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*The Unmasking *

By

Argo D.D.

Halloween came early for you that October when Dolan had to leave. Just as things were starting to heat up overseas, he was finally called to deployment. In a way, it all made sense: the world was changing--radically. Why not let every detail of normalcy in your life go with it? There was nothing you could do except savor what remained while it lasted.

That's what you were thinking the Friday night before he had to go, with Dolan sitting beside you on the couch, his brown fur flickering in the light of the projector screen that you set up in your apartment. There were plenty of traditions the two of you shared with Bonnie, Fralla, Jude, and Row, but this tradition was strictly between the two of you: watching scary movies on the projector screen and fondling each other. Tonight's movie: The Night of the Fur Eaters.

Dolan wraps his broad Shepherd arm over your slender Leopard waist. Sometimes his paws slip down between your nylon shorts, teasing your cock until you react with a flitch. Meanwhile, he's quoting whole sections of dialogue, like he always does. But you can't help but notice that he is a bit more stern than usual. Sure, his somber, earthy attitude is what drew you to him in the first place, but this was different. Though it was no mystery, it still bothered you.

"There're coming to get you Sandra..." Dolan recited over the character in the movie. Usually by now, the consistent quoting would be getting on your nerves and you'd tell him to knock it off.

He changes into a high tone for the female character's role. "Stop it! Knock it off!"

This was his trick. He'd continue with even more exaggerated gestures until you engaged him in a playful fight and he'd lay down his authority on you, hopefully.

"There're coming for you, Sandra!"

But you let it go. This was the most personality he'd been showing these past few days. You look up at him and wonder if he is waiting for you to cut in... and if he's getting a little thrown off by your passiveness. Finally, he locks his eyes on yours.

"You got something to say?" he says playfully.

You nuzzle your head into his chest. "No. Why?"

"This...isn't bothering you yet?" You are alarmed to hear the gravity in his voice.

"Not yet. Besides, I wanna just listen to you talk a while." You curl the end of your long tail so backward that a sharp pain bolts up its bone.

How could you be so stupid? Didn't you realize how final that sounded?

Dolan lifts your head up to his and you try to focus only on his nose.

"I guess," he chuckles, "fake angry sex is out of the question?"

"Oh, stop!"

Dolan laughs. "That's more like it!" He makes a quick nip at your nose, but you push him off. "I'm serious," you pout.

"Okay, okay," he says soothingly. "I can be patient."

"Good," you huff in amusement as he returns to your position at his side, "then you won't mind waiting until after the movie."

"Alright," he says in a mocking wine. "But I may have to exercise some...executive action if the situation doesn't improve."

"Please, don't talk like that, Dolan."

For a moment, you regret saying it, but the feeling subsides as he resumes his one-man show of recitation. He holds you tighter and you smile to yourself, letting your head fall into his lap. It's moments like these that make you remember why you like dogs over your fellow felines: they can be playful and protective all at once. Still, you look at his things packed tightly in the corner, and remember that that was also his greatest liability.

The movie ends a lot quicker than you remember. As the credits end and you hear the film slide off the projector, making the screen whirl in static, you feel Dolan's teeth work their way around your ears. The sharpness of his powerful jaws makes the bristles of your fur tingle.

"I guess..." his hot breath whispers, "you want something more tender tonight?"

You cannot resist anymore and dart your body around.

"I want some of that executive action...big dog!"

And with pinpoint precision, your muzzle meets his. Every nerve in your body goes into overdrive as his sent fills your nostrils. As you climb onto his body, wrapping your thin legs around his muscular torso, you feel his doghood thickening beneath the fabric of his jeans. Dolan smiles as he seamlessly turns on the lamp beside the couch, illuminating his beaming face and glistening his razor teeth. As far back as when your relationship began, he never mounted you with the lights off.

As you lap at your Shepherd's muzzle, feeling his black noise moist with perspiration, you fight back tears as Dolan's large paws pull your shorts down and lift your wife-beater over your head--almost all at once. Then he pushes you back a little, just to look at you for a while and give you that all too familiar glance. It's the same look he gave you when you first made love, five years ago and close to the day.

The one that says: You're not a girl, I must be crazy.

If he's intentionally reenacting it, he's doing a damned good job.

With him fully clothed, and you stark naked, you feel so exposed to him. You're his and you like it. But you can't bear to have his blue eyes gaze at you like that for too long, especially now. So you lift up his shirt and discard it to the dark abyss behind the couch. With your claws slightly drawn, you squeeze at his thick breast. Your muzzles rub against each other as your body sinks down past his neck, down his chest's hilly abdomen, and to his navel. A snicker and sigh passes through your throat when your nose arrives at his waistline. It's your way of letting him know that he's done enough work for now and that it's time for you to pull some wait. He gives a premature groan in return.

The sound of his jeans' zipper rings like music as you tear off the infernal fabric that separates you from him. His paws encompass your head as you willingly lower your muzzle onto his red, pulsating length. The salted taste of his smooth doghood burns against your tongue and you curse your feline nature for not having a tongue like a canine.

You go to work.

