Tree of Pride
#2 of Dreamer
The following is erotic in nature. Read at your own discretion.
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Tree of Pride
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He stood again on the endless stretch of beach. It was his empty canvas, a single line drawn across it by the shore, connecting earth, sea, and sky. He had expected to return to its empty sands and begin the night's creations anew, but found instead, to his surprise, a plume of water shooting ceaselessly hundreds of feet into the air not twenty meters down the shore from where he stood, a gentle breeze guiding the spray back to sea and leaving him comfortably dry. Even less did he expect to see a towering pine tree in the distance, whose highest branches vanished in slowly flowing clouds.
He had never made that, nor even imagined it. The tree should not have been there, in his self made dream.
More than slightly curious, he began loping toward it. He had entered the dream this night as one of his three favored dream forms, bodies in which he had oftentimes found himself when he did not completely control his mind's nightly meanderings, the same form in which he had found himself the previous night before mixing his traits with human ones. Tonight he remained on four legs, the better to make the journey to the giant pine. He would have given himself wings, but found he enjoyed the feel of the sand beneath his paws.
Before long, the gray and tan wolf found himself beneath the pine's boughs, each of its lowest branches stretching the length of a football field, leaving the sand beneath them illuminated by a dim twilight. Here and there twisted roots the size of city buses sprouted from the beach, curling in a spiral out from a trunk as wide and as tall as the Sears Tower. The niches in its bark were wide enough for a grown man to stand in comfortably. Circling the trunk, the dreamer came upon a groove in its bark that formed an upward spiraling ramp. And striding down that ramp toward him was -
Her.
She passed through a rare beam of light - or perhaps the tree's massive branches shifted as she approached to cast a ray of sunlight upon her, because the circle of golden light followed her movements - and her white fur glowed like liquid crystal. Tiny rainbows danced across a body that would have been too bright to look at were this not a dream. The smile on her face when she saw the wolf before her made everything else in his vision tumble and swirl in a dizzying dance of light.
When they reached each other, she knelt and kissed his forehead while he nuzzled her neck affectionately. He was astonished at his overwhelming relief upon seeing her, and at the revelation their meeting brought to him: It was she who had imagined and created this tree. His dream was sustaining itself, and even growing, without his intervention. She hugged him fiercely around the neck, and he draped his head over her snowy shoulder to return the embrace. Speech rarely ever occurred in his dreams. There was no need for it here.
When she pulled away from him, mischievous excitement gleamed in her blue and violet eyes. She rose to her feet and began walking up the ramp, leaving him to follow. The way she swayed her naked hips as they walked made his legs carry him after her before he realized he was moving, and enflamed the warmth that had been stirring between his hind legs as soon as he laid eyes on her. She led him up and around the mammoth tree trunk, past branches as broad as highways, but he found the view in front of him just as amazing as everything they walked past. Her bushy white tail seemed to float on the air behind her, swaying back and forth with each of her steps. Oftentimes it rose high enough to display the round bottom beneath it, muscles ever shifting beneath her soft fur as she walked, and every once in a while her stride would stretch her flank enough to expose her groin and its small slit. He found himself hoping that this dream would end similarly to that of the previous night.
They climbed the giant pine for what could have been hours or minutes; time was always a fluid component in his dreams, rarely following the steady clockwork of reality. The higher they climbed, the more sunlight penetrated the canopy of needles, so that they walked through an ever-changing spiral of light and shadow. The dreamer dared look over the ramp's edge several times, but never saw the sand or ocean below them past the pine's enormous branches. As they made their way through a misty fog - a low, drifting cloud - he began to hear noises from above, quiet, unrhythmic impacts, as if someone were slapping the tree's trunk at random. Not long after, the sounds of heavy breathing joined the soft thuds, but it was a full circle around the trunk before he saw the noises' source.
Above them on the far end of a broad pine branch, someone was dancing, flashing tan and gold as they twirled through the sunrays. As they drew closer, he could see that the figure was part woman, part lioness, her light brown fur plastered to a gymnast's physique by a sheen of sweat. Rather than dancing, he realized, she was moving through a series of complicated martial arts forms, a slender scimitar in each hand slicing intricate patterns in the air around her. She intermixed graceful acrobatics with her attacks, her slender tail flowing behind her like a ribbon as she somersaulted and twisted above a platform that no longer appeared quite so broad or sturdy. Once the two climbers reached the base of the lioness's branch, he noticed spheres of shifting colors swirling around her, targets for her blades and feline feet. They watched in silence for some time, appreciating her grace and beauty. Sweat slicked as her body was, her pelt accented the muscles it concealed more than bare skin ever could.
