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Wet Dreams

The doorbell rang. A digitalized rendition of a bell came from a device on an outlet at the base of the stairs. Dexter descended them hurriedly, eyes wide, and in his boxers and white undershirt, tail sweeping the steps behind him. It wasn't to tidy them, rather super excited.

He saw the large silhouette of the Nile delivery person behind his door's translucent window, holding up a box. Having waited for almost a week, especially the agonizing wait where he laid down upstairs, eyes affixed to the phone as the vehicle went into his street. Now that package was here, and he went for the knob and unlocked the door.

"Good morning," he said, swinging the door inward. The delivery guy was a large crocodile, looking quite adorable in his shirt that's a size too small for him. In cargo shorts that matched its khaki color. Behind him was a large delivery van, twice that of his car. And they exchanged brief looks, himself smiling as he looked at the package.

"Good morning sir," he replied, presenting to him a box with a brand of wrestling gear on it. Alongside a pen and receipt for him to sign on.

He did a quick inspection of the box, making sure it wasn't damaged in transit. Dexter requested the crocodile, twice his size, to turn the box to see if it had been damaged at all.

"No, sir. Nile quality guaranteed!" The crocodile said, smiling.

It pleased Dexter greatly. Inside would be the wrestling gear pros wear, including the elbow and knee pads. Showing off his body to himself in the mirror, toned abs, powerful guns that were his arms. Had him excited to try it on.

Even the crocodile noticed his excitement, and cleared his throat to get the wolf's attention. Lowering the package to hide Dexter's growing one inside his undergarments, and tried to look somewhere else too.

Dexter blushed, cleared his throat too, and took the pen to sign the receipt. "Sorry about that." His bulge twitched at the thrill, showing off himself. Tail wagged behind him, and the crocodile was enticed by it too, a slight side to side out of the corner of his eye. He passed the pen and receipt back to him. "I'll, uh, tip you on the app, sir."

"No need," the crocodile chuckled, rosey colored scaly cheeks with a slight smile. Turned around and returned to his van, glancing back at the wolf and shot him a wink.

Dexter waved back, catching it as he closed the door. Once it was shut and locked, he let his tent extend forward, while double checking the package for any tampering. No, the tapes had the box's flaps secured.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips, followed by the Nile delivery van leaving his area. The thought of showing off to someone else lingered, half hoping to meet that crocodile again and let him have an eyeful of Sexy Dexy. His tail swept again as pre oozed around the tip of his tent, musk escaping through the hem, and he caught a whiff of his salty scent.

"Jeez, I've never been this excited in a while." The few other times he had wanted something so bad was his vacation in Polynesia and Asia all those years ago. Staying on an island all to himself, strutting around in the nude. Swimming too, as a matter of fact. He still had the photos hidden in his closet. Likewise for the waterfall as well.

And he felt a moist sensation tap his foot, apparently he'd been leaking as he reminisced. The black wolf wiped the stain away with his foot, and adjusted his large shaft to pin itself between the fabric and his thigh. Even then, his tip peeked out, and the risque fashion only made him lustful for more.

Dexter raced upstairs, box clutched against his body. He stomped the way up but Miles nor Chase weren't home. Not for another three days. It was his turn to be on leave, and he got to enjoy it in his own little way.

Though he was alone, he locked the door behind him just to be safe. Drew in the curtains because natural lighting wouldn't align with his mirrors. Dexter switched on the interior lights, almost studio-like, that shone over the entire room. Personally installed, and comes with brightness adjustment too. One of the features he ought to add would be changing the colors of the lighting, but he wanted to buy his new outfit first.

He placed it on his bed, lightweight because it's just a pair of underwear and some joint paddings. Clawed his way through the tape, slowly, and making sure it doesn't scratch the cardboard. Unfolding the flaps after, he could already smell the untested nylon fabric, and slight rubber from its accessories, all of which would be musky by the time he's done with them.

