One Dream Too Many
Well, I'm back!
This story I wrote after having dream after dream about a certain someone who will not be mentioned. I was a bit down, but halfway through writing it I got over things. That was the whole point, was to help me deal with things. So I had half a story, and no real reason to finish it, aside from my meager readers here. So I decided to do it, despite how depressing it is.
So that said, it might seem all emo-y, but I myself am not like that, not by a long shot. This story served its purpose, and now I am sharing it with you all. No one's names are mentioned, which I found difficult and interesting for me, but that's the way it needed to be.
Legalities...Bleh. You need to be eighteen or twenty-one to read this junk, or just not care about laws. Characters are copyright their respective owners.
Notable mentions...Well, I did this solo, no help, no editor, no nuthin'. I'da liked some help with that, but it didn't seem appropriate. Also, being Canadian, I use Canadian spellings, and approximations of our dialects. Also, with regards to the other character, I tried my damnedest not to put words into his mouth, but, well...It's hard, when it's my own work and is based largely on my dreams and fantasies. So try not to hate me too much for that.
Now that that's all out of the way, any and all comments and votes would be greatly appreciated. As it is I'm getting very few of those, so I have no idea how to improve. So, thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoy this story. :3
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I had had enough.
The late nights where I could think of nothing but you, the following days where I was a zombie, sleep-deprived, driven only by musings of how things could have been, should have been with you. A good amount of my energy was devoted solely to not bursting into tears, trying to remain upbeat, positive. In the evening I would distract myself by opening the window, just to feel the chill. Thinking about you had become so easy. What happened?
That was a stupid question, of course; I knew what had happened, and it involved a rather unceremonious breakup, as did a lot of negative feelings involving other people. That wasn't something that could be helped though, now could it? All I wanted was to be able to talk to you, to maybe do the occasional naughty thing, to be the one who made you most happy...All of those things out of my grasp, probably forever, the possibilities crossing my mind leaving fresh scars across the wrinkles of my brain.
There was nothing for it. What else could I do but see you, just once? That's what you do when you have had enough. You do something about it.
I bought the plane tickets back in April, two-way to where you lived. The distance was likely the greatest contributor to our breakup, but that was to be expected. The internet was great for many a thing, but sometimes it was a plague, a pestilence, a source of immense grief, the anime fans and the furry fandom aside. You could find someone who was almost perfect for you, and I say almost because distance, something that can never be helped in the beginning, is a factor in perfection.
I packed all of the things I would need for a two week stay in a cheap motel that likely didn't even provide those little soaps or towels. Clothes and toiletries I packed neatly, methodically, with as little thought as possible into my bag, a wrapped box of chocolates tucked safely away within a sweater. Only after I had finished and looked about my room did I realize what I had been doing for the past half an hour. That was how most of my days were, wandering around, doing my tasks in a daze. I hoped that all that was to change soon.
It took some doing, this being my first time to do anything like this, but I managed to get a taxi to the airport. Unlike most of the stereotypes, the taxi driver was not from Pakistan or anywhere else in the Middle East. He was Japanese, which was an even more difficult accent to decipher. Were you here, would you be attempting to stifle chuckles like I was? A mark of how far I had fallen away from you was that I didn't know the answer. I decided that you would find the situation humourous, but your face would not show it, not for an instant.
Typical of an airport at three in the afternoon, the place was crowded, filled with furs all but pushing and shoving each other out of the way. This being Canada, they did their damnedest to be polite, but you could see their lack of sleep coming through their faces, their actions, all of which had a tinge of frustration. The noise reminded me of a racetrack in the last stretch of a horse race, everyone bellowing at the top of their lungs, hoping for the best for themselves, thus wishing the worst on others. That was the feeling I got from these furs, all self-centered, no love for each other.
Not that I could blame them. I gave the cab driver his money, multi-coloured bills, slipped my headphones on, turned on some music and hauled my bag over to the first important-looking person behind a desk I could find. Despite all of the furs milling about, there was a relatively short line to speak with her. I was quite thankful.
