That Night
Preface
Hi everyone,
So, I don't write just to get off or get others off. In fact, this is kind of the first sexually based piece I'll have done. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that there's a point to my stories beyond just raw, uninhibited yiff. Every one of my stories will have a basis of truth behind it, just furrified to fit the site rules. So... Don't judge my life experiences too harshly.
Hope you enjoy,
-Aya
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February, 2006
I was lying in my bed, the fur on the inside of my legs slick and matted to my knees. I had been keeping myself on edge for hours; a few of which had been spent soaking my undies through and through. I'd found throughout adolescence that teasing myself through the cotton was the best way to enjoy myself without cumming. If I came, I'd have to remember. At least right now my hormones kept my brain busy.
My shirt was off, and whenever I would stop for a moment to let the buildup between my legs die down, I felt awkward and exposed. What if my mom walked in, or one of my sisters? This wasn't something girls in my family did. I was scared. How would they react to seeing my sheets, folded, wrinkled, and dampened from hours spent between my legs? How would they react to my matted fur, or a paw clutched over an exposed breast? My sisters might understand. I know they do it, an unspoken secret between siblings, but I was worried about mom. It was brash and sinful to do this, she said. It had been too long since she was fourteen. But now my fur was growing stale and the flare of my lips was dying back down to modesty.
I reached down and tugged gently at the hood between my legs, coaxing my clit back out. I breathed in sharply as smooth fur tickled the bud and shot shivers up and down my body. I felt my passage contract at the contact and I started to feel the moistness therein begin to eek out and replace that of a few minutes before. I started to rub my clit more excitedly, starting to build my excitement once more. I snuck a finger inside of me, letting it wander as deeply as my flesh would allow, grazing the edge of a tortured G-spot.
Oh, God!
My walls were swollen with denial, and each gentle touch flooded me with the progress to release. I couldn't take it anymore, and I gave in to my body, letting my hands to what they would to give me satisfaction. I squeezed my breasts and stroked my sex with primitive fervor. Occasionally an adventurous finger ran circles around my tail-hole before being pushed inside. Subtle flowers of pleasure would spring from my bum; vague things spawned from the accidental discovery of what could come from the wrong orifice. I did all these things, but then thought of her and was scared again.
Who was she? It wasn't my mom. No, I feared her judgment individually. I was scared because I thought of her while I did this, and I only just realized. It wasn't a boy on top of me, or my mind running through a series of kinky events about a guy, it was a her. And she was in between my legs. I was scared, but who was around to know why? I quickly brought a hand to my lips and licked from my fingers what she would have tasted. It was like apple cider, sweet and bitter with acidity. I liked it, but I readjusted myself to a less lewd position, still self-conscious of the nonexistent observer.
I struggled to come to terms, now reeling back to my mother's judgment. In her house, masturbation was criminal enough but it was disguisable. If I were a lesbian, she would disown me. She would disown me for something which was no fault of my own. I didn't fault her for it, to do so would be hypocritical; she was just raised that way after all, but it scared me. I tried to fix my brain. I tried to imagine being taken by a boy. I tried imagining myself stretching around his intrusion and liking it, but I couldn't. It wasn't just that it didn't tip my fancy right now; I was actually put off by the idea.
I started running different girls through my mind. Somebody who could make it okay. I tried my best friend Anne, but it was too cliché. She could actually happen. I tried my sisters; maybe it would just be the next step in our bond, getting to know them completely? But I was scared of what mom would think about incest; and besides, I didn't like them like that. So I settled on myself. Narcissism was better than lesbianism, even if both would be true if I fantasized about myself. It was the only thing that worked; and besides, if I was pleasuring myself, didn't it make sense? I know me best; I know all the best ways to make me tick.
So that's how I did it.
I ran a teasing hand between my gently flared labia, bottom-to-top, before letting my moistened fingers press lightly on my clit. I bucked my hips gently and stifled a moan; my sisters shared a room next door. My fingers wandered inside of me, an idle thumb working in cooperation with a middle and ring finger. My G-spot and clit giggled and send their laughter through my body, and I felt my walls hug and squish out more sweet juice. I spat on the tip of a finger on my free hand, and slid it beneath me to play with my tail-hole. My saliva made entry easy, and I pushed the finger as deep as it would go, wiggling it around a little to acquaint my passage with the intrusion before pushing my finger in and out.
Faster, deeper!
I brought the hand playing with my cunny to my face and suckled gratefully on it. I had to taste what fantasy-me tasted because she was feeling what I was feeling. After bleeding my finger dry of my sweet nectar, I reintroduced the hand to my vagina and resumed efforts. I was close now. I felt the build of euphoric tension swell, just above my sex and on the inside. Soon the labor of hours would culminate into minutes of indefinite ecstasy and in those minutes, I could forget everything. I took a split second break to bring my sodden panties to my mouth. The taste of stale juices from hours before was delicious and the scent was seductive.
And at a press of my clit, I felt it all release.
My muscles tensed and my vagina squeezed my fingers out with a wet squish. A torrent of nectar flowed from my opening, and what I didn't catch with the expelled hand, trickled down to my tail-hole and tickled me. My bum squeezed so tightly that I couldn't remove my finger comfortably. I bucked and writhed, bringing each overloaded handful of cum to my mouth to sate an insatiable thirst. They were the most blissful minutes I've spent on this earth, and I squirted and gushed more than I thought possible. I rode the orgasm for as long as it would go, never ceasing to wiggle a finger inside my bum or press a sopping palm against my clit.
It was wonderful, and in the afterglow I slept more soundly than I ever had. I ignored being naked and being covered in soaked sheets. I ignored the paw placed over my dripping mound and the recently liberated one placed limply over my left breast. I ignored because in Utopia one cannot be bothered. If they walked in on me in the morning, I would deal with them then.
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Hope you liked it.