Breedee

It was, she reflected, a new thing. If nothing else, today was definitely a 'new thing' for her. Simply, she was nervous, and becoming more nervous with each passing minute.

They'd talked online; he was witty, amiable, and apparently fit. He also (she thought--hoped) possessed some innate understanding of women which so many men never acquired. What attracted her most, she thought, was that he appeared to genuinely like women as individuals, and had always demonstrated a genuine respect for her opinions and desires.

It was inevitable, perhaps, that they would agree in the end to meet in an attempt to fulfil their mutual fantasy. It was interesting, she mused, that he appeared to understand what so many did not—that what made her 'breeding fantasies' so powerful for her lay not just in the notion of the physical act, important though that would be, but in the complete engagement of her psyche by a partner who would make her his in the most fundamental way. The idea of total surrender to her deepest instincts was irresistibly compelling.

He understood. So many others did not, instead waxing lyrical about their prowess, the 'size of their manhood', or even, heaven help her, about how many other partners they had had—not to mention how invariably pleased, stunned and overwhelmed those partners had been. Such men didn't attract her, since they seemed to be more concerned with advertising their own supposed superiority than with getting to know her. She suspected that, in bed, they would spend half their time mindlessly pounding her, pausing the other half to check and fix their hair in the nearest reflective surface. That's the secret, really, she thought. 'Real men' care for their partners.

Still, it felt so very odd. She'd never met a stranger for the express purpose of sex, much less to fulfill a fantasy. To be honest, she'd always had at least some sort of acquaintance first—a date or three, a genuine liking. The closest she'd come to wild, unbridled lust had occurred in college when she'd practically attacked a new boyfriend in, of all places, a cornfield, much to his delight and her belated astonishment at her own impulsiveness. Perhaps that was why she anticipated this encounter with a trepidation which was itself exciting. What would it be like? What would he be like? Would it be utterly carnal? Tender? Sweet? Passionate and romantic? Dull?

He was due to arrive momentarily; she'd made up the bed, moving in a waking dream. Before she'd dressed she'd stood in the bedroom, nude, regarding herself in the mirror: a young woman of regular features. She'd never thought herself as anything more than passable, though every man she'd known had protested that she was in fact beautiful. She'd gazed at her reflection, attempting to see herself as he would see her: shoulder length, wavy brown hair, brown eyes, straight nose, a mouth which smiled a lot, a faint dusting of freckles (a curse of her childhood, she thought, though many men thought it made her even more lovely, or so they'd said). Trim body: her breasts weren't large, but well-proportioned. Slender waist, nicely curved hips, toned legs. At least she was presentable, she decided. Would he like her? She'd stood a while longer, imagining his hands on her, wondering how it would be. At last she'd laughed aloud and put on a simple blouse, a summery skirt, and sandals. And then she'd stood in her living room, nervous, even a bit scared, she admitted, and wondering if she should just back out, pretend not to be home, hide away.

The doorbell rang. Her heart pounded; she swallowed hard and opened the door.

He was of average height and looks, balding, in fact—that was her first impression. He did have a very nice smile, however, and briefly took her hand. His own was warm and dry. He stepped across the threshold; the feeling of unreality returned as she realized that a relative stranger was in her house, and that they proposed to engage in the most intimate of acts. She swallowed hard.

'I'm not sure what to say, um, would you like something to drink....?'

He smiled widely, understandingly in reply. 'I'm nervous, too' was his only comment. He took her hand gently yet firmly. The contact jolted her, confusing, exciting and frightening. He looked around, eyes settling on the bedroom door, and without a word he led her through: a stranger in her inner sanctum, and without so much as any small talk. Her heart pounded. She hadn't envisaged it all happening so quickly; some time to assess, to weigh him up, to decide...but she knew, somehow, that he was to be trusted, that he'd never hurt her.