I showed her my ticket and passport, checked my bags, and proceeded through the gates, not once removing my headphones or turning off my music. It would likely be difficult to do things this way, but it would be impossible without them. I thought that, were I to become a fluid part of this mess of furs around me, I would never get to the plane. It would be just like every other day, lost in a daze. Someone who had had enough of that would not give into it anymore.
Through customs, past some of the food vendors, I made my way to the waiting area. I had half an hour before my flight was to leave, which meant probably about ten minutes before they would call us to board. Sitting down, I pulled out the book I was currently reading; something translated from Japanese, surrealist fiction. My music player had shuffled to some sort of ambient composition, something not meant to have any attention paid to it, but played in the background. I sat and read, vaguely picking details from a story about some organ-shaped stone moving about a doctor's office of its own accord. I closed the book and waited.
Three minutes I waited, focusing on my music and my music alone. I went to my gate, and walked up the detachable ramp to my plane when they called. They asked me to remove my headphones while I listened to the safety instructions, and I told them that, due to an accident regarding a baseball bat when I was young that I required a listening device, and this was it. The flight attendant made some sort of apologetic sound, her face following suit, something she probably learned watching politicians talk on CNN.
The safety demonstrations ended, and I contemplated asking how a seat belt worked just to distract myself. I decided against it, not wanting my visit to you to abruptly end before I could even see your beautiful face. I turned my music up and dared to think about you, knowing that I would likely be fully comatose within an hour or two. It was going to be a long flight after all.
Being half cat myself, I found myself attracted to you right away. That, however, had little to do with what followed. You saved my life numerous times just by being there to talk to. I told you everything about me, and I loved hearing what you told me about yourself. I liked to think that we were perfect for each other, but I guess that wasn't the case. I realized that later on when you became more distant, when our conversations ended with you ignoring what I said.
Did I blame you? Of course not. I knew that you were feeling depressed, and I knew it wasn't my fault, but I also knew that the fact that you had no distractions from it was. You always made me feel much better, why couldn't I do the same for you? Yes, you were perfect for me, but I wasn't perfect for you. That was just how it had to be, I guess. I came to the (probably misguided) realization that I was only making things worse, only annoying you when I spoke to you. What else could I have assumed? When we spoke you were terse, and treated everything I said like it was said by a child. I know I acted like one quite often, but I had to be given points for trying, right?
Towards the end I gave up, knowing that, while our conversations hurt me, they probably hurt you as well. Whether that be true or not, I don't know, but that was how I felt at the time. Maybe I was wrong? No, I most definitely was, and it was my inability to deal with being ignored that led me to stop talking with you as much. It was all a petty excuse to justify thinking of myself over you. In the end, I knew that you appreciated my efforts, and that you couldn't help the way you acted. I just took it all too personally.
The distance was one reason we broke up, but I can't help but think that it was also my fault. With that thought, I fell asleep.
I arrived for my second time in America at eleven at night. It was midnight back in my hometown, which felt a little weird for me. I adjusted my watch accordingly, made my way through the airport with minimal confrontation, aside from the strip and full body cavity search, and walked, with a slight gait, to the exit. I used a pay phone to call a more low-key taxi service. When he arrived, sure enough, it was someone who spoke English well enough to carry on a conversation.
We talked about random things, but nothing in particular. He asked why I was visiting America, and I told him honestly, that I wanted to visit an ex to clear up some things. He sympathized, and didn't ask anything further. Instead he asked what Canada was like. Things went on like this for a while, and it was nice, him being the first person I spoke to in America. The last time I was here I had a nice taxi driver as well. Maybe a lot of them were trained to be like this?
We got to my motel, and I asked him to wait while I dropped my bag off and checked in with the receptionist. I looked around my room, and saw immediately that it wasn't as bad as I was initially afraid it was going to be. It was almost bare, much like my room back home though. Minimalistic and functional or, as I like to say, perfect. There was soap and towels, though I still decided to use mine. I would unpack them later.
