Coyote
Sorry, I had to do it. :P I don't choose what inspires me, I just do my best to write it well. This one's a bit more smutty than the last, plain old M/F vore with plenty of detail and little preamble. Hope you enjoy!
Some folks see their lives pass as a series of empty mugs. Every night they spend with one alone, staring a hole into the bottom and watching the beer drain out. Leastways that's how it seems to them, and sure enough, every night the glass empties, and every night they just find themselves staring at the hole reflected back at them.
Coyote just looked at his scrambled eggs and mug of coffee. He took his breakfast alone, much more alone than his dinner, his only companion the plump sight of the waitress's legs. He brought a bite to his mouth and paused, picking up my scent on his fingers. He inhaled deeply, without taking his eyes off the waitress, thinking back to the evening's abrupt ending. He smiled, set down his fork, and took his coffee to go.
No regrets, Coyote.
"We just come from such different sets of circumstance," I whispered coyly, blushing as the coyote's rough paw slid through the fur of my nape. He pulled his lips away from mine, keeping at least one eye on the road, and I could tell that it was the only thing keeping him from me. I shifted in the passenger seat of his beat-up truck, as much from impatience as discomfort, and wondered what I wanted him to do.
It wasn't my first time alone with a stranger, but I only set out tonight to hitch a ride. Still I couldn't seem to escape the longing intensity of his gold eyes, the casual way his mind and his fingers seemed to wander over in my direction. I protested, here and there... but I didn't resist.
Last night I was on the road, sleeping late in an unfamiliar bed. Waking late, lunching late... heading out. No show tonight, and nothing to do in this unfamiliar town, so I hitched a ride out of it. They always let me wander off, and I always did come back... eventually. But this felt different. Hitching, like I hadn't done since college, in a town where somehow no one knew my name.
Not altogether rare, to be honest. I'm less famous than I'd admit... though still more than I'd like to be. But to be anonymous in an anonymous town... well, that was almost like fitting in. There'd be a song in this, if I ever turned back.
But it was getting awfully late, and we hadn't stopped yet. I couldn't say where we were going, but this old coyote seemed to have a destination in mind. He picked me up without a word, but in the hours since then his eyes had been speaking volumes. I'd turn back from the window, watching white lines stream past, and he'd be looking me up and down like a piece of meat, his golden eyes visible even under his dark glasses. They never asked, never apologized, and never flinched. He gave me a smile made me like being looked at. Don't know how else to say it, except that it made me feel wanted in a way I hadn't felt in years.
"What's your name, coyote?"
"Ain't much difference," he replied. "'Coyote' suits me just fine."
"Are you gonna ask for mine?" I said, and after a few seconds of silence I laughed. "Not much difference. I suppose I'm just another hitcher."
"I wouldn't say that," he protested. "I give a lot of rides, and most aren't half as cute as you."
I laughed off his clumsy compliment. "I'll bet you say that to every little mouse you take for a ride," I said, only catching the double meaning after the words had left my mouth.
"I do," he admitted, "but there aren't many."
We sat in silence for a while longer, and I think I liked the silence better. He hadn't asked me where I was going, so I hadn't had to figure out an answer.
But still, those eyes. Even in silence, the frequent glances kept up a conversation that was a touch more than one-sided. I didn't have it in me to meet his gaze for long, or return a look of longing that matched his own, but I think my hesitance was just what he wanted.
I turned back to the window, feeling his pointed gaze roaming hot along my body. I smiled to myself, and let it heat me up.
I was fairly burning by the time we pulled in at those roadhouse lights. The tank was nearly empty, and only then did I realize just how far we'd come after several hours on the freeway. We hadn't come to a normal filling station, though: we'd taken backroads for ten or fifteen minutes before pulling up here, to a place that seemed to be as much an inn as a gas station. The ground floor was a broad and bustling hall, and the light and music pouring out of its bay windows stood out like a beacon in this black stretch of countryside.
He hadn't come to fill up. He parked in a dark corner of the lot, and made his way around the truck to open my door.
