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You may know my old roommate Harold as the one who had me suck him off in a gas station bathroom, the one who fucked me against the wall in a bookstore, the one who had me swallow his piss during a movie because he didn't want to get up to miss anything... you may know him as the one who makes me call him 'daddy' when he's pounding me, and hell, I enjoy it. That's the thing about a forward and forceful partner: it's no fun unless you enjoy it, no fun unless you know that they keep an eye on you and how you're doing and will stop if you ask or if it looks like you're in a bit of discomfort.

Of course, a little discomfort is natural, especially when sinking down onto a thick German shepherd who's easily over a full foot taller than you, and strong enough to probably be able to throw you as far as you can see. He always asks how I'm doing, though: he'll gently squeeze my thigh, breathe a soft "you doing alright, Luke?", or he'll sit up and kiss my neck, to ease himself into me... when I rented a house with him I got laid pretty much every day, except for the ones where I was too sore to take him under my tail. On those days, I usually just sucked him off, or he'd treat me to a tongue under my tail and a swift paw along my length. I was okay with either.

One time, my new mattress was delivered while he was out at work, so I texted him - hey, new mattress arrived today, it's big and heavy and moving it makes my back hurt :(- and then a few minutes later, he sent back: Then wait for me to get there so I can do both of those. As in, move your bed AND make your back hurt. So I left it where I'd given up moving it, in the middle of the floor of the living room, and waited for him to get off work; when he did, he walked through the door, kicked off his boots, said "oh, is this it?", and then proceeded to strip me of my clothing (he has long workdays every now and then, so all he wants to do when he gets home is relax with his favorite otter). Then, a few minutes later, he was pounding me down into the mattress, which still had the protective plastic cover on; I was naked, jaw agape, moaning and panting, tongue spiced with the flavor of his musk (because, again, long workdays; he works up a bit of a sweat), while he drove down into me, still fully clothed other than how he'd unzipped his pants and tugged them down a little so I could get at his cock... afterwards, he lifted me up, rested me on the nearby couch, and then got my new bed all set up before I'd fully caught my breath. He asked if I was okay; I said, yeah, it's been a while since you've fucked me like that; he grinned, wagged a little, and then asked if I'd like some hot chocolate. I said yes to that, too.

You'd think that over time and with enough 'sessions', you'd tire of playing with one certain person - especially if you're someone like me, who's fucked a stranger behind a bathroom in the park; sucked off a big uncut wolf with a wife and kids in a Wal-Mart bathroom; rode one friend while that friend's girlfriend watched, and then went down on her; got seduced by a cheetah barista, which resulted in a bit of a tongue workout (along with a soaked muzzle) in an alley... well. I never tired of waiting at the door for him to have an eight-inch cock down my throat in a matter of minutes after he walked through that door; I never tired of settling back onto his length, him holding my paw or rubbing my leg while watching my face to see if I was okay; I never tired of asking him to be a little rougher, then clawing at the sheets of the bed or the paint of the wall that he fucked me against. I never tired of calling him 'daddy', never tired of him holding a paw over my mouth to keep me quiet if either of us got horny while out doing errands, which almost always resulted in him lifting me up (I'm quite a bit smaller than him) and sinking up into me in some back corner of the shop, I never tired of slipping a paw into his pants during a movie, while he's driving me somewhere, once or twice at a restaurant...

So of course I sprang up almost immediately when I got the text from him (contact name: Daddyshep) that read "I'm going to be tired when I get home today, so I want you waiting at the door to help me take a load off. Okay?" I responded with a quick "yessir~" and went back to the game I was playing until about the time when he usually got home from work. Then I went to the door, sat on the little bench off to the side in the entryway, and waited.

He came in a few minutes later - after that text, I'd been a little worked up on and off - and smiled at me, drew me into a warm hug followed by a kiss between my ears, and then went right into the other room without even taking his boots off. Naturally, I followed, wondering a little at what exactly he'd meant by 'help him take a load off' - since usually that involved him unzipping his pants at the door and flopping his soft cock over my nose... he looked back at me after we got into the kitchen, asked if I wanted anything to drink - I figured I'd get a mouthful of something soon, so I said no - and then got himself a soda and settled down at the table.