I left the motel, telling them that I would be back later and, making sure I had the key tucked safely away in my pocket, got back into the taxi. I gave him your address, and he told me it would be about twenty-five minutes. I was tired, and told him so, and he said he was fine with me sleeping in the back seat where I lay.
And I had the shortest dream about you yet.
We got to your place, up the long, war-torn-looking driveway which I recalled you saying needed a lot of work. It rained often, so you could never get around to it. The taxi driver took me as far as he could, and we said our goodbyes. He drove off, and I was grateful to Mother Nature for not raining today, even though the clouds threatened to change that.
Your house wasn't anything special, and I wasn't expecting anything more than something normal like that. Still, these were the walls in which you had been residing. There was something special about them, just by having you within them. I was jealous, of course. How was it possible to be jealous of a house? I still don't know, but that didn't change the fact that I was. Maybe it took it for granted that you were always there? When I see you I'll tell you that I would never take your presence for granted.
About midnight, I didn't know what to expect if I were to knock on the front door. I pulled out my cell phone and called yours. On the third ring, you picked up. I heard your voice ask who I was, and I looked up to see a single room with its lights on, a rectangle of light weakly illuminating the hot night outside. I imagined that was where you were on your phone. I hung up, unable to say anything. Of course I called right back, and this time you sounded irritated.
"Who is it?" you asked once more.
I paused before I spoke, took a deep breath. "The boy at your front door. Got a minute?" I said finally, attempting to make my voice sound as familiar as possible.
Whether or not you knew who it was, you told me after a moment of silence, "Alright," and hung up. I smiled to myself, thinking you were as abrasive as you always were. Comforting, though it did sting a little. I saw a shadow move in that room, but no sounds preceded the front door opening.
And I saw you in person for the first time. You were more adorable than I had imagined you would be, no picture you ever sent me could do you justice. Your expression hardly changed as you looked me up and down, my white fur blending in quite well with my white trench coat, my purple shirt and tie barely visible behind a scarf my mother knitted me the winter prior. My bat wings were folded tightly against the outside of my coat, the rougher fabric irritating the membrane. I knew none of this was necessary, but I thought it best to at least project an air of maturity.
"...Hey," I said finally, knowing that you were not going to be the first one to speak.
"Hi. Um...Would you like to come in?" you asked, leaning against the doorway, white bathrobe on over your white fur, black and purple thigh high socks visible only up to your shins.
A bead of sweat formed on my temple. I was nervous, to be sure, but this being the southern United States, and me in my heavy jacket, being out in the warm air like this was killing me, especially since my hometown was probably around the freezing point of water right now, and that was what I was used to. I nodded, blushing, trying not to look you in the eye, "Yes, if you don't mind."
You shook your head, "No, I don't, but this is completely unexpected. I would have liked a call first," you berated me, leading me into the kitchen, flipping the light on as you entered the doorway.
I sighed and chuckled to myself, "Hardly a surprise if I call ahead of time. Why, did I interrupt anything?"
Watching you busy yourself making tea and noting your silence on the subject I realized that either I was right, or that I was annoying you once more. I bowed behind your back apologetically, "Sorry...I can come back another time if you like?" Or never, I added in my head, bitterly. Were I you I'd have nothing to do with me either, though I'm sure if pressed you would vehemently say otherwise.
"Well...Don't apologize, it's alright," you reassured me, "I was just in the middle of...Something. I can take care of that later. Lavender and earl gray alright?"
"Ah, yeah, that's good. Been wanting to try that ever since you mentioned it. But I interrupted something? I can go and you can take care of whatever that is." The last thing I wanted was to make you angry or upset with me. As I watched you mix the dry tea leaves in a tea ball, attentively making sure the proportions were just right, I realized I wanted nothing more than your happiness. I wished for it from the bottom of my heart. But then, I chastised myself, it's never enough to just wish for something. If I wanted you to be happy, I would also have to put in some effort, right? What could I do for you though? I never knew.