They stood in her bedroom; twilight was falling outside. Still clasping her hand, he reached to the nightstand lamp and turned it on. He turned to face her, his eyes kind and warm on hers, as if he understood what she was feeling and wanted to offer calm reassurance. Without a word he softly, gently drew her to him, lips seeking hers. This can't be happening, she thought, it's too fast, nothing like I thought! His lips were soft on hers, gentle, seeking, and in her confusion she let him kiss her. The feeling of sudden contact was delightful, and his tongue ever so delicately flicked along her lower lip, then the upper, pushing oh so softly between, urging her to respond. She tried to stop, to fight, and her mouth opened in response, her tongue touching his quickly, lightly, exploring, tasting, his hands on her back, drawing her strongly against him. She felt her breasts pressing against his chest, and the pressure on her nipples was delicious. She wanted the kiss to go on forever. She wanted him to stop: it wasn't proper to go so fast, she needed time to decide whether she wanted to go through with this, and her tongue probed aggressively, her lips and teeth against his, a hunger she'd never known before. The warm sensuality of the kiss with a stranger was its own seductive lure. And he was so kind, so gentle.

His hands were warm on her back, caressing, reassuring, moving from her shoulder blades down, down, to the small of her back, then up, never stopping, urging her to let go. His tongue probed deeply, a promise of a greater joining to come, his hand caressed the curve of her lower back, awakening a warmth that radiated in lazy waves deep into her core, into her secret places, and she felt a liquid heat rising in response, she had to stop while she could, but his hands were so warm and the feel of them on her was so pleasant, that she decided to savor just one more moment before disengaging. So gentle, so firm, never stopping, awakening her.... She pulled away, but oddly she found she hadn't done so at all; her arms had twined beneath his, clasping the back of his neck, drawing him to her, and she drank in his taste, his tongue exploring her mouth, so kind and soft, so insistent, and she dimly sensed a warm, dark, endlessly deep pool towards whose shore she floated. So calm and still, and if once her spirit entered, she knew she would never truly leave again. The masculine presence surrounded her, wordlessly urging her to submit, to enter the warm, dark waters.

His arms protected her, enfolding her body and her spirit, sheltering and nurturing, all the more so for the event being so rapid and so unexpected. Is this what sex should be like?, she thought hazily. I never knew, never knew at all. But I must stop this before it goes any further.

His hands moved beneath the loose fabric of her blouse,, warmly caressing the lower curve of her back, the base of her spine, and she gasped inaudibly at the spurt of wetness she felt inside her. He's preparing me, oh god it feels so good, he's really going to breed me and I'm not sure I want it. My nipples are getting hard, this is embarrassing, and she pressed herself against him, revelling as his chest moved against them, the pressure arousing her yet further. He broke the kiss, and it was as if paradise had been barred to her. Wordless, he moved behind her, hands caressing her shoulders, never pausing, and he drew her back into him, his mouth nuzzling her neck, tongue and lips delicately tracing her collarbone, then up to just beneath her ear, nibbling, kissing, licking, down to the softness beneath her jaw, up again, dizzying, his hands on her hips now, caressing possessively, tenderly.

Her vision blurred; she felt her eyelids droop, and resolved hazily to let it continue just a little longer. She was owed that much by the Fates, wasn't she? Her eyes closed, and she trembled with each nip, each probe of his tongue, each teasing flick. She felt a warm pressure gliding up her sides, his hands travelling to her shoulders, and then she felt the topmost button of her blouse loosen, unfasten, as in some dream of joy.

Another, and she felt the warm pressure of his wrists on her breasts, and yet another button, and now the cool air breathed softly on the swell of her breasts, on her stomach as her blouse fell open. The fabric was sliding, sliding, down, off her shoulders, falling away from her arms, the dark pool beckoning, and she had to stop, must stop this before it was too late, and she felt his warm hands, so reassuring, unclasping the front of her bra. Almost too late, still could stop, still could halt the good feeling, the pleasure, the joy, the straps sliding off her shoulders, oh it feels so good to be free of clothes at last....where had that thought come from? Nearly free, oh so nearly free to step into the pool, must stop oh the air on my nipples feels so good, the warmth cradled each breast, oh god yes they are yours pleasure me, the bra gone now, that legacy of civilization and restraint unwanted, and his hands clasped her breasts, feeling their weight and fullness, thumbs so gently flicking across her nipples as he kneaded her, a warm pressure, wordless admiration for her femaleness. We're really going to breed, and I want to so much, it feels so good, I never knew.

She could feel the heat from his hands, the palms pressing, then lightening as he cupped her breasts, fingers probing, caressing, tracing lazy circles, drawing the skin tight, loosening, gliding across the very edges of the aureole, pressing down, pulling the sensitive skin outward, an indescribable tightness that tugged insistently at her nipples. He played with her, enjoying her, and she sank back against him, pressing her buttocks against his crotch, feeling the rising hardness there, an elemental strength biding its time. Her nipples ached, yearning to be touched, hardening, swelling, oh look at me, so fertile, ready to be bred, imagining the sensation of her mate suckling her, her babies nursing her, drawing her life-giving milk from her, the desperate ache a need to be touched there.