"Do you dance?" he said quietly, with a gentleness that contrasted with the roughness of his voice.
"A little," I admitted, taking his paw uncertainly. When he pulled me up, I was surprised to notice how much taller he was than I had realized. He seemed of average proportions, but stood at least two or three feet above me. Though I had been anxious at the start, and occasionally intimidated by his presence, I felt then for the first time the true nature of being a mouse in the presence of a coyote. As he grasped my paw, softly but firmly leading me up to follow him, I hoped it would not be the last time.
I followed gamely. Uncertain of my surroundings, uncertain of my location, and most of all uncertain of myself, I had only the approaching presence of the crowded scene ahead, well-lit and cheerful, to reassure me. A local band was playing, locals were dancing in the center of the room, and they treated him like a local when Coyote walked in through the door. Which is to say, no one gave us a second glance.
He grabbed a beer and I grabbed mine, and we headed to a table in the corner. The light hardly reached this far, and there was no one around to see us face off, hiding at each end of our table with our drinks. Coyote watched the dance floor, I watched the room, and it was at least an hour before either of us spoke.
As we sat I wondered, looking around at the room at the strange place I had ended up in. It felt odd to sit with him, in a way it hadn't when we had been on the road. At least then I could say we were going somewhere, or going away from somewhere. Now we were right back there in somewhere, and I didn't want to stay.
I was on my third beer, and I hadn't been counting his, but we were both starting to soften up around the edges. He stole glances at me, just as in the car, but I had had enough and was now staring at him openly. He turned again, and we locked eyes.
"Where are you headed, Coyote?" He shrugged.
"Same place as you, I suppose." He didn't ask, and I didn't venture it. I knew by then it was too late to turn around, so any direction would do. All that matters is the going.
"What is it you do?" I whispered, letting my eyes wander shamelessly over his body. His fur was a dusty smattering of brown and grey and gold. He wore a plain shirt and thick jeans, hard clothes worn soft from use, but his boots looked new. None of this was unexpected in a place like this, and when he said he was a rancher it came as no surprise.
I also noticed a gold ring on his left paw. But he was already smiling at me, encouraged by my glances, coming around the table as he finished his beer. I tried to speak, but his paws were already on me, touching near my breasts as he pulled me up by the shoulders. His mouth was on me again, and this time his whole body came after me, effortlessly pushing me until I was pinned into the corner.
I whimpered into his muzzle, trying at least to feign reluctance as my body rose up and opened for him. His tongue slipped between my lips, extending deep into my mouth and probing every corner it could find. He penetrated me with his tongue, entering me without hesitation and enjoying the conquest. He moaned in animal enjoyment, fingers clenching tighter around my upper arms as he delighted in my taste.
I pushed vainly at his encompassing arms, whimpering into his hungry muzzle, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. We were ignored, and I was alone, and he wouldn't even let me get the word out. He pulled away to watch me struggle, grinning in pleased dominance all the while. He licked his lips as I gasped for breath, the wetness of his kiss matting down the fur of my muzzle.
"You've got a woman at home?" I finally said, my voice as weak as my other protestations. He leaned towards me, softly inhaling my scent, and ran his tongue along my neck and up to my ear.
"I got another woman down the hall," he purred, nipping gently at my ear. "Seems I want you anyway."
My body quivered, and I was lost to him. I felt my legs slowly open, felt cloth against cloth as his thigh slid upwards, and finally felt the firmness of his thigh pressing onto my soft mound. I let my paws roam up his shirt, stroking through the smooth fur on his back. My hips rolled forward as I rubbed myself against his body, unable to resist openly wanting it. We rocked with the music, forgetting the people and the place, and dancing for ourselves alone.
I didn't say another word. I hardly needed to, with my body revealing and demanding more and more. Hard wood against my back, paws pulling my thighs up and apart, he dove into my eagerness and drove his tongue into my muzzle. I could feel the urgent stiffness of his cock forced against me, hot even though two layers of denim, and I pressed my body desperately against the length of it.
