A Simple Solution Ch 02 1

While she went to adjust her application -- which really was just going back in and hitting 'submit' every couple of minutes until the system agreed that yes, the two applications matched up -- he prowled back over to the couch to find his dropped warphone. Flicking through his contacts, he found the one he needed and hit 'dial'.

A few moments later, the guy on the other side picked up. "Dude!! She

dumped

you?!?"

"Christ," his muzzle made him growl, "news travels fast. Look, is the Playpen in use?"

"Not until Saturday. Your rut comin' on?"

"About... five hours, maybe sooner. I'm gonna need setup, takedown, and cleaning."

"You know the rules -- you ain't helpin', you're payin' dubs."

"Well, I ain't got sixty on me, but you know I'm good for it." He frowned at the slanted couch.

"Plus the guarantee of helpin' out the next three times."

"As long as it ain't Saturday, yeah."

"Huh. Sounds to me like you got a wolfhound."

He grunted; finding a partner this close to his rut was unlikely, and a man or woman who was particularly drawn to sex with werewolves -- a 'wolfhound,' not someone who was a wolf, but someone who 'hunted' them, basically a slut for weres -- was the most likely candidate to avoid the pit. "That I do not. Can we do it?" Picking up the end of the couch, he started twisting off the unbroken legs.

"... yeah, okay. Gimmie the address."

He did. "Call when you pull in so I can unlock, right?"

"What, you gonna be naked?"

"Naked, hard, and deep."

"Well, fuck. That's a good reason for stayin' out of setup and takedown. Two and two on the door."

"Appreciate that. I'd hate to have to kill you guys." He put the couch back down, moving to the other side to retrieve the broken legs.

"Hah! Shrimp like you, any time."

"Y'know, I might just take you up on that -- next week."

The guy on the other end laughed. "Sure thing. Be about an hour, hour and a half to put together."

"Cool. Lookin' forward to the call."

Both of them hung up at pretty much the same time as he found the broken legs. Inspecting them, his shaft gave a pulse as a fresh wave of her scent hit him.

"Who was that?"

Turning, he looked at her, heart pounding harder, cock throbbing obscenely. This was why he never went war-form around her: he could smell her, smell everything about her, and everything about her made him want to either bundle her up and keep her safe (which she would hate, and would kill him for trying), or strip her naked and fuck a billion babies into her. Which it sounded like she might not hate, might be interested in trying. It didn't used to be like that; they'd always gone after different people.

Now, though -- well, now was different, apparently. And things were gonna change. He wasn't sure he liked that -- as a matter of personality, change wasn't something he really

liked

-- but he was willing to give this particular one a chance. "Guy I know. He and some helpers are gonna come over and save us that cleaning bill."

Her eyebrows went up as he started rearranging her living room -- or rather, started just moving everything but the now-on-the-floor couch into the 'dining' area. "You invited people over? To

my

apartment??"

"I -- yeah, I did, shit, sorry. Didn't think of it that way. Look, I've been on the setup team before. I get a phone call when they're outside, I go unlock the door, we'll be in the bedroom or the bathroom. They'll knock, announce themselves, set shit up, and be out of here in, like, five minutes. Never even see you, forget the address as soon as they leave."

"They're gonna know

where I live

."

"And I'll know by their voices exactly who to fucking torture and kill if you so much as get a strange guy who ain't a Mormon Elder knocking at your door."

She looked up at him, her heartbeat finally slowing down. "Dude.

Not

kosher."

"I'm sorry, truly. I didn't think."

"I think you were thinking with the

little

head. Though," she added, her eyes finally dropping, "that head ain't exactly

little

."

His ears flattened in embarrassment. "Sorry!! And, uh, thanks, I guess."

"What're they gonna do?"

"Bring a big-ass water-resistant canvas to drape over the room, and a bunch of gymnastics crash mats and shit for comfort."

Her eyebrows lifted. "That can't be cheap."

"It isn't organized, really. It gets passed along, stuff gets replaced when it's breaking down or getting uncleanable. Thirty bucks normally when the guy helps out, sixty since I plan on being occupied; the extra goes to the guys on the team."

"And the thirty?"

"Cleaning cost and replacement kitty."

She looked at her now-tightly-packed dining area, the Ikea bookshelves turned to present their backs to the rest. "How big is this canvas?"

