Encounter
We'd been dry-humping again, which was normal. It was something we did a lot, just as friends. It started while I was in the kitchen, bent over the sink to finish washing the dishes; he came over and gently squeezed my backside, which he seemed to favour. He'd always told me that I had a fantastic bum. He went on to caress my thighs and hips, then my butt again, it was very sensual. Always so sensual. I'd had all these feelings for him for years now, and living together did nothing to remedy that, since whenever he came out of the shower his ebony fur was soaked and matted with water, his hair clung to his perfect body and beckoned me to touch him. I wanted to, more than anything I wanted to feel his naked body against mine. If I wasn't such a coward, I'd have ripped that towel right off of him and fucked him harder than he's ever felt in his life every time he stepped out of that damn shower. If I wasn't such a coward.
His hands caressed my bare waist and wrapped around my stomach, feeling at my sweaty fur as he moved his body closer to mine, sliding up past my ribs and under the tiny crop-top I was wearing to feel gently at my breasts. It was the middle of summer and I was boiling hot, but I didn't care. I liked the way his hands felt on my bare flesh, tweaking my nipples and lovingly fondling the small mounds that I was so self-conscious about. I was glad that he liked them, at least. His favourite thing to say about breasts was, unless they're in porn, any more than a handful is a waste. And, for him, mine were a perfect handful.
"You like those, huh?" I murmured gently, undulating my hips and pressing my backside against his crotch as he pressed his own pelvis more firmly against me.
He murred deeply, plainly aroused, as if the erection poking into my ass wasn't indication enough. "Yes... they're exquisite."
I moaned a sigh and leaned over farther, trying my darnedest to actually clean the dishes and not just let them hang lamely in my hands, when he started pounding his hips against my butt, hitting the spot that sent jolts of sensation through my body. I didn't know why and I wasn't about to stop and ponder, even though I've always been curious about the physics behind why certain things happen.
I'd always been quiet and was trying to fix that; I grew up in a house full of siblings, so I was always careful to keep my mouth shut when I wanted to play with myself. He'd told me before that he wanted to hear more of me, hear what he was doing right and how he could make me feel. I thought it was cute, and I liked that he enjoyed the sounds I made, so I moaned louder. When I did, he went harder, grunting and panting behind me as I struggled to finish the dishes so I could mount him myself.
"I wonder if this is what it's like to be a Desperate Housewife," I mused, making him laugh a little harder than necessary. It's happened to me, too; when I would masturbate, the smallest thing would make me laugh and I had to dismiss it so that I could focus on what I was doing and climax faster.
I finished the dishes and we went to the couch to hump some more. It was good, really good, but not what this story is about. We were in a bit of an awkward position, because the couch is kind of narrow and really scratchy, which is a grand combination to rub off one's fur. So, he stood us up and we went to his room to continue our activity on his king-sized bed. We tried again with me on top, which was fun, because he could watch my boobs bounce and oh wow, those hips. I wanted to mate with him more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, and God, those hips were a big part of the equation. He was humping me so fast, so hard, I swear I could have ripped those shiny silver boxers to pieces and fucked him myself. It would have been rape if I wasn't sure he wanted it, too.
"It's harder to do in this position," he grunted, clearly out of breath, so we swapped positions after taking a very short breather.
He held me close to him once he was on top of me, and I felt him nuzzle my jaw and breathe in the scent of my neck as he rolled his hips against mine, his hot erection rubbing against my mound through our underwear. His body was so big compared to my tiny, petit frame. He was the biggest wolf I'd ever seen, and everything about him made me crazy, his eyes, his lips, his perfect body, his gentle, infuriating hands, everything. It was hard to breathe with him on top of me, he was pretty heavy, but I didn't care. All I could think about was his hands wrapping around me and holding me against him as he started humping me again, gradually getting faster and faster, until his breathing was shaky with the force of his thrusts.
"Wrap your legs around me," he breathed into my ear, like he was desperate for it. I did, locking my legs around his waist just above his pounding hips, and I heard him moan. I wasn't thinking about anything, my mind was completely focused on the here and now of what was happening each second, so much so that I didn't really delve much into his next verbalization. "Beg for my cum," he moaned.
It didn't sound like dirty talk at all, it sounded like he was the one doing the begging. Like he was begging for me to beg him. I liked it. I wanted it, but I was embarrassed to say it, because we didn't get the chance to be so close so often.
"Cum for me," I breathed to him, "Cum hard for me, baby."
He moaned again, and his breath was like thunder in my ear, it was coming so heavily as he continued humping me hard and fast. I may have realized what he was doing, but I didn't in my wildest imaginings think that he'd actually accomplish it.
"Come on, cum for me," I said again, more like an order this time as I dug my claws into his back, my hands slipping on his sweat-tufted fur as the heady musk of his arousal permeated the room. I didn't know when it happened until it was actually happening, and I was shocked. He told me that it was impossible for him, it had never happened.
But still, as he stopped thrusting and groaned against my shoulder, I could feel his thick shaft pulsing against me, each hard, vivid throb accompanied by another laboured moan. It went on for a very long moment, and I really, really liked it.
He lifted himself off of me and sat back on his haunches, staring at me intently and panting heavily, looking completely astounded. I looked down and saw a wet patch on his boxers from where he came, and it was a lot bigger than I'd expected. I didn't know what I expected, but that was a lot of cum.
When I redirected my gaze to his face, I giggled at him. "You're a mess," I gasped; his hair was everywhere and his fur was all matted from us rolling around and rubbing against one another, and his cheeks were stained a vibrant red under his black fur.
He'd never been able to do what we just did, not even with his first girlfriend. It made me feel very special. I was certain that he wanted more than just my sex. I'd been certain for years that he wanted to be more than just friends. Whenever he looked at me, held me, kissed me... especially when he kissed me. Early on in our friendship, he told me that kissing was nice, but nothing inherently great unless you really like the person. He definitely enjoyed having his tongue in my mouth, I knew that all to well from the way he moaned when we kissed.
And when he hugged me warmly, then kissed my lips before he went for a shower, I swore that I wouldn't let him get past his bedroom door when he got out before I ripped his towel off and fucked him senseless.