Silence, but only for a moment. Then, "...It's fine, really." The kettle clicked, steam rising to the ceiling, just pooling there, a metaphor for a prayer if ever I saw one, "Actually...I got one of those new toys in earlier today."
My heart sank. I hated hearing about these sorts of things, especially since we broke up. If there was any way to be jealous of an inanimate object, then I had found it. Online you would tell me, with increasing frequency, what toys you had, and what you were doing with them. Lately you had taken to some of the Bad Dragon line of sex toys, and I knew exactly what you were playing with from our conversations about it.
"...The Dragoness finally arrived, huh?" I asked, really not looking forward to where this was going.
You nodded, "Yes. It's wonderful, especially when used with the tongue..." You went on to tell me all about its features, how each one felt. Then you added to what you told me about the Dragon's Tongue, all the while pouring out perfectly measured amounts of boiling water for our tea.
Did you do this on purpose? I highly doubted you would be so spiteful, but surely you knew that hearing about all this after the fact tore me apart? There wasn't any reason for it to, but when you told me you were writing a story with you and a fictional character, I became jealous even of that. It's the bane of my existence, really, this jealousy. While I did enjoy hearing about these things, I would have much rather heard them when I was finally over you, not still grasping for some threads and scraps of hope that we may reconcile.
All I could do was entertain you with a smile, "Mmm, that sounds lovely...Lucky toys, getting you all to themselves..." I smirked, adding a wink. I was never good at winking, but I could at least try.
You motioned for me to sit down at the table, and you sat opposite me, "So why did you come here now, of all times?" you queried, ignoring my last statement like I figured you would.
"Is it not enough that I wanted to?" I sipped my tea; it was just right, "...You know how I feel about you, and I know that you've already gotten over me, but please..." I had to set the tea down and rest my paws on my lap, "...Just bear with me for a bit, okay? I just can't let go so easily."
I looked away as you sighed, setting your tea down as well, "I know...We drifted, and whose fault that was doesn't matter anymore. I'm sorry, but I just didn't see things working out. Not as lovers."
That was a fact I knew all too well, and I came to embrace it a bit more each day in the following months after we broke up. Still, hearing it from you like that didn't make me feel much better, "Yeah...At the very least I still want to be friends...But right now, I can't get the idea of us, together as a couple, out of my head."
More silence. We had both said our pieces, so no further communication on the matter was necessary. The tea was now at perfect drinking temperature, and we no longer had to sip at them. I had no idea where you were looking, but I most definitely was not looking at you. Was I just trying to escape from the feelings that were clawing at my heels? I knew if I slowed down those feelings would just swell up, overtake me and consume me, a wave drowning a surfer.
We finished our tea and sat at the table for a time. The only sounds I could hear was of our soft breathing and of a few insects outside, making whatever sounds they saw fit. I had come to see you in order to set things straight, but what did that even entail? I had told you everything I felt you needed to know, so now what should I say? Certainly I couldn't tell you of the dreams I had been having about you, how a single thought of you knocked me off my feet. I just couldn't. I would just sound like one of those depressed teenagers from some melodrama you find on youth television networks at six in the afternoon. I most definitely could not live with that.
"...Did you want to come upstairs?" you asked me after an indeterminate amount of time.
What could I say to that? Yes or no would be just fine, but maybe some of my weak, watered down wit would ease some of the tension that had wrapped around my throat like a murderer taking pleasure in strangling his victim. "Oooh, are we going to try out your toys?" I raised an eyebrow, resting my elbow on the table and my chin on my paw.
Why must silence always drag out so? Whenever I say something wrong, or something stupid, there was always ample time for me to think about my idiocy. It was as though Father Time wished to punish me for being the twit that I was in an attempt to make me smarten up. I never learned. I probably never would, and whoever had to put up with me in a relationship would just have to accept that.