Dexter laid it out on the sheets in the arrangement he would wear; first were the elbow pads, dark red in color to match his eyes. There were gloves that accompanied it too, similar to that of a kickboxer's. He browsed his phone for a moment, his shaft softening as his mind focused on double checking his order. The Nile store page he used displayed them, but on the fine print there were added gloves, and an extra pair of underwear.

"Extra?" He said to himself, his cock throbbed as he reached into the box and pulled one out. Delighted to see another one folded just as neatly, and he got it out and laid it on top of the other. "I should be more careful next time." With this newfound precaution, he re-read the item description and checked the reviews.

Five-stars all around though, and the comments were praising it. One was a four star because it was a size too big, and a one star because it was of a different color. The rest were content, and some started rambling on about their wrestling experiences with it.

Maybe he should leave one too. Though the only experience he had with actual wrestling, not the games he would see in the arcades, was the first time he trained in the Canadian army.

He sat down and disrobed himself as the memories played in his mind. The first set he glossed over would be his initial training in a rather simple and oddly skimpy attire. Military issued cadet uniforms for daytime training are some tight shorts, a white shirt, tall socks, and some sneakers. And there were times he'd got off on just his outfit alone, and how hunky he looked at the mirror in the locker room.

Next came the obstacle courses, and how sweaty those made him. Some of them ended up in mud, which wasn't sexy. Nonetheless, glancing at his reflection, more of his muscles started to show.

After that came hand-to-hand combat. His favorite part. Proper decorum indicated that only men were to fight with men, and he always ended up being on top. They would be shirtless when they did it, and he loved the attention that some of his fellow cadets gave him. They were amazed by how strong he was, and how he could make quick work of any of his opponents. Bodies against bodies, hands grappled against each other, and the scent of each other's musk blending as man pressed himself against another man. Quite the miracle that no one got caught with a hardon.

Back in the present, he was all naked with his hand stroking his fully erect tool. Alas if he wanted to put on his new pair of underwear, he'd have to make it go down first. Or maybe he doesn't have to. Dexter wanted to play with anticipation more, putting on those accessories first. These were what professional wrestlers would wear, alongside a mask. Being put on stage with another buff man, but never as buff as himself. People would cheer for him, showing himself off around the stage with those impressive pecs.

They would chant 'Sexy Dexy' out loud. His pads and gloves were on him now, and he took the underwear onto his hands. This pair was small enough to show off his package and glutes, but not enough to hide his entire length. He slipped himself into them and stood up to take this whole feeling in.

Fur along his arms and thighs stood at the self-perceived notion that he was a wrestler. Sure he was a war hero who could become one if he wanted to, but he was certain no one could beat him. Dexter flexed those guns of his, feeling his muscles burn as they enlarged to emphasize his overwhelming strength. But he lacked the image of it, and opened his closet to reveal a mirror the size of its door. The reflection captured his entire form, all that black fur glistened with sweat, with his cream white chest and belly contrasting its colors yet showed off his abs.

His eyes caught the attention of his shaft next, dark enough to blend in with his leg but a watchful eye would see it throb and leak pre that dribbled down along the sweat. Dexter preferred it this way, flexing once more as his fuckstick twitched, pleased at the sight of his Olympian stature. Tail wagged behind him, and he pretended to cover himself up with it. Felt cute. And blam! Legs arched, inverted with his arms flexing his guns with his erection pointing forward. His bedroom was once again filled with his manly scent.

Just like those locker rooms before, after thorough exercises. Or the barracks after a hard day of doing maintenance and lifting. His best friend, Chase, always thought he was excited. And he was right, but not in that way though.

Ah Chase, the only friend who kept up with his prowess. Back in his training days, he would be the only person, a panther whose fur is as dark as his, that beat him once. Followed by those rigorous days of trying to up each other constantly. He never looked at him in any other way though, other than the best friend he could ever ask for.

Such sappy thoughts cooled him down at least, and he was able to tuck in his dick inside his underwear, only for it to bulge out and have its tip almost peek out. Dexter took the opportunity to capture some photos of himself looking nearly decent, and grabbed his phone from the bedside stand, under a lamp.

