Roscoe - Meet the Weredog Character
#14 of Weredog
For the last few years I've been brought in by the lovely furs over at Weredog to provide a story for their new characters. With their blessing, I'm going to be posting these stories!
I'd like to introduce you to Roscoe, who knows he was the first. It's in that smile. He won't rub it in everyone else's face, but still. He knows. You can find donger over here: https://weredog.co.uk/inventory/roscoe/
A knock at the door tears you away from your daydreams. It's Roscoe again. The latte-shaded splash in his fur is incandescent in the snow-reflected sunlight, making the darker portions over the malamute's head look like impatient shadows. Eyes as deep as an iced-over lake stare pleadingly at you through the peep-hole in your door. You've already got the hot chocolate made for him on the kitchen counter and the blinds are pulled just in case the neighbors are passing by.
He thanks you at the door with his big goofy grin. He gives you a hug and you're reminded of how much muscle is beneath that fluff. You're held aloft as if you weighed nothing while eager tongue makes your face a slobbery mess. He hasn't seen you in forever! You agree, noting just how long it's been since yesterday afternoon. You pretend not to notice when his head hits the door frame, or when he shakes snow all over your hallway.
Claws tak-tak-tak on the linoleum as he follows you into the kitchen. You don't turn around as he traps you against the counter top. You pass the hot chocolate up to him in shaky hands as his big fingers fumble with your trousers. Panting dog fills your ears. Fur damp with fresh snow cools your skin as you help him pull your waistband down to your knees.
The anticipation is the best part--knowing at any moment you'll get that first tingling touch. Oh, and there he is. He rubs against you, and then with just natural lubrication, pushes inside. It's like he's perfectly designed just for you. Not too thick to start with, but then when that bulge of his knot hits--bliss. You were wrong before. This is the best part.
He lets you rest across the countertop when he's done, lapping at the hot chocolate. You can mop up the mess later. Then he tosses you over his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom for round two. And three, and when you're finally feeling recovered enough, three point five. It's evening when Roscoe continues his interrupted walkies, and you find yourself looking forward to tomorrow's midday cup of hot chocolate.