Finally, the lioness's martial dance slowed to a stop, and she knelt in profile to her small audience to place her weapons on the branch, where she remained motionless for several moments, eyes closed and chest moving deeply in long, full breaths. When she rose, she faced the two watchers and smiled, unsurprised. Apparently she had known they were there for some time. She crossed the branch to them in long strides, and for the first time the dreamed was able to get a clear view of her body. She was several inches shorter than the arctic wolf standing beside him, and was slightly more slender. Her breasts were well rounded, but not quite as large as the other female's and her hips weren't quite as wide. Her heavily muscled legs tapered into large cat paws, her claws helping her feet grip the pine's smooth bark. Light brown fur lay matted against her form, a shade lighter from beneath her chin, down her chest and stomach to between her thighs. The glistening fur there was what most held the dreamer's attention.
The lioness stopped a few paces away from them and looked up from the dreamer to the arctic wolf beside him. After a nod from the pale canine, she folded her legs beneath her, sitting on her heels, and held her hand out invitingly toward him. The dreamer padded over to her and placed his muzzle in her padded palm, completing the silent introduction. She scratched at his neck and behind his ears companionably, and he happily closed his eyes and indulged in her attentions. He hadn't itched at all in the dream before, but everywhere she placed her hands felt as though it were releasing a long-held irritation. He rested his large head in her lap as she petted him, barely noticing the damp contours of her thighs beneath his chin. She leaned over him to scratch between his shoulder blades and down his back. He opened his eyes when he felt a nipple graze the edge of his right ear.
And found himself staring at the "V" formed by her kneeling thighs and lower belly, his nose inches from her groin.
Unconsciously reverting to his waking habits, he tried his best to repress his arousal, but his sudden awareness of her scent made that impossible. At least he would not need to feel embarrassed as long as she kept her face above him.
Then a finger tickled the back of his testicles, and he realized the arctic wolf was sitting beside him. She grinned at him impishly when their eyes met and, after gently squeezing his sack, took the lioness's wrist in hand and led it around his side to his lower stomach, where the feline's fingertips met the head of the member emerging from his sheath. Wincing, he began to shy away from her until a hand on the back of his neck stopped him. With an amused smile, the lioness leaned down and kissed his nose, then returned her hand beneath him, her other still scratching his neck. Her fingers expertly massaged his sheath and caressed his genitals, then slid back and forth along the underside of his erection. Her round breasts dangled in front of his face, and realizing where her actions were leading him, he nuzzled and licked them both, inducing feminine giggles when his wet tongue connected with her nipples. The fur covering her breasts, previously damp with her own sweat, was soon drenched with his saliva, disorderly tufts sticking out where his tongue left her pelt. His enthusiastic lips sent her breasts bouncing enticingly.
After several more caresses up and down his growing shaft, the lioness pivoted onto her hands and knees and, before the dreamer knew what she was doing, raised her bottom in front of his face, tail lifted to expose her anus and vagina. They were in their natural positions, unlike the white vixen's uniquely placed single entrance, though only indicated by a small indentation between her buttocks and beneath the root of her sinuous tail, and a vertical crease in the soft mound of pale tan fur below that. The lioness knelt with her legs slightly spread apart, so that when the dreamer held his head close to the ground he could see her chest with its dangling breasts between her thighs. She looked back at him over her shoulder, wiggling her bottom impatiently.
Not in the mood to argue, the dreamer stretched his neck toward her and nuzzled her crotch, licking the edges of her mound and the curve of her lower belly. She held still, letting his tongue push at the soft flesh beneath her sweaty fur as heat began to radiate from the crease in her groin. The dreamer worked his way toward that heat, finally letting his tongue slip into her folds. The salty taste of her sweat mingled with her inner flavor, and he paused, momentarily surprised. She tasted like cinnamon. He began lapping with more fervor, enjoying her unnatural spiciness. The lioness arched her back and moaned happily.