It opened to a lockscreen of his unit; The Ghost Unit. A symbol of a dark red skull with an eyepatch, within the sphere of a white half moon. Laurels rested under the former's chin, and with the inscription: Subtilitas et Silentium per Vigiliam. However, unlocking it revealed a wallpaper of himself in his uniform but topless, and his camo pants about to drop down alongside the hem of his boxers. Low enough to see his crotch peeking out.

Dexter quickly went to the gallery before he could be aroused, creating a new folder labeled' Wrestling Outfit 1'. With the intention to try out more wrestling costumes in the future. Maybe those singlets because their fabric felt comfortable.

His camera app followed, setting it up properly as he went back to the closet. There was a spot within it that had a mount for his phone, and he attached it to its clamp. The timer would go off in about a minute's time, thinking up poses that were unique to the outfit.

As the timer was about to reach zero, Dexter had stanced himself up as if to grapple with the closet. Arms were spread out, legs stanced wide, with an eager but fun face. Followed by a normal standing position but with a bent arm as he pointed his thumb to himself. First one smiling, the one following being smug, that transitioned to his finger dragging across his neck. Mouthing the words, "I am the alpha wolf." And the last few of this set were more muscle flexing, and emphasis on the abs.

Dexter's mind stuck to that nickname though: "The Alpha Wolf" as his wrestling title. Let not a bear, a lion, nor tiger stop him from being the apex predator. Wait- that's an even better one, he thought. Tail swished side to side, imagining people chanting 'Apex!' over and over as he would stand atop a defeated bear. Give the crowd a show for cheering him on with a flex of his guns. The crowd goes wild, and sparkling flames rain over him as the spotlights glint his sweat all over his black fur.

He realized that his cock had poked itself out again after the last shots, which made his next set easier. But wanting to indulge himself more, he felt himself all over. Black paws rubbed over his white fur, circling around his nipples, and sliding them down over his abs. It was worth the decades of training, which no other soldier or wrestler could ever compete with.

This current form was good for his next set, resetting the timer on his phone and returning to where he stood. The phone took several shots with Dexter flexing both muscles and his massive dick. His facial expressions varied from shy or embarrassed, to lustful and inviting. Winking towards the end of this set. The last one was him turning around showing his toned glutes with his tail raised, showing off his nuts hanging out too.

And reviewing them after was quite impressive for an amateur. Or that's what he thought at least. Any shot with him in it is perfect. He chuckled to himself with that. The next one was similar, only removing his underwear. Despite having the pads and gloves on he felt more naked like this, and his cock twitched more at the thought.

Dexter resetted the camera settings and took another set. This next one had promiscuous takes. Gloved hands explored around his leaking shaft. Latex-like fingers smeared over his tip, making him moan. Followed by fondling his own nuts, hefty like an orange when he cupped them. With his last shot a copy of the previous set's last one too, except he showed off his tight hole with one hand, and a raised middle finger with the other.

These were the kind of shots you'd see on posters. That said, he could easily be a model for adult magazines. Given his rank and position though, maybe he would save it for the next life.

When reviewing the shots, he noticed the clock on his phone was three from nine in the morning. That meant doing his training regimen at base, or his gym downstairs. And he looked around his studio-esque bedroom thinking he could do it here instead. There was a higher shelf in the left part of the closet that he could attach the clamp to, allowing it to have an excellent angle of him exercising. He did that first, and then he stepped out of the room and raced down the staircase with his dick bouncing at each step. The first door to the right, beside the entrance, led into his personal gym.

Dexter stepped in and turned on the lights. A massive gym mat covered most of the floor, with the rightmost wall being an entire mirror. There were multiple training apparatus in the surrounding area; barbells with multiple weights, dumbbells, a kettlebell, and an unplugged treadmill at the opposite side of the room; a leg press machine, a punching bag that was attached to the ceiling, tied up skipping rope, and a stationary ride on his side.

