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CHAPTER ONE In Season


Where to start? I know! The beginning. That makes sense, right? At the start of things. I wouldn't want to start too late into the story, now would I? That would be downright inexcusable. No, that wouldn't do at all. It's settled then. I'll begin right smack at the beginning.
In the beginning this big guy in the sky made a whole bunch of stuff and that stuff was good. Or so he said. Then a bunch of crap happened and I hear these things called humans used to be around for a while, but they died. Sucks to be them.
Now there's just us deer. I was raised in a village at the foothills of the Engledom Mountains, just on the outskirts of the main forest, which has no name. There are other peoples indigenous to the woodlands, of course. All tribal civilizations: wildcats, bears, rabbits, fox. You know, the usual stuff. It's interesting because I once found these old fossils of deer that looked like us, but walked on four legs. Go figure. I maybe even espied one when I was really little, like a page out of a fairy tale, but that's entirely besides the point.
Wait. The beginning might not be such a great place to start after all. I'm sorry. I'm just a little flustered. Literature is not my forte. I guess that brings us back to the age-old question: Where do I start? Tough one for me; I'm used to history books. They tend not to just jump off from the middle of nowhere. They start in the beginning like a good book should.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Rutting season. Everybody was mating and fucking and screwing and mating. I, on the other hand, was busy transcribing documents. That may sound easy, but believe me, it's not. Not when you have hooves for paws. It gets even harder when the scent of a doe is hanging heavy on the air like the smell of a dozen breaths in a crowded room. Or the scent of a hundred does in a single village.

That time of year always drove me mad. The irresistible smell clogged my nose till I just brooded on it to no end. Spending a quiet evening at home during rutting season is like breathing in too much and holding it till your whole body begs you to exhale. All the energy builds up in your nether regions like a barrel of vodka floating down a volcano-doomed for explosion. My cock was one giant dam ready to flood, swelling with the pressure-aching like I would burst. Suffice it to say, celibacy's a real bitch.
Not that I'd end up like this by choice, of course. Oh, God, no! You think I'd be sitting in my room, quivering like a helpless fawn if I could find somebody to mount? Ha! I ain't no monk.

A few drunken laughs drifted to my ears from just outside the window. That's the problem when you live just a block away from the only pub in town-where everybody was drinking, talking briefly, and then fucking. You can never get a decent night's sleep. When I crept to the window, I caught a whiff of the cutest hind nearby. She was going home with this enormous buck, Neil from across the way. Fourteen or fifteen hooves tall, a sheik two-hundred-and-fifty pounds. All muscle. Not weight lifter strong, but bulky, like it had just came naturally to him. I, on the other hand, am ridiculously short and skinny. "As short and as skinny as they come," said my mentor, once. If only that had turned out to be true. For I had not managed to come in all my life, despite my all-encompassing torturous libido. The only thing that comes natural to me is studying history.
But anyway, his antlers were enormous, spreading out branch after branch after branch. I didn't even realize I was stroking my own in comparison. "They're so small and stubby." I thought. I was twenty-two years old, and I'd never shed my original pair. They were still encased in velvety skin like a fucking adolescent's. They'd never grown up and branched out like a pair of good antlers should. I tried once to scrape away the layer of skin that clung to them. But it was only a few inches that came off, and my head ended up dripping with blood. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. They'd still be more like stubs than antlers.

By the time I'd finished feeling bad about myself, the couple had long since disappeared. My erection, however, had not. Testosterone was flooding my arteries and quickly working its way towards my veins. It tainting my blood till my skull ached. I cursed the Gods for not making me a bear or a chipmunk. Anything with paws. Something that could masturbate. Just you try using hooves! I cradled my little wooden tiger and pouted. There wasn't even anything soft around I could rub off on. Us hoofed craftsman make no specialty of soft inventions. "It's always made of wood and stone-the strongest stuff on Earth," as my mentor used to say. But really, all I wanted was a little bit of action. Just a tiny bit. I'd have done anything, just to know what I was missing.
When my wrists quaked, and ink splashed all over the papyrus, I knew it was time to put away my studies; to go out there and give it a shot, futile as it may have been.