"Like, thirty by forty?"

She whistled. "Pretty big. I guess the couch is there to -- hey, I didn't say you could wrap me upmmmphh!!" There was silence for a moment, then a low, shameless moan from where he held her face to the puddle on his chest. She pushed herself back, still held by his arm, and said, "Okay, that's a lot of cum, but we're definitely gonna need to renew it for a

really

good face-planting."

He laughed, ducking his head to nuzzle at the absurdly generous amount covering her face. "You wanna jack me off

again??

" He licked her, tasting his spunk and her scent blended; it made him want to pin her down. It made him want to ask her to take the fucking Lover-Six.

"Fuck yeah. I want -- god, all sorts of kinky cum stuff," she said as her hands curled around his member and began to stroke; her eyes didn't leave his dick as she spoke. "I want you to stroke and nut all over me, just splatter a massive fucking load all over my face and bod. I want to make you cum into a pitcher, again and again, then have you pour it over me so I can bathe in it."

"That's... actually, that's kinda hot."

"I know, right?" She smouldered up at him, pink under the cum smearing her face. "Right now, I kinda want to stroke you until you're about to cum, then just put my face, like, half a foot away and just get

blasted

."

"Those're totally doable. Almost as doable as you."

She bit her lip up at him, something that yeah, made him want to fuck her. Stupid war-form giving shit away. He'd been wanting to fuck her what seemed like most of his life. Other girls... well. The ones who went for quiet types like him weren't

jealous

of her, exactly, but the more perceptive ones recognized that there was a part of him they couldn't reach, a part of him that was hers. One of them even told him when they broke up that when the two of them finally hooked up, to call if he wanted to discuss it with someone else.

He might have to do that some time next week, because she'd obviously had thoughts, and he had

questions

.

"You think I'm doable?"

He gave her that looming werewolf war-form glower; she wasn't immune to its 'I'm about to fuck you up

bad

', and shrunk away for a moment before he scooped her up and lifted her so her face was at the height of his head. "Babe," he said seriously, "you takin' matters into your own hands might've been the best decision of my life. At the moment, though," and he lowered her so that his tip was rubbing meaningfully against her groin, "I got a

lot

of cock that wants a nice pussy wrapped around it, and earlier you suggested that as an option."

She spread her hands on his sweatshirt-wrapped chest; he suspected that rubbing her hands in the remnants of the cum-puddle was

not

accidental. "I am not adverse to this course of action."

"Bathroom clear?"

"What do you think took me so long?"

"I thought that was the Lupine Services server taking its time."

"Apparently we lingered enough after your revision for it to update; mine went right through. So I figured I'd move my combs and all."

"Sooo." He flexed his hips, rubbing his tip against her again. "You want me inside you, or you want me to spray you down?"

She flushed again, a little harder, and he couldn't keep himself from bending down and giving her another horridly-sloppy muzzle kiss before just as sloppily cleaning her face. He was going to

worship

her pussy after this; he was looking forward to it, and wondered if she knew what she was in for. Setting her onto her feet, he rumbled, "Go lean against your bathroom counter, fuckbitch."

She staggered a little, but turned and led the way, him on all fours; his nostrils flared, smelling the aromas of her arousal, of the remnants of his semen in her ass, watching the latter flex as she walked, wanting to use it again. Fuck, it was like puberty combined with your first sex partner, having the urge constantly and just wanting to

do it

. With

them. All the fucking time.

It felt like his cock would

never

go down.

Fortunately, she managed to reach her bathroom unmolested, and turned towards him as she leaned against the counter. "So," she said. "Want my top loose or lifted?"

His tongue cleaned both sides of his muzzle as he squatted, cock pointing at the object of his friendship, affection, and lust. And love?... he figured he'd have to get back to himself on that. "Can you tie it? Like --"

"Right between my boobs?" She grinned at him, lifting her hands and performing a thirty-second magic trick that practically turned her top into a tit-hugging bra.

"Fuck

me

," he growled, tongue lolling, and he reached down to start stroking while staring at her body. "Yeah, I think you're doable. Definitely. Like, a sixteen on a scale of ten."

She blushed, but curvetted and shifted her body, trying to pose for him.

"No," he growled at her. "Don't." For a moment she seemed nervous, and he had to remind himself that she wasn't used to him in war-form, didn't know his voice this way. "It's okay, it's still me, babe. Just, you don't have to try to pose to look sexy; you just leaning there is erotic. Look, I'm already dripping precum on your bathroom floor."

