Needs of a Cougar

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

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Needs of a Cougar

Ropes stumbled down the country lane, hind paws disobeying direction. A half moon hung in the sky, stars crisp in winter's claw. The cougar's eyes were the colour of the moon and four green tendrils waved gently, sprouting from his back. He did not feel the cold as much as most, though the nip to his bare foot-paws quickened his step: home was near, not much further. The little rural house with barn and land attached proved a sanctuary from city life and bustle, living there with his partner, Fyrdgon and their two adult cubs, Helena and Hiss.

Over the weekend, he had completed a deal of work around the property - with particular attention on the fences, which were in serious need of TLC - and had taken the liberty of an evening's drinking at the village pub to soothe his aches and strains. It was the typical male fashion. Grinning foolishly, the cougar stumbled over a rock that may or may not have been there and laughed aloud, voice echoing in the emptiness. Fields rolled forth from both sides of the road, properties spaced out and expansive where they appeared. He was lucky to live somewhere so isolated. The pub could be closer, however, if he had one complaint; it was better than drinking at home, far more sociable. There was no harm in a drink or two or three or four every once in a while. Demons held their liquor better than any native fur.

Ropes smirked, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth, stalking imaginary prey as his home with the white fence loomed in the darkness. He anticipated sinking into the thick mattress beside his wife, not disturbing her from slumber as he fell into his own. Tugging at his black jacket, the cougar looked towards home, away and then back again, startled for a rare moment by what, or more accurately who, he saw.

His daughter, a red dragoness with a yellow underbelly leaned upon the fence, bent almost double with her tail swinging like a lazy pendulum. Bar her mother's stripes, Helena could have been the spitting image of the older dragoness, not solely from publicly acceptable appearance. Ropes had seen his daughter with little to no attire, many a time, often when she was moaning his name.

A cocky smile perked the cougar's lips and he sauntered up to the fence, tendrils curling and uncurling as if to seduce Helena with their sinuous curves. She looked up coyly, blonde fringe falling into her eyes. She wore her loose night shirt, the outlines of four breasts visible through the fabric, with strips cut out of the back for her yellow-membrane wings.

"What brings you out now?" Ropes asked, teeth bared in a feral snarl; the question was superfluous.

A lesser being would have backed away, but not Helena. The dragoness blinked coolly, resting one forearm on a horizontal slat of the fence: the paint was peeling again.

"Checking the horses," the dragoness replied, tail twitching against her legs. "Sherry was a bit fidgety. She'll drop soon."

"Good, she's taken long enough about it," Ropes barked a laugh, the sound reverberating. "Almost like the daft mare doesn't want another foal." He paused. "That is not why you are here though, is it, my dear?"

"Isn't it?" Helena grinned, displaying a flash of sharp teeth. "Why don't you show me then why I'm really out here? I'd love to know. Why is it?"

"For this."

In a seemingly impossible feat of speed, the demon cougar vaulted the fence and pressed his chest to his daughter's back, grinding the increasingly insistent bulge in his smart jeans to her rump. Helena jerked, eyes going wide, and made as if to dart away, but was held fast by a steely paw around her forearm. Ropes' eyes glittered in the moonlight.

"Dad!" She hissed, glancing back at the house. "Mother will hear us!"

"I don't care."

Helena gulped.

"What about Hiss?"

"I don't care. This is why you are out here." He licked her ear. "To fuck."

"To go inside!" The dragoness squirmed. "We can't do it here - come on, it'll be warmer in the house and we can go to the laundry room, they'll never hear us - hey!"

Ignoring the dragoness, Ropes tugged down her yoga pants and underwear, uncaring of what lingerie she had decided upon that evening. He had more urgent needs to consider. Beneath his paws, the dragoness shuddered, moaning and arching her back as he nudged his fingers into her dripping pussy - no time for foreplay. The needy dragoness must have been fingering herself for hours in the barn. Ropes traced his lips with the tip of his tongue at the thought, cock straining within his too confining clothing: soon. A heavy paw placed between Helena's shoulder blades ensured she could not rise, kept bent over with her rump raised deliciously high, like an offering. Still, she protested.

"They'll hear us!" She gasped, hips betraying her words with their movement, rocking back to the cougar's insistent paw. "Dad, this is fucking crazy. We have to go inside."

Ropes unzipped his jeans, the only noise in the quiet besides their hot, panting breath, heartbeats racing, blood pounding in their ears.

"No," he said. "You'll have to be quiet. Do you think you can do that now, daughter?"

Chest heaving, Helena nodded - there was no choice in the matter. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. The cougar yanked down his jeans, forgoing the use of underwear that day - it never failed to earn him a wink from the bartender, she had a sixth sense about her - cock swelling in the cold air. Grinding the head through the soaked mess drooling from the dragoness' cunt, the cougar growled, the sound low enough to be passed off as a nearby vehicle purring through the night. He pushed forward, curling all four tendrils around Helena as he thrust into her warm, tight passage, eyes half-closed in restrained pleasure.

"Oh..." Helena groaned, claws digging into the fence posts. "Fuck... Harder!"

"Quiet."

The dragoness' head whipped around, hair falling messily about her muzzle and eyes narrowed.

