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This one finds him doing as he normally does, enjoying a lazy morning with the window open... but it seems like a raccoon, having recently indulged in some fermented berries, has stumbled their way in with one goal in mind - and Iri's more than happy to accommodate~", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Monthly subscriber story (double length!) for iridiumx! This one finds him doing as he normally does, enjoying a lazy morning with the window open... but it seems like a raccoon, having recently indulged in some fermented berries, has stumbled their way in with one goal in mind - and Iri's more than happy to accommodate~", "writing": "Iri started to roll over where he lay, but an odd warm weight across his chest kept the dragon pinned in place. He smacked his lips, swallowed, huffed a little bit, then tried again, but his sleepy body refused to move beneath the excess pressure – and then he paused to sniff the air again. As usual there was the cool, sweet scent of the forest and grasslands outside, constantly filtering in through the window he left open; he thought he detected a touch of the approaching autumn chill as well, a bit of a higher, drier spice highlighting the rest; but then wrapping everything together, sagging right there in the middle of all of these other familiar, comfortable aromas, a brighter, sharper, [i]bolder[/i] mix simmered down across his muzzle, that warm weight dripping over him like syrup.\n\nSweet, salty, savory… [i]pungent,[/i] enough to make his nose tingle and his snout wrinkle. He shifted again, struggled to drag a paw out from underneath the blankets, and brushed it across his nose, though the scent remained – and even [i]strengthened[/i] a moment later with the shift of that weight on his chest. It began to tickle at his eyes as well; he blinked, blinked again, scrubbed at the dried bits from his deep sleep, felt a little bit of stinging start to well up from whatever it was that pushed back towards him, and then finally managed to sit up a bit. The weight on top of him tumbled clumsily forward, pressure shifting this way and that; he felt what certainly seemed like a pair of forelegs scooting sideways along his waist, then hindlegs closer to his muzzle scrabbling to stay in place, and then a thick, brushy tail flapped across his snout, and-\n\nHe blinked again, swung his arm around, and clamped it down around whatever it was that had taken up residence on top of him. Immediately that scent strengthened again, puffing out across him, and the thing from which it came issued a tight, grunting squeak; Iri wiped at his eyes and peered closer, looking across the expanses of grey fur, tinged from soft smoke to stone to charcoal, the ringed stripes of that lifted tail… the dense, overlapping wrinkles of the tailhole underneath glistening with natural grease and warm musk, then the hanging, [i]sagging[/i] sex below that, visibly moistened with latent arousal, plump lips sticking to one another and dribbling down a thin rope of glittering wetness across his sheets.\n\nThe feral raccoon looked back at him over her shoulder, blue eyes similarly sparkling. She smacked her lips, swallowed, lapped her chops; the pale grey of her muzzle was stained with rich, deep reds, blues, and violets, clear evidence of a recent indulgence in berries which – Iri leaned to the side and sniffed again – must have [i]fermented[/i] a bit. He released his grip on her and waited: she straightened up a bit, legs trembling with sensation, then wobbled to one side, drifted to the other, and sat back down, squishing her canine spade against the wet spot already soaked into his sheets.\n\n“S-sorry,” the raccoon mumbled, then suppressed a small hiccup. The resulting force vibrated through her body and made her tailhole wink, supple grey skin tugging inwards, lifting up, then relaxing out again, so that it just [i]barely[/i] showed the warm pink fade where exterior skin turned to interior meat. “I had a… a bit too much to, um… and your window was open, and I made it in, and I…”\n\nShe tried to lift herself up again, wobbled again, and then fell back again, this time with that tail hiking up, tailhole lifting, haunches coming back. Most of her diminutive weight settled back right across Iri’s snout, digging the dragon’s nose right up into the center of those succulent, supple wrinkles; he felt the thin grease smearing across, lifted up into the gentle moisture as it soaked into his fur.\n\nShock quickly melted underneath the raccoon’s hind end, her weight pressing down, his nose digging in further: Iri’s mouth fell open, and where he breathed in through nostrils flared between the greasy wrinkles of her tailhole, each exhalation sighed out between parted lips resting against her spade, the spice of her musk so strong that he could already taste it.\n\n“Could you-” Her voice seemed to come to him from across a great distance away. His eyes fluttered shut, he licked his lips, he swallowed again… “Do me a favor and-”\n\n-and once again he clamped his paw around her body, at once holding her against his chest and tugging her more firmly back onto him. The further he dug, the more he could feel her gathered slickness smear across him, matting his fur down, dripping along his scales. The clinging wetness of her arousal pressed to his lips as well, the raccoon trying her best to lift up, push back, grind against, sit back against the front of his muzzle; he gladly placed a kiss to her spade, then dragged himself up so that his lips pulled along thick, matted fur wet and crusty with leaked musk.\n\nAgain he dragged in a slow, unsteady breath, the sting of the raccoon’s scent palpably tickling the back of his throat, almost enough to make him cough and sputter. This time when he lapped his tongue across his chops Iri found he had to do so a second time, and then a third, and then a [i]fourth[/i] to scrape some of that slime off, where it then spread through the interior of his mouth and coated the back of his throat; even before he had touched his tongue to her wrinkled pucker he could taste her, as sharply and as strongly as if he had wrenched his lips against the center of that tension and sucked the slime out of her.\n\nOn top of him the raccoon shuddered, pushed her legs out, trembled, and then relaxed down again, rim of her tailhole sagging out against his lips so that he could practically scoop his tongue up underneath it, swirl it around, and gradually circle in towards the pinched center, rolling across each of those well-used wrinkles.