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I haven't exactly had good luck with wolves - wild wolves, feral wolves. Once when I was little, I went camping with my family and my cousin almost ended up getting eaten by one; one startled the crap out of me when I went to a wildlife preservation place with a friend; and then, last time I went camping with some friends, one ended up mistaking me for a bitch and knotted me for a good twenty minutes or so.

That last one... well, just what kind of luck _that_is depends on your outlook, really. At first I was annoyed; then I found myself enjoying it; and then I was annoyed again, since I got a sharp sting shooting up my rump whenever we went over a bump larger than a pencil on the drive back home.

Even with those experiences under my belt (though only one of them literally under my belt), I still somehow thought it'd be a good idea to go for a hike at a state park fairly close to my house. Big forested area, most natural place you'll find in probably an eighty mile radius, and... absolutely brimming with feral wildlife, from birds to deer to bears to - you guessed it - wolves. Of course, me being me, I thought nothing of it when I decided to go out there, thought nothing of it when I arrived and saw the 'do not interact with natural wildlife' sign at the entrance,still thought nothing of it when, further along the path, I passed the 'what to do if you are attacked by a wolf or bear' sign, and of course thought nothing of it when an actual (non-feral) wolf who'd had the same idea as me pass me on the path. She was dressed for the occasion, though, with long pants, a short-sleeved shirt, and a hat; I, however, had thought 'oh, it'll be warm', so I came with shorts, open-toed shoes, no hat... there was stuff sticking to my fur all over. It was terrible.

Other than that, by about half an hour into the hike, I had no real reason to say I wasn't having a good time other than the whole stuff-in-my-fur thing, which I could easily get over. This was odd, since - as I've said before - I've never really been the outdoorsy type. After I sat down at a conveniently-placed bench to take a rest, the sound of running water from somewhere in the trees reached me - so I stood up and went on. Last time I'd stopped to go for a swim in a deep forested, I ended up with a throbbing wolf cock seven inches under my tail.

Sure, I wouldn't necessarily mind doing that again, but it was something I'd much prefer to do in the comfort of my own home rather than on a public hiking trail frequented by people who are concerned about their health. Those who consider their health above most other things usually aren't the same sort who are okay with having sex with the wildlife, so. I'd like to avoid that if I could.

Eventually I did end up wandering off the trail though, through a clearing in the brush and trees that looked so suspiciously like the actual correct path that I hadn't even noticed that I'd left the trail until probably ten minutes after I'd done it; I'd only realized it because I ended up in a clearing with no clear path out, and - thanks to me having been so fascinated by the tree canopy above - I didn't know where I'd come from, either. I remembered stepping over some overgrown brush on the 'path' earlier, but I just figured that was to maintain the whole 'natural preserve' idea of the place...

But, no, I was lost, to the point where even my phone couldn't pick up any sort of signal. Flustered, I had to go around the edges of the clearing before I could find something that looked like a way out... and then ended up clambering over more overgrown plants and stepping over thorny plants, large spiderwebs, low-hanging vines...

Of course I didn't hear the sounds of other footsteps on the unkempt forest floor over my own stomping, growing gradually more panicked; of course I didn't think to turn around and check if I was being followed; of course I didn't notice the large feral wolf until it jumped on my lower back from behind me, knocking me forward so that I scraped my leg on a hard root jutting out of the earth and ended up with several thorns in the pads of my paws.

Then, everything stopped: finally I could hear the low growling amid the slow, quiet steps; finally I could see the wolf's brownish-grey-furred legs as it paced around me while I scrambled to sit up; finally I remembered seeing the sign about being attacked, but hell if I had read it. Anything I might have been told had been knocked out of my thoughts when the wolf had pushed me over; now, I just barely managed to pull myself back up and scrambled back away from the wolf, which steadily paced towards me. Wild wolves never seem to be happy to see me, which would have made me wonder (were I in a clearer state of mind) why they bothered tracking me down when I ended up on my own - only one of the wolves from my past encounters was hungry. The last one... well. The last one wanted something, and certainly got what he wanted...

As this one approached, I glanced between its legs for any sign of... oh, I dunno. Heavy, hanging sack; thick, full sheath; a revealed point of reddish-pink flesh, dripping precum... in fact, this one had none of those. What a she-wolf would want with me I only had two ideas, one much more desirable than the other...

