One Midnight Visit
Her ears burned in hot anticipation. She could feel her heart in her throat. Hammering. Hammering. With each beat she worried that he'd stir; that she'd be caught and she could never speak to him again. Was it really worth it, now that she thought about it? No. But she'd already felt him up until he was good and stiff... And perfectly uncovered, just-so, with his little tower begging for attention. She couldn't really turn back now, with her left hand gently cradling the soft-furred testicles, rolling them around in little circles with her deft, curious fingers. She couldn't stand up and leave when she was already down on her knees beside his bed, exploring the defining factor of the opposite sex with trained eye and careful hand. What kind of monster would examine him like a specimen-- turn him on and leave him hard? Not her. She couldn't do that-- not to him. So she resigned herself to her position, playing with his most private parts in the dead of night.
The rolling ceased as his breathing changed. She remained perfectly still, listening to nothing-- nothing at all-- but the male's quiet breath. Every nerve inside of her was wracked; worried sick by the possibility that... Wait...
..... That THAT wouldn't happen. That the stronger inhale would mean more than just a long exhale. And yet her smooth, gentle hand continued despite the chilling scare of moments ago. Feeling the subtle weight of the masculine spheres. They had grown since her last secret visit. He'd not had any release. Relief-- relief, she meant. She cringed as she stared at his upheld prod, scolding herself for the internal dicktion. She meant word choice. He was really getting in her. Head! That's what she meant.
She took a deep, silent breath, willing herself to calm down. Maybe she'd just put him back in and go, she thought. But she'd been there for some time, and her well-adjusted eyes could see the faint outline of his desire, begging for just a little attention...
With another deep breath from the both of them, she lightly stroked his pleading member, shivering at her own ambition. Oh, yes; he liked that, didn't he? She could feel it stiffen against her touch, obviously eager to accept her dear carress... She briefly wondered what he was dreaming of, before deciding to assume it was her. She knew it was unlikely, but it was just such a nice thought.
She couldn't resist.
Just as she couldn't resist opening his bedroom door. Opening his pants. Feeling his soft, warm masculinity. Testing the weight of his balls. And now gladly giving him pleasure. She told herself she wouldn't make him come. Again. Not this time. Oh, she refused. He'd be so angry if he found out! But she already knew, sheepishly, helplessly, that she didn't know how to say no to him. And as long as he was enjoying her careful ministrations, she'd keep giving them.
This was a nightmare. A good one. No, an awful one. The worst kind. The kind you want to stop but you can't, because you want to see the end of it even more. She hated herself for this. But she forgave herself, as long as he seemed to be enjoying it. His breathing was normal... But he was hard... Hard to the touch. She gently closed her fingers around his shaft, teasing at it softly. The thin, velvetine fur of her hand produced a very pleasant effect-- and she knew it. She could already see the slightest glint of pre peeking from his tip; coaxed all the way up to the top by her loving strokes. Though his breathing was fine, she had to struggle to keep her own in check. The excitement was debilitating. This was unbearable, and she couldn't bear to stop it. He was enjoying this. Dreaming of her. She was turning him on, making him hard, drawing the precum from his warm, stiff maleness. She was giddy with the smell of his pleasure. Her head swam, but she had to keep it above water. She had to stay in control.
She gave in a little, tightening her grasp on sanity by tightening the grip on her temptation. She was a little less wispy in her motions, now, rolling his testicles smoothly as she slowly ran her hand up and down his shaft. Relishing the heated stiffness of sexual flesh hard in her soft and gentle hand. She felt a pulsing inside of her, but she knew well that it wasn't her heart. This had been too much excitement for her, and her body acted accordingly. Feeling slightly more clearheaded afterwards, she made the conscious decision to repay him for his help, squeezing him ever so slightly as she stroked his heated cock. By now, she could feel the occasional beads of prefluid slipping into her grasp; dampening her fur and making her motions smooth but sticky. The lubrication soaked into her fur, and she savored the sensation. it was slick, and thick, and pleasantly cool. It made rubbing the male somewhat easier, and more enjoyable on both ends.
She stopped as she felt his body shift unexpectedly. She froze. Colder than ice.
And a soft moan slipped from his lips. Every part of her wanted to shudder. Every little bit of her body wanted to melt. She wanted to finish him off right then. But she stayed still in an act of amazing willpower, waiting until his body returned to its state of silence and level breathing.