You stood up and walked around the table to where I sat. You took my paws from my lap in your own and looked me in the eye, silently. I didn't want to look back into yours for fear of my already crumbling world to shatter in an instant. But the silence persisted, and eventually I was forced to look into your eyes, those beautiful eyes. I would do most anything just to wake up and see them every morning. An impossibility, but I can fantasize.
We gazed into each other's eyes, the seconds turning into a minute, then two. The skin under my fur became hotter and brighter, and I knew I had a visible blush on my face. I saw that you were blushing slightly as well, which made my face turn an even deeper shade of red. You stroked my paws and said finally, "...Yes. I still owe you a free fucking, don't I?"
Both he and I were writers of furry smut. That was how we met, both of us watching each other from a distance long before we actually spoke to one another. Were it to have unfolded in real life it would have been the perfect material for a cute romance novel. But no, the first time we ever actually spoke was when you offered to proofread my stories for me, and I in turn would do the same for you. It worked out quite well.
One day I felt absolutely horrid, maybe I was ill, maybe I was just feeling down and not up to doing anything. I don't really recall anymore. You wanted me to proofread a story for you, and I did my best despite not being able to focus. As a "reward" for doing this for you, you said we could fool around whenever I wanted, even if you weren't feeling well yourself. I of course refused this, since we should both wish to do such things together. But shortly after this you didn't want to do anything like that at all. It was tempting to use it like a Get-Out-of-Jail-Free Card, but I had to respect your wishes, or rather, your libido, or lack thereof. What kind of boyfriend would I be if made you do something you didn't want to? Not a good one, I decided.
And now that offer was back once more, biting me in the ass. We weren't a couple anymore, I had no right to do those sorts of things with you anymore, though I did fantasize about it on a regular basis. I knew I should have turned you down, I really wanted to show you that I respected you enough to say no. This just had to be one of those times when I think of myself. I thought that it may help me get over you. More poor justifications for my selfishness.
"...And if I agreed? Then what?" I asked, tearing my eyes away from yours. I felt completely and totally defeated.
Your expression changed to a bashful smile. Just when I didn't think you could possibly get any cuter, "Then we would retire to my room...My mother's room is pretty far, she wouldn't hear anything...Brother's gone for another month...We might as well have the place to ourselves."
"That's not what I meant..." I replied, frustrated, "That wouldn't change how things are with us...Would it?"
"Remember what you said? No matter what we would be friends," I recalled the conversation vividly, as I often ran through it over and over in my mind, what I could have done or said to avoid all this, "...Whether or not things develop from there has to be seen, but we'll always be friends. And I want to repay you for that favour."
I shook my head, squeezing your paws, "You really don't have to just for that...You know my feelings on the matter..." I tried to give my conscience and sense of morals a chance to redeem my other thoughts.
"I do, and this time I want to. In fact, you owe me for interrupting what was going to be a nice night alone with my toys," you squeezed my paws back, pulling me out of my chair and up into your arms. For being as small as you were, you had a lot of strength in you, "What do you say?"
Standing there in your arms, so warm and lovely, I said the first thing that came to mind, "I'd say yes, then wait to wake up from this dream."
We wrapped our arms around each other, and I kissed your hair, nuzzling you, taking in your scent. I felt as though I could die happy, "Silly catbat," you teased me, "Come on, let's go."
There wasn't anything I could do to protest, and even if there was I wouldn't have. If this was something you wanted, who was I to say you couldn't have it? "Alright," I said nervously, following close behind you, paw in paw.
Your room was just as I had expected it, nice and tidy, with small flourishes here and there, like if my room was inhabited by someone with fashion sense. In your room was a twin-size bed, the sheets ruffled, a bookshelf filled, no doubt, mostly by books I had never heard of. Some Medieval-era-looking swords leaned haphazardly against the wall, and I wanted to arrange them better so they wouldn't fall. I left them once I saw the chair just a little off the center of the room. It looked as though it was at least thirty years old, flecked with droplets of white paint, it's blue chipping off on the legs and seat.
