Playing Favorites – Chapter 16


“Come on, Manny, come on,” I grumble.

Around me, the rest of the public seated on the bleachers is holding its breath. The guy to my left has even stopped chewing on his hot dog. Up here and down below on the green diamond, everyone’s attention is entirely focused on Manny, and on the batter of the opposite team -I forgot which college they’re from. Said batter, a male Elf with dark dreadlocks and red highlights, seems a teeny tiny bit tense after his first strike.

Manny guns the ball, one of his knees rising above the belt, and time slows down… 

“Strike two!”

… And then accelerates again. Wait, what? Did I blink? I swear, one second Manny’s about to pitch, and the very next second the ball is safely in the catcher’s glove. Through his mask, I see the catcher wince from that cannonball. But seriously, did that ball teleport?

Whatever. Okay, Manny, time to bring it home. One more, just one more, and you out that moderately good-looking batter -nothing against him, he’s just no Christopher. Oh, yeah, here it comes. Wait, I should film it this time. That way I-

“Strike three!”

Oh come the fuck on! Of course while I was setting up my phone, Manny made his pitch. Batter is out, the crowd goes wild, and I fucking missed both cannonballs!  As I gnaw on my bottom lip, my phone receives a message. It’s sent by Nova… who’s sitting to my right. 

“Really, Nova? I get that it’s noisy here but you could just talk-”

“Open it.”

Mkay. It’s… a video. Oh, Nova…

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

Manny waves at her sister Viv, sitting on the other side of Nova. She waves back, accidentally dropping some of her fries as she does. I can’t help but notices how she’s leaning away from my twin sister. That’s… weird. They’re not holding hands, either, although that could just be her habitual shyness combined with the fact that they’re in public.

And we’re now in the second frame of the ninth inning. I’d say there’s electricity in the air, and that the tension is thick enough to choke you, but, really, the game has been rather one-sided. Go Golden Bears indeed! Those Matadors might as well pack it up right now, it’s a long way back to Cal State Northridge. Yeah, that’s right, I just remembered their name and where they’re from, all on my own, without looking it up on my phone.

The teams exchange their positions, several players trade their places on the bench. On the bleachers, quite a few lunatic fangirls start jumping on their seats, screaming their favorite players’ names. Pshh. Bet after the game is over, they’ll be assaulting the boys to get autographs on various parts of their bodies. This is coming from a big sports fan, but what is it about the games that makes people lose their freaking minds? Can’t sports and athletes be admired with some dignity and restraint? Especially baseball, I mean… I like it just fine, but it’s really not my favorite.

“There he is,” Nova says.

Christopher appears on the field, his metal bat over the shoulder, looking damn fine despite his objectively ridiculous uniform. I’m sorry, but let’s call it what it is: in addition to the fact that dark blue and gold really don’t belong together, that helmet is just silly. I try to catch his eye, which isn’t particularly difficult. Two Hellhounds are hard to miss even amidst a crowd, especially when one dresses like she’s starring in a Tim Burton movie and the other is wearing her boyfriend’s jersey -it’s a bit tight on the shoulders. Our gazes cross as he takes his position. I blow him a kiss, he winks at me. Corny as fuck, but we make it look cool.

He and the Matador pitcher exchange looks, trying to stare each other down. The pitcher is the first to look away. Yeah, that’s right, bitch. My boyfriend’s gonna crush you. He is. He totally is. I’m one hundred percent confident that he is. Plus, it doesn’t matter anyway. Even if he strikes out, the game is already won. But he’s gonna crush it. He is.

“Come on, you’ve got this,” I mutter, my knee bumping anxiously, holding my phone so tight I might crack the cover. “Come on, come on, come on…”

The pitcher throws. Time slows again.

Chris’ bat swings in the air, catching the sunlight as it moves.

The ball barrels towards him.

It connects! I mean, of course it does.

The ball is sent flying back even faster, going higher and higher, until…

Fuck yeah! It just flew out of the fucking stadium!

“YEAAAAAH!” I scream, jumping on my seat. “GO CHRIS, GO!”

Wow, apparently, I can scream loud enough to be heard over a cheering crowd. Who knew? I sit back down, ignoring my sister’s hilarity and Viv’s shock.

“Your boy just scored his third home run of the game,” Nova says after she’s done laughing. “Guess he’s inspired.”

I cough. That’s a definite possibility. It’s definitely possible that he’s got something to look forward to after the game. Or maybe someone, who knows?