With me sitting, her shoulder still came a few inches above my eye level, which... became gradually more intimidating as she stepped closer and closer to me, showing no intention of stopping. I'd decided that staying where I was seemed a better idea than getting up and running, since I had no doubt that a full-grown feral wolf could chase me down and probably do the same thing that she'd done to get me here - and then she wouldn't stop there. God - was this wolf rabid? Lips pulled back over pink gums and sharp yellowish teeth, she slavered into the fur of my legs, onto the leg of my shorts, closer to the center... one heavy forepaw came down on my hip just to the left of my groin, claws digging into my skin through my pants. Hell, I almost cried.

The wolf ceased her growling for the moment to lean forward and sniff at my muzzle, at my ear, at my nose. Her breath was hot like the steam drifting off a bowl of spoiled soup in the winter, and smelled about the same as well; she pressed her nose against my collarbone as she smelled me, against my chest, against my belly - which she had to step back off of me to do, thank God - and then at the waistband of my shorts...

Her ears flattened back, straightened up, flattened again, splayed to the sides, and next thing I knew there were sharp, sharp wolfteeth dangerously close to that part of me, tearing at the fly of my pants. God - I knew I hadn't showered in a day or two, but the scent wasn't _that_strong, was it...? Knowing what she wanted (I'd had a dog do this to me before, though considerably less forcefully), I managed, somehow, to work a paw in between myself and her hungry muzzle to unbutton and unzip my fly.

Again, thinking that it'd be warm today (I was right), when I got dressed, I'd chosen to omit wearing underwear. Now I was glad for making that decision, as I was sure if there was something else separating her from what she wanted, she'd tear right through it - with no concern for anything that might be beneath that underwear. I was still terrified, but... the sensation of a cold canid nose twitching at the base of my length, at my sack, halfway up my shaft, not necessarily familiar but also not totally unknown, made me... I don't know. It banished the edge from my fear, made me feel about the same as that one time I thought I was being arrested and then learned that the cop only wanted to fuck me and didn't have a good reason why. So, it was an odd mix of petrified panic and some sort of hot arousal...

This she-wolf spent more time smelling me than some of my non-feral partners. Her cold nose gradually became a warm one as she stuck it into different places getting the full palette of my musk, so that I felt like if that muzzle of hers were to come anywhere within a foot of my own nose I'd be able to smell myself on her - and the whole feeling of a nose pressing into me was more than enough to physically excite me, so that where I'd opened my pants to reveal a soft cock now throbbed a quite hard one, foreskin partially retracted from the arousal, which just gave her something more to smell. The feeling of her nose there made me inadvertently breathe out a soft sigh and then throb up against her lips, which in turn caused her to flick her tongue out against both her upper lip and the underside of the head of my cock...

...and, just like the last feral that had done that, she found a taste that she enjoyed there, and ran her tongue over me again and again and again, moving her head to the side to get an unlicked area of me (perhaps she enjoyed the salt of my sweat from the hike?). Slowly, I moved my paw down to lift my cock up - and ignored the little rumbles of air from her nostrils when she lightly growled again - and tilt it towards her, then rolled my foreskin down to reveal the rest of my head for her to lick... then rolled it back up, and down again, and slowly started pawing off while she changed the focus of her licks from the head of my cock to the underside of the shaft, which I had to move my paw for, and then the base, then my sack.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: you haven't felt a nice tongue until you've felt the tongue of a feral dog on you. A wolf's feels similar, but still different - everything about a feral wolf has that extra spice of the wild in it, or at least everything that I'd encountered of a wild wolf. Which was, to say, not much, other than a cock and a knot beneath my tail; when it comes to scent, when it comes to taste, I don't know-

...but I'd soon find out. After either satisfying her want or getting tired of pressing her nose and tongue into my bits, the she-wolf lifted her head back up, locked her fiery amber eyes with mine, flicked her ears, and then turned around and lifted her tail to me. Oh, I realized. She's not rabid: she's just in heat, with a vulva swollen up past what it'd be at any other time of the year and dripping with the fluids of her arousal. Dammit. For some who had the same interests as me, this was a good thing; for others, it was bad. It was like that time one of my German shepherd friends told me he wanted to see me suck myself off while he pounded down into me: I could do it, but it was just a bit tough and left me more than exhausted afterwards. A regular feral dog in heat had tired me out after one go; what the hell would a wolf do to me?

I knew better than to leave her waiting, though. After receiving such an invitation - or demand, really; she looked back behind herself at me, lips starting to curl back in another snarl - I lifted myself up, half-stood half-squatted behind her, angled the end of my cock towards her - and then jerked back when her snarl suddenly picked up in force and volume. God - dammit, what? She was in heat! What would a bitch want other than to be bred when she's in heat?...

