Page 2 of Bred By the Wolfman

“Your first time taking wolfman dick, or just in general?” he asks.

I crack a smile. So he’s a wolfman, and a dirty talker. I can do that.

“In general,” I say. “You’re my first client.”

My visitor snorts. “Client,” he says with derision. “Is that what I am? Just another client?”

I furrow my brow. How am I supposed to answer that? Of course he is. That’s the whole setup here. I’m the provider, he’s the client. He’s paying me for my services.

“Yes?” I answer tentatively. “I mean, I can’t even see your face. This is a transaction, isn’t it? You pay. I carry your baby.”

“Cub,” the apparent wolfman corrects me.

I nod. “Of course. That.”

For a moment there’s silence, and I wonder if I’ve fucked something up. But I’m not sure what else he wants from me. His hands haven’t moved, though, and wow, they’re huge. I wonder what he looks like. Then, as if cued by my imagination, he draws his fingers down toward the swell of my ass.

“Hmm.” Claws gently prod my flesh, squeezing me. I wonder if this is part of the process or not. I thought it would be a little more get-in-and-get-out, like a pee test. Instead, my client is testing me out, massaging my butt in a way that is, frankly, pretty erotic.

I hear the wolfman sniff again. “Ah,” he hums. “Much better.” He pulls the cheeks of my ass apart, exposing me to the air even further. Instead of earlier, though, when no one was here, now I know he’s watching, and a shiver runs down from my throat to my groin. I feel myself clench inside as his clawed finger reaches deeper in, spreading me apart, drawing my labia away from my opening. I feel the air conditioner again, even more acutely—and then, hot breath.

“Such a beautiful, hairy pussy,” the wolfman says, growling low in his throat.

What? Nobody’s ever said anything like that to me. I didn’t bother trimming, because I’m not here for the sex. I do have some thick, dark hair that I’ve always been self-conscious about, but instead I feel a tiny dribble of wet drool land on my leg in the stirrup.

He really likes it that much?

The wolfman keeps me spread with one hand, then trails the other down the inside of my thigh, toward that place where I’m tingling. His claw gently traces my skin, stopping just short of my clit. I thought he’d simply smear himself with lube and get on with it, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Not that I mind. Though this teasing... it’s turning me on a lot more than it should. This is supposed to be business, nothing more.

But it clearly means more to my client. I guess I should go along with it, if that’s what he wants.

“You’re wet,” the wolfman remarks, curling his finger so now his knuckle is stroking my labia. He swoops it down, brushing over the tip of my clit, and I can’t help the little gasp that escapes me. I’m rewarded with a chuckle. “Do you like that, little human?”

“Sure,” I say. “You found the clitoris. Congratulations.”

A guffaw of a laugh fills the room. That knuckle rubs across my clit again, more roughly this time, and I moan. I can’t deny it feels good, but I don’t like all this teasing.

“You’re funny,” he says, looping his knuckle around to repeat the motion. “That will be a good trait for my cub to have.”

That is why he’s here, after all. He wants a child of his own. I wonder if he has a wife or a mate, and they’ve been struggling to have a “cub.” Or maybe he’s single and hasn’t been able to start a family, but wants one.

I’m already starting to hope he’s the latter kind. I don’t want to think about some other wolf-lady he’s been fingering this way. I hope he’s rich and single, maybe some kind of CEO, and can give our kid a good life.

I can’t believe I’m thinking like that already. We don’t even know if his sperm will take. It might require quite a few visits, they warned me. They’ll schedule one a month, right before ovulation, until I’m pregnant.

And it’s not like I know him at all. That’s the point—that we don’t know each other and have no attachments. But that’s hard to keep at the top of my brain when he’s gliding back and forth over my clit, making me wetter and wetter with each pass. My pussy flutters, and I hear that deep inhale again behind me.

“There we go,” he says. That’s all this is. He’s just trying to get me ready for him. It isn’t a personal thing, meant for my pleasure.

That’s when I feel something wet brush over my pussy.

I buck against the bench, overwhelmed instantly by the sensation of it. Is he really going down on me? I hear a muffled chuckle.

“Damn,” he says, and there comes a slurping noise like he’s licking his chops. “That’s good. I knew I picked right.”

I’m poised to say something about propriety and professionalism when that huge tongue laves over me again, this time down and over my clit. I moan as it circles there, flicking across it with abandon, then travels back to my slit again. My hips respond instinctually as the wolfman presses his tongue inside me, and I’m shocked by the size of it.

---