Things have been going great for him, lately. It’s now been over two weeks since Jeremy “Rectal Tumor” Baldini has turned himself over to the FBI. Uncle Gordie was right in his prediction -okay: he was right about everything– : the man may be a massive prick, but he still has survival instincts. After the feds secured his confession and put him away for his own safety, things moved very quickly. 

First, there was the indictment of Colin Merrick for first degree murder, conspiracy to commit murder, obstruction of justice, and a slew of other charges. It dominated the news for a few days, especially when rumors started circulating, implicating several officers of the LAPD; rumors soon confirmed by the state attorney general. They say the trials are going to last a few years. They’re talking big changes in the law enforcement apparatus, too, although I admit I’ll believe it when I’ll see it.

Second, there was a police raid on the Baldini family’s former household. It would soon appear that Jeremy was stupid enough to keep some evidence of his wrongdoings in his own home. He apparently assumed that a cop would never himself be the object of an investigation, let alone a search warrant. And, in his defense, under normal circumstances he might have been correct. Maria was temporarily considered a person of interest in the case, especially given that she seemed to have disappeared hours before her husband turned himself in. However, after she went to the police station accompanied by my mom’s lawyer friend and she made a deposition, she was soon cleared out.

Chris tells me she’s been offered the option to sue her soon-to-be-ex husband in civil court, but she’s probably not going to take it; now that she’s safe, she just wants to put all this mess behind her. Guess I don’t blame her. She has filed for divorce, though; Mom says that, given the circumstances, there’s a provision in the law that can grant it to her quickly, even if the husband refuses to consent.

Since we’re on the subject of Maria, she’s doing great. She’s been living in our guestroom until she can find a place of her own. Given that it’s the Bay Area, that might take some time, but both my parents and Chris are helping her. She’s already found a job as a waitress at a restaurant a couple of bus stops away from our home.

It breaks my heart when I talk to her, sometimes. She really did not have an easy life; you can tell from how she talks, how she moves around the house, and from her mannerisms. The way she thanks us for every meal, for instance, even though we keep reminding her that she’s a guest, and it’s kinda expected that you don’t let your guests starve. The way she always cleans up after not just herself but everyone else, even though we insist she doesn’t have to. And there’s the way she reacted when she broke a glass the other day. It’s obvious she thought we were going to scream at her, or worse. Like we even give a shit about glasses! We must break, like, half a dozen of those a week. Seriously, the only reason we haven’t transitioned to plastic is that we don’t want to contribute to the oceans’ pollution.

Chris is doing great, too. With his father out of the picture for at least the foreseeable future, he’s been smiling almost non-stop; and I can only take credit for about 70% of that. The fact that his mom is back in the picture is also an important factor. Chris is in regular contact with her; I guess they’re trying to have the relationship they never could before.

But that sunny blue sky is not without a few clouds. I’m speaking metaphorically here, the actual sky has not been blue in weeks. Fucking fuck winter, and all that. Thank the Gods Chris’ jersey is warm, and we’re protected from the wind.

Those are not big -metaphorical- clouds, though, and there’s no doubt in my mind they’ll dissipate before long.

Exam season is once again in full swing, for starters. Many of our classes have been nothing but exams, sometimes all day long. Math, English, physics, Spanish, and even history. Chris and I are faring through that storm side by side, and so far have weathered it mostly fine. I mean, we’ve only gone through the Spanish exam so far, but still. He got an A, I got an A+. I tried very hard not to taunt him about it, really I did, but it’s like holding in a sneeze.

So, we’ve been cramming a lot these last few days. But that’s fine. Exam season, much like winter, shall pass.

The second cloud, however, is a liiiiittle bit bigger. It’s big enough to obfuscate my normally sunny disposition, at times. I keep chasing it away, but it keeps coming back, like a stray dog you stupidly fed that one time. I don’t think about it all the time, but it’s always on the back of my mind. Oh, it’s nothing serious. Although, it is getting urgent.

It’s stupid, really, it’s…

Chris and I still haven’t had sex.

Yeah, so… Yeah.

Silly thing. We haven’t fucked yet. Pshah.

Like I said, nothing serious. I mean, it’s not like I was close to humping his leg last time I got a whiff of his scent. Nothing like that, thank the Gods. That’d be so embarrassing, especially if there were people around.

It wasn’t humping, per se. I just kinda… err… pushed myself against him. We were just hugging, really! Hugging real tight and snug. Who the hell decided hugging was just something you did with your arms, anyway? You can hug someone with, like, your legs. Or, you know, your hips. Nothing wrong with hugging, is there? Not even in public. PDAs are a normal thing for partners.


Believe me, I realize how pathetic that sounded.