\n\n“O-oh, she breathed, then chirred from deep inside. “Oh, [i]okay…”[/i]\n\n[i]I’ve gotta be dreaming,[/i] Iri mused, for as much as he was still capable of forming coherent thought. [i]Breakfast in bed, and it’s – warm, plush… wet raccoon ass, and…[/i]\n\nThe feral tightened around him, shivered again, then once more spread herself back against him, tail lifting higher, spade squishing against his chin so firmly that he heard the plump lips squelch open. Every time she tensed Iri could feel the resulting tremble through her muscles, the pert little ring clamping around the tip of his tongue, shifting as he sank in deeper, pulling back a bit, squishing back into place again.\n\n[i]...and, God, it tastes like it, too.[/i] He drew his tongue back, swirled it around again, worked to break some of those clinging strands of thick, gooey drool mixed with the natural liquid musk of her lower bowels. Each time he pursed his lips against her and sucked, drawing the folds, the wrinkles in against his mouth, he felt more of that gathered slime trickle across his tongue and spread; every time he tried to swallow, he still had to do so at least two more times to [i]really[/i] get it down, and by now he could both taste as well as feel her presence building up in the back of his throat and within his belly; and when he teased his tongue in at the center of her pucker, already so admirably, [i]wonderfully[/i] pliable, so supple, he felt her reflexively tense and then relax again, and then folded up into those soft, succulent inner walls inside.\n\nOn top of him the feral raccoon chirp, shuddered, and squeaked again, her noises each coming with another full-body shift. Iri drew his paw further back towards where her hindlegs had splayed down across his shoulders, the much smaller animal keeping herself propped there so that she might rest her weight back onto him. At this point Iri did not care whether that was due to her enjoyment, her accidental inebriation, or some mix of both; all that mattered to him was that she stay there, and as such he tightened his grip again, wiggled his fingers into the space between her hindleg and her body, and spread her further, until he could feel the wrinkles of her tailhole stretch out across his lips.\n\nOnce more he widened his jaw, ensuring that he kept the entirety of that tailhole centered within his mouth. Tongue out and around the rim where fur thinned out to smooth, greasy skin, then in along the folds and wrinkles, then back in towards the center so that when he sucked, jaw dropping, throat tensing, her rim and innards sleeved slightly out around him, pursing within his lips.\n\nHot, tense breaths shivered out from the small creature sprawled across his body. She tried to lift herself up but could not, caught between the dragon’s firm grip and her own wobbliness; yet again Iri felt her spade squish against his chin, and this time he drew back, broke the same slightly discolored strands hanging between his maw and her now slightly gaped tailhole, and tilted his head down to drag his tongue in between those plump, soft lips. The first touch there sent a sweet shock vibrating through her body so that her tail flicked and twitch upwards, and her legs kicked, and her breath caught in her throat – and then he plunged right back up inside her tailhole again, this time with his tongue coated in the stickier, slimier slickness of her arousal.\n\nWith his nose pressed up underneath the base of her lifted tail, all that he could breathe was the strong, intoxicating scent of raccoon. Iri tilted his head one way and then the other, pulsing his tongue inside, squishing deeper within smooth, billowing walls of internal meat, squelching and shifting her guts around him until he could reach no deeper. Once there, nose pushing into soft, warm, saliva-slickened skin and musk-laden fur, he took another deep, dizzying breath, felt her scent swirl within his lungs, and scooped his tongue around and around inside, delighting in the noises that trickled out of the small feral in response.\n\nBy now she had practically collapsed on top of him, her forepaws reaching out across his body, her head resting sideways; her eyes had fluttered shut and her mouth hung open, and bit by bit Iri felt the warm wetness of dribbling drool oozing out through the bedsheets as well, the raccoon’s moans sharpening with each pulse of his tongue as he dug deeper, each twitch of his jaw as he suckled at her tailhole again, each clench and tremble of her entire body when he drew back out and she clamped around open air, wet folds of inner meat squelching together to fill the space left inside.\n\nPanting gently, Iri sat up a little bit further and this time wiped his mouth across the back of his other paw. His white fur came away stained and matted, and when he sniffed at it, yet again all he could smell was this small feral’s backside – but then again, when he turned his head toward the window and tried to get a good breath of clean, fresh air, this was [i]still[/i] all he could smell. [i]And taste, too, for that matter,[/i] he thought, attempting to clear his throat a few times; on top of him the raccoon remained inert, panting and moaning gently, little squeaks and chirps issuing forth from her parted lips.\n\nThe dragon tilted his head again, reached down… squelched one thumb quite easily to the knuckle inside her opened tailhole, where she gasped and feebly squeezed around him again.\n\n[i]You know, if I’m already gonna be tasting her for the rest of the day, then I suppose I could just go ahead and keep her around for lunch, too...[/i]\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Iri started to roll over where he lay, but an odd warm weight across his chest kept the dragon pinned in place. He smacked his lips, swallowed, huffed a little bit, then tried again, but his sleepy body refused to move beneath the excess pressure – and then he paused to sniff the air again. As usual there was the cool, sweet scent of the forest and grasslands outside, constantly filtering in through the window he left open; he thought he detected a touch of the approaching autumn chill as well, a bit of a higher, drier spice highlighting the rest; but then wrapping everything together, sagging right there in the middle of all of these other familiar, comfortable aromas, a brighter, sharper, bolder mix simmered down across his muzzle, that warm weight dripping over him like syrup.