I held onto him for stability, both feet by now entirely off the ground. He held me up by my thighs, pinning me to the wall by the insistent thrusting of his hips and the panting eagerness of his muzzle. I held on even as he pulled away, and let myself be carried away to his room.
I closed my eyes as he carried me, not seeing and not caring whether we were watched. I was on the move again, and he was guiding me; I was lost again, and I was his. There were rooms upstairs, tiny and temporary, and as we passed I could hear the moans of temporary lovers inside. I held him tighter, wanting it even more. He opened a door and pulled me inside, pulled me away from the world and into his bed. I watched the world retreat over his shoulder, feeling a little more free of it with each step. He kicked the door shut, and I felt like I never wanted to leave this shabby little room again.
He lowered me into the bed, crawling up after me on his hands and knees. I hastened to unbutton his shirt, and he struggled with his zipper. The room was filled with the sound of panting, and I knew that our cries would soon echo through these paper-thin walls.
His unfastened clothes hung off him loosely, pants crumpled down around his knees, as I finally felt his cock released. It flopped out of his underwear, heavy and musky and still only half-hard. It fell warm onto my pant leg, musky lubricant seeping into my jeans. He went for my zipper next, pawing at my body, but I was already leaning forward in my eagerness, crawling down the bed to rub my muzzle along his length.
I felt it harden in my fingers, drooling in a steady stream from the tip, and I salivated in return. The powerful scent of it was not entirely pleasant, but my lust was stirred by its masculinity to overwhelming heights, and I found myself rubbing against it, nuzzling up to his hot stiffness like an addict in love with her drug. He laughed quietly, enjoying the sight of me kneeling before his cock as if to worship it. I had no need for self-respect, no desire to turn back to the world and make excuses for my behavior. I wanted him, wanted his cock in me, wanted his scent on my body. Nothing else mattered.
My lips spread around the head of his cock. He slid easily into my muzzle, sliding across my tongue on a thick slippery sheen of precum. I held my breath as I lowered, anxious at the sheer size of the firmness now blocking up my throat, but desperately eager to take him further inside me. It was pure willpower that held back my gag reflex as his slick rod forced its way into the tightness of my throat. My mouth was coated in his musk, his masculinity pervading my senses. I sank deeper, letting him fully into my body, until my nose was nestled amongst his musky hairs. I wanted to breathe it in, to saturate myself with his scent, but with my throat full all I could do was nuzzle lovingly against it.
His paws rested on my ears, holding me in place. He hadn't thrust yet, content so far to let my eagerness do the work. I wasn't new to this, and his wasn't even the largest I had encountered, but in my lust I felt driven to take it beyond my limits. He was so deep within me that I could feel his knot filling my mouth as it gradually engorged. I swallowed around him, feeling his cock pulse in return and his paws tighten in my fur. Then I pulled away, already short of air and not wanting his rising knot to trap me.
As I pulled back, gasping, he pounced on me like a hungry animal. I squeaked, falling backwards against the bed, as his body rose up over the length of mine. He kissed me deeply, tasting his own slick musk on my lips. The kiss broke long enough for me to finally breathe, while he focused on taking off my shirt. I let my paws go almost of their own accord to the zipper of my jeans, trying to tug my pants off with his weight pressing down on my body.
We were both frantic, like teenagers. I don't know what came over me, or him for that matter, but I let it. I moaned for him, this stranger who wanted me, who saw fit to take me even if I hadn't wanted him back. I couldn't hide that I wanted it, but I was content to let him take me by force.
He tugged at my shirt, first trying to tear it away, but the cloth held stubbornly. He was reduced to unbuttoning me slowly, fumbling in his eagerness, as I worked at the zipper of my tight jeans. A few moments later I was free, lying in only my panties and bra amidst the tossed remnants of my clothing. He stepped back for a moment, staring at my bare form on the bed, and I saw something pass through his mind. He hungered for me, in a way that seemed more than just lust, and the look of it on his face made me shiver. I reached for my bra clasp, and spread my legs as he reached for my panties.