"I still have some work to do," he said, pulling his laptop over from where he'd left it this morning and opening it up. "I need to get to that."

"Oh." Admittedly, my ears drooped a little. "So I guess I won't be helping you relax, then?"

"Oh, no, no, I didn't say that..." He turned around and flashed a smile at me, the look in his bright blue eyes banishing whatever worry had started to burn in my chest. "I want you to help me focus, dear."

"Focus?"

"Yeah." He scooted his chair back a little, then pointed down in front of him. "On your knees, please."

Of course I could do nothing but obey. His long workdays usually resulted in him getting home at around seven or eight PM, a few hours before when I always tried to climb into bed: because of this I'd already stripped down and gotten into my pajamas, just a pair of bottoms with cute sailboat print all over. In fact, it was him who had gotten me these pajamas for my birthday last year... we had to wash them after a few hours of wearing them because I ended up getting cum all over the inside of the front, thanks to a tongue under my tail and a paw on my length. Anyway - I licked my lips, swallowed, and did as asked, keeping a paw on the edge of the table to guide myself down; then, after waiting for me to get into a comfortable position, he scooted back forward and then sat closer to the edge of the chair, so that I could rest my chin on the edge of it if I wanted and just have to lean in another half-inch to get a noseful of German shepherd.

He felt me lean forward, though, and placed a paw against my forehead. "Mm-mm. Help me with my boots first."

I looked down. Standard work boots, brownish-black leather, laced all the way up. I knew he wouldn't let me do anything until I handled that, so I adjusted how I was sitting and slowly got to work with the laces; I let my paws press against his legs as I did so, and then gently rubbed down his foot after getting that first boot off. He shifted, made a little noise, breathed out a sigh... and then I did the same for the other, also giving that foot a quick massage. I'm not really much one for stuff involving feet, but... sometimes he asks me to give him a footrub, and then tells me to use my tongue, and - for him, y'know, I don't mind too much - I enjoy seeing him squirm and wiggle and hump upwards into the air with a definite tent in his pants, just from the feeling. He asks me to give him a full-body rubdown, so I do, and pay special attention to a few certain spots: his feet, his sack, his cock, his tail, his neck...

"Thank you," he said, and then moved a paw down to the waistband of his pants. I sat back and watched: it took a moment, but soon he'd both unbuttoned and unzipped, and wiggled his paw in against himself to pull out his soft cock and sack, at the same time pushing his pants down a little to be able to do this easier. God - it had been a long day for him; a wave of his scent wafted forward and hit my nose, causing me to throb against the soft fabric of my pajamas. Even when soft he was enough to weigh down my tongue quite a bit - I enjoyed wrapping my lips around him and diving down, to feel him grow harder in my muzzle. Here, I opened my mouth, leaned in...

...and got a paw against my forehead again. Damn. What does he want me to do? Just - look at him? Stew in my own desire? I could-

"No," he said from above. Then, that paw moved around to the back of my head and tugged me in closer. "I want your muzzle to smell like me, Lukas.

Smell. Of course I could do that. Hell, I couldn't not do it if I tried at this distance; he pulled me in until I could feel the heat emanating from his sack and shaft, and then he didn't have to move me past there. I did it myself. The distance between my nose and his sack was quickly closed; I nuzzled up into him, breathing his scent, feeling his warmth... at this distance (which was, to say, no distance), that scent flowed into my nose a lot purer and a lot sharper than how I usually get it, which is from six or seven inches away as I dive down on him. My eyes drifted shut, a shiver went down my back, I slid a paw into my pajamas...

"No touching yourself," he growled. I froze. "I want you to be worked up. I enjoy seeing you squirm, dear. Okay?"

...I grumbled and slid my paw back out of my pajamas. If he was doing this just because he knew that it would make me even more eager and horny once we climbed into bed tonight... well. He'd done something like this in the past, and he actually had to lift me up off of him because I'd skipped getting him lubed up and instead wanted him under my tail right then and there. Sometimes I like it rough. "Okay."