* * *


"Buzz off!" Was the first doe's reply. Blunt. Rutting females are always short on patience and seldom lacking in hostility. She went back to eyeballing two stronger bucks next to her fight for a place in her bed. Two mounds of quivering muscle locked together by a web of antlers as thick as tree trunks. When beads of sweat started flying off their fur like rain, I thought to myself briefly, "Are they going to have sex with the doe or each other?" Then the big one got floored by the bigger one. Henrey, I believe was his name. I'd played tag with him when we were both little.
Clearly the victor, Henrey strutted towards the doe and slapped her rump. "Hey there, sweet thang." He said with an absurd grin.
All she had to say for herself was "tee hee." I couldn't help but chuckle. Half from pathetic jealousy, half because it was actually funny. Well, anyway, the point is that the bigger one all of a sudden started acknowledging my presence. "This little Velvet Horn bothering you, Sally?"
His antlers flew at me like lightning but did not strike. I, in the meantime, was left shielding my face in terror like a schmuck, much to the amusement of my peers and colleagues, might I add. They all laughed, of course. Some even went so far as to point.

But I'm not a fighting deer, or a competitive one. I've read enough history to know when to walk away.

Instead, I turned my sights on easier game. Across the dance floor, there sat this quiet little doe, sipping a cocktail, masculine as she was. Normally, to get to the other side, I'd just have to step passed a deer or two playing the harp or the drum, maybe tiptoe around a few twirling bodies. But now it was a pit of carnage. All the bucks were sparring, and that meant stray antlers flailing about, ripping into walls like a living earthquake. Just watching it made me blush in shame. You think someone like me could ever win a match? Ha! I could barely navigate across the dance floor without getting bruised and beaten. I was lucky to have all my teeth by the end of the whole dreadful ordeal.
"Hey there, sweet thang," I said to her, and regretted it instantly. She just looked me up and down and laughed, coldly sipping her blueberry daiquiri. It was Diane from the Krents farm down the road; not by any means a cruel girl, but she wasn't exactly the type to take shit from anybody either. I respect that; honestly, I do. The dominance wouldn't bother me, except for the fact that she was one of the few does I've ever known that could sprout antlers. It's rare, but it happens. And when it does, I find it very emasculating. Perhaps I stood a chance with her out of pity. Who knows? We might bond and form a relationship on our relative abnormalities.
She waved to the bartender for another drink and turned towards me. "Sorry, buddy. Tonight's not your night."
I was losing her! Like I'd ever even had her. What the hell was I doing? I must've been a total idiot. But nevertheless, I had to try something to save face. "Come on," I said and flashed a toothy smile. "Have a hart."
It was so cheesy she had to laugh. She even scratched the top of my head playfully. The sensation trickled down my spine like a thousand prickly waterfalls. And out of nowhere she gripped my head tightly and whispered into my ear. "You're a nice guy. You wouldn't want to end up locking antlers with me, would you?"

Before I could officially get offended, a tight grip clasped around my shoulder and lowered me to the floor.
"Chuck, what the hell are you doing?" Cried the doe towering above me. I didn't realize just how tall she was till she got up off that barstool.
"I think it's time someone taught this Velvet Horn some manners." Chuck was gigantic as one of our buck-Gods, and twice as pushy. Insecurity, I suspect. You know the type. I suspect you may have even schooled with them. As if schooling meant anything to that type! The only education that Chuck valued was giving Velvet Horns like me instructions in "manners." But as fortune had it, it was not I who was due for a lesson in etiquette. In one blow, Chuck was lying flat on his back in a daze. Diane made sure of that.
"Sorry," she turned to me and said. "You're not my type." Chuck started muttering like in a dream and stumbling to his feet.
"Come on!" retorted Diane as she paid the bill. "We're leaving." At that, she dragged him kicking and screaming out by his antlers.

In under a minute, they were already out the door, and the room seemed silent to me again, despite the party growing crazier around me.
At least I wasn't the only one to lose a little dignity over the course of the night. Hell, I was better off than some. Still, my purpose was to get laid, not to feed my ego. Either way, I was starting to get some nasty stares from nearby bucks and does alike. It was about time I called it a night.