I looked down at her waiting rump, revealed tailhole, eager flesh; I thought about how she'd pressed her muzzle into me and given me a few licks before deciding she was ready. Maybe she wanted me to return the favor? Hell, I'd do anything to keep her from pushing me back to the ground and biting me to pieces; to determine if a tongue was what she wanted, I lowered myself to my knees, scooted forward a little, leaned in... God. She smelled like... well, like what it would smell like any other time you find yourself between a lady's legs with her sex an inch from your nose, but tinged first into the sort of flat, dry spice of a feral dog's scent, and then twisted again by the spice of a wild wolf that I'd expected. If I was a wolf rather than an otter... well, I currently felt something upon getting a good whiff of that scent, but then, I'd probably know exactly what it was.

Whatever that feeling currently was, though, it made me lean in, close my eyes, set my nose against the bottom point of her flesh, glistening with her arousal. That scent floated up into my nose like - like the scent of my roommate after a long day at work when he pulls my head down into his lap, or - or when my female otter friend wants a tongue in her but also wants to keep me at the edge, so she sits me on the floor in front of her chair and tells me to stay one inch away while licking her... a shiver ran through my body at everything I picked up in that scent, and - God - I couldn't resist tilting my muzzle up and running my tongue through her, catching her juices on my own lips, tasting the focused spice of her arousal similar to her scent and musk but with a different undertone.

I almost expected for her tail to gradually lower to my shoulder, but, no: she kept it raised high to allow me easy access to her, and then even pressed back against my muzzle as I dug deeper into her, feeling her warmth, her moist heat squeezing around my tongue from all sides. I'd done this maybe three or four times before, so I had at least some idea of how to move that tongue and where to press my lips against hers to get her to maw to open in panting rather than snarling, to feel the little wags of her tail above my head, sometimes maybe even getting a little kick of her leg; most of it was in the chin, digging up against her as I swirled and pressed my tongue in deeper, feeling the little barrier of flesh inside her, flicking against it and running along it. The slickness of her heat, the juices that - hell - that had started to soak into the fur around my mouth and even dripped down my chin... by now, most of my stinging fear from before had melded into hot interest and arousal of my own.

It's the pheromones, I say - all in the scent and the taste, both of which I'd gotten more than a proper share to rope me in and keep me attentive in all senses of the word. I could feel her pulse around my tongue, throbbing similar to my own but a little faster, a little more fleeting. Oh, how I wanted to feel that pulse, that warmth, that slick, moist tightness around my length, how I wanted to plunge into her and in turn give her what she surely wanted...

This particular she-wolf must have had a tongue in her before to know that she enjoyed how it felt. That was also a thought that excited me a little more, and I couldn't tell which possibility did so more: that she'd been licked out by another feral wolf, or that in the past she had singled out another poor lost hiker and ended up much in this same situation. How recently was that? A month, a week, a day - earlier today? Was I cleaning up the mess of another hiker, or that of an alpha male?... I lifted a paw and settled it into the rough fur of her upper leg, holding her in place and tugging her a little closer to me while working my tongue in her. After a few seconds of this, though, another growl started in the she-wolf's throat, and she reached her muzzle back in an attempt to snap at the paw I'd rested on her; again, startled, I fell back, a few little strings of juices hanging between my mouth and her for part of the distance.

Okay. I guess that was enough. Sure, _I_could still have continued eating her out for a while, but... given how she looked at me, body half-turned though with her rump still facing me, tail still raised, vulva still just as swollen with her heat but now further moistened by my saliva as well, and her golden-amber eyes glared right through me. Her growling picked up in ferocity when I brought my muzzle again close to her backside while trying to pull myself up to my knees, and then lowered again when I adjusted my body so that my still-hard cock nudged against her.

She seeped out a moist warmth against me, unlike anything I'd felt before - and this warmth only increased when I gently, gently pressed into her, holding my breath and biting my lip in case she suddenly decided that, no, she didn't want this; however, she parted to let me into her, and then squeezed around my length just as she'd squeezed around my tongue. Eventually there was nothing I could do but let out that held breath in a low, shuddering sigh at the feeling of it - of sinking into her, into sweet slick warmth, like the feeling of her tongue on my length, but all around me and focused into an even brighter sensation.

Again, though, the she-wolf pressed back against me, going so far as to have to actually step back as well. I guess she was not one for slow foreplay; if she weren't a feral, she wouldn't be the one to say 'slow down' at the start of sex. No, not at all: this wolf would be the one to say 'harder', even when I thrust the rest of the way into her with enough force for my lower belly to make an audible slap against her rump - not only that, but hard enough to make my legs briefly buckle, so I had to drop my paws to her sides to keep myself up. She barked, startling me yet again, making me yet again let go of her... God. I don't know what I'd do if I had to fuck her without touching her with my paws...