She looked down to see that yeah, he was, a smile growing slowly on her face as she just relaxed and let herself be an object of lustful admiration. "Really? Just -- me?"

"Oh my god,

yeah

."

Her blush returned, but her eyes

shone

, and her scent --

Oh, her scent was

heaven

. Delight, and pride, and arousal, a woman sure of her body and knowledgeable of its effect on her lover. It made him grunt; it made him

groan

, his arousal spiking hard. The way his nuts were tightening, well. "Fuck fuck fuck gonna cum soon, baby, gonna spray my nut all

over

your beautiful fuckable twenty-six charisma bod--"

She laughed at the geeky reference, but then the first, most copious of his jets splattered her pale blue crop top 'bra' nearly into transparency. Her squeal of delight was obviously real, which only encouraged him to stroke more. Hands still on the counter, eyes closed, her lips parted only to show her laughing smile, she took the blasts with amazing, erotic aplomb; his spurts produced, he was sure, more than the guesstimated cup. The visual of her leaning there, open and being splattered, was incredibly erotic, so much so that even as the last dribble splattered the tile floor between them, he continued to masturbate.

"You done cumming?"

"That time," he panted, then leaned forward to heat her ear and neck with his breath. "I want to do it again."

She lifted one hand to wipe the spunk preventing her from opening her eyes. "I want to help," she finally said when she could look up at him.

"Nnnnf. Stroke me and just take it to your face from half a foot away?"

"Uh-huh."

"Ffffuck. You better strip. And I'm gonna get this goddamn sweatshirt off -- nnngggrrr, but not yet, apparently."

Peeling off her yoga pants, she giggled at the sight of the cum-soaked sweatshirt bunched up above his pectorals; he'd left it there in frustration. "Can't shift?"

"No. Too fuckin' horny 'cause I got a totally amazing fuckbitch wanting me to cum hard right in her face."

She was red, oh, red to her eartips, it was creeping down her neck, but god damn if the nipples capping the tits she was pulling out from her shirt weren't all crinkled up and fuck-me hard. 'Puppy-feeders', his Dad used to call her sort of fat, firm nipple, which seemed appropriate, since

he

wanted to nurse on them.

"C'mon," he finally said, easing himself over to sit down crosswise in the bathtub, war-form knees over the rim. Thank god for college-town building codes; things like floors and tubs were

made

to handle the weight of a war-form. Spreading his legs, stroking his cock, he beckoned with the other hand for her to step in between his thighs.

She did, going to her knees -- well, shins -- against his thighs, almost at his groin. When he offered her control over his dick again, she moaned and took it, gazing rapturously at his pulsing cock, the ooze of the remnant of his last cum blending with the precursor to his next one.

Watching her, he could only growl and (dammit) whine in approval, lacing his fingers together across the top of his head, just in front of his ears, which flicked between facing-forward 'hey, I really like that' and laid-back 'oh my fucking

God

I really like that.' Every now and then she'd glance up at him, but for the most part she pumped his enormous member with the focus and intensity she'd brought to the starting block.

It left him finally able to view and appreciate her naked body, athletic but full-breasted, generously-hipped, and lightly padded from being three years out of training and competition. She maybe could have done volleyball, but she'd chosen running and swimming. He knew she went clubbing between boyfriends, and that leaving alone was always her choice; she'd told him about going home with guys and girls both, one or sometimes two, sometimes a couple wanting a third. She'd told him about managing to arrange to pull a train, the pleasure she'd taken in it, and he'd helped her cope with the days-long painful aftermath -- letting her stay in bed for the ache, bringing her tea and food and laying next to her (above the covers) while they watched stupid cat videos on their phones. The H-T asshole had been her first werewolf so far as they knew, but she had known for years, and made it clear (to him at least) by her choices, that she not only loved sex, she wasn't going to be shy about going after and enjoying it as much as possible.

He wondered how her body would develop if she had a pup, which immediately led him to wondering about birth control, which then transformed to wanting to put a pup

into

her, which led --

"Ohfuck ohfuck ohfuck!!"

"Holy shit!!"