CHAPTER 2 Warm Coffee


That was only the first night of my sexual torment. The next day, the scent of females was teasing my nose harder than ever before. Worse yet, all I had to show for my woes was a nervous tick. Not to mention a pair of balls that hung like bricks.
Everybody was wandering out of foreign beds and staggering home with smiles and yawns of satisfaction. A cloud of coffee-smell lingered over the whole village, permeating my fur, pooling up in my pores like a spreading infection. Or maybe I was just that desperate for caffeine. If that was so, then I certainly wasn't craving it for the same reason the others did. The entire village was up and about, strolling into the pub whistling sweet tunes, ordering their cups of bitter joe to remedy a deep relaxation I'd never feel. The kind of euphoria that prompted the very same bucks who'd humiliated me the night before to pat me on the back today. Henrey looked like he'd slip into a coma soon if he didn't get himself a pick-me-up.
I, on the other hand, needed my coffee cause I had been up all night, fighting my convulsions. The aching in my crotch was just too much to sleep through. You think I needed coffee? No way. Me? It'd take an ice age to raise my ass from the dead.
"Hey there, sweet thang." Said a familiar voice next to me, gitty as a schoolfawn. The room smelt so bad of rutting I hadn't even noticed her coming. "Gimme a scotch," said Diane as the barkeep passed us by. Her attention was back on me within a second; it happened so fast, it seemed awkward. I admired her ability to do that. "Sleep well?"
I raised an eyebrow-the one next to the twitching eye. For all her valiant deeds of chivalry, she seemed to be deeply amused by my suffering.

* * *

Within a few minutes, the joint was packed, same as the night before. The whole ensemble was there, all save one. "Where's Chuck?" I tried to look cool and sip my coffee as I spoke, but hadn't counted on it being piping hot. "Oww, fuck!"
She just giggled. "He's still at my place. Refused to leave."
Diane was strange this time of year. I wanted to get the fuck outta there; her smile made me wish the coffee were easier to gulp. "That's strange."
"Said he was too tired." Diane shrugged at me and flashed me a white gleaming smile that said she'd had a wonderful evening. I just yawned and sipped my coffee. Could've cooled it down with some well water, but I really didn't feel like the hike.
All of a sudden I heard an odd sound emanating from Diane's voice at random. "Awwww," she said. I had no idea what she found so damned cute until she tapped my erection with her hoof; it sprang like a springboard. "Poor thing." My back started to buckle, and I was getting dizzy. A wave of endorphins rushed over my body. It was the best feeling I'd ever felt. My ass slid off the stool, and after a second of near-unconsciousness, I realized I was sitting on the floor clutching her ankle. When I looked up at her, she just smiled, satisfied with herself. I wasn't sure whether to thank her or yell at her. As soon as I started to get up, she rubbed the top of my head till all the little hairs there stood at attention. I ended up sinking to the floor till I was at eye level with her hind hooves. Should've been grateful I didn't pass out.
It only took a few seconds for me to realize the whole place was laughing at me. I was all of a sudden glad it wasn't Chuck who had taken my seat in my absence. That would be too much to handle. So glad, in fact, that I decided to forget about the seat all together.
After about a solid minute of cowardice and drooling on the floor, I finally mustered up the dignity necessary to reject her little teases and run away.


CHAPTER 3 A Walk in the Woods

I ran. I considered for a brief instant the notion of going back to brood at home like Hemlocke, the ancient exiled King of Engledom, but unfortunately that was not an option. Not when you're within noseshot of that musty female odor-the scent which is both horrible and intoxicating, and never one without the other. Oh, no. I most certainly could not remain in the village a minute longer. That simply would not do at all. So I ran instead. Past the farms, past the fences, past old man Williker's broken windmill. I even crossed the vast-and freezing, might I add-Kaldorn River, which flows from the peaks of the northerly mountains all the way down passed the outskirts of our fair village, along the ancient ruins of...Well, you get the point.
I ran and ran and ran until I came upon a spot. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about this quaint little spot in the woods, except that it happened to be the one I collapsed upon when I fainted and slipped hopelessly into a semi-conscious stupor. That was approximately the time when I stopped running.

* * *

I don't know how long I was out, but when I came to, it was nearing dark. I stood up, brushed myself off as well as I could with my awkward hooves, and turned about like a mobile in all directions. Which way had I come from? Not even the sound of the river was close enough to guide my path. How would I get home? I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, bumping into trees, tripping over roots, scrambling over rocks, and as I finally caught my breath, juggling for words. Excitement and relief had flooded my veins, and this was no time for complete sentences, even complete wor--! All it took was a deep breath, and I noticed instantly that the smell of females was gone. Not a trace of it! Slumping back against the rough bark or a nearby oak, I let my body fall limp and savoured that cool fresh air.
"Back to my roots," I thought. "Here, in the wilderness where our ancestors leapt about and grazed on their vegetation like wild kings." Then, pausing to reflect on how incredibly hokey that sounded, I rephrased. "The woods are neat." I started to picture the ancient deer leaping over logs effortlessly, running along on all fours like animals. Their hooves were useful then. Now, they're only hammers for wall building, welding and riveting. Thousands of years of evolution, and we still are incapable of weaving anything soft.
I walked along the woods, rubbing the trees as I passed them by, scuffling along some ancient and probably abandoned path. The cold air charmed each strand of fur up from my flesh like dancing snakes, and I thanked God for my coat of fur. It was brisk, really, but not unbearable. It was things like that that made me reevaluate my body, give credit to each little part that, nowadays, seldom had the opportunity to do its job.