"Say 'yes, Daddy'."

"Okay..."

"What?" He reached down to lift his sack off of my nose. I whined a little.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good pup. Now - I want you to stay there for ten long, deep breaths, okay? Breathe in through your nose. Can you do that for me? Then you can move up."

Hell. He knew that I had bad self-control; he knew that I'd more than likely end up touching myself, especially with commands like that. However, again, I could do nothing but obey. Instead of staying in that one spot, I moved around, ran my nose up along where his sack met his inner thigh - where the sweat of the day tended to gather. Breathe in... one... breathe out. Breathe in... Shivering a little - I don't think you understand how much I love his scent - and with my eyes still closed, I lifted a paw up to cup his sack and gently wrap my fingers around his length, turning him towards me, nuzzling deeper so that each breath brought nothing but shepherd... six... breathe out. Breathe in... seven... I wanted nothing more but to dive down on him, to feel him on my tongue, against the roof of my mouth, pressing into the back of my throat - especially now as I could feel him twitching and hardening up over my nose, the weight of his cock originally resting across my muzzle lifting and straightening up. The vague takka takka takka of his keyboard floated down to my ears beneath the sounds of my own breaths - nine... breathe out... ten...

He wasn't counting (I think), so after that, I did as asked and moved up, rolling my paw down to cup his sack and gently squeeze and massage, feeling the warmth and the faint moist fur on my fingerpads. I ran my nose up along the underside of his shaft, still steadily growing harder and the scent becoming a little stronger, a little sharper... I was no canine so I couldn't tell much of a difference between someone's scent when they're turned on and when they're not, but there's something. I hear some wolves know when their female peers are in heat based on the scent...

I couldn't think about that for long, though. There were more pressing matters at hand. His paw again lowered to the back of my head and aided me in coming up along his length, nose tracing along a vein in the skin; then he held me at the end to breathe in the sweat of the day, yesterday's load as will as this morning's (since I thought he'd enjoy it if I woke him up with a blowjob... I was right), and then a little bead of pre that oozed out as a result of my pressing muzzle. It clung to my nose, spread around as he moved his paw around to rub the head of his cock there, filled my nostrils with the scent of his arousal. It wouldn't be hard at all for me to pucker my lips forward against the underside of his shaft, or lap my tongue out along it... but, he'd told me not to. Who was I to disobey?

"Stay there." Still there was the sound of him typing. "I'm almost done. Then, I'll heat something up for me to eat - assuming you already had dinner - and then we can head upstairs..."

And then what? I wondered. He rarely told me to do something so definitively - 'don't touch yourself', 'make your muzzle smell like me' - but... it was sort of nice. Sure, the frustration of not being able to relieve that urge that so powerfully throbbed between my legs as I nuzzled up between his was definitely there, but I was perfectly content with having him on my nose, on my lips, with having his musk seep into the fur of my muzzle. The last time he'd showered was the day before yesterday, and that was with me; he'd grinded against my face after such a period of time before, and - God - I could smell him perfectly on my muzzle for the entirety of the following day, which resulted in two back-to-back wet dreams and then three further sessions between me and my paw while he was away at work.

I wouldn't be able to obey if he didn't want me to paw tomorrow, too. Last time I'd tried and failed, my 'punishment' had been to get on my knees in the bathtub while he emptied his bladder over my muzzle and chest, and then he made me keep my muzzle right next to his shaft while he pawed off, not letting me lean in to lick or help or anything (then, afterwards, he drew me a bath and scrubbed my back and kissed my head while apologizing if he was too rough, which he wasn't)... he knew I liked that mock-punishment thing. Another time, when I'd forgotten to wash the car like he asked, he brought me to one of those self-washing places and fucked me over the hood of the car. Maybe this time he'd hold my head down on him and tell me to swallow whatever came, or maybe he'd have me get him off with just my tongue...

"Alright." The snap of his laptop closing startled me, though I quickly went back to shoveling my nose up under his sack. "Head on upstairs, Luke, and wait for me. I won't take long."