Sweet, salty, savory… pungent, enough to make his nose tingle and his snout wrinkle. He shifted again, struggled to drag a paw out from underneath the blankets, and brushed it across his nose, though the scent remained – and even strengthened a moment later with the shift of that weight on his chest. It began to tickle at his eyes as well; he blinked, blinked again, scrubbed at the dried bits from his deep sleep, felt a little bit of stinging start to well up from whatever it was that pushed back towards him, and then finally managed to sit up a bit. The weight on top of him tumbled clumsily forward, pressure shifting this way and that; he felt what certainly seemed like a pair of forelegs scooting sideways along his waist, then hindlegs closer to his muzzle scrabbling to stay in place, and then a thick, brushy tail flapped across his snout, and-

He blinked again, swung his arm around, and clamped it down around whatever it was that had taken up residence on top of him. Immediately that scent strengthened again, puffing out across him, and the thing from which it came issued a tight, grunting squeak; Iri wiped at his eyes and peered closer, looking across the expanses of grey fur, tinged from soft smoke to stone to charcoal, the ringed stripes of that lifted tail… the dense, overlapping wrinkles of the tailhole underneath glistening with natural grease and warm musk, then the hanging, sagging sex below that, visibly moistened with latent arousal, plump lips sticking to one another and dribbling down a thin rope of glittering wetness across his sheets.

