[center][b]Why He Left[/b][/center] [center]By Kaydrien Iceclaw[/center] “Mom. Why did dad leave us?” There it was. The question that kept coming back. It had, time and again, for three years now. Janine Cummins opened her eyes on the stippled ceiling, switching off her music. This needed her undivided attention. “There were a lot of reasons, sweety.” She said slowly. “Things were… complicated.” His voice came again, the light of her life, her sweet boy. “You always say that.” “It’s the truth.” The wolf gulped down her feelings for later, tensed under her covers. “Uh-uh.” Her ears pricked to the sound of footsteps approaching from the door, watching her son’s shadow loom over her on the ceiling where it drank in the bright light from the hallway. “Tell me the real reason.” “Honey…” She breathed out, eyes drifting closed again while she gathered herself. “It was because of you.” No answer. The silence stretched out and she felt the air move over her face. A hint of a warm presence at her bedside, identifiable by scent as Janine’s only child. She knew. She had to give him the full answer. “Because your cock was better than his.” He chuckled deep and masculine, patting her on the head. “That’s right. Good girl.” She pressed into the touch, a soft mewl of happiness brushing over her vocal cords. Janine opened her eyes to take in her tall, handsome 21-year-old son Mason standing at her bedside. He was a husky dreamboat, chiseled muscles on display. Soft dark stripes layered over the caramel fur of his limbs. His muzzle was rounder than hers, another touch of the absent father. Janine buried a hand in the creamy fur of his abdomen to feel the rocky abs under it, leaning in to press her face against his middle. “There really were other reasons.” “Sure there were.” Mason’s tone contained oceans of skepticism. “Let’s reintroduce you to the big one and see if you change your tune.” His firm hand pressed her head downward, a move that forced her to shift her whole body under the covers, bringing her inevitably face to face with his big reason. Big it was. Fully out of Mason’s sheath, a solid eight inches of pulsing hardness bobbed against her muzzle. Its wet presence was already matting her fur. It was too close to focus on clearly, but she knew the tiny nubs he’d inherited from his tiger side, pressing little divots into her face, for what they were. She wouldn’t have needed her eyes to tell her it was Mason’s cock in any case. His manly scent, so much more familiar than even family, she would know anywhere; his knot pressed right up against her nostrils was ripe with it. Janine panted, drinking it in. She happily snuffled up the mixed aromas of sweat, male secretions, just a hint of urine. Every chemical shade spoke of a healthy, even overwhelming, masculinity to the wolf woman’s sharp nose. Not enough. Janine nuzzled her way downward over the knob of virile meat until her wet nose bumped against his sheath. She pressed in, blissfully inhaling the inside of his fuzzy cock-cover. “Still really like that, don’t you, mom?” Mason rumbled like a ’69 Camaro, scratching behind her ears. “Keep going.” Impossible to tell if Janine heard. But she did keep going. Her tongue slithered out between Mason’s knot and sheath, wetly delving around the sensitive base of his erect cock. His rough purr signaled his approval as her rough tongue polished out his folds. Her tail wagged in answer, a [i]schwish-schwish-schwish[/i] against her bedsheets. She was entirely happy to dig out every hint of Mason’s flavor from his fleshy crevices. Salty hints of old jizz punctuated the feline and canine testosterones that he leaked from his very pores. The meaty taste of a male in rut. And a touch of feminine arousal. Womanly fuck-juices aged and marinated where they’d been pulled in by his knob when it stored itself away. Her own. Probably her own. Janine found she exulted in the possibility that some of it might not be hers. A stuffer like this, it deserved more than one woman, as wide an audience as possible, like any work of true art. With an exercise of will she stopped eating out the right hand side of that lovely crevice, pulled away for long enough to gasp out. “More reasons.” “Hmmm?” Mason hummed questioningly. He took her by the ear, having to forcibly pull her away from his sheath. The hybrid couldn’t help but smirk at how she gasped for every molecule of redolent air she could get now she was separated by whole unbearable inches from its source. “What’s that, mom?” She blinked up at him. Her eyes had to spin down from where they’d rolled back up into her skull in ecstatic nirvana. Her mind struggled to pull itself