Whooooooooooshhhhhh. She exploded with orgasmic juice, ejaculating with ferocity all over Rannulf and his huge, pulsing, shaking, animal phallus. She had never seen such a rush, never felt so much like a victim of her own masturbation. She saw it all as if it was in slow motion, the rush of fluid raining through the air covering his fur, falling down in glorious droplets on the forest floor. She thought she saw stars, rainbows, the whole world was made of moon rock and she and Rannulf were the only bits of living flesh that mattered. She could never have done it without her audience. She was soaked to the bone, and so was he. She laid back on the mossy ground until her muscles recovered some modicum of strength, and then she looked back up at the wolf man. His human eyes bore holes right through her.
“How did you like that,” she said, crawling on all fours over to him, running her hands up his hind legs, towards his tight round sac. She put her fingers through the fur, grasping his source of reproduction, his vitality. Wanting even more of what was waiting inside of them to be inside of her.
“I can do so many things, things I bet you’ve never even dreamed of.”
She reached her hands around his member, needing both to grasp its full girth, fingering the curves and veins that made him the perfect hybrid of man and beast. Her juices were still soaking him, and she used her party trick as her lubrication, running her hands up and down, looking up at his snarling face that began to soften, to open wider, to look back down at her.
She opened her mouth and ran her warm tongue around the head of his cock, tasting the meld of his metallic skin and her own remnants. She opened her mouth wider, taking his whole head into her mouth, sucking on the warm pink cock as if it was the last one on earth-because for her, it was.
When she closed her lips around him, she could almost hear his insides, hear his heart beating faster and faster. Rachel could hear his growls and moans issuing from deep within his hulking body. She wrapped her hands tightly around his shaft and ran them over the flanking double curves again and again while she sucked at the head.
“Woman,” he cried out to her, the vibrating tenor of his voice wrecking havoc on her own still sore pussy, “you vile creature, you cannot tame me! You cannot-”
His voice grew raspy and thin and the trees began their violent rumble. She saw his face soften, and the paws of his hands grow sweaty and she felt, through her fingers at the base of his pole, the familiar rush of cum coming from his cock. This time it was like a tidal wave hitting the back of her throat.
Instead of moving her face away or clamping down her lips, she moved her mouth further onto the head of his manhood, pushing him deeper into her throat so she could feel the full force of his ejaculation shaking her to the very core. She would show him how much of him she could take, and then take even more. As the taste of him washed into her mouth, she swallowed again and again, keeping her mouth wide around him and lapping at him with her tongue.
She felt a weight on the top of her head, and only then did she remove her face from his loins. It was Rannulf’s paw, resting gently above her forehead, and stroking down her matted hair, now covered with the musk of their overlapping juices. She looked over and saw that the ropes were laying placidly on the ground beside them, while Rannulf stood upright leaning unbound against the tree.
“You were free the whole time?” she said.
Rannulf smiled and she saw again his glisteningly sharp teeth, imagining the strength of his jaw, but noting for the first time his relaxed and open demeanor.
“The strength of the blow must have knocked off the ropes,” he said. She could almost swear she had seen him wink at her when he said it. “Nice work. You might be more useful than I thought."
“But if you’re going to stay with me, you’re going to have to prove you can keep up.”
By then it was actually night time. The moon, if it was even out at all, was hiding somewhere above the trees, providing no light to their path. Rannulf took off in a quick trot, looking behind himself only once to see that Rachel was still there.
She followed Rannulf closely through the forest, down the side of her conquered mountain and back up the crest of another, even higher, mountain. He ran instinctively, cutting through the underbrush and darting between the trees with nothing to guide him but his nose. She was panting, but the harder they ran the more she felt the pure mountain air running through her veins.
They ran for miles, cutting off other animals, sending flocks of birds flying out of trees in a solid mass, terrified for their lives. But Rannulf wasn’t there to hunt tonight. Tonight he already had his trophy, and he was taking her home. They ran through streams, over creeks and up and down the craggy face of the mountainous terrain.
He wanted to be sure about this one, to make certain that she was fit to be his companion. He had mated before, with humans and werewolves alike, but they all disappointed him in the end. They all grew tired and sore when he was only just rare and still ready to go. They all lacked the energy and enthusiasm he had for the climb, for the mountains, for the pleasures of the flesh. This one, he could tell, was different. Since he sensed her presence in his territory the night before, he could feel something in her that was closer to anything wild he had ever seen in a female creature. And she was passing all his tests with flying colors.
When they got to the edge of a river valley, she saw a wide-mouthed cave just beyond them. It was guarded by two other werewolves, they seemed slightly smaller than Rannulf. She hesitated near the entrance, waiting to be questioned by these warriors, but they simply looked her up and down and nodded at Rannulf, motioning with a nod of their snouts for her to follow him deeper into the cave.
Inside, it was nearly pitch black. She held onto Rannulf’s thick coat as they walked into the cavernous wolf den. There was no light at the end of this tunnel, but Rachel wasn’t scared. Though she was walking into unfamiliar territory, she was the opposite of scared; she felt like she was home.
She heard sounds, familiar and unfamiliar, reverberating echoes bounced off the walls. There were sounds like water flowing, the clapping of hands, the clopping of paws. Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness slowly and she began to sense motion ahead of her, but she couldn’t quite distinguish any individual shapes. Then, she heard a familiar sound. It was a human voice. And not just any human voice.
It was the same sound she had heard the night before, what seemed like years ago, back in the cabin. She heard the sound of Emily’s voice, the soft crying puppy sound she had made in her bed, but this one was louder, fuller. More at home. The closer they walked to the noise, the more she could distinguish all the sounds. She heard Katie’s muffled intensity and finally Michele’s song, metered with the grunts and growls of three other werewolves.
Of course there were more of them! And of course her friends had been close behind her this whole time. She had underestimated their prowess just as Rannulf had doubted her. Now, they were all there together, finally, where they belonged. The echoing sounds of the others having sex reverberated into Rachel’s body as Rannulf nudged her towards his corner of the cave. They were all in for a long, hard night.
This time there were no ropes, nothing holding either of them in place, nothing between them but their own flesh and hair, nothing below them but the cold grey rock, with the smooth welcoming texture Rachel felt with every pore of her bare skin. She got down on all fours, putting her hands and knees sturdily into the ground, and turning her head to look at Rannulf, his grey coat still glowing in the darkness. She beckoned him over, and waited for him to mount her from behind. This time, she would make the moon come to them.