The feral raccoon looked back at him over her shoulder, blue eyes similarly sparkling. She smacked her lips, swallowed, lapped her chops; the pale grey of her muzzle was stained with rich, deep reds, blues, and violets, clear evidence of a recent indulgence in berries which – Iri leaned to the side and sniffed again – must have fermented a bit. He released his grip on her and waited: she straightened up a bit, legs trembling with sensation, then wobbled to one side, drifted to the other, and sat back down, squishing her canine spade against the wet spot already soaked into his sheets.

“S-sorry,” the raccoon mumbled, then suppressed a small hiccup. The resulting force vibrated through her body and made her tailhole wink, supple grey skin tugging inwards, lifting up, then relaxing out again, so that it just barely showed the warm pink fade where exterior skin turned to interior meat. “I had a… a bit too much to, um… and your window was open, and I made it in, and I…”

She tried to lift herself up again, wobbled again, and then fell back again, this time with that tail hiking up, tailhole lifting, haunches coming back. Most of her diminutive weight settled back right across Iri’s snout, digging the dragon’s nose right up into the center of those succulent, supple wrinkles; he felt the thin grease smearing across, lifted up into the gentle moisture as it soaked into his fur.

Shock quickly melted underneath the raccoon’s hind end, her weight pressing down, his nose digging in further: Iri’s mouth fell open, and where he breathed in through nostrils flared between the greasy wrinkles of her tailhole, each exhalation sighed out between parted lips resting against her spade, the spice of her musk so strong that he could already taste it.

“Could you-” Her voice seemed to come to him from across a great distance away. His eyes fluttered shut, he licked his lips, he swallowed again… “Do me a favor and-”

-and once again he clamped his paw around her body, at once holding her against his chest and tugging her more firmly back onto him. The further he dug, the more he could feel her gathered slickness smear across him, matting his fur down, dripping along his scales. The clinging wetness of her arousal pressed to his lips as well, the raccoon trying her best to lift up, push back, grind against, sit back against the front of his muzzle; he gladly placed a kiss to her spade, then dragged himself up so that his lips pulled along thick, matted fur wet and crusty with leaked musk.

Again he dragged in a slow, unsteady breath, the sting of the raccoon’s scent palpably tickling the back of his throat, almost enough to make him cough and sputter. This time when he lapped his tongue across his chops Iri found he had to do so a second time, and then a third, and then a fourth to scrape some of that slime off, where it then spread through the interior of his mouth and coated the back of his throat; even before he had touched his tongue to her wrinkled pucker he could taste her, as sharply and as strongly as if he had wrenched his lips against the center of that tension and sucked the slime out of her.

On top of him the raccoon shuddered, pushed her legs out, trembled, and then relaxed down again, rim of her tailhole sagging out against his lips so that he could practically scoop his tongue up underneath it, swirl it around, and gradually circle in towards the pinched center, rolling across each of those well-used wrinkles.

“O-oh, she breathed, then chirred from deep inside. “Oh, okay…”

I’ve gotta be dreaming, Iri mused, for as much as he was still capable of forming coherent thought. Breakfast in bed, and it’s – warm, plush… wet raccoon ass, and…

The feral tightened around him, shivered again, then once more spread herself back against him, tail lifting higher, spade squishing against his chin so firmly that he heard the plump lips squelch open. Every time she tensed Iri could feel the resulting tremble through her muscles, the pert little ring clamping around the tip of his tongue, shifting as he sank in deeper, pulling back a bit, squishing back into place again.