There was a little stone wall that crossed the path, disheveled and unkempt-the kind that always lie hidden and forgotten in the backwoods of villages. I wondered what farm was once there, and how strictly its borders were protected when this wall was still considered necessary. It was only a few feet high.
The path curved around in different directions, forked off, and split into tiny little paths, barely distinguishable from the floor of the woods themselves. As I was just starting to get whacked in the face by swaying branches, the idea dawned upon me that this little excursion might not have been very smart. Resolved to go a little further, I pushed on, delaying the question I hated to answer: "When do I turn back? Can I really spend the night?" Actually, that was two questions, but that minor discrepancy in semantics is of little consequence; the important thing to remember is that I hated to answer them.
Just a little further, past another wall and fork, the road emptied out into a meadow, filled with grasses and reeds and bushes of all kinds. This was tempting. Should I make a meal of it all? My tongue was not used to this crude manner of foods, but rather, the prepared delicacies of our village. Truffles mainly. But being hungry, and in the adventurous sort of mood, I began to chew at the leaves of a nearby waterberry bush, and found them to be surprisingly tolerable, though hardly what I'd call filling. No sooner had I bent my head down to eat did I espy a flash of something moving from the corner of my eye. When I looked around, there were only reeds blowing back and forth across the meadow. I was vulnerable-out in the open, where all could see and prowl and wait, but remain hidden behind bushes at immeasurable distances. For every bush worthy of a meal, there were ten more that were perfect spots to stalk from behind.
My heart pounded like a warhammer against my ribs till I swore they would break. What had I done? Where the hell was I? Or better yet, where the hell was my stalker?! I cursed my heart for its impatience. I couldn't even listen for rustles with it thumping around inconsiderately. Being foolish and inexperienced in wilderness survival, I started to run in the most convenient and most random direction I could think of. That, of course, is when whoever was behind me finally opted to accept my poorly planned invitation for pursuit. I could hear the violent rumbling from behind me, even though I dared not look. The snarls and pants of excited lungs and a vicious throat echoed in my brain, despite the fact that I had a good lead on him.
There was no road anymore. I was bounding through branches, hanging overhead, diving clumsily over dried streams, ripping my self apart, thorn by bloody thorn. It was then that I thought, "Wow, just like my ancestors," with a sick kind of deluded satisfaction that fills your head only in moments of true despair. Louder now I heard the panting, but the snarls had faded and had been replaced by a confident rhythmic breath that needn't waste any effort on intimidation. It was cold, efficient, the sound of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. The sound was getting nearer and I bolted as fast as I could. Tired, though I was, the rush from all the speed coursed through me like rainwater seeping through mud. Slowly but surely, I was sure of myself once again. I was a deer-noble, proud, faster than most predators, even stronger than quite a few, (though that's hard to picture). I was the spirit of my ancestors reincarnate, adrenaline seeping into my primitive brain, urging me forward, making me invincible as I bounded effortlessly over rocks, walls and bushes. I was who the world told me I never could be, stronger than they'd lead me to be believe!
I was helpless on the forest floor, frozen with shock.