Once she was satisfied by his return to normalcy-- or sufficiently maddened by the wait-- she closed her hand lightly around his velvetine sack and played with the soft fur coating his vulnerability. She could feel the masculine package tightening within her grip in preparation. Her other hand deeply stroked his hot erection, trying hard to pleasure her favored male without being so rough as to wake him. Every motion she made was as fluid and comfortable as a dream, and worked him towards a helpless nocturnal bursting. His prod pulsed lightly to her slick touch, slyly tempting her with the notion that her gift was being fully received. She loved that she was capable of making his secret anatomy react to her touch. The power to pleasure him was tantalizing to her. Already she was fogging up again, feeling heady and giddy with passionate lust. Mmm, yes, she was making him do this. The scent of his sex hung heavily in the air. She watched the outline of her hand slide down on his shaft, slow and hard, again and again... She heard the liquid popping of precum being spread; mixed; unmixed with air as she kneaded her grip on his dripping cock...
She sensed a flutter in his breath as she pleasured him, but found herself unable to stop this time. No, she wasn't done yet. he hadn't cummed for her. So her hands kept moving; slowly, deliberately, they teased the sleeping male into a gentle pulsing... A stiff twitching... Oh, throbbing... She lightly squeezed his balls in her hand, relishing the thought of his seed squirting from his body in hot, orgasmic spurts, in response to her gentle hands' attention. She imagined him dreaming of calling her name as he pushed in his finishing thrusts. She was so hot. And so nervous. Her heart had made its way back to her throat as she fantasized being his fantasy: She was quietly terrified as she smoothly rubbed his stiffly pulsing shaft. Ohh... He was close. He was going to come, just for her. He'd be shooting it all to sweet, sensual dreams of mating her, she thought. She could scarcely breathe. Her eyes closed. It was the only way to tear them away.
She couldn't hold back anymore! It took every bit of will she had to keep from waking him. Her left hand forsook his testicles to better slather the pre on his faltering shaft, and both of her palms grew wet with both his anticipation and her own sweat. She jacked him off desperately-- as desperately as she could without stirring him from his slumber-- while she closed her eyes tight, spreading her knees apart on the floor to open her legs to fantasy. She wanted him. She wanted him to burst. Now. Please, now. And with a muffled whimper, she forced her hands down on him faster and harder despite her fears.
He rewarded her. After a sharper breath in, he made a quiet sound: He huffed a noise of weakness. Sweet surrender. She only wondered for a moment if he was done.
With her eyes closed in the dark, she felt hot liquid splattering onto her fingers. The globs of thick cum radiated heat through her hands as she let him carelessly climax all over them. She'd pointed him straight up, not even thinking about the mess he'd make, and now she was glad of it. Her hands were sticky with warm, well-deserved seed, and her body loved it. The pressure of impending climax was so strong, she just had to come again. One more time. Her body had lost track while he came for her, but she had to have one more. At least one.
She carefully lowered her pants and panties, and helplessly rubbed herself with the same hands that had earned the male's satisfactions only moments ago; still bearing the prize he endowed her with stuck deep in the bespattered fur. She was overcome by the idea-- then the sensation-- of bathing her own sex in his still-hot cum. She slathered his seed on herself as she panted in hot need; shame; embarrassment. She had to do this. She had to feel it on her, over her, inside her. She writhed at her own stickied touch, watching his satisfied face... Turned to the left as it always was when she'd finished him off... And she ran his climactial call through her memory, imagining his dreaming of her and-- and-- There! Oh, there it was. Her body gripped her cum-soaked fingers and soaked them again in wild rippling. Yes, yes, he was in her. She was filled. She was such a mess, but she didn't care, she was satisfied. And it was good...
After reveling in the hot afterglow for a few minutes, she set to work on setting things right. She tucked his satisfied masculinity back in its boxers, and moved the covers back over him, and she checked the floor for any large stains or sexed scents. What little mess wasn't on her hand was easily remedied by a small washcloth, and the scent only took a spray or two of air-freshener to mask beyond recognition. She washed her hands in the bathroom and smiled at her flushed cheeks in the mirror before returning to check up on her almost-mate. She gently stroked his side-turned head, from ear to cheek; cheek to chin; and kissed his forehead lovingly.
Maybe he could know one day, she thought. Maybe it would be okay to share. But for tonight, she thought blissfully as she cuddled cozy into her own bed... Tonight, this was enough.