...and, God, it tastes like it, too. He drew his tongue back, swirled it around again, worked to break some of those clinging strands of thick, gooey drool mixed with the natural liquid musk of her lower bowels. Each time he pursed his lips against her and sucked, drawing the folds, the wrinkles in against his mouth, he felt more of that gathered slime trickle across his tongue and spread; every time he tried to swallow, he still had to do so at least two more times to really get it down, and by now he could both taste as well as feel her presence building up in the back of his throat and within his belly; and when he teased his tongue in at the center of her pucker, already so admirably, wonderfully pliable, so supple, he felt her reflexively tense and then relax again, and then folded up into those soft, succulent inner walls inside.

On top of him the feral raccoon chirp, shuddered, and squeaked again, her noises each coming with another full-body shift. Iri drew his paw further back towards where her hindlegs had splayed down across his shoulders, the much smaller animal keeping herself propped there so that she might rest her weight back onto him. At this point Iri did not care whether that was due to her enjoyment, her accidental inebriation, or some mix of both; all that mattered to him was that she stay there, and as such he tightened his grip again, wiggled his fingers into the space between her hindleg and her body, and spread her further, until he could feel the wrinkles of her tailhole stretch out across his lips.

Once more he widened his jaw, ensuring that he kept the entirety of that tailhole centered within his mouth. Tongue out and around the rim where fur thinned out to smooth, greasy skin, then in along the folds and wrinkles, then back in towards the center so that when he sucked, jaw dropping, throat tensing, her rim and innards sleeved slightly out around him, pursing within his lips.

Hot, tense breaths shivered out from the small creature sprawled across his body. She tried to lift herself up but could not, caught between the dragon’s firm grip and her own wobbliness; yet again Iri felt her spade squish against his chin, and this time he drew back, broke the same slightly discolored strands hanging between his maw and her now slightly gaped tailhole, and tilted his head down to drag his tongue in between those plump, soft lips. The first touch there sent a sweet shock vibrating through her body so that her tail flicked and twitch upwards, and her legs kicked, and her breath caught in her throat – and then he plunged right back up inside her tailhole again, this time with his tongue coated in the stickier, slimier slickness of her arousal.

With his nose pressed up underneath the base of her lifted tail, all that he could breathe was the strong, intoxicating scent of raccoon. Iri tilted his head one way and then the other, pulsing his tongue inside, squishing deeper within smooth, billowing walls of internal meat, squelching and shifting her guts around him until he could reach no deeper. Once there, nose pushing into soft, warm, saliva-slickened skin and musk-laden fur, he took another deep, dizzying breath, felt her scent swirl within his lungs, and scooped his tongue around and around inside, delighting in the noises that trickled out of the small feral in response.

By now she had practically collapsed on top of him, her forepaws reaching out across his body, her head resting sideways; her eyes had fluttered shut and her mouth hung open, and bit by bit Iri felt the warm wetness of dribbling drool oozing out through the bedsheets as well, the raccoon’s moans sharpening with each pulse of his tongue as he dug deeper, each twitch of his jaw as he suckled at her tailhole again, each clench and tremble of her entire body when he drew back out and she clamped around open air, wet folds of inner meat squelching together to fill the space left inside.

Panting gently, Iri sat up a little bit further and this time wiped his mouth across the back of his other paw. His white fur came away stained and matted, and when he sniffed at it, yet again all he could smell was this small feral’s backside – but then again, when he turned his head toward the window and tried to get a good breath of clean, fresh air, this was still all he could smell. And taste, too, for that matter, he thought, attempting to clear his throat a few times; on top of him the raccoon remained inert, panting and moaning gently, little squeaks and chirps issuing forth from her parted lips.

The dragon tilted his head again, reached down… squelched one thumb quite easily to the knuckle inside her opened tailhole, where she gasped and feebly squeezed around him again.

You know, if I’m already gonna be tasting her for the rest of the day, then I suppose I could just go ahead and keep her around for lunch, too...
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