* * *

Whatever the fuck it was, it was on top of me, and I was too scared to struggle. Its snout pressed against my neck, and I felt it snarl directly into my ear till its hot breath made me shiver and quake. The power of it sent tingles all the way over to my other ear. His claws reached around my chest, and scratched my flesh just enough to draw a little blood. That sure as hell snapped me out of my stupor. What the fuck was going on? Why wasn't I jumping up and kicking his sorry ass?!
When I tried doing that, I realized precisely why I wasn't jumping up and kicking his sorry ass. The weight of his enormous body made it tough to breathe, let alone struggle. With just the grip of his right paw, he could hold both of my arms immobile behind my back.
His fangs slowly pressed against my tender neck, and the flesh was just starting to give away. "So this is how I'm going to die." I thought. "Nobody will find my body, and I'll be all alone in the middle of the woods." For a brief instant, I was surprisingly relieved that at least my nutrients would be passed along the food chain. Sick thought, huh? That was somewhat of a strange comfort to me. Still, mortality is a difficult concept to subscribe to, and I wasn't exactly thinking clearly either. I couldn't actually just cease to exist, right then and there, now could I?
"Argghabargerummmarrg" Said the predator as he rabbit punched me in the back of the head; all my muscles tensed up in one last burst of resistance before I collapsed. Well, I wouldn't call it so much of a burst as it was a squirm, and I wouldn't call it resistance so much as I'd call it pain. Yes, that sounds about right. My muscles tensed up in one last painful squirm before I collapsed. He was just too much for me to overthrow. Instead, I decided it would be a good idea to lie there and wait for my doom.
His teeth were dribbling slobber all over my neck but it soon occurred to me that my doom wasn't anywhere to be found. He wasn't so much wrestling me down anymore as he was rubbing against my back. What the hell?! I tried to jump up off the ground again, but his teeth were already stuck half an inch into my throat. Suffice it to say that, in lieu of this whole neck-tooth situation, any sudden motion I made would not exactly be pleasant.
"What the hell are you doing?" I started to say, but was interrupted by my own yelp. Interestingly enough, the yelp coincided almost exactly with the moment that I started to feel something enter my rectum. I forgot my attempts to reason with him and resumed struggling again as I had before. It was rather impossible while he had my antlers in one paw, and pinned my arms behind my back with the other. It all happened in an instant, right before I felt him go all the way inside me.
"Tight little one," it said in a crude growl as it slobbered. At this point, I was screaming, because I realized that he was right. I was, in fact, a tight little one, as he so eloquently put it. I'd imagine, however, that that would be more pleasurable on his end than on mine. Then something else dawned on me. This monster was speaking. What kind of predator could talk? From what the legends have told, they were all savages with little language and even littler culture. If there were one thing I least expected to find--less than a predatorial carnivorous rapist in the meadow, I'd have to say it would be a talking predatorial carnivorous rapist in the meadow. What could it be that was talking to me? What was on top of me now? For all I know it could have been anything from a bear to mountain lion. Having to know, I ripped my neck painfully from his fangs and whipped around to catch a glimpse. It was a wolf, big and gray with yellow eyes that seemed to drill intimidating holes into your skull till they left a vulnerable passage straight to your brain.
By now, I could feel a jabbing sensation in my rear that at first seemed to poke me at fifty times a second, but quickly slowed down to something more stable, and luckily, more tolerable. He quelled my resistance by pulling hard on my antlers till I thought my neck would snap. The wolf simply snickered. "What would I have done with you if you had come to me a little while later, with real antlers more difficult to handle?"
I don't know why, but I answered him. It was a foolish thing to do. Perhaps if I hadn't, he would have let me die, and you wouldn't even be reading this story. "Please, Mr. Wolf, um...sir. Don't kill me." I said. "Take pity, for the love of God; I'm helpless, and these are the only antlers I've ever had. I'm 28 years old." Seems like foolish last words, I know, but it just started pouring out.
It wasn't long before the thrusts had stopped, "At last!" I thought, and waited for him to pull out and let me be on my way. But he was nowhere near finished, take it from me. It was then that I started to feel my anus expanding and expanding and expanding. Really stretch, till I thought my whole body would rip in two. I started to scream and cry and try to free myself from it. It just kept growing! What was happening to me?! I struggled as hard as I could, trying to free myself from this wretched bulb, but the wiggling only made my muscles tense up and painfully resist. The wolf just laughed at me. I had thought it was in answer to my pain, but it was a more specific kind of laugh. "That's some pair of antlers you got there," He said snickering.
"Great. Even my hunter finds it funny." And at that, he let go of both my horns and arms. "What a delightful surprise." I thought, even though I couldn't exactly use them to struggle free. No matter what, I was bound to the wolf via the enormous bulb in my ass that he now tugged so cruelly. We were stuck together, and this fact seemed to genuinely delight the wolf that lied on top of me. His paws were now free to run up and down my chest, scratching me up as he went. He ran his fingers all the way down past my belly to my thighs and then back up again. This was not all that dissimilar from the tickles that Diane had proved could bring me to my knees.
Still, despite the pain, and even more so despite the pleasure, I tried to find ways to pull away from him. My arms were flailing about wildly, (I wasn't sure exactly what to do with them), when suddenly my body froze. One of his paws was gently brushing against my cock. Gently, like no hoof could ever do. Quivering against Diane's ankles was nothing compared to this. Just a simple touch that lasted only a brief instant-a soft touch, and I was frozen in place, waiting for him to do it again.
"Somebody's got a sensitive spot," he said, and let his paw drift as far away from my crotch as possible. It was wandering all over my body, tracing delicately over my fur with its claw. It was everywhere but my genitals. I even got to the point where I started to hump the air in anticipation, begging him silently to grope me again. Even if only for a casual rub that lasted an instant, I would have sold him my soul. His paw went away for a moment, and he giggled once again as I started to actually whine. After a second or two that felt like an eternity, I felt him stroking me with a slippery hand.
"Oh, my God!" I thought. "This is what I've been missing!" I felt my entire body swirl with the slightest motion of his paw. All I could think about was how much I adored the wolf for showing me this pleasure. I know it was "one of those things" that springs to mind while in bed, or being the case of the wolf and I, while in leaves, but I couldn't help it. He was my first, and in all likelihood, my last.
My entire body was overflowing with pleasure. "Yes," I thought, and couldn't believe it. The tension was building up inside of me. "Yes!" I shouted aloud. "Thank you so much, Mister Wolf. I'd be lost without you." What was this crap coming out of my mouth? Was I out of my mind? He bit down into my neck hard, and I gasped in pain and pleasure. My whole brain echoed with the sound of his growling. It was terrifying and exciting all at once. There was no way of knowing if I was going to live or die, and all I had to say for myself, thirty seconds from death, and a minute or two from the brink of release was "Yes! Thank you! Yes," I could feel it almost there. "Yes!" I was seconds away. "Yes! YES! Y-"