out of her nostrils enough to untangle the thought. “Lots of… lots of reasons.” Janine whined pleadingly up at the young man, giving the puppy eyes to a male much younger than she was. Mason didn’t soften his grip on her ears. “Speak up.” “So many reasons. You smell.” The woman shuddered. She closed her mouth to sniff deeply at the air again, hoping for a little more. “I smell, huh.” “Smell… good.” She clarified, as if this was so obvious it was hard to wrap her head around. Her head cleared a smidgen, just enough to realize the sharp pain in her ear where she was pulling against his grip in desperation. Reluctantly she eased back. “What else?” “You’re handsome.” Janine added. The need to please him rose, contending with the need for more of him and finding no conflict of interest. A pleased Mason might let her have more. (Any tangential connection to the initial point was forgotten; she was entirely on how wonderful he was.) “Such a handsome, strong, beautiful boy. I love you so much.” Operating independently (or just by coincidence) his fat cock rewarded her praise with a drizzle of clear precum, his steady flow speeding just enough to send a long droplet pulling a strand behind it. It came to rest on the bridge of her muzzle, carrying more of his fresh scent with it. “I love you to, mom.” He kneeled down at the bedside, the dollop of pre comforting her in the moment between his crotch moving away from her and his face moving towards. She lapped as much of it up as she could in those instants, tongue pulling back into the side of her mouth awkwardly with the half of the smear she could reach as he came level, and pulled her in for a kiss. Mason’s tongue was aggressive, and she wouldn’t have it any other way, their lips parting so he could eat out the inside of her mouth as if to retrieve the drop of pre for recycling. His rough tongue tangled with hers, around, pressing, over, under. He frenched his mother enthusiastically, each breathing into the other’s mouth. He tasted meaty, more subtle than the flesh between his legs, but delightful all the same. A thread-thin strand of saliva bridged the gap between them for a moment, broken with one word. “Mason…” “Turn around, Janine.” He said, knowing she might need the tiny verbal disconnect to shock her into action. “I’m going to fuck you.” That did the trick, short-circuiting the already porous line between son and lover altogether. Even as she reflexively moved to comply, covers sliding off of her to leave only her pink pajamas between her and the evening air, she moaned from the pleasure of obeying such a stud. His hands were on her waistband, pulling it down and towards him. This was complicated slightly by the way the waistband hooked over her tail, which naturally fought to stay raised for a sickeningly attractive mate. Unlike several before it this pair of pajama bottoms survived that tug of war. Mason pulled them roughly enough that his mother’s back half lost contact with the bed entirely for several fractions of a second before gravity got its say in the situation. The hybrid male didn’t get as far with Janine’s panties, uncaring if those stretched beyond use between her instinctively spread knees if it saved him a few milliseconds in accessing the wolf bitch’s crotch. He dove in, shoving his tongue into her snatch all at once. She barked at the shock of the sudden entry, the noise bleeding into a moan of joy. Her lovely boy, her lover, was inside her. Doing his level best to rearrange her insides by sheer enthusiasm with a tongue as muscular as any other part of his body. This state of affairs didn’t last long. He snarled his satisfaction at the taste of her snatch, juicy and ripe and growing juicier around him, before pulling away. She didn’t have time to whimper at the absence before he was a heavy weight on her back, and a second turgid wet weight slapping against the inside of her thigh. “He never fucking deserved you.” Masons growl reverberated through her. His thighs worked in a feral tempo, his cock a meaty buffeting of her inner legs and her mound. It swung like an ineptly aimed flail, collecting the juices leaking from her folds as he vigorously took the pleasure of simply being on top of her. Her wordless exclamation was probably just need, but he took it as agreement. Finally, he pulled back a little, adjusting the position of his oozing glazed rod against her arousal-swollen canine spade, and shoved his first inch into the hole he’d been born from to make his mother yelp. “So good. You’re so wet.” He savored the twitching squeeze of his mother’s cooch around his tip. Janine’s triangular feminine lips spread oh so eagerly