On the chair was the Dragon's Tongue toy you had told me about, and I can only imagine where it had been prior to my showing up on your doorstep. In a small bowl beside the chair, on the ground, was what I could only assume was your new toy. I didn't think we would need it, for what I had in mind for the night.
"Well...What would you like to do?" you asked, draping an arm over my shoulder, your free paw undoing your bathrobe. Then you added, "Other than me."
I blushed as the bathrobe fell to the floor, and I saw you in those thigh-highs, as well as a pair of purple panties, your member tenting them rather tightly, a small, slowly growing dark spot forming on the tip, and a small lacy bra. I pouted, "You mean that's not an option?"
You began to undo my jacket, the belt around my waist being problematic, tied too tight, "That's not what I meant dear, I mean, how did you want to...You know..."
I began helping you with my jacket. Once it was off and in a pile with your bathrobe, looking as though they would make coat-robe babies, I pulled you into a tight embrace, "You'll see, once we're both sufficiently naked dear. Let's just enjoy this for now..."
Holding you like that was better than anything I could have ever imagined, ever dreamed of. The feeling of your soft, warm breath on my neck as you nuzzled was beyond description. Your scent rose up to my nose, and I held you tighter, reveling in the moment. I felt your paws undoing the buttons of my dress shirt from top to bottom, leaving the ones tucked into pants alone. Your paws rested on my chest as you kissed my neck, down to my collarbone before resting your cheek there, sighing quietly.
I ran my paws up and down your back, blushing as my shirt began to slip down my back and arms. My cheeks turned even redder under my fur as you be began to purr, quietly at first, then louder as I let my paws move lower to your rear. A small gasp escaped your lips as I tickled the base of your tail, hooking my fingers around the hem of your panties.
"Go on..." you cooed cutely when I paused.
Your paws moved to remove my shirt, careful of my bat wings, as mine went to slide your panties down your thighs, your fur becoming slightly ruffled. After you slipped off my shirt, I knelt down, my head on level with your crotch. Your member almost hit my nose, and a small amount of your pre-cum was flung onto my chin. Tentatively I licked my chin, savouring your taste, somewhat salty, incredibly appealing. Needless to say I wanted more.
"...Dear?" I purred, stroking your thighs, your cock an inch from my face, "You wanna sit on the chair?"
Stealing a glance up at your face, I saw you look over at the dilapidated chair, the Dragon's Tongue still sitting, almost dejected-looking, in the seat. The gears hardly had to turn at all, your length jumping ever so slightly at the thought that we both shared, "Yeah, I would love to..." you almost moaned in a sultry tone.
With the daintiness of a princess you pulled me to my feet and guided me over to the chair. The toy, upon closer inspection, looked as though it had enough lubrication on it to enter you with little resistance, but I watched as you put a little more on it from a small tube beside the bowl with the other toy in it. The tongue really did look like it had belonged to a dragon; it had taste buds on one side, and small ridges on the other. It was perpetually bent in the shape a tongue might take if its owner were licking an ice cream cone. It tapered off at the tip, which made me wonder how you would get it inside you, it being the softest model available.
Really, I didn't have to worry about that. You let go of my paw, and turned to sit on the toy. With one paw you steadied yourself on the chair, the other you used to guide the tip of the toy inside yourself. There wasn't much sound, though my imagination more than made for that. From a couple feet away I watched your eyelashes flutter ever so slightly, your moist lips part a little as a soft moan slipped from your muzzle. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you lowered yourself onto the toy, bit by bit taking more of it in.
Your member grew, along with the volume of your moans, until the entire length of the toy was inside of you. Your length fully erect, you looked up at me, a sheepish grin on your face, "Now what...?" you asked, your tone one of nonchalance more than anything else.