Before getting what he needed, Dexter went over and posed in front of these mirrors too. Flex here, flex there, and a wink of good measure as he showed off those guns. But he was a bit more playful though, pointing finger guns at himself while clicking his tongue. And he turned around, bending over but not to show off his glutes, instead performing a handstand where his dick rested itself against his body, and his nuts pulled out by gravity. Though fun, it didn't seem practical, nor too appealing for others. After returning to his upright position, he blew himself a kiss.

Seeing as most of these he couldn't practically bring with him, he thought of bringing the skipping rope, dumbbells, and the kettlebell. He untied the rope and hung it around his shoulder, carried the kettlebell with left, and two dumbbells of matching weights with his right, between the fingers. The last two were small enough to wrap his entire hands on, but large enough for his knuckles to have space between it and the ground. Something to impress his viewers that he'd show later.

He raced back up just as quickly and laid his exercising gear by his posing spot. Several routines went through his mind as he modified the video settings. There was enough space to last him for half a day's worth, compared to the old camera he used on the beach two decades ago. Back then five hours was already top of the line, and now that's on a regular smart phone, and with better image quality too. Enough to capture every strand of fur on his chest, where the black and white separate. Every vein on his cock, and capturing its motion whenever it throbs.

It wouldn't be the first time he exercised with his dick out. That adds to the experience, actually. Though such moments are few and far between because Miles and Chase also frequented their home gym, and cleaning it way too often was not in his best interest. Nonetheless, he cherished the times that he could. Glossed over the gallery again and reviewed the selfies he took with his dick slipped out the last time he had the house to himself. Back then in those tight gym shorts that did little to cover his bulge.

He could take some later this afternoon. The lighting was much better here though. After setting his phone on record, he started skipping rope. First was jumping whenever the rope went around him, and he loved the feeling of his dick waving up and down into the warm bedroom air. The fanning even intensified the scent of his musk, his tip oozing and spraying pre in a small line ahead of him. He turned to alternating skips midway through his hops, exhibiting the speed of his reflexes and coordination.

This display of impressive, and very erotic, hand-eye movement was captured in high quality for him to relish on in years to come. And he dared to always outperform himself. He swung the rope around fast enough that his dribbling pre caught itself in his exercising tool, surrounding himself with his own scent, causing him to leak more of it. Dexter had to slow down because he felt his libido rise. After a few more minutes of skipping, he stopped and only took a few breaths to regain his composure.

Tossing the rope aside, he went with the kettlebell next. He lifted it with one arm, placing it between his spread-stanced legs, under his bouncing dick. Pre had gotten to its handles, only noticing when he had bent downward, gripping its handle. He ought to clean it later. But for now Dexter started his reps. Pressure went into his elbows and wrists as he lifted it. For a fun challenge to himself, he made his dick stand up whenever the apparatus was over his chest.

He made sure the camera caught all that. Since he ought to clean it later anyways, he pulled the kettlebell closer to his body and slid the cool metal against his glistening fur. His sweat rubbed off onto it, and moved it away as it passed his abdomen. Dexter liked that, and he did fifty more needed reps before he turned around with a raised tail. This time he squatted down, his large nuts close to the floor. Both hands gripped the musky handle, and lifted it with the help of his knees as he stood up straight. Squat down, tail raised, and showing off his pink hole, and licked his lips at the viewer who'd want him.

After fifty times of doing that, his sweat more apparent, he took more deep breaths and was able to regain himself once more. He lifted the weight aside because tossing it might break the floor or the kettlebell itself. After returning to his original position, he struck a few poses, flexing those fiery muscles. "You like that?" Suddenly invigorated to entice his fan, or fans mayhaps? He raised his arm and leaned his face to kiss it, winking back at the camera before his last training set.

"One more to go," his body was excited for his favorite part, moving the dumbbells with his feet where his arms would match it. Taking a step back, he took another deep breath and swayed his head to hear his bones pop. "Let's do this."