The sudden eruption surprised them both, blasting into her face with both of them unprepared for it. His hands rose towards the ceiling, clutching at air as he strove to let his lover have her fun pumping his cum out of his dick. Eyelids half-closed, he watched as, moaning, she kept her face right in the path of the fierce spurts. "So muuuch," she groaned, closing her mouth around stray semen and swallowing before letting her lips part again.

It was, once more, one of the hardest he'd ever cum. Sex with her was just...

intense

. Not 'good', not 'great',

intense

. Maybe it

was

good, even great, but he didn't know about that yet: he only knew that it had been something like an hour, maybe more, since he first got hard, and he'd not only shifted three times, he'd cum

five fucking mindblowing times

and must have gooshed... fuck, more than usual, he knew it, he could

feel

it was more when he spurted. Half a gallon total, maybe? More than the cup or so his various girlfriends had measured.

And he was still hard,

raging

hard. He brought his hands down to cradle her, help her climb up and straddle his war-dick, support her as she carefully impaled herself; he wanted to pull her down onto himself, make her his cocksleeve,

breed

her. He felt like he could barely think like this, he wanted her so bad --

"Fuuck, fuck, you're taking it, I can't believe you're fuckin'

takin' it

--"

She looked up at him, his cum a mask, his cum a beautiful decoration that revealed who she really,

really

was -- to herself, to

him

. She was his, she had to be his, he knew deep in his bones that after this, there wasn't anyone else who would do. And the way the cum was just

running

down her neck, dripping off her chin, the way she was wearing it, so matter-of-fact, so

proud

... she really

did

love cum, just like she said.

And her cunt was so wet, so

tight

. A few girls managed to sleeve him (well, some of him), but his girth was past most of the usual dildos. And yet this beautiful slut, his best friend, his

fuckbitch

if he had anything to say about it, clutched at his arms and squatted on his phallus, rising and falling and rising again, fucking his war-cock. Her head was tilting back in the pleasure of it; he slid one big hand up her spine to cradle her neck and head, watching her mouth open, tongue licking at the cum dripping down her face as her hands held onto his biceps.

It was blatantly clear she would quim soon herself, and he panted, ducking his head towards her to rub her cheek with his muzzle, lick her lips, then give her another sloppy wolf-muzzle kiss. Holding her almost like a doll, he helped her impale herself completely on his cock, slide off, fuck back on, again and again. She started moaning and whining into his muzzle, and he growled and rubbed muzzle-to-cheek again.

"That's it, babe, cum on my fat dick, it's all yours, gonna make you cum so much, so hard, do that whole eye-roll-back ahegao shit. Fuck, you're so sexy when you cum, I, I, fuck I'm gonna cum too, fuck fuck fuck fuuuuhhhhhck --"

He held her as far down as she'd been able to go, doing his best to curl down and bury his muzzle against her. With a mind of its own, his tongue licked and lapped and made a drooling mess of her face while his cock throbbed and spurted inside her.

Feeling him pulse inside her perpetuated her orgasm; her face turned up to accept his lupine kisses while her sex squeezed his with a rhythm of its own. "Oh, good boy," she panted back at him, "that's a good boy, get all your cum out, give it to me, good boy, good booooyyy." She reached up to grip his shoulders which, even riding his cock, were two feet above hers, and pulled herself up his length, then let herself sink back down. "Oh,

fuck

me, do that again, you beautiful bastard."

He grinned down at her, watching her breasts sway as she fucked herself onto him; he stopped cradling her head, but not cupping her ass; once again his Dad's advice about keeping that middle finger's claw pared down in war-form came into good use as he first teased against her anus, then collected sufficient spunk excess from what was getting pushed out of her cunt to once more lubricate it. His middle finger curled into her, giving him a bit more leverage as, eyes widening at the extra sensation, she stared at his war-form face and moaned her pleasure to him.

With that hook in her, he helped her move, his broad hand providing an intimate, helping seat for her to ride. And the combination of her sex around his erection and her rear around his finger spurred his excitement, and soon he was less 'helping her' than using her as a sleeve for his phallus. His free hand roamed her body, palming head and heavy breast with equal facility and lust, rubbing her thigh, teasing her nipple or her clitoris as the placement of his hand determined one or the other might be available. He grinned as she wailed her way through one orgasm, groaned as he managed to keep her near that peak until she tumbled into another, then howled his own cum-pumping ecstasy when she came on his cock

again

.