It’s not like I haven’t tried to remedy that situation, I have. And so has Chris. But, realistically, there isn’t much we can do. First of all, we really don’t have much time during the weekdays. Between the aforementioned cramming, the group project that’s nearly at an end, and all of our extracurricular activities -among other things, baseball for Chris and the running team for me-, we’re busy through virtually the entire week.

Weekends are a little better, but there’s another problem.

You see, if time is an issue, location is one too. To put it eloquently and succinctly, we can’t seem to find a place where we can fuck in peace. Chris’ dorm room is not an option, since he’s got a roommate. A guy named Connor; kind of a douche, according to Chris, and prone to barging in without knocking. My house won’t do, either. As I mentioned, Chris’ mom now occupies our guest room. Not that it matters, since my parents’ strict “no boning in the house” rule is still in effect. Pointing out the hypocrisy of it -Mom and Dad are definitely not playing canasta in their room- did not work. All it did was prompt them to remind me that it is their house, and that they are the parents, and when I’ll have my own home yaddi-yadda, I kinda blanked out the rest.

Much like the other cloud, I have the utmost faith that this, too, shall pass. It simply has to. Not to sound dramatic, but if I have to go for much longer without Chris’ dick inside me, I’m gonna start setting shit on fire.

Agh. Oh, well. Guess we’ll have to wait for an opportunity. In the meantime, I own several of his pieces of clothing that I can smell to cool my pussy down. But that’s just a band-aid on an open wound: a temporary fix. Eventually, I’ll have to suture up that wound. Um, that’s kind of a weird metaphor, because that makes it sound like I’m thinking of suturing up my vajayjay, but you get the point I’m trying to make.

(How the hell would that even work, by the way? Does that kind of procedure have to be done in a medical facility or is it open to amateurs? Is cross stitch better than straight stitch for that? Can you crochet a snatch? I’ll have to ask Judith, she might know.)

All right, game’s over. To the surprise of no one, the Golden Bears won, with one hell of a margin too. Their players run off the field and back to their locker room, accompanied by thunderous applause, loud screams, and other displays of joy. There’s even a Minotaur with gold-painted fur throwing his pop-corn at them.

“Okay, we should leave,” Nova says. “It’s going to rain.”

A couple of drops crash on my forehead as she finishes her sentence, and we rush off the bleachers. Nova and Viv go their separate ways (I assumed they came in together, apparently not), while I go to wait near the locker room. I make a detour by the bathroom first; all that soda I’ve gulped during the game is going right through me. When I get to the hallway leading to the locker room, a small, almost entirely female crowd has already gathered there, mostly composed of members of the cheerleaders team.

Ugh, cheerleaders.

Most of the baseball team is already falling under their charm, especially Manny, who’s regaling three girls with his heroic tale of getting stabbed. He’s actually enriched that story since the last time he told it: now, he was apparently unfairly accused by the police, until he courageously fought off the charges. Technically, he was never formally charged with anything, since that Fuschia guy was arrested before the cops could decide to move ahead with that bullshit drug deal story, but whatever.

“I’m Petra,” I hear one of the cheerleaders, a small brunette, say.

“And I’m Sally,” her friend with auburn hair says.

“Err… Hi Petra and Sally,” a voice that sounds like my boyfriend’s says. My ears perk up.

“We met after the last game,” Petra says.

“Yeah, remember?” Sally says. “We talked about how we often like to unwind after a game.”

“Yeah,” Petra nods. “And how we’d like to unwind… Together.”


“Petra and I do everything together,” Sally says.

“And we share everything too,” Petra adds.

“Well, I-” Chris says.

“I don’t think you gave us your number, last time.”

“Look, I’m really flattered-”

“That’s okay, we get it,” Sally says. “You must have forgotten. I often forget lots of stuff.” I don’t doubt that. “Hey, why don’t you write your number here, to make sure I don’t forget it?”

I can’t say for sure with her back turned and the people around, but I’m pretty sure that cheer-bitch just flashed her fucking cleavage to my goddamn boyfriend. Yeah, that fucking does it. I move through the crowd like a snowplow. A really pissed off snowplow. I make a point to bump my shoulders into both of those cheer-cunts.

Chris opens his mouth as he sees me approaching but, before he can say anything, I grab him by the shirt and pin him against a wall, my lips taking possession of his. My tongue slides in, and meets his for a bit of wrestling. He responds to the kiss a second later, and places one hand on my shoulder blade, and the other on the small of my back, right near my tail. The kiss gets dirty, with lip-biting and some moaning. I can’t -well, I don’t– resist the temptation to shoot Sulky and Petrov, or whatever their names were, a side-glance. Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there, I was too busy making out with my boyfriend.

