Inspiration
Oof. Has it really been 2 months since my last upload? Dang, it feels like it's been a while, but life has been catching up and it's been a hectic time. I'm certain many of my fellow writers will be able to relate to this piece. Short, sweet, and a little something that was cooked up thanks to my frustration at my lack of progress with a little help from Shadi, of course.
I hope you all enjoy it! Remember to vote and favourite if you did, and feel free to comment with your thoughts! I don't write first person often, so... This was a fun little experiment where I blended my settings into something naughty a little closer to home. :P
I've no idea what to write.
And it's bloody frustrating.
Perhaps, it's made most frustrating because the drive to write is there, but the time and place and inspiration never seem to line up. When I am inspired and in the right place, life finds a way to interrupt. When I'm in the office and have time, inspiration and drive are fleeting. And when I have time and inspiration to write, there's not a keyboard in sight, and tapping tales down on a cellphone between bites of lunch is hardly a good way to make any significant progress on any writing.
I sigh, slumping back into the office chair. It's another of those days. The drive is there, the place is right, and I have time, and yet, life throws a new curveball to throw off the perfect combination. Anxiety! The worry of starting anything for fear that two seconds in, I will be interrupted again, and like that, time and inspiration shall vanish.
The memoirs sit incomplete. A-stan seems a lifetime ago, and yet the recent news of it being officially 'over' is a twisted attempt at humour, met by pissed off mutterings and curses by the lads down at the pub. A dozen, dozen other tales wait on the cloud drive I set up years ago, last even glanced at months ago.
Another world, another life, another time. Mementos of it sit in the glass cabinet along the right wall of the office, along with smiling photographs of absent friends and that damned bronze cross on its maroon ribbon.
Bitterness creeps in like shadows along the wall. There are still no words on the laptop screen. The clock says 5 minutes have passed. The second-hand ticks onwards. My tails flicker, and I sigh, rubbing a paw along my muzzle, combing out my whiskers. They tingle at the touch.
Grey strands fill what was once a pelt as sleek and dark as the night sky. Age has been merciful at least. I'm still not as grey as Matthew, the old wolf.
I sigh, quietly contemplating what to put on the pages. Another minute goes by as the taskbar clock ticks over. I'm no closer to starting anything, and no closer to finishing anything. 4 separate stories are open in different tabs of the browser. I flit between them, the quiet clicks of the mouse interrupting the silence. There's a knock on the doorframe and I glance up.
"Would you like a cup of tea love?" Shadi's sweet voice asks me. Her eyes still sparkle with that radiant beauty that had me captivated from the first look, emerald green and topaz brown. They sparkle with feline mischief and cunning, but also sweetness and care. The kids are out. The home is quiet. The little lioness is short enough to make a perfect chinrest cuddled against my chest, though her fennec like ears would nearly make her taller than I were it not for my own.
She's gorgeous. Drop-dead so. Body like a Greek statue of a goddess, and a tail that you could use like a boa-scarf. The lads are a constant reminder of that. They make no efforts to hide how attractive she is to them, and that I was the one who won her. As far as they believe, she mated well and truly down, and I won the lottery. An exceedingly sweet prize indeed. She's wearing a stretched out, faded shirt of some band or other. One of those articles of clothing that is so old and faded it's hard to recall where it was gotten, but damn if they're not the best for lazy Sundays. Shadi certainly thinks so.
Her looks are all her mother. Her eyes are her Father, a fierce man built like a tree. Her sisters are the flowers that come forth from its leaves in spring. Her brothers are as thick as the trunk.
I can't help but snicker at the all too apt comparison.
"Tea would be lovely."
"How much have you done today?" She askes, a sweet inquiry and a polite nudge to remind me what I'm meant to be working on. Novels and chapters and stories don't write themselves after all. I check back across the documents and make a count on my fingers. Fortunately, I have enough of those to show her the total so far. It is... Not high. One paw would do, truthfully.
"Ahhh. One of those days, hmmm? I'll go put the kettle on." She chimes sweetly with a toothy feline smile that hints that there really is a dangerous predator hidden beneath her soft, tan fur and short, curvy stature. Her motherly figure saunters away, tail lashing around the doorframe for a moment before it too vanishes from my sight.
These days have been all too common as of late. By the time the workday is over, dinner is served, the kids are taken through their nighttime routine, and the house is at last quiet, it's already nearing tomorrow. It's hard to think of fantastical tales and adventures when all you can manage is not passing out in your lounge chair at the end of the night.
To a word, it sucks.
And not even the good kind that I would normally write about, either.
Shadi returns and saunters her happy ass in with a sweet smile. The tea smells delicious. After a decade and change together, she has the brew down to a science, despite rarely drinking it herself, much like me with her morning coffee. I manage a smile back as she rounds the desk, and hops up onto the hardwood surface, her feet dangling a foot above the ground now.
She looks at my laptop and the distinct lack of progress with a curious frown.
"Hmmmm... how about the Viking story?" She suggests.
