1000 Swimmers
This short story, this vignette was composed on Twitter, so forgive the rather short paragraph style. It also has a certain cadence best lent to tweets. At some point I will rewrite it into a long form narrative. Or vignette. This is a story of me and my boy.
His paws grip my sides; I feel his hot breath in my ear. Hind legs dance, sheath nudging, searching, probing. Contact. That canine shaft fills me in an instant; I need him, I need it, I push back against him. Jackhammer passion smashes through me, I cry his name, I beg for more.
Heat boils through me, fills me, stretches me out. Every thrust sends stars spinning through my brain. I'm his alone to fuck and I just can't, I can't, I lose my mind and clench around him. He grunts and thrusts and huffs and puffs and isn't slowed. I start to feel it.
He's ready. A whimper escapes my throat. His bulge is filling out. Once, twice, three times it passes into me. Back legs dancing for a fourth time, pushing, straining until at last he's in. It won't come out. I cry out, helpless as his knot expands hotly, pushing out my walls, throbbing.
There's no stopping what has to come. I hang my head. I feel his pulse. I feel his cock. I feel his tip kiss my cervix, finally, finally, I pray. Wet heat floods me in a sudden rush. He's cumming inside me and there's nothing I can do.
That canine flow surges, pulses, battering my dam, battering my resistance. I'm sealed so tight. I'm his to be used. I'm his to be bred. The pressure keeps building. I shake my head and sanity slips away. It can't hold. The pressure ceases. My womb begins filling with canine cum.
Pulse. Pulse. Pulse. It's all I can feel. My nerves sparkle in tattered shreds as each new wave of climax blasts through me. His drool gathers on my neck as his powerful body grips me tight. Safe. Warm. Snug. Everything of mine is everything of his.
Time slips away and all I can feel is him. I feel bloated; I feel pregnant. I want to bear his young. He tries his best, he always tries best, and I dream of his success. Bathed in silky warmth, one tiny egg and one tiny sperm. Knocked up by my dog and proudly showing my bump.
He doesn't know he can't, so I let him try. I bite my lip as he shifts, fidgets, squirts harder still. I rub my stomach as I feel his warmth spreading. My breath comes in gasps; I can't take much more, but there's no choice. I'm his to use and I know my place; good girls must wait.
I look at the clock. 1 hour has passed. He fidgets, squirms, I feel him shrinking. A trickle next, down my inner thighs, and the seal is broken. My boy is a gent and he takes his time, holding me close, licking my neck. His swelling, his heat, pulses down, down, I settle around him.
A cry escapes my lips, a brief stretch as he gently pulls out. My boy climbs down, licks my face, then sees to his business. I cry out again as his tongue finds me, cleaning me, finding every drop that leaked. There isn't much, he went too deep, but still he tries.
I push his head away, his gift is mine now. The trickle will last all day. I roll over. We cuddle. He licks my stomach. I open Twitter.