So I started out somewhat slow, fast enough to keep her growl quiet but still slow enough so that I wasn't pushed directly over the edge by the feeling. Hell, it was tough - I was no feral wolf. I'd both seen and experience the way a feral canid makes love, and any of that, especially after having both her tongue on my and then my own tongue in her, would quickly make me cum. So, it was hard to find a good balance that satisfied us both, but - a sharper bite on my lip, a little bit more pain, put my mind partially off the raw pleasure of serving this she-wolf, an alpha female probably.

That's what I mean when I say that a feral canid in heat is exhausting. I always thought that I was a bit of a nympho - and then_I dogsat for one of my friends while his bitch was in heat. I thought _that_was a handful... this damn _wolf, though. While muddled in my own thoughts and memories, I'd sped up my thrusts to about as fast as I could go without losing my balance, since again, she wouldn't let me touch her... unless-

From a sudden idea (though I did have to brace myself for a moment, during which my thrusts slowed down and the bitch's growl again picked up), I leaned forward, all the way over her, threw my arms around the she-wolf's body, and pressed my muzzle against the fur of her neck. Of course she barked and tried to bite my face off, but somehow, maybe from the nervousness that had pervaded this whole experience from the start, I was faster - and set my teeth into her neck, which instantly quieted her. I could feel the heat from her body, her heartbeat, her fast breaths, all in the arms I held around her body; then I moved one up to her back and gripped her front leg with the other, holding her in place so I could slam into her and then pull back out, again and again. Usually I didn't like being the one doing the fucking, but... her heat had left her more than suitably slickened up for each thrust to send an electrical shiver through my body.

Through the pleasure, through the myriad of bright scents and feelings, as well as her spice still on my tongue, I half-opened my eyes; as I fucked her, the silent snarl on her muzzle - God, she had some sharp teeth - weakened and disappeared, and then, her mouth fell open and her tongue lolled out of her mouth, dripping with saliva, lifting up and down with her panting. Sure, I probably could have let up on my own bite, but... I don't know. Having my teeth tight in the fur and skin of her neck and shoulder... well, it made me feel something that I hadn't felt since that time the other feral wolf, male, had fucked me on the shore of a lake at a campsite.

It was a hot, wild sexual energy - that's what it was. It just made me bite her harder, to the point where her ears flicked back and her head twitched; it just made me press down onto her shoulder with one paw, squeeze her leg tighter with the other; it just made me slam into her harder and faster until I could feel my orgasm fast approaching - and then it just made me push past that, balancing my rhythm with each spurt of cum deep into her, then slowing down but remaining hilted in her. At that point, I couldn't tell whether we were shifting with her panting or my own heavy breaths.

Finally, I released the grip of my teeth on the she-wolf's neck; she licked her chops, leaned over, growled at me - so I lifted my head away - and then licked at the spot where I'd bitten. Thoroughly exhausted, I straightened up, shivered, slid out of her, sat back onto my tail. I'd have to take a bath once I got home: my cock was coated all over with the mixture of saliva, cum, and the juices of her heat, soaking into and matting down the fur of my lower belly. I reached up and wiped my forehead with the back of my paw, letting my eyes drift shut again.

When I opened them, the she-wolf bitch had turned around and now watched me with those fire-amber eyes of hers, muzzle open and panting, tail stirring idly. Last time I'd had sex with a feral wolf, it had this same reaction afterwards... God. Imagine if you could domesticate a wolf just by giving her a good fucking when she's in heat. My friends would be so jealous. However, that seemed oddly unlikely, and - if I ever wanted to get out of this place, finally remembering that this had only happened to me because I got lost, I'd have to look around and find a way out. So, I stood up, worked my pants back up my legs... though had to stop for a moment, because the bitch stepped forward, nuzzled up under my sack, and then cleaned off my cock with that wonderful tongue of hers, again making my legs buckle so that I almost fell over. I tried to pat her on the head, but she snapped at my paw, so I stepped backwards away from her until the bushes and brush shrouded her from my sight.

I'd call that one hell of a hookup. Her taste remained on my tongue for quite a while, and then her scent, since she'd thoroughly soaked the fur around my lips, came back to me with each inhalation through my nose for even longer, past when I managed to find my way back to the path, past when I got back to my car, past when I got home half an hour later.

Then, of course, I locked myself in the bathroom, ran the water, and pawed off with that scent beneath my nose and a whole set of fresh memories. Maybe sometime I'd head back there, see if I could get 'lost' again...