She giggled. “Do you like spanking?”
“Everyone likes spanking.”
“If everyone likes spanking, why are you asking me this question?” She was still giggling.
He swatted her, gentle, and the give of her flesh under his palm made his already hard cock jerk inside his own jeans. “Fine, then, just take your punishment and learn your lesson, my bratty bad girl. And call me ‘sir,’ if you don’t want more where that came from.”
She giggled again. She was giggling a lot.
He pushed her jeans all the way down.
She stepped out of them. She started across the room and he went after her, eyes glued to the movement of her white, twitching tail. He could not believe he had missed this, thetail, all those years with a swan.
Then again, he had not really been able to get his entire dick into Cira, due to the shallowness of swan cloacae. Some species of swans had more of a phallus and therefore more of a vaginal canal; some didn’t. Some species were made to simply kiss cloacae, no insertion at all. Cira could handle (and enjoyed) some penetration. Perhaps not having his penis entirely encased should have been dissatisfying, but it mostly hadn’t been. The head of his cock was the most sensitive part, anyway. That had fit. And the real thrill of it had sort of been being allowed to sully pretty white-feathered Cira, pretty graceful Cira.
Why was he thinking about his ex-wife right now?
Maybe because this was better in some unfathomable way.
The hot-blooded furred goodness of this woman of his own species—not that he was speciesist, just… She was a mammal and his cock fit so nicely into her, and she was so receptive, and she was really just perfectly shaped, and he was going to be jerking off to thoughts of her for months after this.
Why was this woman letting him fuck her again?
She didn’t even like him.
“I can’t believe,” she said, pressing her ass into him, twitching her tail against his belly, “that we spent all that time talking about your weird theories about male inferiority instead of anything practical.”
“Practical?” What was she even talking about? He touched her waist, her hips, smoothing his hands over her body, over her panties, which were purple. He should try to take them off of her and see if she stopped him.
“I would not mind it if my baby had a father, you know,” she said, sighing as his hands skimmed over her. “We didn’t talk about that enough.”
“I really want to father babies on you,” he said, starting to ease off her underwear.
She giggled again. “I know that, but you also said you might want to be around afterwards.”
“Yeah,” he breathed, as he eased her underwear down the same path as her jeans had gone, as he was hit with a familiar smell as he bared her pussy.
Oh, shit, he realized.That’s me. That’s the smell of my fucking come, because I fucked her, and I came in her twice, and she didn’t clean up, and—
He undid his zipper, freed himself, and pushed into her.
She gasped.
“Sorry,” he panted in her ear. “Sorry, I’m definitely, totally going to make this up to you and get you off, I swear, I just… I need to do you just like this, right now.”
She let out a strangled gasp.
“Please?”
“Yes, sir,” she moaned. “Yes, I’m yours.”
Oh, sun andmoon. He held onto her, fucking her from behind, both of them standing in this hotel room, her half-dressed, him mostly clothed, and he felt like some kind of warm, sweet pleasure was bursting again and again, right between his eyes, like he had been transported to another place, a place of sheer goodness.
He held onto her hips with both hands for a while, and then one of his hands migrated around to find the small protrusion of her belly, and he slipped into a strange, somewhat shameful, but undeniably hot reverie, wherein he justpicturedher belly swelling.
Swelling withhischild.
Thinking of seeing her, heavily pregnant, and thinking,I did that.