"Could do..." I respond, noncommittal. While fun, I'm not feeling it at that moment.
"The Dancing Slave? Don't you have a few side pieces yet to finish up?"
She's not wrong, and the novels are at least coming along. There's much more to be done yet. I nod thoughtfully and tab over to the latest chapter, but no words appear after a few moments of staring and rereading what I've written. I frown. She sees it instantly and pokes my thigh with a toe.
"Or... you could write about Parker that one time he got caught hanging out the window." She giggles at the memory, and I swat her leg playfully, chuckling. There's a lot of stories resulting from 'The Bet' that I ought to tell, some far more amusing than others. That at least is one I've started already.
"Soon. It just needs finishing." I say like it isn't the case in half of these stories, and run a paw across the vulpine goatee at the end of my jaw. So many started ideas have been waiting for me to finish them. Eventually, I keep telling myself. Whenever that is.
"Ooh, the pirate story maybe?" Her tail flicks to the side and clears a cup of pens from the table. She doesn't even blink as they scatter on the floor. Typical housecat. It's a massive project, and perhaps one of my oldest. By far the longest too. Ironically, it's never seen the light of day but for our own eyes. A roleplay we began together to pass time while I was occupied elsewhere so that we had something to connect with and tap away at, even while the other was asleep. I chuckle amusedly and shake my head.
"Mmmm, half a million words, 4 rewrites, and still not done. Not today I think."
Another minute ticks by with no more words finding their way into being, and Shadi tilts her head, looking at me as if she's studying me. A strange, foreign vulpine writer with too many tails, stuck on his latest tales and struggling to make progress anywhere. After a moment, her eyes light up, pupils narrowing in a hunter's gaze as she scans me up and down in my seat, and slides her way over. There's an awkward shuffle as she settles into my lap, peeling her shirt up and over her head, leaving her hair to cascade messily down her front like a model from the centrefold of a dirty magazine.
"Well... I suppose then we'll just have to make our own inspiration, won't we?" She purrs with just a hint of that sweet, southern drawl from her extended family overseas. There's no point arguing, not that I would. When the lioness has her claws in your belt, it's far too late to negotiate.
I lean in, drawing a long lungful of air in against her throat, thin, silky smooth fur tickling my nose. Her scent fills my mind, sweet vanilla from her shampoo and all the baking she does so often. It's ingrained at this point, along with the soft scent of a lioness, of a mother, and one instantly recognizable as my mate. It's comforting, and sets me at ease in a single heartbeat, and sets something else going in the next one. She's a baker after all, and well and truly familiar with all techniques to make things rise.
My lips find her life vein, and without hesitation or fear, she tilts her head submissively, offering it freely. I can feel her pulse beneath her fun, and place a string of kisses along it. A single swift bite and it could all be over, a primal, savage end so often seen in the wild. Yet she is unafraid. If anything, each kiss only excites her more, heartbeat rising steadily. I can feel it beneath her skin, and playfully nibble my teeth along her skin. She shifts about excitedly, and it excites me further too.
Her chest rumbles, a deep purr beginning to fill the room while she wriggles and squirms her hips atop my lap, pressing her paws against the plaything she has found beneath my cargo pants. Damn is it hard. Painfully so. She's relentless when she's found something she wants. In an instant, the fly is tugged down, freeing my cock from its fabric prison. Her paws at once wrap around the dark maroon, spade-headed vulpine wood. Her delicate fingers can't connect around its girth, and it takes both hands for her to cover its length from the knot to the tip. A spray of preseed accompanies each twitch of my length, and I let out a pleased huff as she begins to stroke.
With each of her motions, her tits jiggle before my face, full and round, despite having fed two pups with them, never losing her supple and defined DD's. It's a perfect size really. Not so large one drowns, but not so small you could eclipse it with your hand. A perfect pawful and they fit into my leathery palms just so, rougher callouses from a lifetime of work circling over her hard nipples.
"Ahhh, just like that Foxy... Feeling inspired yet?" She asked with a devilishly naughty little lion's grin. She's an absolute minx in the bedroom, an insatiable little succubus hiding her horns behind those overlarge ears of hers. I lean in and kiss her roughly on the lips, and she counters by tightening her grip around my knot. An almost painful, instinctive throb runs my length, and her hards sweep up the steady leak of precum to smear it down my shaft. She's biting her tongue in the corner of her mouth to keep from moaning. I pinch her nipples between forefingers and thumbs.
Her mouth opens, but she keeps herself silent through sheer determination to focus on her 'inspiration. She's not been wearing panties at all today, relying on the length of the shirt to cover her more modestly. I can feel dampness grinding against my thighs as she rocks back and forth, making a damp spot on the legs. With a twist of her nipples, she moans, sweet music to my ears. A grin sweets across my muzzle like a poker winner sweeps the pot. My muzzle dives in and I swiftly take one of her tit's between my lips, supporting and caressing the underside of the soft globe with one paw. The other sweeps down her curvaceous figure to rest on her bare hips.