In a sudden motion Dexter hopped off the ground, leaning his body forward. Dick swung backward to the motion as his arm lands gripped to the weight, his legs spread further back while his ass raised. And he stood up again with a better thought, moving those weights in the opposite direction before returning to his first stance. Deep breaths and drop! This time his hole was in full display, his dickhead two inches away from kissing the ground. Clear goo trailed off of it, connecting it to the floor he would clean later. But for now, he swayed his hips side to side with his dick swinging along.

His hips thrusted down slowly, dick sliding against the floor. Warm enough from his bedroom's lights, he grinded against it. Dexter grunted as he moved his body back and forth in this constant motion. Camera in good view of his ass, with his cock thrusting against the tight space between himself and the white tiles. A good start to his routine, following it up with push-ups while using the dumbbells. Fifty reps first, sweat dribbled down from his hands to them afterwards. And the next set he rarely did; jumping push ups with the training apparatus. The pressure built up heat in his forearms, and he powered through the first thirty reps. By the thirty first, he reached his limit but refused to stop.

Dexter grunted under his breath, reaching fifty with shaky arms but he kept on going. The exercise, the hotness of it, felt pleasurable as he did it with his dick out. Feeling as if he would climax. Not yet, not here. And after reaching seventy, he slowed and eased his body down, shaft pressed against the floor. His tail barely wagged as he took deep breaths, feeling like he overdid it this time around.

The next few minutes were spent resting there, before picking himself up with burning hot forearms. He smiled under the sweat that dribbled from his chin. The scent emanating from him was far more intense than he had breathed, and it fuelled his inner desire. This spark, however, had come and gone as Dexter stumbled over to the bed and sat down on the mattress. Camera still in good view of it too. He pointed at it, winking and clicking his tongue to feign his endurance to all this.

Inside himself was a different story as that built up heat spread throughout his body, paws instinctively feeling himself up as he groaned. It felt good. Very good that made his fingers pinch those nipples to heighten all of this. Dexter laid down as his hands kept exploring himself, dick bouncing from his peripheral view. But he can't help to thrust into the air, panting as his body ran not on thought. Instinct took over, and part of him lusted for a release, while the other wanted rest.

Perhaps both could be arranged.

Dexter sank into his bed, startling him as he twisted and turned trying to grab the bed sheets to hold onto. Instead fell down, unable to yell. His dick flopped about as the ceiling was farther away, entering a tunnel of his hollowed mattress. The wolf tried to peek at what he was falling into; a flat surface shone by a spotlight. He couldn't make out its surroundings yet, and it seemed far as his descent was fast but the ground hadn't gotten closer.

For what seemed like moments, the edge of the surface he once thought was the shadows beyond the spotlight had turned out to be barriers of a wrestling ring. And his wolf-eyes adjusted, seeing the seating and commentary desks, and the stairwells in between the bleachers. But his eyes widened more as he got closer, body anticipating the impact it would have when it would splat against the ring. He imagined himself teleporting to the ground, or conjuring up pillows to soften it to no effect. That panic built up, body went from hot sexy desires to cold fear, about to shout as he was about to hit.

He shouted with his eyes closed but the feeling of a broken muzzle never came to. Dexter peeked out with one eye to see his muzzle a few inches from the ground. And he looked down to see his softened floppy dick not far off from it too. Relief had him sighing, and wondering when he would no longer hang in suspension. And just like that, his body was set down gently by his subconscious, on the floor of a giant white wrestling mat.

Dexter stood up and looked around while putting his cock back into his underwear. The inside of this stadium didn't resemble any that he'd been to. Green bleachers that kept ascending as far as the eye could see. Now that was freaky. A box-shaped arrangement of spotlights over his head that shone down onto him. He walked around the ring, getting a feel of the elastic rope. That gave him something he wanted to try out, tossing himself backwards into it, his weight causing himself and the rope to sling a few inches past the platform to be propelled back into the middle. He ran at the landing, keeping up with the momentum. If it had been a real match though, he would've used his arms to knock someone down from their neck, or grapple them with his legs.