"Maybe I don't want to be quiet," Helena glowered. "Maybe I'll - mmmph!"

Ropes' paw snapped around her muzzle, wrapped around to hold her jaws shut. Indignant, Helena twisted like a snake, eyes wild. The cougar dragged her muzzle to his, hips flush to her arse as he stared her down, gaze intense in the pure white.

"Then I'll make you be quiet," he snarled, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll have you writhing on my cock, in my tendrils, soon enough, never fear, my needy, little dragoness."

Helena shivered, goose bumps rising on the skin beneath her scales as a wicked thrill shocked her loins. She could struggle free if she put all her effort into it but he felt too good inside her, thrusting with raw, feral passion. Ropes pushed too close to her back for her to spread her wings, so she could only thrash and growl indignantly through his paw without cutting their liaison short, inhaling the scent of his fur conditioner with every harsh breath. The cougar thrust brutally, two tentacles twining around the dragoness' hips and abdomen to hold her in place while the other two held her paws to the fence. Thus trapped, the dragoness submitted, arching back as much as possible in her position, eyes closed and muffled moans escaping the paw around her snout.

It was difficult for the cougar to remain quiet, even more so than for the dragoness, as young as she was. He pounded into her cunt as she thrust her rump up, pushing her tail out of the way so that he could lean over her body, putting his full weight and force into fucking her. God, it had been too long, far too long. Ropes panted, each rasping breath louder than the last. Someone would hear, yet did he care? The demon could not find the will to. Everyone slumbered, he was confident of it. Nipping the scales on the back of Helena's neck, the cougar growled into her ear, hips slapping her arse in fervent lust. The dragoness was not to be forgotten, however: he could make her squirm even if moans were out of the question, for the sake of not trying to be caught at least. One tendril crept from the dragoness' abdomen to tease her clit, the cougar flushing with heated delight as she bucked in response, body submitting to pleasurable assault.

They appeared to be the only two beings in the world, enthralled in lustful ecstasy, flames licking at fur and scales. Ropes' tentacles roamed without releasing Helena's paws, though he no longer needed to pull her hips into place; the dragoness thrust back wantonly into his ministrations. Rubbing the dragoness' clit with the tentacle, Ropes knew exactly how to drive Helena to orgasm, balancing her on the delicious edge for minutes as she trembled on the very cusp, desperate to tumble over, freefalling. He would not tip her over until he had his fill, the self-serving demon that he was. Tail thrashing, the cougar hammered into Helena, giving no thought for her comfort as he slammed as deep as was possible, foreskin slipping back every time he thrust in and teasing a breath, half-moan from his lips. Quiet, quiet.

Alas, the threat of exposure shortened their frenzied, hasty coupling.

Drawing closer to climax with every thrust, Ropes clawed at Helena's hair, yanking her head back at a vicious angle. The dragoness trembled and writhed within his tentacles. Grinding against the one that circled her clit, she begged with hardly heard whines for her release, dependent on Ropes' whim. He would toy with her for longer, but his own orgasm rushed upon him with the force and inevitability of an earthquake, unstoppable for even the strongest fur. The cougar's ears slanted back and he gritted his teeth together hard enough to send an ache through his jaw, every thrust into his daughter coming with the sloppy sound of Helena's juices being forced out around his thick length, the scent of sex a wicked undertone to the sharp cold.

He would tease no longer. Tentacle pressing hard against her clit, Ropes held tightly to her as the dragoness suddenly convulsed, eyes scrunching up as if she could not bear to see when sensation swallowed her. She howled into his paw in orgasm, whole body shuddering and jerking with loss of control. If not for his tentacles, she would have collapsed on to the frosting grass. Fingers twined into her blonde hair, Ropes ducked his head, striving to fight off the inevitable, driving in hard with a series of short, sharp thrusts and sending hot spurts of cum into her passage with a heated, controlled groan deep in his throat. Ecstasy raced through every vein in his body like wildfire and the cougar's tentacles tightened around his daughter, squeezing her shapely body as she rode out her climax. Through it all, his cock pulsed, delivering her every last drop it had to offer.

Forgetting the need for secrecy and why they were outside in the garden, fucking, in the first place, the two nuzzled close to one another, sharing warmth in the sudden cool nipping at their bare lower halves. Helena's shirt was dark with sweat between her wings and Ropes released her muzzle carefully, nosing the back of her neck in a tender kiss. Leaning upon his daughter's back for support, the cougar nibbled her ear, flicking his tongue into the soft interior as she whimpered, nuzzling into his paw. He had to hold her up - the dragoness' legs were insufficient in her state. Ropes smirked: oh yes, he was good.

In the house, a light flicked on and a brown, feline muzzle appeared on the other side of an upper floor window. Cupping a paw to the cold glass, he leaned in close and recoiled at what he saw. Helena and Ropes were none the wiser, bodies grinding against one another in their shared warmth, lust fuelling the fire of action. Just one more, one more time would not hurt. Only after his shock depleted was the young cougar brave enough to return to the window, light off, as Ropes penetrated Helena for a second time, thrusting deep into the young dragoness' folder. So hidden in the darkness, the voyeur wrapped one tentacle around his member and stroked, holding back his moans for fear his mother would hear.

It was going be a long night.