You drench him in your wetness.

You give a few playful gags as you let him slide to the back of your throat. As you sync into rhythm, your paws liberally explore his firm thighs, his tight abdomen, and his nipples. Then you come up for some air to lick the sides of his muzzle before diving back down onto his contracted sheath.

"Oh yeah!" he spurs as your paws apply some pressure to that spot behind his balls. That spot never fails. You return to the tip of his doghood and engulf it in your mouth a few more times. Dolan's legs begin to make a few gentle thrusts before he pulls you up to his muzzle for you to give him a taste of his own musk. You pull his powerful jaws into yours, though they might rip your face off--you like that risk. Suddenly, your Shepherd twirls you down onto the couch, his body hovering over you and his muzzle pressing you into the cushions as he ravages your entire body with his tongue. You respond by nipping at his pointed ears and squeezing his biceps. When he raises his torso up pasts your face, you return the favor, pressing your paws and tongue against his muscular frame. Your bodies coil and your pungent scents engulf the air. This is love making--an act of worship.

Every inch of him is sacred.

Finally, Dolan returns his muzzle to yours, giving your lips a tender kiss. As he does so, you feel your cocks crossing. You whimper at the thought of both your tools of reproduction looking in vain for their natural wombs. This is the love that you share.

Nature would have to make due.

You spread your legs further apart and Dolan raises them up over his head as he positions himself to mate. You groan as you feel his cock pressing against your end. He lowers the tip of his nose to yours. He knows how to press all your buttons. His eyes flash like knifes and your lips tremble at the heat of his breath as he asks, "You ready?"

You reach around his wide neck and dig your claws into his fur.

"We're one," you whisper in return, "so take your half."

Without any hesitation or warning, he thrusts into you. A pain erupts throughout your insides and you let out a wild roar. His muzzle vibrates against yours and your claws sink down deeper. As his humping gains rhythm, you beg him to slow down. Every bit of this (of him) must be prolonged as long as possible.

"Oh fuck!" you squeal, fighting back tears. "I love you so fucking much!"

Every bit of him is yours. You quiver as his blue eyes grill down at you and his wide paws slide down to your waist, pulling you in tighter. Both your tongues tangle and your claws move from his neck to his back. When his pace starts to pick up again, you clamp down on his cock tighter to remind him to keep it slow. Liquid springs into the air as your mouths part. In the corner of your eye, you can see the shadows of you and him intertwining on the wall, cast by the flickering lamp light.

Finally, Dolan can't take it anymore. In complete disregard to your pleas and obstructions, his legs ram forward in greater pace. The more you complain the faster he goes. It is useless. You tried. But now the train is leaving and you have no choice but to take the ride. All you can go now is demand for it to be a bumpy one.

"Harder!" You cry. "Harder!

Your Shepherd complies and works his thighs and back on your body. The touch of his muscles flexing and contracting as they operate to please you makes you whimper uncontrollably. You like seeing his tail curl firmly behind him: the mark of a confident creature who's not afraid to take control of the situation, including you. The signs he gives fill you with excitement of that truth. Excitement followed by a subtle dread of what is to come.

"PLOW ME!!!" You shriek, as if his thrusts could knock those thoughts right out of you. "You can do more damage than this!" For a fraction of second, he pauses and looks at you.

His eyes accept the challenge.

Then, like a tidal wave, he picks you up and shoves your slender frame against the back of the couch in full force. You press against him with all you have as the feeling of weightlessness overcomes you.

Suddenly, you realize that you really are falling!

The couch has tipped over and a hard thud ruptures your back as it strikes the floor. The air is knocked out of your lungs, but Dolan gives you no chance to rebound and the slamming resumes. For a moment, you cannot breathe, but a kiss from him brings you roaring back into motion. His humping pushes the couch from underneath and your back slides against the wooden floor.

"I'm gonna explode!" he spurs.

"No!" you pant in response. "Just...a little...longer..."

The Shepherd shakes his head with authority, then lowering his muzzle to your ears he asks with a hiss: "Inside or on your face?"

Defeated, you sigh. "I want you to fill me." Dolan chuckles through his waning breathe.

"Then...I hope you have room for a large load."

You clasp his head and run our nose against his pointed ears. "I want part of you left here with me."

Suddenly, he stops.

The stillness startles you.

"Okay," he says softly, "but I want you to look at me."

You gaze into those blues that smile back into yours as the rhythm resumes--until the climax. It is that face that you hold your gaze on as you feel your boy's hot fluids seep into the channels of your body.

You whimper as he pulls out, it almost feels like he is leaving for good already.

"What're you whining about?" Dolan's muzzle slides against your neck then down your chest and to your waistline. "We're not done yet." When he reaches your cock, your jaws chatter as you feel the warm moistness of his nose move up and down its length. "I still need to collect."

Dolan's tongue brushes against your bare cock and his teeth work their way around your contracted sheath. It doesn't take you long. You can't hold back, it's just not fair, because it's your turn to explode.

"Ah!"

When you finish, Dolan brings his mouth to yours again and, with a puppy's giggle, lets you taste yourself.