Maybe I should feel bad about being so fucking petty, but it does make the kiss taste even better. Plus, they had it coming.

I release him two or three minutes later. The hallway has become quieter, and we’ve got quite a few lookie-loos, including Scylla and Pterodactyl. The former is doing her best impression of a goldfish with her mouth hanging open and her vacant stare, the latter has been turned to stone.

“Hey, stud,” I say, laying it on thick. “Great game today!”

“Thanks, honey. I’m glad you came to watch.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The two cheer-bitches look like they’re trying to drill holes in my head with their stares. My smug smile is probably not helping things, but I refuse to hide it. Chris takes me by the arm and say:

“Want to get out of here?”


Outside, it’s gone from rainy to stormy. When I was a kid, I loved the rain. I loved running around, my head tilted back and my mouth open, trying to catch as many drops as I could. I loved the smells of the rain, especially the fragrance of wet grass. I loved shaking myself when I made it home, like dogs do to dry themselves, even though it pissed off my dad. I especially loved jumping in poodles; the muddier, the better. That all changed once I became old enough that my hygiene became my sole responsibility. Mud-covered fur is a pain to clean up, even more so when you neglect to shower early and it gets all dried up.

My boyfriend and I run to my car. The leather seat makes a squeaky noise when my drenched jeans lay down on it.

“Did I ever tell you,” Chris says, “you’re really hot when you’re jealous?”

“I’m really hot all the time,” I retort.

“Well… A little less so when you smell like a wet dog.”

I elbow him in the arm. He’s not wrong, though. That’s another reason why I stopped enjoying the rain: my fur doesn’t exactly smell of roses when wet.

The on-board computer, having finished booting up, displays a list of my most frequently visited destinations. I pick the one right at the top.

“Where are we going?” he asks.


“Erm, your home?”


He hesitates, slightly taken aback by the curtness of my tone. I am too, actually, although I have a pretty good idea why I am like this.

“Hey, honey, you know I wasn’t going to… I mean, those girls…”

I turn to look at him, surprised and a little amused. He came to the wrong conclusion, but it’s understandable.

“Oh, I know,” I say, smiling wickedly. “I know you’re not the unfaithful kind. After all, I’ve ruined you for other women.”

“Have you now?” He grins.

“Sure have. No way you can be with anyone else now.”

“Is that so…”

“Yup. Like you said, now that you’ve tried paprika, no way you can go back to mustard.”

“I believe I said mayonnaise.”

“Even worse! That’s the lettuce of sauces.”

“The… lettuce of sauces?”

“Yeah. You know, a stupidly bland thing people put in mostly for decoration.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever actually tried lettuce,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“I might have. No way to tell, that thing is so fucking tasteless. Maybe it was paper.”

I poke my tongue out with a “bleh”, making my boyfriend laugh.

Silence falls in the car, except for the very faint sound of the engine. A tense silence, but not an uncomfortable one.

All right, okay. In my mind, a plan has formed. Well, not so much a plan as a somewhat vague notion of one. Let it not be said that I’m the kind of gal who lets her problems be problems. I face them, and I fight them. So that’s what I’m doing. That’s what’s gonna happen.

I check the time on the computer. It’ll be around four in the afternoon when we make it home. That’s good. I can make it work. I mentally review the potential obstacles to my sort-of-plan, and my tail starts wagging when I realize they’re nothing I can’t overcome. Yes. Yes, it will work.

“I’m not sure I like that smile,” Chris comments. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Right, because you look like you’re picturing yourself drinking my blood.”

Not the body fluid I had in mind, sweetheart.

“Oh God, you just chuckled. You are totally thinking of drinking my blood.”

“Just shut up and wait until we get there.”

“Fine. But just to warn you: I’ve been eating mostly junk food these last few days. Don’t get mad when your cholesterol levels go through the roof.”

I shake my head, laughing.

It’s eleven past four when the car stops in the driveway. Neither my mom’s car nor Nova’s are here. Good. Good, good, good.

“Dad, I’m home!” I bellow as I barge through the door.

No answer. Excellent. Excellent, Excellent, Excellent.

“So, are you finally going to tell me what this is about?” Chris says.

He asks, but I can smell he’s already got a good guess as to what the answer is. Gods help me, his scent gets so musky when he’s aroused. I grab him by the wrist and drag him to the stairs. We hurriedly make it to my room, and I pin him -I really love doing that- against the door, locking it as I do.

“Here’s the deal,” I say, my mouth barely one inch from his. “My mom’s at work; so is yours. Dad is hitting town with Uncle Gordie and Uncle Ray. Nova is… Well, she’s up to her own business. Don’t know what they are, but they don’t take place here, which is all I care about right now.”

