Intober 2020 - Day 11

{Somnophilia is one of my favorite kinks! I haven't had a chance to indulge it recently, so this was a bit of torture to write (of both the good and bad sort). This one is also sort of a two-fer. I hope you enjoy it!}

Winters in the wood were the worst. The cold seemed to seep into every little crack and chink, and while the loft was the warmest place in the cabin, I often found the sheets too cold to settle down in properly. I'd extended a standing invitation to the local werewolf to spend the season with me, not really expecting him to accept. I was delightfully surprised the year he finally did.

He arrived in his human form-which he kept for the duration of his stay, full moons aside-with nothing but the ragged tatters he usually tromped about in. I was elated to have company, even if he wasn't much of a conversationalist.

I welcomed him with a bowl of stew, which he quickly consumed seated on a low stool by the hearth. When he'd finished he grabbed me by the hips until I toppled backwards into his lap. Before I could even regain the breath that had rushed out of me, his fingers were untying the neck of my chemise to lay bare my shoulder to his teeth. The sharp pain made me cry out, hands flying out to find purchase in the flesh of the forearms he'd wrapped around me.

One hand was pushing my chemise and apron down to tweak and twist my nipples, the other grabbing great handfuls of my skirts and hiking them up around my hips. His knees slipped between my own, spreading to draw my thighs apart and expose the increasingly damp folds of my pussy to the chill air. I shivered despite how hot I felt with his fingers sliding down into me.

I couldn't catch my breath as he worked my clit between two fingers, rubbing my wetness across my vulva before dipping back in and pressing against my walls. I could feel his cock lengthening against my lower back, a sensation that I always reveled in. I canted my hips back to rub against him. He growled against my skin, teeth still hooked into my flesh, saliva-and probably blood-trailing a ticklish path down my back and over the swell of my breast.

I rocked a few times, pressing myself forward onto his fingers, and back against his erection. His grip on me growing tighter until his hands left their tasks to shift and arrange me until my knees were cradled in one hand, the other working beneath me at the ties of his breeches. His teeth finally released their hold and he transferred my legs so that each thigh was in a firm grip.

I was unable to release the anchors my hands had become on the corded muscle of his forearms, the dark hair contrasting with my pale skin, and so we both had a clear view down the front of my body as his massive cock slid against the firelit shine of my cunt. He rutted a few times before tilting me and pressing his length into me.

My body arched almost painfully and my nails bit deeper into his flesh. For several minutes my world became heat; that of the fire before me, the body behind me, and the meat mercilessly building friction inside me. My head dropped back onto his shoulder, eyes shut to avoid seeing the burning blue of his gaze. His pace was relentless and my orgasm was quick in coming; it had been quite some time since I'd had the pleasure of something other than polished wood or stone inside me. My thighs shook in his hold, though the stability of his arms kept me in place through the intense rush, leaving me a boneless heap moved only by the motion of his hips below mine.

The soft growling sounds in his chest began to grow louder, vibrating through me and extending the aftershocks of my orgasm into the build of another. I cracked an eye open and rolled my head on his shoulder until I could see his face. His lips were pulled back in a snarl, teeth long and sharp and wet in the flickering light of the fire. The sound in his chest was crawling up into his throat.

Despite the weakness I felt in my limbs, I retracted my claws from him and looped my arms up and behind me to wrap around his neck at the same time as I rolled my hips back into his thrust. His jaws snapped at the air, the rumble becoming a full growl as he pushed himself into me as deeply as he could and filled me with his cum.

I'd stayed quiet for the most part, aside from breathy moans and gasps that I couldn't quite keep to myself. I'd read that a werewolf's predator nature could be triggered by the sounds of injured prey, and besides my desire to hear him, I also couldn't be sure that my sounds of pleasure wouldn't sound pained to him in these intimate moments.

Now that we were both sated, however, I let out a long mewling groan as he softened and I could feel the rush of wetness spilling out of me. He lapped gently at the wounds on my neck and shifted his hold on me so I was cradled against his chest. I felt so exhausted, and so relaxed, that I don't remember being carried to bed, I only remember jolting awake as a thick textured tongue licked over my sensitive clit. I let out a-frankly-pathetic whine that was met with a huff of hot air across my wet flesh before his warmth was pulling away. A blanket settled around my nakedness, the sound of the back door opening and closing hardly penetrated my mind as I fell into a deliciously sated slumber.

