Page 7 of The Werebear's Swing
Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, he pulled off with a wet pop that echoed through the room. I whimpered at the loss, my hips chasing his retreating mouth.
"Not yet," he said firmly. "We're just getting started."
The swing shifted again, and I felt him adjusting my position. My legs were spread wider, tilted up, exposing me completely to his attention. The vulnerability should have been terrifying, but instead it sent another jolt of arousal through me.
"Has anyone ever eaten your ass?" Ferguson asked, his paws gripping my thighs.
My face burned with embarrassment. "No."
"Another first then." I could hear the satisfaction in his voice. "I'm going to make you feel so good, baby. Just relax and let me work."
The first touch of his tongue against my hole made me cry out in shock. The sensation was electric, unlike anything I could have imagined. He lapped at me gently at first, letting me get used to the feeling, before pressing deeper with firm, deliberate strokes.
"Oh God," I moaned, my hands clenching the leather loops above my head. "That feels..."
"Good?" he prompted, his tongue never stopping its methodical assault on my most sensitive areas.
"Amazing," I gasped. "Don't stop."
He didn't. If anything, he intensified his efforts, his massive tongue working me open with incredible skill. Each stroke of his tongue pushed a little deeper, making me squirm and moan against the restraints. The audience seemed to fade away completely as I lost myself in the overwhelming sensations.
His massive paws spread my cheeks wider, allowing him even greater access. I felt his tongue probe deeper, teasing my entrance open with each pass. The initial shock had given way to pleasure so intense I could barely breathe. My cock leaked steadily onto my stomach, untouched but harder than it had ever been.
"You taste so good," Ferguson growled against my skin, sending vibrations through my entire body. "Your ass is so tight."
I couldn't form coherent words anymore, just desperate whimpers and pleas as he continued his relentless attention. His tongue was a revelation, rough in all the right ways as it worked me open. Occasionally he would pull back to blow cool air across my now sensitive, wet hole, making me shudder before diving back in with renewed hunger.
Just when I thought I might actually cum from his tongue alone, he pulled away. I felt empty and desperate, my hole clenching around nothing as it sought the fullness it had been promised.
"Please," I begged, not caring how needy I sounded. "I need more."
"And you'll get it," Ferguson promised, his voice thick with desire. "But first, I need to know if you want me inside you. I won't do anything you don't explicitly ask for."
Despite everything that had happened so far, despite being strapped into a sex swing in front of an audience while a massive Werebear ate my ass, this question made me hesitate. It had been so long since I'd been fucked, and Ferguson was enormous. His cock had looked intimidating even when soft.
"Will it hurt?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.
"A little at first," he answered honestly. "But I'll prepare you well, and I promise the pleasure will be worth it. We can stop anytime you want."
I took a deep breath, weighing the fear against the desperate need building inside me. "Yes," I finally said. "I want you inside me."
A collective murmur of appreciation rose from the audience, reminding me again that every sound, every reaction was being witnessed. Somehow, that knowledge only made me harder.
"Good boy," Ferguson growled, and I felt his paw stroke my thigh appreciatively. "I'm going to use plenty of lube, a condom, and go slow. Remember, you can tell me to stop at any time."
I heard the snap of a cap and then felt something cool and slick against my entrance. One massive finger circled my hole, spreading the lube generously before pressing gently inward. The initial stretch burned slightly, but Ferguson was patient, working me open with careful attention.
"Breathe," he instructed as his thick digit pushed deeper. "Relax into it."
I tried to follow his directions, focusing on my breathing as he worked. His finger moved slowly, methodically, working the lube deeper as my body gradually adjusted to the intrusion. The burn faded into something warmer, more welcoming, and I found myself pushing back against his hand.
"That's it," Ferguson murmured approvingly. "Your body is learning to relax."
A second finger joined the first, and the stretch intensified. I gripped the leather loops tighter, breathing through the initial discomfort as he worked his fingers, opening me further. The lube made obscene wet sounds that seemed to echo through the room, mixing with my increasingly desperate moans.
"More," I heard myself beg, not recognizing my own voice. "Please, I need more."
Ferguson's answering growl sent shivers down my spine. A third finger pressed in alongside the others, and I cried out at the fullness. He worked them in and out with practiced skill, occasionally curling them to hit spots inside me that made stars explode behind my blindfolded eyes.