He took his hand away, pumped the last bit of juice into my body and pulled out. "No." He laughed and toppled me over to my side. Lying motionless for a second, I started to whimper. I turned around frantically to plead with him, but felt my courage fall from me the second I laid eyes on him. "I--;" He was an enormous wolf, gigantic and ferocious, capable of killing me even quicker than I would have imagined, and here I was, begging him for sex. Part of me wanted to run away when I saw what was there, saw what I'd been with. Saw what it could probably do, but he would catch me even if I tried. I was awestruck.
"You were saying something?" Said the wolf absent-mindedly as he straightened up his fur. I could not bear to look him in the eye, so I stared instead at the surprisingly interesting leaves upon the ground.
"Um, nevermi--;"
"Out with it!" He roared, and was mellow again as quickly as he had become enraged.
"Well, it's just that, er...I didn't get to finish. And I was wondering if you would please um...I'm sorry about being quite so forward it's just that."
"First time?" He said.
"Um...yeah."
"I'm gonna be honest with you, little guy, there's no way you're going to cum tonight." He said with a smile. "But I'll make you a proposition. You come over here and clean this disgusting shit of yours off my cock, and maybe...just maybe I'll give you another stroke or two."
I met his eyes in protest, but saw that they were serious. As much as I hated to trade so much for so little, I thought it best not to piss off the guy who could potentially kill me. Meekly, I crawled over to where he was sitting and started to wipe the shit off his penis with a leaf. I felt so low. It was one thing to be forced into submission, quite another to allow yourself to be degraded by choice. Before I knew it, the leaf was on the floor and my wrist aching from the grip that had forced me to drop it.
"Not like that," he smiled. Or at least I assume he was smiling. The next thing I knew, he was grabbing me by the antlers and lowering my face towards him. He actually had me blow him till he had cum once again. My rancid taste was still lingering on his member, but the sounds of his moans were what tortured me most. Listening him take enjoyment at my expense made me feel not angry, but shameful. What was I doing? The second he shot his load, he pulled out and clamped my muzzle shut.
"Swallow for me." He said. When I did, he rubbed my cock and added "Good boy." For about five seconds, I felt like a God, quivering with unimaginable delight. And then it was over. Not because I came, it was just plain over, sad to say.

I was left panting, wanting more, willing to do anything for more. "What would it take for just a little more I thought?"

The wolf was already walking away. "See you tomorrow." He shouted.



Sprocket Copyright 2002.