Nargacuga Comes Home (Watersports)
A Nargacuga comes home after a long day to enjoy one of his favourite things, alone and by himself, happy in the sanctitiy of his own home.
It was at the end of a very long day. The sun had long gone down on the auburn thickets the Nargacuga called his home. His home was a simple hut, small enough for himself and barely one other person. It's small size afforded his home a cosiness denied to more elaborate structures. The Monster himself, Vanderval, was a hunter himself. He may as well have used his English abilities (such as they were), his weapons, (such as they are), and his agility, (such as it is) to try and carve out a small living for himself where he can and managed to garner funds for the home he was returning to, built by himself with a small lake nearby for catching fish, his favourite treat for dinner.
He was an armoured beast, though only lightly so with much of his natural body on display. Anthro or not he still had an agility far beyond most and it wasn't worth dampening for the sake of baring blows which could otherwise be avoided, but a little fashion and a little insurance never hurt anyone. That being said he never wore it for long, least not when he got home. It was all quickly abandoned into the box where he kept the rest of his equipment as soon as his furry feet stepped inside his home, beating the door closed with a swing of his tail behind him.
He didn't quite bare all though... he was left standing in something, a pair of small darkly coloured purple briefs that fit rather snuggly against his plump balls and thick sheath. Oh how he filled the purple fabric so nicely, every single curve and line of his sheath and balls were outlined in the purple fabric. More than that though they were the source of everyone's complaints about the Nargacuga having a heavy smelling musk to him. He didn't care though, he'd piss and cum in those undies as much as he damn well pleased and wear them, and no one was going to tell him not to. He wouldn't have it, he wouldn't listen. Naturally, back home and in his own space was the perfect time, the perfect place to make another tribute to his favourite underwear having abstained from doing so the entire day! His bladder felt ready to burst...
He had to pick a space of course and so rolled up the small, circular rug on his wooden floor and pushed it to one side as he sat his ass on the middle of the floor and leaned back on his outstretched arms with legs parted. "Yeah, this'll do..." He muttered to himself, a familiar sensation of heat and tension welling within his sheath, a fat backlog of urine aching for release.
He waited, he waited and waited some more under the soft light of the moon pouring through the open window. He now had the time to fully appreciate and feel the sensation of the preassure welling between his thighs until at last... He could hold it no longer. His beak parted and his mouth lay agape as he begun to urinate. A thick, heavy stream begun to gush from his sheath and into his briefs, the purple things soaked with so much piss before was getting a fresh coat. His stream was incredibly musky and heavy, he had been holding it back all day and just himself go, the stream almost passing through the fabric entirely as dribbles slid down his thighs, unable to be contained anymore.
It was a sight to behold, but his bladder was only so big and the sack emptied itself entirely before the Nargacuga got up again, the monster panting as he slowly got up with a soggy, soaking pair of briefs and a gentle smile that peered down at his own handiwork. A hand cupping himself with pleasure and giving a few rubs for good measures and a gentle squeeze just to really soak the piss into the fabric.