He stopped himself from bringing her to an orgasm. By the time she looked over her shoulder again to see what had distracted him from her vagina, he was climbing onto her back. Once fully on top of her, he hugged her upper chest with his forelegs and hunched his hips forward until the tip of his member introduced itself to her soft mound. Before he could enter her, though, she bucked her haunches, making his tip slide up her groin to the base of her tail. At first he thought she'd had a small orgasm at his touch, but when he shifted back toward her slit she bucked again, then squirmed her rump until his tip was nestled in the indentation just below her tail. She craned her neck to look up at him and nodded encouragingly. Trusting that she knew what she was doing, he pushed himself against her tail hole, gently at first, then more forcefully until his shaft began burrowing into her. They were both breathing in ragged gasps by the time his furred sheath met the inner curves of her butt cheeks. Her body held him like a vice; sliding out of her was as hard as his entry had been. It was easier piercing her the second time, though, and yet easier the third. Soon he was moving in and out of her with a very slow rhythm.
The lioness let her head hang between her shoulders. He could only hope he wasn't hurting her, but she had all but insisted on pairing this way. Of course, this was still a dream. If she had conscious control of herself in the dream, she could feel exactly as much pain and pleasure as she chose.
He realized he was thinking about the characters of his dream as if they possessed their own consciousnesses, an outlook that he knew was the first step on a dangerous road to madness, but as he humped this dream's bottom and heard her passionate moans, he couldn't find any other way to think about her. He was in control of his thoughts in this world, and though he hoped she was enjoying herself, he was not mentally forcing her to.
These distracted thoughts slowed the growth of his canine knot, but not by much. Soon enough a bulge developed in the base of his shaft, and he was unable to force it into the lioness's tight opening. After several failed attempts at squeezing it into her-and the resulting further swelling of his knot-he withdrew from her completely, letting her crawl shakily out from under him. Another sign that she was more than a figment of his imagination, he thought. Had she been, she would have stretched to admit his knot as a direct result of his desire. As it was, he probably could have caused that to happen had he concentrated, as she was still a part of his dream world, but he was enjoying letting things play out without his alterations.
As soon as all his paws were touching the pine's bark, she turned and pounced on him, rolling him onto his back with an expertise that was as gentle as it was relentless. Before he could roll back onto his feet, she was straddling his chest, pinning him against the giant tree branch. She slid down his stomach, rubbing her soft mound into his belly fur enthusiastically, until her rump once again touched his tip. The dreamer resisted the urge to struggle, forcing himself to relax and let her do what she would even though his position was far more submissive than he preferred. She leaned forward until she was lying atop him, her breasts flattened against his upper chest, and positioned her hips to let his tip nestle between the folds of her vagina. Her body felt hot against his, nearly to the point of being feverish. She took a deep breath and leaned back, slowly surrounding his length with her loins. When her mound met his knot, she tensed briefly, then shoved herself against him with a grunt; it felt so good that his vision shimmered. He had to close his eyes to shake off his sudden dizziness.
Using her hands on his chest, the lioness pushed herself away from his body as her hips began humping and gyrating, a circular massage for his shaft. She took one of his forepaws in each hand and placed them against her breasts, right overtop of her nipples, then leaned against him, letting him support her weight. Though his hind legs still kicked feebly at the air, trying to find some purchase so that he could buck into her as violently as his instincts were crying for, his forepaws against her breasts somehow made him feel less helpless, even when she reached for the sides of his neck and grasped his scruff in an unyielding grip. The lioness arched her back, her feminine grunts and moans becoming more urgent, her hips' movements growing more drastic.
The sense of security the dreamer felt along with the nubs of her nipples against his footpads faded somewhat when something warm and wet lifted his right testicle and let it drop back against his crotch. Squirming, he looked down the length of his and the lioness's bodies. The arctic wolf's face peeked around his thigh and grinned impishly at him before vanishing back between his hind legs. He could see her white-furred body sprawled lazily behind them, her bushy tail wagging in amusement. Then he had to wince his eyes shut as her lips surrounded his left testicle, sharp teeth grazing gently against his hypersensitive skin. Her tongue traced rapid circles around his nut's perimeter before she dropped him. No sooner did his testicle bounce against his groin than she began lapping at his crotch behind his sack as if it were the best thing she'd ever tasted. She varied between frantic licks and long, drawn out caresses of her tongue from his tail hole to his genitals. He tried to swat at her with his tail, but she simply caught it and began teasing its base. All the while the lioness was humping him frantically, breathing in ragged gasps, apparently unaware of the she-wolf's attentions behind them. Though she was as tight as ever, her folds slipped easily around his swollen knot, stretching to admit him each time she pressed herself down against him. He felt a hand clutch his genitals, fingertips kneading his fur in a rhythm to match the lioness's movements while that tongue kept licking behind his scrotum incessantly.