He still hadn't tossed off his unfastened clothes, but he clearly wanted me bare. All that mattered, really, as his body loomed over mine, was that his cock hung down between my legs. I was madly aroused, drooling onto the sheets beneath me, my tunnel slick and ready to be filled. He pushed forward slowly, probing his thick head between my lips, and then thrust the rest of the way in one smooth stroke.
I whimpered with satisfaction, and he sighed deeply as his body lowered onto mine. I felt comforted by the way his weight settled over me, pressing me into the mattress. I was pinned, claimed within and without, and unable to resist. He had filled me up with need, and I could not think to focus on his pleasure. I lay slackly beneath him, held fast by his body and stretched wide by his cock, and wallowed in the pleasure it brought.
I felt drained, all at once, of the anticipation and incredible need he had aroused in me. He plunged into me, stiffly prodding at my cervix with each thrust, each jab sending a bolt of pleasure quaking through my body. I wanted to clutch at him, mewl against his warm body and beg for more, but my wrists were held firmly in his paws and my mouth smothered by his lips. He lapped at me hungrily, holding me to the bed as he fucked me with an unnecessary and entirely welcome force.
The sheets were already damp with our sweat, clinging to my fur in the creases of my body. I panted, sweltering between his fervent heat and the insulating mattress, unable even to shift to aid the airflow. His sweat began to drip over me, staining me with his scent. I moaned joyfully into his muzzle, squeezing my pussy tight around him, as I fell into my first orgasm of the night. I could feel his knot press into my vulva again and again, straining to fit its impossible girth into me. My slick fluids had already soaked into the fur of my thighs, so it was only my tight clenching that kept it out. He thrust faster, still keeping a tight grip on me as he rushed impatiently towards release.
I juddered beneath him, pressed on to climax after climax by his relentless pounding. Each tight spasm of my vagina left me looser than before, left my body weak and willing. At last he penetrated me fully, planting his manhood in my body and releasing his seed. My pussy closed up behind his knot, clenching around the slim base as the thickest part expanded within me. I felt his semen gush into me, pooling around my cervix, and gave not a thought to disease or pregnancy. Somehow I knew, without quite knowing how, that such concerns were not relevant.
He filled me close to bursting, spurting out his thick seed more copiously than I thought possible. I relished the palpable heat of it, and the visceral feeling of fullness I had never felt before. I did my best to hold it in, consciously clenching around him, above and beyond what my body insisted on.
I leaned into him as best I could, tucking my head underneath his broad muzzle and listening to his heavy breathing. Even being filled with him and smothered under his fur, I suddenly felt so alone. I wanted to tuck myself into him, hide away in the warm expanse of his body, so close to the bone and the skin and the fur that we could never be apart. Not to start a life, or a family, not even to last beyond this night. This wordless ache in me knew what it wanted, and when I felt his breath between my ears, I knew what it was.
"You're a lovely mouse," he breathed, still pinning my arms to the bed, with his muzzle now looming down over my head. His tongue licked across my forehead, splaying warm between my ears as he tasted my fur. I shivered powerfully, letting out a gasp of sudden pleasure and realization, and following it up with frantic, rapid breathing. He chuckled, snuffling into my fur and tasting me further, just to gauge my reaction.
My body clenched around his tied knot, tightening achingly in the surge of pleasure that racked me. I could only whimper in response, turning my muzzle upward to look him in the eye. When he licked his lips in readiness, a small droplet of drool escaping his lips, I unconsciously stretched my neck out towards him. I inhaled deeply and my eyes narrowed, readying myself for what was to come, but still wanting to watch.
When he spread his lips, broad jaws opening to reveal my final destination, the breadth of his maw was far greater than I had imagined. His muzzle was quite narrow at the end, but the base of his tongue between his rear teeth was more than wide enough for my entire head to rest on. His tongue was mottled and dark red, heavy with muscle and blood. The stiff ridges of his hard palate contrasted with the smooth softness of his inner cheeks and the yellowed ridge of his long teeth. A sour smell washed over me, only hinting at the unpleasantness of my fate, but my inexplicable longing could not be dissuaded by mere squeamishness. The path before me was rank and inhospitable, but I could not draw my eyes away. I leaned into him, even, as he lowered himself over me, and found myself quivering in submission.