This was what it would be like to be a wrestler in the ring. He took it all in, imagining if there were thousands of people cheering him on as he had a step over his opponent. They would all be shouting "Alpha Wolf! Alpha Wolf!" The floor would have vibrated with their stomping feet, their roars sending ecstatic shivers throughout his body. He would've swung his arms upward repeatedly to further rouse the crowd.

"That's what I'd like to hear!" He shouted, echoing into the empty room. All this imagination, within a dream, had him roused up too. Dexter ran around the ring still cheering, tail raised and swayed as he shouted in triumph. In his mind, the crowd cheered alongside him, and when he had found himself back in the middle with his arms raised amidst it all, he let out a howl. It should be noted that his future fanbase, should he get into this, have his howl be a signature cheer as well. A deep 'Awoooo' that escaped his lips, followed by a lighter tone from his fans.

But that wouldn't be all, smirking as he relaxed himself. Lowering those eyes as his inner heat eased from the adrenaline, and more towards something more intimate. His arms lowered themselves as he rubbed himself all over again. The crowd who were here for his sporty performance had gone as large cameras in the shape of phones occupied some of the bleachers. Red shine glared from each of their cameras, recording his show after dark, the spotlight changing to a pink hue. Its focus shrank from around the rink to wherever the sexy black wolf stood.

They could see his twitching bulge slowly grow. Pitched a tent that oozed pre at its tip, as his hands caressed his sides, making him moan. His tail went between his legs, pretending to cover himself as he struck a shy pose, covering his nipples with one arm, and his barely contained dick with the other. The latter of which moved his fingers to reveal its escape from his underwear, followed by a seductive yet gruff chuckle. "Whoops."

Lowly saxophone music played in the background as he slowly moved his hand away from his chest. He then unveiled his crotch only for those initial hands to cover him up. And when the saxophone hit a high note, he raised both hands only to hide his large schlong with his tail, winking at one of those cameras.

Dexter performed an improvised macarena where instead of having his arms hold still over the open space in front of him, he covered his crotch over and over again, teasing his viewers and himself to an extent. Showboating his muscles was one thing but he wanted to show off all of himself too. As it happened, he showed off his rear first to one of the cameras. Bending over, an arm reached under and between his legs to cover his length and his nuts while another reached around his back and pulled down his speedo. The sly wolf winked at a different camera as he showed his hole.

He crouched down after, his hands tugged on the hem of his wrestling underwear while his tail tuckered itself between his legs. With a few more spins in place he twirled his discarded clothing on his left paw, standing up to reveal his nuts. His dick still covered by his right arm's length and hand. And the reveal came slow, his hand slid over from the base of his shaft, inch-by-inch revealing his dark and throbbing erection. It sprung forward as it brushed itself past his middle finger before raising both hands and thrusting the air. Pre oozed, stringing itself down to the floor, and in his mind he could imagine the wolf whistles he'd be getting.

Dexter strut around to proclaim this entire room to himself. One foot in front of the other as his dick swung side to side. Both arms raising thumbs pointing to the owner. "That's right!" He flexed his muscles as he walked, swinging his hip to one side and spanking his ass. And he swayed them as he went along to the beat of the saxophone. In addition to the music, jumbo screens were brought down from the darkness that was the ceiling, revealing what those cameras were looking at.

The focus was on his dick, and Dexter thrusted outward, letting it throb. His intent was to up the ante, holding his shaft by the base as he pointed it straight to the camera in front of him, and the jumbo screen zoomed in on its tip. Seeing it made him want more, sliding his fingers throughout his length and all the way to it, followed by smearing pre all over. His dickhead glistened, and pre dribbled down along his length. Stroked himself more as he coated his entire shaft with his natural lube.

Rather than moan in seduction, he growled. Followed by an audacious, "Fuck yeah!" And the crowd would go wild. Or in his imagination, with the advent of streamers, he would see people react to his lewd display. Hearts would float around the screen, and his fans would be jerking off to him. To please these fans, he tried wrapping his entire length with one hand. Something he could not do as his middle finger was a few inches away from his wrist.