One of my fantasies was to watch you bend over and suck on yourself needfully, knowing that every one of your moans would stimulate you further until you came, but I wasn't about to let you have all the fun. I moved in close to you, spreading your already somewhat-parted legs to stand between them, and leaned down to kiss your lips, my right paw stroking down your cheek, then your neck to rest on your chest. I fingered your nipple a little through your bra, hot breath escaping in the form of a moan between the cracks in our lips, before pressing my paw against your chest, grinding my palm against your nipple.
I enjoyed teasing you like this, wondering what it felt like for you, being pleasured mildly with a tongue-like toy writhing inside of you as you squirmed. I almost wished I had a tongue like that to use on you, knowing that it was a part of me bringing you to climax. This would have to do though, so I decided to put my tongue to better use.
After a few moments of this, I began to kiss down your chest, kissing your other nipple through your bra, my lips lingering there just a little longer. I looked up to see your head tilting back, your eyes closing, your ass grinding more fervently in the chair. A ghost of a gasp reached my ears just after I shifted my focus back to your torso, then your abdomen. The sounds you made drove me wild, causing my erection to swell just a little more.
When I reached your shaft there was a noticeably larger amount of your pre-cum being excreted from the tip, running almost to the base of your member. As gently as I could, making sure the barbs of my tongue didn't cause discomfort, I slowly licked from the bottom of your cock to the top, first with small, kitten-like lickles, switching to longer strokes of my tongue when it had traversed half of your length. As I reached your head I made sure to use only the barbless tip of my tongue, causing you to buck sharply into my muzzle.
Who was I to complain? Sexually starved, I began to take your member into my mouth, this time letting my barbs catch ever so slightly on the ridge of your head. Another buck, accompanied by a loud moan was my reward, and I kept that in mind for later that night as I suckled a fresh spurt of your pre right from its source. To say it was euphoric for me would be an understatement. I wondered how much you were enjoying it.
Slowly I slipped my paw down your chest to stroke the length of your penis that wasn't in my muzzle yet, my other paw now softly fondling your testicles. Again, I gazed up at your face. I was barely able to see your expression; your head was tilted back, your mouth open as you panted, eyes half-closed, chest heaving. The image of you like that took my breath away, no words doing the scene justice, every piece of art paling in comparison. Truly this was something I would remember for the rest of my life.
As I started to take more of your length into my mouth, now letting my tongue really work your sensitive flesh, I moved the paw that was stroking you to your inner thigh, gently caressing you. You shivered, and began rocking your hips in rhythm to my ministrations. I moved my head slowly off of your member, then back on, your member plunging deeper into my muzzle each time. The barbs of my tongue didn't seem to bother you at all, and in fact only seemed to turn you on even more.
I relaxed the muscles of my throat and took your entire member into my muzzle, moaning and almost gagging as yet more pre leaked down my throat. It was a shame I couldn't taste it, but your reactions made me quickly forget about that. You reached out with the paw you weren't using to steady yourself and rested it on my head, stroking my hair gently, lovingly, like a mother stroking a child's hair while they suckled her breast.
Purring softly at first, then louder, I lapped voraciously at your length, your head already in my throat. I continued to knead your sack, a little more aggressively, your moans and groans alerting me to your ever encroaching climax. I moved my paw from your thigh, slowly stroking your fur up to just above your pelvic bone. Feeling for where it ended, I applied pressure ever so slightly, knowing I was stimulating your prostate with the toy inside of you. Another spurt of pre and a long moan accompanied this action.
I began to pull my head off of your member, now lapping and sucking on only half your length. My tongue wrapped itself around you, enveloping your head almost completely. I gave your testicles one last squeeze, gave your prostate one last little press, and felt your balls empty themselves into my mouth in long, hot streams. You arched your back and tilted your head back, gasping, panting and squeaking, the paw on my head uncomfortably grabbing a chunk of my hair. I didn't care, I just relished every drop of your cum, sweeter than I had expected, swallowing when my muzzle couldn't hold anymore.