It was too much stimulation to resist.
A startled yelp came from behind him as he finally bucked his hips against the lioness, hard enough to send her sprawling. As soon as the surprised cat landed beside him, the dreamer rolled to his feet, his now-exposed penis dripping the lioness's moisture onto the giant pine branch. Driven nearly blind by need, he turned and pounced on the vixen just as she was getting to her feet, laughing. She twisted to land on her hands and knees rather than hit her back against the branch. The dreamer was immediately on top of her back, thrusting his member between her flanks before she could use her tail to protect herself. She was still laughing, somewhat hysterically now, as his tip slammed repeatedly against her groin, trying to find her single entrance. Finally, it did, and he lunged fully into her with a triumphant howl, his full knot driven into her with crushing force. She gasped, her body naturally locking around his bulge. Beyond self control, his pelvis acted of its own accord, forcing her body to move along with his powerful thrusts since there was little room for his member to slide within her. She cried out at his violence, but he couldn't stop himself and, to the diminishing reasoning part of his mind's horror, he didn't want to. He bit the scruff of her neck above her right shoulder nearly hard enough to draw blood, and her hips and waist had to scrunch together like an accordion each time he shoved his sheath against her. Still, between her yelps and moans, the white wolf was laughing. Supporting them both with her right hand, she squeezed her left breast, massaging it in accordance to his merciless rhythm. Her tail thrashed spastically out to one side.
As he worked himself ever closer to his climax, the dreamer's pace slowed, though the power of each of his attacks against her rump increased. He pulled her hips back with each withdrawal, stretching her lithe body before barreling forward so forcefully that she had to arch her back to match the range of his drawn out lunges. Gasping, she lowered herself to her elbows and let her chin sink to her crossed forearms, chest dropping to the branch's smooth bark. The serpentine shape she made with her torso hunkered down and her bottom raised to meet him gave her better flexibility to match his dramatic movements.
When her loins spasmed and clamped down around his shaft, he finally climaxed, privates clenching and sending his seed streaming into her. He howled on top of her; she gasped as the wet heat filled her. As if unaware of his orgasm, his hips continued hammering her bottom, and excess semen dripped down her lower belly each time his knot shifted inside her. Once his genitals finally stopped clenching, he let his pelvis rest and collapsed against the arctic wolf's back, setting his head between her shoulder blades and closing his eyes, panting in exhaustion. She pushed herself back onto one hand and reached back to caress the side of his face, shaking her head and chuckling in amusement.
As his knot receded, the dreamer's senses returned to him. He kept his eyes closed, smelling her fur. He couldn't believe what he'd just done. He'd raped his own dream! He'd always had a temper, but it had never merged with lust as it had tonight; he'd never let it. Even though she seemed to have enjoyed herself, he was too ashamed to open his eyes and look at her. To him, rape was on the same level as murder, in that both stole something from the victim that was of infinite value and could never be returned once taken. And he was still inside the creature for whom he was only now feeling remorse.
With that thought, he slid out of the dream's vagina and padded awkwardly away from her with his lupine head hanging, his dripping member and the dull ache in his groin unnecessary reminders of his actions. He could hear the arctic wolf getting shakily to her feet behind him.
Then, suddenly, a pair of crossed golden legs were beneath his nose. He'd almost stumbled into the all-but-forgotten lioness who he'd failed to bring to a climax before attacking the other wolf. He just stopped in front of her, not daring to lift his gaze from her feline ankles until she flicked his ear playfully. As soon as he glanced up, the lioness leaned forward from where she was sitting and kissed his nose. He backed up a pace, surprised. She just smiled and shrugged a shoulder in a "no harm done" gesture.
He felt a hand on the back of his neck just before the white wolf knelt beside him, tussling the fur between his ears. Her warm smile lifted his heart when he saw it, and brought back the rest of his senses. He hadn't raped her; she'd been more than willing to have sex, and had initiated it by teasing his crotch, besides. There was no forgiveness in her face, because there was nothing to forgive. Of the three of them, only he had truly climaxed, but that was a favor he could return, not something forever stolen. The dream opened her mouth as if to say something. . . .
. . .And the blaring of his alarm clock brought the dreamer painfully back to the waking world, with another sticky mess waiting to be cleaned up between his legs. With a disappointed sigh, he rolled off of his mattress.