I had to stretch out my back and legs after being beneath the table for such a period of time, and then looked down to see the very obvious tent in my pajamas as well as the darkened fabric at the point of said tent... I looked up again and received a nice shepherd kiss at the end of my nose, taking me by surprise.

He stifled a laugh. "You smell like me."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes. Now, go on, you."

My boner hadn't yet gone down by the time I'd made it upstairs, nor by when I'd stripped off my pajamas - a thumb run across the head of my cock came back slick and sticky with pre - and nor when I'd climbed into bed and wriggled around a little in trying to find a comfortable position. The bed did smell of him, though nowhere near as strongly as what I wore on my muzzle, a veritable mask of musk that I could almost feel on my skin. I'd been told not to touch myself, sure, but he'd said nothing about grinding into the bed... which, as it turned out, only made me want to touch myself even more. I still had a toy around here somewhere for when he wasn't at home and I felt like I needed a good railing but couldn't wait, but... something told me he'd still punish me if he were to walk in on that.

It felt like it took a while, but eventually he did come up and enter the room, given the heavy footsteps on carpeted floor. I had no idea what he expected to see when he came in, so I just lay there sort of pretending to be asleep, facing towards the door, eyes closed; he grunted, sniffed at the air, and then there was the rustling of him taking off his clothes and settling down into bed beside me. I could feel the warmth of his body, though no arm wrapped around me like it usually did - so I opened my eyes, rolled over... and pressed my muzzle, again, into his soft-furred sack, with his hard cock throbbing against my chin. My eyes had been closed when he first got into bed, so of course I didn't notice that he'd gotten in upside down - which meant that his muzzle was...

...yeah, right there. He pressed down into me with his chin and flitted his tongue out over the rim of my tailhole, a quick, soft sensation that sent a shiver up my back. His attentions were no reason for me to stop, though: as he swirled his tongue around and dragged it up over me, I continued to nuzzle into his sack, against the side of his shaft, down a little so that his pre-moistened tip first nudged against my chin, then my lower lip, and then both; as soon as I closed my lips around him and slowly dove down, he pressed his tongue against my pucker and slid it into me, slowly, gently, making me lift up my leg and shudder against him. One of my arms easily fit around him and pulled him closer, as because of our height difference it was a little difficult in this position for me to go as far down on him as I liked; at my urging, though, he thrust forward a little and slid further along into my muzzle, firm and warm, drooling pre onto my tongue, at the same time bringing his tongue in and out of me, ensuring I was well-lubricated with saliva, leaving gentle kisses under my tail.

Still his scent was rich in my nose, even more so now that I had his length on my tongue as well. I moved slowly up and down on him, savoring the opportunity that I'd desired so strongly after he'd pushed me down between his legs under the table; meanwhile, he, too, worked gently at me, doing just enough to make me occasionally suck in a gasp or breathe out a light sigh, just enough to cause me to press down onto his muzzle and shiver all over again. Before long, I'd even started a rhythm of slowly humping back against his maw and then forward, back and forward with the movement of his tongue in and against me...

Then he suddenly changed his position, at first tapping the side of my muzzle with his paw to get me to move back, and then wiggling around until he was fully behind me. I almost expected him to settle back down into my rump, especially as he turned me over onto my belly and hiked my rear into the air, but - then I felt the weight of him leaning forward over me, heard the squeak of the bedsprings when he settled both of his paws down on either side of my head, felt the slick warmth of his cock beneath my tail where his tongue had been seconds prior. I was shivering all over, as receiving a rimjob usually does to me; the shepherd leaned down, nipped at my neck, gently pressed into me. Of course, I pressed back.

We hardly ever started in this position, and there's a reason for that - I had to bite my lip and grip at the sheets of the bed as he sank into me, always nodding him on whenever he asked if I was doing okay. Every now and then I had to lean forward off of him a little, which in turn caused him to totally stop and lean over and nuzzle at the side of my chin, the words "go as slow as you need" soft on his lips. It was times like this where I always thought, damn my eagerness - or, rather, it was the morning following these times, since I'd always go faster and harder than I really should, and then wake up the next morning with a rump too sore to go at it again. Still, though, there was a sort of... erotic intimacy in having him mount me from behind, in feeling his weight pressing down onto me, in lurching forward and back with his thrusts - in having his tense breathing on my neck, his cock sinking in and then sliding out of me, keeping me somewhat stretched with his girth, slick with his pre...