I must have swallowed three times before you fell back against the chair, breathing deeply and rapidly, eyes shut, head lolled to the side. With a slick, slippery sound I pulled my muzzle off of your cock and, with one last lick, crawled up your chest, straddling you, making sure not to rest my full weight on you. You payed me no heed, until I started kissing your neck tenderly. I almost felt guilty, like defiling an angel, you just looked so adorable and innocent.
A long time passed as you sat there beneath me. I purred loudly when your breathing became more regular, your eyes now half-open. We caught each other's gaze, and we smiled weakly at one another, like school lovers smiling awkwardly at each other from across the room. I wanted this moment to last, something I could recall fondly years down the road. Better yet, I wanted this to be every night for me, for you.
Shifting yourself beneath me, you motioned for me to stand up. Complying, I helped you stand up as well, your legs trembling. I saw your cheeks turn red as you reached around yourself, pulling the toy from your ass, imagining the comical pop it would make were this a cartoon. I watched you gasp quietly as the toy fell from your paw onto the chair, the wet, flimsy silicone actually making a cartoony plopping sound. I smiled inwardly.
Taking your paws in my own, I kissed them softly, purring even louder now, "...I love you," I whispered, loving your reaction as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other.
"I know," you smirked at me before taking your paws away from mine and wrapping your arms around me, "...Did you need to go anywhere tonight?"
I thought about it, thinking 'loaded question is loaded,' "...Just to bed, preferably with you," I melted into your arms, kissing your ear over and over.
"That's what I was going to ask...I'm pretty tired after all that," I heard your muffled voice from somewhere in my neckfur.
"YOU'RE tired? Think of how my muzzle feels!" I joked. It wasn't really tired at all, but it seemed the comical thing to say at the time.
You pulled away and pouted at me, "Aww...So we can't cuddle and kiss all night?"
I paused for a moment, then leaned down to kiss you softly on your lips, which were still quivering, "Of course we can, dear...Anything you want."
Arms wrapped around one another, you kissed me back, our near-naked bodies pressed tightly together. It was an amazing feeling, your body heat flowing into me, knowing mine was flowing into you. It seemed to me the simplest and most beautiful thing two furs could possibly do together, yet something so difficult that it was to be envied on some level. I knew this wasn't to last, though. If purgatory was temporary hell, what does one call temporary heaven? Being there in your arms, though, that thought seemed far off and away.
"...Shall we then, dear?" you asked me when our lips finally broke.
I gave you a smile and a blush, "Yeah..." then I added with a yawn, "I don't know how long I can stay awake for though..."
Smiling, you shook your head, "Me neither, but we'll be together, and that's more than fine for me..."
"Right you are..." I couldn't help but smile as well as you hit the lights and led me to your bed, assuring me you'd clean up whatever mess we had made tomorrow.
I curled up next to you, kissing your shoulders, your neck, your cheek. Too awake to sleep, too tired to do much more, I just wanted to give you every last drop of affection I could before sleep took me away. I wanted to tell you a million times over that I loved you, and that I wanted to see you happy, that you, of all people, deserved that more than anyone. I wanted to be yours, even if you couldn't be mine. That night would be the closest I could get to having you as my own, and I wouldn't complain one bit.
I woke up the next morning, groggy, feeling much more tired than when I had went to sleep. I tried to grasp my surroundings, my dry eyes unable to comprehend quite where I was. From the corner of my eye I saw the familiar glow of an alarm clock. 5:37.
It took me some time to realize that you were not in bed with me, that I was in fact back in my own bed, cold and empty without your warmth. I rested my arm on my forehead and sighed, closing my eyes. Another dream about you, just another dream about you, always leaving me more and more hollow than the last.
Would I just have to get over you, or actually go visit you? Either way, I had had enough.