The dark entrance to his throat loomed larger above me, radiating heat across my face. I saw it flex in anticipation, the puckered ripples spreading out into a bottomless fleshy pit. I could hear his hungry murmurs echoing out of it, along with his stomach's impatient gurgling. I whispered my consent, feeling a strange sort of relief wash over me at hearing the sheer eagerness of his body as it reached out to claim me.
My last sight was of his tongue, squishing across my entire face as his animal jaws clamped upon my head. The pressure wasn't painful, but his teeth pinched deeply all around my neck, and his lips were sealed entirely around me. I lay weakly underneath him, arms stretched uncomfortably above me, with his cock knotted deep in my pussy and his neck bent down to trap my head in his maw. I could almost see myself from outside, remarking at the strange sight it must make... and at how obvious it would be, to an observer, that this mouse had been irrevocably claimed by a predator, and had no future now but to be his meat.
I hadn't seen this fate for myself, not since the bogeyman fears of childhood, but I could finally make sense of all the loneliness and running away. I couldn't say, even now, that I had wanted it--to seek out death in one night's pleasure, to give up on family and friends and the future I had never ceased to build. But the inevitability of death, made real now for the first time, had taken a form that I could not help but delight in. I fell for this coyote, fully and irrationally, and it only seemed fitting that my end would come in the form of my impulsive lust. I never held back, in life, from giving myself fully to each experience, and here was one last thing to give myself to.
He lunged downward, wedging my skull in the stretchy entrance to his throat. Saliva had begun to pool around my neck, and it spilled outward as his jaws jumped forward, splashing onto the fur of my chest. His thick tongue tightened against my face, conforming to every ridge and indentation, and he took his first swallow.
I didn't get far, only a few inches, but I could already feel his voluminous throat stretch easily around my bulk. He swallowed again, and I could feel his throat's clenches sliding off the taper of my head. Then he gaped, forcing his jaws down to my chest in a sudden spasm, and his hungry throat slid all the way down to my neck. My body convulsed, seized by an entirely unexpected orgasm. Something about the suddenness of his thrust, perhaps, or the feeling of his back teeth resting securely at my collarbone, left me feeling utterly and immediately claimed. My head now rested beyond his, undeniably inside his body, and nothing would stop the rest of me from following. Reflexive swallows rippled saliva up my face, working the scent of his gullet into my fur. I was more than helpless, too far gone now to be considered merely prey. I was food. The fact that my pussy still held his knot, still massaged it with repeated clenches, did not change my nature or my future, and there was little time left for even that. I felt it tug at me, reluctantly losing ground to the relentlessness of his hunger, and knew sadly that I would not feel that fullness for much longer.
His paws brought mine back down to my sides, readying my shoulders for their imminent passage. He worked his muzzle from side to side, his throatflesh rubbing sensually across my face, and soon had his lips spread around the full width of my shoulders. He now had my arms held tightly to my sides, and my body leaned upward to accommodate his hunched position. He swallowed harder, his throat now finding purchase on my head and neck, and tugging me gradually upward with each incredibly tight constriction. The peristalsis clenched tightly enough around my neck to restrict blood flow, and pulled uncomfortably at the base of my chin, dragging me up by another inch each time. I could feel him strain as my shoulders reached the back of his mouth, but our size difference was even greater than I had noticed, or he was able to stretch more than I could imagine. It was not long before my shoulders entered his throat, the thickest part of my body still small enough to slide through his neck on the way to his belly.
I had never felt so small, not even when he held me down to make use of my body. I felt his paws reach past my arms, together grasping entirely around the circumference of my waist. He lifted me with ease, placidly feeding my body into his gaping muzzle, and I limply submitted, as powerless as any other morsel. I felt his tongue reach out to taste my breasts and belly, almost lovingly sensual in his hunger. He wanted me, appreciated me, but at the same time he disregarded any thoughts or protests of mine. I could be loved and taken in, but only on his terms, with my life and self stripped away. I wanted it so badly, somehow, that I ached to give him what he sought.