Gradually I became accustomed to his thickness and length gently pulsing under my tail, and relaxed into the pillows. He felt this change and altered his own pace as well, gripping at the sheets and straightening up a little to allow himself more leverage in thrusting into me. He started slow enough, with a deep, churning rhythm of his hips, buried in me so that his sack almost touched mine whenever he pushed in and then never moving back more than an inch. I, of course, wanted more, and pressed back against him and then came forward myself - "faster," I breathed, which earned a gentle chuckle from him and then a stronger thrust that made my back arch and elicited a sharp little yip from my throat.

"Like that?" Paws still on either side of my head, lower belly rubbing against the base of my tail each time he pushed in - which now was faster, firmer, more forcefully than before - he panted gently into my ear from above, clearly worked up from all that had come before. This German shepherd, being a dog, naturally had a thing for marking his territory with his scent; however, unlike some other dogs, this one derived a certain sexual pleasure from it, from being able to smell himself on my muzzle and in my fur. I loved both the act itself and the effect it had on him, so I couldn't complain.

"Yeah..." I breathed in response, and turned my muzzle to the side. It was a nice feeling, having his breath on my face, feeling his pulse in his length as he fucked me, all combined with the pleasure of having a bigger dog mount me... I knew that with him in this position, I wouldn't have to reach a paw down in order to cum. As he moved faster, as he started to actually pound me the way we both liked, he started to bear down onto me and push me down to the bed, from a doggystyle position into one where I found myself grinding down into the mattress with my own movements guided by the shepherd's as he lifted up and thrust down into me, again and again.

I'll find your spot and grind it like an orange on a juicer, he told me once, and I'll pound you until you cum without having to touch yourself. Sure, we didn't always do this (because it left me rather more exhausted than riding him or any other position), but saved it for rare occasions or when one or both of us were especially worked up. This time was of the latter.

I swallowed. "Bite me..."

"Mmrh?"

The bed squeaked and bounced slightly underneath his fierce movements - he was coming close to the edge, as was I. "I want you to bite me when you cum, Daddy. I-"

But I didn't get to finish my statement: as soon as the word daddy left my half-agape maw, he clenched down on my shoulder and bucked into me, once, twice, a third time, deep enough so that I could feel the warmth of his seed spurt out into me. God, that - left me so close myself, left me with that pulsing fire of imminent release, so that all it took to get me off was some more rubbing against the sheets, the sensation of warm, heavy dog on and in me and the pleasure of my foreskin rolling back and forth between my own body and the bed more than enough to cause me to suck in a breath, shudder, let out that breath, claw at the sheets of the bed, thoroughly stain those sheets directly under me with my own cum...

He remained in me, though lifted himself up so that he wouldn't crush me; only when he'd softened up and naturally slid out of me did he roll over onto his side, chest heaving, a look of warm contentment on his face. I limply pulled myself over to him and draped an arm over his chest, feeling the sting of his bite gently throb on my shoulder as well as the odd half-pleasure, half-discomfort of his cum leaking out of my stretched tailhole. We'd probably have to wash the sheets again.

A moment later, he turned his head to nuzzle between my ears - and then again breathed out a chuckle and then planted a kiss there. "You need a shower, otter..."

"I rather like the scent..." I managed to get out, and buried my muzzle in the warm fur of his neck. "I'll take a shower if you take it with me."

"Then we'll just end up as dirty as when we got in. You, maybe even more so."

"I know." That's usually how it went. We got in the shower, fucked, got out, he gave me a different kind of shower, we had to get back in the shower... "How long do you work tomorrow?"

"I actually have tomorrow off..." With a claw he gently drew little circles in the fur of my lower back. I shivered.

"Should we wake up early, then? Or sleep in?"

"You can sleep in. After all, I feel like I owe you for being a little rough earlier..."

If holding me down under a table was what he called 'rough', then... hell, I didn't at all mind him being rough.