over the spade tip, begging wordlessly for more. Mason didn’t disappoint except by his slowness, easing in fraction by fraction to give his loving mother the full experience of every individual centimeter which she deserved. “You need a real cock. You need a real man.” A moan. Janine shook under him, under his weight. From before day one he’d obviously been a big boy, the hospital had taken one look at the swollen Janine and decided on C-section… Which made her all the tighter around her son’s steadily advancing cock. Four inches, halfway, in and the steady progress got a jumpstart in the form of her arms collapsing. Muscles jellied from lust and held by the unsteady concentration of a woman being spread by a huge dick gave up, and she fell into the mattress face first. Her femurs held her ass upward into Mason’s crotch which speared her right up to the knot in a single instant. Janine’s moan of (ful)fillment melded and mingled with his roar of virile satisfaction as he filled her the rest of the way up all at once, pointed tip nudging right up against her cervix. A moment of stillness. No more than that. “More.” He was already answering her bed-muffled demand, scraping her insides with the backward-angled spine-nubs bestowed by his feline ancestry. “Fuck. You’re so fucking hot, mom.” Back in, pleasure for his favorite female in all the world. He didn’t bother to support his own weight; Mason had better things to do with his hands. One burrowed under the hem of her pajama tops, finding and grasping her still quite firm breasts one after the other. The other hovered up under her propped up and dripping crotch, searching for the tip of her fortune cookie in which nestled her clit. All the while he made that second a subtly moving target. It wouldn’t do to stop the thrusting this lovely creature so rightfully demanded. “Did the right thing. Should have given you the love you needed earlier.” Mason pinched at a nipple, pleased by the ecstatic yelp he received for the effort. “You remember that first time?” They both did. The hazy edges of that moment permeated both their rut-addled minds. Him on top of her, face to face that time. She had crumbled under his offers, under his presence, under… well, Mason had only later put together the fact that he had somehow forgotten to shower three consecutive days before that with the dazed expression when he’d pulled her in to give her that first deep kiss, and the subsequent evaporation of her reluctance. “We kept going so long. Fuck. You [i]needed[/i] that.” She grunted agreement. Reggie, well, her husband hadn’t been that passionate… maybe ever. Definitely not in the two or three years leading up to Mason’s adulthood. She couldn’t pinpoint the last time before the event that she’d made love. He didn’t have to say anything about the next part. About, specifically, the moment Reggie had opened the door on them, just in time to see his son knotting his wife. Their memories slightly differed in focus on this point. But both had seen when the tiger’s eyes visibly bulged at the all-too-visible bulge in his wife’s midsection. The look on his face. Shocked. And something less commonplace. A flicker of envy? Not quite, or rather not [i]only[/i]. Anger? No. Nothing directed outward. Pain? Something very like that. Really, it was something more primal. Something there wasn’t a singular civilized word for. A sharp awareness that a true stud of an alpha male was rutting a lovely female, and no sane beast could even think to challenge that status quo. Their experiences of that moment diverged from there. Mason hadn’t snarled in triumph at the tiger who had, in his at-that-time half-feral mind, not done nearly enough to please the resplendent female he was knot-deep in. There hadn’t been any need. The non-snarl of self-evident vindication was quite sufficient. The mate he’d dreamed of since his mid-teens was having the time of her life skewered on his cock, and she’d never have to settle for anything less if he had anything to say about it. She’d been [i]just a tiny bit[/i] distracted, but she would have expected to feel grief at having her relationship fall apart right then and there. Instead… Well… Mostly she had just felt the all-consuming orgasm, backed by a sharp little satisfaction. She hadn’t been able to help but smile a pitying/forgiving little smile at the man who would never even get to attempt the hopeless task of trying to top her sweet, strong, handsome son. The hazy recollection dissolved under current stimulation. Mason slammed into his mother’s pussy again and again, creating an ever-widening splash zone on the mattress behind their mashing genitals to complement the puddle between their legs, where her third orgasm of the night was soaking into the cushioning slower than the torrent replaced it. The wolf’s son had long-since found his grip on her clit, tweaked it into an ecstatic point of fire, and then left off as the pounding stretch of his knot against it had become more than mere fingers could top. Just as well, that let him tease and massage both his mother’s nipples at once. