The Naughty Moon Place

Once again I am in the Naughty Moon Place. Trying to be ladylike. Ignoring the signs. Feeling what I feel, wanting what I want, needing what I need. And surpressing it. My gut screaming and pleading inside my own head.

"Ask him! Tell him! Say it!"

My head whispering back, fighting for control of my body.

"Not yet...be still. Not yet."

Yet, the moon! It is OUT there. A New Moon, just risen, last night. Looming there, calling me. Taunting me. Averting my eyes, but seeing it behind my closed lids, regardless. I could carve it, flawlessly, into the night sky. I prance, in the glow. Just in case you may be looking.

Ahhh, but you feel the Moon, too. Trying your best to find other activities. Ignoring it. Like a Man. Or, trying to. Surrounding yourself with normalcy. But, snarling, under your breath, despite your best efforts. Eyes like steel slits. Nostrils flaring, involuntarily tracking what may be out there. What awaits The Werewolf? Bare your teeth, Werewolf. They do not frighten me. The sharper, the better. Time to stalk the Naughty Moon. Come out, come out, wherever you are! Step into the dark with me, Werewolf.

Feel it? Feel the chill air? Feel it lifting the hairs on the back of your neck? What awaits you? What calls you? What makes your blood run hot, yet cold, at the same time? What is out there? Come. Come and see! The Naughty Moon calls.

What causes me to tempt my own fate? What strengthens me? What dares me to toy with certain disaster? The same dark things that allow you to seize and own the night. Oh, indeed. Here I am! Though you have long owned me as you chose, in most every realm and have trained me in most every regard, you cannot stop the pulse of the one thing that causes you to return. You return against your own best, human judgment. And, I am there, against my own.

I am the SheWolf on the ridge. Every, single time. My silhouette taunts your dreams when you wish for human things. In that way, you rear to your own calling. You submit to your own uncontrollable rages. There are no Silver Bullets for you. Half man, half Werewolf. And, you know I do not evaluate or hold expectation in the things you might have been. I accept the things that you are. It is your existence that I challenge. My howling desires find and eventually pierce your eardrums. We ravish. We heal. We rise. We return. We dare to meet under the Naughty Moon, again and again.

You can see into the hilltops of my mind. Me ascending the craggy cliffs. Blonde hair, cascading down my naked backside. Flowing, lifting wildly, in the night breeze. Silhouetting my slight frame. My stature, offering the perfect fit. Glistening, in the dark. Transforming from woman, into beast. Poised and ready; my back arched. Unafraid. Plump, round haunches...waiting. Enjoying the Naughty Moon. Feeling the velvet folds of my privates pulse. Panting, as the wetness builds, there. Needing...My Werewolf. Whisper-Woofing. Ever so softly. Sniffing the air. Hoping you will hear. Hoping you will come and silence me.

A shadow. A rustle in the distance. Is that you? Whiff, whiff. Yessss. I smell you. I sense you are near and are contemplating what must be done. Come forth! Oh, please come forth! My neck arches. I look up and thank the Naughty Moon. My Werewolf is here. I can feel you! I am, again, weakened, even by your hidden presence.

A voice in my head reminds me, "Even when I am not with you..."

Feeling your nearness. Owning the space around me. I do not flinch. You are here. A handful of my hair, grasped just tightly enough at the scruff of my neck sets the Naughty Moon stage. Your human touch becomes carnal. I hear the sounds rising in your throat. A low growl. Familiar and admonishing. Animal Instinct unfolds. I stiffen, slightly. Not wanting to relent. Wishing I were not so weak to the moon, or to you. My spine-arch betrays me. I lift to you, involuntarily. Needing you, so. Wishing I could...repel you. Defeat you. Stop you, somehow. But, craving your expected reprimand for my slight delay in response. "Drop to position. Feed!" Your words become gutteral commands. Then, silent commands when words are no longer needed to communicate expectations. I am transformed, into the weaker animal. The SheWolf. Your prey.

I drop to all fours. Like a hungry wolf-pup, nuzzling into your warm hardness. Lapping and licking. Suckling deeply. My nails digging slightly into your thighs and hips. My own nostrils flaring, inhaling your scent. Pressing you closer and closer in hopes that I may nearly choke on the necessity that is you. Spittle, stringing from my lips. Animal sounds escaping me that I cannot humanize. Gasping and milking you. You pounding your Wolf Hard into my throat, again and again. Moon, overhead, mocking me for the things I thought I could control. I feast on you, and delight in the way that you can command even my breath.

Night, all about us. No one can see. Do it. Just do it. Take it. Mark it. Own it. Your hard, black heart makes the rules. So perfectly deserving, in every way. There is but ONE Werewolf in this lifetime.

I am thrust forward, onto the ground, face down. I lick the dirt. And love it. I surrender my hips to your control as I feel my haunches positioned. Yelping my devotion. Not caring how defenseIess I may sound. Looking upward at you, peering over my shoulder. Afraid to look. But having to, for my own sanity. I need to see The Taking. The Ownership. My cheek to the ground, blinking my blue eyes into your steadfast, wolf eyes and understanding, once again, there is no escape.

Screaming. "I am yours! I am yours!"

I shout into the night, with what is left of my human voice as your drive you hard, black dick deep into my moist and quivering holes. Pleading for more and more of your flesh inside me. Accepting all that you will give me. Building to animalistic crescendo. Feeling your grip on hip and shoulder, driving deeper and deeper as you near your peak. The dirt...the night... the raw...none of it too much for me.

I feel you swelling, inside me. The Wolf Sound, building in your throat. I dare not move. I dare not speak. Glancing back, over my naked shoulder, I smile and slently nod, thank you, as you spill yourself inside my most private crevice. Hearing you snarl, making it all clear. You pulling out, only enough to let me taste you, I swallow the remains of your spend that is not already deep in my gut. Sucking the last drop from you. All of me, basking and delighting in the sated glow of you. Me, massaging your sweat and cum into my skin as I slowly become a human, woman form, once again. You cradling me, but for an instant, as we each become people, again. You, rising, becoming Man of man. Your hand, caresses my face but once, and tilts my chin upward. You void your deepest gift and mark with certainty the things already known and sealed. Your copious, golden reward spills into my upturned mouth. I swallow, greedily.

I whisper, "thank you."

You lift your head to the Naughty Moon, and snort, one final time, as if to say, "I told you so!"

My Werewolf owns the night!