“Yeah?” he says, an impish light dancing in his eyes.

“That means there will be nobody home until at least half past five. Which-”

Gotta give it to Chris: he knows how to take a hint. Before I can make it more explicit, he grabs the back of my head and kisses the shit out of me. He pushes me back, trying to throw me on my bed. I react faster, spin on my axis, and he ends up falling first, with me on top. As it should be. While he’s still faintly stunned, I grab his shirt, pull it over his head, and take it off completely.

Whoops. I pulled a bit too hard, and my claws went through the fabric. Oh well. Guess I’ll have to add this shirt to my collection. Chris has barely noticed, busy as he is taking off my -well, his- jersey. We keep on undressing each other, our moves brisk and urgent. His pants’ buttons nearly break when I pop them open, and so does my bra’s hook as he fumbles with it.

As soon as his underwear is history, I pounce. I initially wanted to take a few seconds to drink his naked form in, but seeing his tattooed torso just does things to me. I caress his abs with the tip of my tongue, tasting his arousal mixed with his sweat. He draws in a sharp breath. I lick and kiss my way up his muscled upper body. Oh Gods, the way he squirms beneath me… The twitch in his hands as he cups my ass and brushes my tail, which he…

Now wait a minute! NO!

One hard squeeze of my tail and a howl later, he has thrown me down and took my place at the top! Jerk. I immediately try to shake my tail free, to which he responds by holding on tighter. Aaah! I should have seen that one coming. Why didn’t I see that coming?

He smirks in triumph as he rubs the base of my tail, then lowers his head to nibble on my ear. Argh! How did he find out another one of my weak spots? My revenge shall be- Oh. Oh yes. Yes, yes, right on the edge. Fuck yes, that’s good. Hmmm. Fuck. Ah, do the other one, too. Yes… Yes, but NO! I should- I have to-


“There’s a good bitch,” he murmurs in my ear, before tugging on it with his teeth.

Oh, you son of a… You think you’ve got the upper hand, huh? Joke’s on you: I learned a way out of his particular hold. Did you forget I’ve learned your weak spots as well?

I slide my hand down his body, then gently take his cock with two claws, brushing his glans with the fur between them. He gasps, and his grasp on my tail weakens just enough that I can get it back. After that, it’s only a matter of putting pressure in the right places, and he’s back where he belongs. This time, to make sure he’ll stay down, I pin his wrists with my paw.

“So it’s like that, huh?” he says.

“It sure is.”

He’s about to fight back, or maybe just snark back, so I take the offensive. I kiss his neck, then quickly run my tongue alongside it. He gasps, out of both surprise and pleasure. My captive prey immediately begins struggling, to which I respond by opening my jaws and gently biting his neck. Hmmm, Chris. You smell quite horny. I wonder how much more of this you can take before you lose your mind.

The scent of his arousal is made all the sweeter by the shudder of delight that goes through him as I delicately brush my fangs on his skin, while my paw continues to jerk his cock -softly enough to get a reaction, but too soft to get him anywhere. Surprisingly, he doesn’t make a sound. As I release him, I notice he is clenching his teeth.

Aww, Chris. Your pride won’t let you moan, as it would be like a surrender? How cute. But the wall of silence you put up will not last long against my assaults.

My legs wrap themselves around one of his thighs, and I start rubbing my wet pussy against it. His heart beats against my chest, in unison with my own.

“Fuck,” he murmurs.

Soon, baby.

“This time, I’ll get you to beg,” I whisper in his ear, before sneaking my tongue in it. I hear his teeth click as he clenches them even harder. He’s almost there. One last push…

Still holding his dick, I sit astride him, move my hips up to align my pussy with his groin, then rub his tip along my labia. Ooooh yeah, you like that, dontcha? Oh wow, me too. I slide it against my sensitive lips, putting a bit more strength. Hmmph…

“Just put it in,” Chris groans.

“Beg me for it,” I say, barely controlling my pitch as it hits the lower notes.

Seriously, beg. Now. Before I do. Oh fuck, that hard dick feels so good against my wet pussy. I’m trying not to imagine how it will feel inside it. My juices are dripping on his cock, coating it.

“Gh- Fuck!” he moans in frustration, struggling against my hold, flexing his biceps as hard as he can. “Come on! Just… put it in.”

“You’re gonna have to slap a please on that,” I retort in a quivering voice. Hurry up already. Beg, beg, beeeeeeg, for fuck’s sake -literally.