Instead Dexter used both hands, and the sensation had him moaning. But he kept up the bravado as he thrusted into it. Walking towards the edge, he continued jerking himself off between the spacious and parallel wrestling rope. More of his imagination played out with the thought of fucking his recently defeated opponent. For continuity's sake, he opted for a brown bear. A whole lot of muscle and fluff that could not compete with his, and a shaft only half his size- average.

That would be fun in an actual match, Dexter chuckled at the thought. But he wouldn't demean him or anything of that sort. They were all there for a good time, and most of all, for him. He marched back to the middle of the ring as he continued his routine of poses. One where he gently stroked himself while aiming a middle finger at the camera. Another where he turned to a different one, still stroking himself off but he raised his other hand and stuck out his tongue in between his index and middle fingers. The jumbo screen focused on his face with his tongue licking the air. All the ladies would swoon for him there. For the guys, he bent over and mooned at another camera, opposite of the first, and spread his cheeks. "Get a taste of that!" He turned his head upward to see the screen's focus on his hole again.

Dexter wasn't done as he stuck one of his hand's index and middle finger into his lips. He tasted the essence of his cock, salty and sweaty. Saliva string connected both fingertips and his lower lip, breaking the strand as he teased around his hole. The Alpha Wolf howled at that, his other hand jerking himself off from the pleasure being built up in his behind.

Though not a virgin down there, he loved the tingle of his fingers as it slowly entered him. Hot and slick that made him pant, eager for more of his inches to go in. Dexter jerked himself faster as it wriggled inside going deeper. His eye caught two opposing sides of the screen showing off his fingered hole, while the other two showed his dick being stroked, with the nuts swaying at his hasty motions. It would be unfair to not show everybody everything.

Dexter laid down on the mat, which felt like his comfy mattress for a moment. It made him pause, turning to the flooring and rubbing his elbow against it to make sure it still had that wrestling mat surface. Did not sink nor bounce, and so the show went on. This time he captured the best of both, spreading his legs wide open to show off his asshole while his stroked shaft was still in view. With his body laid back, and in good view of the screens, he got off to the thought that other people were getting off to him, as well as himself getting off too.

Fantastic details were captured, such as the subtle squelch as his fingers prod themselves in and out of his pink hole, while his balls were jostled in the motion of his large fuckstick. He saw his bits and loved what he saw, deepening his finger and jerking faster as he saw it happen. Dexter's lower body wriggled in pleasure, his hips thrusting themselves upward out of instinct. But in a man of his position, especially if this would be his victorious climax, he ought to be the one on top.

Dexter performed a combat roll, because it looked cooler that way. And his knees felt like they sank into the cushions again for a moment, but it was of no importance as he moved his arm around to continue fingering himself. This time, in this position, it felt better to thrust into his hands that gently squeezed his shaft with each push. His mouth muttered in the thrill as his whole body felt hot and covered in sweat and musk.

The crowd wouldn't be shouting 'Alpha Wolf!' anymore. They'd chant something better: 'Sexy! Dexy!' alternating between the lads and the ladies. 'Sexy!' from the men, and 'Dexy!' from the women. And he jerked upward with one, and down with the other. Music to his ears, and one of the best ways to get himself off too. And he still wasn't done showing off as he got on all fours and thrusted into the air pretending to rail that same bear. With each thrust he felt his fur stand out, his inner beast growling and expanding.

The crowd loved it, and the distant speakers amplified the noises he made. Ferocity mixed with pleasure amidst the pseudo slapping noises playing in his head. And they kept on chanting 'Sexy! Dexy! Sexy! Dexy!' as he pounded the air. Because of his position, his dick ended up slapping the mat beneath, and it wasn't rigid like he anticipated. Rather soft, and he lowered his hips to gently rub his nuts over the tingle cotton-like surface that it had.

"Thaaaaat's the stuff," Dexter panted, tail behind him swept left and right. And he kept grinding on the unusual surface, tingling his shaft and nuts with its soft texture. It felt amazing, his entire body tingled in the anticipation of his climax. His fans deserved a climax they wouldn't forget. Sexy Dexy took this matter in his own hands, getting back to his knees as he jerked himself off with both hands again. Cock twitched on the verge of release, the entire length slicked with his pre.

