Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
The drive was too long and too short, both. As if the very universe is taunting me, the weather is lovely. There’s a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the crops, and I can hear the snuffling of the meat-stock inside the barn. Freshly turned dirt scents the air, along with the warmer scent of something delicious.
There’s also a hint of…something else. Something darker.
Something that makes my cock twitch in acknowledgment.
I flare my nostrils, trying to pick out the scent. I’m unfamiliar with it, but it makes me think of Chelsea, and mating, and therefore I don’t hate it. She mentioned she had a new thing for us to try out. Maybe this is what I’m scenting.
My sweet Chelsea, always eager and willing in bed. I love her adventurous, eager spirit almost as much as I love her bright smile and endless laughter. What am I going to do without her? How am I going to spend my nights alone after being with her?
The endless stretch of my life without Chelsea yawns before me, colorless and dull.
I scrub at my face with my hand, keeping my claws retracted. I need to stop moping. Chelsea’s made it quite clear that she’s never been interested in anything more than a bit of fun, and I’m not going to push her for more.
I’ve got to keep it together. For now. We’ll have our dinner, enjoy our evening, and then I’ll break the news to her. Maybe we’ll hug and kiss before I leave. Maybe she’ll let me stay tonight, one last time. If not, I’ll understand. She might want a clean break of things.
The thought feels as if it will break something inside me.
Making my way to her front door, I clutch the jam jar in my hand so tightly I fear it will break. Will Chelsea be happy that I’m leaving? Relieved? Or will she actually miss me? She won’t, I suspect, because she chooses to live every day without fear, and regret seems like an emotion she’d shuck away as well.
The door opens.
Chelsea smiles at me, wearing her favorite tunic that shows off her magnificent cleavage. Her hair is pulled up in a tail at the crown of her head, and she speaks, but I can’t hear anything.
The roar of blood in my ears is drowning out everything.
The smell is stronger here. That incredible, intoxicating, primal scent is centered right around her. Blood rushes to my cock and I’m immediately stiff and aching. My breath quickens and every muscle in my body tightens and tingles in anticipation. She smells like a mixture of sex and prey, and it’s making my instincts go wild.
Stiffly, trying to keep myself together, I hold out the jar.
Chelsea says something, and her teats shift in the tunic as she reaches out for the gift. My cock throbs even harder, and my control frays away as she takes it and comments on something, her laughter floating through the air around us.
Then she turns and walks away, and those instincts of mine go haywire.
I growl, snatching her up and moving to the table. She has places set for us, and I rake them aside with one arm as I press her down over the surface. Her plump backside quivers as I drag her leggings down, and when I pull the human garment called “panties” off of her, the scent of her cunt makes my mouth flood with need. The urge to rip my cock free, to shove into her and pound away, overwhelms me.
Control yourself. Control yourself. Does she want this? Is she wet?
Wet. Yes. I need her wet.
Dimly, I hear Chelsea’s light giggles as I rub a hand down her flank. She says something, a question in her voice, but the pulse pounding in my ears won’t let me focus on anything but her scent, her cunt. I drag my fingers through her folds from behind, testing her wetness even as my cock throbs and spurts with pre-cum.
She moans at my touch, quivering.
Not wet enough, though. Even as lost as I am in this moment, I know that. So I take deep, gulping breaths, trying to figure out how to get my cock inside her without hurting her.
Licking. Yes, that’s what she needs. She needs my tongue on her cunt. She loves that.
I shove her legs further apart and kneel between them, burying my face between her glorious thick buttocks and lapping at her cunt. She squeals, squirming against me, but the hot scent of her is intense here. It makes me want her even more. I drag my tongue over her, working it against the entrance of her body even as I find her clit and tease it with my thumb. She jerks against me, her hips twitching, and then her questioning words change to moans of pleasure. With every pass of my thumb over her clit, she gets wetter and wetter, until my tongue is making wet sounds against the entrance of her body and her slickness is everywhere.