And, with another gentle rub along his glans, he finally breaks.

“Please! Please put it in,” he nearly yells, his voice hoarse, his tone deliciously needy and anxious. “I can’t- Please, I need to fuck you right now. Please!”

YES! I win. I win at sex. And on my first try, too.

With a large grin on my face, I feverishly aim his dick between my lips, give it a little push, and… Oooooh fuck, that’s it. He’s inside me. Holy shit, he feels even bigger. I need to take it slow. Mom told me the first time doesn’t have to hurt, provided you don’t skimp on foreplay, and you don’t rush it. I lower myself, slowly, gently, letting him fill me inch by inch. My jaw drops. The air leaves my lungs in an inelegant snort.

My mind goes blank as I continue to move my hips downwards. Another inch, then another… A long growl of ecstasy escapes my throat, turning into one of slight frustration when my hips meet my boyfriend’s and I’m forced to stop moving. It’s only at this moment that I realize: I’m doing it. I’m no longer a virgin. I’m having sex. With Chris!

Gods, this is perfect.

“Don’t stop,” he begs, his eyes closed.

Perish the thought, lover. We’re just getting started.



This is unbelievable. A part of me is actually questioning the reality of what’s happening. Maybe I hit my head when I dropped on the bed, and became unconscious. Maybe it’s a dream. The hottest dream I’ve ever had.

As Jacinda starts moving her hips, hungrily and somewhat clumsily, that part of my brain is forced to surrender to the obvious. This is it. This is really, actually, honest-to-God happening. Jacinda and I are doing it. Finally.

The feeling of her pussy, tighter, wetter, and hotter than I could have possibly imagined, going up and down my erect cock is… I don’t even have the words for it. “Pleasurable” sounds too cheap, too basic to describe it. Hell, to merely call it “sex” is not an apt description either, and neither is “fucking”.

“Perfect” might be a closer approximation. It certainly is the best word for Jacinda’s boobs, bouncing almost right in my face as she rides me. Several drops of sweat are rolling down their curves, as if to underline their shape and their size. Damn, how I would squeeze these things and pinch their nipples if my hands weren’t blocked by her strong, furry paw right now.

Speaking of which, the word “perfect” also very well describes how Jacinda’s fur feels, be it the fur of the paw ensuring my hands are not going anywhere or touching anything, or the one along her arms and her legs, or the one framing her face. Long, silky, shaggy, glistening with sweat, it, too, underlines her traits in the best possible way, making her the perfect combination of beastly and womanly.

That word is also the only accurate descriptor for her ass, which I can barely see, and yet can fully picture bouncing in rhythm with her tits. Goddammit, if only she would release just one of my hands…

Oh, and her eyes… I know I can ramble about those gorgeous rubies of hers, their unique color, the fire living inside them, and the way they can captivate and enthrall me with merely a glance, but right now they are looking… well, perfect. A new light is shining in them. It’s not just lust, I realize, not just the pleasure she’s clearly receiving. There’s something else here, something even more beautiful.

I know she was joking about it earlier -make that half-joking, probably-, but I’m beginning to think she had a point when she said there was no way I can be with anyone else, now. Not after I’ve experienced… this. Her. Us.

“Fuuuuuck,” Jacinda moans, dropping her head, and blowing a bit of spittle which lands on my chest.

Jacinda readjusts herself, quickly recovering from her orgasm. Instead of just going up and down, she now rotates and gyrates her hips, or changes the orientation of her torso. She’s clearly trying to find which ways work the best for her, to make the most of this moment, basically using me as a toy for her pleasure. Which is fine by me.

As for myself, I’m not picky: every single way to enjoy her pussy is the best. I actually have to bite my tongue and focus real hard to not go early.

“Almost… there… agaiiin,” she says. Damn, I adore the way her voice drops down to a growl when she’s cresting.

Initially slow, almost timid, Jacinda’s pace is now hurried, intense, urgent. She’s pretty much slamming herself against my hips, now. It kinda hurts, but that makes things even better.

Damn, I’m learning a lot of things about myself. For instance, I knew how much I enjoy dominating Jacinda, but I didn’t realize I also like being dominated by her. Although I should have guessed, between that time in the gym and that other time in her car… For another thing, I didn’t know a bit of pain could make the pleasure so much stronger. But, once again, I suspected as much.

“Almost… Almost!” Jacinda screams.

Then, without any warning, she slams her torso against mine once again, wraps her arms around my neck, and mushes our lips together. Maybe one second later, she moans her second orgasm into my mouth, as her entire body shakes and quakes. Her claws dig into my wrists’ skin. She ends the kiss, and nuzzles against my neck, breathing hard. Her sweat mixes with mine. My hands are finally released.

