FSE

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I'm not dead. My writer's muse is just a bitch.

Sequels to my other stories (where there will be sequels) are in the works, they're just progressing in fits and spurts. They'll be out in time, but I can't give y'all a good time table. I wish I could. Although COVID-19 cancelling my classes might very well help them along.

That said, I hope you enjoy this.

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Fighting feral dragons is easy. Well, true ferals, I should mention. Not ones like me, who can think and speak like the small two-legger races. I mean the others who are mildly clever animals at best, who only speak in growls and roars and only think of their next meal, or of defending their territory, or of quenching the heat in their loins whenever it might arrive.

Let me tell you about an interesting one I met, once upon a time. Right now, he's back at the cave I've taken to calling my home. He stumbled upon me sleeping in it one evening, presumably looking for a place of his own to bed down for the night. If he could speak, maybe he would've asked me reasonable questions such as who I was and whether I might be so kind as to offer him a corner to rest in, but instead he rudely awakened me from my nap with an impetulant roar. I barely had time to right myself before he charged into me. We rolled around on the ground for a few seconds, he almost had me pinned and was coming in for my throat, but I managed to kick him off and got in a good one on his head. While he was dazed, I took the opportunity, and soon I had turned the tables. It was certainly amusing watching him struggle under me and growl and nip in vain trying to wriggle himself out of his predicament. It helps that you can't tell the difference between a true feral and a feral like me until they kick your tail. Normally, I might've let any other dragon go, or perhaps killed them on the spot, but at the time, I was a little pent up. I'm sure you know how it is. Yet again, I saw an opportunity, and I went for it.

I lowered my haunches down, pressing my sheath to his and gently grinding down into him. Almost immediately, he stopped struggling, though he kept that suspicious leer. I could see the cogs turning in his head, or at least what cogs he has. I continued to hump against him, feeling my member slide from my sheath, and soon his couldn't help but join, since it knows no difference between the stimulation of a female and that of a male. I looked down between us to gauge our sizes. His was a bit smaller than mine, but still nothing to sneeze at. Especially since I happen to be a large drake down there to begin with.

By now, he had calmed down, and I could see the sparks of lust beginning in his eyes, mixed with confusion. After all, I wasn't a female, yet I had still coaxed his cock from its shelter, and was surely intent on doing something with it. I began to slither myself down his body, bring myself face-to-face with his maleness. I pressed my snout to it, inhaling his increasingly heady musk, before letting my tongue slip out to drag along the underside of his ridged rod. He gave a sharp growl, his eyes becoming unfocused and the remainder of his resistance melting away. I had him under my thumb now, as the two-leggers might've said, and I intended to exploit it to the maximum.

Wrapping my tongue around his length, I drew it up away from his belly scales, aligning it with my maw, before taking the tip into my mouth, gently suckling on it. The feral chuffed, bucking his hips up in an attempt to force more inside. I allowed an inch more, but held his haunches down, quietly telling him that I was the one in charge. I couldn't help but smirk as I watched the once-confident male crumble into a horny whelp at my ministrations, a slave to each additional inch I slipped into my muzzle, until my nostrils brushed up against his sheath. I savored the taste of his cock, the liberal doses of salty precum it spat with each throb, and the needy pants and growls that issued from my newfound friend. I know these sorts of dragons have a tendency to be two-pump chumps, but this male's tenacity is both surprising and a welcome treat.

Even then, I could feel him getting close, and I had bigger plans for our encounter. I drew back up his length with a lewd slurp, letting his pre and spit-covered cock slap wetly back onto his belly. He peered down at me, a questioning look on his face, clearly wondering why I had stopped. I went yet lower, swiping a lick over his balls, before finding his tailhole, tight and pink, nestled underneath. I ran my tongue over it a few times, before pressing the tip into it, gently forcing it to yield and allow me inside. I kept my eyes trained on his, which widened in surprise, and then fluttered as I pried deeper into him, wriggling it around, exploring and massaging his inner flesh. I know from experience how sensitive a male was down here, and I too was taken off-guard when I learned just how much so. I burrowed my tongue forward, searching for that one spot I know lays inside every drake, a small bump unlike any other. It didn't take long, and when I rubbed against it, I heard his breath hitch, and his muscles squeezed down around my tongue. I teased more at it, and he keened, a new noise from the feral. I couldn't help myself anymore. He was sufficiently lubed up, and I was ready to go.

I pulled my tongue out of his hole, stepping back up above him and renewing my pin on him. He watched me, fear creeping back into his eyes, but I gave him a reassuring lick to the nose. I was about to blow his little mind. My own cock had so far dangled neglected between my hind legs, drizzling my own pre, and I lowered my haunches down, inching forward until its tip made contact with his tailhole. I increased the pressure on it, prying it open until it slipped around my head. Oh gods, he was tight. I suppose it isn't surprising, since I doubt many feral males get any proper experience with sticking things under their tail. His eyes widened yet again, and a growl rumbled up in his throat, and I nuzzled him in response, telling him everything was alright. This was all new to him, and I gave him time to adjust to the sensations before pushing further.

