Fathers Day
#3 of Sketches - Short, low quality, high speed stories.
Short note before we begin. The day I wrote this was Fathers day in Australia, where I live.
So I made smut. This took all of twenty minutes to write so it's not very long.
My current man used to be married, never had kids though. His wife passed away due to complications in child birth and the kids never made it either. This was over ten years ago now since then he's dated other women, dated dudes, dated me and decided of the three he liked me the best.
I don't exactly know how it happened but fathers day ended up as a little ritual for us. While he's still asleep I slip out of bed and cook him breakfast, something simple, eggs, bacon, fried tomatoes, toast. Once that's done I shower and then put on panties and a bra. No other day of the year will I cross dress, no other day of the year does he want me to cross dress. If he wanted a woman we'd invite a woman to share our bed. Just on this one day though...
I dab my wrists, my neck, my groin and my tail with perfume. Her perfume, the scent his wife always used to wear. Then with the breakfast tray, a stuffed bra and panties I enter the room.
He's never once been asleep since the very first time I did it. He's never once, not even that first time, eat the breakfast and yet the one time we did it without the breakfast it just wasn't the same.
The moment i'm in the room he's on me, grabbing the tray and tearing it away, dropping it to the floor as he pins me against the wall. He bites my neck with a passion I get jealous of sometimes when our love making becomes routine and formulaic. Despite the fact I know exactly how this morning will go it never feels routine.
His hands grip me by the waist as he continues to hungrily work away at my shoulder and neck, his huffing and panting just adding to the pleasure. He's already nude, his thick wolf cock stabbing my leg then rubbing against the panties leaving a trail of his sticky pre seed over my thigh and then the thin fabric of the womens underwear that turns him on so.
I play the part of his 'wife' well. I shiver, gasp, moan and grind back against him. I assure you it requires no acting on my behalf and as happy as I am being a man, as much as I will enjoy pressing him down on all fours and burying myself between his slightly too ample ass cheeks tonight, right now for the next hour I will regret not being born a woman.
His muzzle descends as I knew it would and it nestles between the cups of my stuffed bra. His paws caress the satiny fabric and we both know they are fake. Neither of us care. I arch my body as though they were mine and he growls and humps against my leg, his cock grinding along my inner thing and prodding my balls at the top of every thrust.
Then he pulls away and pulls me with him. I don't resist even though I could and then seconds later he presses me over the bed, my knees inches from the floor and my feet scrabbling to try and hold myself up.
He doesn't even pause, he just presses apart my legs and then slaps my ass with his cock. I bark out and moan and grind against the bed and he just keeps slapping. I feel his impressive dick getting thicker, longer, and i know that his knot is forming. Then he grinds it along my crack, against the flimsy material of the woman's undies and the warmth of my ass. I can feel it, every last inch.
My husband isn't huge, I'm bigger than he is. He has enough to make me gasp though, enough to make me wince if he doesn't spent time spreading me open, and this morning he wouldn't do anything like that. I feel his breath along my neck as he undoes the bra and hurls it away. His fingers cross my chest and squeeze my pecs, tease my nipples, it doesn't do anything for me physically but i moan and whimper all the same because thats what she would have done.
Then his paws are gone and his weight is off me. I look back but he won't make eye contact. His eyes are fixed on my rump as he eases down the fabric. My dick springs free and grinds against the bed but he ignores it. I look at his dick and wince a little. It never gets that big by itself normally, never that hard. Usually he can fuck me for a good five minutes before his knot forms but every fathers day it forms before he even gets in.
The first time we made love I was on top, i was slow, gentle, loving. Afterwards he told me no man had ever actually made love to him before, they'd just fucked him. Then he repayed the favour. This morning would be nothing like that night.
He spread my cheeks wide and then using only his hips he ground the tip against me. The only lube is his pre and despite the fact he's oozing like a hose it's painful. I wince and whimper and he strokes along my back soothingly. He whispers his ex-wifes name as he eases in, as he pushes inch after inch in.
Finally I feel the bulge of his knot. He never usually ties with me because, well, in his words "Knots are for women, they're built for it.". I was born knotless myself so I've never had to hold back, i admire the fact he does normally.
I scream out a little, it unmanly but it does really hurt. He jiggles his dick left and right, trying to ease it into me and then almost like an accident it slips in. I bit down on the sheets as he gives this deep guttural grunt. Truth be told if he wanted to if he'd make that noise any other time, i'd let him tie me whenever, but no it's only this morning.
He doesn't ever last long. A minute maybe. His body thrusting fast, hard, his paws roaming my back and his voice drawling out all those little dirty things you say. My ears burn as he calls his wife a whore, a slut, that she likes his dick. All those things apply to me too of course but it's not me he's talking too.
His knot swells and I feel the heat of his jizz flow through me despite knowing better. He howls and grinds himself against me and i squeeze down around him until he collapses ontop of me. A moment later he starts snoring. And that's our fathers day, not very typical but my husband loves it.