“Fuck,” she says.

“That’s what it’s called,” I say.

She raises her head, and flickers my nose. That light is shining in her eyes again.

“Chris, that was…”

“Amazing,” I blurt.

“Yeah!” She smiles. Her smile turns into a smirk as she adds: “You make for a decent ride.”

“Feel free to jump on anytime,” I say. “Won’t need a saddle, either.”

She kisses me again, and brushes my forehead with the back of her paw, looking intensely into my eyes. I stare back, unmoving, unblinking. I refuse to miss out on a single instant of this. She breaks eye contact and looks down at our lower bodies. I’m still balls deep inside her, and also…

“You’re still hard,” she says.

“Sure am.”

“Good. I want to do this again.”

My heart, beating so fast and so hard it’s almost painful, wants me to say no to that, for fear that it might give out. Fat chance, though. Both my brain and my dick overrule it.

“Sure. One thing first.”


“Kiss me.”

She goes to do so, and I make my move. It’s basically my signature move by now, which is why I’m a little surprised that it works so well. I grab her tail (Yes, again. Why change tactics if it still works?), then push on my feet to get back on top of her, with her laying slightly on her side. Regretfully, my cock comes out of her pussy.

“Son of a bi-”

Jacinda tries to grab my arm. I seize her paw by the wrist, then squeeze her tail to sap all strength in her defenses.

“Seriously, will you stop with that?” she rages.

“No. I don’t think you really want me to.”

“What do-”

I massage her tail, focusing on the base.

“Huuunh…” she groans.

“I think you wanted me to do this. I think you let me grab your tail.” My fingers knead into the fluffy goodness, making her moan. “I think you want to trade roles, now.”


I pull and squeeze at the same time. “Do you know what else I think you want?”

“Fuck y-aaaaaah…”

“Well, obviously. But also…” I lean down and whisper in her ear: “I think you want to get down on all fours, like a good girl.”

“The Hell I w- w- oooh. Ooooooh…”

“I love those little whines of yours.” With another tug of her tail, I order her: “Now move. On all fours, like I told you.”

Muttering curses and threats under her breath, she drops on her elbows. Then, she raises her knees, taking her sweet time as she does. I don’t mind. Jacinda’s naked ass is now right in front of me, displaying her glistening pussy. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“Good girl,” I say.

I reward her by giving her snatch a good licking, dipping my tongue in her hot, spicy juices. Her G-spot soon gets into reach; I close my eyes as I savor its particular taste. Well, realistically, it probably tastes the same as the rest of Jacinda’s pussy, but let me have my fantasies, will you? My girlfriend shivers, and shoves her face into a pillow to muffle her moans. Oh no, none of that. Raising up, I pull on her hair, then push my hips against her curvy ass, and give her a spank.

“Raise your head, bitch,” I say, guiding my cock towards her drenched pussy. “I want to hear you enjoy this.”

“Don’t fucking call meeeeeaaaaah!”

I shove my dick in. She’s so damn wet that, even though it’s only her second time, I get almost fully inside her pussy with one thrust.

Without missing a beat, I start moving inside her, not letting go of her tail, my other hand still grabbing her hair and pulling back so she won’t hide in her pillow again. Her claws encroach on the mattress, and her whole body seems to tighten. I’m worried for a nanosecond I may be crossing a line this time, but then she mumbles something I can’t hear.

“What was that?”

“… gain,” she says, still too low for me to hear.

“Speak up.”

“Spank. Me. Again,” she utters through her teeth.

I chuckle. “No problem, bitch.”

I said don’t-

My hand hits her left ass cheek hard. Well, I thought it was hard, but all it did was make her shut up, and nothing else. No moan, no groan, no gain.

“I asked for a spanking, not a pat,” she spits out, snarky and fiery.

Is it weird that I’m considering marrying her right now?

Ah well, always give the girl what she wants. The second spanking makes a louder sound, and sends a stinging pain in my palm. Jacinda winces and gasps.

“Better?” I say, shaking my hand to dissipate the sting.

“More!” she says. “And who said you could stop fucking me?”

Wow. Even now, she’s bratty and demanding. I’m really going to enjoy spanking numero tres.

Her tight ass actually bounces as my hand slaps it. Jacinda yelps, then moans as I slam my hips into her right after.

“Here you go, bitch!”

“More,” she grunts. “Harder.”

Jesus Christ. This girl. Seriously.

I oblige her immediately and begin pounding into her pussy while swatting her butt with as much strength as I can muster. Jacinda’s moans louder and louder, to the point where she’s practically screaming.

