Fascinated though I was by this bit of draconic biology, I forced myself to move further down her body to caress the she-dragon's well-toned abdomen, ultimately coming to the slightly raised mound of her pubis. She was completely hairless--which is what I expected from a reptilian species--and the armored scaling continued all the way to her outer labia. Again, I was pleased by the remarkable suppleness of the she-dragon's body as I gingerly stroked her womanhood. The resistance of the scaled vulva affirmed my suspicion that this young dragon was a virgin. A bit of nimble coercing persuaded them to part and I suddenly felt the moist flesh of her inner labia. The only way I could describe this feeling is by comparing it to poking a finger into a mango, but that couldn't do justice to the amazing tightness and warmth I found there. The short fur of my hand was becoming soaked with her juices and I savored the delightfully squishy sensation.
My ears pricked up, hearing a low moan from a point roughly three feet in front of me. I looked and saw the dragoness' V-shaped snout moving silently, occasionally punctuated with another throaty intonation. All at once, the perversity of my transgression came down on me like a boulder. This she-dragon had wounded herself greatly in the process of protecting me and here I was, taking advantage of her vulnerability for my own gratification. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have the backbone to ask such a magnificent creature the time of day. But given the opportunity, I didn't hesitate to subject her to my repressed depravity. Shame filled me and I felt more miserable and insignificant now than any of my overbearing siblings ever made me feel in my adolescence.
Even then, the nagging desire would not leave my wretched hands. I forbade myself to touch the dragoness again, but there was something else I could do to alleviate this contemptible passion.
Laying down a good distance from the object of my affection, so as not to tempt myself unduly, I reached down between my hind legs to the pouch of foreskin. I almost hoped my own sexual organ would be less cooperative than the she-dragon's, but with equal parts annoyance and relief, the long red shaft of my manhood eagerly slid out of its sheath. I touched myself reluctantly at first, having only done this once before and then feeling none of the guilt. As my eyes roamed over the she-dragon's sinuous form, my hand reflexively grasped the erect member. Her juices still coated my fur and I recalled the incredible feeling of her womanly folds, transferring that sensation to my hand. I stroked the stiff red shaft as quickly and tightly as I could, from its narrow tip to the round bulb, trying to hurry up and finish this embarrassing business. Mere feet from where I lay, the sleeping dragoness was blissfully ignorant of my fevered self-manipulation.
A dozen excuses and justifications flew through my mind. I had just been through a life-and-death ordeal. I was emotionally distressed. My body was tense and weary. I had to find a way to relax. It was better to act on my desires this way than do something even more drastic. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. It was all a farce, but that realization didn't stop me from yanking my erection like it was trying to get away.
A jolt of guilty pleasure surged through my loins as I reached my climax. Gulping in air, I watched as one, two, and then three arcs of creamy seed were purged from my manhood. They splattered on my stomach and hand, drawing a line of heat along my fur. With somewhat morbid curiosity, I poked a finger into a small pool of seed. It felt sticky and warm and disgraceful. Trying not to look at the evidence of my weakness and perversion, I tucked away my drained member and wiped my hands on the grass. Then I dug my hands into the ground and rubbed myself with dirt in an effort to mask the scent of my seed and work away the lingering sensations.
Next to me, the dragoness was sleeping soundly. Her reptilian face appeared strangely gentle and less like the grim features of a deadly predator. Reflecting the pale moonlight, her aqua-hued face seemed to glow with a serene beauty. Her heavy-lidded eyes were decorated with long black lashes that fluttered over her scaled cheeks while she slumbered. A brief twinkle of light caught my attention and I thought I saw a single tear well up in the corner of her eye, but it did not escape the confines of its follicle prison.
My heart skipped a beat. Was I...in love?
The question echoed in a mind that was otherwise empty. No single thought had ever fully occupied my attention like this before. Could it be true? After all this time alone, was I destined to fall for the first female that crossed my path? No, it couldn't be so. She was an entirely different species, one that normally wouldn't think twice about consuming my own. How was it possible for a lanky, awkward foxtaur to love a strong, ferocious dragon? The very notion was absurd. And yet, the more I wondered, the truer it felt.
I mentally berated myself for considering such a foolish notion, but each denial I made became weaker and weaker. I was. I was in love. I was in love with a dragon.