"Hooo boy," he mumbled under his breath with how sensitive his shaft had gotten. Piled on top of the audience online, and seeing the screens focus on his pre-dribbling tip. He quickened the pace of his hands, with his hips joining in by pushing into them whenever they went down. His fingers toyed around with the circular ridge under his head, intensifying the pleasure he had experienced thus far. A howl escaped his lips because of it, and his mind quickly thought of how his fans would too as they came.

"Here it comes!" Dexter thrusted four more times into his hands. And at last, at the last buckle of his hips, he came with his dick pointing upwards. All that built up pleasure within his body manifested into copious amounts of his see, while his body plunged itself into a warm and blissful embrace. The spotlights highlighted the height of which the force of his massive cock shot out his wolf milk, and it was unsurprisingly impressive. He looked up to see the screen focused on his spurting shaft, and he jerked off to it more causing more of his seed to shoot out and ooze down from his tip too as he half-howled and moaned simultaneously.

The next few moments were followed by his seed coming down upon him, sticky and fresh essences that embodied his most intimate self. Subtle white streaks marked his sweat-glistening black fur, and a few landed on his muzzle that he stuck his tongue out to get a taste of himself. His shaft kept cumming but in a decline, still plentiful on the mat in front of him. Dexter admired his cock, swinging it as he squeezed the rest of his essence out, flinging around dribbles of white side to side. The rest of his body ached, as if the exercises earlier caught up with him.

He looked up again to see if the camera captured his softening cock, only to see a singular light bulb attached to the white ceiling, and a few stains of his not-as-white milk. Dexter's eyes widened as the realization set in, looking back down to himself as the wrestling mat had been his bed the whole time, with the edge of his sheets and the floor in front having been stained with his cum too. The surrounding bleachers had become his room, and the rest of the ring was just his bed. But the mess he made on himself was still there, recent enough that it hadn't sunken into his fur yet. It would be the first time he had woken up from an intense climax. Still knelt down with his knees half-sunk into the mattress, only realizing why those wrestling mats felt weird at the end.

Dexter's tail wagged once more, eager to see what his phone had caught. He noticed it still hung there, pointing in his general direction. So he got off the bed with such excitement that it overlapped the aching sensation of his exercise, and whatever kind of movements he had made that led up to his awakening. But he was slow, joints aching as he moved around the mess, followed by reaching over to detach his hot phone from the clamp. There was still enough battery at least, and it had been three hours since he fell asleep. He stopped the video and went to the files to review his performance.

All of it was there; from the sexy exercises, all the routines, and showing himself off to the camera. Seeing his pink hole made his cock twitch, and his asshole pucker up too. Next came the overextension that tuckered him out, followed by collapsing on the bed. Nothing happened other than his cock twitching, sometimes pointing upwards and laying back down to rest against his abs. It went on for two and a half hours until the last thirty minutes where his hand jerked himself off, and the other tried to reach around and finger himself but tapped on his perineum area instead. And in a half-awake state that leaned more on lucidity, he got onto a kneeling position and thrusted into his own two hands. All the moans, the grunts, even the howl and the subtle 'Hoo boy' had been caught by the camera. Up until it reached the climax where his initial spurts hit the ceiling, followed by the rest on the bed and floor in front of him, and his tail wagging right behind. Two minutes later he had awoken, and Dexter had caught up.

"Sexy Dexy indeed," he said to himself. Most of the video had to be removed as it was just him sleeping after all. The interesting parts he'd keep to himself because of how amazing an experience that was. In fact, he enjoyed watching it so much that his schlong had awoken too.

Dexter struck a pose in his cum-stained self, even his newly bought wrestling apparatus had been marked by his essence too. Finger guns with his dickhead pointing to his reflection, followed by a wink.

Perhaps round two was in order. After all, these wet dreams were the only way he'd fight the only other person who could beat him: himself.