“YEAH! Like this!” she says.

Jacinda suddenly rears up, her furred back pressing against my torso. I really can’t tell which one of us is sweating the most. Instinctively, I wrap my spanking arm around her chest, groping her tit, and start fucking her even harder and faster. Turning her head to look me in the eyes, Jacinda meets my thrusts, buckling her hips against mine. She tries to say something, but she’s lost the ability to speak intelligibly, and before long it’s like she’s incapable of making any sounds but howls of pleasure. Her eyes roll back into her skull. She looks like she’s losing her mind. I myself might be at risk of going crazy too: every time I sink my cock in the tight, drenched furnace of her depths, I can feel my brain short-circuiting. On top of that, I’m at serious risk of a heart attack. If it does happen, totally worth it.

Our lips brush. The tip of her tongue pokes out; I suck on it a little.

“Are you close?” I say.

“So fucking close,” she struggles to say.

“Good, ‘cause I won’t last another minute.”

“Swear to th’damn Gods, Chris,” Jacinda growls, still fumbling on her words, “if you nut b’fore I cum, I’ll make y’finish me with your mouth. And y’can lick me clea-”

Having decided that I don’t want to find out whether that threat is a bluff or not, I grab both of her nipples and twist them, while simultaneously biting her ear. This, combined with my powerful thrusts, finally gets here to Cloud Nine, and she howls loud enough to temporarily deafen me. Not a fucking moment too soon, too, because I cum less than a second later. Wait…

“Ah, shit,” I say, pulling out of her. “Sorry, I didn’t…”

“I’m on the pill, dum-dum,” she mumbles. “Wouldn’t have let you… Haaa…”

She exhales a sigh of exhaustion and contentment, then falls back down on me, slamming me against the mattress.

“Ow,” I say.

“You should rest a little,” she says, brushing my cheek, her eyes closed. “Before…”

“Round three?” I say, my voice ever so slightly twisted by apprehension.

“I’ll give you five minutes to recuperate.”

“Holy shit, I’m dead.”

She chuckles lazily. For all her talk, she’s actually pretty winded too.

“You’re going to fall asleep, aren’t you?” I whisper.

“No,” she says, almost whispering.

Holding her in my arms, I start rocking her slowly. “You so are.”

“Maybe just for a few seconds.” She’s slurring. “Can’t sleep for too long, folks are gonna come back.”

She turns around, placing her chin against my chest. I kiss her on the forehead, scratching the back of her wolf-like ear.

“Chris?” she whispers.


Jacinda doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I begin to think she conked out. But then, she says:

“I, uh, I’m really happy my first time was with you.”

“I am too.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I’ll bet you can’t wait to brag to Manny about how you took my vir-” She yawns. “My virginity.”

“It was pretty damn epic, as far as first times go. Songs may be written about our boning down.”

Jacinda snorts. “I swear, if I actually hear one…”

“You’ll join in for a verse?”

“I just might. What rhymes with “micropenis”?”

“How about “syphilis”?”

We both laugh.

I look down at her. Jacinda. My girlfriend. My partner. I repeat these words in my head thousands of times, enjoying the wonderful warmth they birth inside me. To think that, months ago, we were at each other’s throats. If someone had told me then that I would be dating her, and sharing some of the best times of my life -the hottest and the kinkiest, too- I would have laughed.

Well, I would have fake-laughed, but internally I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from picturing hundreds of scenes, most of them very much NSFW. Because, as much as I denied it for the longest time, there was something there from the very moment I laid eyes upon her. It was ineffable.

Jacinda, the smartest, sexiest, bitchiest, loveliest girl I have ever met. Jacinda, who drives me crazy half of the time, and makes me mad the other half. Jacinda, with her hissy fits, her flaming eyes, her dorkiness, her shaggy black fur, her snark, and her perfect body. Jacinda, who made me realize quite a few thing about myself. Jacinda, who helped me and my mother escape from Jeremy.

Jacinda. Just… Jacinda.

“Chris,” she says.


“I, err…”


“Yeah?” I say.

“I, uh, I, just, you smell super good after sex.”

The blunt awkwardness of that makes me laugh again. “I’ll bottle it up and offer it to you for your birthday. You can hide it in all those shirts you’ve stolen from me.”

“I didn’t steal them! I’m gonna give them back to you when they no longer smell…”

Her voice dies out and, seconds later, she starts growl-snoring. It won’t be long before I’m asleep too. I grab a pillow, and put it under my head. Before I’m out, I push my lips in the shell of her ear, and whisper:

“I love you too.”

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