She heard a soft moan; it was herself, and she clasped his hands, moving them to cover her nipples, pressing hard, wanting him to pleasure her, and he took them between his fingers, pinching, the pleasure so very nearly painful, a dark shock of electric joy surging from her breasts deep into her core, meeting the ache deep inside her, doubling and redoubling it, wetness and heat building. Her legs felt weak, knees trembling, needing to lie down, and an image of herself, totally naked, sprang into her mind, unable to stand, legs splayed wide, welcoming her breeder into herself. Instinct wants me to lie down, she thought in a daze, and the thought fragmented, broke under a wave of pleasure as he pressed her nipples with his palms, moving his hands in slow circles, dragging them, her knees buckling, his strong arms beneath hers, supporting her, cradling her, lips on her collarbone, kissing her passionately, his breath warm on her neck.

One hand trailed down her stomach, seeking, questing, undoing the fastening of her skirt, the cloth dropping away, and the last of her willpower followed, she needed to be naked, no more need of clothes, helping him, stepping out of her skirt; his hand drew her panties down, brushing her hip, so wanton, so free, at long last, utterly liberated, even her name forgotten, yes, adore me, he's so beautiful, why was I ever afraid? She stepped into the dark, calm waters, so pure, so good, a current of joy running through her, the song of life itself claiming her as a worshipper. His hands were on her hips, her breasts, clasping her, she rejoiced, take your fill of me, her hand covered his, moved it back to her breasts, minister to me, make me yours, her other hand drew his to her secret place, aching, so wet, seed me now seed me forever touch me now now right there!

One finger, two, probed at her softness, parting the wet hairs, seeking her clitoris, so lightly stroking, she cried aloud, gasping, biting hard, and he pinched her nipple hard with his other hand, her muscles tensed, oh god I'm going to come oh g...the blinding joy surging up, her back arched, driving her into his hand, her hips bucked, pressing her core against his other hand whose fingers flicked across her clit, white light, pure joy, electric spasm, so empty, so wet, wanting to be filled, and she came, crying for the beauty of it, surges of fierce energy, a tide of warmth radiating out from her vagina, her breasts.

Drained, weak, trembling, she could not stand, and he understood, picking her up with endless gentleness, laying her on the bed. We're going to mate, she realized, I'm going to breed, oh yes, oh thank god I didn't stop, look at me, I'm so beautiful, so ripe, I need you inside me I ache so much, so empty and wet, enter me make me yours. She caressed her breasts lasciviously, pleading with him wordlessly, beckoning her mate to take her all the way into the still dark waters. She looked at him standing by the bed—my breeding altar, so holy, she thought—and beyond him her clothes on the floor, discarded, unneeded. Dance with me forever, pleasure me, take your pleasure of me, mount me, I want to feel your body respond to mine, coming in me, I'll never stop. She felt her juices, so slick, so inviting, full of life, ready to ease his entry into her, and she wriggled on the bed for the sheer delight of feeling the sheets slide against her buttocks, a sensual awareness new to her. They smiled at each other, a shared pleasure, a mischievous grin.

Her legs tingled, she drew her knees up slightly, feeling a slow, steady pressure deep in her crotch, as if her body was gradually beginning to urge her to open herself. Yes, that's what I want, she thought, and looked down, admiring the gentle swell of her breasts, faintly pink now with her arousal, the nipples hard and erect, so beautiful; her stomach was flat, rising and falling in time with her deep breathing. Currents of pleasure ebbed and flowed; even the light from the nightstand seemed to flicker and blur in her awareness, a consciousness more fully alive than she'd known possible.

He stood quietly, looking at her, admiring her wholeness, worldlessly taking in her hair wild on the pillows, her breasts rising and falling, so full, so soft, damp with perspiration; the lovely hollow of her throat, made to be kissed; her hands, caressing her breasts, arousing her still further, her long, slim legs, still together, but so ready to welcome him to the ultimate paradise that was herself. She basked in his admiration, feeling more fully wanted, more feminine than any partner had ever made her feel. Her toes curled, and she laughed in sheer delight, fingers caressing her nipples, pleasing herself and him. Impulsively her hand moved down to caress her cleft, so lightly, and she felt her buttocks tense, her hips rise, pressing against her hands, ready to welcome her mate. She groaned as liquid fire coursed through her core, her legs trembled; her thighs felt curiously rigid, straining, and she stopped, sinking back onto the bed, smiling in triumph at him.