~

When I was first banished to the Wood, I would dream about being back in the castle. I would have memory dreams, where many of my experiences from the past would blend together into extravagant orgies in which I was several of the participants and I recognized every face in the room. These I would wake from feeling sweaty and damp everywhere. I would also have dreams of returning to my former liege and enacting the price of my wrath. I often woke from those in a cold sweat.

Now my dreams were always set in the Wood. Sometimes I would see people from my past. Often I would be alone. I never thought I'd miss having revenge dreams. This dream, however, was new.

I was cushioned on my belly in the lush grass, warm sunlight keeping me warm despite the cool breeze over my naked skin. There was the broad brush of warm hands across my back, down over the swell of my ass, pressing down as they caressed my thighs. Then they swept back up and in, spreading my cheeks and prying open my pussy, still wet from earlier in the night.

I arched my back to better present myself to my lover; and in dream logic I knew who it was, though if you asked me to name him or describe him I could not. There was a wet muscle pressing against me, squirming into my sopping folds, teasing with the point at my opening.

A little huff of air escaped me, fistfuls of grass helping to ground me as the weight shifted behind me. My hips were pinned now, pressed firmly down by my lover's, his cock slotted between my thighs, the length pressed against me. I squirmed slightly, but found him to be massive, and the most I could do was tilt my hips up towards him.

He frotted there for a few thrust before pulling his hips back. I felt the spongy tip smoothly parting my lips, my pussy spasmed erratically and grew wetter as his length filled me. The sensation was so overwhelmingly good, I threw my head back and gasped sharply, and was abruptly aware that there was no grass between my fingers. Instead I clutched at sheets and pillows. There was no sun or trees, only the frigid darkness of the winter in my cabin.

The cock in my pussy was still there, though, and the hands gripping handfuls of my ass were real, and the moan that dragged out of me along with that cock was very loud in the silence of the night. My pussy was still clutching irregularly at the muscle as it worked in and out of me. I had gone from deep slumber, to wet dream, to fully awake and being pulled onto what was definitely a partially shifted werewolf dick in a matter of minutes. It was wholly overwhelming, and one of the most erotic moments of my life.

I whimpered and squirmed, rocked and moaned as my winter companion worked over me, his breath stirring the hair at the back of my neck when I bared it to him. His teeth gently nipped at me, a stark contrast to our rough coupling earlier, and the brutal slapping sound of his hips against my ass now. He licked over my shoulder and trailed his lips over what he could reach of my back before rearing up, spreading his knees, and taking a cheek in each hand.

My muscles had continued to pulse and throb around him, but now my legs locked and I couldn't draw breath as my cunt clutched at him in some primal attempt to milk him. Then I went slack, melting down into the mattress. After that I found it hard to make any sounds at all, every breath was punched out of me as he drove his thick meat relentlessly into my soft open pussy.

There was no growling from him this time, only soft huffed out grunts as he worked himself towards completion. I had found a mewling moan welling up into my throat, and I let it out as his pace increased, pushing me past oversensitivity and into somewhere I'd never been before. I felt like a pitcher, full to the brim, and yet still being filled more, unable to contain it all. The squelching sound of it was obscene. Suddenly I was empty, the thick dick that had carved a place inside me left, but before I could voice my dissatisfaction I felt hot thick liquid splashing up my back and across my cheeks. This transformed the dissatisfaction into a moment of pride and contentment.

I fought not to fall asleep right away, curious about what would happen next. I wasn't disappointed. After several moments of panting breaths in which I could nearly feel the heat of bright blue eyes on me, he leaned down and began to lick up the mess from my skin. When he'd finished that, he moved between my legs and I drew in a slow deep breath as his tongue delved into me, lapping my juices from the source.

He kept it up until I sobbed a plea for him to stop, at which point he lay down beside me, drew me close against his side, and pulled the blankets up over us. I was clammy under the sheets, and tacky where our skin met, but I found it comfortable after such intense exercise, and had no problem in drifting back to sleep. The cold was never a problem that winter.