Her breast still has the lingering taste of motherhood upon it, sweet and warm. I spare no expense in pleasing her, lavishing the firm nub with my rough tongue and
I curl my fingers and grasp at her pelt and the soft, chubby skin beneath, pulling my wife';s hips forward until her incessant grinding is pressing the heat of her body against my cock, trapped between us. I can feel how eager she is. Her body is primed. She wants it as much as I do.
It's a subtle shift. One of her paws moves to my ears, pulling my face against her tits as she rises just a smidgeon, and slides forward while angling my tip towards. There's a moment where we're poised on the brink of what will no doubt be a very good inspiration later as her velvety walls part around my tip. She lowers herself back down, and this time she does moan as she takes half the length within her. For me, it's bliss, pure and unfettered. I growl around her nipple and pull her down further, warmth and wetness engulfing my prick as she impales herself, and I thrust up into her to help with the effort.
She doesn't wait around for permission or special instruction. The chair is already at best, slightly awkward for two to sit in, and nothing can cause sensual and passionate fucking to descend into a giggle fit of silliness like a dead leg in such a situation might. A measure of haste is called for, and with one paw on her hips, and the other sliding around to grip the base of her long, swishing tail, we rut.
She bounces on my lap, each rise and fall drawing the slick heat along the length of my shaft as she squeezes and tightens well-trained muscles around me. The pleasure is enormous, and each descent is punctuated by a wet, messy slap as her tautly stretched lips collide with my swelling knot. The urge to tie and breed her already is strong. It always is, like an instinctual desire, a part of the animal hindbrain calling me to shove my knot in her and spend myself utterly against the back of her passage. Oh, the desire is very strong, but I want to draw it out a little first. I want to hear her moaning out, and feel her body twitching is spasms as she cums like a good pet.
My tongue is as relentless as her driving bucks as she pushes herself down against my cock. I can hear her own panting and moaning as she rides me like an unbroken steed, her fingers curling in my hair to keep my muzzle on task. She's entirely consumed by the motions, and a quick glance up confirms her eyes are squeezed shut, head tossed back as she enjoys herself. Inspiration indeed. She's gorgeous like this. I'm still convinced she's the sexiest thing on the planet, even after more than a decade together and two kids. She's stunning.
Reaching up, I guide her muzzle to my own, and we lock together, tongues fighting for dominance in a back and forth between our lips. I rasp along the underside of her own, and a hot moan breaks from her as she pulls back from my sudden press against one of her weak spots. She shivers in delight and rides me with all the more enthusiasm. The room is filled with the heady aroma of fuck now and will need a good airing out later. That's a problem for a version of me thirty minutes from now.
At the moment, I'm adrift in a sea of lust and rapture and enjoyment, a high that is quickly reaching its apex. My prick is twitching steadily now, in time with each rapid pulse of my heart. It won't be long, but there's something else that needs tending to before that moment. I look at Shadi. She's panting hotly, trembling like a leaf in my lap and around my shaft. I can feel her body's tension, like a spring being tightened. It's ready to shoot free in a dramatic and exhilarating release at any moment. She gives me a quiet nod and reaches down with one paw, fingers parting her body around the top of my knot.
There's a moment of resistance as she pushes down. Felines weren't made for canine anatomy, but the desire is overwhelming. She squeaks quickly as she drops down onto me, and I can feel how tight she is, how much she is stretching to fit the swollen lobes of my knot. There's a messy sounding pop, and the pressure is gone, replaced by the snug grip of her body as her labia slides down to instead hug the root of my shaft. The spot is sensitive like nothing else, and with my tip buried against the end of her passage, holding back longer becomes impossible.
She cries out with me in bliss, and as her body milks me for my lifegiving seed, I explode into her, the pressure building and exploding into her like a bullet from a gun. Throb after lustful throb, I can feel each pulse of release keenly. It makes the world around me flash white, everything but her falling entirely out of focus in the wicked, ecstasy filled moments.
It feels like an eternity, but yet only moments have passed when the high finally does fade. My lungs give me a polite jab of pain to remind me that breathing is critical to surviving, and we both gasp, clinging to each other in a tangle of fur and limbs, sweating, panting and blissfully warm. The desire to nap against Shadi's breasts is strong, but I shake it off, placing a string of delicate kisses over her neck instead. Post-coital relaxation sets in. She flops heavily against me, and I shift as much as able to get us both reasonably comfortable. We'll be here a while yet, and after climaxing, I don't yet trust my legs to not turn into jelly the moment I stand up to carry her back to the bedroom.
"Okay... Consider me inspired love." I chuckle, giving her neck a quick, affectionate lash with my tongue.
She mutters quietly and snuggles herself against the crook of my shoulder with a content purr.
"So... Know what you're going to work on once we get up again?"
"Oh... I have an idea" I chuckle in response, and grin cheekily. Inspiration is a funny thing indeed.