I ached between my legs, not only from pleasure. His back was hunched painfully, and any further swallows could only tug at his knot as long as it remained tied within me. His cock was my last hold on the outside world, my last action as a participant in it. I was reluctant to let go of that incredible fullness that even now kept me constantly on the edge of orgasm, and my continued clenching was doing nothing to help him disengage. In the end, of course, his hunger won out. His knot, still almost fully swollen, popped out of me with a painful jolt. His thick cock fell out, thumping on the bed, followed out of my stretched vulva by a gush of coyote cum. His body straightened almost immediately, relieving his straining back, and I dangled from his mouth as he rolled onto his back.
From here he could lean his head upwards, carrying my weight without effort, and let gravity push me further in. I could feel the world shifting until my head was below me, body pointing straight down his gullet. He tilted his head, lifting my bottom half above me, and took in a foot of my belly in one massive gulp. His muzzle was just past my hips now, with my legs hanging down on either side of his jaw. And that thick tongue of his, just as I hoped and knew it would, curled up to taste my womanhood.
I was too deep, or his tongue was not flexible enough to reach my entrance. But he was able to press the face of his tongue against my entire vulva, squeezing its plumpness to draw out a trickle of my juices and his seed. His tongue's wet gyrating wrung out yet another orgasm, my exhausted body hardly able to do more than twitch in response. I was also running very low on air, and I wondered, with a small amount of anticipation, whether he would continue to tease my pussy until I lost consciousness, and then devour my body at his leisure. I was still entirely within his throat, my muzzle waiting just before the entrance to his stomach.
My juices slid down his tongue, pooling at his throat until he was forced to swallow. With my sex now sadly beyond his reach, he wasted no time in finishing me off. I felt looser flesh open around my muzzle, accompanied by a horrible acrid stench. The rest of me poured out into his stomach in short order, slipping about in the thick mucus and chyme that coated the walls. I couldn't help but retch, my face and body dripping with foul fluids, but the bare sexuality of the churning walls and slick flesh was enough to keep me excited. My body rolled disorientingly as the rest of me was forced into the small chamber, and with my eyes tightly shut I had no hope of maintaining my sense of up and down. It turned out not to matter: I was held tightly by his body, following along with his every movement, and the stomach's impatient churning frequently shifted me around. I was suspended in his gut, entirely immobilized, feeling almost like a part of him. Soon to be a part of him.
There was not much air for me inside. He belched it out as soon as I entered, and the skin of his stomach insinuated into every crevice of my curled form, with only a thin layer of liquid suspended around me. That thin layer was enough, it seemed, and it began to burn my nose, the corners of my eyes, and the exposed folds of my labia. I wondered what it would look like, how that trickle of acid and enzymes could dissolve me entirely... how long it would take. But I knew, with my lungs burning for their own reason, that I would not last long enough to find out.
The sleepy pain of oxygen loss soothed the sensation of his acids on my skin. It calmed my lust as well, but could not quench my eagerness to see it through. My body had its own plans, beginning to twitch of its own accord, soon thrashing in a plaintive struggle to prevent its own demise. But the coyote's body, as always, was stronger. Though my muscles ached from exertion, his stomach's clenches kept me tightly packed and bound. I didn't want to fight it, but I knew he would understand. He must have taken others, women larger than me or less willing, into his ravenous gut. Why he did it, there's no comprehending, but it was enough that he was a predator, and I became his prey.
Even my small form made a weighty meal, but not so much that Coyote couldn't make room for breakfast. The waitress kicked and struggled, fulfilling that urge for predatory dominance that I had denied him, but it wasn't quite fulfillment enough. Willing or not, acceptance always comes with the all-encompassing finality of being prey. Coyote just continues on, finding a night's peace in yet another body's struggles, but having nothing left come morning. But if all I could provide him was a night's peace and pleasure, it was enough for me to give it.
No regrets, Coyote.