderfully tight, and taking it slow seemed like the best possible idea. Again, maybe a little hurt for her, but not harm. I wanted to enjoy this, enjoy her, for as long as possible. As often as possible? I wasn't sure if this was going to be a one-time thing, and we go on our ways, or if this was the start of something Either way, I didn't want to rush or waste this time. And I wasn't in a hurry. Saturday, no rush to get home, shower, and head to work. We could spend all day here.

"Stop t-teasing," she murmured, and squirmed hips, trying to get down, take me deeper. There's only so much resisting to be done, when she wants the same thing as you do, just faster. Her wiggles took her down, until she was hilted on my, lips pressed against, and spread by, my knot. And it was electric, being inside her, pleasure wrapped around me in heat and wetness. I had to stop, hold on to her, and pant, trying to recover my balance and control. Not that I had much use for the latter, but it pays to be polite.

We both stayed there, panting and trembling, catching our breaths for... I don't know how long. Who has time to look for a watch, or the mental space to count seconds or heartbeats. I could feel mine pounding, and I could taste hers, my nose against the side of her neck. Hot, sweat, lust, pounding blood and shuddering breath. God, I wanted to consume her, breath her in and worship every inch. But she wanted to be defiled, and I fucking knew it.

I pushed her forward, slowly and careful to support her on the way down. I had expected her to put hands down, to go on all fours, but she didn't, kept her hands on my wrists until her face was in the grass. She scooted a little, pressing her butt to my hips. I could read that signal loud and clear. Gimme. Who can say no to that?

Pulled hips back, slow, only a few inches, and pushed back in, feeling the way she gripped and slid against me, hear the gasp as I shoved back in, pressing my knot against her. It wouldn't be easy to get it in, humans aren't quite built the same, with a knot in mind. As eager as she'd been that whole morning, I don't doubt she'd try, and she didn't seem like the kind who tried and failed at what she wanted. Still... it presented a few problems, most of which were not well in mind at the moment. It's a bit hard to think about possible consequences when you're in the middle of fucking the single hottest woman on the planet.

Steady, faster, getting a little more motion to it, that thrust and pull a little more force, shoving her forward a little at the end of a thrust. My hand still on her throat, not tight at the moment, more cradling it in my paw. I slid it around, and grabbed her hair, wrapped my hand around to take the whole fountain of lustrous black and grip it tight. Some thing to pull on while I pushed. The first time I did that, she let out a muffled cry, bit her lip to keep it stifled, and squeezed around me, hard.

Do more of that, then. The hand on her hip tightened, and I pulled with both hands while my hips pushed forward. The pressure and work had stretched her a bit more, her entrance starting to open enough to take my knot. Not quite yet, but god, so close. I could barely remember to breathe, as good as she felt. And I was getting damnably close to my own climax.

Some semblance of sense finally fought through the euphoria and lust, and the hand on her hip slid back, so I could grab myself. No tie for her, not here and now, but everything else? Still good. I pulled hard on her hair, pushed hard with my hips, and grabbed around my knot, giving the same short, jerky tugs I would had I gotten wedged inside her. It took only a few to pour me over the edge. And she got more than a little out of me. Dogs are messy lovers, and Between the half-frantic thrusting and the sheer volume, there was plenty to drip from her, a puddle on the ground underneath as she groaned her own pleasure.

I relaxed my grip on her hair some, and let her settle, the both of us panting and breathless, euphoric and dizzy from the sheer delight of that moment. She managed words first.

"Didn't *pant* knot me? Why?" Words, but still panting.

"Don't want to get *hff* stuck here if we *hff* have to move."

That seemed to satisfy her curiosity, and both of her hands slid underneath her, back. I felt them cupping and toying with my balls, gentle and teasing. "Move. Yeah. This was amazing, but we can't stay here." Not that she seemed in any hurry to move, or let me. She was still having fluttery little moments where her muscles tensed and she shuddered pleasure. Aftershocks.

We spent some time there, getting our breath back, staying together. It wasn't a decision either of us made, when to move, it got made for us as the sprinklers kicked on, that distinctive kchk-kchk-kchk giving us enough time to realize what was happening before we were suddenly getting sprayed.

We scrambled for clothes, got them back on, and laughed as we bolted out of the clearing. My shorts doing a terrible job of hiding the erection still at large, and hers not concealing at all that she had my mess running down the inside of her thighs. We didn't care, at all.

"Okay, wolfy! My place or yours? We both need showers and then I think we need food. And I don't mean you eating me and me swallowing you, though we're gonna do that too?" I nodded. "Good... good! I think mine's closer-"

"Mine has a better shower," I interrupted, "And I guarantee you'll like the view almost as much as I'm enjoying yours." We were walking side by side up the sidewalk, moving pretty quick. "By the way, I'm Michael. And I'm also incredibly pleased to finally meet you."

"Miriam, and likewise. Okay wolfy, your place. This time I get to chase your tail."