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Give you so much better than that limp-dick ever could. Fuck you like a goddess ought to be [i]fucked[/i].” He wanted to give her an eternity of pleasure. Fuck the woman he loved in a joyful haze that lasted until the stars went out, because she deserved it. But biology made its own requirements, and his mother had her own ideas. “MASON!!!” She shrieked, exultant, cutting through the resistance of the mouthful of bedsheets. It was praise, appreciation, acknowledgement of the heavenly fucking that set her insides aflame. It was a demand. Crystal clear without need of further words. A demand that said to get that knot inside her and fill her up [i]right this instant young man![/i] There was only one answer to that. With an almighty heave he shoved the huge knot through the begging resistance of her cunt. Climax number four was trapped by the bulbous intrusion just as it started, a flood that instantly started to fill out her vagina. His tip, that spade-like canine tip that he’d gotten from her and her only, forced back her battered cervix to fit all of him and, even so, wedged half of that pointed end into it to unleash the flood of his hot white cum right into her womb. The panting mess of mother and son tried in their frenzy to keep the thrusting going, an action that squeezed her cooch and clit with each backward yank and intensified the aftershocks to mind-numbing. But it wouldn’t surrender its prize. The movements slowed to a languid grinding; a refusal to let the fucking come quite to an end. Janine felt bloated, filling up with her own trapped orgasm and the interminable jets of virile cum that ballooned her uterus. She sighed, and tipped her head upward to rest her chin on the sheets. “Mmmmm.” “You like that, mom?” Mason asked, tired, knowing the answer, and also knowing it meant so much more coming from her. “Yes.” She reached a hand up past her shoulder to pat his striped one. “It was lovely.” “Good.” He sounded so cat-satisfied. She couldn’t help but bat at him a little over her shoulder. “You weren’t very fair to poor Reggie.” “I was plenty fair. I offered to let him be my side bitch.” “Mason!” She chided. “Oh, you’re right. His stripy ass probably wouldn’t be any good.” Mason smiled incorrigibly, nuzzling into the side of her neck. Well, Janine mused, there had been that fraction of an instant she had thought Reggie might, just maybe, take the offer… She snorted, pulling a pillow to her face to giggle into it. “That’s what I like to hear.” Mason purred. As a pair they shifted, moving into a better snuggling position. He was still trickling the contents of his nuts into her while he pulled the covers over them. “Mason?” “Yes mom?” “Are you seeing anyone?” She asked. Not because she was jealous if the answer was yes (she told herself) but out of more traditional motherly concern. “A girl your own age?” “No.” Mason said vehemently. “I’ve got the most beautiful woman in the world right here.” Not for the first time, she had the urge to say ‘But I’m so old! Who would want someone like me?’. But experience told her he would counter with ‘You’re lovely.’ or ‘Not that old!’ or ‘Only mid-thirties!’ (a slight exaggeration; but Janine and Reggie [i]had[/i] been too young to have any business having a kid when Mason came along). …And then he would shove her face into his crotch- or more likely with them knotted, his armpit- until she was too horny, happy, and musk-drunk to worry about stuff like that. Instead, she went with that other tried-and-true motherly gambit. Something she’d been saving out of a selfish reluctance to let anyone else have him. “Well, maybe the most beautiful woman in the world wants grandkids someday.” His purr was distressingly uninterrupted. “Then maybe the most beautiful woman in the world should stop taking her birth control.” The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She wasn’t past, or even near, menopause, so it was [i]possible[/i]… Probably unwisely, Janine opened her mouth. “…She might just do that.” [center]The End[/center] Addendum: In case it wasn’t clear enough, everyone smexing is over eighteen and has been since before they got involved in loodz.