He never spoke; he removed his shirt with an easy motion, eyes fastened on hers, a shared, wordless joy in the triumph they shared. She knew that they would soon be one body, one soul, and she watched as his firm, muscled chest was revealed. She never spoke; she knew that would break the spell. He removed his shoes, socks; his trousers slid off, and she saw the beautiful bulge tenting his shorts. At last, at last, and his boxers slid down, he was as nude as she, his erection strong, full, his body as aroused as hers, his beautiful male body wanting her so badly, needing her soft roundedness as much as she needed his hardness. The two gazed at one another, savoring the sight, a communion of spirit foreshadowing their ultimate comsummation.

He walked to the side of the bed, and gracefully lay down next to her. My mate, she thought, my beautiful mate, and she turned on her side to kiss him. His lips were so soft, and her hand reached down between them to clasp his penis, so full in her palm, so hard, the skin smooth as velvet, veined, pulsing slightly with his life blood. His arm reached across, drew her close, and they kissed frantically, his tongue deep in her mouth, arm warm on her waist, hand clasped reassuringly on her back, her neck, drawing her head against his, mouth locked to mouth, her hand gently rubbing his penis, feeling the hardness, glorying in her power to arouse him, her breasts at last pressing his bare chest, nipples brushed by hair, his other hand reaching beneath her shoulder, both arms enfolding her, protecting her, sheltering her from the world and making everything right. They paused, looked into each other's eyes; his were alive, full of tenderness and desire, warmth and care.

She pressed herself against him, twining her legs around his, wanting to cage him, make him hers forever, and she felt his penis stir in response, the blood filling, veins swelling. Her hand moved down the shaft to his curling hair, then down to the soft, velvety testicles, flickering, yes, that's where your seed is, give me your seed, empty yourself into me over and over forever I'll do anything to pleasure you. He groaned in delight, kissed her harder, one hand withdrawing from her back to cup her breast, savoring her. He broke the kiss and slid slowly down the bed, showering kisses on her throat, moving in lazy yet intent tracery down her collarbone, across the swell of her breasts, rolling her onto her back as his mouth took her nipple, teeth clasping, tugging gently, pulling, nipple stiff with the joy of it, his hand cupping her tit, holding her steady as his tongue flicked across, never letting go, worshipping her. He moved to her other breast, achingly ready for him, and licked the aureole, took her nipple into his mouth.

He sucked hard, suddenly, pulling her into his mouth, lips clasping her nipple, softness, warmth, wetness suckling her, and she looked down to see him pleasuring her, a heat radiating from her nipple into her breast, into her arms, legs, belly, deep into her, adding itself to the simmering energy at her core. He stopped, and she whimpered in protest, reaching to guide his head back, but he slid down, down, licking her stomach, tongue describing lazy circles, flicking on her hipbones, nuzzling, kissing the front of her thigh, his body moving lower, one hand reaching to clasp her right leg, easing it gently to one side as he carefully slid over, his penis brushing her calf, lying now easily between her legs, his other hand clasping her left thigh, gently, irresistibly easing her apart, tongue questing, nuzzling her wet pubic hair, approaching her clit, dampness and warmth brushing her, flicking across, across, her legs tensed as the jolts of ecstasy radiated into them, she opened herself fully to him.

He worshipped her, his tongue bathing her labia, her clitoris, probing into her, promising a yet greater joy, a more meaningful penetration to come. She cried aloud, eyes closed, lost at last to all but their mating, reverting to her animal self, hands in his hair, surrendered to him, conquered by the lust, the pure need. He slowed, paused; she lay panting, aching; he resumed, bringing her to a new plateau. He stopped again; began anew; each time she rose higher, conscious thought drowning in primal fulfilment, no longer caring if anyone saw, no longer knowing who she was, forgetting all fears, needing only to be filled, so wet, so empty, vagina pulsing, aching, needing her mate in her. She was instinctively conscious of her wetness, so ready to welcome him home, her legs longed to wrap themselves around him.