Over the course of a few minutes, I fed more and more of my member into him, until my hips were flush with his. His insides were wonderfully warm and soft around my dragonhood, clenching and squeezing around the intruder inside him. I could see the strain in his face, how he fought between pain and lust, but the only indicator I needed was his hard, leaking rod, twitching on his belly underneath me. I let the first words of our encounter slip from my mouth.

"Little slut, aren't you?"

I drew back, pulling my cock out most of the way, savoring how his hole clung to each of my ridges as I withdrew them, before plunging it all the way back in, driving a chuff from the feral. I repeated the motion a few times, adjusting my aim, until on one thrust, his maw suddenly dropped open, and his breath hitched yet again, his ass clenching around me. I had my mark, and I let the smirk crawl back to my own muzzle.

I set up a steady rhythm, running my cock against his prostate over and over again. My smirk grew into a grin when his keening returned, his head listing to the side and his tongue lolling out of his mouth. There isn't much else like dominating another male, showing him all the wonders of cock and what it can offer to him, watching him melt into a puddle of sex-drunk bliss under you as his tailhole clamps down around you, begging for more. The sounds and scents of drake sex permeated the cave; the slapping of scales against scales, our musks intermixing into a cocktail of arousal, the squelch of my dick hilting repeatedly into my partner, its passage eased by my spit and the copious amounts of pre my rod leaked into him, just as his drooled on his belly with each thrust, and our ever more insistent panting, growls, and keens of increasing pleasure.

The feral seized up under me, his climactic roar echoing out into the landscape beyond our cave. His innards started spasming around me, and his cock shot pearly lances of cum all over his front, his form quivering with the force of his euphoria. I sped up my pounding, locking him into a mating press, feeling my own orgasm advance with each slap of my hips against his.

"Thaaat's it... cum for me, little whelp..."

Ecstasy rose and then exploded in my loins, consuming the rest of my body as I finally achieved my peak. My eyes rolled up into my head, stars exploding in my vision as my essence shot deep into the male underneath me. My rhythm never ceased as I seeded him, reveling in the cool heat that coursed through our bodies as my own roar joined his. In moments like that, the world seems to stop for just a split second, and something happens between me and my partners. In his case, I don't know if I would call it connection, since he couldn't say a word to me even if he wanted to, but even then...

Soon enough, the flow of cum slowed to a dribble, the mating press slowed to a halt, and our climaxes faded into a warm afterglow. Both of us panted from the exertion of our tryst, the fog of lust slowly clearing from our minds. The feral laid sprawled out under me, eyes staring into the distance, his tongue still lolling out. His gaze flicked up to mine, and I saw a spark of gratitude and trust. I licked his muzzle once more, this time affectionately.

"Good little drake,"

I pulled my hips back, withdrawing my softening dragonhood from his tailhole, clenching my teeth as his passage weakly squeezed at my sensitive flesh. My tip popped free, soon followed by a gob of white leaking out, growing into a trickle of my seed, and I smiled at what I had wrought upon his formerly-virgin ass.

I cleaned myself off first, then set to work at cleaning his seed from him. He tastes salty and earthen, a good flavor for a drake. After I had licked up the remnants of our activities, I laid down beside him, nearly as exhausted as he was. He scooched in closer to me, pressing himself against my body as he rumbled, almost purred in contentment, laying his head on my shoulder. I pulled him in, nuzzling back as we curled up with each other.

We slept like logs that night, and I woke up to him the next morning pawing at my sheath. I couldn't help but oblige him, and we fucked twice more as the sun rose. Since then, we've worked out a wordless agreement of sorts. I hunt food for the both of us, he raises his tail for me whenever I want it. Not to say that I force him, he's always quite willing. Horny little thing, he is. I take him too, at times. You should've seen his face the first time I flipped him over, and he was all ready for a good rutting, and I sat my tailhole down onto his length. He's pretty thick, I'll admit, I shouldn't have gone as fast as I did. He tried to get me under him, but I had to remind him again about who's in charge. He's feisty like that, sometimes. Whichever way we have fun, though, he's a great cuddler, afterwards.

I've been teaching him more about being a good drake-toy. He knows how to suck cock and rim holes now, and I've been working on getting him to ride me the way I rode him, though he's having a bit of trouble with that. Maybe you'd like to help me out with it? If you've got some spare time, you and I could go back and see what we can do with him, since I've gotten myself all riled up telling you about our exploits. Maybe we could teach him about spitroasting. I know he'd love that.

You in?